Viviene - Lady of the Lake

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was usually a place of warmth and floating candles, but today, the atmosphere in the joint Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration classroom was stifling with self-righteousness. It was early October, the air outside nipping with the promise of winter, but inside, the temperature seemed to rise with the ego of the Marauders.

James Potter leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, tossing a Snitch into the air. Beside him, Sirius Black was loudly regaling a group of younger Gryffindors with a tale of how they had "cornered" a group of first-year Slytherins the night before.

"Just doing our part to keep the Dark Arts out of the corridors, isn't it?" Sirius laughed, his bark-like chuckle echoing. "You see a green tie, you see a future Death Eater. Simple as that."

Remus Lupin kept his head down, though he didn't disagree, while Peter Pettigrew squeaked in gleeful approval. Lily Evans, sitting nearby, nodded firmly. "They need to learn that their 'old ways' and blood traditions have no place in a civilized world, Sirius. Dumbledore says the light must be vigilant."

Across the room, the Slytherin contingent sat in a pocket of chilled silence. Bellatrix Black, her dark eyes sharp and guarded, didn't even blink at the insults. Beside her, Regulus Black kept his spine rigid, his fingers twitching toward his wand, while Lucius Malfoy looked on with a mask of pure, cold disdain. They were the pariahs, the "dark-sided" ones, simply because they questioned the Headmaster’s absolute morality or dared to speak of the Wizarding world’s ancient heritage.

The heavy oak doors creaked open. The room went silent instantly. The Marauders snapped to attention, chests puffing out, faces shining with adoration. Albus Dumbledore swept in, his robes a shimmering silver, accompanied by a man whose very presence screamed bureaucracy and secrets—the Head of the Department of Mysteries.

In the man’s arms was a crystalline orb that seemed to swallow the light of the room.

"Students," Dumbledore began, his voice like warm honey. "Today, we embark on a journey of cultural enlightenment. My dear friend from the Ministry has brought us the Portal Maker, an artifact of immense power. We shall use it to observe the healing practices of the legendary École de la Vigne Bleue."

"Is that the school in the Seven Tribes?" a Ravenclaw whispered in awe.

"Indeed," Dumbledore smiled, though the Slytherins noticed the twinkle in his eye lacked its usual warmth. It was the look of a predator watching a cage. "To see how others live is to understand why our path of Light is the most righteous."

Lucius leaned toward Regulus. "He’s spying," he hissed under his breath. "He wants their secrets, and he’s calling it a lesson."

The Unspeakable tapped the orb. It rose into the air, vibrating until it expanded into a swirling mass of violet and gold. The portal stabilized, becoming as clear as a window.

The view was of a set of sun-drenched double doors. A girl stood there, her white healing dress swaying in a warm breeze. A yellow skirt marked her as a third year, and she looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her name tag read *Meliscent*.

"Two zebras," Meliscent muttered, checking a clipboard as the animals trotted past. "Three ostriches. Four walking dumplings—don't ask, I won't tell you."

The Hogwarts students blinked. The creatures were bizarre, but the girl’s apathy was more shocking.

"Four purple dogs," Meliscent continued. "And two manticores."

A collective gasp echoed through the Hogwarts classroom. Manticores were Grade XXXXX killers, yet these two walked past the girl like pampered housecats.

"Wait," James muttered, squinting at the portal. "Are those ducks? Why are they... barfing strawberries?"

A second girl, Liliath, was struggling with a bipedal raccoon-like creature. She looked at the rainbow-colored ducks and groaned. "Liz! The ducks, really? They're supposed to be purple!"

"Not me! Ask Mels!" a voice shouted from off-screen.

A third student appeared, a fifth-year with a blue belt. She was handling two massive, six-legged cats—Catvs—with effortless grace. She looked at Meliscent. "What did Melusine do this time?"

Meliscent pointed at the strawberry-vomiting ducks. The fifth-year sighed. "I am not surprised." She gathered the ducks into a floating bubble and headed inside.

Suddenly, a head dropped into the frame from above. A girl, about sixteen, was hanging upside down from the ceiling. She had wild, brownish-black curls with striking blue highlights. She wore a sleeveless top and a flowing white skirt over pants, her belt clinking with vials.

"Medicine, I need to talk," the fifth-year sighed, looking at the upside-down girl.

"We’re talking right now, aren't we?" the girl—Melusine—replied with a cheeky grin.

"No. Library."

"No library," Melusine countered.

"Yes. She passed a box."

Melusine looked around innocently. "Box? What box?"

The fifth-year looked up and realized her bubble of ducks was gone. She turned around to see two perfectly normal, purple ducks waddling behind her. She stared at the ducks, then at Melusine, who gave a smile so bright and innocent it was terrifying.

"I have no response to this," the fifth-year muttered. "I am way underpaid to deal with this shit."

As the fifth-year stomped away, Melusine dropped to the floor with the grace of a cat. She looked directly at the invisible "camera" of the portal. Her eyes, sharp and ancient, seemed to see right through the stone walls of Hogwarts.

In the classroom, the Slytherins were whispering. "Why is she wearing long sleeves in summer?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes narrowing. "And those scars on her arms... they aren't from accidents."

"She’s their age," Regulus noted. "But she feels... older."

The portal suddenly began to hum violently. The glass-like surface rippled and cracked. Dumbledore stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Something is wrong. The stabilization is failing!"

"Get back!" the Unspeakable yelled.

A massive boom rocked the classroom. A flash of dark purple light blinded the students, throwing several Gryffindors against the back wall. When the smoke cleared, the portal was gone, replaced by a scorched circle on the floor.

Standing in the center were two teenagers. Both were redheads, tall and built with the lean muscle of people who spent their lives outdoors.

The eldest, Bill, had long hair tied in a bun and a dragon-fang earring. He wore practical combat robes of deep green. Beside him, Charlie looked equally rugged, a hippogriff claw dangling from his ear. They stood back-to-back, wands out, their eyes darting around the room with a cold, calculated intensity that didn't belong on the faces of "light" wizards.

"Where the hell are we?" Charlie growled.

James Potter scrambled to his feet, his wand shaking. "Who are you? Dark wizards! They’ve infiltrated the school!"

"Shut it, glasses," Bill snapped, his voice like grinding stone. He looked at Dumbledore, his eyes narrowing in a way that suggested a deep, burning hatred. "You. Again."

Dumbledore looked uncharacteristically rattled. "My dear boys, I am Albus Dumbledore. You are safe here. We simply had a small accident with a portal. Are you from the Vigne Bleue?"

"We were in our living room," Charlie said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "And now we’re in this damp, miserable castle."

"They're redheads," Sirius shouted, pointing. "They must be Weasleys! Why are they dressed like mercenaries? What have you done to them, you dark filth?"

Bill turned a chilling gaze on Sirius. "We aren't Weasleys. And if you point that stick at me again, I’ll feed it to you."

"Enough!" Lily Evans stepped forward, her face red. "You've arrived in the presence of the greatest wizard of the age! Show some respect! You obviously belong to the Dark Side if you're attacking us!"

"We just teleported here against our will," Bill said, a mocking edge to his voice. "And you call us dark? Do you call all your victims dark over here, or just the ones who don't kiss the Headmaster’s hem?"

The tension was a physical weight. The Slytherins watched in stunned silence. These boys looked like the Weasleys they knew of, but their magic felt... massive. Unbound.

Another rumble shook the floor. The air began to smell of ozone and ancient spices. A second explosion, smaller but more concentrated, tore through the air.

Out of the shimmering haze stepped the girl from the portal—Melusine.

She looked different now. The playful schoolgirl was gone. She wore a black, sleeveless tank top that revealed arms covered in a tapestry of scars and intricate tattoos—wisteria, hemlock, runes, and dragons. A dark blue cloak that seemed to contain the night sky itself hung from her shoulders. Her kohl-rimmed eyes scanned the room with a terrifying lack of warmth.

"I had forgotten how much I truly hate this castle," she said, her voice carrying a weight that made the Marauders flinch.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his "grandfather" mask firmly back in place. "Young lady, I must insist—"

"Headmaster," Melusine interrupted, not even looking at him. "With all due respect—which is none—shut your mouth or I will hex you into the next century. Thank you. Sorry, not sorry."

She turned to Bill and Charlie. "Where have you two been? The house is a mess. Aunt Cassiopeia is frantic."

Bill and Charlie looked at her, confused. They had been told the plan by Lady Magic and Lady Vivienne, but they hadn't met their "sister" yet.

Melusine leaned in, her voice a low whisper that somehow echoed. "The dragon's breath illuminates the patio at midnight."

The two boys relaxed instantly. "We were plucked," Bill said, gesturing to the Unspeakable. "By these idiots."

Melusine whirled on Dumbledore and the Head of the Department of Mysteries. "You summoned my brothers to a school you don't know? This is a diplomatic disaster. You can't just pluck people from their homes because you’re bored and want to play spy."

"My dear girl," Dumbledore tried again, his voice trembling slightly. "It was an educational exercise—"

"It was kidnapping," Melusine snapped. She looked around the room. Her gaze softened as it landed on the Slytherin table. She gave Bellatrix and Regulus a small, knowing smirk—a look that promised a reckoning.

Then, she turned her eyes toward the Marauders. Her lip curled in a sneer so profound that James Potter actually stepped back. "And you. The 'Light.' You smell of stagnant water and arrogance."

"How dare you!" Lily shrieked. "We're the ones fighting for what's right!"

Melusine laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound. "You wouldn't know 'right' if it bit you on your self-righteous nose. You’re just bullies with better PR."

She grabbed Bill and Charlie by the elbows. The air began to warp around them.

"I bid you farewell, Headmaster," Melusine said, her voice dropping to a deadly chill. "Though I suspect we’ll be seeing each other again on Samhain. Try to keep the castle from rotting further until then."

With a sharp *crack* that shattered several windows in the Great Hall, the three of them vanished.

The classroom was left in a stunned, ringing silence. Dumbledore stared at the spot where they had been, his face pale, his hands trembling within his sleeves.

At the Slytherin table, Lucius Malfoy slowly closed his mouth. He looked at Regulus, his eyes wide with a spark of something they hadn't felt in years.

Hope.

"Did you see her arms?" Regulus whispered, his voice trembling. "The runes... those weren't just tattoos. They were anchors."

"And the boys," Bellatrix added, her dark eyes burning with intensity. "They spoke to Dumbledore like he was a common thief. Who are they?"

Across the room, the Marauders were trying to regain their bravado, but it was hollow. James was shaking, and Sirius looked like he’d been slapped.

"They're just dark wizards," James muttered, though he didn't sound convinced. "Probably more of Voldemort’s lot."

But for the first time, the Slytherins didn't care what the Gryffindors thought. They had seen something real. Something ancient. And the girl with the blue highlights had looked at them not as monsters, but as allies.

The game was changing, and for the first time in history, Albus Dumbledore didn't hold the cards.