Pairings: FemHP/TMR, LP/JP, SB/OC, RL/NT, DM/DG
Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.
A/N: I know this update has been long awaited and long overdue so I apologize for the long wait but there is a valid reason for the tardiness of this chapter that I'll explain at the bottom of the chapter. For now, please enjoy the chapter and as always please leave a review.
Behind the Veil
By StycianLeo
Chapter XVIII
Selwyn House, West Sussex, England
The Selwyn House was a lavish home crafted from pale rose colored stone that sprawled over a half acre in southern England. It was the newest property of the Ancient and Noble House and had become their seat of political power, the place where alliances were forged and power brokered to push legislation through the Wizengamot.
Rickard Selwyn took no small amount of pride in that fact, it had taken him a lifetime to cultivate his political connections and Ministry contacts but the rewards spoke for themselves. After the Chief Warlock and the Minister he had the most political power in the Wizengamot, the other chairs for the pureblood agenda looked to him for guidance and his wealth made it possible for him to secure the moderate voting bloc.
It was why he had been sought after by Grindelwald himself and made the Seneschal of the Knights of Walpurgis. He was perhaps the only man in all of England that knew that the Teacher had not been killed that Halloween night so many years ago and that the Dark Lord had not abandoned the cause by had tactically retreated. For over a decade he had been the consummate operative, working tirelessly to ensure that the pureblood agenda did not backslide but continued to progress, even if it was slowly.
So it had come as quite the surprise when he had received orders to do more than just exercise his political acumen for the good of the cause but to take out a personal advertisement in the Daily Prophet. To him the message had been purely nonsensical but it was apparent that someone had managed to decipher it because by the second evening after the ad had run, he had found himself harboring a set of fugitives.
It had been commonly known that the Death Eaters were Lord Voldemort's soldiers, that to take his mark was to pledge yourself to the bloodshed of war. The Dark Lord had attracted the young and idealistic with his charisma, his promises of power and places of honor in his new world order.
In his old age, Lord Selwyn had come to see the impetus of youth for what it was; foolish and destructive. The smart move had always been to gather strength, to consolidate it and weave the web of intrigue so when the trap was sprung; there was no opposition left. He wondered just what web was being woven now as he looked down upon his 'guests' from the second floor of his library.
The last of the Lestrange line sat before the hearth as a fire crackled merrily, the only sounds that carried across the distance of the room was of them wolfing down the food that his house-elves had prepared for them. Bowls of broth and baskets of freshly baked bread were empty and goblets of white wine were drained completely alongside the vials of potions meant to help them recover from the effects of imprisonment.
'The physical effects anyway' Rickard thought to himself ruefully as he recalled Rodolphus muttering to himself feverishly while Rabastan simply stared out of haunted eyes, a vacant expression on his face as he moved about robotically. Bellatrix had proven to be the most lucid of the trio when they had arrived Disillusioned in the copse of trees on the border of his wards but he wasn't sure just how sane she still was; it seemed to him that the only thing that held her together and drove her forward was the Dark Mark on her arm.
He watched her touch and caress it as though it was her master himself, faded and grey the Dark Mark was little more than an inert tattoo most of the time but he knew that it occasionally flared to life. He had seen his youngest son clench his hand and grit his teeth as the agony of the writhing tattoo manifested itself, reminding those who had taken the mark onto their flesh that their master was still alive and that he was simply biding his time.
Lord Selwyn's ruminations were interrupted as the air shimmered in front of him with a golden haze and the sounds of the fireplace and the Death Eaters fell away, leaving just the sounds of his breathing and that of someone else's.
"How are our guests Rickard?" The voice of Grindelwald sounded from over his left shoulder as smooth and cultured as the first time that the wizard had addressed him all those years ago. The visage of the man was much changed though, where once there had been an old and time weathered face was now the face of a young man of powerful Nordic features but his skin was sickly and there were beads of sweat that clung to his upper lip as though he had exerted himself tremendously.
"They are alive my Lord, but I fear that they are…" broken, was the word that sprung to mind but Selwyn settled for, "… unstable." It made little difference in the scheme of things though, he had opened his home to the fugitives; taken tremendous risk and for nothing.
Grindelwald turned his gaze on Rickard and met his eyes calmly, "Do not trouble yourself over it my friend, stability is not necessary for the task I have for them; in fact it is to my benefit if they are unhinged. Do you have what I asked for?"
Selwyn nodded curtly and retrieved the thin, rectangular boxes from under his robes that could have only contained one thing. "Our agents in the Ministry are proving most useful, reports are being circulated that the Death Eaters are staying in Leeds and moving northward. Cornelius has employed the use of Dementors to aid in the search and has decreed the fugitives be Kissed on sight."
Gellert smiled, genuinely pleased at the news as he opened the boxes and plucked the wands from their resting places. He could feel the magic in the cores humming after being unused for so long and straining to return to the hands of their wielders. "What news do you have on Pettigrew?"
"Nothing good I'm afraid, Pettigrew split with the rest of the fugitives shortly after making land fall; we can only assume that he had a bolthole of his own since it was not widely known that he was a Death Eater before the events at the Longbottom home so he was probably prepared to go to ground if he should have to go into hiding.
"Reports have come in that his first confirmed sighting was at the Potter estate in Warwickshire, apparently he crashed the Heir's birthday celebrations before he escaped. The common belief is that it was meant to be a statement rather than an attack." Lord Selwyn explained while he took back the empty wand boxes and Vanished them.
Grindelwald did not speak for a moment as he considered the new information; Pettigrew had never been anything but a follower and for him to go off by himself to settle his vendetta was very peculiar. That he had confronted the Potters on Iris's birthday was more disconcerting still; the girl was vital to his future plans and Peter threatening her was intolerable.
"Use your contacts with the Ministry to focus pursuit on Pettigrew; if he's making himself visible then it's clear that he's the most dangerous." Grindelwald instructed his British Seneschal as he considered his next move carefully, "I'm going to take these three to Rosier Castle to recover, see to it that I have two house-elves to accompany me."
"As you say, my Lord." Selwyn bowed stiffly, limited by the age of his body and departed as swiftly as he could manage from the library to see to the Teacher's request. Gellert conjured a handkerchief and dabbed away at the sweat that had formed on his skin as he descended the spiral staircase to the first floor of the library.
This body was failing quickly, the more magic he pushed through it the faster it was tiring and the youth whose mind he was suppressing was fighting much harder than he should have been able. It was just his luck that he had managed to stumble on a natural Occlumens, he would have to move on quickly but first he had some matters to attend to.
He weighed each of the wands in his hands as he approached he trio by the fireplace until he settled on one that felt more comfortable than the rest. 'Yes, this will do nicely.' He thought to himself before he cleared his throat and three sets of sunken eyes turned to focus on him.
He smiled.
Daulyn Castle, Wales, UK
"I'm going to kill him! I'm going to pull his spine out with my bare hands and then I'm going to strangle him with it!" Sirius was shouting as he paced back and forth in front of the stone mantle of an enormous fireplace. The gaping black mouth would have allowed a man to easily step inside of it and have two or three others stand shoulder to shoulder with him comfortably.
It was easily the most dominating feature of the square room considering that the only other thing in it was lacquered wood table that was painted with an incredibly detailed map of Great Britain and Ireland.
Remus watched him pace with a look of a placid interest as he counted how many steps he took before he double backed and retraced his steps. The werewolf estimated that if Sirius had been on a straight path that he'd have walked three miles in the last twenty minutes from the pace he was setting.
"Why the hell are you so calm dammit!? The bastard literally knocked on our back door and walked away!" Sirius yelled as he pointed a finger at his longtime friend accusingly. This was a serious matter, one that should not be taken lightly especially considering that those who had been closest to the rat had been the children.
The man had all but said "I can hit you where it would hurt the most and there's nothing you can do to stop me." For Sirius it was intolerable, the traitor should be rotting in Azkaban where he deserved to be. He shouldn't be amongst the living to threaten innocent people with his presence; he should have been Kissed when the opportunity had presented itself.
Remus looked at the finger pointedly as he traced the offending digit back up to the Auror's shoulder before he met the man's grey eyes with his own brown ones, except for the little detail that they were flashing amber as the Wolf in him raised its hackles and snapped its teeth. His cubs had been threatened and the beast that dwelled in him was furious that it hadn't gotten the chance to rip out the throat of the predator that had tried to hurt them.
"Why? Because it'd be pointless to try to yell over you about how much I want to tear a particular man limb from limb." Remus said with a kind joviality about him that was simply frightening when juxtaposed with what he had actually said. "Now please lower your finger, it's impolite to point."
Sirius jerked his hand back as if stung before glaring at his arm traitorously before he crossed his arms with deliberate slowness. He refused to allow himself be agitated by the more furry side of Remus, he had run beside it too many times to relate any kind of fear to it. But a healthy respect of it was called for.
The two friends lapsed into a tense silence for a few moments before the door to the room was thrown open violently, the ancient iron hinges groaning in protest of the action as James strode into the room with his robes swirling about him and a look of unadulterated rage on his face.
Sirius swallowed audibly; or at least audibly to Remus, and the werewolf cringed a bit as the door swung shut behind the leader of the Marauders. It had often come up as school boys as to who was the more dominant personality of the group; Sirius or James, but there was never a question that it was James' presence that had held them together.
The Wolf in Remus watched the wrathful wizard cautiously as it could feel the murderous intent that was rolling off of him in waves and filling the room with a bristling energy as magic rose to the call of the Potter patriarch and the castle itself began to rouse itself.
Castle Daulyn was the ancestral home of the Potter clan, the very mortar that held the chiseled stone blocks had been mixed with Potter blood and the ash of Potter bone. There was no place in the world that was safer for a Potter seeking sanctuary or looking for a place to weather a siege. Or a place to plan the murder of an enemy.
James crossed to the table and slammed his hands down on the surface with enough force that the wood seemed to buckle beneath his palms, the man's hazel eyes looked into the painted wood as if demanding that Peter Pettigrew's location be singled out so that he could go after him.
His silence spoke louder than any of his words could have as the other men nodded to each other and took positions on opposite sides of the table.
"How are the girls?" Sirius asked quietly, his voice seemingly loud in the stillness of the room as he looked at his best friend with obvious concern.
The questioned seemed to surprise James, as though he had forgotten all about the other people in the room or the fact that he had told them to wait for him there. Taking a moment to master himself and find his voice the Auror captain responded, "Liatris is pretty shaken, I think mostly because me and Lils haven't been handling this very well. Iris seems pretty calm about it but that's nothing new; after what's been going on at Hogwarts seeing a deranged murderer is probably status quo at this point."
"I wouldn't worry too much about them at the moment; kids are more resilient than we give them credit for." Remus put in as Sirius nodded his agreement, Pollux had given him more than a few frights and that boy hadn't even seemed to realize the danger he had put himself in. In that regard he was very much like his father, more so than his mother really cared to admit.
"So what's the news?" Sirius asked as he settled himself on the edge of the table and looked at the two men with an expression of grave seriousness on his face.
"The Ministry is still trying to trace his Apparation but there's too much bureaucracy for the system to move fast enough on it so by now, Pettigrew is in the wind. We also know that Peter managed to get a hold of a wand and there haven't been any reported wand thefts since the Azkaban break out so he either had one stashed or he had help getting a new one." James' frustration was plan for them to see, he wanted to move immediately but the Ministry was anything but fast and the idea of Pettigrew having a safe place to rest his head at night after his stunt was all the more infuriating.
"That's a scary thought but we've known for a while that we never got all of the Death Eaters after the war and we certainly didn't lock up the sympathizers that were out there. Merlin knows how much I would've liked to though." The other Auror knew that there were a lot of people out there that still thought the last Wizarding War had been the right thing, that the subjugation of the Muggles and Muggleborns was appropriate, it sickened him to think that people could actually believe that.
"Any sign of the other escapees?" Remus asked as he looked over the map that was before them, if Pettigrew was getting help then it seemed all too likely that the Lestranges had probably managed to acquire some aid for themselves as well.
"A few unconfirmed sightings but nothing concrete, they've gone to ground and we're not going to be able to root them out until they go active again." James responded automatically, the Auror office had combed the island looking for the fugitives but the Lestrange name still had some weight to it even with the heirs to the House being convicted war criminals and it had proven very difficult to get a look at the family's finances.
"That doesn't sound like Bellatrix, she doesn't have the patience to sit around and hide. She'd prefer to be on the run, actively evading Aurors and making all kinds of hell for the Ministry. If her and the Lestrange brothers are quiet, it's only because they've been ordered to be." Sirius stated matter-of-factly, he knew his cousin; he had been on the team that had hunted her and her husband down after the defeat of Grindelwald, in the absence of a clear command structure she had gone about attacking targets of opportunity. Hiding wasn't in her nature.
"Are you suggesting that Voldemort is back?" Remus looked up at Sirius half expecting the man to have a goofy grin on his face only to discover the grim set of his expression.
"We never caught him and from all reports he was a highly disciplined military leader and tactician. He's the kind of personality that could lie in wait for years while laying down plans for his return. Now some of his most loyal followers are free, my money is on him picking them up as soon as he had the chance." Sirius related his theory with the air of a man who had been considering something for a very long time, it would have been a shock to anyone that was only familiar with the jokester but there was a reason why he was considered one of the Ministry's top Aurors.
"We'll bring it up to Frank but no one other than him, with the current climate at the Ministry that kind of thinking is likely to incite a riot and that's not conducive for anything especially since we can't back it up." Neither of the other room's occupants argued with James on that point, especially after the way that the Minister was behaving at the moment; if word got out that Voldemort was making a comeback on his term that man would do his best to see that the speaker was buried.
"So where do we go from here?" Remus inquired, obviously he wasn't a Ministry employee and there was no way that the DMLE would ever officially let him onto the investigation of the fugitives but that didn't mean he couldn't contribute and no one was going to stop him from going after Peter.
"There's a month until school starts up again and Pettigrew has proven that the house is compromised so the family is staying here for the remainder of the summer. Lily is already working on moving our belongings over and Sarah is doing the same.
"It's going to be a long month for everybody but I'll be damned if I'll have one member of this family hurt. In the meantime, we'll do what we do best, let's go hunting gentlemen." James concluded with a wicked gleam in his eye as he rested his hand on his wand, if Peter thought his little stunt was going to dissuade the family from taking him down then he was sadly mistaken.
Iris watched as Liatris's chest rose and fell in the rhythmic deep breaths of the truly asleep as she reassured herself that her younger sister was fine, resting comfortably in her own bed even if the room she was in was a few hundred kilometers from the one she had woken up that morning.
But it was hard to reassure herself when memories of a magically induced sleep kept intruding on her thoughts, it had only been a few weeks since Liatris had been roused from that slumber and when she had woken it was to the accompaniment of a scars that she would keep for the rest of her life.
What was worse was Iris could see no way to stop her friends and family from being injured, not when the timelines were shifting the way they were. It had struck her at the beginning of the summer that things were gradually evolving in a way that she was becoming less capable of predicting.
First Year had gone relatively identical to Harry's First Year with some minor changes but Second Year had demonstrated an entirely divergent history from the one her soul had experienced. There were similarities, horcruxes and Dark Lords, school secrets and magical creatures but in the end her fight had not been one that she had been prepared for.
If she was unprepared for the fight ahead then that meant that others would get hurt, and while it was a foolhardy notion that she could protect everyone; she would do everything in her power to minimize the suffering of others.
Which was what worried her now and made her sleep so elusive, she was utterly unprepared for what was coming this year. In her library of memories she could pluck out the book of what happened in her Third Year, the way that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and the series of events that had led to Pettigrew's escape on the full moon night.
But this time there was no Sirius to worry about, no exculpation of a fugitive to concern herself over and if Draco behaved then there would certainly be no execution of Buckbeak.
So what was coming then? Who was coming?
Wormtail? Harry would have dismissed that notion outright but Iris wasn't so sure, the man she remembered and the one she had witnessed in the field today were two different men. One had been a sniveling coward, he had betrayed everything for a chance at self-preservation; but the man who had looked up at her, who had nodded his head respectfully, that was a man who had not been afraid.
His appearance had been a declaration to the Marauders, he was telling them that Azkaban had killed the rat that had run in terror from the light, that the man they knew was gone. The same prison that had broken a man like Sirius, a man wracked with guilt, had forged a survivor out of a man filled with fear.
What did that mean for the future? Pettigrew had been the catalyst after all, it had been his cowardice that had sent him back to the Dark Lord and spurred his resurrection. Change one thing and the future itself could be wildly different from anything Harry had known, her job had been tough enough when it was just her trying to avert the disasters she could predict; now she had to save the world while operating blind.
'Bugger it, I need some fresh air!' Iris thought to herself as she threw back the covers on her bed and slid off the edge, her bare feet landing on the soft carpet that had been put in the room to soften the barren stone floor and thankfully quite the sound of her footsteps so she wouldn't disturb Liatris.
Fetching one of her lighter cloaks out of the wardrobe, Iris padded over to the glass doors that lead out onto the shaded balcony and slipped out. The first thing she noticed was that the night air was chiller than she had expected but it was a welcome change considering the heat of the day though she briefly considering fetching a pair of slippers as the chill soaked into her feet quickly.
Shaking her head, she drew the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she approached the edge of the balcony and looked down at the lower bailey of the castle; empty save for the jagged shadow of the curtain wall's parapets. Or so she had thought as a darker shadow began to emerge from the surrounding gloom, silent and wraithlike the form of a massive bird seemed to slip out of the shadows of what had once been a stable as it glided from the ancient structure up to the railing of the balcony before Iris.
She was a gorgeous bird, her orange eyes eerily luminescent in the darkness and marked with a keen intelligence as she looked at Iris skeptically before offering her leg and drawing the girl's attention to the thin parcel that was marked with the wax seal of Ollivander's Wands.
It seemed a lifetime ago since the time Iris had commissioned the wand from the mysterious old man in his dusty shop on Diagon Alley but as her hands untied the box and relieved the owl of its burden she found that her hands were shaking slightly in anticipation.
The brown wrapping paper fell away easily to reveal a polished wooden box, the rich red wood was all but glowing in the scarce light of the moon as the top panel slid to the side to expose the velvet lined interior that cradled the ivory unicorn horn wand.
She caressed the delicate spirals in the wand as she recalled the unicorn that had entrusted it to her, the silky soft coat of fur that had been stained with lifeblood and the golden hooves that had kicked softly at the dirt as life left it. It still filled her with a raw sadness that something so pure had been stripped from the world.
Beneath her fingertips the wand stirred to life as it was reunited with its master, the sentience that lay within far more aware than the holly and phoenix feather that she was so familiar with. She could practically feel the alien intelligence as the magic of the wand mingled with her own, its inner light pulsing in time with her heartbeat as they rediscovered each other.
There was no great rush as there had been the first time that the holly wand had chosen Iris and no spectacular light show as it called out to its brother wand in the hands of Professor Riddle. This was more subdued, somber like two people sharing their grief over the loss of a loved one; no less powerful but tinged with sadness rather than exultation.
Raising the wand from its bed of velvet she let the pearlescent ivory settle in the palm of her left hand as she felt the balance and weight of it; the extra length of it was strange but not awkwardly so and she felt that she would grow accustomed to it quickly.
What was more surprising though was how conductive the wand was, she barely had to push her magic into the horn before it pulled it in and shaped the spell she wanted; without a word a lance of light split the darkness with the glistening silver light of the moon.
With the barest exertion of her will the beam of light shrank to brilliant pinprick against the stable across the bailey and illuminating the grain in the wood and casting the shadows in sharp relief. Just as swiftly the light shifted into a diffuse curtain that softened the night with a spectral radiance as she tested her control before she snuffed out the light all together.
Iris had never felt anything like it no wand had ever felt so right in her hands before; it was utterly in tune with. A pure extension of her will that responded without resistance, shaping the spell as fast as she could will the pattern into existence and it was an utterly exhilarating experience.
The witch returned her attention to the eagle owl that had remained perched on the railing of the balcony as she experimented with the wand, "Give me a few moments to write a proper thank you for Master Ollivander please." She waited for the eagle owl to incline her head before she returned to her shared room with Liatris.
She checked to make sure her sister was still fast asleep before sitting at her translocated desk, a swift jab with her new wand established a silencing spell on her quill so that it would not scratch on the parchment as she wrote out her missive in her finest script. It took her a few minutes to find the right words to describe her gratitude but once she was satisfied she sprinkled the parchment with ponce to dry the ink before she sealed the letter with a piece of wax.
With the parchment in hand, Iris returned to the eagle owl and tied the letter to the leg it proffered and no sooner had she secured it the massive bird of prey swooped off of place on the railing; skimming just over the ground of the bailey before it pumped it powerful wings and cleared the curtain walls on its way back to London.
The raven haired witch looked at her new wand in the moonlight as her thoughts returned to the thoughts that had plagued her all night, the future was still uncertain and she was not sure how she was going to deal with the growing threats and machinations but she felt a bit better knowing that she was better armed to deal with it now.
As she returned to bed and shut her eyes, she drifted off to sleep with the smell of dittany to soothe her restless mind.
L'isola Delle Fate, La Strada Mercante, Venice, Italy
L'isola Della Fate was an ancient place, an island that had emerged from the Venetian Lagoon before any other. The lagoon dwellers who had first come to the area had named the solitary place "The Fairy's Island" in their tongue because while they could see the place from a distance, whenever anyone had tried to visit its shores they found themselves in the midst of a fog that turned them away. By the time the Romans settled the lagoon and formed Venice, L'isola della Fate had already faded into legend; its distant shores having vanished one day.
In truth, the island never moved from its spot; the magical creatures that had lived on its shores had simply gotten better at hiding it from the eyes of those ignorant of what existed beyond the scope of their own lives. That of course changed as more settlers came to the lagoon and forged what would be known as Venice, because with civilization came wizards; and these beings could pierce the veil that had blinded the Muggles.
At first the wizards were content to leave the island inhabitants to their own devices but it was always just a matter of time before wizards began to migrate to its shores and once that tide began there was no stopping it. A millennium had gone by since then and L'isola della Fate had become one of magical Italy's prime centers of commerce and culture with its haphazardly lain cobblestone streets that snaked and curved their way across the isle in the shade of buildings older than any of the wizards who entered them.
The pride of the island was its main avenue, La Strada Mercante, where anything that a wizard or witch could possibly want was available … for the right price.
Isabel Zabini had long ago made up her mind that there was no finer place to shop than La Strada, not when she felt most at home listening to her countrymen speaking in her native Italian tongue while the warm moist air of the Mediterranean played with her chestnut locks in a game that they had shared since she was a little girl learning how to walk in the family villa.
She imagined it was a trait that she shared with Blaise, though her boy would never admit that he was ever homesick; she could tell though. It was in the way he held his shoulders and the way that his smile touched a part of his eyes that it didn't whenever he was away. She knew because her father had often said the same thing about her, even though she was always home for dinner she had hated being away from home as a schoolgirl.
A small smile flitted across the woman's face as she thought of her father fondly; Don Alejandro Zabini was amongst that rare breed of men who believed that a little imagination and a lot of hard work could move mountains. The man had been her rock for as long as she could remember a mentor and a confidante as well as a friend; she was incredibly grateful for his presence and guidance in her son's life.
She watched as the two most important men in her life stood in front of a storefront a few blocks away from where she was lounging in front of a café. They were talking animatedly over whatever it was that they were looking at and from the way her father was fighting to keep a smile off of his face she knew that the man was already thinking of some way to spoil his grandson.
A small pang of grief stabbed through her as she imagined a third man standing alongside them, a man with eyes of liquid gold and a towering physique who would have had his hands resting on his son's shoulders as he bickered playfully with his father-in-law.
Her reverie was cut short as someone coughed lightly and her attention shifted to the stranger who had slid into the seat across from her own so silently that she hadn't even noticed their presence.
The man, or who she assumed was a man based on the breadth of the shoulders, she couldn't rightly tell because of the cloak the person in question was wearing. It was made from what appeared to be a soft and light fabric, dyed brown and well cut and definitely ensorcelled because with the cowl up she could see nothing but darkness where someone's features should have been.
"A pleasant day to you Lady Zabini, I must say; you look as stunning as ever." The hooded man greeted her with what she could tell was a lascivious grin on his face, even if it was hidden behind a smokescreen of darkness.
Isabel was a beautiful witch, she knew that and often used that fact to her advantage; with her long chestnut hair and pretty features, a body that she kept toned and fit through daily exercise and shapely legs that went on for days, she would be a fool not to.
"I don't mind flattery Master Atrax but it losses its appeal when the person is faceless." Isabel replied with a dismissive wave of her hand as she twisted slightly in her seat so that she could rest her left arm on the back of her chair and watch her son better. The fact that the new position caused her robes to part and revealed something of her cleavage was not lost on the witch. Nor was the fact that her holstered wand was about even with his heart.
Atrax didn't seem at all bothered by her comments (not that she expected him to be from the way the tip of his hood had just dipped) as he shrugged slightly in response, "You know if you accepted my invitation that I wouldn't have to meet you like this." He swept his hand over himself, the all-encompassing gesture taking in his cloaked figure and the fact that there was a privacy ward around that had rendered the surrounding world a faint hum.
"That is to say, if I swear an oath to your little 'organization' I get to see the inside of the clubhouse and meet all the other players." Isabel never took her eyes of her father or Blaise as she spoke, instead watching her shadowy guest through her peripheral vision as she spoke. "Thanks for the offer but I'm not interested in making an arrangement that's so …"
"Limiting? We understand your situation very well Isabel and we'd be more than willing to let you continue your … project. We can even be of further assistance to you, resources and support would be yours for the asking." Atrax interjected as he tried to entice the woman that sat across from him.
Isabel had to admit, the offer was tempting but "Actually I was going to say permanent. I'll be the first to admit that I have commitment issues, I'm sure my ex-husbands would be more than willing to agree with me on that point." She turned her attention back to Atrax and fixed the man with a cold, predatory smile.
She caught the barest indication of a repressed shiver and she couldn't help but laugh, the sound was just as beautiful as the rest of her; almost bell-like in its clarity. Isabel turned her gaze back to her son and father, watching as the two finally made their way into the store before she settled her violet eyes on the man before her.
"So now that we've taken care of the pleasantries, how about we get down to business?" Isabel inquired as she reached forward with her right hand and picked up the china cup in front of her, she brought it up to her mouth but paused for a moment to inhale the sweet aroma of the coffee (and silently spelled it with a diagnostic charm, just in case) before she took a sip.
Atrax once more shrugged his shoulders in defeat before he folded his hands on the table, she noted that his hands were also covered with gloves of the same material as the cloak, "Very well, I have the information you requested. Did you acquire the artifact?"
"The owner was exceedingly reluctant to part ways with it." Isabel stated nonchalantly as she set her cup back down in its saucer with only the faintest of rattles, "But as a matter of fact, I did."
The cloaked man waited a moment as he expected the witch before him to elaborate further but when nothing was forthcoming he proceeded, "You don't have it with you, do you?"
"Very observant of you Master Atrax, I do not have the artifact with me. But it is nearby, safe and sound behind a very secure vault." Isabel was neither careless nor stupid, while the Italian government was not as intolerant as the British were regarding the possession of 'Dark' artifacts it was still frowned upon to be discovered with one.
Rather than risk the chance of discovery, the witch had taken more secure precautions. Precautions evinced by the vault key that was drawn slowly from the interior of her robes and placed lightly on the lazy susan that lay in the middle of the table.
"I do try my best Lady Zabini, anything less would be unworthy of you." Atrax replied with an affected drawl as he rehashed his attempts to flatter the woman while he drew a leather-bound notebook from his robes and laid it on the turntable beside a plate of croissants before turning it a half rotation.
Isabel allowed an indulgent smile at the man's words as she picked up the cerulean-dyed book, with the tip of her thumbnail she arbitrarily chose a page to open to and simply stared at the page. It took a moment but the paragraphs that had previously been a detailed explanation on the mating habits of manticores began to shift, the letters rearranging themselves until she was seeing a translation of a German Auror report.
Atrax watched as the small smile on Isabel's lips grew wider, he noted that Isabel truly had a beautiful smile; that everything about her was beautiful. His eyes sliding from her face to admire the ample bosom the woman possessed and the glowing olive skin that was on display through the part in her under robes.
A shame it was all a lie, or perhaps more aptly, a shame that such beauty was the sheath of so potent and lethal a weapon.
The hooded man raised his gaze to the more polite position of his companion's face and took in the almost gleeful expression on the woman's face, the perfect smile and her brightly shining eyes. He could not help but feel a small surge of pride and satisfaction in the knowing that he had made Isabel so happy.
Clearing his throat he summoned those bright amethyst eyes of hers to focus on him once more, it was unfortunate that he had to cut her delight short but they were there for business after all.
"A key does me little good without a bank to go to and an account to claim Isabel." Atrax pointed out as he lifted the silvery-white key from the table, based on the color and the unexpected lightness of the key he supposed that it was made from palladium. The goblins were very selective when it comes to metal and one can tell the worth of a vault to them by the key assigned to it. An iron key was reserved for the least significant vaults and golden keys for the most respected of accounts; palladium guaranteed the account was prized but the holder was no one of especial import.
"Well then Atrax, that information depends on whether or not you've delivered my fee." Isabel replied easily as she shut the book tenderly and slid it delicately under her robes, with what the man though was a deliberate slowness.
He took his before speaking, ensuring that his voice remained as cool and collected as ever, that he was utterly unaffected by the game she was playing. "The fee was transferred to your designated accounts exactly as you requested. Minus the amount for the information we've provided you, of course."
"Of course, and I suppose I trust you enough to believe that's the truth of the matter. But a girl can't be too careful when it comes to her money." Isabel stated casually as she extracted a piece of parchment with the same hand that she had pocketed the book and laid it flat on the table before her.
Seeing the string of runes that circled the edge of the parchment was enough for Atrax to identify the document, blut rechnung, a blood account. They were quite rare to see as most people disliked the practices that were involved with working that particular piece of magic.
Isabel had no qualms about it though, she kept a close eye on her companion as she shifted in her seat slightly so she could bring her left arm forward with an unnoticeable flick of her wrist she could feel her wand slide free from the holster and jump into her waiting hand.
It pleased her to see that the hooded man flinched at the sudden appearance of her wand, a reminder of just who he was dealing with this fine summer morning. She took the moment to turn her eyes down the street to the shop that her son and father had disappeared into, they were talking a while and that was worrisome. Her eyes scanned the rest of the street leisurely though taking note of the people passing by, oblivious of what was happening at the table in the café patio.
Returning to business, the brunette witch laid the tip of her cherry wand against the heel of her right palm and silently intoned a spell that caused the tip of her wand to alight with a red glow; dragging the wand's tip slowly about an inch she cancelled the spell. Turning her hand revealed a neat incision that had parted the flesh and allowed her blood to flow freely as she laid it atop the parchment.
It took only a moment before the runes around the edge of the paper pulsed to life, allowing Isabel to remove her hand and heal the cut while letters drawn in red ink slowly began to emerge on the paper.
To Atrax the letters on the paper made no sense and the longer he stared at them the greater his eyes wanted to cross but to the Italian born witch, the letters spelled out bank accounts and the last ten transactions for each one that was tied to her blood; allowing her to see that the man seated across from her had told her the truth.
"I apologize for not taking you at your word Master Atrax but it never hurts to be thorough in these matters…unless of course when it does." Isabel said dryly as she waved her wand over the parchment and watched as it ignited at once and quickly burned itself away until not even ash was left behind. "You'll find that key goes to La Banca dei Medici, account 491307257."
Atrax nodded and rose from the table as he committed the account number to memory, in his line of work it was not smart to leave anything written down, "As always, it has been a pleasure doing business with you Lady Zabini. I do hope you'll extend our greetings to the Don and young Blaise."
Isabel's eyes narrowed at the mention of her loved one's but she couldn't tell if that was a veiled threat or a genuine expression on Atrax's part so she let it go for now as she watched him brush out the nonexistent wrinkles that might have formed while he was sitting.
"One last thing Isabel, we would be very appreciative if you kept your ear out for someone going by the name Echidna. Any information regarding her would be well compensated." Atrax stated it lazily, as though it were an afterthought but from the tension in his shoulders; she suspected it was far more than something that had conveniently slipped his mind until just then.
"Why the interest?" Isabel inquired as she felt mild curiosity at what had the man so wired about this Echidna person.
Atrax hesitated for a moment, obviously debating how much he should divulge to her before he settled on, "From what our sources have gleaned, Ollivander has spent the better part of a year working on a custom wand for her. A wand made from unicorn horn."
Isabel raised an eyebrow at that information, she was no wandmaker though she had dabbled a bit in wandlore and she knew that such a wand would be exceptionally rare. Exceptionally powerful as well if the organization that Atrax represented was asking her to keep her ear to the ground over the matter.
"As you've no doubt deduced, such objects are ... hard to come by. And those that can wield them are similarly scarce." The man was doing his utmost to seem aloof about the whole thing but there was something off about this. Atrax represented a shady group of characters, she knew that, the jobs that she did for them were seldom legitimate and the information they provided her with was not being used for anything that law abiding citizens would approve of; at least none with strong civic inclinations.
The very nature of their association meant that they were both very dangerous people and that knowledge was what kept their meetings civil and professional. Whoever this Echidna person was they were an unknown variable and such quantities while often harmless could just as easily alter the playing field; especially if what Atrax was saying was true.
Isabel would have to keep an ear to the ground then, learn who the alias belonged to and then identify if they posed any significant threat to her goals. If she did, then they would have to be eliminated but if they were a potential asset … it would be best if she was acquired quickly.
The brown robed man seemed to take her thoughtful silence as acceptance of the assignment and bowed respectfully to her before departing. As soon as he was past the edge of the wards he had erected the cacophonous din of the world rushing back in to fill the tranquil space that the pair had occupied.
Isabel stared into the crowd as she let her mind work on the new information, her thumb brushing the cover of the book that was resting against her side. A storm was brewing, she could sense that much, and she knew that England was at the heart of it; the way that things had happened at Hogwarts last year and now the escape of prisoners from Azkaban. Too many things were happening too close together to be matters of mere coincidence, which meant that someone was orchestrating things.
So was this Echidna responsible or was she just a piece of a much larger game going on?
Isabel was intrigued by the puzzle but she set her thoughts aside as she saw her father and Blaise step out from the store with what appeared to be small trunk, it wasn't until the pair drew nearer that she realized that it was actually an instrument case. That brought a smile to her lips and she watched the Don was smiling broadly as Blaise was enthusiastically thanking his grandfather for the present.
The witch rose to meet the pair and fondly slipped onto her son's other side, taking his arm and listening as he enthused about what he was going to play first when they returned to the villa. She exchanged a knowing look with her father, both of them thinking the same thing, Blaise was very much like his grandmother; the woman had been an exceptional musician and had passed her voice onto her daughter. It seemed though that her grandson had inherited not only her gift but her passion as well.
"Come on then you two, let's hurry home; it's been a while since I've been to a concert." Isabel said as she playfully mussed her son's hair and directed them towards La Strada's designated Apparition point.
Diagon Alley, London, Great Britain
"Finally, freedom!" Pollux exclaimed dramatically as he stepped out of the dingy confines of the Leaky Cauldron's and onto the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. After nearly a month of being cooped up, in what was admittedly an exceptionally cool castle, it was nice to have a change of scenery.
Daulyn Castle hadn't been so bad the first week or so as he and the Potter sisters wandered the old keep and grounds, exploring what no one outside of the Potter family had seen in generations.
James had let slip that the family apartments had been interconnected by hidden passages as a means to evade capture from Norman invaders when the castle was built. Pollux had spent the entirety of his first morning poking and prodding at every stone and fixture in his room until he had managed to find a switch hidden in the scrollwork of the mantle above his fireplace.
He had heard the scrapping of stone as the back of the firebox slide open and granted him access to a space within the walls. He hadn't hesitated to explore and made the sister's room his first priority; he had wanted to surprise them with his discovery but first he wanted to have a little fun at their expense.
From within the walls he found a small handle that he could pull on that would remove a plug of stone so that he could peek into the interior of the room. He waited until they were both preoccupied, Liatris with her school work while Iris sat reading. From his spot in the wall he could easily make out the piece of stone that would slide out and he gingerly pulled on the stone to keep it from grinding out loudly as it had done in his room.
It took him nearly fifteen minutes to get the stone moved aside in silence as he would give a small tug and then listen quietly in case the girls had heard anything amiss. By the time he had an opening large enough, he was covered in a layer of sweat and grime from the disturbed dust but it was worth it as he lit a firework and tossed it into their bedroom.
The results were instant, an explosion of sparks of every color flying about the room in a colorful display; each spark exploding into a shower of others until the room was painted in every hue imaginable. The girls shared screams of surprise and Pollux watched from his hiding spot as Liatris darted from her table as sheaves of parchment that were launched into the air by a stray spark, Iris on the other side of the room was using her book to swat away any of the colorful sparks that got near her or landed on her bed.
The pandemonium fizzled out quickly and the girls were surprised to hear familiar laughter floating into their room from the fireplace as Pollux pulled the back of the firebox open and emerged from his hiding place to take a bow as he delighted in his little prank.
He had gotten a good chewing out from his mum over it but since no one was hurt and the only casualty of the fireworks display had been an ink bottle that Liatris had knocked over in her haste to hide, he didn't take the reprimand to heart and assured his mother that he would behave better.
The incident had roused the girls' curiosity though, and they had wondered just how many secrets the castle held and how many of those secrets were reserved to those of Potter blood alone.
Together they found a room filled with ancient wands that had been laid to rest on pillows of velvet and placed under panes of heavy glass, each of the cases had been marked with a bronze placard that listed the names of every Lord and Lady Potter as far back as the tenth century when the Kingdom of England was first unified; at least that was what Iris said.
She would know, the only reason he was passing in History of Magic was because she was passing down her notes to her sister since Binns never changed his lesson plans (although he had a sneaking suspicion that she in turn was just copying Hermione's notes).
Then they came across a door that had resisted all of his attempts to open it though it had given way immediately to Liatris' touch, after she had watched him do everything from use an unlocking charm to ram his shoulder into it.
The room had been full of old weapons, glittering swords and daggers, some with jewels in their hilts or elaborate engravings in the steel. There were other things too, maces and flails and axes as tall as he was even bows and quivers full of arrows. He didn't touch any of them though, not after the first sword he had tried to pick up had twisted out of his hand and nearly stabbed him in the foot; only missing because of his honed reflexes from playing quidditch.
Liatris hadn't found that room all that interesting but Iris sure had seemed rather into the whole thing as she touched some of the finely made weapons, she had even playfully given a dagger a few swipes before putting it back. Pollux thought the room was pretty wicked even though he wasn't allowed to handle anything.
They discovered what had once been a dueling chamber, Pollux recognized it instantly considering he had attended that fraudulent dueling session that Lockhart had organized the previous year at Hogwarts and where he had gotten trounced by Professor Riddle in short order. It had also been there that he had seen Iris prove to be a pretty wicked duelist herself, nothing like Riddle was, but she was far better than he had thought.
His father had been teaching how to duel since he was old enough to hold a practice wand, a tool that Auror trainees used to learn the basics of dueling and build up their reflexes since getting hit by one of the spells would paint the person's clothes in one of three colors; one meant you were unharmed, the other meant injured, and the third meant dead or incapacitated.
So without much bragging, Pollux could honestly say that he was one of the more experienced duelers in his year and with his father being an Auror he knew a few spells that most wouldn't even hear about until their third year. That said, he knew he wasn't in Iris's league though Liatris was probably fair game; still if Uncle James was teaching his daughters to duel, why was Iris so much better than her sister?
He didn't ask the question though; he didn't want to hurt Lia's feelings by mentioning out loud how much better her sister was than her. Instead he leapt onto the raised marble dais and began to shadow duel, imagining himself wiping the sneering grin off of Jack Harper's Slytherin face. The girls applauded politely when he finished his little display and he bowed with a flourish as he took in the standing ovation.
They did find a few other gems; Iris fell in love with the castle library as soon as she stepped through the heavy double doors. It was larger than the library at the estate and from the looks of it there were books that not even Hogwarts was old enough to have stocked though it was undeniable that Hogwarts still had the bigger library.
Liatris was thrilled by the workshop she found attached to the keep, it was an odd room full of what at first glance appeared to be tree stumps. It was only on closer inspection that the tree stumps actually revealed what they were; they were pedestals formed of all sorts of materials. Wood, iron, steel, some of varying alloys but it was easy enough to see that it had been designed for one of two things; wither one of the ancient Potters had been as into Transfiguration as Lia was, or someone had tried their hand at alchemy.
Such rooms were the exception however; for the most part the castle was filled with rooms full of cloth covered furniture that was buried under a thick carpet of dust. They had gone through a few of the rooms, examining them for hidden passages and trying to draw out any secrets they might have held but except for finding a few knuts in between the cushions of a loveseat, there hadn't been anything of note.
And so after a week or so of exploring the castle, the children had been left with nothing to do; or more specifically, Pollux had been left with nothing to do except for completing his summer assignments but in true Marauder fashion he would leave that until the last possible moment, much to his mother's consternation.
Which had left him with over two weeks to kill, and one can only spend so much time plotting pranks and riding a broom before they lose their luster (although you'd never think so when watching Iris on a broom, that girl was more at home with the birds than ever she was on her own two feet). In the end he had done the unthinkable, he had actually cracked open a book and read some; he had even done his Charms assignment on his own without asking for anyone's help with it.
Still he had been looking forward to this trip to Diagon Alley ever since his mother had arrived at the castle with a stack of envelopes marked with the Hogwarts seal and containing the list of supplies he would need for the coming year.
So now that he was on the familiar street, surrounded by unfamiliar people, he could barely contain his enthusiasm.
"For the love of Merlin, you'd swear we had him locked away in Azkaban!" His mother was saying with fond exasperation at his antics so he turned around and stuck his tongue out at her playfully, to which she narrowed her eyes; "Keep on like that and I'll turn you into a frog, it'd give you a reason to stick your tongue out." She warned but from the twinkle in her eye he knew she didn't mean it.
Still he put his tongue where it belonged (soundly behind his teeth) and with a half-feigned expression of fear muttered, "Scary!" before he darted to the front of the group of witches and began leading the way.
As was typical, the Lords Potter and Black were away on business, officially they were tracking down the escaped fugitives but from conversations he was not supposed to have overheard; there was very little progress on that front. There were no confirmed sightings of the Lestranges since their escape and Pettigrew himself had only the one confirmed sighting at the Potter Estate before he too had gone to ground.
This meant that the twelve year old was essentially the man of the house and he took that charge very seriously as his head rotated back and forth as though expecting Peter Pettigrew to jump out of the shadows at any moment. On the other hand he was also eagerly looking for his friends who had said they would meet him today before they met on the train next week.
Sarah rolled her eyes at her son's antics but watched him with fond exasperation as the boy with seemingly endless stores of energy lead their little group on their shopping expedition, she suspected that this would probably be one of the few times that he wouldn't complain if they spent the day shopping after being locked away from his friends all summer.
Sarah glanced over at Lily to see the other woman was doing her utmost to appear relaxed and serene as she watched her daughters walk the street but failing miserably as she constantly fidgeted with the sleeves of her robe, constantly reassuring herself that her wand was firmly in its holster and near at hand. Some of the passing witches and wizards were giving the auburn haired witch curious stares and a wide berth but Lily didn't seem to pay them any mind if she noticed them at all.
Sarah reached out and gently took the woman's arm in her own, drawing Lily's attention as the older witch gave her a curious stare. "Lily, you've got to calm down or you're going to work yourself into a panic attack. You heard what James said, the Ministry has positioned Aurors throughout the Alley to keep an eye out for Pettigrew and there are more here off duty. If you keep going for your wand every three seconds, you're going to draw some seriously unwanted attention."
Sarah spoke in a hushed voice that wouldn't carry and she kept a smile plastered on her face as she nodded her head at the passersby in greeting, looking at Lily once more she saw the woman giving her a look that said she wanted to argue but knew that the reporter was right.
With a tired sigh, Lily nodded her head and took a deep breath as she tried to relax and behave normally; she was just a mother taking her kids shopping for school supplies and there was nothing odd about that. Even if there was deranged psychopath that wanted to harm her or her children, he wouldn't dare to come to such a public place when there were so many people on the lookout for him.
'But what if he's using polyjuice to appear as someone else? What if he's using glamour charms to disguise himself? Or he might have transfigured himself so that he looks different?' Lily thought to herself as her eyes suddenly darted over the crowds, picking out those people who seemed to be sipping from containers or fretting over their appearance in the reflection of store fronts; her eyes narrowing dangerously as she took note of people who were taking interest in her daughters as they walked down the street ahead of her.
Sarah sighed as she noticed that Lily had gone from worried mother to hyper-alert war witch, which she supposed was an improvement as her companion was no longer a nervous wreck and more akin to a tightly wound cable that was ready to snap. Small steps.
She wondered if the war veteran would be relieved or more anxious once the kids had gone off to Hogwarts, the famous Scottish castle was known to have the most impressive wards in the country and the Headmaster was one of the strongest wizards in the world.
Surely Lily's paranoia would ease once the children were safely under Albus Dumbledore's supervision and hopefully by summer the fugitives would be caught and things would return to normalcy. On the other hand, being so far away from her children when there was at least one escaped criminal who seemed to have an interest in them probably wasn't good for her mental health.
But wasn't that the whole reason that Remus had been assigned as the Assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, not that the man wasn't qualified, if it weren't for his condition he probably be ranked right alongside James and Sirius as one of the Ministry's top Aurors. Still, Sarah couldn't help but wonder if it was wise to place Lupin in a position where he would be interfacing with children; on the one hand she could see the potential political benefit if things went well but if even one slip-up was made the entire situation would end badly.
From there position at the back of the group, Sarah saw her son stiffen slightly as though he had seen something that had surprised him and watched as he immediately trotted over to the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. 'Well that figures, doesn't it?' she thought to herself as the boy threw a look of pleading over his shoulder at her and she gave him a nod and a smile that he interpreted as permission to go inside.
With a wave of his hand, Pollux lead both of the Potter sisters in after him; thankful that they were fans of the game too (then again one was the best Seeker Hogwarts had ever seen and the both had been raised by Uncle Prongs). He was drawn to the shiny glass display case that had been erected towards the rear of the room in which was the brand new Firebolt series of brooms.
Pollux was tempted to press his face against the glass to get a better look at the brooms but resisted it on the basis that he didn't want to make a complete fool of himself in front of the Potters. Liatris drew up beside him as she examined the brooms in the display case and marveled at the craftsmanship that had gone into making it.
"The Firebolt is the fastest commercially available broom on the market, designed and produced by Randolph Spudmore this broom can go from naught to one hundred and fifty miles per hour which shows a nearly twenty percent increase in speed over the Nimbus 2001." Pollux and Liatris turned to look at a tall man with balding hair that was seemingly going soft around the middle based on the pronounced gut that was hiding by the leather apron he was wearing.
The man smiled broadly as he realized that he had the children's rapt attention as he approached the rear of the display and tapped it with his wand so that the rear glass panel swung open freely. He reached in and extracted one of the brooms and came back around to the two children, though his delight increased as he saw others in the store begin to migrate towards him for the little demonstration.
Holding the racing broom before him at chest level he released it and watched as the young boy reached out to try and grab it with a gasp of surprise only to watch in astonishment as the broom settled at just over knee height of the shop attendant. "You see, unlike the brooms before it the Firebolt hovers at a comfortable mounting height rather than requiring those silly 'up' commands that the Nimbus and Comets require. Spudmore has even taken the time to ensure that each of his quality products come with a Braking Charm that'll never fade or weaken with time.
"The Firebolt also boasts the best balance and precision of any racing broom on the market today, it can turn on a knut and make a dragon's head spin trying to keep up. The shaft is made from the finest ebony and the twigs can be made from birch or hazel, depending on customer preference; for those of you who like to ascend as quickly as possible the birch will provide extra oomph and you'll be the first one to get your head over the pitch. But if you're in tight and need the extra control and precision of deft maneuvering then hazel's the way to go."
The attendant had by this time gathered a rather sizable crowd around him now as most of the people in the store were fascinated by his presentation of the sleek Firebolt, he couldn't even make out the front of the store by now and he could only imagine how many galleons the crowd would be turning over to get their hands on one of the brooms. "The metal fixtures on this broom and made from goblin wrought ironwork so you can rest assure that the power and stability of this broom are second to none. And if you still aren't sold, the foot grips are of the non-slip variety."
His little joke had a small ripple of laughter going through the crowd and just as he was about to hit them with the sales price, the voice of two women came from the front of the store; their shouts making it impossible to hear what was actually yelled but the results were quite clear as the sound of an explosion ripped through the store and the resulting shockwave knocked the people at the rear of the crowd off their feet.
Dust filled the air and the shopkeeper pushed his way through his customers to see what was going on, at the entrance of the store were two witches with their wands drawn, aimed at a hole in the wall. In the middle of the aisle beside the hole in the wall was a young girl, in her Hogwarts years; she was pushing herself to her feet with far more calm than he would have been able to manage if he had just had two wands leveled at him.
The two witches advanced quickly, the one with auburn hair went to the girl and grabbed her gently by the shoulders, her voice was low but the concern was evident on her face. The girl was shaking her head in response to whatever the older woman was saying as he approached the pair, his demand to know what in Merlin's name was going on in his shop died in his throat as the blonde haired woman poked her head back into the shop through the gaping hole.
"Lils, it's not Pettigrew! But there's definitely something fishy, this guy's a muggle!" The woman called to her accomplice and the shopkeeper suddenly found his knees weak at the thought that a Death Eater plot had just been foiled, in his store no less. He was going to make a fortune!
Author's Note: So like I said before a lot of things have developed since my last story update and a lot of you have been asking me if the story has been abandoned, to be clear; I am not abandoning this story. It's been an amazingly fun project and the reviews that you guys send me are phenomenal.
However the reason why things have slowed so dramatically is because I am currently undergoing treatment for cancer. At the beginning of June I was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma, a rare type of rare bone cancer; and unfortunately the whole process has been rather taxing as I've just gone through my third surgery.
I've got a long journey ahead of me and I'll write when I'm feeling up to it and when I have the energy. For now, please leave a review as any comments and critiques are always appreciated; if you have any questions feel free to send me a message and I'll get back to you.
Next Chapter: Return to Hogwarts