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Confluence	By : Shasjin Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > General Views: 1002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any its characters or events. I am also borrowing a few things from Dungeons and Dragons which are rightfully owned by Wizards of the Coast. I am writing this purely for fun, no profit is being made by me in any way.

Chapter List
- 1-Confluence
- 1
Note: Some of my characters are going to be wholly or partially related to races that are familiar to Dungeons and Dragons players. The characters (names, personalities) will all be mine and no familiarity with the RPG is necessary to enjoy this story. [It's just easier to borrow a Hound Archon or the Drow than it is to create my own celestial hound or race of dark elves!] These extra-Potter societies only feature peripherally in the world of this story. It's mostly about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World as Rowling wrote it. I also intend to keep everyone you recognize as IC as possible.

Chapter I

The First Letter

The air was clear and hot, though several acres of trees surrounding the large manor house kept the place shady and cooler than the outside world. It was quiet, the trees muffling most sounds, but now and then a child's laugh or a dog's joyous bark would ring out clear. A long and winding lane stretched from the distant country road down to the house in the woods. The dirt lane had a long strip of grass growing down the center between to well-worn wheel ruts.

A rustling sound preceded the headlong dash of a small, metallic lizard-like creature on four clawed legs across the lane. Before the blackberry bush had stopped moving, a yearling red-furred puppy tumbled with a yelp after. They both disappeared into the tall grass on the other side.

Just as the last of the grass stems settled upright, a man appeared on the grassy rise in the lane. He had not walked the half mile from the main road to this spot, he simply appeared with hardly any sound. He wore a black suit in an odd, old-fashioned kind of style. His hair was long and black and fell to his shoulders. He glanced about at the surrounding trees and then set off down the lane towards the house that lay another quarter mile ahead.

Chesha tried to stop running the moment she realized her brother was no longer chasing her. Her feet and her intentions didn't always work well together and she ended up tripping over the protruding root of a large oak tree. She went sprawling head over tail before being brought to a halt by the trunk of another tree. She picked herself up and, with a quick shake of her head to clear it, she turned and trotted back towards the place where Corso had left off the chase. She found him headed slowly back towards the lane, nose in the air and sniffing furiously. Curious, she copied him, tilting her head up and inhaling deeply. There! She caught just a whiff of a stranger on the still air. She looked over at her brother, surprise written all over her face and posture.

Together the two crept as quietly as their slightly awkward bodies would allow towards the drive. They peered cautiously out of the tall grass and, seeing no one in front of them, looked left and right. Still seeing nothing out of the ordinary, they moved slowly into the lane and put their noses down in the grass where the stranger's scent was strongest. Who ever had passed this way seemed to have popped into being out of thin air, as the trail began quite suddenly and headed further down the drive towards the house. Chesha glanced over at Corso and the two nodded in silent agreement. Chesha flitted over to the far side of the lane and Corso trotted a little ways back into the tall grass. Then they turned and, with both sides of the drive covered, they stalked down the dirt lane after the stranger.

The man was striding with a purposeful rapidity so he did not come into view until just before he reached the main house. Chesha and Corso stayed back where the trees ended and watched the man in black cross the well-tended lawn which stretched in front of the three-story manor. They saw him step up to the whitewood double doors and heard the distant chime as he pulled the bell. Chesha watched with apprehension as Corso ventured out of cover and crept closer across the open lawn. She hesitated, torn between accompanying her brother and staying safely out of sight. In the end she stayed where she was and watched as her grandmother answered the door.

Jan Vey looked up from her half-completed jigsaw puzzle when she heard the door bells chime. She glanced out the library window and, seeing such a clear blue sky, she stood up and stretched her back. The good weather would mean that everyone else was probably outside, so she made her way towards the front doors. Jan was nearing seventy, though she looked to be in her late fifties at most. She didn't really feel her age either, though she was starting to notice a stiffness in her back that hadn't been there even three years ago. Her long hair blonde hair was copiously streaked with silver now and she found that the young children were much more difficult to keep up with than they used to be. As she crossed the entry hall to the door, she reflected that perhaps, if she hadn't fallen in love with John Vey, she might now be feeling her age properly.

She grasped the ornate silver handle and pushed the door open gently (it wasn't locked, none of the doors in the Vey house were ever locked) to find a tall man with dark hair and dressed in dark clothing standing on the entry. She didn't recognize him, but this house, remote as it was, was not unaccustomed to unexpected visitors.

“May I help you?” she asked, politely. Even as she addressed the man, she her practiced mother's gaze took in the yard behind him and she noticed Corso at once creeping across the mown grass.

“I am here to speak with Mr. Corso Vey and his parents.”

Jan fought back a small frown at his reply. His voice was very pleasant, rich and clear, but his words were puzzling. Strangers usually had business with John's grandmother, not his and her grandchildren. She perfectly contained her confusion, however, as she replied.

“Certainly. Please,” she said with a smile, “come in.” She gestured him in and, after he passed her, she shot a look out to where she had seen Corso in the yard. She made a small come hither gesture at him as she pulled the front door closed behind her.

Corso looked back at Chesha, who hadn't ventured past the screening trees, jerked his head at the front door and then took off at a run around the south side of the house. A moment later, a pale ten year old girl with strange long, straight hair the color of polished steel wormed her way out of a bush and ran after her brother.

By the time Chesha rounded the house, the red puppy had vanished and the much taller, darker form of her brother had taken its place. They were both panting as their mother caught sight of them and smiled. Chesha thought that her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had long wavy hair that fell all the way down her back and was a deep, deep blue. It had natural navy low-lights and bright cerulean high-lights that caught the sunlight. Her mother was tall and strong and kind and wonderful. Chesha was proud of the fact that she shared her mother's bright, blue-grey eyes.

“Did I just hear the door bell?”

Chesha was still out of breath, but she answered anyway.

“It's a stranger! Jan let him in.”

“Did he see you?” Her mother sudden looked sternly at Chesha. Corso looked over at his sister before answering for her.

“No, she stayed hidden. I was behind him, but I don't think he saw me either. I think Jan wanted me to come inside, though. She waved like she did anyway.”

His mother frowned at that. “Did he look like someone your father would know?”

Corso shook his head. “He just looked normal.”

“Hm. I wonder -”

But her voice trailed away as one of the double doors leading into the house was opened and Jan hurried across the rear lawn.

“There's a man here asking to speak with a -” and here she adopted a rather formal tone - “Mr. Corso Vey and his parents. Don't know what it's about. He's waiting the library for the two of you.”

Their mother stepped back from her easel, carefully rinsed out the brush she'd been using and placed it on the stained tea towel on an at-hand stool where her palette and the mason jar of turpentine sat. She placed a domed mosquito net over the lot and said to Jan, “Could you keep an eye on the rest of them?” She gestured around the yard.

Jan, following her daughter's wave, saw the twins sitting across from each other over a half-completed sand fortress, engaged in one of their frequent silent battles of will and the other three children at play on the swings suspended from the branches of the single towering oak that stood alone in the center of the back yard. Chesha, of course, stood next to Corso, exchanging slightly worried looks with her favorite brother.

“Of course. Come on Chesha, let's go swing with the others.” And, leaving the pale, petite girl with no option but to follow Jan led the way over to the other children. Chesha cast a look over her shoulder as Corso and her mother disappeared into the house.

Through the ballroom and the entry parlor, Martagon Vey led the way for her son, their footsteps echoing off the marble floors; when they reached the library, the thick forest green carpet seemed to swallow all sounds. The strange man stood off to one side of room in front of the unlit fireplace. He was peering with apparent interest at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that encircled the room, leaving only one large window and two doors book-free, apart from the fireplace. She loved this library, full of its dark wood, lush carpet, old and comfortable leather chairs and the heavy smell of aging paper. The man looked up as he heard the door open and watched with no discernible expression as she entered the room followed closely by Corso.

Martagon observed the stranger, even as she greeted him. She liked his suit, he wore it very well. He was tall, half a head taller than herself, and nearly as pale. His dark eyes were inscrutable, his nose large and hooked and he gave her the overall impression of some kind of raptor, soaring over the scene and taking it all in. What she found oddest of all was that he appeared completely human.

“Jan said you wanted to speak with Corso? I'm his mother. What is this about?” Her tone was polite and curious.

He briefly cleared his throat. “Of course, Mrs. Vey -”

“Miss,” she interrupted quickly. “It's Miss Vey.” Even as she said it she cringed inwardly. Why now? Why make that distinction now? Oh well, she'd worry about those implications later.

“...Miss Vey. I am Professor Severus Snape. I have come to offer Mr. Vey a place at a... special school. Perhaps we could sit? This will take some explanation.”

This genuinely surprised her. With slightly raised eyebrows she gestured to a cluster of three wing-backed chairs placed closest to the hearth. As they seated themselves, he reached into an inner suit pocket and withdrew a heavy parchment envelope addressed in green.

“Your formal invitation and letter of acceptance,” he said as he passed the envelope to Corso. “Read it over.” He looked directly at Martagon. “I am here to answer any questions you may have.”

Looking confused, the Corso glanced at her before taking the envelope and, after a brief examination of the address, broke open the seal and extracted the letter. She watched her son's expression as he made his way through the letter, his confusion rapidly changing into wild excitement. When he finished he looked up at her, face shining with amazement and happiness. He quickly handed over the letter and she began to read. Under a heading denoting a school of witchcraft and wizardry and the name of the school's headmaster and his qualifications apparent, a short paragraph accepted Corso into this school for magic.

When she finished, she looked up at Professor Severus Snape. Her reaction seemed to surprise him.

“Hogwarts?” she asked with a smile. “Strange name, isn't it?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“A school of magic,” she said to herself. It was certainly nothing she had ever heard of before, but that was familiar. She had gotten used to accepting the unusual and unfamiliar. “What sort of magic do you teach?” she asked the man sitting across from her.

“Myself, Potions. The subtle art of crafting magical brews and concoctions. Others teach transformative magic, charms, the care of magical creatures and plants, history -”

“History?” she interrupted, curious.

“Our history,” he said. “The history of the wizards and witches and other... creatures who have lived in the world for ages, kept secret from Muggle society.”

“Muggle society?”

“Muggle is our word for non-wizards,” he explained, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

Martagon smiled, she noticed the edge to his words, but was intent on staying polite. “Are there many of you? Wizards and such? And,” she added, “is it common for a – Muggle child to be invited to your school?”

“There are hundreds of wizards living in this country alone, many more in the rest of the world. Some of our bloodlines date back far farther than yours; Hogwarts, for instance, was founded more than one thousand years ago. And, in point of fact, Mr. Vey is not a Muggle child. A child born of wizard parents – even one wizard parent – is a wizard. Magic is inherited. Although -” he paused. “Although it happens that some children born of two Muggle parents spontaneously develop magical talent.”

Having waited as patiently as a very excited eleven year old boy could possibly have been expected to wait, Corso finally interjected. “I can go, can't I mum? Go to school?”

Smiling down at her, she directed one more question at the Professor. As much as she would have been happy to see her oldest son off at school and learning an art of any kind, she knew there was one thing that might make it very difficult for him.

“Is Hogwarts a boarding school?”

“It is. We have always found it safer to ensconce ourselves away from the Muggle population. It is even more pertinent when dealing with two hundred and some odd untrained and unqualified wizards.”

She was still looking at Corso, now with wanting to encourage him and yet wanting him to make up his own mind. She understood, after all, the need to surround one's self with familiarity and not stray far from home.

“A- a boarding school?” he asked, sounding much smaller. “You mean I'd have to go... and stay there?”

Professor Severus Snape nodded at the boy with a slight crease between his eyebrows betraying his annoyance.

Corso's face fell. He looked up at his mother. “But what about – you and Chesha and - everyone?”

“We will be right here and just fine,” she said, reassuring. “And there will be holidays you'll come home for. And -” She turned back to the Professor. “How are students chosen for your school?”

“Every child in the country who has enough magical talent is invited to attend Hogwarts when they are eleven years of age.”

Martagon smiled back down at her son. “So Chesha will be going next year.”

She noticed Severus Snape frowning.

“One Muggle-born wizard doesn't necessarily mean that other siblings -”

With quiet assurance, she said, “All of my children are capable of unnatural things. The youngest like to surround themselves with darkness so they can nap comfortably in the daylight. If Corso has enough magic to be a wizard and accepted to your school, I have no doubt that the rest of them will as well.”

Corso still looked troubled. “Is there any way you can check and see?” he asked the professor hopefully.

“Many times students are listed only in the year they will first be attending school. However, there are other occasions where a child will be listed well before then.” Here Martagon caught his somewhat disgruntled look. “I may not have time to check before the start of term and we will need your acceptance or declination well before that time.”

Martagon nodded in understanding. She addressed her son very seriously now. “Corso, it's up to you. We may not be able to find out if Chesha can go, and she won't be going this year anyway. Do you want to go away to magic school?”

“I -”

Martagon knew how torn her son really was. How he would love to go meet new people, make new friends and learn magic, if for no other reason than to impress his father. But she also knew he would absolutely dread the idea of leaving home, of surrounding himself with complete strangers without even his closest friend and sister by his side. For what it's worth, she thought, I hope he finds the courage.

He struggled with the question for a minute or two while she and Professor Snape were silent. Finally he said, “I want to go.” He then added firmly, as if convincing himself, “Chesha has as much magic as me, she'll come next year.”

“That's settled then,” Martagon said, turning back to Severus Snape, a strange feeling of relief washing over her. She glanced down at the letter again, remembering something confusing. “What exactly does this mean by 'send us your owl'?”

“It's how we send post. We use owls as letter carriers. It might be prudent to purchase one when you go to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies, especially if you anticipate having more than one child at Hogwarts.”

“I was going to ask about that – where such things as spellbooks and wands are available for sale -” She stopped and looked over at Corso. He was fidgeting.

“C- Can I go? To tell Chesha?”

“Unless there's anything else he needs to know right now?” she asked Professor Snape. He shook his head. “Go on then. I have a few more questions. Tell Jan I'll be out back when we're done.”

Corso nodded violently and ran from the room practically bursting with things to tell his sister. Shaking her head slightly, Martagon returned to the conversation at hand.

“So you mentioned a Diagon Alley?”

“Yes. It's in London. A – district, completely hidden from Muggles, where you can find everything you'll need.”

She noticed his demeanor relax somewhat after Corso's departure. Was he uncomfortable around children? Odd for a teacher. Or perhaps he felt the need to keep up appearances around them. He did seem the disciplinarian type. Regardless -

“In London? If it's hidden from Muggles, how -?”

“It will be easy to find.” He gave her an address. “As long as your son is with you, he should be able to see the pub without difficulty. Once he points it out you won't have any trouble. Just ask the proprietor, he'll direct you from there.”

“What about tuition?”

“The school is funded by other means. You need only worry about course books and supplies.”

“Well,” she said, casting about for something else to ask. She found herself oddly reluctant to let this man leave just yet. “Is there anything else I should know?”

He frowned. “There are many subtleties to the wizarding world, however, I believe you have all the pertinent information. So long as your son has his school things and is at King's Cross on September the first, there should be no problems.” He hesitated. “I must say, for a Muggle, you seem unaccountably willing to accept all of this.”

She smiled. “Not the usual reaction I'd imagine.”

“Not hardly.”

“Well, I've often thought it a lucky thing we live out here, away from normal folks. As I said, all of my children do strange things, I suppose I'm bit used to the idea of... magic.”

“I suppose... If I may ask, Miss Vey, your children's father?”

She hesitated. Usually, if asked, she would not have had a problem discussing the – unusual nature of her family. Now though, between not knowing how the wizarding world would view such things, if differently, and not wanting to alienate this particular man, currently her only personal connection to the school where it sounded as though she would be sending all of her children eventually, she obfuscated.

“Their father... he – well, Corso's father lives abroad. He isn't around much, for all I know, he could have... magic. That may be where he – where they all get it from...”

Her discomfort with the subject was obvious.

“Perhaps,” he agreed quickly. “Well, Miss Vey, if you don't have any more questions, I'll not take any more of your time.” They stood and she lead him back through the parlor and to the front door. On the stoop he turned and said, “If you think of anything else you'd like to ask, send a letter to me, once you get an owl.”

“Do owls need addresses?”

“Not really, Miss Vey. Simply address the letter to me and the owl will be able to find me. Good day.”

He turned and strode off down the drive back towards civilization. Curious, Martagon watched him until he had passed the curve of the lane that hid him behind the thickening trees. How on earth had he gotten here? Well, it wasn't like Kehvan didn't just pop in when he visited. Perhaps this wizard could teleport as well. She closed the front door and went looking for the rest of her family.
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Confluence