June 7, 1991

Nearly eleven years later, while most of the magical children of England were receiving their letters on invitation to Hogwarts, another child was stepping off a private plane that had just landed at Heathrow Airport. Wearing what passed for a casual version of a formal suit, meaning no tie, a light jacket, and wearing what could only be described as a riding cloak, he walked down the steps to the waiting car. With his usual ability to pick up small things around him, he noticed the odd look a couple of the security personnel gave him and the cloak he wore.

While totally out of fashion about two centuries ago in America, he was quite taken with the look that could only be achieved with a cloak and took to wearing one after seeing several movie actors one day that were doing some medieval number. His parents had tried to push the fascination off as a passing phase, he was only seven at the time, but as time went on, it became obvious that it was to become his own unique look. As such, he was by now quite used to the looks, and sometimes downright rude stares, he received.

Stepping past the one security guard, he said "You know, it's not much different from a long coat," and stepped into the car, enjoying the startled look on the man's face as he realized that he'd been staring. As the door closed, the boy sighed and turned to the small figure next to him that the guards had taken no notice of.

"Is it always going to be this damp, Carcerous?"

Carcerous, the short and very obviously not human figure, was dressed in a manner similar to a sort-of butler sort-of high class bodyguard. He looked over at the boy who, at almost eleven, was only slightly taller than himself and said, "You be seein' da weather signs, Master Staros. Dey be tellin' ya da same ting all de time. England be damp and rainy lotsa de time."

Another sigh, "Yes Carcerous, you're right. I think I almost hate Grandfather right now, knowing he'll be warm and happy back home while I get this LOVELY locale to school in."

"Now Master, donna be sayin' such tings. We both be knowin' dis was t'happen for a long time."

"Yes, yes. Now I suppose we should call home and let dad know we've arrived."

Picking up the in car cell phone, Staros dialed the number to his father's phone in Los Angeles. A few rings later and a familiar voice said, "Hello son, I trust you've landed and the flight was without incident?"

"Yes, dad, although the food wasn't what we requested. Something about a recall on the olives or some such. They had a nice substitute though, and one of the stewardesses managed to cobble me together a pizza from what they brought on board. She's rather good at it. Name's Diane Summers, you should give her a raise."

His father chuckled a bit at that, "I'll look into it, son. Maybe she's taking some culinary classes or something. I'll let her know you liked her pizza. Now, I had some of the family elves transferred temporarily to the old estate and despite all efforts, the grounds are a bit of a mess. You're going to need to take into service your own people and get the manor back up to par. We got all the major parts down, structural issues and the like, but the rest is up to you as part of your Lordship. You'll learn it all the way your ancestors did, by getting down into the thick of it."

"We covered all that before I left, dad. I'll let you know if I need anything from you or grandpa. Which elves did you send? Litzie? She's awesome with decorations."

"No, but I'll see if she can be spared for a bit when you're ready for that. In the meantime, I've sent Quak, Rif, and Tawny to take care of the manor while you look into your own service. Quak's a bit young, but he's learning to do things proper. Have Carcerous keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't go overboard with things. Also, we didn't have it finalized before your flight took off, but you'll be staying at the Marriot in London, the Lazarus suite. It's a mixed suite so things should be fine for you there."

"Thanks, dad. I'll have Carcerous pop over later and take things in hand. I'll look over the estate in a couple days after I get a bit used to the time shift. Gonna take a nap now 'til we get to the hotel. Then I'll see what opportunities pop up. Talk to ya later. Bye."

"Bye, Staros. Keep in touch."

After hanging up, Staros stared at the phone for a few minutes before sighing in resignation and picking it back up to dial another number. A few rings and a click later, he punched in a long string of digits and waited. After a few more moments, a single bell toned in his ear.

"The hall of shadows, Renninger," Staros said flatly.

After a couple more silent moments, a voice responded, "Lord Staros, always a pleasure. I trust your flight was pleasant?"

"Yes, Keeper, it was nice enough. I called to see if you or granddad had any additional information to pass on. Since the meeting with the Queen in January, I haven't heard much from either of you. I'm starting to wonder if this is all some elaborate joke."

A dry, humorless chuckle answered him. "No, Lord Staros, this is as real as it gets. We have forwarded the important files on those people you might meet or whom we wish you to interact with to your suite. There will be a small box, blood warded to yourself and Carcerous so don't open it without him present. The Queen has expressed Her desire that things start smoothly and with as few incidents as possible until we get everything into place."

"She knows this will take some time, right? I might be the third most powerfully backed kid on the planet, but I'm still a kid. The briefing last week about the state of magical Britain made me wonder if these people are sane or not. The crap Jem had to deal with in Russia seemed tame compared to this idiocy. At least Daniel only has normal warlords with pretty straightforward issues to deal with in Asia. Why do I get the nut balls?"

"I have already explained the signs the Oracles have given. You must do what is necessary for us to survive what comes. I feel in my bones I may be forced to live and see it."

Staros sighed, knowing Keeper was most likely right. He still didn't have to like it.

"What are my sanctions?"

"For now, nothing. Of course, if you feel you must act in any way, you are free to do so. Britain, and later Europe, will be your domain. Take what steps you feel are needed to secure things according to the Legacy. Otherwise, just find some allies and your Nemesis, like we all do."

"I will speak to you again another time then," said Staros, hanging up. Keeper never cared for the goodbye nonsense. But then, the old man was several cards shy of a full deck.

Staros settled the phone back in the receiver and leaned back for the short trip to the hotel. Carcerous looked over and noticed Staros had drifted into his occlumency trance, a good thing since the change in time zones could get rough on him otherwise. Taking this as a free moment, he popped quietly over to the manor to look over the grounds and get the other elves to work.

The manor appeared to be all right, structurally. The old furniture that had previously resided there was not. Much of it had succumbed to age and what hadn't, was simply hideous beyond belief. Well, maybe not beyond belief, it was three hundred years out of fashion, meaning it would have been fine circa 1960. Now though, it simply needed to go.

New things needed to be ordered, things more comfortable than horsehair and goatskins. Detailing the cleaning duties to the new elves, Carcerous instructed them to simply check the structure, clean out the old furniture, find anything remotely useful and collect it into one of the larger storage rooms for later looking over by the new Lord, and begin work on getting the grounds back into something decent. While magic could do many things quite miraculously, it couldn't change a tree from badly twisted and un-pruned into a nicely trimmed and sculpted piece of estate property without time. Living things simply resisted that much drastic alteration of their forms, at least, while still staying alive.

Popping back, Carcerous saw his master still in a trance and the car was pulling into the hotel's main entrance area. "Master Staros, it be time to wake up."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Thank you, Carcerous." Staros stretched and looked out the car window at the hotel that would be his home for the next several months most likely. At least until he got the manor into some semblance of livability.

Staros spent the next day asleep for the most part, readjusting his body's inner clock to the new location on the globe. The following day, he arose, ate what he was told consisted of a typical English breakfast, wondered how every Englishman didn't have major heart disease, and decided it was time to visit the manor. Some hours later he had toured the manor's main areas, looked through a bunch of the bric-a-brac left over from the last time his family actually lived here, and even got out to look over the grounds a bit. While not overly impressed with the progress made on the grounds, he was also aware that there were limits to how much could be done in so short a time. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Carcerous, what about the tower at Foula?"

Carcerous sighed. Master's father had told him this would come up at some point. He had been told that it was not going to be pretty but that he should not worry himself over the issue.

"Master Staros, sir. Master's fadder said you might be wantin' t'know about de tower. I bein' told ta give Master dis if'n he asks about't." With that, Carcerous pulled a bound folder from his pocket and expanded it back to its original size. "Master not bein' happy wit dis."

With a frown, Staros wondered what he meant by that and took the offered folder. Opening it, he flipped through the first several pages detailing the small, barely habitable islands that consisted of the Lordship of Foula's lands. This island measuring such a such, that island measuring this, and finally the last island, just large enough to actually build something, though exactly WHY was a bit beyond him seeing as it was out in the North Sea and suffered vicious weather patterns, rough seas, and was about as inviting as a bullet to the groin. Finally landing on the current state of the tower, his eyes tightened and the knuckles of his hand turned a bit white.

"The Ministry of Magic has turned MY tower into a PRISON? The place was a horrible location that I didn't exactly plan on summering at, but who, EXACTLY, gave them permission to use my property?"

"Master, dat be no one. Da Ministry be decidin' to be usin' da tower wit'out any agreements back in 1783 accordin' to Master's fadder. Wit no one bein' here to tell dem No, dey just be movin' in an' settin' up shop"

With a deep breath, Staros calmed himself. "We'll be seeing to that issue later. For now, let's get back to the hotel and go over what nonsense I need to pick up before attending school week after next."

"Yes, Master Staros."