Disclosure Hp belongs to JKR. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux-

A/n Let me know if you are liking it.

Antonin's Brother

Anton, Antonin's brother, was good-looking, but his eyes had no warmth. Besides, Anton's face was aged, plus his eyes were not even the same color, but as they had said at the Wizengamot, he might have been using a glamour charm to make others think there were two of them.

The judges said it, what better alibi could he have conceived? Anton, where was he? Antonin thought about Anton.

Anton.

At the Schloss, when Antonin was growing up, there was a rumor that he was really Antonin's half-brother. Antonin's father had brought the young Anton to live with his second wife and his other children at the age of three. The sad little child had come to the then Leningrad Palace as the son of a cousin and her husband. Apparently, Muggle soldiers had killed the parents. It happened during a 'purge' of the town, by orders of the tyrant who ruled the Soviet Union with an iron hand.

Anton was twelve years older than Antonin. He was a student and later graduated from the Durmstrang Institute; he was extremely bright, and like others, he was Dark Wizard. Some older friends had told Antonin that Anton had cursed his stepmother with a Dark bleeder hex when she birthed him. His father was absent at the time, visiting an old chum at the Dragon reserve in Romania.

Antonin remembered his cousin as a sour, angry teenager during his summer and Holiday visits. All disliked Anton; he was mean and cruel to everyone around. He was always jealous of the love their father showed Antonin, maybe rightfully so. The older man was cruel and saw Anton as an inferior, the child of a country witch; he often made fun of Anton and abused him because of his "inferior" blood.

Anton thought of the young heir, as Antosha, the spoil and arrogant brat, with blood less pure than his. After all, his maternal grandmother was said to be the Great Duchess, Anastasia Romanov, one of the whores of Rasputin, the mad Mudblood. He did not know the Romanov family were at least half Bloods, maybe more, but did not have magical training.

Antonin had three older sisters; his brother died during the Muggle war from a stomach infection. The youngest girl was a few years older than him.

Anton had deeply resented the birth of a boy. His hopes to be declared the heir, and his uncle/father's only son, had gone out the window with the birth of his half-brother. Indeed, when Antonin's father had died in a duel over a woman, he had left Anton a considerable inheritance. However, the bulk of all property, vaults, and tittles went to his heir. As for the daughters, they received amounts comparable to Anton's. He even left him a nice dacha near Antonin's; it was not as grand.

The nail in Anton's hatred coffin was to be deprived of his rightful last name. However, when Antonin and his sisters had agreed that it been a great injustice, offering him the name, that he turned down. "The name coming from you is meaningless. If my father had given me his name, the titles and the heir rights would be mine." For Anton, it was all or nothing. So, Anton left to be Voldemort's follower right after his school was completed, and since the start, he had changed his name to Antonin. He had spent years in Azkaban under his alias.

Lucius met Anton during his induction as a Death Eater. By then, Anton was already known as Antonin, so there was nothing to be done. Lucius knew he was not Antonin and decided to hide the knowledge from his cousin, the real Antonin.

Anton had threatened to injure Narcissa if Lucius let others know. Anton had no blood ties of any kind to Lucius and hated him for being 'privileged.' So an agreement was made. Anton, was mean as a snake; moreover, the rabid pureblood advocate was determined to make a name for himself with Voldemort. He saw himself gaining a high position in a world ruled by his master.

Once Antonin joined the Death Eaters, there was no need to let the entire wizarding world know of the 'second' Antonin. Some gain might be derived since they looked almost like twins, if not for a few more wrinkles and less hair. Voldemort had indeed found the similarity between his two servants convenient and a good tactical advantage to be used against the Order.

At the end it was Voldemort's fault. Thinking about Anton, Antonin knew that he should have stayed at his now renovated palace, at the renamed St. Petersburg. Ah, his beloved city, the ballet, the museums, the nightlife. It was all coming back. Lucius, Lucius, he was just too clever. He had thrown him the bone he had always wanted to chew, a sweet witch. She really was his beautiful and tender golybushka (dove).

Lucius was a git and an awful rotten wizard, who had offered him a dream, a witch to behold. He had tasted her lips while hiding behind a mask. Voldemort had wanted him to keep his identity hidden so Anton could kill, maim and do a lot of harm. Meanwhile, Antonin was seen in a different place, not doing much harm, making sure he was seen.

He had screwed himself royally; nobody believed there were two Antonins, just dark magic, just great.

As for his love, he had kissed her that night, and for getting distracted, Anton escaped, and he was the one going to Azkaban. Not only that, Anton had nearly killed the young witch, all his fault. Having to hide behind the mask, not thinking clearly, he had let down his guard. Right on time for their new Muggle computer age, all the magical signatures saved for comparison, so the one in the record was his, not Anton's.

Was the kiss worth it? Hell yes, he was a romantic. He did not consider magic dark and, instead, individually evil depending on the intent. He was made to love with hot passion. Her taste was beyond wonderful. He could still taste it. He had not held the witch very tight; ahem, maybe a little. Face it, he was painfully hard, couldn't be helped. He had been hard as a Hussar's sabre, so perhaps he pressed a little. She wore her sexy Muggle clothes, and he was able to discern every curve and feel her soft breasts against his chest. He was not too forward; she was but a child that time. He'd called her his Golubushka, his darling, his love. He did it several times; maybe she recognized he spoke Russian.

He barely touched her lips; he just wanted a taste of the future; well, maybe it was a big taste. He wanted her protected until she was ready. What a laugh. She was tortured a few times, and who knows what else, what a protector. Fenrir, the idiot, the pretend monster, had mishandled his witch; he was on his list.

He was as his father with the only witch he loved. That witch had not been Antonin's mother but his first wife. Antonin was called Antosha by his family and named Anastasia Romanov; his grandmother used to call him when he was a baby. Of course, her name was not Anastasia Romanov at the time; her name had been Catherina.

So it was like a father-like son. He had fallen in love with Hermione that evening, during their first kiss. He had vowed to protect her and save her at all costs. His idea was to court her and marry her once his name was cleared, fat chance. Nearly three years later, and he was still rotting in prison. Some judge must have believed him guilty; he stood no chance.

He was in love and wanted to write the letter; he only had one day. He sat and wrote the first letter to his bride-to-be. He traced some symbols with his hand, looking quite innocent. He kissed the letter several times, once with great passion while nobody watched, covering his face and the paper with his now very long hair. He read once more and then took it to the desk of the review committee, translation, censors.

He saw them reading and writing over here and there...Damn, I hope they don't take much out. I hope they don't find the unseen charm. No, no, wand over, next, the same; and, great, it is safe. I hope she can read the clues. I cannot wait for her letter. No matter, this is the first go. After this, no censures, thought Antonin.

Now, where was Anton? He wanted out of this hell-hole and go to get his witch. Then he would stay from Lucius like the plague he was.

Trip to Azkaban.

The group of seven visitors and ten Aurors met at the Ministry the day before. They were to be briefed by specialists on how to prepare for the event and how to behave.

Upon their arrival at the ministry, they met several reporters who were waiting for them. The program receiving maximal attention had been published in most of the local and international media. Anything involving a 'famous' from the recent war was sure to be newsworthy.

Three reporters had been selected to go with the group and had security clearance for the assignment. At the last minute, Rita Skeeter had become sick with a strange virus that made her all spotty and feverish. The replacement was a dour news reporter with a sallow complexion, nearly bald with a few sparse blond hairs, who complained constantly.

One of the Aurors going was Harry, who was opposed to the plan, afraid of the possible things that could go wrong. The witches and two reporters, one Swedish and one pretty Austrian reporter-witch, were told to dress in serious business robes, easy to take off for the search and to dress warmly. No Muggle clothes should be worn because they might attract unwarranted attention as if their mere presence were not enough.

Besides some other tips, such as leaving their wands behind, they were briefed on everything, from arriving, to going to the loo. Departure was scheduled for 8:00 AM via Port Key. The travel time was long, over two hours, with two stops.

Getting there

Hermione and her friends all opted for winter cloaks, high neck jumpers worn with Muggle equestrian boots. They wore some makeup and no jewelry as advised. Good idea, no knowing what Luna might show up with. Hermione wore her hair loose, with two light wooden sticks holding a few curly strands away from the face. She looked quite beautiful as per the appraisal of Lucius, Harry, and several Wizards.

Harry was furious at Hermione's initiative, blaming her for his forthcoming marriage to Ginny. He wished he had chosen her over Ginny before and right after the war. He had been attracted to Ginny's beauty, blind to Hermione's beauty; once that novelty wore off, oh well. He saw his role as a victim, refusing to be responsible for his actions.

Once in Azkaban, they were cleared for admission and brought directly into the new library, where the meeting of representatives would be held.

Lucius could not take his eyes away from the young witch. He didn't understand why he had not seen her beauty before now. Antonin was smarter; he had seen the potential of a less conventional, sensual beauty, and he had gone for it. Draco had been equally smart; however, Lucius had seen with the dirty filter of prejudice. He had to talk to his contact to talk about sitting arrangements.

Hermione, Luna, and Tracy waited with anticipation. True, they had fought against Death Eaters, but time has a way to change our perceptions. They were intensely involved in the prison reform program and saw their roles as the saviors of wizards that had lost their way. They were young and romantic at heart; plus, all were nursing wounds from failed relationships, and each hope to find a romantic tortured soul to help and rescue.

As for Hermione, she had a feeling of something big about to happen, she hoped it was good.

Antonin waiting outside, couldn't wait to see her. The night before, he had a ghostly visitor, his grandmother; she whispered that all would be well; he hoped it wasn't a dream. He was nearly breathing hard thinking about her, the minutes stretched into hours.

The meeting

The ministry group sat at a table facing a row of chairs. The Aurors stood back behind the group, wands were inside a pouch sewn into their clothing, but their hands were holding them, ready to attack. They also carried a state-of-the-art Muggle weapon, magically modified. It would only discharge for the wizard that it had been designed for.

There was one inside the room, waiting to see one of the inmates, and would try to kill him if the chance was presented. Carrying the poison dart thrower had not been easy. The dart was coated with a magical version of curare. The dart was charmed to disappear upon striking, and the poison would not leave a trace.

a/n So ready for more? What will it happen? Hmm.