Abraxas Malfoy had gone to the Ministry of Magic before 1968 and then after it. He was not exiled from the structure, nor was he welcomed with pleasant smiles. It was his right as a citizen of Wizarding Britain to enter it and leave as he pleased.

Yet when he came to the Ministry this January morning, his heart was thrumming in his ribcage like a chicken's last scream before an axe cut its throat and splattered its blood across the hay strewn floor of this imagined countryside. Abraxas preferred the countryside. It was one of the reasons why his family lived and continued to live in Wiltshire. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was decadent in that way and relished living in the city where murders were planned, joyful meetings of utmost importance were held, and the centre of the world bowed to them.

The Malfoy family remembered that they were the nouveau riche among the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were the Frenchmen and women; they were the accursed fairy-fuckers come to litter their perfect society with thoughts outside of their own; they were the ones who willingly took to bed halfbloods and didn't discard them afterwards.

Abraxas tried to channel some of that strength and knowledge, some of that adaptability that came from his ancestors in a neat and genius package. Because at the mere thought of going into the Ministry and lucidly searching the portrait of Nobby Leach out was too much to bear. His chest constricted another scream that wished to tears itself through his form, leaving nothing behind but a depraved and admittedly hideous monster.

The horcruxes hissed. The Hallows silenced them.

Abraxas carried on, but once he exited the Ministry elevator his foot caught onto the ledge and he began to fall forward. A strong, wilful hand caught him in time. He turned to his saviour and gave her a saddened, apologetic smile: ''My apologies, Minnie.''

Minerva McGonagall had been chosen by the Order to accompany Abraxas on this journey. She pushed up her glasses and told him that it was no trouble at all, but that it would do Abraxas well to not make a habit of falling face-first onto the marble floor.

''Of course.'' He smiled quaintly.

Abraxas was wearing a glamour and it did not irritate him. There was no cough when he did magic. No lung splitting illness rummaging through him. He was whole. And, frighteningly enough, immortal. Until he killed Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. Montgomery bloody Goldsmith?

''We ought to find Percy Weasley.''

As luck (cough the author's need to move on with the plot cough) would have it, Percy was very nearby, trying to buy himself a cup of coffee to get on with the gruelling days of his newest Ministry job.

Minerva and Abraxas very casually inched towards him. Pretending that they'd run into him by sheer accident. Percy was too exhausted to tell the difference. ''It's good to see you professors.''

''Yes, quite. Now,'' Abraxas coughed, ''a question for you my dear chap-''

Chap? What, had he become the new Dumbledore?

''Sir, I do understand that you are important.'' Percy Weasley had had enough of being a slave to toll away to the whims of those who were not his boss. He was not a footboy for every goddamn senior in this Ministry. ''But I have my work to do that is of worth, too. I will kindly ask that you go on with your date and leave me out of it.''

''Date?'' Minerva McGonagall laughed, taken aback by her once-student's fictive imagination.

Abraxas straightened out his rainbow coloured robe, slicked back his hair, and whispered: ''Once you go Malfoi, you never think there's anything better pour toi.'' And then he winked. At. Minerva.

Minerva closed her eyes. ''Ask him if he knows where Leach's portrait is before I truly lose my mind.'' It took her all of her self-discipline not to burst into laughter at Abraxas' dramatics. She couldn't help but admit to herself that having him so close, first as a colleague and now as a partner in unfinished crime did make for an interesting and highly excitable life.

And then she would remember that he'd killed Albus and things would grow cold once more.

''Why are you looking for Nobby Leach's portrait?'' Percy narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses so they weren't sliding off. He held the cup of coffee in one hand and took a sip. He drank his coffees cold, it seemed.

Abraxas couldn't understand such a monstrous action – and he'd sent a man to die via snake eating.

''It is classified business.'' Minerva whispered and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, tightening her hold on him and giving Abraxas an opening by having Percy Weasley's attention on her.

''Classified how?''

''Unspeakable even.'' Minerva gravely answered.

Percy's eyebrows jumped at that titbit of information. Hearing the word Unspeakable was enough to get any ministry official interested and terrified at the same time, how could new blood only react? Why, Percy Weasley must be out of his right mind just by the thought of handling such important information.

Or so the adults would like to think. Percy shook Minerva's hand off and asked: ''Why didn't the Unspeakables tell you where his portrait is?''

''Because they cannot speak, goodness , boy – it is IN the name.'' Abraxas shook his head.

''No, they can talk.'' Percy believed in fact. And fact it was that Unspeakables could talk, it was just that they couldn't talk about what they were doing in the vaults they occupied down in the deepest depths of the Ministry.

''Have you ever truly seen an unspeakable talk, Mr. Weasley?'' Minerva questioned.

Now Percy was starting to think that Unspeakables really couldn't talk and that this was just a gathering of extremely intelligent witches and wizards who were, also, mute.

Abraxas and Minerva were a very persuasive duo. Especially when one had the elder wand to cast a couple of suggestion charms.

''I suppose you really are doing good, then.''

''Of course we are, Mr. Weasley.'' A trusted character like Minerva McGonagall was never put into question. ''Now, do be a good lad and tell us the location of Minister Leach's portrait.''

''He's in my office.''

''Wait really?'' Abraxas couldn't believe his luck. Minerva couldn't either. (The author could, though)

''Yes. I can take you both.'' Percy discarded his coffee and beckoned them to follow.

Abraxas and Minerva exchanged a look between one another. ''We make a fine team,'' Minerva had to admit. Abraxas' face lit up at the praise.

Percy led them to his office. The further down they went the more it reeked of sewage.

Minerva, honest to goodness, hissed. She recoiled from the stench and covered her nose with her hand. ''It is disgusting here.''

''You get used to it,'' Percy told them. ''I'll move up, I swear.''

Abraxas' eyes were watering. ''Live your best Kafkaesque life, Percy.''

Percy nodded. ''Thank you, sir.''

''Do you actually smell anything?'' Minerva had pinched her noise. Abraxas giggled once he heard the nasal question.

''I can indeed.'' He said. His face was trapped in an eternal smile, because the inadequate working conditions of one Percival Weasley were absolutely terrifying to witness.

''But the cocaine?''

''Minnie,'' Abraxas exhaustedly went on to explain, ''I am extremely wealthy. There are so many healing procedures in the world. After rehab I got my nosey problem fixed.''

''That pun is terrible.''

''I am trying. Anyhow, I've got to reapply the smell monthly and I get to smell. I find it a very fine deal, indeed.'' He snapped his fingers and joyfully grinned.

Percy opened the door to his workspace.

Abraxas gagged at how tiny it was. ''Not even Tom Riddle's first apartment was this small?! Percy, child, how do you LIVE LIKE THIS?''

Percy shrugged. ''It is how it is, sir.'' He still spoke in that melodic, brain-washed tone.

Abraxas called the suggestion spell off and hit him with a sleep-jinx post haste. The boy fell to the ground and slumped his head forward. Once he raised his head from his work he glanced to Minerva. She was deathly silent. Her eyes glued to the sight in front of her.

Slowly he followed it.

A man raised and lowered his brows. He twirled his moustache. Brown eyes sparked to life. His lips parted to reveal a brilliant line of pearly white teeth. The robe he wore was a light blue: his favourite colour. In an interview he'd said it signified a bright future.

Abraxas took a step forward towards this man. There wasn't a single thing that he could bring himself to say. The only course of action he saw was to marvel at the man's awesome presence. Awesome, in its basest, oldest meaning.

Both of the man's hands were on his hips. His smile crooked and words manifested in the room: warmly, clearly, succinctly.

''Hello, Lord Malfoy. Have you come here to finish the job?''

The horcruxes hissed. The Hallows hissed. Abraxas bolted out of the room.

Minerva got the portrait down. Nobby Leach was laughing his arse off. He was holding onto his stomach and wheezing through fits.

''Professor Minerva, did he just really run away from a portrait?'' His voice was hysterical. ''What can I do to him like this? I cannot even throw paint at him!'' There weren't tears in his eyes, but were he a person there would have been. Through gasps of air he managed to say: ''I cannot believe this. Oh, this has made my day. This has made my week. This has made my eternity!''

Minerva scoffed. ''Minister Leach, if you haven't got anything constructive to say before I shrink you and put you in my pocket – I would recommend silence.''

Nobby Leach's brown eyes were intense to hold eye contact with. Minerva unflinchingly did her best, but she looked down to a sleeping Percy after a moment. ''I am taking you to your wife.''

''Mandy?''

''You do have only one wife.''

Nobby Leach's expression melted from elated to soft and quiet. ''My Mandy.''

Minerva waited for him to say something else. When he didn't, she shrunk him, and tossed his portrait into one of her robe's pockets. When she found the elevator she felt like a very high-class criminal. This was the first time, as far as her history knowledge served her, that someone would successfully steal a Ministry portrait from the heart of the Ministry itself.

Inside the elevator she saw Kingsley.

''Ah, Professor McGonagall,'' her student smiled up at her, ''how are you?''

Her student, who was an auror, who could arrest her –Minerva tried to play it cool. ''I am well, thank you.'' If he tried something she wouldn't have qualms with putting him to sleep, as well. ''How are you, Mr. Shacklebolt?''

''Kingsley, please. '' He grinned. ''I've been doing rather well with the aurors. There may be a promotion in the works for me.''

''How wonderful.''

Minerva couldn't wait for the elevator doors to open. The music was horrendous. The small talk was even worse. Nobby Leach's portrait nestled in her pocket. Minerva would not survive today. This was not her element. Hogwarts was her element. Why couldn't Voldemort have attacked Hogwarts instead of laying low like this and making them come to him? She had always wanted to cast a spell to animate the statues of Hogwarts to aid the school.

The elevator doors opened. Minerva sprinted.

She looked around the atrium for Abraxas. He had glowing eyes and hair –how could she not spot him in a room full of people? Ah, yes. Right. Minerva had forgotten the most chaotic thing that came with being a Hallow Holder, as he called himself – the invisibility cloak.

''I am LEAVING.'' Minerva McGonagall announced to seemingly nobody, like a person who did not have all of her facilities in check. The things she did for Dumbledore's memory. ''I am leaving NOW.''

Nobody made a show of stopping her or joining her. Minerva cursed under her breath and decided to think of where a disgruntled Abraxas Malfoy would go.

''The killer does return to the scene of the crime ~''

''Shush.'' Minerva patted her pocket. The last thing she needed was for people to hear voices coming out of her pockets. They may ban all pockets for women for such a misconduct.

It didn't hurt to check. Minerva glanced back to the heinous elevator and grumbled under her breath that none of this was worth it. She went back to it. This time she didn't see Kingsley or Percy. This time she saw a woman who was drenched in fame and fortune.

''My, my, my!''

Minerva's lips parted to greet the shark to end all sharks. The harbinger of chaos unlike any other. Her quill danced and wrapped around her.

''What brings Professor McGonagall to the Ministry? Is it juicy? Is it exclusive? Your kind doesn't often come here. ''

''My kind?'' Minerva's lips twisted in a sneer.

''Professors!''

''Well, Miss Skeeter-''

''Rita, please!'' Rita Skeeter was the most famous reporter in all of Europe for not only outing Albus Dumbledore as a Grindelwald supporter, but for keeping actual tabs on Grindelwald's whereabouts. Her hounds were working their very best to bring HER readers information the fastest. His last sighting was in Hungary. Though, a different source said it was Albania.

''It is very lovely to see you again.'' Minerva wasn't a natural liar. Yet, to be perfectly honest, she felt no guilt for lying to this fiend.

The elevator doors opened before Minerva could say anything that would implicate her. Rita joyously swayed in the elevator. She was still riding the high of being so important. Let her. At least she was against Grindelwald. In this day and age it was uncertain whether or not people supported Nazis. Though, Grindelwald supporters would argue that Grindelwaldism did not equate Nazism and that it was incredibly rude to lump those two vastly different beliefs together. Minerva, and every other sensible individual left on this forsaken rock, wouldn't deign this with a response.

In front of her was the Minister's floor. Paintings lined the walls and chatted among each other. There was a blank spot for where Nobby Leach's portrait was meant to go. Minerva noticed that the floor over there seemed to move. She took her wand out and approached.

''Abraxas, is that you?''

There was rustling of fabric that further distorted the view. Invisibility cloaks made the wearer invisible, but it wasn't as seamless as most thought. The clash between reality and fabric could be noticed. Minerva had a cat's sight, after all. This was not a great feat.

''Abraxas, take that preposterous thing off and speak to me.''

He finally shrugged the cloak off of his head. He looked very sad, with worried eyes, and a big frown. The glamour continued to hold. Sadly he sighed and glanced back to a spot without a portrait. ''This Ministry is commemorating my worst deed.''

''Killing Dumbledore?''

''That was a pity kill, Minnie.'' Abraxas snapped, self-consciously, defensively. ''He wanted to die and made me a part of the damned process.''

''Wait you killed Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?'' came a voice from a pocket.

Abraxas' eyes widened. Minerva took out the portrait and went to silence it with a spell, but Nobby Leach gesticulated madly to be allowed to speak. ''You owe me this much, you vultures. I want my last words to not be rolling that horrendously long name on my tongue.''

Minerva looked right and left as if she was a cat about to cross the street. Seeing that there wasn't anyone on this floor because the Minister, himself, was meeting someplace else – she handed Nobby Leach's portrait over to Abraxas.

Very carefully he took hold of it. Brown eyes stared into silver. Silver looked away. Brown eyes had the most irritating laugh. Abraxas' hands tensed tightly.

''Lord Malfoy, Lord Malfoy, you have come to my humble abode once more. This time, however, as a man on a mission fuelled with sobriety. You are sober, yes?'' Nobby Leach's voice was grating to listen to. It wasn't objectively: it was clear, and concise, and beautiful. But Abraxa was reminded of his deeds when he heard him. Deeds that were so terrible he couldn't speak of them.

Albus Dumbledore had asked him to kill him. Albus Dumbledore should have already died.

Nobby Leach was murdered.

Abraxas had murdered him in cold, unsatisfied blood.

''I am sober, thank you for asking.'' Abraxas tried to speak. It was a heavy task. His tongue was barbed with wire his memories wrought upon him. When he spoke it felt like he was cutting himself with painful, jagged cuts. His mouth swam with blood. His head swam with guilt. His heart beat to the melody of a man that was not among them.

What kind of existence was a portrait?

''Good. So, you killed Dumbledore?''

Scandalized gasps littered the hallway.

''This is most unwise to speak here.''

''Most unwise indeed. I have nothing to lose. I am a portrait. Minerva has caught you red-handed trying to steal me away from my rightful place.''

The Hallows hissed. Abraxas scoffed, siphoning their power to speak back to Leach. ''I will not be intimidated by you.'' He swirled a potent spell through the air with the elder wand and cast the portraits to stop moving.

Nobby Leach whistled. ''How ingenious. I never believed in your tall tales. Well, the better term would be fairy-tale, yes?'' The Ravenclaw questioned, pressing a hand to his chin in deep thought. His foot tapped against the portrait's floor in an arrhythmic, atonal melody. Then it switched over to a melody that Abraxas could swear he'd heard someplace.

The man swayed in the portrait and waited, humming a tune to go along with the melody of his tapping. Minister Leach was a musical man. His wife and he sang to entertain at the Ministry functions. He played the piano.

Abraxas played the piano, as well. His mother had made him learn an instrument. All children from the Sacred Twenty-Eight learned to play an instrument in order to temper their magic and learn better control. Only Walburga Black, however, dared to go the extra mile and pick up to learn the hurdy-gurdy.

He had pianist fingers. Abraxas didn't. His weren't nearly as long or as elegant. Abraxas' hands were calloused from holding the beater's bat too tightly. The top part of his hands were thin with skin and veins were prominently displayed. How could he ever possibly compare to the Minister? A man that had won over the hearts of thousands as easily as Abraxas lost the hearts of thousands by opening his mouth and saying something stupid, showing the world how sad and ugly and –

Abraxas took a step back.

Nobby Leach stopped humming.

Minerva grabbed the portrait before Abraxas fell on his arse.

''I cannot kill Tom.''

''Of course you cannot.'' Nobby Leach scoffed. To him this admission was the most normal and expected one to hear. ''Tom Riddle died in 1942, after all. He calls himself Lord Voldemort. Maybe if you ever bothered to learn the difference between using a name he abhorred – with good right may I add – and using the one he chose for himself , you wouldn't have felt threatened by me.''

''T-threatened?!''

Abraxas sputtered. This was slander. There was no other word for it. He sneered at the portrait and told him that he thought way too much of himself.

''Why else would you have killed me?''

''You were going to take Samhain away from me!'' Abraxas' voice broke. ''I did not know it was you that Tom –'' Nobby Leach's smile turned knowing and mocking, ''Voldemort decided to get to know behind my back.''

''How am I someone he got to know 'behind your back' when I am the first one that ever offered friendship to him? I offered him power and he took it.'' Liltingly, nonchalantly, carelessly Nobby Leach said all of these things. Not minding for his reputation in these parties. What did a portrait have to care about, anyhow?

Minerva McGonagall was learning things she had no idea were there to be learned. She looked at her wristwatch and found that being a third wheel was something she enjoyed even less than being a criminal.

''Do you want to know why Voldemort first came to Mandy and me?'' Nobby Leach was so smug. Abraxas was too angry to feel guilt. He growled out that he would very much enjoy hearing this side of events. ''It's because he had nothing to gain from you anymore. You were off doing God knows what. Ruining your mind. Also, cute kid by the way, Lucius spent a couple of nights at my place because Vol deemed it unfit for a child to be in your care whilst you were, ahem.'' Nobby snorted. He laughed. It was a rich sound. ''I got my grubby little mudblood hands all over your heir when I read him bedtime stories. Not that he remembers it, of course, but the kid doesn't remember half of what went down in the sixties. Vol obliviated him often. Poor kid. Nobody deserves a father like you. Your actions only made Vol reminded of his father. The callousness, tsk tsk. Not a good look on you.''

Then, too giddy that he'd set himself up for a pun, Nobby Leach continued: ''Speaking of Nott, where is your lackey?''

''Thoros is not my lackey.'' Abraxas felt exposed. It was like everything he was ever worried about was slowly being peeled down for the entire world to hear by this man who could read people just as well as Tom could; who could have quite possibly taught him to do so.

''Really? You could have fooled me.'' Nobby went on. Not bothering to wait for anyone else to say something. When his mind was turned on and occupied with one thought he would not stop until he got everything out of it. This was what made him formidable. ''Always followed you around. Never got to do anything what he wanted because you didn't like his ideas for fun. I listen, Lord Malfoy. Unlike you. I actually hear what people tell me and, more importantly, what they don't.''He clapped his hands. ''It is obvious that everyone around you only sticks around because of your status. Not like me. Not like Voldemort. The difference between you and I, Malfoy,' 'Nobby Leach tired of showing respect to the man that had killed him, ''is that the people I surround myself with are here to stay whether I have money or not. I heard about your billionaire status, by the way –good job. Maybe some more people will pretend to like you. Like Minerva over here!''

Abraxas was this close to destroying the portrait. Minerva caught these impulses and told him to knock it off. She turned to Leach. ''You need to stop, as well. We are here to take you to Mandy Leach so she helps with a ritual. Whatever it is that you two had, I suggest you deal with it somewhere less conspicuous.''

''Hmm.'' Nobby hummed. ''I think I have gotten it through to you that whatever you may want to do with Voldemort will fail. You couldn't even cast a killing curse at me. Your bloody acrobatics speak for what kind of person you truly are, Malfoy. You hide. You can't do anything on your own.''

Minerva silenced Nobby Leach's portrait. She had a firm grip on Abraxas' hand. ''Abraxas, look at me.'' He was shaking. He looked up. ''I am not next to you right now because you are wealthy. Nor because you are a pureblood.''

''No, of course not.'' Abraxas nodded. Minerva was about to say that she was glad to hear it, but he then said: ''It is because of the life debt.''

''Oh for Godric's sake man. I care about you!'' Minerva would rather get shot than to be sentimental. This was why her attempt to show her feelings to Abraxas was a sight to behold. It was very bad. ''You're an arse, but you're a fine arse.''

Abraxas smiled. ''You really think so?''

''Of course, I think so. Don't let a bloody portrait get you down like this. Yes, you have made mistakes. Yes, some of these mistakes are absolutely dreadful and you ought to get a trial for them – and yes, I suppose, you are an absolute prick sometimes when you haven't woken up properly – but I tolerate your presence because I like you. Not because I owe you a life debt.''

''Until it is resolved, I really don't think I'll truly believe-''

Minerva transfigured Abraxas into a bowling ball, took him, and threw him down the nearby stairs. Just before he would fall, she turned him back into a human and grabbed him with a levitation charm. ''Count us fair and square now.''

''You could have killed me?!''

''As if this is the worst thing to ever happen to you!''

''Minnie, this is the most heart-warming thing you have ever done to me. I shan't forget it!''

''Let's just go.''

''Yes,'' Abraxas said, now from the ground, ''let us abscond.''

They went to the elevator. Nobby Leach's portrait was in Minerva's pocket.

Abraxas had the dumbest smile on his face. Minerva tried to fight down her smile. She never could beat it down when around Abraxas.

Bellatrix Black, Walburga Black, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, Andromeda Tonks nee Black, and Mandy Leach joined hands and began to chant from a very old book.

Through their collective magic they helped bridge the lost, grasping minds of Alice and Frank Longbottom with their bodies.

They summoned the magic of their ancestors to help guide them on this journey. Walburga mumbled under her breath that she wished for them to forgive the strenuous circumstances that forced them to be nice to a known mud-ggleborn.

Mandy Leach hit her in the shin with her foot.

Orion's portrait and Nobby's portrait spectated. Nobby waved at him. Orion tired, truly he did, to ignore the compelling man.

Alice's eyes first began to take on a hue of clarity. Followed quickly by her husband. Augusta let out a sob.

Bellatrix chanted. Her face was scrunched up in concentration, but she made eye-contact with Alice and saw Alice Longbottom nee Falwey.

Once the ritual was finished, Bellatrix collapsed forward from exhaustion. Narcissa was panting heavily and holding onto Andromeda. Mandy tore Walburga's hand off of her and righted her disheveled appearance.

''I am leaving now. Do not contact me or my husband ever again.'' She gently held the portrait of her husband and walked through the front door, passed by the wards, and disapparated.

Alice Longbottom did three things when her facilities were put into order:

Hugged her husband.

Told him she loved him.

And found the nearest wand to crucio Bellatrix Black with.

Bellatrix screamed. How could she not when seventeen years of pent up rage of a mother being deprived her son was aimed at her?

''Bellatrix, shut your infernal mouth!'' Walburga, ever supportive, shouted.

Moody had tried to get the Longbottoms to stay and fight with the Order in this perilous battle against Lord Voldemort, but Alice had gritted her teeth and snarled through them: ''I am DONE with the war. My family is DONE with your war. Goodbye. Augusta, let us go.''

Around this time, Narcissa quite literally fainted. Lucius finally had a valid enough excuse to flee this madhouse with his wife. ''Ciao, goodbye, arrivederci, dosvidanya, au revoir – my wife is ILL!''

Andromeda took a few pepper up potions and left. ''I really don't want to be here anymore. Good luck. I did my part. Now it is up to you.'' She left for the Tonks residence to reunite with her daughter and husband.

Hermione twiddled her thumbs. She hadn't even gotten a chance to ask the Minister portrait a thing. She wanted to ask him for pointers. Someone of her kind that actually succesfully climbed the ladder had to have things to tell her? Well, she'd missed her chance. It wouldn't do her well to ruminate over it.

Minerva and Abraxas leaned on each other. They were sitting together. Moody glared at them with his good eye, but he took charge and stood to delegate the beginning of this meeting.

Arthur and Molly sat next to each other. Thoros and Walburga sat next to each other. Zephyr and Bellatrix. The only other spot freed up was next to Bellatrix. Hermione reluctantly sat next to her.

Bellatrix glanced over to her. ''Why are you here?''

''I found him.''

''Through that mentorship program?''

Hermione nodded. Bellatrix laughed out loud abruptly. Her body was shaking, convulsing with the after-shocks of the cruaciatus curse.

''It isn't funny.''

''Do you like him~''

''What kind of question is that?''

''Don't be afraid to tell good ol' Bella, now. I liked him quite a bit when I was young and impressionable. I was smitten.'' Bellatrix grabbed a hold of Hermione's wrist so she wouldn't wiggle out. Zephyr carefully made sure that no children got maimed. Or that no children maimed his beloved General. Whichever came first. ''Smitten.'' Bellatrix's veins popped as she forced herself to say.

''I do not like him like that.'' Hermione tore from her grip. She rubbed her wrist and hissed. Bellatrix's hands shook. Avery decided to switch Bella's and his seats. It would be easier on his nerves. Hermione was thankful for it.

''I was smitten enough to go to Azkaban for him.'' Bellatrix said. Her magic was intense. Her magic was hungry for revenge. ''If you are smitten with him, do not be. If you are wondering whether he cares for you, he does not. Take it from his second in command. He has discarded me like he will everyone who stops being of use.''

Hermione nodded. She didn't want to believe her. This was splattered across her face and Bellatrix laughed, yet again.

Moody shushed them. ''The meeting has commenced, Black!''

Abraxas played with the bracelet and the charms. They hissed at him, but he could not understand them well enough. The Hallows were intefering with the signal, so to speak.

Death was in the corner of the room, her long, bony arms crossed at her chest. Her skull was upside down, yet the holes peered into Abraxas'.

Quietly she spoke. He heard her song. Moody's battle planning was loud, but it didn't matter. Abraxas heard Death tell him something important: ''We are close to fulfilling our deal, Abraxas. Lord Voldemort will be no more.''

This should have filled Abraxas with happiness. It only unnerved him. He tensed up next to Minerva and she placed her hand above his in comfort. Abraxas willed a smile to give her. His conversation with Nobby Leach had rattled him, but this conversation would destroy him, he felt.

Her incandescent robe sparkled with constellations. It moved and Abraxas felt as if he was bared before the sky and its infinite space. A piece of insignificant speck... No, wait. He really was trying to be better at this self-esteem nonsense now.

Teeth chattered a symphony. Her fingers tapped along the wall. Words that came out of her slightly-unhinged jaw sounded more like parseltongue than they did human words, but due to their connection he understood her.

''Your mind is scattered on mortal deeds, Abraxas. I will help you see what it is you need to do. You hurt so badly for a man who left a vial by chance. He was indifferent to you getting better or dying.'' Death never lied. Especially not to the Hallow Holder. These were all truths that Abraxas didn't wish to see.

Through the masses she glided and placed a chilling, skeletal hand to his face, as if a mother about to check her child for fever. ''You are aching, Abraxas. You are burning a flame for a man who will gladly burn you with it.''

Hadn't he heard something similar once from his father? Abraxas couldn't recall. Her hand pressed harder. Her words whistled like a sparrow right before its last breath. ''Hermione Granger is a child who aches for a father-figure. A small human that aches for someone to understand her. A better master will come to teach her. I see it.'' A strange thing for someone without eyes to say, really, but Abraxas believed Death.

Moody was saying something. People were nodding along.

''Let me help you, Abraxas. Nobby Leach has found love. You will love another, this I see. Only if you unburden yourself from him.''

Abraxas couldn't do that. It wasn't right. His chest was constricted. Breathing became a chore. Minerva squeezed his hand and he flickered his gaze from hers and Death's.

Death craned her head in a direction no human body could withstand. Abraxas' eyes were wide. Fear pooled in his stomach. ''Your conversation with Nobby Leach should have only served as proof that he never loved you. You saw what him loving was. Nobby Leach and Mandy Leach know this. You cling onto someone who sees the world as enemy ground. Why would you suffer through this?'' her words made sense. Abraxas inhaled. They made so much sense. ''Go and have your vengeance. Once you finish him, only then will you be free to live your own life.''

Abraxas closed his eyes. Everyone was contributing to the conversation with Moody except him. No matter how much he tried to tune Death out, he couldn't.

Her words made so much sense. Too much sense. He didn't feel free now and he wouldn't feel free until he dealt with Lord Voldemort.

Clatter from Minerva shifted Abraxas from Death to her. She was objecting to something. Bellatrix was laughing, but he couldn't hear her laughter. He could see it. Abraxas gathered that was enough. Death caressed his cheek and whispered: ''I will guide you, Abraxas. Have I led you astray so far?''

''No.'' Abraxas answered.

Minerva used this to mean that he agreed with her because she was now standing and pointing at Moody. She looked a frightened sight.

''Then do as I say, my sweet, kind Abraxas.'' Death crooned.

Abraxas closed his eyes and agreed. ''Yes.''

Death disappeared soundlessly. Abraxas opened his eyes to a maddening sight.

Hermione Granger was standing in the room. All eyes were on her. She placed a hand to her chest and vowed not to let them down. ''I can do this.''

''Do what?'' Abraxas had come late to the party.

''This is madness!''

''She is far too young!''

''Alastor, are you out of your mind?!''

''HOW CAN WE EVEN TRUST THIS CHILD? SHE IS HIS PROTEGE!''

Moody fired a stunning spell into the ceiling. It silenced the group. Once this was done, he went on in his grouchy, hoarse voice: ''Hermione Granger is the only one that can get close enough to Riddle. Their mentor-mentee bond disallows him from hurting her. The girl is willing. We have no other choice.''

''Hermione?'' Abraxas echoed. ''Our Hermione?'' He looked towards the young girl. She had her jaw in a tight wind, but even though everyone was telling her that this wasn't her battle to fight, she persevered and said that this was the right thing to do.

The right thing to do?

Abraxas outstretched his hand towards her. All of the sounds and shouts were rocking and shaping into one joint sound of cacophony.

Hermione was saying something else.

Abraxas wasn't ill. The illness had left him in Greece. This was worse than any illness.

A chill was creeping up his spine in gentle, ghostly touches. It reaches his head and plunged deep, as if without fingers –as if, instead, with claws.

Death crooned:

''My beloved Hallow Holder. I cannot leave anything up to chance anymore.''

END OF ARC 2 BABY

INTERMISSION TIME BRINGS US TWO THINGS: TOM RIDDLE AND GELLERT GRINDELWALD

ARC 3 BRINGS US MANY THINGS, MOST NOTABLE OF WHICH: ABRAXAS MALFOY VS TOM RIDDLE

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