Chapter Seven
Chapter Three
Astraea faltered in her gait slightly as she wondered whether it was her smartest choice to critique a potentially dangerous dark wizard. There was already a glimmer of rage deep-rooted within him, one not necessarily reversible. It was a glowing ember foreshadowing a fire, and given the chance, she knew it would swallow him whole. For, while he was not Voldemort yet, his plans were likely laid out in meticulous detail already.
Plans she was required to limit. Initially, Dumbledore had alluded that he’d wished to be Minister of Magic, showing no malicious intent. His ambition then was only to unify, to purge the world of prejudice and live contently as he believed he should have in his childhood. It was entirely contrasting to what he invented, a world where his power ruled within fear and division which he caused to society.
She had no clue how she was to prevent the same fate, but she also knew her cover story would not last too long. He was too interrogative, untrusting, and stubborn. If he believed her to have lied even once, he would brutally disassemble any other facades she had previously maintained while waiting for her to crack.
Shaking her head to disperse her troubling thoughts, she walked into Headmaster Dippet's office.
It wasn't all that different from Dumbledore's except it seemed to be less populated with miscellaneous goods and more highly populated with Quidditch merchandise. Where Fawkes sat was instead a team flag – belonging to who she could not recognise – and a signed quaffle was positioned with a certain hubris in a glass case where the pensieve was. Strangely, it was almost comforting.
"Ah, hello. I was wondering when you would introduce yourself. Take a seat," the elder man gestured, his thin, lithe body settled on a dark leather chair as he flicked through paperwork.
She moved the few worn blankets strewn across the old chair, hanging them on the leather backing as she sunk down into it. It was somehow comfortable, despite the lack of cushioning it suggested, and Astraea sighed a little in relief.
"I'm so grateful for the help of Madame Seraphine's time, and I apologise to intrude upon you this late at night," she began, remembering Dumbledore’s inference that Dippet had a better demeanour in the face of manners. She sent out a polite smile, "My name is Astraea Solstice."
Her hands sat loosely in her lap as she twiddled with her ring to ground herself.
Dippet only smiled warmly, folding his arms together above the desk. It allowed her to see the slight embroidery on his sleeve, and she smiled when she saw it was a row of constellations. It seemed embossed on the purple velvet, but when he moved it shimmered.
"A pleasure to meet you Miss Solstice," he responded, taking a brief sip of tea.
He poured a cup for her too, seemingly on autopilot as he passed the sugared English Breakfast towards her. She would’ve preferred it black, but she felt too awkward to make that known in front of the foreign Headmaster before her.
"If you don't mind me asking, where exactly did you come to us from? Madame Seraphine noticed you seemed to be wearing some rather odd clothes."
Astraea grimaced, knowing her choice to remain in jeans and a white tee was most likely not the best. Alas, it was really all she had, and she couldn't exactly go out and buy more appropriate robes for the forties. Besides, the clothes were more comfortable than many of the things she suspected she'd be forced to wear here.
"I was living as a refugee in France, hiding from Grindelwald..." she began, swallowing as she attempted to act the part, "We had to find muggle clothes to wear at points where supply was low. I left one morning to go and get some food - we weren't allowed out that often you see, as he may have found us - and I came back and... and they..."
She thought of Draco and of how she'd never be able to see him again. She thought about how he'd never know how much she loved him, nor how much he loved her. She remembered all the things they used to do together. All the things that meant so much to her, but now meant nothing to him. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she clutched the last remaining item from him, her necklace, tightly. It was a means of comfort now. A way to reassure herself that it had been real.
Her method of inducing tears seemed to have worked, for Dippet looked over at her in pity, reaching for a spare handkerchief on his desk to give to her. She smiled gratefully as she dabbed at her eyes with it.
"Sorry..." she breathed in shakily, collecting her emotions again, "And then I came here."
The headmaster nodded in sympathy, taking another long sip of tea before leaning forward over the desk more. A genuine expression had crossed his face, one sorrowed and empathetic. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his lips were downturned, slightly apart as he seemed to battle with himself over what might be appropriate to say.
She wondered if he himself had any experience with Grindelwald.
"You've been extremely brave, my dear. To survive such a tremendously horrid war..." he trailed off, evidently not quite sure what else he was meant to say.
She supposed he wasn't meant to say anything.
Her mind drifted back to her own war. It was still something at the forefront of her mind, and something undeniably real. So many innocent people had already died by the time Harry and her had been able to do anything. Masses upon masses of people had lost their parents, their brothers, sisters. And those who hadn't, had often lost their ability to choose good, or their ability to feel happy in such a treacherous time.
She was responsible for all that now.
Her hands began to shake, while she focused on breathing in and out deeply.
Her mission was to stop all of that hurt and pain. Her mission was to stop all of that stress and disruption.
Maybe she would pick up a book on occlumency to make it easier to cope with. Astraea had often heard it was therapeutic. Letting out one last long breath, she noticed Dippet had placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, extending her forgotten cup of tea. She supposed he thought it might help.
His hand was wrinkled and thin, his age apparent through the veins that bulged outwards, and the slight shake to his limbs as he moved. He reminded her of her grandfather. She smiled at a distant memory, mumbling quick words of thanks as she brought the teacup to her lips.
It was quite stewed and far too sugary, but she liked it, nonetheless. Or perhaps it was just the sentiment she enjoyed.
"I drew up some arrangements for you to stay and study here. I assume you had a hard time learning whilst in hiding, so if you need a tutor, please let me know," he spoke kindly, gently patting her shoulder before hobbling back to his seat.
She wondered how old he was. He seemed quite frail, and there was a certain edge to his posture that implied he had not long left, but magic could do strange things to life expectancy. If he did not have another thirty years she’d be surprised.
"As for your living arrangements, I've set up a room for you in the Slytherin tower. I hope you don't mind. There weren't any spaces available for you in any dorms, as we're at full capacity, so you have your own room," he added, his smile still present and his eyes twinkling slightly.
"Thank you. That's very kind of you," she responded, a gentle smile directed towards him as she took another sip of tea.
He nodded resolutely.
"What is Slytherin?" She asked, acting curious for her role in this strange circus act.
The elderly man chuckled lightly, a few dimples becoming apparent on his face as he did so.
"Here at Hogwarts, we have four houses," he explained, "Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I hope you don't mind me housing you in Slytherin. It's just, our Head Boy resides there, and I figured it'd be best for you to have some help nearby."
Astraea nodded, trying to fight the slight flinch that urged to be let free as she imagined being near to Riddle. It was dangerous territory, really.
"We'll have the sorting hat house you. Just in case."
-:-
"What a peculiar case, Miss Equinox. It seems I have met you before."
"I presume you can guess what I'm here for then," she retorted.
They were still sat inside Dippet's office, but this time she had the ratchet, old hat plopped on her head. She could only imagine how many sweaty, dirty heads the inside of the hat had touched, and she felt herself grow nauseous at the thought.
Surely, it should have been replaced? She doubted such a magical object could be washed, and she could hardly believe this one had been around since Hogwarts was founded.
Discarding the thought, she returned her attention to the hat in question, which was still sat quietly on her head, as if waiting for her to finish her internal thought chain.
"Yes, yes I can, and I will help you."
"SLYTHERIN!"
Astraea felt the hat lifted off her head as she turned to look at Dippet, the old man smiling at the sorting results.
"Well, it would seem my housing solution for you worked a treat!" He clapped, his eyes sparkling as he was proved correct.
"That it would."