Thanks to: Colin Creevey and Cal for reviewing!

Questions:

Alaric is ABOUT to declare a state of emergency? What took him so long? Was it not an emergency before now?
Because he wants to enact it when he has things he wants to enforce for sure, he worried if he declared it sooner they'd somehow be out of it by the time he was ready and needed the power it provided

What was to stop previous Ministers from going full dictator? What allowed him to do it now? Did Scrimgeour just not have that bright idea?
It's new legislation Hermione worked on because of the reveal of magic, intended to give them one unified leader instead of dealing with the tedious power struggle so didn't exist for previous ministers

What's gonna happen anyway? Are they gonna go for amputation or save the otherwise useless leg?
They're going to save the leg

Michael's gone off for a drink so can't Hogan just do what he likes?
No, there's high ranking people around who could stop him and standing around arguing instead of treating him is far worse so Hogan would rather go against his better judgement then waste too much time trying to convince them

Why can't they get prosthetics by the way?
Because St Mungo's was destroyed and its remnants (like prosthetics) are part of Ministry shelters now so prosthetics are there and they're places Gray avoid so they don't have access to those supplies

Is Cassia short for Casseiopia?
Nope, Cassia is the whole name. Its Ancient Roman like all the Ashain first names

Harry Potter slumped down at his desk while suppressing a yawn, the tiny room set aside from him in this shelter was a far cry from the spacious office he was used to but it served its purpose. It was very bare, the walls were a cold blue though the one across from him was taken up by a large map of the UK with all the places the Shadow Master had attacked marked, there were no windows or even the illusion of them. Apart from the map, there was a door, a chair and the desk stacked with reports because paperwork somehow managed to still be a thing. He didn't think it was a priority though, he'd been up since before dawn dealing with the latest attack and aftermath. This was the first time his feet had touched the floor since yesterday and he didn't feel like going through papers, he was tired and it all felt trivial anyway. His wife was dead, his best friends were missing, his protégé had been a traitor and his children… he had no idea where they were, if they were even alive or locked in some deep dark hole…

"Potter!" a voice he had become all too familiar with barked and he groaned inwardly.

Mrs Koray strode briskly into the room, predictably another set of files in her mannish hands. She was a big lady, not overweight at all but just… big, so much so that he suspected she had giant heritage. She was tall – taller than him – and had very broad soldiers, large hands and feet. She also had a very large bosom so you couldn't mistake her for a man, her face was homely though she wore makeup and her crimson lips matched her crimson nails. Her brown her was always tied back into a tight bun, she always wore black heels, black tights beneath her straight navy knee-length skirt and a navy blazer buttoned all the way up, the collar of a blouse could be seen and if it didn't change he might've thought she never changed. She always looked immaculate and professional which was pretty true to her personality, he'd never seen her so much as crack a smile but then he didn't even know her first name, she'd never offered it. He did know she was the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law though and since Hermione was missing, it put her as acting Head instead so he had to deal with her.

"Potter! You need to go through these," Mrs Koray barked as she approached the desk, tossing the files down in front of him which had him scowl as he recognized them as reports from New Azkaban prison.

"I already did," Harry insisted, tossing them back closer to her, "That's why they have my signature on them."

"You're supposed to read them not just sign them."

"What makes you think I didn't read them?" Harry wondered incredulously, he knew full well he had to read them and had done so.

"Because if you had then you wouldn't have signed off on them," she informed him as seriously as she said anything else, her beady black eyes so severe he couldn't tell if she was glaring or just always looked like that. He had the feeling she didn't like him very much, not after what James had done to her son.

"What's wrong with them?"

"The reports are far too short and vague, they don't meet the basic standards and are incredibly lacking, they're also incredibly repetitive like they're just altering a pre-planned report instead of detailing how things actually are. Suicide rates are also unusually high, in such a controlled environment like this there's no excuse for this to be happening."

"Seriously?" Harry wondered, talk about making a mountain out of a mole hill, "Suicide rates are high everywhere at a time like this and so what they're slacking on the reports? There's more pressing things right now then reading detailed reports on prisoners."

"New Azkaban and its prisoners are our responsibility, the Aurors guarding it are your men. Being a lower priority doesn't change the fact its part of the job, the same standards should be upheld. Rules and laws are made for a reason, you may not have a good history of following them but they're important all the same."

"Look, there are attacks every other day and my children are still missing-"

"So are mine!" Mrs Koray shot out angrily, "My eldest two are unaccounted for since Hogwarts fell, my husband also as he is a professor there. I can't help them right now but I can help others, I can do my job and if you can't do yours-"

"I'm doing my job! I just don't think looking into sloppy reports is worth our time right now-"

"Looking into sloppy reports is part of your job! We can't let our standards slip-"

"Look, New Azkaban is secure right now! That's what matters," Harry insisted with a note finality, "I'll tell Blythe and Arnett I expect better reports next time, happy?"

"Not really," Mrs Koray scoffed but nonetheless left him alone, she also left the reports.

He sighed and tossed them onto the pile of other reports, getting a fresh one out to fill out about today's attack while it was still fresh in his mind. As tedious as it was, these could actually be useful for trying to find any semblance of a pattern to these attacks to maybe predict the next one or noticing improvements in their dealing with the aftermath for the next one. And there would be a next one, there was no way they'd get so lucky as Brutus dropping off an incapacitated Shadow Master again and they were no closer to defeating her then they had been since this whole thing began. He wished Dumbledore was there, he'd have a plan, he'd know everything about her- about everyone, he'd know what to do.

Harry finished up the report and suppressed another yawn, deciding he really should just go home and rest. He got up, tapping the report to have it fly into the correct place then headed out into the bustling corridors. He was immediately greeted by looks of loathing from many of the passersby, harkening back to certain points during his Hogwarts days. He – and the Auror Office in general – were not popular right now, they were blamed for losing the Shadow Master and no one was happy about it. As much as a stuck up sticker Mrs Koray could be, she actually treated fairer than most. He'd gone from the Boy Who Lived to the Man Who Lost the Shadow Master, he probably deserved it but he disagreed with them holding it against all Aurors. New Azkaban wasn't the only place with high rates of suicide right now and with the bar being dropped in favor of numbers, Aurors weren't exactly hardened veterans anymore- they had kids barely of age signed up who just wanted to help.

He reached the small room set aside for Flooing, again it was no grand atrium but it served its purpose. He tossed a handful of powder into the nearest one and called for the Burrow, since London – where he had lived in Grimmauld Place - had been destroyed he was staying at the Burrow. He stepped into the emerald flames, keeping his elbows tucked in as he hurtled through space and stepping out into the familiar Weasley kitchen which was full of Weasleys though sadly so many of them he'd grown up with were no longer there.

George was sitting closest to him, like Harry he and his family had lived in Diagon above the shop he and his twin had founded so were now homeless but also jobless and bunking at the Burrow. Despite this he was arguably doing better than most of his family, he was single but he'd divorced rather then been forcibly widowed and his two children were both alive and accounted for, so were his grandchildren. Not that he looked much like a grandfather, he had salt and pepper hair and was still missing an ear but otherwise looked good for his age. He was sitting opposite his eldest grandchildren, Charla, who was three and swinging her legs under the table as she chatted happily to him in between mouthfuls of spaghetti. She was healthily chunky and being mixed-race, had mocha colored skin but Weasley red pigtails much like her father's bright red dreadlocks though his skin was even darker.

Freddie was sitting beside George, a high chair beside him as he spooned food into the eager face of his middle child. Little Lulu had recently turned one, she had a healthy amount of baby fat and very dark skin like her dad and grandma but her hair was coming in blond like her mother. Her mother being Freddie's girlfriend Caitlin Birch, a pretty blond with milky white skin in complete contrast to Freddie. She'd probably been sitting opposite her boyfriend but was walking into the other room now, cradling the youngest and only boy, Godric, who was starting to cry. He'd only been born a couple of months ago – making him the youngest member of the family in general - and shared his mother's milky skin, his most distinguishing feature however was the large mop of Weasley red hair he'd been born with.

Bill was sitting on the other side of the high chair, he didn't live in London so still had his home - and even was sharing it with his only surviving child Victoire and her husband Teddy, both of whom had been made homeless as they lived in London – but still visited frequently. He had his one and only grandchild plopped on his knee, Cres Ashain, who was also one and was devouring the food his grandfather gave him. Cres was very much an Ashain, he had the same extremely dark auburn hair and dark chestnut eyes they all had though Harry thought his flawless face was more reminiscent of his mother and his Veela heritage. Apart from a scar on his arm where his kidnappers must've cut him, the infant was in otherwise good health and Harry thought it had been weirdly good for Bill. He hadn't approved of his daughter's marriage to a much older man and had been distant for a while, wanting nothing to do with their child. Either her death or the kidnapping – or a combination of both - had prompted him to change his tune though, he doted on the now orphaned Cres and was much more involved with the rest of the family again, he was much more like himself again.

Victoire, Teddy and Roxy were either at work – they all worked at the Ministry, Victoire and Teddy as Aurors while Roxy was in Law with Mrs Koray – or not there currently as the only other people at the table was the elder Molly and Vale Rooke, the rest of the family were dead or unaccounted for. Vale wasn't exactly a Weasley or a Potter, he was Cel's son by Gabrielle Delacour though and was Harry's godson, he was also what Ginny had died for when Cel had come to cut the toddler open and leave him to a slow, painful death. Harry had taken him in, as unnerving as it sometimes was to gaze into his protégé's mirror, Vale was just as much a victim of his father as anyone else.

Vale had confided him Cel used the Cruciatus Curse on him numerous times for a long time, by the sound of it he'd also essentially poison Vale's food which was why it had always been a struggle to make him eat. Harry had never realized how much it was possible to be jealous of another child's ability to eat, finding himself envious of Freddie and Bill for the ease their children ate. Molly had the tot on her knee, holding his frail body lovingly as she tried coax him into eating the half-gone food in front of him. It wasn't that easy to undo years of damage by Cel but they were trying, he still seemed extremely depressed but as pitiful as it was a half-gone plate was better than before. The pale, sandy-haired boy looked up at him as he approached, he'd be a beautiful child if not for the sadness in his eyes. Regardless, Harry put on a welcoming smile as he came and sat beside them.

"How you doing, Vale?" Harry asked of the boy, he was trying to be encouraging.

"Okay," Vale muttered quietly, "You missed dinner. We had sketti and I got to help cooking."

"You were a great little helper, weren't you?" Molly assured him, giving Vale a gentle smile and rubbing his arm. Vale nodded and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips for a fragment of a second at the praise, "You helped mix up the sauce, learned how to stir."

"There are some leftovers if you're hungry by the way, Harry," George pointed out.

"Can I eat it?" Charla asked hopefully, licking the remnants of sauce from her now empty plate.

"You just ate a whole plate of seconds!"

"But I like it," Charla told him as she put down the plate, smiling brightly, "If not can I eat desert, Gwampa?"

"Charla, what do we say?" Freddie urged his daughter.

"I'm weally sorry I – not Daddy - assidenly thwowed the Qualfel thwoughed your window, Mr Lyons, it won't happen again."

"No, the other thing!" Freddie said quickly, flailing his arms which had Lulu whine unhappily at the disruption to being spoon fed, "The magic word."

"Oh, pleeeeease?"

"That's the one."

"Well since you asked so nicely without prompting, I'll go see if there's some ice cream," George told her with a smirk as he stood to leave.

"Yay!" Charla cried happily, throwing her arms up in the air then turning back to her dad to engage him in conversation instead.

"Do you want ice cream, Vale?" Molly wondered of the toddler, getting him to eat anything was good for him at this point.

"No thank you," Vale shook his head politely, "I'm tired. Can I go to bed?"

"How about one last big spoonful and then you can go to bed?" Harry countered and Vale nodded with only a little reluctance.

Harry picked up the spoon and heaped as much spaghetti onto it as possible before bringing it to the toddler's mouth, his eyes flickering with a hint of fear. He squeezed them shut instead as he ate the spoonful, his expression twisting momentarily with fear then relaxing as he realized it tasted okay and he allowed his eyes to open once more with a look of relief. It was how every bite of every food went with Vale, he thought it'd be a lot easier if just one bite of a meal did that but he wasn't sure how to stop Vale expecting every other bite to hurt him.

"See? It's still good," Molly assured the boy.

"You're right," Vale confirmed with a nod while noticeably suppressing a yawn that didn't go unnoticed by Molly, "Again."

"Well let's get you to bed before you fall asleep at the table."

"I'll take him," Harry offered instead when she made to stand up, scooping Vale up into his arms instead.

"Goodnight sweetie."

"Goodnight Grandma Molly," Vale said in turn and there was a small chorus of goodnights from the others at the table.

Harry headed out with Vale, passing George returning with a bowl of ice cream for his granddaughter. It was pretty common for Vale to go to bed earliest, he was still recovering from Cel's attack and in fact had only been allowed to start eating solid food – within certain parameters – in the last couple of days because of the damage to his stomach.

He stopped in the bathroom so Vale could brush his teeth then brought him up to Ron's old room which was where they were staying, apart from the bizarre mix of soul-crushing guilt and bittersweet nostalgia it made him feel it was perfectly serviceable. He started to help Vale change into his pajamas, he was smart enough to not need much help but Harry was still cautious and it let him check the wound Cel had given him which was now a raw scar stretching across his stomach but definitely healing.

"So did you have a nice day, huh?" Harry tried to provoke conversation as he finished pulling the pajama top over Vale's head, to his surprise this had instead caused the toddler's shoulders to start to shake as tears shed from his eyes, "What's wrong?!"

"I- I'm sorry, Harry," Vale started to sob as Harry placed a comforting hand on his small shoulder though he was completely confused, "I- I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I- I know I- I should be happy, I- I know everythings better and D- Daddy is gone b- but I- I still feel sad. I feel sad all the time a- and I know I- I should be happy, I d- I don't know why," Vale confided in him, breaking down in tears and Harry pulled the fragile body into his arms, "I- I'm sorry I don't feel h- happy, I'm b- bad."

"It's okay," Harry assured him gently, holding him close and rubbing soothing circles on his back, "It's okay, Vale, you can feel however you want and we'll be here for you either way. It doesn't make you bad to feel sad, a lot of bad has happened and it takes time to heal."

"B- But m- my tummy i- is hea-"

"There are other types of wounds then just those you can see, in fact the ones you can't see usually take the longest to heal."

"O- Okay," Vale sniffed into his shoulder.

Harry continued to hold him, wondering whether he was even right about that and his eyes drifted to the pictures of his kids on the dresser. Depression wasn't something he'd had to deal with for his own children after all, nor his nieces of nephews for that matter so he wasn't sure what the best course of action was. Sadly, the person he'd go to for advice had lost their mind and was probably dead… he averted his eyes from the photograph of James guiltily.

Reverting his attention back to the now calmer half-asleep Vale, Harry laid him down on the bed and tucked him in. Feeling a pang of sadness as he did so, very much missing the simpler days when his own children had been this small and they weren't missing in a war. He planted a kiss on Vale's forehead to wish him goodnight, wondering if either of them would even live long enough in said war to worry about fixing his depression.

He sighed as his eyes went back to the photographs, he'd never have thought he'd actually be hoping his children were with Gray right now. He knew Vern's daughter at least was, Theodore Nott's children had had the common decency to return the underage boy to his father - where underage kids belonged - while informing him of the death of the eldest and the fact they – along with Lydia – would be with Gray. He thought it was a poor choice for a baby but at least he knew she'd survived the attack, that she as okay. His own children hadn't given him the luxury of that and he'd only heard vague conflicting things, he didn't know whether they were alive or dead or hurt, whether they'd been left in Hogwarts to be captured by the Shadows or were with Gray. Being on the same side didn't mean he liked Gray but it was an infinitely better option then capture, hoping for it didn't mean it was true though. Albus supported Gray but Lily had more sense – he was shocked she hadn't made Prefect, she was such a brilliant student – his sweet innocent little girl was far too young and fragile to willingly get mixed up in this war stuff, poor child was probably scared out of her mind right now.

He still would've thought Albus would let him know they were okay, that he'd want to know how his family was doing… If they were alive did they know about Ginny? Surely they would've gone home if they knew about Ginny. It made him for worry for Rose and Hugo too, did they know their mother was missing? He wanted them to know their dad had been innocent all along, he didn't know Ron's fate either but if… if he wasn't there anymore his children should at least have the memory of their dad restored, Ron deserved that much. Lucy was also randomly unaccounted for but Harry was least worried about her, Molly had no doubt dragged her sister into Gray with her. Then there was James… he was technically unaccounted for but that was a whole other story, he knew he was with the Shadows at least which was probably safer then wherever his other children were.

He lay down on the bed and suppressed another sigh as his eyes went back to the controversial picture of a younger James, grinning happily and waving at him. What, was he supposed to just suddenly hate the first child he and his wife and brought into the world because he'd done some bad? He couldn't do that, he couldn't accept there was no good left in James. He couldn't deny James obviously had a dark streak- a darker streak then most – but he was still his son, conceived and raised in so much love there just had to be good in him too. Whatever darkness he had the Shadows would be exacerbating it, they'd probably been teaching him torture with Flan and trying to indoctrinate him into the lunatic morals. He needed to get him away from that influence, back into the light. He'd have to pay for his crimes, of course, it would be a great injustice to Vern otherwise but he thought prison would be good for James and he could finally get that psychological help he wished he hadn't rejected Flan offering all those years ago then by the time he got out he'd be fixed. Hopefully…

"Harry!" George bellowed up to him abruptly, snapping him from his thoughts and making him blink his eyes back open. They probably wanted to know if he was going to eat those leftovers, he knew he should eat but he was far more tired than he was hungry, "Harry, you should get down here!"

Harry groaned and got up as he should at least tell them as much, though the urgency in his voice made him paranoid something was wrong like another attack already. Though it was a strange, Patronus tended to be how he was alerted to these things and it'd have no reason to go to George. He made sure the noise hadn't woken Vale quickly before heading downstairs, finding everyone was now clustered around something though they started to move aside when they saw him to reveal-

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as he laid eyes on his bushy haired friend, relief flooded him and he pulled her into a hug, "I'm so glad you're okay! I thought the Shadows had gotten to you…"

"They didn't, they didn't get me anyway," Hermione answered as she pulled away and he wasn't sure if it was her emphasize that made him notice Molly was now crying, Bill had one around her and a confused looking Cres in the other. His relief suddenly turned into a rock in his stomach.

"What happened?"

"Rose… Rose died in Hogwarts," Hermione told him solemnly, averting her eyes and folding her arms. He was tempted to hug her again as a wave of sympathy and sorrow hit him, as well as fresh fear for his own children, "Lucy also is no longer with us, it's a long story."

"Do- Do you know-"

"Your children are alive, Molly and Hugo are also okay. And Ron."

"Ron?!" Harry spluttered out, shocked but relieved at the same time and looked around the familiar faces as if expecting them inexplicably to be there and he simply hadn't noticed.

"They're all with Gray right now," Hermione continued as if she could read his mind as she looked back to him.

"What?" Harry questioned, feeling even more shocked and a little betrayed, "All of them- Are you?"

"Yes," Hermione said pointedly after a minute and from the sharp look on her face he was sure the betrayal showed on his face, "The Shadows forced Ron to lie about being the traitor to get the heat off Cel, he was then taken prisoner and held captive. A few months ago Gray freed him and he's been with them since, they don't really have a good way to prove his innocence but he tried talking to me anyway and I… I knew he was innocent so I've been with Gray since."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Varanian doesn't trust you, Harry, and I couldn't guarantee you'd be convinced like I was about Ron. Can you look me in the eye and honestly guarantee you would've? I didn't want to risk losing him again," Hermione told him and Harry stayed silent, as much as he'd like to say 'yes' he was ashamed that he wasn't sure. Hermione stayed silent long enough to know his answer but didn't comment, "Hugo was hurt during the attack and after losing Rose… I've just been laying low with Gray while he recovers, I… I needed a break."

"What about my children?" Harry wondered, understanding why Hermione would stay away but not his children and Albus had his apparation license.

"Albus was hurt badly in the attack too and he was in no condition to be moved, Lily didn't want to leave him like that," Hermione continued before he could question her and Harry felt a chill go through him but for the first time her tone sounded more optimistic, "He's going to be okay though, don't worry. He's through the worst of it and he's awake more, it just takes time to recover."

"Can I see them?" Harry asked trying not to sound too test but he was upset at being denied access to his children, especially when one of them was badly hurt. He wanted to be there, he should've been allowed to be there.

"Maybe," Hermione answered cryptically.

"Can we see Ron?" Molly spoke up before he could say anything, reminding Harry they weren't alone.

"Yes, definitely soon," Hermione confirmed more optimistically and Molly managed a smile through her tears, "We just thought I should explain things first or he'd have come now, besides I have business to do too. Unfortunately this isn't just a social call."

"Business?" Harry wondered in surprise and Hermione nodded.

"We're making an alliance with Gray."

"What?!"

James Sirius Potter was sitting upright in his bed unhappily, holding a mirror up to his face to see the wound that werewolf had given him now the bandages had come off. Being inflicted by a werewolf it was a curse wound and unable to be healed magically and while it was too raw to accurately gage how it would heal, he knew it would definitely scar and he was very not happy about it. The livid red line went diagonally from his forehead across the corner of his eyebrow towards his ear, it was far larger then he'd thought and he definitely didn't want it ruining his good looks.

"What do you think, Yannis?" James asked of his slave, the Greek teen approaching with a tray carrying his dinner.

"It is lucky it missed your eye, Master James," Yannis offered after sparing a glance.

"Just because it could've been worse, it doesn't mean it's not still bad!" James yelled at him angrily, lashing out with his free arm to hit the tray and send the contents crashing onto the floor, the cutlery clattered and the bowl shattered completely upon impact, "Clean that up, Yannis, you clumsy idiot! You're pathetic!"

"Yes, Master James," Yannis agreed immediately and rushed to obey, making James notice red soup was spilling through the ruins of the bowl.

"And why were you bringing me soup, anyway?! I don't want more soup!"

"It is orders from the Healer, Master James, your stomach is not well enough for solids yet."

"And who do you take orders from, huh?! You're my property not theirs!" James snapped at him even though he knew he was being stupid, of course Yannis was – and should – take the Healers advice on this. The werewolf had injured his stomach too which he was still recovering from, it was why he was stuck in bed even, not that it made the forced dietary restrictions any less irritable especially when the Shadows already had forced dietary restrictions in the first place as meat wasn't allowed. But still, it was no excuse for Yannis' poor attitude, "When you're done cleaning up, bring me a knife. I think you need to be reminded who you belong to."

"Yes, Master James."

James leaned back as Yannis finished cleaning up, feeling more satisfied now he had something to look forward to. He put the mirror down – face down – on the bedside table, trying to put it out of his mind. Maybe it wouldn't heal as bad? Idly he began fiddling with the two rings on his fingers he'd acquired from his victims, he'd make that fucking werewolf pay when he had the chance, when he knew who they were because apparently they were too big to have been the small child Sebastian. How dare they leave him scarred and bedridden? It had been completely uncalled for, he'd just been doing his job and they were the ones going against the Shadows wishes, in fact he'd been winning before the damn beast had come at him. Assuming they hadn't died already, he had hit them with a curse fatal without treatment before that and karma wasn't kind to traitors. He'd heard of his mum's death after all, served her right for betraying him.

"Which knife would you like, Master James?" Yannis' voice called from the other room.

"Your choice!" James yelled back, it was awfully generous of him to let a slave decide but he really just wanted to get on with it, "Just make it quick!"

Yannis obeyed and quickly returned with one of the knives, James snatched it from him as soon as he was close enough. He grabbed Yannis' wrist roughly and yanked him closer, shoving the sleeve back to get at the arm which was already sporting numerous scars from James experimenting with some stuff but he had the correct arm as there were no words. He jabbed the knife in roughly at a particularly untouched part of the wrist eliciting a cry of pain from his slave, he then began his work. Carving carefully into Yannis' soft flesh, feeling the blood running through the fingers of his hand still holding the wrist steady while Yannis made occasional sounds of pain. As much pain as a slave could feel anyway, it wasn't like Yannis was a real person but James was still glad he was suffering, he deserved it for what he'd done.

For James it was really quite relaxing and concentrating on the letters took his mind of his injuries, he lost himself in it completely and had no sense of time. He'd gotten a lot better at it, it was also possible with a wand but he enjoyed the up and close personal feel with a knife. He was smiling by the time he was finished and the bloody letters spelling out 'Property of James Sirius Potter' were now embedded into Yannis' flesh, only then did he release the slave's arm.

"There you go," James told him brightly while Yannis clutched at his injured arm, crimson still cascading down, "Does that help you remember who owns you?"

"You've scarred these words five times already onto me, Master James," Yannis pointed out timidly, his voice a little hoarse, "I know I'm your property."

"I'm glad. Now get yourself cleaned up so you can me some dinner, try not to throw it on the floor this time or I'll have to punish you."

"Yes, Master James," Yannis muttered and started to move away, only to freeze at the sound of the door knocking.

"Well go and get the door!" James barked at him when Yannis looked at him in askance, the slave then immediately went to obey.

Yannis was so stupid, how had he ever managed before being enslaved? Truly Yannis was lucky the Shadows had come along, even luckier that he got to serve James instead of someone who wasn't important. His slave returned momentarily with Stephan Hunter who was his guest because… well, it was never anyone else. Stephan was alright but he couldn't hold a candle to his brother, Carver was better in every way. James missed him still, a lot.

"Hey James," Stephan greeted him, folding his arms and leaning against the door frame, "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," James answered as the potions were keeping the pain away and he was told he was doing well, his good mood obliterated though as his eyes drifted to the face down mirror and his anger about the scar returned, "Except the scar… How um… How bad do you think it looks?"

"Seems fine, doesn't look infected and it's good it missed your eye."

"I'm not talking about infection! I mean how it looks," James complained irritably as Stephan seemed to be missing the point, "Whether it makes me look ugly."

"Why do you care if you look ugly?"

"Wha- Why wouldn't I care?" James spluttered out at a loss, "Don't you care if you look ugly?"

"No," Stephan answered plainly, "Why would I? I'm a powerful wizard, that's what benefits the master not my looks."

"Well what if… what if there's a girl you like? Wouldn't you want her to think you're handsome?"

"What does it matter whether she thinks I'm handsome? When I order her to have a child with me she can obey or die, what she thinks I look like is hardly relevant," Stephan pointed out in confusion, looking at him like he'd started speaking a completely different language.

"Well… don't you want a real relationship with someone? To be in love? Eventually, I mean."

"Why would I want that? Producing children through the breeding program is far more beneficial to our society then limiting yourself to one person," Stephan told him and James sighed heavily, sometimes he forgot how much Stephan could be like one of the brain-dead Elites. As great as the Shadows were, sometimes he just missed normal people, "And if there was anyone I'd want a relationship with, I'd rather she share my values then obsess of the superficial."

"Just forget it," James sighed heavily, not knowing why he expected Shadows or slaves to understand his plight. That werewolf would understand though, understand when James killed that bastard, "What did you want anyway?"

"To give you your next task actually."

"Am I in trouble?" James wondered, the prisoners had escaped after all.

"No, its unfortunate the prisoners escaped but we still learned some crucial information."

"The animagus?"

"Yes, it's no doubt a part of how they've been able to spy on us and now we know what to look out for its useless. Assuming Wyatt Grant even survived his injuries, some injured prisoners are hardly a threat to us especially considering your brutality," Stephan explained and James smiled to himself at the memories of torture, he was almost going to miss those prisoners, especially the Slytherin and Professor Koray, "When planning security next time just try account for more scenarios next time and prioritize passing on information over treatment for your injuries."

"So what's next? Do I get to torture some other prisoners?" James questioned hopefully, his spirits rising a little at the thought.

"No, you get to conquer. You're being promoted to General, congratulations," Stephen told him and James' eyes bulged in shock, "The Shadow Master may be pissed off at England right now but we can't afford to slow our assault on the world and we've stabilized Canada, our contact in Brazil is confident they'll surrender if we put more pressure on so the goal is to sweep down and put a dent into South America. We also need to clear out the Middle-East, give us more space to amass Inferi and make a clearer path into Asia because we'll need a lot of momentum ideally to take China. I'm going to clear out more of the Island countries with the Russian to get them used to massive numbers of Inferi, we'll get into Europe from there."

"Right… So what exactly will I be doing?"

"Pick whether you want South America or the Middle-East, I'll work out logistics with you while you recover and you'll launch the attack when you've recovered just like you've done with me except it'll be solo because I'll take the one you don't," Stephan said with a smirk, "You'll be a conquer now, James, a King among men. Your name will go down in history, surpassing even your father in infamy."

"Really?" James wondered hopefully, rather liking the sound of all that. That'd show his family they were fools to betray him, show his dad he was clearly worth more time then Harry had bothered to give him.

"Really, and you're worried about a measly scar? When they're cowered at your feet because of your might and the armies of the Soul Eaters behind, no one's going to care about something so trivial. Like I said, power is what truly matters."

"You're right, Stephan, of course you're right."