Authors Note: This is a short little catch up, nothing extensive.

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Adrian Pucey - Phobos

Liam Baddock - Deimos

Theodor Nott – Oberon

Draco Malfoy – Chaos

Vincent Crabbe - Moros

Gregory Goyle - Pallas

Blaise Zabini – Pan

Pansy Parkinson - Nyx

Daphne Greengrass - Hebe

Morag Macdougal – Nike

Millicent Bulstrode - Cerberus

Elijah Harper - Cratos

Anthony Vaisey - Tyche

Malcolm Baddock – Hecate

Astoria Greengrass - Eris

Flora Carrow - Nemisis

Hestia Carrow – Hypnos

Ginny Weasley – Tartarus

Seamus Finnegan – Hyperion

Neville Longbottom - Chiron

Dean Thomas – Prometheus

Demelza something or other - Selene

Anthony Goldstien - Styx

Terry Boot - Perses

Zacharias Smith - Chronos

Kevin Entwhistle - Pontus

Jack Sloper – Morpheus

Ritchie Coote - Erebos

Colin Creevey - Metis

Dennis Creevey - Eos

Mandy Brocklehurst – Leto

Michael Corner – Charon

Stephen Cornfoot - Atlas

Orla Quirke - Lamia

Ernie Macmillan –Minos

Sally-Anne Perks – Aether


Blaise hated the weeks that followed them leaving. He had barely been able to get Potter to leave, and not bone headedly fight and ruin everything, but the guilt on Potters face when he finally left, was what hung in Blaise's own chest. It was a deep, heavy guilt, he shouldn't have left, he should have stayed, now, though they'd met up with Phobos and the rest of the family, Chaos, his best friend, was gone. He hadn't met them, hadn't communicated at all, and every day that went by that they heard nothing, Blaise hated himself a little more for leaving them.

He couldn't dwell on it though, not if he wanted to actually help the situation. They were doing the best that they could to just be a nuisance to everything the death eaters did. They also tried to help when they could, muggles and under ground wizards, but they were just a group of kids in masks, and not many people listened to them and their warnings.

They were living in a tent, stolen from the wizarding quarter of Edinburgh. It was nice; well, nicer than sleeping in the outdoors. Once in a while the little gold bird Chaos had left with them brought chicken scrawl notes from Potter and his lot, usually sent by Tartarus, who the bird liked best about vaguely what they were doing.

Blaise sighed, stretched, and shifted, prodding Nike off of his leg. The quarters were tight, but sleeping in pretty much a dog pile was oddly comforting, when there weren't people cutting off the circulation to your limbs, anyways. She mumbled something and curled up, swatting irately in her sleep.

When he looked up, over to where the small fire burned in its heater, he could see Nyx, still up. He padded over to her and sat down, his body protesting at the hard wooden bench she was sitting on.

"Hey," he said, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her mood. She looked up at him, and gave him a tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and didn't respond.

They sat in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke.

"Do you think he's alive?"

"Yeah, I do. They're smart, stronger than us, and you know him. He's not one to let a little death eater attack get to him," Blaise responded lightly, though his heart felt heavy, thinking about them.

Pansy nodded, and together they sat in the dark, wishing they believed it a little more. Tomorrow they would go raid another death eater camp, and would pretend they were just rebelling, fighting tooth and nail against the oppressive bigots, but really, they would be looking for prisoners from their family, to get back, or any of Chaos' wolves.