Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

The melodic ticking of the large grandfather clock rang out in the background, keeping him fairly relaxed as he sipped his tea in the dim morning glow.

He shut his eyes, letting out a content sigh as the rising sun found its way through the arched windows of Grimmauld Place's surprisingly understated study.

Harry had always enjoyed these moments - the hour or so in the morning where he was awake but the day hadn't begun; giving him a sense of internal peace in his otherwise chaotic life.

Hearing the creak of footsteps, he sighed, the moment ruined as he abandoned his half-drank tea to greet whichever of his guests had risen first.

"Happy Birthday!" A soft voice said as he stepped into the hallway adjacent to the kitchen.

Turning towards the familiar voice, Daphne's lips met his before he could respond.

"Thanks, Daphne."

She was dressed in a simple, pale pink morning robe, her messy, straw blonde bangs obscuring her sad green eyes.

She had yet to return home in the month since her family had been murdered, not that he could blame her.

A lack of places to go had initially fueled his own decision to stay at Grimmauld Place after the death of Sirius, however as time had gone on he had found a troublesome peace in the home that provided a variety of memories - both good and bad - of his life with Sirius.

' At least she's speaking to Healer Ogletree.'

An improvement, and a decision she had had to come to herself.

Truth-be-told he was dreading the day he would have to accompany her home to face her own demons. Unsure of what to expect when Daphne was ultimately confronted with the memory of that horrific day.

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind he offered her a smile before calling for Kreacher.

"Breakfast for two, please." He said, forcing kindness into his voice, hoping to remain civil towards the Black family's unpleasant elf.

"Make that four." A groggy new voice called out from the kitchen doorway. "And one hangover cure."

Turning around, he smiled at the disheveled look of Tonks, her purple hair containing specks of something in it as she failed to maintain her dignity.

"It's bad form to drink more than the birthday boy, Tonks." A smiling Septima offered from beside her.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" His professor followed up with a pretty smile, giving him a warm hug.

"The birthday boy didn't drink." Tonks replied with a whimper, downing the foul looking potion handed to her by Kreacher in one go.

"Then neither should you." Septima chortled with a smile, causing Tonks to roll her eyes as she fixed her appearance.

"That's no fun!" Tonks retorted, offering him her own brief hug. "Happy birthday, by the way."

The quartette had spent the previous evening in quiet celebration, playing games while Tonks slowly got drunk off firewhisky.

The conversation turned to lighter topics as they ate before falling into a comfortable silence.

"Tonks." Daphne started, causing the purple-haired witch to choke on a half-eaten sausage.

Composing herself with a frown, the duelist turned towards his still haggard looking girlfriend.

"Do you have time to duel with me today?"

Tonks gave him an imperceptible glance causing him to give her a slight nod in affirmation.

"I'm free all afternoon."

Since the tragedy Daphne had thrown herself into her training with Tonks.

" My time's not free, Harry! I empathize with her situation, but I have bills to pay."

He had scoffed - it wasn't as though Tonks didn't have the money - but he readily met her demands on the condition that she didn't tell Daphne.

"I'm training with Dumbledore this afternoon, so it should work out nicely." He finished with a frown.

While the headmaster, and even Snape, would concede his improvement; he had been unable to land a spell on the elusive old man.

' At least I've been able to fight back.'

Three days a week they would face off on the small island in the North Sea, the headmaster hurling spells his way while he ran for his life, wondering who was benefiting more from the activity as Dumbledore unleashed his own frustration on him.

The disparity in talent had forced him to research more advanced defense options, which he in turn tested on his other tutors.

Snape had been the victim of his first breakthrough when Harry had redirected a blood boiling curse back towards the unsuspecting potions master, causing the man to howl in pain.

Redirecting spells was the natural evolution of deflection; requiring a greater daring and an impeccable control of one's own magic as he attempts to wrestle control of a spell from its caster.

The problem with attempting to redirect Dumbledore's spells, he noticed, was that the older man was stronger in his magic than Harry was in his, making it impossible to bend the man's spells to his will.

While the skill had proved useless against someone of Dumbledore's stature, it had continued to work wonders for him in his training with Snape, Moody, and Tonks.

"How much do you charge for these lessons, Tonks? My wand work is getting rusty." Septima butted in from beside her.

' So much for not telling Daphne.'

Tonks frowned before glancing at him, causing Harry to sigh.

"One hundred galleons a session." He replied in resignation.

He swore he saw a momentary smirk pass across Septima's face as she caught sight of Daphne's frown.

"A little too rich for my blood." Septima added with a small amount of despair, her smirk gone as soon as it had appeared.

"I didn't know that." Daphne replied, a false smile on her lips. "I'll have to make a trip to Gringotts then." She finished, shooting a glare his way.

He let out a sigh as he nervously ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I have to make a trip there this week anyways, we can go together."

Daphne gave him a terse nod.

"I can accompany the two of you, if you'd like?" Septima added, a sense of interest in her voice.

' We don't need a chaperone, haven't we proven that much?'

"No need, Septima." He added before turning to Tonks with a smile, missing the other woman's frustrated look. "As long as Tonks can wait a few days for her payment?"

The aforementioned woman frowned but accepted his offer. "As long as I get paid by the end of the week."

His body tingled in pleasure as the wards recognized his presence, presenting him with a wide gravel path and a well-manicured lawn, directing his gaze towards the large stone home in front of him.

Voldemort paused a moment, removing a small vial from his waist, he downed the contents in one.

The pepper up potion combined with the spike in energy he had received passing through the wards provided him with the stamina he needed to complete his relatively simple mission.

He paused to take in the rather large property, resisting the urge to pay a visit to the thestrals the Nott family kept in the stables.

' After, perhaps.'

The Nott's wealth was surpassed only by the Malfoy's, and much like their old friends, the Nott's enjoyed displaying it for all to see.

" Octavius has been feeding Potter information through his son."

The words had infuriated him before leaving him exhausted and craving confirmation.

Quietly stepping into the foyer, Voldemort quickly flicked his wrist, freezing the various portraits in their frames, preventing them from alerting his target.

Making his way up the grand staircase and to the Master wing, the dark lord easily discovered the man sleeping in his bed.

Resisting the urge to kill him outright, Voldemort stunned and bound the man, levitating him down the hall and out of the master's suite, back towards the heir's rooms.

Mimicking his actions a second time on the man's son, Voldemort repeated his actions a third time on Cantankerous Nott before escorting the three into the family study.

Voldemort paused, considering his next moves carefully. In his burst of rage he hadn't considered how he could best utilize the situation he now found himself in.

Coming to a decision, a cold smirk came over his face as he unfroze the Minister of Magic.

The man's eyes came to life with a sense of confusion before settling in to a look of terror as he recognized his situation.

The filth's terrified look gave Voldemort a third jolt of energy, supplementing the waning effects of his pepper up potion nicely.

The look didn't last, as resignation replaced Octavius's terror.

Deciding to skip the formalities, Voldemort let his fingernails dig deep into the man's forearms, causing Octavius to wince in pain as he looked the man in the eyes.

"Why, Octavius?"

He didn't feel the need to elaborate, Octavius knew his crime.

Voldemort was curious; the elder Theodore Nott had been one of Tom Riddle's first friends; for the man's son to betray him had enraged him.

For a moment the man appeared defiant before thinking better of it.

"Power, my lord." He said respectfully, resignation in his voice. Octavius Nott knew he was going to die.

He nodded solemnly, 'Bellatrix had been right .' He should have eliminated the traitor months ago.

Tearing into the man's mind with reckless abandon, Voldemort sought information regarding Octavius's betrayal.

He dug for several moments before a particular conversation caused him to pause.

" Three weeks before my father's death, Octavius. You were working in customs with Bellatrix. Do you remember the Dark Lord placing an order for a dragon's lung?"

He watched the memory play out with interest, removing himself from the man's mind at the memories conclusion.

' Lucius knows.' He thought to himself before quickly adding; 'Lucius may know.' It could be a coincidence.

Either way the news was disconcerting, he didn't need his two generals at each other's throats over such a trivial matter.

Diving back in, he felt Octavius's mind try and direct him towards a particular memory.

' Why not.' He thought, following the man's direction on a whim.

He recognized the chandelier from the Nott study immediately.

" What have you done?" Octavius Nott's voice quivered slightly as he addressed his son.

The boy stared back at his father with a detached defiance.

" What's best for our family?"

Octavius roared in anger, his wand in his hand immediately as he shot a curse at his only child.

The boy calmly stepped aside as Octavius regained control of his emotions.

" You let them murder members of the Wizengamot, Theodore! Those weren't a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors! My administration depends on their support!"

His son shrugged with the same sense of detachment.

" You let your lust for power cloud your judgement, father. Potter was never going to back you in the long run, the Dark Lord will."

The memory ended and Voldemort was in the family study once more.

' What's that about Phoenixes?' He thought, trying to remember what Horace Slughorn had recited all those years ago. 'Something good always comes from the ash?'

With a flick he froze Octavius once more.

Another flick unfroze the child.

He watched with mild interest as the boy regained his senses, trembling in fear only slightly when he recognized his predicament.

He was both intrigued by the boy's lack of fear, and disappointed that he wouldn't reap the benefits.

"Interesting." He found himself saying.

The fifth-year-to-be ignored his pale, handsome features choosing to stare him directly in his red eyes instead.

' Very interesting.'

"My Lord?" The boy asked respectfully, still bound in front of him.

"Do you know why I'm here, child?"

His voice was barely above a whisper but kept the boys attention all the same.

Now free from his shackles, Theodore glanced around the room, first at his father, then at his uncle.

"I could guess, my lord."

He motioned for him to continue.

"I doubt that you appreciated my fathers continued betrayal."

Voldemort nodded. "I didn't appreciate your betrayal either."

When the patriarch of a family vowed fealty to a lord, he spoke for the entire family.

The first cracks in the boys mask began to show as he answered.

"As the heir of House Nott, I was duty bound to act as my lord saw fit."

The answer was robotic and well-rehearsed. A common defense among heirs who had a hand in their father's crimes, and one that had been historically accepted.

The defense had simultaneously allowed families to survive without fear of losing their familial wealth for individual crimes, while providing dark lords who preyed on humanities darker instincts more willing followers.

"What changed?"

If he was right, Voldemort wouldn't have to worry about retribution from the Nott family.

"His wishes went against the best wishes of the family."

Tom Riddle let out a charming, dangerous smile.

"What would those wishes be, Lord Nott."

A look of greed and understanding passed through the boy, confirming Voldemort's hopes.

"To remain on the right side of history."

Quickly Voldemort conjured two identical daggers before turning on the child.

"Did you know your grandfather died fighting by my side?" He said conversationally, letting his fingers caress the sharp blade of one of the daggers.

"I've been told my grandfather Theodore was a great man." The boy responded.

Voldemort smiled, eyeing the Theodore again.

"Have you ever killed a man, Theodore?" His tone was conversational, as if discussing Quidditch scores or the weather.

The boy shook his head slightly, doing his best to hide his fear from him.

It was the anticipation, not the fear that fueled his fourth burst of energy.

"I was twelve when I made my first kills." He let out a dark chuckle as he recalled those filthy muggles falling to their deaths.

"There's nothing quite like it, watch."

He unfroze Cantankerous, showing restraint as he let the man get a hold of himself as his own anticipation began to build.

Cantankerous Nott was a cranky old coward who had been too scared to support him outright, his death would be of no consequence.

Grasping the dagger lightly he turned to Theodore once more.

There was a mixture of fear and excitement in the boy's body language.

' Normal enough.'

"Pay attention boy!" He snapped. "It's not as easy as it looks, to stab a man to death."

Handing the boy a dagger, Voldemort continued his instruction.

"Grip it tightly in your dominant hand."

The boy nodded in understanding, mimicking his own actions.

Voldemort tore the shirt off of Cantankerous Nott, exposing his wrinkled figure to the dim light.

"When stabbing a man through the heart, it is important that you avoid the breast plate that protects the heart, or else you could find yourself tired and frustrated." He said, slowly going through the motions of stabbing the child's great uncle through the heart.

Theodore was watching with a sense of fear and anticipation, driving Voldemort's own energy.

"Now watch." He said as he quickly plunged the dagger deep under the man's breast and through his heart, causing his former classmate to let out a final gasp as he pissed himself and died.

The resulting jolt of energy he felt had him feeling alive once more as a small pool of blood began to trickle down the dead man's chest.

"You don't want to remove the dagger unless you want to make a statement." He continued his lecture as his pupil observed in a state of horrified fascination.

"It's your turn." Voldemort said, unfreezing Octavius once more.

The Minister of Magic's eyes darted around the room, glancing from the body of Cantankerous, to himself, to his son.

Voldemort watched, letting his anticipation build once more as he watched the man's son stare at him with confliction.

"I don't have all night, boy. Kill him or you both die."

He had found that when killing for the first time, people liked having a justification to their actions, it made them feel as though they didn't have a choice in the matter.

Octavius nodded in resolution at his only son, seemingly giving him permission to end his life.

Theodore's arm trembled slightly before the boy calmed himself and mimicked Voldemort's own actions from a moment prior.

He felt another jolt of energy as he watched the life extinguish from his betrayers eyes.

The killer glanced at his father dispassionately once more before finding Voldemort's gaze.

"What now?" The boy got out, only the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice.

He offered the boy a charming smile before raising his wand.

"Morsmordre!"

The dark mark blasted through the roof of the manor, giving them an unobstructed view of the snake and skull dancing in the night sky.

Hesitantly, Theodore made to join him before Voldemort stopped him with a smile.

"Not yet, Theodore." He chided, turning to the body of the boy's father. "I want to make a statement."

He felt the boy shiver as he turned towards his dead father.

Finding the task to be more difficult than he thought, the child's face turned victorious as blood sprayed the area as Theodore successfully removed the dagger from his father's chest.

The boy made to move towards him once more before Voldemort moved to stop him again.

' I'll have to visit the thestrals another time.' He thought with a frown, regretting how impulsive he had been with his mark.

"Tell me, Theodore. Do you know how to make an inferi?"

She observed her opponent silently from the shadows.

Tonks took aim and fired off a bone breaker.

Daphne moved to dodge, but was a hair too slow as the curse passed harmlessly through the illusion.

' She won't be wrong next time.'

Taking a deep breath, the blonde-haired prefect took aim before seamlessly transitioning into a brutal combination of cursed fireballs, bonebreakers, and organ exploding curses.

Caught by surprise, her tutor took the first bonebreaker in the left clavicle, letting out a muffled howl as the fierce woman batted away an organ exploding curse before redirecting several fireballs her way.

"You're getting better at predicting my movements!" Tonks shouted with glee.

She pirouetted gracefully to the side, conjuring a handful of badgers as she did so.

Daphne smirked victoriously at the surprised look on Tonks face at her use of conjuration.

' Thank you, Harry.' She added silently, chancing a glance at her boyfriend who was observing off to the side.

With his help she had been able to incorporate conjuration into her practice duels with him in preparation for this moment.

Harry looked tired with a sad look in his eyes as he observed from behind the protective wards; a result of another session with Healer Ogletree, no doubt.

Tonks's surprised look lasted only a second as she slaughtered the little beasts before twirling her wand in a familiar pattern.

Taking a page from Harry's book, Tonks never lost focus as dozens of marbles began to orbit around her rapidly.

' Ice cream always cheers him up.'

He always found a way to cheer her up after meetings with the strangely intimidating healer, the least she could do is buy him ice cream after their trip to Gringotts.

Tonks hurled a dozen or so marbles her way, forcing her to conjure a brick wall.

The wall only held for a couple of seconds before being reduced to a pile of rubble.

Rolling forward, Daphne shot several spells towards the shield intent on turning the little balls of glass against her tutor to no avail.

In response Tonks sent the rest of the projectiles at her.

As her shields crumbled Daphne felt the tiny orbs make impact, ripping through her dueling robes with ease.

"I could make those little bastards break skin, you know?" Tonks added as she cancelled the spell, ending the duel just as the horn sounded, officially ending their session.

"I know." Daphne replied, determined to find an effective counter for the strategy.

They met in the middle of the room, both women covered in sweat, one with a smile on her face, the other a disappointed grin.

"You're getting much better, Daphne." The older woman added encouragingly.

Behind Tonks, Harry nodded his head in agreement causing her to smile brightly.

"She's right." Harry greeted her, his enthusiasm strained from his session with Ogletree. "You're counters are much more effective."

His praise caused her to blush.

"You two lovebirds are going to pay me today, right?" Tonks butted in, ruining the moment.

Daphne frowned - the fact that Harry had been paying for her lessons had annoyed her, but hadn't been worth the fight.

"Gringotts is our first stop." Daphne replied with confidence, seemingly placating the annoying woman.

She had always found Gringotts to be an eerie place.

Between the armed goblins every couple of meters communicating with each other through a series of grunts and indecipherable words, to the white-grey marble and the silent patrons like her waiting nervously to be served.

Nothing seemed to cut through the banks tense environment.

As a child her mom used to tell her and Astoria that if they remained still than the goblins wouldn't be able to see her.

She and Astoria would draw amused looks as they stood off near the large entranceway, neither moving a muscle nor making a sound while her parents conducted their business at the bank.

"Here you are, Lady Greengrass." The goblin barked impatiently, shoving a dossier and a purse of coins into her hands before pushing her aside.

A few meters behind her Harry stood engrossed in his own dossier.

Standing next to him in silence, Daphne browsed through the assets currently listed in her family vault.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, an amount of money with minimal deposits and withdrawals over the last decade or so.

The amount that her father had kept in their family vault, however, had surprised her. She had been under the impression that her family had been investing more of their assets.

' I'll have to talk to our financial advisors.'

"That's interesting." Harry stated from next to her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?" She hummed, hoping she conveyed her point.

"The original blueprints to Potter Manor are listed in the inventory."

That piqued her interest. Voldemort had burned down Potter Manor during the first war, leaving a supposedly beautiful piece of land vacant.

"Are you going to rebuild?" She asked as her own attention was drawn to a deposit made by her father from the previous October.

' 42 crystal vials.'

Ophelia's memories. In all the commotion she had forgotten to ask her father why he had had them moved to their vault.

"Eventually." He answered ambiguously.

"Harry?" She asked, drawing his attention to her.

For a second she didn't push further, taking a moment to take her boyfriend in for seemingly the first time in ages.

' Training has done wonders for him.'

"Would you mind if I stored Ophelia's memories at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry frowned slightly.

"Why don't we return them to your house?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Harry had been pressing her to return home for weeks.

It wasn't as though she hadn't wanted to return home, she just wasn't sure she was capable.

Shaking her head she replied; "my dad had them moved from our house for a reason."

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

"That's fine, as long as I have access to them as well."

She nodded sharply. They had no secrets.

Leaving the bank, Daphne dragged Harry through the crowds of Diagon Alley and towards Fortescue's, chatting idly along the way.

"… the broom races in Paris next weekend, maybe we should go? It would be nice to get away from London for a weekend."

Harry ignored her question, his eyes focused on the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"Is that Crabbe and Goyle?" He said, pointing to a pair of bulky boys glancing around dumbly.

At that moment two other men approached the pair.

' Marcus Flint.'

She found herself fingering her wand as the known Death Eater and another man approached her classmates.

"That man, with Flint. Do you recognize him?"

Her gaze shifted to the fourth man; tall and lanky with shoulder length black hair, he appeared to be directing the other three into the alley.

"Let's follow them." She found herself saying.

To her surprise, Harry seemed to hesitate briefly before casting a disillusionment charm on the both of them and taking the lead.

"Let's go."

Grabbing her by the hand, Harry led her through Knockturn Alley, weaving in and out of the crowd, never letting the quartette in front of them too far out of sight.

The Death Eater's stopped at a corner to talk for a few seconds before entering a dingy pub.

"Stay here!" He whispered, leaving her invisible on the corner.

She watched intently as a shimmering mass entered the pub, disappearing from view, only to feel a tug on her robes a half a minute later.

"Come on!" Harry's outline whispered once more as he grabbed her arm and led her back through the crowded alley.

She felt the cool sensation of her disillusionment charm disappear as she and Harry became visible once more.

"What happened?" She asked as they kept pace with the masses.

"They disappeared." He said irritably. "But not before I placed a tracking charm on Crabbe.

His ingenuity caused her to grin. 'Do I even know any tracking charms?'

As they approached Fortescue's she let the subject die, turning to face him as she grabbed his hands and dragged him sight-unseen towards the ice cream parlor.

"Come on." She said, fluttering her eyes softly, the idea of her buying him ice cream seemingly forgotten. "I'll let you buy me a cone."

The glare off the silver teapot caused him to snarl in annoyance as Lucius's elf escorted the pair through the garden and to the gazebo where they would be safe to talk.

Why Lucius couldn't use his office inside the manor, Severus would never know.

"Which other fifth year did you name as prefect, Severus?" His friend asked politely, preferring to make small talk before getting down to business.

"Lady Greengrass." He replied evenly.

Lucius winced. It was no secret that Lady Greengrass suspected Lord Malfoy of poisoning her family.

"A perfectly reasonable choice. I've heard good things about her."

Somehow he doubted the older man had heard good things about the girl. Terrifying, perhaps. The girl was becoming more and more like the woman she hated by the day.

"She is rather brilliant."

The two fell silent as they drank their tea, causing him to stir in impatience.

"You don't think I killed them, do you?"

Although he appeared casual, Severus could see the slight tension that was beginning to form on the other man's face.

The truth was Lucius wasn't sadistic enough to pull off such a gruesome crime.

"No Lucius, I do not."

The tension on Lucius's face melted away at his proclamation and the man graced Severus with a rare smile.

"That means a lot to me, Severus."

They fell silence once more, and although they were covered by the gazebo, Severus found himself growing hot and increasingly impatient.

"Is there something you wished to tell me, Lucius?"

The blonde haired man set his tea down gently.

"Yes, there is."

The aristocrat took an agonizingly slow sip of tea before deciding to continue.

Even when eager to gloat, Lucius had to make him ask.

"Well, what is it?" He asked irritably. He had never been one for the aristocrat's petty little games.

"Bellatrix's spy."

Severus found himself leaning into Lucius's words, the other man clearly delighting in knowing something he did not.

Albus had spent months speculating on the identity of the elusive spy. Severus himself had postulated that it wasn't a single spy responsible for Flitwick, McGonagall, and Miss Moon's deaths, but separate culprits.

Neither he nor the Headmaster were any closer to solving that particular mystery.

"I've had the rat spend his time tailing Bellatrix."

He was hardly surprised. Lucius had long suspected that Bellatrix had murdered his father, it would only make sense that he was having her followed.

"Where he overheard Bellatrix having an intimate conversation with Septima Vector."

He kept his face clear of emotion, only somewhat surprised by the revelation. Septima, after all, had gained the most from the deaths of Flitwick and McGonagall.

A small detail from the latest Order meeting spurred a thought in his mind.

"Do you think she was responsible for murdering the Greengrass family?"

"Yes." Lucius replied without hesitation. "Ten minutes before they were poisoned I tried to warn Alfred about Septima, but he insisted we speak after the party."

" I saw Lucius talking to Alfred minutes before his murder."

' What do I do?'

The identity of such a valuable spy was the perfect bargaining chip.

"What do you expect me to do with this piece of information, Lucius?"

The other man paused, looking at him purposefully.

"I don't care what you do with the information, Severus." He said slowly. "We're just talking."

As the conversation switched subjects a million thoughts raced through his mind before he came to a realization.

' Lucius Malfoy just betrayed the Dark Lord.'

Not directly, of course. But it was an open secret that the headmaster and the dark lord used him to funnel information to the opposition. By disclosing the name of the dark lord's most effective spy while giving him carte blanche to do with that information as he pleased, Lucius had signed his own death warrant.

He found his annoyance over the sun dissipate as he listened to Malfoy's gripes while he tried to figure out the best way to use his new found information.

Tonks limped towards him, a scowl marring her diamond shaped face.

Snickering to himself, Bill put on an inquisitive look; "how was your session with Harry?" He asked innocently.

He hadn't believed her when she begrudgingly admitted that the fifteen year old was a better fighter than she was.

" His speed, brutality, and daring make it difficult to counter."

Bill had laughed. Then he saw the memories from the Wizengamot and it all made sense. The way he commanded his magic, his precise movements, and his relentless attacking ability.

The Order needed warriors, even if they were only fifteen.

"Fuck off, Bill!" She roared, her hair cycling through colors as she punched his shoulder while storming by.

' That answers that.'

"It's unnatural - Bill."

The curse breaker let her rant, knowing better than to risk her ire by interrupting.

"A kid shouldn't be that good…"

' Maybe you should only train Daphne?'

"He is training with Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody as well, Nym." He said gently.

Her attitude seemed to be synced with his tone as she deflated.

"I know." She said softly, closing the gap between them. "But it's not supposed to be this way."

She wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning in for a soft kiss.

"Did you pass along the highlights?"

Harry had missed the previous Order meeting and Bill had hoped that Tonks would share the important stuff.

She waved him off. "He has Moody this afternoon. The old bastard can catch him up."

Separating himself from her, Bill let out a frustrated groan.

"He and Daphne have been spending their time wandering Diagon and Whisper Alley's, and occasionally slipping into Knockturn. If they stumble upon the 'Randy Unicorn' before we're ready to move -"

Tonks gave him a dismissive wave. "He's trying to get her mind off what happened to her family, not burn down a bar."

"They're powerful teenagers, Tonks. They think they can take on the world. They aren't exactly rational."

Tonks dismissed his concerns with a shrug. "Then you tell them."

How could she brush this off? The pair were exceptionally bright, and the bar wasn't that inconspicuous, all it would take was them seeing one suspicious face enter that bar and all bets were off.

"He would take it more seriously coming from you." He chided.

Her newly minted calm demeanor disappeared in an instant.

"What would you have me do, Bill? Go up to the most powerful teenager in Britain - an impulsive hothead who is known to kill people when angered - and spoon-feed him a target?"

' If his allies don't think they can keep him in check, then who can?'

"No, I guess you can't."

Tonks deflated slightly.

"They aren't bad kids, they aren't looking for a fight."

He found Tonks's bi-polar attitude towards her surrogate brother endearing, alternating between complaining about him and standing up for him in the same conversation.

"We don't need to worry about them."

He sighed.

"I know that. But they are still kids, kids who think they're invincible."

She let out a hollow laugh.

"For all we know, Harry might be."

The room smelled of decay. That fact in and of itself had very little effect on him - rooms had their own looks and smells, most people wouldn't give it another thought - what did hold meaning was his reaction.

Absent was the tinge of annoyance he generally felt in the back of his mind at such issues. That familiar annoyance then turning into anger, that anger settling into a comfortable rage.

Instead he felt… nothing. If he hadn't known that the smell should annoy him, he never would have associated any reaction to the smell at all.

That lack of reaction was out of character for both Voldemort and Tom Riddle. He had never been a man to let such trivialities pass without acknowledgement.

Except apparently he was.

Across from him Marcel eyed him with interest as he sipped his brandy.

"You're still having issues then?"

Although phrased as a question, the French necromancer's words were more of a statement.

He felt his lips form into an uncharacteristic smile.

"I am." Voldemort replied, the pleasant tone sounding foreign to his ears.

Across from him the long-haired Frenchman grinned, exposing a set of graying teeth and a crooked smile.

"How, interesting." With that the necromancer began humming a morbid tune, waving his wand intricately as he checked his soul.

Voldemort found himself raising an amused eyebrow at the man.

' What the hell is wrong with me?'

Horace Slughorn may have described horcruxes to him midway through his fifth year, but it wasn't till that summer when a young Tom Riddle first heard of an ambitious French necromancer who was obsessed with death, that he had made his first personal breakthrough on the subject.

For a price the necromancer had overseen the creation of his diary.

He had known the risks - the soul was fragile, and fracturing it, he had been told, could have consequences.

Having no proof to offer in support of his theory, Tom Riddle proceeded with the ritual and went on his way.

He returned three years later with a sense of paranoia, stemming from his increasingly violent rebellion, desiring more capsules to protect his soul.

This time it was interest, not gold, that drove the necromancer to assist him in his growing obsession.

It took him years to discover the full effects that the items were having on him, culminating in his unstable soul detaching from his body when he attacked the Potters.

"Of course we knew this was always a possibility, didn't we?" DuPont offered with a slight chuckle, seemingly finding a touch of humor in his situation.

The man's amusement unleashed a tidal wave of anger deep within him, in under a second his ebony and phoenix feather wand was in his hand and pointed at the other man, leaving DuPont screaming in agony on the ground.

"You find Lord Voldemort's predicament humorous, Marcel?" He hissed, slipping into parseltongue towards the end as he let up on the Cruciatus Curse.

"No… no my lord." The other man got out, his body convulsing intermittently on the floor before him, a result of the nerve damage.

' He has gotten weak with age.'

"A-all I meant, my lord, is that your soul has gone through a great deal of turmoil; who knows what kind of effect re-unification may have."

Marcel had won grudging respect among the International Confederation of Wizards for his research into soul magic, without him the subject would remain a mystery.

Many academics yearned for more knowledge on the subject, outside of Marcel DuPont few were willing to take on the stigma associated with such a taboo subject.

" My lord I believe the symptoms will clear up should you choose to reunify your soul."

He had checked the man's arithmancy himself, coming to a similar conclusion yet choosing to ignore the advice in his quest for power.

A mistake that had cost him over a decade.

Voldemort paced the room quietly for several minutes while the shivering wizard recovered from his bought of anger.

"Many years ago you urged me to get rid of my horcruxes in order to restore balance." He said, pacing the room.

"Do you still believe that to be true?"

Marcel's eyes darted around the room franticly, betraying his answer before it could leave his lips.

He felt his anger spike momentarily before his energy crashed seconds later, leaving him dizzy and exhausted.

Abandoning his plans for retribution against the French wizard, Voldemort composed himself, eager to return home.

"You have lost several horcruxes since then." Marcel said in a frightful whisper. "I'm afraid you'll never be the same."

He walked casually down the weathered wooden stairs leading to the small muggle village that stood several hundred meters west of Sergei's property, enjoying the slight breeze and warm summer air.

' Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Meat

Cream'

He repeated the grocery list in his head several times until the list was firmly ingrained in his memory.

' He could have sent the elf, Terry. He's trusting you.' The thought that Sergei felt he could trust him pleased Terry.

How he was going to acquire the items, however, was anybody's guess; Sergei hadn't provided him with any money.

Reaching the wrought iron gate, Terry reached out a timid hand, lightly pressing his index finger to the lock.

A relieved look came across his face when he wasn't shocked, and with quite a bit more confidence, he pushed his way through the gate with ease.

' Thank you, Sergei!'

Dressed in standard muggle clothes, Terry made his way across the busy street and to the building with strange stations occupied by horseless carriages.

He wrinkled his face as the surrounding smell burned his nostrils.

' How do muggles live like this?'

The sound of a loud horn brought him back to reality as an angry looking man leaned his head out of his carriage to yell at him.

Picking up his pace, Terry nearly fell back in alarm when the glass window in front of him sprang open, revealing a dimly lit room with several rows of food.

' Is this where the elves get food?'

' Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Meat

Cream'

Terry reminded himself as he quickly gathered the ingredients into his sack.

The man behind the counter eyed him with suspicion as he finished assisting another customer, causing Terry's heart to race.

' Is he the shopkeeper? Am I supposed to pay him?'

Keeping a brisk pace, he walked past the counter and towards the magic window.

"HEY KID!"

He winced at the angry shouting and took off at a jog, hoping the man wouldn't pursue.

"HEY KID GET BACK HERE!"

Terry was running now, the man behind the counter not too far behind.

Using the horseless carriages to obscure himself from view, Terry made his way through the cement lot and back towards where he had come from.

He stepped out onto the pavement, the carriages on the street moving fast as a broom, but he didn't care, Sergei wouldn't appreciate failure.

Ignoring the horns, he made his way across the street and to the wrought iron fence before pushing his way through to safety, the groceries tucked safely in his sack.

' Sergei will be happy.' He thought with a grin.

He was interrupted from his revelry by the alarm on his watch, reminding him of another one of his promises to Sergei.

Reaching into his sack, Terry removed two vials, downing them without a second thought.

The feeling of toes brushing against the bottom of her feet caused Fleur to purr in delight.

"I am going to grab us coffee."

She felt the weight of the bed shift as Septima exited, covering herself with a light robe as she left the room.

' What am I doing here?'

She realized the silliness of the question as soon as it formed in her mind, quickly coming up with a better question.

' What am I getting out of this?'

Boredom and insecurity had led her to be seduced, but why was she staying? She had nothing to gain from this.

"I'm going to have to leave soon." Septima said apologetically as she handed her a to-go cup of coffee.

"My duties as Headmistress have drastically reduced the amount of free time I have during the summer."

Septima's faux humility answered her question instantly, reminding her exactly why Fleur was in bed with a woman eleven years her senior on a Tuesday in August.

' What is Septima getting out of this?' That was the real question.

It wasn't possible that Septima could still be using her to fill the void left by Sirius, could it?

Of course not, maybe at first but not anymore, not nearly nine months later.

' She's ambitious, my family has connections on the continent…'

After the honeymoon period had ended, that had been her original assumption.

However the entirety of that line of thought no longer rang true - she had been working directly for one of father's direct partners for months and Septima had only shown cursory interest in her work, rarely asking follow up questions.

The same could be said for Septima's interest in her family. While not directly involved with the Ministry, the Delacour family held more power in the private sector than any other family in France.

' If not that, then what?'

The only truth to her original assumption was that Septima was ambitious, working her way up to the post of Deputy Headmistress before she was thirty was one hell of an accomplishment.

Gabrielle had quipped that not even Dumbledore had accomplished such a feat.

When Fleur had brought it up to Septima, she gave her a proud smirk and made a joke.

" Assuming Albus doesn't live forever, I'll be the youngest head Hogwarts has ever had - male or female."

" You don't think he'll retire?"

" No." Septima had replied. "If Albus had planned to retire, he would have done so by now."

But why was she interested in her? There was no way Fleur could help Septima's career.

" Quite the opposite, actually." The logical voice of her father whispered in her ear.

She smiled back at the beautiful brunette as they sipped coffee on the side of her bed.

"What do they have you doing now?"

Septima was always busy with work, even during the summer. She wondered if it was the same at Beauxbatons.

"I'll be sending out Hogwarts acceptance letters to all the muggleborn's today." Septima's hazel eyes came alight with passion as she spoke. "Did you know that Harry found out about magic that way?"

The only thing Septima seemed to love more than teaching was talking about her star pupil.

' Is that it? Is she keeping tabs on me because of my relationship with Harry?'

She nearly snorted. That couldn't be it, she had only had a handful of conversations with the young Lord.

She couldn't possibly be keeping Fleur around because Septima found Harry to be that interesting, could she?

' Screw it, let's do an experiment.'

"How was Harry's birthday? I haven't had a chance to speak with him since we had lunch during the London Invitational."

Septima's eyes didn't belie her interest; Fleur hadn't mentioned her lunch date with boy-wonder till now.

"You had lunch with Harry?" Septima answered, leaving the question hanging in the air awkwardly for a second before rushing to fill the void. "That must have been right after the tragedy at the Greengrass party. How was he?"

' It must be my relationship with Harry.'

It was the only conclusion she could draw as the older woman dug for more information on Harry in lieu of answering her question.

But why? She barely knew him, what could she possibly gleam from her interactions with him that she couldn't discover herself?

Standing from the bed Fleur began to get dressed as she answered, still pondering the question.

"He was… renfrogné " She said, unsure of the English equivalent.

A look of pity came across Septima's face. "He's been through so much."

That much was true. From what Fleur had learned on her personal tour of the pubs of Diagon Alley, there was a growing group of people who believed that being associated with Harry was a death curse.

' But he wasn't renfrogné for himself.'

Septima had to know that. Anyone who spent even a small amount of time around those two could see they loved each other. So why would she think that Harry was… sullen for himself?

"He has." Fleur agreed. A smile came over her face as she remembered the conversation.

"During our lunch he told me about the time he and Sirius went to the 'London Invitational' to see Tonks duel a few summers ago."

A peculiar look came over Septima's face as Fleur relayed the details to her, only to disappear so quickly she thought she may have imagined it.

"He was so nervous when he ran into Daphne and Alfred."

Regardless of how Harry and Daphne's story ends, Fleur couldn't help but smile at the storybook moment where boy and girl set aside their passionate rivalry to find something… more.

Life doesn't go that way for real people.

Septima gave her a brilliant smile when she brought up that meeting.

"At the time I was too absorbed in trying to win Sirius's heart." Septima said sadly. "But looking back, it was a beautiful afternoon."

The statement caused Fleurs heart to quicken as she made to quickly change the subject.

"Do you mind if I use your toilet before I leave?"

"Of course." The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts said. "But try and hurry, I don't want to be late."

Fleur's smile was slightly forced. "I'll be out in a minute."

Shutting the door behind her, Fleur sat on the toilet, replaying her conversation with Harry in her mind.

' He never mentioned that Septima was there that day.'

Why wouldn't he mention her? He had appeared to take solace in giving her an incredibly detailed timeline of his 'first date,' as he had called it, with Daphne

' He mentioned the duelists they had seen, by name, even the ones that hadn't faced his cousin. Why wouldn't he mention that Sirius and Septima were flirting?'

In her limited interactions with him, after she seemed to have earned his trust, Harry had been very forthcoming about his feelings towards both Sirius and Septima. He wouldn't forget that Septima had been there.

Fleur felt a pit begin to form in her stomach as she remembered the other significant thing that may have happened during that years 'London Invitational.'

' Could Septima have been the one to obliviate Sirius?'

She was jumping to conclusions, Fleur knew this. The thought was absurd, Septima loved Sirius. Septima still loved Sirius; if the pictures of the two of them that dotted her townhome were of any indication.

Why would she obliviate Sirius? She was stumped.

Pondering that particular question caused another to form in her head; 'could she have obliviated Harry, as well?'

If done properly, Septima could have erased all trace of her ever having been there from his mind.

' That would mean Septima is the spy Harry is talking about, and she just made her first mistake.'

The thought sounded absurd to her. Septima was smart, funny, beautiful, charming, and a halfblood, what would she have to gain by spying for the dark lord?

' Isn't that what would make her a good spy, though?'

She wanted to discount the idea, but she couldn't - something was off about Septima Vector, maybe this was it.

Quickly she removed her wand from her purse, conjuring a half-dozen fruit flies.

' She would have warded against monitoring charms.' Fleur frowned, tapping her thigh in thought.

' What about recording charms?'

Fleur smiled deviously at her idea. Monitoring charms were malicious, where recording charms were used regularly by scholars as a way to take notes during experiments.

"Is everything okay, Fleur? I need to get going!" Septima's impatient voice rang out through the bathroom.

The quarter-veela quickly charmed four of the fruit flies to spread out among the townhome, while directing the last two to follow their target.

"Coming!" She said, flushing the toilet and exiting the bathroom where Septima greeted her with a mysterious smile.

"What took you so long in their?"

The innocent question only acted to fuel Fleur's paranoia as she fought to keep her expression serene.

"There's a presentation I'm giving at work this morning. I was trying to calm myself."

Septima gave her a grin and a kiss. "I'm sure it will all work out just fine."

' I hope so.'