Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

"Incarcerous!"

Oleandra, Daphne and Astoria were struck by Rope Conjuring Spells the moment they Apparated. Thick ropes wrapped around them, tightly binding their legs together and pinning their arms to their sides, causing them to keel over.

Astoria snarled, twisting her head to gnaw at her bindings, while Oleandra opened her mouth, ready to perform a wandless Quick-Change Charm to swap the ropes for a comfortable scarf… and then she was weightless, floating alongside her sisters in midair…

As her eyes adapted to the darkness, Oleandra's surroundings gradually came into focus, but there was really only one thing worth paying attention to— Lord Voldemort's red eyes, gleaming in the half-darkness.

Voldemort was flanked by more than a dozen of his Death Eaters; some of which she recognized, some of which she didn't… but there was one among their number that caught Oleandra's eye: Draco Malfoy…

"You have cost me a good number of my loyal Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Crabbe, dead— Bellatrix, reduced to a gibbering mess— Dolohov, Avery, Jugson, the Lestrange brothers, Macnair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, all arrested…"

His inhuman eyes flared with cold anger, before narrowing slightly.

"Well, it does not matter in the grand scheme of things— the Ministry shall soon be mine, so my faithful shall soon return to the fold," Voldemort said coolly. "However, this does not mean that all is forgiven."

"I'll join you," said Daphne in a small voice. "Please, spare my sisters, my family, and I swear—"

Voldemort waved his hand, and Daphne's pleas suddenly transformed into strangled noises, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Do not speak out of turn," said Voldemort calmly, before turning to his followers. "Now, Draco… I take it you have something to share?"

Draco cast his gaze left and right in a silent plea for help— but received none from his fellow Death Eaters.

"The Insigil of Lindorm," he spluttered, pointing at Oleandra. "She stole the spell from my mind, I would never have shared such a—"

"Enough."

Draco immediately froze, not even daring to utter one more word.

When Voldemort had given him the honour of sharing the runic knowledge that he had received from Oleandra, Draco had gladly told him all he knew, including the details of his adventures in another world. However, while Draco had told Voldemort that he had learned the Dragon-Summoning Spell in the gods' palace in Nidavellir, he had neglected to mention that Oleandra had absorbed the knowledge from him…

And as a result, Voldemort hadn't expected to face an unstoppable projection of a Lindworm, causing him to lose Harry and almost lose the Dark Lady. If he hadn't had the foresight to account for unknown powers and hadn't devised a backup plan, he would have lost the chance to capture her!

"What do you think should be done with her, Draco?" asked Voldemort abruptly.

"She— she is too dangerous to be left alive, my Lord," said Draco shakily, unable to meet Oleandra's accusatory stare. "It would be better to get rid of her before she undermines your plans any further…"

"Are you suggesting that Lord Voldemort should fear a little girl?" asked Voldemort contemptuously. "I, the greatest Dark Wizard of our time?"

Draco's eyes widened and he began stammering some excuse, but Voldemort had already forgotten about him and turned his attention back to the Greengrass sisters.

"The girl shall die tonight," he announced. "But not because her power is to be feared— but rather because she is too far gone. You see, she believes that Wizards and our birthright of magic should serve Muggles—and in this regard, she is even worse than the Muggle-Lover Dumbledore."

It was now obvious to Oleandra that Voldemort had intercepted a member of the Order of the Round Table. Oleandra kept her mouth shut and stared Voldemort down defiantly, even as cries of indignation erupted among his Death Eaters.

It was no use trying to debate ideas with their lot…

"Enough."

The Death Eaters jeering and clamouring for Oleandra's death immediately shut up.

"Both of your sisters need not die on this day," said Voldemort softly, looking Daphne in the eye. "There is still the youngest."

"I'll never join you," roared Astoria. "Never! And neither will Daphne, so you might as well kill us all now!"

Voldemort turned his attention to her.

"In that case," he said, a hint of anger creeping into his voice due to the constant refusals, "Your sisters will have the honour of watching you die first— Avada…"

"CAMBIO EXUVIA!" Oleandra screamed.

Months ago, at Christmas, Oleandra had promised Daphne that she would do anything in her power to protect their little sister… and the time had come to fulfil this promise. The ropes binding Oleandra Vanished, replaced with her winter scarf— she threw herself in front of Astoria, hoping to protect her from the Killing Curse with her own body…

…but the sweet release of death never came.

"CRUCIO!"

All of a sudden, Oleandra's body was wracked by uncontrollable spasms of agony— it felt like her entire body had been set aflame, like every single one of her nerves and veins had been filled with incandescent lava, like she was being stabbed with a thousand swords at once…

"DID IT NOT OCCUR TO YOU THAT LORD VOLDEMORT MIGHT LEARN FROM HIS MISTAKES?"

For the first time since she had ever heard him speak, Voldemort had raised his voice into a scream; fury and madness leaking through his mask of cool level-headedness…

"YOU DARE USE THE MAGIC THAT REDUCED ME TO A MERE WRAITH FIFTEEN YEARS AGO? AGAINST ME!?"

It had never occurred to Oleandra that by throwing herself in front of her sister, thereby willingly giving her life for hers, she would be reproducing the Ancient Magic that Lily Potter had invoked so long ago to safeguard baby Harry against Voldemort.

Oleandra had acted on instinct, no more, no less— but now, she could only scream in agony, writhing uncontrollably on the floor— barely hearing her sisters' voices crying out to her. But what Oleandra had done could not be undone— it didn't matter one whit if she hadn't died, because she had protected her little sister with her dying will.

Love powered the Sacrificial Protection; blood was only a carrier for its power.

And so, thanks to Oleandra's Counter-Charm, Astoria would forever more be safe from Voldemort's spells… unless he made himself a new body with Astoria's DNA, that is.

After what seemed like an eternity, Voldemort stemmed the flow of magic torturing Oleandra, and in a supreme display of willpower, Oleandra staggered to her feet, still wracked by phantom tingles of pain.

"Wormtail," spat Voldemort. "Kill her."

Her body numbed by the incomparable pain brought on by the Cruciatus Curse, Oleandra felt nothing as Peter Pettigrew stepped out of the shadows and stabbed his hand through her heart, piercing through her chest from behind.

Oleandra looked down in disbelief; staring at the silvery hand protruding from her ribcage. Pettigrew swiftly withdrew his arm from her back— and without his support, she crumpled into a lifeless pile, hearing Daphne's and Astoria's screams distantly echoing in her ears…

Thump.

She could hear the last of her lifeblood weakly pulsing through her veins and draining away through the gaping hole in her chest, vaguely aware that her life was slipping away from her….

Thump.

The Death Eaters were dragging Daphne and Astoria away, kicking and screaming.

Thump.

…body growing cold…

…

…

…

Thump.

Warmth. Dawn was breaking, the sunlight gently caressing Oleandra's pale face...

Thump.

Inside of Oleandra's pouch, the Dusk Elf's heart beat steadily.

Thump.