"Busy man lately, aren't you, Mr. Potter?" The recordkeeper grinned at the man approaching her desk.
Harry returned her grin. "Never a dull moment," he agreed.
"How's the search going?"
"Alright, I suppose. No one's come up with anything useful yet. Well, maybe, I'm not sure yet. That's what I'm here to find out."
"And here I thought you just couldn't stay away from me," Miss Wright teased.
"I thought that was a given," Harry replied before slipping into the records.
It didn't take him long to find who he was looking for. He flipped through each of their files. Andrew and Jennifer Phillips had four children: Julian, Thalia, Margot, and Ariel. Julian had married a Viola Clearwater and had a daughter, Autumn. All were murdered on a late July evening, bound and burned. Their files all contained photos of the scene and of their charred remains. Harry's stomach turned.
Harry saved Ariel's for last. He didn't want to think about their connection - Percy. He didn't want to think about how they'd walked the same halls for three years, that he might recognize her face. When he finally opened her file, he nearly dropped it. He did indeed recognize her face. She was different. Blonde instead of brunette. Her features had been altered slightly, but it was her.
When Harry had sent the information for the article to the Daily Prophet, he had forgone the photo. There was one photo of Kemp in her file, and she had fled out of the frame after a few seconds - just long enough for him to get a good look at her. She'd remained absent as he compiled the rest his research, and when spells failed to keep her in the photo, he'd sent the information without it.
Now, he wondered what Percy would think. He would have recognized her, of course. How would he feel, knowing the girl he believed to be dead for the last two and half years was in fact still alive or at least had been for nearly two years afterward? How would he feel, knowing the girl he wanted justice for was a murderer, maybe even the murderer he sought?
Harry watched the girl in the photo as she smiled shyly and hovered around the edge of the frame. Evangeline Kemp didn't kill Ariel Phillips; she was Ariel Phillips.
Harry rubbed at his forehead as he processed this. After a few minutes, during which Ariel - Evangeline - had escaped the frame, he began to flip through the rest of her file. She had trained as an Obliviator, which made Harry groan internally at the discovery of another of her capabilities. Still reeling, he copied her file and tucked it into his pocket. He'd look at it alongside Evangeline Kemp's file later and try to think of how to tell Percy.
Edith shuffled up the familiar path toward the manor she spent a good deal of her childhood in. She had never been so hesitant about going inside, had never walked so slowly to it. She hadn't - couldn't have - gone to Malfoy Manor in nearly four years. She hadn't realized what Voldemort's presence had done to the place until she laid eyes on it. The house looked dreary, desolate, and dark. It was nothing like the manor she remembered with its imposing walls surrounded by an impressive and expansive garden. It was once the pinnacle of opulence, and now it just seemed sad. Though, Edith supposed, it may also have had something to do with the bruised egos of the Malfoys and their fall from grace.
Eventually, her slow pace led her to the front door, and she stood for a long moment. Before she could knock on the door, it opened. "You've been here for nearly thirty minutes, Edith," Draco said in way of greeting. His expression was expertly schooled, and Edith had a hard time finding any clues to how he was feeling. But his grip on the door handle was a little too tight, and his lips were a little too thin. He was restraining himself.
Well, she had expected him to be angry. "Draco -"
"Please come inside," he interrupted, stepping to the side.
Edith looked at him for a second before crossing the threshold into the entrance hall of the manor. She flinched as Draco closed the door with slightly more force than necessary. "Draco -"
He started walking. "My parents are expecting us in the parlor. It would be best not to keep them waiting," he said over his shoulder.
"Stop it, Draco." The man stopped but didn't turn to face her. "I know you're angry, but -"
Draco whirled around, his calm demeanor fading. "No, Edith, I don't think you know. We thought you were dead. I thought you were dead. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember, and you made me think you were dead for nearly a fucking year."
Edith swallowed some of her emotion before she spoke. Her "I'm sorry" tore through her, ragged and sincere, and she was left trembling. Draco glared at her. "I'm so sorry. We - we couldn't tell anyone. Draco, please, you have to understand, she would've been thrown in Azkaban."
"And how exactly did you figure that one? Even Father avoided it, and he was an actual Death Eater! Ariel would've been fine!"
"Your father, and you for that matter, are free because of Harry Potter's kindness! The three of you were slated to rot in that prison together! How was I supposed to predict your mother's actions during the battle? I couldn't! At least you had your fortune to give you some chance of walking free. Ariel had nothing!"
"Ariel did nothing wrong; she would have walked regardless! She was a spy and a golden little Gryffindor; they've a history of getting off scot-free!"
"Ariel was a vigilante! And she murdered those men!"
They both stilled at that, the announcement dampening their tempers and her eyes. "I know," Draco said.
"I know you know. Everyone knows. I - I'm trying to calculate how it's all going to pan out. I just want to protect her."
Draco sighed. Try as he might, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Edith had created this elaborate plan and lied to everyone - lied to him - to protect Ariel. "Why couldn't you just tell me? Even just that you were alive somewhere. I'd have kept it a secret," he said lowly. "Did you… Did you want to shut me out?"
"Of course not, Draco, but I didn't know if your Occlumency was good enough. I tried to cal-"
"Bullshit! You know my Occlumency was good enough! Your father was the one that taught it to me. My shields nearly match his. He never would have known. What's the real reason? It's because you didn't trust me, isn't it? You wanted me to believe it, didn't you?"
Edith's face flushed with anger, and she was nearly vibrating. Still, though, she managed to keep a fairly even voice when she spoke, "You really think I wanted to trick you? To make you think I was dead? To hurt you? I never wanted that, Draco. Don't you dare tell me I did," she finished in a hiss.
"Then what were you trying to do? I'd have kept the fucking secret. I'd have kept you and Ariel safe if you had just told me. Why did you never contact me?"
"If you hadn't noticed," she said slowly, "the person I was trying to escape was in your house."
"Afterwards. I meant afterwards. Why didn't you contact me in the seven months after he was gone?"
Edith paused for a moment, then fidgeted and shuffled, suddenly unsure. "Because," she started, her voice softer than before. "At first, we just tried to keep anyone from finding out. We were both considered dead. It would've been suspicious if we just showed back up once he was gone. But… but then, I was scared. I was so scared. I hadn't seen you in so long. I didn't know if you were still my Draco. I couldn't be sure you hadn't changed, and I didn't want to know if you had. I didn't want you to look at me like you hated me. I couldn't handle that."
Draco deflated and shifter closer to the other blonde. "Edith, I could never hate you. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. I just… missed you."
A tear fell from the woman's eye, and she moved closer until she could rest her head on his shoulder, and their arms came around each other in an instance of muscle memory that nearly four years apart couldn't get rid of. They hugged in the same way they had since they were children, if slightly awkward with how much Draco had grown in those years. He'd never been taller than her before. Edith sniffled and cried, and Draco's hand came up to rub the back of her head as he always had when he comforted her.
"I am sorry," she said after a while. "I didn't want to keep it from you for so long, but -"
"I'll forgive you if you promise not to do it again and if we can end the sentimental shit for now."
She gave a weak laugh. "Alright."
They separated, and Draco put an appropriate distance between them, falling back into his pureblood manners. "Come now, Mother and Father have likely grown impatient." The woman wiped at her face to remove any trace of her tears. "You look fine. You'll probably just cry over the tea anyhow. Hufflepuffs are more emotional," he teased with a smirk and held out an arm for her.
Edith whacked the proffered limb, and Draco laughed. "Better than emotionally constipated," she shot back.
He snorted. "Hardly."
Calypso felt it when the wards tripped. Like a buzz that ran through her body, she knew the instant that someone crossed the threshold of her apartment. She also knew exactly who that someone was and cursed. They thought they'd have a bit more time. She stood, and the other two occupants of the room lifted their heads. "It seems Mr. Potter has come to collect me," she announced.
Severus gave her a small nod. Beside him, Edith worried her bottom lip. "One second," the woman said, digging through her pile of parchment. "Let me just work out the odds."
Her father put his hand over hers just before quill touched parchment, halting her movement. "You have already calculated them. Several times. It is of no use to do so now."
"I will be arrested," Calypso said casually, watching the other woman. "I will be questioned. I will be put on trial. I'll probably go to Azkaban. I know exactly how this will go, Edith. It's okay. I've made my peace with it." She crossed to where father and daughter sat and came to stand in front of Edith. Calypso tilted the other girl's head up and looked into her tear-filled eyes. Both of the Hufflepuff's hands wrapped around her wrist, holding on for dear life. "You can predict my future, calculate every possibility, but you can't control it, Edith. I will go and accept whatever fate awaits me."
Calypso made to pull away, but Edith tightened her grip. "No! No, there has to be something… something we can do to increase your odds of freedom. What if you just don't go? There's no way Potter can find the cottage. We'll be safe here."
"No, we won't," Calypso said gently. "Potter's at my apartment. He's already connected it all. Time's running out. If I don't leave now, it'll just escalate. It'll be like Sirius Black all over again. None of us will be able to show our faces, neither in the wizarding world nor the muggle one. We'll be fugitives confined to this cabin. I have to go, Edith."
The other woman exhaled a shaky sob and slumped in her seat. Calypso eased her arm out of her grasp and placed a hand on each of Edith's cheeks. "We knew this was going to catch up to us someday. You've done so much for me. You're my best friend, the only family I have left. I love you, but I have to do this." She kissed the weeping woman's forehead then retreated, heading for the front door.
When she reached it, she turned to Severus, who had followed her. She gave the man a tentative hug, and he wrapped his arms around her for a proper one. "You're afraid," he noted.
"Terrified," she agreed. She gazed down the hallway, where her best friend had brought her legs up to hug them to her chest. "I know you will, but take care of her, please."
"Of course," he said. The were silent for a moment, during which Calypso gathered her Gryffindor courage. "You are aware, I am sure, that I have considered you a daughter for some time."
The declaration coaxed a fleeting grin from the woman. "I know, and I have considered you a father." She pulled the door open and stepped out into the chilly February air before Apparating to the tiny apartment she rented for these exact circumstances.
She appeared in the sparsely furnished bedroom, the door to which had been left open, showing Harry Potter seated at her dining room table. She approached him with as much confidence as she could muster. "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Harry stood, wand in hand. "Petrificus totalus." Calypso made no move to shield herself and froze, calm and unfazed. Harry approached her and raised her sleeve, revealing the fading but unmistakable Dark Mark branded on her forearm. "Ariel Phillips, you're under arrest for Death Eater affiliation and murder."
Calypso was taken to the Ministry, where she was released from the curse only to have her wand taken from her and her limbs shackled. She was placed in a nondescript room, not the cell she expected. She sat in one of the chairs and examined her bound arms. She had lowered her sleeve again as soon as she could, covering the ugly mark on her skin, but she couldn't help but feel disgusted with it. She always had, of course, but she was surrounded by people who knew it was there and did not know her true feelings for the first time in a year. In that year, the only time she had ever acknowledged the foul mark was at night, after Edith had retired, when she and Severus drank to forget everything they had experienced because of it and the man that had put it there.
She didn't look up from her covered arm until the door opened, and Harry Potter stepped into the room. She watched him as he crossed the room and sat in the other chair, placing the files he was carrying on his lap. Harry looked at her with cold eyes, and she held his stare. "Calypso, 'she who hides,'" he began. "You've done a remarkable job of that, by the way. You hid Ariel Phillips while you were Evangeline Kemp, and now you're hiding both of them."
"Clever, wasn't it? I thought it was rather amusing myself. How'd you figure it all out?"
"It was more difficult to link Calypso to Ariel and Evangeline than it was to connect the other two," Harry admitted. "Ariel and Evangeline looked too similar. I knew they were the same person immediately. With Calypso, I had to do some digging." Harry began leafing through the file. "Did you know that no one named Calypso Snape has ever attended Beauxbatons? Or Hogwarts or Ilvermorny or any other magical school I could fine. What's more, a Calypso Snape has never sat O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams, and yet, you have scores on file. Scores that are oddly similar to the deceased best friend of Ariel Phillips."
Calypso nearly flinched at that. Harry noticed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Care to tell me what you've done with Edith Clarke?"
