In the briefest moment following her Apparition in the Map Room, a warm voice greeted Oleandra as she looked up to take in her surroundings. She'd half-expected as much, having already noticed the four gigantic, empty portrait frames in the memory drawn from Dumbledore's Pensieve.
"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, how good of you to visit, it has certainly been a while…?"
The voice trailed off as its owner noticed Oleandra was not who he had expected. One after the other, the three other portraits came to life, their subjects stepping into frame and joining the bearded old man who had first addressed Oleandra; a rather rotund, clean-shaven Wizard, a young Middle Eastern Wizard wearing a turban, and a Witch who looked as though she'd taken to wearing her house's drapes.
Oleandra glanced down; she was standing in a circular pool of water, and yet, her shoes did not feel wet.
"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" said the old man, peering down at Oleandra. "Where is Dumbledore? I was not made aware of a replacement; he is still the Headmaster of Hogwarts, is he not?"
"Professor Dumbledore is dead," Oleandra replied succinctly. "He was replaced by Professor Snape at the beginning of the term."
Shocked gasps rang out from each of the portraits.
"That cannot be!" exclaimed the portly wizard, looking quite flustered. "A man so beloved by ancient magic ought to have easily lived to a hundred and thirty!"
"…ancient magic?" Oleandra prompted.
The four portraits peered down at her from their gilded frames, eyes narrowing warily.
"Something does not add up, fellow Keepers," said the turbaned man, casting a glance at the portraits to his right. "This student is clearly not the Professor Snape she mentioned, nor does she seem to possess any understanding of ancient magic. The passages leading to this chamber ought to have caved in long ago— so how, then, has she come by the knowledge to reach it?"
Oleandra was no longer listening to the four portraits.
In her mind's eye, the light of all twenty-four ancient runes engraved upon her soul had not just dimmed or temporarily fizzled out, but completely gone out. She was standing upon a wellspring of power; directly beneath her feet lay the telluric knot where the two ley lines that fed Hogwarts converged, suppressing her connection to the stars.
The breath of the planet itself, in its purest form.
Suddenly, something strange within herself suddenly caught her attention.
With the twenty-four runes extinguished, Oleandra's innate gift as a Greater Fairy, to gaze inwards and behold her own soul, was fully unleashed. For the first time, she saw a light shimmering beneath the dark waters of the lake in her inner world, now that it no longer reflected the light from the stars above.
…
According to Oleandra's lessons, the Ancient Egyptians were the first to pioneer the magic of souls and death. They discovered the nine aspects of the soul each sentient being possessed, though they differed slightly between species.
The Khet, the physical body; the Sah, the spiritual body; the Ren, the name; the Ba, the personality; the Ka, the vital essence; the Ib, the heart; the Shut, the shadow; the Sekhem, the origin of magic; and the Akh, the intellect.
Nine, a most magical number, just as magical as seven.
In Muggles, the Sekhem was almost absent, preventing them from forming magical circuits. In humankind, both in Muggles and Wizards, the Shut represented nothing more than the residual genetic instincts of the species; but in Greater Fairies and certain other magical creatures, this shadow was the sum of their past incarnations.
…
Oleandra's physical body was that of a human, and her spiritual body was nearly identical to her actual form, since that was what she saw in the mirror after every meal when she went to brush her teeth. Lately, though, her perception of her inner self had begun to shift, adopting certain of Viviane's traits… but that was neither here nor there for the matter at hand.
Her skin, her physical form, was inked with ancient runes, and the outer layer of her soul, her spiritual body, bore the twenty-four runes… yet their magic penetrated no deeper. The twenty-four runes of the stars were meant to be carved into her soul to its very core, yet their scars had never reached deeper than the first two layers...
This was why Odin had failed to parasitise her; after all, she was only pretending to be human. When she died, Oleandra's soul would not be uploaded to the constellations like those of the Aesir, but return to the cycle of reincarnation like any other Fairy's. This was probably also why her Reflection Doppelganger was constantly glitching out; it could not properly access her soul's aspects.
"What is this…" Oleandra murmured.
Three lights shimmered at the bottom of the dark lake, clearly visible through the calm surface.
Tonks's stolen Metamorphmagus talent, which was trying to merge her Khet with her Sah, her physical and spiritual forms. Umbridge's magic circuits, bolstering her Sekhem, her original source of magic. The Diricawl's innate Apparition magic, flitting here and there…
There was more, but…
"Restrain her, we'll find out how she got here one way or another," came a voice from above. "Niamh, would you kindly go to your other portrait and inform the current Headmaster that we have an intruder?"
"I'll be right back," said the Witch, walking out of frame and vanishing.
Oleandra snapped out of her introspection. The waters of the pool beneath her feet rippled violently, and she sprang back as five suits of empty armour rose from the inch-deep surface. Had she hesitated a moment longer, they would have surrounded her.
"I saw her react to the ancient magic a split second before it could animate the guardians," remarked the rotund Wizard. "She can see traces of ancient magic, just like we do!"
"In that case, we might as well make this apprehension into a trial," said the turbaned man. "It's a shame the Athenaeum collapsed, or we could have tested this candidate properly."
Oleandra plunged her hand into the liquid at her feet, and her fingers closed around the hilt of the Sword of the Lake. With a flourish, she pulled out the sword and took up a stance, warily eyeing the empty suits of armour mechanically approaching her.
"Oho!" exclaimed the grey-bearded man. "Following in Gryffindor's footsteps, eh?"
"Come and have a go," Oleandra said grimly, raising her sword. "If you think you're hard enough."