1 Athene Kamimura

Athene Kamimura was born in London in January 1982. She was born in a hospital in Bloomsbury. Her father was an employee in an international financial firm who had been sent from the headquarters in Japan to oversee the London branch; and her mother was a temp working at the same office. After a rather ordinary, mildly heart-racing office romance, they decided to get married once her internship ended. Later, she would become a professional gardener.

Athene was an only daughter. She was born unable to use her vocal folds. She wouldn't know this until later, but she was the victim of a convoluted curse when she was still in the womb, cast by dark wizards escaping from aurors.

Yes, Athene Kamimura was mute. But she was also very clever. And her latent power would not go unnoticed for long.

*****

Some months after her seventh birthday, Athene Kamimura sneezed. When she did, she accidentally turned the gravity inside her house upside down and almost impaled herself with the plastic girandole. Her understandably confused parents rushed in, running on the ceiling, and were most relieved to find her alright. Not a minute had finished passing than the doorbell had rung. A gentleman in a cloak and tunic had carefully climbed down from the lintel onto the ceiling. He had introduced himself as both a wizard and a public servant. Namely, he was an employee of the 'Ministry of Magic.'

He explained both the existence of magic and of wizards to Athene and her parents, who could only stare in bewilderment. He went on to explain that there was a school of wizardry in Britain called Hogwarts, and that classes would start when Athene was eleven. Athene could only nod and look forward to it. He also explained how to get to Diagon Alley. With this, he reverted the gravity to normal, and told Athene that if anything happens, he would come again and fix it, then left.

Now, Ryou Kamimura and Cynthia Kamimura (née Thompson) were not very easily shaken people. Ryou was a man with a rather quiet demeanour, and a rather feverish sense of family. Learning that there were wizards and witches in the world barely mattered to him. Learning that his daughter was one, only made him feel more proud of her. As for Cynthia, she was a very laid back person. She held the philosophy that rushing would only derive in failure and that narrow-mindedness was the blinker of progress. She also loved her daughter fiercely. Hearing that there were wizards in the world had very little impact on her. 'Ah. So there were people like that, then? How quaint.' was what went through her head at the time. The fact that Athene was one of those people didn't faze her in the least. She was her daughter. She didn't care if she was a witch, a goblin, an elf, a demon or an angel. She was her daughter. That is all there was to it.

As for Athene herself, she was drunk in this new feeling. She had felt a sense of vastness she had never felt before: she had felt that there was a world very much worth exploring. On the following day, she had her parents take her to Diagon Alley. She had wanted to buy her first wand, but, as her parents reasoned, there was no need to buy one just yet, since she wouldn't be able to use it for another four years anyway. She did buy several textbooks on potions and other magical disciplines which had no need of using a wand.

Soon, she found herself coming over to Diagon Alley after school every other day. She would spend her time at the only public library of magic books in London: a dingy, cramped Norman-style building half-crushed by the two buildings it was sandwiched between, which contained a measly amount of books. Nevertheless, this alone was enough for Athene to explore the world. She read many books on magic, and even started trying to use wandless magic when she was in Diagon Alley. After a year or so, she could perform a little magic with enormous concentration—mind you, only enough to make a book on her line of sight twitch a little.

*****

When she was nine, she went to St. Mungo's to have her mutism appraised by a healer. The healer welcomed her and looked at her throat while poking it with her wand.

'So... Paralysis of the vocal folds, eh? Let me see... Oh. Oh.'

At once she left the room and called for another healer. This one was a red-faced obese man. He looked at Athene's throat just like the previous healer had done and let out a loud whistle.

'Thas a nasty curse righ' there. An' quite a few of 'em piled up, too. No, I don' reckon we can fix this,' he thought for a moment, then added, 'Yer nor even in Hogwarts yet, yes? We'd hafta keep ye here fer years to—maybe—untangle that bonnie mess you have in yer throot. It's just not worth it fer somefink thas not gonner kill ye.'

So it was that Athene remained mute.

*****

Then, came the day she had so anxiously waited for. The owl with the Hogwarts letter had arrived! She bought the books from Flourish & Blotts, and practically charged at Ollivander's. She had been looking forward to buying a wand for four years, and finally, time had come!

When she stepped inside, she was welcomed by the smell of dust and wood polish. Ollivander, the elderly silvery-eyed wandmaker, was sitting on a high stool, reading a thick book the size of a square manhole cover. Ollivander fixed his pale eyes on Athene.

'Welcome. I am Ollivander. I presume you come for your first wand?' he said, sizing up the little girl, who had left her parents outside.

Athene nodded.

Ollivander's eyes narrowed.

'What is your name?' he asked.

Athene concentrated and managed to write her full name and the words 'I'm mute' in the air as beads of sweat rolled down her face.

If Ollivander's eyes had narrowed before, they opened wide now, as he said:

'Wandless magic! How wonderful! It is the gift of extraordinarily few wizards to perform it so seamlessly. I have heard, though, that it is more common in some other regions,' he praised her, 'Could it be that you are the muggle-born girl that has been holing down in the library these last few years?' Ollivander didn't wait for Athene to nod before adding, 'Rumours of you have ran their course throughout the shopkeeper community of Diagon Alley.'

Athene was a little surprised at the outburst. The wandmaker seemed like a good man, but his eyes made her a little uncomfortable. It seemed as though they were measuring her, weighing her every reaction.

'Let's see... ' Ollivander started rummaging around his shop. He pulled out a wand and tossed it at Athene, who barely caught it. 'Give it a try,' as Athene tried to levitate an ink pot, Ollivander added 'Beech wood, unicorn hair, ten inches.'

Athene focused and made the ink pot float a few centimetres. Yet... It didn't feel much easier than when she wasn't using a wand.

Ollivander scowled. His pale eyes gleamed from below his crumpled brow.

'Not quite it, no,' he muttered 'I thought it would work, since beech is said to work well with sorcerers who are open-minded and wise beyond their years, and its magic is subtle, delicate and careful,' he hesitated for a moment, then added, 'But it seems that these words do not entirely fit you.'

He snatched back the beech wand and tossed her another one.

'Try this one. Pine wood, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches.'

Athene pointed the wand. Suddenly, she felt like the wand was enthusiastic. It wanted to make the ink pot levitate. But once she let the ink pot down, suddenly she felt the wand wouldn't want to do it again. So, she tried something else: she tried a simple spell she had read about but never quite managed without a wand: the bluebell flame, a blue fire which only singes clothes and plants. At once, the wand took the initiative and Ollivander's shop was filled with a swarm of fist-sized azure fireballs floating motionlessly, drastically raising the temperature and illumination of the room. With another wave of her wand all the fireballs disappeared without a trace.

Ollivander was very impressed.

'Remarkable. I have rarely seen such a cooperation between a wand and a wizard,' he seemed to be stuck in contemplation.

Athene used her new wand to write a question in mid-air: 'It felt like the wand wanted me to do use the spell'

Ollivander gave her a sly, somewhat arch smile. But his eyes were not smiling. They were like silver bullets aimed at her head.

'I shall tell you what I tell all my clients, no, what all wandmakers have been trying to explain for centuries, Miss Kamimura, "the wand chooses the wizard," not the other way around.'

At this moment, Athene understood what many wizards never completely understand in the whole of their lives: that wands are sentient—or almost sentient—beings, akin to what her father had sometimes called a 'tsukumogami,' an object that develops an ego after being used for a long time.

Athene nodded wholeheartedly, and paid for her wand. Before she left, Ollivander stopped her.

'I shall give you a final piece of wisdom, Miss Kamimura,' he said, 'Pine wands will always accept new wisdom, are open to experimentation, and learn spells with extraordinary ease. They often attach themselves to independent and unknowable wizards and are—quite conveniently for you, I would say—among the most receptive for non-verbal spells. It is said that those who wield wands of pinewood will live long lives,' Ollivander paused, then continued, 'As for the core, dragon heart wands are said to be fickle and open-minded: they change owners easier, but they allow the owner to learn spells easily and their power is hard to match,' Ollivander finished his explanation and hesitated for a moment, 'Miss Kamimura, you are of a very unusual disposition. I make wands only with three cores: dragon heartstrings, unicorn hairs and phoenix feathers. I do so because I find that these three materials make the finest wands. However, on occasion, I meet people like you, Miss Kamimura: people who make me question whether I should start to make wands with other materials... You see, I find that none of the three cores I use would suit you. Certainly, the wand you have bought today will serve you faithfully... but it will one day fail you. It will abandon you, or break, no doubt. This is because it doesn't fit you, Miss Kamimura. I have little doubt that one day, you will be wiser in wandlore, and you will tailor yourself a wand which fits your delicate hands,' Ollivander's argentine eyes glimmered once more in the gloom of the cramped shop, 'Goodbye, Miss Kamimura. May we meet again.'

As Athene left the shop, she forced herself to ignore the chills running down her back. The visit to the elder wandmaker's workshop had been nerve-wracking. 'What an intense old man!' she had thought. However, she forced the experience into the back of her mind and she went on to get a robe at Madam Malkin's.

*****

September, the first, 1993. Having said goodbye to her parents, Athene sat on an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express reading a copy of 'Analysis of Chants and Incantations I' by Griselda Marchbanks. It was a riveting textbook/thesis on the different elements in magical incantations, particularly long ones. With a tight enough grip on the function of incantation grammar, altering the spells by adding, suppressing or changing clause elements would become possible; allowing the potency, effect and other attributes of the spell in question to be adjusted at will. This was greatly exciting for Athene.

Somebody knocked on the compartment door. She raised her sight from the book and saw a freckled girl with ash brown hair and big green eyes. She gestured for her to come in. The girl introduced herself:

'Hi. I'm Jeanne Arkwright. I'm from Bangor.' she said, somewhat meekly.

Athene smiled and signalled for Jeanne to sit next to her. She then pulled out her wand. Jeanne jumped a little when she did, but when she pointed towards the wall instead of at her, she relaxed. Athene waved it and glowing silver letters appeared in mid-air: 'Hello! I'm Athene Kamimura. I'm from London. I'm mute, so I can only talk to you like this (unless you know sign language.)'

'I know a little. I had a deaf classmate in elementary school. If I don't understand a sign, please explain.'

Athene felt a little more relaxed. She put her wand away, bookmarked 'Analysis of Chants and Incantations' and started signing. They spent a few minutes chatting: Athene would sign and Jeanne would speak, sometimes interrupting Athene's signing to ask what a specific sign meant.

Not long after, the door was slammed open. A group of girls chatting among themselves sat across from them without asking permission and proceeded to ignore them. Athene and Jeanne both thought it was impolite of them, but ignored them back and continued to chat.

Soon, the Hogwarts express started moving. Athene and Jeanne were engrossed in their conversation and didn't notice that it was getting dark outside, even when it wasn't nearly late enough. Neither did they notice that the draught that was flowing in from the car corridor was a little too chilly.

Well, at least, they didn't notice until the lights went out and the train braked in the darkness. Alarmed, some of the girls next to them lit the tip of their wands... They came to regret that decision soon.

That was because all they achieved was to illuminate the monster that was gliding a few inches from the ground past the now open compartment door.

Athene recognised it from a catalogue of dangerous magical creatures, and several other girls seemed to have recognised it too. The inhumanly tall figure, the hooded face and the rotten skin; put together with the cold air it emanated and the disgusting sense of revulsion it caused, there could be no doubt: this was a dementor.

Athene scrambled to remember all she could on dementors: They were non-beings, therefore amortal. Not useful. They feed on cheer, joy, warmth, heat and eventually, human souls. Not helpful. They could only be chased off with the Patronus charm, which was a spell of high complexity only accomplished wizards could use to the fullest, and the basics of which weren't even taught before the seventh year in Hogwarts. Particularly not useful. They stalked the night and appeared in places which were cold and dark. Useful? Maybe.

Athene took a step forward. Half the people in the compartment looked like they were on the verge of vomiting, and the other half looked on the verge of tears. She stepped out of the compartment and closed the door behind her. She stared down the dementor, trying not to think about the fact that they ate souls. She pulled out her wand. The dementor tried to move forward, but Athene pointed at it with her wand and thought: 'No, you stay put.'

She began to form an incantation in her mind, applying the principles she had just read in 'Analysis of Chants and Incantations.'

'I am one who moves the stalwart earth and the stars,

I breed the Flames which burn wide and far,

I am one who stills the flowing rivers and the ever-shifting moon,

O Flame, rise even higher until the sky itself is consumed!'

A circle of blinding white flames surrounded the dementor, who, while not injured, was clearly not untroubled by the spell. As Athene repeated the incantation in her head she rolled her wand over and over, and visualised herself weaving threads of white fire into a giant cocoon. The last time, she changed the incantation.

'I am one who stirs the abyss of endless gloom,

I am the Herald of the warmth that dispels the doom,

I am the spider who welcomes the blinding light of dawn,

I carry the glow of the falling star of the morn,

O Father Sun, by my curse stop Time itself to banish the dark!'

At once, the dementor was wrapped in white chains. They seemed to weigh the creature down. Athene pinned the chains on the corridor floor and collapsed bottom first against a wall. Her eyes weren't focusing very well and beads of sweat were running down her cheeks. Her heart was racing in her chest. She was panting. The sheer amount of concentration it had taken her to immobilise the dementor had drained her completely. She doubted she could get up. She felt her control over the chains starting to fade, and she tried to recover the hardest she could, but she couldn't. As the chains disappeared and the dementor rushed at her, she shut her eyes, casting a shield charm.

But before the dementor reached her, a blinding silver light bathed the corridor.

A man in shabby, darn-covered robes was holding a lit wand and bending over her. He looked scrawny and gaunt.

'Are you alright?' he asked her, 'have some chocolate. It'll make you feel better.'

Athene took a bite of the chocolate and found she now had the strength to at least stumble to her feet. Without thinking, she signed 'thank you.' As the man looked at her in confusion, she hurriedly wrote the words with her wand.

The man smiled.

'You're very welcome,' suddenly he turned, 'I'm terribly sorry. I have to make sure the rest of the train is safe. I'll see you later.'

Athene waved goodbye with her hand as the man sped down the corridor. She opened the door to the compartment only to find half a dozen wands pointed at her nose.

'D— Did you drive it away?' stuttered a shivering girl who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Athene slowly shook her head 'no'.

'A man—a teacher, I guess—came and chased it away. I couldn't even slow it down.' she wrote in mid-air.

'Still. It was brave of you to do that. I'm sure you're gonna end up in Griffindor,' another girl, who wasn't shivering, but who was visibly unwell (green) said.

Athene gave her a polite smile but didn't write anything back. She hadn't done that out of altruism, she had done it because, 1. it hadn't looked like anyone was going to save them, and Athene had no plans of letting her soul be eaten (she would have gladly killed herself before that;) 2. because getting paralysed with fear almost always equals dying; and 3. because she was to a certain degree curious as to how she would fare against a dementor without the Patronus charm at her disposition.

Athene signed Jeanne, who also looked like she was on the verge of tears, that she wanted to sleep what little was left of the journey. She changed into her robes and fell asleep against Jeanne's shoulder.