Not Dead Yet

1990 August

Creation: Capricorn V

Species: Library System

Level: 16

Capable of mind defence, complex thought and processing 16000 words per hour + 100 words per level. New Skill: Legilimency (Active)

Creation: Aquarius IV

Species: Inventory System

Level: 31

Capable of storing 40 objects. Summoning cost decrease tripled.

Creation: Pisces III

Species: Healing System

Level: 22

Magic focus increased x2 Dexterity increased x2 Precision increased x2

There was a pub in Knockturn Alley where magical creatures of all shapes and sizes met and drank together into the late hours of the evening. It was a lively place identifiable by the rickety sign that swung above its entrance. Up a set of stairs by Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos sat The White Wyvern. Alana was a frequent patron of the establishment as it was one of the few places she could let her hood down. Most creatures there would assume her to be non-human rather than an underaged witch. The rowdy conversations of werewolves by the bar and the shady dealers in the corner were all things she had grown accustomed to. She was a regular so no one ever gave her much trouble.

The now thirteen-year-old gave a sigh as she folded and endured the jeers of her fellow gamblers. Losing was so very painful. Her winnings were taken by a darkly grinning wizard whom she directed a dirty glare at.

"Laugh while you can, old man. I'll pay you back tenfold," She warned before she left the game for a stretch. She was improving. This time she had only lost eleven out of thirteen games rather than twelve. The old wizard was probably a cheat anyway. At least her conscience was clear. Sure… Clear.

The girl was tempted to get a drink but she was regretfully underage and the bartender here was far sterner than Willow. Her booted feet made their way to a back table where Greyson was attempting to woo an older veela.

"I hear age only improves fine wine."

Alana choked on her spit. The man's pick up lines were too much sometimes. The woman was clearly not interested in the flirt if her glower was any indication. Thinking quickly, she threw herself into the man's l.a.p to save what little dignity he had.

"What's up? Miss me, asshole?" The greeting received a sharp yelp in response as her elbow met his stomach. The woman used the moment to slip away and Alana gave an amused laugh.

"Aren't I a regular hero saving fair ladies from your nefarious clutches?"

"A c.o.c.kblocker is what you are," Greyson growled and shoved her off.

She chuckled as the male left grumbling something about brothels and brunettes. Alana rolled her eyes and took the now empty chair. She ought to put a leash on the thief before he got himself into trouble. It was with boredom that the girl leaned her elbows on the table and placed her chin in her palm. She observed the pub with deliberate care. There was little interesting about the scene and she hadn't brought her violin along. With nothing to keep her there, she took her leave in the early afternoon.

John Dawlish was a steady man who took his blessings along with his curses. The White Wyvern, as it so happened, was a pub he often frequented if only to obtain information on the goings of the wizarding world. He was an Auror, a good one at that. The minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, had even bestowed upon him the privilege of leading his personal security. Obviously, he was not foolish enough to broadcast this fact in Knockturn Alley. The wiry, grey-haired man, despite being a law-abiding citizen, was rather neutral on the subject of magical creatures. He was, however, very stubborn when it came to the laws regarding wizards and witches. It was this fact that had him silently questioning the presence of an unaccompanied child in Knockturn Alley. It was not the first time he had noticed the girl as she regularly toured The White Wyvern. It was, however, the first time he had decided to act on his concerns.

She was being followed. The prickling on her neck had abated for the few seconds it took to cross from Knockturn to Muggle London before it came back full force. The problem was that she couldn't pinpoint its exact direction. Not a vampire. She knew that instinctively. Not a friend. The gaze was making her twitch with the urge to hurl a blade. She heard the thump of a footstep and realised at that moment that it was time to use her secret weapon.

"Paedophile!" The scream of a terrified child reverberated through the streets of London and the girl hit the concrete with flailing limbs. She let a few tears escape as she ran for life only to blink them away when a spell whizzed past her ear. 'Oh, F.u.c.k No!' Now she was quite honestly running for her life. 'A wand-user! Of course, it just had to be a bloody wand-user?!' She felt the heat of another spell and ducked. 'Silent casting.' She noted her assailant's advantage along with the spell. It looked to be a body bind. 'Nonlethal then. What was their intention?' She grabbed a ledge and deftly twisted to get on top of the roof of an apartment. At the top, she looked over to try and get a glimpse of her chaser. She was ready to hurl Aquarius if needed.

"Wrong direction."

"Ah!" She screamed bloody murder at the monotone voice that came from behind her and toppled off the roof. She would have considered this the most embarrassing moment of her life if she hadn't been seconds away from a broken skull.

"Arresto momentum!" The blessedly quick incantation was her only warning before she felt the mildly violating sensation of being encased in gelatine. The spell saw her safely returned to the ground before the girl tried to shake some feeling back into her limbs. Before she could fully regain her bearings, she was wrapped in a body bind and at the wand point of a short, tough-looking, older male.

Restrained as she was, Alana was left to glare at the wizard. Bested by an old man when she had taken down a vampire coven. If news got out, her reputation would be ruined and Marius, the damned soul that he is, would never let her live it down. She hissed at the wizard as he approached. While she acknowledged none of her previous jobs had involved serious face-to-wand confrontations, it didn't make her current state any less pitiful. Dawlish blinked at her coiled form. She blinked back. He blinked twice. What was this?! Some kind of morse code?! She was mentally screaming. Thankfully, her thoughts didn't register on her glaring face.

"Name, age and species." He ordered and her face twisted.

"State your intentions, wizard." She pouted which somewhat diminished the impact of her affronted appearance. The man looked old enough to be her grandfather. If her grandfather had been a bodybuilder for a living.

"..."

'When did this fellow go mute? Were you not just hexing me a few minutes ago?' She growled.

"Concern for the safety of the general public," He finally replied.

"You an Auror?"

"..."

Evidently, the man was not skilled in interrogation.

"I don't have to answer anything if you aren't. This is illegal abduction you know!"

"Kidnapping."

"What?!"

"Abduction is the term used for a.d.u.l.ts while you are clearly a child."

"Drop dead."

Twelve minutes later, Alana was still glaring at the man who had cast a warming charm on the concrete to stop her from shivering. She sniffed in disdain and tried for the seventeenth time.

"Release me, you fiend. I want to go home."

"Where's home?"

Urgh! This man wouldn't let the matter rest. He was obstinate in his refusal to let her go. If only she had summoned Aquarius earlier but she couldn't make the movements necessary to focus her magic to do the job. Her regret felt sour on her tongue but she did not dwell on it for long. She would berate herself later. Fortunately for her, she had a few cards left to play. She bit her lip in a display of faux fear and finally met his eyes. A tentative push was all it took to slip into his mind. It was surprisingly unguarded. It was rather concerning but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The fact she could do legilimency wandlessly had never been more useful. She scanned his surface thoughts swiftly. Concern. Curiosity at her agility. Invested interest in her well being because… Just because. What sort of reasoning was that?! The man was an Auror alright and not the friendly type. One of the minister's top dogs. John Dawlish. A regular of the pub that she recognised now that she had a few of his memories swirling in her vision. A few flickers of dead bodies surfaced in his thoughts and she shivered. One-on-one she wouldn't stand a chance. This was why she worked jobs requiring stealth where she had the advantage of surprise and poison. Physical confrontation was not her forte and since the Romanian incident, she had avoided it, uncomfortable with the memories of her bloodl.u.s.t. It was easier to distance yourself from your target. Stronger wizards had lost themselves to the crazed adrenaline of a magic fight.

"My name is Alana. You could have just asked someone at the pub."

"How'd you know I was at the pub?"

"I know everyone in Knockturn." She deflected with a twisted truth. Part of her would have been rather offended if he had questioned the response. What sort of blind luck did it take for one to roam Knockturn without learning of its usual occupants? Dawlish wisely accepted the answer and gave his wand a short wave at the girl. It glowed faintly. Alana felt unhappiness at seeing the soft blue light.

"What's that?"

"A spell that identifies a witch."

"Oh…"

She was suddenly very glad that she did not carry her wand on her person. After having almost broken it numerous times, she had given the duty of holding it to Aquarius. The Auror had searched her for the item before hoisting her small body over his shoulder. Alana was strangely silent throughout the whole ordeal and while he apparated both of them to the ministry. They arrived with no detours. Alana played nervously with her hands behind her back as they neared the entrance.

Dawlish had decided to let her walk after reaching the place so she thankfully, didn't have to suffer the humiliation of being carried like a sack of potatoes through the atrium. She had gleaned enough from the man's memories to know that resistance was futile at this point. The ministry wards would sense and catalogue any magical signature that entered a 10-kilometre radius from the building and note any spells used. The wards themselves were ancient and kept in pristine condition. She could not see them, but she most definitely felt them as she passed them. They were suffocating in their strength, far stronger than the mockery of a ward the vampires had been given. Whatever protections she had on her person were easily oppressed.

Dawlish had a single-minded determination that only death could halt. He crossed the marble floor as though a general marching to war. She would be lying if she said fighting hadn't crossed her mind, but she knew that while the ministry was lacking in many aspects, they wouldn't let a lead Auror's death slide without tearing up Knockturn for answers. They'd probably leap at the opportunity actually. Otavio's coven was still in its infancy so she was reluctant to cause such a hindrance to its development. She was resigned to having to roll with the punches for now and hopefully discreetly contact Marius at some point.

With that in mind, she was more willing to relax slightly and take in the scenery around her. The atrium was unlike anything she'd seen before. France's ministry had been all golds, whites and french fleurs but this seemed far more scholarly and certainly not as dramatic as Germany's gothic stone structure. Gilded fireplaces lined both walls where people could floo to and from the building. The polished dark wood floor was matched with a blue ceiling twinking with gold symbols. A statue took up the centre of the space depicting a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin and house-elf with the later three gazing up at the wand-wielders in awe. Alana rolled her eyes at the arrogant display as well as the exclusion of several other races prevalent in Great Britain. She'd yet to meet a centaur or goblin who'd so much as tip their hat to a wand-wielder. The house-elves on the other hand…

They went from the atrium on the eighth floor to the administrative offices on the first using the elevator. Merlin forbid a wand-wielder have to walk up the stairs. Eventually, the pair entered an office. Pink. It was the first thing the girl noticed and her mind blanked with a feeling of dark premonition. The woman that greeted them from behind the desk was a short, pudgy thing with curled hair and large eyes. The creature smiled and Alana gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. The pink devil herself. Dolores Umbridge was not yet senior undersecretary apparently.

"Good morning, John. Did you have something for me?" The woman's saccharine voice made itself known and Alana wondered with morbid curiosity if she came on to all ministry workers with more influence than her.

"I have an unregistered and underage witch, Dolores."

'Throw me under the bus why don't you?' Alana gave a relaxed smile and dipped into a formal yet elegant bow that screamed aristocracy in every sense of the word.

"My apologies for causing any inconvenience, madam." She made sure to let the small trace of french accent she had picked up from Azrael slip past her lips seemingly unintentionally. If the woman respected influence as she so clearly did, she would pour her skills out in buckets. Dawlish was giving her a questioning look but she ignored it. There were two faces to every person and she had only ignored this one due to Azrael's passing. He was no longer here to protect her, though, and if this was what it took to guard herself then she would not hesitate. Dolores gave a start before she began pulling out sheets of paper and a quill. What followed were a series of polite questions on her name, age, residence and schooling.

"My name is Alana Vincent. My current guardian is my cousin Marius Mardare. Yes, we live in London in an unplottable residence. My parents passed away when I was quite young and then I moved to Britain from France to be home-schooled by Marius' father, Azrael Vincent. I was left with his son after his death. I don't remember much of my parents and neither Azrael nor my cousin liked to speak of them." Dolores was writing with such speed that the girl was somewhat concerned for her hand. Meanwhile, Dawlish had returned to his default state of silent impassiveness. Alana really hoped this would be over soon. The idea of the ministry having her on record made her grit her teeth. She would get by just fine with it but it would still be an annoyance.

There was also the issue of schooling. She had told them Marius was a squib, the easy solution if they investigated him. It also explained the different surname as pureblood parents often refused the family name to squibs. It was unlikely they'd check the man for vampirism right off the bat. Azrael had fabricated information on his status as her guardian when they went overseas and switched his name to Azrael Vincent. It was to avoid anyone immediately recognising his more famed full title Vincent Louis de Azrael. The difference was small as she had incredulously pointed out, but he'd assured her that no one would pick up his identity.

Marius, on the other hand, had already fabricated similar doc.u.ments of relation to pay the house bills. The topic of Hogwarts was, of course, brought up eventually. Both seemed rather insistent on her enrollment. However, squibs counted as magical guardians. That meant Marius' permission was required by law to enrol her. Alana smiled politely as the paperwork went to be processed. 'Try to work your way through that, you meddlesome bureaucrats!'

Edited 25.10.2019