Serpent's Bloodline: Legacy of the Basilisk

Harry thought Hallowe'en night was splendid this year. After his Occlumency lessons with Snape where he had allowed himself to break the man - just a little, of course, he needed the man sane later on after all, he had left the sleeping potions master in his sitting room and gone to the feast.

The feast had been as good as the last feast at Hogwarts he remembered - or better. Because last time there hadn't been a very pale Umbridge sitting at the head table who was just waiting to be hexed.

Not that Harry did any hexing. Why should he? There were other ways to bother the toad.

"Hey, Gred, Forge," he greeted the Weasley-twins and sat down in front of them.

"Harrykins," they answered, grinning. "Something to snack before the feast?"

Harry eyed the sweet they handed him, warily.

"Elephant head?" he asked after probing the sweet with a quick runic spell. "Sorry, guys, I don't think that grey is my colour."

The twins blinked and exchanged a glance.

Then the right twin - Harry knew for a fact that it was Fred - spoke up. "Ron's right, you know? You are different from last year."

Harry just smiled at them.

"So I am," he answered, then the smile vanished and he looked at them with serious eyes. "Does it bother you?"

This time George answered. "Not really," he said. "It's just weird, seeing you acting all grown-up while our brother's still acting like a toddler like always."

"Not that you haven't been the more mature one before on occasions," Fred added.

"But now you're even scarier than Hermione - and she's a mini-adult since birth."

Harry suppressed laughter, hearing that.

"Hermione is still very much a child who believes in the adults around her. She still has a lot to grow until you could consider her an adult."

"Unlike you?" Fred asked.

Harry just grinned.

"Oh, I know exactly how to be a child once in a while," he said. "And like every child I enjoy some good pranks to lighten up the mood, don't you think so, too?"

Fred and George looked at each other before flashing a devil's smile his way.

"What are you thinking of?" they asked together.

"Maybe a new colour-scheme for toads?" Harry suggested.

At the end of the feast, Harry thought that being red and green striped with yellow polka dots, a swine snout and warts could be a new fashion trend for toads.

Especially pink-clad toads.

Of course, Umbridge was livid and tried to blame poor innocent Harry - something that the Deputy Headmistress refused to allow to happen. Harry was happy with that as well. He had trouble enough to keep in line when he was in his current detentions with her. Being with her for another detention could end in a dissected toad.

It would be a pity for his working hours because said toad would be unusable for potions.

It had been after the students had gone to bed that night, that Harry's real Hallowe'en finally begun. With the exhausted potion's master out of the way, Harry had practically free reign to do whatever he wanted in Hogwarts' halls that night without fearing that anyone more dangerous than Filch would roam the floors near him. Harry had long ago learned that McGonagall and the other teachers - except of Snape - just watched the main halls of the castle. If he did not use those halls, he was in no danger of being found.

"What are you planning, Harry?" Regulus whispered when Harry finally joined him in the Chamber of Secrets at midnight.

Harry smiled at the other man.

"Tonight is the night of the dead, Regulus," he answered sincerely.

It was an answer, but a non-answer as well.

"I don't think I understand…"

"It's time to let the dead walk on the earth once more," Harry elaborated.

"You want to create Inferi?!" Regulus asked horrified.

Harry snorted. "Of course not, you idiot!" he huffed. "I'm not stupid enough to dabble in the Evil Arts just because it's Samhain. There are other ways to 'resurrect' the dead."

"So what are you -"

"Nothing what I haven't done before for now," Harry answered before Regulus could even finish his sentence. And with that he stepped to the wall that hid his Ritual Chamber and opened it. Regulus looked in it and his eyes widened.

"A ritual?" he whispered fearfully.

Harry smiled gently and a little bit sadly at the other man.

"No, not a ritual," he corrected the younger man. " The ritual. The Samhain blood-magic ritual."

Regulus shuddered.

"To control your magic?" he asked nervously, remembering when the other man had first told him about the blood-rites he used on a yearly basis.

"Yes," Harry answered sadly.

"But… I don't understand what that has to do with resurrecting the dead," Regulus asked, fear now clearly in his eyes.

"Everything and nothing," Harry answered.

Regulus sighed.

"You won't tell me, will you?" he asked finally.

"No, not tonight," Harry answered looking at him with a sad smile. That was all it needed for Regulus to understand that tonight was different than the years before.

"What changes tonight?" he asked.

Harry sighed.

"I'm going to try seeing if I can connect with the castle wards and find the missing book on them," Harry answered sincerely. "It's a bit risky, doing that with a blood-magic ritual for my magic, but even with the guess I have, I need confirmation before I can get it. I might also try and find the Horcrux within Hogwarts."

"But… this is dangerous, isn't it?" Regulus asked hesitatingly.

Harry sighed again.

"Yes," he said. "If I loose concentration and because of that my grasp on my magic, it might even kill me. But I've done that ritual plenty of times already; I should be fine even with the added tasks."

Then the door of the ritual chamber closed between those two. "See you tomorrow, Regulus," Harry said.

"Or never again," Regulus added bitterly but silently. For a moment he still looked at the closed door that shielded the other man, his friend and father figure, from his sight; then he turned away from the door. "May fate and luck be with you tonight, because I can't."

And a single tear rolled down his cheek, before he pushed the danger the other man was facing out of his mind. There were still other things to do. Regulus had still not searched Minerva McGonagall's quarters and the Charms corridor for either the Horcrux or the book on the wards of Hogwarts. Of course there were even more parts of Hogwarts he hadn't searched, but those two were next on his ever growing list.

"Please stay alive tonight, Salvatio!" No reason to call him Harry if the other man wasn't around to hear, was there?

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was standing in front of the prison of Azkaban. The Dementors had turned on the aurors as soon as Voldemort had come and started to enter the prison.

Tonight would be the first victory for the Dark Side.

It was the perfect night for a new start; after all it had been Hallowe'en all those years ago when his empire crumpled thanks to a fifteen month old child. It was just right to rebuild his empire on the same night now - not that he planed to make his return truly official tonight. He just planed to return the fear to those pampered creatures that called themselves wizards.

In that moment another wizard in the black Death Eater's garb apparated next to him and fell to his knees in front of him.

"The final wards are down, my Lord," the Death Eater said.

"Then it will be time to get my most loyal ones out of here," Voldemort answered coolly. "Enter in pairs and take down every auror you come across."

"Yes, my Lord," the Death Eater replied and bowed even lower. Then he apparate away to where Voldemort's troops had gathered.

Voldemort's snake-like face twisted in an evil smile.

"Let us show magical Britain that there is nothing they can do if Voldemort decides to make something his," he muttered grinning and then gave the signal for the attack on Azkaban.

Harry put down the knife that he had used for the ritual. He opened his eyes and then slowly reached out to destroy the runic circle around him.

Now was the moment.

The one moment he had dreaded since he understood what he would have to do tonight.

His last hesitation had been nipped in the butt when he had seen Snape's memories of Albus Dumbledore refusing aid to Azkaban and the plans of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry might not be a Gryffindor, but he knew that there was no way he would make it easy for the man who had wronged him - and keeping the wards of Hogwarts like they were now, would make it easy for the wanna-be Dark Lord. Harry knew that Hogwarts would be a target for Tom Riddle as soon as he had enough confidence to go up against Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster might be content to risk the children he should protect, but Harry wasn't and if Harry had to play a Gryffindor to stop some of Tom Riddle's ambitious plans, so be it. After all, Harry was still getting the most of this whole ordeal tonight - even if his sanity might be at stake for it.

Of course he knew that using blood-magic for the magic, like he was doing tonight, was tricky. Every ritual to aid the flow of the magic through the body had to be planned carefully. Not, that the other blood-magics weren't dangerous but doing blood-magic for your magic was not only dangerous but the power-rush you felt afterwards - not that you had more magic afterwards, it was just flowing better - simply was addicting. There had been thousands of druids in times long past who had given in to the feeling and had died an extremely painful death just a few days later. If you gave in, your magic would react to it and it would not stop to rush through your body anymore. Magic like that would burn you inside out in the end - a slow and extremely painful death.

Instant insanity and a painful death - and all because of not reigning in your own magic.

"But what does my son Anastasius like to say? No risk, no fun," Harry thought to himself and grinned.

He destroyed the runic circle that shielded him from the raving madness of his own power.

Instantly pain shot through his body, followed by the intoxicating feeling of absolute power.

He was powerful!

He could do everything!

There was nothing that could stop him, no one that could face him and tell the tale!

His magic was coursing through his body, consuming him and his mind.

For a moment he felt as if his own power would overwhelm him, then he took a deep breath and threw out his magic, connecting it to the wards. It was something that, under normal circumstances wouldn't have been possible. A living being - no matter how old - shouldn't be able to insert its own magic in the wards to search for something. The magic of the wards, even if they were cast by the individual that tried something like that, were maintained by the magic of the earth itself and because of that shouldn't be accessible to anyone - no one should be able to see beneath them and search what they shielded.

But Harry was different.

Unlike normal ward-casters, he had once died for the wards of Hogwarts - and even if he couldn't actively manipulate or dissemble the wards in this state, he could at least use them to search within their boundaries for things connected to them.

It took but moments for him to confirm his suspicion about the where-about of the ward-book of Hogwarts.

He had been right.

It was exactly where he had thought it would be.

Then his mind turned to the next thing he had been searching - the Horcrux. What he found instead was something totally different.

One moment he wasn't certain, what he was feeling, then his eyes widened.

A curse.

A curse on a specific position in the school.

The defence-curse.

And it was not only bound to its caster but also to something else inside the wards.

The Horcrux?

Before Harry could even think on following the connection to the Horcrux, something broke his concentration.

Happiness and triumph swamped his mind, destroying the iron-clad control he had on his still very wild and wonky magic. Instantly another spark of absolute power shot through his system - just that this time around he wasn't prepared for it.

The intoxicating feeling of absolute power branded against his mental shields like a storm flood against a dyke. The first wave was stopped by his shields, but the second simply overcame them as if they were nothing but a small nuisance - after all, his Occlumency-walls were built of the same magic that was suddenly wreaking havoc within his mind and body.

There was no way to stop it.

He was powerful!

Think!

He could do everything!

Think, Salvazsahar!

Within his mind something was pleading with him to return to his former state of control, but Harry couldn't, wouldn't listen. It felt so good! So very good!

He was unstoppable!

Clear your mind!

There was nothing that could stop him!

It's your magic! Take back control!

There was no one that could face him and tell the tale!

His magic was coursing through his body, consuming him, destroying him. Then it hit the runic connection that was the cause for all this evil. It was the runic connection he had built once, about twenty years ago now, to a certain Dark Lord so that he was still able to monitor that man. It was built to warn him if the Dark Lord was feeling powerful emotions. He could not truly invade the other mans mind with it, but some images were still shown to him if they were connected with strong emotions by Tom Riddle - like the dreams of the corridor in the Ministry of Magic.

But it also was this runic circle that had interrupted his concentration and made him loose control in the first place.

His magic hit the circle.

Then the runic circle, he had created in his mind connected with the single rune that bound his mind in a loose way to the Dark Lord's, swamped him with knowledge.

Images of Azkaban filled his mind and if Harry would have been able to think clearly, he would have argued with himself that doing what he was about to do was far to dangerous. But his mind was screaming with the idea of its own power and the rune was there like a beacon and Harry couldn't resist.

Not such a temptation.

Not such an opportunity.

He grinned and his eyes lightened up with death.

"Tonight you're mine, Tom Marvolo Riddle," he whispered. "Let's teach you some fear."

And with that he apparated out of the ritual chamber, out of Hogwarts - even if by all means it should have been impossible to do so.

Something was wrong.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the feared Lord Voldemort, was searching the halls of Azkaban for the threat he was feeling.

He had just had a talk with the Head of the Dementor's coven of Azkaban. They had been in the middle of forging a new bond - and then, suddenly, the air had shifted and something had changed in the atmosphere.

Something was wrong.

The coven-leader in front of him hesitated, clearly feeling the wrongness as well.

But even with the feeling of wrongness warning him, Voldemort wasn't prepared for what would happen next.

Fire.

Red and golden fire suddenly lit the stone-walls. There were no torches that were lit, no candles. It was the stone itself that suddenly started burning with fire.

And then the unearthly cry of a phoenix filled the air.

A moment later Voldemort heard the yelling of some of his Death Eaters.

Then silence.

Utter and absolute silence.

The Dementors hesitated and started to gather behind their leader.

The leader instead turned around to face Voldemort and its unearthly voice, not more than a deadly whisper filled the air. "You dared to come here, promising us the freedom to feed and to breed - while all the while working with one of those?!" Fury could be heard in that whispering voice, fury and fear.

"One of what?" Voldemort asked coolly.

"One of the half-breeds! One of those deadly bastards!" the leader hissed.

The answer was a laugh - but the laugh wasn't coming from Voldemort but from a boy that vaguely looked like Potter.

Just that the boy in front of him had shoulder-long hair and an unearthly green shine around him. The boy's eyes were lightened up with a living Avada Kedavra and the boy's body somehow seemed a little bit see-through and he was clearly pulsing with magical power.

"I'm not with him, leader of the coven," the boy said while smiling the grin of a born predator. "But you are right with one thing: I came because of him."

The coven-leader shrunk back.

"Return to where you come from, child of our blood! Return! We don't want you here!" The Dementor whispered.

The boy just crooked his head.

"Return? Why?" He asked interested. "After all, you were the one who was about to break the contract - so why do you try to get me to leave now, after you put yourself in my merciful hands just moments ago?"

The answer was a wordless hiss from the Dementor.

"Your hands are anything but merciful, child of our soul!" it returned finally bitterly.

The boy just raised an eyebrow.

"I let you and your coven live, all those years ago," he said. "Don't you think that that was an act of mercy, considering that you invaded my land with the wish to conquer?"

The Dementor shuddered.

"Whoever your parents were, child, they were clearly insane," it hissed. "Or how else can you explain that your Dementor-parent mated with a Phoenix?"

The answer was another laugh and Voldemort somehow felt a little bit left out at that.

And Dark Lords definitely didn't like to feel left out.

He turned to the ghostly boy, ready to frighten the child - but Bellatrix Lestrange was faster.

With a furious hiss she stormed at the boy and tried to tackle him.

She did not even reach him.

The unearthly green shine that surrounded the boy flung out and touched her midair before she could even try to shield herself from it. For a moment, she lightened up in a green that was nearly as bright as the Avada Kedavra; then she was thrown through the air. With a deep thunk she collided with one of the stone walls of the prison.

She bounced back from the wall and came to rest on the floor between Voldemort and the boy in front of him.

The boy's eyes were trained on her.

Then he looked up in Voldemort's eyes and raised one eyebrow.

Voldemort stood in front of the boy. His eyes swept to Bella who was lying like dead on the ground right between them.

He looked up at the boy.

Cold death-green eyes met his red ones.

"Afraid, Tom?" the boy asked, crocking is head and studying him. Voldemort snorted at this question.

"You're a mere boy - why should I be afraid of someone like you?!"

The answer was a mysterious smile.

"Because I am who I am" the boy answered, then he shrugged. "But I don't think you have enough respect to even care about who I am…"

"And who are you, boy? Potter maybe?" Voldemort did not know what to think about the boy in front of him, but even with the unearthly shine around him, the boy seemed far too young to be any kind of danger to a Dark Lord.

The boy in front of him laughed at his suggestion.

"Potter?" the brat repeated. "No, I'm not a potter, Tom. I'm far too fond of being a healer to ever think of training as a potter."

Voldemort growled.

"Harry Potter," he elaborated. He was quite sure that the boy had misunderstood him deliberately - and he definitely wasn't amused by that fact.

The answer was a laugh.

" Harry Potter?" he repeated. "So, you're still after a mere babe just because you were beaten by it one time?"

" Crucio !" Voldemort thought that this was the best way to get the boy to stop mocking him.

The boy did not even bother to dodge.

The curse hit him head on and fried the Death Eater behind him when it did not strike the body of the child but went through it as if it was a ghost.

The boy looked at his hands in interest.

"Seems as if I'm fading," the brat said with interest in its voice. "Never thought that something like that would be the effect of this ritual gone wrong…"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

Then the boy looked up again, his green eyes meeting Voldemort's red.

"Harry Potter should be your last concern," the brat dared to say. "He's not a danger to you in any way or form."

"And you are?" Voldemort hissed.

The boy laughed at that.

" If you cross my plans, I'll vanquish you," he answered the Dark Lord in soft, hypnotic hisses. " Don't worry, you'll cross me eventually ."

Then the boy's magic sparked in an odd way - as if it was fighting the boy's body itself.

The boy looked at his hands again.

"Seems as if my consciousness is fighting my control over his body - damn healer's oath," he said grinning. "If it weren't, power would have been the only thing I would have carved now."

Then he grinned at Voldemort.

"But then, power is the thing you carve - maybe I should at least steal a little bit from you before I come back to my mind."

Voldemort opened the mouth to utter another curse, but he was too late.

He could just watch when his plan for Azkaban crumpled and the boy vanished in a bout of flames.

In the next moment the Dark Mark lightened up the sky and Voldemort's plans of a silent rescue of his followers was reduced to ashes.

If he ever found out who cast the mark, they would be punished severely!

The day after Hallowe'en - and also the day after the raid in Azkaban, Albus Dumbledore was standing in front of the Wizengamot.

"Do you still believe that He isn't back?" He asked the other Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot heatedly. "Yesterday night, twenty aurors perished in Azkaban and the Dark Mark was cast in the sky above the castle!"

"So you're telling us, that You-Know-Who has to be back, just because the Dark Mark was cast?" Fudge said sneering. He had better things to do than to listen to Albus Dumbledore's senile ramblings. He had been just about to get information on Oliver Twist from Xenophilius Lovegood. Of course, the man had refused to cooperate even with the threat of an auror right next to him - but Cornelius was sure that the man would carve in soon. The Ministry had the better connections after all and even with the retainer Xenophilius Lovegood had hired, there was no way for Cornelius to lose.

And now, instead of working on the real threat, he was sitting in the Wizengamot meeting, listening to an old man's ramblings.

"He is back! And he has freed his loyal ones from Azkaban!"

"Well, I think it was Sirius Black who helped them to flee. After all, he knows how to break out of Azkaban - he did it before. It's logical that he returned now to break out his cousin and her husband and all his other Death Eater friends," Lucius Malfoy said and Cornelius had to give it to the man. This truly was the most logical conclusion.

And it seemed that the other members of the Wizengamot mostly thought that as well, because he could see them nodding and murmuring. Just a few loyal followers of Dumbledore like the Longbottom matriarch and some paranoid ones like Alastor Moody looked as if they didn't want to believe the words of Lucius Malfoy.

"And I also think that that's the end of those rumours, that Black might be innocent," Cornelius Fudge added and looked at Amelia Bones. Said woman returned his gaze with icy eyes.

"I fear, that that's where you're wrong, Minister," she said and stood up. "Because Sirius Black is what I am here for, today."

Cornelius' eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about, Amelia?" He asked.

The answer was a grim smile.

"You asked me to look into the case of Sirius Black, Minister," she said. "I am here today to present my findings."

Again there were murmurs all around the room. Albus Dumbledore frowned. It seemed like the old man hadn't heard about Cornelius' inquiry beforehand like he normally did.

The next minutes were downright shattering for Cornelius.

Amelia had been thorough. She had evidence. She had memories and she had an oath from Sirius Black that everything he sent her was true. The oath had been signed in blood and was because of that as binding as every other unbreakable vow.

In the end, Amelia Bones's verdict was clear.

Sirius Black was innocent.

"But… but…" Cornelius stuttered. "But Azkaban! The break-out!"

"Wasn't done by Sirius Black," Amelia answered coolly. "Like I said before. I have proof that he didn't betray the Potters and I have prove that he didn't kill Peter Pettigrew, the true betrayer. If you want to see the memories, I'll show you, but like I said, I verified them. There is no way that Sirius Black could have forged them."

"So you are on Dumbledore's side now. You want to believe his lies that You-Know-Who is back!" Cornelius concluded sneering. The answer was a frown from Amelia Bones.

"No," she said and Cornelius relaxed slightly. It seemed that Amelia hadn't succumbed to Dumbledore's madness. "I just wanted to point out that it couldn't have been Black who did it, Minister," she said. "I never said anything about You-Know-Who."

"Well, if it wasn't Black, then maybe it was Pettigrew?" Lucius Malfoy said. "After all, since Black hasn't killed him, that man is still alive and if Black wasn't You-Know-Who's right hand man, than at least Pettigrew has to have a place in his inner circle. Maybe he heard about Madam Bones' inquiry and panicked? It would be logical to try and free other Death Eaters so that we don't concentrate on solely him."

"Yes! Yes! If it wasn't Black, than Pettigrew must have done it!" Cornelius' said. "After all, he has to be a very sly and sneaky Death Eater! He faked his death after all and blamed it all on Black!"

When Cornelius looked around, he saw that the other Wizengamot members were nodding. His eyes returned to Amelia and the woman inclined her head. It seemed as if she thought this possible as well.

"You are wrong!" Albus Dumbledore said in that moment. "I doubt that Peter Pettigrew could do something like that alone! He isn't resourceful enough to…"

"But he was resourceful enough to hide away for more than a decade, while at the same time blaming an innocent man for his murder," Theodore Nott Sr. said. "I believe that if someone is able to hide for so long, than he is also resourceful enough to free some Death Eaters from Azkaban - especially after he saw that it was possible when the scion of Black escaped!"

"It was Voldemort! If you don't…" Albus Dumbledore boomed. Cornelius turned out the rest of his mad ramblings. He wasn't interested in listening to the madness of a once great man. So Cornelius preferred to think about a way to get information on Oliver Twist out of Xenophilius Lovegood in time to stop the brat before he could undermine the Ministry's credibility even more than he did until now.

"Minister!" it was Amelia Bones who brought Cornelius back to the present discussion. Albus Dumbledore had gone silent and Amelia was looking at Cornelius with expectation in her eyes.

"Could you repeat that, Amelia?" he asked.

"Minister, what should we do now after we know the truth about Black?" she repeated dutifully.

That was indeed a good question.

Cornelius would have preferred to let it be like it was, but he also knew that at least some of those present remembered that Black should have a seat in the Wizengamot with them. Adding to that that Lucius Malfoy was married to Black's cousin and Cornelius couldn't afford to do what he would have liked.

"We need to contact him. We also need to give him back his rights… and we will have to apologize to him for his treatment by the former government body, "Cornelius grimaced at that, but there was no way around it. "He has to be recompensed and…"

He trailed of, not sure if there was anything else they needed to do.

"What about asking him to submit to St. Mungo's for treatment?" Amelia Bones suggested. "If he passes the tests about mental health, he will be released and will be able to take up his duties as Lord Black. Like that we can be sure that he's safe for everyone else when he's released."

"A good idea, Madam Bones," Cornelius said. "Please contact the press. I will talk to them later on." And Cornelius would make sure that the world knew that it had been his predecessors who imprisoned an innocent man and that Cornelius had been the one to find out and free him.

"Are there any other things that need to be discussed?"

After that, the Wizengamot session ran smoothly as always.

Somewhere else, Xenophilius Lovegood hummed happily while he started to print the next edition of The Quibbler. He was sure, that the article, Oliver Twist had written this time would definitely bring some new trouble for the Wizarding World.

The article itself might not be aimed at the Wizarding World in general - but it aimed at one of the most important institutions of their world. There would definitely be a lot of interest in the newly printed article.

Not, that there hadn't been interest in them before. Since the day Xeno had printed the first article of Oliver Twist his subscribers had increased tenfold. Xeno even had trouble to print the editions of his newspaper alone now. He soon would need some help printing to be able to print enough for his subscribers.

And then there was the interest of the Witch's Weekly in the articles of Oliver Twist. They had printed one of the first articles in their magazine and returned to him to ask if they were allowed to print others also.

Of course, Xeno had to discuss this with Oliver Twist first. Now the Witch's Weekly was also publishing the articles - even if it was two days later then in The Quibbler.

In that moment someone knocked on Xeno's door and he went to open it.

"Barnabas Cuffe" he greeted the wizard standing in front of his door.

"Xenophilius Lovegood" Barnabas, the editor in chief of the Daily Prophet returned the greeting. "Well met my friend."

"Well met" Xeno said and winked the wizard in. He showed Barnabas to his living room and then went to get some tea. Luna always told him that it was easier to talk with a good cup of tea in front of you and Xeno followed his daughter's advice. He knew she was smarter then him and would know things like that.

"So, how may I help you?" he finally asked when he returned with the tea in his hands.

"I wanted to ask for permission to print the articles of Oliver Twist," Barnabas answered.

When Xeno just raised an eyebrow, Barnabas smiled.

"Today a barrister entered the Daily Prophet's " he told the man in front of him. "Some of our shareholders were not happy about the biased things we were printing. They combined their share and have overthrown the grasp of the Ministry on us. Now we have some stipulations for printing. We have to research seriously and we have to stop printing gossip."

"You sound happy about that" Xeno remarked. Barnabas just smiled.

"It's finally like it used to be before" he answered. "And because of that I would like to ask for permission to print the articles of Oliver Twist. He does his research quite well and has not written anything wrong until now. And he knows how to write. The people are following what he has been writing since he started at The Quibbler."

"And I wondered why suddenly the people all seem interested in Cackling Cragglers and Shrinking Bubblers…" Xeno uttered and Barnabas looked at him bewildered. Xeno just shrugged inwardly and continued to speak: "Write him a letter and I will forward it. It is Oliver's decision if he wants his texts printed in the Daily Prophet."

"Do…" Barnabas hesitated. "Do you know who he truly is?"

"No" Xeno answered immediately. "I do not. He contacts me through Gringotts and he has a Vault there under his pen name. I do not know his real name. His contract is also handled by Gringotts. If he truly starts writing for you, he will ask you to do the same. Like that no-one is able to get information about him through me or those he is also working with."

"Clever" Barnabas commented. "The Ministry will have a hard time to trace him."

"They will - when they start searching, that is."

"They will" Barnabas answered. "He might aim at Hogwarts for now but I am sure that his sharp tongue will not stop by the Minister and his goons."

"Definitely not" the time Xeno smiled grimly. "And I am just waiting for the day he is finally turning his eyes to the Ministry."

Barnabas was not shocked when he heard the nice Xeno Lovegood declare he was waiting for the deconstruction of the Ministry. Everyone that knew Xeno's history knew that he was at odds with the Ministry since the day he left them for good. Before that Xeno Lovegood had held a respected position in the Ministry.

"I do not think you have to wait much longer" Barnabas said.

Xeno just smiled.

"I know" he answered. "I know my friend." And with that he took his cup of tea to drink. Barnabas just smiled and did the same. There was some time left until he had to return to work. Just now he had his lunch break - so why not harbor it at the home of an old friend, a man he knew from his time at school?

After all there was a letter to write and some serious news to print afterwards.

Later that day another meeting was held. A meeting that was one out of six - some of them already concluded, some of them still waiting for the final verdict.

The room was barely lit and dark shadows chased the light of the candles along the walls. At one side was an ornamented, oak desk with an overstuffed, black armchair behind it. On the wall above the chair, a crest was embodied into the stones. The crest showed a silver serpent wrapped around a white lily on a light green grounding.

A tall, blond and blue-eyed man stood in front of the desk, his forehead wet with sweat. His eyes were fixed on the crest that was barely visible in the shadowy room.

"You know the protocol," another voice said. The voice belonged to a young man with traditionally braided hair and green, open robes. A silver basilisk was stitched on the black tunic beneath his robes. "It's your decision, but you have to make it now."

The sweating man gulped nervously.

"The crest," he said hesitatingly. "It's… it's not a joke, is it?"

"You know the answer to that question," the boy replied and his deathly green eyes fixated the other man with a cold stare.

"Yes or no, Lord Adrian Greengrass?"

The answer was a scoff.

"You're asking me if I decide to join your Grand Family? The Grand Family? Shouldn't it be obvious, that I wouldn't say no even if I would have to work together with Albus Dumbledore himself?" the blond man snorted.

"I need a clear answer, Lord Greengrass," the young man admonished the older one softly. "Yes or no?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!"

"Even if I tell you that it's the Weasleys and the Longbottoms you will to have to work with?"

"Like I said, I even would work with Dumbledore to be able to pin my name to this crest!"

"No need for that. Dumbledore is definitely no one who will ever be politically allied with this family."

The answer was a grin from the blond man.

"So the Weasleys finally stopped listening to every word the new Merlin of the magical world says?" he asked the younger one. "It seems that they have at least some common sense at last."

The answer was a chuckle from the younger man.

"They also have some decorum, now," he told the Greengrass-Lord. "Augusta Longbottom insisted on teaching them the proper manners for the Wizengamot."

"Will wonder never increase?" the other man said while shaking his head. Then he smiled viciously and bowed to the younger man. "I'm looking forward to the official forming of our alliance."

The younger man just inclined his head.

"Until then, Lord Greengrass," he told the lord.

The other lord nodded.

"Until then," he replied; then he spoke the activation password of his port-key and vanished.

Deathly green eyes lit up with unearthly Phoenix-fire.

"Well, Albus Dumbledore," he whispered satisfied. "That's another nail in your coffin."

Then he leaned back against the table and drew another shuddering breath. He had hidden the pain he was in from the praying eyes of the other man but now, that he was alone; he gave in and rubbed his hurting chest.

A knock on the hidden door made him turn around.

"Enter," he said and a goblin opened the door.

"You should rest, Morganaadth," the goblin said. "It is a wonder that you're alive, after all, and refusing to rest just aggravates your condition."

The boy smiled a bitter smile.

"At least the experience didn't kill me," he said.

The goblin just sighed. "No, but you were lucky that you are as old as you are - and that you have been a healer for the most of your life. If you weren't and if your oath wouldn't have been as old and integrated as it is, you would have died -"

"Slowly and painfully, I know," the boy interrupted. "Thank you for caring, Nardog."

The answer was a scoff.

"You are my clan-leader, Morganaadth. Of course I care for you. And now - go to bed. Rest. I don't want to see you up and about for at least another twenty-four hours."

"Of course, mother," and with that sarcastic remark, the boy left the room to do what he had been told.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, known by most solely as 'Lord Voldemort', 'The Dark Lord' or 'You-Know-Who', sat on his throne in Malfoy manor in fuming silence.

The raid on Azkaban had not happened as he had planed it. Sure, he had been able to free his imprisoned, loyal Death Eaters, but the price had been higher than expected. Instead of returning with an army of dementors that just waited for his every demand, he returned with a hissed "Don't come near us ever again!" from their leader. The dementors had refused the alliance after the child had vanished and there had been nothing that could change their minds again.

"My Lord," Voldemort looked up, not at all happy with the interruption by his follower. It was just the presence of the black-clad stranger who stood right behind the Death Eater that had dared to interrupt him in his brooding, that stopped him before he could crucio his follower.

The Death Eater gulped. It seemed as if he could see Voldemort's wish to hurt him in his Lord's eyes.

"M… my L… lord, there… there's someone who wanted to meet you," the Death Eater stuttered.

The black-clad stranger behind the Death Eater snorted; then he swept around him, just to stop a few feet in front of Voldemort's throne.

The stranger bowed and Voldemort looked at him curiously.

"It is a pleasure meeting you, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the Great," the stranger said and when he looked up Voldemort could finally place the pale complexion and dark eyes of the stranger.

A vampire.

The stranger was a vampire.

"The pleasure is mine," Voldemort said coolly. He knew how to act to get new followers - and being rude definitely wouldn't help him with a vampire who was obviously trained to act like a lord.

The answer was the shadow of a smile on the vampire's face.

"I am Anastasius Sanguini," it said. "I am here to renew the bond between my clan and the Lord of Slytherin."

Maybe this day wasn't as bad as Voldemort had thought previously.