CHAPTER 45

[ A BRIEF HISTORY OF NEARLY EVERYTHING ]

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IF THIS IS WHAT IT FELT LIKE TO DIE, then Emily wanted to have a serious word with all philosophers that had ever written it was a process devoid of pain and feeling.

Being dead really hurt, like seriously.

Every neuron in her body felt like it was on fire, and her head felt like somebody had split open her skull with an icepick. She felt her fingers move slightly, and stirred slightly, feeling a hard surface beneath her. She felt herself frown.

Dead people didn't stir.

She forced open her eyes, immediately closing them when she was met with the brightness of a blue, clear sky in daylight. She tried again, slowly, giving herself time to adjust to the light.

Slowly, she sat up, ignoring the throbbing in her brain. It took her a moment to register her surroundings; she was sitting in what appeared to be a meadow of tall grass, under a tree in full bloom. Squinting, she recognized the trademark white flower of the magnolia.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" came a voice from her right, and Emily clambered to her feet hastily, turning towards the source of the voice, reaching for the wand in her back pocket. It wasn't there.

A woman stood a couple of paces away from Emily, her eyes trailed on the tree above them. "I did always like magnolias in bloom,"

"Who are you?" Emily asked, scrounging the floor for a stick to defend herself with, should she need one.

"I'm not going to attack you, Emily," said the woman, appearing to read her mind, and Emily frowned at the use of her name.

"Who are you?" she repeated, and the woman gave a sigh.

"My name is Constance Greengrass," she said, finally looking at Emily.

She had the strangest eyes Emily had ever seen in her life. Her eyes seemed to change color like a kaleidoscope, going from brown to blue to green in an instant. Her hair was long and dark, the exact same color as Emily's, pulled into a single, long braid that reached her lower back. She was wearing a long white dress and her feet were bare.

Constance. She knew that name.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Emily said, and the woman raised a mildly amused eyebrow.

"Are you?" she retorted amusedly, and Emily felt a tinge of frustration. 

Even if she was dead, she had no time or patience for half-rhetorical conversations with dead relatives.

"If you're the Constance I was named after, then I must be dead. Only the dead can speak to the dead," Emily stated brusquely.

"That's a perfectly feasible assumption," the woman said simply, ignoring her tone, "Except that you are not dead,"

"Please don't say I'm in a higher transcendental plane of understanding or something because I don't believe in that crap. Dead is dead." Emily said resolutely, and now Constance smiled.

"I quite agree with you," she replied simply.

"If I'm not dead, then what?" Emily asked, confused.

"Let's call it asleep," the woman replied, and Emily let out a sigh.

"That's why I'm in pain, isn't it?" she asked, and Constance shrugged, taking several steps towards her.

"I wouldn't really know," she said, and Emily felt like she wanted to scream.

"Then how do you know I'm not dead?"

"Because spirits know what spirits look like," Constance said calmly, "And you, my dear, feel very much alive to me,"

"Where are we? On earth?" Emily asked, and Constance chuckled, going to sit down under the magnolia tree, leaning against the thick trunk.

"Afraid not. You are alive and I am dead, thus we are at a crossroads, a middle ground if you will," she explained, "It is a place between the earth and the sky,"

"That clears it up," Emily muttered under her breath.

"What am I doing here?" she asked, puzzled, "I should be. . ."

Her voice trailed off as she thought of the last moment she had spent in the world of the living. It had not been a pleasant experience.

"But. . .the curse, Draco, he–. . . I should be dead," she stammered, and Constance let out a sigh.

"I won't waste time explaining why you're not, I'm afraid we don't have that much time. . . Do you know who I am?"

"You just told me who you are," Emily said dumbly, raising an eyebrow, "I thought spirits were supposed to be wise or. . . something,"

"I told you my name, yet that gives you no information on who I was," Constance replied with a small smile.

"I was named after a Constance," Emily deduced, "So you must be family,"

"Good," Constance said, and then there was a small silence before she went on, "I was your grandmother's twin,"

"You were Nana's twin?" Emily said with a shake of her head, "But she never mentioned a sibling,"

Emily's grandmother had died at the end of her fourth year, four years after she had been diagnosed with dementia. They had been close when Emily was younger, but as she grew further into old age her grandmother had sunk deeper and deeper into her thoughts and Emily had watched her slowly deteriorate ntill she was but a shell of who she had once been.  

"She wouldn't have," the woman said with a sigh, "I didn't exactly have the longest life,"

"Why?" Emily asked, rather bluntly.

"You get right to the point, don't you?" Constance replied with a chuckle, "Just like Faelyn,"

"That was Nana's name? Faelyn?" Emily asked incredulously.

Her grandmother had never divulged her real name to Emily. The family tapestry that hung in their home only denoted her as F. Greengrass, and Emily had only ever known her as Nana.

"She hated that name," Constance said, "If anyone asks, you didn't hear it from me. Come, sit,"

For the first time since waking up, Emily felt herself smile and she sat down next to Constance against the tree trunk.

"Do you know anything about our family?" Constance asked, and Emily grimaced.

"Not much, though I did recently learn I'm part of the Lestrange bloodline," she said, with an undertone of slight disgust, "But on my dad's side? I know Nana was a Greengrass, but, she never really talked to me about it,"

"Faelyn was always the quiet one," Constance sighed, "Nevermind then, I'll start from the beginning. You know the sacred twenty-eight, I assume?"

"Old, pureblood wizarding families," Emily said with a nod.

Constance went on. "Our family is not just old, Emily, it dates back centuries of time,"

She lifted her hand, and from the tip of her index finger came a long, wispy string which elongated into the air in front of them. "There are lots of theories about how wizardkind came to be, Emily. One of the oldest, and longest-standing, was that, at the beginning of time itself, when all creatures on earth were born, the four first wizards were created,"

The string split into four separate tendrils.

"By whom?" Emily asked, and Constance gave a sly smile.

"Well that depends on what you believe in, really," she remarked, "God, Allah, the Gods, plural, the Big Bang, even the Devil himself, whichever. . . But legend says they were created to each represent a crucial element of material existence; Fire, Water, Air and Earth. Each named for their element, they had the ability to control the one they represented. Their names were Ignis, Aqua, Caelum and Terra,"

The four tendrils writhed and twisted, shaping themselves into four icons representing the elements.

"They were incredibly powerful wizards, the first of their kind, imbued with the power to create an entirely new race. . .There are lots of stories on how they went about it, whether they reproduced amongst each other or their offspring were simply created by their magic, either way, they spawned the next generation, who in turn spawned the next. . ."

The tendrils split over and over, interweaving with each other.

"So, what does that have to do with me?" Emily asked, and Constance looked at her, her eyes unnerving Emily slightly.

"After the third or so generation had been created, they began to notice that as more witches and wizards were born, the magic started to water down . . . wandless magic became increasingly rare, and that's when wizards started using wands. . ."

"Hold on, there was a moment in time we didn't need wands?!" Emily asked, stunned. She knew some witches and wizards were so formidable they didn't need a wand to practice magic, but to imagine that at one point in time entire wizard kind didn't need one. . .

Constance nodded. "Wands only ever started being used mid 19th century. The creators assumed this was all part of the plan, but Terra was afraid wizard kind would eventually water down so much we would no longer exist, so she devised a plan. . . each creator would pass on a gene to a family of their choosing, a gene with the ability to give the carrier the creator's power,"

A single tendril of each of the four original icons was brighter than all the other ones, so it stood out in the net of strands that represented wizardkind. 

Emily scoffed. "Like genetic jumper-cables?"

"Exactly like that," Constance said with a nod, "But it wasn't so easy. . .the creators were incredibly powerful, and there was always the risk that the power given by that gene could become dangerous to those intending to use it incorrectly, or worse, for those too weak to withstand having it. For the first scenario, they created a sort of kill switch, if you will. . . if the carrier could harness the power of the gene, but chose to use it incorrectly, it would become a malediction that would be passed on for generations,"

The floating image disappeared into a puff of smoke. 

"Cheery," Emily muttered, "So what happened then?"

"Terra chose a family based in Italy, the Viridigramine family,"

"Greengrass," Emily said slowly, and Constance smiled with a tinge of pride.

"You know latin?" she asked, looking impressed, and Emily shrugged.

"Enough to know gramine means grass, the rest is just deduction I guess," she stated, and Constance nodded.

"She chose our family as her direct descendants and the carriers of her gene. Our ancestors lived in Italy several centuries, and in that time, only four members of our family were able to harness the gene without the power destroying them. . . our family became famous in Italy, pursued by many who thought the magic from the gene could be extracted somehow. The gene was gender-specific, so it was only passed on to female members of the family. . . At the end of the 19th century, a set of twins were born, Domenica and Alessandra, who shared the gene. It was the first time two members of the same age had manifested the gene, and Alessandra had already started showing signs of elemental witchcraft. Their family fled to England at the end of the 19th century, when both girls were young, for fear of persecution. It was there they changed the name to Greengrass, and became a part of the sacred twenty-eight. The two girls grew up in England, and Alessandra started to manifest power sooner than Domenica, which was a bitter pill to swallow for her."

"She was angry she wasn't manifesting powers that could potentially destroy her?" Emily asked, and Constance shrugged.

"Power is a drug, Emily. Most everybody wants it, and Domenica was no exception. In 1885, when Domenica was 25, she fell in love with and married Arcturus Black I. The Black family were relatively extreme, I'm sure you know. . . and as their marriage developed and they had children, Domenica began to adopt the extremist blood purist views of the Black family. Her power had started manifesting itself as well, and it turned out to be a particularly dangerous combination. Alessandra didn't marry until much later, and she made it very clear she thought Domenica was making the wrong decisions with her life," Constance explained. 

"I assume that didn't go over well?" Emily inquired. She had never had siblings in her life, but she was sure that if she had, and they would tell her they thought she was going wrong in her life, she wouldn't be happy about it.

"No, it didn't," Constance said with a sigh, "She distanced herself from her sister and continued to engage more and more in darker types of magic. She was definitely reluctant to use her elemental magic at first, mostly because she had been cautioned against it by generations' worth of lore. A few days after her 30th birthday, there was an accident, in the muggle world, and when the ministry conducted investigations as to whether any wizards had been involved, Arcturus was found to have spearheaded the attack. He was imprisoned in Azkaban, where he hung himself barely a month later,"

"Jesus," Emily said with a frown, "And what happened to Domenica?"

"She was angry, she blamed the ministry for his death. Grief can be an incredible catalyst, Emily, I'm sure you know. Anyway, Domenica re-appropriated her maiden name, and began to use her magic to inflict pain and suffering on others, not just wizards, but muggles too. . .those the Black family deemed unworthy of magic. When no consequence came after the first few times, she began to do it more frequently. Alessandra begged her sister not to, cautioning her about what would happen to her magic if it continued. Domenica ignored her, and one day, Terra's will came to pass. The gene converted itself into a blood malediction, one that would destine the carrier to fade exactly in the way Terra had been afraid of when she created the gene; they would fade slowly until they were too weak to practice magic, and eventually. . . to live. Domenica died barely a year later," Constance said finally, and Emily let out a whistle.

"Nice, nothing like a good story about how your ancestor screwed things up for you," she said sarcastically, "So, you're saying I have this blood malediction?"

"No," Constance replied simply, "Because Domenica and Alessandra shared the gene, the part manifesting itself in Alessandra continued to manifest itself in further generations descended from her, while those descended from Domenica suffered the malediction. In essence, the Greengrass family was split into two, and along with it, the beliefs of both sisters. Alessandra taught her children and Grandchildren tolerance, and to fight against those ideals that corrupted her sister. Of course, it is Domenica's side that gained notoriety, and it is her descendants who continue to represent her to this day,"

"So. . .Daphne and Astoria, they're descended from Domenica?" Emily asked, and Constance smiled.

"You're beginning to catch on. Your grandmother and I, our mother was Alessandra's granddaughter. After Alessandra, we were the first to manifest the gene once more,"

"My Nana had. . .what did you call it? Elemental something?"

"Elemental witchcraft," Constance supplied, "And yes, though I suspect that after I died she never used it again,"

"Why?" Emily asked curiously. She was eager to know more about her Grandmother's life, since she had been so tight-lipped about it in the past.

"You remember I mentioned only 4 people managed to harness the power of the gene in several centuries?" Constance asked, and Emily nodded, "This is because this type of magic cannot be used by just anyone. . . some manifested the gene, but were unable to control its sheer power. Only a person of incredible strength and magical talent can use it, and the others. . ."

She trailed off, and the realization sunk into Emily.

"That's how you died," she said softly, and Constance smiled sadly.

"Much like others before me, I could not control the magic. . . I was too weak, too fragile, and it consumed me, destroyed me from the inside out over the course of many years,"

"That's reassuring," Emily said, beginning to understand what Constance was explaining, "So how come Aunt Eleanor doesn't have the gene?"

"I don't know," Constance said truthfully, "As I mentioned earlier, it doesn't exactly have a distinct pattern. . . it chooses when and where and who, and many of our ancestors believed it was Terra's spirit which guided the process, and she chose who she deemed worthy and capable of it,"

"But Eleanor clearly doesn't have it. Besides, she married a muggle, and only one of her children, David, is magical, so does that mean the gene has died out?" Emily remarked.

Constance nodded. "I thought so, at least, until. . .well, you,"

Emily frowned. "What about me? My mother can't have given it to me, she isn't a Greengrass, and you said it was passed on through female members of the family,"

"That is what I assumed, and what Faelyn assumed as well, until I saw what you did last year,"

"Last year?" Emily asked, her confusion evident in her voice, "What do you–"

She shut her mouth as her mind flashed back to last year. Last year, standing in front of Dumbledore's tomb, Emily had done something inexplicable.

"The flowers," she said, realization dawning in her voice, "You're saying that–. . . You're saying I have this gene?"

"I think that you do,"

"But how?"

Emily's head was spinning. Part of her was enthralled by the story and the idea that such magic could exist, the other part was scared; if Constance hadn't been able to survive the power of the gene, what could guarantee that Emily would?

"Magic is unpredictable. . . especially this kind. The gene chose you, Emily, so you must've shown some potential," Constance explained.

All of a sudden, a sharp, splitting pain tore through Emily's head. She had managed to ignore the pain in her body she had woken up with, but this sudden onset made her cry out, and bring her hands to her head. Constance gave her a worried look.

"I think our time is up," she said, getting to her feet, and Emily attempted to do the same.

"Wait. . ." Emily groaned, "You can't just. . .you can't leave it like this. I don't know anything about this, or how to use it,"

"If you can, then it will come naturally," Constance said, "If you can't. . . ."

She didn't finish her sentence, but Emily understood what she meant. The pain in her head became so intense she had to close her eyes to dispel the spots dancing in front of her vision.

"What do I do now, then?" she asked with a strained voice, letting out another groan of pain.

"Right now, you need towake up," Constance said, and Emily felt her touch her arm, before her visionwent black and she lost consciousness once again. 

a/n: a lil origin story type thing for ya'll. also here is a family tree I made for the Pooles.