Parts (1-3)


VI

Chapter 1

Summer Shadows


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling


Author's Note:

This is Book VI in my Gray series, if you have not read the others in the series then go back and read Book I Gray: Scorpius Malfoy and the Blood Runes, Book II Gray: Scorpius Malfoy and the Call of the Dark, Book III Gray: Scorpius Malfoy and the Werewolf Army, Book IV Gray: Scorpius Malfoy and the Scepter of Night and Book V Gray: Scorpius Malfoy and the Son of Voldemort first because otherwise this won't make much sense


Part 1: Aurors and Not Aurors


TURKEY FALLS TO SHADOWS

Head Auror Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived – threw down the paper in disgust, he ran his hands through his jet black hair that was now snaked with gray but it was so untidy to begin with that disrupting it made no difference. He sighed heavily, letting his scarred forehead drop into his hands as the weight of the news seemed to drag it down. In less than a year the Shadows had taken complete control over not one but two countries, not just the wizarding part either but the muggle one as well. It was a feat not even Voldemort had managed, something that made him almost miss the Dark Lord.

"Are you alright, Harry?" a voice inquired with concern.

Harry's head shot up at once, having momentarily forgotten he wasn't alone in his office. It was a moderately sized room and was moderately tidy, only the desk he sat at was strewn with files and rolls of parchment. His companion sat opposite and Harry peered at him with his emerald eyes, gazing through his rounded spectacles. The man met his gaze calmly, he too wore glasses but they almost seemed to hide the eyes behind them rather than exemplifying them like Harry's did somehow. They were a sharp shade of cyan at any rate, identical to his father's which was pretty much the only thing Logan Leebin shared with his son. He was slighter and paler, his features utterly different and his hair a reddish brown that seemed to spike naturally upwards, he was younger too and Harry had over a decade on him in age. He dressed completely differently to Logan too, Harry could count on his fingers the times he'd seen his mentor not dressed in Auror robes whereas Flannery wasn't even an Auror but a kind of wizard psychologist. Harry could never decide whether the scruffy clothes he wore where a muggle take on wizard clothes or a wizarding take on muggle clothes. He had a pale yellow scarf on as he usually did these days, hiding scars his werewolf wife had accidentally given him.

"Harry?" Flan prompted again, snapping him from his thoughts for a second time and in reply Harry simply tossed him the paper.

"Have you seen this?" Harry questioned seriously.

"Yes," Flan said slowly with a curious expression, "I'm the one who handed it to you."

"Sorry," Harry apologized, rubbing his tired eyes partly as an excuse to hide his face burning at his stupid statement.

"How much sleep are you getting?"

"Enough," Harry shot out defensively as his eyes darted back to the psychologist's, the younger man's glasses also did a better job of concealing the bags beneath his eyes, "Considering the circumstances. I can't truly rest with the Shadows still out there, with my son still out there."

"Any word on James?" Flan asked and Harry shook his head sadly, he worried for his son greatly and wanted nothing more then to know his eldest was alright.

"Not yet. I still believe he's part of Varanian's Gray lot, he rivals only the Shadow Master in staying off our radar so it's not useful for finding James. And I know it's the not the priority, the Shadows are," Harry added, holding up his hands defensively. After all, he blamed himself in part for the attack on Hogwarts and Hogsmeade a few months ago, if he hadn't been so focused on trying to find his missing son then he might not have almost lost his younger two children, "We stop the Shadow Master, the world - including James - is safer and then I can just focus on finding him."

"I guess that means in regards to Cald-"

"Tom Riddle III," Harry corrected icily, Flan glanced at him but said nothing, "And yes, considering the continued path of attack I find it unlikely that he is the Shadow Master. Either Voldemort had a second son or the guy is just lying, probably trying to instill added fear using the reputation preceding him or just bolster his own importance by claiming Riddle's heritage and trying to steal his identity. Something he has literally done in the past."

"Has he said anything?"

"About the Shadow Master? No," Harry admitted and shook his head for the second time, "Considering their similar mastery of magic, if they weren't siblings then they were trained together at some point so he's either protecting his brother or his friend. I'm quite confident he definitely knows the identity though, he just isn't talking even in exchange for his freedom."

"What freedom?" Flan scoffed, "He's been outed as Voldemort's son. If there's people campaigning for his execution now, imagine what it would be like if he was released? He couldn't go back to Hogwarts, he couldn't go back to his life. He's already lost any incentive he had for himself so why not protect this person he considers family?"

"The Shadow Master's evil, he should give us the guy's identity because it's the right thing to do," Harry protested determinedly, "If you were him, are you telling me you would protect this person?"

"If you were him, are you telling me you wouldn't?" Flan countered with an eyebrow rising, "It's easy to be on the outside looking in but from his perspective, right and wrong isn't so black and white when love and loyalty are involved."

"Do you think he'll turn eventually?" Harry questioned thoughtfully, in truth he hadn't given too much thought to Riddle's mindset and Flan was often useful at gauging that kind of thing. He rubbed his eyes again, maybe he did need more sleep if he missing things. Not that sleep came easily these days, he'd lay awake worrying and wondering about James or consoling Ginny for the same reason.

"I couldn't say," Flan shrugged it off and Harry felt a twinge of irritation towards to the Minister who was exceptionally strict on who could see Riddle, he a poor substitute for Kingsley in his eyes and didn't seem to trust Harry's judgement. He'd have to talk to him about letting Flan see him, whenever he eventually showed up, "Haven't even spoken to him since before his incarceration so I'm not sure where he stands, I'm afraid."

"It's okay, Alaric is just frustratingly paranoid about Riddle and who sees him."

"I thought I felt my ears burning," a voice commented, the Minister's voice. Alaric Layton.

Harry jolted to his feet in an instant, noticing the Minister himself now idly leaning in the doorway with his arms folded and an amused smirk playing on his face, showing off his quite pointed teeth. His smile didn't quite reach his navy-blue eyes though, it seemed too tired to despite his attempts to mask it. He was maybe slightly taller than average and had a medium build, his light brown hair was cropped and he was unusually good-looking. Harry had never seen a wedding ring on his finger though, he dressed quite plainly but nonetheless in robes of good quality and he always had a clean, presentable look to him and a cool, commanding air. He didn't usually look tired though, that would make him look human. Then again, he did allegedly have some kind of unnamed chronic illness that kept him away half the time but Harry wasn't unconvinced it was just a lie he used to get time off. That was how little faith he had in him.

"Minister, I didn't expect you to be in today," Harry greeted him civilly, "Especially since its three in the morning and all."

"Didn't you catch the evening edition of the Prophet?" Alaric questioned and inclined his hand to the paper on Harry's desk, Harry's emerald eyes drifted to it and his mood darkened again as he recalled the news, "It's on the front page if you haven't had a glance yet. I've been dealing with that since the news hit, which was slightly sooner for me then the press. Countries to contact, a muggle counterpart to calm, et cetera, et cetera… Not things to postpone or pass on to others any rate, illness or no."

"What illness would that be?" Flan wondered curiously and Alaric gave him a cold smile.

"None of your business," Alaric stated calmly but firmly, the exact same response he'd once given Harry when he'd asked, "Anyway, the Shadows took Turkey much faster than they took Greece which is the smaller country. Greece was the first, the Shadow Master will have had more of an idea of what works better and faster plus the resources of the country he conquered to get through Turkey faster. The streamlining of the process will only continue, I don't think they'll wait as long before moving on to their next target. Considering what happened with Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, that may very well be us or they could stick with their kind of current vicinity. We don't know yet but still we must make preparations."

"If you're going to start hiring underage wizards as Aurors, I'm walking out that door," Harry stated seriously, thanks to him lowering the entry requirements there was an overabundance as it was.

"Don't be silly, I couldn't do that. I could lower the age wizards become adults though," Alaric started to say before raising his hand as if to stop himself, "But not my point or my plan at this stage."

"What is it then?"

"The Muggles are getting really worried, their population is larger than ours and they too are suffering. Trade routes are affected by these countries falling, their planes - big flying machines - can't travel over Greece or Turkey without never being heard from again. There's millions of muggles now at the mercy of the Shadows, assuming they've been shown enough mercy to not simply be culled but I don't think they are-"

"You don't?" Harry couldn't help but interrupt in surprise, "Voldemort wanted to kill them all."

"The Shadow Master's not Voldemort, he may not even be his son. I don't think he cares as much about blood purity and we know he has a werewolf army, muggles can be werewolves too. It's just not as common because they don't tend to survive it as well and werewolves tend to seek magical blood – probably because of this. Like any race, the instinct is to not die out. They just continue the line different to most species – but I don't think the Shadows would care about that. They'll just care about turning as many weak-minded people as possible if they want this army to prosper."

"Weak-minded?"

"Fools who'd rather follow an alpha instead of their own initiative."

"Werewolves can't help it, its instinct to respond to the call of their own kind," Flan pointed out.

"There's a difference between responding to the call of their own kind and obeying everything their kind tell them to do," Alaric protested with a look of scorn, "Of course acting on primal werewolf behavior is bad since they desire spreading it and satisfying hunger but if they acted like the wolves they're supposed to be instead of sheep then it wouldn't have been so easy for Greyback and the Shadows to weaponize them as an army. I suppose it just goes to show that werewolves are still human after all, you know since most people are sheep."

"You know a lot about werewolves."

"I know a lot about a lot of things, my tutors were very thorough with my education," Alaric insisted defensively, unfolding his arms and striding over to them, "But we slipped off target slightly, my point was the Muggle Minister wanted to tell the British Army about magic to better prepare them to be able to fight. It's their country too and there are more of them than us, we'd do better to fight united rather than divided."

"And you agreed to that?" Harry wondered incredulously, "I'm all for cooperation but that's a lot of muggles to reveal magic to."

"I didn't agree to that," Alaric said with a patronizing roll of his eyes, "Honestly, what kind of fool do you take me for?"

"What did you agree to then?"

"Just a handful of them, an elite group to work with you in devising ways for muggles to combat wizards. Should the time come we're invaded, they can pass this stuff on to the rest of the muggle forces."

"And you want me to do it personally?" Harry wondered tiredly, he wasn't sure he had the time to undertake such a task although he did quite like the idea itself. Maybe Alaric wasn't entirely bad. He still didn't trust him though.

"Yes, I know you're not a Shadow and would do a good job. If they find out, they'll likely kill the muggles so its imperative the Shadows don't know."

"I have people I trust, Ron or Cel-"

"Not people I'm sure aren't Shadows though," Alaric interjected dismissively and Harry resisted the urge to throw an irrational accusing look at Flan, they'd argued recently over the possibility of his protege being a Shadow after all but he doubted Alaric knew or cared about that, "If you want to pass it on to someone else, I need to approve them. Th-"

Alaric was cut off as an alarm started wailing, the one Harry had set up to alert him if a prison break was occurring in the cells. And there was only one prisoner in the cells at present. Riddle. Harry was on his feet in an instant, his wand already in his hand and his body in motion. He heard a scrambling of feet as Flan and Alaric hastened after him.

"Why is there an alarm?" Alaric demanded of him.

"Indicates a cell break," Harry answered for him.

"No, I mean why is there an alarm in the first place? You need authorization from me to do these things and I was not informed."

"I got fed up waiting for you to return to ask when I felt it was necessary to today I thought to hell with it, I'll just put it up and if you don't approve then I can always take it down," Harry explained irritably, "But right now there are more pressing concerns like stopping the escape so with all due respect, this can wait so either go back to your office or draw your wand."

"My wand's already drawn," Alaric pointed out dryly and Harry spared a glance that confirmed it, Flan fumbled to draw his though and almost dropped it.

"You may have to use it, we don't know what the situation is."

"I know how to use a wand to defend myself."

"Should-Should I go back then?" Flan wondered worriedly as they reached the prison corridors.

Flan was poor with magic to the point of failing his OWLs after all and the last time Harry had tried to improve his defensive magic – he considered it potentially necessary considering he worked with Aurors and was privy to sensitive information – Flan had ended up somehow stunning himself. However considering the Ministry was mostly deserted due to the late hour, if anyone slipped or had slipped past then Flan could be a sitting duck. He may be better off just with him, Alaric was staying as well and he could be an even worse duelist.

"No, it's too late. Just stay behind me," Harry decided and shifted his gaze to Alaric who inclined his head as if in acceptance, seeming to be willing to let him take the lead here since he had the experience. He hoped so, the last thing he needed was an inexperienced back seat driver getting in the way, "Stay close to me both of you and keep your eyes peeled."

Harry strode in and closed the door behind him, sealing it behind and silencing the alarm so they'd be able to listen for signs of attackers and with any luck no one would be able to get in or out until he desired it. He crept down the dark, dimly lit corridor cautiously with Alaric on his right and Flan behind. After all, he had no way of knowing what he was up against, if Riddle had simply gotten loose or if someone was trying to break him out which meant they could be up against the Shadow Master's Soul Eaters or Varanian's Gray vigilantes.

A jet of light sprang out abruptly from around the next corner, Harry made to move his wand but Alaric must've heard something beforehand because he was already brandishing his and a shield sprang up to deflect it while Harry had the perfect opportunity to get an attack in instead but the attacker jumped back behind the wall before Harry's spell could strike with perfect accuracy the space his – or her – hand had just been.

"I am Harry Potter, Head Auror! Identify yourself and surrender yourself into my custody or I will do so with force," Harry called out.

In response, he saw a flick of a wrist as the hand stretched out again and this time Harry was the one to slam up a shield while Alaric had already fired a jet of white light. It caught the hand before it could disappear, cracking against the pink flesh with a sound like whip that caused the attacker to cry out in pain. It held his hand there while the wand went flying, Alaric jerked his wrist and the stream of white lurched, swinging violently back and dragging the attacker with it. He was smashed into the wall – Harry wasn't sure if that was done intentionally or just the impetus from being yanked back – before falling back onto the ground as the spell left him and Harry silenced him with a stunner.

"Not bad, Alaric," Harry admitted as he stepped forward to take a look at the man, feeling a disappointed pang to realize it was an Auror. Not one who was supposed to be guarding Riddle though. He supposed at least it meant one Shadow Auror down, he'd known there were traitors and it wasn't someone he knew well at least.

"I told you my tutors were thorough. Nice work also, Leebin," Alaric nodded before his tone turned sarcastic while Harry quickly blasted the man with a Patronus to ensure he wasn't being influenced by a Specter. He wasn't.

"I couldn't see him," Flan protested, sounding somewhere between defensive and ashamed while Harry quickly conjured bonds to bind the Auror for later.

"You don't need to see the attacker to put up a shield."

"I wasn't very good at Shield Charms."

"Well try," Alaric insisted and before Harry could reply, the sound of running footsteps breached their ears.

Harry spun to the direction of the sound, or the direction he thought it was coming from as they were at a particular fork and the cascading echo seemed to make it sound as if they were running all around. His choice proved to be correct as two more Aurors rounded the bend, twin jets of stunners shot from his and Alaric's wands towards them but one of them whipped up a shield while his companion shot a spell back.

"Protego!" Flan cried.

Instead of a shimmering shield, he only managed to produce a wispy disc that immediately dispersed into the air around them as a kind of mist that just made it hard to see. Alaric was forced to conjure a nonverbal shield instead as the fog didn't faze the spells and they'd have a hard time dodging it through the haze made worse by the poor light. Beyond, he heard the Aurors snickering at Flan's failed spell and the psychologist's face reddened with an expression of shame.

Harry took advantage of the fact that if they couldn't see, the others wouldn't be able to either and waved his wand over the ground. Beyond them it lurched as if he'd shaken out a carpet, hearing their laughter turn to cries of surprise and thuds as they were knocked to the ground. He and Alaric fired blindly into the fold once more, firing in rapid succession in the hopes of hitting one of them but it was impossible to see and he could hear spells colliding with shields with the scraping of stone indicating someone was fighting to get to their feet.

"Expelliarmus!" Flan added, shooting his own attempt to disarm them into the fog.

"Don't say the spells out loud, they'll hear you and it'll give away our position!" Alaric hissed at him irritably, causing Flan to look even more ashamed.

"But I can't-"

"Either try it or shut up!"

Alaric sliced his wand through the air, dispelling the fog to reveal one had fallen while another was still defending himself but not managing much else considering he was being rapidly fired at and couldn't see to dodge, forcing him to use Shield Charms. Harry wasn't surprised, the one still standing was one of his superior fighters but nonetheless he was sure he could best him. Even if they didn't outnumber him three to one now. Or two and a bit to one since Flan lacked his father's good dueling ability… or any dueling ability really.

Flan apparently thought to try though, out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light from Flan's wand but it burst backwards in the wrong direction. Harry couldn't help but turn as Flan was thrown backwards by his own spell, colliding painfully with the wall behind them and crumpling to the ground with his wand flying several feet away from him. Alaric had looked as well and a scampering of footsteps was heard at the Auror fled back the way he'd come, Harry made a move to check Flan was alright but Alaric's hand latched onto his arm.

"He's breathing, he's fine, let's not let this guy get away," Alaric insisted and Harry hesitated a moment, reluctant to leave his friend but also wanting to go after the traitor.

"Go," Flan agreed as he stirred, saving Harry the trouble of worrying.

Harry bolted with Alaric without wasting another a second, they rounded the bend and the Auror was still visibly fleeing. Alaric fired a stunner that the Auror dodged so Harry aimed for the ground again, turning the patch around the Auror to ice abruptly. Harry wasn't sure whether he tried to stop or turn but at any rate, the man failed as he instead slipped and fell. He managed to conjure a Shield Charm but it wasn't enough to repel three jets of red and he wasn't in any position to avoid them… Three jets?

Harry shifted his gaze to see his Teddy Lupin approaching from the other end of the corridor with his wand outstretched, Teddy was his godson and nephew-in-law since his marriage to Victoire Weasley. Teddy had chosen to follow in his mother's footsteps a few years out of Hogwarts and become an Auror, along with Victoire who was also an Auror now as well. Both were supposed to be guarding Riddle, he only had people he trusted guarding him and for good reason it seemed.

"Did you see two more on your way down?" Teddy questioned breathlessly, his expression anxious and his hair currently a neat black cut which he called his 'work hair' since he was a metamorphmagus and could change it at will, "They were trying to break Calderon out."

"Saw and stunned," Harry confirmed, resisting the urge to correct the name and Teddy nodded in understanding. Harry waved his wand and the Auror became bound while Teddy retrieved the man's fallen wand.

"That's all of them then."

"What happened, Teddy?"

"A group of Aurors came to us claiming you-" Teddy paused in his explanation to nod his head in Harry's direction, "-Wanted him in interrogation and we should hand him over to them so he could be escorted there while we went home, it seemed legit and they a written letter from you in your handwriting or at least a good forgery. Hal was suspicious though and insisted it was no trouble for him to go along just to make sure everything went alright since Calderon's such a high value prisoner, we agreed and then got suspicious when they tried to reject the idea. So they just attacked and tried to make a break for it, we managed to get Calderon back and those still standing fled when the alarm started up. No deaths and no serious injury on our side."

"Well this Hal just earned himself a promotion," Alaric mused thoughtfully as he scratched his chin, "How was Calderon about the abduction?"

"Seemed as surprised as we were, against it. He was pretty willing to get back into our custody not go with the… whatever team those guys were on."

"Shadows," Flan announced as rejoined them, rubbing the back of his head but seeming otherwise unscathed from his spell while the beautiful blond-haired Victoire walked in from Teddy's side, looking relieved to see her husband alright, "One of them has the Shadow Mark. Plus those three wouldn't have sided with Varanian and his vigilantes, Bronn especially."

"Yeah, he's wanted his blood since Varanian bested him dueling and evaded arrest," Teddy confirmed with a nod and Harry recalled this to be true.

"People lie," Alaric pointed out and Teddy threw him a thinly veiled dark look, he had not been fond of the law Alaric had introduced a few years ago about werewolves being forced to wear bracelets to identify them. The law was abolished now though and Alaric had even claimed to Scorpius Malfoy recently to be against it himself, Harry had no idea if it was the truth or not. Regardless, Teddy liked him even less than Harry did, "Maybe it was just an act."

"Not about this, Bronn's been here for years and he was very proud," Harry defended their deduction, "He was unforgiving and despised being bested, long before the Shadow War. I think it's likely they were Shadows."

"Well I guess we'll find out when they're interrogated," Alaric shrugged it off, "I think they are as well, Varanian's group is too new to have that many followers. If he had them in his pocket then he wouldn't have had to resort to using an underage boy to help break him out of confinement before, he also wouldn't have needed to forge a letter either since he could become Harry like he did once before to get Aurors to obey him. That would have aroused less suspicion. No, this was the Shadows, they planned on getting him but didn't account for the alarm or Hal's conviction."

"I agree. Teddy, Vic, could you gather the rest of you and secure these guys? Then do a sweep, make sure they were the only ones and get me a list of their names. I'll watch Riddle until then."

"Yes, I wanted to see him. Do it, Lupin," Alaric agreed and Harry scowled behind the Minster's back, he'd hoped he'd just go and leave Harry to deal with this the way he wanted. Teddy exchanged the same look with him as he passed by to obey, his hair flickering red in annoyance, "Come on then."

"Okay," Harry nodded and gestured for the out of place Flan to come along as he started leading three of them, he figured it was as good a time as any to get Flan to speak to Riddle. He noticed unconscious bound bodies as he walked, signs of dueling and the others on guard with Riddle securing them. He stayed alert, his wand still ready in case of more.

"So tell me, who exactly was on guard?"

"For Riddle?" Harry wondered, taken by surprise by the question but Alaric was looking quite serious about it, "Teddy and Victoire Lupin, Louis Weasley and Hal Davis who are in-training, Aitor Arkaitz, Borys Rurisk, Eudoxia Holt and Arturas Eklund, who is a Senior Auror. Why?"

"Because I now deem those people extremely unlikely to be Shadows, they're the ones to put your faith in. They're the only ones allowed to guard Calderon now, do you understand? Just those eight and no one else. You can also use one of them deal with the muggle training if you wish and are too busy to do it personally."

"I understand," Harry agreed through gritted teeth, not liking the patronizing tone. Besides, there were others he deemed trustworthy and their only crime had been to get the night off.

"You don't like me much, do you, Potter?" Alaric wondered, sounding more curious than anything else and taking him by surprise yet again. Harry debated how to phrase his answer in an as non-offensive way as possible, he may not like Alaric but being enemies with the Minister might make life more difficult for him and the Shadow War worse.

"I don't know you," Harry said finally, "So I find it hard to trust you."

"Fair enough, you never will know me either and you never should trust me, you should never trust anyone. Not completely. I'm not a Shadow though, you should trust that. We're on the same side."

Harry was spared having to consider a reply as they arrived at Riddle's cell, one of the larger, older and furthest in but still empty beyond a toilet and a small cot covered only by a threadbare blanket. Voldemort's son lay on the bed, Tom Riddle III, who had taken the alias Marius Calderon for many years as he'd wormed his way in to work in Hogwarts as an assistant. He couldn't help but feel a sting of bitter betrayal whenever he saw him, he'd deemed the lunatic trustworthy after all and while he had severe doubts the man was a Soul Eater, Riddle had still lied to him and called his judgment into question. Riddle was incredibly powerful, capable of doing mass wandless feats - which was a trait the Shadow Master shared - and the reason he was far too dangerous to be let out. Plus, he was Voldemort's son.

Riddle didn't look especially threatening considering his parentage, he seemed to have taken after Voldemort's original appearance as Tom Riddle rather than the snakelike monstrosity he'd become. Harry supposed this made sense considering it was genetics, Voldemort had brought the later appearance on himself not been born that way. He was a handsome man like his father before him and his maternal Black line due to Bellatrix Lestrange being his mother, he was just forty and very pale with dark eyes and darker hair that was unkempt due to his time in captivity. He was dressed in dirty gray prison robes and been stripped of his usual possessions along with his magic, thanks to the help of a Power-Repressing potion they'd invented.

One side of his face was red and swelling as if he'd been hit extremely recently, probably during the break out attempt. His eyes were closed and aimed up at the dull ceiling, not seeming to notice or care for their entrance. Harry wondered vaguely how much of that was a side effect of the weakness caused by the potion he was on and how much grief, he'd been born a prisoner and was once again. According to Riddle, he'd been born to Bellatrix in Azkaban - hence why his existence was unknown as the Dementors were unwilling to lose an extra victim - and raised there until her escape which extended to him. Harry wasn't sure he believed that, although it fit with the timeline and might link to why he was notably unhinged. According to Riddle, the only reason he existed was Voldemort had decided an heir would make a good Horcrux, his son had been intended to be nothing more than a tool before his timely downfall. That, Harry believed.

"Hello Calderon," Alaric greeted him neutrally.

"Hey," Riddle offered, not sparing them a glance but his eyes flicked open still.

"What happened to your face?" Harry asked of him, not wanting his prisoners mistreated.

"An Auror was rough getting me back into my cell," Riddle shrugged tiredly and closed his eyes again, a far cry from the energetic, eccentric assistant he'd been until recently, "I wasn't trying to escape, I didn't know those people. I accept my fate, I was born to never be free."

"Well that's depressing," Flan commented mostly to himself and made to move closer to speak to him but Alaric stopped him.

"It's also irrelevant, as are you," Alaric pointed out, eying him disapprovingly while Harry did the same to the Minister. Harry supposed he was in that moment, he should've just sent him home when Alaric came in and said they'd continue their conversation tomorrow with hopefully not another country would be conquered to distract them. Nonetheless, Harry wasn't unsealing the door now until the sweep was done at the very least so the Minister would just have to live with it, "What matters is that we can't hold him here anymore, it's not safe. Now we know for sure the Shadows are after him, we know this and we also know they'll likely keep trying."

"There are safe houses we can send him too," Harry offered, "With those eight alternating as guards."

"No," Alaric said with a shake of his head, leaning back against the bars of Riddle's cell as he folded his arms, "The Shadows have access to Auror knowledge, anything that comes from the Ministry or is linked to us could be figured out too easily. We need somewhere not like that, something that would be difficult to trace, maybe a muggle dwelling…"

"My uncle's farm," Flan blurted out immediately and sounding desperate to be of use, surprising them both, Alaric that he'd spoken and Harry as he knew Flan's only uncle was very much a wizard and not a farmer, "It's a muggle dwelling, been in my family for a while but no one's known enough about muggles to sell it so it's still owned but just not used. My uncle let my family stay there while our home was being rebuilt in Hogsmeade and said to use it as long as we needed because he doesn't use it at all, it's very much in a state of disuse and has been so for a long time, it's not hooked up to the Floo Network or anything. With some magic it could be salvageable as a safe house, it's in-"

"Don't tell us," Alaric interrupted, holding up his hand and for a split second Flan seemed disappointed his offer to help was being rejected but the Minister elaborated, "Don't tell anyone, the less who know its location the better."

"No," Harry protested, horrified at the idea of using Flan's farmhouse and wondering just how much of this was because Alaric had made him feel bad for his poor dueling skills, "You're not an Auror, he's not trained and he didn't sign up for this. Don't you realize if they found out that he'd be a target for the Shadows? You'd be in danger, Flan."

"And I'm not already?" Flan wondered, raising an eyebrow, "My home's been destroyed twice in two years, there's only so many times they can raze Hogsmeade before my family and I perish. I want to help, Harry, and it wouldn't be good if the Shadows got their hands on Calderon. Not for his own welfare or the world if he ends up joining them."

"Besides, you and I will be the only ones who know Leebin here is the one providing the location," Alaric pointed out, "I've never revealed a secret in my life and unless you start telling people, he should be fine. They're likely to suspect regular Aurors with muggle holdings before they jump to a lousy Psych Healer. Plus, you're an Occlumens, right?"

"Yes."

"Even more perfect, they won't be able to easily acquire the information."

"There are other ways of acquiring information," Harry growled disapprovingly.

"Well if you get caught, stall and if we don't hear from in say… three days - since you usually take two on the full moon to care for your family - then we'll assume you've been compromised and move Calderon. Just stall them and it will be okay," Alaric assured him and Flan looked thankfully slightly more disconcerted at this thought, the Shadows weren't beyond torture or killing to achieve their ends.

"It will only be okay for us," Harry insisted.

"They own two countries to hide people in, a captive is likely a dead man so just try not get him killed by giving his name up and Calderon stays safe. You okay with that, Leebin?"

"Think of your family," Harry prompted and Flan looked a bit more uncertain now, much to Harry's relief while Alaric seemed annoyed he was trying to sway him. Harry did not want to put a civilian at risk, it wasn't right, "They need you alive."

"If you die from this, your family will be taken care of."

"They-They will?" Flan wondered, looking hopeful.

"Of course," Alaric said seriously and met the other man's eyes, he sounded sincere at least, "It would be the Ministry's fault, and they deserve compensation. If you die because of this, I give you my word that your family will be financially stable for the rest of their lives."

"Okay, I'll do it," Flan agreed with a hefty sigh.

"Don't! You'll get yourself killed, there are more important things then money and you know what it's like to lose a father young. I'd give every last Knut of my family's wealth to have been raised by my parents," Harry pleaded desperately and Flan's expression wavered for a moment as he seemed to consider it, Harry should have stopped there, "This is a bad idea, an Auror should do it. I'm sure there's some with a muggle property and they're trained, they're prepared. It's their fight not yours."

"I'm prepared," Flan insisted, his expression switching immediately to one of determination and irritation, "And this war affects all of us. I want to help, I'm doing it regardless of the risks and the potential consequences."

"Yes, but let's hope it doesn't come to that," Alaric spoke up again, looking quite satisfied but his tiredness more prominent, "We'll set it up. And one more thing, Harry."

"What?" Harry complained.

"You can't tell anyone about this, not your wife, not Hermione, not even Cel Rooke or Ron Weasley."

"You can't be serious," Harry spluttered out, "They're trust-"

"No," Alaric interrupted with a note of finality as his deep, dark navy eyes met Harry's bright, shining emerald ones, "You are not allowed to tell them under any circumstances, do you understand?"

Harry said nothing, he trusted them completely which was more than could be said for Alaric.

"They could still be Shadows or even just being forced to work for them, they are closest to you so it's not far-fetched the Shadows would think to use them. They are not to be told, even the eight Aurors don't get to find out Leebin's identity. The less people know, the less chance this is compromised. And you're the one more invested in his life being spared anyway," Alaric elaborated his explanation, "You are not to tell them, do you hear me?"

"Fine," Harry agreed with severe reluctance, forcing the word from his mouth. It almost sounded like a betrayal of his oldest friends and protege to even suggest he may not trust them by agreeing to Alaric.

"Good."


Part 2: Leaders


Brutus Ashain stared out across the broken streets of Ankara, the capital city of Turkey, which had been a thriving metropolis not too long ago. Now it was a wreck, the taller buildings had crumbled as if they were little more than towers of children's blocks and the majority of the smaller had collapsed in on themselves if not having been crushed by the taller. The streets were cracked, the ground itself ripped apart by the Shadow Master's power and littered by rubble from the destroyed buildings, spilling out over the pools of silver left behind by the metallic muggle vehicles that had been melted down. Overhead Specter-controlled dragons circled idly in the only recently cleared dawn sky, it looked like it had been stained by blood.

Brutus wasn't a victim of the attack though, he was on the side that had caused it. He was overseeing it all with his dark chestnut eyes, standing on the balcony on a central building that had been rebuilt magically to act as a temporary base for them. Despite being fifty years old now, his eyes remained as sharp as the hawk that was his Patronus. His extremely dark auburn hair remained thick and untouched by age, his burly muscular body still strong and his reflexes better than most younger men. He was in perfect health, except for the deformity he'd been born with. His six-fingered hands were all random lengths and twisted at the wrong angles, his face so grotesque people who didn't know him had trouble deciphering his expression or telling his age from it. And that was just what was visible.

"I don't understand, what am I looking at?" a child's unhappy voice commented, reminding Brutus he wasn't there to reflect alone, "Another Greek city we wrecked, so what?"

"Turkey. This is Turkey, not Greece," Brutus corrected and glanced at his much smaller companion.

Vathan was only four years old yet already hurt, he wore sleeveless robes due to the intense summer heat which revealed layers of random words of different sizes scarred into them through his wrists and his hands due to the blood quills his school used. It didn't hide the writhing skeletal snake symbols burned into both arms, the Shadow Mark their group used but Vathan's mother had inflicted on him without authorization. His hair dark with a slight wave to it and his eyes were a mossy green, sad eyes as he'd recently been orphaned and his half-brother abducted. He was Rabastan Lestrange's son, one of the Shadow Master's Lieutenants like Brutus was and someone he'd considered a friend. Brutus should have sent Vathan back to continue his training as they'd replaced the teachers who'd been killed recently by now, and yet… he hadn't. He felt like the boy was his responsibility now, he didn't want him to be sent back to that school. He could learn here, finding tutors wasn't difficult considering how many they ruled.

"Whatever," Vathan shrugged disinterestedly, still staring out from the steps Brutus had conjured to give him a better view over the balcony, "So why am I looking?"

"Because it's the job of leaders to oversee things, make sure the people beneath you are doing their job," Brutus explained to him.

"But I'm not a leader, am I?"

"Your father was one of the Shadow Master's Lieutenants and you're my ward now," Brutus told him seriously and gestured to the people below them, "You're above those people down there, they'd have to do what you say if you asked if they want me to let them live, you're a leader."

"Okay," Vathan nodded and sighed, "What job are they supposed to be doing then?"

While the city was in ruin, the streets weren't empty. Soul Eaters stormed them, leading clusters of newly imprisoned muggle slaves. They'd all been branded with a cross on their right cheeks to mark them as muggles, as slaves, and had already been divided by age and gender. Children would be raised to learn the history of their superior magical brethren and taught to be good slaves, the adults further divided for which tasks seemed better for them and anyone useless would be part of the werewolf army or die trying. Resistance – for adults – resulted in death, they didn't have time and there were plenty of muggles, millions in fact and the dead could be of use to. After all, he humans weren't the only things walking the streets, columns of horrific skeletal beings devoid of life also were being lead. Inferi. The bodies of those who hadn't survived the attack, reanimated on a mass scale by the Shadow Master and twistedly marching to join the rest of the army. Brutus didn't like them but they were useful. He felt his heart twist painfully whenever he saw a figure small enough to be a dead child, he had a soft spot for children. Unfortunately, even filthy muggle ones. There were millions of people in Ankara alone, he didn't want to think about how many had perished.

"Organizing," Brutus answered plainly before elaborating, "Slaves are being led to the left and Inferi to the right."

"And this is the better world? Full of dead people and slaves?" Vathan questioned neutrally and Brutus nodded, although it didn't sound too good when he put like that.

"They're just muggles and we need the Inferi to get what we want. For us wizards, it's better. It doesn't seem like it now because it's still in progress but when it's done, you'll see."

"Br-Brutus," Vathan stammered out abruptly, his face draining of color as he turned to him as if he'd just thought of something horrific, "You don't… You don't think that… that th-they m-made m-my Daddy and Mummy l-like that?"

"No. Our enemies wouldn't resort to that," Brutus assured him and the child nodded in relief, turning back and relaxing.

"Good," Vathan confirmed and looked thoughtful, "I'm glad they didn't but from a strategy view, it's letting the corpses of your enemies go to waste. No wonder we're going to win this war."

"You think we'll win?" Brutus mused and Vathan turned back to him, his expression deathly serious and looking just like his father for a minute.

"My parents died for this war. We're going to win, they can't have died for no reason," Vathan told him in a strictly serious tone but his eyes started tearing up, "I can't have lost everything for nothing."

"We'll win," Brutus affirmed and rubbed Vathan's shoulder comfortingly, the boy gave a weak smile that faded an instant later as tears continued to flicker in his eyes.

"Do… Do you have any news about Oathan?"

"No," Brutus admitted and Vathan looked disheartened, Oathan was his missing half-brother. One of their own had killed the staff of the Training Tower school and taken the boy- apparently his son – for reasons unknown.

"Do you think Oathan is even still alive? For real alive not like a Inferi."

"Of course he is," Brutus said with confidence but Vathan looked down, seemingly unconvinced and Brutus raised his head so their eyes met, "Look at me. If Florian wanted him to die then he would have killed him with the others but he didn't, he wouldn't have taken him if he didn't want him alive. We'll get Oathan back, okay? I promise."

"Okay," Vathan nodded, looking more reassured and managed a weak smile, "Thank Brutus."

"Okay, let's get you back inside. Everything seems to be in order," Brutus offered, clapping the boy on the back before they headed back inside the sliding glass doors.

He truly did intend to keep his promise. Florian was a liability and the boy innocent, Brutus had a soft spot for half-brothers and very much knew what it was like to have one missing. Soul Eaters hunted Florian daily with strict instructions – and the threat of death – if they did not retrieve the child alive. Florian had proved himself to be a talented duelist but Brutus was confident they could capture him, if it came to it than they could just overwhelm him with numbers. There was only so much one man could do before tiring. Really, Brutus felt it should only be a matter of time. Unfortunately, time wasn't moving fast enough.

He sent Vathan back to his tutor to continue his magical education – without blood quills – before wandering through the compound in search of his children or his lover to ask for news, heading to the nursery room. He heard them before he saw them, laughing innocently like normal children. It brought a smile to his face. He entered the nursery, which was looking quite plain considering they had only recently moved in but there were still two cribs and baby toys littering the soft, thick white carpet. There was also a couch, this was where his children were and his lover: Salazia "Sal" Riddle, or The Shadow Master as the rest of the world knew her.

Sal didn't look like the monster they thought was trying to take over the world, she didn't even look threatening. Brutus looked more evil then she did. She was ten years his junior and still very beautiful, flawless ivory skin contrasted with night black hair that hung in waves and matched her dark eyes. She was no longer emaciated as she'd been as a child with her upbringing in Azkaban but retained a slender frame, even after motherhood. She was lying on her back on the couch, her head propped on the arm and her knees bent. Their two bundles of joy were sitting on her, leaning back against the bent legs. She was amusing them by making motions with her hands, conjuring a dazzling display of lights before their eyes.

Brutus kept his smile as he leaned against the wall, watching his family happily. This was what he wanted, just his family happy and at peace. This was the Sal he liked, the kindhearted woman with a soft spot for animals who loved him and adored their children. Not the ruthless Shadow Master who destroyed cities, killed thousands and enslaved millions, intent on world domination. He just wanted peace.

"Master, I've finished running the twins their bath," a slave commented in accented English as she shuffled back into the room from another door, a middle-aged muggle marked by the cross on her cheek.

"Well Meryem, you've shown yourself to be a capable nanny so far," Sal commented thoughtfully, slowing the light-show, "All that really remains is that you answer one question."

"Yes, Master. Anything you desire."

"Tell me, which of the twins is your favorite?"

"My-My favorite?" Meryem repeated in surprise as Sal's sharp and very dark eyes darted to her in wait, the slave seemed to struggle with the question before stammering out an answer, "Well… erm… I don't really… err… I guess… um… L-Lazarus?"

"No," Sal stated and flicked her wrist as she turned back to the infants, fire erupted on the woman. She staggered back, screaming in agony as she was burned alive by magical flames, "The correct answer is none, you need to favor them equally. They're both perfect, they will never have to feel inferior even to each other."

Sal seemed oblivious to the woman she was letting burn alive, Meryem was still screaming as the skin was incinerated around her and the stench of her own flesh burning polluted the air. The one year old twins tried to look to the source of the sound but Sal reached out and took each of their little hands, keeping their attention on her as she smiled at them lovingly. She didn't take the flames off Meryem until a charred corpse collapsed onto the ground in place of… whoever she had been. The body then pulled itself up brokenly, dragging its body to the exit to presumably go join the rest of the Inferi.

"That's right," Sal cooed at the babies as Brutus made his approach, noticing for the first time the ancient Scepter lying on the ground beside her, "You're both perfect, you're both special, you're both loved. You never have to feel like you're not."

The babies gurgled at this, at just a year old they weren't capable of real speech yet or even comprehending her words. They were both perfect though, devoid of the deformities Brutus had feared passing on. Not because he wouldn't love them – like his own bitch of a mother had done, abandoning him at birth – but just because he didn't want them to have to endure what he had with the stares, the comments, the insults. Although he supposed it wouldn't matter, if Sal brutally murdered a woman for picking a favorite then he dreaded to think what she'd do to whoever was dumb enough to be mean to them and if on the off chance she did nothing, Brutus would. They clearly took after in looks, they were also both pale with dark eyes. The firstborn, Lazarus, had inherited Brutus' Ashain extremely dark auburn hair though while the younger Omega had hair as pitch as his mother's. Sal leaned forward and kissed each on the forehead before noticing his arrival as the twins called out 'Dada' happily, it never ceased to make him smile and Sal grinned at him too.

"Hey," Sal greeted him happily and reached out to give his hand a squeeze, she retained a love of holding his hand even still. He planted a kiss on her lips before ruffling the babies' hair, "Guess what I learned today?"

"That you shouldn't incinerate slaves?" Brutus guessed in a joking tone to hide the fact he was serious. Slaves or not, growing up with his Grandfather's treatment of house-elves left him feeling they had some responsibility to treat even slaves with some respect. She could have given her a quick death at least.

"No," Sal brushed it off dismissively, looking quite proud, "The twins are Parselmouths too."


Pyrrhus Florian had long since squashed any hope of leaving the Soul Eaters because he knew they'd never let him leave, if he left he'd be hunted and it wouldn't be fun. Now, he realized that he'd been right. Celestine Rooke - the high ranking Shadow Auror - was making good use of his position to send both Soul Eaters and Aurors after him. He'd had too many close calls in too few months for his liking, even when things seemed calm he was forced to stay alert to the point he knew he was being paranoid but he couldn't help it. He had his three and half year old son with him, Oathan Loren, who he had to keep safe.

He'd been teaching the boy to defend himself, getting him a wand, a knife and a gun – easy to mistake for a toy by wizards ignorant to muggle things – and training him to use all of them, as well as wandless magic. He didn't want Oathan to have to fight but he also accepted the risk to his life, if he died then Oathan needed to know how to protect himself. He'd used some frowned upon potions to improve the childish motor skills and made sure to impress upon the importance of it all, that was surprisingly not so hard but then he had been in a strict and cruel training to become a child-soldier prior to Pyrrhus saving him. Pyrrhus wasn't cruel in his methods of teaching though, he'd taught at Hogwarts for a time and found with children his suspicions of positive reinforcement, patient support and trying to make it fun worked just as well as negative reinforcement, brutal punishment and banning fun.

He had taken to Imperising muggles for the sake of teaching though, using them for more realistic scenarios of attack and showing Oathan the best places to hurt. He told Oathan they were simply puppets – which they kind of were, he regretted their lives were lost but all people were evil so it wasn't that bad – so he wouldn't hesitate to hurt or kill, it would better prepare him for if – who was he kidding? – when he'd need to use it in a real attack. Oathan responded well, he'd been starved of affection from everyone but his maternal half-brother and treated horribly at the urging of his now deceased mother who had it out for him. Pyrrhus encouraged him to have a normal childhood too, letting him have toys and games, watch TV and time for play as well. It was incredibly rewarding helping rebuild his poor child's confidence, if only he'd known about his son sooner but alas, those were not the cards.

They were always on the move across the UK, staying in hotels, muggle homes, abandoned buildings or even in the various cars he traveled in as he considered it safer to travel in a mixture of ways and in a variety of places to throw off trackers. He had to move anyway, he was scouring the country for as much information he could find to help him in his plans to end the war and allow he and Oathan to live in peace. He barely slept for fear of being caught, scraping just a few hours every few days because his paranoia kept him up to keep watch at night and then during the day, he was loathe to waste previous seconds of light on sleeping. As a result, he was more high-strung than usual and his violently violet colored eyes had a constant – and uncomfortable – gritty, stinging feeling in them. What really worried him were the increase in flashbacks, his exhaustion often blurred the lines more between past and present, once he'd even accidentally killed a muggle fighting a memory. He made sure Oathan got a full eleven and half – he'd researched it as the average amount of time a child his age needed – a night, barring unforeseen events stopping it anyway such as an attack or Oathan waking from a nightmare. Oathan was the important one.

However, that night he was forced to leave his sleeping son. One of his nephews, Carver, was aiding him in his plans, as well as avoiding Soul Eaters and working as a kind of double agent. Frustratingly though, he had decided to make his aid conditional as part of the plan involved the deaths or harm and possible deaths – at the very least – and insisted he make sure there was literally no other way. He'd previously tried to strike a deal with the Head Auror, Harry Potter, for immunity and protection in exchange for information but they'd rudely tried to murder him which he had taken to mean 'no.' Carver wanted to make sure that option was definitely off the table, he insisted he go over Potter's Head to try see if there was any chance at all for a deal still. And so, Pyrrhus found himself at the elusive Minister for Magic's late one night while his son slept soundly miles away under a shitload of protective enchantments. Nonetheless, he wanted to get back and be there to protect his son.

Pyrrhus was an animagus and took the form of a moth, fluttering toward the house and bypassing the unusual amount of protection the Minster had elected to put around his home. It was an isolated place, several miles from the nearest town. There were no other magical homes and he'd say it was a muggle area but there were no muggle homes around either, just fields and woodland which belonged to no one. Really, he thought everyone put too much emphasis on wizards and muggles, they were all just people at the end of the day. The house wasn't a mansion but it wasn't a poor hovel either, maybe what a more upper class but no means excessively rich family would have. Despite the acres of land around it – which he wasn't sure came with the Minister's property or not – there was no garden, something he approved of. His father had been a gardener, souring his opinion of all things related to that.

He fluttered about, starting to look for an open window before realizing there was no need. The Minister had a set of double doors generously open despite the late hour, Pyrrhus knew it was summer but it still wasn't exactly a warm night. Not enough for double doors to be open by any means. Nonetheless, he flew in and found himself in a living room area although the fireplace – assuming he had one – wasn't there, maybe the kitchen. There was a massive couch and some more regular armchairs, an end table and a book shelf pretty much the length of the wall. Alaric Zyas Layton sat in one of the armchairs wearing nothing but a crimson bathrobe, looking ready to fall asleep in it as he sipped from a glass of some kind of spirits.

He didn't seem to have noticed Pyrrhus' arrival and so he decided to take a second to scour the house for some key to the Minister's personality, something to gauge how to approach him maybe or even just what kind of man he was dealing with. Not much was known about him after all. Pyrrhus found the search of the man's home surprisingly fruitless, it was very empty. There was an appropriate amount of furniture and there were things you would need, the bare necessities, it wasn't vacant although it was very spacious but… it was empty. There were no photographs at all, no portraits, no pictures at all, no tapestries, no ornaments, no decorations really, even the book covers were all blank to conceal the titles. There was nothing that expressed anything about himself or his personality or his likes, nothing meaningful at all. It was very neat too, nothing out of place but not to an extreme degree as if he was focused on cleanliness, rather just as if he liked to keep everything presentable in case he had company. Despite the fact, by all the accounts having guests over wasn't a regular occurrence and he lived alone so it had to be Alaric's choice.

Pyrrhus took this to mean one of several things; either Alaric was that bland in which case he was likely a puppet Minister for someone else, he was afraid to because he had some kind of dark or disturbing secret – something that was wrong at any rate – he was paranoid about others seeing, or he simply had been raised in a repressing environment where he'd been taught not to or not been allowed to express himself. Pyrrhus flew back to the initial siting room, perching himself on the curtain to study the Minister one last time. He was still sitting in the armchair, resting his head on one hand while the other swirled his drink, his wand and a bottle of Firewhiskey on the table beside him. Deciding now was as a good a time as any, Pyrrhus swooped down and transformed back into his human form. He had a slender frame, was clean-shaven, in his late twenties and had a long, tangled mane of fiery red hair. Alaric's navy-blue eyes drifted to him in surprise but quickly calmed, watching him with interest and making no move for his wand.

"Not even going to try to defend yourself?" Pyrrhus couldn't help but question in bemusement as he aimed his wand at the Minister, "Most people react differently when a stranger breaks into their home."

"What's the point?" Alaric countered with a shrug, his voice sounding as tired as he looked, "If you wanted me dead then I'd be dead, I'm too weak to be fast right now because of my condition so I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm guessing you want something instead."

"I want the same thing I wanted from Potter. Immunity and protection, I'll give you information in return. He tried to kill me but you could go over his head," Pyrrhus decided to cut straight to the chase, grinning as it occurred to him that he also had a bargaining chip here that he hadn't had with Potter as he added, "And I'd seriously consider it if you want to live!"

"Really?" Alaric wondered before stunning Pyrrhus as he burst into laughter, genuine amused laughter. Pyrrhus scowled as the Minister wiped a tear from his eye and sobered, drinking the last of his alcohol as if he had all the time in the world and placing it on the table beside his wand. Alaric was the one smiling now, strangely completely confident, "Really? You think you can threaten me? On this night of all nights? Nothing can threaten me tonight."

Pyrrhus felt even more confused by this, he opened his mouth to reiterate his threat and demand to know what he was talking about. He was distracted though as Alaric looked to the open doors as if expecting someone or something, Pyrrhus glanced too but saw nothing but the dark night and the shimmering full moon- Wait… He looked back to Alaric in panic, seeing the Minister was already turning.

The Minister of Magic was a werewolf. Crap.

Pyrrhus wasted no time, transforming back into a moth to flee. This proved to be grievous error on his part though as Alaric lunged for him with a snarl, he felt wolfish jaws snap around him painfully and heard a sickening crack. If he was capable of screaming as a moth, he would have. Alaric threw him back down roughly and Pyrrhus tried to fly again but the werewolf smacked him back down with his paw, he felt sharp claws slicing through his left wing and saw stars as he was smashed to the ground yet again. This time, Alaric kept his paw firmly in place to keep him pinned down. Pyrrhus tried to squirm free but the rush of pain was overwhelming as it only further tore through his fragile wing and he feared further attempts to free himself in case it was ripped off completely.

Pyrrhus flicked his tiny, hate-filled eyes to the Minister. He had never been in such close proximity to a transformed werewolf before, he looked like a regular wolf pretty much with the same gleaming eyes and a brown pelt except for the fact he was larger. Made even worse by the fact he was a freaking moth. Now the open doors made sense, it was so he could leave at will and the isolation made it unlikely anyone would see. Maybe he was even paranoid enough to stay outside and sneak back in only just before he needed to revert back or just if he wanted to stretch his wolfish legs. Of course, he couldn't ask him. He was a moth and Alaric was a werewolf, they had no way to communicate until they were humans again.

Alaric seemed to realize this too and settled himself down, lying much like a dog would and keeping his paw firmly set to keep Pyrrhus down. He rested his head down beside him, letting his tongue loll out over a row of sharp teeth. Pyrrhus got the impression it was either an amused or triumphant grin, he could only glare hopelessly back and wait for the sun to rise or Alaric to move his paw. He supposed in a way it was good he was trapped as a moth, if he was man then he was sure he would be bleeding out and he of course couldn't be turned. However, it didn't ease the immense pain he was in. Not even slightly.

It was one of the longest nights of his life, Pyrrhus wasn't sure if he remained conscious the entire time or not but whatever the case the large yellow eyes didn't look away. The dawn was his best chance to escape, Alaric would have to get off him to turn back and would hopefully be distracted by his transformation long enough for Pyrrhus to get away. He had to get away, he had to get back to Oathan. Time dragged by agonizingly slowly though, he could do nothing but wait. And think. Worrying about his son and plotting his revenge against Alaric, the bastard Minister would pay for this. Screw deals, screw Alaric! The only way he was telling Alaric anything was if it was as he slowly tortured him to death. Carver would just have to live with it, he had technically tried to make an alliance before being viciously attacked. Why were people from the Ministry so rude? He was the one being civil here.

Finally, the tendrils of light started to creep in and it was Alaric's turn to be in pain. He removed his paw, howling in agony and staggering back as his body started to change. Pyrrhus didn't even spare him a glance though, focusing instead of dragging his battered body back up and forcing his broken wing to fly towards the open doors. Fresh waves of pain shot through him with every flap and his trajectory veered terribly, however he was making progress…

BANG!

Pyrrhus felt himself struck by a spell, his body was forced to revert back to a human as he fell out of the sky and collided painfully with the solid ground of flagged stone of all things. He cried out in pain and regretted it as it made his chest burn, the bite had broken most to all of his ribs and his hip was in agony as well. His left side was the worse though, his arm and shoulder were torn up where his wing had been and the arm itself was uselessly hanging, half-severed and bleeding mercilessly. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping against the pain and for a second his mind threatened to pass out but he stayed focused and noticed some kind of magically barrier being set up around him.

"Not so fast," Alaric insisted breathlessly but nonetheless sounding pleased, Pyrrhus spotted him from over the half-white wall that faded at about waist height. He was smirking while Pyrrhus' own expression twisted into a sneer to mask his rush of fear as he realized something, he was alone with a man and completely at his mercy. He didn't like being alone with men, it scared him.

"So you're a werewolf, huh?!" Pyrrhus spat, his chest pleading him not to but he ignored it, not wanting to show his fear, "Let me guess, Hogsmeade?"

There had been an attack on Hogsmeade two years ago, Fenrir Greyback leading an army of werewolves for the Shadow Master as part of a plan to take Hogwarts, a plan Pyrrhus had actually been involved in. Plenty of people had been turned but Alaric laughed again as if it was a stupid suggestion, shaking his head and retrieving the discarded crimson bathrobe to pull back on. Not before Pyrrhus noticed the scars though, an unmistakable werewolf bite on his right shoulder and some scars from mauling across his chest, marring his otherwise fit physique.

"Back in the Second Wizarding War, Voldemort used to sic Greyback on the children of people who didn't do what he wanted," Alaric explained, still somewhat breathless as he sat back down on the armchair he'd been in when Pyrrhus had first arrived. He placed his wand back down shakily and poured a glass of Firewhiskey, "I've been like this since I was five when my Father didn't do whatever had been asked of him."

"Fathers suck," Pyrrhus couldn't help but complain and Alaric inclined his head in agreement before sipping his glass.

"And I got off lucky, my sister died. I was delighted to hear Greyback was killed, when that Sanford kid graduates he can have his pick of job and be set for life."

"How'd your parents manage to keep it a secret?" Pyrrhus wondered with morbid curiosity.

"By pretending my sister had been the one and only victim, they hired a private healer to treat me and paid extra to keep his mouth shut. They kept me isolated, I was only allowed to interact with family and tutors whose silence they could ensure because they had this paranoid fear I would tell people for no reason. No Hogwarts, no Quidditch games, no shops, a trip out meant the garden and on the rare occasion there had to be guests over, I'd be silenced and locked up in the basement. It was their greatest fear that they might have to live with the shame of having a werewolf for a son, despite the Ministry reformation and it becoming more acceptable."

"Yet you still keep a secret."

"What can I say? Old habits die hard," Alaric shrugged as he finished his drink and put the empty glass back down, resting his head back sleepily, "It's pretty easy really, as long as you spend a good chunk of the month off that's not around the full moon, people don't get suspicious. People are stupid. Avoid pools, the beach and anywhere else where you might be expected to be shirtless, boil during the summer, only date muggles who wouldn't understand the significance of the scars and don't be openly pro-werewolf to avoid suspicion. I make my own Wolfsbane so I don't even need to alert to the Ministry to my condition."

"Well bully for you," Pyrrhus spat and started to cough, spluttering out blood much to his alarm. He really needed to get away or at least get medical attention, "Okay. You can… You can get me help now."

"Help?"

"I need healing!" Pyrrhus shrieked at him as the man's eyes flickered closed a moment, had he really not noticed?! Alaric smiled again, tiredly. How weak were werewolves after the full moon? Was he actually at risk of dying because the Minister fell asleep?

"I know, I'm just trying to think a good cover story to explain your injures and wondering whether it's worth the risk of the truth being discovered."

"You can't be serious!?" Pyrrhus spluttered out along with more droplets of blood, "You'd let me die to protect your secret?! My information is important! Werewolves aren't even hated as much!"

"I'm the Minister for Magic," Alaric emphasized each word slowly, his expression wiping to one of seriousness, "People hold you to higher standards and werewolves aren't so popular after Hogsmeade anyway. If my condition was discovered then there'd be outrage, I'd probably lose my job and some idiot or a Shadow would replace me."

"There'd also be support! Potter's lot would all be pro-werewolf."

"It's not the point," Alaric snapped with a look of disgust, "I don't want this whole thing to turn in a werewolf-support war, all everyone will care about is that I'm a werewolf. Which is just ridiculous in itself, a werewolf is what I am not who I am and it's stupid to judge people based on it. But then, people are stupid. If I'm not fired then I'd have to step down so people will stay focused on fighting the Shadows not each other, if I stay then I risk inciting a civil war. I want to end a war not start one. So I suggest you tell me what you know so I can gauge if your life is worth it, as you put it: I'd seriously consider it if you want to live!"

"What? So you get the information and I still die?" Pyrrhus scoffed, still have no intention of telling him anything, "Go screw yourself! Help me or I tell you nothing and this stuff is important."

"Is it really?" Alaric wondered, raising an eyebrow, "You claim to know the Shadow Master's identity. I'm guessing its Calderon's sibling, possibly even a twin named something Riddle. Not so groundbreaking now, is it?"

"Still wouldn't recognize them if they walked right up to you and punched you in the face, genius," Pyrrhus stated acidly as he decided he'd have to make his own escape, shifting his attention to the wand Alaric had left on the table and focusing.

"And the highest ranking Shadow Auror is either Cel Rooke or Ron Weasley, am I right?" Alaric asked curiously, not noticing his wand slowly and silently turning on the table to face him, " I figure that's the only or at least most likely way they have the control necessary to get pulling these things off, Potter trusts them completely which doesn't help."

"One of them is perfectly innocent though, good look figuring out who and getting Potter to believe you without my help."

Alaric opened his mouth but was silenced as the stunner shot from his wand, hitting him square in the chest and the werewolf finally slumped unconsciously into the chair. Pyrrhus' head lolled from the effort again as he coughed up blood, he dragged his mind back to focus as the wand floated into the air and removed the enchantment around him.

He struggled to get to his feet and collapsed once more, his – now certainly – broken hip unable to hold his weight. He bit his tongue so hard he drew blood against the incredible pain, why did life have to hurt so much? What had he ever done to life?! Why was life so mean to him?! It wasn't fair! He transformed back into a moth, quelling the blood flow at least and awkwardly – falling several times – flew out of the house and out of bounds of the anti-apparation wards. He then turned back and apparated, returning to the hotel room he'd left his son and staggering in before his legs gave way again.

"Daddy! Are you okayed?" Oathan's young, childish voice cried and he appeared a second later at his elbow.

Despite the agonizing pain, he smiled warmly at his son. Oathan had his mother's soft features but Pyrrhus' own violet eyes and crimson locks, except his hair was only neck length and had a slight wave to it like his mother's had, he also had bandages covering his palms and wrists to hide the blood quill scars the school had forced him to inflict upon himself. Just like those bastards had done to Pyrrhus, he didn't regret killing them. Except maybe his brother but that was just because he was his brother. Nothing could hide the scars on Oathan's face though, one horizontal just under his left eye and onto that side of his face and one vertical running through it at the edge of the eye so looked like a kind of cross. His mother had given him those scars, Alzay had been an abysmally poor mother. He gripped his son's frightened hand, feeling relief it would be alright.

"Close the door, bring me the first aid kit and summon Carver," Pyrrhus told him plainly, his ribs burning again from his speaking, "I'll be alright then, I promise. Tell Carver we'll get nowhere with the Minister, my plan is the only way."


Part 3: Summer Birthdays


It was cold. Of course it was cold, it was always cold if you were Antonius Ashain. Despite the fact he was lying in a nice bed with thick, soft blankets to keep him warm. He had long since realized it was because he wasn't cold physically, it was his soul that was cold. What was left of it anyway, three years ago he'd had his magic ripped from it and while it had been put back, he hadn't been the same since. He'd died that day, the old Antonius, the one his mother called 'Tony' and yet somehow he was still... around to have his tenth birthday. It didn't mean he was alive because he wasn't, not really.

People wouldn't believe him if he told them of course, they'd tell him that he was wrong, that he was being ridiculous, that he was just too young to understand or know what he was saying, that it was just a phase he'd get out of. Those were the kind of things his mother – Skye - had told him. Before she left anyway. Of course she'd left, she wanted her dead son back not whatever he was now. And that was why when people asked, he didn't tell them. He didn't want them to leave him too. He lived for the people he loved, he couldn't live for himself since he was dead already so he would be nothing without them. So he told no one, no one but Hope anyway. Hope was special like that, mostly because she was a dog. As if on cue the monstrous lump of fur gave a bark and licked his face from the neck up to his eyeball with her large, cold and slobbery tongue. That was what he got for sitting up.

"Thanks for that," Antonius complained of his dog, she merely wagged her tail and watched him with her tongue lolling out.

She was a huge dog, he'd only just surpassed her at height and he considered himself pretty average for his age. He had no idea what breed she was, just a big, dark lump of fur with large paws attached to the long spindly trunks she had for legs. In truth she wasn't even his, he'd been leant her to help him with his damaged soul. With a sad pang he wondered if she'd ever be returned to her original owner considering he'd been arrested, they'd showed no signs of letting him go so far. Calderon may be Voldemort's son but Antonius didn't believe he was the Shadow Master, he'd met them both and was quite certain they were different. Besides, he'd also seen them fighting each other and he wasn't sure why but he knew the struggle had been real. Not that it mattered what he believed, it didn't even matter what his Father – who felt the same – believed and he was more important than Antonius was.

He reached out to stroke her soft fur, taking a sliver of comfort from it. Touch was the only thing that made him feel connected to the world again, made him feel on some level he existed. The feeling had weakened rather than strengthened with time though, over the past year in fact. He felt the lightning bolt scar on his chest twinge and gasped at the agony but it passed in a second as it always did, he took a deep breath and cuddled Hope tightly. A year ago the Shadow Master had tried to kill him, directly with the Killing Curse but he'd survived. For a different reason to the famous Harry Potter though. Antonius thought it just further proved that he was dead, it couldn't kill him because he wasn't really alive anymore. The scar still hurt sometimes, the scar on his soul not his body though. Not that he told anyone, he didn't want them to leave like his mother had. He was scared of being alone.

"Happy Birthday!" his sister, Cassia, squealed happily and he turned to see her bounding across his small room, bouncing onto his bed to pull him into a hug. Yep, he shouldn't have sat up.

He hugged her tightly back, he loved his little sister dearly. Since their mother had left, they lived solely with their father in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their father homeschooled them so they didn't get to interact with kids their own age much or at all really, all they really had was each other. There were students they were friends with but they were busy with their classes and lives most of the time, Antonius hoped when he started Hogwarts next year that he could hang out with them more. They'd be gone by the time Cassia started though, she was only eight and their friends would be in Fifth and Sixth Year already come September.

"We've been waiting for you to wake up, you shouldn't sleep in on your own birthday," Cassia chided him as she pulled away, she had their father's dark chestnut eyes but their mother's straw-colored hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders. Or she had. Unlike him, she was furious at their mother for leaving and refused to have hair that looked like her so now their father charmed it different colors for her. Currently, she was favoring a forest green that made it look kind of like someone had deposited a small clump of seaweed on her head.

"Sorry," Antonius apologized blandly. In truth he'd woken ages ago, he simply didn't want to face his birthday. He didn't like being the center of attention, he liked it even less when he was expected to be happy and if he didn't act correctly then everyone would be upset that he wasn't. He missed the days when social interaction was simple.

"Anyway, I wanted to give you your present first," Cassia told him with a grin as she jumped up, making a sharp sound like a bird call and her pet vulture immediately flew in. It dropped a shoddily wrapped package of mismatched paper on his lap before landing on the arm she offered out to him. His sister was an Avisora, she could talk to birds like Parselmouths could talk to snakes, "Well go on, open it."

"And this couldn't wait until the rest of the presents with Dad because…?" Antonius wondered as he tried to tear it as non-destructively as possible.

"It's a wand holster, the kind the Aurors use," Cassia explained as he found it to be a leather strappy thing, Aurors were guarding the school now since it had been attacked a few months ago, "Since you don't want Daddy to know you have a wand already, I reckoned that you wouldn't want him to see."

His eyes couldn't help but drift to where he hid his wand down the side of his bed, safely out of sight. It was part of the Scepter of Night that the Shadow Master used, the one that had once belonged to the infamous Dark Wizard Herpo the Foul, after that it had belonged to their own ancestor who had helped defeat him. Most people believed it to have been destroyed but it had chosen him despite his young age and he'd left with it, kept it safe. Only a few of his friends and now Cassia knew about it, he'd had to use it in front of when Hogwarts had been attacked. He'd been teaching himself to use it too, there was a war going on and their father did teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Being homeschooled, they sat through all his lessons just doing their own work instead. They still picked things up though.

"Well thank you, it's pretty neat. Even if I can't use it."

"Yes you can," Cassia told him with a smug smirk, "You see, its charmed so when there's a wand in it, only the wand's owner can see it. You can take your wand with you anywhere now and not have to worry about people spotting it."

"Really?" Antonius wondered in surprise, retrieving his overly long wand and clambering out of bed to strap it on before slipping the wand in, "Does it work? Can you see it?"

"Nope," Cassia confirmed, looking impressed and he gave her a small smile. That would be useful, "You'll have to tell Daddy at some point though since next year you'll need a wand."

"I know," Antonius sighed, he still wasn't sure what he was going to do then, "But not today. Thank you, Cassia, this is a really great present."

"I know it," Cassia added with a wide grin and something else occurred to him.

"Cassia, how did you get this if Dad doesn't know?"

"Err… Stole it."

"Cassia!"

"What?!" Cassia protested defensively, "Those Aurors guarding Hogwarts are a bag of dicks, they can always get more anyways and you need it more than them assholes."

"Well... Just don't do it again."

"Oh no, my other brother who needs to keep his secret wand secret is going to be so disappointed!" Cassia cried sarcastically as she jumped off the bed, the hulking vulture flying off and she tore after it laughing, "Now come on! Daddy, he's awake!"

"You've been in Hogwarts too long!" Antonius called after her before heaving another sigh and heading out, Hope leaping of the bed to stay loyally by his side.

He left his small room into the main living area of his father's quarters, also small but the couches were quite comfortable and there were several doors leading off to get to the other bedrooms. His father apparently wasn't there though, he continued on and found his family was settled in his father's office from where their living quarters could be accessed with a password. There was a modest pile of presents – much more neatly wrapped then Cassia's – on his father's desk and a small stack of letters beside them, no doubt cards and there was a handmade – judging by Cassia's clunky lettering – banner hanging up reading 'Happy 10th Birthday Antonius!' in bright colors that kept changing.

His father, Atticus Ashain, was sitting at his desk already fully dressed in wizarding robes unlike his children who were still in their pajamas. He was of average height with the dark chestnut eyes like Cassia's and Antonius' own, his hair was an extremely dark auburn that Antonius had inherited as well but lacked the neat beard that went with it. Half of his face – and body for that matter – was also a slightly lightly color, the only sign of the injury he'd sustained a few months ago saving Calderon and he had faint scar on that side too. He thought his father had taken Calderon's arrest pretty hard since they'd been friends, he was steadfast in his belief of the man's innocence to the point of arguing with other Aurors about it.

"Happy birthday, son," his father offered with a warm smile and opened his arms, "Already a decade old."

Antonius went over and was pulled into a tight hug, he clung to his father. He may not be as close to him as Cassia but he loved him nonetheless and looked up to him, he didn't know what he'd do without him. Every birthday since Skye had left, he'd blown out the candles wishing his dad wouldn't leave him too. His father pulled away, still smiling and clapped him on the shoulder. Cassia had curled up on a seat on the other side of the desk, stroking the vulture perched on top of the chair but there was a chair more central beside her that was clearly intended for him. He sat down, for a brief moment feeling a flood of panic that he still had his wand before realizing the charm must be working as his father didn't say anything or react to it at all. He relaxed and his father tossed the stack of letters to him before settling back, picking up his drink to sip. Antonius was pretty sure it was called 'whiskey.'

"Go on, cards first," his father prompted when Antonius had continued to stare thoughtfully off into space while Hope lay down at his feet, "You're popular this year."

Antonius thought this was quite correct as he started going through the pile, most of the old Hogwarts staff had gotten him cards, most of his friends had – although Albus had spelled his name wrong, ironically the Dyslexic Michael hadn't – and then his family. A handmade one from his father, sister and the animals. He was surprised to discover his mother had sent him one too, a design of brightly colored balloons on the front and the price on the back that she'd forgotten to remove. It hadn't even cost her a pound. There were only six words inside it: 'To Tony, Happy Birthday, love Mum' and the 'Happy Birthday' had been printed on the card. She hadn't even gotten his name right, it was aimed at her old, dead child. Sadly, he traced over the wavy blue letters of her handwriting, it was all he had of her. He missed her, so much.

"Skye," Cassia stated darkly as she read the card over his shoulder before her tone became more cheerful, "Do you want me to throw it in the fire for you?"

"Cassia!" his father chided her immediately but she didn't even look slightly abashed.

"What? Screw Skye, she can go fuck herself."

"Cassia!"

"What?" Cassia wondered again, not seeming to even understand why he had objected.

"You don't talk about your mother like that," his father said seriously.

"Skye is not my mother, I don't have a mother," Cassia decided, folding her arms quite determinedly.

"Yes, you do," his father insisted, downing the rest of his glass, "I was there when you came out of her kicking and screaming so I know."

"So I was born fighting," Cassia stated with a grin, seemingly quite proud of this fact, "Cool."

"How was I born?" Antonius asked curiously and his father blinked in surprise.

"I wasn't there when you were born," his father admitted and Antonius couldn't help but feel somewhat hurt, it must've showed on his face because his father elaborated, "We were in a car crash on the way to the hospital and I got knocked out, when I woke up I was in the hospital. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was your mother sitting beside me, holding you in her arms."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Antonius said with a small smile that his father returned, nodding in agreement.

"Nah, I like the being born kicking and screaming better," Cassia pointed out proudly.

"Of course you do," his father laughed before peering over his shoulder to glance at the card as well, his expression was more serious as he leaned back in his seat once more and began to pour himself another drink, "At least her boyfriend didn't also sign it, stupid Karl from her work Karl. Okay, next card."

"Can we have some of that to drink?" Cassia asked as he sipped the alcohol, Antonius moved on to his next card which oddly looked like his mother's handwriting as well.

"Maybe in another decade."

"It's from Uncle Jasper," Antonius realized in surprise as he opened it, seeing it was from his mother's younger brother and his daughters. He hadn't seen his uncle in even longer than his mother, he'd divorced his aunt but had two daughters who were older than Antonius. His mother was closer to her brother then his father was to his since he was a Shadow and all, "Mum must've sent it for him, haven't heard from them in a while."

"We're not exactly easy for muggles to reach, I'm not sure how much he's been told of the magical world anyway."

"Uncle Jasper didn't send me a card for my birthday, I wonder wh- Oh never mind, I know," Cassia started to complain before seeming to realize, "He doesn't like me since I punched one of my cousins in the face with a brick."

"What?!" Antonius burst out in shock at the same time as his father, Cassia looked surprised.

"Don't you remember, Antonius? You were there," Cassia pointed out and Antonius shook his head, a side effect of having the magic torn from his soul was losing your memories and it took a while to recover them. Most of them anyway and they seemed less vivid then any memories after, almost like a dream, "It was after Skye found out about magic and sent Daddy away, Uncle Jasper was over with our cousins and they're bitches."

"Cassia," his father said warningly.

"What? They are," Cassia protested as if it were fact, "Skye told Uncle Jasper about magic but not them or their Aunt Jessica so they didn't know why, they were saying mean things that their stupid ass Mother was guessing what you did to make her mad and think you were sick. They were saying mean things like that you were cheater or a drinking problem and I was defending you, then Madison said you might have hurt us and I was so mad that I hit her. And she laughed and said that I was so little and weak, it didn't even hurt so... then a brick hit her in the face and she didn't think I was so little and weak anymore. She had to go to the hospital because it broke her jaw and Uncle Jasper and Aunt Jessica and Skye was all really mad at me, Skye sent me to my room which is just stupid because my toys are all there so I could play. And they didn't care that Madison had started it!"

"You don't need to break little girl's jaws to defend me, Cassia," his father told her gently and slightly worriedly.

"Madison wasn't little, she was nine! And it was a accident. Sort of. Antonius told the truth but Emma was a big fat liar and said Madison had done nothing, she said I just snapped like a psycho and Aunt Jessica believed her, said mean things about us and said we were the liars. And Skye agreed with her, Daddy! She told us we shouldn't tell lies and told Aunt Jessica she was sorry and we were sick. She was always against us," Cassia continued angrily, sounding bitter and oddly disappointed as well, "Uncle Jasper was fairer, he just said it didn't matter and I'd still done a bad thing, he said if Madison had said mean things then she was wrong too but didn't deserve a broken jaw. Aunt Jessica didn't like us playing with our cousins after that, didn't even like Uncle Jasper still seeing us and Skye."

"Well thank you for filling us in, next card."

"But that's not even the worst of it," Cassia continued regardless and glanced at Antonius who continued to not remember, she seemed lost in the memory, "Skye was mad at you too, for lying and saying you weren't lying. You were so upset she didn't believe you when you were telling the truth, you tried so hard to be good for her, to be a good son and she was mad at you when you hadn't done anything wrong. You cried for hours in your room, I could hear you crying and crying and crying. All Skye does is hurt the people around her, she's like poison. Mothers shouldn't be like poison."

"Would you have believed us, Dad?" Antonius asked curiously, surprising his father yet again.

"I didn't raise you to be liars," his father said slowly as if carefully considering his words, "Don't give me a reason to doubt it and I won't, don't lie to me and I'll have your backs. You should always try to be honest with people but times might come where you might have to lie but you should always be honest with your family, most things are forgivable in time but trust needs to be rebuilt not forgiven which is much more difficult."

"Okay," Antonius nodded, feeling it was a fair answer.

He still exchanged a look with Cassia though, she clearly wondered the same thing about how fine a line there was between lying and just staying silent on certain things. He started opening his last card while his father downed another glass, immediately going to pour another. It was from someone else unexpected, his paternal grandfather Aurelius and his much younger wife, Dominique. He hadn't even met the man, his father had had some kind of falling out with him a long time ago.

"Aurelius," his father stated darkly as he read the card over his shoulder, not unlike his daughter had done not long before, "Do you want me to throw it in the fire for you?"


Lorcan Scamander sat unhappily in the midst of a roomful of people, a roomful too many in his opinion but so was the way of birthday parties. It was for his friend, August Longbottom, the youngest of the Longbottom children who was turning fourteen. The blond birthday boy was sitting beside him and seemed as bored as he was, his arms were folded and his eyes focused unwaveringly on Lily Potter who sat chatting happily with her boyfriend, the albino boy Orous Knox from the year above her..

For once the party was surprisingly lacking in the number of Potter-Weasley clan, Victoire and her husband Teddy – although his grandmother, Andromeda was there – were working thus absent, Dom and her much older husband Aurelius had left early after an argument with her father, the orphaned Molly was staying with Scorpius and her younger sister Lucy was away with friends as well and had been since her muggle – she was a squib – boarding school had finished for the year, James was missing – or as Lorcan knew, had joined the Shadows – and Rose was in France with her boyfriend for the last few weeks of summer. Charlie, Percy and his wife were dead now so not there, all killed by Shadows, Bill had also been widowed – also by the Shadows, they were shrinking the family - and George divorced from Angelina so she hadn't come, Bill had also left after the argument and Harry was also working.

Of those there, the elder Molly doting on her first great-granddaughter Charla and talking with George and Caitlin Birch, Charla's mother and girlfriend of Freddie who was George's son and the father. Freddie worked in his father's joke shop and Caitlin also had a job in Diagon Alley, they lived in an apartment there with the year old infant who'd been born their last year of Hogwarts. Freddie was happily chatting away with Louis, Bill's youngest and an Auror trainee who he had always been close to. Arthur was talking to Cade Knox, Orous' stepfather and a muggle, who was probably being inundated with boring questions. Lorcan did not share the old man's enthusiasm for muggle culture. Orous' deaf twin, Maurice Rivers was there as well and engaged in conversation with Hermione. Lorcan would've liked to talk to him but not with Hermione there, he'd been waiting for her to leave him most of the party but apparently intelligent overachievers got along well.

Her husband's conversation seemed much less pleasant, he had been talking in a low tone with Cel Rooke most of the night. Cel being Harry's protégé and about as high-ranking as Ron, Lorcan had tried to spy on them but they were observant and changed the subject whenever he got close. They seemed to be complaining though, annoyed at Harry for not trusting them. Lorcan wasn't surprised, he still hadn't forgiven the man for not believing him on Varanian's innocence. Varanian being the leader of his vigilante group Gray – that Lorcan incredibly proud to consider himself a part of – fighting the Shadows, he'd saved Lorcan before and was a hero in his eyes. Cel was married to Gabrielle, Fleur's sister, who was talking to Roxy about her career as Healer, it was quite random considering Roxy would be in her final year of Hogwarts and had not taken NEWTs for being a Healer. Since Gabrielle was doing that, he'd lost track of her and Cel's almost two year old son, Vale, just like he'd lost track of Albus and Hugo. The latter had gone to the bathroom a while ago and not reappeared yet, the former had been glaring furiously at August's older sister, Abby.

The Longbottom's had had four children: Heather, Nick, Abby and August. The Longbottom parents were in the kitchen with Ginny but Nick had been killed by Pyrrhus Florian a few years ago and Heather had claimed to be too busy with her work to be there for her brother's birthday. Or her father's last month for that matter. It was almost like she'd stopped caring since going to the Bahamas for whatever her job was, Lorcan thought winning the Triwizard Tournament had gone to her head. Abby was in the same year as Albus and he'd last seen her off in a far off corner snogging her boyfriend, Sequoia Pentakel. His younger sisters had also been invited, the elder of whom was talking to Lorcan's own twin, Lysander. Unlike Orous and Maurice, they were identical twins but far from it in personality. They'd been closer once, it felt like so long ago now…

"August!" Albus' voice snapped abruptly and Lorcan was pulled from his boredom by the approach of the younger Potter boy.

"What?" August complained tiredly as he glanced at the teen, Albus was quite all and look a lot like his father except younger, he didn't wear glasses and didn't have any grays hairs.

"Your sister went off with her boyfriend, go tell her she's being a lousy sister and to come back to the party to be with you not him."

"What did you do?" Lorcan questioned half-knowingly and half-disinterestedly, idly thumbing the handle of the wand that rarely left his hand.

"Nothing," Albus scoffed as he folded his arms, Lorcan raised an eyebrow, "Well, I just snapped at them to get a room. So they did. Don't they know it's an expression that means stop snogging? August it's your brotherly duty to keep them apart."

"Aren't you neglecting your brotherly duty by not keeping Lily away from her boyfriend?"

"No. I mean they're not kissing or anything, they're just sitting there talking," Albus stated defensively and spared them a glance, as did August who went back to staring at her, Lily was laughing at something he'd said and Orous gave a very strained smile, "Besides, after everything last year I don't want to hassle him right now unless I really have to. Kid's been through enough."

"Damn straight," Lorcan muttered, Orous had been in a coma for a few weeks after killing his evil Shadow mother. His soul was damaged from having the magic ripped out then put back, killing tore it even worse. Lorcan didn't know all the details but he knew enough to pity the older boy, as if it wasn't bad enough they'd put through a similar ordeal to Lorcan himself. Thinking of the twins also made him think of Maurice, he hadn't has his soul harmed but he'd lost his girlfriend when Hogwarts was attacked, "How's Maurice doing?"

"Talking to Aunt Hermione," Albus pointed out as if it were obvious, Lorcan rolled his eyes, "Oh you mean in general?"

"Of course I mean in general, I have eyes!"

"Well according to Vern who heard from Orous, he's pretty upset," Albus explained, Vern Dursley was his cousin who was also a wizard in Hufflepuff – same as Orous – in the year below him. He lived with them and shared a room with Albus, the Potters had taken him in after his parents had been killed. By the Shadows. So many people killed by the Shadows and yet Varanian was the only one doing anything to stop them. Vern was chatting with his girlfriend as well and the younger brother she brought with them, both Slytherins and from the Nott family, "He spends most of his time looking at pictures of Lenore, Orous has heard him crying at night. Orous isn't really talking to Maurice though so that's all he really knows."

"Why aren't they talking?"

"I don't know," Albus shrugged and prodded August, drawing his attention back, "So will you come with him to bring Abby back down?"

"No," August insisted irritably, "You may be jealous of my sister but I'm not."

"I'm not jealous!"

"You're not jealous she got to invite her boyfriend and you didn't get to invite your girlfriend?"

"I did get to invite my girlfriend She's just busy, her Dad's having her train a lot and show off her skills to talent scouts to get on a team when she graduates this year," Albus protested while pouting childishly, his girlfriend was Grozda Krum the daughter of the famous Bulgarian Seeker who now taught Flying in Hogwarts. How the mighty had fallen. Albus seemed to cheer up a bit at this though, "I've been meaning to ask Mum about putting in a good word for with the Harpies. Wow. Can you imagine? My girlfriend playing on my favorite team, which is only the best in all of Quidditch. The future Mrs Potter is just amazing."

"Well go fantasize somewhere else and quit bugging us," Lorcan complained, the last thing he wanted was to listen to Albus drooling over girls.

"Yeah, if you can be happy with a girlfriend then why can't Abby be happy with her boyfriend?" August added, "You know, the one who could actually make time for her and be bothered to show up."

"You wouldn't be saying that if he wasn't in your house," Albus snapped irritably as he stalked off, "Don't come crying to me when your sister's in tears! Damn Longbottoms."

"Yes, the first thought when I see my sister cry is that I must find Albus Potter," August muttered sarcastically under his breath after Albus left, reverting back to staring at Lily.

"When did you get so cynical?" Lorcan wondered curiously, his friend had seemed increasingly bitter of late.

"Probably from spending too much time with you."

"Hey guys, what did I miss?" Hugo offered cheerfully as he sat down beside them, his bushy red hair and faceful of freckles familiar.

However, he had the added addition of the blond haired Valerian "Vale" Rooke in his arms. He was a strange baby, he rarely cried and barely did anything except stare off into space, he didn't like eating – as a result, he was underweight – or smiling either in contrast to the bubbly Charla Weasley. The adults though there was something wrong with him, that he might be mentally retarded or something,

"Why do you have Vale?"

"I thought Gabrielle could use a break from him and she agreed," Hugo shrugged, giving the baby a gentle smile, "Isn't that right, Vale, huh? Did you want to hang out with your big, cool cousins?"

Vale did nothing.

"You know, maybe if you weren't so nice to people then you would've landed in Gryffindor like the rest of your family not be stuck in Hufflepuff," Lorcan pointed out and Hugo lost his smile, he didn't have anything against the house but Hugo had desperately wanted to be in the house of his family.

"What do you or any of us know about making Gryffindor?" August wondered, "I'm a Ravenclaw and you're a Slytherin, we failed too."

"I didn't care where I went. Except not Gryffindor, not Harry's house , not after he refused to believe me about Varanian. When the hat told me I was brave, I told it that I would tear it off my head and light it on fire if it dared put me in Gryffindor house."

"Err… Harsh much?" Hugo muttered with a concerned expression, Lorcan shrugged. He'd been angry, he felt so angry sometimes, "I didn't even get a chance to talk to the hat, second it touched my head it screamed Hufflepuff. And now I'm a disappointment to my family."

"We're all disappointments to our families," August pointed out bitterly, "Even Vale."

"Seriously, what is your problem?" Lorcan wondered and August shrugged aimlessly, "It's your party and you're all grumpy."

"It's not my party, it's my parents'. I guess they think just because I didn't die that I couldn't have a quiet birthday, they also must have figured I'm five because of all these streamers, balloons and bloody party hats. Most of the people here are their friends or relatives of their friends or their friends' friends or relatives of their friends' friends, I've never even met some of these people. If you're throwing a party for someone then you should invite that persons friends not your own."

"Dude, you don't have any friends except us," Hugo offered and Lorcan couldn't help but laugh at the truth of it along with Hugo, August scowled at them.

"It's true," Lorcan insisted, "We're not exactly popular, since when did you care about that anyway?"

"I don't!" August protested and sighed as he turned away.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know! I'm just grumpy and I don't know why!" August snapped testily and the conversation fell silent for a minute, he went back to staring at Lily.

"Did you tell her?" Hugo asked of August randomly, confusing Lorcan while August looked back to the redhead.

"Tell who what?"

"Lily. Did you tell her that you took the spell for her while she was unconscious and that was why you nearly died?"

"No," August admitted and turned back to Lily solemnly, "What's the point? I did it to protect her not so she'd be grateful."

"You like her, don't you?" Lorcan realized and August's cheeks went pink, "You do like her!"

"And so what if I do?" August scoffed as he glanced at him, dropping his voice, "What difference does it make? She's with Orous and he's a good person, she's happy with him and he's happy with her. Even if I like her, it doesn't matter. If I liked her then I'd want her to be happy more then I'd want her to be with me."

"You're a good person, Aug, an unfortunate but good person," Hugo offered gently and August shrugged disinterestedly, his eyes drifting back to Lily.

"Why don't you just like someone else?" Lorcan wondered and both boys looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"I don't think it works that way, Lorc."

"It's not that easy," August agreed and Lorcan rolled his eyes, "Don't you know anything about dating?"

"Clearly not. What would I want with dating?" Lorcan scoffed as he folded his arms crossly.

"Now you sound like Maurice."

"I don't hate the concept, okay? I have no problem with people dating," Lorcan insisted truthfully, "It just doesn't appeal to me personally. I don't care how pretty she is, touch sounds like torture. Maybe someday but today is not the day."

"Maybe you'd like it if you tried it, maybe you'd get over your fear of touch faster to be romantic with a girl. Seems to help Orous and Scorpius."

"Well I'm not Orous and Scorpius, okay?!" Lorcan snapped.

He found himself suddenly feeling very smothered in the crowded room, he stormed off to get some air outside and to try calm down before he accidentally caused something to burn or blow up or other destructive things that happened when he got upset. He stopped when the sounds of voices died down, putting his against one of the outer walls and leaning against it. He hated being like this but being kidnapped and molested had that effect on people, or at least on him. Scorpius and Orous – who had suffered similarly - did seem to manage better then him, maybe he was just weak? His family – especially his father and brother – thought he should be 'better' by now and hated who he was, especially after he'd accidentally burned his father's hands when he tried to hug him. And Lysander didn't even remember him protecting him during their abduction, if he hadn't then Lorcan could be the 'sane' one. It hurt to hear his twin calling him a coward after that, just because he was Slytherin. He kicked the wall in frustration.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" August offered and Lorcan turned back to see he and Hugo – still holding Vale – had followed him out, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Its fine," Lorcan brushed it off and hastily wiped his eyes before tears could form, he took a deep breath as he folded his arms. Glancing at his friends, Hugo was just a bit tall for his age while August was still short and Lorcan about average, Vale just stared with sad eyes. Seriously, what was wrong with the kid? "Not like you two can understand anyway but take it from me, when you've been stuck with some pervert who couldn't keep his hands off you… You are not eager to be touched by anyone anymore, Scorpius and Orous may have girlfriends but I'd bet my life they take things slow. Healing is a slow process that varies from person to person, that's what Leebin says and he knew his shit."

"Okay," the two nodded before they were distracted by a girl giggling not too far away.

The trio spun and Lorcan spotted his twin not too far away, same dirty blond hair except neater and amber eyes without the bags. He was walking with one of the Pentakel girls, the youngest Terra who was in the year below them. She had the same brown hair and blue eyes like her siblings, she was pretty actually and wearing a lilac dress with a flower on the side. Lysander was smiling widely before leaning in, Terra looked uncertain as if she'd never been kissed before Lysander pressed his lips against hers. Lorcan started to turn away in disgust, Terra suddenly didn't look pretty anymore but he stopped when he noticed a moth flying towards his brother. Lorcan felt a jab of terror, Pyrrhus Florian could turn into a moth… Lysander was oblivious had his back to it, his eyes closed and had encircled his arms around Terra who was facing the moth but had had eyes closed stupidly as well.

"Lys!" Lorcan called desperately, brandishing his wand and rushing towards his brother.

"What are you doing?!" Hugo or August yelled as they both seemed to follow him. Lysander and Terra immediately pulled apart, Terra blushing furious and Lysander turning on him angrily.

"Honestly, Lorcan, just because-" Lysander started to say while the moth transformed back into Florian behind him, Terra screamed and he screamed when he turned .

"Avada-" Florian started to say when Lorcan was still too far for a spell, to Lorcan's horror his wand was aimed at his twin. His heart stopped beating, he couldn't watch his twin die. He couldn't, "-Kedav-"

"NO!" Lorcan screamed and his wrist burned, Florian was thrown violently backwards into a tree. For once uncontrolled magic playing in his favor, he reached the couple and turned to them, "Run!"

Lysander didn't waste a second of time, grabbing Terra's hand and did his genius run back to the house? Which was full of adults – including several trained Aurors – who were perfectly capable of dueling and Maurice, who was like an unstoppable force of death with in a duel. No. He ran like a fool into the forest.

"I'll get help!" Hugo offered, hugging Vale as close to his chest as possible so he could shield him his body as he raced back. He couldn't do much holding a baby anyway.

"Protego!" August cried as Florian fired a spell after Hugo to stop him.

The spell deflected back and crashed into a tree, which burst immediately into flames. Florian had fired a second spell immediately after as he stood, it struck August almost as soon as the spell left his lips. His friend was thrown back against a tree while his wand flew from his grip, he cried out in pain as a branch ripped through his stomach. Hugo froze at the sound.

"Stupefy!" Lorcan blurted out, wishing desperately he knew non-verbal magic.

Florian held up his free hand to Lorcan's spell while flicking his wand at August, a shimmering shield appeared before his palm to deflect Lorcan's spell while the branches around August morphed into chains to bind the boy there. Lorcan started to repeat his spell but Florian spun around, waving his hand and wand. The fire from the tree spread in the direction he motioned, creating a wall of livid shades of red and orange to trap them in the forest. But worst of all was that August was in its path, still helplessly chained to the tree.

To Lorcan's soul-chilling terror, the flames ripped through his friend and August screamed in agony as the fire started to consume him. Lorcan could feel the intense heat, smell something so horrible he wanted to vomit. He ran to help August just as Hugo did but Florian bolted in the direction Lysander had gone, flicking his wand again to complete the circle of fire around them. Vale started crying then, Hugo discarded him to help August.

"GO!" Hugo yelled at him, gesturing in the direction Florian had gone after his twin, "I've got him, go!"

Lorcan wrenched himself away, feeling guilty for leaving his friends as he threw himself through the flames with August's screams still clawing through his ears as he ran. He ran so fast his trainers skidding on the sloping ground, he heard a scream just before reaching the bottom and saw Florian had struck his brother with a spell that had conjured bounds around his ankles to prevent him from fleeing. Terra bravely turned to face him, withdrawing her wand to protect herself and Lysander.

Lorcan and Terra both started to cast different spells while Lysander cowered in terror, however before they could do anything, Florian lunged and a jet of green whizzed by where his ear had been. Lorcan had learned his lesson about firing Killing Curses near friends though, he turned and saw figures stepping out of the shadows around them. They were all dressed in black cloaks, a blue skeletal snake emblazed on their chests coiled in a random shape with its head central and forked tongue sticking out. The Shadow Mark, they were Shadows.

They all started firing at once, not at the kids but at Florian. Despite his hatred for the man, Lorcan had to admit that Florian was an impressive duelist and it reminded him of Maurice. He was blur, ducking and dodging and waving his way through the curses while slamming up shields with both hand and wand. Lorcan couldn't help but notice that his left shoulder seemed injured somehow, its movements weren't as fluid and he cringed if moving it a certain way or speed. Lorcan was completely unsure of what to do, Florian was evil and had just lit his friend on fire so should he be helping the Shadows? But then, the Shadows were evil and had done numerous bad things as well so should he be helping Florian? Which side should he be fighting for? Terra was trying to get to Lysander, who was still unable to move but couldn't lest she be caught in the crossfire as she and Lorcan were more on the outskirts of the fight.

Florian seemed to decide to call it a loss and disapparated with a crack, almost all of the Shadows following suit. All but one who fired a final spell, at Lysander. It was so unexpected after Florian had been the target that Lorcan didn't react in time and the white jet struck his brother. The Shadow vanished as Lysander clutched his face and started screaming, Lorcan and Terra both ran to him, falling to their knees in the dirt beside him.

"What's wrong?!" Lorcan blurted out in panic and Lysander stopped screaming, he lowered his hands shakily to show tear-filled eyes, "Lysander! What's wrong?! Are you alright?! What did they do to you?!"

"I-I remember, Lorc," Lysander stammered out quietly as tears spilled from his eyes, his face twisting into an expression of extreme guilt, "I remember the abduction, I remember everything. I remember… And I've been so horrible and y-you were s-so good to me, protecting me, I'm so sorry."