AN: Thank you for the reviews!

Edwina Boot and Stateira McElroy, dressed in identical navy blue robes, stood in the elevator in the Ministry of Magic, hand in hand. Both of their palms were clammy, but neither girl gave that much thought.

"I can't believe we made it here," Edwina whispered.

Stateira turned to beam at her and finally, Edwina did not see the perpetrator of the Weasley Weasel Incident or Riddle's mistress, but her friendly Defense partner. And from this day on, fellow Trainee Auror.

"Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement," a calm, automated voice said as the elevator doors opened. As they walked through the lobby, their heels clicking on the tiled floor, Edwina felt like a true adult. They were in a much different atmosphere than Hogwarts. The girl next to her was the picture of calm and assured, making Edwina feel slightly less grown up.

Stateira seemed to sense this, and she turned to Edwina, still holding her hand, before they entered the Auror Office. "Remember, Edwina, we're both here because of how hard we worked. We deserve to be here."

Edwina could only nod and swallow. Stateira opened the door and entered the office. There was a single desk in the front with an elderly lady shuffling through time logs. "How can I help you ladies?" she asked in a toneless voice without looking up.

"Good morning, we're here to begin Auror Training," Stateira said pleasantly. "Our names are McElroy and Boot."

"Oh! Hang on, dear," the witch said, gathering the pieces of parchment. "Hey, Arnold! We've got two youngbloods here; can you check their wands?"

Youngblood? Edwina mouthed to Stateira as the other girl gave a tiny shrug. A man in his early forties walked out of a cubicle on the left.

"You got it, Glenda," Arnold said, holding out his hands. "Wands, please."

"Any idea who they're under?" Glenda asked him, still looking for a specific sheet, rolls of parchment sliding off her desk to the floor.

"Well, they're gals, so I suppose Bell's got 'em." As they handed him their wands, he looked Stateira up and down more than once. She kept her eyes straight ahead as if he wasn't there.

"I just can't find the goddamn—oh, here we are. Yes, Edwina Boot and Stateira McElroy, correct?" At their nods, Glenda pointed to the left down a hallway of cubicles to a blue-painted door. "Once you reach that door, turn right and go all the way down to the last one on the right, room A-102. If Bell isn't in her office, kindly wait by her door and she'll be just but a moment."

"Here you go, ladies," Arnold said, holding out their wands. "You're all checked in."

Edwina had thought there would only be a few doors beyond the blue one, but the corridor seemed never-ending as they passed more and more.

"A-99, A-100, A-101," Stateira was mumbling nervously. "Ah, here, A-102. You reckon she's in there?"

The door was closed and there wasn't any way of seeing through the frosted glass window. Edwina shook her head as Stateira knocked. But she was wrong; a moment later, the door opened and a tall, plain woman with pulled-back dark hair and amber-colored eyes stood in front of them. She was dressed in the same navy blue robes with a silver badge similar to a Head Girl's pinned to her chest. HEAD AUROR, it spelled out in thin block letters.

Although her clothes and headscarf were plain white and grey, the girl exuded femininity. "The pair of you are here for Auror Training, yes?" She stuck out a red nail-polished hand. "I'm Lysandra Bell, Head Auror. You two will be working under me for at least the next three years."

The door to A-103 across the hall opened and an auburn head of curls with a massively freckled face poked his head out. "Where's mine? I'm supposed to be getting a Longbottom."

Just as he said it, a pale-faced, darting-eyed Achilles appeared, out of breath. "I'm so sorry I'm late, sir. The elevator got stuck between…"

"Alright, alright, come in already."

Lysandra Bell gestured for the girls to step inside her office. "Have a seat, ladies." She closed the door behind them with a flick of her wand.

The first thing to catch their eyes was a large, crystal-clear window depicting a grassy hill with daisies swaying slightly in an invisible wind, even though they were really under the streets of London, likely surrounded by rats.

"So there are a ton of rules that, under normal circumstances, I'd go over with you, but in case you haven't been following, we haven't had a normal circumstance since the beginning of last year. That's why we took three of you this year; usually we only take one, two at most. The Dark Lord's activity is sure running our wheels.

"With that said, I do expect you both to read the handbook cover to cover." She pulled open a drawer labeled TRAINING MATERIAL. Everything on the desk was in neatly-labelled boxes and drawers. Even the rolls of parchment were stacked neatly in a box labelled URGENT CASES near her typewriter. For Edwina, who often took days to hang the washing in the wardrobes, the tidiness was disconcerting.

Lysandra passed the manuals to each girl. "You are to learn every word of these and you'll have a quiz on it every Friday, starting with the first section. Protocol classes are every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at six o'clock. They are mandatory and missing one will place you on probation unless excused by a Healer." She folded her hands on her desk. "After six months, you will be enrolled in Defense classes in place of Protocol, which includes but is not limited to, Concealment and Disguise and Stealth Tracking.

"After completion of Protocol, there are also Occlumency classes on Tuesdays at half past five, which are optional, but I strongly recommend learning at least the basics of Occlumency. There is current speculation that the Dark Lord is a skilled and ruthless Legilimens."

Edwina covered her mouth as her pulse quickened. She didn't have anything damning in her mind, but the thought of someone invading it made her skin crawl.

"Miss Bell…" Stateira began slowly.

"Oh, please call me Lysandra." She waved a hand as if to dismiss formality.

"Lysandra, will we be working on cases with you?"

"Well, not exactly," Lysandra replied. "Not yet. Mostly you'll be retrieving case files, typing up reports, and making coffee at first, unfortunately. Until you get through Protocol and undergo the first psych evaluation. But the records will give you a general idea about what we normally deal with, and extraneous cases that we may quote at trial."

While Edwina had a visceral reaction to the thought of Legilimency, Stateira's eyes widened at the words "psych evaluation" as her knuckle pressed to her lips. Before she could possibly ask what that entailed, the freckle-faced bloke from across the hall burst in, breathing heavily. "Lysandra…" he panted. "It's happened again. Another attack…"

Edwina and Stateira exchanged astonished glances as Lysandra jumped up. "Stay here, girls," she said grimly before sweeping out of the room, leaving the two bewildered girls behind.

"We'd gone so long without an attack." Edwina could hear the tinge of fear in her voice. She was well aware of the duties of an Auror, but up until now, they'd been abstract concepts. Once they graduated Training, it would be up to them to stop the Dark Lord. "I was praying it was over."

Stateira shook her head. "I think it's just begun, honestly."

A sudden, loud "pssst" from the corridor made them jump as if scalded. "Edwina, Stateira," Achilles' voice called from A-103. "What do you reckon's going on?"

"I don't know," Edwina responded, swallowing the stomach acid creeping up her throat. Fear was threatening to overtake her now, constricting her lungs. At her squeaky tone, Stateira turned to a white-faced, wide-eyed Edwina.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"I—I don't know if I can do this," Edwina choked out, closing her eyes and willing away embarrassing tears. She had wanted this for years; why was she overwhelmed with fear now?

A warm hand enveloped hers and with her other, Stateira pet Edwina's arm. "It's alright, Edwina, there's nothing to fear. We won't be involved with anything remotely dangerous for another three years when we complete Training. They're not going to toss us out there blindfolded, dear."

"Girls? Are you still there?" Achilles asked, but Edwina still could not speak and Stateira ignored him.

"Mark my words," she continued, a slightly arrogant gleam in her eyes. "By this time in a couple of years, we'll be blasting off doors and taking names."

"Like Batman and Robin." Temporarily forgetting her panic, Edwina giggled at the image of the pair of them busting in an old factory with bodysuits and capes on, wands raised.

Stateira frowned. "Who're they?"

Just then, Lysandra reappeared, looking tired and harassed. "Alright, ladies, as you can see, there's never a dull moment around here. My colleague Rachel here, Junior Auror, will escort you to the Record Room, where you'll be completing your first assignment." She stepped into the room to reveal a girl behind her with glasses and frizzy blonde hair.

"Well, come on, then," Rachel said briskly as Lysandra let out a sigh at her desk and wrote the date on a fresh piece of parchment: 15 September 1949. Then without a word, she Disapparated.

"I didn't know you could Apparate within the Ministry!" Stateira exclaimed as Rachel led them out of the room.

"Only certified Aurors can," Rachel replied. "And only Disapparition. We have to return via the main entrance."

No one spoke as they followed Rachel down the corridor, turned right, and walked down yet another identical to the last one. Edwina groaned internally, sure she would be getting lost at least a dozen times. Eventually, she made out a white door at the end of the hall, which they seemed to be heading toward. At first, the black block letters were indiscernible, but as they got closer, Edwina could read the words RECORD ROOM.

Rachel touched her wand to a black rubber circle next to the door, and a clicking noise echoed through the corridor.

Edwina had been expecting a room that was the size of Lysandra's office or maybe a little larger, but nothing like what was in front of them. A circular room at least the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall contained shelved walls, a very tall ladder, and in the center, two tables and chairs like the ones in a library. The shelves were stuffed with sheets of parchment white and different shades of grey folders, labelled with names. Every so often, a plastic protrusion with a letter of the alphabet divided the folders.

"This is the Record Room," Rachel told them with a slight, sarcastic flourish, as if introducing a stage performer. Records are sorted by surname, and we've got every witch and wizard that spent a substantial amount of time in the UK since the 1100s.

She walked over to a shelf and pulled out a charcoal-colored folder. "Those who have never committed a crime or have given a statement to Magical Law Enforcement have white folders. Rule of thumb: the longer the rap sheet, the darker the folder. Antonius Zachary here is a known Grindelwald enthusiast. He's currently serving a 15-year sentence in Azkaban. Those who have been sentenced rather than fined will have this red dot here next to the same, you see?"

She'd already lost Stateira, who was looking around in awe, as if she wanted to sink her hands between the folders and grab all of them.

"Any questions, ladies?"

Edwina shook her head, but Stateira pointed to a gap on the bottom shelf. "What happens when it's all filled up?" The gap could've held 20, maybe 30 more folders.

"Another shelf appears and pushes the others up." Rachel looked up, where the ceiling wasn't visible, only the shelves and the ladder getting smaller and smaller.

"Brilliant," Stateira breathed, craning her neck and squinting.

"Alright." Rachel clapped her hands together. "Now on to your task. Another muggle family in Bristol has been murdered. Your job is to go through the records of every convicted wizard that lives near this family."

"But how…?" Stateira began as Rachel raised her wand.

"Sort by location: Bristol, England!" she bellowed. A ripple of heat swooped through the room as the younger witches reflexively took a step toward the door. "That's right, out of the way, ladies!" Rachel warned as the room started to shake. A folder whizzed by Edwina's head as they ducked and dashed to the door. At once, hundreds of folders fell from various areas of the shelves and stacked themselves neatly on the tables. After a minute, the shaking stopped and the room was once again silent.

"Unfortunately, there is quite a large magical population in Bristol, which will not help with narrowing down a lead," Rachel said. "So for now, you must disregard the light folders and focus only on the darker shades. This year's trend has been senseless muggle attacks, which come from a deep-seated hatred of muggles in general. Not only are the attackers likely to have a history, their families are as well. Although we could argue that the most vicious muggle-haters have folders of white."

"Rachel Strickland, please report to A-500," the warm voice from the elevator echoed around the room.

"I've got to run," Rachel said unnecessarily. "Good luck and please be sure to bring all of the folders you've collected to my office, which is in A-100."

She left and Edwina approached the table. Surely the task would take at least a few hours, depending on how fast they worked. She and Stateira had been efficient Defense partners, so it wasn't too much of a concern, except Stateira couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the shelves.

"Stateira…let's get started, shall we?" Edwina suggested, hoping she didn't sound rude, especially after the other girl's earlier comfort.

"Oh, right, sorry." She sat down across from Edwina and pulled down a grey folder from the pile. "Dear me, we've got access to everyone's business, haven't we? Look…place of birth, parents, Hogwarts House. Merlin, even their OWL scores."

Edwina selected a folder, opened it, and saw that she was right: the Ministry did have a rather alarming amount of knowledge on the average citizen. She wondered if she'd ever overcome her fear of heights to climb up to the B section. Perhaps she could simply ask for the name and her folder, too, would come down.

Stateira had gone through a couple of folders only to start staring around again. How much information in this room could solve so many cases, Edwina thought. But was all of their information used, or did the Ministry want to keep tabs on everyone for its own good?

30 September 1949

Dear Antonia,

It has been 14 days since the last muggle attack and I am happy, yet wary, to report that not much else has been going on as of late. It appears that the Knights' strategy is to lie low for a few weeks before striking again.

That is not to say there hasn't been any Dark activity, however. If you see a potion outside of Slughorn's classroom that claims to be Felix Felicis and looks very similar to it, DO NOT drink it. It renders the drinker incapacitated for up to 12 hours and causes severe dizziness for the foreseeable future. I'm unsure of any motive or suspects, as that type of information isn't shared with Trainee Aurors, or "youngbloods," as they call us. Perhaps Professor Merrythought may know, since her correspondence is with Lysandra Bell, the Head Auror. But to be honest, there is a lot Bell doesn't share with anyone, even her cohort, Edward Brown. Has Achilles said anything of his Training? I know next to nothing of what he and Brown get up to, as we're usually separated. I'm quite glad to work under Lysandra Bell, though. She is very clever and has got a sharp eye for detail. Perhaps you remember her as Head Girl in 1945? I didn't; Stateira told me.

As for my summer, it was swell, actually, a significant improvement over years past. Dad's speaking more, and in August he took Callista flying almost every day. Poor thing is rather dreadful at it, but she's intent on being the next Hufflepuff seeker. How does she seem at Hogwarts? Is she making friends? She assures me she is, but if she isn't I can't fault her if she's anywhere near as shy as I was at that age. I do feel as if she is slightly more outgoing, at least.

Please continue to keep me updated on the DA and Hollis in particular. Stateira says they've had a row and he won't answer her letters. No, I don't know what the row was about and I reckon it's none of our business unless Hollis has told you something. Just try to keep an eye on him, yeah? Also, do not stress over your NEWTs. You've gotten the necessary amount of OWLs for Training, and that's all they really take into consideration. Regardless, I have the utmost confidence that you'll do superbly. You always do.

I'm glad to hear your first weeks of seventh year are going smoothly. Do keep updating, as I enjoy not only hearing of Hogwarts but our correspondence. Send my well wishes to the DA!

Sincerely,

Edwina

23 October 1949

Dear Edwina,

Things at Hogwarts have been interesting lately. Fleamont Potter has gotten a string of detentions again, so he hasn't been to any DA meetings. I don't have any details but Bruin says he mouthed off to Daniel Crabbe, the Slytherin prefect. Reckless, that boy is. Tensions are still a bit high after the Bristol muggle attack. I can't imagine it'll go away any time soon, with all the uncertainty in the air. A bright side is that Callista is not witnessing it, being a part of the eternally neutral House. She is all smiles as usual from what I've gathered, and she travels with a group of first and second-year Hufflepuffs.

All of my classes are going well. I'd say the most intense by far is Defense. We're learning jinxes and counter-jinxes almost daily, and those who haven't mastered them by the end of the week face detention, where they've got to duel Riddle himself. As gainful as that seems in terms of Auror Training, I'm thoroughly thankful that I haven't found myself in that position. Riddle is still so intimidating and as handsome as ever. I wonder if he is still seeing Stateira? He doesn't seem to have such an interest in any other girl, although admittedly, he hasn't got much of a selection. If I may have a moment to toot my own horn, I surpass most of the girls and most of the boys by a large margin.

Some exciting news: my parents have arranged a trip to Greece and Italy over winter holiday! It's quite a shame that Achilles can't have any time off from Training, but I suppose that is more of a benefit. I feel a bit bad that I'll be leaving the DA in all this turmoil, but some sunshine, salty air, and the sea will do wonders for my spirit! I do wish you could come. Perhaps when you are a Junior Auror, we will take a trip to celebrate.

Hollis is doing spectacularly in the DA. From what he tells me, his marks are about average, but he's a natural leader, always keeping track of Merrythought's updates and pitching grand ideas. He's even a Chaser on the Quidditch team now! I reckon when I finish, he will take on my role if he so desires.

Speaking of updates, Merrythought told us that there was an incident about a bridge collapsing that may have something to do with the Knights. Have you heard anything of it? Do continue to keep me updated.

I'm so very happy you're excelling in Training, as I predicted you would. Achilles says his is going splendidly as well; he gets on with Brown nicely. It's a bit dull without you too, but I've got Hollis and that Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall. What a hoot that girl is! Another natural leader. Perhaps we could meet in Hogsmeade one weekend before the cold sets in? Letters are swell, but there's nothing like face-to-face conversation over a butterbeer. Let's arrange a date and time! I'll ask Achilles to come along, but he'll probably decline. Oh well, just us gals will be a ball, too!

Sincerely,

Antonia

Stateira had been given her first Ministry-related task from the Dark Lord, but she had to wait until she had a valid reason to enter the Record Room to carry it out. Another option was to swipe Rachel's or Edwina's wand somehow, but better and easier to wait until she was assigned to look up a wizard, which occurred frequently enough. Nevertheless, Lord Voldemort was patient with the Knights who obeyed his command.

The chance came at the beginning of November: Rachel had told her to fetch the records of two known criminals: Theodore Hatcher and Reginald Summers. Both had convictions for permanently Obliviating muggles for seemingly no reason or motivation.

"Sort by: name. Hatcher, T. and Summers, R. English."

Two deep grey folders zoomed onto the desk as Stateira ascended the ladder—the third name couldn't be spoken out loud because it was liable to be traced. She pulled herself and the ladder to where the M shelves started. There were thousands of surnames beginning with "Ma," even a few "Mb," and another thousand with "Mc" before she found the file she was searching for: McElroy, Alexander.

The folder was so black, it seemed to suck up some of the light from the mini-lamps hanging from the shelves. Holding it under her arm, Stateira tapped the ladder with her wand. The step under her feet extended about a foot as a metal cane-like rod sprouted out. She gripped it and the step dropped, lurching her stomach.

Once she was at the table, she quickly opened the folder and pulled down her hose under her robe with the other. There was not a second to spare to look at the file, as anyone could enter the Record Room at any moment. Rachel was in her office, waiting for the other two records for at least ten minutes. After peeling a two-foot roll of parchment from around her thigh, Stateira smoothed it on the table, pressed the first sheet of Alexander's report face-down against it, and muttered an incantation.

There were five pages total; she'd used both sides of the parchment roll, taking care not to smear the ink as she wrapped it back around her leg. Sweat covered her entire body. Duplicated records without written permission from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was forbidden, as stated in paragraph 315 of Ministry Rules and Regulations.

However, most of the others were generally too busy to really look at anything going on in the Auror Office, so Stateira wasn't paralyzed with fear. She returned Alexander's folder to its original place. Even if the Dark Lord hadn't asked her for his record, she knew she would've read it regardless.

Later that evening, she was able to sit in Dorea's room in the House of Black and view the whole record. By a stroke of luck for her, Protocol had been postponed to the following evening due to a vicious "earthquake" in the North that was suspected to be giant activity.

There were two photos of Alexander in his record: his mugshot from 1947 and his prefect photo from 1941. God, he was so handsome and secure as a teenager. Everyone had loved him, but he had only cared for her, even more so than for Hollis, it seemed like. Hollis' care had been left to Gran and Stateira after Calpurnia had fallen ill, but Stateira had never felt a weight on her shoulders. Alex had always looked out for her, in and out of Hogwarts. She had wanted to the Magic Army with him after finishing school, but the Army accepted very few witches.

But then Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and Alexander got Kissed. Yes, it still pained her, but it was hardly any matter by now. She had the Dark Lord.

He'd requested a specific piece of information, which the record may or may not have contained: the fate of Alexander's wand. The Dark Lord was very keen on discovering what had happened beyond its confiscation. Protocol had taught Stateira that all wands of owners sentenced to the Kiss were systematically destroyed, but she needed confirmation for this particular wand.

As predicted, the record only indicated that his blackthorn wand was confiscated upon arrest. For further inquiry, see Wand Official. Currently, the Wand Official was Arnold, the sod who constantly hit on Stateira and Edwina, staring at them lewdly or referring to them as "young little things."

Stateira let out a sigh and dropped her forehead against her palm, dread washing over her. Which was more difficult, dealing with Arnold or her brother's sentence glaring her in the face? She supposed it didn't matter much. Both were inevitable.

Somewhere downstairs, perhaps the parlor, Cygnus and Druella were having an ear-shattering row. Even the portraits were howling at them to shut up. Druella's voice was shrill and desperate while Cygnus, drunk, paced about and shattered glass and porcelain figurines, giving Kreacher a long night of cleaning afterward.

Stateira loathed Cygnus and Druella, but nothing compared to the strength of hatred she had for Walburga. When she and Orion had a row, there was no thundering or breaking of objects, only Walburga's snappish, cutting insults and Orion's meek responses. If he tried to walk away, Walburga tore at his robes, screeching and spitting. She constantly accused him of trying to seduce Stateira, even though he and Stateira had never been in the same room outside the Dark Lord's meetings nor spoken to each other.

This would aggravate Cygnus, who would lash out at his sister, who'd then turn her wrath on him, and the cycle continued. This happened about every three days; the Blacks couldn't seem to get on for more than 48 hours.

Stateira thought often of returning to Gran's flat, but neither Gran nor Hollis seemed to miss her much, and she did not want to go against the Dark Lord's wishes. So there she sat in Dorea's room, avoiding them all. Kreacher, who evidently sensed this, brought plates to her, for which she was grateful but unsure if she should express it.

Perhaps if Alphard Black was around, it would be more tolerable, but Alphard was at his parents' manor wrapped up in, Walburga's words, "poncey Prewett and his slag sister." It was unclear to all why Walburga hated her cousin, but both Cygnus and Orion speculated—behind her back—that it was because Lucretia Black surpassed Walburga in both attractiveness and intelligence.

Finally, the husband and wife shut up and went their separate ways for the night. Everyone else in the house, person, painting and creature, let out collective breaths. Stateira glanced at her watch—12:22 in the morning. She still hadn't completed her Protocol sheets and now she had to form a solid plan.

Such is the life of a Knight, she thought, pursing her lips in determination and grabbing her quill.

A week and a half later, the stars were aligned and Stateira seized her chance to complete her task. Lysandra, Brown, and about a dozen Aurors were out investigating a crime scene. The Trainee Aurors were given the task of taking all the closed cases back to the Record Room. Stateira had done Lysandra's a week prior, so Lysandra, in her haste to get to the crime, had told her to copy the time logs of all the other Aurors. It took Stateira all of 15 minutes to complete.

All of the cubicles by the main entrance were empty. They were assigned to owners, but all of the Senior Aurors and Rachel, the single Junior Auror, were rarely at their desks. A large wave of magical disturbances was rippling across the UK. Like Hogwarts, the Ministry had an air of fear and uncertainty.

Stateira was unaffected by that. She strode to Arnold's office and leaned on the wall separating it from the hall. Glenda was on lunch. She had 45 minutes, maybe an hour.

"Arnold, I'm going out to grab a salad from Spinnet's. Would you like anything?"

"Oh, no, dear, I've got my lunch already. Barb made me some type of casserole."

"Alright," Stateira replied brightly. "I'll be back in a moment, then. I do hope I don't run into that terrible old muggle again."

Arnold's face grew serious. "That ragged old bloke?"

"Yes, that's the one." Stateira widened her eyes and clutched at her heart for effect. "The other day he approached me, mumbling incoherently. It was truly dreadful! I didn't know what that nutter was up to." She was heavily exaggerating; the muggle had only looked her up and down, similar to how Arnold was that very moment. "Thank heavens Longbottom showed up and escorted me to the entrance."

Arnold, ever the chivalrous one despite the remarks to the young girls, behaved the way she hoped he would. "Why, I can't let you go alone, then! But I can't escort you, I've got to watch Glenda's desk."

"I can watch it if you're up for a walk," she offered quickly. "Unless we're expecting an outsider?"

"Not any time soon, as they're still wrapping up at the scene. Blimey, I wonder what happened there."

"I've not the faintest idea, either."

Arnold stood up. "Alright, I could use a walk. Write down which salad you'd like."

"Thanks, Arnold. You're wonderful!" She gave him a smile she hadn't showed to anyone other than the Dark Lord since Hogwarts and batted her eyelashes. He winked at her and took the scrap of parchment from her. As an added bonus, he refused her money and left.

Now she was down to 30 minutes. Plenty of time, unless someone expectedly showed up. Instead of shelves, Arnold's office had tall filing cabinets on either side of his desk, each labeled with a letter. M was on the bottom right. When Stateira pulled the handle, she was nearly thrown flat on the floor. She jumped out of the way just in time as the drawer shot out at least 10 feet and disappeared into the opposite wall. These files were barely a page long.

Alexander McElroy

(11 June 1924-21 March 1947)

Conviction: Murder

Sentence: Dementor's Kiss

Wand: Blackthorn and unicorn hair, 11"

Wand Location: disposed of by Ministry of Magic

Witnessing Wand Official: Charlie Sathmary

Ten minutes later, Stateira had another rolled-up parchment around her leg with ink on it, and Arnold's office looked like she'd never entered it. She was relieved and quite shocked that her plan, yet again, had gone so smoothly, since the alternative plan involved shooting a few Memory Charms. She had never Obliviated anyone before, but with the nature of her work, she knew she'd have to soon enough.

There was only one thing left to do, and unfortunately Stateira couldn't carry it out that same day due to the constant presence of Edwina and Achilles in the Record Room. One more risk: copying the first page of Charlie Sathmary's record, or at least the address. This was easy, as she simply had to jot it down, which she could do on the ladder, high above anyone's head.

The Dark Lord did not assign her this specific duty, but she already knew it was built into the task and therefore must be done. He would probably need to track Sathmary down and confirm that the wand was indeed destroyed. She wondered once more of the importance of Alexander's wand. Did the Dark Lord need to prove that he really killed Dumbledore?

She found out another week later, when the Dark Lord called a meeting. She was over-the-moon excited to see him, not only to present her good news but because she hadn't seen him in a bit. She rather missed him. Upon the conclusion of the last meeting, he'd been in too much of a rush to spend time with her.

The meeting was short and consisted of Mulciber's update on giant and werewolf involvement, which was going better than anticipated based on everyone's pleasant mood. After another round of firewhiskey, the Dark Lord concluded the meeting and everyone left the dining hall, chatting amicably. The glory days they'd been promised would be arriving soon.

Stateira, if she was honest, was not concerned with what was happening beyond London or Hogwarts. She cared about her glory days, and today was one of them.

"My Lord," she said as Riddle set his goblet down and stood up. "May I speak with you in private about the task you've given me?"

He only needed to look at her directly for a flush to creep on her cheeks and an ache of want to clench her chest. "Yes, of course, Stateira." Without further ado, he took her hand and they Apparated to Dorea's room.

It had changed a bit since the last time he'd been in there. It was messier, because Stateira hadn't gotten a chance to do anything other than make the bed. It was clear that someone spent a lot of time there, evidenced by the coursework splayed out on the desk and a picture frame next to a row of ink pots.

"My Lord, I've completed the task," she said with a touch of pride in her voice. "Both the record and the wand file have shown that Alexander's wand has been destroyed. However…"

She opened the bottom drawer, pulled out two pieces of parchment, one long and one short, and unrolled them. "This is his record, where it says that his wand was destroyed." She slid the longer under the shorter one. "This backs up that record, and this"—she pulled out a scrap of paper with Charlie Sathmary's address—"is the address of the wand official who'd allegedly witnessed the destruction of the wand."

Riddle held the scrolls in one hand and the scrap in the other, reviewing everything. Then he tucked the scrap in his robes and set the two scrolls on the desk before picking up the picture frame. Inside was the only photograph Stateira owned: herself, around age seven, holding a plump baby Hollis, with the handsome figure of 15-year-old Alexander beside her.

Stateira stood still, frowning, nonplussed. "My Lord?" she asked cautiously.

He set down the frame and smiled at her. "You've done well, darling."

She didn't feel like she'd done well, as there was something about this wand that was clearly significant, but she couldn't figure out what.

Riddle placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'll be back shortly," he said and before Stateira could even form a thought, he'd Disapparated.

"Again, I'm left with longing," she sighed, upset at how bitter she felt. The Dark Lord was a busy man; of course he didn't have time to placate her. She had to deal with it like an adult, not a little girl.

The method of dealing was glaring her in the face on her desk: more goddamn Protocol sheets. It felt like her life was one long Protocol sheet, but her workload was only going to increase in the next few months so, so complaining was useless. She completed four of them, changed into her nightgown, and climbed into bed.

The sheets were cool against her warm skin and immediately her eyes closed in contentment. She'd pleased the Dark Lord. Now she must await her second task.

CRACK!

Stateira jolted awake with a gasp. It felt like she'd only just fallen asleep, but snores from the portraits and Orion echoed around the house, letting her know it was much later.

She lifted the sheets off her legs and grasped her wand, ready to jump out of bed and fire a hex. The noise sounded like it'd come from right outside her door. She froze as footsteps approached and there was a soft knock on the door.

"Coming," she said as she stood and grabbed her robe. After sliding it on and buttoning it over her gown, she opened the door to see the Dark Lord standing in the corridor.

"My Lord!" She bowed and stepped back, allowing him in. "You came back."

"Of course I did. I believe I promised you a lesson."

His tone, unlike before, was short and tight, but her eyes lit up all the same. Stateira loved his lessons almost as much as she loved the man himself. They were her chance to prove her worth, to earn his touch.

Eagerly, she stood on the balls of her feet. "Which spell are we working on tonight, my Lord?"

For the first time, she saw exhaustion in his face, almost dejection. "Pick whichever you'd like."

A moment passed as Stateira bit her lip and looked down, her loose hair falling over her face. Then, as if she was suddenly jerked by marionette strings, she looked up, raised her wand, and cried, "Legilimens!"

Their last lesson had been Legilimency, undoubtedly to get her off his back about it, and she'd failed miserably. But Stateira had practiced since then. In Edwina's mind, she'd seen the rainy village of Ottery St. Catchpole and her little sister wobbling on a broom. Alphard Black had visited Number 12 a week prior, and a flash of his mind revealed a book in his parents' library: The Pureblood Directory. Every Sacred 28 had one; Stateira's gran kept hers in the nightstand like a Christian would keep the Bible. Perhaps he wanted to look up whom he wanted to take as a wife, since his whole family kept on hassling him about it.

Every mind has a pace: Edwina's was slower than Alphard's, but both of them made it fairly easy to decipher the memories. Riddle's was fast; blurry memories raced past, out of her reach. She couldn't catch a single thing for a few moments until a sitting room came into focus, saturated with black and grey. An old man cowered, Riddle raised his wand… The next flash was abnormally bright and fuzzy: an axe slashing a dark wand in two… Grindelwald's symbol, the triangle over a circle with a line down the middle… A wand that always wins duels for its owner, a wand worthy for a wizard who had conquered Death! Pages of a book that appeared to be The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore…and a harsh, blaring white wall.

Both locked in concentration, Stateira and Riddle stood face to face, staring at each other. Stateira unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth and finally spoke. "I apologize, my Lord, but if I'd warned you, I wouldn't have stood a chance."

Her honesty brought a small grin to his face, and for a moment he was Professor Riddle again. "Fair enough. I see you've been practicing. Well done."

"Thank you, my Lord." She bowed gracefully, but he turned away and took a seat on the desk chair, looking off into the distance, an eyebrow wrinkled. He was preoccupied with something, Stateira realized. The Elder Wand.

"My Lord, if I may…" She took a few tentative steps toward him, reaching out slowly. She knew trying to comfort him was not a good idea, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from placing a hand on his shoulder. Riddle didn't seem to care either way. "The Elder Wand is…not necessary…"

Truthfully, she didn't really believe in the wand's existence; to her it was only a story from Tales of Beedle the Bard, which was full of myths. Rumor had it that Grindelwald possessed the Elder Wand, but Stateira was more inclined to believe that he, like Riddle, was immensely skilled and powerful on his own.

"My Lord, you are already the most powerful wizard in the world. None could come close to your ability, with the Elder Wand or not."

Stateira wanted to bend low, run her fingers through the dark waves of hair, and speak the words seductively in his ear, but she felt as if she was already pushing the envelope.

He met her eyes again and gently took her hand. "You really love me," he stated, as if was observing it for the first time.

"Of course I love you, my Lord," she said proudly. "That will never change."

She'd said the right combination of words. Riddle pulled her on his lap and slid his cold hands under her gown as she kissed him with abandon, no longer concerned about coming on too strong. He matched her intensity and she pressed into him, reveling in his touch at last.

AN:

-This chapter was going to be way longer, but it reached massive proportions so I had to slice it in two.

-I honestly can't remember if that quote about the Elder Wand was pulled from somewhere or I made it up. So for all intents and purposes, let's just say it isn't mine.