Chapter two: Marie

The letter arrived not too soon after Raphael's departure, the owl looking oh so disgruntled as Fondue barked at the brown creature perched within the open window of the thief's room.

"Shush," Marie said, patting the dog on the head, "you're scaring him."

Fondue replied with a whine, ears going back as he glanced back and forth between her and the glaring bird. With a laugh Marie kneeled down before him, "he'll cause no harm to me, after all, I have a shining knight beside me."

"Honestly, Fondue, I'm gone for an hour and you're crowned a knight, have you changed sides?"

"Changed sides?" Marie twirled around, smiling, laughter once again upon her lips, "Why, I think such a phrase ought to be reserved for the troublesome Duo, less you forget who makes use of your services."

"Ah, right," Raphael agreed, bowing as he excited the shadows, "how dare I forget how oft I'm called upon by the Duchess and pestered by her daughter."

Before Marie could retort, a man, haggard and old, drunk too, if the smell was any indication, stumbled from the shadows behind the thief.

"Aint' no magic he says, aint' no magical 'bout 'em—then 'eh walks through a wall! Drags 'e with 'em! Lies! Lies!" the man mutters under his breath stumbling over to Raphael's bed and collapsing.

"Raphael—"

"The spell was already in another room," he smiled, disarming her as he swiftly moved to hold her hands within his own, "I simply borrowed the rhythm."

"Thief to the core," she giggled, forgetting about the strange man's presence and the angry owl as the thief led her in a short dance—the usual means to make her forget about some of his odd little quirks.

But the owl knew no etiquette, and speed about the room impatiently, only calming down once Fondue got a good nip on his tail feathers. The man remained motionless.

"So," Raphael began, taking the letter from the owls' leg before it could peck him to death, "Hogwarts?"

Marie shook her head, "I've never known anyone to deliver by owl before."

"Shall we read it then?"

"Aint' no point," the man muttered from the bed, "'ays she's 'ot magic, all there to it. Been accepted to 'ogwarts she has." Lifting himself up from the bed he made his way back to the wall, "aint' no point to me then…" only to fall backwards, holding a wounded nose, cursing under his breath as he rolled side to side.

"Ah, sorry," Raphael said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "you can't go back."

"W'at?!"

"Please!" Marie cried, kneeling by the man's side, "If Raphael has brought you here, it means you can help, so please, sir, help me control this power, this magic!"

Slightly put off the man watched, silently, as the young girl then lifted up her hands and whispered a word. A soft white glow enveloping his nose, soothing the pain.

"W'at?" he muttered again, this time in wonder. A wandless magic, done by a mud-blood, how odd, rare, interesting. And she claimed to have no control? Yet she healed him with more ease then a medic, and the boy, who claimed to have no magic, could use another's? Surely a dream, brought on by drunkenness. Only, he wasn't drunk enough. For he still remembers—if he tried, dared to recall—the cries of his beloved.

How interesting! He could hear her say, staring at the two before him, amber eyes taking them in, examining them, studying, how rare! Surely we can keep them! Oh, darling, just think of all the magical breakthroughs they can bring! Think of all the power they could give us!

In order to kill Voldemort and his men, in order to get revenge for everything…in order to protect what's left…

"Sir?" the children called as one, the dog yipping in-between them and owl munching on crackers left upon the dresser.

"…'ell, school aint' arting' till 'ew months 'rom now. Three, 'membering correctly. I'll 'each 'a till 'en."

The girl smiled, jumping up and bowing in thanks. But the boy watched him, dark red eyes almost smirking, 'I know you're secret,' they laughed. Perhaps, on another day he would have found this annoying, agitating. But he felt the phantom grip of his wife, long pale arms holding him from behind, and he smiled. There's nothing to be done about it. We'll both win. In the end.