Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 10 - Express

Richard Nicolson sighed again as he braced his arms against the counter and stared out of the window. It was August 31st, two days after the Dementor appeal, and he still hadn't decided what to do about Azrael Hallows' offer.

"Secondly, I would like you to be the Hallows proxy on the Wizengamot."

Those words had shocked Richard to the core, had shaken him almost more than the knowledge of the Hallows Heir's origins. It implied trust, deep and almost unconditional. Usually, the people assigned to proxy a seat were old family friends, people who had known each other for years and would place their life in the other's hands. To have that kind of trust handed to him was ... humbling. He'd only met the Hallows Heir the once; how could someone be so completely convinced of his motives after such a short length of time?

Yet, for the boy he had seen, it wasn't their first meeting. Azrael Hallows had been good friends with another version of himself, apparently, and as insane as it sounded Richard couldn't bring himself to doubt it; Hallows had taken an oath, after all.

Another version of himself; one who had lost his wife and children in a senseless raid by Voldemort's minions. He shuddered to think of the possibility. He couldn't imagine living without them; he loved his children, and his wife managed to ground him in a way few could. To lose them ... he could see why in the Hallows Heir's world, he had joined the Order of the Phoenix. By that point, he would have had nothing left to lose. He could be very single-minded when he decided on a course of action, and he would have wanted Voldemort dead; hell, he wanted Voldemort dead in this world, and he hadn't lived through the deaths of his wife and children. It almost made him want to accept Azrael Hallows' offer.

But he had stayed out of the messy side of politics for a reason. He had seen the damage infuriated purebloods would inflict on others for not automatically giving them what they wanted because of their name or wealth or power. He had seen the corruption, and decided to stay out of it. He might be a lawyer renowned in some circles for his encyclopaedic knowledge of the laws, but he only took on specific cases. He insulted purebloods, but never to the point where they sought retribution and he never took a case against the ruthless ones who would lash out at his family if he won. He rode the edge.

But if he became the Hallows proxy, all that would go out of the window. Yes, he could help people ... but it could hurt his family. Was he willing to risk that?

A large part of Richard wanted to say no; to forget that Hallows had ever made an offer, or that Hallows was from another world. He could carry on not getting involved, letting the corruption and the purebloods run wild for the sake of his family, burying himself in the law instead.

Richard twitched slightly as a smaller pair of arms snuck around his waist, Emmalyn's delicate chin resting on his shoulder. "You're bothered by something." She stated.

He grunted noncommittally.

"Confidentiality oath, huh?" She asked, and he could feel her smiling next to her ear. "Yeah." He admitted, and sighed. "I should leave the whole thing alone, anyway. It'll only bring a whole lot of trouble."

"Ah." He could feel her amusement. "So you don't want to risk anything, but you can't walk away."

Yes, Richard thought, that was exactly it. He had turned a blind eye for so long, not willing to risk his family when long-term, nothing would change. Winning a case would not make the purebloods change their tune - they were too arrogant, too set in their ways to be taught any different. And yet, when the opportunity came to work with someone who could change everything, he didn't want to get involved. Didn't want to risk it.

He was too afraid. Afraid that his actions would cause his families' death. Afraid of what such a bold stand would cost him.

As a Ravenclaw, he had never been one for pointless heroics - like the Slytherins, he believed in living to fight another day. As a lawyer, he had avoided fighting the small fight so that he wouldn't lose his family for no long term difference, no matter how much he hated turning a blind eye. Now, his first instinct was to turn away again. Surely Hallows didn't need him desperately, and he could find someone else to help him change the world?

Yet a part of Richard always cried out at the injustices some of the elite of society condoned or arranged, and now he had found someone who knew how to change it - who had the experience, knowledge and motivation to make things different - he couldn't just walk away. He was being pulled in two different directions, the safety of his family and the possibility of a better world, one he'd dreamed of when he was a child and first looked into law.

He turned around without dislodging his wife's arms, dropping his hands on her shoulders and pecking her on the lips in a quick kiss.

"It's long-term." He said. "This ... this could be huge, Emmalyn. It could change everything."

"Still concerned about us, huh?" She freed her left hand and gently flicked his nose. "Nothing's going to happen, silly."

Richard's eyes dimmed as he remembered what had happened to his family in that other world. Killed in a raid ... staring Emmalyn's face and thinking about what it would be like having to live without her, he felt empathy well up in him for that other version of himself who had lost so much. Tugging Emmalyn closer, he pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her neck.

Wrapped up in Emmalyn's arms, he let himself imagine what that life would have been like; he could very easily picture hating Voldemort and joining the Order of the Phoenix. Living through the war, always in hiding, probably forever moving from place to place to avoid discovery. He could hardly imagine what that must have been like. And then re-writing all the laws, free of ridiculous loopholes that the purebloods shamelessly used to their advantage and the muggleborns were kept in the dark about.

What would that version of him do, if it were him standing here now? He suspected he would save his family and then help Azrael Hallows change the world, if they were really as close as the dimension traveller had made it seem.

When he thought about it though, would ignoring the Hallows Heir really save his family? In that timeline, his family had died when he had done nothing. With his knowledge now, he could change that, but Hallows freely admitted that things would be different and that new attacks would happen. His family could be targeted at a different time - in which case, Azrael's fighting Voldemort group would be their best chance of survival. If there was a chance they would die no matter what he did ... then was it really worth staying out of things?

He pulled back from Emmalyn and smiled as he decided what he would do. He wouldn't agree, not yet - he would let the Hallows Heir sweat a bit first. And while he was sweating, Richard would be plotting; there was something else he wanted before he agreed to be the Hallows proxy.

Azrael felt ridiculous as he fidgeted next to the main fireplace of Hallows Manor. He was a war general, for Merlin's sake, he shouldn't be worried about meeting a bunch of children, children that he could no doubt kill in less time than it would take them to blink! There was nothing to be afraid of.

Then he remembered that he had seen each and every single one of them fight a war at some point (on both sides) and was back to quaking in his boots.

His school trunk was on the floor next to him, covered with a few wards that he figured wasn't too suspicious for a talented thirteen-year-old to cast. Inside a hidden and heavily warded compartment of his school trunk was another trunk that was almost impossible to break into short of blowing it up and contained everything that the persona Azrael Hallows could not afford to be seen with. A well-stocked potions compartment that contained everything from Skele-grow and pain reliever to poisons and bezoars, his research and research materials on Death Eaters, possible allies, anyone who held significant positions in the Ministry and what felt like every other person on the street, a variety of weapons, a small library containing some less than reputable books and anything that could even vaguely connect Azrael with the Shades, the Alliance Foundation, or different worlds - including his genuine Order of the Phoenix pendant, which Dumbledore would know instantly to be the real thing, and certainly not something he'd given to Azrael.

Not that Azrael intended to claim membership to the Order; as much as he respected the old man, he suspected they would quickly disagree with the way things should be run.

Azrael himself was dressed in his Hogwarts robes, intending to Floo straight to Platform 9 3/4 without going through Muggle Kings Cross. Underneath his robes was his usual white dress shirt and black slacks, with his clunky steel-toed knife-holding boots firmly on his feet. Over his robes he had forgone his usual dark grey trench coat for a dark grey summer cloak, outfitted with items hidden in the lining. As usual, his wand was in a holster on his right arm and a throwing knife was strapped to his left arm.

Deciding he couldn't possibly put it off any longer if he wanted to arrive before the platform was crowded (and thus he would be stared at) Azrael grabbed his trunk and stepped into the fireplace. Stepping out of the fireplace on the platform gracefully whilst carrying a trunk wasn't easy, but Azrael didn't fall over or wobble too noticeably and decided to count that as a win.

The platform was nearly empty with only a few people arriving an hour and a half before the train was due to leave. Azrael had every intention of avoiding as much attention as possible, and that meant finding a compartment early on so people would leave him alone.

Azrael entered the front of the train, working his way down as he looked for Remus - or Professor Lupin, as Azrael Hallows was supposed to know him. Azrael took a moment to use Occlumency to switch from thinking of the werewolf as Remus to thinking of him as Professor Lupin. He couldn't afford any slip-ups here - calling a teacher by his first name would no doubt be a little odd.

He eventually found the Professor in one of the last carriages, and after tapping gently on the door and opening it, Azrael had to stop in the doorway and take in the changes that a different universe could bring.

This Remus Lupin did not look unhealthy and underweight. His robes, while not extravagant, the height of fashion, or particularly impressive, were made from a good material and certainly not ragged. He had far less grey hair, and his wrinkles were significantly reduced, although laughter lines were prominent around his eyes. All in all, he looked far healthier. Azrael could only assume that with Remus and Sirius bonded as life partners, Sirius hadn't put up with Remus's crap about not buying things that he didn't absolutely need.

Azrael felt like a whole had been punched through his chest. This was Teddy's father. Teddy's father. Azrael could only hope that the Professor hadn't noticed how affected he was by seeing his dead friend again.

"Hello." Re-Professor Lupin said, smiling gently at Azrael. "Azrael Hallows, I presume?"

Azrael nodded. "Yes, that's me. I was told I could share a compartment with you?" He internally winced. He was reminded so much of Teddy, and guilt was rising steadily in his chest, and now he probably sounded like, well ... a nervous child. Which he wasn't. Much.

"Yes, of course." Professor Lupin said. Not needing any further invitation, Azrael entered the compartment proper and busied himself shoving his trunk onto the rack, avoiding Professor Lupin's eyes the entire time before settling in the window seat, staring out onto the platform where a few more people had arrived.

"Are you looking forward to staying at Hogwarts?" Professor Lupin asked kindly.

Azrael blamed his truthfulness on the shock of seeing Professor Lupin again. "Not particularly." He said dryly. When the Professor looked at him, startled, Azrael shrugged. "I quite like studying at my own pace, and I'm not very good with people."

Professor Lupin tilted his head in questioningly. "Then why are you going to Hogwarts, if you don't mind me asking?"

"The library." Azrael joked before sighing. "There's a lot of questions about standards that home-schooled children are held to. If a home-schooled person has the same scores as a Hogwarts graduate, then the Hogwarts graduate is more likely to get a job." It was true. Azrael had come across the issue in several of the old Daily Prophets, and it didn't take much to verify that the same held true today.

Professor Lupin nodded sadly. "That does happen, unfortunately. It's getting better in recent years, but that attitude is still prevalent." Among the snobby purebloods that believed that anyone who didn't go to Hogwarts was poor, therefore not worth their time, Azrael added mentally.

"But you're interested in the library?" Professor Lupin asked in a not-so-subtle way to change the subject. "You're a Ravenclaw, right? Your tie is blue and bronze."

Azrael nodded. "Yeah, though the Hat really wanted to put me in Slytherin. I didn't really want to get pulled into that stupid House rivalry."

Professor Lupin looked surprised. "Yes, I suppose it is stupid." The compartment door opened again and a small boy walked in. "Dad, when -" He cut himself off when he saw Azrael. "Who is that?"

Azrael blinked in shock, completely wrong-footed. Professor Lupin had a son? Why the hell didn't Fate warn me? A small part of Azrael noted that the boy wasn't exactly friendly, but then his dad was a werewolf, so he was probably used to people picking on him.

Professor Lupin shot his son a sharp look. "This is Azrael Hallows. Mr Hallows, this is my son, Regulus Black."

Regulus just stared at him, completely unimpressed.

"Uh, hi?" Azrael said uncertainly. Seeing Remus again and then finding out he had a son here, made Azrael feel like his world had been ripped out from under him. He could only hope that the impact as he hit reality again wouldn't hurt too much.

"Hi. Why did you make your eyes look like that? It's weird." Regulus said flatly.

Azrael internally winced, even as he began to get angry. He hated people commenting on his eyes. "It's not my fault my parents exploded a dangerous experimental potion." He snapped back.

"Oh." Regulus cleared his throat. "Right."

Professor Lupin frowned at Regulus a little. "Be nice, Regulus. Mr Hallows is starting his third year at Hogwarts, he's been home-schooled before now."

"Okay." Regulus glanced at his watch before looking at Azrael with a slight frown on his face. "Hey, how come you're here so early? Most people turn up right before the train leaves."

"I dislike people staring at my eyes." Azrael commented drily, with a half-smile to show he didn't mind that much. "Besides, it's not like I have parents to say goodbye to."

Regulus looked at him with a clear question in his eyes, and Azrael quirked an eyebrow in response. "Dangerous exploding experimental potion, remember?"

"Sorry for your loss." Professor Lupin said, Regulus nodding along. Azrael waved a hand dismissively, unable to completely hide his tense frame. "It was ages ago, don't worry about it."

Silence prevailed in the compartment for a few minutes as the morbid subject got the better of them. Azrael dwelled on the irony of his parents getting blown up in this world when that was what Aunt Petunia had said about Lily and James Potter when Hagrid came to collect him on his eleventh birthday.

Regulus eventually broke the somewhat stilted silence that had fallen over them. "Dad, when will the trolley cart come around? I didn't eat any breakfast because Dad spiked it with a colour-changing potion again."

Professor Lupin chuckled. "Yeah, that would be Sirius. What gave him away?"

"The formula he used smells faintly of lavender." Regulus said. "It was kind of obvious."

"Well in that case, the trolley should be around at about one o'clock." Professor Lupin said.

Regulus nodded resignedly. "Yeah, I figured. I think I'll try to finish that Theory of Transfiguration essay you set me to distract myself." He pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket and began writing neatly, tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Professor Lupin pulled out a book on Defence and Azrael stared out of the window. Unnoticed by Professor Lupin or Regulus, Azrael went through the breathing exercises he used to access his mindscape and quickly slipped into a meditative state.

Azrael's mindscape was quite deliberately designed to be difficult for wizards to navigate. His theory was, even if they broke in, they wouldn't be able to find anything unless they understood where they were and therefore where important memories were likely to be kept.

Which why Azrael's mind was about as sci-fi as it was possible to get. The majority of wizards (and in particular wizards who were likely to know about such an obscure art as legilimency (read: purebloods)) had almost no idea that computers existed, let alone how to operate them or what is theoretically possible with really advanced technology.

Azrael opened his eyes when the hum of machinery to find himself standing in the room he labelled Control. Around him there were banks of odd-looking buttons in various colours and sizes. Despite the apparent random arrangement, all the buttons, levers and other controls were carefully placed and well organised, with the colour and shape of the control denoting it's function. The entire room was lit from below by the massive well-lit engines, which Azrael called the Capacity Indicators. If they were functioning well, then he was thinking fast, if they were barely doing anything, then he was barely thinking, and if they were shuddering and jerking, then he was under some spell or potion that altered his normal thought processes. Control was separated from the Capacity indicators by a wire mesh floor. Above was a chrome and glass ceiling which showed the sky of his mindscape - black clouds and heavy rain.

At the head of Control was a dais with a series of high-tech screens. This was Computer, a characterisation of a part of Azrael's personality, given a different form inside his mindscape.

"Good morning, General. Is there an issue you wish to address?" A cool, even voice washed over Azrael. He relaxed a little. Computer was the soldier in him; the one who took a goal and made it happen. He helped Azrael maintain his mindscape. Azrael had based him off of JARVIS, from the Iron Man movie. He and Teddy had snuck out to watch it in the Muggle world during one of the rare lulls inbetween battles.

"No, there isn't. Just tamp down on Teddy related emotions for a while and make sure we don't forget that Remus has a son called Regulus here." Azrael said, striding to the door. "I'm going to check on the magical binding."

"If I dampen your emotions regarding Teddy for the time being, there will be a resurgence during your dreams tonight." Computer stated calmly.

"Noted." Azrael waved a hand as he pulled open the door. "Alert me if Professor Lupin or Regulus tries to get my attention."

"Yes, General." Computer said, before Azrael allowed the door to swing shut.

Azrael strolled along the covered glass walkway. He was effectively inside a giant tube, suspended high above the city that served as his mind. The florescent white floor eerily lit his face, shadows appearing and disappearing over his features as he walked. The heavy rain pounded the glass above him, dripping off the edges to fall into the depths below. Outside the sheltered bridge, flashes of electronic light appeared and disappeared briefly, barely visible through the thick gloom of night and pouring rain.

Azrael paused for a minute to watch the flashes go by. They were the drones that made their way around the city and represented his thoughts, both conscious and unconscious. Several streams of them were consistent, never changing (even if there was no discernable pattern. Like with the colour and shape-coded controls, Azrael intended to make it hard for anyone seeking information to know where to look); they were the thoughts that he always had, every second of every day. Most of them were habits that he gained in the war, such as checking for people following him, watching for possible attackers or ambushers, and making sure that he still had his weapons. Others were seemingly random, about almost inconsequential things. Those ones were equipped with modifications to protect the important thoughts in event of a legilimency attack.

Eventually the walkway ended, leaving Azrael standing in the rain on a chrome platform several hundred meters above the surface of his mindscape. Several narrow strips of metal stretched off towards the other buildings Azrael had built. Turning towards the east with a quick point me, Azrael set off to his left.

As he inched along the foot-wide path that had no railing, Azrael couldn't help but admire the defences he'd spent painstaking hours each day developing. Computer could automatically activate every single defence in his mind as soon as he felt a legilimency probe, defences which included this barrier-less chrome platform and path turning so they were vertical, the automatic failing of every direction spell used, and everything on ground level being woken up.

Letting his eyes slip downwards, Azrael saw the drop below him and shuddered. Sometimes he hated his imagination.

Soaked through and shivering, Azrael approached the end of the path and gratefully pressed his palm to the scanner at the door. After the device flashed green, Azrael pushed the door open and stepped inside.

This building Azrael had internally dubbed the Magic building, because it not only contained his representation of his magical core and binding, but most of his knowledge of magic. Like most places where there was high concentrations of magic however, the dimensions did not match and the whole place was filled with nooks and crannies. If that wasn't bad enough, everything kept moving like the stairs at Hogwarts, so a map was useless.

It didn't help that the entire building was one giant library. Not even Azrael knew the way through; he had to be guided by Computer. Yet another security measure, since Computer would never help an invader.

Following Computer's instructions almost on autopilot, Azrael quickly came to the room which held his magical core, as well as the binding. One could not be found without the other, after all.

Pressing his eye to the scanner, Azrael was momentarily blinded as the light flashed. A second later the door hissed open and he found himself standing in a white space. There was no discernable walls or floor, just the same shade of white all around, like a blank canvas.

Except behind Azrael.

Turning towards where the door had been a moment ago, Azrael found himself staring at a mix of lights similar to the one he had seen when using the lucis magicales spell. A rich emerald green ball of light crackled happily, sparks of red and orange and black and silver dancing happily across the surface. His magical core hovering about two meters above the ground. A steady stream of magic was cascading down, into the magical binding.

The binding actually acted as a dam more than anything. It caught the magic and held it in a reservoir, only allowing a specific amount of magic to flow past for Azrael to use - right now, a little more power than the average third year could use.

The only downside was that the reservoir would accumulate magic very quickly but could only hold so much, as Azrael's core wouldn't produce less magic because of the binding. By Azrael's calculations, he would need to empty the reservoir over the summer holidays after his third year or risk the dam breaking, which would lead to magical overextension and, if he didn't find a way to ground the majority of the magic, death.

"Seems to be holding up alright." Azrael observed.

"Were you expecting it not to, General?" Computer asked, his voice projected through the speakers Azrael had hidden everywhere in his mindscape.

Azrael shrugged. "I haven't discounted the possibility that things go wrong for me just because they can." He said. "It doesn't hurt to double-check that everything is working as it should."

"Yes, General." Computer paused for a moment. "General, I believe someone is trying to get your attention."

Azrael sighed. "Of course they are. Do I have time to walk out, or am I going to have to go the quick way?"

Computer sounded amused as he answered. "I'm afraid you don't have time to walk back to Control before leaving."

"Alright, alright." Azrael rubbed his hands over his face. "Might as well get this over with. Send me out, Computer."

Azrael jerked in the train seat a little as the hum of his mindscape faded around them. He really hated being tossed out of his own mind like that; it always felt like he'd put his foot down and expected to meet the floor, but found air instead. It made Azrael's stomach try to jump up his throat.

So, another chapter, and within a reasonable time, too. Like it? Hate it? Tell me what you think.

Enjoy, Shib. :)