HP: Black's Child

Aster sat tucked in a far corner of the library, where the lamps barely reached and few students ever wandered. Books were scattered around him, but his eyes weren't on the pages.

Hermione sat close, closer than she needed to. Nyx was perched on the back of the chair beside her, silent, watching.

Aster glanced at her, skeptical. "You need Polyjuice Potion? Why?"

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "To infiltrate Slytherin..." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aster slowly ran his palm down his face, then rested it against his forehead.

"Let me guess. Ron and Harry don't trust me?"

Hermione's lips pressed together. She nodded. But Aster noticed that her eyes never left his, and there was no guilt in her expression. Just worry.

He sighed. Deeply. "I understand…"

He paused before asking, quieter this time, "How do you plan to get it?"

Hermione's voice shook a little. "So… Harry has the Invisibility Cloak. He thought he could sneak into Snape's private stores and… steal the ingredients…"

Aster slowly exhaled, the breath long and tight with frustration."Who was the idiot who made this plan?" he snapped. "Let me guess, Ron?"

He didn't wait for confirmation.

"Brewing Polyjuice is dangerous. Complicated. You think Harry can manage it? Ron? No. Of course not. And they want you to do all the work. They're using you as a crutch, again."

His voice rose as anger pushed through."You'd waste weeks, maybe months, preparing it. Risk being expelled. For what?"

Hermione stayed silent, but her heart was pounding, not from fear, but from the force behind his voice, the way he was angry for her.

Aster closed his eyes. Then, when he spoke again, his tone was cooler, but still edged with fire.

"Snape has a full barrel of Polyjuice. Already brewed. Locked in his stores."

Hermione blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"Ask Fred and George. They stole some once, used it for a prank." Aster leaned back. "Shouldn't Ron remember that?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came.

Nyx gave a quiet croak, like a sarcastic chuckle.

——————————————————————————————

Aster approached the Gryffindor table. The chatter died almost instantly.

Students shifted in their seats, clearing a path, except for the Weasleys and Harry, who remained still, unmoved.

Aster stopped before them. Calm on the surface, but there was steel beneath his voice.

"So, I heard you need Polyjuice Potion?" He held out three small flasks.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at them, unsure.

"I know you don't trust me," Aster continued, slow and deliberate, as if dragging every word through the anger boiling beneath.

"Still... Harry, I took the spell for you. I died for you."

His voice didn't shake, but it hit. The entire hall had stilled to listen.

Aster opened his mouth to go on, but Harry cut in.

"I should have taken the spell," Harry said, eyes steady on Aster.

"You may not remember what happened after... but I do. You weren't yourself. Not for a few minutes. Then you came back like nothing happened." His voice dropped. "It scared me."

He glanced down, then started again, barely above a whisper."What if Vol—"

"Mate!" Ron hissed, grabbing his arm. "Don't say it!" His face was pale.

Ginny, seated beside Ron, nodded quietly in agreement.

Hermione, however, was firm. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Harry gave Ron a glance of apology. "Fine. You-Know-Who. What if... he can take over your body? I don't want to think that, but… what if I'm wrong about you?"

The question hung in the air.

Aster's anger dimmed. His voice was calm now. Too calm.

"Okay. So you don't trust what I could be."He looked at Harry, then Ron. "But I wasn't asleep during either attack. I was there for the first. You saw me. It wasn't me."

Ron crossed his arms. "And the locket?" he asked, nodding at the pendant clearly visible around Aster's neck.

Aster reached up, fingers brushing it. "Dumbledore said it protects me. It's mine."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And your visit to the hospital wing? It was the same day Colin was attacked. The day of the match."

Aster didn't flinch. "When I got there, Colin was already on the ground. Dumbledore and McGonagall know the timeline. If it were me... I wouldn't be standing here."

There was silence. Even Fred and George, usually quick to mock or defuse, said nothing.

Aster took a step back, letting the stillness settle.

"You'll need something from your targets: hair, saliva, skin. Something to use."

He glanced at Harry and Ron. "Crabbe and Goyle are your best bets."

Hermione nodded, quietly grateful.

Aster added, looking at Hermione, "You'll have better luck with Millicent Bulstrode. She's careless. And always alone."

He turned to leave, Nyx swooping in silently to his side.

——————————————————————————————

Hogwarts – Open Courtyard, Minutes Later

The moon hung high, casting silver light over the ancient stones of the courtyard nestled at the heart of the castle. Wind whispered between the arches, stirring leaves and cloaks alike.

Hermione followed the faint echo of retreating footsteps, her own careful and silent. She knew this place; students rarely came here at night.

Then—

Crack.

The sound of bone. Sharp. Familiar. Too familiar.

Her breath caught. It was the same kind of sound Harry's arm made when it broke.

She hurried behind a tree near the edge of the open space and peeked around it.

Aster stood alone in the moonlight.

Convulsing.

His arms trembled, his shoulders arching unnaturally. His back jerked once, then again.

Crack. Crack.

Bones realigning. Not breaking, changing.

His eyes flared through a carousel of colors—red, blue, gold, green—like magic didn't know what to settle on.

Claws pushed out from his fingers, long and dark like onyx. Not elegant like a wolf's, too crooked, too jagged.

Hermione's heart raced. Her mind screamed Animagus, but this wasn't a transformation into any known creature. It was wild, fractured, incomplete.

His form twisted, distorted, like his very body couldn't decide what to be.

Then—

Stillness.

Aster dropped to one knee, breathing hard. His hands, human again, pressed to the ground. His spine straightened. The colors in his eyes dimmed back to their usual shade, steady and deep.

He was Aster again.

His body had decided.

Hermione didn't speak. She was too stunned, too afraid to startle him—but also something else. Concern.

The kind that coils in your chest when you see someone breaking and holding themselves together at the same time.

Aster was breathing heavily, alone again in the moonlight. The courtyard was quiet, but not empty.

Unseen by Hermione, in the deeper shadows under one of the stone archways...

Ginny watched.

Or rather, something wearing Ginny's face did.

The diary dangled loosely in her fingers, ink swirling unnaturally across its cover like it was breathing. Her eyes, no longer brown, shone red, a cold, glowing red, like twin embers behind a porcelain mask.

She didn't blink.

She didn't flinch at the transformation she'd just witnessed.

Instead, she smiled.

Not a child's smile. Not Ginny's.

A knowing smile.

She turned slowly and walked back into the castle, steps quiet, graceful—too graceful.

The diary pulsed once in her hand.

And the shadows followed her.

——————————————————————————————

Minutes Later — Moonlit Courtyard

Aster stirred, the cold of the stone floor biting at his back. His head rested on something warm, something soft.

His eyes fluttered open.

"Mione...?" he murmured, voice hoarse and quiet.

It slipped out before he could stop it.

Mione. He hadn't called her that in months.

He blinked up at her. Her face was calm, though her eyes shimmered. He was half-asleep still, mind foggy. It felt like a dream.

But the cold stone was real. The chill in his bones was real.

He lifted a hand and gently touched her hair. So soft. So familiar.

He pinched her cheek.

Hermione flinched slightly. "What are you doing, idiot?"

Aster looked away quickly, cheeks faintly red. "Just... making sure you weren't a dream," he muttered.

Silence hung between them, not uncomfortable, just heavy, loaded with everything they couldn't say yet.

Then Hermione broke it, voice quiet but sharp with worry."What is happening to you, moron?"

Aster stayed quiet. He wanted to deflect, to joke, to lie.

But when he finally looked at her, really looked—

Her eyes were damp.

She wasn't scared of him, she was scared of what was stealing him, piece by piece, while she watched and couldn't stop it.

Hermione stared at him, and Aster could see the thoughts flickering behind her eyes. She wanted to ask more. But she didn't press, not yet.

She just stayed there, gently cradling his head in her lap.

And for the first time in weeks, Aster didn't feel alone.

Shift

In the distant corridor, the diary pulsed again. Once. Like a heartbeat.

Hermione's hand was still in place, but Aster was gone.

No wind, no sound, no flash of magic.

Just gone.

She blinked once, twice, her hand trembling now as it touched only the cold stone beneath her.

"…Aster?"