Katelyn, standing before the fireplace in her office, drew a small ceramic pot off the mantle, the innards of which glimmered green.

She laid it down on her desk, and reached across the desk for a spare piece of parchment and a quill. Dipping the quill tip in ink, she touched it to the parchment and wrote,

The situation has developed. I need to to talk to you two, post-haste. - K.C

She affixed the message with an intricate, flowing symbol; then sprinkled some of the Floo Powder from the pot onto the middle. She carefully folded the parchment into a square, the corners touching in the middle, and she folded it again. She then turned back to the fire, said "Malfoy Manor, Opal Wing Fireplace," and tossed it in, where it vanished with a flurry of green fire.

After a minute of waiting, the response came on the back of the same piece of parchment, in emerald-green ink, with a similar symbol inscribed next to the text.

Then come, post-haste.

Katelyn picked up another handful of Floo Powder, tossed it into the fire, repeated the fireplace directions and stepped in.

She reappeared in Malfoy Manor, in the great chamber of the westernmost wing of the vast, sprawling house.

The walls and floor were lined with lush, green tapestries and carpets, usually depicting some revered Malfor ancestor doing something improbably valorous or skillful. Torches burned with steady magical flame in wall-mounted braziers.

The wall facing Katelyn when she emerged was centred with a huge window, beyond which snow and winds tore at the sky. Corvus reclined on the window seat in the recess, turning away from the storm outside to regard Katelyn. Two chairs faced the fireplace, chased with copper and stuffed with goose feathers. In one of them, Hydra Malfoy sat with a book in hand, and raised her head to acknowledge the headmistress.

In the other chair, an old, wizened figure in his dressing gown snored gently.

"Lady Canmore. To what do we owe the pleasure?" said Hydra, placing down her book.

"News that may interest ye. And a proposition I strongly advise ye two to heed."

"What is it, then?" said Corvus. His voice was slightly slurred, from the wine imbibed at the Malfoy's own Christmas feast.

"The knight ye delivered to me was attacked by a Dementor earlier tonight," said Katelyn.

That got their attention.

"He …. but how did that..." said Corvus, sitting bolt-upright and glancing quickly at the old man sleeping in the chair.

"Nachlan paid his 'social call' during the Christmas feast. He saw the knight there, and it disnae take a philosopher to put two and two thegither."

"Defiling guest-right, even for a muggle?" Hydra raised a brow. "How exceedingly vile. The man has no honour left."

"Forget the guest-right. Don't you see what this means?" said Corvus. He had stood up, his face burning with excitement, pacing in his eagerness. "That's evidence we can use against him. Nachlan saw that knight – and that knight was attacked by a Dementor. Our … our father spoke out against Gaunt, and he was attacked by the Dementor." The old man, Orion Malfoy, stirred in his empty sleep. "We suspected, but couldn't prove anything. But that's changed! The latter event can prove the former! We've got evidence now, and we've finally got grounds to see justice done. By all the gods, I can finally challenge that monster to a honour duel – there'll be Gaunt blood spilled for this..."

"Hear me out before ye do onything, lad," said Katelyn firmly. Corvus settled, reluctantly.

"There's mair," she said. "When Gaunt saw the knight, he was furious, livid – but not surprised. He kent that a muggle had come tae Hogwarts. I think he wanted tae see the truth of that with his own een. But if he was forewarned, then who by?" She stepped forward, her expression set.

"Mind how I told you that my assistant, Hadrian Dunbar, had vanished? Gaunt must have gotten to him – he must have extracted the information through threats, or worse, and then murdered him once he had what he wanted."

"Then that's even better," interrupted Hydra crisply. "That's another death chalked up by Gaunt. We can use that as well, we can use that as grounds for settling the matter in a duel. The evidence is circumstantial, I'll admit, but Gaunt can't not explain himself without losing face..."

"I hadn't finished," said Katelyn sharply. The twins fell silent.

"The maist important thing of that whole visit by Gaunt – the critical thing of it – is that Gaunt's making his next move. He's called for a Great Council for the new year. He's going tae demand that wizardry makes a choice there, and he'll likely have the numbers to prevail and assume leadership."

"But … how?" said the stunned Corvus. "I thought he was still playing it safe. He didn't have the support of another noble house, he had to move cautiously..."

"He has House Black. He brought Lord Horatio tae the feast and showed him off like a dancing bear. Him, and a woman as well. I didnae ken her."

Corvus swore quietly.

"Then that settles it," said Hydra. "We challenge him to an honour duel, with all the evidence supporting our grievance, before the Great Council can take place, and we fight to the death. Myself or Corvus will do that – we're the best duellists in wizarding Britain, nobody can deny that, and once he's gone, we can just..."

"Ye're the best duellists, bar Gaunt himself," said Katelyn.

"He's brutal, but unskilled. We can ..."

"No. Listen tae me." Katelyn held her hands before her in a placating gesture. "Here's my proposition, and I must ask that ye hear it all the way through. Just give me your attention, and then ask or interject afterwards. A fair proposal?"

"Silence taken as a yes," said Katelyn after a moment. "Now then. Duelling Gaunt isnae an option – killing him won't dispel his supporters. There's tae much momentum behind them, and they'll unleash an even fiercer storm on Britain if ye gie them a martyr. Besides which ... I'm sorry, ye pair, but Gaunt could cut either one of you tae collops on a bad day. He's got prodigious magical strength, and he's far, far more skilled than ye gie him credit for. Ye'd fight him, and ye'd only humiliate yourself and harm our cause. Rule that out."

"What I've been doing these past years is what we're going to use. I'm going tae take the information collected by the Weasley twins, once it's ready, and spring it on Gaunt at his ain Great Council. He'll lose all his standing, all his fabricated moral high ground, when the full light of his crimes comes tae light, and he'll be supported by none but a few as fanatical as himself. We can cut off the serpent's heid, and crush its body as well."

"The Weasley twins," said Corvus sourly. "You rely on them too much. The whole family is suspect."

"They were the best available for spywork. Nae offence, Corvus, but ye've picked up something of a reputation for … ah … a deficiency in circumspection."

"Blast it all, this isn't going back to that masque ball five years back, is it? All I said was that Tomyn Greengrass was quite clearly conceived of the union between Lord Greengrass and a polecat, and I stand by every word. The man's got a face like a ..."

"My point stands," said Katelyn. "The Weasley twins will have the evidence ready for me by the 30th. But the days in between will be when I need ye pair."

"What for?"

"I don't trust Gaunt to play to plan. I'm certain he's got plans of his ain. And if … when he starts making things more complicated, I'll rely on ye. I'll need ye both tae be ready to respond whenever I need ye. If I need your skills tae bring tae bear at any hour, at any time …"

"Then we'll be ready," sighed Corvus.

"We understand, but I still think that Gaunt could be finished in one duel," said Hydra. "But if you think otherwise, then we'll try to restrain ourselves."

She looked at her father, who hadn't stirred throughout the entire conversation. His eyes had opened into wakefulness halfway through, but he had taken just as much action as if he had still been sleeping.

Katelyn could barely remember the old Orion Malfoy, the fiery, principled and arrogant wizard lord who had been one of the most influential voices in their politics. The man before her now, who relied on the care of his children and the ministrations of house-elfs to so much as cloth and feed himself, was a hollow shell.

Hydra followed her gaze.

"But if an opportunity should arise in these days, or in the days after, for vengeance for our father..." said Hydra in a soft tone, "...Then you'll understand that we'll not apologise for seizing it with both hands. There's more than honour at stake here. There's not just the fate of all wizardry at stake here, for us."

"Then I'll not stop ye," sighed Katelyn. "All I can ask is that ye restrain yourselves for … for what your father fought for. And I shallnae intrude on ye any longer." She turned to leave through the fireplace.

"How's the muggle, by the way?" said Corvus as an afterthought.

"He's fine. I saw the Dementor before it got to him, and I sent it off. He's a bit shaken, I'd imagine, but otherwise unharmed."

Corvus grunted, dismissing the subject and Katelyn. She stepped into the fire, and vanished.

"You're the educated person in this room, squire of mine," said Cadogan firmly, slapping a piece of parchment onto the table and, with a battered quill pen and ink, scrawling Plans for the Revengement of Myself on Gaunt at the top. "We know who it could be. Katelyn warned us about him, and I saw the way he looked at me at the feast. That creature had a cold purpose behind it, and he's the likely candidate. Now you're going to help me in this. We know he's a threat to myself. We know he could be a threat to all non-wizards. How do we stop him? How do we bring battle to a wizarding lord? Help me plan this."

"This is not how I envisaged spending my Christmas evening," said Trilby.

The stone tower rose amidst the forest, its ruined tip rising as high as the twisted trees that flanked it.

It was a broch, an ancient tower of stone erected in the days of old by muggles. It rose nearly fifteen metres tall and eight metres in diameter, with metre-thick walls of hewed stone. It had lain in ruins for centuries before the Weasley twins had found it.

Now the roof had been fixed, the holes in the walls had been filled in, and the interior was positively homely. Light spilled out from cracks in the doorframe, and a gentle plume of smoke rose from the top into the night sky, where it was pulled apart by merciless winds.

Amidst the thick growth of vegetation that surrounded it, dripping with snow and slush, a pair of eyes gleamed. They were amber eyes, cold and terrible.

A eagle flew overhead, and swooped down to the ground, next to the watchful eyes. It shifted, and became Nachlan Gaunt.

"Ready?" he asked the eyes.

Skadi stood out of the bushes, tall and upright, a knife and wand in her grasp. She growled in assent. From all around her came the growls of her pack, dozens in number, muted by the howling winds.

"Good," said Gaunt. He turned and looked at the broch, and swept water off his fringe. He raised his wand and , out of the corner of his mouth, muttered, "Storm them. Upon my assault, move your pack in and tear whatever's left of the blood-bastards to pieces."

Skadi growled, the battle-lust upon her. Nachlan drew himself upright, grasped the wand more firmly, and then drew it in a complex, shifting pattern around his head, and it twitched and stirred and began to glow with a dull orange light. Finally, he stopped, and levelled it at the broch, from which the muffled sounds of brotherly laughter could be heard.

"Fabrico Fiendfyre," he snarled.