60. Starting Anew

The sound of footsteps heralded Kreacher's arrival, the old house-elf appearing at the door with a demeanor that was a blend of reluctance and duty. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Apollyon sitting up in bed, a reaction that was as close to surprise as his gruff nature would allow.

"Mistress is awake," he muttered under his breath, though the tone lacked the warmth one might expect at such a reunion. Instead, his voice carried the usual cantankerous edge he was known for, especially towards those he didn't hold in high regard—which, it seemed, included Apollyon, despite her being Sirius's daughter.

"Yes, Kreacher," Sirius said, following closely behind the house-elf. "Apollyon is awake and hungry. What have you prepared for her?"

Kreacher's lips curled into something resembling a sneer, but he stepped aside to reveal a tray he had been carrying. "Kreacher has made beef stew and bread, with some treacle tart for dessert," he announced, though the pride in his cooking did not quite erase the disdain from his tone. "It will fill the stomach and warm the blood," he added, almost as an afterthought, setting the tray down on a table near the bed.

Apollyon eyed the food, the rich aroma of the beef stew wafting towards her and igniting a hunger she hadn't realized was so intense. "Thank you, Kreacher," she said, attempting to inject a note of gratitude into her voice, despite the house-elf's obvious lack of affection for her.

Kreacher merely huffed, giving a curt nod before turning to leave. "Kreacher serves the House of Black," he mumbled, almost to himself, as he shuffled out of the room, his duty fulfilled.

Sirius watched him go, a slight frown marring his features, before turning back to Apollyon with a more cheerful expression. "Don't mind Kreacher. He's...set in his ways. But his cooking is exceptional. You should eat; you'll feel better."

Apollyon turned her attention to the tray, the stew still steaming, a thick slice of bread beside it, and the treacle tart promising a sweet finish. Despite Kreacher's gruff delivery, the food looked nourishing and comforting—exactly what she needed after the day's revelations and emotional upheaval.

Picking up the spoon, she tasted the stew, the flavors rich and hearty, a testament to Kreacher's skill in the kitchen. With each bite, she felt a little more grounded, the warmth of the food spreading through her, a simple pleasure in a world that had become overwhelmingly complex.

As she ate, Sirius sat with her, their conversation drifting to lighter topics, a tacit agreement to give her time to adjust, to settle into this new reality before delving into the myriad questions and challenges that lay ahead. For now, the focus was on the present, on the act of eating, of taking strength from the food and the company.

The meal served as a bridge, connecting her to the House of Black in a way she hadn't anticipated—through the simple, universal act of sharing food, even if the house-elf who prepared it held reservations about her presence. It was a reminder that life, with all its complexities, also contained moments of straightforward, uncomplicated humanity—or, in this case, the semblance of it provided by the magical world.

Finishing the tart, Apollyon felt a sense of satiety, not just of the body but of the spirit. The meal, in its own subtle way, had offered her a moment of normalcy, a reminder that despite the upheavals and mysteries, she could find comfort in the small, familiar acts of daily life

After finishing her meal, Apollyon pushed the tray aside, feeling a warmth that went beyond the simple act of eating. Sirius had remained with her throughout, an unspoken guard against the solitude that the revelations of the day might have otherwise imposed. His presence, once a source of confusion and fear in her previous understanding of him, now offered a sense of security and belonging she hadn't known she needed.

"Feeling better?" Sirius asked, his tone gentle, eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and concern.

"Yes, much," Apollyon replied, offering a small smile that felt more genuine than any she had managed since waking in this new reality. "Thank you, Sirius. For everything."

Sirius nodded, a look of relief crossing his face. "Good. Remember, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together."

Their conversation then shifted, Sirius taking the opportunity to fill in some of the gaps in Apollyon's understanding of her current situation. He spoke of the wizarding world's state, the subtle shifts in alliances and powers, and the undercurrents of unease that permeated the community. He explained his role and activities since his exoneration, his involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, and the continuous struggle against the dark forces that sought to disrupt the fragile peace.

Apollyon listened intently, absorbing every detail. With each word, she was piecing together the broader context of her existence in this timeline, understanding the stakes, and the role she might play in the unfolding events. The realization that she could make a difference, that her unique experiences and abilities could contribute to the fight, sparked a renewed sense of purpose within her.

As the conversation wound down, Sirius stood, stretching slightly. "It's been a long day for you. Rest is important—especially now. We'll have plenty of time to talk more, to plan, and to prepare."

Apollyon nodded, feeling the weight of the day's emotional and physical tolls catching up with her. "I will. And Sirius?" she paused, looking up at him. "I'm glad you're here. Truly."

Sirius's expression softened, a smile breaking through. "I am too, Apollyon. Goodnight."

With that, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Left in the comforting silence, Apollyon lay back against her pillows, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Despite the upheaval, the fears, and the uncertainties, she felt an undercurrent of excitement for the first time since her arrival in this new world. There was much to learn, much to do, and challenges to face, but the sense of being part of something larger, of having a place and a purpose, filled her with a determination she had not felt before. She would make a difference this time.

Apollyon's eyelids grew heavy as the emotional and physical toll of the day caught up with her. The last thoughts that fluttered through her mind before sleep claimed her were filled with determination and a newfound sense of belonging. She drifted off into a peaceful slumber, a stark contrast to the tumultuous journey that had led her to this point.

Outside her room, Sirius moved quietly down the hallway, his mind racing with the day's conversations and revelations. He found himself in his study, a room filled with books, parchment, and various magical artifacts, all illuminated by the soft glow of a solitary candle.

Sirius had spent countless hours here, researching Obscurials, driven by a desperate need to understand the condition that afflicted his daughter. The discovery of Apollyon's true nature had been a shock, one that had sent him diving into the depths of magical theory and history in search of answers.

Sitting at his desk, he opened a well-worn tome, its pages filled with ancient texts and theories about Obscurials. The more he learned, the more horrified he became at the realization of what Apollyon must have endured in her younger years. For an Obscurial to emerge, a child had to face significant trauma and repression of their magical abilities, a thought that gnawed at him with guilt and sorrow.

Yet, as he closed the book, pushing it aside, Sirius took a moment to reflect on Apollyon's current state. She didn't seem to remember the pain of her past, a small mercy amidst the turmoil. And now, she was back under his care, a responsibility he did not take lightly.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his eyes lost in the flickering candlelight, contemplating the path forward. Apollyon's resilience and strength offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to right the wrongs of the past. But it also underscored the importance of the present, of providing her with the support and love she needed to heal and to harness her immense potential for good.

His resolve hardened, Sirius knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. The wizarding world was a complex tapestry of allegiances and power struggles, and introducing Apollyon into the mix, with her unique abilities and heritage, would undoubtedly stir the waters further. Yet, he was determined to stand by her side, to guide and protect her as they navigated this new chapter of their lives together.

With a final glance at the quiet darkness outside his window, Sirius stood, extinguishing the candle with a flick of his wand. It was time to rest, to gather strength for the days ahead. The fight against the darkness was ongoing, but for the first time in a long while, Sirius felt they were not facing it alone.

The next morning, Apollyon awoke with the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains, a restlessness stirring within her. Despite the exhaustion of the previous day, her mind was too active, too filled with thoughts and questions to allow her to remain in bed. She rose quietly, dressing in silence, and made her way down the corridor with the intention of finding Kreacher to ask for some breakfast.

The house was quiet, the rest of its occupants still lost to sleep, giving the halls a serene, almost eerie, calm. Apollyon found Kreacher in the kitchen, busily preparing for the day ahead. The old house-elf looked up with a start as she entered, his expression souring slightly upon seeing her.

"Mistress Apollyon is up early," Kreacher grumbled, not quite hiding his displeasure at the disruption to his morning routine.

"Yes, I am," Apollyon replied, opting for politeness despite Kreacher's evident reluctance to engage. "Could I have some breakfast, please? Just something simple."

Kreacher muttered under his breath but nodded, moving to prepare a plate of toast and tea. Apollyon watched him work, the quiet of the kitchen punctuated only by the sounds of Kreacher's movements. She took the moment to gather her thoughts, to plan her day.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said as he set the plate and cup before her. The house-elf merely huffed in response, turning away to busy himself with his other duties.

As she ate, Apollyon's thoughts turned to the wealth of knowledge that awaited her in the house. "Kreacher," she began, hesitating slightly to catch his attention. "Is there a study or library in the house where I can...look up some things?"

Kreacher paused, his back still turned to her. After a moment, he replied grudgingly, "Yes, Mistress. There is the master's study, and then there is the library. The master's study is not for others, but the library is open."

"Could you show me to the library, please?" Apollyon asked, her interest piqued by the prospect of delving into the Black family's collection of books and scrolls.

With a visible sigh, Kreacher led the way out of the kitchen and through the twisting corridors of the house. The library he brought her to was vast, its shelves lined with ancient tomes and modern works alike, a treasure trove of magical knowledge and history.

"Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all for now," Apollyon said as she stepped into the room, her eyes wide with anticipation.

Left alone, she wandered between the rows of shelves, her fingertips brushing against the spines of the books. Here, in the silence of the library, surrounded by the accumulated wisdom of generations, Apollyon felt a deep sense of purpose. She was determined to learn, to understand the intricacies of this world she had been thrust into, and to find her place within it.

Pulling a book from the shelf, she settled into a chair by the window, the early morning light providing the perfect illumination.

The book Apollyon chose was a dense volume titled "The Arcane Arts of Defensive Magic." Its cover was a rich, dark leather, embossed with silver runes that seemed to shimmer in the morning light, suggesting a depth of magical knowledge that was both ancient and potent. The book, obviously well-used but meticulously cared for, opened to a page marked by a silk ribbon, indicating its previous reader's place.

Apollyon's eyes scanned the contents with a practiced ease. Despite the complexity of the subjects outlined within, her advanced understanding of magic—gleaned from her experiences and studies in her previous life—allowed her to grasp the concepts readily. The book delved into advanced defensive spells, protective enchantments, and the theory behind magical shields, topics that fascinated her given her unique circumstances and the potential threats she might face.

As she absorbed the information, Apollyon also took the time to reinforce her Occlumency shields. The discipline of Occlumency, the art of shielding one's mind against external penetration or influence, was something she had learned out of necessity in her previous existence. Now, she found herself revisiting and strengthening these mental barriers, using memories from her past life as a foundation. This dual task of studying and mental fortification not only honed her magical defenses but also provided a much-needed sense of control and security.

Her method was meticulous: with each new concept or spell she encountered in the book, she paused to integrate the knowledge into a memory from her past, weaving it into the fabric of her Occlumency shields. This process not only helped solidify her grasp of the advanced magical theories but also reinforced her mental defenses, making them more robust and impervious to potential psychic intrusion.

The library, with its vast collection and serene ambiance, proved to be the perfect sanctuary for such work. Surrounded by the accumulated wisdom of centuries, Apollyon felt a kinship with the generations of wizards and witches whose knowledge filled these shelves. She was, in many ways, a product of their legacy, standing on the shoulders of those who had come before, armed with the knowledge and skills to face the challenges of her new reality.

Sirius, having noticed Apollyon's absence at breakfast, began to search the house, a slight concern knitting his brow. The tranquility of the early morning gave way to a low hum of activity as the day progressed, but Apollyon was nowhere among it. His search led him to the library, a place he himself frequented often and one he suspected might draw Apollyon's curious mind.

He paused at the doorway, observing her for a moment unnoticed. She was engrossed in "The Arcane Arts of Defensive Magic," her concentration palpable in the quiet of the room. Sirius's initial relief at finding her safe and sound shifted to surprise and then concern as he realized the nature of the text she was studying. The book was not only advanced but delved into areas of magic that were complex and demanding, even for experienced wizards.

"Apollyon?" Sirius finally announced his presence, stepping into the room. His voice held a mixture of curiosity and gentle admonishment. "Isn't that text a bit advanced for you?"

Apollyon looked up, her expression calm and focused, not betraying the depth of her understanding or the fact that she was far beyond the level the book presented to someone of her apparent age and experience. "I find it fascinating," she replied evenly, closing the book with a soft thud. "There's so much to learn, and I feel ready for it."

Sirius approached, taking a seat across from her. "I don't doubt your enthusiasm or your capabilities, Apollyon," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But magic, especially of this nature, requires a strong foundation. It's not just about the spells themselves but understanding the principles behind them, the responsibility that comes with such knowledge."

Sirius stood, his movements deliberate as he walked to a nearby shelf, his fingers tracing the spines of several books before selecting a few. He returned to the table, laying out the volumes in front of Apollyon. "These are more foundational texts," he explained, a gentle firmness in his voice. "They cover the basics of magical theory, spellcasting, and the ethical use of magic—all crucial for a well-rounded magical education."

Apollyon's initial reaction was one of mild annoyance. Having already experienced much of what the wizarding world had to offer, including its darker aspects, the suggestion to revisit materials designed for first-year Hogwarts students felt like a step backward. However, as she opened the first book, "The Essentials of Magic: A Foundation," she was surprised to find the content much richer and more in-depth than the standard textbooks she remembered.

The book delved into the nuances of magical theory with a precision and clarity that captivated her. It wasn't just a reiteration of basic spells and charms; it explored the underlying principles that governed magic, offering insights into how and why magic worked the way it did. The text was interspersed with historical contexts and philosophical questions, encouraging the reader to think critically about their magical practice.

Grudgingly, Apollyon had to admit there was value in revisiting the basics, especially when presented with such depth. Each page offered new perspectives or reinforced her understanding in ways she hadn't anticipated. The book on spellcasting techniques, for example, contained exercises for refining wand movements and concentration, essential skills for any wizard but often overlooked in more advanced studies.

As she progressed through the books Sirius had chosen, Apollyon found herself drawn into the study, her initial resistance giving way to genuine interest. The materials covered aspects of magic she had either taken for granted or not fully appreciated in her past life. She realized that mastery of magic wasn't just about the complexity or power of the spells one could cast but also about understanding the foundational elements that made such magic possible.

Sirius, observing from a distance, saw the change in her demeanor, the way she became engrossed in the texts. It reinforced his belief in the importance of a solid magical education, one that balanced the acquisition of knowledge with an understanding of its implications. He hoped that by grounding Apollyon in these principles, she would not only become a powerful witch but also a wise and responsible one.

For Apollyon, the experience was a humbling reminder that no matter how much one knew, there was always more to learn. The world of magic was vast and complex, filled with mysteries and wonders yet to be explored.

"The Essentials of Magic: A Foundation" was unlike any textbook Apollyon had encountered in her previous experiences at Hogwarts. As she turned its pages, she was drawn into a vivid explanation of the very fabric of magic and its operations within the wizarding world.

The book began with a detailed exploration of the "mana core," a concept that was seldom discussed in basic magical education. It described the mana core as a metaphysical wellspring within every magic user, from which their magical energy—referred to as "mana"—originated. The text elaborated on how this core was not just a reservoir of power but also a reflection of the wizard's identity, shaped by their experiences, beliefs, and innate characteristics.

One chapter, titled "Weaving Mana: The Art of Spellcraft," particularly captivated Apollyon. It outlined the process by which wizards and witches draw upon their mana to weave spells. Unlike the simplistic notion of merely reciting incantations and performing wand movements, this process was depicted as an intricate dance of channeling and shaping mana, requiring a deep connection between the caster's intent and their understanding of the spell's essence.

Illustrations accompanied the text, showing the flow of mana from the core, through the body, and out through the wand or fingertips. These visual aids depicted the mana as streams of light, intricately woven into patterns that corresponded to specific spells. The complexity of the weave varied from simple spells, which might require only basic patterns, to advanced magic that demanded highly complex and precise configurations of mana.

Another section delved into the "Resonance of Spellcasting," explaining how the effectiveness of a spell was not only determined by the caster's skill in weaving mana but also by the resonance between the caster's core and the nature of the spell. Spells aligned with the caster's intrinsic qualities or experiences were naturally more potent, suggesting a deeply personal dimension to magical practice that went beyond technical proficiency.

The book also emphasized the ethical implications of magic use, arguing that the act of spellcasting was an exchange with the magical fabric of the world. It posited that each spell cast left an imprint on the world's magical ecosystem, and as such, wizards and witches carried a responsibility to practice magic thoughtfully, with awareness of its broader impacts.

As Apollyon absorbed the book's teachings, she began to see her magical abilities in a new light. The concept of the mana core resonated with her, offering a framework to understand her own vast and sometimes unwieldy power. The idea that her experiences and inherent traits could influence her magic gave her a newfound appreciation for the depth and richness of her magical identity.

The book's exploration of mana weaving provided her with a more nuanced understanding of spellcasting, inspiring her to practice and experiment with her spells in ways she hadn't considered before. And the discussion on the ethical use of magic reminded her of the responsibilities that came with her abilities, reinforcing her determination to use her magic for good.

By the time Apollyon closed "The Essentials of Magic: A Foundation," she felt as though she had been given a key to unlocking new realms of magical possibility. The foundational knowledge it offered had not only expanded her understanding of how magic worked in this world but also deepened her connection to her own magical essence.

Emboldened by the insights gained from "The Essentials of Magic: A Foundation," Apollyon moved on to the second book Sirius had provided. This volume, titled "Fundamentals of Spellcasting," focused on the practical application of magic through basic spells. Although the spells it covered were elementary—ones typically taught to first-year Hogwarts students—Apollyon approached the material with an open mind, eager to explore how the foundational principles she had just learned could enhance even the simplest of spells.

Despite her enthusiasm, Apollyon quickly encountered a significant obstacle: she had no wand. The realization was a momentary setback, but recalling the book's earlier discussions on the nature of mana and the importance of intent in spellcasting, she decided to attempt the spells without it. The book suggested that while a wand was a powerful tool for focusing and amplifying magical energy, the essence of spellcasting lay in the wizard's ability to harness and shape their mana.

The first spell she attempted was the basic Lumos, a spell to conjure light. Sitting in the quiet of the library, Apollyon focused, extending her index finger as she would a wand. She concentrated on channeling her mana, weaving it into the specific pattern described in the book, and uttered the incantation, "Lumos."

Her initial attempts were met with frustration; nothing happened, no matter how focused her intent or how carefully she shaped her mana. Each failure, however, served as a learning experience, offering her insights into the nuances of mana manipulation without the aid of a wand.

Persistence paid off. After numerous tries, a weak but unmistakable glow emanated from the tip of her finger, casting a soft light in the dimness of the library. The success, however small, was a thrilling proof of concept, confirming that wandless magic was not only possible but also deeply rewarding.

It was at this moment of triumph that Sirius walked in. He stopped short at the sight of Apollyon, her finger glowing faintly in the semi-darkness of the room. A mix of surprise and admiration crossed his face as he took in the scene.

"Apollyon," he said, a note of wonder in his voice, "you're practicing wandless magic?"

She looked up, the glow from her finger illuminating her features in the dim light. "Yes," she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "I wanted to see if I could apply what I learned from the book. It took a few tries, but it worked."

Sirius approached, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern. "That's impressive," he admitted, "but wandless magic is advanced, even for experienced wizards. It's remarkable that you managed to cast Lumos without a wand, especially considering the complexity of channeling and shaping mana directly."

His words were both a compliment and a caution, acknowledging her achievement while reminding her of the care such practices required. Apollyon understood his concern and appreciated it. The success of the Lumos spell, however minor, was a significant step for her, demonstrating not only her potential for wandless magic but also the depth of her connection to her mana core.

Something she was happy carried over with her timeskip.