The Prime Princess

Pansy arrived into Hospital Wing with new set of clothes for Hermione. She just stomped past hushing mediwitch and went right to Hermione who was still sleeping, dangling over the edges of a narrow bed.

“Morning Mione,” thrilled Pansy, hopped onto the bedside, “You awake already?” and nudged her foot.

“I might have worn her out last night,” drawled Draco sitting up and yawned. Pansy looked at him curiously and then gazed down on Hermione.

“And what exactly should that mean?” asked Pansy crookedly, finding something worthy of gossiping.

“You see the bite mark,” indicated Draco innocently and Pansy’s eyes went big like Galleons when she noticed it.

“Right, only a Malfoy bites during… You and her?” she was dumbfound but recovered quickly as Hermione woke up with a growl.
***
A knock sounded on an office door and professor Snape opened it. Rather ragged looking Ariston stared back at him.

“I need you to write me another note, Sir,” she managed to say as politely as possible. Snape let her into his office and offered her a seat in front of his desk.

“Can I ask for what, Miss Ariston?” Snape slid into his leather armchair and took out a parchment with Slytherin watermark and crest.

“I need to buy a new wand. Mine was crashed last night,” told Hermione in cool tone and rubbed absently her hand that was almost healed from the impact. Quill in his hand stopped in a mid way and Snape looked up.

“Something to do with the fact that you spent your night at Hospital Wing?” and he was received a reluctant nod. He leaned back and crossed his hands over his chest. “In that case you are obligated to have an escort to London.” Hermione gaped at him and tried to cover up frustration.

“I don’t need a shepherd!” she retorted.

“Too bad, I was willing to accompany you but now it seems you aren’t going to nowhere,” purred Snape darkly and put away his quill.

“No! I mean I have nothing against you, Sir. I have Charms in third period and I really, really need a wand,” pleaded Hermione like a little brat she was.

“And you want to skip first two Care of Magical Creatures?” mused Snape.

“It’s not like that. Manticore and Amadán are very fascinating subjects!” protested Hermione. She still was the perfect student with perfect grades and she didn’t let anyone think other ways.

“Sure they are,” purred Snape sarcastically, “Off you go.”
***
Wizarding London was once again a busy place after ever-famous Potter had gotten rid of a mad man. Hermione walked up the Diagon Alley and smiled happily seeing the place coming alive at the Tuesday morning. She hummed as professor stalked after her.

A wand, just a wand, all she need was a wand and she wanted the best wand. They stopped in front of a narrow and shabby shop. Over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place full of thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. Hermione eyed them greedily and wondered which one was going to be hers.

"Good day," said a soft voice. Hermione turned around and heard Snape cough from the golden dust filling the air. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Hermione firmly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I wouldn’t have to see you so soon in my shop. Miss Ariston,” stated Mr. Ollivander. “Your first wand, mm, eleven and a half inches long, firm, made of ash-tree. Powerful wand for hexes.” Then he turned to professor Snape and eyed him from head to toes.

“Severus Snape, nine inches long, made of elm. Pliable and good for counter spells.”

“Thank you,” said Snape grinning grimly. Mr. Ollivander took a turn around Hermione, taking out his long tape measure with silver markings. Hermione hold out her wand arm and let the tape take her measurements.

“Miss Ariston, your last wand’s core was made of heartstrings of a dragon,” Mr. Ollivander went on as he started flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

“Hungarian Horntail,” specified Hermione, knowing full well that her wand had been even more powerful than Lord Voldemort’s ever were.

“Quite right,” he said and with a wave of his hand, the tape measure left her in peace. “Right then, Miss Ariston. Try this one. Cedar and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Nice and swift. Give it a try.”

Hermione took it and waved. A lamp at the ceiling came crashing down. Mr. Ollivander snatched it from her and gave another.

“Poplar and unicorn hair, nine inches. Quite crafty,” and Hermione tried it only to burst the window into shards. Professor shielded himself from glass rain with a spell.

“No. Here – rowan and phoenix feather, seven and a half inches. Very good at protection. Try it.”

Hermione tried and tried and wrecked the whole place but Mr. Ollivander was getting more excited like a child unwrapping a huge gift. The pile of tried wands was growing higher the more he pulled from shelves. It felt like hours she had been standing in the middle of the shop and giving to every blasted stick a try.

“Not to worry, my lady, we’ll find the perfect match. Unless… Hmm, this might work. Last week I got a shipment from Bermuda. My uncle has a workshop running there, anyway I would like you to try these extraordinary beauties,” he said and handed a polished wand to her.

“Mahogany and a hair of Banshee, twelve inches, very flexible for cursing,” introduced Mr. Ollivander and ducked from a lightning bolt. Snape snorted at that and moved away from her to a little safer distance.

“How about this one? Ebony and heartstrings of Scylla, ten and a quarter inches long, quiet feisty wand.” Next went the roof. Hermione let that wand drop and sighed in frustration. It was going to take forever. Finally he took out twin wands that were carved at the handle into a shape of a dragonhead. That intrigued Hermione to reach for the opened box.

“Now these go in pair. Very unusual indeed,” explained Mr. Ollivander and gasped as one of the wands jumped up and curled around Hermione’s wrist as she touched it. She felt sudden warmth in her hand and her symbol of eternity shined brighter in her palm.

“Dracaena tree and heartstrings of Leviathan, who keeps the world from falling apart. Both wands are from the same tree and the core from the same dragon. Twelve inches each. Extremely elastic and obedient to go unbendable. Try the other one too, my lady,” encouraged Mr. Ollivander and grinned widely with glee in his sparkling eyes. Hermione touched the other wand with her left hand and felt hot flood wash over her when the wand fastened itself around her wrist.

Looking down on her hands, she sensed the great magic inside the wands and the power that linked her with them into one. She willed them to uncurl onto her palms and raised them above her head, brought them whooshing down through the dusty air and a stream of royally violet sparks shot from the end like fireworks. Professor Snape clapped his hands in wonderment and Mr. Ollivander cried happy tears.

“Oh, bravo! What an exquisite pair! Yes, oh very good! Oh, wait a minute. What do I see in your palm, young lady?” asked Mr. Ollivander and grabbed at her right arm. “My, my, my, my… So that’s why all the other wands rejected you because you had something more powerful to tame. My lady, you are blessed with a mark of a Walker.” His eyes had gone so big that she was able to see her own reflection in them.

“Just like a Walker is destined to keep the Universe in order, the dragon, who gave his heartstrings for these wands, is keeping the world in place. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the witch, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Miss Ariston.”

Hermione stared deathly at Mr. Ollivander and wasn’t sure if she liked what he had said. She paid fourteen Galleons for her wands and walked out with Snape.

“A Walker? What next?” muttered Hermione and slithered a finger over shiny wood that resembled to a fancy bracelet shaped as a horned and fanged serpent. Snape only chuckled as he dusted his robes and stepped in toe with her around the next corner. Suddenly Hermione stopped, turned around and grabbed at the front of his robes.

“Rita Skeeter,” hissed Hermione and pushed Snape into dark alcove, making sure he covered her from the sight of that nasty journalist. Hermione was shoved between brick-wall and him. She peeked over his shoulder and buried her face under his chin, still clutching onto his robes.

“Why she has to be here,” growled Hermione and didn’t notice when he had put his arms around her. Snape grinned to himself and hugged her more tightly, inhaling her scent and envied Lucius for a second as he noticed the fading bite mark on the side of her neck.

“We have to go back,” purred Snape and let her go unwillingly. “But first you have to eat. You missed breakfast.”

They walked down on Diagon Alley, through the wall and into the Leaky Cauldron were they asked for something to eat and drink. Crowd in the tavern was awfully quiet as customers stared at the two of them.

“What’s going on?” whispered Hermione and ate her chicken.

“Probably because of the fact that an Ariston is down here?” presumed Snape gruffly seeing newspapers all around. From the back a witch stepped up. She had long wavy pale blond hair, fiery ice-blue eyes and an ageless fairy face. She could have been 17 or 170 years old. She wore white latex-like tight pants with Kevlar-padding corset and a simple white shirt under a long fair leather coat with Angora rabbit fur. She looked very familiar.

Snape’s face turned harsh as the veelaish witch leaned over Hermione and motioned her to have some private conversation. Hermione was interested in her and even when Snape grabbed her hand to make her stay she just chided him away.

“He can come too,” told the witch in deep and rich Gaelic-sounding voice. Snape smirked in triumph and went after the two witches. The blond opened a backroom door and led them in. Small and dimly lit room was furnished with a table, few chairs and a cot in the far corner. But it also contained two other witches who looked just like the first one.

“Look, lassies, who I’ve got!” hollered the blond and grinned, showing her sharp predatory teeth. Hermione turned cold as she suspected a trap. Snape took a step and pushed her behind him when a witch, similar to the blond only to be a chestnut brunet, stood up and smiled for welcome.

“Please, excuse the Wraith Walker for being rude. My name is Saga of Asgard, Supremeverse Marshal. You have already met Branwen of Alfheim, also Supremeverse Marshal, and over there in the shadow is Hel of Nifleheim, Underverse Marshal,” introduced Saga politely after glancing at the sinister looking witch who was surrounded with swirling darkness.

“Please, sit with us,” asked Saga and shot Branwen a pointy look when she had glided over to Snape and looked menacingly ready to sink her teeth into him.

“Who the hell are you? What is going on?” demanded Hermione and refused to take a seat.

“Maybe ‘hell’ IS the right word to describe the fallowing,” came a raspy voice from the shadows as the necromancer leaned forward. Saga rolled her eyes and ignored completely Hel’s morbid appearance starting from pale face, completely black eyes with no white and silky raven-black hair with blue hue to it. She looked more like a vampire then Branwen who had carnal ideas around Potion Master.

“Have you heard about Multiverse? The idea of multiple parallel Universes existing side by side,” asked Saga and drew Hermione’s attention from Hel to her.

“I’ve read about it,” she told skeptically and watched Snape sit down next to her, keeping himself away from Branwen who licked her sharp teeth.

“Good, then you know that in every one of those worlds exists one version of you,” Saga sighed happily and motioned Branwen to come next to her. Hermione stared blank at Saga. In the back of her head Lucius’ words echoed: ‘Long dark hair flowing in the mist of blizzard, defiant look on fairy face and black dragon-skin hugging every curve with a soft touch of silver fox’s fur on collar.’

The appearance matched! Saga! The realization struck her with all its might. The more she looked at Saga, the more it seemed like she was looking into a mirror.

“Oohh, she is getting this,” purred Branwen in soft Scottish accent and slithered around the table to stand behind Hermione.

“You’re all her,” hissed Snape, stating the obvious. The three witches were copies of Hermione with few modifications that had occurred in different breeding ways Aristons used – feeding newborns with blood of Tuatha de Danann, Fury, Veela, Nymph, Nereid or Harpy; giving them potions to drink and raising them to be strong, intelligent and beautiful.

“Aye,” whispered Branwen delightedly and leaned between him and Hermione to watch across the table two other witches.

“And we are also Multiverse Marshals and we need you to join us,” told Saga confidently.

“Excuse me?” startled Hermione and stared at her. “I will not join with anything! I bloody work alone!” she blurted and hit her fist onto the table.

“Mm, just like her,” purred Branwen and lingered a bit closer to her. “How long have you felt like ripping someone’s heart out? Or felt the need to crack someone’s scull open?” hissed Branwen and flashed her pointy white teeth at her.

“I most certainly have not…”

“Oh, don’t hide it, lass. I can see it in you very clearly,” purred Branwen but Saga cut in.

“There are 9 great realms among others. 8 of them are under guard of Marshals and Rangers. Only Midgard is left alone because it’s a hidden realm. It is supposed to be the last fort of seclusion. No one is allowed to enter here, change the course of history or harm it with outside forces,” told Saga and Hermione noticed something glinting around her wrist. A diamond bracelet. “You have receiver a mark of a Walker and we are sure that you are the last Rage Walker in Ariston line.”

“Meaning?” questioned Hermione but kept studying the bracelet – the same one that Lucius had given her.

“We are one,” hissed Branwen.

“There are only two types of us. Ones are Aristons and others Grangers,” explained Hel and emerged from the shadow again as it surrounded her like a bad omen. “Unfortunately all Grangers have died fulfilling their missions as Walkers. Grangers… they were weak, raised as Muggles. They died in wars, raids, and street-fights… It took little to kill a Granger but we benefited from their death. We all share one universal energy-source. The fewer users, the more we get out of it. So Grangers did us a favor – they made us stronger, leaving their share to us.”

“Riiight,” drawled Hermione, “Another crazy person. Professor, we are leaving this joint.”

“SIT DOWN, YOU ARROGANT CHILD!” boomed Saga and pointer her mercury staff at her. The glowing crystal at the end turned into green and only one energized curse came into Hermione’s mind – Avada Kedavra.

“We have been patient with you long enough and it’s time for you to respect a ranking officer,” advised Saga and left her high-tech staff pointing at her.

“You are the last Rage Walker in Ariston line and you need to be trained properly or your predecessor Morrigan will die for nothing. You will protect Middleverse from Ancients, including your lovely Midgard. Do you understand?” demanded Saga and her flaming brown eyes flashed demonically. Branwen left from her side and went to lean over Hel, whispering something to her in the mist of darkness.

“No! You listen to me! I know who you are, Saga. It was you who screwed up my life putting things into Lucius’ head! It was you who he saw! You have broken your own goddamn rules and meddled with my world! Only Merlin knows what you have done in here, plotting and scheming with my life so you could get yourself a perfect G.I. Joe! So why should I trust you and join your suicidal madcap mob?” raged Hermione and leaped up from the chair that scattered behind her onto the floor.

“When Ancients come to Midgard, they will join their forces here and rip this place apart. This realm will cease existing just like Zion and many others,” hissed Hel. “Middleverse is under attack and many deaths will come. Not just in your world but in all others that are on this plane of existence.”

“You are all crazy!” shouted Hermione stepping away from them.

“Stay away,” growled Snape, stood up and shielded her with his own body from the Wraith Walker who wanted to come after Hermione.

“You will come around,” leered Branwen when Snape slammed the door shut right before her face.