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DECEMBER FIRST YEAR
Brennan Castle has an ancient history, and, in true Brennan fashion, was stolen. According to family, the castle was conquered by a Meredith Brennan, a witch of exceptional gifts who was supposedly one of the first graduates from Hogwarts. Cunning, manipulative, and utterly beautiful, as soon as she laid eyes on the castle, she had wanted it. But rather than risk exposure as a witch by using magic to control or defeat the Lord of the castle, she seduced him, and slit his throat with a silver blade as he slumbered beside her. As the years past, the powerful enchantments she cast over the walls made the building fade from muggle memory, eventually disappearing altogether.
As Aurelia unpacks her trunks, releasing Hercules out of the velvet-draped window, she wonders what it's like to be a muggle- to only see the mundane, to walk past the Brennan Castle without seeing it. It's enchanted to simply look like a fog-shrouded island, separated from the land most of the day by a rising tide, sweeping away the natural path tsunami-style. If any muggle does get the chance to venture along the sweeping pathway, the waters draw over it, and they suddenly remember that they have something very important to do.
( Perhaps ignorance is bliss. )
"If the wind changes, girl, you'll be stuck with that face." Aurelia's scowl only deepens at the snap of the portrait behind her. It's her great grandmother- her father's grandmother- leaning down from a velvet chair and squinting at her through half-moon spectacles. Why the portrait has to be hung in her bedroom, she doesn't know- but it's probably because no one else can put up with her.
"Yes, grandmama," she says, biting the inside of her cheeks as she lays out the dress her mother had tailored at Madame Malkin's. It's a deep green- Slytherin green- and crushed velvet, but more worryingly is the corset that goes underneath. "And don't sigh! Your mother should have put you in those long before now," the elderly woman continues, tutting, "does she want your waist to lose shape? Once you have a husband-" "I'm sure a man won't marry me for my waist, grandmama." Aurelia says patiently, touching the embroidered bodice of the dress. "Hah! Shows how little you know, girl- men want beauty, not substance."
( Any man who thinks like that isn't worth her time, Aurelia thinks determinedly, though she knows that her mother doesn't share the sentiment. )
There's a knock at the door, and she quickly puts the dress down- she's not supposed to be getting it 'dirty' before the ball on New Year's Eve- "Come in?" It feels like a balloon is expanding in her chest when Sirius pokes his head around the door. "Aha!" The portrait crows, squinting down at him, "I might have guessed-" "I'll see you later, grandmama," Aurelia says hurriedly, moving around the bed and giving Sirius her best run, quickly eyes. Even after four months of estranged contact, they can still communicate on a borderline telepathic level, and he vanishes from the doorway as she, too, slips through it, slamming it behind her- "-thank goodness, I didn't think I could take any more from her." "Let me guess-" Sirius spreads his fingers speculatively, leaning against the stone wall, breath one of the flaming torches that light the hallways with purple and white light, "more advice on husband-hunting?"
