Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

*Drip*

The sound of water dropping off a pipe in the not-so-far-off distance, slowly forming a pool of water on the dingy stone floor caused him to stir once more.

*Drip*

He moved slowly, his elbows brushing against his knees as he reached to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Half blind without his glasses, Terry tried to turn his head around towards the source of the noise, only to be rebuked by his shoulder hitting against the iron bars.

He had no idea how long he had been in this situation only that twice a day a small portion of food would appear in his cage.

' Or is it only once a day?'

He had no way to tell. The food may have been arriving once every other day, for all he knew.

*Drip*

His mind drifted back to his last moments of freedom, trying in vain to remember how he had arrived here.

' I received a letter from Marci…'

What happened next was a jumbled mess of images.

' Did I read the letter on the beach? Or in my room? Or maybe at the pub on the corner?'

He had debated that question for as long as he could remember before a new question had crawled its way into his mind.

' Did I read the letter at all?'

"What is this?" A thick voice in heavily accented English echoed off the walls.

Whomever the first man was talking to responded in an unknown language before the first man responded in that same language.

*Drip*

Boots echoing off the stone caused him to push back against his cage instinctively, as if the extra millimeter of distance would protect him.

The vision of a tall man with shoulder length black hair and a goatee made itself known for the first time.

"I apologize for the unseemly conditions, my friend. My men were a bit overzealous, it would seem."

He heard the cage door creak open for the first time since he arrived, as he grasped at the slender man's large hands, he was slowly pulled out of his cage and handed his glasses.

The dark basement looked more like a dungeon, with its dimly lit torches and musty smell.

' How long have I been down here?' He thought as he caught a glimpse of the rather large puddle of water sitting behind his small cage.

"Thank you." His voice sounded harsh to his ears, and cracked from disuse.

The other man frowned.

*Drip*

"I told them that the Dark Lord did not specify what your living conditions should be, so there was no need for them to be unduly cruel."

He gulped in fear, the full extent of his situation finally settling on him.

"But my nephew, he has always been a bit overzealous."

The man let out a jovial belly laugh, as if the unneeded cruelty was a positive character trait.

"I am Sergei, welcome to my home."

Without another word the middle-aged man began to walk slowly towards a previously unseen staircase on the far side of the room.

His joints ached with each step as he made it up the stairs slowly, Sergei never out of his sight.

"Please," his captor began, gesturing towards a washroom; "tidy yourself up, the elf will show you to the dining hall when you're done, you must be hungry."

' What the hell is going on?' He thought as he was ushered into a washroom with a stationary painting of a large sword.

' This man - Sergei - is holding me on behalf of the Dark Lord?'

The thought was terrifying.

' What the hell would he want with me?'

He took a second to enjoy the feeling of hot water splashing against his body before answering his own question.

' Your dad's the Supreme Mugwump, your best friend is Harry Potter, and your mom is on the brink of discovering a cure for lycanthropy.'

There were literally a dozen reasons as to why he could be in this situation.

' What do I do now?'

As he slowly got dressed in a clean pair of robes, no answer presented itself.

Upon exiting the washroom, a perky elf thrust several potions into his hands.

"Master says prisoner be taking these now." The elf squeaked, its ears wiggling in the torchlight.

He frowned. "What are they?"

The elf shrugged.

"I'm not taking them." Terry responded stubbornly.

" Unknown potions can have dire consequences, Terry." His mom's words echoed clearly in his mind.

The elf waved his hands and Terry found himself flying through the air before smashing against the stone wall with a sickening crunch, his left arm falling useless to his side.

"Prisoners be taking all the potions now!" The elf half-cried, half- pleaded.

"No." He gritted out through his teeth.

The elf stared at him for a long moment with big, pitying eyes before disappearing.

Several minutes later he heard a loud stomping from down the hallway, an angry Sergei charging towards him.

He greeted him with a fist to the side of the head, knocking him down immediately.

Before he could get back up, he saw a black boot impact his robes.

Terry gasped in pain as the man repeatedly kicked him in the ribs, yelling at him in the same unknown language as before.

After a long while the kicking stopped, leaving Sergei panting heavily, bent over with his hands resting on his thighs several meters away from him.

Sergei offered him an apologetic look before waving his wand.

Immediately Terry felt his injuries begin to heal themselves as the blood on his robes disappeared.

"I am sorry, my friend." His tormentor began. "Sometimes I lose myself." He chuckled before forcing the potions down Terry's throat.

"Would you please join me for dinner?"

' As if I have a choice.'

The tea room was sparsely decorated and adorned in light pinks and greens.

"Sugar and honey, please." He said to the diminutive elf.

"Yes sir." It squeaked.

He was well aware that the other occupants of the room were watching his every move with varying degrees of interest.

Edna Abbott and Louise Bagshot stared at him mistrustfully; the former because she inexplicably blamed him and Dumbledore for her son's death at the Wizengamot, while the later saw anyone more advanced than your average sixth year as a threat.

"My grandson tells me you'll be entering seventh year charms and transfiguration classes this term?"

' What the hell am I doing here?' He asked himself silently, outwardly putting on his most charming smile, making sure to look the elder Longbottom in the eyes as he answered.

' I should be looking for Terry.'

Augusta Longbottom had a soft spot for him, if her favorable comments to the Daily Prophet were anything to go by - Tonks suspected it may have been because he reminded her of her catatonic son, Frank.

"I will." He said, adopting a sad, reflective smile. "Professors Flitwick and McGonagall demanded more of me."

The sorrow in his voice wasn't forced; both believed in him when few did, now both were dead - likely by the same wand, so to speak.

"You would have made them all so, so proud." Dowager Longbottom responded, a solemn expression on her wrinkled face, a touch of despair clinging to her voice.

Her statement was intentionally ambiguous, as though the woman with a severe reputation was trying to comfort him.

"Thank you, Augusta."

It had been three days since Edmund had reached out to him to tell him his only son had been missing for four days.

Terry had been gone for a full week.

The Boots had not been stingy in their search, hiring the best private eyes Europe had to track down their only child.

Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, acting through Harry, had offered their own resources - primarily intelligence gathered by Bill, Tonks, and Snape.

The three women plus Amelia Bones represented the leadership of the Wizengamots "Women's Caucus," voting members of the body made up of families where there was no capable male representative.

"And thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Lord Potter. Especially considering the circumstances."

Unable to make much of a difference in the ongoing search, Daphne had encouraged him to put his efforts to use elsewhere.

Despite that, he had reached out to his own sources, hoping they may bear fruit.

He grinned at the older woman. The week since Voldemort had attacked the Wizengamot had sprung a debate among the populace as to whether he should be tried in court for his actions.

Thankfully the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and her advisors had decided against that course of action.

"Of course, Lady Bones."

His critics didn't need Amelia's permission to try his character.

Having concluded the pleasantries, the look on the middle-aged woman's face shifted to something a bit more serious.

Gone was the Lady of House Bones, in its place stood the intimidating woman that had climbed the hierarchy at the Ministry of Magic to become arguably the second most important person in the country.

"Prior to last Saturday I had wanted to hear your thoughts on Ms. Tonks claims about Voldemort's return. However, after Voldemort, or at the very least Bellatrix Lestrange attempted to wrest control of the ministry from the people, I think we ought to expand our agenda."

Around him he noticed the reverence that Lady's Abbott and Bagshot were eyeing the older witch with, and smiled.

' She wants to replace Nott, and she's betting everything on my story.'

"What would you like to know?"

He felt a tinge of legilimency brush against his defenses before pulling away.

"Everything."

He took a long sip of his tea, enjoying the strong taste of his earl grey, trying to determine where to begin.

"I cannot speak for Nymphadora Tonks, though I believe her story. I think my actions have belied that point."

Seeing he had the attention of the room, he slowly stood up, abandoning his tea on its coaster in favor of a better view.

"You are all aware of the events of October 31st 1981, as well as my familial situation there-after; prior to my eleventh birthday I was unaware of this world."

The four women nodded politely, Augusta Longbottom gesturing for him to continue.

"Since arriving in this world strange incidents have seemed to follow me wherever I go."

Now pacing back and forth, he began to count the oddities off on his fingers one by one.

"During my first year, a troll meant to distract the school away from a possessed Professor Quirrell and his movements, killed my best friend. Later that year that same professor was killed while trying to steal an object that was being possessed. I was later told that Quirrell believed he could use the object to resurrect Lord Voldemort."

"Who came to those conclusions?" The harsh voice of Louise Bagshot interrupted, skepticism in her scratchy voice.

Surprisingly it was Edna Abbott who responded.

"Jacob," Edna started, a slight hitch in her voice, "and Elizabeth Fawley carried out the investigation into those incidents for the Board of Governors."

Edna's voice carried a hint of a challenge, as if daring the batty woman to question the conclusions drawn by the deceased.

"Louise, it is important to remember that what the report states is that Quirrell perceived these things to be true, it doesn't mean they are."

Harry felt a bit betrayed by Amelia's proclamation, though he understood her need to remain impartial - facts, not emotions would sway the orderly woman.

"Thank you, Amelia."

The next hour was spent in much the same fashion; Harry would detail his history with the Death Eaters, someone would present themselves as skeptical, and he would counter.

The process was tedious.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement took a sip of her brandy, staring off into the rolling hills that backed up her ancestral home.

"Do you believe the British Ministry, as currently constructed is capable of winning this war?"

His eyes drifted around the room as he composed his response.

"I'm neither a soldier nor a politician, ma'am."

"Yet you have near unprecedented power in the Wizengamot, and have killed at least seven men in battle."

He grimaced.

"A situation of circumstance, Amelia."

For the first time the stern woman glared at him.

"I'm not the Daily Prophet, stop avoiding the damn question."

' What do I know about winning a war?'

"I gather the opinions of my advisors before forming my own." He answered truthfully.

"I know that measures to increase defense spending have recently failed to pass, giving Minister Nott a valid excuse as to his inaction."

Amelia nodded. "That's not the only mistake this administration has made."

' Here it comes.'

"Between defense, failure to advance anti-corruption measures, and the attack at the Wizengamot, I'm not sure Minister Nott has the leadership skills to win this fight."

' She's not wrong.' Nott wasn't trying to win, he was trying to survive.

"I plan on calling for a vote of no confidence when we convene on the first of the month, can I count on the support of House Potter and House Black?"

Sitting down he grabbed his now lukewarm glass of earl grey, taking a slow sip to buy himself a couple of seconds.

Despite the chiding of Daphne, he hadn't come to this meeting with any sort of agenda, the truth was he had no idea what he wanted in return for his support.

Throughout the first war Voldemort had relied on subterfuge and small targeted attacks as a way to gain and exert power; rarely did the dark lord resort to large-scale attacks like the attack on the Wizengamot.

"In exchange for the support of Houses Black and Potter I expect a direct line to your office."

He hoped his words came out as more of a statement rather than a question. While he had no idea what he wanted, Daphne might.

Lady Bones nodded her head sharply. "One of my duties as Minister would be to take on advisors."

He smiled in agreement.

"But you're not just asking for my support, are you?"

For the first time Amelia Bones looked uncomfortable.

"It would be helpful if I had the support of Edmund Boot and Alfred Greengrass as well."

"I cannot speak for the Boot family." He said, finishing his tea.

He could however speak for Alfred and Daphne.

"However, Alfred will support anyone who appoints him to a prominent position, politics matters less to him than familial status, Minister of the Interior, perhaps?"

Off to the side he could hear Louise's exaggerated scoff, while Edna wore a particularly disgusted look on her face, even Augusta Longbottom didn't appear overly pleased by the demand.

Amelia looked far from sold on the idea.

Time to push.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was coming for you on Yule, Lady Bones. She will come for you again, my allies can become your allies."

She frowned. "Deliver four 'yes' votes, and Greengrass will get his position."

Sensing an end to the meeting Harry stood up once more, tapping his robes to straighten them out before turning to each woman in kind, saving Amelia for last.

"I hope you're prepared for this, Minister."

Smiling, he threw a fistful of floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through.

"NO MORE NOTT! NO MORE NOTT!" The crowd chanted in unison.

He joined the protests, intoxicated by the energy of the mob.

Around him he noticed several reporters milling about the ministry building in the early evening sun, engaging protestors on the outskirts of the group in conversation, undoubtedly gathering quotes for their periodicals.

The third night of protests following the attack at the Wizengamot was the biggest yet. Made up primarily of young half-bloods and muggleborns who were becoming increasingly concerned for their own safety as pureblood rhetoric had become more and more prevalent in daily conversation.

The days since the attack at the Wizengamot had brought a maelstrom of debate about not only the claim that Voldemort had returned from the dead, but the way in which those who repelled the attackers had handled themselves.

The debate had centered primarily on the actions of Lord Potter.

Whether he was saying the title out loud or in his mind, Colton always seemed to put added emphasis on the antiquated titles still used in the wizarding world.

" If those who protect us use the same tactics as those who attack us then we have no right to claim the moral high ground!" Carissa shouted, slamming her fists into the Gelded Griffins thick wooden table.

" What would you have him do? 'Stupefy' them?" He had retorted, equally passionate in his response.

" If he was strong enough to cast such horrific spells, he's strong enough to cast an advanced shield charm!"

He shook the argument from his mind, joining in in the chanting once more.

"HEY, HEY. HO, HO. MINISTER NOTT HAS GOT TO GO!"

His wife represented a growing number of the population, led by the insufferable Rita Skeeter, who had begun to draw comparisons to the man Potter was defending them from.

"BRING ON BONES! BRING ON BONES!" The crowd began, showing their support for the ascension of Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Despite this world's relative intolerance, he couldn't help but admire this society's lack of sexism.

At least if the woman in question was a pureblood.

A nudge at his shoulder caused him to take a few steps forward as a tall man in long, dark robes pushed his way through the crowd.

' Rude.'

As the man made his way through the crowd he noticed him reach into his pocket, pulling out a musty vial.

Quietly the man conjured the bubblehead charm around himself as he raised the vial above his head.

' Shit.' He thought as he hastily cast his own bubblehead charm.

The man smashed the vial on the ground a half-second later, filling the air with a thick, mustard colored smoke.

Around him people were coughing and collapsing to the ground, their bodies convulsing violently as foam poured from their mouths.

His eyes widened as a sudden streak of green found its way through the crowd, causing him to dive hastily to the cobblestone.

' No. No. No. This can't be happening!' He thought as he tried to lay perfectly still on the ground.

He lost track of time as the smoke was replaced by a plethora of green light.

He shut his eyes in fear as explosions shook the ground.

"Tonks! Your team to the right!"

' Tonks? Where do I know that name?'

Cracking his eyes open, Colton chanced a glance around.

Several meters in front of him an athletically built woman with black hair tied back in a bun was flanked by a half-dozen men in battle robes, she was conversing with a sturdy looking man with long, thick red hair.

' Nymphadora Tonks, England's top ranked duelist, has served as the proxy for both Houses Black and Potter…'

The article from this week's 'Independent Sorcerer' rang out in his mind, causing him to relax slightly.

Cancelling his bubblehead charm and getting to his knees, he gripped his wand tightly and took a look around.

The scene was pure mayhem as ministry aurors and Potter's forces clashed with two dozen masked attackers.

' I can make it.' He thought as he caught sight of the apparition point several meters in front of him.

' If I crawl.'

Positioning himself properly, Colton harkened back to his dad's old VHS tapes showing men crawling under barbed wire during army training.

Mimicking their actions, Colton slowly began to make his way towards the apparition point, doing his best to avoid the various bodies surrounding him.

"Death Eaters! Retreat!"

A booming voice called out, causing him to feel a sense of relief.

" Morsmordre!" A masked man yelled, filling the early evening sky with a floating skull and snake before apparating away.

" ' T' -

I'm wondering if you or your family have heard anything regarding the whereabouts of our classmate.

I have some information you may find helpful, if you're interested."

Theo tapped his wand to the parchment, frowning a second later when the unsigned missive wasn't immediately engulfed in flames.

Taking a deep breath and practicing the wand movement's once-more the fifteen year old cleared his mind before taping his wand to his parchment again.

' Incendio.' He thought, picturing the heavy parchment on the desk in front of him burning to ash.

He smiled softly as the parchment in front of him slowly burned away.

' Professor Avery will be pleased.'

He could cast nearly every one of his first, second, and third year spells silently, something few in his year could say.

Burning his correspondence with Potter had become habit by this point, though never had the ritual been this quiet.

He yearned for his father's advice on how to handle his situation with Potter, unfortunately his father had been stuck at the ministry trying to maintain control of the last vestiges of his power.

He thought through his options, remembering his great-uncle's advice to him at the start of last year.

" Protect the family."

It had been his father's intentions to do just that when he had had him open a line of communication with Potter.

As it had been his own intentions to do the same when he ignored his father's orders to warn Potter of the attack at the Wizengamot.

Lives had been lost and it had earned his father public scorn, but the Dark Lord was sure to be thankful.

Pleasing the Dark Lord would ensure his families survival in the long-run, even if it first cost his father his career.

He winced in pain as Sergei's elf tended to his injuries, generously applying Essence of Dittany and Burn Salve where needed.

"You mustn't be angering master like that!" The elf scolded, poking him in his already sore ribs with his boney fingers.

' I really should know better, by now.'

It had been fifteen meals, and seven beatings since he had met Sergei. His latest a result of not being able to answer the sturdy Russians questions.

' Do I really not know anything?' Terry had also found it increasingly difficult to believe that he knew nothing about his mum's research.

A loud cringe stopped the elf from her yammering and drew Terry's attention towards the dimly lit doorway towards the back of the basement.

"Would you leave us, elf?" Sergei's voice was confident and commanding before the elf left the two of them alone.

He flinched involuntarily as the man's mahogany wand glistened in the torchlight, causing the black-haired man to frown.

"I am sorry, Terry." He began, a comfortable looking black chair appearing beside the Ravenclaw.

He eyed the chair longingly before briefly meeting the older man's eyes.

Sergei offered him a nearly imperceptible nod causing him to relax as he allowed his body to sink into the comfortable leather chair.

Reaching for the lever that he knew would recline the chair, he felt a shock run up his arm, causing him to pull his hand away quickly.

"Not right now, Terry." The man chuckled. "You have been through quite a bit, and I don't want you to sleep just yet."

He nodded in understanding. His time here had been rough.

"It has never been my intention to hurt you, Terry. I hope you know that."

The man stared at him, silently urging him to agree with his assessment.

Terry felt himself nod in acceptance, causing Sergei to relax visibly.

' Good.'

"The Dark Lord has tasked me with learning more about your mother's work. If I fail to get results, I, and in turn you, will face consequences."

That much he had gathered; nearly every question had been about his mother.

' Surprising, given who I'm friends with.'

"I understand, sir."

The answer seemed to please Sergei.

"I realize that you are not privy to your mother's research, and that you don't even live in the same house as her for a large portion of the year!"

' Really? You understand that?'

"But even the smallest bit of information could make both our lives easier."

He weighed his options.

He did know something.

"Sir." He began timidly, his eyes glancing briefly at the man in front of him before returning to the floor.

"My mum was going to begin working with a friend of Harry's father, a man named Lupin, to further her research on the 'Wolfsbane' potion."

Sergei beamed.

"What were they looking into, specifically?"

He frowned, using his thumb to push his broken glasses back onto his nose.

"They were looking for a cure, sir." He replied evenly.

"Thank you, Terry!" He could feel the gratitude in the older man's voice.

A moment later his chair disappeared, causing him to fall to the ground.

Sergei reached a hand out, pulling him to his feet quickly.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up and join me for dinner? Afterwards, I think you could use a good night's sleep."

Terry smiled appreciatively at the prospect.

' I can plot my escape when my mind's clearer.'

Riding the coattails of the woman in front of him, the rat scampered unnoticed through the dusty bar.

Despite his forms usefulness, Peter remembered how disappointed he had been on that fateful night in his fifth year, surrounded by Sirius, Remus, and James as his body twisted and turned for several agonizing seconds before depositing a common sewer rat on the floor of the 'Shrieking Shack.'

James had grinned like a madman when Sirius pointed out that his form made Peter the perfect spy.

He hated spying. Alone on the front lines, gathering information for people who didn't appreciate his other talents.

Sticking to the shadows, Peter snuck in through the doorway before making his way to a dark corner on the far side of the room.

Bellatrix began tapping her foot in impatience, her simple black shoes kicking up dust off the floor as she waited for whomever it is that she was waiting for.

He had only been slightly surprised when Lucius had come to him, asking him to keep tabs on his chief rival.

The mistrust between the two had always been there. Dating back to the time when a young Bellatrix Black had publicly questioned Lucius's usefulness following the death of Abraxas.

" He lacks the temperament and talent of his father, my lord. I ask you to reconsider."

Her words echoed in his mind, clear as day the day he had viewed the memory that started it all.

" Give him an opportunity to prove himself, Bella." His lord had said while he cupped the young psychopath's cheek as though the subject of their conversation wasn't in the room with them. " Given the opportunity, I'm sure Lucius will prove to be more like his father than you think."

Lucius had spent a fortune ensuring the Wizengamot repealed their strict immigration laws, allowing the Dark Lord to import mercenaries at a moments notice.

The victory cemented Lucius's place in his lord's ranks, while sparking a rivalry between the pair of ambitious death eaters.

He had yet to see the hatred he had seen in Lucius's eyes replicated outside that memory.

What the man wanted, he did not know. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't care. He wasn't disobeying his lord and he was earning a little gold in the process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door.

The noise caused the rat to look up, his beady eyes settling on a pair of long, feminine legs.

He strained his eyes as he tried to see a face, groaning internally at the futility of the act before turning his attention to the room at-large, his eyes resting on the shadow of a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Sticking to the walls, he scurried his way by the room's occupants - who appeared to be embracing - and to the obscured chair, quickly climbing his way up the chairs leg and into the seat.

His eyes lit up when he caught sight of Bellatrix's companion.

' Septima Vector.'

He had been surprised to learn the identity of Bellatrix's spy at Hogwarts, although he shouldn't have been. After all, it had been her who had benefited from the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall.

He smiled, Bellatrix had done everything in her power to obscure the identity of her spy, and he had kept his promise in not divulging her secret, it hadn't been worth the risk to betray the volatile woman.

This information would cost Lucius more.

"I cannot stay for more than a moment." The musical voice of Sirius's former fiancée rang out, disappointment diluting her voice, "but Corban came through."

Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress passed Voldemort's General a thin manila folder.

"Are you certain this is all the information the ministry has on the Greengrass family?"

Bellatrix sounded disappointed with Septima's efforts.

She appeared to nod her head sharply, a coy smile on her full lips.

"It is, but the job will be easier." The witch said, a vial resting between her long fingers catching the light of the room.

" Half your job will be easier." Bellatrix corrected before covering the short distance between the two.

Septima quivered as Bellatrix stroked the younger woman's cheek, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

"If you don't get those memories, I'll be very disappointed."

The sun reflected off her lightly tanned face, gently waking her from her slumber.

Sitting up in her queen sized bed, Astoria wiped her ash-brown hair from her face with a content smile, stretching her arms high above her head.

She couldn't help but think she must look like a cat in this position.

She had enjoyed a dreamless slumber courtesy of Harry.

" Tomorrow's a big day." He'd said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as they left the library. " You'll need your rest."

When she was eight she had stubbornly asked her parents for a big brother for Yule, only to have it explained to her that that would be impossible.

Astoria had pouted for weeks.

She treasured those little moments with Harry, taking solace in the fact that he and Daphne would always be there for her.

And he was right. She didn't need another restless night of Lily, bright lights, and laughter haunting her nightmares.

Despite her mind healer's encouraging words, she did wish the process of recovering her memory would speed up. The sooner she remembered the details the sooner she could move on.

' There is a silver lining.' She reminded herself, a coy smirk replacing her eager smile as she thought about the nights she had spent practicing occlumency with Draco.

Stepping out of her bed, the newly minted fourteen year old sauntered over to her window sill, admiring the crew of people who were spending the last Saturday in June preparing for her birthday party.

She'd often found herself wondering what the laborers talked about as they worked diligently to prepare events for others.

Were they envious of her?

Did they hate her?

It couldn't help her image that she was dating a Malfoy, she knew that for certain.

Glancing down she frowned at the dead marigold's that adorned her dusty windowsill.

' So much for that hobby.'

After expressing her boredom in a letter, Clair had encouraged her to take up gardening.

Her new hobby held her attention for less than ten days.

' Neville Longbottom, I am not.' She thought with a laugh.

"Tempus." She muttered, checking the time.

Seeing she could still make breakfast, Astoria threw on something a little more appropriate than her cream nighty before skipping out of her room and towards the kitchen.

"Good morning!" She said brightly as she entered the kitchen; greeting her parents, Daphne, and Harry each with a hug.

"Happy Birthday Stori!" Daphne said in excitement, shoving a small box in her hand. "This isn't your main gift, but Harry and I both wanted you to have it."

Harry shot her sister a bewildered look before settling for nodding his head in agreement.

Astoria took the package greedily, tearing the loosely wrapped paper to reveal a metallic tin.

Slightly puzzled, she opened the tin slowly, staring dumbly at the contents.

Three white mints.

She felt a grin begin to form as Daphne's laughter rang throughout the room.

"You have shite breath, Stori."

"Daphne! Language!" Their mother chastised.

"You don't give someone a passive aggressive gift on their birthday, Daph." She said, her tongue being greeted with the taste of peppermint as she popped a candy into her mouth. "Else I'd be giving you a contraceptive potion in August!"

Daphne's response sputtered in her mouth as her face reddened.

Next to her, Harry wasn't faring much better as he tried to stare a hole into the ground.

Turning on her heel and acting as though nothing had happened, she turned to her father; "would you mind if I brought some juice and pastries out to the workers?" She said, gesturing to the half-dozen workers who were working on decorations for that evening's party.

Her father gave her a proud smile before giving her his permission.

Chancing a last glance at her still beet red sister, Astoria smiled before making her way to the kitchen, hoping her forthcoming gesture would buy her some goodwill for the evening to come.

His eyes caught hers, and he found himself confused as the ever-present essence in his mind stirred stronger than it had in weeks.

' Greet me with a smile and kiss my knuckles.'

"Septima!" He said, his confusion abating unnoticed.

"Alfred!" The attractive brunette responded jovially as she set a prettily wrapped gift with a purple ribbon on the receiving table.

He let his lips briefly meet her knuckles before turning his attention back to her.

' Without drawing attention to yourself, tell me about your keystone.' The auditory hallucination suggested.

Ignoring the corner of his mind that was telling him to run, Alfred offered his friend a smile.

' Septima will love this.'

"Did you know Harry has been tinkering with our advanced security wards?"

His words seemed to draw her in.

"For someone his age to be so advanced is incredibly impressive." She responded, clearly pleased with her protégé's progress.

' He's still only fourteen.' The voice reminded him.

"It is." He agreed. "But my family would feel more secure if an expert would check over his work."

She nodded in understanding.

"Even a prodigy needs a bit of peer review."

His confusion returned as he let out a sigh.

' You don't have time to accompany me, unfortunately. Maybe if you ask I will check them out on my own?'

"Septima -" he started, placing a hand gently on her exposed forearm.

Her brown eyes danced with tenderness, and for a moment he found himself intoxicated by her beauty.

"I'll be a little too busy with the party to join you, would you mind checking them at some point this evening?"

His voice was loud, interrupting his wife, who was greeting Lisa Davies.

Ignoring Victoria's stern look, he continued.

"North of our library on the main floor you will come to a seemingly empty hallway, when you get to the wall, keep walking."

Septima looked slightly taken aback.

"Alfred, maybe we should be having this conversation elsewhere." The young woman stated, her comment seemingly gaining her favor with Victoria, who was doing her best to look as though she wasn't listening in on their conversation.

"Listen to the woman Alfred, you're becoming reckless." His wife chided, losing all pretense.

He grinned sheepishly before casting a 'notice-me-not' charm on himself and conjuring a vial before cutting his hand.

Filling the vial with his blood, he passed it to Septima Vectors outstretched hands.

' Tell me I'm allowed to make any changes I deem appropriate.'

"My family is the most important thing in my life, Septima. I don't know what I would do if I lost them."

She nodded encouragingly at him.

"If you think there are improvements to be made, I trust you to make them."

"It's beautiful, dear." Lady Parkinson cooed as she greedily admired the gold and emerald necklace he had given Astoria for her birthday.

"Draco." The bint said, turning to address him for the first time. "You don't let this one get away!"

' You've never been a good liar, Lucy.'

The power hungry woman had been trying to set him up with their only daughter for years, being so desperate as to propose a marriage contract to father after their second year.

Marriage contracts were a bit antiquated, even for father.

As if he could ever be interested in a cow like Pansy.

"She's a special one, Lady Parkinson." He responded with a hint of charm, placing his arm protectively around Astoria's waist, smiling when she leaned into him protectively.

"If you'll excuse me, Lady Parkinson." Astoria said with a smile. "I have duties to attend to."

Standing tall with her chest puffed out, she looped her arm in his as he allowed her to confidently lead him around the room.

"Thank you for doing this, Draco." She started apologetically, her eyes never leaving the small room in front of her.

The party hadn't been her idea, she would have been happier spending time alone with himself and her family.

Her voice was apologetic but her smile was radiant. His girlfriend could handle herself.

He chanced a glance at his father, who was talking casually with Lord Boot near the room's sole window.

' I wonder what that's about?'

"No need to apologize, Stori." He replied as she gently led him towards Lady Bones. "You have to be a gracious host."

"Lady Bones, Susan." Astoria greeted in lieu of responding to him. "Thank you for coming."

Susan greeted Astoria warmly, chatting with her for several seconds before exchanging a few obligatory words with him.

He was under no impression that those on the other side of the aisle approved of their relationship.

Though they certainly approved of Potter and Daphne.

Having spent the last half hour greeting people in the Greengrass's cramped receiving room, he was all-too-happy to be led from the room and out into the rolling hills that adorned the Greengrass property.

The pair passed a myriad of ice sculptures, which despite the summer heat were standing firm, giving the already pleasant walk an infusion of life.

As they slowly made their way up the winding path towards the valley where the party was taking place, they walked hand-in-hand in silence, enjoying the sweet smell of honeysuckle permeating the air from the fields of flowers on either side of them.

The valley was outlined with intricately carved, open-air wooden beams, giving the impression that the entire event was taking place in a large chapel.

The interior of the chapel contained several bars, a smattering of tables, and a large dance floor.

"Two of the white wine, please." He said as the couple approached the bar, offering the young bartender who seemed vaguely familiar a charming smile.

He saw the strawberry blonde's internal struggle and was secretly eager to see how she reacted.

Seeming to come to a decision, the bartender offered him a slightly defeated look before pouring him and Astoria rather small glasses of wine.

"Thank you." He said, throwing a galleon in the tin.

The Gryffindors would call his actions entitlement. There was no way a bartender working a birthday party of this prestige would deny him and the birthday girl a glass of wine, even though they were nowhere near seventeen.

Draco called it taking advantage of his station.

Astoria gave him a devilish grin as she glanced around the room quickly before taking a small sip.

"Nobody cares, Stori." He groaned theatrically. "It's your birthday!"

She sighed. "I don't want my parents to see!"

' She's way too obsessed with her image.'

That wasn't to say that he didn't understand her obsession. If he had had her affliction he'd cling to his strengths as well.

Seemingly giving in, she finished her wine two sips later before downing the rest of his glass in one go and jerking his hand towards the dance floor.

Turning to look at him over her right shoulder, Draco felt his heart skip a beat as he caught her slightly tipsy smile and rose-colored cheeks, the alcohol already affecting her small frame.

"You owe me a dance, Draco! And I'm here to collect!"

He rolled his eyes in faux disappointment as they made their way to the dance floor, laughing in unison as he allowed Astoria to lead him in a clumsy dance around the floor.

With the song coming to an end Astoria adopted a pout; "I'm getting thirsty, Draco!" She said, batting her eyelashes prettily.

He smiled as he stepped away, making his way to the bar through the throngs of people.

He felt a pair of eyes on him and glanced up to see Professor Vector barely containing a glare directed at him.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The wicked woman had all but accused him of obliviating his girlfriend.

"Two glasses of white, please." He said, raising his voice so the bartender could hear him.

She gave him a quick nod before handing him two glasses as he placed another gallon in the tin.

Father had always stressed the importance of generosity. Generosity led to relationships, and relationships led to results.

Sticking to the outskirts of the party he made his way back towards his girlfriend, who was chatting animatedly with the head of Ravenclaw.

Sensing his presence, Vector looked up, directing her gaze towards a figure behind him.

' Potter.' He guessed as Daphne's familiar perfume made itself known.

Vector greeted Potter and Daphne kindly before greeting him stiffly and excusing herself.

He felt himself exhale as the attractive witch walked away. The woman was as dangerous as they came, his father had said before the party.

" Her skillset could be a threat to us." He had said, even if he hadn't elaborated.

His father had been serious in his proclamation, leaving him to wonder what he knew.

Her empty glass gave Septima an excuse to walk away from the tipsy birthday girl, deciding to allow the child her fun on her special day.

Passing the bar, Septima made her way up the beautifully decorated pathway and back towards the large house at the bottom of the hill.

"Septima!" A musical voice interrupted her mission as she crossed into the homes large receiving room, causing her to adopt a polite look.

"Victoria!" She replied happily, greeting Lady Greengrass with an equal amount of enthusiasm, idly noticing that the woman's upper lip was stained a dark red.

' Like mother like daughter.' She thought, amused at her observation.

"Thank you so much for coming, Septima." Her words came out slurred. "You mean so much to Harry, and he means so much to us!"

The older woman swayed slightly, placing her left hand on the beige wall to support herself.

"Thank you for having me, Victoria. It's been an absolutely beautiful day."

Her answer was sincere. It had been a beautiful day, and the patrons looked as though they were enjoying themselves.

The older woman offered her a drunken smile.

"It has, hasn't it?" She roared, causing Septima to wince at the woman's volume. "I have to go, excuse me." Victoria Greengrass said, ending their conversation abruptly as she walked on by.

' So do I, Victoria, So do I.'

A moment later she was standing in front of the entrance to a library.

Casting a few hopeful diagnostics, she frowned.

' It was worth a shot.' It was a longshot to think that she would be able to crack the wards surrounding the library without triggering the security system at large.

Still, she smiled as she walked right on by, her speed never waning as she passed through the wall at the end of the hall and into a dim room with a large ruby at its center.

' Their protections are atrocious.'

Quickly she got to work, ripping through the top layer of wards with ease before finding what she was looking for.

' Bingo.' She thought as she removed the vial of Alfreds blood from her breast pocket, pouring the contents over the ward structure.

An emerald green glow emitted from the ruby, causing her to smile.

Twenty minutes later she had added the necessary permissions to the wards, before leaving the keystone and heading back towards the library.

"Alfred, a word?"

Lucius Malfoy's familiar drawl from around the corner interrupted the second part of her mission and caused alarms to go off in her mind as she quickly abandoned her plan to hear what the slippery man had to say.

Disillusioning herself before silencing her feet, Septima crept towards the pair, groaning in frustration as Lucius erected a privacy bubble to cover their conversation.

Quietly she removed an ear on a string, a strange device she had confiscated from the Weasley twins that somehow circumvented most privacy wards.

Lucius and Alfred were standing in a bright study, each with a glass of brandy in their hand.

"What is it Lucius?" The taller man stated his voice oddly vacant.

"How is Astoria's treatment going?"

' What does Malfoy know?'

Making up her mind, Septima directed her focus back to Greengrass.

' Be truthful.' She directed Alfred, startling him slightly.

She could only issue a directive if her victim was in her line of sight, Alfred seemingly knew this as he tried in vain to fight the order.

"The healers say she'll make a full recovery by the end of the summer." He rushed out a minute later, his response strained and robotic.

Lucius nodded in sympathy, but she was able to detect a hint of nervousness in his posture.

"As you know -" Lucius began slowly, his words screamed caution, as though he was trying to avoid making a mistake.

"- my connections in this world are far-reaching, and not always glamorous." Alfred nodded in recognition, seemingly giving Lucius a jolt of confidence.

"I have heard, from several reliable sources that there is a spy at Hogwarts."

Septima tensed.

' I have to do something.' Alfred couldn't find out her secret, even if he was under her control, it wasn't worth the risk.

Reaching out to Alfred's mind she came to a hasty conclusion.

' Tell him you want to talk later, somewhere more private.'

Alfred's eyes got wide.

"Not hear, Lucius." He whispered, his eyes darting around the room. "Meet me in my private study after dinner, we can talk there."

Lucius made to retort but Alfred put his hand up to stop him.

"I'm late for dinner."

Lucius seemed to consider his next steps for a long moment before smiling softly.

"I'm not sure it is wise, Alfred, what I have to say will only take a moment."

Alfred's face grew red in anger; "it can wait, Lucius! They're waiting for me out back."

Alfred stormed out of the room, Septima on his heels unseen.

' Take a right and pause.'

Alfred slowed considerable, doing as he was directed as she dropped her charms, making sure to remain eye contact.

Reaching into her pocket he handed the man several vials before giving him specific instructions, and walking away.

She walked purposefully towards the bartender; a stringy looking strawberry blonde with forgettable features.

"A word, ma'am."

Her tone was polite but her eyes roared with anger.

The older girl trembled slightly, but obliged her nonetheless.

"No more wine for those two." Daphne said, pointing towards her sister and the ferret she was sitting next to.

The bartender didn't say a word, but nodded in affirmation.

' Drunk at her fourteenth birthday party. The nerve of that girl.'

If she was being honest with herself, she was more jealous than upset, a memory of herself and a drunken Lily from the previous summer pushing itself into her mind.

She frowned as she glanced back at the table, her attention drifting elsewhere.

' Where the hell is he this time?' She loved her father, but the man was always late.

Seeing Septima passing by the bar she shouted out to her.

"SEPTIMA!" The older woman paused, turning around to greet her with a smile.

"Have you seen my father?"

Septima frowned, her eyes darting towards their table briefly.

"Last I saw him he was being dragged away by Lord Malfoy." She stated contemplatively. "He would know."

Taking a glance around she couldn't find the blonde haired man either.

"Thanks." Daphne said distractedly before turning to head back to their table.

Her worry disappeared as her father appeared at the bar.

"Dad!"

Her father turned towards her with a smile.

"Daphne!" He shouted merrily. "Would you like a glass of champagne?"

She pondered the offer momentarily before seeing her sister plant a sloppy kiss on Draco's cheek out of the corner of her eye.

"No thank you."

Her dad looked slightly put out, as though he wanted to say something more, but settled for nodding his head sharply instead.

"Three glasses of champagne, please."

She idly noticed how her father had seemingly forgotten to order a glass for Draco and grinned.

The previously threatened bartender appeared to glance at her briefly before fetching the ordered flutes of champagne.

' I tried.'

Returning to the table she waited quietly for a minute before her father returned, passing around flutes to her mother and sister.

"Wait for the toast, girls." Her father said with half a laugh.

Astoria eyed him with mirth. "If you say so, dad."

The talking throughout the area came to a halt when her father tapped his silver fork on his crystal champagne flute, calling attention to himself.

He waited several long moments for the chatter to stop before beginning with his speech.

"Thank you all for coming."

Daphne tuned him out in favor of wrapping her foot around Harry's.

From next to her Harry smiled serenely at her actions, his eyes never leaving her father, giving the impression that he was paying rapt attention to his every word.

She knew better.

"Astoria, of course, is my baby…" Her father droned on.

"I wish he'd hurry up." She heard Astoria mutter to her mother softly.

Her mother stifled her laugh. "He does like to listen to himself talk, doesn't he?"

She grinned at their antics, having long since gotten used to them as her father also paid them no mind.

"She's sweet, kind, and incredibly smart. Here's to another happy, healthy year. Here's to you Astoria!"

Daphne joined her parents and sister in clinking her water glass against their flutes of champagne.

In unison the four took sips of their drinks to the sound of applause around them.

Smiling as she turned towards her sister, she immediately realized something was wrong.

Next to her Astoria was scratching at her throat, her gums beginning to bleed as her front teeth fell out and into the back of her throat, causing her sister to choke violently.

To her right her parents found themselves in a similar fashion, her father beginning to bleed profusely from his nose as well as his mouth.

She blocked out the horrified screams around her and watched helplessly as she held Astoria, who was now violently coughing blood on Daphne's face.

Daphne heard a clunk as her mother dropped to the floor convulsing violently in a thick pool of her own blood.

' No, no, no. This can't be happening.' She thought in panic, as the familiar effects of the poison she had brewed played out in front of her.

She felt herself being thrown aside as Harry rushed passed her and to Astoria a bezoar in his hand.

Her entire family was convulsing violently on the ground now, bleeding from their mouths and ears as trails of bloody tears rolled down the sides of their faces, all three wearing the same pained, and horrified look.

' A bezoar can't stop this.' She thought, time slowing down as Harry tried in vain to shove a bezoar down Astoria's throat in a vain attempt to save her sisters life.

The convulsing slowed leaving three dead, still twitching bodies in their place.

"Septima!" The elderly warlock greeted her warmly.

Her eyes lit up in surprise at the greeting - she hadn't expected to see Albus at something as mundane as an auction for rare spirits.

"Albus." She returned, a smile in her voice.

Her reaction seemed to set him at ease, causing her to let go of a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I had no idea you were a connoisseur, Headmaster."

She could tell he was smiling through his thick, white beard.

"Yes, yes." He said dismissively. "I do enjoy a nice chardonnay from time to time, but I'm here for the Bowmore."

Externally she nodded her head in understanding, but internally she was preparing to flee.

"Scotch, professor?"

The bottle of W & J Mutter's Bowmore that sat on the ledge above Martha's fireplace had once belonged to her late husband, a man who Albus had had killed during the last war.

The headmaster let out an exaggerated sigh. "I have made Martha several offers for that exquisite bottle over the years, only to be rebuked each time."

She very much doubted that he and Martha had spoken. Martha couldn't stand the zany old man, holding him responsible for her husband's death.

"If I had known you two had been so close, I would have had you put in a word with her years ago."

Septima kept her face blank

She knew she shouldn't have goaded Pomona during the dueling match, now she was paying for it.

She schooled her features into a mask of vulnerability as she began to nervously twirl her hair on her fingers.

"Yes. I had meant to mention that." She added a tremor to her voice for good measure.

Big, bad Albus Dumbledore famously used observation to guide his intuition, his ego wouldn't let him believe he was capable of misjudging people.

The gaze through his half-moon spectacles was intense, and she fought the desperate urge to run.

Casting a quick privacy bubble, Septima let her shoulders slump.

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, if that's what you're implying." She said quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

Dumbledore prided himself on digging out the truth, but he had become complacent over the years.

"What is your relationship with the Yaxley family?" He asked, cutting to the point.

The fact that anyone still carried that last name was a source of controversy on the Isles, particularly after they had fervently supported first Grindelwald and then Voldemort.

Her mother had spent years working in their mansion, doing the work normally reserved for house elves, earning a meager living to supplement the earnings of her father.

It hadn't been uncommon, at the time, for lower class witches to take up employment in households who refused to use creatures to maintain their homes.

"My mother used to work for Martha." She answered honestly. "After my parents were killed, I had nothing. Martha Yaxley took pity on me. When I wasn't in school, I worked in their household."

Albus Dumbledore's gaze was intense as he searched her for deception.

' He won't find any.' She was telling him the variation of the truth that he desperately wanted to hear.

"I didn't tell you, sir, because I know how that family is perceived, but gold is hard to come by when you're an orphan, and Hogwarts isn't cheap."

He gave her a soft nod.

"Are you two still close?"

' We had lunch this afternoon.'

"We exchange pleasantries when we cross paths, but I haven't had a proper conversation with her in years."

Albus continued to stare at her intensely as she met his gaze.

They stood like that for several moments until the older man smiled.

"Thank you for your honesty, Septima. Will you be at the next Order meeting?"

"Of course."

The old man smiled once more. "I'll see you there, then."

With that, the legendary wizard turned on his heel before leaving the parlor without bothering to even look at the bottle of Bowmore.

She laid perfectly still with her eyes shut, hoping that she would simply drift back to sleep. It was a fool's errand, she knew that, yet she still tried.

' Maybe Harry can give me another dreamless sleep potion?'

In the week since her family was murdered Daphne hadn't left the room she was occupying at Grimmauld Place, spending the few hours she spent awake crying to herself helplessly, greeting those who came to console her with violence.

A soft knocking roused her from her thoughts as Harry took a timid step into her room.

"I'm not going to curse you, I swear." She said, exhaustion clinging to her voice.

He didn't look completely convinced, and she didn't blame him, she had said the same thing yesterday, only to curse him a moment later.

He had fled and she hadn't seen him since, he had even sent Kreacher to deliver her her dreamless sleep potion.

Harry looked understated in his black robes with silver trim.

' Not something we gave him for Christmas.'

She wondered if that was done on purpose for her, or if it was just a coincidence.

Harry's face looked tired and worn from his training, but the rest of him looked fantastic. Like one of the quidditch players from Lily's old calendar.

She felt ashamed at her own appearance next to him.

Frizzy hair and the smell of must and sweat floated from her body while the bags under her bloodshot eyes weren't the result of a lack of sleep.

She was scared to move on from that day, as though every act from here-on-out would be an event she got to experience at the cost of their lives.

Harry didn't say anything, enveloping her in a tight hug instead.

The embrace broke the dam as she cried heavily into his shoulder for several minutes.

"You can, you know - curse me, I mean - if you want." His voice was confused and more than a little unsure, yet she found his words to be oddly comforting.

"It's not you I want to curse." Her voice cracked from disuse as she slowly pushed herself away.

"It's Malfoy."

" He was with Lord Malfoy." That's what Septima had said shortly before.

' You caught Draco learning the 'obliviation charm' and by that weekend McGonagall was dead.'

Is that what happened? Were Astoria's efforts to reverse one of Malfoy's obliviations really to blame for the annihilation of her family? How would he have accessed her poison?

' Astoria?' A vial of her poison had gone missing from her and Harry's room, and she had had access to it.

' Why?'How?'

She felt the anger building in her chest as her right hand clutched her wand.

She wished she could air her frustrations to Harry, but he seemed to be ignoring the evidence she had presented him with.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Daphne unleashed an overpowered bludgeoner at the nearly empty bookshelf in the corner, turning the piece of furniture to sawdust.

"Not bad." Harry said, offering her a smile he repaired the bookshelf wordlessly.

He put an arm around her, sitting them both down on the edge of the bed.

"Healer Ogletree is coming to speak to me today, I'm sure she'd be happy to speak to you as well."

She frowned and ignored the question. A mind healer was the last thing she needed.

"Is Moody still around? I think I'd rather talk to him."

He rolled his eyes. "You need to talk about it."

"I need to kill someone!" She snapped back.

In the back of her mind she was happy that she was no longer using the " you have no idea what I'm going through!" argument. That one seemed far less effective.

Harry could relate to having the desire to kill his enemies, at the very least.

His bright emerald eyes gave her a serious look.

"It doesn't make a difference, you know."

Seeing her quizzical look he elaborated. "Indiscriminate killing. It doesn't make up for my parents, Hermione, Flitwick, McGonagall, Sirius, or Lily, and it won't make up for the loss of your family either."

She snarled. "You're wrong." She spat with as much vitriol as she could muster. "It does make a difference."

Daphne stood up, feeling more energized than she had in a week.

"Those four men you killed at the World Cup." She started with a smirk. "They can't hurt us anymore, and neither can the Carrows. That made a difference, didn't it?"

"It won't make you feel better though, not in the long run." He retorted.

She shrugged, she could worry about that later.

"It's not about feeling better." She stated with more conviction than she had felt in a week, the beginnings of a plan beginning to form in her mind.

Harry began to respond but she cut him off.

"I have to get ready to train." Her response was blunt and final, stopping the boy-who-lived in his tracks.

Turning from him she made her way to her wardrobe and began inspecting several battle robes.

"I'll see you at lunch."

Behind her she heard a sigh followed by the gentle closing of a door, leaving her alone once more.

She was only mildly surprised to see her lunch companion already sitting at their table when she arrived.

"Harry!" She said, loud enough to draw the attention of the neighboring tables.

The boy met her gaze and returned her smile, she noticed that it seemed slightly forced.

"Fleur." He replied, pulling her chair out for her.

Taking a seat, she examined the Hogwarts dueling champion with interest.

He'd filled out his frame since she had last interacted with him in the Hogwarts library, standing several centimeters taller with a more chiseled jaw and broader shoulders.

' I'll have to get a picture with him for Gabriel.'

Her sister would tell anyone who listened that she wasn't interested in Britain's next Dark Lord, but she knew better - Gabrielle's reaction to the news that she would be having lunch with him on this trip told her that much.

"You look as beautiful as always."

"You don't look bad yourself." She smiled honestly, returning the compliment. "Gabrielle was jealous when I told her I'd be meeting with you, she will be more so once she sees pictures."

The younger boy took the compliment in stride, disappointing her slightly.

' Not even a little blush, Harry?'

"How is Gabrielle?"

Fleur gave him a grim smile. "She has been consoling Marci as they search for your friend."

She could see the smallest glimpse of despair hidden in his eyes and she felt sorry for him.

The public annihilation of the Greengrass family had made international news, leaving the populace to pour over the parties guest list for hints on who could have committed such a crime.

Although she had been officially cleared as a suspect by authorities, as the only survivor Daphne Greengrass had faced accusations.

" With the tragic murders of Alfred, Victoria, and Astoria Greengrass the family fortune - as well as their Wizengamot seat - go to Daphne Queenie Greengrass (15). The death means that the Greengrass vote likely falls under control of her longtime boyfriend, Harry Potter. Could young love have drove her to do the unspeakable?"

Smartly, Harry and Daphne had filed a lawsuit against the 'Daily Prophet' which seemed to dissuade them from publishing further gossip.

With that tragedy still fresh in their minds, people had seemed to have forgotten the only son of the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot had disappeared.

Harry nodded sadly. "Have there been any new developments on your end?"

She shook her head; "unfortunately not."

Terry Boot went to read a letter from his girlfriend down on the beach and never returned.

To the best of her knowledge that was all that was known about the boys disappearance.

Marci was beside herself with guilt over a letter she didn't send.

"How's Daphne?"

Harry took a bite of his salad, giving him a few seconds to compose his thoughts.

She could almost see the indecision in his guarded eyes. He wanted to be open with her.

"As well as can be expected. She's either crying, sleeping, or training. I'm trying to convince her to see a mind healer."

He couldn't, and she understood that, they were virtually strangers.

"That's to be expected, I guess."

They fell into an awkward silence for several seconds. Both unsure of what to do next.

It was Harry who spoke first.

"What's your father have you doing in London?"

As of now she was working as a junior financial analyst for one of her father's partners.

"Henrique has me taking notes at his meetings with Gringotts." She said with a shrug.

It was rather mundane, and she would much rather spend her time pursuing something else; but the time wasn't right and she wouldn't settle for a second class education when she had already been accepted by the best.

They chatted pleasantly for a while longer before falling into a comfortable silence as they ate.

Her eyes drifted towards an advertisement reflecting in the mid-afternoon sun a ways down the Alley.

"When does your cousin fight?"

She didn't feel the need to specify, and he didn't need her to; mid-July in London meant the return of the London Invitational.

"Tonight." He replied, a sinister look on his face. "She's determined to win it this year."

She was about to respond when his mood changed in an instant.

"It was at this tournament two summers ago where Sirius and I first met Alfred and Daphne." He said reflectively.

She mimic'd his mood, her mind in overdrive as she harkened back to their previous conversation.

"Is this around the same time your godfather was obliviated?"

His eyes lit up as if realizing something for the first time.

"It would fit the window." He rubbed his chin in contemplation as he spoke. "Do you have a theory?"

She didn't, not really, so she shrugged.

"No, I don't. But the tournament is busy, it would be easy to oversee something you shouldn't."

He nodded along in thought as he paid the bill before turning to face her, wearing a look on his face she hadn't seen from him; as though he was re-evaluating her.

"You're not wrong Fleur." This time his smile was more natural, more genuine. "Stay in touch."

Before she had time to respond, he was gone.

' Damn.' She thought to herself. ' I didn't get that picture.'

They stood about fifty meters a part, the younger man sporting several visible cuts and bruises, was bent over with his hands on his knees panting.

"Would you like to take a break, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

' Is he mocking me?' He thought with a frown.

"No." He said as he tried to catch his breath. "Just give me a minute to recover and we can go again."

Off to the side he heard Moody guffaw loudly. "Glutton for punishment, aren't ya boy?"

"You're wasting your time, Albus!" The grizzled auror shouted in amusement. "This boy is years away from being worthy of your tutelage."

"Recent events have forced my hand, Alastor."

' I'm right here, you know.'

Since her narrow victory in the London Invitational, Tonks had taken a "medical break" from dueling, leaving him without a coach on a day-to-day basis.

Fortunately Mad-Eye, Snape, and Dumbledore had picked up the slack.

The three men had wildly different styles.

Mad-Eye the immovable object employed a series of shields, only dropping them to counter.

Snape fought more like he and Daphne; relentlessly aggressive and always moving.

Dumbledore - well he hadn't lasted long enough against him to determine the old man's fighting style.

" Creative." That's how Tonks had described it.

"Ready when you are."

Dumbledore's serene smile was the only indication he had that the headmaster had heard him.

' He's going to attack quick and fast.'

The previous three attempts Harry had yet to last more than three spells.

He barely had time to finish his thought before a pale purple light was racing towards him.

Diving to the side, he rolled as he hit the ground, providing him temporary shelter behind a large boulder.

' I have to return fire.'

He had long since given up beating the old man outright, choosing instead to set his sights a little lower.

Before he could return fire, the boulder he was hiding behind was reduced to dust.

' Shit.'

Staying crouched, he attempted to run, only to slip in the mud.

His stumble likely prolonged the duel as another beam of light landed in the spot he would have ended up.

The pair were dueling on an island he had inherited from Sirius, one of four that made up the small archipelago that dotted the north sea and was currently being used by the Order of the Phoenix as a base of operations.

Seeing his chance, Harry unleashed a series of bone-breakers and rupturing curses at his opponent.

Albus Dumbledore batted them away easily before a series of quick wand movements gave life to a pair of boulders and a tree.

The transfiguration masters animations came barrelling down on him, hellbent on his destruction.

' Do I take care of the distraction or counter?'

A semi-circle with a downward slash hurled three ice spears towards Dumbledore, who easily melted them with an amused look on his face.

' What the hell has him so amused?'

He found out a second later as a tree branch smacked into his side, sending him soaring through the air and landing on his left shoulder with a loud crunch.

He howled in pain as Dumbledore and Moody casually walked over to him.

"Well, boy. Heal yourself so we can tell you where you fucked up."

Healing his shoulder with a couple of quick flicks of the wrist, he got to his feet slowly before conjuring a large leather chair for himself and sitting down.

The other two followed suit a second later.

"Your improvement from duel to duel is impressive, Harry." Albus said kindly, much to the chagrin of Moody.

"You're too soft on him, Albus!" The heavily scarred man snapped. "Potter could be a decent dueler, but he still makes far too many childish mistakes."

"What did you do wrong?" Moody asked, acknowledging his presence at long last.

He thought for a moment.

' I didn't try and bat away the spell, I kept moving, I…'

He groaned.

"I shouldn't be using rupturing curses in a duel of this caliber yet."

His tutors looked pleased at his deduction.

"You take a millisecond too long to cast that spell." Dumbledore replied in agreement. "When facing off against an opponent of a higher caliber than yourself, speed and confidence are far more important than your ability to send potentially lethal curses."

He nodded his head in agreement. It was feedback he had received before, maybe this time it would stick.

Checking his watch, Albus frowned lightly. "We can pick this up tomorrow, gentlemen." He said turning to each in kind. "But unless my watch is incorrect, we are late to a meeting."

"Thank you, Harry." He said to the young man holding the door open for him as the three entered the small cottage on the archipelago's most hospitable island.

The cottage had been won in a poker game by Pollux Black some fifty years prior, and hadn't seen much use since, leaving the Order to inhabit a much less practical location than he had hoped.

' The Black townhome in London would be much more practical.' He thought to himself, trying to recall the exact address.

' Harry must have placed the property under a new fidelius.' Despite the inconvenience it presented him, he approved of the young man's precautionary measures.

Harry smile kindly even as the childs eyes glanced around the room suspiciously, his increasing paranoia keeping him on his toes.

"Of course, Albus." He replied loud enough for several Order members to hear him.

The inclusion of a minor in his vigilante group had caused no small amount of uproar amongst the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix, with the vast majority either believing Harry was too young, or too dangerous to join the group.

"Good evening everyone." He started warmly, letting his eyes drift over the Weasley family, the Diggory's, Oliver Wood, Marlene McKinnon, Septima, Severus and the others who had found the time to attend this meeting.

"Does anyone have any opening announcements?" He asked, following the familiar routine he had designed for these meetings during the first war.

A tired looking man with worn, dirty clothes raised his hand.

"Yes Remus?"

Since his friends death, the werewolf had spent the majority of his time wallowing in self-pity, having only recently rediscovered his will to live after Melisa Boot had requested his help.

"Voldemort has sent delegates to the Scottish packs to negotiate their joining his side."

Despite Minister Nott's assertions to the contrary, it had become common knowledge that it was Voldemort, not Bellatrix who was responsible for the recent attacks.

"How did they receive them?"

Tired eyes seemed to examine a spot behind him.

"Voldemort killed Liam Bushwood's parents, I doubt they greeted him with open arms."

"What do you think they will do?" Bill asked, his long red hair flowing down the center of his back, just passed his shoulders.

Order meetings, Albus had found, were more constructive when everyone felt empowered to join in the discussion at any juncture. Something that, to his delight, he had not known when he was a teacher.

Turning to look at him, Remus offered the curse breaker an emotionless mask.

"I think most would, if offered some incentives."

' All the more reason Melisa's research is so important.'

"Would a cure change their perspective?" Bill followed up hopefully, asking what he himself had been wondering.

"It would remove some of their leverage. It's difficult to play the victim if lycanthropy can be cured as if it were Dragon Fever."

Albus nodded his head in thought before responding. "How are Melisa's experiments coming along?"

Remus frowned; "with her son missing, there hasn't been any movement of late."

The abduction of Terry Boot had, thus far, been kept surprisingly quiet. The expected news coverage having been overshadowed by the murders of the Greengrass family.

"Severus, do you have any information on that unfortunate situation?"

Severus glanced around the room with mistrust, his gaze landing on Harry, offering him a sneer.

"The Dark Lord has him, I am sure of it. But I do not know where or why."

"Some spy you are." Harry mumbled, causing Septima to smirk and Snape to glare.

"That's enough, Harry." Albus chided gently.

He had hoped that after almost a year of dueling with each other the pair would have grown to respect one another.

He had been wrong.

Harry turned his anger towards him. "No, it's not Dumbledore." He spat, causing Molly Weasley to gasp in shock. "Why have a spy if he can't deliver information? Or are you just here to spy on us for your real master?"

Severus smirked. "Your words wound me, Potter."

He sighed; he hated when he had to intervene.

"That's enough!" He stated, raising his voice slightly, causing the room to fall silent. "Severus, if you hear anything, please let me know."

His potions master offered him a curt nod.

"Are there any suspects in the Greengrass murders?" Kingsley Shacklebolt added from the back.

Next to him Harry brimmed with anger, his emotions busting through his mental barriers.

The press had been running daily updates on the investigation, yet at this point the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had no solid leads.

"Daphne is under the impression that Lucius Malfoy carried out the murders." Harry replied, drawing the attention away from Albus and to the intimidating teenager to his right.

Severus guffawed in disbelief causing Harry to point turn his attention to the man.

"Your best friend kills families for fun, Snivellus. Your disbelief doesn't change facts."

Severus didn't rise to the bait, raising one eyebrow instead.

"Yes, Potter I've heard. Vector supposedly saw Lucius talking to Alfred right before his death, he must be the killer." Snape deadpanned.

Septima's eyes narrowed as Severus questioned her credibility.

"One of many reasons why I think it may have been Lucius, Severus." She responded a touch of warning in her tone.

"For all we know, Septima, you murdered the Greengrass family and made up your little story."

Septima stood up, wand out and pointed between her colleagues eyes. "I'm not the one masquerading about the country in a mask, Snape."

"ENOUGH!" Albus yelled, sick of the bickering. "As of right now, all we have are theories.

Septima, if you can find any evidence to corroborate your assertion that Lucius murdered the Greengrass family, then I will personally lead the efforts to bring him to justice."

Next to him it was apparent that Harry didn't need to see anymore proof - confident in his belief that the Malfoy's were responsible.

' Which means Daphne believes that as well.' He would have to keep a lookout for any retribution they may take.

"Moving on…"

Slowly Terry pulled on his robes, making sure there were no wrinkles or dirt before turning his attention to his hair.

Unable to get it to stay flat with his hands, Terry glanced nervously to the top shelf of his desk.

He was only supposed to use his wand in emergency situations and he wasn't sure Sergei would find this to be an emergency.

' Appearance is important to him.'

Hand shaking, Terry slowly opened the drawer to reveal a plain looking piece of mahogany.

As he entwined his fingers with the wood he felt a comforting warmth rush through his body, causing him to smile a genuine smile for one of the first times in weeks.

He fixed his appearance with a quick spell before returning his wand to its rightful place and exiting the windowless room.

"Good evening, Terry."

Sergei's accented English greeted him as he joined the older man at the dining room table.

"Good evening, sir." He replied respectfully, bowing his head slightly as he did so, making sure that he didn't meet the man's eyes.

"I hope you don't mind, but I used my wand on my robes and hair a few minutes ago."

A triumphant look briefly flashed across the Russians face.

"Thank you for your honesty, Terry."

He exhaled slowly, happy that his actions avoided another beating.

"I'd like to continue our conversation from last night, if that's okay with you?"

He nodded in affirmation. They had spent the last several nights discussing the Boot family, and Terry's time at Hogwarts.

"Yes sir, but I'm afraid I don't know any more on my mothers research."

Sergei shook his head slightly. "Not that, Terry." He said before taking a sip of his red wine.

"You had mentioned to me that Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass had a way of getting information on Death Eater activities?"

He began to shake involuntarily; ' did I say that?' It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remember the exact details of most of their conversations.

Sergei was no Death Eater, he was certain of that much. The man was a victim of You Know Who, just like him.

"I think they do, but -"

The lie hadn't fully left his lips when the familiar pain associated with the cruciatus curse struck him, causing him to scream out in agony.

Through his blurred vision he could make out Sergei's sadistic smirk.

"You mustn't lie to me, Terry." Sergei's voice remained calm as he dropped the curse after a few seconds. "You're not the only one who is skilled in the mind arts."

' Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.'

Why did he lie to the man? Sergei was going to get the information he was looking for, one way or another. Lying to him only brought pain.

"I'm sorry sir. You're right."

Sergei's kind smile was back. "That's okay, Terry. Your loyalty to your friends is commendable. But my family's life, and in turn your life, is dependent on the Dark Lord finding answers to these little questions."

After a nasty beating Sergei had confided in him that the Dark Lord had kidnapped his own family, promising to return them once Sergei finished interrogating Terry.

He shut his eyes briefly, knowing that if Harry ever found out about this conversation, their friendship would be over.

"Every Saturday morning at Hogwarts Harry and Daphne have breakfast with Theodore Nott."

Across from him, the other man's eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly open. For the first time since his arrival Sergei seemed to be surprised.

"Minister Notts son?"

Terry nodded. "Theo claims his father isn't a Death Eater, but I think we both know that's a lie. Octavius Nott feeds his son information on Death Eater activities in exchange for the support of the Black, Potter, and Greengrass families."

They ate in silence for several minutes before Sergei spoke once more.

"Thank you, Terry."

He smiled at the praise.

"May I be excused, sir?"

Sergei returned his smile.

"Elf!" He yelled, summoning the wrinkly green creature to his side. "Show our guest back to his cage."

"Haven't I been good, sir?" Terry said, a hint of desperation clinging to his voice.

"You have, Terry." Sergei replied. "But you were only good after being caught in a lie."

He frowned and Sergei continued. "However, if our conversation at breakfast tomorrow goes better, I'll allow you to spend the morning outside, exploring my property."

His face perked up at the promise.

' I haven't been outside in weeks!'

"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."