Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I only own the OC

Author's Note: So this is my first HP fanfic, and all you guys need to know right now is that it happens concurrently with the 7th book. Hopefully it won't disappoint... Please R&R!

My joints crackled and popped as I leaned into the horizontal split. I grimaced slightly at the increasing pain of my tendons being stretched, and pressed even further. Suddenly a wide pair of hands grasped my shoulders and pressed further, causing me to gasp in pain as my legs flared up in pain. As my focused wavered, my legs trembled and my knees started to buckle.

"Stay upright!" The voice of my father commanded in my ears. Snarling to myself, I strained my legs, forcing my knees to straighten once more. The hands remained on my shoulders, keeping my legs stretched as I regained my balance. After a few minutes of silent suffering, the pain in my legs started dying down as I became more acclimated to the stretch. The hands left my shoulders, allowing me to stand up straight once more. I sighed in relief as my legs relaxed, straightening up.

My father, Rector Shafiq, walked into my line of sight. A man in his late 40's, silver strands dotted my father's raven black hair as they flowed at his shoulders. He was wearing a black tunic with matching pants, a wooden dagger strapped onto his belt and his wand holstered in his right arm. I was wearing the same assortment of equipment, with a crimson tunic instead. It was the standard combat gear for the Shafiq family.

"That would be enough for the flexibility exercise, son." Father paced around me. "We will move on to combat exercise for today. Answer me, from what do you determine a wizard's combat prowess?"

"How strong he is when he is weakest." I answered.

"And when is a wizard at his weakest?"

"When the foe is within the range of his wand hand."

"And what else?" A slight edge entered my father's voice as it came from behind me. My eyes widened at the tiniest of tells. Taking a swift step forward diagonally, I spun around with wooden dagger in hand. The dark shape of my father bore down upon me, wooden dagger raised high.

*clack*

The dagger in my hand shook violently as I barely deflected my father's dagger strike. Angling the dagger slightly, I took a step forward to meet my father's forward momentum, pointing the tip of the dagger at his approaching neck. Father's free arm swept upwards, and I glimpsed his ebony wand grasped within his hands.

"Protego." An invisible wall of force erupted between the two of us, pushing me back. Releasing the dagger hilt with my left hand, I grasped the hilt of my wand and drew it out of its holster, flourishing it in the general direction of my father.

"Incendio!" A stream of fire burst out of the tip of my wand, reaching my father just as the shield charm's effects dissipated. My father's face, illuminated by the orange glow of the flames, broke into a fierce grin right before he disappeared behind the roaring inferno. A second later, the stream of fire split into several streams, flowing wildly in the courtyard. As I grit my teeth and increased the intensity of the flames, I heard the door to the manor creak open before the voice of Molny, my mother's house elf, squeaked out in the courtyard.

"Young master Ormod, the mistress would like you to take care with your flames. She has spent considerable time tending to those rose bushes." A hint of amusement entered into Molny's voice, "And if they were to be damaged in any ways by your flames, you mother would, as I quote: 'flay you alive with the bluntest and rustiest epee she could find in the estate.'" My father's laugh rang out from behind the wall of flames, as I rolled my eyes.

"Tell mother that if she cared about her roses so much she should have placed wards around them!" I grumbled back at Molny. The elf smiled in amusement.

"Should I tell her that you said that?"

"What do you think?" I snapped irritably, "Tell mother that her rosebushes would not be harmed." Still smiling, Molny gave a small bow before returning to the house. I flicked my wand and cut off the flow of flames, revealing the figure of my father, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard and smiling like nothing happened. The only sign that he had literally undergone a trial by fire was the fact that now crimson runes glowed along the blade of his wooden dagger.

"Yes Ormod, the second instance when a wizard is at his weakest is when he is surprised. I'm happy that you have managed enough physical training to circumvent this weakness, to a degree. However, next time for the counter-attack I would choose some other spell than incendio. While your timing was impeccable, the slow nature of the flames allowed me to react and slice through the spell with my dagger." Father raised his wooden dagger, displaying the glowing runes along the enchanted wooden blade. "A faster spell like the stunning charm or full-body bind curse would have a higher rate of success. While most of your opponents would not have an enchanted dagger like we Shafiq's do, some of them would have a secondary defensive tool. I know for a fact that the wizards from the Malfoy family tend to be fond of carrying around walking sticks enchanted with the shield charm."

I bowed slightly, repressing a sigh. This was an age old feedback, yet there wasn't much to be done about it.

Rexus opened his mouth to continue speaking, before closing it again as another one of the house elves approached. The elf bowed slightly before speaking.

"Master, Runcorn has dropped by and requests an audience with you." Father's brows furrowed slightly at the name.

"Where is he now?"

"Walter is keeping him company in the visiting room. Shall we tell him that you are out on business?" For a moment, Father seemed tempted by the idea, before shaking his head.

"No, for him to come he must know that I'm here. Appearances must be upheld. Tell him that I will be with him in a spell, and tell Zackry and Joory that we require their services." The elf bowed slightly before leaving. Father turned to face me. "Now Ormod, training is over. Go change out of that sweaty tunic and put on something more presentable. We've got guests to entertain. And for Merlin's sake look more alive. You look like a dead man walking."

I nodded and headed to my room, leaving my Father in his thoughts. Father was never pleased with those extremists, but the proper image must be upheld as one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, or else we'll fall from grace, just like the Weasleys. Granted most of the Weasleys seem to be in a happier state than I am, but poverty stuck to their family like a disease. Better be subtle and play along with the other pure-blooded families, rather than uphold ideals like a fool. Honor doesn't fill bellies.

By the time I got to my room, Joory, my personal house elf, was already waiting for me. I sighed slightly before raising my arms to allow Joory to unstrap the holsters and belt buckles before removing my tunic. The tiny elf had to use a small ladder to reach up that high. Stretching my sore arms, I walked over to a basin that was filled with steaming water as Joory deposited my tunic into the laundry basket.

"You know Joory, sometimes I wonder why I do this at all." I murmured as I started scrubbing myself off with a wash towel. "Days like these I can hardly get myself up and going at all."

"Nonsense, young master Ormod. I saw you on the training field with your father, you were splendid!" Joory squeaked while fussing around my bedroom. "Nobody achieves that amount of proficiency without putting their hearts into it!"

"Unless they have no idea how to place their hearts in it. Combat training gets my heart pumping and blood flowing, so it's a pleasant change for once. But that's around it, Joory. There really isn't much passion in it for me."

"Really?" Joory's squeaky voice came out from somewhere within my wardrobe. "Have you ever thought of picking up a hobby then? Perhaps the piano, or free range griffon riding? I'm even sure that your father would permit you to hunt in the grounds as well, if you were so inclined…"

"Eh, maybe, maybe not. It's not really a lack of hobbies, Joory. It's a general lack of interest." I started applying soap. "I just can't seem to summon the passion to do things. Sure I can do them, and I can excel at some of them, but it's just that I can't get around to enjoying them"

"Well, life isn't just about your own actions, master Ormod. Perhaps you can also derive joy from supporting or being supported by others?" The house elf had pulled out a tangle of clothes and was sorting through it. "Regardless of what you end up choosing, Master Ormod, do remember that you have your family and all of us house elves under the Shafiq family to support your actions."

"I suppose you're right. However, even with you keeping me company it's hard to feel alive. Doesn't help that school starts soon. The atmosphere in Slytherin house has been almost unbearable as the Dark Lord grew in power. Would it kill them to not be so smug?" As I finished rinsing myself off, I received a towel from Joory and dried myself out. "I guess that this is just my life now. Hopefully there is a remedy for my condition to be found."

"Oh have some faith, young master Ormod. You are an exceptional potions brewer for your age, and a top student to boot. I'm sure you'll come up with a permanent cure eventually."

"Perhaps. But it still boggles the mind how little effort wizard kind has placed into research into these… oh what do the muggles call them again?" I paused for a bit in concentration, before the name I was looking for popped into my mind. "Ah yes. Mental disorders. It still boggles my mind how wizards have disregarded this area of study for so long, even when their own members suffer from these maladies." Joory hummed as he fussed around in my wardrobe.

"Well, I'm sure that when faced with so many magical maladies that can claim your life and sanity in a span of seconds, slow acting mundane disorders such as the one you're suffering from would take the back seat." I shrugged wearily.

"Alright then. What would you suggest me wear for today Joory? Father is entertaining a guest, and I am expected to join them." Joory nodded and scuttled over to hand me a wand holster made of boiled leather, with engraved serpent patterns lining the sides. Quickly strapping the holster onto my right arm, I looked back as Joory presented me with a black velvet robe with ruby and emerald colored threads artfully embroidered along the seams. I lifted my arms and Joory slid the robes onto my shoulders, and then proceeded to fasten a pair of emerald cuff links on the cuffs of the robes. A protective amulet with the Shafiq family crest, a shield with a dagger crossed in front, engraved upon it went around my neck, while a dagger with an ivory handle and an enchanted iron blade hung on the right side of my belt. Joory then stepped back as I walked towards the large mirror in my room to examine myself.

"A wonderful job as usual Joory. I'm sure that eventually you'll make me forget how to choose my own clothes." Joory clapped happily at my praise. "And Joory, how is the potion doing?"

"The elixir is doing just fine, young master." Joory scurried off for a minute before returning with a goblet full of sunshine-yellow potion. "It is named the elixir of euphoria, is it not? Since it has a proper name, you might as well use it."

"I suppose so." Reaching out, I received the goblet from Joory and downed the elixir in one go. I immediately felt my face flush and my heartbeat speed up, as well as a slight lightness that permeated through my entire body. However, the promised euphoria never arrived. Frowning slightly, I looked back down at the goblet. "Are you sure you grabbed this out of the right cauldron, Joory?"

"Of course, young master. Is something wrong? From just physical appearances it seems to be working just fine. You look cheered up already!"

"Is that so?" I murmured before placing the goblet down. "Never mind then. I will look into my formulas more closely later on. Father is waiting, so this would have to do for now." Joory nodded solemnly and ushered me out of my room, closing my door behind me. I took a deep breath and lifted my head high. Time to greet the guests.

I met my father at the doors leading to the visitor's room. He was wearing a cloak of emerald, with silver and ruby embroidering along the seams. Father greeted me with a curt nod before pushing the doors open. And apparently not a moment too soon.

"I'm sure he'll be down soon Mr. Runcorn. As you know Master Shafiq is a very busy man, so it might take a while for him to be ready to greet guests, especially unexpected ones." The voice of Walter, our head butler, was calm, but the subtle edge hidden in his tone shows that he is nearing the end of his patience.

"How much longer? I've had three cups of tea while sitting here twiddling my thumbs, and the fourth is about to go cold." The deep voice of Albert Runcorn rumbled.

"Then I suggest you drink your lukewarm tea and fret no longer." My father replied, causing both Walter and Runcorn to flinch. "For I am here to deal in whatever business you have of me, Runcorn." Walter hastened to bow, which my father waved away. Runcorn's face twisted into a grim smile at the sight of us.

"Rexus. It's been far too long since we last met. And I see that Ormod has grown into a fine young man. The Shafiq family's future seems bright." Father smiled slightly, before addressing Walter.

"Arrange for some refreshments Walter, and then leave us."

"Of course, Master." With a slight bow, Walter hurried out. After a while, an elf came in with a tray of tea and biscuits before leaving. With a sigh, Father sat down onto the master chair while I sank down into an armchair next to it.

"So Runcorn, what brings you to my estate at this time of the day? You are a man of purpose, and would hardly come visit just to exchange pleasantries." Father asked as he poured himself a cup of tea. I picked up a biscuit, ears perked for the conversation. Runcorn shifted slightly in his seat before replying.

"Rexus, word is that Scrimgeour hired your company as an extra aid for the Ministry." Runcorn rumbled deeply. "Quite a number as well." Father's brows furrowed.

"I can neither confirm nor deny it. I'm sure you understand. Would be bad for business." Father sipped at his tea as he replied carefully.

"Scrimgeour has been moving funds around, Shafiq. He's planning on making some vast investments, and given how the war is going on, it's not much of a leap of what he wants to spend the money on." Runcorn sipped his tea, "Yours is the only significant name within your business, so surely you would know something about this?"

"Runcorn, I had made it abundantly clear that it is not whether I know about it, but whether I would tell you about it." Father replied, an edge creeping into his voice. "The Shafiq family business would not have lasted as long if I went around telling everyone about my various clients. I'm sure you, and anyone you might represent, would understand this."

"Of course. But Rexus, would you not reconsider? These times would be remembered as a turning point in all of history. Best consider carefully, for the past may not provide decent guidance for what's happening in the present." Runcorn leaned forwards, eyes gleaming. "History is being written as we speak. Surely as the head of one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, you would understand what I'm proposing?" A long pause followed, while I carefully sipped at my tea. Deciding that it was too bland, I mixed in some cream and sugar.

"We Shafiqs never aspired to write how history goes. We are contractors, and thus in the long flow of history we serve only two masters: Ourselves, and the highest bidder." Father replied, his tone cautious. "Everyone who matters in the grand scheme of things would know that to gain the alliance of the Shafiqs, the clink of the gallon is heavier than any amount of rhetoric. Surely whoever you represent would have the necessary gold if they wanted a contract?" Runcorn narrowed his eyes as my father spoke. After a moment of drawn out silence, Runcorn emptied his cup and stood up.

"Well, I do thank you for the tea and hospitality, Rexus." Runcorn spoke as he slipped on his leather duster. "It has been a pleasant conversation, as always." Father stood up as well, ringing a bell to summon Walter. The butler arrived dutifully.

"Walter, please escort Mr. Runcorn out of the estate. Runcorn, you'd forgive me if I didn't accompany you." Walter bowed before turning around to lead Runcorn out of the estate. Runcorn lifted a hand in farewell as he left. As the door clicked shut, Father let out a long sigh as he leant back onto his seat. After a pause, he turned to me.

"Ormod, you understood what Runcorn was asking, right?" I remained silent as I contemplated the conversation that I just witnessed.

"He... wants to know whether we're providing Scrimgeour with extra dualists… And was also trying to invoke our position as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight…" I thought for a moment. "You think that something is about to happen to the current status quo in the Ministry?" Father smiled at me for a second before becoming serious once more.

"Yes. Scrimgeour had approached me with a potential contract a while back, but nothing has been signed yet. He lacked the funds at the time, but promised that he would have at least half the total payment soon. In fact, he's supposed to drop by tomorrow night to finalize the agreement." Father pinched the bridge of his nose as he leant back, his brows furrowed tightly. "Runcorn's visit mean that information has leaked, since the contract was supposed to be classified, as Scrimgeour's ace in the hole, so to speak. However as thing are, I doubt he'll really be needing it. You do know who Runcorn was speaking for, correct?" I frowned. There was only one logical conclusion in the current situation.

"The Dark Lord."

"Yes, there really is only one possibility. After Dumbledore's death the Order of the Phoenix only has the Potter boy as a figure head, and he's far too inexperienced to wade into politics and warfare. Scrimgeour is as good as dead."

"And I don't suppose that you'll do anything about it, Father?"

"No, of course not. Scrimgeour never signed a contract, and the Shafiq family is too weak to withstand the Dark Lord's might. What is the Shafiq family motto again?"

"Prudentia antequam glorificetur." I recited. "Prudence before honor." Father nodded in approval.

"Yes, very good. Regimes raise and fall, and the reign of the Dark Lord would not be explicitly harmful for the Shafiq family if we can navigate it carefully. Our blood protects us, but only if we are prudent." My father stood up. "Now leave me. I have to consider how to navigate this political quagmire." I stood up as well and gave my father a slight bow.

"If you would want my company for any reason, I will be reading on the grounds." Father nodded as I left the room.

Walking through the grounds, I came upon my favorite tree on our family grounds. It was a pine tree, apparently the same one from which my wand came from. The sound of bowtruckles chattering calmed me as I settled down and leaned against the tree. Drawing my wand, I pointed it to the ground and swirled it in a small circle. Rune etchings appeared on the ground where my want was pointing.

"Protego durabilis." At my command, the etchings flared up with light before dimming down once more. The shimmering of the ward surrounded me in its protective embrace, and I smiled at the sense of security.

Then, I opened my copy of Advance Potion-Making and unrolled a copy of my own formula for the elixir of euphoria. My brows furrowed as I tried to decipher potential errors in my method of brewing the potion. After all, it did not induce euphoria, and while I'm pretty sure that I have some form of mental disorder that is defined by the muggles, surely the art of magical potions making could not be stumped by a simple muggle malady…

After several hours of scribbling and rewriting, I dropped the textbook with a sigh of frustration. While I did undo a few calculation errors within my formula and rephrased the enchantments to be placed upon the materials, I sincerely doubt that any of that would change the nature of the potion significantly. It was almost as though my mind functioned differently from others, and is not as receptive to the effects of the potion as designed…

As I rested my head upon my chin, I noticed that the woods were oddly silent. Usually you could hear a bowtruckle or two, but not now. Moreover, the grounds were covered in an uncharacteristically thick mist, with my wards preventing them from entering my little circle. As I breathed, white fog was exhaled from my mouth.

And then I felt it.

The slight chill within my heart. The clamminess that creeped into my palms. The feeling that warmth was literally escaping my body. I gulped and steeled my nerves. This can't be it… I've felt this often enough, but the last time it was this bad was during my third year, when…

Almost as if responding to my thoughts, a dark silhouette drew closer through the mist, revealing a gliding, hooded figure. It reached out towards me with a hand that reeked with decay, and took a single rattling breath. The last of the warmth in my heart drained, as did the color in my face.

"Dementor."