The next week flew by and before long, it was Saturday again. Harry was accompanying his fellow Slytherins to the Great Hall for one last breakfast before they would depart for the Easter Holidays. Unlike the rest of his year mates, Harry was staying at Hogwarts and thus not in a hurry to finish his breakfast. Since the Great Hall was crowded as it was, everyone's luggage was still in the dormitories and had to be picked up before heading to the train station in Hogsmeade. Since the train would depart at half past nine, there was not much time to waste. While everyone around him was rushing through breakfast, Harry was thoroughly enjoying his scrambled eggs and fried mushrooms alongside toast, some fresh fruit, and a nicely chilled goblet of fresh orange juice. While he took a bit of his toast, he thought about his plans for the weekend.

Tonight, he would meet Severus. The Potions Master would finally reveal his decision regarding the Resurrection Ritual. He had kept up the suspense until the last possible moment since they would start the lengthy brewing process. Just to make sure, all ingredients for all three rituals had been collected over the last few weeks. Getting the Dark Phoenix tears had been especially challenging, but with a few of Tom's old contacts on the Potion ingredients black market and enough Galleons it had been possible. The cauldron with the liquid fire coating had been specifically crafted by the Goblins. It had cost them a hefty number of Galleons, but in the end, they could not have asked for anything better. Once again, the Goblins had truly outdone themselves.

"We'll meet you in the entrance hall," Draco's voice suddenly brought him out of his thoughts, "see you there in ten minutes."

Nodding in understanding, Harry returned his focus on his breakfast as well as his plans for the holidays. Besides starting the brewing process, a lot of things would keep him busy. Among those was a meeting with Corvus and Lucius, which was a few days away. Originally, Tom had hoped to discuss the upcoming school examination, the appointed members of the Committee of Education, and possible changes within the staff of Hogwarts during their latest meeting, since both Lords were members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Given the advancing hour and Corvus' reaction to the plans for setting up a possible trial for his sons, Tom had decided to postpone that discussion for a later date.

Finishing the last bites of scrambled eggs, Harry reached for a napkin. Once finished, he placed the napkin on his empty plate alongside a 'Thank you' note for the House Elves. He could only imagine how they would react. A lot of joyous cries and fainting would surely be involved. As he was about to stand up, he felt eyes on him. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes once again were on him, as they had been for the greater part of the week. It seemed like he had finally recovered from his very special valentine. Feigning ignorance to the attention of the esteemed Headmaster, Harry rose from his seat. On the way to the entrance hall, he was joined by Hermione.

For the last few days, the Witch had been surrounded by an air of nervousness. So far, she had refused to reveal whatever was bothering her. Harry had a good idea what it was but refused to ask her again. She had asked for a private meeting in the library after the Hogwarts Express had departed. Therefore, it would not be long until his questions would be answered.

"Looking forward to the holidays?" Harry asked as the two were lazily strolling towards the large entrance door.

"Yes, especially the quietness," the Gryffindor admitted, "as much as I enjoy being busy here, I like to have some time for myself once in a while."

A small chuckle escaped Harry's lips, "So do I."

Before they say more, they heard feet approaching accompanied by the unmistakable sound of heavy trunks being dragged over the stone floor.

"I can't wait to show my Grand all the new Spells and Charms that I have learned," Neville said enthusiastically once they were halfway to the station. A pleasant breeze was waving through the nearby leaves of the endless rows of trees that made up the Dark Forest. After weeks of rain, the sun was finally breaking through the sea of clouds on the horizon. Glad that he had agreed to accompany his year mates, Harry graced the shy boy with a genuine smile, "I am certain that she will be proud of you, Neville."

The fact that Neville did not voice any doubt truly spoke of the growth he had gone through over the last few months. He was no longer the shy and insecure boy that had entered Hogwarts afraid of his own shadow and the disappointment of his grandmother. He was slowly becoming the heir he was supposed to be, an heir worthy of the Longbottom name.

"But aren't we supposed to not be doing any magic throughout the Holidays?" Hermione suddenly asked, "won't that alarm the Ministry?"

"That might be true if you are alone," Pansy began to explain, before Rhea continued, "but when an adult Witch or Wizard is around, the Ministry will simply assume that it was them who cast the magic and not you."

"Therefore, it should go unnoticed if you cast a Spell within the confines of magical places like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley," Blaise continued to elaborate. It had become fairly common over the last few months for the Slytherins to explain certain aspects of the Wizarding world like laws, customs, traditions, and facts about the different Pureblood families to Hermione. As always, Hermione was soaking the information up like a sponge.

"Then there are places that are so tightly warded, that the Ministry won't get a reading on the magic cast inside. The Trace is basically useless there," Draco chuckled, clearly amused about the lack of intelligence the Ministry was getting, "places like the old Pureblood manors. Some of them are notorious, maybe even legendary for their Warding."

Hermione looked intrigued at that. For the rest of the way to Hogsmeade station, the Slytherins continued to elaborate on the Warding of their own manors. Of course, neither went into too much detail. After all, keeping the secrets of the old Pureblood manors private was sacred.

Once they had said 'goodbye' to their friends, Harry and Hermione made their way back to the castle, while continuing to talk about magic outside the school. Once they had reached the castle, they headed straight to the library. Passing through the entrance, Harry sensed magic surrounding him. The door frame was laced with layers and layers of Compulsion Charms that would latch itself onto Harry once he would leave the library. What they would do, he could not tell for now. This was without doubt one of Dumbledore's schemes. Sighing, Harry thought that he could clearly do without them. Sadly, he had a cover to maintain.

Once they had found an empty table in a secluded part of the library, Hermione pulled out a large stack of newspaper clippings about Wizengamot legislation and laws passed or failed throughout the last five decades. They all had one thing in common. They involved Corvus Lestrange. For the next hour, Harry answered Hermione's questions about the reasoning behind some decisions, or political manoeuvring. In the end, she seemed to be satisfied and finally reached for her satchel, pulling out a single piece of parchment, "I… Well, I had my suspicions after reading up on all these laws and so on… Thank you, Harry, for clarifying and confirming my initial thought. I… I think I might go forward with this much sooner than expected. Would you mind giving this a read? I'm not sure if I managed to avoid all the no-goes…"

Harry accepted the parchment with a genuine smile on his face. He was about to unroll the parchment when a movement caught his eye. Hagrid was making his way through the library, behaving in a most peculiar manner. In his moleskin overcoat, he looked very much out of place. The way he was shuffling past the shelves with his hands behind his back, it seemed like he was hiding something behind his back.

"What is Hagrid doing in the library?" Hermione suddenly whispered.

"Don't know," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. He was about to return his attention back to the parchment, when he heard heavy steps approaching, "Hullo 'Arry. What are yer doin' in the library on yer firs' day of the Holidays? Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"How subtle," Tom thought, while Harry deeply wished he could roll his eyes.

"Flamel?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed, "who's that?"

"Nothin," Hagrid said a bit too quickly, his black eyes searching for distraction. Before his eyes could land on the stacks of parchment filled with Wizengamot legislation, Harry decided to distract him, "We're just doing our homework. Wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. What are you doing?"

"Jus' looking," he mumbled, he said, in a shifty voice that sounded not at all unsuspicious, "what're you lot up ter later? Want ter come down fer a cuppa?"

"Sure," Harry said, having the feeling that this was just another thing Dumbledore wanted him to do. For the last few weeks, he and Tom had wondered when Dumbledore's schemes would continue. As his eyes followed the Half-Giant shuffling out of the library, his hands still behind his back, it seemed like now was the time.

"What was this all about?" Hermione suddenly asked, her voice low, "and who is this Flamel?"

Harry quickly went on to explain the discoveries of the last few months, conveniently leaving out the part where he had stolen the Philosopher's Stone and Dumbledore's obsession for Compulsion Charms.

"That's insane!" Hermione cried out, before quickly covering her mouth as she realized her surroundings. After muttering an almost inaudible excuse to Madam Pince, who had appeared peeking around the corner moments earlier, a disapproving look on her face at the noise. Once the librarian had disappeared, Hermione continued in a much lower, yet still agitated voice, "Are you sure that the stone is properly protected? What if someone made a move? You should tell the Headmaster…"

"I'm sure the Headmaster knows what he is doing," Harry said curtly, not wishing to reveal more of his feelings on that matter, "if he thinks the stone is protected, then that's enough for me."

"But" Hermione began, "shouldn't you…"

"Should not do what?" Harry said, looking at her incredulously, "Hermione, I'm just a student, nothing more. Even if I happened to come across this, it is neither my responsibility nor concern what the adults are doing with the stone. I would much rather focus on my friends and education. I do not care what the Headmaster, Nicolas Flamel, Professor Quirrell and Hagrid are on about."

Hermione remained quiet for a while, clearly contemplating about the situation until she sighed, "I think you're right… Although I don't like it…"

"Neither do I," Harry added, suppressing the urge to chuckle.

"I suppose the Headmaster knows what he is doing," the Gryffindor continued, "still, I want to see what Hagrid is doing and what kind of book he picked up. It was more than obvious that he was hiding one behind his back."

Without another word, Hermione stood up and went on to investigate Hagrid's choice of reading. Maybe there was more Gryffindor to Hermione than he had first thought, Harry acknowledged to himself as he returned his attention back to the parchment. Unrolling the parchment, his brows rose at its content. He was almost finished when Hermione returned, a stack of books in her arms.

"I can't believe it," she said, letting the books all on the table, "it's dragons."

Looking up from the parchment, his eyes scanned the titles on the faded spines: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno; A Dragon Keeper's Guide…

"He's raising a dragon," Hermione whispered. As Harry simply shrugged his shoulders, not really caring what Dumbledore's pet giant was doing, she continued, her voice filled with frustration and incredulity, "But he can't. Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock's Convention of 1709. It is far too dangerous and nowadays is classified as a breach of the Statue of Secrecy. The Headmaster…"

"I know that it is prohibited and heavily sanctioned to raise a dragon, Hermione," Harry sighed, urging her to keep her voice down, not too keen to alarm Madam Pince again, "still, I have to remind you that the only indication we have is Hagrid searching for books on that matter. So far, that is the only thing we know. I am not doing anything until I have seen more. Anyway, we have much more important matters at our hands. Your letter sounds good so far. It is genuine without being too personal and direct, remains an air of formality and most importantly sticks to the proper Pureblood customs. Lord Lestrange will not take any offense because of the writing. I think it is fine. How long did it take you to write?"

Hermione blushed, averting her eyes, "Almost the entire week… I spent a couple of hours every evening researching the proper wording…"

"No wonder if you're new to all these conventions," Harry chuckled, "the rules are endless. I think if you send this letter the way it is, alongside a copy of the family tree, it should more than suffice. I think before we go to the owlery, we should return those books."

Once the books had been returned to their rightful places, Harry and Hermione headed towards the exit of the library. As Harry was crossing the threshold, he felt the Compulsion Charms on the door frame trying to get hold on him. As usual, the Disillusioned heir ring on his finger thwarted the magic from taking into effect, although he could finally get a reading on the intention behind the Compulsions. If he hadn't had such good control of himself, he would have burst into loud laughter at the nature of the Charms: they would force him to go down to Hagrid and question the Half-Giant about the origins of the Dragon's egg. So, there really was a Dragon's egg in Hagrid's archaic hut.

"Hermione," Harry said, stopping in his tracks, "would you mind if we first go to Hagrid's and then to the owlery?"

For a moment, the Gryffindor looked at him, a hint of confusion in her bright brown eyes, before she collected herself, "Sure."

A couple of hours and many vanished rock cakes later, the two finally were on their way to the owlery. Their visit to Hagrid had been a most peculiar affair. Inside Hagrid's tiny hut, they had been welcomed by infernally hot temperatures. All curtains were closed, and the fire was on despite the warm weather outside. The source and reason for the ardour had been easily spotted: a huge, black egg underneath the kettle. After a lot of back and forth, involving lots of scolding on Hermione's part, the Half-Giant had revealed that it was the egg of a Norwegian ridgeback and that he had won the egg last night after having won a game of cards against a stranger. The stranger, like many of the Hogshead's shady clientele, had kept his hood up, never once revealing his face. Unsurprised by this fact, Harry had spent the better part of the next hour listening to Hermione trying to reason with the Half-Giant. In the end, Hermione had finally surrendered, and the pair had left the furnace that was Hagrid's hut.

"I can't believe it," Hermione huffed out in frustration, once they had reached the owlery, "he can't raise that creature here, so close to a school full of children. I'm shocked that he won't see reason. What does he think will happen once that thing outgrows his hut? And you! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it would be nothing but a futile endeavour," Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes while silently and wandlessly erecting Privacy Wards around them, "I have talked to him before and came to the realisation that Hagrid loves his monsters, convinced that they will make the perfect, harmless pets. Nothing will ever change that."

"But he can't just raise that thing here," Hermione cried out, throwing her hands up in frustration, "he simply can't."

"And he won't," Harry said firmly.

"We have to tell the Headmaster," Hermione exclaimed, her voice shrill, "he has to put an end to…"

"No, we will NOT tell the Headmaster," Harry cut her tirade short, "for Merlin's sake, Dumbledore has already brought a Cerberus inside the castle and told everyone to shun the very corridor the beast is hidden in. If you ask me, that is certainly not the best thing to proclaim in a school full of children. Instead, it sounds more or less like an invitation to go exploring. Telling Dumbledore will be a waste of time. He would have done something once the Dragon egg had passed through the wards and yet he chose not to. Therefore, it appears to me that he is unconcerned about one of his employees nursing a Dragon on the school grounds."

Hermione stared at him in utter horror, "But we can't do nothing!"

"Trust me," Harry chuckled, pulling a piece of parchment out of his satchel, "we will do something, but it will not involve the Headmaster. The Dragon egg will be removed sooner than you think."

Later that day, Harry was knocking at Severus' door. He was in an excellent mood.

Earlier during dinner, the doors to the Great Hall had suddenly been thrown open to reveal a squadron of Aurors and officials of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures marching into the Hall. On the Gryffindor table, the tension on Hermione's face had immediately resolved into relief. Led by the Head of Department for the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures, Amos Diggory, and the Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour, the group quickly made their way to the staff table, their faces grim and serious. Everywhere in the hall heads had been turning, curious, why such an illustrious collection of officials had come to Hogwarts. It had then been quickly revealed that an anonymous source had witnessed the exchange of a Dragon egg at the Hogshead. Despite Dumbledore's efforts to contain the damage, Hagrid had been officially requested to hand over the egg. If not, he would face severe consequences. Eventually, the Half-Giant had given in and had been escorted out of the Great Hall, the Headmaster in tow, without doubt to do some much needed damage control.

Once the group had departed, the rumour mill around Harry had immediately started to spin, not that there were many people at the Slytherin table. Still, there were much more students seated at the other three house tables than during the Yule Holidays, hence the buzz in the Hall. At the Gryffindor table at the other side of the Great Hall, Hermione's face had morphed into an expression of pure reverence. Sometimes, well, most of the time, a bit of cunning and scheming was better than diving headfirst into action.

"Enter," Severus' familiar drawl brought him out of his musing. He quickly entered. Curfew was only ten minutes away, and he was not too keen on getting caught out in the halls.

Once Harry had entered the Potion Master's personal quarters, Privacy Wards immediately flared up, making sure that they would not be disturbed tonight. He was quickly led to Severus' private experimental laboratory. The entrance was hidden underneath a sliding shelf containing jars upon jars of rare Potions ingredients and was conveniently layered with an impressive number of Security Wards. Once Harry had made his way down the case of stairs, he could not help but smile. So far, he had not been down here, their private tutoring sessions taking place in one of the student Potions laboratories or in Severus' more public friendly laboratory, which could be accessed through his office. If Dumbledore or the Ministry would only know what kind of ingredients were hidden in this room, the Potions Master would be in deep trouble.

Cauldrons of all shapes, sizes and materials were lining the wall on his left. The remaining walls were covered with levels upon levels of shelves containing the most exotic, rare, forbidden and dangerous Potions ingredients one could imagine. It surely was a Potioneer's dream come true. The middle of the room looked like it had housed various working stations at one point but was cleared of all furniture except one large clearing reserved for a large cauldron and a couple of tables for the preparation of ingredients.

"I hope you managed to acquire everything," Severus' familiar drawl echoed through the laboratory.

"Of course, we have," Harry chuckled, "although some were a bit… tricky to acquire and we had to make use of the Goblins and several of Tom's old contacts, the Dark Phoenix tears were especially hard to get. Luckily, everything is possible for a price."

"That is true," the Potions Master conceded, his face blank.

"It is. Anyway," Harry began, dramatically gesturing towards his opposite, "I think it is time for the moment we have all been waiting for, Severus. What is your decision?"

Despite his calm and collected mask, Tom and Harry could sense that Severus was nervous. His magic was sizzling around him, obviously agitated. Normally, the Potions Master had his magic completely under control, tightly sealed. The fact that it was now raging beyond his control spoke volumes. Swallowing heavily and taking a deep breath, Severus finally collected himself and began to speak, "You two have given me a lot to think about. The decision certainly was not an easy one. I have been contemplating many scenarios back and forth and…"

"Severus, your decision," Tom hissed, pushing to the front, thus making Harry's vividly green eyes turn to a dark crimson, "please."

The last word was added a few seconds later. While Tom was surely interested in the reasoning behind the decision, he had simply waited too long. Almost three months the Potions Master had kept him waiting. With the midnight of the next full moon only a couple of hours away and so many things to prepare, his patience had finally run thin. It had been hard not to snap at the Potions Master, at least not in the way that he would usually do. For Tom's standards, this had been a relatively polite request, and Severus surely was aware of that.

The Potions Master took a deep breath and finally revealed the words everybody in this room had been waiting for, "I will offer my flesh and blood. For Lily. For Harry. For you, my Lord, and for sake of Magic herself."

Tom could not help but smile upon these words he had so desperately wished to hear, "Thank you, Severus."

The same words were repeated a fraction of a second later as Harry pushed forth again, thus turning his eyes back to their original, striking colour. Instead of acknowledging those words, Severus simply raised his eyes, looking at him expectedly, "Let me examine that cauldron you got. I have to make sure that the coating is evenly distributed across the entire surface before we start brewing."

This was just so typical Severus that Tom could not help but laugh while Harry only rolled his eyes at the antics of the sullen man, both of them conveniently forgetting that he had kept them waiting so long.

Many hours of brewing later, Harry finally looked up from the mortar in front of him, stretching his fingers that had been holding the pestle for the past half an hour to grind the content of the mortar. Suddenly, he felt a dark figure looming over his shoulder, critically inspecting the powdered Dragon claw, "This should suffice."

Harry snorted at the barely concealed surprise of the Potions Master. Sure, he was dealing with incompetent dunderheads most of the time, but by now he should be aware that Harry knew what he was doing. After all, he had been taught by the best. Opting to not comment on the Potions Master's words, Harry simply raised an eyebrow, looking expectedly at Severus, "I suppose the fluxweed, wormwood and dittany have been dissolved completely and the Runespoor eggs have been prepared?"

"Evidently," Severus drawled, snatching the mortar off the table, and turning on his heels to return to the massive steaming cauldron in the middle of the laboratory. Severus went on to measure the exact amount of the powdered Dragon claw. While Severus was immersed in his work, Harry carefully lowered the temperature. If the liquid inside the cauldron was too hot it would cause the powdered Dragon claw to explode. If it was too low, the powdery substance would not amalgamate completely with the rest of the ingredients, even with the help of the Runespoor eggs.

At precisely 7:07 in the morning, Harry added seven Runespoor eggs, before slowly stirring the Potion anticlockwise. Once the liquid had turned a dark orange, Severus began to carefully dissolve the Dragon power, one ounce at a time. With each ounce of the powdery substance, the Potion grew lighter and lighter. After the last of the seven ounces had been added, its colour had turned into a sparkling silver, the exact colour it was supposed to be.

Relief rushed through Harry's veins as he stared at the shining liquid. The first stage of the three brewing cycles had been successfully completed and it could not have turned out better. Slowly, he felt the adrenaline fading and the fatigue kicking. After all, he had been up for more than 24 hours and been brewing for more than eight hours. It was time to finally get some long-deserved rest. Seeing the sweat on Severus' forehead behind the dark curtain of greasy hair, he knew that the Potions Master felt the same. Luckily, the Potion did not require any attention for the next twelve hours.

After both had clumsily climbed up to Severus' private quarters, Harry voiced a quick 'goodbye' to the Potions Master. While he was opening the door, he sensed that the entrance to the experimental laboratory was magically sealed. Thanks to a nifty Disillusionment Charm, Harry made his way to the dormitory undetected. Nobody would think anything of him skipping breakfast, since he had informed Hermione that we would spend his entire morning and probably the better part of the afternoon helping Severus brewing Potions to replenish the stocks of the Hospital Wing. It was a good thing that he had already brewed most of the Potions during the last few Potions lessons. As he fell in his warm bed, too tired to bother removing his clothes, only one thought filled his mind: they had done it. The first stage of the Potion for the Resurrection Ritual had been successfully. Tom would be back soon, in the form they had wished and hoped for.

The next few days passed in a blink of an eye. The majority was spent in the library together with Hermione, completing their homework. Well, Hermione did. Harry had finished his even before the Holidays had started, a fact Hermione was still going on about on Wednesday, while she was hunched over her Potions' essay surrounded by mountains of books, "I still cannot believe that you finished all your assignments before the start of the Holidays."

Making a noncommittal sound, Harry returned his attention back to the large Runes manual he was reading. It had come with the mail yesterday. It had taken quite a while to get over to Scotland since he had ordered it directly from the Iranian publishing house.

"Seriously," Hermione's voice was deeply laced in frustration, her quill scratching viciously over her parchment, "I have no idea how you do this. And the fact that you are not at all bothered about exams is just insane. Are you sure that you do not want me to make you a revision schedule? Your grades could…"

"I am most certain," Harry chuckled, for the first time in more than an hour looking up from the large tome, "and my grades are fine as they are. The exams will be a piece of cake, trust me. You will do fine without driving yourself bananas. How was the letter by the way? Did Lord Lestrange write anything nice?"

"You noticed…" Hermione began to stutter before her voice broke.

"You never receive mail," Harry stated as a matter of fact, "and it certainly did not help that Lord Lestrange sent the family's Golden eagle. So, how was the letter."

Hermione blushed, "Actually very nice, despite being rather formal. He says he wants to meet me during the Summer Holidays, and if I agree, even take me to Gringotts to officially confirm my claim. For the time being, he would like to get to know me better. He even sent a copy of the Lestrange chronicles to learn more about the history of the family. I cannot wait to read it and learn more about the period when they split off the main branch and left France. I will start reading as soon as possible. At least as soon as I am finished with all this homework."

Harry graced her with a wide and genuine smile, "Is there any way I can be of assistance to get you to that book quicker?"

Later that night, Harry was once again out in the corridors well past curfew. Hidden underneath layers of Disillusionment and other protective measures, he was quickly making his way to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor. He had a meeting set up with Corvus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. Since it had been rather late the last time they had met and Corvus had been in no state to continue after the revelations of the night, the three had agreed to meet again on a later day. Tonight was the night. Since they had arranged the meeting for a rather late hour, Draco would be none the wiser that Harry had visited Malfoy Manor.

Once he had passed the boundaries of the castle's wards, he swiftly Apparated to the lavish entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. Upon his arrival, he was not alone.

"Good evening, Lord Lestrange," Harry greeted politely, sticking to the proper Pureblood decorum, "I must congratulate you on your choice of words and selection of reading material. Your granddaughter was over joyous upon the prospect of being trusted with such tightly protected reading material of your family."

Corvus Lestrange politely lowered his head, "Good evening, Heir Potter. You should not be surprised. After all, my family only deserves the best."

"That they do," Harry chuckled, "would you mind accompanying me to our Hosts' study?"

"Of course not," the Lord of the Lestrange family replied politely, gesturing for them to follow. A few minutes later, Corvus, Lucius and Harry were all seated around the Malfoy Lord's desk, each had a large folder in front of him containing the information on the upcoming school examination. After the customary pleasantries had been exchanged, Corvus audibly cleared his throat, "Heir Potter, is it not the time for him to come forward?"

"No, he will not," Harry said firmly, "it takes quite a toll for him coming out for extended periods of time. He is still recuperating from our last meeting. He might come out for a few shorter stretches of time, but for the most parts I will be the spokesperson. Since we agree on most points, it should not be a problem. He can hear every word. If needed be, I will convey his thoughts."

Corvus Lestrange did not look convinced.

"Trust me, Corvus," Lucius said, breaking the silence, "it works."

Then, the talk began.

"Since Tom and I have been out of the picture for so long," Harry said swiftly, "we would like a short summary on all the members of the Committee of Education, especially their qualifications, their beliefs regarding Magic, and their opinion on the current level of education at Hogwarts."

The two members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors looked at each other, before Lucius audibly cleared his throat, "I think I should begin with the easiest one. Thorfinn Rowle is still true to the cause. Throughout the past decade, his political allegiance has remained undiscovered. After our Lord's disappearance, he quickly became the most renowned and highest rated Defence and Duelling instructor in Great Britain. Although mostly employed by the old Pureblood families, he is also respected amongst the Light families because of his high-quality lessons. While Thorfinn surely cannot rectify all the damage done by seven years of abysmal Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, he is good at what he does. Therefore, it has become quite common for the richer of us to hire him, if one of our children desires to go into the Auror or Law Enforcement training. Thorfinn has a very clear idea of how the DADA curriculum should look like. Thorfinn Rowle knows what he is doing."

"Good," Harry smiled, "what about the others? Are Helena Yaxley and Saul Croaker still firmly on our side?"

"They are," Corvus Lestrange swiftly answered.

"Then why is Misses Yaxley no longer on the Auror squad?" Harry asked sharply, "the last Tom remembers is that she was on her way to become Head Auror."

"She was on her way to become Head Auror," Corvus confirmed the previous statement, his face contorting into a grimace, "she was, until the mutual animosity between herself and Mad Eye got out of control. As far as I remember, Yaxley criticised Moody's overly violent measures and unfair treatment of the Dark families. While her criticism was highly supported by the majority of the Auror task force because Moody was more and more getting out of control in his paranoia, Moody himself and Dumbledore disagreed. By a few unfortunate circumstances, all of which orchestrated by Dumbledore, Helena Yaxley lost a lot of her standing while Moody was named Head Auror. As you can imagine, Mad Eye forced her out of the squad. Since Amelia Bones did not want to lose such a capable Witch, she was offered the position to supervise the Magical Law Enforcement trainee program. Since Helena Yaxley took over that position, the level of quality and proficiency of the graduating Aurors and Hit Witches and Wizards has increased significantly, although the same is true for the failure rate. Over time, Amelia Bones and Helena Yaxley have grown rather close. Their professional relationship is mostly based upon a mutual belief in better education and training, hard work, fair judgment, and an overall dislike of Alastor Moody. I can only imagine how pleased the two Witches were, when Moody was suspended last year for his repeated unreasonable use of violence, and Rufus Scrimgeour got his position. Since his promotion as Head Auror, Scrimgeour has started to assign her some of the more complicated cases. It is also noteworthy that Helena Yaxley finally got her Transfiguration mastery. Her position within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well as her Defence and Transfiguration mastery should be reason enough to appoint her as a member of the Committee."

Tom and Harry were pleased to hear that. Helena Yaxley had been one of the strongest Witches the Dark Lord had ever come across, a lot stronger than her husband. She could probably outduel most of his Death Eaters. It had also been very handy to have her in the Auror Department. He had never marked her, although Tom knew that Helena would have gladly and willingly taken the Mark. Since it could and very likely would have compromised her position, her skin had remained unmarked. Harry swiftly signalled Corvus to continue.

"Saul Croaker's rise within the Department of Mysteries on the other hand was not halted by Dumbledore," the Lord of the Lestrange family continued, "although I cannot tell you much of his work. I know that he supervises the training program of the Department, but is not the only one…"

"The Dark Lord wants to know if he is still studying Time Magic?" Harry suddenly interrupted Lord Lestrange.

"No, he does not," Lucius Malfoy answered, as the other in the room had remained silent, "after he was severely disfigured as a result of an unfortunate accident in one of the secret laboratories committed to Time Magic, he…"

"Accident?" the Dark lord suddenly pushed forward, "what sort of unfortunate accident?"

"My Lord, not much is known," Lucius hastily tried to explain, "five or six years ago, he was found by one of his co-workers and immediately rushed to St. Mungo's. No one except Croaker himself knows what happened, only that it was quite severe…"

"How severe?" Tom hissed.

"He sur… survived," the Malfoy Lord managed to bring out, "he lost vision in his right eye and was severely scarred, but he recovered… Mostly… Still, he paid a hefty price for his failed experiment. I will not reveal more. Originally, he wanted to return to his former work, but his superior convinced him to focus on less dangerous work. I think he works on Wards, Rituals, and Spell creation nowadays, but nobody can say for sure with the Unspeakables."

That was true. Most things that happened in the Department of Mysteries never saw the light of day. Strange things happened in the lowest level of the Ministry, most of which the Unspeakables refused to talk about. Experiments went wrong, magic backfired, Unspeakables died, or went on to be never seen again, horrific discoveries were made – all in the name of creation and progress.

Satisfied for now that Croaker was alive and 'well', Tom let himself drift to the back. The smirk that appeared on Harry's face was once again complemented by Avada green eyes instead of crimson ones, "Now, to the two most interesting people on the Committee. Gentlemen, if you please."

Corvus Lestrange cleared his throat, "I doubt that either of them will be much of a hindrance despite them being Light. Ever since Eleonore Diggory returned to her work in the Ministry after her maternity leave eight years ago, she has quickly risen through the ranks becoming the deputy head of the Department of Magical Education. She did not earn her position for nothing. After all, she is nothing short of determined to improve the standard of teaching at Hogwarts and the postgraduate programs offered at the Ministry. It is a shame that most of her suggestions have been blocked by Dumbledore, who is convinced that the Ministry should not interfere at his school. Despite these setbacks, she has continued to push for her educational degrees to get through the Wizengamot. For her determination and resilience, I admire her deeply. In fact, Eleonore and I have worked together on many bills. She is one of the few outside the Dark faction to support my ideas of an earlier identification of magical children, a magical foster system, and a magical elementary school. I would be more than surprised if she would work against us throughout the inspection. She will not. Of that, I am sure."

"I second that," Lucius added, "Eleonore loves children and cherishes the preservation of Magic. Although she has never publicly voiced her disdain of Dumbledore's refusal to cooperate with her department, her opinion is more than clear. She wants changes. This will be the perfect opportunity."

"Good," Harry smiled. Sure, Tom and he had read up on the members of the Committee but having Corvus and Lucius confirm their information on Eleonore Diggory was a huge relief. Then again, Bartemius Crouch Senior had appointed her, and it would be more than inconvenient to get somebody on the job who actively worked against your own goals.

"Crouch Senior should not be a problem as well," Lucius' voice echoed through the office, bringing Harry and Tom out of their thoughts, "despite the backlash he received after the arrest of his son, he is still true to his agenda and has never lost his work ethics. Sure, he was shoved in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but because of him, working relations with other nations have never been better. Much like Diggory, he might be a Light supporter, but he was never a supporter of Dumbledore's pro-Muggle propaganda. Being one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he of course honours our traditions. The only reason why he stopped celebrating the Pagan holidays is because they were declared to be illegal, a sucker for the rules that he is. Still, he should be on our side concerning the inspection."

"Excellent," Harry said, accompanied by a loud clap of his hands, "now that we have discussed the personnel of the Committee, let us focus on the changes they might implement. It should be of no surprise that some of the current classes might get an updated and Ministry-approved curriculum. Larger and more advanced varieties of Spells, Charms, Hexes, Transfigurations, and Potions. No surprise here. A few new classes, or a reintroduction of discontinued classes. No surprise either. All things we will discuss when it is time. What I really want to discuss is the faculty. Out of the current teachers, Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Severus of course, Sinistra, Babbling, Vector, and Kettleburn are all adequately competent to teach their subjects. Of course, some more than others. Kettleburn is getting too old to handle the creatures and some of McGonagall's teaching methods are rather questionable but could be rectified. Quirrell, Burbage, and Binns on the other side are clearly unfit to teach. While not completely incompetent, Quirrell will most likely not remain for much longer. The curse on the teaching position and Dumbledore's schemes will see to that. Should the discussion about a replacement arise on the Board, I want Thorfinn's name thrown in the mix…"

"But the curse," Lucius Malfoy protested.

"Can easily be evaded by changing the classroom or the name of the class," Harry chuckled, "just insist you need more space and you will be fine. Although I think that Dumbledore will try his best to have somebody he trusts teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, it should be easy to have Thorfinn work on the curriculum of the class. Tom and I want you to support his involvement. We might talk to him personally at a later point. Anyway, Charity Burbage will not see the end of term. A Pureblood Witch who knows nothing about the Muggle world educating generations of Witches and Wizards about the harmless nature of the Muggles is simply unacceptable. Tom and I want her released from her teaching position, but we doubt it will be difficult thanks to her lack of knowledge. It should become apparent rather quickly. We want her replaced by somebody who has a deep understanding of the Muggle world, who knows what they are capable of. Any candidates that come to mind?"

He was met with silence. He could literally see the wheels in Lucius' head turning. Luckily, Corvus was much better at hiding his emotions.

"Whoever it is does not have to be magical," Harry added, "a squib living in the Muggle world might be an even better choice."

Suddenly, Corvus' eyes lit up, "Perseus Selwyn."

"The squib Lord of the Selwyn estate?" Lucius asked incredulously.

Tom could hit himself in the head for not thinking of Perseus Selwyn. Perseus was the younger brother of the late Heracles Selwyn. Unlike his powerful older brother, Perseus had never possessed an ounce of magic and therefore never received his Hogwarts letter. Unlike most magical families, the Selwyns had never disinherited their Squib son, but sent him to one of the top Muggle boarding schools. Despite being unfamiliar with the Muggle world, Perseus Selwyn had excelled at engineering, if Tom remembered correctly, and had gone on to pursue a career in academics. When his brother and his wife had died of Dragon Pox seventeen years ago, Perseus had taken over the mantle of the not so insignificant Selwyn estate, since his nephew Lynx at five years old had been much too young.

"Yes, that Perseus Selwyn," Corvus said firmly, "one of my rather frequent correspondences. Despite being a Squib, I must concede that he knows what he is doing. Very clever that one. To this day, I have no idea how he managed to accumulate the fortune that is resting in the Selwyn vaults, while simultaneously raising his nephew, working for that Muggle university, and being a member of the Wizengamot. All that, without possessing a single ounce of magic."

"Well, he only began attending the Wizengamot sessions after Our Lord had vanished and Lynx had started at Hogwarts," Lucius explained, his tone slightly dismissive.

"Should his nephew not have taken over the Lordship by now?" Harry asked. After all, Lynx Selwyn was a grown Wizard by now.

"He should," Corvus began to explain, "but Lynx decided that he needed more experience. He has been travelling the world ever since graduating from Hogwarts. The last I have heard was that he was spending time in Mexico."

"Do you think that Lord Selwyn would accept the teaching position?" Harry asked.

Corvus Lestrange shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe. He has warned many of the Wizengamot members of the dangers the Muggles could pose to us. Sadly, hardly anyone listens, too blinded by Dumbledore's pro-Muggle propaganda. This might be the opportunity for Perseus to educate generations of Witches and Wizards correctly."

"Inform Lord Selwyn on the possible job opportunity," Tom said, once again pushing forward, "if needed, we will fund him ourselves should the salary arise to be problematic. And now, to the most problematic position: Binns. He has been blinding generations upon generations of Witches and Wizards, filling their heads with nonsense about Goblin wars and false information about creatures, while neglecting our own, rich and proud history. I want him gone, preferably exorcised for good. I want the position to be filled by the best…"

"But there aren't any Historians left in Britain," Lucius cried out, "hardly anyone has taken their NEWTs in History of Magic. No one to graduate Hogwarts has even attempted to gain a Mastery in decades, and the only Historian left is too old. Bathilda Bagshot cannot possibly teach. Furthermore, she is too firmly in Dumbledore's pocket, and thus not an ideal candidate to spread an unbiased version of our real history."

The smile on Tom's, well, Harry's face was all teeth, "My dear Lucius, I am not referring to anyone who has ever studied at Hogwarts."

"You want to suggest a foreign historian, my Lord" Lucius asked incredulously.

"No, Lucius," Tom chuckled, "she was born here in Britain."

"You cannot be…" Corvus began, having caught on to Tom's plan.

"I am serious about this, despite not being incarcerated," Tom said, his words spoken quickly before Harry could push forward to tell his favourite joke, "I want her in that position and no one else."

"Who?" Lucius Malfoy asked, a confused look on his face as if he had missed something massive.

"Bridget Hawthorne, you half-wit," Corvus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, clearly frustrated that Lucius had not figured it out himself, "who else but Bridget Hawthorne."

'Indeed. Who else but Bridget Hawthorne?' Tom thought to himself. Corvus' words were nothing but the truth. There was no one else. Tom's thoughts wandered to the information he had managed to collect on the Witch, one of only a handful of historians left in Magical Great Britain.

While some would clearly refrain from labelling Bridget Hawthorne British, her story had started and ended in Britain. Shortly after the first boats of pilgrims had sailed westwards to the newly 'discovered' continent of America, the Hawthornes, too, had departed for the new continent. What was surprising is that the Magical and the Muggle branch of the family had left together. Then again, it was before the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy had been signed and been imposed. Shortly after the arrival in the 'New World', the two branches had split. Oddly, the descendants of the Muggle branch of the family had settled down in Salem, Massachusetts, with John Hawthorne even becoming involved in the infamous Salem Witch Trials, serving as judge. Many of his ancestors, like Nathaniel Hawthorne, had later turned to literature and arts.

The Magical branch of the family had taken another direction. The Hawthornes had played a crucial part in the founding of Ilvermorny, the American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Alongside descendants of the Sayres, Stewards, and Boots, the Hawthornes had taken it upon themselves to educate the young Witches and Wizards of the 'New Continent'. Their involvement at Ilvermorny had been very specific: history. Generations upon generations of Hawthornes had taken it upon themselves to educate the newer generations on the History of Magic, while also preserving the long and rich traditions of the magical tribes that had populated the Americas long before the arrival of the Europeans. Overall, it had become customary for a member of the family to obtain a Mastery in History.

Sadly, Masteries in History and a young and small community of possible clients that mostly did not consist of filthily rich Purebloods to do research for was not enough to support the lavish lifestyle of the Hawthornes. By the time Margret Hawthorne, Bridget's mother and sole child of the late Lord Theseus Hawthorne, was born, the once richly filled vaults of the family had run dry. A couple of fatal investments and the Great Depression had only accelerated the process. The financial situation of the Hawthornes had been so dire, that they could not even afford to send their only daughter to Ilvermorny, let alone any other of the Magical schools. The only reason why Margret had been allowed to attend in the end, had been the scholarship she had received for her outstanding performance in History of Magic.

While her outstanding performance had paid for her schooling, it had not gained her a sponsorship for a Mastery. In America, no one was willing to finance a Mastery in History. The Magical community was too small, too young and too thoroughly investigated to require any more historians.

The situation in Britain on the other hand was much different. With a relatively large number of wealthy Pureblood lines remaining, the demand for historians to research the long and rich history and origins of the ancient families was more than existent. Unfortunately, there was hardly anyone, to be honest, there was actually no one willing to delve further into History and obtain a Mastery. Thanks to Cuthbert Binns' never-ending, dreadful droning on Goblin rebellions and the schemes of Dumbledore alongside his Light propaganda, the interest of the younger generations in History had steadily disappeared over time. Luckily, the old Pureblood lines continued to value their history.

Among them was Arcturus Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A year after Margret had graduated from Ilvermorny and a few years after the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald, the Lord of the Black family offered to financially back a Mastery in History of Magic. To the surprise of no one, no Witch or Wizard in Britain showed any interest. This proved to be quite fortunate for Margret. Despite not being British and a Witch nonetheless, Arcturus Black gladly accepted her application, relieved to have finally found somebody willing to study History.

Financially backed by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Margret moved to London, making a small room in the pristine townhouse of the Black's at Grimmauld Place her new home. For the next couple of years, Margret immersed herself into her work, discovering new facts about the ancient families daily. It all went well until a faithful Beltane celebration, six months before the end of her Mastery.

Tom had been at said Beltane celebration but had left early due to other obligations. Therefore, he had not been present when Druella Black née Rosier, who at that time had been pregnant with their second daughter Andromeda, had discovered her rather drunk husband in a very compromising position with an equally intoxicated Margret Hawthorne. It had been the scandal of the decade. That one night had almost cost Cygnus his marriage. Still, it was much worse for Margret.

Arcturus Black immediately withdrew all financial funding, thus terminating the scholarship for her Mastery, as well as expelling her from Grimmauld Place. For the next few months, Margret managed to rent a small flat in Knockturn Alley, paying with what little she had managed to save. The months were marked by many setbacks. No one was willing to pay for the remainder of her Mastery, and three months after that fateful night, she discovered that she was with child. She begged Cygnus to acknowledge his child, but he refused. A month later, her savings had run dry. With nothing but the Hawthorne diadem left, a Goblin-made family heirloom from the time when the family had still lived in Britain, Margret had become desperate, to the point that she was willing to sell off her last possession.

But whereas his own mother Merope had gotten scammed by Borgin and Burkes, Margret Hawthorne luckily had not resorted to that shady establishment in Knockturn Alley. Instead, she had gone directly to the Goblins. Unlike the Purebloods, the Goblins had not turned her down due to the affair. Always on the hunt for good business, the Goblins had gladly accepted the Goblin-made diadem back in their possession and actually paid a fair price for the heirloom. Besides money, they had offered so much more.

Unlike all the enraged Pureblood families, the Goblins had offered to pay for the remainder of Margret's Mastery. Since it was the Goblins, there were of course conditions. By accepting the offer, Margret in turn vowed to work for the Goblins exclusively once she had completed her Mastery. It was surely a good deal for the Goblins, since it would ensure that one of the only Historians in Britain would work exclusively for the bank. The Goblins could demand hefty sums for her service should any of their customers require a historian.

Six months later, Margret's Mastery had been complete, and Bridget Hawthorne was born. The young mother no longer had to worry about money, since the Goblins paid well and treated her as respectfully as the Goblins could.

The situation reminded Tom so much of his own childhood. It was almost macabre to see how much his own past could have been changed if his mother had made a different decision.

To say that the wrath of the Blacks calmed over time was a lie. The Blacks never forgot and certainly never forgave. In the summer after Bridget had turned elven, her desperately awaited Hogwarts letter never arrived, despite her name being on the list of those set to start at the Magical school. Of that, the Goblins had made sure. They had put her name down shortly after her birth. Even after several inquiries, no owl delivered the long-awaited letter. Thus, the Hogwarts Express departed without Bridget. After months, the Goblins finally discovered the reason behind the missing letter. Cygnus and Orion Black had bribed the Head of the Department for Magical Education, Gabriela Fawcett.

Since it was far too late to enrol Bridget at any other Wizarding school, the Goblins offered her a place alongside their own children, which to that date had been unheard of. After all, the Goblins did not share their secrets. Luckily, Bridget seemed to be an exception. Still, two subjects proved to be the exception. Margret had taken it upon herself to educate her daughter and teach her everything she knew about the History of Magic and Defence.

As far as Tom knew, Bridget Hawthorne had obtained top marks in her History and Defence NEWTs. In fact, no one bar himself had achieved higher marks in History. After her NEWTs, Bridget had gone on to study History under her own mother and Defence under Amelia Bones, who her mother Margaret had befriended through business relations with the Ministry. After successfully obtaining her two Masteries, Bridget had travelled the world and later started to work as independent contractor for various Pureblood families, tracing their past. She had also written a few books, focussing on the creature origins of Magic. Of course, Dumbledore had tried to censor and ban those books. Luckily, the Goblin lawyers had so far prevented it. Overall, Bridget Hawthorne's relationship with Albus Dumbledore was more than strained. Not just because of his dislike for her books, but because he had not allowed her to attend Hogwarts.

Because of her long-time public feud, she was a very controversial public figure. The Purebloods were especially torn about her. On one hand, she was the bastard child of Cygnus Black, while on the other, she was one of a handful of Historians left in Britain and one of the only public figures to openly spread and encourage Pureblood beliefs. Tom had always enjoyed reading about her latest heated debates with the old fool.

While her public clashes with Dumbledore were entertaining, her relationship with the Black family was even more so. Much like her mother, Bridget openly loathed the Black family for what they had done. Tom really admired Bridget for her choice of retribution. She did the worst thing possible.

She befriended Narcissa Malfoy née Black, Cygnus' youngest daughter.

Tom had no idea how the contact between the half-sisters had been initiated, but eventually, their friendship had blossomed and had eventually opened up the opportunity for the meeting he had had with Bridget Hawthorne.

It had all started when Narcissa had come up to him during the traditional Yule celebrations at Malfoy Manor. It must have been 1979. Ever since setting foot in the Magical world, Tom had celebrated Yule at Malfoy Manor. This tradition had not changed after leaving Hogwarts. Although the traditional ball only started in the late afternoon, Tom would always spend the entire day at the manor, celebrating this special day with those he considered his closest. Usually, his Inner Circle and their families were present, all bar the Blacks since their family was simply too large.

After a thoroughly splendid lunch, Tom had been relaxing on the balcony overlooking the vast grounds of Malfoy Manor. The coldness was a nice contrast to the heat inside. Tom had been standing there for a few minutes when he heard feet approaching, too light to be male, yet no less powerful. Turning around, he realised that it was Narcissa. He knew he should have realised before who it was approaching. After all, Narcissa's magic was rather special. It was as Dark and vicious as Bellatrix' but was much better controlled and had much more grace to it. A quite unique combination indeed.

When Narcissa's eyes stopped on his face, the hint of revulsion did not go unnoticed. While the creation of the Horcruxes had neither affected his mind nor his magic, his once handsome exterior had started to deteriorate. He currently was working on a potion or a ritual to restore his appearance, but it was not high on his list.

"My Lord, I hope you are enjoying the celebrations so far and everything is to your taste," Narcissa said politely, while lowering her head in respect.

"Your family has truly outdone themselves," Tom smiled, aware of how wrong that expression must look on his distorted face.

Much to his surprise, Narcissa did not beat around the bush. She quickly informed him that a friend wished to speak to the Dark Lord in private to discuss a possible allegiance. Since Tom already had a suspicion of who this 'friend' was, he agreed to a meeting.

A couple of weeks later, the Dark Lord Apparated straight into the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. A few minutes later, he was sitting behind the desk of his private study. Most meetings at that time took place there. It simply was convenient. He had forgone the larger conference room since he preferred to have personal meetings like this in a more private setting. He did not have to wait long. Two loud and confident knocks echoed through the study at precisely ten o'clock. After having been signalled to enter, the door was quickly thrown open to reveal a tall woman, who strode into the room with confident strides that spoke of no fear.

The Dark Lord had to admit that the photographs in the papers really did not do her any justice. The black-and-white photographs truly did not manage to depict her accordingly.

Bridget Hawthorne's smooth, ivory skin seemed to be shining in the darkness of the ebon panelling around her. Her white hair was shining even brighter. If one was unaware of her heritage, one could easily assume that she was related to the Ice Elves, but her eyes gave her away. Instead of pale blue, her eyes were only pigmented with the faintest shades of light grey with an undertone of pink almost to the point of being void of any colour depending on the lighting. Much like her mother, Bridget Hawthorne had inherited the rare genetic defect her ancestors had developed over the years. It was a rare, surprisingly dominant form of albinism. She was not wearing any glasses, hence why Tom assumed that her eyes must have been magically corrected at one point.

While her skin, hair and eyes clearly were Hawthorne, the remainder of her face clearly screamed Black, an appearance which was widely considered to be the vestige of aristocratic beauty. Her high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted jawline clearly reflected that. If you ignored the lack of pigmentation, her resemblance to Narcissa was almost uncanny.

But whereas her half-sister preferred to dress in traditional Wizarding dresses, Bridget Hawthorne appeared to favour a much different style. Underneath her sturdy, yet elegant and perfectly sewn open outer robes, she was wearing dark, tightly fitted duelling robes. The robes were hugging her fit torso, clearly not hiding the muscles underneath. Instead of a dress, the preferred choice of most Witches in Britain, she was wearing black, loosely fitted slacks accompanied by Gladrags finest Basilisk-hide boots. Her choice of clothing reminded the Dark Lord of the Witches of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, then again, her mother had grown up in America. The wand in her left boot did not go unnoticed, as did the dagger in her right boot. The Dark Lord doubted that these were the only weapons on her person. Because of its magical signature, there was at least another wand hidden under the sleeve of her left arm.

A fraction of a second later, Bridget Hawthorne was standing in front of him, lowering her head respectfully while greeting him with the words, "My Lord."

While Tom inspected the Witch in front of him, he could not help but notice how much her magic felt like Narcissa's. Dark and vicious, yet elegant and under control.

"Lady Hawthorne," the Dark Lord replied casually, while signalling her to take the seat opposite him. Accepting the invitation with a faint nod, Bridget Hawthorne took a seat, her movements smooth, yet calculated like a predator on the hunt for their prey.

"Lady Hawthorne," the Dark Lord began, his voice calm, "I could not help but wonder about the reasoning for your rather… unexpected move. You never seemed overly eager to align yourself with either side. Why now?"

Bridget Hawthorne calmly met his eyes, her face blank and void of any emotions. Besides Abraxas and Corvus, anyone rarely ever seemed to be so unaffected by the Dark Lord's magic and his physical appearance.

"Before I will answer your question, my Lord," Bridget Hawthorne spoke up, her tone polite, "may I ask you a question first? I hope I am not being foolish and unreasonable, but your answer to the question is rather significant for the outcome of this meeting."

Crooking a hairless eyebrow for her daring, the Dark Lord stared at her for a long moment, "As surprising as it may seem to anyone not familiar with me I am open to suggestions, accepting of questions, and certainly not averse to critique as long as everything is reasonable and delivered in an adequate setting."

Bridget Hawthorne's calculating gaze rested on the Dark Lord as if to determine whether he had spoken the truth. Having reached a conclusion, she slightly leaned back in her seat and revealed the question that had been plaguing her, "I cannot help but feel curious about your ideas concerning the origins of the magic that is running through our veins, my Lord."

'Interesting,' the Dark Lord thought to himself as he, too, leaned back in his chair to contemplate his answer. He had been aware of how serious the Hawthornes took 'their' History, but it seemed like he had underestimated the significance of their passion. The thin lips on his face curled into a smile as a plan formed in his mind. Of course, he would not lie. He never did.

"Lady Hawthorne," the Dark Lord began, "I think you will be surprised at how similar our ideas are."

"Is that so?" the pale Witch opposite of him asked, "I was under the impression that your side is convinced that the Old Gods gifted Magic to their believers, the Purebloods, and that their gift must be protected from the Muggles at all cost."

"Sadly, the papers have never directly consulted mein return and my followers on our stands on Magic," Tom stated without as much as a blink of an eye, "everything that is printed is spurred by sources beyond my control."

Bridget Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, "Dumbledore?"

"Of course. The old fool likes to spread the idea that I want to exterminate every single Muggle and Muggleborn, which could not be further from the truth. I want separation between both worlds, total separation, but not genocide and mass murder," Tom swiftly explained, "as a descendent of a long Necromancer and Naga line, I am more than aware of the true origins of Magic. Thus, I know that Muggles cannot simply steal what is ours unless we intermingle with them too much."

Bridget Hawthorne suddenly leaned forward in her seat, her eyes sparkling in excitement, "So you really believe in the creature origin of Magic?"

In confirmation, the lips of the Dark Lord curled into a smile.

"Good," the pale Witch said, "Necromancer and Naga blood in your veins? No wonder you are such a powerful Wizard. That's a hell of a combination."

"Is it not?" the Dark Lord snorted dryly before turning serious in an instant, "now that I have answered your question, Lady Hawthorne, let us return to my initial question: why did you decide to approach me now?"

For a moment, the Witch seemed to be lost in thoughts, before finally answering, "There is talk, talk that the Dark are slowly but steadily gaining the upper hand, infiltrating the Ministry, disposing of Dumbledore's pawns. Your duel with…"

"There was talk before and there were duels before," the Dark Lord interrupted her, slowly leaning forward, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him, his chin resting on his folded hands, "while you speak the truth, the both of us are aware that this alone would not be enough to finally make you declare your true allegiance and seek me out. You would never accept the same Mark your father bares. Never. Not while he is alive and breathing. Now, what truly made you reconsider?"

Almost colourless eyes met crimson ones. Bridget Hawthorne surprisingly did not avert her gaze, "You did your homework."

The corners of the Dark Lord's lips twitched, but otherwise his amusement at her words remained hidden. He then raised an eyebrow, impatiently urging her to answer.

"It was not just the talk on the streets of Diagon and Knockturn Alley," the pale Witch explained, "the Goblins in the bank were quivering in excitement after your duel with the Prewitt twins, James Potter, Frank Longbottom, and Sirius Black, that you made them flee like dogs with their tails between their legs. They were joking that not even five of the Ministry's finest Aurors could keep you at bay. They said that the tables were turning. That no one could stop you now."

While Goblins rarely ever reacted to conflicts amongst Witches and Wizards, their reaction was hardly surprising given his special connection to the Goblins, "What else did they tell you?"

"Tell me?" Bridget Hawthorne parroted, taken off-guard for the first time during their meeting.

"You have grown up amongst the Goblins. Thus, you should be aware of their opinion on the current Wizarding war," the Dark Lord stated, "what did Ragnok tell you?"

"I never said anything about Ragnok," the pale Witch protested, "I only…"

"Enough," the Dark Lord hissed sharply, "I have known and worked together with him for decades. If someone could have told you something valuable, something life-changing, it must have been him. Frankly, I do not mind since I trust you to keep quiet about whatever he has told you, at least if you value your dear life. Anyway, I am simply curious what exactly made you reconsider. Also, do not worry about Ragnok. I would never hurt those I consider mine."

Bridget Hawthorne lowered her head in understanding, before whispering, "Prior to my conversation with Ragnok, I was unaware how similar some of our opinions, some of our goals and… some of our experiences were."

"I see," the Dark Lord said, his voice much smoother and calmer, "and what do you wish to do now?"

"I… I simply cannot join with himbeing amongst your ranks," Bridget Hawthorne explained quickly, "no disrespect, my Lord, I cannot…"

"I understand," the Dark Lord spoke, his eyes pulsating in anger at the thought of his own father. He, too, would have never aligned himself with the man that had abandoned him and refused to acknowledge his own child.

"While I cannot accept your mark for now," the pale Witch continued, "I offer you my service."

The Dark Lord's lips curled into a sinister smile, "I think you have already proven yourself of great value for the Dark cause and I would gladly see you continue your great work, spreading the truth about our history, about our traditions, about our cause. I especially enjoy your little public battles with Dumbledore. I think not even I manage to rile him up to the extent that you do."

Opposite of him, Bridget Hawthorne blushed at the compliment. This certainly was not how she had expected this meeting to go.

"Since we have reached the end of our discussion," the Dark Lord began, "I think I do not have to remind you that the details of our meeting and the information passed by Ragnok are to be kept private. While I do not have a problem discussing certain aspects of my past, present and future with a selected few, the public must remain ignorant. Lady Hawthorne, if that is all you wished to discuss, I want to stress that my door is always open to you. I would gladly welcome you in my ranks once the time is right."

"But Dumbledore will do everything in his power to keep that woman out of Hogwarts," Lucius said loudly, bringing Tom out of his thoughts, "he will not allow anyone with such… controversial stances to brainwash the mind of his precious blind students and for once provide them with the truth about our past. She will never be allowed to teach as long as Dumbledore is Headmaster."

"What if there would be, let's say, a newly passed educational decree in place, stating that the Ministry is allowed to select a teacher of their own if the Headmaster was unable to present a more fitting, better qualified candidate?" Tom spoke, his voice bearing a seductive undertone, "the esteemed Headmaster would never be able to present a better candidate than Bridget Hawthorne."

"What if she refuses?" Corvus asked, scepticism underlining his words.

"She would never refuse a challenge and direct opportunity to go against Dumbledore," Tom chuckled, "never! She hates him with as much passion as she despised her father. She will accept, even if it pays less and offers her less freedom than her current occupations. She will accept, as long as you two manage to position her accordingly should the question of a new History of Magic teacher arise within the Board of Governors and in the presence of the Minister. I trust you to achieve that feat without a problem. Before I depart, did you give my suggestions regarding the Longbottoms any thoughts, Corvus?"