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Chapter Text

Life occurs and then Death. But what happens after Death?

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“A mission for you, Agent, Operation Gemini. Long-term, Class 5 Political. Standard protocols apply. Your cover story is inside the file.”

A small stack of documents was placed on her desk.

 .

“Good morning, Mr Holt,” a warm, easy-going smile was sent to the Ministers’ way. She handed over a stack of files and a cup of coffee, blue eyes kind and inviting, “Here’s the paperwork for the private yacht you wanted to buy. Also, your meeting with the Town Council is in an hour, would you like some more coffee then?”

 .

 “You are Jane Yates, I presume?” Alice Ross, Minister Holt’s newest secretary, asked brusquely.

Starring at a pair of icy blue eyes, said woman’s eyes flickered nervously as she replied, “Y-yes, I was informed that I was to be an attendant for Minister Holt’s private yacht trip.”

“Indeed, here are the details. Not to worry, you just need to bring a bag and turn up at the dock at 6 a.m. sharp on the day. Everything else has been taken care of,” Ms Ross said, before giving a wry smile, “And do be at you best, wouldn’t want to give us blondes a bad reputation now do we?”

 .

Life.

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 “Here is your room. You are free to roam the lower deck but only come to upper decks when either the Minister or I call for you. Am I clear?”

“Yes Miss Ross.”

“Well I do hope you’ll enjoy the trip, it’s expected to be quite lively.” Miss Ross’ smile may have been a tad too sharp, but Jane paid no heed to it.

 .

 Ivan Holt froze as he felt the barrel of the gun press against his back, just above his heart, and a saccharine sweet voice whispered into his ear, “No hard feelings, Mr Holt.”

“A-Alice!? Why-”

A muffled click of a gun with a silencer echoed deceptively loud in the enclosed lounge room.

 .

 “Miss Yates, please bring a bottle of champagne and two glasses to the lounge room.”

“Coming Miss Ross!”

She hung up. Dragging Holt’s body onto the sofa, she angled it so that he would appear to be resting from anyone who enters the room, careful not to let the blood spill onto the floor. Sitting herself on the other end of the sofa, she reclined with her back to the door as she mentally counted down the seconds till the last player of her game would enter.

A soft knock on the door and she called for the attendant to enter, “Put the bucket and glasses over here.” She gestured with her head to the coffee table, hands wiping the gun on her lap, “Enjoy the trip so far?”

“Yes indeed Miss,” Jane beamed, “Oh! Is the Minister asleep? I hope I didn’t disturb-”

“Not to worry, he’s dead to the world. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself, I think you’ve deserved a promotion,” she hummed to herself, “Yes, a promotion to secretary sounds good, no?”

“I'm sorry?”

A second click echoed.

 .

She ducked her head as she exited the room. The guards paid no heed to her, dressed in an attendant’s uniform and her hair obscuring her more prominent features. A pity Jane Yates and she looked so alike, killing an innocent left a foul taste in her mouth but Alice Ross needed to be accounted for.

She hurried to the lower deck where she slipped into the engine room, located directly below the lounge. Rigging an engine to malfunction, she slipped out again, ghosting up the stairs and onto the upper deck. Just as she stepped onto the deck, shouts echoed from above her. She flattened herself against the wall, eyes trailing the long shadows ahead and next to her. They stopped, glancing around and checking the area for her and as soon as it tilted away from her, she burst from her hiding position.

The guards opened fire as soon as they saw her, shots peppering the floor beneath her and some grazing her in the arms and shoulder as she ran towards the edge of the yacht. Just as she vaulted over handrail and dropped into the sea, a bullet tore through her chest, piercing her lung. She gasped as the saltwater surrounded her. Struggling to keep afloat she let the strong waves carry her away from the yacht. Her vision swam and her movements weakened. In the distance, she saw the yacht explode into a torrent of fire, wood and blood.

And then blackness.

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Death.

 .

Laboured breathing echoed throughout the bedchamber. Words meant to be soothing flowed out from the mid-wife’s mouth, though the Lady paid no heed to them. It had been an exhausting, painful birth so far. Her first son had already been borne and she could feel that it was time for her second child to enter the world.

A wave of pain surged through her and, following the mid-wife’s urging, she pushed.

A baby wailed.

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Rebirth.

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“L-let me see my child,” the Lady rasped. In a flurry, her husband stood by her, arms carrying their elder son, and the mid-wife passed her younger child to her, bundled in silk blankets.

“A girl, my Lady,” the mid-wife murmured and the Lady clutched her daughter, beautiful and already calm, close to her.

“Aquila Eris,” the Lady said softly, “My Aquila, I can tell that you are special. You will make a fine Lady Black.”

In that moment, Walburga Black nee Black gave a rare, genuine smile as she watched her daughter slumber.

 .

And the Wheel of Reincarnation turns once again.

Chapter Text

Aquila was an odd, deliberate baby. In contrast, her brother was wild, rambunctious and was happy to throw caution to the wind.

She seemed to have slept the first eight months of her life away, while Sirius seemed quite delighted to showcase his new entrance to the House of Black.

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She remembered drowning. The feeling of her senses shutting down one by one, until all that was left was the biting cold of seawater surrounding her and the fire burning in her lungs. In the end though, even those sensations drifted away, leaving her feeling only numb. She was truly grateful for Sirius; his crying and screaming seemed to always coincide with when her thoughts were turning particularly dark and morbid, always dragging her out of them before she completely lost herself (she’sdrowningdrowningdrowningdrowning-). Perhaps it was a twin thing, she mused. That or magic. Yes, she had worked out magic was real; seeing her mother sort out her gifts via levitation by flicking a stick and having her diaper changed by a servant of some sort by a snap of its (his?) fingers clued her into its existence. So she copes by sleeping whenever she can, curled next to her twin, swathed and bundled in silk blankets that never quite keep the cold from seeping into her bones.

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At nine months she was sitting up by herself, crawling and babbling, much to Walburga’s (deeply buried) amusement. Despite her newfound freedom, she never strayed far from her brother, who can’t quite keep up with her mobility.

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When she was awake, she spent the time exercising her muscles. A twitch here, a flex there and over time she regained control over her limbs again. It was frustrating work; she remembered being able to run for miles, weaving and navigating through half-opened windows and over rooftops, scaling fences and walls without breaking a sweat, and yet raising her arm to touch the other without first smacking her face was all she could do for months. But a baby’s body, with its newly developed neurons, was not meant to be able to execute the impulses sent by an adult brain. And yet her mind knew how it felt to be in control of every action, and this was her body. Her mind knew; her body would have to just learn to follow. So she made do with what she had, exerting tremendous amounts of control, fuelled by sheer willpower, over her body day in, day out, and she babbles and babbles, because the tongue is a muscle that will form her greatest tool, words. Words that she had used to a devastating degree before, in her previous life, and would continue to use to the same extent in this life as well.

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When Sirius and she received their gifts on their first birthday, she thanked her extended family with quietly but confidently and, while Sirius stumbled slightly over his own thanks, their parents preen in response.

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Aquila glanced at the children present, her three cousins from her mother’s side as well as heirs and heiresses of the other pure-blood houses. She filed away the smiles that hid daggers as Ladies praised Walburga for her lovely children, and noted the calculating glances Lords placed on her person as they spoke to Orion on how the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had produced yet another strong generation that would ‘aid in the betterment of the Wizarding World’. She glanced over the names of the families who had gifted Sirius and her presents and committed their names to memory. Malfoy, Rosier, Nott, Carrow, Crabbe, Goyle. The names pulled and tugged on an old memory, which does not resurface until after the party has ended and Sirius has fallen asleep. Only then did she realise just exactly where she was. She spent the next week planning and plotting.

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By eighteen months, Sirius and she were exploring the House, driving Walburga (subtly) mad with worry every time she walked into their room and found their crib empty.

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Their crib was really boring. So while she was sure the crib had spells on it to notify their parents on their status, it didn’t stop her from trying to escape. The first time she was plucked off the railing she was perched on by their father, who then proceeded to give her a very stern talk on how that was not respectable behaviour, eyes pinched with worry. The second time she did it, their mother stopped her. By the seventh attempt their parents had given up trying to stop her and hovered at the doorway, wands drawn to catch her should she fall. She didn’t, and gave her parents a cheeky smile while Sirius laughed and clapped. Of course, when Sirius attempted to copy her, their parents fell back to old habits. It took Sirius two months of daily trial and error – and many, many tears – before he too was able to escape their crib with Aquila. Walburga finally gave up trying to stop them by the twenty-something time they escaped – Sirius’ accidental magic had acted up and vanished their entire crib – and placed tracking charms on them, ordering Kreacher to keep an eye on them.

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At two years old, the twins were started on their penmanship lessons, and were speaking in full, if simple, sentences.

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Aquila decided that she hated quills and mentally cursed wizards for being so backwards. She wanted pens and paper dammit, not quills and parchment. Even Sirius agreed with her that quills were annoying and he’d never known pens. Hell, she’d take the indignity of having to write with a pencil if it meant that she wouldn’t need to use quills. Seriously – “No not you Siri!” – she must have blunted at least a dozen quills, mauled hundreds of pieces of parchment and smeared half the table with ink already. Thank Merlin for Repairing Charms and Cleaning Charms or her parents would have probably hexed her already. As it were, she and Sirius got off with moderate telling offs, one of which evolved into a conversation on whether they’d like a younger sibling. It didn’t take the twins long to figure out the hidden meaning, not to mention they could see a faint undertone of worry on their parents’ faces. Much to the relief of their parents, they simply shared a glance before grinning and chorused, “We’re going to spoil him.” (“For all you know,” Orion pointed out, “the baby could be a girl.” To which Walburga replied, “I do believe Aquila and Sirius are correct. It’s going to be a boy.”)

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At two-and-a-half, the twins were speaking eloquently, much to their parents’ (deeply suppressed) delight, and they welcomed the birth of Regulus Arcturus Black, their baby brother.

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After enduring Walburga’s screeches for the better part of three hours, Orion merely huffed a laugh at Walburga’s tired but smug grin at the sight of their youngest son. He placed a gentle kiss on her head as he called for the twins to enter. Perched on top of the bed, the twins stared at the little bundle held in their mother’s arms. “He’s tiny,” Sirius mumbled, grey eyes equal parts loving and in awe. Their mother, surprisingly, replied gently, “Both of you were smaller when you just came into this world.” Another rare, genuine smile played on the Lady’s face as she stared at baby Regulus. Aquila remained quiet, mentally reshuffling her plans to include their newest addition to the House of Black.

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Aquila may be odd and Sirius a bit too carefree, Walburga mused, but there was no doubt that her daughter was special and her sons powerful. As she and Orion reclined in the lounge room, she kept a watchful eye on the twins as they tried to coax Regulus to say either of their names.

(“Aquila. Ahhh. Quiii. Laaa.”

“Your name’s too hard! Come on Reggie, say Siri. Seeee reeeee. Seeee reeeee.”

“Kiii!”

“Nononono, Siri, Reggie! Seeee reeeee!”

“Kiii! Kiii!”

“Guess we know who the favourite is.”

“Reggie we boys have to stick together! Say Siri little brother, Seeee reeeee!”

“Kiiiiii!”)

Walburga hid a fond smile. Despite how her life had been so far, she was grateful that she’d been blessed with Orion as her husband and Aquila, Sirius and Regulus as her children. Her little stars would lead the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black to greater heights than ever before.

Chapter Text

Life as a member of the House of Black was not fun. Not for Sirius, Aquila or even Regulus. As members of the House of Black, they had to portray certain standards and abilities, and so their days were filled with lesson after lesson after lesson. The twins’ daily pure-blood regimen, broken only with short breaks for lunch, filled up their time from morning to evening and was busy and taxing for a pair of five-year-olds. (Regulus, due to his younger age, would only start actual lessons come the following year.) They learnt how to play musical instruments; Sirius the piano and Aquila the violin. They learnt how to waltz and Aquila learnt ballet in addition to that – for grace and poise her mother had tutted when Aquila gave her a sullen glare. They continued their penmanship classes. They were taught chess, told how and when to lie and how to act. They were tutored on magical theory and learnt multiple languages.

Of course, with Aquila having near three decades on Sirius and Regulus mentally, it wasn’t surprising that she found their schedule more manageable than them.

“I still don’t get why we need to learn two other languages! I mean, I can understand learning French, but Latin? Why the bloody-”

Aquila watched stoically as their mother flung a mild Stinging Hex at her twin, chastising tersely, “Language, Sirius!”

She sighed internally. Of course Sirius stubbornly refused to go quietly to their lessons no matter how many times she explained it. Ignoring his yelp and subsequent grumblings she nudged for him to stand. Dipping her head, she excused them from the table calmly, because no matter how distasteful the fact that she needed permission was to her, this was the protocol in a Noble House, Aquila tugged her twin out into the hallway, leaving behind a sullen Regulus and their irate mother to their lunch. Sirius huffed at the mildly reproachful look she sent him, “Yes, yes I know; ‘Learning Latin will help us understand and replicate future spells we will learn in the future, don’t curse in front of Reggie and don’t antagonise Mother.’ Shut it already.”

She smirked, “I haven’t said anything and-”

“And it’s my fault for not holding my tongue and not censoring my words – never mind the fact that I learnt them from you, hypocrite – and I, of course, deserved it,” He gave her a wounded look, “I’m your twin, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side, that’s the only reason I deign you with my advice and aid,” Aquila said in a faux haughty tone, “Otherwise I’d have merely cackled like dearest cousin Bellatrix.”

“She’s insufferable and a menace to society.”

“Big words, I’m surprised you know what they mean.”

“I’m brash, not stupid.”

“Funny, I could have sworn they meant the same thing.”

“I’m hurt, truly. You’ve stabbed me in the heart.”

“You poor thing. How will you ever survive cousin Bella when she gets her knives this coming Yule? Mother mentioned that she saw a lovely set the other day in Knockturn Alley.”

Sirius choked on air, “She’s what?! Is Mother insane? It’s Bellatrix!”

“Did you say something? I don’t think they heard you in Hogwarts,” ignoring the incensed look Sirius flung at her, Aquila said sardonically,  “A Black Lady is always armed with her wand, her wit and a knife. Did you expect anything less?”

“Bellatrix is thirteen. Thirteen. How does Mother not see what’s wrong with this? We’re barely five and we know that this is a Bad. Idea.”

“I see I’m rubbing off you. Good, you could do with my common sense and intellect,” Aquila said, brushing off the look of annoyance Sirius sent her, “To answer your question; we are members of the House of Black. Again, did you expect anything less?”

“… Are they teaching her how to use them?”

“Her lessons begin in the summer after she receives them. And before you ask, I know this because I actually pay attention to what Mother and the other Ladies discuss during their ‘tea parties’. You should attempt to do so too, brother dearest,” Aquila drawled, lips pulling into a smirk. Tea parties? Ha, more like minor political battles. Flowery compliments more often than not had double meanings and hidden barbs while the painted smirks on the Ladies present were the only clue of the hidden plans formulating behind immaculate masks. Politics, oh how Aquila hated them, and from the look on Sirius’ face, her twin shared her opinion on the matter.

Standing outside the study room where their language tutor was waiting for them, Sirius stared at her in disbelief, “Mother is giving Bellatrix something pointy and dangerous, and Bellatrix is only going to be taught how to handle them after the school term ends?”

“I doubt Bella will be able to bring her knives to Hogwarts. Aunt Druella at least has enough sense to disallow that until she’s certain Bella knows how to use them. And no matter how Bella may act, I sincerely doubt she’d go all stab-happy afterwards. She’s in Slytherin; she should have some amount subtlety.”

The deadpanned look Sirius sent her conveyed exactly how much faith he had in Bellatrix having subtlety.

Stormy grey eyes glinted back at him, “We are learning how to manipulate and blackmail others when we’re five, Siri. This is the House of Black. Why are you surprised?”

…

“Do we still have to go for lessons, Kii?”

“For the last time Siri, yes.”

.

For all purposes and doubts, their tutor was an extremely competent one, fluent in English, French, Latin and many more languages (as if their parents would have settled for anything less) but he certainly wasn’t a good tutor for them. Too formal for Sirius to truly connect with him enough to try to excel, too rigid to allow for Aquila to practice the languages differently and too stubborn to change his lesson plans when it was obvious they weren’t effective anymore. There was only so many times they could be asked to translate the Anglo-French War before even the fact that the numerous muggle battles occurring in Normandy had been used to cover up a three-way aerial territorial spat between three colonies of feuding Veela became boring.

Aquila dipped her quill into her ink well before penning down the translated quote the matriarch of the triumphant colony had used as a rallying call for her people to defend their home, ‘Si vis pacem, para bellum.’

She cocked her head to one side as she mused over what her mother and the other Ladies had discussed in their latest… tea party.

Apparently, Aunt Druella’s cousin’s daughter had heard from the Hogwarts rumour mill that the Headmaster had turned down a potential candidate for the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts due to a personal bias. In retaliation, the wizard had jinxed the job position, although no one knew exactly what the jinx was. Aquila turned her calculating eyes away from the original French source material to focus on the Latin quote she had just written, brows slightly pinched. The student had said that her Head of House had been in a foul mood during the End-of-Term Feast because Dumbledore had turned away ‘a genius of a wizard unrivalled in his proficiency in Defence and the greatest Slytherin of his time.’ Although the only thing she could confirm was that the Slytherin politics in the upper years had shifted to include a possible rising political powerhouse descended from Salazar Slytherin himself.

There was only one Wizard Aquila knew who matched that description.

.

If you desire peace, prepare for war.

Chapter Text

In an impressive display of flexibility and control, Aquila sat nestled in a corner of the Black Library between a chair and her brothers using her leg as a pillow as they snoozed. A medium-sized tome was perched on her other knee and a stack of parchment, a quill and an inkwell were placed on her makeshift table. Every so often, Aquila would twist her torso to scribble down notes before returning back to the tome to continue her reading.

This had been their routine ever since the twins had stumbled into the library, with Regulus toddling after them, after their lessons had ended. Aquila felt a twinge of guilt when they'd been discovered by a frantic Kreacher who had gone to fetch Regulus for a bath only to find his playroom empty. She had almost winced when she caught sight of the sheer relief on the House Elf's withered face when he saw Regulus fast asleep on her lap. She had apologized softly for worrying him, only to have Kreacher nearly start wailing on how he was not deserving of her kindness after he had disrupted them. It was, surprisingly, Sirius who stopped Kreacher's antics with a request for milk and cookies.

After that incident, Kreacher would send them snacks and drinks every hour until they left the library for dinner. It was a comfortable routine; Sirius and Aquila would play with Regulus until he grew bored or tired (which was roughly around an hour) before falling asleep. It was a daily competition between the twins to see who the better 'pillow' was. (Currently the score was 189 to 94 in favor of Aquila, much to Sirius' disgruntlement.) The next two hours would be Aquila reading and Sirius attempting to read before giving up and using her as a pillow to nap on.

Their mother was not pleased when she found them in, what was essentially, a dogpile. Walburga would have screeched at them to the high heavens had Orion not pointed out that since there was no one to see them in such a manner, there was no harm in letting them relax there. Aquila was immensely grateful to their father, because no matter how fond of Walburga she was, their mother did really have a pair of lungs on her. Not to mention, Regulus would've cried because of the sudden noise and she'd have to deal with her twin's incessant whining. Aquila loved Sirius, truly, but there was only so much noise she could take for so long before she snapped. (And she would've felt awful for making Regulus cry, indirectly or not… not that she would ever admit it.)

Today though, their routine was broken when Walburga strolled into the library an hour before dinner. Aquila's eyes trailed her mother's form as she finished writing down the last few words on her sentence. Walburga gave a disapproving sniff at the sight of her brothers sprawled over her but refrained from commenting. Instead, she strolled towards them and pried a sleeping Regulus from Sirius' arms while tersely informing Aquila to wake her brother so that they could prepare for the Winter Ball the Malfoys were hosting in celebration of the House's Heir Apparent Lucius' acceptance to Hogwarts. Aquila gave a short nod in response and nudged Sirius awake, before moving to return the tome and keep her notes and stationery.

Aquila ignored the way Walburga's eyes widened minutely at the tome's title. She smirked to herself; if she knew her mother well enough (and she did), dinner at the Malfoy's mansion would prove extremely enlightening for her.

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Green flames whirled around them before the twins were greeted the white marble walls of Malfoy Manor's reception room. A quick brush down of their robes to remove what little soot that was disturbed by their entrance and the twins straightened, before walking to where their parents were. Their host for the evening, Abraxas Malfoy, inclined his head slightly in response to Sirius' bow and Aquila's curtsy.

"As I was saying," Orion continued, "my eldest; Sirius, Heir Apparent of the House of Black, and my First Daughter, Aquila."

"Thank you for having us Lord Malfoy," they chorused.

"It is my pleasure," Lord Malfoy drawled, "Come, let us proceed to the foyer for refreshments. The children may proceed to the adjacent room."

Sirius and Aquila nodded at the dismissal and, after a curt nod from Walburga, they left.

"What a snob," Sirius groused the moment they were out of earshot. Aquila merely hummed in agreement.

Sirius casted a wary look at her, before sighing, "You're planning something, aren't you."

Aquila smirked in response.

"Will I be implicated in anyway?" Sirius peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

She gave him a look.

"You're going to prank Bellatrix aren't you." The statement was accompanied by an excited grin.

"Perhaps. Cousin Bella still hasn't accepted that as First Daughter of the House of Black's main line, I have much more political power than she ever could. Can't let her get too insufferable just because she's gained Mother's approval now can I?"

Sirius snickered. "This is going to be spectacular."

.

Receiving her first set of knives was an important achievement for any daughter of the House of Black. It was more than an expensive gift, for the design of each knife (blade and handle) was personalized and the blade also sported a variety of minute runes that enhanced its sharpness and durability, it also showed that the daughter had proven herself that she was worthy of bearing the family name Black. In other words, it proclaimed that the bearer was rich, powerful and had the full backing of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Any pure-blood worth their salt knew this, especially those of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and none were more aware of this than the Blacks themselves. Therefore-

"Hello ickle Sirius and ickle Aquila, where's Aunt Walburga? I simply must thank her for the lovely set of knives she's gifted me. Had I known that all I had to do was to perform Reducto silently, I'd have done that ages ago."

Therefore, having Bellatrix flaunt her latest gift and crowing about it to her was absolutely annoying.

Behind Bellatrix, Aquila saw her cousins Andromeda and Narcissa wince and give her an apologetic look respectively at their sister's actions. Aquila liked those two; Andromeda was terrifically fun to be around, her sharp wit and mature outlook on things were extremely refreshing for Aquila, while Narcissa was lovely company. She'd sometimes join them in the library when Aquila's extended family visited Grimmauld Place and seemed to genuinely enjoy playing with Regulus. And sometimes, Aquila would see a steely glint of determination in her eyes, and she'd find herself looking at a face decades older and wearier. Aquila knew how they would grow up to be, and she had respected and liked their characters before, so it was unsurprising that she enjoyed their company now.

And yet for the same reason, she could not stand Bellatrix. Aquila respected her, there was no doubt of that; Bellatrix, even at the tender age of thirteen, had proven herself to be an extremely powerful and capable witch. Aquila knew she'd be absolutely devastating in the future. But Bellatrix had killed Sirius. She had murdered a version of Aquila's twin. For that reason alone, Aquila couldn't bring herself to like her.

("AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"No, no! SIRIUS!")

Aquila shook herself slightly, before plastering a polite smile on her face, "Hello cousin Bella. Mother is currently with Lord Malfoy at the moment. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until dinner to thank her personally." Next to her, Sirius pulled his lips into a tight smile, nodding in agreement. They gave a short dip of their heads to Lucius Malfoy, who had broken his conversation with Evan Rosier and Rodolphus Lestrange at the sound of Bellatrix's greeting.

Bellatrix gave an annoyed huff, before giving Aquila an acidic smile, "A pity. What about you ickle little eagle, done any magic yet? Blown up a window? Shattered some teacups? Anything like that?"

Aquila gave her a bland look even as Sirius puffed up indignantly on her behalf, "Accidental magic only occurs when the wizard or witch is under immense emotional stress. Aquila's far too collected to let her magic throw tantrums on her behalf, unlike some."

She was mildly impressed that Sirius hadn't yelled. Even if he wasn't exactly being subtle. Still, seeing the faint flush coloring their eldest cousin's pale cheeks was extremely satisfying for Aquila.

Although, she was hardly about to let Bellatrix think that she couldn't fight her own battles.

"Brother, be nice. It was a reasonable question, I doubt cousin Bella meant any insult." Bellatrix's eyebrow ticked slightly at that, having realised that her plan to embarrass her had backfired. However, Aquila wasn't quite done yet.

"Since dinner won't be for a while, would you fancy a game of chess cousin Bella?"

Chapter Text

Sirius watched the chess game unfurl with unbidden glee.

Bellatrix, in an attempt to undermine Aquila, had declined to play as White, allowing the first move to be played by Aquila. It was brag – that she was more than capable of beating his twin even without having the first-move advantage. Had her opponent be anyone other than Aquila, Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself that it was a reasonable brag, as Bellatrix was (and oh how he hated to admit this) a good chess player. But the argument was moot since she was facing Aquila. His twin, who was absolutely vicious when competing. His twin, who didn't like Bellatrix at all, and had no qualms trashing her opponent in the most embarrassing manner possible (and he could testify; he'd been pitted against her far too many times than he liked). His twin, who was a genius and had a much better head on her shoulders than Bellatrix did.

He peered over Aquila's shoulder. The pieces were a mirror of each other, stationed in a position he recognised as an English Opening, a strategy that was taught to all Blacks. All four Knights had been moved to stand in front of both players' Bishops. Aquila moved the Queen's Pawn with a soft, "Pawn, D-4." Sirius had a feeling that she was done positioning her pieces when Bellatrix mirrored her move again, blocking that Pawn's advancement.

Pawns were shattered as the game progressed and Bellatrix's gaze turned decidedly smug when she saddled his twin with an Isolated Queen's Pawn. Sirius had to fight down a grin. He'd been forced to play Bellatrix several times before (and was always trashed spectacularly to his frustration, since she never let him live that down) so he knew that she favoured using her Knights to pressure her opponent and favoured having her King piece defended by the King's side Bishop and three pawns. But more importantly, Aquila knew that as well. And Bellatrix didn't know how she played since they'd never finished a game before, as Aquila had always let Sirius play first (and would subsequently berate him on how he should've played to his annoyance). Bellatrix probably had the notion that Aquila's playing style was like his; simple and straightforward, like a Gryffindor's their eldest cousin would mock, and the Isolated Queen's Pawn would severely hinder her gameplay, like it had in one of his matches. He snickered. As if. Aquila's style was decidedly more Slytherin.

Looking back onto the board, he noted that both players had castled, and Bellatrix's King was, unsurprisingly, near the corner and behind three pawns.

Bellatrix cackled to herself, "Pawn to G-6." Sirius frowned. Bellatrix looked quite solid on the King's side. He took a short glance at his twin's face and noted the very pleased look in her eyes and Sirius had to fight down another grin. It seemed that things were going according to plan. Sirius relaxed, even as Aquila placed her Rook directly in the line of Bellatrix's Pawn fortress. It was a seemingly absurd move, especially with the stakes they had, but it payed off when she moved her Bishop to another square in her next turn. Bellatrix suddenly found her Pawn under immense pressure from not only the Rook, but from Aquila's other Bishop and Knight.

In her next few turns, Aquila sacrificed her Bishop and Knight, ripping apart Bellatrix's defences with what Sirius could only describe as childish glee. (Not that he would ever say that to Aquila; she'd go out of her way to obliterate him in their next dozen or so games. He liked having his pride intact thank you very much.) A precise move on Aquila's part, moving her Queen to B-1, and Sirius knew the match was as good as over.

It seemed that Bellatrix knew that as well, since her expression was rather livid. In a few more moves, where it was clear Bellatrix was rather helpless, Aquila had Bellatrix's King backed into a corner by her Queen.

"Checkmate."

Sirius finally let loose a loud snicker. Oh, he could practically feel the smugness rolling off his twin, even if there was only a polite smile on her face. It was so worth the scathing glare Bellatrix threw at him.

.

Sirius sometimes wondered whether his twin had the ability to see the future. Or get the Universe to conspire with her. Or if she was just seriously (pun intended) lucky. Though it could be that he was just really, really unlucky instead. How else could he explain how Aquila and Bellatrix were seated directly opposite each other and he was the one that had to hold in all the laughter that was clawing to get out?

He glanced at the seating card placed in front of his twin before looking up. Yeah, Bellatrix was still seated opposite Aquila. He wasn't dreaming. He took a deep breath, chest shaking slightly with mirth despite his best efforts.

Not to mention Aquila had been seated on the right side of the table. Meaning that despite Bellatrix's apparent magical prowess, the Malfoys still acknowledged his twin as being more politically important than Bellatrix. And judging by the satisfaction he could feel radiating off Aquila and Bellatrix's barely hidden outrage at their seating arrangement, both of them knew that as well.

Sirius took another deep breath. He was not going to laugh. He was not going to bring down his mother's wrath on him. Especially not with Bellatrix and all the other stuffy pure-bloods present. He sneaked a glance at the other children present. Lucius sat between Lord Malfoy and their father, and their grandfather sat opposite the young Malfoy, to the Lord Malfoy's left. The three adults were in a hushed conversation and Lucius was hanging onto every word said.

The remaining children, like him and Aquila, sat in the middle of the table. He eyed the Lestrange brothers, Evan Rosier, the Carrow twins... All of them present acted like they were royalty, their dignified and haughty manner very much like their parents'. With the exception of his twin and their cousins of course; Aquila was still looking very satisfied, while Andromeda and Narcissa hadn't quite fallen into the 'arrogant pure-blood' act just yet. And Bellatrix… Yeah, still outraged.

Sirius fidgeted in his seat, formal attire uncomfortable and stiff. He was not going to laugh. If there was anything he learnt in his short five years of life, it was that Walburga Black did not tolerate anyone that shamed the House of Black. Especially in public events like this. He took a deep breath for the third time. He was not going to laugh.

(Even if the situation was so ridiculously perfect that it was hilarious. His twin was an awesome prankster.)

.

As the dinner progressed and the conversation began to lull, Walburga spoke up.

"Aquila," their mother called out loftily, "Earlier you were reading A Study of Runes in the library. I must confess I did not expect you to understand a subject so intricate. Do share what you've learnt."

With her tall figure and aristocratic beauty, their mother cut an intimidating figure, despite being seated a few seats away. Her dark eyes glistened with something Sirius couldn't identify and were focused intensely on his twin. In fact, most of the people seated at the table were focusing on her, including Bellatrix. Sirius could tell that the few pure-bloods that weren't looking at Aquila were listening in, their own conversation suspiciously quiet. The boy squirmed at the assessing way they were looking at his twin, like a pack of wolves ready to devour a piece of fresh meat. What was Mother planning?

Still, Aquila smiled and replied with ridiculous ease, her voice laced with quiet confidence, "I've only had the book since March and only covered about a quarter of it, so I haven't had the chance to try any runic sequence. So far I've only managed to memorise most of the symbols and their meanings. I understand that runes channel magic passively? I suppose one could say that runic magic act on association and the rune itself acts as an anchor for the magic to be maintained in a manner the witch or wizard intends it too."

Sirius blinked. What.

He glanced around the table. Most of the children were sporting stunned faces, including Bellatrix who, if Sirius recalled correctly, was taking Ancient Runes as one of her electives. Well, at least he wasn't the only one confused.

A second glance around the table showed that many of the adults were adopting an expression of impressed intrigue.

The stretch of silence was ended by their father. Orion gave a low hum of consideration, before his grey eyes gleamed with obvious pride and approval. "Your theory does have merit," he mused. This was followed by several nods from the adults present. "I must agree with your mother, daughter," Orion continued, "Your progress is rather astounding."

Aquila gave a bashful smile (Sirius would have called her out on that if he wasn't still trying to understand what she just dumped on him) before hesitantly asking, "I do have a question I'd like to ask. May I? Although, I understand that this isn't a very interesting dinner topic-"

"Nonsense, Miss Black," she was interrupted, surprisingly, by their host, Lord Malfoy, "Ancient Runes is a subject most pure-bloods take. Such a discussion would only prove useful in the future."

Aquila blinked in surprise, though she didn't react to the way Lord Malfoy's silver eyes were bearing down on her. "Thank you for the opportunity Lord Malfoy. I'd just like to clarify something I noticed; there are so many distinct branches to Runology the book has mentioned so far – Egyptian protective barriers, Grecian enhancement, Japanese shikigami… And yet, it hasn't even hinted at being able to create your own runic scripture."

Sirius' head whirled between Aquila, their mother (who was looking decidedly smug), their father and the rest of the table.

Lord Malfoy made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh (Sirius wasn't sure, but it had caused those seated near the Lord start slightly) before his face smoothened over and he drawled, "Wizards only think in so many ways Miss Black. That's the only reason why there are so many 'branches' so to speak. You would have worked that out after a few years of studying runes but no matter."

"Lord Malfoy is correct," their father cut in, "A Study of Runes draws reference to those 'branches' as examples only because most wizards can only use generic and standardised rune scriptures. Anything more advanced than, say, a protective barrier, has to be customised to the wizard himself."

Aquila blinked.

"The examples you listed – those only worked because the wizard that made them created their own style of runes that worked. An advanced runic scripture is something you own; mind, magic and soul. It's not something you can find in a book, daughter."

Aquila nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. She dipped her head and murmured a word of thanks to their father and Lord Malfoy.

"Should you have any more questions, daughter, you may come to me to clarify," their father offered, and Sirius noticed, slightly stunned, that his lips were twitching into a smile, "I did, after all, get an 'O' for the subject in my NEWTs."

His twin absentmindedly gave a sound of agreement. Sirius was of the opinion that had she not just blown the minds of almost everyone present, their mother would definitely have hexed her for that.

Still, his twin had apparently had an understanding of a complex subject that should have taken her years of study to achieve in nine months. Somehow, he wasn't surprised with that.

Damn, his twin was awesome.

.

When they returned back to Grimmauld Place, Sirius and Aquila entered their room to find Regulus snoozing on Aquila's bed with Kreacher at the bedside reading aloud a storybook.

Normally, Sirius would pout at the fact that Regulus had chosen Aquila over him (again), but this time he merely asked Kreacher to soundproof their room. The ageing Elf did so with a snap of his fingers and a curious look at Sirius. The boy ignored it, instead giving the House Elf a nod of thanks.

Then, he collapsed, howling with laughter.

The sound startled Regulus awake and he peered at them curiously. "Kii, what's wrong with Siri?" Regulus asked, his head tilted slightly to a side.

"Nothing, Reggie," Aquila giggled, "Your big sis just had a fun time playing politics with cousin Bella. I won and Siri just found it very funny."

Regulus frowned, "But I thought Kii didn't like politics."

Aquila snickered. "I only said I didn't like politics; I never said I wasn't good at it."

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight pooled into the living room Aquila was currently occupying. She sat on one of the luxurious plush chairs, her little legs dangling as stacks of bound parchment rested on her lap. Her black hair, normally tied up, hung free, curled around her face as she read through her notes. She stared at the words she'd written months ago before giving a morose sigh.

Last night's dinner at Malfoy Manor had been extremely fruitful, yet also rather discouraging. What the Lord Malfoy had pointed out was rather obvious, and it truly displeased Aquila that she hadn't noticed it earlier. She'd been swept by the discovery that she could actually do magic with Runes, because no matter how she'd acted in front of Bellatrix, her lack of accidental magic, intentional or not (and wasn't that just ironic), truly did bother her. Because, accidental or not, it was still magic.

Accidental magic was, as the name suggested, unpredictable and uncontrollable but a part of her wished that she didn't remember, if only to experience it. Lessons on Magical Theory taught Aquila that she couldn't cast spells of perform magic intentionally, at least not for a few years, until her body had grown and her magical core and channels had developed sufficiently to handle magic that held controlled intent in it. (Magic in that form, which she dubbed as Active Magic, was apparently denser and more potent, and the body could not cope with it until a certain age. It was a reason why accidental magic was so volatile; the body literally just expelled all the too potent emotionally-charged energy out with a vague command of do this and nothing else – no directions, no control. At least, that was what Aquila understood it did from her tutor.)

Stumbling across A Study of Runes in had filled her with anticipation and childish delight at the possibility of doing magic. It was bittersweet to know that despite her efforts, she'd been going around in circles the whole time, despite her apparent progress.

Aquila shook herself. Well, she hadn't wasted her time completely, seeing as her father and Lord Malfoy both thought that she had a decent grasp of Runes.

She turned her eyes back to her notes.

Runology, or the art of writing runic scriptures (which was very different from Ancient Runes, where one was only taught what rune meant what), was one of the least studied Magical Arts. At least, in Britain and at the current time. Aquila suspected it was likely because British Wizards and Witches were… lazy at best. But no matter the questionable attitude of the British Wizarding World, it was undeniable that Runology was intricate. There were many factors to be aware of; the runes, the properties of the materials used, the amount of ambient magic in the air, how magic and intent could interact (and even ruin) the scripture. It was a reason why most chose to simply use standardised and time-proven scriptures, even if a personalised one could be less expensive and more effective.

But it wasn't just the knowledge that was important; it was the aptitude as well. To truly succeed, one had to know how to direct magic, be it ambient magic or their own, without overpowering the scripture with too much intent or emotions that the magic became too uncontrollable and literally blew the scriptures up. Needless to say, most were turned off by the possible death-by-runic-explosion situation to attempt to learn Runology, much less practice it.

No, studying Runology had shifted from something the masses could learn and apply into heavily guarded family traditions and secrets to be passed through generations. Still, the tome had been useful in outlining the basics of it, even if it hadn't gone into in-depth explanations yet. Runic scriptures took the form of mainly three styles, numerical, geometrical and scriptural. They often intertwined with each other, each style lending its strength to the overall scripture whilst covering up the shortfalls of the other style.

Numerical style, as the name suggested, was about numbers; depicted in the form of actual numbers or as a pattern present in the scripture. Aquila suspected that there were aspects of Arithmancy in the latter's case as well, since the patterns often correlated to prime numbers, repeated most commonly in threes, fives and especially sevens, but she wouldn't be able to confirm that until she got her hands onto a book on the subject. Of the three, it was the most specific.

The geometrical style dealt with shapes that the runes were drawn in. Since each shape could have different meanings to it, it was intent that shaped and determined its effect on the scripture. A circle could symbolise protection, containment or continuity. A spiral could be interpreted as 'drawing power from' or volatility. The shapes directed and channelled magic within the scripture so as to keep it functioning.

Scriptural runes encompassed all written languages, making it the most versatile of the three. It allowed the author's intent to be expressed in a way that ambient magic present was shaped and altered into a form that was most favourable for that situation. It was because of the association all humans had with certain words that language simply didn't matter in runes. Oh yes, using actual runes or Latin would exert a more potent effect than English, since Aquila associated them as magical languages, but she probably could create a scripture using English only and it could work. That was why so many countries had their own form of runes that worked and would continue to function even if the language had gone extinct. Case-in-point, Egyptian hieroglyphs that lined the tombs of the Pharaohs still functioned to curse the living daylights out of anyone who disturbed the final resting places of the Ancient Egypt's rulers.

And because Runes channelled magic passively, they would work to a certain extent even if it was written and used by non-magical, such as talismans and 'blessed' objects. Those would never be as strong as they could be if a magical channelled Active Magic through it, but it would still function well enough with just the ambient magic present in the air.

That much, she'd been able to discover from the tome. Some had been inferred and later confirmed by the other books present in the Black Library. But until last night, the hows and whys of Runology had been frustratingly elusive.

Those only worked because the wizard that made them created their own style of runes that worked, Orion's voice echoed. An advanced runic scripture is something you own; mind, magic and soul.

Runes were a physical embodiment of the Magical's will, as much as actual spells were.

Aquila blinked in shock. Staring down at her notes, she wondered why it was suddenly so obvious.

The effects of runes were so similar to that of spells because runes were the written forms of the spell itself. The runes themselves weren't the power source; they were just the foci – just like magical incantations were.

Aquila scrambled off the chair, out of the room and down the hallway. She ignored how her parents supported stunned faces when she barrelled past them. She swept past Regulus' room, hastily returning his morning greeting before turning a corner and bursting into Sirius' and her shared room. Rushing past a surprised Sirius, she threw herself onto her study desk and grabbed a quill and parchment.

Runes were the written forms of spells. If she was right, that meant Aquila could replicate the effects of a spell using Runes, as long as she found a way that worked for her and her intent was strong enough to direct the ambient magic present into the form Active Magic took. It wouldn't be as effective as it could be if her magical channels had been more developed and Aquila could perform Active Magic, but it would do, especially since Grimmauld Place was practically saturated with ambient magic.

Carefully, she penned down several runes meant to draw and absorb the ambient magic present into the shape of a circle. Then, she drew an inner circle with another set of runes meant to express the magic drawn from the outer circle in the way the spell she had in mind would. Finally, she connected the two circles with two spirals that wound around the inner circle that began and ended at opposite ends.

Magic cannot be created or destroyed, only altered and channelled.

As she drew, she kept that in mind. The outer circle acted as a pathway for the ambient magic that would power the scripture, while the inner circle was the pathway that the altered magic would flow through to replicate the effects of the spell. The spirals acted as channels for both forms of magic to connect with the whole scripture and also represented that magic could be altered from a passive state into an active state and vice versa.

A power source, a pathway for energy to flow continuously and a region for the reaction to occur.

Aquila took a deep breath, before steadying her hand to write down the incantation in the centre of the inner circle in a cursive, loopy script, making sure that the word connected with the inner circle.

She paused, her quill hovering over the parchment when nothing happened. Fighting down the disappointment with a firm I'm not finished yet, she placed a finger over the scripture.

Aquila sucked in a breath, and with a frim my will be done!, commanded, "Lumos."

Several yelps sounded as light exploded from the parchment. Aquila had a fleeting thought of sweet Salazar, Merlin and Morgana it worked before Sirius and Regulus pounced on her with twin exclamations of surprise and excitement. A snap from the right had the trio turning towards Walburga, clutching a camera, with Aquila's lighted up rune in full view. Orion stood beside her, face impassive save for a delighted gleam in his eyes.

"No one would believe us without proof!" Walburga snapped. A proud, honest-to-Merlin smile on her face and the lack of bite in her words however, betrayed her real intentions, even as she strode off to get her evidence printed. Aquila giggled.

Orion chose that time to walk forward to hug all three of them, before a warm hand was gently ruffling Aquila's hair, and, to her shock, Orion pressed a kiss to her temples, lips etched into a smile.

"Good job, Aquila." Her father was still smiling.

Aquila could only nod in reply, stunned. Maybe there was a way for her to keep this family from falling apart the way it did Before. Maybe.

.

DELETED SCENE

"So," Sirius mused a few moments after Orion left the room, "How do you turn it off?"

Aquila blinked, before laughing sheepishly. "I haven't actually thought that far yet."

Regulus tugged at her sleeve, "Maybe Kii could try Nox?"

Aquila hummed in consideration. It was worth a shot.

"Nox."

The light remained shining.

The trio glanced at each other, before Sirius walked up to the desk. He took the paper, flipped it over and placed a book on it.

Aquila stared.

"What? It works!" Sirius said defensively.

Chapter Text

Six months had passed since Aquila created her Light Scripture, and summer had begun to crawl into London. During that time, she, with the help her father, had fiddled and experimented with the scripture until she could turn it on and off, control the light's intensity and even set it on timer. Needless to say, Orion had been very pleased and Walburga all but crowing to the other Ladies when she met with them.

Aquila was more than aware of the increased scrutiny that was placed on her because of this, both by her parents and by the other pureblood Houses. She was also not blind to how the Houses with Heirs and sons were assessing her, betrothal contracts no doubt the topic of many discussions Orion had with the other Lords. She'd be worried but her father had shot down each and every single offer, stating that Aquila wasn't something to be bought with money or familial allegiance. She was deeply touched by the action, that Orion, despite being happy with Walburga, wouldn't do to them what his father had done to him and was happy to let her find her own match, as long as he was a respectable wizard. Aquila knew that it would have been much simpler to just agree to a contract; talented, intelligent and part of a long, pure and rich lineage? There was no doubt that she could've been just shuffled to the highest bidder. Instead her father had probably snubbed a good dozen or so Houses with his refusal just for her sake.

Not that it stopped the other Houses from trying.

As it were, Aquila, Sirius and Regulus were in the living room 'entertaining' their guests, Rabastan Lestrange, Evan Rosier and Bartemius Crouch Jr. Or rather, Aquila was watching over Regulus and Barty while they played and Sirius glared alternatively between Lestrange and Rosier who were conversing in soft tones together.

It had been almost an hour since their parents had disappeared into Orion's study room to 'discuss certain matters' and Aquila was impressed that her twin had the control to keep the impressive glare on his face for the whole time. It was rather endearing to see Sirius trying to look intimidating to her potential betrothal candidates. And considering he was six and Lestrange and Rosier were ten and nine respectively, he wasn't having any success at all. (Aquila was of the opinion that he looked more like a sullen puppy that realised that his favourite toys was going to be taken away. Especially when he made tiny growls whenever the two older boys so much as glanced her way.)

Aquila sighed. Deciding that Sirius had enough time to make his point across, she slapped him on the head, effectively breaking the awkward tension in the air.

Ignoring her twin's indignant yelp with practised ease, she dragged him over to where Lestrange and Rosier were watching them curiously.

She gave Sirius a nudge, to which he released a few incoherent grumbles before giving a displeased huff.

"I object to any non-platonic relationships that focus on Aquila. I'm not sharing." Sirius stated seriously. (Aquila was struck by another mental image of a tiny barking puppy.)

To the older boys' credit, the only signs of confusion they gave were a blink of the eyes and a slight shift in their standing postures.

"I'm serious," Sirius continued on (and Aquila had to fight down the urge quip a 'who else would you be?' to him). He folded his arms and puffed out his chest, "Father will turn down those betrothal contracts again, and I am not going to let you befriend my sister like you're parents ordered you to just to try and tie her down with an engagement proposal. I. Am. Not. Sharing."

Aquila pinched the bridge of her nose and made frustrated sound. Lestrange and Rosier looked flabbergasted.

After a moment, Rosier pipped up hesitantly, "We weren't told to befriend Aquila just to… propose to her." Said girl was mildly amused to see the older boy turn an interesting shade of green at the prospect of proposing to her.

Sirius gave the two a suspicious look. His eyes narrowed, "Are you sure." It wasn't so much a question as much as it was a demand.

They nodded.

After a few seconds of consideration, her twin grumbled, walked over to a nearby chair and sat down.

Aquila chose that time to explain her twin's actions to the confused pair. "He approves of you trying to be friends with me and won't actively try to sabotage this friendship as long as it remains platonic."

Lestrange gave her an odd look, "You need his approval?"

"Hardly." Aquila's reply was drier than the Sahara. "It just means that I have less whining to deal with if I decide to be friends with you as well." Here she paused, before a wry smile stretch across her lips, "Sirius doesn't like sharing, as you could probably tell."

"And the 'proposal'?" Lestrange edged, looking a bit uncomfortable.

Aquila shrugged. "Father's been getting quite a number of betrothal proposals. He's turned all of them down, but your families have been rather insistent."

The older boys looked mildly alarmed and wrong-footed. She was willing to be that their families hadn't informed them of the real reason they'd been visiting Grimmauld Place on a near weekly basis for the past few months.

"It's because you made that rune light, isn't it?" Rosier asked.

Aquila nodded.

The two older boys shared a glance. "Can we see it?" Lestrange asked.

.

"…  when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so  very  remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so  very  much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually  took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit hole under the hedge."

Shadows flickered across the wall as Sirius read from the book. Behind the audience, Aquila shifted the shadow-puppets she had in her hands, casting shadows that matched her twin's voice.

They had done this several times since she managed to create the Light Scripture, and the motions were now rather familiar to Aquila. It was an idea Aquila had when Regulus complained to the both of them how Kreacher had read all the bedtime stories to him already, and he wanted something different. And just the next day, Walburga brought the twins to Diagon Alley to shop for a few items. When they were there, the twins had wandered into Flourish and Blotts and managed to find a magically enchanted book of non-magical stories. They bought it and smuggled it back to their home to a delighted Regulus.

The shadow-puppets were a spur of the moment idea Aquila had, and when she shared it with Sirius, they decided to try it. They spent weeks creating the puppets and learning how to use them, and they surprised their baby brother with a shadow-puppet rendition of Alice in Wonderland on his birthday. Needless to say, Regulus loved it, and Alice in Wonderland became his favourite.

" In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well."

Regulus and Barty gave appropriate reactions of surprise and horror as Shadow-Alice fell down the rabbit hole, and while the older pair of boys didn't voice their reactions, they were looking very intently at the shadows flickering on the wall. Aquila grinned; Sirius was a great story teller and she a good puppeteer it seemed. Their audience was entranced.

Just as Sirius was about to continue on, Kreacher popped into the room with an announcement that the adults had finished their discussions and the guests were to leave soon.

There was much disappointment that the story had been cut short, but the boys helped to keep the puppets and the books while Aquila deactivated the Light Scripture. She accepted the box that contained the puppets from Lestrange with a nod of thanks. The group then proceeded to walk down the hallway towards the foyer where the adults were waiting for them.

On the way Aquila asked, "Lestrange, where's your brother? I find it a bit odd that he's not here, even if he's already betrothed to cousin Bella."

The boy shrugged, "He's having lessons with an old classmate of Father's. Bellatrix is with him as well."

Aquila raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what is he covering?"

Lestrange hesitated for a brief moment, before he replied, "Dark Arts."

Further conversation stopped as they had arrived at the foyer. The children proceeded to their respective parents and it was Rosier who broke the brief silence.

"Sirius, Aquila, thank you for showing us the Light Scripture. It was most enlightening," he paused, "I… would not be averse to being allies with the both of you."

"I as well," Lestrange spoke up.

"Me too!" Barty Jr. pipped up from his perch in his mother's arms, "The story was great!"

The adults eyed the situation in interest. The twins brushed against each other and chorused, "Of course."

.

The Lestranges left last, with Rabastan giving the twins a parting nod before he disappeared in a whirl of green flames. Once the flames died down, Walburga gave a sideways glance towards the twins, her lips pursed in a disapproving manner.

"I had hoped that you two would have improved and be able to showcase your little performance in a more magical way but I doubt so." She turned around to face them, barking, "Aquila. I expect you to improve on your runes if you wish to continue your little hobby. Sirius. Work on your studies. Kreacher can read those stories. It is beneath an Heir to do a servant's job."

With that she spun around and strode off. Orion followed her, disagreement evident but he said nothing in reply to Walburga.

Aquila stared at the back of her parents, especially Walburga, with a blank face. The only hint of annoyance and anger was the tenseness of her back and a mild twitch of her finger. Beside her, Sirius was clenching his fist and glaring darkly at the floor while Regulus looked on anxiously.

She was under such scrutiny that she shouldn't have been surprised.

(She was; and frustrated that all Walburga seemed to care about was her magical prowess. And a little hurt too.)

Chapter Text

A cold breeze nipped at Aquila's face as she walked down the Alley. Beside her, Regulus held her hand as while Sirius ambled slightly behind them.

February had rolled around, bringing with it a drop in temperatures, and eventually, fresh batches of snow. In the morning light, the snow-capped buildings in Diagon Alley shimmered in a way that made the Alley seem even more magical than usual.

Gently tugging Regulus out of the way of a harried wizard, Aquila led her brothers through the thin crowd, weaving them around wizards and witches, all the while keeping track of their mother's figure in front of them.

Walburga had brought the trio out for the day to accompany her whilst she carried out several errands in Diagon and the surrounding Alleys. Orion was away on business, having accepted a Charms apprentice in the form of his younger second cousin Aiden Potter some months ago. Aquila wasn't quite sure which surprised her more, the fact that their father had accepted a Potter as his apprentice or that Orion was both an Ancient Runes and Charms Master. Although, her initial surprise faded when she remembered that Potter's mother was Dorea Black, Walburga's favourite aunt and Potter had scored exceptionally well for all his NEWTs, especially for Charms.

Aquila was roused out of her musing by a particularly strong gust of wind that had the trio clamping down on their cloaks to prevent them from billowing up. The cloaks had been enchanted with Warming Charms which kept the trio comfortably warm despite the freezing temperatures around them. Of course, the Charms worked best if the cloaks covered their bodies completely, hence the need for them to grab onto the expensive fabric every time their cloaks threatened to be blown open by the winter winds.

A yelp from Sirius had her, Regulus and their mother turn back to see Sirius tugging his cloak close, no doubt having gotten caught by a chilly gust by surprise. He flushed slightly when he caught their gaze and flinched slightly when he noticed that Walburga's wand was in her hand.

Aquila tensed slightly, well aware of how their mother had become increasingly fond of sending a jinx or hex whenever she was displeased with her children. Although she refrained from doing that in public, undoubtedly of the opinion that it would be beneath a Lady of her station to act in such a manner. However, it took very little to set her off these days; just two days before Walburga had flung an overpowered stinging hex at Aquilabecause one of her tutors had mentioned that Aquila had seemed a tad distracted during the lesson and been overheard by a nearby portrait. Who proceeded to tattle on them.

Walburga had been furious, screaming at her that such behaviour was shameful and that it was beneath her to be caught in such a manner. The hex had left her shoulders twinging and sore for an entire day. Needless to say, Sirius and Regulus had been tiptoeing on eggshells around Walburga because up to then, their mother had never turned her wand against Aquila before.

It was unsettling, especially for Aquila. Still, she had tried to downplay the pain she'd been in for the peace of her brothers' and father's mind. (Orion had been furious when he found out. So furious that he'd actually shouted at Walburga, something that had never happened before either.)

She had suffered and lived through worse before, so the pain didn't bother her much. Walburga's action was expected, considering what she knew of the woman from her memories, so she wasn't surprised.

(It bothered her a lot; the fact that hermother had drawn her wand at her and hurt her casually and without hesitation.)

Thankfully, this time Walburga only flicked her wand at them, softly muttering an incantation for an Atmospheric Charm before keeping her wand back in its holster.

The air around them began to warm and the winds slowed until the gusts became mere breezes.

The twins shared a look of relief over Regulus' head when their mother turned back and began walking again.

The trio made sure to keep close to their mother, so as to not rouse her ire. Walburga had been increasingly testy since that fateful meeting almost two years ago where the twins had gained Rabastan's and Evan's tentative alliance, frustrated with the seemingly slow pace of all her children's magical growth. She and Orion had bemoaned the fact that Sirius and Regulus had yet to show the same promise as Aquila did, and also that Aquila's advancement in runes had started to slow in comparison to her first explosive growth. And while Orion did so far less frequently than Walburga, Aquila knew that her father was mildly disappointed at her brothers' normal growth, seeing it as extremely slow in comparison to her own 'prodigal' one. Their father had never voiced any displeasure at Aquila's slowing growth only because it was, according to him, only natural that she'd be able to channel the amount of ambient magic she currently was. It went unsaid that once her body began its magical maturation and her magic channels actually began to develop further, she was expected to show exponential growth.

Aquila hated it. She hated that, to their mother, their worth was apparently purely due to their magical prowess. She hated it that their father, while he never complained, never really stood up for them to their mother. She hated it that to Walburga, Sirius would never be deemed good enough, that Regulus would always be 'the spare', that she would put the House before her own children. She hated that the House of Black would willingly drive off Sirius, her or Regulus if their magical prowess didn't improve, that the House would drive two of its sons to their deaths-

Aquila dragged herself out of her downward spiralling thoughts with a barely hidden snarl. Like hell she'd let that happen to either of her brothers.

A tug on her hand by a concerned Regulus had her smoothing over her features with practiced ease, giving him a small reassuring smile as Sirius teasingly ruffled their little brother's hair.

Regulus made a soft sound of annoyance and half-heartedly batted Sirius' hand away, much to the latter's amusement.

.

Their footsteps echoed throughout Gringotts' Main Hall. The snow brought in by their entrance was vanished away, leaving behind pristine white marble floors.

As they walked inwards, Aquila felt the faint swirling of Gringotts' ambient magic around them. She eyed the Hall with interest as it was the first time any of the Black Trio had actually entered the building, even as she tried to figure out why the magic felt so familiar to her. The books and movies in her memories didn't do the actual place justice; the Hall was illuminated by massive chandeliers that were made up of finely and intricately carved diamonds and a metal she was quite certain was mithril as well as several massive, floor-length windows behind alternate tellers, the top of which had depictions of notable instances in Goblin history.

Aquila raked her eyes over a zircon encrusted form of an ancient Goblin King, wielding dual blades, cutting down swathes of enemies, blood depicted by tiny rubies splattered across the panel.

Along the walls, various Goblin designs were etched in intricate patterns and details, and lined with silver and gold threads. The ceiling was reminiscent of that of the Sistine Chapel Aquila had the pleasure of seeing before, although, instead of historic biblical scenes, they depicted the many wars the Goblin Nation had participated in, both civil and against other races, sculpted and painted into breathtakingly beautiful pieces of art. (Aquila was mildly amused that there were scenes of the various Goblin Rebellions there as well. It seemed like wizards didn't know their history well enough to recognise them. Binns must be rolling in his grave, Aquila mused. Not.)

The wealth of Gringotts lied not only underground within the vaults, but in the very building itself; jewels inlaid in marble and glass, proudly proclaiming centuries of Goblin history and culture as well as the opulence of the Goblin Nation.

As they walked up to a free teller, the ambient magic began to settle and Aquila realised why it felt so familiar.

It was ambient magic altered into the form of Passive Magic by a runic scripture.

Two years of studying runology didn't make her a master in any sense at all, but it did give her an intuition as to where and what runic scriptures were present. It also made her slightly more sensitive to ambient magic, especially in areas where it tended to concentrate in.

Aquila's eyes flickered around the Hall, before they settled on the silver entrance doors when she twisted her neck to look backwards. She made a soft sound of understanding.

Behind to her, Sirius gave her questioning look.

"The engraved words on the doors – they were scriptural runes meant to influence people walking through them to discourage them from stealing," Aquila murmured, a contemplating look on her face. "But judging by how long it took to settle and that it's currently only a mild suggestion, I'm guessing that the scripture needs to be read aloud for the full effect."

Her twin made a soft sound of understanding, although both of them quietened down when Walburga turned to glower at them for the noise.

Aquila's eyes flickered submissively to floor, a calculating gleam still present as she listened to their mother order the goblin at the counter to reactivate the Black Trust Vault for them. She filed away the equally interested gleam in the goblin's eyes when Walburga brought his attention to them. The large ears of a goblin weren't just for show; Aquila had no doubt that the goblin, and several others nearby, had heard every word of her explanation, no matter how softly she'd been speaking. And he was interested.

Aquila smirked. Good. She could use that.

They were ushered to an adjacent hall and down a flight of roughly hewed stone steps once Walburga cleared the necessary security measures and paperwork needed.

"The Trust Vault is to be used by all of you until you are either eighteen, emancipated or married," Walburga explained brusquely as they climbed into a cart, "You will be using the Vault specific to the Main Branch; your cousins only have access to the ones meant for Secondary Branches." Her eyes narrowed. "The Vault will be monitored and I will be informed if any of you withdraw more than a hundred galleons at a time." She placed a particularly harsh glare at Sirius, "Do not even think to withdraw more than that for any reason at all. Am I clear."

"Yes Mother," the trio chorused.

Further conversations were halted as the cart set off.

Several twists and turns passed and they careened over an underground lake before veering left sharply until the cart came to a stop in front of their Vault.

Without much fanfare, other than a startled gasp from Regulus over the sheer amount of money in the Vault, the trio swept handfuls of galleons, fistful of knuts and an armload of sickles into the money pouches their mother had passed to them.

A cart ride later, they left the bank and Walburga announced that she had business to attend to and that they were to meet her in front of Gringotts three hours later. Then, without as much as a 'by your leave', she spun around and strode off in the direction of Knockturn Alley.

It was quiet for a moment before Sirius piped up.

"Let's go to Florean's for ice cream first. Then we can give Reggie a tour of the Alley."

Aquila nodded and Regulus gave an excited squeal. "Florean has a special winter edition now; I saw the advertisement when we passed the parlour," Aquila mused. "Siri, could you bring Reggie there first? I want to ask about our Trust Vault. I'll meet you there in a bit."

Sirius gave a sound of agreement before tugging Regulus in the direction of the parlour. Aquila's eyes trailed her brothers' forms until they rounded the corner and disappeared before she turned around and walked back into the bank.

She strode through the Hall purposefully, her childish façade fading with each stride. It wouldn't help her in the slightest, interacting with the Goblins as if she were a child.

So when she stood in front of the same teller again, it wasn't Aquila Black, the middle child of the Black Trio that spoke, it was the First Daughter of the House of Black that addressed the mildly curious Goblin.

"I request for a full bank statement of the Black Trust Vault, including how it is to be maintained and monitored by the Main Vault and the Lady Black." Here, Aquila's eyes flickered to the name card on the teller's table. "Would that be possible Master Ironheart?"

If her politeness surprised him, Ironheart made no sign of it, instead only giving a curt nod and disappearing behind the counter to get the necessary paperwork. Not that it surprised Aquila – Goblins were a race of warriors, and while they could become incensed at a Wizard or Witch when they were being particularly spiteful, Goblins as a whole didn't really put much stock in 'nice words' unless they were speaking to another Goblin of a much higher station.

After a short wait, Ironheart reappeared with a stack of parchment clutched within his hands.

"May your wealth flow strong, may your blade never shatter," Aquila recited. "You have my thanks for your service Master Ironheart."

Goblins held little consideration for politeness, true, but thanking them in a traditional Goblin manner with a variation meant for a Goblin? That would have peaked any Goblin's interest.

"May your riches grow, may your aim remain true."

The pair exchanged nods, before Aquila turned away to leave the bank, fully aware that Ironheart's eyes weren't the only ones trained on her person.

The moment Gringotts' outer doors closed behind her, she let a satisfied grin stretch across her face. The Goblins were interested.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

Aquila sat on her bed embroidering the finishing touches of her latest scripture onto a money pouch when an owl, bearing the official crest of Gringotts rapped on her window.

She rose from her bed and walked over to collect the letter. She scanned through it, smirking as she noted the amount of money she'd collected over the past two months.

The Goblins had been particularly helpful – the letters following the bank statement she'd first requested of Ironheart proved to be exceptionally useful in informing her of the specifics of the Black Trust Vault she and her brothers were sharing, even if she had to read between the lines to fish those details out.

Walburga had said that she'd know if more than a hundred galleons were withdrawn, simply because there was only that amount of money in there, mostly in the form of sickles and knuts. Only a handful of the galleons they'd seen were true galleons. The rest were made up of Leprechaun Gold, set to disappear the moment they were removed from Gringotts. The only reason their mother would find out that they'd withdrawn more than what they were supposed to would be because of the bank statements that she'd receive informing her that the Trust Vault had been refilled again by the Main Vault. The Trust Vault would always be topped up to a hundred galleons at the beginning of each month so receiving a letter during any other period would be suspicious and thus warrant an investigation.

The system, Aquila had found out, had been set up by her ancestor Vulpecula Black in the sixteenth century as a way to ensure that the Heirs, Heiresses or Scions of the House wouldn't overspend the Black fortune until they learned to manage their finances properly, whilst still allowing the House of Black to be seen as rich by anyone who saw the contents of such vaults.

But now, knowing the specifics, the system was easy enough to circumvent. Especially since the monthly bank statements of the Main Vault were rounded up to the millions. After all, last she checked, the Main Vault held close to seven million galleons, and that didn't include the amount of sickles and knuts, which were in the billions. No one was going to notice a hundred or so galleons and close to a thousand sickles being siphoned off, especially since the interest rate on the Main Vault alone generated close to a thousand galleons a month.

The money she'd collected thus far, equalled nearly a hundred and fifty galleons with interest (and after she paid the Goblins for opening a Vault in her name), hidden in her Vault and the numerous money pouches she owned, was miniscule in comparison.

Wizards were so easy to fool sometimes.

Her musing was broken by Walburga's voice echoing through the house via aSonorous calling for her and her brothers to get ready to leave for Diagon Alley.

Aquila picked up her money pouch and a few sheets of parchment that contained her writings and designs on them, tucking them into the pocket of her robe as she walked out of her room. She tossed the letter into one of the many fire places located in Grimmlaud Place, dispassionately watching the letter burn and turn to ashes.

Walburga would undoubtedly leave them alone for several hours as she settled her things, leaving Aquila with the small problem of shaking off her brothers before she could start her plan. It would be easy enough; the Nimbus Racing Broom Company had just released the Nimbus 1001 the week previous. Sirius and Regulus, like any Quidditch fanatic, would undoubtedly be more than willing to stay at Quality Quidditch Supplies while their sister spent her time in Flourish and Blotts looking at another book on runes.

.

The thing about being in places that one isn't supposed to be in is to look as if they belong there in the first place. Do so and hardly anyone would bother you, however odd a sight it may be. This was even truer when applied to the British Wizarding World.

So when Aquila strode down Knockturn Alley, head held high, body straight, a cool glare on her face and her entire being radiating pureblood aristocracy, people scrambled out of her way. They did so even more hastily when they noticed her House's crest embroidered on the side of her cloak. Even if she were only nine and barely came up to a majority of the adults' chests. Wizards she'd come to realise, weren't a very commonsensical bunch. Foolish and far too much like sheep. And like sheep, they followed their shepherd unthinkingly. All it took was for the first wizard to move out of her way with a gasp of 'Black!' and the rest of the patrons parted like the Red Sea.

Not that she was complaining. Now, there she had a far smaller chance of getting mugged and could reach her destination far more quickly.

The crowd began to thin as she walked further and further into the Alley, eyes peering at the signs above her and the doors that peppered the sides of Inner Knockturn. Rabastan, after some prodding, had informed her of a particularly interesting black-market dealer located in Inner Knockturn when they met up in the New Year Ball hosted by her family. He hadn't known the specifics, having only heard it in passing from his father, but it was easy enough to get Lord Lestrange a little more loosed lip with the help of Kreacher and a bottle of Ogden's Finest. It had helped that the Lord had already been slightly inebriated with the drinks served at the time and all it took was a few more swigs of his glass and Aquila's needling to get the necessary information out.

Hardly anyone ever suspects that a nine-year-old would be capable of such subtleties after all.

Her feet came to a stop in front of a pale blue door of an unnamed shop.

Pausing slightly to sweep her gaze around the area (she was sure she hadn't been followed, but no harm in being careful) she entered the shop.

A rusty bell chimed overhead as she stepped through the doorway, and a balding, sleazy looking man stepped out from a store room of sorts to greet her. At least, he looked like he was about to but Aquila cut him off.

"I wish to have a look at your exclusive stock."

The seller barely batted an eye, all sorts of people ended up in Knockturn Alley, especially in Inner Knockturn where the more… shady business took place.

"Of course Young Miss. This way."

.

Aquila's eyes roamed over half a dozen or so tiny hopeful faces. Her gazes swept past a good majority of them, and finally lingered on a slightly youthful face. It stood out, for it had far more age lines in its face, and stood a good head above the rest.

"You don't want that thing," the seller sneered when he noticed, "It's nearly a decade old, its magic probably going to destroy itself soon; hardly worth the money, Young Miss, discount or not."

Said Elf wilted with every word said. A murmur of sound swarmed over the other Elves, some of them turning to it and offering pitying glances.

Aquila's lip curled and she fixed him cold look. "What I wish to purchased will be decided by me, and not by someone the likes of you. Bring that Elf to me, I wish to examine it personally. And if I am not satisfied, I will simply choose another Elf or shop all together."

The man coloured, but gritted his teeth to do as she said. Unsurprising; a single mutter of displeasure regarding his shop from her and other pure-bloods were likely to go to other dealers instead. His profits would fall. And no seller would want that to happen. Simple economics really.

The seller returned after a moment with the Elf in tow. "I will leave you to your thoughts Young Miss," he simpered, "Should you need me, feel free to call an Elf."

Aquila watch him slink off back to the front of the shop, waiting for the door to click before addressing the thus-far silent House Elf, "What is your name?"

"I-I is Mipsy, Miss," the Elf stuttered out.

"Hello Mipsy, I'm Aquila Black," she introduced, before inquiring politely, "Could you set up a Privacy Ward? And perhaps a chair for me to sit on?"

Mipsy seemed stunned by the fact that it wasn't an order, but did so with the snap of her fingers. Aquila felt the brief tingling of something flutter into existence around them and the soft chatter of the other Elves faded away as an elegant purple plush chair appeared behind Aquila.

It was silent for a moment as Aquila settled into the chair before Missy piped up hesitantly, "Why is Miss Kila be interested in Mipsy? Mipsy is Bad Elf. Mipsy is old ands other Elfies is better to buy…" The Elf tailed off, large green eyes dropping to floor towards the end of the sentence.

Aquila rolled her eyes. Honestly. "Mipsy. Look at me when you speak to me, and when I am speaking to you. You may ask questions, I will not be displeased with them as long as you do that when we are alone."

Ignoring Mipsy's hasty nods and words of agreements, Aquila carried on. "House Elves rarely live past five years un-bonded. Their magic is so volatile and excessive due to their peculiar magical channels that their bodies simply cannot contain all of it without using a significant portion on a daily basis and with another being's magic limiting the flow of ambient magic into the elf's body. And yet, here I have an Elf that not only survived twice the number of years other Elves do, you seem to be in perfect control of your magic. So much so," here she ran a finger over the intricate sliver embroidery on the arm rest, "that you can Conjure something as detailed as this. You seem far more resilient, capable and magically powerful than the other younger Elves. Now, why wouldn't I be interested?"

Mipsy looked stunned, and almost on the verge of tears. Aquila was willing to bet that no one had ever complimented her before. It was odd really; Elves were so much more magically powerful than wizards and, knowing that all that it took to keep them happy and willing to work for wizards was simply being decent, yet pure-bloods rarely did so. Aquila blamed it on their up-bringing and general narcissism. Fools, the lot of them she scoffed internally.

"Do not look down on yourself Mipsy," Aquila said kindly. "I would be delighted to have an Elf of your calibre. Would you be willing to bond with me?"

"Y-Yes! Mipsy would love to! Thank you Miss Kila!" Mipsy exclaimed, a few sniffles escaping her as she did so.

Aquila smiled faintly, handing Mipsy her handkerchief to wipe away her tears. The Elf looked to be on the verge of a fresh batch of tears as she accepted the cloth.

A few moments passed as Mipsy wiped away her tears furiously and forced her sniffles down while Aquila longed in her chair. Once Mipsy had calmed herself, she straightened herself and began her Oath.

"I, Mipsy the Elf, dos hereby swears to serve Miss Kila and the House of Black tills death take me or until they release me. Mipsy swears to keep Miss Kila's and the House's secrets and protect them from harm to Mipsy's best abilities."

"I, Aquila Eris Black, First Daughter of Orion and Walburga Black, hereby accept your Oath. The House will keep your magic in control, in exchange for your servitude and loyalty."

Magic thrummed faintly, the words of their Oaths echoing faintly around them before it went quiet.

"Thank you Mipsy," Aquila said softly after a while. She noticed that the Elf had something to say, and motioned for her to speak.

"Mipsy will do Oath again, when Miss Kila's magic is stronger. Mipsy wills be Miss Kila's personal Elf," Mipsy declared. "House of Black has many Elfies, but Miss Kila chose Mipsy. Mipsy will serve Miss Kila first."

Aquila blinked in surprise, placing a mental note to question Mipsy about her magic at a later date. "I see. Thank you Mipsy. Would the House of Black still be able to acquire your service?"

"Nows and laters if Miss Kila allows, yes. But House of Black not knows of Mipsy. Mipsy's magic is being controlled by their magic that falls off normally. House will not know of Mipsy unless Mipsy or Miss Kila tells them of Mipsy," the Elf explained. "Is Mipsy to go tell Lord Black of Mipsy?"

"No. I have some… plans that I don't want the House to know off yet. Will you keep this secret for me?" Stormy grey eyes bored into reverent green pools.

"Mipsy will keeps Miss Kila's secrets!" Mipsy exclaimed.

"Excellent," Aquila nearly purred. "I have some tasks I'd like you to do. But first tell me; are you able to overcome the enchantments on this?" She fished out a galleon.

Mipsy blinked but bobbed her head. "Elf magic can breaks Goblin enchantments." Large ears drooped, "But Mipsy needs time to breaks enchantments-"

"It's fine," Aquila cut in. She handed the coin to Mipsy. "Take as long as you need. Break the enchantments and melt it," Aquila ordered.

Mipsy nodded. Minutes past as light flickered around the coin as Mipsy unravelled and tore through the layers of Goblin enchantment until finally, after half an hour, a small pool of liquid gold floated in the space between long, spindly fingers.

"Excellent." This time, it was purred out.

.

Aquila strode back into the front of the store with Mipsy in tow. She dropped a sack of galleons and a piece of parchment on the counter. "Your payment."

The seller opened the pouch and greed bled into his features. He poured the contents out, gleefully counting the dozens of galleons on the counter.

"Your signature, as proof, please," Aquila said. The word triggered the Impulse Scripture she'd etched into the bag the seller was holding onto. A dim flare of light was the only sign that it worked, and the seller distractedly grabbed a quill and scribbled his name onto it, not even glancing at the words she'd written on the parchment beforehand.

Fixing the seller with a cool glare, she drawled, "I trust that this deal will remain confidential and under the table?"

Gleaming eyes flickered back to her, "Of course Young Miss. Customer confidentially is the law."

"Good. We wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen, no? Breaching a magical contract can lead to rather terrible consequences after all."

With that said, she snatched the parchment that held his signature, spun around and strode out of the shop, leaving a fuming shopkeeper in her wake.

The moment the door snapped shut behind her, Aquila passed the contract over to Mipsy as the Elf put up a Privacy Ward.

"Keep it safe," she ordered. Mipsy accepted it with and gently tugged it into a pocket of the rags she was wearing. Aquila continued, "I have certain tasks I need you to complete as my proxy. But first, let's get you out of those rags." Mipsy began to splutter, words of not wanting clothes tumbling out of her mouth. Aquila ignored them with practiced ease, "You will be representing me, so I believe a uniform would only appropriate. Take this to Madame Malkins; ask her to whip up something using a spare piece of cloth or something, ergo, it's not clothes." She handed the piece of parchment with her designs on it and a money pouch to the stunned Elf.

Once Mipsy had taken it, Aquila added on, "As long as it turns out nicely and the set doesn't cost above twenty galleons, you may add in your own designs in it, alright?"

"Yes Miss Kila," Mipsy murmured, green eyes glistening with happy tears, "Thank you Miss Kila. Mipsy would love a uniform."

Aquila nodded in reply. "After you're done," she continued, "I'd like for you to melt the remaining galleons and sickles like you did just now. Then, find the best Dwarven smithies in the continent, preferably one in each country. Give me a list of their prices and a review of their craftsmanship capabilities – jewellery, glassmaking, tailoring – anything that you can get your hands on at the end of the week. Focus on those that have experience in gold and silver crafting. Please also ensure that not a whiff of Goblin magic remains on the metals; I plan to employ these smithies. Dwarven and Goblin relationships are rather abysmal at the moment, I'd rather not let the Dwarves find out I'm using Goblin metals. That is all, you may go now."

Mipsy acquiesced with a nod and vanished with a pop, leaving Aquila standing alone in front of the shop.

Head held high and her mask in place, she strode back to Diagon Alley and toward Flourish and Blotts where she knew Sirius would be looking for her.

Chapter Text

It was dark. And cold. So very cold.

Water lapped at her feet. Her throat was burning. Water. She needed water.

She fell to her knees greedily drinking gulps of the cool liquid.

Hands. There were hands everywhere. Thousands of hands; grabbing at her, pulling her down.

Corpses surrounded her. Laughing; for she would join them, as she was already one of them. Her lungs burned and briefly a taste of salt pervaded her mouth.

Above she saw the outline of a dog chasing a rat, only for the water surface to ice up. A deranged cackle pierced through the water. The dog fell.

Get up. Get up. Getupgetupgetup-

.

Aquila bolted upright, heart pounding, chest heaving and thoughts in disarray. Belatedly, she noticed Sirius stirring in his own bed and mumbling questions at her.

“I-I’m fine,” Aquila rasped, fully aware that her hoarse voice was not helping her in the slightest. She could see the brief outline of her twin peering at her from underneath his covers.

There was a moment of stillness, punctured only by Aquila’s shallow breathing.

“If you say so.” Sirius shifted and turned on his side, breaths evening out. Aquila wasn’t fooled, “Go back to sleep Siri. It was just a nightmare.”

“But you don’t get nightmares Kii,” came the quiet reply.

No, Aquila mused, she didn’t. She took a deep breath and laid back down on her bed.

The Horcruxes. Pettigrew. Bellatrix.

She buried her head in her pillow. Shit.

There was no way she could influence any of those now. In fact, there was nothing she could do now. Aquila felt her lip curl in a snarl. Useless. How utterly useless she was right now. She didn’t even know where half of the Horcruxes were. Hell, she didn’t even know if they’d been made yet. The only ones she could confirm were the Diary and Ravenclaw’s Diadem. And even then she had no way to confirm if the Malfoys had the Diary, much less be able to break into Malfoy Manor or Hogwarts to steal them.

Aquila let out a huff of frustration and threw her covers off. There was nothing she could do to procure the Horcruxes now, true, but she could get the required materials that would destroy them. Basilisk venom. Fiendfyre. Avada Kedarva. She could get the first from Inner Knockturn, as long as she had the right contacts and enough money. She would have to wait until she was near her magical maturity to use either of the spells, when she had enough power and control over her core to perform the spell safely.

Even if she couldn’t attain those, Aquila was certain that there were other ways to destroy a Horcurx. She just had to find out how.

Pettigrew and Bellatrix – those problems would unfortunately have to wait. Warning Sirius to be wary of Pettigrew would be the only thing she could do until the rat actually took the mark and Bellatrix… Aquila’s eyes narrowed. Aquila hated to admit it, but Bellatrix was too strong for her at the moment. Her eldest cousin simply had far too much more magical knowledge than Aquila. Added to the fact that Bellatrix was likely being tutored by Riddle himself at the moment, Bellatrix outmatched her too much for Aquila to act against her now. It was simply too much of a risk; to her and to her brothers.

She stalked across their room, silently making her way to the door, grabbing her notebook along the way. She glided her way to the drawing room, careful to not wake the sleeping portraits. It was easy enough; this wasn’t the first time she’d prowled around Grimmauld Place in the darkness.

Her pace slowed as she entered the drawing room. Moonlight pooled from the windows, casting faint shadows around the room. In the silence of the night, the gentle light made Grimmauld Place look hauntingly beautiful. Aquila’s heart clenched at the memories that came forth unbidden; how her Ancestral Home fell into ruin, dust and cobwebs littering the pristine furniture, her home becoming a mere husk of what it was. Images of another Walburga, clad in a mourning garb, standing outside of Sirius’ and Regulus’ rooms, hand paused mere millimeters from the door handle. A pale figure laid on a bed, struck down by an unknown illness, grey eyes full of grief, sorrow and regret for the sons he lost. Rotting, skeletal hands clawing at and dragging her brothers to a cold grave, despair permeating the air and all the happiness her family had shared – so bright, so few, so precious – sucked and destroyed by an unknown maw.

Aquila shoved those thoughts out of her head as she walked towards the Black Tapestry. Stormy grey eyes trailed across the Tapestry and lithe fingers ghosted over the images of Orion and Walburga, before following the branch that extended from their images to brush against the images of Sirius and Regulus. Aquila eyed her own image, depicted right next to Sirius’, her name proudly emblazoned directly below. A multitude of emotions flashed through her eyes and she looked out of the window at the tranquil façade of Muggle London. The seeds for the First Wizarding War had already been sown close to three decades ago and the first of the conflicts would sprout in 1970.

She had one and a half years of ‘peace’ left.

Aquila’s grip on her notebook tightened. One and a half years was enough time to prepare.

First, she had to be able to circumvent the wards around Grimmauld Place. And she had the perfect opportunity – her father’s apprentice would be visiting the following day, and Aidan had always been courteous enough to answer any questions she had on runes and how they interacted with other branches of magic.

.

The day leading up to Aidan’s visit saw Aquila camped out in the her and Sirius’ room, pouring over a tome titled Manipulations of Symbols. It was an old tome, published in the twelfth century with half of the words written in Latin and the other half in Old English, and it was exactly the type of book that would capture her attention so much so for her to spend hours secluded from her brothers, translating it and experimenting with reference to whatever she had decoded.

So when she turned up for dinner with the rest of her family red eyed and slightly frazzled, it was chalked up to her spending almost the whole day working with her runes and not because she’d spent the night scouring the entire Black Library for an ideal ‘distraction’ and then immediately translating half of it before escaping to memorise the schematics of various First and Second Year Charms.

There was barely an eye batted when she questioned Orion about the Unlocking Charm, after all, if she could recreate the effects of Lumos when she was five, why wouldn’t she be interested in other low level spells? It wasn’t as if she was asking about Bombarda or Confundus. What harm would Alohamora do, when all the locks in Grimmauld Place already had the anti-charm to that applied?

And thus when Orion explained how the charm worked, it was only Sirius who caught the satisfied gleam in Aquila’s eyes.

.

Orion was a creature of habit and more importantly, he placed great emphasis on being a proper host; so when the fireplace erupted in a shower of emerald flames at exactly four in the evening, Aidan stepped out to see Aquila and Orion in a discussion on how wand movements correlated with the structure of a runic scripture.

Aquila smirked internally when Aidan’s eyebrow raised in surprise at their conversation, even as her father shooed her out of the room, admonishing her that her own lesson would be starting soon with a faint hint of fond exasperation.

As part of his apprenticeship, Aidan would have both theoretical and practical ‘lessons’. Orion would tutor Aidan for an hour and a half, reviewing whatever theory he needed to know for his practical later on in the evening, and leave for forty five minutes, to check on whether the logistics for Aidan’s practical was set. Aidan would spend the time revising his lesson before getting ready for dinner with Aquila’s family. Kreacher would serve dinner at half-past six.

Aquila’s lessons lasted till six. That left her with a short window of fifteen minutes to carry out her plan. Aquila smirked, she’d done more in a shorter time frame before.

Sirius caught the expression and gave her a cautious look. “Whatever you’re planning,” he whispered as they waited for their tutor to arrive, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Have some faith in me brother dearest. I’ve carried out far more complicated plans before.”

“If you say so,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “But I will laugh if you get caught.”

Further conversation was halted as their tutor entered and began their lesson. It passed by quickly with the twins waltzing across the floor while their tutor pointed out flaws and corrections in their techniques, and soon, Aquila found herself back in their room wearing a fresh set of clothes and staring at the antique clock piece that hung on the wall while Sirius lazed on the bed.

The moment the clock showed six fifteen, Aquila rose from her seat. “I’m going to go check something in the Library, please inform Mother and Father if I’m late,” she informed Sirius.

He scoffed, “Of course.” The suspicion was evident, but Sirius just waved her off with a brief, “I’ll cover for you for a few minutes.”

“Thanks Siri. I won’t take long.”

As she exited the room, she caught sight of Aidan’s form walking out from the study room down the corridor and away from her.

As Aidan disappeared down the stairs, Aquila’s gaze flickered towards the room he’d just vacated. Her feet padded silently as she walked towards it, slipping through the half-opened door with nary a whisper. She crossed the room just as quietly, coming to a stop in front of Aidan’s desk. She eyed the notebook he had left on top of it and turned to the last page. Carefully, she sketched her Impulse Scripture onto the back cover before flipping the pages and arranging the book back to its original position. She left the room quietly, leaving no trace that she’d been there in the first place.

With two minutes to spare, Aquila strolled relaxedly to the dining room for dinner.

.

It was only after dinner when the final part of her plan could be carried out. Aquila rapped on the door to the study room, catching Aidan’s attention, before walking into the room. “Are you free for a moment?” She inquired,” I’ve a question about wand movements I wanted to ask, could you help me out?”

The teen in question merely smiled and motioned for her to enter, putting his notebook aside. “Of course,” Aidan replied, before adding teasingly, “I suppose it’s how the movement affects the spell in question?”

Aquila nodded. Flipping through the notes she’d brought, Aquila elaborated, “I wanted to see if there was a pattern to specific movements; I know Wingardium Leviosa makes use of the ‘swish’ motion to generate the ‘lift’ portion of the charm, and the ‘flick’ keeps the object in place after its been levitated. Likewise with Transfiguration – jabs are meant to define the parameters of the transfigured object and other hand gestures symbolise the changing of the source ‘material’, so to speak, into the transfigured form. But I wanted to see if-”

“If your runic scriptures could bring about the same effect without the wand movements?” Aidan guessed. Aquila hummed in agreement, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

There was a minute of silence as Aidan lounged in his chair, pondering the question.

“Wand movements,” the teen began, “aren’t absolutely necessary for a spell to work. They’re a way to help the wizard focus his magic to produce the right effects. After a while, the wizard is able to perform the spell without the whole movement-”

“Because his magical channels are used to magic moving in a certain way,” Aquila mused, “Similar to how the body has muscle memory, magical channels exhibit a similar ability to remember movements…”

“Exactly; that’s why Masters don’t need to go through all of the wand movements when they want to perform a spell,” Aidan nodded sagely. “So if you want a spell to work with just runes, there needs to be set parameters already present in the scripture, which would help direct and focus magic like how wand movements would.” Here he paused, eyes narrowing in consideration, “Although… I suppose that if you become adept enough, they may not be completely necessary…”

Aquila frowned. “That’s what I suspected as well,” she murmured, “But I suppose the outcomes would be better if the parameters were in place, even if I’m already proficient in using a scripture.”

Aidan bobbed his head in agreement. “However, I think that such a leap would need to wait till you’re at least in your mid-teens and your magical channels begin to settle,” he chimed, chuckling slightly at the affronted look Aquila threw him.

“I know that,” Aquila groused, rolling her eyes, “But thanks for your input, Aidan.”

“No problem kiddo,” Aidan beamed, “Always glad to help.”

A soft chime echoed through the room and their eyes flickered to the clock piece hanging on the wall. Aidan let out a low whistle, “Wow, time flies.”

Aquila sighed disappointedly, “It’s time for you to go already?”

There was a dim flare of light from behind Aidan, which went unnoticed by the teen.

Aidan shrugged, “Seems like it is.” He stood up and grabbed his belongings, shooting Aquila a mildly apologetic look. As he exited the room, he teasingly ruffled Aquila’s hair, “Don’t be too glum; I’m sure you’ll figure out how to link runes and wand movements. Your dad’s been boasting about your abilities,” Aidan smirked as he spotted a flash of pride that appeared across Aquila’s face. “It’s rather brilliant, in my opinion. If you need help, feel free to ask; though I won’t be as good as your dad.” Aidan winked as Aquila pushed his hand off her head with a disgruntled sound, “You’ll be fantastic Aquila. I’ll see you around.”

With that, the teen walked off. Aquila waited for a few moments to ensure that Aidan wasn’t coming back, before moving to pick up the innocuous notebook he’d left on the desk.

“Mipsy.”

The Elf appeared with a pop, “Miss Kila called?”

“Could you Vanish the ink on the back cover please?” Aquila asked, quietly thanking her when Mipsy did so. “How is your progress?”

Large green eyes blinked and a delighted smile stretched across Mipsy’s face, “Mipsy is dones with meltings galleons and sickles; Mipsy has stored them in Miss Kila’s private vault. Mipsy is also half dones with finding best Dwarfies smithies – Mipsy is left with the Nordic countries ands Soviet Union.”

“I see, good job Mipsy,” Aquila smiled gently, “Go back to your work, I won’t disturb you; I’ll call you again at the end of the week.”

Mipsy bobbed her head, “Yes Miss Kila! Mipsy be finding best Dwarfies smithies nows!”

With that, the Elf disappeared, leaving Aquila alone in the study room.

Walking out of the room and down the stairs, Aquila heard the faint roar of flames from the foyer, signalling her father’s and Aidan’s departure. She ducked into a vacant room, empty of portrait frames.

Aquila gave a wry smile. It was the moment of truth now. “Kreacher!” Aquila called out. The moment the Elf appeared, she continued, “Take me to Potter Manor. Unless Mother or Father explicitly asks you for my whereabouts at this time, you are not to inform them, or anyone else.”

The old House Elf gazed at her with concern, “Kreacher will bring Young Mistress to Potter Manor. But Kreacher is worried; wards at Potter Manor may harm Young Mistress if Lord or Lady Potter is not informed.”

“Thank you for your concern Kreacher,” Aquila said, masking her own nerves expertly, “If there is any immediate threat to me, return me back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place at once.”

The Elf bobbed his head, withered face still worried, but offered her his hand to hold onto. Aquila took it and with a whisk of Elvish magic, she found herself standing in an unfamiliar room.

Tension eased out of both Aquila and Kreacher as the minutes ticked by and the pair found themselves under no attack.

“Kreacher, could you call Great-Aunt Dorea please?” Aquila asked. Kreacher nodded and disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

In the moment it took Kreacher to reappear with Dorea in tow, Aquila had schooled her features into an appropriate mask.

“Well,” the aged witch said, “This certainly is a surprise. Aquila, it’s lovely to see you, dear, but next time please inform us beforehand? You could have triggered the wards you silly child.”

Aquila ducked her head meekly, “Apologies Great-Aunt, Aidan left his notebook so I thought I ought to return it to him personally, since he’s always been offering to help me with runes. I didn’t think.”

Dorea huffed, “Really, I expected this behaviour from your brothers, not you.” Aquila wilted, and Dorea soften slightly, “We’ll I suppose no harm was done, but please don’t try your luck again. You’re lucky that the wards didn’t recognise you as a threat.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you. And also if I disturbed the Lord and Lady Potter as well. I’ll take my leave now,” Aquila said.

Dorea rolled her eyes. “You hardly bothered anyone, child, Fleamont and Euphemia didn’t even notice until Kreacher appeared whilst we were having a drink. Go home now,” Dorea admonished, “Lest you worry your mother. Merlin knows that woman has a tendency to over-react.”

“Yes Great-Aunt,” Aquila acquiesced, “Good night.”

Taking Kreacher’s hand again, she found herself whisked back to her room in Grimmauld Place.

“Thank you for your help Kreacher,” Aquila said kindly, “You may return to your duties now.”

The aged Elf gave a delighted smile at her praise and bowed deeply before he disappeared with a soft ‘pop’, leaving Aquila alone. Her mind whirled with half-finished thoughts as she paced across the room. Various plans swam through her head as she considered the latest developments of her situation. Minutes ticked on by as she discarded several plans, and she settled on her bed, pondering on which was the best course of action. There were already several things in motion, but what action would bring about the most profitable outcome?

As she sat on her bed mentally debating the pros and cons to her actions, Sirius and Regulus entered the room. They blinked in surprise at her presence, and it was Regulus who broke the silence, “Kii! We were looking for you just now.”

Aquila raised an eyebrow, “I see. Sorry, I just came here. Guess you must have missed me.”

Regulus pouted slightly, before dragging Sirius to her bed and pestering them to read him a story.

As Regulus flipped through the storybook he’d brought, Aquila gave Sirius a slight nudge, “I suppose Father is still out? Did Mother act differently?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” Sirius replied, grey eyes intent, “You snuck out didn’t you?”

“Perhaps,” Aquila smirked, “I’ll tell you later.”

“You’d better. I want to know exactly how you managed to sneak past the wards without Father or Mother noticing.”

“I plan,” Aquila quipped in return, “And I suppose I was really lucky that it worked.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at her. “Reggie have you decided what story you want?” Sirius asked.

“Alice in Wonderland! With the shadow puppets!” Regulus declared.

Aquila huffed in amusement, “Again? Alright.” The twins looked fondly at him, and Aquila moved to get her puppets and Light Scripture as Sirius flipped to the beginning of the story.

As Aquila moved through the familiar motions, her mind settled on her next step. Aquila let a satisfied smile pull at her lips. She had a way to get out of Grimmauld Place, unnoticed by her parents. The first hurdle had been crossed, and soon the next stage would be ready.

Chapter Text

As it was said in Cabaret, money made the world go round.

It was the energy of economies, the lifeblood of the modern world, and it was a key factor in Aquila's plans. She needed money, and she needed a lot of it. The only thing that stood in her way and prevented her from acting out her plans? She had limited access to the Black Fortune.

So when Mipsy appeared before her one late night with a list of the best Dwarven smithies in Europe in one hand and chests of gold and silver bars in another, Aquila responded with a predatory smile.

"How good are you with Glamours and Transfigurations?"

.

Calculative eyes flickered across the dining table. Breakfast with her family was normally a quiet affair, but what was unusual was the undercurrent of tension present. Aquila's eyes flickered between her parents. Had she been a normal child, there was no doubt that she wouldn't have picked up the minute signs that hinted at any discomfort. As it were, her parents were far from being at ease; Walburga's fingers were twitching every so often, as if she was but a hair-trigger away from unsheathing her wand from its holster. And despite how engrossed he seemed with the newspaper in his hand, no matter how oftenly he turned the pages, Orion's eyes hadn't so much as shifted from when he picked up The Prophet ten minutes ago.

Aquila bit into her meal quietly. She had a good hunch as to why her parents were acting like so. Stormy grey eyes glanced at the headlines proudly emblazoned on the front page of The Daily Prophet.

HOUSE OF MALFOY SUPPORTS NEW POLITICAL PARTY – DEATH EATERS

Aquila was certain that it wasn't the rise of a new political party that had her parents on edge, no matter the rather controversial name, but rather, it was the fact that the House of Malfoy, despite having a long history of being staunch 'supporters' of the Ministry and its own political players, would support a relatively new name. With the House's Heir Apparent Lucius being betrothed to Narcissa, there was no doubt that this move would affect the House of Black as well, and on a far greater scale than just in the political scene.

Not that the House of Black also giving its support to the party would be detrimental to the House, quite the opposite in fact. The Blacks were one of the oldest Houses in Britain, of course they would support a party that was keen on 'protecting and sharing magical traditions and cultures that may be eroded away in the search for progress'.

And while the party was new politically speaking, that wasn't to say it was unknown. Far from it; the Death Eaters had been talked about for some years already. They had already published several enlightening articles on The Prophet, and it was an open secret that the head of the party, a wizard going by the name 'Voldemort', already had the backing of several pureblood families. Includingthe Blacks. Which meant that the party was making a serious effort in entering the political scene and making an impact on it.

If it just so happened that the other columns that normally featured pro-Muggles or muggleborn articles had been used to explain the Death Eaters' goals as well as the Malfoys' decision to back them, well, The Prophet had the responsibility of keeping the people in the know of important tidings. It was unfortunate, of course, but a necessary sacrifice so as to keep the populace informed.

It also didn't hurt that this was an interesting development that would capture the public's attention, so why wouldn't The Prophet report such on-goings?

The amount of attention and support they had managed to gather, in Aquila's opinion, was staggering. Not to mention extremely worrying; there was no doubt that Voldemort was in full control of The Daily Prophet and thus could easily influence the minds of the British Wizarding World, and the most likely case was that the Wizarding World would have no idea of the war that was brewing just beyond the horizon, until it literally arrived at their doorsteps.

As if picking up on her troubled emotions, Sirius nudged her gently and gave her hand a brief squeeze under the table. Aquila flashed him a faint smile and the twins excused themselves from the table, with Regulus mimicking them soon after.

The trio settled into their usual routine; Aquila sat curled up in a corner of the Black Library while her brothers played a few rounds of Exploding Snap against each other.

The blatant propaganda exhibited by The Prophet was disconcerting, but ultimately unsurprising. Voldemort, as far as those in the know were concerned, was immortal, and could therefore play for the long run. And the wizard was smart with his moves - publishing articles that were pro-pureblood but still not shedding Muggles or muggleborns in a negative light while reporting the Muggle atrocities happening in real time? Not to mention his 'party' had the public backing of the richest Houses with the longest histories and had the most say in how the Wizarding World was run? Why surely with such embellished names backing these articles, they must be true.

"And if they are true," Aquila murmured to herself quietly, "then the Muggles truly haven't changed from the Dark Ages haven't they? The Vietnam War, the Cold War - how absolutely barbaric."

Voldemort was making the public more susceptible to his idea of blood supremacy. And it was working. At the same time, he was building himself up in the political scene as well - it didn't matter that his name was relatively unknown, the purebloods were following him, he was clearly looking out for the interests and rights of purebloods and the Wizarding World (and rightly so – look at how barbaric the Muggles are), so obviously he must be a pureblood as well.

And the best part was that it had happened - was happening - right under everyone's noses, until even the House of Malfoy publicly supporting a political party other than the Ministry was just met with surprise and excitement, rather than outright suspicion.

It was brilliant really, something only a charismatic genius like Voldemort could do. Had it not been the fact that this was happening to her and her family (Sirius. Regulus.), Aquila would have been impressed. Instead, she was annoyed and more than slightly terrified.

Aquila leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed in contemplation. Again, she couldn't do anything about this yet. She sighed before letting her mind wander away from that subject. Instead, she focused her attention on creating her latest persona – Abigail Williams.

Abigail was a blond, half-blooded American witch in her early twenties with cobalt blue eyes. She had aristocratic features inherited from her pure-blooded mother, but looked a great deal like her Muggle father. She was an aspiring jewellery dealer that had a particular taste for gold and silver as well as a fondness for personally crafted crystal pendants, after all, those had her own personal touches that added to their value.

Aquila smirked sardonically to herself. With her experience from Before, it was almost too easy to develop a whole new identity, a whole new set of habits and tics, step into her shoes and become Abigail Williams. It didn't matter that Abigail was a grown woman and Aquila was just a child, at that moment, it was Abigail that lounged in the corner of the Black Library, relaxed and completely unconcerned by the silly squabbles of the Limeys. Eyes fluttering slightly and lips pulled into a half-coy smile, Abigail pondered on which smithy she should visit first.

It was a common misconception that Dwarven Smithies only forged weapons. True, that was what the majority of them did, but a handful of them also developed other talents. Abigail mused for a moment before deciding that she would head to Zurich. There was a Dwarf there who was an exceptional jeweller, the best in the region, according to Mipsy, and his prices were rather acceptable. Although, Abigail cocked her head to a side as she continued to ponder, it would probably be best for her to ask Mipsy to purchase some gems before she met with the Dwarf; his prices would undoubtedly be cheaper if she produced her own materials.

Yes, she'd do that. She'd have Mipsy procure rubies, emeralds, sapphires and topazes. Perhaps a few diamonds as well. It wouldn't be too hard considering the amount of gold and silver she had.

"Kii!"

In an instant, Abigail disappeared, and Aquila returned to cast Regulus a questioning look, "Yes Reggie?"

Regulus pouted, arms crossed against his chest, "Siri is cheating! Help me!"

Aquila chuckled, moving to stand up, even as Sirius loudly proclaimed his innocence, "Of course Reggie."

No use lingering on what had already happened. Voldemort had already made his move and despite him still having many aces up his sleeve, it was Aquila's turn to make hers. It was a good thing that she was good and gambling, despite having not much of an interest in it.

.

As the day progressed, Aquila used the breaks she had in between her lessons and meals to further flesh out Abigail. She'd even created a detailed sketch of Abigail and showed it to Mipsy, and once the Elf had it memorised, she had it burnt completely. She couldn't risk being linked to Abigail Williams; not if she wanted the Abigail to be able to do what Aquila could not.

So when night finally fell and Sirius' breathing evened out, Aquila summoned Mipsy again and had her cast a Privacy and Silencing Ward around them.

"Do you remember the sketch I showed you earlier?" Aquila asked. Once she received a nod in reply, she continued, "Good. I need you to alter my body to fit the image exactly. Can you do that?"

Mipsy nodded and snapped her fingers. Instantly, Aquila felt her body shifting.

It was a strange feeling, there was no discomfort, but it certainly was odd for her to feel as if her bones were growing and her skin was stretching, with wisps of Elvish magic holding the transformation together clinging onto her like a second skin.

The transformation barely lasted ten seconds, but once it was done, there was no sign of Aquila Black. Instead, when she looked at the mirror, the face of Abigail Williams stared back.

She raised a dainty hand to trace her face, somewhat dazedly staring at the reflection that was mimicking her. Abigail registered belatedly that she could feel Aquila's arm moving beneath the Glamour as well. "This is… odd," Abigail said, noting in the back of her mind that her voice was far more huskier than Aquila's.

"Miss Kila is still lookings very pretty," Mipsy piped up, and Abigail flashed her a fond smile. "Thanks Mipsy. But call me Abigail when I'm in this form, alright?"

Mipsy gave a quick nod, "Yes Miss Abby!"

"Lovely. Alright, I have another job for you; head to America and find a dealer to create a history for me. Make sure they follow these notes exactly." Abigail handed over a piece of parchment to the Elf, "Pay them a gold bar. No more, no less. And make sure they stay quiet. Go now, but keep the Wards here up."

"Understood Miss Abby!" With that said, Mipsy disappeared.

Abigail smiled to herself, before squaring her shoulders. "Well," she said quietly to herself, "Best get used to walking as an adult again."

As she gingerly took a few steps, long legs awkward and out of place, she felt her balance shift precariously and hastily grabbed onto the wall with a muffled curse, "Goddamit, this is going to be such a pain in the ass." Abigail sighed, "Baby steps, girl. You've done this before, you can do this again."

.

It took Aquila close to a week to be able to walk properly as Abigail. Mipsy's Glamour, while far more comprehensive than a normal Glamour and more convenient than Polyjuice, made it extremely difficult to use her body. Simply put, while she looked as if she had an adult's body, it was just a layer of magic over Aquila's body. So when she was Abigail, it was as if Aquila was walking on stilts while wearing a giant onesie. Every move had to be consciously and meticulously thought out and acted. At times when her concentration wavered, she'd often over-extend herself leading to rather memorable instances (that would never be seen by anyone, thank Merlin).

Eventually, after several sleepless nights, Abigail was finally ready for her debut.

Sat at the edge of her bed, she gave a quick glance at the items in her moleskin pouch, ensuring that she had everything packed.

"You know what you need to do Mipsy?" Abigail inquired softly.

"Yes. Mipsy is to take Miss Abby to Zurich and return here to ensure that Miss Abby is not found to be missing," Mipsy recited.

Abigail nodded, tying her blond hair into a French braid. "Alright," Abigail said, "Let's go." Her eyes flickered to the illusion of Aquila sleeping soundly on the bed as she took Mipsy's hand.

.

Abigail trekked quietly through the forest of Uetliberg with only the soft crunch of leaves beneath her boots and the soft whistle of the wind keeping her company. In the distance, birdsong echoed faintly as the sun began to rise.

Rubbing her eyes slightly, Abigail continued walking up the mountain till the trees began to thin. Soon, a clearing came into view. There was a small cabin nestled in the centre of the clearing with a thin trail of smoke floating from the chimney into the sky. Standing at the fringe of the treeline, her lips twitched slightly as she peered at her destination. It was a quaint scene, far more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of the city located at the mountain's foot, with the silence of the wilderness broken only by the light sound of metal hitting metal echoing from the cabin.

Taking a moment to glance around her surroundings, Abigail stepped out into the clearing. Almost immediately, she felt a wave of magic pass over her, and the sound of metal against metal disappeared altogether.

As she approached the cabin, the door swung open to reveal a stocky, red-bearded dwarf. Even at a distance, Abigail could pick out the firm line of muscle winding around the dwarf's arms and the tension in his shoulders. As she drew closer, she noted the various tattoos peppering his skin – the skin she could see at any rate – written in Khuzdûl, the language of the dwarves. Unfortunately, her knowledge of the language was dreadfully lacking, so the most she could pick out were a few common Dwarven phrases. She was fully aware of the dwarf studying her as she inspected him as well and for a moment, both parties were silent.

Eventually, it was the dwarf that spoke first, in a slightly accented English, raising a thick eyebrow as he did so, "It's rather early to be out walking in the woods Miss. Elvish magic protecting you or not, the woods can still be dangerous, especially for a foreigner."

Abigail gave a small shrug. "I was only free at this time. Besides," Abigail added, "I had my Elf drop me off at the foot of the mountain and I kept to the trail, so it was hardly a long, precarious walk. But I thank you for your concern Master Dwarf."

The dwarf gave her a considering look, "Very well. I suppose you wish to commission something from me?"

Abigail nodded.

"Come inside then," he motioned for Abigail to enter. As she did, Abigail gave the dwarf a sidelong glance, inquiring, "How'd you know I was a foreigner?"

She received a deep chuckle in response. "Your boots. They're made from Peruvian Vipertooth scales and that particular style of boots is distinct to the Las Vegas, so I took a gamble."

Abigail cocked her head aside, smiling slightly at his choice of words, "I see, then from my own observation; considering the style your cabin's built in, you lived in Alaska for some time before returning here. I'd wager for about a couple of decades, but it's been at least thirty years since you've returned to Switzerland."

The dwarf gave her an appraising glance, "Impressive. Well, you've peaked my interest Missy. Hadmec Oakenforged at your service, what are you looking for?"

"I want to commission several sets of jewellery," Abigail stated, pulling out several pieces of parchment from her moleskin pouch while doing so, "These are the designs I had in mind. I'd like four sets of each design, with the jewels used being rubies, emeralds, sapphires and topaz."

Hadmec gave a considering hum as he looked through the designs she'd presented before looking up, "I'd have to change some of the details, but otherwise it's doable. Do you have the materials you want me to use?"

Abigail nodded, fishing out several pouches of gems, and two chests of gold and silver. Hadmec's eyes shone with mirth, "Well, this makes things simpler. I won't question how you managed to procure that much precious metals since it's none of my business. However, this still will cost you more than a pretty penny." Here he fixed her with a particularly intense look, "You'd best be able to pay Missy. We Dwarves aren't like those bastard Goblins, taking back what has been rightfully commissioned and paid for, but we aren't going to work for nothing either."

"Of course," Abigail acknowledged. She pulled out another chest filled with gold, silver and a handful of gems. "I had my Elf inform me of your rates beforehand. This should suffice as a down payment."

Hadmec took the chest and glanced through the contents before giving her a sidelong glance, "This is almost the full payment Missy…" He frowned. "I take it you want me to ignore the glamour on your person, as well as the Elvish magic present on the metals?"

Abigail dipped her head, "Please."

Hadmec rolled his eyes, "You people are always so paranoid. Very well, you have yourself a deal. Leave your name and come back in a month's time. I'll have all your jewellery done by then."

"Abigail Williams," she replied silkily, "May I have my Elf drop by sometime to check on your progress Master Hadmec?"

The dwarf eyed her oddly, "Of course, Miss… Williams. As long as your Elf doesn't disrupt my work or home."

"Thank you. Pleasure doing business with you Master Hadmec. I shall see you in a month's time then."

With that said, Abigail spun on her heel, exited the cabin and began walking back down the path to Zurich. Once the trees completely hid her from view, she summoned Mipsy. "Change the Glamour to something more elegant and take me to the Las Vegas Strip," Abigail ordered, "Come and get me immediately if anyone is about to realise that I'm not in Grimmauld Place." Mipsy squeaked out an affirmative and snapped her fingers. Instantly, Abigail found herself hidden in the shadows of an alley, dressed in a long pearl coloured dress, hair piled up into an elaborate bun and her pouch transfigured into a matching purse.

As she stepped out of the alley, Abigail felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The cars may have been different, the dressing a little odd, the skyline a bit empty, but the feeling was still the same. Abigail spared a moment to close her eyes and let her mind wander. This place was so familiar. She could almost imagine that she wasn't Aquila Black or Abigail Williams. Almost.

She let out a soft sigh, releasing her nostalgia along with her breath, allowing it to soothe the ache in her heart. Blue eyes snapped open and Abigail glided elegantly to the nearest casino. Her lack of escort drew surprised and odd looks, but a coy smile, a soft 'pardon me' and a brief glow from the crystal pendant that hung from her neck and Abigail was welcomed to a table with open arms.

"Well then, gentlemen, lady," the dealer called out as he shuffled three decks of cards in his hands expertly, "let's begin with a round of Blackjack."

As the cards were doled out, Abigail let a serene smile play on her face. Blackjack was a game she could win with mere card counting, but with her runes and magic, things were much simpler. A flutter of her lashes, a flirty wink thrown at the men seated at the table, a slight twist of her body when she retrieved her card… It was all too easy to misdirect their attention and swap out unfavourable cards. She would never be caught cheating because of the Impulse Scripture carved onto her necklace – all it took was a little doubt in her voice about the luck of another player as she called for drinks and all suspicion was cleared. No matter how many times she aced the table, she remained above suspicion, raking in thousands of dollars (which were quickly stored in her purse), while other men were thrown out of the casino.

Nearing the two hour mark of her 'Casino Royale Spree', Abigail left the casino two hundred thousand dollars richer and returned back to Grimmauld Place at seven in the morning. She glanced down at the Elf standing next to her, "Thank you, Mipsy, for your help." Opening up her purse, she pulled out several stacks of money and handed it to Mipsy, "Take these and go to Gringotts. Exchange them into Wizarding Currency, then deposit half of it into my Vault and then melt the rest. For the rest of the money, I want you to open up two bank accounts under Abigail Williams and Alfred Jones. Deposit twenty thousand in Abigail's account and the rest into Alfred's."

"Yes Miss Kila!" Mipsy responded. She snapped her fingers and the Elf disappeared as Abigail's Glamour faded.

Aquila felt a fond smile etch into her face as she walked back to her room and climbed into her bed, careful not to wake Sirius up. She drifted into a light doze with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, words of whispered contentment and satisfaction echoing through her mind.

Your move Riddle. Just try and hurt my family.

Chapter Text

Four months was the amount of time Aquila gave herself.

Four months to secure her finances, gain a handful of connections and prepare herself. September would mark Andromeda's acceptance into Hogwarts and the start of Narcissa's preparatory lessons, and that would bring the full scrutiny of the pureblood Houses on Aquila and her brothers. They would be the only 'children' that had not undergone the necessary lessons that those of the Sacred Twenty Eight were taught; lessons on politics, on alliances, on familial magics. It would be the last time any of them acted 'truly', and the last chance for families to pick at their weaknesses before those lessons covered them up.

Storm-grey eyes gleamed as they peered over tome she was reading, a predatory gaze fixed on the heirs, heiresses and scions her House was hosting.

Four months was enough time. It had to be enough.

Plastering on a polite smile and softening her features a touch, Aquila carefully pocketed the tome and glided to where Sirius was speaking with Rabastan. Despite the rather rocky start, the two actually had a rather decent relationship. It wasn't quite a friendship, both sides were still too hesitant and closed off with each other, but it wasn't just a mere alliance only.

(How hilarious; children trying to play in an adult's arena. How pitiful; adults riding their reputations, their expectations, their mistakes on the actions on the shoulders of children.)

Aquila inserted herself into the conversation with practiced ease.

If her smile was a tad too sharp, her eyes too intense, her words just shy of biting, Sirius was probably the only one who noticed.

(He always did.)

("Kii, are you ever going to tell me where you go and what you do?"

Why was he awake? It was three in the morning. How did he know she wasn't there? He couldn't have seen past the illusion.

"… One day. I promise."

"Alright."

A sleepy smile was sent her way. Her heart clenched.

"Thank you.")

.

May.

"Just sign on these documents Miss, and remember, you need to pay both Magical and Mundane taxes."

The quill was picked up by lithe fingers and her signature was inked out elegantly.

"Everything is in order," a grin was sent her way, "All the best for your business then. Hopefully it'll be better than the last."

"Thank you." Abigail Williams smiled mirthfully, "Hopefully my business won't go up in flames now."

.

June.

A soft chime echoed through the store and cobalt blue eyes assessed the two teenage boys that stepped in cooly.

"Hello Miss," the taller of the two greeted, "We're looking for the Boss? We saw the recruitment sign outside."

"You're looking at the boss," Abigail said dryly, before ignoring the teen's hasty apologies, "The Magical one I suppose?"

They nodded in agreement, eyes mildly curious. "Your wand holster is slightly visible," she inclined her head to the taller one, smiling coyly as she answered their unasked question, before her eyes flickered to the second teen, "And I have a fondness for Peruvian Vipertooth boots."

She eyed them critically, "You two have experiences with gemstones? As well as interacting with Mundane and Magical customers?"

Her smile widened when the two nodded, "Good. I believe in practical assessments. I've a few clients coming in soon. If you manage to impress me, you get the job."

"What?!"

Smiling at the twin expressions of panic, Abigail disappeared from their sights with a twist of Elvish Magic.

Hidden under a layer of illusion, Abigail murmured to Mipsy, "Remind me to coach you on acting, will you? I'll need you to check in on the store for me once everything's settled."

.

July.

"New commissions again, Miss Williams? Whatever business you're running must be booming Missy."

"I never did ask you if you minded did I?" Abigail glanced at the dwarf sheepishly, "Do you?"

Hadmec waved her off with a scoff, "Why should I? It's good money. I've said before Missy, we Dwarves aren't those damn Goblins. You've paid for my service, whatever you do with the jewellery is none of my business." A roguish grin was sent her way, "Besides, if your customers are interested enough to come to me personally, I'd sell them a cheaper rate. Better business all around."

"I doubt people would be willing to come all the way to Zurich just for a discount," Abigail said dryly, "We tend to be a lazy lot."

"True that." A bushy brow was raised in her direction, "You rushing off for an appointment or something Missy?"

Abigail hummed softly before smirking, "I was thinking of trying my hand at investing. I've heard of some pretty good deals that should be ripe for the picking."

.

August.

One more month. Aquila grinned ferally. One more month and her finances would be secured.

.

"Everything's settled, thank you for your time, sir." The broker, Li Qin, grinned widely, offering a hand to shake, "I like your type of people, Mr Jones; it has been great working with you."

Alfred Jones matched his grin with a smirk of his own, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly, "You like people like me only because it means you get a bigger paycheck, la."

The broker let out a deep belly laugh, "Meiyou, meiyou, I'm not that cheapskate! Investing ten thousand in a new company? That takes a special type of man to do it - the bigger paycheck's just a bonus."

Alfred let out a soft scoff in response, but stood up from his seat to leave, "Thank you for meeting me today." As Li Qin looked up from packing up his desk, Alfred glanced at the clock. 8.30 a.m. He continued, "I could give you a lift to the Padang? Wouldn't want you to be late for the Parade, especially since your son's in it."

Li Qin waved a hand at him, grinning, "No need, I'm meeting my laopo first, before we go to Padang to see Li Yang. You will be seeing the Parade as well?"

Alfred smirked, "I'd be there no matter rain or shine. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

.

Singapore's National Day Parade of 1968 or NDP 1968 would go down in Singapore's history as 'The Day it Rained on Our Parade'. It was somewhat fitting, Alfred mused, reflecting the turbulent times the tiny nation was facing. The tenuous relationship Singapore had with Malaysia since two years prior when the two separated, high unemployment, and a military force barely out of infancy. This, coupled with the announcement in January that British forces were pulling out of the country painted an extremely bleak economic prospect for the future 'Little Red Dot'.

But rain was needed for renewal, and Singapore would grow into herself, and become the centre for trade in Asia, as she always was. Singapore would flourish, and so would Alfred's investments in the country.

As he stood with the thousands of people lining the streets that the Parade was marching through, the sound of music, amidst the pouring rain and cheers, echoed in his ears and Alfred craned his head to look at the band contingent. Alfred caught sight of a young teenage boy playing the clarinet and smiled to himself.

"Ten thousand?!"

"What can I say? I have a good feeling about this country."

Amusement thrummed through him as Alfred thought back to his first meeting with Li Qin. The Chinese broker had been absolutely floored when he'd first stated the sum, so much so that his Chinese accent had thickened to the extent that Alfred almost thought he'd lapsed back into the local dialect. Unsurprising; ten thousand was, after all, an extremely huge sum in this day and age. Not that it had stalled Li Qin for long; in mere moments, a near fanatical light had sparked in his eyes and damn the man was efficient.

Li Qin was the best broker in the country for a reason, and, despite the ridiculously high broker price, young Alfred Jones, who had just finished his bachelor's degree in economics, was perhaps a bit too eager to spend his inheritance in his home country.

Asian features dimmed slightly at the thought of his inheritance. Alfred's father had passed away several months before, and while the two men hadn't had the best relationship – especially after Alfred's mother had slipped away because of an illness when Alfred was still a boy – the news had left the Eurasian feeling numb and withdrawn. It had slipped out in one of his and Li Qin's conversations and while it had made the broker slight sympathetic to his situation, Li Qin hadn't pitied him.

"You aren't much older than Li Yang. Heaven knows when that happens the last thing he would want is pity."

Alfred was grateful for that.

Smiling softly to himself, Alfred slipped away from the crowd, feet carrying him into the winding streets of Singapore. Brown eyes flickered over the shop houses lining the street and the smile on his lips widened as he imagined how the skyline would evolve in mere decades. Walking into a smaller street and after another casual glance at his surroundings, the man ducked into an empty alleyway.

"Mipsy, privacy barriers, please."

Alfred felt the slight shift in the air as the barriers snapped into place and the House Elf appeared before him.

"Miss Kila's Siri and Reggie is still asleeps. Mister Orion checked in on Miss Kila just after Mister Alfie left but didn't notice the illusion. He and Missus Wallie is also asleeps," Mipsy reported dutifully. "Did Mister Alfie finish what he wanted?" Mipsy asked as she passed an umbrella to him.

(Alfred snickered mentally at the sight of Mipsy carrying her own tiny umbrella over her head. It was rather adorable – the umbrella even matched the uniform she was wearing. Black fabric lined with deep purple and a separate length of cloth wrapped over the Elf's shoulders held in place by a golden pin in the shape of an eagle – Madam Malkin had outdone herself.)

Propping his own umbrella over his shoulder, he replied, "Yeah, but I'm not heading back to Grimmauld Place just yet. There's another deal I want to make first; could you drop me off in Canberra, Australia?"

"Of course, Mister Alfie. Mipsy be returning to Grimmauld Place afterwards?"

Alfred waved a hand, "No, check on Golden Feathers would you? William and Stephen have been doing well managing the store so far, but word on the street is that the local gangs are being more active than usual. Just, check in on them alright? And the wards around the more exclusive pieces, as well. If criminal activities are hiking up, a jewellery store would be a prime target."

Being robbed would be terrible, but if such a prime target had been passed over because of the wards… Some might think that the store had been avoided for a reason other than magical interference. Abigail could not be linked to the underworld in any manner, not if she were to remain above suspicion. So Golden Feathers, a new but posh jewellery store, would have to make some sacrifices.

"Set up a ward that'll trigger an alarm half an hour after any break-ins, and tell William and Stephen to move the more exclusive pieces to the back," Alfred stated, pausing as an errant thought floated into his mind, "Pick up the damaged pieces too; and please remind Stephen not to break anything again. His crush on Abigail is funny and all, but I'd rather not have any more scratches on my gems nor have my display cases broken, even if they are fixed later."

(Perhaps hiring two teenage wizards hadn't been the best of her ideas, but they had their skills and uses. A few damaged crystals and furniture were a small price to pay when both employees were able to make sales to both the Magical and Mundane side of Los Angeles. The thousands of dollars and galleons they had raked in within the two months of Golden Feathers opening could attest to that.)

Mipsy nodded, "Yes, Mister Alfie. Mipsy will goes and check." Here, she paused and frowned slightly at him, "Mister Alfie should be sleeping nows. Is not good for developing magics if a young body doesn't have enough sleeps. Miss Kila's magics growth is being stunted by this, Mipsy thinks." Green eyes gazed up worriedly at him, "Miss Kila's magic channels be needing sleep to develop."

Alfred's gaze sharpened. "I know Mipsy, but this really is the only time I have to settle my deals," he huffed slightly. "Let's not dally any further shall we? The faster I get the deal in Canberra done the longer Aquila can sleep."

Mipsy wrung her thin hands around her uniform unhappily but extended her arm after a moment.

"Thank you, Mipsy."

.

The sudden change in temperatures, from hot and humid to freezing cold in seconds was a shock to say the least. Shivers wracked Alfred's frame as a chilly wind blew past them, even as Mipsy transformed his clothing into something more appropriate. Alfred gave a grateful nod to the Elf as he felt a Warming Charm settle around him, to which he got a grin in return before Mipsy disappeared.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Alfred walked out of the alley and towards his destination. He had one more deal to make before he could return to Grimmauld Place for some well needed rest. Reincarnated CIA agent or not, Aquila's body was still that of a nine-year-old girl and nine-year-old girls were not meant to be functioning on four hours of sleep only, especially one who's magical channels were still in the process of being developed.

Checking his watch, Alfred hurriedly walked to his next destination. It was twenty minutes past noon local time, meaning that if he was fast enough, he might be able to finish the paperwork before one. And Aquila could actually get a decent amount of sleep before Sirius came to drag her out of bed.

(And wasn't that just terrible? Sirius was awake before Aquila. The poor boy had thought that Aquila was sick the first time it happened and he'd been wailing the entire time about how the world was ending. Orion and Regulus had been amused. Walburga… not so much. Aquila had just wanted to go back to sleep. Running a business on the side was tiring as hell.)

(The fire was really strong now; there was no way any of the items in the store would remain unharmed. Sirens wailed in the distance and the crowd of people that had gathered gasped as a crash echoed from within the store.

What a pity, was the fleeting thought she had as she stared down from her perch. Strands of black hair fluttered in the wind and she turned to leave. It was a pity that the store had to be torched, but at least there was now a new piece of land on the market. The owner's luck was only that much - his life was spared from the inferno but not his business. He would have to sell the land.

At least there would be a willing buyer. The repairs wouldn't even make a dent in her pocket.

As she left the roof, she had another passing thought - Alohamora was incredibly useful. The month it had took her to translate that into a working scripture had been worth it.)

Well, it would be unlikely that Alfred would face the same trials that Abigail had when doing business, since buying stocks and shares wasn't quite the same as owning a store. Even if his Asian features caused some manner of dissent in a western society… He brushed his windswept hair out of his face, and the ring on his finger glinted in the winter light. Alfred smirked; Aquila and Abigail weren't the only ones that appreciated finely crafted jewellery, and Alfred was just as happy to exploit his knowledge as they were.

Poseidon Nickel Limited was a small mining company of not much repute. Only, it was quite literally sitting atop a large windfall that Alfred knew would be discovered in just under a month's time. Buying a few dozen or so lots of shares now may cost him more than a pretty penny, but come February of 1970 and they would be worth nearly three hundred and fifty times the amount Alfred bought them for.

Of course, that price had barely lasted the day before crashing, but there was no worry; Alfred could easily sell his stocks before then.

Foresight was such a wonderful thing.

Although, he did miss the Internet terribly; if it had already been invented both Abigail and Alfred wouldn't have to go so much trouble to get their respective businesses started.

.

On the other side of the world, Abigail Williams gently pushed open a lacquered door and stepped into a lavishly decorated store. A soft chime signalled her entrance and the heads of the two lone men in the store snapped to attention.

"Evening gentlemen," Abigail called out, "How was the business today?"

"Lady Boss!" The taller of the two brunettes, William, replied from where he was dusting off the display pieces, "It's good! We sold a dozen or so pieces and there's a couple of new commissions made too!" William grinned slyly, mirth glinting in his eyes, "Stephen even managed to get three commissions from a particularly troublesome scrooge."

"W-William! Don't insult the customer!" Came the scandalised reply. "He wasn't that bad!"

"The man spent an hour hemming and hawing for an anniversary gift. For his wife. You don't spend that long 'deliberating' when you have enough money to afford a Rolex of all things."

"It could be a fake!"

"You don't come to a jewellery store that scatters diamonds and gemstones as decoration," a thumb was jabbed in the direction of the display cabinets, "in a suit, stay there pondering for an hour if you wear a fake Rolex."

Abigail coughed meaningfully, an eyebrow raised delicately. William shrugged shamelessly – "Just telling the truth, Lady Boss." – while Stephen flushed – "Quiet. Have you no tact?" – and Abigail ignored the resultant yelp as the latter dug an elbow into the former's side.

"Well done you two, and Stephen good job of those sales," Abigail praised, lips twitching slightly as the teen's flush deepened. "The details of the commissions are in the back as usual?"

William nodded, "They're in the usual spot."

"I see," Abigail accepted with a nod, before her brows pinched with worry, "And how are things in the street? The local gangs still stirring trouble?"

"Just the gangs being more active than usual; some members of the Mob Families are visiting the city for a few days so they've been getting a bit territorial. Step and I've seen them loitering around the area a few times and well…" Behind him, Stephen winced and shrugged helplessly.

"Well, I guess that's what happens when you cater to both Magical and Mundanes," Abigail scowled. "Move the third tier jewellery into the display cabinets before you close shop. Fill them up, use the items in the back if you have to. Please be careful when you're moving them," she shot a pointed look at a slightly pink Stephen, "Lock the upper tier pieces in the safe. Keep the Magical items locked at all times and under Anti-Theft Charms, don't bring them out for display unless a customer specifically asks for them. And I want tracking charms on all my jewellery. If the gangs do rob us, they'll only get the simple ones that we can retrieve easily. You guys got that?"

Stephen nodded eagerly and William gave a lazy salute.

Abigail smiled slightly, "Good. I'll put up some wards to alert the local police if there is a break-in."

William sighed dramatically, "Lady Boss does the easy job but drives us so hard- STEPHEN PUT THE WAND AWAY!"

Pointedly ignoring the two bickering wizards, Abigail ducked into the back of the store. Once the door closed, Abigail let out a tiny giggle and snapped her fingers. A faint shimmer of the air around her and Abigail's form melted away to reveal an amused Mipsy.

The soft pattering of feet was drowned out by the ongoing brawl outside, which was why Mipsy had released her illusion. The two wizards were unlikely to notice something amiss when they were at each other's throats. Mipsy had been rather confused about the duo's relationship – they were always bickering and fighting, but when Miss Kila (as Miss Abby) had interviewed them, they had said they were best friends.

Miss Kila had explained that people were like that sometimes; when they were close enough to 'fight' without worrying that they would 'cross a line' and it was thus a form of bonding (Miss Kila knew so much!).

A loud crash sounded from beyond the office door and there was a moment of drowning silence before Mipsy heard the faint sound of panicked scrambling and felt a faint twinge of Wizard-Magic.

Pulling out the new commissions from where they were shelved, Mipsy mumbled to herself, "Miss Kila is nots going to be happys."

She glanced at the designs before tucking the papers into a pocket of her uniform (Mipsy had a uniform! That was designed by Miss Kila herself! Miss Kila was so nice!). The Elf did the calculations in her head; Mister Dwarfie would have enough sapphires and silver left over from the last commission, but he'd need more gold and emeralds. And the scratched pieces would need to be looked at again before Miss Kila could sell them.

Mipsy picked up the box that held said damaged pieces, tucked them under her arm and, with a snap of her fingers, Abigail Williams walked out of her office. Her features schooled themselves into perfectly neutral manner as she took in the scratched display cases and spell-scorched walls.

"Lady Boss! Have we told you how absolutely lovely and beautiful you look today? Certainly there is none that could ever compare nor disagree," William sang before grinning slyly, "Especially Step."

Said person groaned in mortification, and shrunk further into himself as one of the lights hanging haphazardly crashed to the ground. William winced.

She raised a delicate eyebrow, opened the box and held it out to them. There was a moment where the two teens shuffled slightly before Stephen stepped up and placed the newly scratched items in it, a guilty look on his face, "Sorry Miss Williams."

Abigail shot them an unimpressed and mildly exasperated stare. "I'm docking this from both your pays. Clean up this mess; you're lucky we're already closing shop."

"Yes boss," the two teens said meekly.

As she stepped out of the store and onto the pavement, Abigail cast a Notice-Me-Not charm as she walked and dropped the illusion once she was far enough from the store. Just nicely, there was a tug on her magic. Hugging the box to her, Mipsy sighed, "Miss Kila is nots goings to be happys at all."

The Elf disappeared.

.

"Stephen broke something again didn't he?"

"…Yes?"

"Why?"

"Mister Stephy was duelling with Mister Willy because Mister Willy was teasing Miss Abby."

"How badly was the store damaged?" Alfred rubbed his face and held up a hand, brows pinched, "Actually don't answer that. I have a lot on my mind and am too tired to deal with this now."

"Yes Mister Alfie. Mipsy be bringing Mister Alfie back home nows?"

"Yes please. Sleep would be greatly appreciated now."

Chapter Text

“This is the Black Grimoire,” Walburga stated. “In it contains the Familia Magicks of the House of Black.”

True to Aquila’s predictions, September saw Andromeda’s acceptance into Hogwarts and the start of Narcissa’s preparatory lessons. With it came several changes to Aquila and Sirius’ own magical education. The most obvious of which, was the lessons on Familia Magicks, taught by Walburga herself.

Familia Magicks were spells unique to a particular family bloodline. Spells that were passed down through the generations, requiring no wand or foci, only a blood relation to the House the creator came from to work. It was why Grimoires were always guarded fanatically. With how often purebloods intermarried, they could, in theory, perform the Familia Magicks from Houses other than their own.

(Aquila herself could trace her blood to the Houses of Macmillan, Gamp, Crabbe, Bulstrode and Flint. And that was just going back four generations. Theoretically, she could perform the Familia Magicks of those Houses just as she’d be able to for the House of Black. If she had access to those Grimoires that is.)

“Each House,” Walburga lectured, “tends to have an affinity for a particular branch of Magic. The older the House, the more prominent the affinity. For example, the House of Malfoy has an affinity for linguistics and auditory charms, which aids them in politics. The House of Macmillan, your fraternal grandmother’s House, has an affinity for Runes, which your father and you, Aquila have inherited.

“Then of course, there are Houses that have dual affinities. These affinities can be split into Major and Minor affinities; depending on how prominent the affinity is and how often members exhibit it. The House of Gamp has a Major affinity for Arithmancy and a Minor affinity for Alchemy, having inherited that when their heir married a Flamel sometime in the eighteenth century. The House of Weasley-” Walburga twitched, lips pursing in disapproval for a moment, and the twins traded glances, silently deciding to ignore the interruption-“likely also has a dual affinity now. A Major affinity for Entropy Magic and a Minor affinity for Battle Magics, inherited from our House when my second aunt, Cedrella, married Septimus Weasley.

“Which brings us to the House of Black. We are also a dual affinity House. Our Major affinity is for Battle Magics – magics used purely for combat. These include most of the spells classified under Dark Arts and all of the spells taught under Defence Against the Dark Arts. To be more specific, our affinity is for spells that are designed to do damage. Our Minor affinity is for Elemental Magic, inherited from your great-great-grandmother Ursula, from the House of Flint.”

Walburga took a sip of tea before continuing, “What you must take note of is that a Minor affinity is not absolute. Without adequate practice, it will do you no good. This is why Grimoires never leave the House’s possession, even if the heiress marries out of the House. Spells crafted by the House stay within the House. In this sense, you could say that Minor affinities are spawned from Major affinities which marry into the House. Minor affinities are also more fickle than Major affinities. Aquila,” Walburga turned to look at her, “as I said earlier, you are likely to have a Minor affinity for Runes, but Sirius, may not have that.”

The twins glanced at each other, before snapping back to face Walburga when she continued. “You are most likely to exhibit your Major affinity, and have a greater success with it than your minor affinity. Another point to note is that it is possible to have more than one Minor affinity, although it is not very common. Your father, for example, has two minor affinities – Runic and Elemental Magics.

“This where the Family Grimoire comes in. In each Grimoire are spells crafted to suit its House’s affinity and perfected by members of its House and passed on from generation to generation. When you’ve received your Hogwarts acceptance letters, I will allow you to learn some spells from the Grimoire, assuming that you have attained a sufficient level of control.” With a flick of her wand, the book disappeared, presumably back to where it originally was.

“For now,” Walburga continued, “You will use these to practice your magic.” She pointed to the crystal balls sitting atop the table. They were much smaller than the crystal balls Aquila had seen in divination shops in Diagon Alley and were almost completely covered when Walburga picked one up.

“This is a basic Magic Projection Crystal. As the name suggests it projects any magic channelled into it in the form of a coloured light. Like so.”

Dark red light emanated from the crystal, casting a bloody hue on Walburga’s features and robes. “This light is a physical representation of my magical aura. Other than showing the character of the witch or wizard, it is also a sign for the branch of magic one has an affinity for,” Walburga explained, lips pulled into a smirk, “Red often correlates to a proficiency in Battle Magics, although it isn’t very helpful for us since we already have that affinity to begin with.

“The light can also show what elemental affinity you have. In our family, this affinity is more prominent in the Main Branch since only Sirius II inherited this affinity from Ursula. As such, you two, and Regulus, are likely to showcase this ability. However, some members from the Secondary Branches occasionally showcase this ability – your great grandfather Cygnus had an affinity for wind while your grandaunt Cassiopeia has a water affinity. I myself have an affinity for fire magics. What is important to note is that elemental magics are not exclusive to those with their affinities. Any magical can perform them adequately. But even a Charms Master will never be as strong as a beginner with an affinity.”

Here, Walburga paused. Setting the crystal back onto the table, she held out her hand and a small flame burst into existence, hovering just above her palm. Aquila and Sirius watched in amazement as the flame wrapped, turning into a miniature fire-tornado before morphing into a cat that bounded across the room.

“Impressive, no? With enough control, you’ll be able to do something similar.” Walburga’s eyes glittered. “Get to it.”

.

Watching the small flickering light in the crystal ball held in Sirius’ hands brought an odd bubble of emotion in her, and not a positive one.

Logically, she knew that Magic was something that, to her knowledge at least, hadn’t existed in her past life so in that aspect, Aquila didn’t really have an advantage. Still, she’s self-aware enough to know the sting of jealousy when it bit her, even if it wasn’t the sole emotion she felt. Frustration, curiosity, pride and an odd sort of calm swirled within her too, creating a strange – not good, but not bad per se – bag of emotions that she did not want to touch at all.

Although, given her circumstance, Aquila felt that it was reasonable.

Aquila did still remember how Sirius was supposed to be a brilliant wizard and the knowledge mollified her somewhat. Despite that, the jealousy and frustration were still there because Sirius was nine. Potential brilliance aside, he was controlling a steady stream of magic, enough to keep the crystal glowing while Aquila couldn’t even get so much as a spark.

It was depressing and to a certain extent humiliating no matter how one looked at it.

Still, her curiosity was stirred because there had to be a reason why she wasn’t getting the same results as Sirius. They were twins, linked in a way so much more deeply than a shared birthday. And even if they were fraternal twins their results shouldn’t have differed by that much.

Aquila sighed and cast a baleful look at the crystal in her hand. Jealousy never helped anyone if all one did was stew in it.

There had to be a reason for this.

.

Days passed and while Sirius’ light become more and more focused on a shade of red, a sign that his control was improving, Aquila’s crystal remained frustratingly clear.

Her mood worsened with each passing day, and while she was grateful that her twin would offer advice, Walburga’s constant comments on how she wasn’t focused enough and snide remarks on her performance made the experience all together infuriating.

Well excuse me for being distracted, Aquila snapped in her mind as she walked towards the study room, mindful to be quiet as Walburga was entertaining guests at the moment. The last thing she needed was to bring down Walburga’s wrath onto herself. It’s not as if I’m running a business that’s probably a target for a local gang, or if a broker is being an ass about selling my shares, or as if there’s a bloody civil war going on.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It would do her no favours to get angry-

“That’s so cool!”

Aquila paused, staring at the door. Quietly, she turned the door, opening it slightly and peered inside.

The curtains were drawn slightly, allowing for the red light to bathe the room. It highlighted the features of her brothers and Aquila was mildly glad that they were focused on the crystal held in Sirius hand because she could feel the tension in her own face. She didn’t want her brothers to see her like that.

“Does the colour mean anything?” Regulus asked.

“A proficiency in Battle Magics, and maybe an affinity for fire magic, according to Mother.” Sirius shifted the crystal from hand to hand. “I… have the same aura as Mother. I’m not exactly sure what to feel about that.”

He turned to look around the room and Aquila shifted backwards, hiding behind the door and pressed her ear to it.

“I mean, Mother seemed happy that we have the same aura but…”

You don’t want to be so similar to her, Aquila finished in her mind. There was a lull in the conversation, before Regulus spoke.

“And Aquila? What colour was hers?”

“She- She hasn’t gotten her crystal to react yet.” Sirius’ reply was halting, and a flash of self-directed annoyance flared up inside of her.

“Really? But it’s Aquila! I thought this would be easy for her!”

“Yeah, me too.”

Aquila shut the door softly.

.

There’s a terrible scowl on her face, but Aquila honestly couldn’t bring herself to care that much. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the many empty rooms, she glowered at the crystal in her hand.

All that was needed for it to spark was intent. Intent – willpower – that she highly doubted she lacked.

Aquila flopped onto the floor, giving into the urge to be childish. She drew the line at throwing a tantrum though.

Her eyes flickered across the ceiling, distractedly recalling that the room used to be used for Astrology classes, and took note of the small pinpricks of lights mimicking the night sky.

Right in the centre of the ceiling was the constellation Orion. Just below it was Canis Major, its Alpha Star Sirius shining brightly. Her gaze drifted to Leo and its heart Regulus.

Sirius, the brightest star, the heart and bite of the feral dog. Regulus, the little king, the lionhearted.

“Names hold power,” Aquila murmured, hand outstretched and tracing out the constellations she named. Tilting her head, Aquila’s gaze focused on her namesake, right at the edge of the ‘sky’. The eagle who held Zeus’ (or Jupiter’s in Roman mythology) thunderbolts, who ferried of the souls of heroes to Olympus.

Walburga, whether she knew it or not, was good at naming people. Though Aquila was anything but a hero in her past life.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, Aquila sat up and palmed the crystal. Intent. Control. Magic. Those were the only things that were needed for the sparks to form.

She had intent and magic, her runic scriptures were testament of that. “So I’m lacking control,” she stated quietly.

She inspected her arm. Mipsy had mentioned before that her magical channels weren’t as developed as they should be; perhaps her magic was having trouble moving from her core to her arm properly? She had never encountered that problem before, but then again the runes she’d used drew their strength and power from Passive Magic.

If that were the case, she needed a foci of a sort. A rune to draw magic to her hand could work, but which one?

I need a rune that’s tied to energy, Aquila mused. Fehu implies energy and hard work granting success, but the energy wasn’t specifically Magic. The same goes for Sowilo – it just refers to energy in general. Perhaps Othila? The rune that's also tied to family and inheritance?

Grey eyes narrowed and her lips twitched into a small smile. She grabbed a pen (acquired on one of the many times she’d snuck out of Grimmauld Place) and carefully etched the rune onto her palm.

Once she was done, she picked up the crystal and focused on the rune she saw through the quartz.

Othila; summon my birthright granted to me by the blood I hold and the strength of my House.

…

I can’t believe I just thought that.

The mild sense of disbelief at the apparent success of the constant conditioning of pureblood supremacy was pushed aside by the burst of satisfaction at the light that erupted, casting soft purple hues around the room.

.

“You’ve managed to get it to work. It’s pretty; no wonder you didn’t reply when Siri and I called you.”

Regulus’ voice brought her back to attention and Aquila blinked when the words registered. “You two called? Sorry, I was distracted. What did you want me for?”

“We found something interesting in the study room,” Regulus motioned for her to follow, “A book on Magic – like, actual Magic spells with proper incantations. And the best thing is, they don’t require wands!”

Aquila blinked. And blinked again. And stood up in alarm, rushing out of the door. “You found the Family Grimoire?! And you left Sirius alone with it?!”

Her little brother blinked. And blinked again. And promptly went two shades paler.

“Let’s have some faith in Siri,” Regulus said hesitantly, even as his pace quicken to match her near running one, “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything stu-”

CRASH.

Aquila let out a slew of curses that left Regulus wincing and broke into a sprint.

The sound had echoed loudly and Walburga and her guests would be in the foyer, ready to leave – where the sound was fully capable of reaching.

Oh, we are so dead.

.

Aquila barrelled into the room with Regulus hot on her heels. Agitated storm-grey eyes darted around the room, taking note of the abandoned Grimoire on the floor, the shattered remains of a vase (quite frankly it was a horrid looking thing), a faint scorch mark on the wall and her twin’s terrified face. Anger and sadness rose within her as resignation blossomed in Sirius’ eyes. How dare Walburga make her twin feel that way. No one should look so submissive and expected to be treated like a criminal for a broken vase of all bloody things. Not when there were much worse things that could have happened.

Aquila walked towards Sirius, fully intent on slapping some Merlin-damned sense into him when Walburga practically flew into the room, livid to the extent that her face had gone nearly bone white.

Cursing in her mind, Aquila blanked her face, digging an elbow into Sirius’s side. The guests must have heard the crash – that was the only reason for Walburga to be this mad.

“Which one of you did it?” The woman snapped, eyeing the broken shards, a dangerous rage burning in her eyes.

Aquila felt herself tensing. She’d seen that look before and nothing good had ever come from it.

Dark eyes narrow on Sirius, stark terror painfully obvious on his face and suddenly, the rage in Walburga’s eyes changes. Abruptly. And Aquila stiffened because-

She’s going to draw her wand.

It’s going to be a curse.

“I did it.”

Sirius and Regulus snapped their heads towards her, a look of barely concealed shock and fear plastered on their faces. It’s all she can do to grind her heel onto Sirius’ foot. Merlin have mercy, she nearly begged, stay quiet. Let me handle this.

Somehow, Sirius must have understood, because nothing broke the tense, deafening silence. Regulus as well, since there’s a slight movement to her right as the youngest Black looked down at his shoes.

Aquila stepped forward. “I was able to get my crystal to shine and I found the Grimoire – so I thought I’d practice a spell from the Grimoire here. I had believed that I’d gained sufficient control, but I guess I was wrong.” She bowed lowly, swallowing her pride. Irksome as it was to do so, her pride wouldn’t do anything for any of them in the face of Walburga’s anger.

“I broke the vase and I apologise greatly for my carelessness, Mother. I accept full responsibility for my actions.”

Aquila rose from her bow and met Walburga’s gaze solidly. A lifetime of danger and blood had hardened her and surviving Death itself had tempered her will into steel. Despite that, the dangerous expression in Walburga’s eyes and her closed off features had the hair on the back of Aquila’s neck standing.

Aquila kept her eyes trained on Walburga and the arm she’s holding deceptively close to her side.

Because Walburga Black was a Slytherin, a Defence Mistress and a Black. Because she was dangerous. And because she was angry.

“So,” Walburga intoned softly, “This was your doing?”

“Yes, Mother,” she responded. There’s something paradoxically relaxing when she registered what exactly Walburga was planning when she raised her hand.

Aquila doesn’t make a sound when Walburga’s palm connects with her cheek. Instead, she relaxes her facial muscles and lets her head turn with the blow, shifting her stance to keep her balance. The sudden flare of pain and the sharp, almost whip-like crack that echoed through the room was noted dispassionately and summarily ignored with practiced ease.

A child would have fallen, or stumbled at the very least. Blacks never did hold back after all.

But Aquila wasn’t really a child, so she released her breath softly and slowly. She deliberately turned her head, pulling her gaze from a horrified Regulus and met Walburga’s cold eyes squarely.

When did you start looking at me like that Mother? Like I was a disappointment, Aquila thought, almost pensively. Was it when I stopped showing improvement? When I started caring about my brothers more than improving my magic? Or had you always been like that, and I too hopeful to see otherwise?

Bitterness wasn’t something Aquila was foreign to. Maybe she was losing her touch. She didn’t care that much in her previous life about familial bonds. They were fickle things; how often had she seen siblings turn on each other with vicious intensity for money? Or parents tearing apart families because of some shallow reason or another?

(How often had she been the cause of those supposed iron-like family bonds burning to nothing?)

So when did she start caring about this broken, broken family? Aquila belatedly realised that, somehow, she couldn’t answer that.

Angry, cold eyes bore down at her, snapping her out of half-berating, half-despairing thoughts and Aquila’s face blanked.

It’s useless though. She knew that she was far more expressive in this body than her last. She cared more, and it’s so much harder to pull up masks, especially around those close to her.

Walburga sees through the impassiveness with nearly pathetic ease, picking up the bitter, angry glint in her eyes like a shark after bloodied prey.

“I expected better from you Aquila,” Walburga hissed, “The only reason you’re getting off this lightly is because you finally did actual magic. I don’t know what I was thinking letting you waste your time on Runes when you should have been learning Familia Magicks, especially since you have nothing to show for it but petty tricks.”

Slytherins always knew which buttons to push didn’t they?

Maybe it was because of the stress of running a business and having several high-risk investments on the side. Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the stress that came with war. Maybe it was because she was finally done with Walburga. Whatever it was, something in Aquila snapped.

Anger – no that was too mild. Fury shot through her. Nothing to show for it but petty tricks? Nothing to show for it but petty tricks?!

Aquila raised her chin, stormy grey eyes blazing. I have done more than you ever did. And you will never find out Mother. I am better than you.

The words echoed in her mind, dripping with venom and ire, and Aquila was somewhat relieved that she’s unarmed at the moment because she really wanted to shoot something.

Walburga snarled, apparently further incensed at her defiance, all pretence of a disappointed mother gone, and jabbed a finger out of the room.

“Go to your room. You will not get supper tonight.”

She nodded at the order, cheek still stinging and soundlessly left.

Before she did, though, she cast a careful look at her brothers, taking stock of the faint lines of guilt and worry on their faces.

Quietly, Aquila scoffed as she stalked down the hallway, uncaring of the whispers that surrounded her as the portraits gossiped to each other. (What a scandal; sweet, charming, little Aquila getting into trouble with Mother dearest?)

Her cheek throbbed and Aquila prodded it gingerly, wincing faintly at the burning sensation her action caused. Of course Mother dearest had imbued her slap with Elemental Magic. As if she’d ever get off without a magical punishment.

The blow would bruise magnificently for days, and the burning sensation would last for at least twice as long, that, Aquila was sure of.

It was still better than letting either of her brothers get cursed, a small comfort she told herself as she climbed into her bed.

.

Kreacher popped into the room sometime after an hour, carrying a small sandwich and the crystal she’d left in the room. Leaving them on the bedside table, the old Elf gave her a worried look, to which she returned with a soft word of thanks, before disappearing.

Aquila ate the bread quickly. It was unlikely that she’d be caught unawares if Walburga came to check on her – the woman wasn’t exactly subtle when she was angry – but she saw no reason to get Kreacher in trouble.

In three bites the food was gone and Aquila curled back up in bed.

.

Close to three hours later, the door opened quietly.

Aquila caught a whiff of the faint aroma of food – roast pork, and her stomach rumbled despondently – and the faint shuffle of two pairs of feet.

Turning prop herself up, Aquila faltered slightly when she registered the distraught look painted on her twin’s face. “Sirius?”

“I’m sorry!” Sirius blurted out, and those two words were the only thing needed to send the rage that was settling roaring back into an inferno because her twin looked like he was going to cry.

Aquila grabbed onto Sirius’ arm and gave him a harsh tug, sending him sprawling onto her bed. Ignoring the surprised yelp that followed, she whacked Sirius on the head. Hard.

And proceeded to hug the living daylights out of him.

“It’s okay,” she muttered, “Just don’t start doing spells without me okay Siri?”

Her near murderous rage only spikes when trembling arms wrap around her waist and something moist soaks her shoulder as Sirius mumbles out an indistinct sound of agreement. Honestly, she’s quite certain the only thing that was stopping her from leaving Grimmauld Place and getting any sort of firearm is the fact that Sirius needed her here now.

The mattress dipped as Regulus burrowed himself into their sides, and the sporadic sniffles that he was trying to hide did absolutely nothing to help Aquila.

The girl sighed and gently rubbed their backs – because it was either that or just up and taking her brothers away from Grimmauld Place and dragging all of them to America, damn the consequences.

“You guys want to see something nice?”

Without waiting for a reply, she reached over to her bedside to grab the crystal and pushed.

Varying shades of purple, lilac, lavender and mauve filtered across the room and Aquila felt her brothers shift themselves slightly.

“It’s pretty.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“C-Can we stay here tonight?”

“Sure.”

.

Sometime after both her brothers fell asleep, the door opened again.

Aquila watched quietly as Orion walked into the room and sat on her bed, his face carefully neutral, but his movements gentle as he ran a thumb over her cheek.

The light that shone from the half open door wasn’t much, but it was enough to highlight the contrast between her skin and the bruise.

Orion’s lips pursed and an angry glint appeared in his eyes. Instinctively, Aquila smiled, “It doesn’t hurt.” Her father merely prods her cheek harder, and Aquila added, wincing, “Much.”

“I know my wife, Aquila. She never holds back, especially if she thinks it’s for your own good.” Orion sighed, a mix of anger and fondness showing. His gaze flickered to her brothers and his features opened slightly. “I heard you managed to get your crystal to shine? What colour was yours?”

“Purple.”

Orion hummed softly, his hand ghosting over the bruise and the burning sensation weakens. “Your mother didn’t tell you, but I have a small affinity for water. It’s not as strong as your mother’s affinity for fire, but it’s enough to do this.”

Aquila softened marginally, “Thank you, Father.” She detached her arms from her brothers’ grips and hugged Orion.

He sighed, gently threading his fingers through her hair. “Go to sleep, child. It’s been a long day,” Orion admonished quietly, and Aquila let herself be lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of her father’s heartbeat.

Chapter Text

“Sickle for your thoughts? I doubt a mere knut would be enough.”

“Which one? I’ve got about six floating in my head now,” Aquila paused, smirking slightly, “Seven if you count me wondering why you’re talking when you should be doing your homework.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “It’s the same passage we’ve been translating since we were five. I can do this in my sleep.”

Aquila shut her notebook with a sigh. “Your handwriting is never going to improve you know.”

“Stuff it. And don’t think you can distract me that easily - I want the one that’s gotten you all frowny and the one that’s making you go all emo. Seriously, we’re all Black enough.”

Aquila stared at him flatly.

“I can hear your angst. It’s calling out to me, you know?” Sirius nodded sagely. “Now take a deep breath and let it go; wait till we’re at Hogwarts before you go all Ice Queen alright?”

Trust Sirius to make a reference that won’t even be relevant until half a century later. I can’t even hit him for that.

“That angst isn’t going to go away on its own- OW!”

Ignoring her twin’s yelp, Aquila flipped open her book and pointed to the latest scripture she was working on. “I was working on a new scripture with Dad and we managed to get the schematics of the geometry needed for the scripture to draw in slightly more ambient magic than normal before he left for the ICC. I’ve already figured out the conversion sequence needed to work as the base, but I don’t know what spell I actually want to convert.”

Sirius blinked. “Huh. Silencio?”

“Created; needs fine tuning.”

“Reparo?”

“Not interested at the moment.”

“Incedio?”

“Completed that a while ago.”

“Should I be worried?” Huffing at the dubious look Sirius was sending her, Aquila deadpanned, “You just suggested it.”

“Mother’s already teaching you how to stab people. Forgive me for being concerned that you’re also capable of roasting people alive as well.”

“I don’t need my runes to do that for me,” Aquila glanced at him, “And when did you get this sassy?”

“Around the same time you started using sarcasm,” Sirius shot back. “The Softening Charm?”

“Spongify? I’m not putting that name in any of my scripts. Besides, I doubt I’ll need that.”

“That Smokescreen spell, then?”

“Maybe,” Aquila frowned, “But it’ll be too messy. Mother will throw a fit if I blow up any of the rooms here.”

“So what? You’re going to wait until Hogwarts- you are.” Sirius sighed theatrically. “Oh woe-is-me, my reputation will be ruined.”

Aquila threw her quill at him.

.

“What are you two doing?”

Aquila stole a glance at Regulus, standing at the doorway of the Library looking more amused than concerned, before returning her attention to Sirius. “He is making terrible puns and references. I am trying to stop him.”

“No, you are trying to give me a bloody concussion - WATCH IT!”

Sirius ducked just in time to avoid being hit by her copy of Faust. “Oops. Would you look at that – I missed. What a pity.”

“Why do you have that book?! You don’t speak German!”

She threw another book at him, amusement bubbling as Sirius dodged comically, arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance - “You don’t speak Japanese either!” - and rolled her eyes, “I can read German decently enough. And I know enough of Chinese to guess what the book’s talking about.”

“IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY! REGGIE HELP ME!”

“Against Aquila?” Regulus scoffed. “Not even Merlin could make me do that.” And then he turned to Aquila all but beaming, “I’ll get some more books for you.”

Brat, Aquila thought fondly, ignoring Sirius’s faux-wailing about traitors and little shits with practiced ease.

The unsettling feeling lingering in the back of her mind, however, was not so easily pushed aside. It had been there ever since the incident with Walburga.

Walburga hadn’t made a threat when she’d brought up Aquila spending her time on Runes. No; it was a promise.

Suffice to say, Aquila wasn’t keen on testing her boundaries; hence, why she’d avoided the Library like the plague for the last week. She was only in it today because Sirius had dragged her with him after lunch, away from Walburga, whose gaze had been too intent to be anything but a warning. Exactly what, Aquila still wasn’t sure - and how it irked her.

Because she knew that there was a danger here. Grimmauld Place wasn't safe, not for her and definitely not for her brothers. Even more so seeing as Orion was in bloody Austria attending the annual International Charms Conference. Granted, she could, and would, send Kreacher to get him if anything happened, but still.

A sharp sting of pain flared as she laughed just a bit too widely, acting as if it was another reminder. No, she wouldn’t try anything yet – she was on a short enough leash as it was.

She watched as Sirius reacted a bit too slowly, calculating eyes, almost hidden by an oath that was just a tad too forceful, trained on the still-present bruise on her cheek. Damn, she thought, he noticed.

Sirius had always been oddly perceptive of her. Perhaps it was a twin thing. That, or Magic; both were equally likely.

Aquila sincerely doubted that Sirius had forgotten about his earlier questions – there was no way he wasn’t purposely goading her further into this bastardised version of dodgeball. No, it was more likely that he was helping her work off the stress that had accumulated ever since the incident.

He’d probably corner her at night before they went to bed for the rest of her answer, the brat.

Well, uncomfortable feelings aside, their little game was helping her relax. Although she was running out of books to throw…

“Reggie! You done?”

“Almost! I’ve gotten almost a doz- AARGH!”

Regulus screamed in pain, and Aquila was halfway across the room before she even registered it.

Barrelling past the shelves, she skidded to a halt, eyes wide, at the sight of her baby brother on his knees, books scattered around him, clutching his hand and tearing.

“Reggie!” Sirius cried out behind her. He ducked around her and pulled Regulus up and away from- from whatever that had hurt him.

There was no immediate threat that she could see – which meant that it was a one-time thing or a specific curse. And considering where they were, the latter was more likely.

So, Aquila thought as her nails dug through the skin of her palms, what triggered it?

Regulus was fine, until… Her eyes landed on the pile of scattered books. Cautiously, she knelt down beside them. Les Serments de Strasbourg, Magical Theory, Moste Potente Potions-

Her heart stopped. No. She wouldn’t-

A Study of Runes.

Aquila drew in a shuddering breath and reached out a hand. She wouldn’t. There was a faint tremble in her hand. She wouldn’t.

The tips of her fingers brushed against the spine.

She wouldn’t sink so low.

She picked it up.

Pain.

The book fell out of blistered fingers and landed with a muffled thump, pages bent.

Aquila stared at it with wide eyes. She did.

.

“KREACHER!”

Aquila stalked through the aisle, not even acknowledging the old Elf when he appeared at her command and followed behind her.

Walking up to her brothers, she paused, taking sight of the faint sheen of tears on Regulus’ face and the thunderous look on Sirius’.

You need to be calm. If not for yourself, then for them. You can’t snap now.

Aquila took a deep breath.

In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight.

As gently as she could, she grabbed Regulus’ hand, inhaling deeply and forced herself to review his injuries. Too red, Aquila noted, some swelling and blisters. Regulus was definitely in pain. A second-degree burn.

Not as bad as it could have been, Aquila told herself, breath shallow, it could have been worse. So much worse. Damn it all to hell.

“Kreacher,” Aquila said softly, forcefully calm, with only a faint tinge of anger, “Go and get Dad. Tell him that Regulus’ been burnt by a curse - I suspect it’s the Flagrante Curse.”

There was a tense silence. Why hadn’t he-

“Kreacher cannot.”

Aquila jerked, dropping Regulus’ arm to pivot on her heel and slammed her palm into the elf’s head, sending him sprawling. “That. Wasn’t. A. Request.” Aquila spat, nearly trembling with fury. “I order you to get Father.”

Kreacher stumbled to his feet, his large ears drooping and head bowed low. “Kreacher cannot, Young Mistress.”

Red filled her vision and Aquila lunged forwards, her control on her bloodlust all but shattering, only to be tackled from behind by her twin, sending both of them tumbling to the floor. She barely managed to break her fall and twist into a clumsy roll, landing into an equally ungraceful crouch.

Sirius was not so lucky and ended up sprawled on his back, cradling what most likely was a bruised elbow.

A stunned silence permeated the room, broken by a quiet whimper of pain from Regulus as he stood up. Aquila watched, still somewhat out-of-sorts, as Regulus walked over to Sirius and offered his hand - the uninjured one - to help him up.

Sirius accepted it with a grimace and a soft word of thanks, before he turned towards Aquila. “Calmed down yet?” Sirius asked quietly.

Aquila blinked, and then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Yeah… Yeah, somewhat,” Aquila sighed. She turned to face Kreacher, and felt a stab of guilt at the sight of him cringing at her movement. “Kreacher, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and hit you. It was wrong.” Aquila bowed her head. “I’m very sorry.”

Losing control like that; like I was some animal. Pathetic.

She heard Kreacher sniff. “Young Mistress is not to be bowing or apologising. Kreacher is Bad Elf for not being able to follow Young Mistress’ order, nor offer help for Young Master Regulus’ wounds.”

Aquila stiffened and her eyes narrowed. Behind her, she heard Sirius’ breath hitch. So, he realised it too.

Aquila raised her head and met Kreacher’s solemn eyes. “You aren’t to blame Kreacher. Tidy up the Library then go back to your duties now, we will not call on you for a while.”

As Kreacher dismissed himself, Aquila turned to her twin. His head was bowed and his breathing was heavy, but otherwise he was still. “We’re on our own for now,” Aquila muttered and moved towards Regulus. Gently but firmly, she gripped his shoulder and guided him to one of the plush chairs.

It was a small comfort to have Regulus lean into her, as well as accept her help in getting him seated. At least her momentary lapse of control hadn’t turned her brothers against her.

Carefully, she took Regulus’ hand and studied it silently, noting down the blisters and swells, as well as when Regulus winced in pain. In the back of her mind, Aquila noted how tiny his hand was, even against her own child-sized ones.

Regulus had always been small for his age.

Aquila had to bite her cheeks to stop herself from snarling. Instead, she plastered on a smile - fake, so fake; everyone can see through it, are you even trying? - and pressed a kiss to Regulus’ forehead. “Come, we’ll need to soak your hand. It’s burnt pretty badly, so it’s going to sting at the beginning. But it’ll get better,” Aquila promised.

Despite his pain, Regulus sent her a watery smile and nodded, leaning into her as she pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Aquila smiled, a tiny bit more genuinely this time, and tugged Regulus out of the Library.

As they exited, she looked over Regulus’ head. Sirius had yet to follow them, choosing merely to nod jerkily, as if he had sensed her gaze, but Aquila wasn’t overly concerned. In fact, it was probably better this way, because Sirius was pissed.

Her own temper was a hair-trigger from exploding again. The last thing any of them needed was for one - or all - of them to do something monumentally stupid because of their anger.

“Tea set’s in the second cabinet.”

.

“You need to soak your hand in the water for a while. Put it in slowly – it’s going to hurt.” Aquila switched off the tap and carefully rolled up Regulus’ sleeves. “You let us deal with Mother. So no matter what you hear, you don’t move.”

Aquila wasn’t quite sure which was more distressing – the fact that she had to leave her baby brother to tend to his own injuries or the fact that Regulus only nodded solemnly in response.

Aquila plastered on another smile.

I am a terrible sister.

Mipsy is right there. Walburga only knows about Kreacher - Mipsy can help Regulus.

But all her plans hinged on Mipsy remaining unknown to the Blacks.

Regulus would never betray us. You know the lengths he’d go to keep a secret.

She knew.

“We’ll be right back.”

Terrible, horrible sister.

.

Sirius sat stewing on his bed, spitting out slews of expletives – some of which Aquila did not recall ever teaching him, not that she really had the mind to notice them now.

No, the moment she closed the door, she busied herself with throwing a tea set – an ugly, pretentious, gaudy thing one of her distant cousins had sent her for her last birthday – at the walls and relishing in the sound of china shattering, fully intent on releasing all of her fury in the least bloody way she knew.

The sounds of china breaking punctuated her twin’s cursing, and Aquila was mildly amused that Sirius wasn’t limiting himself to just English. The broken shards tumbled onto the floor, joining the pile that Sirius had already made. It was surprisingly therapeutic.

Minutes passed by like this until Sirius spoke up. “Mother ordered Kreacher not to help us.”

Aquila paused briefly, her grip on her tea pot tightening. “Yeah.” It was testament to how pissed Sirius was when he didn’t so much as flinch when she threw the pot and the shattered pieces flew dangerously close to both of them.

“And now we can’t get to Dad.”

Aquila turned to face Sirius, silently noting down that his eyes were glowing. Perhaps she should be more surprised that Sirius was now silver-eyed, but she really didn’t have the mind to care about that just yet. Magic was most likely the answer anyways.

In the back of her mind, Aquila wondered if her own eyes were glowing as well. A quick glance at their mirror showed that, no, they weren’t. Pity; having those eyes would undoubtedly help with intimidation.

“Not conventionally,” Aquila agreed. She walked over to her bed and knelt down. It took her barely a second to find the loose floorboard and she pried it open just as quickly.

(It wasn’t a secret she kept for Sirius - she knew for a fact that he had a similar hiding place under his own bed. They shared almost everything, except clothes, for obvious reasons, and the things they placed in their respective hiding places. Those were personal, private and not for the other to see.

Sometimes they’d share something, but not always. Blacks loved to hoard secrets, and they respected and loved each other too much to ever abuse their shared knowledge.)

Aquila pulled out a wand Mipsy had filched from her father’s study months ago, a bundle of rope and a sack of coins. She handed them over to Sirius. “You remember the window we used for Halloween?” Sirius didn’t bother nodding, Aquila didn’t bother to wait. “Use the rope to get out. Call the Knight Bus and go to the Leaky Cauldron, the innkeeper should allow you to use the Floo Network for a Floo-call. Call Great-Aunt Dorea, ask if you can borrow an Elf to get to Dad-”

“And you’re going to stay here to distract Mother,” Sirius finished, his eyes still glowing before he closed them with a sigh. When he reopened his eyes, they were back to their usual light grey shade. “Stay safe.”

“... You too. And see if you can get some burn-healing paste from Diagon as well,” Aquila added quietly. “Otherwise I’ll filch some from Mother’s Potions Cabinet.”

.

Aquila watched in silence as Sirius climbed down the ladder. The moment his feet touched the ground, he took off running down the street, leaving the rope ladder to flutter in the afternoon breeze.

“Mipsy.” Aquila didn’t acknowledge the Elf’s arrival, her eyes still fixed on Sirius as he rounded a corner and disappeared from her sight altogether.

Mipsy, to her credit, sensed something off with Aquila and kept silent, allowing her to stew in her thoughts for a moment.

“Illusion on the rope. Only allow Sirius and yourself to see it. After that, find Sirius and stay with him, but keep out of sight.” Aquila glanced down at Mipsy. “Make sure that he’s safe.”

Terrible, horrible, selfish little eagle. You’d never let your wings be clipped.

She pushed the thought out of her mind.

Sirius would be on the Knight Bus now. Even if the bus was packed, given their relative closeness to the Leaky Cauldron, he’d be at the pub within five minutes. It wouldn’t take nearly as long for him to contact Dorea, and even less for their great-aunt to send an Elf to fetch Orion.

Orion would come back, that Aquila was absolutely certain off, International Charms Conference of not. That meant that Aquila only had to stall for ten minutes at worst.

She could do that. No – she would do that.

Aquila spun on her heel and strode out of the room, still deep in thought.

Because if she wanted this to work, she had to understand Walburga. Why had she done this, what was the motive - the underlying drive. Preferably, without going into a homicidal rage again.

(Which was really proving quite difficult, but by Merlin she would keep calm.)

Volatile emotions aside, it barely took her a moment to get it. Walburga had wanted to prompt an emotional reaction for her. An emotional, magical reaction. And if she or her brothers had to get hurt, that would have just been a necessary sacrifice in the grand scheme of things.

Aquila’s eyes narrowed. Walburga wanted to get a rise out of her? Fine, she’d give her a bloody rise.

Walburga would be having her tea now, and Aquila would join her.

.

“You placed the Flagrante Curse on those books.”

She had to be careful. Confronting Walburga off the bat meant that Sirius’ absence would be discovered faster. Waiting too long, or even using a poor choice of words, ran the risk of tipping Walburga off.

So, Aquila forced herself to sit through all the mindless pleasantries, positioning her body just so. As if she was struggling to form the right words, as if she hadn’t already planned out exactly what to say, what to portray, what to expect, before even knocking the door.

It’s been five minutes, Aquila thought to herself, Sirius would definitely have reached the Leaky Cauldron by now.

Ergo, when Aquila finally did speak, her hand was clenched around the teacup, her words were blunt, with a hint of anger, and in a tone that just invited Walburga to try and contradict her.

Walburga didn’t disappoint. “Yes. I did.”

“Why.”

Walburga sipped her tea, sending her an inscrutable look. “I had hoped that it would be a good incentive. Clearly, it wasn’t.”

“Incentive,” Aquila whispered, already feeling the threads of control straining. Because it was one thing to theorise, but to actually hear Walburga speak so callously- “Incentive?! You hurt Regulus-”

Aquila yelped at the sudden sting of pain on her cheek, nearly dropping her teacup in surprise.

“Mind your tone, young lady.” Walburga slipped her wand back into her holster. “Regulus is inconsequential-”

The cup shatters.

Blood seeped through her tightly clenched fingers, dripping onto the table. Aquila barely registered the pain in her hand when a powerful, angry hex slammed into her shoulder and sent her tumbling off her seat.

Sprawled on the dark floorboards, Aquila didn’t so much as twitch. Because the fury she felt from the Grimoire incident and the mindless rage Sirius barely pulled her out off were mere sparks compared to what she felt now.

“A witch,” she heard Walburga hiss, “does not disgrace herself by lowering to physical violence to showcase her displeasure, much less a Black.”

Hypocrite.

Aquila felt a distinct disconnect between the swirling mess of emotions inside her, and the smooth, almost zen-like calm her body portrayed as she stood up.

Feet together, legs straight, back arched, hands cradled loosely and face blanked. Just like she’d been taught.

It was almost like she was running on autopilot.

She didn’t even flinch when Walburga Summoned the shards of china out of her palm.

“You’d do well to focus on yourself, daughter. No more distractions.” Walburga flicked her wand.

The shards floated into the air and slowly merged with each other. Aquila felt herself blink as something rushed past her head. It’s her latest notebook, she noted in the back of her mind. Various other items zipped past her, books of all sizes, various articles of clothing and loose pieces of parchment, all coming to rest in a moderate pile on top of the table.

She blinked again, somehow already knowing what would happen.

In a mockingly slow, lazy fashion, Walburga flicked her wand again. For a split second, the tip glowed white before the light was drowned of by an eruption of flames.

Aquila’s work – her notes, her scriptures, her treasured puppets – were completely destroyed within seconds. She blinked again, her attention still fixated on the teacup.

Her lack of reaction must have unsettled Walburga because the witch only commented on how her control of her emotions was improving, before she stood up and left the room altogether.

(Disappointed, that voice hissed in her mind again, you’ve always been disappointed.)

It could have been hours later - though instinctively, she knew only a few minutes had past - when Aquila felt like she was herself again.

She reached out and picked up the tea cup. The white porcelain was perfectly smooth; not even a hairline crack remained. Elegant. Flawless. Aquila placed it back onto the table just before her shoulders start to shake.

And then, in the empty room, she laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Clutching her sides until her dress was stained with haphazard streaks of blood because oh, that’s how it is.

She had tried to love Walburga. She had tried to love the witch, as any daughter should love her mother. But Walburga had made it so easy, so justified to hate her.

(But what was justice anyways, save vengeance given a pretty, righteous name?)

A fine line between love and hate indeed, Aquila thought. Perhaps, if she was a good person, or a better one or even just a different one, that line could have be wider.

But Aquila had never been one to delude herself.

No matter, she told herself, hearing the roar of flames from the foyer. It’s done.

.

If Walburga’s ire was something to be cautious about, then Orion’s rage was truly a terrifying thing, Aquila concluded, hearing the sounds of crashing and shouts echo as she walked down the hallway. The paintings around her twittered and muttered, and Aquila had no doubt that this particular piece of gossip would have circulated through the entire pureblood circle twice by dinner time.

Because if whispers of Aquila falling out of favour with Walburga had sent everyone buzzing, this? This was practically scandalous, headline news.

Belatedly, Aquila knew that she shouldn’t be feeling so detached and aloof. She should be more emotional. She should be with Sirius and Regulus, comforting them. She should be ordering Kreacher to put up a Silencing Ward – Orion was back; he would’ve already revoked Walburga’s order.

There were a lot of things she should be doing to lessen the trauma her brothers would experience. Instead, Aquila soaked up the grim satisfaction that bubbled inside her, nearly relishing in the sounds of Orion’s displeasure.

Favouring petty revenge over her siblings’ welfare, how very Black of her.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if that made her a bad sibling.

(It probably did. But then again this was her after all. Normality wasn’t a thing for her; she didn’t get normal, not even in the Wizarding world.)

Chapter Text

Dim light filtered through frosted glass. Dust particles – though Aquila was hesitant to label them as that, considering exactly whose shop they were in – fell from the ceiling, glinting in the pale light, adding another layer of magic to the shop. It actually looked abandoned, and Aquila might have been fooled, had she not heard the faint whisper of sound echoing from between the shelves.

So this is Ollivander’s, Aquila mused to herself. Fitting, in a way, but inexplicably so. The quiet whir of wheels pulled her attention away from the multitude of shelves packed to the brim with boxes. Moments later, her brothers started as an old wooden ladder bearing the shop’s owner rolled into view, hitting the wall with a solid thunk, all but announcing Ollivander’s arrival.

Aquila hid a small smirk when she caught sight of Sirius’ disgruntled expression.

“It’s been quite some time since I last saw you, Madam Black.” Ollivander’s soft greeting rang out clearly as he climbed down the ladder. “Hawthorn, dragon heartstring; a particularly temperamental one to create, I recall. I hope it has still been serving you well?”

“It has,” Walburga replied crisply. “I am in need of a new holster. Hungarian Horntail, with only basic charms applied.”

If Ollivander was offended at Walburga’s apparent doubt in his spellcasting skills, he made no notion of it, merely nodding his head in acknowledgment.

Sensing that there was unlikely to be any more small talk made, Aquila allowed her mind to wander.

December was nearing and with it came the annoying series of Yuletide Balls and Galas all of them would have to attend. And despite how she acted whenever Sirius brought up the topic of her feelings, Aquila would admit that she was concerned.

The pureblood grapevine had been extremely thorough as usual - everyone, and she really did mean everyone, knew about her family’s little spat. Even the Muggleborns knew. Great-great-grandfather Phineas had taken great pleasure in informing her that all of the Hogwarts first years had been gossiping about her and Walburga.

All. Of. Them.

Because apparently Bellatrix (Of course it would be her.) had been such a concerned and loving cousin that she had challenged one Rodolphus Lestrange, her own fiancé, to an Honour Duel for speaking out of turn on Aquila’s behalf. And, of course, she had won.

Customs dictated that the wizard was honour-bound to retract any slanders he had made to her name. Which he did. In public.

The same customs also dictated that Aquila had to thank Bellatrix for defending her honour, against her own fiancé no less. In. Public.

Aquila had been really tempted to throw Phineas’ painting into the fireplace after that. She would have been more than happy to tear down the enchantments protecting the painting; she wouldn’t have even bothered Mipsy for it. Or she could just through the walls with a chainsaw, or even a hand saw - she had been feeling particularly spiteful. That would definitely have wiped away the haughty look her ancestor had on his two dimensional face. She was certain of it.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it, Aquila’s self-preservation won out over her anger this time, so all she did was throw her flattest, driest glare at Phineas.

(It was enough to cower the Magicals in Knockturn Alley, even those in Inner Knockturn, whenever she went there. Phineas had just laughed. Her respect for her ancestor rose by just a smidgen.

Aquila decided that if she was ever going to destroy the painting, she’d start by throwing acid on it first. Then she’d tear it down and toss it in the fireplace. Letting her adversary face her attack head on was the respectful thing to do after all. For wizards and witches at least.)

Her temper had become even more frayed when she received a letter from Rabastan, apologising for his brother’s impulsive, rude and uncalled for behaviour. He hadn’t known what his brother was thinking - it was completely unlike Rodolphus to act in such a way, Rabastan had said.

Aquila believed him.

Whenever she had to interact with the elder of the two Lestrange brothers, which thankfully was far and few between, the wizard had been distant and formal. Blunt, yes, even cold at times and occasionally just shy of condescending, but never rude, even when she prodded at his buttons.

And oh, did he have so many.

Which was why Aquila knew this whole thing was a set up.

Lestrange’s iron-like control was impressive, so to say the wizard had been impulsive? Over her? When she knew she was just considered a child - granted a very gifted one - by practically every pureblood House out there?

It reeked of politics. Of manipulations. Of Bellatrix.

Aquila suspected that the holster was meant to be a gift for her troublesome cousin; in fact she was damn sure it was. Either to congratulate Bellatrix for her official engagement to the Lestrange Heir, or it was to serve as Aquila’s own acknowledgement of her actions. It could even be both, if Aquila were to present it to Bellatrix on behalf of her House.

And for Walburga to ask for only the basic charms to be applied; it meant that either Walburga herself would be placing her own charms on the holster when they returned to Grimmauld Place or she was going to make Aquila do it herself. Both of which seemed equally undesirable for her.

The former meant that the holster would be augmented by protection charms that were far more powerful and vicious than a standard one.

Because obviously, Walburga didn’t do things by half.

In fact, Aquila wouldn’t be surprised at all if the holster made it out of a nuclear explosion intact after Walburga was done with it.

As for the latter - the holster would be for Bellatrix. Enough said.

But it also meant that Walburga would have to let her use her runic scriptures, since she couldn’t be expected to cast actual spells just yet.

And that meant that the holster wouldn’t be as strong as everyone knew it could be. Walburga would have known that the other purebloods would eventually find out that it was Aquila who had created the protection charms, including Bellatrix herself, even if Aquila didn’t say anything. It would be too obvious to even try to hide it.

Was Walburga intending to snub Bellatrix? She must have seen through Bellatrix’s act, was this Walburga showing her disapproval at her niece’s behaviour?

Or, Aquila thought as something heavy settled inside her, was this Walburga announcing that Aquila was subservient to Bellatrix? If Aquila was to be responsible for creating the protection spells for Bellatrix’s holster, then this would be her work’s debut proper. And for it to be for Bellatrix’s benefit, and not Aquila’s own, not even for the House of Black, what other message could be sent.

Aquila pursed her lips together. Perhaps there could be an opportunity to be taken, but the only certain thing was that no matter what she did, Bellatrix had won this round. Aquila hadn’t even been a player, and that was just infuriating.

And the feeling of being watched wasn’t helping her mood in the slightest.

There’s more to him than meets the eye, Aquila mused, carefully avoiding Ollivander’s pale eyes as her gaze swept across the shop. The feeling of eyes on her person didn’t ease up in the slightest, even as their owner plucked out a holster case from a nearby shelf with practiced ease. He certainly wasn’t just a mere wandmaker.

The clinking of coins pulled Aquila out of her musings. With only the faintest rustle of silk, Walburga strode out of the shop with Sirius and Regulus trailing behind her.

“How peculiar.” Aquila heard Ollivander murmur, and she turned to look at him.

Unsettling, knowing eyes peered into her own, half hidden by wispy silvery hair.

“How peculiar indeed,” the wandmaker said, only marginally louder this time, a faint smile forming on his weathered face, “I believe I’ll be seeing you again soon, young wanderer.”

She really didn’t like the sound of that, Aquila decided, nodding curtly before she exited the shop.

There definitely was more to the old wandmaker than what met the eye. His gaze was just too knowing, almost like-

Her breath stuttered.

Legilimens.

Fuck.

.

Sirius woke up with a jolt.

He sat up slowly, glancing around his room as the heavy feeling of unease churned in his gut.

The faint glow of the moonlight was just bright enough for the boy to see his room semi-clearly and there didn't seem to be anything out of place.

Sirius paused at the thought.

“Ah.” Sirius sighed. There wasn't anything wrong with his room, Sirius decided, flinging off his sheets and getting out of bed. Grabbing his cloak, he wrapped it around his shoulders as he quietly walked down the hallway, coming to a stop a few doors down.

He stared at the ornate door knocker, pondering whether to use it or not before deciding against it, silently opening the door to reveal an empty bedroom.

Sirius sighed. It was Aquila again.

.

Sirius quietly walked down the hallways, mindful to duck out of sight from the few paintings that were still awake.

It had been two weeks since the Incident, as he was calling it, and barely that length of time since their mother separated them.

Their sleeping areas, their lessons, even their meal times were different.

He had no idea why their mother was doing this - like she was deliberately trying to drive a wedge between them.

What good would come out of it anyways? The House was always supposed to stay united; how else were they supposed to keep their standing in the Magical World? Wasn't that the most important thing? Wasn't that the core of any lesson their mother taught them?

(Part of him knew that she'd been doing this for a long time already, but Sirius didn't like to listen to that part. It was the same part that urged him to push for answers from his twin, to stop trying to conform to what he was taught, because that wasn't who he was.

That part sounded a lot like what the blood traitors would say, and he hated that it scared him.

Mother loathed blood traitors. He didn't want to be part of that group if it meant any of them gaining more of Mother’s ire.

And what if acting like that caused Father to get upset? Sirius wasn't blind - he knew that all of them were benefiting from Aquila’s good standing in their father's eyes. He would not ruin that.)

Either way, Sirius knew he wasn't taking this as well as he could.

But he also knew that Aquila was taking it even worse.

There wasn't anything obvious that gave it away, in fact, Sirius had a feeling that not even Mother knew, for all she saw Aquila the most.

Still, he knew that nightmares were plaguing his twin, even if he couldn’t explain exactly how he did. And they had only become more frequent since the split.

In fact, he was certain that Aquila hadn’t had a full night’s rest since the Incident. He was also equally certain that she’d taken to spending those nights away from Grimmauld Place, like she always had when things just got too much, too intense to handle.

Sirius didn’t blame her. There were times where he wanted to just leave for a few hours - just to wander the streets, breathe the fresh air and clear his head. He could understand why Aquila would take any and all opportunities to get out.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he didn’t do the same, even if he only stuck to climbing their roof and wandering the street for an hour at most. He knew that Regulus snuck onto their roof at times as well, although he never stayed out longer that a few minutes, even when he was under extreme stress.

But Sirius was a bit miffed that she didn’t tell him exactly how to bypass the wards, other than to use the Window, it wasn’t like they’d go out traipsing the woods or something.

(Honestly, did Aquila had no faith in their self-preservation skills? One would think that with all her scheming, Aquila would be the most cautious of the three, not the most reckless.

Even Sirius didn’t dare stay out of the house for hours on end, he wasn’t brave enough to risk both his parents' ire, and neither would Regulus because… Because there was a saying – an heir, a mare and a spare.

For all there was less expectations placed on his little brother, Regulus had the least protection too. And how it infuriated Sirius to know that Regulus was well aware of that too.)

In any case, Aquila had a nightmare and was either in one of her usual haunts or was out gallivanting in the night.     

Sirius heard the soft thrumming of the House Wards and felt a faint nudge in his mind.                                      

Ah, she’s in our old Study. Thank you Wardy.

He received a faint coo in response and Sirius hid a smile. For all Grimmauld Place could be stifling, the House Wards, which he had dubbed Wardy when he first felt them a few years ago, had never failed to feel reassuring.

Not exactly comforting, but stable and reliable, like an ever-present watchman.

Sirius shook his head. It wouldn’t do to get distracted now; not when he had sneaking to do and a twin to find.

.

“It’s cold tonight,” Sirius said as he held up a cloak he’d snatched from a nearby cloak hanger.

Aquila’s head tilted to a side at his greeting. In the dim moonlight, he barely made out the shift of her gaze from whatever she was staring at outside onto himself. Not that the darkness was able to hide the troubled look Aquila sported. “I’ve been through worse,” she murmured, but pushed herself off the window ledge and accepted his offering.

Sirius padded forwards and quietly sat down on the floor. He hugged his knees together and rested his head on them, easily ignoring the questioning look Aquila sent him.

After a few moments, he heard Aquila sigh softly and felt her sit down next to him, gingerly wrapping her cloak around her shoulders.

A comfortable silence settled around them, broken only by the sounds of their breathing.

Sirius wasn’t sure when he started dozing off, but he felt the Wards poke him seconds before Aquila elbowed him gently, murmuring about dawn approaching.

Blinking furiously to clear the last dregs of sleep, Sirius mumbled a quiet ‘morning’ as he stood up and stretched.

“We should go change,” Aquila murmured as she smoothen out the faint creases in her nightgown beside him.

Not waiting for a reply, she headed towards the doorway, and Sirius quickly fell into step beside her.

The walk back to their rooms was fast and quiet - while all the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were likely to still be asleep, most Blacks were notoriously light sleepers. If they were to accidentally wake any of the paintings or, Merlin forbid, their mother while they were still in their nightclothes, it certainly wouldn’t be a good way to start the day.

It was only when they stood outside Aquila’s room that Sirius spoke. “This is the fourth time this has happened.”

“You noticed it since last week then.” Somehow, Aquila didn’t sound surprised, only very tired.

Sirius shrugged. “You weren’t alright. Of course I’d notice,” he said lightly.

“Thanks Siri.”

“Well, big brothers are supposed to look after their little sisters,” Sirius replied jokingly. “Even if they’re only older by a couple of minutes.”

Aquila’s lips twitched into a small smile, which disappeared as quickly as it came.

Sirius was fine with that, because Aquila’s eyes were clear now. In fact, they were the clearest they’d ever been since...

“Sirius?”

He glanced at Aquila, eyeing the faint outline of their mother’s handiwork still present on her cheek.

A dark look passed through his face. It was almost two weeks and it was still there.

“Kreacher told me what happened to your stuff.” Aquila shifted, clearly caught off-guard at the his uncharacteristic, but ultimately justified, anger. “Mother had no right to do that.”

He could practically feel the righteous fury bubbling within Aquila, but instead, she merely pursed her lips. “What’s done, done. Whether she had the right to do that doesn’t matter anymore. There’s nothing we can do about it so-”

“Stop bullshiting yourself,” Sirius snapped and Aquila instantly fell silent, eyes widening slightly. He pushed away the stab of guilt at the sight of that. “You might be able to fool the others, but not me. You’re pissed and you have every right to be - those were years of research and work destroyed,” Sirius hissed. “I understand that; I’m not going to judge you for feeling angry. What I don’t get is why the hell are you just taking this lying down-”

“And what would you want me to do?” Aquila nearly snarled back. “Complain? Explode? Do a burst of magic to distract Mummy-dearest? In case you have realised it - that’s what got me into this mess the first place!”

Sirius recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “You think that I don’t know that?!”

Almost instantly, he felt a wave of guilt slam into him when he saw Aquila flinch slightly.

“Siri- I- I didn’t- That’s wrong-”

“No. It’s not.” Sirius closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s my fault you and Regulus got hurt. It’s my fault that Mother destroyed your stuff. I’m sorry.”

“I still shouldn’t have said that,” Aquila said softly. She stepped forwards, hesitating briefly before wrapping her arms around him and letting her head drop onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry too.”

Sirius returned her hug with a soft chuckle. “Let’s just agree that we’re both idiots and forgive each other, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And five, four, three, two, one-

“You really should go change, though.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at Aquila's almost predictable aversion to too much touching. “Yeah, yeah, I will.” He paused slightly, wondering.

Despite how frail his twin’s control over her emotions is when it came to himself and Regulus, it was akin to an iron wall when it came to herself.

But iron always rusts when it wasn’t taken care of properly.

And Aquila was, not rusting per say, but stressed. Even more so after their mother snapped.

Sirius wasn’t blind. Naive, but not oblivious. Not when it came to Aquila. He remembered how she’d looked when he came back with their father. Pale, so much paler than normal, until the red under her eyes had stood out so starkly, until he could almost see the flutter of her pulse under her temples. Dark eyes had been dilated, and terrifyingly blank, even as the sound of their parents fighting echoed throughout the house. And then he’d seen streaks of blood on her clothes.

He’d feared the worst, because he knew. He knew of the Black Madness that ran in their blood, of how erratic, how irrational their mother had become, and of razor thin line his twin was walking.

Sirius wasn’t blind; Aquila had her secrets. There were things she hid from him, but never had he seen her - his twin, his Aquila - look so dead.

(He was sure this was why their father had been so angry at their mother, and why Sirius knew he had seen, for a split second, a look of pure terror on their normally stoic father’s face.)

Then Sirius found out what their mother had done, and his terror had turned into pure rage.

Because this was Aquila; his twin who always looked out for him, his twin who worked herself to the bone to care for them, his twin who was their mother’s daughter.

He had no idea what nightmares were keeping his twin up, or why they kept recurring, but he had an inkling that he could help. Exactly how, he wasn’t sure, but this situation didn’t feel unfamiliar. And he would help, because the way Aquila was acting-

If it had been anyone else, Sirius would have called it ‘shaken’.

The decision was easily made. He sent Aquila a grin, reached out and ruffled her hair. It wasn't something he did regularly, fully aware that too much would send his twin into a right state. But now, Aquila bored it with a quiet disgruntlement, her expression somewhere between resignation and humour.

(He never told her that he’d seen a wizard do that to his kids once in Diagon Alley. Seen how the man’s face had been full of love for his kids, seen how, despite the fuss the kids had made, they’d glowed. And maybe, just maybe, if he did that, they could act like they were a proper family and maybe Aquila wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.

He suspected that Aquila already knew. She’d been ridiculously touchy-feely these past few weeks.)

“Wait a minute, alright? I’ve got something for you,” Sirius said, retracting his arm, grin still in place.

Aquila stared at him flatly, huffed, then looked away. Embarrassed, Sirius translated. Or as close as she could ever get, which was nearer to ‘mildly vexed’, but no matter; he had her agreement either way.

Sirius spun on his heel and, mindful not to wake up the sleeping portraits lining the hallways, rushed to his room.

At the doorway, he paused. It was still strange having his own room. While logically, he knew that Aquila was literally just down the hallway, the separation had been, and still was, uncomfortable.

For all he didn’t understand their mother’s action, It wasn’t as if he couldn’t see why their sleeping areas had been separated; Merlin knew that both of them were outgrowing their old room and that both of them would need some measure of privacy given the… things that came with them growing up.

(Aquila had given him the Talk. Aquila had given him the Talk. Sirius still wasn’t sure which was more mortifying - that he’d been given the Talk or that his own twin, who was younger than him!, had been the one to give him said talk.

How was he supposed to protect her honour if she found out about these things before him?!)

He’d just wished that the decision to split had been made by them, instead of their mother, and that was she would just stop trying to drive them even further apart.

Huffing in annoyance, Sirius stepped into the room, walked up to his table and shoved a stack of textbooks aside, revealing a plain, slightly worn notebook, which he promptly snatched up.

As he walked back, he spared a few moments flipping through the pages, scowling slightly at how slanted his words were and the presences of numerous ink blobs everywhere. His gaze soured even further when he saw that some parts of the parchment that’d turned brown, most likely because he had left a burning lamp on it for too long.

Sirius sighed at the general state of untidiness the book was in; a far cry from what Aquila’s had been.

Still, it’d be better than starting from scratch, Sirius thought, tracing out the set of runes he’d copied from Aquila. He hadn’t understood everything that his twin had written down; he was smart, but hardly near the level of brilliance Aquila was when it came to runes, but he knew his twin well enough.

Well enough to guess where the speculation ended and where the actual study and creation started.

“Sirius?”

He looked up. Aquila’s tone was questioning and yet flat, and Sirius was even more sure that there was something off about her. Shaken, he thought, but there’s something more to it. Realisation? Frustration? Resignation?

Whatever it was, it’d give him grey hairs fretting well before they’d even go to Hogwarts.

Sirius Grey, the first and only keeper of Aquila-how-do-you-already-know-that-Black.

He almost laughed. And Aquila was giving him that look again. Right. Focus - Aquila.

“Here,” Sirius pushed the notebook into her hands, “Before you say anything, I’m working on my handwriting-”

“Thank you.” He blinked, startled by how small Aquila’s voice was. And then his gaze softened.

Even though she’s his twin, even though he’d seen her act submissive to their mother, Aquila had always seemed bigger. But now, there was an openness, a rawness that made Sirius remember.

For all she acted like his and Regulus’ parent, tutor and general handler, Aquila was still a kid. She was still his little sister.

(He remembered the long nights he spent copying her notes, gut feeling all but screaming that having a copy, having his own copy, would be important, and staring at an empty bed wondering.

It was the same feeling that always warned him which nights Aquila would disappear from their room, the same feeling that nudged him to let her go, the same feeling that told him not to ask.

Ask no question, she’ll tell you no lies, he remembered thinking the first and only time Aquila deflected his questions.)

Still standing in his nightclothes, Sirius ruffled Aquila’s hair again and pretended not to notice the faint tremble in Aquila’s hands as she flipped through the book. “You’re welcome, sis,” Sirius said, smiling faintly.

Something heavy settled in his gut when Aquila leaned her forehead on his shoulder, notebook clutched close to her chest. He had a feeling that Aquila wouldn’t be getting much sleep again tonight.

There has to be something I can do, Sirius thought. Something that could help- Oh.

“Hey,” Sirius said as an idea floated into his head, “You know the last scripture you and Dad were working on? How about you turn it into something that can store magic?”

.

Eight sets of jewelry and three individual orders, Hadmec will have his hands full for this month as well, Abigail thought to herself while jotting down a few notes on another set of paper. I’ll need to get Mipsy to get more gemstones soon. And also top up my bank account.

Abigail gingerly opened one of her drawers and pulled out the file containing her bank statements, careful not to knock any of the trinkets she had on her desk.

And my taxes are due again. I’ll have to drop by the bank at the end of the week.

She really missed the internet, Abigail decided as she pulled out the necessary paperwork, stubbornly ignoring the throbbing sensation in her shoulder. It wasn’t that hard anyways; Mipsy’s illusion was helping to reduce the pain, as was the caffeine running in her bloodstream.

Still, she knew that she was going to regret this so much when she crashed, or at least Aquila would, but she really had to just get away from Grimmauld Place for a while. Even if it meant camping out in her office clearing the paperwork that had started to pile up.

Abigail stared balefully at the stacks of paper on her desk.

Orders, taxes, inventory lists and the occasional idea for a new Scripture.

They’re multiplying, I swear. I know I cleared a good five files the other night - why is half of my table still covered? Abigail’s gaze swept across the table, landing on the plain notebook sitting near the edge of the desk.

She felt her heart warm almost instantly. For all she couldn’t stand the House, she knew that Aquila was so damn lucky to have Sirius.

Sometimes she wondered what she’d done to deserve him.

Her eyes flickered to the small, ornate mirror perched near the book. The eye bags were nearly as dark as the brown eyes above them and Abigail let out a quiet curse; she really shouldn’t have pulled two all-nighters in a row.

“You know,” Alfred drawled slowly, somehow still giving off a sophisticated air despite how haggard he looked, “We could just kill her. We’ve got like six poisons we can make easily. Pretty sure we can get venom just as easily. Hell, I’m based in Australia- I can easily get some of the critters to do the work for us.”

Another flicker of movement, and Abigail bit her lip when the shadows beneath the window darkened.

“Clearly you’ve forgotten that her presence is keeping the rest of the purebloods in check,” Aquila snapped from the glass panes, her outline as sharp as her words. “And that Walburga, being the Lady Black, is one of the biggest sources of power for the House Wards, especially when they come under attack. Orion can’t support the wards on his own, Sirius and Regulus are too young and the Wards won’t even consider me as an option.” Aquila glowered darkly. “Take Walburga out of the picture and that power will go to Cygnus and-”

“Bellatrix. Fantastic.” Alfred shot her a pointed look. “You know this is why I’m glad that it’s just me I need to bother about. And Mipsy, but she’s adorable and useful, so she doesn’t count.”

Aquila rolled her eyes. “Annoying as it is, as long as Walburga doesn’t bow down to old Voldie like Bella has, the Wards still remain our biggest and strongest defence against him. So no, we are not assassinating her yet.”

“Laxatives are free game then-”

“Don’t you have investments to tend to, Alfred?” Abigail cut in, snapping a file shut and sending him an irritated look, “Just like I have paperwork to do?”

“Investments, Abigail-dearest, are not plants,” Alfred replied dryly. “Neither are they children. I can leave them alone for a few weeks.”

“Of course you can,” Abigail deadpanned. “What could possibly happen?”

“The closest potential hiccup that could put a dent in our plans is the Asian Financial Crisis - and that isn’t due for another thirty years. And when that happens, I will be happily retired, thank you very much.”

Abigail closed her eyes with an aggravated sigh. I’m aware of that. Why did I give him such an annoying personality.

“You needed one to be a snarky bastard but still competent and well-liked enough so that you could vent properly and not blow up at the world all the time.”

“Oh piss off will you!” Abigail snapped, opening her eyes to glare at her mirror, only to meet her own blue eyes. “Tch. Annoying bastard.” Her gaze flickered back to the window. “And why are you still here?”

“Talking to yourself has been proven to help release stress,” Aquila said bluntly.

“In the future,” Abigail retorted. “Now it’s just considered another sign of madness. And you know that the No-Majes only just shook off the whole ‘female hysteria’ bullshit.”

“Honestly, they’re just Muggles - they hardly matter.”

“Alfred is a No-Maj. And given how things are for you, I doubt you're that much better.”

Aquila at her glared frostily. “I am trying to be helpful.” She huffed petulantly, and Abigail had to bite back a quip about her finally acting her age, before jerking her head to her left. “Your little shadow’s back.”

“I’m aware of that.” Abigail’s gaze followed Aquila’s, just barely catching sight of dark robes fluttering in the evening breeze. Sunset was already well underway, casting long shadows into the alleyway. Still, to be able to hide themselves so well…

“They’re good. If it weren’t for Mipsy’s Wards and our barrier we probably wouldn’t have noticed them.”

“Indeed.” Abigail’s eyes narrowed as the dark shape disappeared altogether. Too fast to be done by just mundane means. A Magical then.

“Whoever it is, I don’t think they mean us too much harm. It’s been almost a month now - they would have attacked the shop already.”

Still, better work on the detection barrier, Abigail thought as Aquila fell silent. As it is, the runes are taking up too much space and drawing too much energy to remain subtle for long periods of time. It needs to be more compact, and probably have a better foci.

“Anyways,” Aquila muttered, still staring intently at the shadows, “Like I was saying, talking to yourself is supposed to help. Besides, it’s not like it’ll really harm us - we’re all mad here anyways.”

“Not you too,” Abigail groaned. “I swear, do not start quoting Lewis Carroll at me or I will throw my paperweight at you.”

“I am currently a figment of your imagination,” Aquila deadpanned. “You’ll do more harm to your windows than to me.”

“And I am sleep deprived. Go away.”

There was a soft sigh, one Abigail wasn’t sure if she’d truly heard or not, but when she glanced back at the window, only her blurry reflection greeted her.

“Maybe I can get paintings of those two done,” Abigail said aloud, shaking her head slightly, “It’ll be less crazy to talk to them that way, even if I’m still technically talking to myself.”

If she did, however, she’d still need to find someone willing to cast the enchantments and link her memories to the paintings. Which could run the risk of her secrets being exposed, and she really did not want to deal with that possibility. It might be possible to minimise said risk by conning the caster into a Magical Contract via her Impulse Scripture, but the risk was still there.

There were too many variables that could cause the scripture to fail - too little magic causing the effects to be too weak, or vice versa; too strong for it to be subtle, or even the caster just being too competent in Mind Magics to be tricked.

Aquila had been truly lucky that the conditions were just right the past few times she’d used the scripture. High levels of ambient magic, careless targets and choosing just the right thing to use the scripture for.

Maybe she could pull this off in the future, with enough planning and preparation but definitely not now. And the rewards for such a task, while great, could wait until she had less pressing matters on her hands.

Having several sets of eyes and ears in all her usual haunts was great and all, but they ultimately meant nothing if she wasn’t able to keep said haunts moderately safe.

Abigail rubbed her eyes, groaning softly at the stinging sensation she felt. “I really need to sleep.”

Chapter Text

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as she stepped inside. Perhaps if she had been in her normal form, Ollivander's shop would have felt spacious, but with the extra foot and a half Mipsy had gained when draping Miss Kila's form onto herself, the shop felt strangely small.

Funny how perspectives changed reality.

But now was not the time for such musings, Mipsy told herself sternly, Miss Kila had given her a Very Important Task to carry out!

Mipsy had to make sure that Mister Ollie wouldn't harm Miss Kila!

"It's rare that I have a visitor come in even before the sun has risen fully," a soft voice said from behind her. Mipsy would've jumped had she not sensed Mister Ollie's magic long before she'd even stood outside the darkened shop.

It had been the only thing actively flickering in the entire Alley when she'd first arrived, with all the other signatures thrumming with sleep instead.

"I work on a tight schedule," Mipsy replied, internally bemoaning the fact she could never speak as regally as Miss Kila could, despite all the hours Miss Kila had spent coaching her. Hours that Miss Kila could have spent doing something much more important! Like sleeping! Or eating!

Mipsy almost wilted but gave herself a mental shake. Now was not the time for such thoughts; she had to focus on Mister Ollie or else she might miss out on Important Information That Miss Kila Needed!

A soft cough brought her out of her thoughts and Mipsy hastily aborted her instinct to snap to attention, belatedly realizing that Miss Kila would never act like that. Mister Ollie merely raised an eyebrow, arms full with almost a dozen boxes of wands. "Young Miss Black did seem like a busy person, but also awfully secretive," Mister Ollie spoke evenly, and Mipsy had only a split-second to realise that he'd seen through her illusion before he continued, "To have been sent in her stead, and to be her proxy in a discussion of a topic that nearly sent her into a panic; she must trust you tremendously. But someone like her doesn't trust easily." Pale eyes glowed, sending a shiver up Mipsy's spine. "Who or what are you to her, I wonder?"

Mipsy swallowed nervously but held the illusion firm. Mister Ollie had known that she wasn't Miss Kila, but he hadn't found out that she was an Elf yet.

Miss Kila had said that if Mister Ollie wasn't fooled, she trusted Mipsy's judgement and capabilities in handling the matter. She could do anything, as long as her name and the fact that she was a House Elf remained a secret but-

What- What was Mipsy supposed to do? She didn't want to attack Mister Ollie; he felt like a strong wizard and-

And his magic felt honest.

Mipsy sucked in a deep breath. Miss Kila trusted Mipsy, the Elf thought, Mipsy will not fail Miss Kila.

"That doesn't matter," Mipsy replied, sounding braver than she felt. Fighting against her instincts, she lifted her head to meet Mister Ollie's eyes, coiling her magic around her mind for protection, "I am here to make sure that she stays safe."

"Your concern for Miss Black is admirable, young one." Mister Ollie smiled faintly, his gaze unnaturally glassy. "As is your loyalty," he added, almost like it was an afterthought.

"Miss Ki- Miss Black is a Good Person," Mipsy said quietly, scrounging up every bit of will inside of her to hold Mister Ollie's gaze, "Anyone who knew Miss Black would do anything to keep her safe."

"Yes, I quite agree." Mister Ollie blinked, still smiling. "It's almost surprising how such a House could produce such a delightful paradox. But that is not what young Miss Black sent you here for, isn't it."

Mipsy remained silent as the wizard gently placed the boxes he'd been carrying onto the counter. Magic swirled inside her, pulsing, but carefully controlled and leashed. Mister Ollie seemed like a good wizard, but he would not get any chance to sense her magic.

Still, underneath her illusion, Mipsy harshly wrung the hemming of her uniform, unsettled.

"I only do a surface glance of any potential client's minds to gain a better understanding of their character," Mister Ollie said calmly, seemingly ignoring the tension in the room. He placed a palm on his chest and Mipsy gasped in surprise at the sudden spike in magic. "Anything and everything I learn is, and forever will be, only used to allow a Magical being to find their wand, unless I am allowed to act on such knowledge with that being's approval. This I swear upon my Honour and my Name as an Ollivander."

Magic thrummed, pulsing with each word of Mister Ollie's Promise - a Promise! Miss Kila would be safe! - and Mipsy finally had the peace of mind to stop abusing her uniform.

"Now, I believe you have somewhere else you need to be," Mister Ollie said after a moment of silence, his gaze still maddingly veiled, "Tell young Miss Black that she is welcome to join me for tea when she has more questions to ask."

Mipsy nodded her head at the dismissal and disappeared with a pop.

.

"Ollivander made a Promise?" Aquila frowned, "That's… awfully convenient. But why?"

Short of an Unbreakable Vow, this was the best thing that could have happened and something Aquila hadn't even considered as a possible outcome. Ollivander had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain if he hadn't made the Promise.

He had definitely read my mind. He's aware of a possible future and of my abilities. My safety would undoubtedly be compromised if he chose to tell anybody. He had practically every advantage so why go through the effort of making a Promise? Why give me a safety net?

Especially since the only way Aquila could harm him was if she used Mipsy, and when - not if; Ollivander would be too tricky a target for Aquila to be confident in saying she could predict all of his responses - word got out that an Elf had attacked a Wizard, there would be retribution.

One way or another, she would lose Mipsy - either by decree of the Ministry or having to release the Elf from her services, with a final order of secrecy to cover her tracks entirely - and like hell that would happen.

Too much was riding on Mipsy being present and very much uncompromised.

So why had Ollivander staked both his and his family's Honour and Name as collateral of all things?

"Why the safety net?" Aquila repeated to herself, eyes narrowed.

"Mipsy is sorry for not asking." Mipsy practically wilted where she stood. "Mipsy is sorry for making more troubles for Miss Kila."

Aquila waved her off. "It's not your fault. You didn't know any better. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth when there are other things that require our attention."

But she would spend some time thinking, just in case. It was always better to be over prepared than under.

After all, if she had remembered that actual mind reading was something very much possible in this universe and had prepared for it properly, she wouldn't have to scramble for a way to protect her mind and fret over what had been revealed to who.

The only consolation Aquila had was that Legilimency was one of the most obscure and hardest forms of magic that could be learnt, and thus only a small percentage of wizards could actually perform it, and even less could do it subtly.

She hadn't been subjected to any pounding headaches or migraines in the presence of other wizards yet, so she was fairly confident that only Ollivander had actually read her mind.

Walburga was also another possible threat, but she had never acted in a way that suggested she knew that Aquila had knowledge of the future, so Aquila was hesitant to act on that front.

But the fact that Legilimency wasn't widely practiced also meant that Occlumency and other methods to protect the mind were equally obscure.

There were rumours of amulets that could shield the mind, or alert the wearer of an attack, but no matter how hard she looked, Aquila wasn't able to find even a whisper of such items in the country. Even in Knockturn Alley.

It seems like they can only be found overseas. I need to expand my search, Aquila thought, carefully placing the documents she'd been working on into a briefcase. Picking it up, she felt the familiar sensation of Mipsy's illusion settle onto her skin.

Blinking his eyes, Alfred took a brief pause to get used to the change in height and smirked. "Singapore, if you please, Mipsy."

Any new plans, however, would have to wait till after his current project was done. Knowing the future was sometimes not enough to predict market trends, and this was one of such instances.

Oh, it certainly helped, but still, some time had to be devoted to actually studying current market data if he wanted to deliver usable suggestions to his clients.

Keep them satisfied, and Alfred got his pay. Win-win for all. At least, until somebody, most of the time a client, did something stupid. Which, annoyingly, happened more often than not and forced Alfred to cut connections before he lost any more brain cells.

Hopefully, he wouldn't run into more idiots who confuse ethnicity with intellectual capabilities again.

Or any other form of capabilities for that matter.

.

"The kitchens are in the other wing, boy."

Do not stab the client's father. Do not stab the client's father. Aquila is the only one that's allowed to get stab-happy. Mipsy will give you the Sad Face. Do not stab the client's father.

Alfred repeated the mantra in his head, a polite smile fixed on his face. Though judging by how his client was eyeing him, perhaps he was still emanating his semi-murderous thoughts.

Not that Alfred really wanted to reel said thoughts in. Fostering a genial relationship with his client, who despite being a fairly decent chap, was not good enough an incentive for him to plaster on more than a smile.

Especially since he'd already been paid and that this was the third time this week Alfred had to deal with racist bullshit.

Looks like he's in his sixties. British accent, but it's been diminished slightly, probably stayed here for a few decades now. Possible WWII veteran, judging by the medals in the foyer, inherited wealth and, Alfred allowed the slightest of sneers curl his lip at the telltale scent of whiskey, very much drunk.

"Get going, boy! You heard me, or is English too difficult to understand for you Hainanese?" Drunk-and-Annoying spat when he received no reply, other that a scandalized sound from his son.

I have Asian features, so obviously I have to come from Hainan, Alfred thought sarcastically, irritation spiking at the way Drunk-and-Annoying butchered his mother-tongue.

(Honestly, why couldn't colonial troops be smart? Or at least have some tact? Especially when the man was at such an old age - wasn't age suppose to mellow a man; make him just a tad bit wiser? Was that really too much to ask? Britain already had a bad enough reputation in the area, why make things worse?

Idiots. I feel my intelligence dropping, Alfred thought, fighting the urge to sigh. Dramatics would be too much an effort wasted on such a person.)

"My mother was from Fuzhou actually," Alfred replied flatly, setting down his notes on market data on the desk. "And I'm here because my client, your son, requested for a consultation of how the financial market is expected to change - a consultation that you are interrupting, mind you - and not to cook dinner for you." Filthy pig, went unsaid, although considering how red Drunk-and-Annoying, now Drunk-and-Angry, became, he probably caught it.

Alfred was almost disappointed when his client was addressed instead - decking Drunk-and-Angry would have been a very much welcomed stress reliever.

"Junior! What is the meaning of this? You said you'd gotten Arthur and Beth's boy to help you, not some half-baked Asian wannabe!"

Do. Not. Stab. The. Client's. Father.

"Dad! That's-"

"He did," Alfred cut in, "Arthur Jones was my father, but Elizabeth Towers isn't my mother. Father remarried after Madam Elizabeth died."

"Remarried! Hah! Who are you trying to fool, bastard? I would've gotten the invitation- Arthur and I were thick as thieves," Drunk-and-Angry crowed smugly, and the last of Alfred's patience evaporated.

Did Drunk-and-Angry really think that Alfred would let him get away with that? That Alfred would back down after he was insulted?

Alfred smiled.

"Considering that you made the assumption that I was Madam Elizabeth's son purely because of my name, and ignored the fact that Madam Elizabeth passed away barely a year after marrying my father, God rest her soul," Alfred muttered quietly, before returning his attention onto Drunk-and-Angry, "I am highly doubtful that you and Father were anything more than acquaintances."

The man looked like he was just shy of bursting a blood vessel, but Alfred was barely done. "And as for not being invited- I wouldn't be surprised if you'd spent the night drunk off your ass like the uncultured swine you're projecting yourself to be," Alfred smiled serenely. "It's hardly surprising that you wouldn't remember it. If you even had the mental capacity to do so either way."

It was almost comical how Alfred could practically see the gears in Drunk-and-Angry's head turn and the exact moment the man realized he'd been insulted.

(It was always amusing to see such reactions, although Alfred did not appreciate the way the red on the man's cheeks clashed with the already horrid pinstriped sewage green suit.

Because ow, his eyes. His poor eyes.)

"YOU DARE INSULT ME IN MY OWN HOUSE?" Drunk-and-Angry thundered, stomping across the room with his fist swinging.

"I was merely stating what I had observed. I was unaware that you'd be so sensitive," Alfred replied, faux politeness coating his words. Easily sidestepping the first swing, Alfred continued, "My apologies for that, I meant no insult."

A second fist was swung his way, this one just easily dodged as the first, and Alfred decided that this game had gone on long enough.

Jabbing an elbow into Drunk-and-Angry's ribs, he hooked his foot against the man's ankle and pulled, sending him sprawling.

"Well," Alfred said as his client stood stunned, easily ignoring Drunk-and-Angry groaning on the carpet, "that was an exciting conclusion. Pleasure doing business with you, if you'd like to have more consultations you know how to contact me, although I would prefer if we had our meeting elsewhere."

Picking up his briefcase, Alfred sent a polite smile to his client, "Thank you for having me. I'll see myself out."

.

Stepping out of the porch's shade and into warm sunlight, Alfred sent a scathing glare at the mansion behind him.

It was one of the last few pre-WWII mansions left standing and was most definitely one of the buildings that would be demolished in the near future, considering Alfred didn't have the slightest of memories of the place. His past life had done a brief stint in Singapore during the early 2000s, and Alfred couldn't help the small bubble of satisfaction knowing that, one way or another, Drunk-and-Angry would eventually lose the place.

Maybe he could help push that along? But ruining Drunk-and-Angry meant that his client would certainly go into some hard times, which would most definitely mean less earnings for himself.

Perhaps he would wait for the year to end. Alfred doubted that his current contract would be extended after his little stunt, so once business was concluded, there would be no need to hold back.

Mind made up, Alfred strolled out of the gate, turning a corner and ducking into an abandoned alley, and tapped on his ring.

It glowed once, then twice, the sign that Mipsy had received his call and would be coming to get him soon. Three pulses meant that Mipsy had locked onto his person and would be whisking him away to his next destination within moments.

Bless Sirius for his idea, Alfred thought to himself, casually leaning against a stack of crates and out of sight of anyone that decided to walk through the alley. It's so convenient to have a reliable power source for my scriptures.

Especially since Alfred didn't actually know where the Magical section of Singapore was, given that Magical Britain hadn't followed their muggle counterpart, leaving Magical Singapore under Malaya rule.

Probably.

From what Aquila could learn, Magical South-East Asia had been conquered and united under the Malaya banner some eight hundred years ago, but considering the last known ruler of the empire was known to be a surprisingly forward-thinking witch for the time, there were rumors that she had dissolved the empire and reinstated leaders to govern over each area.

Of course, said governors still deferred to her as their ruler.

Point of the matter was it was around this time that revolts started happening and much history was lost to the classic 'flames of war' and most of the world collectively decided to ignore the 'empire' until the civil war settled down. Which ended up being a bad move since the 'empire' practically shut its doors to the rest of the magical world once the fighting was over.

With more than four million square kilometers of landmass and magic, the region was practically self-sustaining, even centuries into their self-imposed exile.

While there was no restriction with regards to magical travel, meaning that foreign magicals were free to pop in and out of the country unannounced to do whatever they wanted, there was the general consensus to not piss off the locals. Especially since they were rumoured to number somewhere between six and ten thousand.

The information vacuum had been, and still remained, a source of frustration for all of them. Aquila wasn't able to get a firm foothold like she had with Abigail and Alfred couldn't tap into a convenient ley line, or dragon vein as they were called in Asia, if he wanted extra power for the scriptures.

And so Alfred had use the Impulse Scripture sparingly, which meant more effort put into interacting with idiots.

"Well, I guess you can't have everything," he sighed, glancing at his ring again.

Still not glowing. He looked at his watch. 4:08 PM.

Alfred frowned. Mipsy must've just started lessons… What was it- Potions? No, that's on Mondays and Fridays. Charms Theory. That tutor's a total bitch, no wonder it's taking Mipsy so long.

Well, at least it wasn't him that was sitting through such lessons anymore. Well, technically Aquila would have to be the one sitting through it, but they shared the same brain, so Alfred's time would be wasted as well.

And it wasn't as if any of them were missing out on the actual theory - for one thing, Mipsy made fantastic notes. For another, most of their tutors had the teaching styles that included 'Sees Content, Reads Content' and no other explanation.

Not that any of them needed more explanation, but the fact of the matter was most of their teachers were old, boring farts that didn't even notice that Mipsy had taken Aquila's place for almost a month now.

Except for Mdm Baranovskaya. The former Bolshoi Ballet Prima Ballerina was just as intimidating and, frankly, awesome as she had first seemed way back when she'd just started teaching Aquila the art.

Anyone that was capable of retaining that sort of status for four years was well deserving of his respect, in Alfred's opinion.

It was also one of the few classes that Aquila never skipped, the others being History and Etiquette Studies. Which at first, seemed ironic, but they had their uses.

Alfred was pulled out of his musings by the faint glowing light emanating from his ring.

Closing his eyes, Alfred felt the familiar sensation of Mipsy's magic settling around him and the split second of complete weightlessness, before his feet settled back on solid ground.

Alfred opened his eyes to a different alley and a much milder sun.

"Well, two more meetings to go, back to Grimmauld for a nap and then off to the shop to see who's dropping by this time."

Hopefully, Canberra was home to fewer idiots, but Alfred wasn't really holding his breath.

.

The chime sounded thrice - a magical customer, Abigail noted in the back of her mind. She stole a quick side glance and caught sight of Stephen exiting the storage room, presumably to attend to their latest customer, before she returned her attention to her paperwork.

"Edward?!"

Abigail jerked her head upwards, eyes snapping to face the front of the shop, startled by the sudden sound.

She wasn't the only one.

Stephen flushed slightly when he found himself pinned by several sets of eyes. He ducked his head in apology, while the wizard next to him merely looked very amused.

Abigail noted the similarities the wizard - Edward, apparently - and Stephen shared. Relatives most likely, possibly even cousins or siblings despite how much older Edward looked, she thought as she returned to her paperwork. One couldn't really tell a wizard's age just by looking at him.

He was also hiding two wand holsters, one on his right arm and the other on left calf, possibly a third one considering his back was just a tad too straight for this hour, and had the aura of someone who knew how to handle himself.

Right-handed most likely, but it'll be unsurprising if he's ambidextrous. Abigail signed off the order with a flourish, hand brushing against the edge of the display casing she'd used as an impromptu table.

Minute runes shimmered for a split-second, pulsing with a faint energy, before fading back into obscurity.

Mipsy would be ready to extract her if things turned ugly.

It was a definite possibility, considering how Edward's eyes had flickered to her direction the moment she'd set off the alarm, wide smile still firmly fixed. Considering the sheer number of protective and detection charms weaved into the very foundation of her store, the magical residue alone should have been enough to mask such a small signal; being able to deduce the source so quickly should not have been possible.

Unless the person was both extremely skilled and already expecting such a reaction.

Abigail had wheedled out enough details from the boys to deduce that neither were affiliated to the Mob Families in either way, so whoever Edward was, at the very least he wasn't part of the Mob.

Not that such a thing was necessarily better, considering there was only one other organization that was likely to have such skilled members.

MACUSA.

And more likely than not, Edward was part of the group that had been staking out the shop for months now. Going by the wizard's height, this was most likely the face of Evening-Odd.

Well, at least now we know why he didn't show up yesterday.

Abigail filed the thought away as she sorted the loose sheets of papers into their respective folders. Glad to see that there's a name to pin on the stalkers now, Abigail noted, sweeping the folders into her arms, intent on bringing them into her office when Stephen waved her over.

"Edward, this is my boss Abigail Williams," Stephen introduced mechanically as Abigail walked over, folders propped lightly against her hip.

"Hello," Edward greeted cheerily, "I'm his older brother. Just call me Edward - Stephfu probably never told you our family name - can I call you Abigail? 'Miss Williams' is a bit of a mouthful."

"By all means," Abigail replied, smirking in amusement at the nickname. "And now that you've mentioned it," Abigail paused and tilted her head to look at Stephen, who had an air of resignation surrounding him, "I don't know your family name. Any reason for that?"

"Dad's a famous wizard in the UK and Mum's got some clout over here," Stephen answered, shrugging. "I didn't like getting judged by others based on their reputations."

"And before you ask," Edward cut in, "Dad's English, Mum's American, we flipped a coin and ended up going to Ilvermorny like Mum while our sister ended up in Hogwarts like Dad. And speaking of our sister, I came to commission a set of jewelry for her - Rosalind's about to get married soon. Could we go to your office?"

Abigail blinked at the sudden change in topics and took in the wizard's cheerful expression with a carefully hidden grimace.

He's going to be an annoying one.

.

"Nice place you've got here," Edward praised, flickering his eyes around the room, "Very strong wards. I see you didn't slack on security."

"They're recent upgrades," Abigail replied, shutting the door behind her. The click that sounded at the motion was deceptively loud. She leaned against a nearby cabinet, not missing how the wizard's gaze lingered on several spots in her office and eyed the wizard critically. "I'm sure Stephen's mentioned about the recent increased mob activities?"

Edward turned to face her fully and nodded, his grin still in place, "Yes, dreadful thing. He told me the shop was robbed recently? Did you manage to get everything back?"

"We did. I had the boys place tracking charms on all my items earlier so it was simple enough to get them back."

"Lucky you," Edward nearly sang, "I take it that you wanted the shop to suffer from a simple hit; clear up suspicion, let the No-Majs think that Golden Feathers was just a normal boutique, no?"

"Correct," Abigail said flatly. "Very perceptive of you."

"Well, I am an Auror," Edward quipped back, "One of MACUSA's best."

Abigail's eyes narrowed at the sudden spike in tension at the wizard's easy admittance.

Edward shifted his stance, his gaze sharpening suddenly and her instincts screamed.

She dropped to a crouch just as a red spell sailed past her head and slammed into the wall behind her. As she did so, she raked her hand down the side of the cabinet, snatching up the hidden gun and fired.

To her annoyance, Edward didn't even flinch as the bullet whizzed past his head and instead chose to let out a petulant huff. "Did you really have to do that?"

"Just returning the favour," Abigail shot back, rising from her crouch and keeping her gun trained on the wizard.

"There was hardly a need for that!" Edward whined before his unnerving smile returned. Blood stained and experienced, caution, need him to cooperate, her mind whispered. "I already knew that your reflexes were far above average so both you and I know that you weren't in any real danger. You didn't have to shoot me! So mean," he wagged a finger at her, "This is going into your file."

"If I had shot you, you'd be dead," Abigail said dryly. "I shot the wall behind you and both you and I know that you weren't in any real danger as well, Edward."

"Temper, temper Abigail," the wizard tutted with faux disapproval, "Drawing a weapon on an Auror was bad enough. You're just giving MACUSA a reason to watch you."

"You attacked me first; I have every right to defend myself," Abigail said, scoffing, "And don't try to intimidate me - MACUSA's been watching this shop for months now, and you've been one of those stalkers for at least a month now. If you people didn't realise that I have a license for all my firearms-"

"Oh I know you do - I filed your requests for Magical Enhancements," Edward interrupted cheerily, his own wand trained on the blonde. "It's just, we've - well, I say 'we', but it's more like I noticed your records were a bit too convenient. An estranged pureblood mother from a far-off land, stripped of her Name and Right because she consorted with your muggle father. Fleeing across an entire ocean for fear of retribution and then building a life together from scratch. Successful, but not overly so, enough to get by comfortably and also support their only daughter in any and all interests she showed. Both recently passed away, leaving no more official next-of-kin save you."

The look Edward sent her was deliberately telling.

It was no secret that of all the Magical Societies, Europe's was the most blood-conscious, and for all of Magical America's long history of Magical and Non-Magical separation, the country had started to accept such relationships with tentatively open arms. Or had more-or-less resigned itself to it, because it was the 1960s and everybody was protesting one way or another.

Edward was not impressed with her maternal grandparents' actions, for all his cheerful grin suggested otherwise.

"Pity you couldn't access your mother's Family Vault but it looks like that hasn't stopped you from flourishing, hasn't it? Homeschooled in the Magical Arts but went through the best Muggle education your father could give you. It seems you've had the best of both worlds, really. Such a compelling story."

"We made due," Abigail replied lightly. "I do wish I could've gone to Ilvermorny or even the European schools. The stories I've heard were absolutely splendid."

"We all have regrets," Edward nodded sagely. "Although if you went through all that trouble to make everything look pretty and legal perhaps you should've chosen a different name? 'Abigail Williams' is a rather unorthodox name for an American witch after all. Bad reputation and all that, one that even foreigners should know of."

Abigail smiled sharply. "Well, it caught your attention, didn't it? I'd say it worked just fine."

"And why would you want that?" Edward asked, looking more amused than curious.

"MACUSA surely knows what kind of trouble is brewing in other parts of the world," Abigail shot back, her grip on the trigger still feather-light. She didn't miss the minuscule flicker of something calculative in the wizard's eyes, fast but telling nonetheless. "Can you blame a girl for preparing?"

Edward tilted his head to a side, his eyes glazing slightly for a moment. Then, he nodded decisively and sheathed his wand. Abigail blinked once, before she lowered her gun, bringing it to rest next to her thigh.

"You seem surprised," Edward stated, smiling impishly. "I've decided that you're not a threat now so let's talk business! I wasn't lying when I said I came here to place an order."

Abigail raised an eyebrow but moved to sit behind her desk, deliberately placing her gun on the table. As she settled into her chair, Abigail smiled tightly, her legs gently brushing against cool metal, "I wasn't accusing you of anything. I was just surprised that you accepted my reasoning so quickly."

She received a cheery grin in reply. Caution, almost there, her mind whispered again.

"I'm good with people; there's very little that can get pass me." Edward beamed, clapping his hands together like an excited child. Attentive, fast reflexes, likely able to set up a Protego in milliseconds then attack just as quickly, Abigail mentally noted, still smiling. Either break the shield and take him down in the same move or flee. Can't afford a fight - it'll be his advantage. "You've not told a lie to me yet. Although there's a lot of half-truths, like I said before, I'm certain you're not a threat now. In fact, if you give me a discount I'll get my friends to station some Aurors around here when the trouble in Britain comes to a head. We'll help protect your little safe-house."

"How kind of you," Abigail replied lightly, her eyes narrowed as she took in Edward's smiling visage. The promise of extra security, even if it was under the guise of being a person of interest, and not in a good sense, was still a welcome relief. Abigail allowed the slightest of tension escape her frame.

Regardless, Edward was undoubtedly sharp; Abigail had hoped that she would've had more time to network, but no matter - she had made enough 'allies' to prevent MACUSA from outright arresting her without suspicion. Even if her magical patrons would only make noise to ensure that they got their pretty gems rather than due to any actual concern over her person. And while the Old Families here didn't have as much sway over politics than they did in Britain, ironically due to a legitimately more proper and honest system, aid was aid, no matter the amount or reasoning.

Now, how had Edward figured all of that out so quickly- Ah. "You're a Legilimens."

"Not exactly." If it was possible, the wizard's smile widened even further at her annoyed tone. "I practice Occlumency mainly but I've got a strong intuition. It runs in the family actually."

There… were flowers blooming behind Edward. Just her thrice-damned luck. Abigail fought the urge to facepalm.

Instead, she sighed. "Alright. Please have a seat."

Silently watching Edward drop onto the plush chair she'd gestured to, Abigail pulled out a drawer, easily tucking a small vial of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into her sleeve, before pulling out a form.

It was surprising how quickly the rapidly warming glass calmed her fraying nerves, Abigail reflected whilst grabbing a pen, gently thumbing the tiny string of protective runes she'd etched on it. The feeling of gaining just a smidgen more control, even if it did end up just being an illusion, was comforting, to say the least. Tracking down the powder had been difficult, bartering for it even more so, but it was worth it, in Abigail's opinion.

Abigail let her gaze rest just between the wizard's eyebrows, close enough to seem as if she was looking at Edward in the eye, and tapped the end of her pen to gain her customer's attention.

Now, let's see who's dancing in the palm of whose hand. Or if we're both just puppets trying to gain control of a foreign script.

"Do you have any designs in mind? Or a theme you'd like us to follow?"

At the very least, she was certain that her shotgun could break a Protego if she needed it to, even if she wouldn't be able to get into a good position before firing. She'd deal with the recoil if it came to that.

.

"It's quiet. Too quiet," Stephen hissed to William, eyeing the back door warily.

They had been in there for almost an hour now; placing an order shouldn't have taken nearly half as long. The shop would be closing soon, and anyone that came here on a semi-regular basis knew that Miss Williams hated working overtime, but at the rate things were going it was looking more and more like it would happen, if only because of the paperwork that needed to be filed for orders.

Paperwork which Miss Williams would have to personally fill up.

This was all his fault, Stephen mentally wailed. What if Miss Williams fired him because of this-

"You're over-reacting." William rolled his eyes. "And you know that there's a Silencing Charm on that room. It's supposed to be quiet."

"I know my brother Will!" Stephen snapped, "And he's planning something-"

Abruptly, Stephen cut off his sentence as the door swung open and Edward all but skipped out. He was followed by Miss Williams, who was sporting a look that was equal parts harassed and murderous.

"Your reputation barely does you justice Abigail-dearest!" Edward said, spinning around to gesture at the jewels proudly displayed, "It's been nothing but splendid doing business with you; keep at it and you'll really be able to give the witches at Ole Lukøje a run for their money. Although they do have some exceptionally lovely amethysts that would definitely suit you-"

Miss William actually snarled. (Oh, he was so getting fired. Why did Edward always have to be so aggravating?!)

"Pleasure doing business with you as well Edward-" Stephen winced at the amount of ice in Miss Williams voice- "I will contact you once your order has been placed and then again once it's been completed. Now have a good day and get out of my shop."

Stephen's eye twitched as his brother waved a cheery goodbye – "You really are a source of joy dear!" – and Disapparated.

"You alright Lady Boss?" William called out as he locked up the jewels, looking far too amused than he should.

Miss Williams ignored him and turned to Stephen instead. "Your brother is annoying. I never want to be alone in a room with him again."

Stephen could only shrug helplessly. "Please don't fire me?"

(She didn't, thank Merlin.)

Chapter Text

It was dark. And cold. So very cold.

There was no light, no sound. Nothing save the feeling of water surrounding her and the taste of salt in her mouth.

Above, she could see that faint outline of a dog chasing something, disappearing from sight far too quickly.

Come back, she wanted to scream. Come back- Don't leave me, don't go where I can't follow-

She couldn't move-

Aquila opened her eyes to bright sunlight pouring through her windows, belatedly realising that she hadn't drawn her curtains properly before going to sleep. A quick tilt of her head and Aquila sighed.

It was just past ten in the morning.

Stretching and arching her back like a cat, Aquila quickly worked out the stiffness in her muscles and joints, before getting out of bed.

It took her barely ten minutes to go through the motions of her morning routine.

Dressed in a dark purple robe - that was getting a little short; she must have finally had her first growth spurt - Aquila deftly pinned several clumps black locks to the side of her head, leaving a few strands of hair hanging free to soften her face.

"Nightmare again, dear?" her vanity asked, passing her a bottle of hairspray. Picking it up and spraying a decent amount onto her hair, Aquila nodded, before returning the bottle.

"It's not very good for your complexation, dear," her vanity tutted, gently attaching jewelled pins into her hair.

Aquila dabbed a bit of concealer onto her face, blending it out to hide the dark circles under her eyes with precise, practiced strokes. "I know."

Her vanity sighed, withdrawing its appendages and returning them to rest along its side, "Beautiful as always, dear. Have a good day."

Walburga's voice rang out, carried into her room via a Sonorus and calling for Aquila and her brothers. A knock sounded at her door, and Sirius' head popped into her room, eyes glinting in excitement. "You're done. Let's go," Sirius chirped out, before he disappeared from sight, footsteps heading in the direction of Regulus' room.

Aquila allowed a slight smile to escape her at the sight. She was willing to bet that Sirius had been all but bouncing throughout his lessons in the morning.

It was ridiculously endearing how excited Sirius was acting for what basically was just a play-date.

Then again, this was the first time they were meeting another person their age just for the sake of, well, playing. They wouldn't be expected to put up fronts (well, mostly), to make allies or even stay out of their parents' way.

After all, if there was any child's reputation that matched hers in the pureblood circles, it was James Potter's.

Today was going to be a fun day, Aquila would make sure of it, and even the fact that they would be attending their cousin's engagement ball later in the evening wouldn't damper any of their spirits.

Snatching the small stack of parchments by her desk, Aquila quickly glanced through the notes Mipsy had taken for her classes that morning. 'Effects of the Solar and Lunar Cycles on Potions', shouldn't be too hard to understand. Aquila tucked it under her arm and walked out of her room.

Time to visit Great Aunt Dorea legitimately this time.

.

Stepping out of the Potter's fireplace, Aquila had a split second to register that the wall green rapidly heading towards her person was decidedly not the colour of Floo powder-induced flames before the goop landed squarely on her face.

Hysterical laughter rang through the room as Aquila calmly wiped the slime off her eyes, almost, but not quite, hiding a soft, mirthful giggle.

Silently promising vengeance, and also thanking herself for having the foresight of keeping her notes in the innermost pockets of her robes, Aquila threw a Look at the loudest source of the laughter - a bespectacled boy who was currently being dangled upside down.

It was enough to quell Sirius when he acted up. James Potter just continued laughing, utterly at ease, even as he floated several feet above the ground.

Her beloved twin looked even more ecstatic, despite being in a similar sorry state.

The fireplace roared again, and barely a moment passed before Regulus yelped in surprise as another sphere of slime slammed into his chest.

James and Sirius erupted into another tide of giggles when Regulus threw a baleful look at them. Evidently, Regulus had known about James' reputation as well.

"I'm really sorry about that, dear," an elderly woman sighed disapprovingly, although it did nothing to hide the amused shine in her eyes, and flicked her wand towards Aquila for a moment, before pointing it back towards James. "It seems like my son managed to slip under my nose again."

Feeling the odd sensation of the goop dissolving into air, Aquila dropped into a dainty curtsy. "It's alright, Lady Potter," she said. "There was no harm done, and to be honest, we had somewhat expected to be… welcomed in such a manner. But you have my most heartfelt thanks for the assistance, Lady Potter."

"It seems like James' reputation precedes him then," Lady Potter sighed. Elegantly swishing her wand, Lady Potter barely spared a glance as James dropped from where he was hovering. Although, given how easily the boy righted himself to land on his feet, Aquila had a feeling being suspended in midair by his mother's magic was less of a punishment than a game for James.

Well. The Potters were also equally known for pampering their only son.

"Welcome to Potter Manor, children. Unfortunately, Dorea was called away to Saint Mungo's, so it is likely that she'll only arrive after lunch." Lady Potter gave her son a look. It was decidedly warmer than anything they'd received from Walburga in recent years. "James, I trust that you will be a proper host to our guests?"

"Yes, Mum," the boy replied, grinning.

"Very well. Children, I will leave you to play for a few hours before I call you for lunch." Lady Potter smiled before leaving the room, and judging by how Regulus' grip tightened ever so slightly in her own, Aquila wasn't the only one feeling a tad bit jealous.

.

The room they entered was very obviously a playroom.

A very large, very tall, very expensive playroom.

It had shelves running all the way up to the ceiling, which was a good four meters tall at least, stuffed to the brim with an assortment of toys and knick-knacks.

"This is amazing." Aquila heard Sirius say, and judging by the wide grin on James' face, he'd heard that as well.

"It is isn't it?" James threw his arms out, "These are all from my parents! They're the best!"

They're definitely more obvious in their affections, Aquila thought as she scanned the dozens upon dozens of columns of shelves. As for whether they're the best...

Aquila knew that James had lived a pampered life, a spoilt life, even. Another version of him had grown up to be an arrogant bully, who constantly tormented others because of a superiority complex. So while that was a mark against Lord and Lady Potter's parenting skills, there was no denying that the same person had several of his own redeeming qualities.

It took a great deal of bravery and loyalty to look past a stigma, especially when it was so deeply rooted into society, stand against it and say 'no'. It took a lot more than that to risk your life for a cause that may not succeed, just because you knew it was the right thing to do.

James Potter had become a better man than most.

For that alone, Aquila would give him her respect, even though she knew there would be many disagreements to come. Whether he, as a boy, a teen or a man, would be able to keep it was another matter altogether.

But now though, all that mattered was that they had fun. And it seemed like she wasn't the only one to think so.

"Right! Exploding Snap for starters?"

.

"You know, for someone so famous, you're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be."

"We're the same height," Aquila deadpanned, lifting her head to stare at James.

"Yeah, but I'm younger. And don't girls grow faster than boys as kids? Why are you so tiny?"

"You realize that you're calling yourself tiny as well."

"I haven't hit my growth spurt yet." James waved a hand as he dismounted from his broom, before squinting, "Anyways what are you reading?"

"Potions and how they're affected by external factors," Aquila replied, expertly switching her notes around when James made to snatch them from her.

"Don't you want to join your brothers? I can find more spares." James gestured upwards where Sirius and Regulus were flying in circles. (Although it was closer to drifting since they were using practice brooms only. Practice brooms ran on a battery-esque system, making them cheaper and more importantly slower than their adult counterparts that pulled ambient magic directly from the surroundings. Practical for young, novice flyers.)

"No."

James' hand twitched. Aquila rolled up her notes and lightly whacked the offending limb when it shot out in another attempt. "Bad," Aquila deadpanned when he whined at her.

"Meany."

"Tough luck, now go and help Sirius. I don't think the broom's meant to be ridden upside down. And Regulus is much too amused to even want to help him."

"Fine," James sighed theatrically, "I could use some help though." He gave Aquila a side glance, holding out his broomstick.

Aquila raised an eyebrow. "James, there are only three broomsticks here - don't try to say otherwise, there are only three charging racks - and I've never ridden a broom before. That makes you the better flyer and more qualified to help Sirius."

"I'm fine!" Sirius piped up, still upside down. He was ignored.

"You're no fun, shorty," James declared, but there was a glint in his eyes as he mounted his broom.

"That tends to be the case when one uses logic well," Aquila smirked slightly. Looks like she'd made herself the target of James' next 'challenges', as the boy put it.

How cute.

.

Close to two hours after they'd started playing, James was in the midst of his seventh attempt at Steal-Aquila's-Notes when the playroom doors opened to reveal Aidan, who was looking far more relaxed than Aquila could ever recall.

Then again, Potter Manor was certainly more welcoming than Grimmauld Place, annoying inhabitants aside.

Aquila took the chance to store her notes in her inner coat pocket, smirking at James when he scowled at her. The boy hadn't managed to get his hands on her notes even once, and now that she was done studying he wouldn't get any more opportunities to try again any time soon.

Although James was certainly a tenacious little brat.

"Hello, kiddies! Mum sent me over to make sure that you didn't poison our guests, accident or not," Aidan announced as he walked towards them before ruffling both James' and Aquila's hair. The latter battered the limb away, the action accompanied by a small eye-roll, while the latter adopted a look on mortal offence on his face.

"Excuse me!" James exclaimed, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "Have you no faith in me? In my mother?"

"You burnt down the stables and Aunt Euphemia gave you cake."

"I was five! That was a really good expression of accidental magic and you know it!"

"You burnt down the stables." Aidan deftly picked up Aquila, undoubtedly with the help of magic (because she was not that short), ignoring her protest with such ease that Aquila was sure he did this to James on a regular basis and deposited her next to her brothers.

Ignoring the two bickering Potters, Aquila hissed. "Not. A. Single. Word."

Sirius and Regulus smartly coughed into their robes while the two Potters continued bickering.

.

Aquila was almost sad when three o'clock finally arrived, signaling for the Blacks to leave.

Her brothers certainly were more obvious in their displeasure.

"Can't we stay for another hour?" Sirius asked, voice just shy of begging. Regulus stood behind him, eyes big and almost pouting. Aquila even sent a despondent look at Lady Potter when it seemed like the elderly witch was about to agree.

Unfortunately, it was not to be so. "You three will need to be at the Lestrange's Ball in three hours," Lady Potter chided gently, "You will need that time to rest and prepare dearies. But no worries, you three are always welcomed to visit again. I haven't seen my dear James so happy -"

"Mum!" James cut in, blushing slightly.

Lady Potter giggled, "Now, James. There's nothing wrong with being happy when you've made new friends. Now be a good host and say a proper farewell."

James' huffed, before he shuffled forwards. "I had fun, so thanks," he said. A few moments passed before he continued, smiling, "I'd like it if you three could come over again. Especially you, shorty!" James jabbed a finger at Aquila. "Don't think you'll get away from flying so easily! I'm going to one-up you next time."

The Blacks smirked, and Aquila replied, "You can try."

Good luck, Regulus mouthed, while Sirius threw a thumbs up.

.

A few hours later, any of the almost-bubbly emotions Aquila had when she left Potter Manor had all but evaporated. Any remnants completely vanished when she noticed Bellatrix sauntering up towards her direction.

"A word with you Aquila. Privately."

Aquila shared a glance with her twin and inclined her head slightly, receiving an equally small nod in reply. With just that silent exchange, the twins parted, Aquila moving to follow Bellatrix while Sirius disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find Regulus.

She spared a brief moment of concern for Regulus but squashed it down just as quickly. Sirius would look out for him. And despite how vocal Sirius was with his distaste for pureblood politics, Sirius had his own charm and was skilled with using it. Well, for a normal nine-year-old.

Sirius would look out for Regulus, she repeated to herself, staring at Bellatrix with faintly narrowed eyes. That left her free to deal with their eldest cousin.

Said cousin who was acting much more restrained than normal.

Considering her cousin's generally insufferable attitude, Aquila sincerely doubted that Bellatrix suddenly decided to play the role of the blushing maiden.

No, it was far more likely that Bellatrix was planning something. Several somethings in fact. And considering that she was well in her magical prime and hadn't gone insane - or perhaps more insane - due prolonged exposure to Dementors, Aquila was wary. As she followed Bellatrix down the hallway and the sounds of the Ball gradually faded away, Aquila became increasingly more twitchy.

I doubt Bellatrix has snapped yet and either way, she's not going to be stupid enough to kill me right now, Aquila reasoned to herself. Too many people saw us leave together. And it's equally unlikely that she managed to create a doppelganger. At any rate, even if she did, Sirius knows me well enough to realise it's an imposter. Probably.

Aquila continued her mental debate even as Bellatrix slowed to a stop and pushed open a door to reveal an empty room. Besides, Bellatrix is still a Black so killing me would only set the Family Magicks on her. Unlawful, unprovoked slaughter of a blood-kin and all that. Not to mention what Father would do to her as Head of House.

Mildly mollified by her internal musing, Aquila stepped into the room with a neutral look plastered on her face.

When Bellatrix drew her wand and lazily flicked it in her direction, Aquila merely raised an eyebrow.

"Why all the secrecy cousin?" Aquila asked dryly as a faint glow shimmered around them. "Some would think that you're trying to hide something."

"I told you; I wanted a private conversation." Bellatrix stalked towards her. "You never know who's or what's eavesdropping. You could do well to be more cautious, cousin."

Storm-grey eyes narrowed into slits. "Speak plainly Bellatrix; what do you want?" While the lack of physical harm was welcomed, Aquila really was not in the mood for any mind games, least of all Bellatrix's.

Bellatrix tutted, sending her a holier-than-thou look at her. "You really ought to be more patient. But I'll look the other way, for now, considering how… rough times are for you now."

Oh, she did not like where this was going at all.

"Do you know what's been on the pureblood grapevine recently?" Bellatrix continued, "Sweet, charming little miss perfect Aquila found the Family Grimoire, decided to play with it and broke an old heirloom." Dark eyes bored into her own, the colour just a shade too dark to be considered true Black eyes. Still, Aquila could see the infamous Black Madness just lurking deep within them. "And little miss perfect herself screwed up and fell out of favour with Mother-dearest. So much so that it sent the Main Branch all of a twitter."

How annoying, Aquila thought as she smiled blandly, her emotions straining against their binds. She just had to bring it up.

"I was careless and too full of myself. You were right. I messed up. I can only be thankful that it was merely a minor incident. Your concern is greatly appreciated, cousin."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes before an equally bland smile spread across her lips, "Well, at least you've experienced your first bout of actual magic. That's something to celebrate, late as it is."

Aquila's smile turned sharp. "Indeed."

Bellatrix nearly rolled her eyes but instead chose to convey her irritation with a sigh. "You mustn't just rely on your Runes. They may be helpful, but you are part of the Main Branch. Learning the Familia Magicks should be your priority."

"I know my place, Bella. I don't need you to remind me of it."

Perhaps her jab was a tad too obvious, but her cousin's noblesse oblige was practically overflowing. It didn't help that Aquila barely had twenty hours of sleep that week. Less if she counted the nights that weren't plagued by nightmares.

Honestly, Aquila would take whatever satisfaction she could now, damn the consequences.

Bellatrix, surprisingly, didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she fixed Aquila with an assessing look. "Regardless, you have potential. Much more than my sisters and Sirius. They, vexing as it is for me to admit, aren't ambitious enough." Bellatrix strode up towards Aquila, bending her body forwards, pinning the younger Black with an intense stare. "They're not like you and me. You know why?"

Aquila raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed with Bellatrix's antics.

"Ruthlessness ickle little eagle. They don't have the will to do anything to achieve their goal. But you. You have that look in your eyes. The look that says you'll do anything to get what you want." Bellatrix chuckled, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. "You have the same eyes as me, Ah. Qui. La."

Aquila was only just able to abort her knee-jerk reaction to snarl at Bellatrix for her comment.

She settled with throwing a scathing glare at the older Black.

It only served to further amuse Bellatrix. "Now don't be like that Aquila, can't you take a little teasing?" Bellatrix smirked at the incensed look Aquila flung at her. "But in all seriousness, that ambition, that drive… You could do great things with them, once you find a reason to excel. Once you find a cause to devote yourself to." A sharp smile was sent Aquila's way and her lips curled at the sheer reverence in Bellatrix's voice. "So choose wisely, and nurture your magic. The House showed the Grimoire to you; it is clear that you are worthy of being Heiress Black if you chose to contest that right from Sirius.

"Somehow," Bellatrix's half-lidded eyes were darkly amused, "I don't think you'll do that though. Regardless, you'd do well to learn a few spells; that'll help you regain your mother's favour."

Her mind spoken, Bellatrix straightened and turned towards the door, beckoning Aquila to follow. "Come; we should return before people start noticing our absence."

"The title of Heir Black," Aquila said evenly, "belongs to Sirius. I will not contest it. Nor will I allow anyone else to do so without just cause."

Bellatrix's eyes remained dark, even as she smirked over her shoulder. "Pity."

.