Time passed, as it so often does, and before Oleandra knew it, the final day of August had arrived. She had spent most of that time confined to her small room on the first floor of the Leaky Cauldron, frantically flipping through her sixth-year schoolbooks in a last-ditch effort to cram half a year's worth of missed lessons into less than a month.
Though she had missed Hogwarts' end-of-year examinations, Professor Snape had granted her an exemption, permitting her to take her chosen subjects into seventh year. Otherwise, she would have been forced to repeat the year with the new sixth-years— which would have been rather mortifying for the woman said to have brought down the greatest Wizard of his age.
And so, on the morning of the thirty-first of August, Oleandra began packing her things— and swiftly found herself standing in the middle of her empty room with the realisation that now that the job was done, she had nothing much to do. Harry and his friends had taken everything that wasn't nailed down when they'd searched her room, leaving her with very little to pack.
Oleandra briefly entertained the idea of consulting Dumbledore's diary, but it lay at the bottom of her magical pouch with the rest of her sixth- and seventh-year schoolbooks, and identifying it among the others would assuredly be a bother. The Undetectable Extension Charm placed upon the pouch was on its last legs, for the Witch who usually refreshed it for her each year had vanished under mysterious circumstances, leaving its insides… rather crowded.
Learning to Disapparate and to perform Undetectable Extension Charms were at the top of Oleandra's list of skills to master this school year, before she inevitably found herself on the run for murder… again.
"Only this time," Oleandra told herself wryly, "it won't be a false accusation."
"What would?"
Oleandra whirled on the spot, three fingers of her left hand already extended in the mudra of Elhaz, while those of her right curled into the seal of Thursaz. But when she saw the young girl sitting on her bed, swinging her short legs over the edge and grinning, Oleandra sighed and lowered her guard— though not entirely.
"Hel's bells, Mai," said Oleandra in annoyance. "You do know I'm being watched, right?"
As far as the Wizarding World was concerned, Mai Dulac was Muggle-Born— never mind that she had been not one, but two of the most fearsome Dark witches the world had ever known in her past lives. No bounty hunter would ask the young thirteen-year-old Witch about her incarnations before throwing her to the Muggle-Born Registration Commission!
"I've yet to meet my equal in this life," Mai sniggered. "The Wizard who can stop me going where I please hasn't been born."
"I am standing right here," said Oleandra irritably, pointing at herself. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"
Mai raised her hand to eye level and inspected her fingernails, as though a particularly stubborn speck of dirt had lodged itself beneath them. Oleandra assumed the girl was on the run from Death Eaters, Heliopaths, or some combination of the two— and yet her nails were immaculate, her dress not the slightest bit ruffled or soiled.
"Last I checked, you were a member of the Order of the Round Table, dear sister," she said, blowing imaginary lint from her palm. "The time has come to pay your dues."
"I believe I've more than repaid my debt to your parents for the few Galleons they lent me to buy my fifth-year school supplies," Oleandra said drily. "Besides, I thought Voldemort uprooted the entire organisation two years ago."
Mai merely shrugged.
"Well, we're both still alive, aren't we?" she said. "The time has come to start our… rebellious activities. The chaos of transition has always traditionally been the perfect time to seize some benefits, and I do believe the position of Queen of the Realm has just opened up…"
…
Mai's previous incarnation Morgan le Fay had once been a queen herself— the Queen of Orkney, to be precise. As Anna, she had tricked her half-brother King Arthur into giving her a son, who had grown up to become Mordred, the Knight of Treachery. Morgan's attempt to use their son to seize the crown of the Kingdom of Logres, which at the time covered much of the British Isles and even extended over the Channel into France, had fortunately failed… though Arthur had suffered grievous wounds as a result.
Not knowing what to do with the dying man, and with the prophecy of Avalon's revival resting on the Saviour's survival, Viviane had placed him into stasis, opened a one-way portal to Avalon, and sent him through. There he remained to this day, suspended in a perpetual state of half-life and half-death, stranded in the plane between planes, caught midway between the world of the dead and the world of the living.
…
Oleandra clenched her fists until the whites of her knuckles showed, though she outwardly displayed no other sign of her anger. If it hadn't been for Mai's previous incarnation, Viviane would already have fulfilled the prophecy and restored Avalon from that dreadful place— and Oleandra herself would not have been set upon this self-destructive path…
"Well, you are right about one thing," Mai went on absentmindedly. "The Order's presence in the British Isles has been almost completely eliminated, and with the world in its current state, we can't expect reinforcements from the Continent."
As powerful as they were, Oleandra and Mai were still only two people. Though two was marginally better than one, it was infinitesimal compared to You-Know-Who's forces, bolstered by the Department of Mysteries' brainwashed army of Muggle-Born and foreign magical mercenaries.
"Get to the point," said Oleandra flatly.
Mai reached into her trouser pockets and retrieved a familiar-looking pamphlet.
"According to Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society, they're rounding up my kind," Mai said, grinning. "Convenient, eh? It's almost as if they're gathering our army for us. How very nice of them."
"And let me guess, you want my help to break them out," Oleandra sighed. "You do realise my runic magic doesn't work underground, right?"
It just so happened that Oleandra had left a Tree-Portation rune in the holding cells on the tenth underground level of the Ministry of Magic… but the problem was that once she appeared there, the magic of the stars would completely cease functioning, or at best, her spells would come out after a rather lengthy delay.
The first time she had been forced to fight underground was in the Chamber of Secrets. Oleandra had resorted to channelling magic beyond her control by invoking the ALU power word, composed of Ansuz, Laukaz, and Uruz, and even after sharing the burden with Daphne, she had ended up hospitalised.
The second time had been during her duel with Voldemort in the Ministry's eight level, the Atrium. Fortunately, the Fountain of Magical Brethren had been nearby, allowing her to mystically link its waters to a lake on the surface, channelling the magic of the stars through the Aquamirror Reflecting the Heavens.
While she could probably repeat the feat— as long as they hadn't torn down the Fountain of the Magical Sisters after Dumbledore's death— the real problem was simply getting there. Last time, the Ministry had been almost empty, but this time, Oleandra was certain she would encounter far more resistance if she attempted to break out the Muggle-Born…