Disclaimer: See chapter 1 (Spoiler, I own nothing in this story)
Xander had to duck the teacup being thrown at his head. He had to admit, this wasn't how he expected this meeting to go.
"I may be your press secretary, boy, but don't think for a second that you can do my job better. If you do this, you will lose the advantage I worked so hard to get you. Public opinion is fickle enough, but you are declaring war on the Ministry and the Wizengamot. This will not end well." Rita's scolding, with a dash of pleading for flavor, was falling on deaf ears, thus the projectile teacup.
"I want the Wizarding world to know the truth behind the attacks. They need to know that Voldemort is killing innocents. They need to prepare themselves to be attacked, and this is the fastest way," Xander yelled back. He had lost his patience a while ago.
"Well jolly good for you then, all you'll do is get more people killed because how you are going about it will cause a panic!." Rita sat back down at the table currently separating the two. Slowly, Xander did the same, still seething in anger at Voldemort and his terrorists. "You hired me because I am very good at what I do, did you not? You chose me. So let me ply my trade, just tell me your most important goals. I'll make sure you get what you want without ruining your name and fortune."
Xander, now conscious his anger was clouding his judgement, took deep breaths to calm down. It was becoming a frequent necessity of late. Ever since the attack at Black Reef, his rage would burst and he'd do something without thinking of the consequences. It took a minute, but he finally composed himself enough to think clearly with the help of the Force.
"Alright, we'll do it your way. I want Voldemort recognized as a common thug, I want all known and suspected death eaters exposed, and I want the fear associated with Voldemort's name gone." Xander laid out.
"Tough order, what's my budget?" Rita asked. She had a few ideas, but her employer's demands would be difficult to achieve. She'd have to bribe a few individuals she'd prefer not to, but that couldn't be helped.
"100,000 galleons. Make it happen, and soon." Rita choked at the amount she now controlled. She could certainly grease the right hands now, and have plenty to spare. "Oh, one more thing. Once you get those goals done, you get a bonus. 50,000 galleons for yourself." Any lingering hesitation she had disappeared in an instant.
Xander stood up. He was tired, exhausted more from the mental and emotional strain than the physical. A stray thought made him wonder if throwing money at the problem was the best method. He found he didn't care at this point. This was his third argument since arriving back in England this morning, and after dealing with the Ministry and Dumbledore, he didn't have the energy to argue more with his press secretary. Before leaving for his room in Grimmauld Place, Rita still gobsmacked at how much money he was giving to her, Xander left a final instruction.
"Don't go after the Malfoys. Don't cover anything up, just don't go after them actively. They've suffered enough, and we have plenty of targets for now. Prioritize the other death eaters."
Rita's brain finally rebooted, and with a smile she started allotting money and favors to the various entities she knew. The first task would be hard, but not impossible. The second task, simple. The third one, removing the fear of You-Know-Who's name, was something that she'd need a specialist for. Fortunately, she knew just the person for the job. Or rather, the twins for the job.
With his brain working on almost no sleep, Xander stumbled through the floo, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he went. When he sat down to take off his shoes, he noticed he wasn't alone. Reflexively, he drew and ignited his lightsaber. When his Force sense told him it was Cordelia Chase, he hesitated a moment before disengaged his weapon.
"I thought you got off the plane when we were back home. Sunnydale, I mean," Xander questioned. He thought he would remember bringing his once girlfriend to England, but given how his day was, he wouldn't be surprised if he had, and just forgot that fact.
"You did, doofus. I had to talk to the University before coming over. They tend to frown on not attending classes without notifying them of a sabbatical. Now I can take a few G.E.s abroad, without changing my graduation date. Oh, before you fall asleep on me, I need you to sign these papers." Cordelia shoved a dozen pieces of parchment in a binder into Xander's hands, along with a quill.
"Can't this wait until morning?" Xander whined.
"No, sign it, then you can get some sleep. This is too important to wait." She tapped her foot impatiently. Xander recognized a fight he wasn't going to win, but still was stubborn enough to fight anyways.
"What is this?" He asked. He was still learning legalese, so he wasn't sure what he was holding.
"Something to help Luna, using your massive fortune and fame, since you're not going to use it to improve your wardrobe. Now quit stalling and sign them," Cordelia demanded. Sensing no deception from her, not that he expected any, Xander complied.
"Fine, now can I get to sleep?" Xander pleaded. In response, Cordelia collected the signed papers and quill, kissed Xander gently on the forehead, and walked out of the room. Xander flopped down on his bed and started to fall asleep with his shoes and pants still on. Just before he felt the embrace of sleep, some questions popped into his mind. How did Cordelia get to the UK? How did she find Grimmauld Place? How did she get in? What was a Pupillus? Without the energy to contemplate the answers, Xander was snoring.
Cordelia heard the snores from outside the door and smiled sadly. He was a doof, but he had a good heart and knew when to give in, and he was under immense stress, far more than she ever remembered seeing him under. He would do the right thing. Still smiling, Cordelia walked to the sitting room and called for Kreacher. He popped in and bowed low.
"You be calling Kreacher?" The house elf asked.
"Yes Kreacher, I did. Take these papers to the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Child Affairs. Xander probably made some enemies there today, so don't let anyone know these came from him. Can you do that?"
"Yes, Kreacher can do that." The well dressed elf took the offered papers and bowed.
"Oh, by the way Kreacher, does Xander know what you are planning with the Rod of Horkos you got from the Chamber of Secrets?" Cordelia idly asked, her eyes sharp and probing. Kreacher froze for a moment before sighing.
"No, Mistress, he does not."
"Well, then. I might forget to tell him about it if that paperwork gets the proper signatures by morning. If it doesn't, who know what might slip my tongue," she threatened in the same idle tone, with her eyes unchanged as well. Kreacher knew he had no choice.
"Everything will be finished before the sun breaks," Kreacher swore, then popped away to the Ministry. He hated to admit it, but the muggle was more conniving than most of the Blacks he had served, and more ruthless as well. She would be a suitable Matron to House Black. He'd have to call in quite a few debts with the Ministry elves to get her commands done, but he had just enough to trade to get the adoption paperwork through.
For her part, Cordelia returned to her room, prepared and tended to by one of the new Black house elves. She didn't know all the details, but Kreacher had been recruiting house elves during their vacation. Jules was from San Francisco, bonded to a horrible family, before Kreacher used the Rod of Horkos to free Jules from her oath without needing to be given clothes by her masters. In return, Jules used the same rod to bind herself to the Blacks, and now was waiting on Cordelia and her temporary roommate. Xander would always do what he thought was right, but he didn't always see everything going on in front of him. He could be so blind.
"It's done, Luna. By morning, you'll be an official Ward of House Black. For as long as your father is in the hospital, you'll be taken care of."
Instead of words, Luna tackled Cordelia in a bear hug, weeping in gratitude for the tremendous boon the woman had given her.
All Cordelia could do was hold the girl and whisper comforting words to her.
'Well,' thought Talbot Nott. 'Nothing more to do but wait.'
Seventy-four death eaters were in attendance, three rows deep along the walls. While they remained motionless, none wanting to draw attention while their master was in a sadistic mood, almost everyone quivered in eager anticipation. Talbot had just finished giving his report on what went wrong at Black Reef, and while he wasn't stupid enough to place all the blame on the dead, he hoped he deflected enough of the Dark Lord's anger to spare his life. Several mentions of spies he had in the Ministry and abroad, plus other resources he used for extra details, would hopefully remind the Dark Lord that he was more valuable as a living servant than as a dead object lesson.
"Hmm. You present to me a quandary, my dear Talbot. Your failure, though you did convince me that others hold blame as well, requires punishment. My desire to let Nagini feed on your paralyzed body is strong, but you have proven to have some pittance of value, despite your recent ineptitude. What to do, what to do…" Lord Voldemort tapped his wand against his leg idly, as if he was deciding what to have for dinner. His snake lay curled around his throne, erected in the Nott's largest dancing hall, only rising it's head slightly at the mention of her name. Anyone could tell the eldest Nott wanted to say more, but he stayed firm, kneeling before their master.
"Lucius, won't you join me up here for a moment." A ripple passed through crowd. Everyone expected an Unforgivable, Cruciatus if Voldemort was being generous. Killing if he was not. Everyone knew that Nott's plan had gotten Narcissa killed in one of the most violent and painful ways possible. Everyone wondered what was coming next, including Lucius.
"My Lord," Lucius bowed before his master, making sure to do so several feet in front of the disgusting pile of worthless dung known as Nott. When Lucius felt Voldemort take his hand and then proceed to lead him to his throne, Lucius dumbly followed. He began to fear slightly when the Dark Lord gestured for him, Lucius Malfoy, to sit in his seat. Nagini even moved to accommodate the Death Eater. Slight murmuring sounded throughout the room at the unprecedented action, and Lucius had no choice but to obey.
"My dear Lucius. You, more than any other here save me, know how deep Nott's latest failure runs. I have decided that you shall decree his punishment." With that declaration, one of the most vile wizards alive stood back and waited and watched. Nagini adjusted herself so that Voldemort could continue his petting of her scaly head. Under his mask, Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he weighed the quivering incompetent prostrating before the throne. He ignored his immediate instinct to kill the pathetic thing, and instead began to think.
This was as much a judgement of himself as it was of Nott, Lucius knew. What he said and did would have ramifications for himself and for his son. The wrong choice, and both would be dead or worse. He had only a short while to decide, so he would have to be quick and cunning.
"My Lord, you honor me greatly. May I take a moment to consider something suitable?" Lucius requested. He was relieved when Voldemort nodded in agreement. He had some time, but not as much as he'd like. He'd have to hurry. Unbidden, a memory forced itself into his mind.
"Lucius, what are you waiting for, come on in?" Narcissa giggled a little as she swam in the lake. They had just finished their NEWT exam for Charms and didn't have another exam until the next week. It was almost dinner time, the grounds around the lake deserted save the two of them, when his betrothed stripped off her robe and dove into the lake naked. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her undressed, but it was the first time he'd seen her do so in public.
It wasn't the last time, either, but she seemed to have a second sense as to when she could get away with it. In their many years of marriage, he never had to pay a single knut to cover up his wife's more eccentric and risque side, and as far as he could tell, no one ever knew about it except for him. Lucius shook the memory away, he had to be clear-headed, but it was immediately replaced by another.
"Lucius, what did you do?" Narcissa was bouncing their son and heir on her lap when he stormed in. She could always tell when he was angry at himself as opposed to at others.
"I could have ended this bloody war, I could have ended the destruction. I had my chance to end Dumbledore, I could have ended their resistance." Lucius threw a vase against the wall, shattering it and leaving a stain of water and flower petals behind. Draco began to cry at the noise as he slumped into his armchair.
"Why didn't you?" Draco burrowed into her shoulder as she rocked him, quieting his howls. She knew her husband wouldn't have thrown away an opportunity to end the conflict that had cost them so many bloodlines. Lucius stared at Draco, turmoil in his heart, before answering his wife.
"If I had, the babe he was holding would have died as well."
"My Lord, any physical punishment I may decree would be insignificant compared to what you have already delivered these last few days. My punishment must be of a different type, in order to be punishment at all." Lucius began as his mind wandered again.
"Is it true? Did the Dark Lord fall?" Narcissa had been hiding at one of their safe houses after he given the emergency signal three hour ago. He pulled off his cloak before closing the door to the cottage and answering her question.
"I think so. He never returned from his mission with the mole, and the mark hasn't triggered since it flared up and I gave you the signal. Whatever happened, Dumbledore's people think they've won and that he's gone."
"What will happen to you, to us?" Narcissa fearfully asked.
"I've taken care of it. I paid the right people and called in enough favors that we'll make it through. I'll just stick to the imperius defense. Even if Dumbledore's people don't believe it, they won't be able to overtly act against us. We'll still have to look out for sabotage and indirect attacks, but that is nothing new."
"At least the war is over."
"Yes, my love. Even though we lost, at least it's over, and we are alive."
"His failure was in his planning and execution. He was unable to control those under his stewardship. I believe, with your permission, my Lord, that we should give him a second chance to prove that he has learned from his mistakes." A ripple of movement and mutterings washed over the onlookers. Second chances were inconceivable in the Court of the Dark Lord. "Let him lead the distraction raids tonight."
"I swear, father, the filthy mudblood cheats, there is no other way she could get better marks," Draco complained.
"Draco, how many times have I told you, you need to watch your language. If this is what you are learning from your friends, you might want to reconsider the benefits of having them influence you. Your father may be on the Board of Governors, but every mistake you make costs the family. Thus far, it has only been taken out of your allowance, but if you spew that language around casually, a steeper price will be levied, more than galleons," Narcissa rebuked. Lucius loved the way she could chastise their son without alienating him, as he saw happen with some of his associates like the Flint family. The Flint boy hated his parents, unlike Draco who still respected himself and his wife.
"Listen to your mother. She is, by far, the most cunning and intelligent creature upon the face of the earth." Her smirk to him, hidden from their son, promised a reward for him that night.
"Let him take your vampire allies when they attack Diagon Alley, and prove that he can control the undead this time. The troll attack to Hogsmeade, combined with his vampire attack on Diagon Alley, will be enough to distract everyone away from Azkaban. We shall walk through the guards with ease to free the loyal being held," Lucius reasoned.
Those clever enough could see the masterful stroke the widower dealt. With Nott leading the vampires, any Aurors responding to the busy street being attacked by vampires would already be using deadly force. Plus, in Nott's weakened state, the vampires might turn on him as well. It was as close to a fatal sentence as he could give while still making his death advance the goals of the Dark Lord. Not that Lucius hadn't begun to entertain traitorous thoughts of exacting his own revenge, deep in the darkest recesses of his shielded mind.
"Father, how many muggles did you kill when the Dark Lord first rose to power?" Draco's question made him and Narcissus pause, the two adults sharing a look between themselves.
"Draco, why ask that?" Lucius inquired. Of course he knew the exact number, but the Purity War wasn't something that families discussed, at least those on the losing side.
"Professor Black assigned us a research paper for history. Our topic deals with rates of attrition for various groups. I looked at the numbers. One fourth of all wizards in Britain died violent deaths. It was worse off for mud bloods, but even still more than a dozen bloodlines ended." There was a pleading in Draco's explanation, he was on the cusp of discovering a deadly secret he didn't want to find, but it was too late. Lucius couldn't respond.
"In order for us to make a proportional dent in the muggle population, every known and suspected death eater needed to have killed at least 2000 muggles. That is why I am asking. If the Dark Lord is trying to destroy the muggles or put them in their place, why are so many more wizards dying?"
Lucius sighed before answering. "Your trip with Professor Black is tomorrow. We can have this conversation after you get back. Take the time to consider if you really want and need to know about what happened back then. If you ask me again, I will tell you everything."
"We'll judged, my dear Lucius. It will be as you decided. Nott, your vampire compatriots are outside the gates, go inform them of their role tonight. Make sure to personally lead them into battle, and that you do not leave Diagon Alley until I signal for you." The crowd shuffled in anticipation while Nott paled. "And Nott, if I see a single Auror reinforcement at Azkaban, I assure you your punishment will not be so kind as this one. Netholi, go guide your trolls to Hogsmeade. The distractions shall begin in thirty minutes. Within the hour, Azkaban will be ours. Now go."
Julie Clearwater was closing up her shop early for the night. Without the children of Hogwarts to bolster their sales of writing supplies, winter and summer breaks were times to catch up on sleep, friends, and books. Not for the first time, she wondered why her uncle had given her his shop in Hogsmeade when she had only just graduated from Hogwarts herself.
Julie finished locking the door and started her walk to join her friends for a drink at the Three Broomsticks before heading off to the magical night clubs of Glasgow, where she hoped to meet a cute wizard or witch, when a cold chill filled the air. The insects stopped their buzzing and silence reigned over the village.
She saw them before she heard them.
Seven trolls lumbered onto the village streets, their footsteps evidently magically dampened because each of their steps should have sounded like thunder. Behind them were a half dozen cloaked and masked figures. She was too young to be part of the war before, but she remembered stories of death eater raids and the fear they inspired from her parents. Their deaths at the close of the war was a reminder that magical society was not all sunshine and rainbows. Now, the scum were back, and they dared to enter her hometown for a fight.
Drawing her fir and dragonstring wand, Julie activated the secret alarm system interlaced in every building of Hogsmeade, known only to the shop owners and mayor. It would alert the occupants, as well as the Ministry, of an attack. Since she took ownership of the store from her uncle two years ago, she had never seen or heard it be used, not even during the Sirius Black scare and the dementors.
The results of the alarm were instant and significant.
Bright lights appeared throughout the town, making the dim dusk into a noon brilliance. The trolls roared silently as they covered their blinded eyes. A loud grating klaxon sounded, and before Julie could check to see if the Hogsmeade Militia were coming, she started casting at the vermin who killed her parents.
She started with a Confundus at the trolls, then followed up with some piercing hexes at the wizards. She had to duck behind a wagon to avoid return spellfire, but was rewarded with the sound of the trolls smashing the death eaters in their confusion. Evidently whomever was maintaining the silencing charm lost their concentration or their lives, and Julie hoped it was the later.
Bertram Aubrey was enjoying the quiet. The previous 3 weeks had been trying his patience and shopkeeping skills. Hundreds of families a day during that time wandered through, or by, the Magical Menagerie, wanting to get last minute treats or new pets before Christmas. Some of the older families wished to purchase the more dangerous animals such as venomous snakes, fire crabs, and one muggleborn family got a pregnant Puffskein, an invaluable pet for clearing out spiders in a home. Most magical families had at least one nest somewhere in their residences.
There were several score people wandering around the Alley at the moment, a moderate crowd for the evening, but there was something in the air. Ever since he graduated Hogwarts, Aubrey had a second sense about when something important was going to happen. Good or bad, he could never tell, but his predictions were never wrong. It saved his life a few months back in the Death Eater ambush that was foiled by the new Lord Black. Finishing up sweeping the entrance to his store, he set the broom aside (he could have charmed it to keep the place clean, but Aubrey enjoyed the act of sweeping) and checked the wards on the shop. Fire suppression, check. Hostile spells, check. Rampaging animals, check. Anti-Theft, check. It took a few minutes to go through them all, but Aubrey was satisfied that they were all in order.
Three minutes later, a series of screams from outside reverberated throughout the shop. Bertram peered through the closed windows and gasped in horror. Over a dozen demonic vampires raced through the streets, pouncing on anyone and everyone they could reach. Several wizards and witches drew their wands but were attacked before they could get off a second spell.
Flipping the sign in his window to closed, a trick his grandmother taught him to repel these types of vampires from their shop, the aged shopkeeper opened his door. Immediately, a family of three ducked in, and Bertram screamed at them to get in the back. The father and daughter complied, while the mother drew her wand and began casting out the door at the vampires. He caught the sight of an Lead Auror badge when she unfastened her cloak to free up her arms.
Quickly, Bertram moved over to where his pet food section was and took down a large decanter of Silphidae. After a whispered spell, he threw the glass container past the auror, through the door, and into the street, where it shattered on the cobblestones. Immediately, thousands of two-inch long carrion beetles started swarming the streets. That was several hundred galleons worth of profit, but the screams of pain coming from the vampires as the insects burrowed and ate the undead flesh was worth it. It wouldn't kill the bloodsuckers, but at least it will slow them down and give their victims a chance to get away.
His brother had never gotten that chance when the two of them were cornered by vampires as children. His brother sacrificed himself to save him, so what was a little profit compared to saving lives?
Unfortunately, the insects only lasted a minute before they were killed by a pest removal spell, one he himself had used countless times. That minute, though, allowed four more families to huddle behind the wards of his shop and his new auror friend to destroy more than a few of the fiends.
When three masked Death Eaters rounded the corner, accompanied by ten more vampires, Bertram felt he had done enough to help, especially when several aurors popped into the street. Once the auror that first entered his shop exited to join her co-workers, Bertram slammed the door shut and raised every remaining ward he had, and prayed it would be enough. Just for good measure, he gathered everyone behind the counter of his shop and hastily fashioned it into a barricade.
All he would do now is wait.
Mordred DeHoff was holding off the cold with a thick cloak and a small bonfire. Casting magic outside of an emergency was strictly forbidden for Azkaban guards since the magic detection scanners, similar to those searching for underage magic, were sensitive enough to identify even elf magic. All of it was for naught when a magically enhanced arrow entered Mordred's skull. The now lifeless corpse collapsed, soon followed by the other guards patrolling the grounds. No word escaped to the mainland, and in a short time, Azkaban prison was empty save for the dead and the demonic.
"I want you to train me to fight like you do." Xander hadn't even gotten his morning coffee yet (thank goodness for Kreacher for being able to make the stuff to the highest barista standards) when he was ambushed by one of his students. He stopped his descent of the stairs to focus on who it was that was talking to him.
It took a second for his eyes to focus enough to see.
"Alright, Neville. Why do you want to learn how fight?" He was expecting this, but thought the first request would come from Harry, and the first manipulation from Daphne.
Instead of speaking, he handed over the newspaper. Xander took a moment to orientate himself then blinked. It seems the Death Eaters had been busy.
Britain Attacked by Beasts
A coordinated attack on three important areas in Britain by numerous sub-human creatures last night rocked Britain. In what appears to be a coordinated attack by vampires, trolls, and Australian terrorists has spurred several in the Wizengamot to push for tighter restrictions on all sub-human races, in addition to the ones involved in the attack. This includes werewolves, goblins, veela, and centaurs, all of which have been known to be supportive of extremist actions against magic users. Though the attacks at Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were stopped with minimal loss of life thanks to the efforts of the Ministry, several prisoners escaped when Azkaban was attacked. Included in the escapees are Bellatrix LeStrange, Antonin Dolohov, and Augustus Rookwood. See page 4 for a full list of criminals at large.
Authorities are questioning the families of the escapees, including Alexander Black, who was involved in the deaths of several wizards last year and more recently has been questioned in the mysterious death last week of his cousin Lady Narcissa Malfoy. No word on if charges will be brought against him this time, or if the Aurors will sweep the affair under the rug. Madame Bones hasn't commented on whether Sirius Black, presumed mass murderer, confirmed Azkaban escapee, and cousin to Bellatrix, is involved, citing the ongoing investigation.
"KREACHER," Xander shouted suddenly, startling Neville and causing someone upstairs to roll off their bed and curse loudly through the walls. Xander thought it might have been Ron or Hermione, he wasn't sure. In a flash, literally, the house elf appeared in a black professional cooking jacket. "I need this paper delivered to Rita, with instructions for her to do damage control. Tell her to have at it. Also, tell her we need to meet later today."
Without a word, Kreacher popped off with the paper, and Xander turned back to Neville. "I'm assuming you want to fight because Bellatrix is out, am I right?"
"Yes, sir. Harry's been great, teaching us how to defend ourselves and all, but I don't want to just sit around and wait to be attacked. I want to do something about it. I want to fight back, like you did. Luna told me what you did on the Reef. I want to fight like you."
His conviction was there, the hardened desire of vengeance. Though Xander didn't know all of his motivations, he saw enough of himself, three years ago, to know he wouldn't stop. Any attempt to discourage him would only have the opposite effect, with reckless results. Better to be prepared and guided than dead from ignorance.
"Sure. I suspect you won't be the only one, so let's wait until after we get back to Hogwarts to start. By the way, I thought this place was charmed against visitors? How did you get in?" Xander asked, genuinely curious. Neville looked slightly embarrassed.
It had taken months for Dumbledore to finally give him complete control of Grimmauld Place, after a few minor veiled threats of inconveniencing the old man. Evidently setting up a new magical safehouse and meeting place took time, but during Christmas everything Order related had been removed and Xander could start adjusting the wards, assuming he had the time to do so, which he hadn't yet.
"Oh, well, my Gran is part of the Order, and she insisted I be given access in case of an emergency. I should probably get back before she notices I'm gone." He quickly bid farewell, and was traveling through the floo before Kreacher returned with an appointment with Rita later in the afternoon.
Xander sipped his morning coffee alone at the table, the windows dark in the pre-dawn. He suspected Neville was an early riser, given his love of plants, and that was why he got a hold of the newspaper before anyone else in the former Order Headquarters was awake. Xander didn't really mind that Sirius had essentially given the place to Dumbledore, since basically he was letting Sirius use the house as he wanted. Xander taking control back from Dumbledore was more of a principled fight than a practical fight. After all, he had several other houses that were much nicer he could crash at if he wanted to.
He really wasn't sure who all was here right now, but he should figure that out today. Probably the Grangers, the Weasleys, Harry and Sirius, and, unless last night was a dream, Cordelia. Maybe a few other members of the headmaster's Order that still wanted to hang around the place, but he didn't know many of the Order Members. Mostly the teachers at Hogwarts and Kingsley 'I Need To Get Laid' Shacklebolt. The auror had never forgiven him for their first meeting, but luckily they hadn't needed to cross words, or wands, since their first train wreck of a meeting. If the newspaper article was anything to go by, though, he'll be called in for questioning soon enough. Hopefully Rita or Tonks will have some suggestions. He would not be accepting any more 'help' from Dumbledore under the circumstances.
He was on his second cup when Cordelia stumbled in, followed by Luna Lovegood. He took out his wand and magically poured them both a cup of coffee goodness. They both accepted gratefully and joined him at the table.
"So, my Warden, are there any particular points I should know about as a protectee of House Black? Services or tasks I will be required to complete?" Luna asked after her cup was half gone. Only through willpower and excessive effort did Xander keep his coffee on the inside of his mouth instead of spewing across the table.
"Uhh, when did you join House Black? Was there a contract that I missed? Wait, did you marry me off, Cordy? Was that what those papers were for last night?" Xander panic rising with each question. Luna laughed in reply, which did nothing to ease Xander's concern given the girl's sense of humor. Cordelia rolled her eyes before speaking.
"No, you nutjob. You made Luna a Ward of your House last night. Since Xeno is recovering, he can't fulfill his duties as Head of House Lovegood, which includes caring for Luna. Without this, she'll fall under the control of the Ministry, including access to their vaults and control over the Quibbler," Cordelia explained before surveying the fruit and muffin spread Kreacher placed before her. She swallowed a plump strawberry before continuing. "You'll be her guardian, legally, until her dad wakes up and you turn the rights over or until she comes of age. You also control her portion of the Lovegood vaults and businesses, which is pretty much all of it because Xeno set it up that way. You sign school permission slips and if anyone hurts her, they deal with you. Think you can handle it?"
"This. This is why women are evil," Xander told the ceiling. "They make decisions for you without asking and then are so reasonable that you can't be mad at them for going behind your back. You can't win."
"And don't you forget it. Now, what has you in such a broody mood?" Cordelia asked. Xander tossed her his copy of the paper, having finished reading it a few minutes before the two girls came down. Cordelia combed through the issue with Luna while the three continued to eat the breakfast the house elves prepared.
They had finished the last page just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined. Luna handed over the paper to Hermione, who began to devour it. Ron and Harry saw the headline and looked to Xander for answers to their unasked questions.
"Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley were attacked by trolls and vampires last night, most likely as a distraction for a jail break. I'm guessing Voldemort is behind it all, because it's something a big bad would do."
Over the next hour, they ate breakfast and discussed what this latest attack meant. Xander asked Harry about his Defense Club, which he denied at first, then admitted, and Xander offered his services as a faculty advisor to help legitimize it in the eyes of the school, particularly the Ministry's stooge. Not even Umbridge could challenge it on any legal grounds unless she tried to revoke a faculty member's authority; a step she clearly wasn't going to take.
Maybe.
No, Delores Umbridge would wouldn't go that far yet, but she'd find another way. She liked to come at her targets sideways. He'd have to be on the lookout for her shenanigans.
After everyone had finished eating, Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and Molly joined the group in a visit to Luna's father at St. Mungo's. Those with injuries from the battle last week would also be getting checkups, paid for by Black coffers at Xander's insistence. Even those without injuries would get checkups, just for Xander's peace of mind. Tonks led the way, having already talked with her boss and had been given the go ahead to take Sirius out in public, in exchange for them both giving statements to another auror who would be meeting them at the hospital. Xander hoped it wasn't Shacklebolt.
His prayers were answered in the form of Harley Savage.
Harley Savage was in her mid 20s, born to money and a long line of moderately powerful magic users. She was fairly tall at 5ft 7in tall with flowing blonde hair and green eyes with a lithe athletic figure that suggested she was physically active, probably some sort of gymnastics. Xander postulated that she was chosen to interview / interrogate them because, as single males, Sirius and himself would not mind talking openly to an attractive woman. From what Xander knew of Amelia Bones, Harley would have as sharp a mind as she had a beautiful body.
If that was the case, Amelia Bones may have overestimated the oldest Black's resistance to a pretty face. Upon being introduced by Tonks, Sirius volunteered to go first, and told Xander to take his time visiting, he'd keep Harley company until he finished. It wouldn't surprise Xander if Sirius gave away national security secrets in an attempt to impress her. Harley, for her part, didn't seem phased by the obvious innuendo, instead took a seat in a hospital conference room and began a rapid fire questioning session under the supervising presence of Tonks.
Despite his best efforts, it appeared like Sirius wouldn't be able to charm his way into Harley's graces. Time would tell, though. Xander continued towards the Long Term Ward with the rest, leaving Sirius and Tonks to their fate.
It was surprisingly quiet when Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Xander, Cordelia, Remus, and Molly entered the wing dedicated to those who were expected not to recover. Immediately, Luna ran over to her father and curled up beside his unmoving prone figure. As she began telling him everything that had happened since she had last saw him, making sure to include every potential cryptid, the rest awkwardly stood by. When Luna got to the plane arriving at Sunnydale, five minutes later, Xander suggested to the kids that they might want to get a drink or snack from the shop down the hall. The trio gladly accepted, and left the ward quickly as Xander took a chair, listening to the tale being spun by his new ward.
When Luna finished with Sunnydale, twenty minutes later, describing every demon and potential demon there, the Gryffindors had returned with Neville and his grandmother. They were visiting Neville's parents who were in the same room and Xenophilius Lovegood, but several beds down. Taking the opportunity, Xander asked to speak with Augusta Longbottom in private. The wiry woman agreed, and the two stepped into the hallway and into an empty room. Neville looking on nervously at their departure.
"Lady Longbottom, do you know what your grandson asked me to do for him this morning?" Xander asked, hesitantly. He knew Neville didn't want his grandmother to know of his desire to fight, but Xander had learned with Faith and with Joyce that secretly training for battle wasn't the ideal situation. On the other hand, it was not his secret to tell.
"I do, young man. He doesn't know that I know, but he had the same look in his eye as his father did when Frank joined the Order. I read the newspaper, I know he visited you this morning, I know he wants to avenge his parents. Considering the rumors swirling around about the recent attack during your travels and your proximity to him at school, it is logical that Neville would come to you for combat training. The question I have for you is what are you going to teach him?"
There are many kinds of grandparents in the world. Many are kind, warm souls who dote on grandchildren with a smile and are glad to be a part of their lives. Freshly baked cookies and warm milk by the fireplace while playing a game of Chutes and Ladders on the floor. Christmas dinners and opening presents and joy in the air.
Augusta Longbottom was not that kind of grandmother.
She was a woman who never got to enjoy her status of loving doting grandmother because she had to assume the role of parent and guardian when her child and spouse were struck down by vicious sadistic killers who were currently on the loose. She wouldn't wrestle a grizzly bear for Neville, she would simply look at the bear and the bear would run away in fear, not wanting to inconvenience her. That stare was currently on her face as she asked Xander his intentions with her only grandchild.
"I'll teach him to survive. I'll teach him to fight if he can win, to run away if he needs to, and to ultimately to live. I'll teach him to not die. Because running away isn't always an option, I'll teach him that sometimes, on certain occasions, he'll have to fight until there is no fight left. When that happens, I'll teach him to take down so many of the bastards they will never be able to recover, so next time they think of attacking, they'll think twice."
It wasn't Augusta's hardness or conviction that made his decision to say what he did, it was the fear and anguish hidden behind them. For all she was, she was still a grandmother trying to protect her little Neville. Augusta nodded in reluctant agreement, knowing the realities of war far too well, then shuffled out of the room and back to her reason for life. Xander stood there for a moment before sitting. How did he get to this point?
All that had happened since defeating the Mayor, what had he really done? Sure, it was amazing to have the powers of a Jedi, Faith and Buffy were still bugged him to build them a lightsaber, and Sunnydale was safer than it had ever been, but what was he doing?
Playing teacher and aristocrat, with smatterings of spy and politics?
Being a cat's paw for Dumbledore or the Ministry or Voldemort?
Slumping to the floor, Xander began to meditate, calling on the Force to help guide him. Almost immediately, a Force vision overtook him, overwhelming him in its intensity. Almost as if the Force itself had been eager to share this with him, and had only been waiting for the opportunity. It was the same one as before, before the reading of Regulus' will.
It started with earth from space. Different parts of the world were brighter than others, with some areas completely blacked out. There was a dark spot near Sunnydale, but it was brighter than the first vision, less dense. The other black dot back east by the Great Lakes remained just as dark, though. England was halfway consumed by the darkness, but the other half still shone brightly with pulsing light. Darkness spread through Europe, Asia, North and South America, and finally Africa, but this time there were bright swaths of land that resisted the encroaching blackness. Holding the line against the night.
Australia remained bright, as always.
Xander was then on the ramparts of Hogwarts, surveying a massive army assaulting the castle. Vampires, demons, death eaters, trolls, giant spiders, all fighting the students and staff defending the doors and windows. Beside him stood Neville, Draco, Luna, and Susan Bones. Behind him stood Morgan le Fey, the Spirit of Hogwarts. Xander felt out of place, like this wasn't his fight, he shouldn't be there. The discomfort grew until he couldn't stand it, and the Force vision flashed him to the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The remnants of a battle were easily identifiable, rubble and scorch marks, broken glass and shattered doors. On the ground, half buried under the remains of a chair, lay the same mask his ancestor, Revan, wore. As he picked it up he knew.
This.
This place was his destiny. More than that, this place was the destiny he wanted to choose. And he could choose. When the time came, this place was where he belonged. Jessie appeared, nodding once towards him in gratitude, before the Force vision faded.
Alone in the hospital room, Xander remembered why he fought, why he did what he did.
Rising, he moved back with the others, just in time to hear the ending of Luna's tale. When a glowering Sirius strolled in, followed by a smirking Harley Savage, Xander knew their conversation didn't go as Sirius had hoped. Bracing himself, he greeted them and motioned to Harley to lead the way to wherever they were to be interviewed. It ended up being a different small room a short distance away with a small desk table and two folding chairs to sit.
"Lord Black, I welcome you and thank you for allowing me the opportunity to ask you a few questions." Harley intoned formally, though Xander thought he sensed hidden mirth behind her speech. It didn't help that the formal greeting was given in a room with cleaning supplies readily visible.
"You're welcome, and if possible, let's keep this informal. Call me Xander." He extended his hand, which was taken and shook surprisingly warmly. Harley smiled and continued.
"Very well. So, where were you when the three attacks took place?" She began, taking out a quill and parchment which she charmed to take notes. Down to business then.
"At one of my properties, sleeping." Xander responded.
"Could you be more specific, and can anyone verify that that is where you were?" She followed up.
"Uhh, not really, sorry. Certain magics protect the location. There were a few of my guests that saw me earlier in the evening, but anything past… eleven I think, nope, I was alone." For some reason, Xander's face flushed slightly when Harley smirked.
"Alright. When did you first find out about your cousin's release?"
On and on it went.
Questions varied from Xander's relationship with Bellatrix to his political views to any future dealings he might have with the Ministry, and Fudge in particular. The questions went on for about forty minutes, moving between the three attacks, his interactions with Sirius, the death of Narcissa (those questions were, thankfully, extremely respectful and more information gathering than accusatory, to see if there was any possible connection between the two), and seemingly inconsequential questions like what he had for breakfast the day before the attack or his most recent bed companion. Xander wondered if she was trying to figure out if he was single, but her demeanor was completely professional and not that of someone hunting for a husband or boyfriend, or at least if she was she hid it quite well.
In the end, it wasn't a horrible experience for him.
"All ready to leave?" Sirius asked as he rejoined the group. It seems like everyone finished their checkups while he was busy with Harley.
"Yeah, is there anything else we wanted to do before heading back to the house?" Xander asked. There was a round of head shaking, so with a final farewell to the Lovegood patriarch, the group departed for the Grimmauld home.
There, Xander found a package from the Goblins waiting for him, along with an itemized bill.
"I'm sorry, Rita, but we just can't do it," Niobe Pontner looked sympathetic, but Rita Skeeter knew better. The Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Prophet had the most excellent business mind, especially when it came to dealing with difficult situations. Sympathy had no place in the newspaper business. Not when there was profit to be made or to advance one's position within Wizard society.
"Don't give me that, Niobe. We both know it's that you don't want to do it, not that you can't. I worked for you long enough to know when you were being intentionally difficult. Now tell me, what's going on?" Rita demanded. While she'd like to think their relationship was more than professional, both knew that business came first, even before friendship.
"Your man has become unpopular to the people, Rita. Sure, he's young, handsome, and a mystery, something to occupy the minds and fantasies of the readers of Witch Weekly, and we let you get away with quite a bit while his headlines sold our papers, but the tides have turned. Bellatrix's breakout of Azkaban so soon after his visit to her, Lady Malfoy's brutal murder while accompanying him overseas, don't think we haven't filled up several pages in the Rumor Section with what really happened that night. His public coin has been spent, and now you want us to go against the Ministry and declare You-Know-Who is back on his behalf? I'm sorry, it won't happen, not unless opinions change."
Niobe sighed, this time with actual legitimate emotion. Lord Black's arrival had paid for a brand new printing press with all the extra papers they'd sold since his arrival. A good portion of those were because of articles and announcements Rita herself had given them, either as official press secretary or under a pseudonym. To cut off that supply would be bad business.
"I will give you two inches on page 2 of the Rumor Mill, lower right, no mention of You-Know-Who," Niobe offered with a spirit of generosity that they both knew didn't exist.
"Six inches, page 4 of the Front Section, allusions to him." Rita countered with a smile.
"Four inches, Page 6 of the Front, and vague allusions that could be applied to either You-Know-Who or Dumbledore," Niobe returned. She wondered if Rita would push for more.
They stared into each others eyes for a few moments, attempting to detect any weakness or budging in their position. A subtle Confundus charm wouldn't work here, nor magic of any kind. The Prophet's ward scheme, provided by the Gringotts goblins, were unique in the Wizard world in that they were focused not on defense but on the truth. How that was interpreted was a matter that would have been up for debate had it been widely known. In theory, it was hoped by Editor-in-Chiefs that the Wards would keep those in the employ of the Prophet honest and report the news as honestly as possible. Magic of any kind that could cloud the mind of the staff was instantly neutralized so that they could write their stories with their minds and wills intact in their never ending pursuit for the truth.
In reality, while it did provide the Prophets employees with protections from magics that affected the mind and coercion of their wills, there was however one exploitable flaw in the designs. It had no effect on the genuine avarice that came from within. The Prophet, recently, had become very good at using the truth as a weapon to sell lies for the highest bidders, a complete corruption of its noble intent. Both parties knew this, of course, which was why the two women were so unwilling to budge and compromise. Satisfied there was no other possible negotiations, and that their agreement would be the best possible for all involved, they both nodded in unison and shook hands.
A dishonest deal was struck to allude to the truth.
"I need it in four hours if you want to make the morning edition." The tension of room dissipated with the agreement as Niobe barked out the deadline.
"I'll get it to you in two, before you have to call your kids to let them know you'll be late," Rita promised before standing. They shook hands again before parting ways.
As she left the office, Niobe made a mental note to place three of the Ministry propaganda articles next to Rita's. That would keep the minister's minion's away from her office. If the Ministry was lucky, they'd be able to overwhelm her words.
Niobe doubted it.
Rita's quill was sharper than any other she'd ever seen.
Darkness covered the alley, the night air forcing even the most hardy denizens to raise their collars to ward off the damp fog. Heating and drying charms could only help so much against the legendary English weather. To the four demonic vampires headed towards the Fatted Kine, the best pub in Knockturn, the weather was the least of their concerns. It appeared with a whisper, blocking the path of the vampires.
"Oye, out of the way, you tosser," the least intelligent and least sober of the foursome yelled.
The other three noticed the glowing silver sword held loosely in its right hand, illuminating the fog around it enough to make out some details. Black armor highlighted in red runes, pulsing slightly as if it were a heartbeat. The mask it wore reminded the bloodsuckers of the death eater's masks, but much more menacing. There was a single slit for the eyes, too narrow to make out any details, with the mask appearing to narrow the further down it went.
Red marred the face.
For a few moments, the five were simply obstacles for the haze, eddies of wispy mist twirling in the air around them. As if reacting to the same signal, the hotheaded vampire and the masked figure lunged at each other, with the demon being vastly outclassed.
Instantly, damp dust fell onto the cobblestones, and the three remaining vampires looked in shock to the monster in front of them.
"One of you will live to send a message. The rest will die. Choose now, or I will choose for you." The robotic voice commanded dispassionately.
The three vampires glanced at each other, calculation and doubt easily visible on their deformed faces, each wondering what the others would do. Any of them would have no issue throwing the others under the metaphorical bus, or in one case back in 1972 it was an actual bus, but they also knew there was survival in numbers.
The three rushed the armored human in their standard practiced attack.
The first vampire lost half of it's hand to the glowing silver blade, the obviously blessed weapon cutting through skin and bone like it didn't exist. The second was less lucky, losing it's leg from the shin down. The third ended up with several broken ribs from where it was pushed, probably a silent banishing charm, into a brick wall. The masked and cloaked figure was once again motionless, 10 feet behind them, and the only way they knew he moved from in front to behind was the swirls in the fog.
"One of you will live to send a message. The rest will die. Choose now, or I will choose for you." It repeated.
This time the glances between the vampires were more desperate.
In the end, game theory proved accurate. They turned on each other, the one handed vampire rushing the one legged one, both tumbling to the ground. They punched and kicked and bite viciously, with the third watching from a distance to see who would emerge the victor, and willing his ribs to heal quicker. The armored one looked on without moving.
There was a poof of a vampire dusting, the one legged being victorious, followed up with a second dusting as the one with broken ribs used a loose boulder to flatten the other's head. The lone vampire turned to the instigator. "Well, what's your message?"
Nothing happened for a moment, and the vampire was about to repeat himself when he felt himself be lifted off the ground. In life he had never been able to master a silent levicorpus spell, and since being turned decades ago he hadn't practiced magic. Now, being on the receiving end of it, he regretted not looking into a way to practice magic as a vampire, not that the Ministry would have allowed it anyway.
He hung there, suspended, while his tormentor walked towards him slowly and deliberately. When he was inches away, the vampire could make out the detail in the face mask, the red actually hundreds of tiny runes all glowing with power. His inspection was interrupted by the slash of the blessed blade, and intense pain in his extremities. On a reflex, the vampire punched it in the face.
Except there was no arm to punch, just a charred stump above the elbow. No legs either. Knowing this was a death sentence for him, he began to scream and yell at his killer, only to find that he could no longer talk. An invisible spell held him bound, choking his throat closed. Had he required breath, he would be dead by now. The monster before the vampire leaned in closer before whispering.
"You are alive, and you will let everyone know my message."
"I will let everyone know your message."
"Anyone or anything that joins Voldemort will be my prey."
"Anyone or anything that joins Voldemort will be your prey."
"And I will not be so kind next time."
The vampire gulped as the message truly sank in. Whoever this was, You-Know-Who had made a powerful enemy. He was hung on a lamppost like a Christmas stocking and he knew that the purebloods were in for a surprise. As the figure disappeared in the swirling fog, the vampire knew there was no escape, and so he started shouting as loud as he could what the monster had told him to, over and over again until he started gathering a crowd.
He yelled for fifteen minutes before the aurors came, and all the way to the Ministry Holding Cells he yelled, even through the silencing charms placed on him, until someone secretly banished a piece of wood through his heart. As he crumbled to dust, he was glad he got the message out, but worried he'd see that monster again in Hell.