Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

"Apologies everyone." She said with a sheepish smile, having been the last to arrive to the meeting.

The ornate room was highlighted by a large diamond chandelier that reflected the sunlight shining through several stained glass windows in the back.

"No need to apologize, Minister Bones. We all understand the situation you find yourself in."

The silky voice of Lucius Malfoy interjected from a comfortable leather chair, a sorrowful expression on his cunning features.

The resignation of Edmund Boot after the tragic situation with his wife and son had left Amelia trying to manage a civil war and a political crisis.

Lucius still wore that faux sorrow on his face as though his friends weren't the reason Terry was never leaving St. Mungo's again.

Coincidentally enough Edmund's resignation as Supreme Mugwump paved the way for Lucius to make his case for the coveted position.

He observed the man a little closer, having either never cared or taken the time to do so previously.

Draco had his father's eyes and hair but that was about it.

Where Lucius's face was long and thin, his son's was more heart-shaped like his mothers.

Where Lucius was tall and skinny, his son was of average height and more stocky than his father.

' Draco looks more like Cygnus.' He thought, recalling the man's portrait in Grimmauld place.

The realization surprised him, though it shouldn't - Narcissa was a Black by birth.

"Shall we begin?" Septima Vector asked from the front of the room, a nervous smile on her pretty face.

Terry never should have been cleared by the ministry to go home in the first place.

Harry would bet the entirety of his trust that Lucius had paid off the mind healers at the ministry in the hopes that something like this would happen.

"It must be uncomfortable for her to attend these meetings." Daphne whispered from next to him, gesturing towards the headmistress. "She gets to sit here and listen to the Board make decisions about her school, without her input."

He couldn't help but agree. If all went well the Hogwarts Board of Governors would leave today having made a massive decision regarding the schools security and the headmistress wouldn't get a say in it. That the head of Hogwarts didn't get a vote on the Board seemed a bit unfair to him.

The two sat quietly as the Board worked their way through the agenda of rubber stamping budgets and pay raises.

The tragic incident with Terry presented another moral conflict he had to grapple with: when did he visit his friend? Would that even be possible? Could he bring himself to do it?

He didn't know if he could, but he had to try. Terry would try if the roles were reversed.

"Our final order of business tonight." Septima began, the room giving her their full attention - this is what they had all come for, after all. "The Minister of Magic has requested Hogwarts allow two dozen auror's access to Hogwarts grounds."

"Minister Bones." Lord Abbott started, directing a kind smile Lady Bones' way. "Would you care to address the Board?"

His vocabulary made it clear that Abbott was addressing Lady Bones in her capacity as Minister of Magic as opposed to a Governess of the Board, making him frown. It was highly irregular for ministry officials to receive an audience with the board.

' It may be time to amend the charter.' He thought to himself. It shouldn't be possible for someone to hold a spot on the Board and a high-ranking position in the ministry. The conflict of interest was astounding.

"Thank you, Governor Abbott." She said warmly as she took the pulpit.

"Death Eater attacks are up nearly two hundred percent in the last eighteen months while just last month the Scion of the Goldstein family was murdered by a professor." She stated bluntly, directing her eyes at Malfoy and Flint.

The pair of death eaters stared back at the minister stoically, plain expressions on their faces.

Objectively Harry couldn't help but respect Lord Malfoy to avoid jail for all these years. Bribes could only get you so far, the Lestrange's had proven that.

"Besides the murder of a student, two professors have been murdered over the last three years." In the corner Septima looked forlorn. "Hogwarts is too large to properly maintain on its own."

Her point was short, direct, and powerful - the future of Britain must be protected.

"A terrible tragedy." Lucius Malfoy interjected, an air of somberness about him. "But Hogwarts has operated privately without ministry assistance or aid for well over a century. An intrusion now sets a terrible precedent and sends an even worse message: Hogwarts is a vassal of the Ministry of Magic." Lord Malfoy pontificated passionately. "It is important that young witches and wizards receive an education free from ministry interference."

Behind Malfoy Flint nodded enthusiastically while off to their right Fawcett, Smith, and Abbott glared Lord Malfoy's way.

"Hogwarts predates the ministry by nearly two hundred years." He continued, his voice having calmed significantly but the passion remained. Harry was hanging on to every word, he couldn't help it.

Pulling away from Malfoy's speech, he found himself observing the room once more.

Dowager Longbottom was impossible to read. Her voting record suggested a staunch opposition to interference in Hogwarts, a tradition her deceased husband's family had carried on for centuries.

After pausing for an appropriate amount of time the Death Eater continued. "It remains the only school of magic in Europe that can say it is truly independent. She must retain that independence in the face of adversity."

The balance of the room remained the same as the pivot remained unreadable.

"I think it would be more prudent to review Hogwarts safety standards, starting with a thorough review of the staff. Only then should we consider next steps."

His eyes shifted to Septima who nodded enthusiastically. "That will definitely be part of the Ministry's process, I'm sure."

Malfoy frowned, clearly he was hoping to have an ally in the headmistress.

He too found himself disappointed; he doubted Dumbledore would have been open to the prospect of interference.

"Of course." Amelia replied as though it were obvious. "The ministry will conduct a thorough review of all the processes and procedures surrounding Hogwarts."

Although he couldn't get a good read on her, his gut was telling him Augusta Longbottom would never openly side with Malfoy.

He nudged Daphne who glanced Augusta's way.

She would, however, respond to a strong young female who recently lost everything. That story was familiar.

"In the seventeenth century Minister of Magic Cornelius Parkinson accepted ten thousand galleons from Orion Black for the exclusive agricultural rights to East Anglia." Daphne had Augusta Longbottom's full attention. "When the Supreme Mugwump suggested levying charges against the Minister of Magic, Black paid him as well."

"The ministry has a well-documented history of corruption dating back over three hundred years. My fear is the loyalty of the auror's, who in the past have been used against civilians."

Daphne's voice oozed compassion and for the first time something seemed to connect with the curmudgeonly woman.

Governess Greengrass seemed to notice, focusing her attention on her more than anyone else.

"The vast majority of the ministry are good people. But for every Amos Diggory there's a Corban Yaxley. For every Alastor Moody there's an Irwin Walsh."

Minister Bones frowned at the underhanded move but he didn't care. Sometimes you needed to be reminded of the bad times.

Walsh's actions had let the Lestrange's and Crouch Jr. in to Longbottom Manor on that fateful November morning.

"I suggest we use the vast resources of Hogwarts to hire private security." Daphne pushed. "The ICW has a rolodex of private security firms to choose from."

He could see Malfoy and Flint smiling the emotion nearly causing him to frown in confliction.

" You have to play the long game." Daphne and Sirius had repeatedly told him as much. Malfoy and Flint seemed to have forgotten that.

Augusta Longbottom had also noticed Malfoy's joy. In that moment Augusta's mind turned to what that man's sister in-law had done to her son and he knew he had lost her.

Walsh may have led Lestrange to Frank and Alice, but it was the Lestrange's that tortured her only child into insanity, but it was a Malfoy who helped Bellatrix escape.

Augusta would kill Lucius if she got the chance, it was foolish to think she would vote with him.

Minister Bones picked up on the shift in the room as well, a victorious smile crossing her face.

"Let's vote."

She watched as men and women in plum robes scurried to and fro at the corner of Emerald and Merlin as the auror's ransacked Corban's large townhome, the wards having collapsed upon the younger man's death.

Did Bellatrix do this on purpose? Septima couldn't think of any logical reason as to why the older woman would get rid of Corban without cleaning his townhome.

Just outside the perimeter reporters lurked for the chance to photograph Auror Weis as he solemnly stood watch of the scene, looking every bit the part of the hero he thought he was.

Septima was unsure what, if any, contingency plan Corban had in the case of his demise, but she had to assume that he may have left some evidence of her crimes somewhere and plan accordingly.

Leaving several galleons on the table Septima headed south on Merlin till she reached her building at the end of the block.

She walked through the snow-covered courtyard and into the cozy lobby where she tapped her wand to her name on the wall, the familiar tug on her navel transporting her directly into her rather large penthouse overlooking Memorial Park.

She walked briskly through the modern apartment till she reached a bland looking table with a charcoal colored, empty oblong vase on it.

Septima reached into the vase till she was standing on her tippy-toes, almost shoulder deep into the unassuming accoutrement when she felt her fingers grasp the latch at the bottom.

Pulling upwards, Septima heard a distinct click before awkwardly climbing onto the table and stepping into the vase one leg at a time, each appendage fitting seamlessly into the impossibly small vase.

Her feet found the rope ladder on the other side and she began her brief descent before reaching the previously locked door.

Making her way through the door she was met with a short hallway and another rope ladder, this one ascending upwards till she climbed herself out of the corresponding vase on her nightstand at Hogwarts, a satisfied smile on her face.

Reaching under her bed she pulled out her suitcase. Packing it with clothes, galleons, and a case of memories Septima made her way back to her townhome in Whisper Alley before once more returning to Hogwarts.

Fresh snow dotted the banks of the River Lee and expanded outwards and up into the Shehy mountains.

It was unseasonably cold in Cork, even for February and Tonks found herself grateful for the fire and her glass of whisky.

"You're late." She began with a touch of irritation in her voice.

"Apologies." He said in slightly accented English. "I do not have much time."

The news was welcome to her ears, the less time she had to spend in the presence of the necromancer the better.

Necromancers made her uncomfortable. Their pale skin and obsessions with death, blood, and necrophilia had made the powerful magic something of a worldwide taboo. It was the necromancy, not the soul magic that had run the man across from her out of France. If it weren't for DuPont's perceived usefulness she would avoid him like the plague.

"Why am I here?" She began, ignoring his comment.

"Are we free to speak?"

She shot him an annoyed look. "Of course." She said dismissively.

He gave a resolute nod. "The Dark Lord has a training facility at an old castle in the hills above Denbigh out in Wales."

Tonks tried to hide her excitement at the bit of information. It had been months since either side had been able to strike a clean blow, and she was beginning to get stir crazy.

"How many Death Eaters?"

DuPont shrugged. "One hundred maybe, maybe more."

An attack on the camp would strike a major blow to the enemy.

"Who runs the camp? What of the protections?" The former Dark Arts Professor from Beauxbatons didn't answer immediately, staring off into the flames behind her for several long moments.

She didn't rush him, finding the restraint to allow him the necessary time, knowing he was betraying everything he stood for.

Sitting here patiently while the man worked up the nerve to betray those monsters. Her actions sickened her.

When he spoke his voice was eerily void of emotion.

"This settles my deal with Lord Potter." He stated calmly before she interjected. "Forewarning on an attack at Hogwarts gets you immunity. Lord Potter made that clear."

DuPont's eyes narrowed. "What if I can't get that information?"

"I cannot answer for him." She forced a touch of compassion into her voice. "The best you can hope for is that you continue to provide him with information and hope Harry is more generous than Voldemort. Provide him with as much information as you can and he may still give you your land."

He sighed. Marcel didn't have a choice and he knew it.

"Lestrange, Snape, and Dolohov run it."

Her hand rubbed her abdomen at the spot where her aunt's knife had nearly killed her, a large grin on her face.

"What is the makeup of the Death Eaters at this camp? How skilled are they?"

DuPont looked at his watch nervously.

"Bellatrix trains the upper echelon recruits privately. They all have battle experience and have been handpicked by either Voldemort or Bellatrix for more specialized training. Snape and Dolohov handle the rest, they're mid-level soldiers. They have shown some amount of aptitude in basic training and are being given a more advanced education."

"How many of each?"

DuPont shrugged. "I do not know. Bellatrix's group had twenty five last I saw, but Bellatrix has a tendency to kill students that fail to meet her standards."

"What about the protections?"

The necromancer picker up a satchel off the ground. "It's all in here." He said, shoving the bag into her hands. "I have to go."

Left alone Tonks ordered herself another whisky and an Irish stew before digging through the satchel.

She read for nearly an hour while she ate, stopping only to order another glass of whisky when an envelope caught her eye.

' Lord Potter'

The handsome handwriting stole her attention as her fingers slid across the thick envelope.

"Shit." She said in surprise, dropping the envelope right as it gave her body a jolt.

Deciding to not test the protections on the envelope, Tonks put the letter back into the satchel and turned her attention to the dessert menu, sure that whatever DuPont had to tell Harry could wait.

" Horcrux. That's it." DuPont's voice echoed in his mind as he closed the painting hiding Tom Riddle's old room behind him.

Hanging a left Harry made his way deeper into the quiet dungeons, through cobwebs and passed unused rooms until he came upon an unassuming suit of armor in a dark corner.

"Open." He hissed, the suit of armor sliding aside to reveal a tall archway leading into an off-to-the-side room deep within the chamber.

Walking through the archway Harry quickly passed through the small, empty room and was met with a fork in the path.

If he were to go to the left he would connect with the part of the chamber that contained a maze of enclaves and hideaways used for spying. Even after removing the traps he was still warry of the area.

Despite the deadly protections that particular corridor could prove to be particularly useful, connecting to all four common rooms and a good portion of the private quarters in the castle.

Between that and the path that nearly drown he and Daphne there wasn't a part of the chamber that hadn't tried to kill him in some spectacular fashion or another.

As useful as it was, the known parts of the chamber hadn't proved useful for his horcrux hunt.

Activating his map, he touched the runes embedded within the parchment and spelled it to float in front of him.

To the best of his increasing knowledge, a rightward turn was all that was left to explore. Harry sighed. If things held to form he would soon be fighting for his life.

He had been obsessively exploring the chamber of late, desperate to find anything that Voldemort might use as a horcrux, the knowledge that a single horcrux was all that stood between him and a mortal dark lord was maddening.

Sticking to the right Harry, ever vigilant, slowly began to descend, each new step creating the next portion of the map.

While he assumed he was heading deeper into the castle it was impossible to tell with magic. The chamber, he realized, was less predictable than the castle's staircases. A maze that he was beginning to think was designed to trap intruders.

The path he was on was wider than most while the cobblestone floor was littered with bones and other debris, providing him with a good hint as to what had used this part of the chamber the most recently.

The thought caused him to pause in debate; did he risk running into the basilisk? For all he knew basilisks were fickle creatures, a second encounter could have a vastly different outcome than the first.

Since their initial meeting Harry had gone out of his way to avoid the ancient creature to great success thus far, did he test his luck?

' What if there's a horcrux ahead?'

Unlike the other portions of the chamber the path he was on held no rooms or enclaves, there was no torchlight or any other amenities to be seen giving him the feeling that this part of the chamber was meant specifically for its protector.

After several minutes of walking, the path began to ascend and he was surrounded by damp earth. The ceiling above him was overrun with a thick bushel of roots while spiders and mice scurried about the mud floor.

He pushed onward till the natural light began to illuminate the tunnel from a large opening that had come into view straight ahead.

Harry smiled in excitement as he realized what he had stumbled upon.

He had assumed the snake must have a way into the forbidden forest to hunt, now it appeared that he had found it.

There were less trees than he had expected. That was the first thing he'd noticed as he exited the chamber into the brisk winter air.

He could see his breath take form in front of him as the sun glistened off the surrounding snow, illuminating the scant amount of trees in the area - this wasn't a part of the forest he was familiar with.

Snow crunched under his feet as he walked the perimeter attempting to determine the next steps.

"Pete!" A voice not-so-far-off in the distance called.

' What the hell?' The forbidden forest wasn't this close to a populated area.

"Whatchu want?" A second voice - he assumed Pete - replied dully.

Harry cast a disillusionment charm over himself and walked towards the pair of voices.

' What the hell?' He thought in confusion, his eyes resting on a dilapidated house he recognized as the Shrieking Shack a hundred meters ahead and through the trees.

Just past the old shack he could make out people milling about on the snow-covered street leading to a familiar bar off in the distance.

The chamber hadn't led him to the forbidden forest, but to Hogsmeade.

The thought made him shudder. For centuries a basilisk had been hunting the surrounding area and the townspeople appeared to be none-the-wiser.

Though that wasn't necessarily true, he thought, his mind drifting back to school-yard legends that were exchanged in the students lounge. For as long as anyone could remember there had been rumors about the odd witch or wizard disappearing in the small town, a basilisk would explain that.

Heading back to the opening Harry paused to cast some diagnostics on the well-hidden entrance.

His eyes widened as the opening began to glow, a familiar chill passing through him.

Voldemort had been here recently.

DuPont was telling him the truth, Voldemort was planning to attack Hogsmeade but he was going to use the attack as a diversion.

' He's going after the horcrux.'

The man had said the horcruxes made Voldemort unstable, while unification may provide stability for the dark lord.

He stood still in the woods for a minute in silence while he plotted his next move.

Further diagnostic charms ran the risk of alerting Voldemort.

Making a decision he made his way back through the thicket and into the earthy portion of the tunnel just inside the opening, continuing until his feet hit cobblestone.

Pausing, he squatted down and removing a knife from his satchel, he carefully carved a monitoring rune into the step before making the long journey back to the main atrium of the chamber where the snake had nearly killed him and Daphne a few days prior.

He wasn't there long when he felt the snake's presence creep up behind him.

"Young human." It greeted.

Harry looked passed the snake, desperate to avoid its deadly eyes.

"Your tunnel that leads to the woods near the village?"

The snake perked up at the mention of its exit.

"Voldemort has been there recently."

If a basilisk could nod its head, it did. "I shall keep watch."

"Thank you." He said genuinely.

He was about to leave when a thought entered his mind.

"Did Tom Riddle ever tell you about a hiding place? A special place at Hogwarts where he'd keep his valuable possessions?"

An inquisitive forked tongue brushed against his cheek.

"Young master used to gloat about his study."

He groaned. He had nearly forgotten about Tom Riddles old room. For the first time in months his mind turned back to the locked drawer on the desk, a victorious smile on his face. He knew exactly where the last horcrux was.

Hogwarts was perhaps the most overrated building in Europe. She thought in disdain, her foot tapping the floor impatiently in a dusty classroom littered with an array of broken desks and chairs.

Aesthetically pleasing, yes. But far too big to maintain. Most of the capacity had fallen into disuse, the magical population never quite reaching the lofty predictions made by Rowena Ravenclaw.

More than that the place was a deadly maze of secret rooms, basilisks, and traps. Durmstrang, ugly as it looked in pictures, at least appeared to be logically arranged. Hogwarts on the other hand, had been designed by four ego maniacs eager to show future generations how brilliant and creative they were as individuals.

They were a bunch of self-absorbed cunts, if you asked her.

She took another glance at her watch; her guests were late. Daphne didn't like late. A trait, she realized, she acquired from Harry.

They had been together so long that they picked up each other's traits.

The realization made her smile. Despite all she had been through in the past year Harry had been there for her. She wasn't sure he knew how much she appreciated that.

Fortunately she didn't have to wait much longer as her small group began to trickle in.

Daphne narrowed her eyes slightly, wiping any form of expression from her features. "You're late." She said dispassionately in what she hoped was an accurate impression of her boyfriend.

Her group of compatriots took an involuntary step back and she nearly laughed.

"Sorry." A plain looking girl with green eyes said nonchalantly, not looking the least bit sorry.

She reached into her purse, coming out with a small vial containing a clear liquid on the only unbroken desk in the room. "I didn't want to ruin this."

"You're sure it works?"

Maggie smirked. "This batch does."

Part of her wanted to be privy to the joke but pushed forward.

"Morningstar!" She barked at the seventh year quidditch player. "Is everything set?" The lanky boy gave her a wicked smile. "It is."

She was privy to that joke - the older boy's ability to inspire confidence in others was why he was chosen for this particular task.

She glanced briefly at the unexpected third guest, their eyes meeting for a moment before hers darted towards the other two.

"Thank you both." She said sincerely. Loathe as she was to admit it, she couldn't do this alone and she didn't have the skills needed to inspire such loyalty in others.

She never failed to marvel at Astoria's ability to inspire loyalty, even from the afterlife. For a moment she wondered if anyone besides Harry would avenge her should she be killed.

They nodded and left without a word, leaving her alone with the strange fourth year.

"Hello Calypso." She said calmly, curious as to what she was doing in front of her.

' Or how she found out about this meeting.'

She had other uses for the slippery pureblood.

"Lady Greengrass." Rosier said politely.

Unlike the others Calypso wasn't particularly friendly with her sister, Daphne couldn't quite understand what the girl gained from their affiliation.

They sat quietly for several seconds, neither saying a thing. The silence was starting to become a little too awkward when the other girl broke it.

"Miles sure likes to brag when he drinks." She began, a small smile softening her normally cold features. "He even showed me his new tattoo."

"He's taken the mark?"

Calypso nodded. "He had some training over the holiday and thinks he's real powerful now. He was even telling me about how he was going to this advanced training camp up in central Wales."

Daphne tried to contain her excitement. "Did Bletchley say when he was going?" She shook her head but kept smiling. "He did not, but he claims Snape's involved."

Daphne smiled. She could deal with Snape. "Keep him drinking."

Calypso nodded sharply. "He needs more booze."

"That's fine." Daphne said dismissively. "I'll have you a fresh case by the weekend."

Calypso was half way to the door when Daphne called back out to her, unable to resist her own curiosity.

"Why are you helping me?"

The curly-haired brunette turned to face her.

"You and Astoria weren't friends."

Calypso looked at her thoughtfully as she composed herself.

"After the first war my family was all but wiped out. Whether by the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, or the Dark Lord. My parents had been exiled to Greece when I was born, shortly after the bounty hunters caught my father."

If Rosier thought telling her a story about how her entire family supported Voldemort during the first war was going to win her trust she wasn't as smart as she looked.

"It's just me and my mom now." She started, closing the gap between them. "People have forgotten the name Rosier. They've forgotten our wealth, they've forgotten our seat on the wizengamot, and they've forgotten we're a member of the sacred twenty eight."

Calypso gave her a vicious smile. "They've forgotten how much power we wield." She stated resolutely, the determination evident in her voice.

"If you win this war, you and Harry Potter will shape our society for the next century. History will tell your story, I want to make it so they can't tell your story without mentioning my family."

It felt as though it had been ages since he'd been in Riddle's old room. He thought to himself as he stood at the entrance way of the pristine office.

It occurred to him in that moment that the space looked as though someone who had seen some important business executive's office on the muggle telly had designed it.

For the first time he thought of the origins of the small office.

Had it always been an office? He and Daphne had transformed an unused classroom into something far more impressive beginning in their third year. His mind drifted back to the secret passageway Riddle had created near the greenhouses, it's possible Riddle had created the room himself.

If Riddle hadn't been the rooms architect he wondered who was. If Riddle found it how did he find it? Had it always been protected by a parselmouth password? He had been able to change the password to the room so maybe Tom Riddle had as well, that possibility only served to complicate things further.

When did Tom Riddle start to design the interior? He assumed he must have started designing the room immediately after finding or creating it. Based on the furnishings Harry figured Riddle must have been pretty young.

His mind harkened back to how the study at Grimmauld place looked prior to he and Sirius remodeled. The large mahogany desk with several large bookshelves behind it, comfortable chairs and couches, and even an old wireless found in Riddle's space were absent in Lord Black's previous study, all showed a distinct muggle influence that prior to Voldemort traditional purebloods found foreign.

Making his way to the spotless desk he paused, his eyes transfixed on the second drawer from the bottom, right of center. He stared at it motionlessly for nearly a minute. The drawer had caused him so much pain in years past, now he was fairly certain he knew why.

Blank-faced he jabbed his wand forward then sliced downwards.

The drawer emitted a translucent glow letting Harry know it was safe to proceed. He felt a nervous anxiety as he prepared for the next part.

In his third year he had believed that the drawer had been protected by 'Gravi Capitis Dolore,' a small area protection ward ideally used on a doorway or small to moderately sized object due to its light pink blow and violent violet tendrils.

The state he had been left in after his first attempt left Daphne, who had snuck in when he had forgot to shut the door, in a panic.

He wondered if that counted as their first date. He smiled. The idea of a near death experience being their first date really did set the stage for what was to come.

By the time he had realized it was a camouflage ward that protected the drawer he had other pressing matters and had pushed it aside.

Different from the deadly traps set in the chamber, a camouflage ward on its own was relatively harmless but easy to modify and combine with other structures, making it an ideal choice for a normal ambitious teenager, yet unusual for someone as capable as Tom Riddle.

He cast several diagnostic charms, careful as to not disturb any of the potential modifications - he had already been struck by the ingrained punishment once, he didn't wish to do so again.

The origin of the punishment combination is where he hoped to begin dismantling the ward and he found it cleverly hidden by a subtle concealment charm on the corner of the desk.

The nasty looking pain ward protruded mustard yellow tendrils that shot angrily downwards towards its target.

Pain wards were simple, yet effective. The more power you poured into the ward, the more pain befalls the victim. Their weakness lay in the one-dimensional nature of the ward. Focus on its function left the ward vulnerable if you knew where to look.

It took him less than a minute to locate the slightly lighter shade of yellow within the ward, then another minute to disable it, leaving him with only the camouflage and overall structure to deal with.

Like the name suggests, the camouflage ward was well hidden within of the front desk itself, taking longer than anticipated for him to find and disperse of the remaining protections on the drawer.

With the slightest bit of trepidation Harry griped the cold metal drawer handle and was relieved when his periphery didn't fill with a blinding pain.

A smile on his face he opened the drawer and was slightly disappointed to find a plain black book.

Nagini, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup - Voldemort had always chosen the grandiose over the mundane.

Almost instinctively Harry grabbed the book and set it on the table before flipping through it aimlessly, getting more and more frustrated with each page.

Even as a first year he could feel the allure of Ravenclaw's diadem as Quirrell pushed passed him on the seventh floor corridor. Harry could remember his desire to snatch the diadem from his defense professor's head.

Yet here he felt nothing.

Without giving it any thought he grabbed a quill and some ink from his satchel as he continued to browse the empty book impatiently, looking for any sign of significance.

He paused, eyeing the thing with a little more focus. It wasn't a book at all. He thought, following the pull on his subconscious directing him towards the answer.

It was a diary. A simple, blank, diary.

H wondered why a blank diary was under such complex protections. Sentimental value maybe?

Impulsively he dipped his quill in its ink and began writing.

" Hello." He wrote not knowing what to expect and feeling slightly ridiculous at his behavior.

A mesmerizing ellipsis flickered across the blank, worn page underneath his answer, leaving him transfixed, and slightly disappointed when he received an unexpected response some time later.

" Hello." The journal responded. "My name's Tom, what's your name?"

A broad smile came across his face, the name triggering no response in his mind.

Time seemed to slow down as he debated what exactly to divulge to the mysterious stranger.

" My name is Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you Tom." He began, starting small.

" You as well, Harry Potter." The diary responded pleasantly. "Would you remind me what year it is?"

He paused for a moment to divert his eyes upwards towards the gaggle of third years blocking the entrance to the Slytherin common room, holding him up.

His mind drifted off again as he thought about his response.

"Open!" He hissed towards the suit of armor before finally remembering to answer his new friend.

" 1996."

He continued his way down the spiral staircase, his eyes transfixed on the flickering ellipsis underneath his penmanship, drawing him in once more.

He jolted forward breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his cheeks.

' What the hell?' He thought in fear, confused as to where he was, his eyes taking longer than usual to adjust to darkness.

Looking around he saw the familiar half-sunk atrium of the chamber of secrets surrounding him, an unfamiliar black diary floating at his feet.

' What's going on?'

"Young one." A familiar hiss called out, the basilisk being acting as a strangely comforting sight amidst all the confusion.

"What happened?" He hissed back.

"You were hissing at that." The ancient snake replied, leaving Harry with the impression that it was gesturing towards the black book floating before him. "You were calling it by young master's name."

Then it all came back to him like a tidal wave: thinking he knew where Voldemort's final horcrux was, the ward on the drawer, the strange voice in his head, blacking out and coming to in a strange place.

The realization left few possibilities, one terrifying possibility standing out above the rest.

Voldemort had possessed him.

He had made sure to arrive early.

Draco couldn't be certain that Morningstar had known the depths of Greengrass's little plot. The boy had only claimed to know enough to make him fear for his life.

He had taken the tattered chair with his back facing the plain walls, the sound of cutlery being thrown about as elves in pressed cloth robes barked orders at elves in slightly tattered robes who seemed to obey without question, some of whom were even singing softly in solidarity.

He found the knowledge that even the help had a social hierarchy oddly comforting as his ostensible peer strutted towards the simple table.

Draco rose to his feet, a well-practiced smile on his face. "Lady Greengrass." He said respectfully, his head bowing appropriately while his lips stopped just short of brushing her knuckles.

"Scion Malfoy." She said pleasantly, her attempt at a relaxed look looking more foreign on her features than Stori's.

He squashed those thoughts, keeping his focus instead on the woman in front of him.

She had survived an encounter with his aunt. He knew it. The Death Eaters knew it. The Dark Lord knew it. Even if the press didn't. It was an impressive feat, one that had left people interested.

The mystery was why was she kept alive? Vendetta aside, the Greengrass household was of little consequence to the Dark Lord, committing resources to a family hell bent on opposing him was a waste.

The only logical reason was that Greengrass had made an impression on his sadistic aunt.

It wasn't worth speculating, if Bellatrix Lestrange had had a reason for not killing Daphne Greengrass she hadn't felt the need to share. To Draco that thought was equally disturbing.

"Thank you for meeting me, Lady Greengrass."

"You should be thanking Harry." She started bluntly as her intense green eyes surveyed the room. "He's the one who forced me to take this meeting."

He silently agreed as a kettle and some biscuits appeared before them.

Greengrass gave the room another once-over before finally sitting down.

Joining her back at the table Draco didn't hesitate, reaching for the kettle he poured himself a small glass before taking a bite of a still warm biscuit.

Greengrass seemed to relax as he served himself before helping herself to a glass herself.

As a child he would often be forced to stay with his aunt Bellatrix at her chateau in Sofia while his parents traveled the continent. While they were away, his aunt would take the opportunity to instill as many lessons as possible upon her only nephew.

Survival, manipulation, and the mind arts seemed to be aunt Bellatrix's specialty, traits he had learned to both harness and recognize in others.

After a moment's hesitation Greengrass appeared to take a sip of her own tea, though the lack of movement in her throat betrayed her.

Maybe if Astoria had had a violent psychopath as an aunt she would still be alive?

He'd spent months pondering that thought. Could he have done something? He wished he could have, he desperately wanted to know who she would have become.

He mustn't let Daphne get to her wand before him. Draco never stood a chance against a determined Daphne Greengrass, he knew that.

Draco fingered his own wand attached to his wrist beneath his robe, subtly bringing it forward and directing it at her from under the table.

"I'm not going to be drinking your tea, Daphne." He was stern but calm. He must strike a delicate balance. If Snape could play both sides of this war so could he.

Greengrass's biggest weakness was her sense of superiority. Talented though she may be, she was blinded by her own arrogance.

"I'm here to talk to you, not fall victim to your little vendetta."

Her pretty eyes narrowed and the kitchen seemed to go silent.

"Fine." She said devoid of emotion, giving up the charade as she threw her tea glass to the ground, sending pieces of porcelain everywhere as house elves appeared like cockroaches to clean up the mess. "What did you want to talk about then?" She said tossing her wand on the table, clearly more curious than intimidated.

He followed suit a second later, placing both of his hands, palms flat on the table in front of them.

"Despite what you may believe, I really did care for your sister."

To her credit and his surprise Daphne didn't react at first, taking the second to mimic his own actions. "Your father told you to gather information on my family for Voldemort." She stated bluntly.

He resisted the urge to flinch at the dark lord's name. "He did." Draco confirmed. "Father wanted me to gather information on you, your family, and Lord Potter both to assess your family as a potential supporter and as a way to keep an eye on Potter. It is no different than you using your friend to get close to the heir of two houses."

Her hand twitched towards her wand and although he knew he was teetering on the edge of destruction he put a hand up to cut off her response. "Like you - like most purebloods I followed my family's wishes before growing to care for that person." He stated calmly, staring directly into her eyes he continued. "I stopped reporting to him before the Yule Ball, he accepted my wishes. Despite the initial circumstances, Astoria meant the world to me." He said softly, hoping his voice contained sincerity.

"My father is many things." Draco started. "But he wouldn't murder her in cold-blood. Even if you think he is a monster you have to understand that he wouldn't do that to me. "

Daphne sat calmly opposite him neither saying nor doing anything.

"Mipsy!" She said calmly. "Bring me a bottle of firewhiskey."

He exhaled, feeling himself relax for the first time as the elf returned with a new bottle and two glasses.

They watched silently as the wrinkly creature cracked the seal before pouring them both a finger or two of the potent amber liquid.

Encouraged by her silence he raised his glass. "For Astoria." He said somberly, eliciting a smile from Daphne. "For Astoria." She repeated quietly, raising the glass to her lips.

He mimicked her actions, feeling the burn of the amber liquid touch the back of his throat before an overwhelming sour taste erupted in his throat causing him to wince at the unpleasantness before it was replaced with an excruciating pain as he began to cough violently.

Across from him Daphne was no longer holding her glass and wore an amused smile on her beautiful face.

Draco made to talk again but found himself coughing once more, only this time Daphne had pushed herself away from the table and was watching his death with a look of glee on her face.

The sight caused his eyes to widen in horror as he became aware of the coppery taste of blood that was overflowing from his mouth.

Daphne was laughing cruelly as he clawed at his neck, ripping away skin in desperation as he slowly suffocated.

"You're lucky, Draco." Daphne's faint voice said as she watched him struggle to remain consciousness in a form of demented amusement. "I believe you."

She placed a small vial on the table in front of him before abruptly grabbing it off the table and standing up.

"In exchange for your life." She said, grabbing a handful of his hair and throwing his head back in disregard. "You're going to tell me everything you know."

Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw a quick flick and momentarily he could breath. Seizing the opportunity he downed the clear liquid as it was poured down his throat, his senses overcome by a light tingling followed by a brief bout of pain.

"That's what she felt in the moments before she died." Daphne said cruelly, his wand still directed between his eyes.

"You claim it wasn't your father." She said as he closed the gap between them, pressing him against the dirty kitchen wall. "Who killed Astoria? Who killed my family?"

There were unshed tears in her eyes but her wand didn't waver.

He took a deep breath knowing the tough sell he had ahead of him.

"The same woman who killed Flitwick, McGonagall, Goldstein, and your friend Lily." He said trembling and his voice hoarse, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words.

"Septima Vector."

She stared at him angrily for several long moments, her wand still trained on him.

"I don't believe you." Her voice said, though her eyes told him differently - occlumency took a strength he didn't currently have, she had full access to his mind.

He shrugged. He didn't have enough tangible proof to convince her, only coincidences.

"She was orphaned at thirteen and taken in by her mother's employer, the Yaxley's, who have supported Voldemort since he was in Hogwarts." He began with more confidence than he felt. He had just accused one of Greengrass's closest confidants of working with Voldemort.

"After receiving her mastery she took over as professor of ancient runes and warding, where her record has been exemplary."

Daphne wore an impatient look and he knew he had to get to his point. "Two years before Flitwicks death she was promoted to Associate Head of House with the promise that he was only two years from retirement. Septima Vector was delighted, if all went to plan she would be the youngest Head of House at Hogwarts since Helga Hufflepuff."

"She's ambitious, that's your proof?" Daphne said disdainfully, but Draco pushed forward.

"Three weeks before he was poisoned in the Three Broomsticks he signed an extension with Hogwarts. She benefitted the most from his death."

She looked skeptical but he continued.

"That was around the same time she got engaged to Lord Black."

He took her silence as encouragement. "Black saw something he shouldn't have and Vector was scared the obviation wouldn't hold." He said softly. "It's the same reason Astoria was killed."

A few tears fell down her face but Daphne otherwise remained eerily composed. "You're lying." She accused.

Draco held her gaze. "No. I'm not. And you know it."

They remained silent for some time staring at each other, Draco not daring to look away.

More tears fell and she lowered her wand. "No, you're not." He felt a pressure relieve itself.

"You're going to help me kill her."

His eyes shifted back and forth between the entrance and the Slytherin table, eager to find Daphne, though his hopes were beginning to dim.

Neither she nor Malfoy had shown up for dinner and he was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to let her go to that meeting without someone to look out for Malfoy.

More than that he had to tell her the exciting developments!

After his little incident with Voldemort's final horcrux he had conjured a marble box and placed it inside before putting it safely in his trunk in Ravenclaw tower. If Voldemort really was planning on infiltrating the castle it wouldn't be wise to leave it lying about.

He had considered destroying it outright, but without Daphne there to stand watch, and having just been possessed, he had felt that waiting a day or two would serve him well.

" We don't even know if Voldemort can tell when a horcrux has been destroyed."

His attention back on the great hall, he noticed Tonks's barn owl amongst the two owls patiently waiting for him at the table.

He assumed Tonks's owl contained her summary of her meeting with the necromancer and set it aside in favor of Fleur's unexpected letter and small box.

Intrigued by the box he set the letter aside and opened the lid, a puzzled look settling on his face.

Why would Fleur send him a fly?

The smell of spiced tobacco was overwhelmed by cheap perfume as the raucous crowd at Glasgow's finest pub sang behind her in merriment while she sipped a glass of a cheap house red while waiting for Septima to arrive.

An amused voice from behind her cut through the off-pitch singing midway through her glass.

"My sweet flower." Septima's arrival seemed to make the whole thing real and for the slightest of moments she wondered if she was doing the right thing. "What are you doing down here with these cretins? Put that shit down and follow me." The spy stated as she turned on her heel, ending all debate on the matter.

Fleur stared at the mashed grapes disdainfully before following her target through the crowd towards the back right corner of the room where an unassuming coat rack sat undisturbed.

The veela watched in amusement as Vector passed through the wall, the surrounding patrons seemingly having not noticed the bit of magic.

' Of course.' She said passing through the illusion and into a dimly lit, simply decorated bar, the sound of Nat King Cole's ' When I fall in Love' softly playing in the background.

Septima took her hand, guiding Fleur towards an easy-to-miss, cozy booth in the far corner.

"An old classmate of mine founded this pub a decade ago." She started airily. "Since then it's become a staple amongst the Hogwarts staff." She completed with a wide, welcoming gesture as if presenting the comfortable spot as a national treasure of some sort.

Fleur smiled and nodded, hardly paying attention as she slipped herself a calming draught while Septima led the way.

She wondered how Septima Vector could do it; the constant lies, the subterfuge. She had spent days planning for this one meeting and could barely make do without several draughts a day for her anxiety.

"It's nice." She said honestly. If she for whatever reason found herself back in Glasgow she would make sure to stop by. "Do you mind?" She said pointing towards the wine list as they sat down.

"Of course." Septima said with an attractive smile. "You're the expert, after all."

She tapped her fingers anxiously on the dark wooden table as she browsed the list looking for a bottle but more importantly waiting for the draught to kick in.

Across from her Septima wore her shoulder length hair loosely, her hazel orbs eyeing her in silent amusement as the waiter approached.

Wait staff. She hadn't counted on that.

Seeming to read her mind the spy smiled. "Archie McDonald, the founder of this establishment, is a wealthy Muggleborn. He brought the novel idea of servants with him from the muggle world."

She offered the other woman a brilliant smile, she would worry about the staff later, it was no reason to deviate.

Seeing this meeting as good a reason as any to indulge, Fleur smiled at the waiter. "We'll take a bottle of the '92 Screaming Eagle, please."

Her date laughed prettily. "Fleur Delacour turning to Napa Valley?" She said in faux surprise. "Alert the press!"

Septima's response elicited a genuine smile and a burst of laughter, for a moment she was enjoying wine with a friend, not playing cat and mouse with a spy.

Vector smirked at her. "It's good to see you." She said warmly, her entire demeanor changing in a moment. "You're a welcome sight after such a long week."

She used to admire Septima Vector's ability to seemingly change personalities on a dime. Now she found it significantly more alarming.

Fleur returned the older woman's smile as the calming draught kicked in, leaving her slightly giddy before settling in nicely.

She smiled, making sure to not smile too widely or risk alerting her target that something was amiss. "What went wrong?"

Her response was dutiful and expected intertwined with the right amount of concern. This was natural.

The spy gave her an amused look nearly drawing her ire - Septima had gave her that look before once when she thought she was being clever around the older woman's birthday - but contained herself, there was no need to go off script.

"Nothing in particular." Septima replied as she reached across the pristine wood table, resting the bottom of her right palm on top of Fleur's left. "The nature of the job leads to frustration and anxiety."

Fleur wondered what job Septima was talking about, or if she was even able to differentiate between the two anymore.

The woman she had heard on her fly was cold, conniving, and callous while the woman in front of her was anything but. She felt so ignorant, so stupid, so used. How could it take her so long to see what was so obvious? How could everyone have missed it for so long?

It would be over soon. She had taken steps to ensure that.

Fleur hoped that that Skeeter woman was smart enough to figure out the fly on her own, she didn't worry so much about Harry or their Minister of Magic.

The handsome young waiter returned with a simple green bottle enclosed with a rich red wrapper and adorned with a simple black and white logo of an eagle circling its prey.

She was thankful for the calming draught as the waiter poured the rich, red cabernet into a pair of crystal glasses.

All the while her target treated her with the type of amused look normally reserved for school children.

' Is that how she sees me? As a child?'

"What's kept you busy this week?" She asked inquisitively, brushing off her dismay and waiting for the opportune moment.

She took a moment to admire the cabernet's fruity aroma before taking a delicate sip, savoring the bold flavor and strong structure of the coveted new label.

"Les Français et leur vin." Her date chuckled causing Fleur to blush slightly.

"This week it would be the government interfering in the affairs at Hogwarts." She said disdainfully. "Hogwarts has been sovereign for a thousand years, we have the resources to hire our own private security, yet now I have to allow corrupt auror's into the castle?"

Fleur reduced the desire to roll her eyes at the pronouncement. The only reason the spy was ranting was because the presence of auror's made it harder for Septima to operate.

"Harry allowed that to happen?" A flicker of something passed over Septima's features before she quickly composed herself.

"The Potter's, for all their historical clout, do not hold a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors."

There was a tinge of amusement in Vector's voice and Fleur silently marveled at the spy's ability to hide her true self.

"The Black's though, do they not have a vote?" Fleur was genuinely curious, she knew for certain that the Greengrass family held a seat, it was probably the only historically significant aspect of the family.

"They do." Septima said with so much sorrow Fleur found herself briefly under the older woman's spell.

' This woman used Sirius to get access to Harry Potter and the Black fortune.' She reminded herself. 'When she felt threatened, she had him killed.'

"Unfortunately it wasn't enough." She said with a sigh. "He lost by one vote."

Bellatrix's spy turned away briefly providing her with a window of opportunity. Her heart beating out of her chest, Fleur reached into her robe and grabbed a small vial of amber liquid.

Taking a millisecond to ensure her window was still open; Fleur smiled nervously, emptying the contents of the vial into her own glass of cabernet.

"How is Harry?" She asked inquisitively, knowing just the right buttons to push.

The devious woman's attention back on her, Septima eyed her for a long moment before taking another sip of wine.

"He's doing well." She started with a smile, leaving Fleur to wonder if Septima was being honest or putting on a show. It was nearly impossible to tell.

"I signed his waiver last week, he will be graduating in May." Septima's proud look didn't help to answer her question, though she supposed if Septima cared about anyone it was Harry. The way she lit up while talking about him, the proud look on her face with every minor accomplishment.

Fleur couldn't tell if the older woman wanted to follow him towards more power or sleep with him.

' Probably a bit of both.'

If that was the case Fleur found it hard to understand her actions; killing his mentor, his godfather, McGonagall and his girlfriend's family.

What did Vector gain from their deaths?

' Power.' The answer hit her like an anvil the second she asked it. Septima Vector had turned their deaths into opportunities for career advancement.

"Has he made plans for what's next?" She asked with genuine curiosity having no idea what protégé's did after graduation.

"He will study under me for his ancient runes mastery and Professor Babbling for his arithmancy mastery. Independently he will complete mastery's in the dark arts, charms, and transfiguration. I will train him in his warding mastery once he has met the prerequisites. After all of that Harry has expressed interest in becoming a cursebreaker."

Fleur smiled but found herself slightly disappointed - cursebreaking was incredibly difficult but a part of her expected more, though what 'more' was she did not know. "If anyone can do it Harry can." She responded fondly.

The spy agreed and took another sip of her wine.

Septima let out a slight moan as she shut her eyes, savoring the taste of the distinct cabernet.

Fleur saw her chance and quickly switched out her own wine with Septima's right as the older woman was opening her eyes.

"I really needed this, Fleur." Septima said sincerely. "It's been way too long."

A shattered plate drew her attention away from Septima and thankfully prevented her from answering right away, allowing her a moment to compose herself.

Turning her attention back to the woman in front of her she took a calming breath and raised her glass, Septima following suit.

"A toast." She said, hoping her voice wouldn't tremble. "To us."

Septima continued to wear that amused look on her face but clinked her glass nonetheless, joining her in taking a sip of the bold wine.

She smiled into her glass as the wine hit the back of her throat before turning slightly bitter, causing her to choke and cough heavily.

Across from her Septima's wand was in her hand and the area was silenced, an amused look plastered on her features.

A pool of blood began to form in the back of her throat as Septima leaned in close, her elbows out in front of her and her fingers intertwined the spy rested her chin on the bridge created by her fingers.

This time when Fleur coughed she covered Septima in blood.

"My little flower." She said softly as the crimson liquid began to flow from her mouth and ears. Soon the poison would cause her eyes to bleed before the organs in her body would rapidly fail. Already she felt the blood gathering in her eye sockets leaving her desperate not to blink.

All the while Septima watched as she coughed, waiting for her to die violently at the table.

Fleur was d -

"ead?" Septima said interrupting her thoughts as she vanished the blood casually and took a sip directly from the bottle.

"You're not that good at occlumency, Fleur." She said tauntingly, taking another swig of wine.

"It didn't have to end this way."

She coughed again, blood flowing from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth before looking the spy directly in her hazel eyes, a blood stained smile on her lips as Fleur focused on the letters she had sent that morning.

Fleur fought to remain conscious, desperate to see the spy's reaction to her pyrrhic victory to no avail as she slipped on to the next great adventure.