Awakening
She was four years old when she realized her relatives hated her. It was in the odd way a child's intuition worked. She was an observant little thing, rarely speaking or screaming out in protest to the injustices wrought upon her. Silky smooth black hair fell like a curtain down her back and above her eyebrows, casting a shadow on bright emeralds.
She watched silently; how her neighbours interacted with their children, how they acted towards each other - false smiles and honeyed words - and watched and watched, and watched.
How her oaf of a cousin and uncle and shrill scrawny aunt looked at her, like how her neighbour Mrs. Wight looked upon the old torn couch that she threw away when she moved in.
Freak.
That's what they would call her. Malevolence and jealousy oozing off of them in spades.
She was five years old when she did something to make her cousin scream. She had felt something tingling beneath her skin (aside from the rage and anger) when he had tried to attack her. Now that she was aware of it, she couldn't forget the feeling. Every night in her dusty cupboard, she would try and try and try to bring that feeling up to the forefront of her mind.
And she succeeded, realized that she could do so much more - could be so much more than a lone waif hidden in obscurity beneath the dark, dusty cupboard under the stairs.
She was six years old when she vanished from her cousin's chase and reappeared on the school rooftop. The way the tingling felt etched into her memory. She vowed to herself to learn to control whatever it is she had done so that she could escape from the awful house.
Teleportation, she had read in a fantasy novel, was what she had done. And she had managed to master it. Each night when her relatives were asleep, she would teleport just outside her locked cupboard and eat whatever she liked in the kitchen. None of her relatives noticed, or maybe their brains chose not to notice, she thought.
She had mastered teleporting in a month, trying to bring forth the same feelings as she had done the first time she accomplished the feat. Gradually, it became easier until she could do it with a simple thought. It still made a cracking sound whenever she did, but she decided she would work on it until it was as silent as the night she was sneaking in.
It was also when she was six when her aunt demanded that she cook every day. She did not like the way she was commanded. Something within her curled with disdain at the thought of doing anything for these people. And, she thought, how would they be able to do anything to her? She had learnt how to hurt others with a thought and some focus, and if that did not work, she could simply teleport away and live literally anywhere else.
So, the first time she was told to cook, she aimed her penetrating emerald eyes deep into her aunt's and coldly voiced her objection.
"No."
Petunia's eyes widened a fraction, and within them, Heather saw emerald eyes like her own with red hair, fiery temper - her sister who would go to Hogwarts, and she pleaded with Dumbledore to also be allowed to attend, but was met only with a politely worded rejection. She watched as her parents were proud of her sister as they ventured through Diagon Alley -
"What did you say?" Petunia voiced acidly.
Heather lost her focus for a fraction, and then regained it, her eyes hardening, sharp edges lined by raven eyelashes, bringing out a foreboding glow.
"I said…" Heather whispered dangerously as she took a step towards her aunt, "No. I will not be your slave, you pathetic little worm."
Petunia took a step back in fright, eyes darting to the kitchen door, hoping, praying that Vernon would come down and knock some sense into the freak…
Heather's eyes continued to bore into Petunia's, the familiar tingle making itself known, and she dove again into her aunt's mind - something she had never realized she could do.
Witch. Diagon Alley. Leaky Cauldron. Charing Cross. London. Hogwarts.
Her aunt seemed to have the places and names etched into her mind, and now Heather was curious.
She took advantage of her aunt's fright and whispered a simple word.
"Magic."
Like a switch, her aunt whipped her head towards her furiously and narrowed her eyes, but she still could not rid herself of her fright.
"W-what did you say?" Petunia stuttered, wishing she was anywhere else but her kitchen.
Emerald orbs did not leave Petunia's eyes as everything her aunt wished to forget was being pushed towards the forefront of her mind.
And Heather saw it all.
Heather slipped into a designer store for some fitting clothes. She took her time scouring the store for whatever took her fancy, and made it into a changing room. It was an expensive place, but she did not mind. She had taken as much money as she could from Vernon's wallet; even siphoned the maximum amount from his card from an ATM. She felt no guilt at stealing from that sorry excuse for a man.
She nodded in satisfaction at the mirror; a long dark dress with lace gloves passing her elbows along with a vintage style hat that shadowed her face. She had never felt more comfortable in her own skin.
She nodded again, and after assuring the clerk that yes, her parents were right over there just waiting outside, and yes, they gave her money to buy whatever she wanted, and no, really they did take good care of her and she was quite happy, she paid for her items and went on her way.
After changing into her new clothes at a train station, she slipped past a few barriers and took the line that made it to Charing Cross.
After waiting and wishing no one would see her and find a little girl suspiciously alone, she made the journey and walked vaguely towards where she thought she needed to go.
The Leaky Cauldron was found rather simply, as all the vintage dressed people could be seen making their way in and out of the place, something that Heather would have found curious if she had not already learnt that witches and wizards dressed differently from 'normal' people.
It was why she was dressed the same way. The last thing she wanted was to stand out more than she did.
So she entered the pub behind a couple and followed them towards the back unto a brick wall. She saw the man tap a few bricks with a stick - Wand, her mind supplied - and watched as the wall gave way to a world of Magic.
Quickly adjusting herself, and not allowing the awe of the place to make her forget her primary business, she quickly made her way to the tall white building named Gringotts, outside of which curious anthropomorphic creatures stood, armed with blades and axes and teeth and armored with steel that shone brightly against the sun.
Without adjusting her gait, she inclined her head respectfully towards the two guards. Unlike her cousin Dudley, the stupid mongrel, she had learned manners after all. And anything dangerous that could swipe her head clean off in an instant deserved more manners than her aunt or uncle or cousin or house guest.
She did not register the goblin guards as their eyes widened a little with surprise.
"Greetings," Heather said clearly, attempting to hide her nerves. Despite how observant and intelligent she was, she was still only six-going-on-seven years old. Despite having no memories before she was four years old, something she thought quite odd, she knew that she had learnt to read at two, and despite maturing far far quicker than anyone else she knew at her age, she was still unnerved in a completely foreign environment. The only thing she could rely on was politeness and caution.
The goblin behind the desk paused and leaned over slightly to get a better look at her. Emerald eyes flashed beyond the rim of her hat and she inclined her head as she did so earlier.
"Greetings… What do you want?" The goblin said with a little hesitation, but not terribly unkindly.
"I… would like to know if there is anything for me here. You see… my mother was a witch, and my father was probably a wizard, but I only found out that information today. If I do not have any account here, I would like to open one in my name."
The goblin observed her for a moment before leaning back in his seat, eyeing her speculatively.
"And, what is your name?"
"Heather, Sir… although I am sorry, but I do not know my last name. My idiot guardians never deigned to even tell me my first name. I only found out last year. I'm not even sure if it's correct," she said with some embarrassment. She had not thought that far ahead yet. Even managing to arrive here was somewhat of a miracle for her.
The goblin furrowed its brows and eyed her again, this time with something Heather could not identify.
He pulled out a piece of parchment from his drawer and a finely crafted blade. He slid the two items across the desk towards her.
"Place three drops of blood on the parchment and we'll see," The Goblin said.
Heather nodded, and decided not to delay. She barely knew a thing about magic at this point but knew it could do miraculous things so she had no reason to doubt the goblin. She pricked her thumb gently with the tip of the knife and coaxed three drops of blood onto the parchment.
It glowed slightly, and words began to appear upon it in gold lettering.
Name: Heather Nigellus Black
Born: July 7th 1977
Mother: Lily Potter Nee Evans
Father: James Charlus Potter
Godfather: Sirius Orion Black
Families: Potter (Disowned)
Black (Heiress)
Family Magic: Slytherin and Black (Magical Block placed by James Charlus Potter)
(Mind Block placed by Albus Dumbledore)
Heather stared at the sheet for a while, not necessarily knowing what it all meant, before sliding it back towards the curious goblin so as to get any help deciphering what she saw as some kind of code.
The Goblin scanned the sheet and took in a sharp inspiration and then sent his gaze towards her.
"Right," he said, "Follow me, please."
"So, Sir Broadaxe, to summarise. A wizard came to kill my family, but a younger brother I did not know I had, managed to kill that wizard and save the wizarding world when he was a baby? And this godfather of mine was imprisoned because… he betrayed my family? And I was somehow disowned by my father's family and inducted into my godfather's family? Am I hearing this right? Oh and also there are magical blocks on myself and my mind and memory? Excuse me, and I really wish not to offend, but even I, a child, know that there is something terribly wrong with this story."
The goblin she was escorted to, Broadaxe, slowly nodded, and looked slightly amused in an inoffensive way.
"Yes, well, the wizarding world does not really know that you exist at all. We knew of course, but assumed you were dead. That you are not, calls many things into question. Firstly, however, I believe we should send you to our healer to remove those blocks on your mind and magic, as well as to address any other outstanding health concerns."
Heather nodded slowly in acceptance, her mind still swirling around what she had just learnt. But somewhere deep within her, like a coiling serpent with sharp fangs and icy predatory eyes, lay a cold hate.
My parents are alive and left me there. They disowned me.
She woke up feeling powerful, the tingling beneath her skin begging to be let out. She could feel her magic like nothing else before, and she felt her thoughts speed up and clear up as they assimilated memories she knew were hers.
"What?! You want to send her to those fucking muggles?" Siri shouted at the group in disbelief as he held a three-year-old Heather in his arms protectively.
"It's all for the best. The prophecy regarding little Harry would put Heather in danger." Dumbledore explained calmly.
"Fuck that, why would you put her with those fucking disgusting pathetic little worms?" Siri's eyes were magma, magic swirling about him like a volcano about to erupt.
James and Lily glanced towards each other with a slight nod.
"Pads… you're talking like those death eaters… sure my sister isn't the nicest, but she'll take care of Heather. We can see her once she gets her Hogwarts letter. She'll understand why we did what we did once we explain it all."
Siri's eyes snapped towards them, "James, Lils…? You think… I'm a death eater?"
James and Lily looked away uncomfortably even as Dumbledore looked down with disappointment.
"Is that what this is about? You think I'm the traitor?" Siri asked with a sardonic smile even as he held Heather closer to his chest.
He looked around at the people in the room who were avoiding his gaze, chuckled slightly, and then disappeared with a pop, Heather still in his arms.
"Listen baby girl, I'm gonna blood adopt you. Those people don't deserve to be called your parents. I don't know how long it's gonna take for them to get me, but you need some protection. I love you no matter what."
"Papa!" Little Heather smiled at him and stroked his stubble with a small hand.
Siri smiled a watery smile and nodded.
"I, Sirius Orion Black, hereby declare Heather Nigellus Black as my heir and daughter, by blood and by magic, so mote it be!"
"Reg! Reg!" Siri called out in the dark house that seemingly danced with Heather's Magic.
The tip of a wand glowed between Siri's eyes, the man behind it looking remarkably similar to Siri himself.
Reg looked at him cautiously along with the little child held in his arms.
"Siri… Why are you here…?" His eyes darted around everywhere as if looking for a trap.
"I- I know I've been a terrible brother… and I know you joined the Dark Lord. But… If the little brother I once knew is in there somewhere still…" Siri's eyes watered, and he took a deep breath, "If he's still in there, I beg you, please take care of Heather if I'm gone. I think… Dumbledore's people think I betrayed them. Please, Reg… They're going to send her to muggles - magic-hating muggles!"
Reg looked into his brother's eyes for a long moment before slowly lowering his wand after taking another glance around.
He looked at the child in Siri's arms, and the brilliant emerald glow in them.
Heather's arms reached towards him, and she uttered another word, "Unca! Unca Reg!"
Reg's eyes softened and stowed away his wand, and met the outstretched arms of the child with his own. He took her in with his arms and nodded towards Siri, gesturing to him to follow.
"The Dark Lord is after me too. Listen Siri… I don't know if I'll even survive the next few days, but there is something I need you to do for me…"
Siri looked at his brother in shock and awe, "You… betrayed the Dark Lord?"
Reg nodded as he stared into the fire for a long moment, then looked back into Siri's eyes.
"I did. You don't realise how bad it was when you left Siri. The way mother - " he sighed, "anyway, I had no choice. You were gone, and mother had expectations, and I…"
Siri looked away in shame and guilt. He had abandoned his brother for a new family. For a family he had loved. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were the nicest people he had ever met. And James -
Siri scowled at the thought. He had been betrayed by what he considered family. Not only did they betray him, they betrayed their daughter. It stung him because he now understood, all these years later, the impact of his own abandonment.
"Reg, I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much, but… I realise now how much of an inconsiderate prat I was. Whatever you want, I'll do it. I owe you at least that much."
He remembered playing with little Reg, bouncing him on his knee as he whispered stories to the little boy, trying not to be too loud lest he get in trouble with their abusive mother.
A tear rolled down his cheek as he imagined Reg being left alone by his beloved brother to suffer all by himself at the hands of his house.
Reg nodded, then sighed. He combed his shoulder-length hair back with his fingers, then asked, "What do you know of Horcruxes?"
Living with Siri and uncle Reg amidst an ongoing war was not bad. She already knew how to read, amd the Black Family Library was a treasure trove. Her magic was also oddly controlled for a child and she was able to summon books towards herself whenever she wished. Kreacher, the house elf, took a particular shine towards her and answered all her questions when her father and uncle were unavailable. They were planning something, though Heather knew not what. She only heard a few words from their whispered discussions.
Cave. Locket. Horcrux.
Life went by for a few months.
"KREACHER!" A crack and a shout echoed between the dark halls as Heather ran as fast as she could at the desperation in the voice.
Reg held on to a sickly looking Siri as he pushed a locket onto the elf.
"Take this… destroy it!"
"Yes, master."
"Uncle Reg? Father?" Heather asked hesitantly.
Reg and Siri looked at her. Siri coughed, his breathing laboured. Reg pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, whispering assurances.
"I haven't responded to The Dark Lord's summons. If I go, he'll know what I've done. And there's no doubt he'll be able to find me. Siri, I'll probably die soon. You need to take Heather and run."
"What…? There's no way I'll leave you! I just got my brother back damnit!" Siri roared.
"Well what? Are you sure you want to put Heather in danger because of me? Isn't that what you've been avoiding all this time?"
Siri paused, then exhaled, "We can leave this country together? Somewhere neither Dumbledore or the Dark Lord will find us?"
Reg shook his head, "You know as well as I do Siri, that if they want to find us, they will. The only reason Dumbledore hasn't is because of the Black wards here. The Dark Lord could enter whenever he wants, courtesy of Bella… you need to leave."
Heather looked up at her uncle with watery eyes, "Reg going? Bye bye?"
Reg looked down at her and crouched to her eye level. He choked back, and nodded, "Hmm… Uncle Reg needs to go bye bye. Make little Heather safe."
He picked her up and handed her to Siri, "Be safe. I won't forgive you if Heather's in any danger."
"Ha!" Siri said as a tear rolled down his cheek, "You're more of a father to her than I am!"
Reg smiled, "She is Heiress Black now after all."
"Give me back my baby!" Lily screamed as she hurtled spell after spell towards Siri, Heather still in his arms.
They were both surrounded by half a dozen wizards. The Dark Lord had apparently been defeated a few nights ago by a one-year-old Harry Potter, and Siri had stupidly let down his guard after hearing the news.
"No! She's mine now! You don't deserve to be her parents after what you planned for her!"
He tried to apparate. Portkey. Anything. He couldn't do it. The wards were too strong.
"Shut up death eater!" A powerful stunner courtesy of James soared towards him and it was all he could do to shield Heather from it. The spell hit him and he knew no more.
"I think it best to block her memory of the past three years, even if she is unlikely to remember it all. Being taken from her home and raised by death eaters was no doubt traumatic for her. Of course, she'll still be in danger with you, so I urge you to send her to Petunia," Dumbledore said with fake concern. Heather did not know how she knew the man's concern was fake, being only four years old, but she did.
"Maybe it will be best to block her magic too. Let your sister know that the girl has no magic. That ought to help treat her better."
"Isn't that… dangerous for her?" Lily asked with brows furrowed in concern.
"Perhaps it may weaken her magic once she's ready for Hogwarts, but it's for the best. Better alive and weak than in constant danger… " Dumbledore spoke softly, eyes glancing at both of the parents over the rim of his glasses.
Lily and James glanced at each other and gave a hesitant nod.
Heather blinked back the tears as she remembered. Remembered Uncle Reg and Siri. Remembered Kreacher. Remembered how her so-called blood parents abandoned her to filthy muggles. Remembered how they had no qualms about blocking her mind and magic, regardless of the cost.
If she hadn't coincidentally found out she was a witch and made it to Gringotts when she did, her magic could have been damaged beyond repair.
As it was, because she had been practicing her powers for the past two years, and now that her magics were unblocked, her core was more than healthy. According to the goblin healer, she had the core of a witch or wizard twice her age. It was indeed rather impressive, seeing as how she would be seven years old in a few days.
She took a deep breath and nodded appreciatively to the goblin healer, "Thank you, Healer for your efforts."
The goblin nodded, then spoke to her, "I've removed all the blocks you had. You have no other issues aside from slight malnutrition and some hairline fractures. Your eyesight also seems to be slightly deteriorating. We can fix all of those problems with a cleansing ritual."
"Cleansing ritual?" Heather asked with curiosity.
"Yes…" The goblin nodded and scratched her chin as if thinking of something, "It says here your birthday is July 7th? And you'll be turning seven years old? In that case, I would recommend the full mind, body, soul ritual. Olde Families usually come here to make their heirs get that done, but for you I think it might have a much better effect. Your seventh birthday is a magically powerful one… 07/07/77."
Heather's eyes lit up. She remembered reading about it in the Black family library, and even Reg and Siri had planned for her to take that same ritual when she turned seven years old. She could not help but think how lucky she was that she found out about her heritage and missing memories at such an opportune moment.
The account manager for the Black Family, Broadaxe, stared at her for a long moment, and smiled, all jagged sharp teeth showing.
"Well, Heiress Black, I have excellent news for you. Sirius Black made you his Heir before being imprisoned, and he also specifically stated that if neither he nor his brother were available to take care of you, that you would be eligible to take headship of the family."
Heather nodded slowly, already aware of those arrangements. She remembered Siri explaining it to her, bless his soul.
"I recommend you wait until after your ritual to take the family headship ring. There will be a higher chance that it will acknowledge you by then. Once it has, we will deduct the fees of your healing and ritual from the Black account."
Heather nodded and smiled, "Thank you account manager Broadaxe, May your gold flow and your enemies made headless before your blade."
Boradaxe's smile widened further, sharp teeth glistening, "And you heiress black, may your enemies tremble at your name."
Heather paused as she got up, and looked towards Broadaxe, "Would I be allowed to call a house elf here?" she asked, "I would rather not leave here on my own. There's no telling who I may come across."
Broadaxe nodded slowly and left the room, "Of course."
Once the goblin left, Heather paused and breathed in, slightly nervous.
"Kreacher?"
Pop.
The elf arrived and took a single glance at her. His eyes widened, and his ears perked up in joy.
"Mistress! Mistress Black is alive!" He exclaimed as he jumped towards her and hugged her feet. He sobbed as he warbled his words, "Never had I thought… When Missy's connection was cut, Kreacher… Kreacher couldn't find you!"
Heather's eyes watered and met the elf eye to eye, gently pulling him into her arms.
"I missed you. Why don't you take us home and tell me what happened?"
The elf nodded quickly as he took her hand with reverence and the both of them popped away.
"So… they sent Siri to Azkaban, and Uncle Reg managed to escape the Dark Lord? Why didn't he find me after the war?" Heather asked with a touch of disappointment. Reg would never have allowed her to live with muggles. He was even more against the idea than Siri had been.
"Master Regulus couldn't find the young Heiress… He searched everywhere. He thinks that there may have been wards around wherever you were placed. And, all the bad men want to catch him. He's wanted by the bad ministry!" Kreacher's ears drooped in disappointment.
Heather smiled at hearing that.
He tried his best.
"Kreacher?" She called out softly, "Could you bring him here for me?"
Kreacher perked up, "Of course mistress!"
Regulus Black took another sip of his firewhiskey, staring down his jug with blank eyes.
Every time he slept, he could only think of the desperation in his brother's eyes that night when he brought young Heather to Grimmauld Place.
"Please, take care of her."
And it has been over two years since then, and he had not heard a word or whisper of her whereabouts. Even Kreacher could not find her.
The nightmares grew as time passed, becoming worse with each iteration.
That bright, lovely young girl, laying in a pool of blood, vacant emeralds gazing blankly at the sky.
Dead. Dead. Dead. Beaten, starved, raped...
He shuddered as he took another swig from the jug and tried his best to fight off his mind's wanderings, but his Occlumency shields had been shot, and he couldn't help but think what those filthy muggles were doing to his niece.
Fuck Dumbledore. Fuck the Potters. Fuck the Dark Lord. Fuck them all.
He was about to throw his jug against the wall of the bar, breaking his notice-me-not charm.
No doubt he would end up being caught by the aurors and shipped off to Azkaban if he did. Maybe he would get a cell next to his brother...
Please, take care of her!
He paused and set the jug back gently down on the bar. He was at the end of his tether. He looked everywhere in the muggle world for an Evans or a Dursely with no luck, and now he dreaded the possibility they may not even be in the country in the first place.
He set a sickle down on the bar, ensured his hood was up, and entered the alley. Knockturn had become his home away from home whenever the stress became too much. He wandered aimlessly for a while, until.
Pop.
Shit. Were the aurors here? Before he could make another move, another pop sounded, and he disappeared from the alley.
Reg oriented himself quickly - he wasn't that inebriated. He learnt from how his brother was caught to never let his guard down.
He ducked and whipped his wand out, a silent curse lighting up his wand before he froze.
Brilliant emerald eyes. Alive. Eyes looked at him with a fond smile. Alive. A smile and a step. Alive and here. A step and a hug. Alive and here and in his arms.
Regulus Black broke down in incoherent tears for the first time since he could remember.
"You look terrible Uncle Reg," Heather said, brow furrowed.
"Ha! We were worried about you. When I told grandfather, he went spare. How did those muggles treat you? If that's where you were?"
Heather frowned, but looked into her uncle's eyes and found nothing but love and concern and guilt...
She looked away and sighed.
"It could have been worse..." she choked, recalling what she had seen in her uncle's mind not long ago. She had thought it was a trick of her thoughts , conjuring up a worst case scenario, but now she knew better. She was using passive Legilimency at the time.
"That man was planning to rape me when I became older," she muttered to herself. Her inner serpent coiled further with an ice cold fury and venomous fangs promising pain.
Lost in her thoughts, she had not realised that Kreacher and Uncle Reg had heard her.
Reg's eyes widened in panic and he heaved. He bent down and threw up, red eyes unable to see past his anxiety. Kreacher's face was a mask, only his eyes betraying the murderous intent of a determined and loyal house elf.
"They'll... fucking pay," Regulus vowed even as he flicked his wand to vanish his mess, and Heather only nodded. She was in agreement there, but they had more important things to do.
"You mentioned your grandfather?" She asked, moving the topic along.
Regulus took a moment to compose himself with closed eyes and deep breaths and nodded, "right, I told him about you and he wanted to meet. When I told him what happened..." Reg gave a wry smile, "Well, let's just say I managed to stop him from razing half of Magical Britain to the ground. He was already upset that they threw Siri in Azkaban..." he sighed, combing back his hair with his fingers in the way only Regulus did.
Heather nodded and spoke again, "My seventh birthday is in a few days..."
Her uncle's eyes lit up.
"Yes, we've been working on a ritual for your seventh, hoping we would find you by then. It's a relief really. Grandfather was working with grandaunt, and apparently she was working with a master of magical rituals, though she wouldn't say who..."
"Why would they work so hard? Does it have anything to do with magical numbers?" Heather asked curiously.
"That's right, grandfather said something about you being a Magical Childe to be born on that day..."
"So I assume the ritual you prepared is better than the mind, body, soul one that the goblins have?"
Regulus smirked and simply held her hand.
"Let's go see him now."
Arcturus Black was old and hated the world. Well, maybe a few people were okay.
Dumbledore and those fucking Potters were at the top of his shit-list.
"Cass?" He called from across the living room, turning a page from the heavy tome in his lap.
"Hmm?" The old woman replied absentmindedly as she rifled through a few pages of arithmantic formulae scrawled in handwriting that was definitely not hers.
"If we don't find her..." Arcturus began, heaving a deep sigh. He had heard from his grandson about the miraculous child. Control over her magic, maturity, ability to read at two, and uncannily insightful. She was the perfect representative for the house of Black, and yet...
Muggles, of all things. He wanted to fucking shove that old goat's broken nose into muggle shit, and then Crucio the fucker.
Cassieopea glanced at her brother with a smile.
"She'll turn up to us before her seventh. It's been seen," she said simply.
Arcturus jolted upright.
"Seen? You mean -"
"That's right," the woman cackled, a fearful sound for any of those who remembered what it was like to face her during the great war. Arcturus had long forgiven her for being on the opposing side. He knew firsthand how stubborn Blacks could be.
He narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't know many living true seers. There was the Lovegood woman, but he doubted his sister was acquainted with her. There was Cassandra's line, but last he heard, that woman was a batty thing, and probably a fake too, going by the complaints he had heard from the Hogwarts Board of Governors about her Divination post. The only other -
His eyes widened.
"You don't mean -"
Pop.
Before he could begin his tirade, three figures appeared in the room. The first two he knew as his grandson and his elf. The third...
He gasped inwardly and sat upright, sending a surreptitious glance towards his sister, who also stood up with a focus and glint in her eye that he had not seen for a while.
The girl had silky smooth jet black hair that ran down her back, bangs covering her eyebrows. Shining from within the shadow cast by her hair, were emeralds that seemed to see through everything.
"Grandfather!" Regulus said with a smile, "she found us!"
Arcturus felt his throat dry as he nodded.
"Come here and sit lass, tell us about yourself."
Heather sat on the sofa in front of her great grandfather and grandaunt, her uncle sitting beside her. Kreacher dutifully set up tea on the coffee table between them.
So, knowing this was her family; the family that worried for her and stressed for her and angry for her, she talked.
Talked about when she was four and couldn't remember anything before that for some reason, talked about when she was five and her cousin trying and failing to assault her, about how she used magic to cause him pain, talked about her Legilimency and what she saw in the minds of the man and woman (she refused to call them aunt and uncle anymore). She talked about how she learned apparition and stole money and bought clothes. She talked about how she found Diagon Alley and Gringotts.
She talked about what her tests revealed, how she had a mind and magic block, and how they were removed.
She talked about how she remembered everything from how Siri defended her, took her away, blood adopted her and tried his best to raise her with Reg, and then after the locket incident, how they left and how they were caught.
She related Dumbledore's conversation with her birth parents and the suspicion she had of him faking his concern for her.
And she talked about how she was planning to take headship after the ritual she planned to undergo with the goblins.
"And then I called Kreacher because I wanted to go back home. I wanted to see my father and Uncle Reg again..." She said as she looked down at the bottom of her teacup with melancholy. At some point, her uncle's arm came around over her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly.
Arcturus and Cassieopea's faces were blank masks throughout the whole retelling, a clear sign of employing their Occlumency shields to the highest degree.
"The fuckers..." Arcturus whispered.
"The fuckers," Cassieopea confirmed with a nod.
"There is one thing I don't understand," Heather said after a moment of quiet, feeling better after unloading everything from her chest.
"What's that little lass?" Arcturus asked quietly, his eyes warming as he dropped his mind shields.
"It's obvious why I have Black Family magic and why I don't have the Potter magic, but why do I have the Slytherin Family magic?"
The three of them considered that for a moment before Cassie flicked her wand.
A small garden snake appeared on the coffee table.
$Where am I? Send me back to my hatchlings!$
Heather's eyes widened in surprise before turning to the snake.
$I'm sorry, you'll be sent back now$
$A speaker$ the snake rose up to its full height and looked her in the eyes before sending her a nod of acknowledgement.
$Yes, I would be grateful if you could send me back ...$
She turned to Cassie, who she realised had a manic grin. Arcturus simply had a warm smile and Reg looked at her with affection and pride.
"Aunt Cassie? Could you send the snake back to her hatchlings?"
The woman nodded and flicked her wand, the snake disappearing from the table.
"That confirms you have the Slytherin magic..." She grinned and cackled.
July 3rd 1984
In the vast dreary corridors of the fortress of Nurmengard, Cassie's heels clicked evenly against the stone. She continued that way, humming before arriving at the topmost cell.
An emaciated figure with lank silver hair and brilliant blue eyes sat beyond the bars.
"Gellert," Cassie greeted with a smile. Not her mad smile, but the smile one might give to a close friend.
"Ah, Cass... did you find your girl?" Grindelwald's raspy voice asked.
Cassie's smile widened a smidge and shook her head, "She found us. Gellert, she's... incredible," her eyes wandered off for a few moments before focusing back on her friend.
"That's not why I'm her though. Gellert, we might need to adjust her ritual. She's not only a natural Legilimens, she also has the Slytherin Family magic - she's a parselmouth."
Grindelwald sat, pondering, eyes betraying none of his surprise.
"A parselmouth, eh? Yes, those will do nicely..." He muttered.
"Adjust the runes like so, and add these ingredients..."
7th July 1984
"The ritual we made is designed specifically for you. Not only will it restore you to full physical, magical, and spiritual health, but it will also enhance you. Your agility, speed, strength and your magical power, flow, control. The effects will be minor in the beginning and will only continue to grow as you continue to exercise your body and magic." Cassie explained as they made their way to the dungeons.
They were apparently in Black castle which was located somewhere on its own island.
"Take off all of your clothes before you enter these doors. All you need to do is sit in the center of the three overlapping circles. The ritual will activate at 07:07."
Heather took in a deep breath and followed Cassie's instructions. She removed all her clothes before entering a large stone chamber that was lit only by flame torches on the walls.
At the center of the chamber floor, a large runic array was drawn. It seemed highly complex, and there were various ingredients placed strategically within the runes. A massive snake corpse encircled the whole array head to tail like an ouroboros.
Pit. Pat.
Heather's bare feet stepped against the stone as she carefully made her way to the center of the array without disturbing anything.
She sat and waited.
At some point, she felt a massive surge of magic being drawn into the array, causing it to light up with a blackish-green glow.
And then, pain. Unimaginable endless pain.