AN: I think an author's note is necessary here at the beginning to explain a few things before you begin reading. First, it's probably important for the reader to know that this story is - for the most part - complete. It totals 125 chapters, plus an epilogue. Revisions are being done on the fly as chapters are posted, but the story is finished. Since the story doesn't start with Harry, it's worth mentioning for context that it begins shortly after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. A final (and rather important) note is that Luna's birth date is changed to put her a year above Harry, instead of below. It was necessary to make the timeline work and that change is the only outright revision of canon, although as a very AU story canon is - lovingly - altered throughout. Characters stay true to who they are, I swear you won't find a brooding antihero Harry, a sobbing, head-over-heels in love Draco, or a suddenly "curvy in all the right places" Luna. Finally, my amazingly talented friend Clark did some anime inspired artwork for this story, which is included throughout the first few chapters. I really hope you'll enjoy reading Moonlight War as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. - Norman Cousins
Michael Jacobs had his face in his hands, rubbing his temples with his palms.
"Go over this one more time for me."
General Staffon glared at him, narrowing his eyes at the much younger man who sat before him.
"You're running this job alone. You'll Apparate far enough away to avoid detection and continue on by foot, then –"
"No, I understand this job just fine," Michael said, pulling up his head and waving his hand distractedly. "Explain the next one – sir," he added quickly, noting the look on the old man's face. Insubordination didn't amuse Staffon much, but Michael felt it suited him.
"Jacobs, we're on a very limited time-table here!" Staffon said harshly. Michael flinched at the volume of his voice and quickly drew his wand, casting a Silencing charm around the small room. It wasn't exactly protocol to have these meetings in his little London apartment, but convenience of Apparating had forced him and his leader into his home, Michael sitting on the edge of the sofa while the older man paced around him. Staffon sighed. "Fine. You, Allero, and Crystalake will be leaving for Hogwarts School in September, posing as students in your sixth year. We'll handle any probing questions from the Board of Governors –"
"And Dumbledore?" Michael asked sharply. "He is in on this, right? I'm good at what I do, but I don't really like the idea of living there under the nose of the god of all Wizards without his consent."
"Dumbledore has agreed," Staffon replied. "He doesn't trust the Auror protection the Ministry sent him –" Michael snorted and rolled his eyes "– and he and I have some history. He agreed to allow the three of you in his school as long as you behave. You willbehave, won't you Jacobs?"
Michael grinned. "Well…you want me to get friendly with Harry Potter and his friends, I might have to get up to at least a little trouble to pull it off."
"That's fine," Staffon said after a moment. "Neither of us cares if you and Potter get caught sneaking around outside at night, as long as he stays alive and Weasley serves our purpose." Michael frowned a little at that. General Staffon had a very…blunt way of putting things, a way that often framed Michael's missions in tones that made him uncomfortable.
"So are there any major rules I should be careful of then?" Michael asked, standing up now and rolling his neck, readying himself for what he knew was coming.
"Just one," Staffon said, looking Michael straight in the eye. Michael tightened his grip on his wand almost unnoticeably. He knew what Staffon was about to say, but he couldn't react…not yet. He couldn't act on what he had learned before he decided how he felt about it himself.
"And that is?"
"Stay away from Ravenclaw house," Staffon answered plainly.
"Ravenclaw?" Michael repeated. "Why? I thought Slytherin was the one that churned out Dark Wizards like a damn printing press."
"The Ravenclaws are known as the eccentric minds of Hogwarts," Staffon told him. "Highly intelligent, incredibly creative, but sometimes a little…detached. Head in the clouds."
"So there's not much chance I'll end up accidently sorted into Ravenclaw then?" Michael laughed. Staffon's expression did not change.
"You'll be a Gryffindor, like we've already established. You'll have to be to stay close to Potter."
"And if I'm sorted somewhere else?" Michael challenged. "If the Hat decides my ramblings are actually genius and puts me in Ravenclaw?"
"You'll be a Gryffindor," Staffon repeated seriously. "It's one of the few things about you I'm certain of."
"You obviously have some reservations about this job, if you're sending me," Michael said frankly. He didn't necessarily mean for it to sound so arrogant, but it was true.
General Staffon shook his head. "You survived Voldemort once and were damn lucky to do it. If I remember correctly that little experience is how you ended up an ex-Auror and one of us instead."
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. He had two reasons for not turning against the old man after learning what he recently had. For one, General Staffon was frankly far more powerful than he was, and whatever dueling skills Michael possessed, he knew the man could and would destroy him. And secondly…he did owe Staffon a debt for pulling him out of one of the darkest places he had been in his life some six months earlier, giving him a new job and a new life. "If you say so, General. Guess it's time to go do it, right?"
"Don't die," Staffon replied. Michael chuckled and shook his head.
"Advice I don't need, sir. Feel free to stick around my house while I'm gone, have some parties, play with the light switches, just please…don't drink my Firewhiskey. It's the only bottle I've got."
And on that note Michael took a breath and turned in place, concentrating as hard as he could on achieving a quiet Apparation.
Michael sprinted through the forest, trying to keep as quiet as he could. His mind buzzed louder in his head than the insects did around him, distracting him to point of almost total unawareness. A thousand thoughts clouded a mind he knew he needed to keep clear for his mission, but it was useless. The threat of attack coming from any direction wasn't enough to derail his train of thought; it steamed resolutely along towards its destination of more questions and angry thoughts.
"Damn!"
Michael's internal groaning came to an abrupt end as he tripped over a large root jetting out from a nearby tree. He immediately froze on the ground and listened.
He was not enjoying his little midnight jog through the forest as it was, and while dueling with a Death Eater might add some excitement, he was horribly tired and – like he had heard many girls tell him – just not in the mood.
Convinced no one had heard him, he brushed himself off and stood back up. Michael supposed not being terribly tall was helpful for a sneaking mission like this, though he stood a respectable height. He ran his right hand quickly back and forth through his dark brown hair, clearing out any lingering dirt.
"Right…" Michael muttered to himself, his face red. "No one saw that. No friends, so I'm not humiliated, no Death Eaters, so I'm not dead. Excellent." He took off again, now glad he put more effort in his conditioning than his fellow Wizards. The trees became less dense as he continued, until the forest faded away around him and revealed his quarry. A tower stood against the natural backdrop, as tall as any of the trees and from what Michael had been told, older than any of them as well.
Michael trusted the night to hide him and crossed the remaining distance until he was right up against the building. Looking closer, Michael was struck by two things. First, the entire tower seemed to be sculpted out of a single piece of stone, not many stacked together. Second, the shape and stature of the building caused his heart to jump up against his ribcage. He had seen a building very similar to this recently, and even this imitation of it made Michael uneasy. But that was not for now.
Michael needed a plan. If his information was accurate, and it usually was, the building was three floors total and was home to about ten Death Eaters, at least as of three days ago. The first was living quarters for the Death Eaters stationed there, the second was made of two rooms, one was a training room for dueling practice, and the other was a meeting room.
Michael guessed the third floor was probably the best guarded, as that was where the stone was. All three floors, plus the roof, were connected by wooden ladders, making it difficult to move from floor to floor quickly.
He sighed and shook his head. He would've preferred a little help for this. Not much, of course, no one to get in his way…but a few of his friends might've been a boon here. But they were on break, and he was on call. And somehow, Michael always got these kinds of calls. Experience had taught him – painfully – that he was neither the most intelligent nor the most powerful Wizard to be had, though he was working on that. In the end, Michael usually got the job done, and that was all STRIKE command ever asked of him.
This reputation had begun early in his career with STRIKE and he had enjoyed it at the beginning; the prestige had helped revive him from a deep depression. Yet as time passed, no amount of praise or promotions could obscure the truth from Michael. He was no great Wizard, a better fighter than a leader, and past those imperfections, questions more personal than professional plagued him.
Michael intended to see them put to rest. He would become the greatest Wizard STRIKE had to offer. He would take charge of his situation. Michael's wand spluttered out a few sparks as he renewed his promise to move forward, into a better life…a new life. The mission would be the start of that. Michael shook his head again and took stock.
He backed up a little off the wall to check the roof for any guards, not seeing anyone, he considered his options. It was late; most Death Eaters would probably be asleep.
Yes, that was where he would start. If he could get into their rooms and silently Stun them, it would be a lot less work once they realized he was there. Then another option came to mind, one Mad-Eye Moody would have heartily approved of. They were dangerous Death Eaters; they killed and tortured for fun, but could he…? He had killed before, obviously, it was part of his job.
He hated the Death Eaters, after all they had taken from him they deserved to die, and if they attacked he would kill them, with none too much regret. But murdering them in their beds...that was completely different. Michael stood, pressed against the building, rain pounding his head, for a full minute.
The phrase "The Greater Good" flashed through his mind more than once. Finally he made his decision. He would Stun anyone asleep, do his job, then come back tomorrow with a full squad and arrest the Death Eaters.
It was likely, he knew, that most of them would fight, and probably be killed, but at least he'd be able to sleep tonight.
The door was made of wood, easily destroyed, however Michael simply unlocked it with a whispered, "Alohamora" and walked in, hearing his steps as if they were boulders falling. He looked around, watching for any lookouts or traps, but saw none.
He was standing in a large room with a stone floor, a few couches and chairs, a bookshelf against a wall, about six doors, and a fireplace against another wall. He turned to a door at random when he realized what was wrong. There was still a fire in the fireplace. He froze.
Everyone should be asleep. There wouldn't still be a fire in the fireplace unless -
He was just about to creep through the door closest to his left when Rowle pushed through it, still wearing his Death Eater robes and holding a glass of gin. They looked at each other for a full three seconds before the glass shattered on the floor as both drew their wands and fired their curses.
Rowle was hit square in the face by the Stunner while Michael deflected Rowle's Killing Curse, with a sweep of his wand, blowing a large hole in the wall and no doubt waking every Death Eater in the building.
Michael had just enough time to get a growled "Dammit!" out through his clenched teeth as five more Death Eaters, these in their night clothes, though all with their wands out burst through another door. Michael yelled "Protego!" just in time for the invisible shield to erupt and take the force of the five curses, two of them being Unforgivable. The last two powered through the shimmering wall, barely missing Michael.
"Why not stealth?" was Michael's immediate thought. He dove behind the elegant sofa, just avoiding another curse. He slapped himself across the face. Of course an Invisibility Cloak, even a Disillusionment Charm would've saved him trouble here. He gave his wand a jerk and jabbed it into the stuffing in the back of the sofa. If he just hadn't been so preoccupied with things – Michael muttered "Dyanmo!" under his breath – he wouldn't have to fight these bastards!
"Scared, Jacobs?" called on of the Death Eaters. Considering whether he should be proud or terrified they knew his name, Michael withdrew his wand from the now glowing sofa and made a sweeping motion with his right arm across his body, jerking his shoulder in its socket with the effort.
The effect was worth it though, as the seat slid forward across the ground at the Dark Wizards, its four short legs shrieking as they scratched the floor. The flying furniture caught two of the Death Eaters, who doubled over it, the air knocked out of them. In the next moment Michael had pulled himself to his feet to run for the exit and the Death Eaters had taken aim at them. A second later, the room was full of wooden shrapnel and burning cloth as the sofa exploded like a bomb. The two Death Eaters who had – unwillingly – thrown themselves on the live bomb took the brunt of the explosion. They were dead before anyone had realized what had happened.
The three Death Eaters who survived looked up just in time to see Michael sprint through a door and race up the wooden ladder leading to the second floor. He rolled left the second he reached the top of the ladder, narrowly avoiding losing an arm to Sectumsempra, he fired a random Blasting Curse in the direction the spell had come from, and judging by the following scream, it hit somebody.
The spell had come from the left, so he ran full speed to his right, which took him down a long hallway and making him devotedly hope there was no one left behind him because if someone fired a curse down that hallway, he was as good as dead.
To his relief, he reached a wooden door, through it open shut it behind him, and sealed it with a locking spell. Panting he bent over with his hands on his knees, and looked up. Then he realized his problem.
Apparently four Death Eaters had chosen this room to lurk in, and he found himself in the middle of a semi-circle of Death Eaters, his back to the door he had just locked so thoroughly. His wand was shot out of his hand even as he raised it to the Death Eater directly in front of him.
It flew off into the darkness and he heard it hit somewhere far away. Scowling, he looked at his captors. They were all in their trademark black robes, half also in hoods.
As he raised his hands in surrender, the Death Eater in front of him removed her hood. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him, her wand pointed at his chest and a triumphant smile on her evil face. She waited until the other Death Eaters removed their hoods before speaking. A bitter taste of fury and hatred washed around in Michael's mouth at the sight of her. But he knew he had to keep the anger in check, or he would never escape alive….
"So, little boy, what brings you here tonight?" she taunted, still with her evil smile. Michael glanced around before answering, he recognized a few; Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott; this wouldn't be easy.
"Well I definitely didn't come to see if you're as easy to bed as I hear, I like women you see." He needed to stall but knew he was asking for a beating if he kept on like this. "Hey, I don't suppose Draco Malfoy is here, is he?" he added in a mock hopeful voice.
"If the things I hear about him are true, he has a certain feminine air to him, one that youhowever, lack," he finished with a smirk he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep. He braced himself for the Cruciatus Curse, but was shocked, actually more unnerved, when Bellatrix simply smiled.
"As easy as you hear, hmmm? Now who could have told you that…? Surely not your old friend, hmmm? Did Owen tell you that?" She had taken a step closer to Michael, who had unconsciously dropped his hands to his sides. His right hand scratched furiously at his pantleg. If only he had a wand….
Bella shook her head. "It's too bad about the boy. But you know, Michael Jacobs, he was better as my partner than yours…." She waited, daring Michael to attack. At this point Michael actually shut his eyes for a moment. It was all he could do to stay calm. Bellatrix retreated back a couple steps, looking disappointed. "No, my dear nephew isn't here right now, but don't worry, we certainly will have a guest."
"Damn it," Michael thought, "I need to concentrate, listening to her talk is just about as bad as Vol –"
The Dark Lord," she finished grandly.
Michael felt his smirk fall for the first time. He barely noticed Bellatrix taunting him again.
"Are you scared, little boy?" She leaned closer and he could smell strong perfume as she whispered "Don't worry, you might not even know what's happening to you by the time my master gets, here. Then again, I doubt you'll crack by then...it will be fun to find out though." He really hoped she didn't hear the mutter he added.
"So why areyou here then?" Bella asked again, twirling her wand around her fingers. She rolled it over her index finger with her thumb, then returned it to safety in her palm.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "Archeology project," he finally muttered. Bellatrix laughed at that, though Michael didn't think she really found it that funny.
"So you are here for the stone?" she asked.
"I might be," Michael eluded her, "let me ask you something – before you kill me – why are you out here?"
Bellatrix seemed genuinely confused at that. "The Dark Lord has placed us here to guard this stone," she said slowly. "Are you too stupid to understand that, Mudblood?"
"No, I understand guard duty just fine," Michael shot back. "But I don't understand why you're guarding it here? You found it here, right? Why not take it back to Voldemort and give it to him."
"How do you know that's not what we've done?" crowed one Death Eater.
"Because," Michael said irritably, "the damn stone is here. It doesn't make any sense if Voldemort wants it and it's here and – oh shit Voldemort's living here, isn't he?" His eyes widened as the realization crushed him.
Bellatrix's grin couldn't have been wider. "The Dark Lord does have quarters here Jacobs. Welcome to our trap. He's taken up residence here to study to stone, evade the Aurors, and yes, corner you boy. He's away at the moment, but he knows you're here…he'll join us shortly."
Michael's brain processed about fifty emotions at once, the primary one being anger, grief and disappointment close behind. Not long ago, he would've welcomed a shot at the Dark Lord – though preferably with his wand – but now things had changed. Michael had learned things recently he refused to take to his grave. Michael had been saved by a new purpose in life, and he couldn't allow that life to end here, at Voldemort's hands.
She smiled one last time before stepping back, pointing her wand at Michael's determined face and saying, almost with love in her voice, Cruci – ah!" for Michael slammed into Dolohov, knocking him into a wall and avoiding Bellatrix's curse.
Michael wrestled Dolohov's wand away from him and quickly pointed it at him, holding it to his throat. Dolohov was up against the wall, Michael keeping him pressed there with his own wand. The other Death Eaters were watching with their wands pointed at him.
"Drop 'em," Michael commanded, his back still to the Death Eaters. "Your wands, on the floor."
"His life for yours?" Bella asked playfully, and Michael knew she was smiling, "Do you really think the Dark Lord would not trade?"
Michael sneezed suddenly, wiping his nose with his left hand. Dolohov looked furious as Michael sneezed on him, but then Michael reajusted his wand and his expression cleared.
"Sorry," he said casually. "Bit of a cold." He sighed. Taking his time, he released Dolohov, returned his wand to him, and turned around, his hands in the air. "Fine, fine... You got me."
"That wasn't much of a fight," one of the Death Eaters sneered. But Bellatrix wasn't smiling any longer.
"No... no it wasn't," she said slowly. "I don't know what you're planning, Jacobs, but you won't have time for it." She pointed her wand at him. "Avada Ke -"
"STUPEFY!" Dolohov bellowed.
Time seemed to slow down as curses shot everywhere, some at Michael, some at Dolohov, and some at the other Death Eaters. He hit the ground to avoid the many spells, rolled onto his feet, trusting the darkness to hide him, ducked down and ran towards the direction his wand had gone. It had worked.
He still couldn't believe it, he actually managed to pass of the Imperius Curse as a sneeze...Quick thinking for a man who never graduated school, Michael thought to himself.
He ducked farther down as more curses shot at him; apparently they were done with Dolohov. Then he saw his wand, and could it be more perfect, it was lying at the bottom rung of a wooden ladder he knew would take him to his objective. He nearly flew up the ladder, pushed open the trapdoor above his head, and prayed he wasn't about to be caught in a second trap.
He climbed the top rung stood up, kicked the door shut, and performed the same locking spell he had trapped himself with earlier. He looked around. The room was thankfully empty of people who wanted him dead in the most painful way possible. He relaxed a bit, knowing his lock would last a long time, though not forever.
This room was lit by candles all around the room. The candles, strangely, did not seem to be melting down, they simply burned. Glancing around he realized he was at the far end of the room, with a dark red carpet down the middle, with tall pillars on either side of it, on which the candles were burning.
At the end of the carpet was what Michael took for nothing more than a large stone block, but he now realized seemed to project a kind of aura, above which, a stone tablet was floating apparently unsupported.
"A rock floating by itself," Michael muttered, shaking his head. "How do I miss these things?"
He walked over to the stone block, looking around for traps as he did. When he reached the slab, he took out his wand and muttered "Specialas Revilio." Experience had taught him not to just go around grabbing floating stone tablets. When his spell showed him no immediate danger, he gingerly reached out his left hand – just in case – and grabbed the tablet.
It seemed not to want to move, but that was easily solved. Stepping back and pointing his wand at the stone he said "Accio Stone". It immediately flew into his hands; Michael took a moment to look it over.
The stone was about a foot wide and a foot and a half long, and covered in some kind of writing Michael couldn't read.
He thought it might be Runes, but couldn't ponder the stone any longer as he heard a number of spells hit the trapdoor under him. His eyes snapped to the ladder in a corner, which he assumed led to the roof. He ran towards it, tucking the stone under his arm. He climbed the ladder, pushed open the door and stood up, feeling the wind and rain on his face. Then he felt something else.
It was pain beyond pain, as if he was being stabbed by a thousand hot knives. He fell to the ground and his wand rolled away. He heard laughter and felt the curse lift. He staggered to his feet and saw his attacker. Apparently, Alecto Carrow had decided to wait on the roof for him. Third time tonight he had been ambushed…he'd leave that bit out of the report, assuming he survived.
He cursed, himself, Voldemort, and the anti-Apparation wards on the building. Carrow laughed as the door leading to the roof burst open and three more Death Eaters including, he was surprised to see, Dolohov, poured onto the roof.
He quickly back away, as far as he could get from them, until he felt the cold rock of the rampart on his back. He looked down, he was at least thirty feet up, so, which would he rather have kill him, Death Eaters or gravity?
The Death Eater's mad laughter filled his ears. There was really no way out of this one, trapped on a small roof, thirty feet up, wandless, and with eleven angry Death Eaters, all of which were certainly not wandless. One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, and Michael saw that it was Dolohov, who had a rather lot of blood in his hair, and which was still flowing from a crack in his skull.
He had no idiotic sneer on his face, only hatred and determination as he pointed his wand at Michael and said "No more screwing around. We are not going to screw this up again. You're going to die in the next thirty seconds, Jacobs." When Michael's face showed no emotion, namely the fear he expected, he sighed, "Any last words?"
Michael looked him straight in the face as he answered. "Can you just tell me what time it is? I always hoped I would die at midnight. It's just… such a peaceful time."
Dolohov kept his wand pointed at Michael as he looked at his watch. "You really are strange Jacobs, but you're too late, it just turned one thirty."
Michael looked up to the sky then turned his face back to Dolohov, careful to keep the false his look of resignation on his face. "Thank you. I guess it's time then." Without wasting anymore time, Dolohov pointed his wand at Michael.
"Avada -" but stopped as Michael dropped to the ground.
Thinking one of his mates had killed him before he could, he turned away from Michael to towards his allies, only to see the looks of terror in their faces. Frowning he turned back towards Michael.
"What the hell's your prob-" but was cut off as he saw what had horrified the others. Five Wizards straddling broomsticks had just become visible, all of them wearing a suit of something resembling plate mail like old knights had worn, painted jet black and with breaks in the armor at the joints to allow flexibility. Each STRIKE agent's head was hidden in a helmet rounded in the back, coming to a generic molded face impression in the front, with the eyes lit up in a glowing green. Before the Death Eaters could react, the STRIKE team opened fire, their spells tearing through the Death Eaters. Dolohov fought the hardest, managing to hit one of the agents in the arm with some kind of purple curse Michael wasn't familiar with. Though the agent dropped his arm and laid it across his broomstick, he managed to hold on and remain airborne.
Michael crawled under the stream of spells and once he was clear, stood up. He stretched out his hand, summoning his wand back to him just as Dolohov fell. Michael panted and addressed his hovering saviors. "We need to go – now."
"You've got the stone?" one of them asked. Michael nodded and gestured with it. The agent who had injured his arm nodded.
"Get on, let's go," he called to Michael. Michael didn't think twice before obeying. Voldemort could be on them at any second. Michael hopped onto the back of the STRIKE agent's broom, and through his exhaustion, he thought he saw one of the others chuckle at him.
"Laugh later, fly now!" Michael snarled at him.
There was a loud explosion beneath them, in the building. "What was that?" asked the man Michael shared a broom with.
"Oh that?" Michael repeated sarcastically. "That's just the Dark Lord, most likely with his death army." Several more cracks broke the stunned silence. "Yep, that'll be the death army," Michael confirmed. "Let's go!"
All five brooms spun a hundred and eighty degrees and rocketed off away from the tower, rising high above the tree line. Michael looked back down behind them, but the darkness was too thick to see anything.
"He knows we're here?" one agent called to Michael. A series of green spells flew up past them, exploding in the sky above.
"There's your answer," Michael replied. He shifted in his awkward position. Flying with only one hand and behind another man wasn't exactly how Michael preferred it. "I think we're fine though.
"You think he won't follow?"
"Not if we're quick," Michael said. Everyone nodded in agreement, leaned down, and accelerated. It wasn't until they had flown for five minutes – Michael turned around to watch their backs – that anyone spoke.
"So how are you liking the job?" Michael asked his driver, finally relaxing and turning back around.
"I preferred my old work." His answer was gruff, and he didn't look back at Michael as he spoke. Michael frowned, feeling a little guilty.
"I know you did," Michael assured him. "You'll be able to get back to your friends soon. Just as soon as –"
"As soon as I prove I'm not going to go spill all STRIKE's secrets?"
"Well…yeah," Michael admitted. "I vouched for you, you know! But Staffon likes to play things safe."
The man in front made a skeptical noise through his helmet. "Like making you a Captain?"
Michael actually laughed at loud at that. "Point taken. Maybe the old man's just crazy."
"Ah well…" the man sighed. "It's good to be doing good again, fighting Voldemort again."
"About time you got back to work, I mean you have been asleep for some time," Michael told him.
"I think I earned a bit of a rest, actually," he replied defensively.
"I suppose," Michael replied. He paused. "I saw your cousin tonight, by the way."
"Did you?"
Michael nodded. "Yeah, she had me cornered actually…was getting ready to play her favorite game with me. I convinced one of her friends he was on the wrong side though."
The man was silent for a moment. "Did you kill her?"
"No," Michael said. He didn't mention how much he regretted that fact.
"Good," came his reply. "She's mine."
"Bellatrix has injured a lot of us…" Michael said quietly.
"To be fair, she killed me. Well, nearly."
Michael appreciated that comment and chuckled. "You're not dead yet. You never really were…But I have a question for you about that, actually."
"Do you?"
"Yeah...yeah I do," Michael said slowly. "About that scuffle at the Ministry…."
"What about it?"
"Sirius, tell me about Potter's friends," Michael said in a rush. "Tell me about the girl, the one who didn't get hurt."
