Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

"Now, Miss Greengrass," said Professor Tofty, "if you would kindly explain the difference between the Ehwaz and Eihwaz runes?"

"Ehwaz, or as it prefers to be called, Ehwo, is known as the Horse and the Twins— it represents partnership and trust," Oleandra recited. "While Eihwaz is known as Yggdrasil, the Old Yew Tree that establishes connections between worlds— oh, and it also rules over life and death."

If it hadn't been for this particular question, Hermione would have received a perfect grade on her Ancient Runes O.W.L.s. Not only had she mixed up Ehwaz with Eihwaz— partnership and yew tree— she had also mixed up Eihwaz's definition with Elhaz's when she had reviewed her notes after the exam— and she still hadn't noticed her mistakes!

"Er, well…" said Professor Tofty with a quivering voice, "I have never heard of even half of those names and definitions…"

It seemed like the Wizarding World's Study of Ancient Runes wasn't very advanced compared to the stars' inheritance, which Oleandra had received six long years ago. It truly would be ironic if Professor Tofty were to dock points from her, simply because Earth's knowledge hadn't caught up to hers yet…

"If Miss Greengrass is adamant that those are the runes' proper definitions," said Scrimgeour gruffly, "then I am certain she must be correct. The entire curriculum might have to be reworked, don't you think, Professor Tofty?"

There was something off about the development of runic magic throughout Wizarding history.

History of Magic had taught her that the invading Anglo-Saxons had brought their special brand of magic from across the sea to the British Isles— the magic of the stars. They had used it to repel King Arthur's armies and subdue the native Celtic population, forcing many of them to flee their homelands, but accounts reported that this magic had also been used to better everyday life.

Back then, thousands of years ago, it hadn't been necessary for someone to be a genius or to require decades of study to use runic magic— every Wizard had been able to perform it. And in all likelihood, they had probably been able to use it just as easily and effectively as Oleandra now could.

Flash forward to now, and runic magic had fallen into disuse, replaced by the Romans' wand magic. Now, it took years upon years of training to elicit a magical response from even the most perfectly drawn runes; only the most skilled of runesmiths could still make use of their powers.

Could it be that thousands of years ago, all Wizards used to have equal access to the stars' inheritance, but had now somehow lost it…?

…Now that Oleandra was thinking about it, it was almost as if someone had stunted the evolution of the magic of the stars on purpose. Almost as if someone had cast a veil around the Earth, to prevent the stars' magic from being easily accessed…

Perhaps, could it be that thousands of years ago, it hadn't been necessary for one to engrave the twenty-four runes upon one's soul to use the magic of the stars effectively…?

Six years ago, Oleandra's Mystic Eyes had allowed her to perceive the key hidden in the Boötes constellation; the twenty-fourth and final rune Odala. Her Mystic Eyes had allowed her to steal this inheritance; as well as presumably, the destiny of the one that had been supposed to legitimately obtain it.

Indeed, the Centaurs had prophesized that a certain person would lead them to their promised land, but due to the interference of someone who was not supposed to exist— Oleandra Greengrass, the human incarnation of the Greater Fairy known as the Lady of the Lake— the inheritance had been opened nearly thirty years in advance, and she had ended up saddled with the Centaurs' hopes and dreams and expectations.

But a few questions remained:

Who had placed that key there? What was its purpose? And if Oleandra's theory was correct, then why would someone purposefully limit others' access to runic magic, and grant only its full power to a chosen one and their followers?

"Ahem," Scrimgeour coughed, disrupting Oleandra's train of thoughts. "How about a little demonstration of runic magic?" He then glanced in Professor Tofty's direction. "For bonus points, of course," he added.

Oleandra glanced at Scrimgeour's face. He was displaying a moderately interested expression, but she could feel the undisguised eagerness beneath that veneer. First and foremost, Nordic runic magic was the magic of invaders and conquerors— war magic. Extremely dangerous in the wrong hands…

"THURSAZ!" Oleandra roared, assuming the rune's full-body stance.

Space rippled before Oleandra, and a fraction of a second later, the empty desks in front of her were blasted apart in rapid succession, as an unseeable fist smashed through them. Right before her magic tore a hole through the wall, Oleandra halted her spell— just in case there was somebody standing on the other side of the wall.

Oleandra looked down at her fists, clenching and unclenching them experimentally. Runic magic didn't require much of her own magical strength to begin with, since she only needed to make her own magic resonate with the stars' frequencies to summon their magic down to Earth. Even so, little by little, she could feel her own power returning to her, making each cast of magic just a little bit easier…

"Very good," said Scrimgeour, clapping his hands as he observed the devastation. "Wandless magic of such strength— my Aurors would no longer need to fear Disarmament— nor would they have to fear getting caught off guard without their wands…"

Scrimgeour looked at her, but before he could even open his mouth, Oleandra already knew what he was going to ask of her. And the answer was a resounding no— out of the question.

"Before you ask," Oleandra said, "I can't train your Aurors to become like me, for reasons that are too long and too complicated to explain right now. However, what I can do is equip them— that's a runesmith's job, after all."

"The Ministry has already struck a deal with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for a shipment of Shield Gloves to equip our Aurors, so that won't be necessary," said Scrimgeour with narrowed eyes. "But we appreciate the offer."

…

"The Weasleys' what now?" Oleandra asked in surprise.

Unbeknownst to Oleandra, the Weasley twins had run away from Hogwarts after setting off their entire stock of magical fireworks in the Great Hall, during the previous school year. They had done so in order to distract and lure Umbridge away from the Room of Requirement, but unfortunately for Harry and Oleandra, they hadn't made it in time, resulting in Umbridge expelling them from Hogwarts. Then, with school out of the way, and using Harry's share of the Triwizard Tournament's winnings, the Weasley twins had set up a new joke item shop in Diagon Alley.

"If you're almost done with your riveting conversation," said Professor Tofty warningly, "Miss Greengrass still has one last O.W.L. left…"

Oleandra gulped. History of Magic had never been her forte— it was simply too boring.

"Ah, yes— er…" said Scrimgeour in a stilted manner. "I'm afraid, that I, ah— that I have some important work to do. I'll take my leave for now, but Miss Greengrass…"

Apparently, Scrimgeour felt the same way as she did about the subject!

"Yes…?" said Oleandra tentatively.

"Once you've finished your examination, kindly head to Madam Bones' office— she'll be expecting you," said Scrimgeour. "To discuss your security detail, naturally."

But before Oleandra could tell him that she didn't need bodyguards, Scrimgeour stalked out of the room in a hurry.

"Well, now that the Minister has stopped breathing down our necks, we can finally have some peace and quiet," said Professor Tofty cheerily, as he rummaged around in his rucksack, "Shall we move on to your History of Magic O.W.L.? The full version, of course…"

Oleandra groaned.