A/N: I know it's been almost 2 years. I GOT DISTRACTED BY DUCHESS DUO.

Chapter 14

Conduit

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was only the second wizarding home Hermione had ever seen, but it was diametrically opposed to the atmosphere of the Weasley's Burrow. Where the Weasley homestead was warm and welcoming of all those who crossed its doorstep, her first impression of the Black family's ancestral home was the placards of House Elves' heads hung in the stairwell and the dark, dusty interior where possible danger lurked.

"It was worse, before," Tonks had mock-whispered to them yesterday, when they had first arrived. "Used to have a portrait of great-aunt 'Burga hanging in the stairwell, and she would just scream her head off if she heard even a whisper of someone."

"Sirius took it down?" Ginny had asked.

Tonks shook her head, the question clearly making her a bit uncomfortable as she knocked into the banister as they climbed the stairs. "No, uh, someone else got it removed…"

"Duo took it down."

Tonks full-on tripped up the stairs. Lupin, coming out of a room on the second floor, eyed her in amusement as she scrambled to pick herself up. "You can say his name, Tonks. He's not Voldemort."

Everyone flinched, but Lupin ignored that as he moved closer. He smiled at Hermione and the two Weasley kids on the stairs, all who were following Tonks up to the rooms they would be staying in for the duration of the summer holiday. Fred and George had gone on ahead with their mother, as Mrs. Weasley had decided they needed more intense supervision given their usual antics.

"Professor Lupin, you're here too?" Ron had exclaimed in surprise.

The surprise was understandable. They'd only recently been introduced to the existence of the Order of the Phoenix; there'd been hints of it during her stay at the Weasley home, late-night whispers between Ron's parents that they very obviously tried to hide from their children. Percy's outburst and subsequent fleeing had only further cemented the fact that the Weasley's loyalty to Dumbledore meant more than just speaking up in his defense.

Actual information regarding what this meant was still unknown to them. Fred and George had used every trick at their disposal to figure out what was going on, but between prank experiments and their newly-attained status as reaching the age of majority, anything involving their parents were hard to come by. Hermione had deduced – given the political climate and the hushed murmurs of the adults – that some kind of resistance group led by Dumbledore had been established, but how big and in what capacity was left largely unknown to her.

That they had a headquarters had been a shock. That they had people in both the Ministry and the Death Eaters had been baffling.

Lupin's smile only grew at Ron's words. "Yes. And you don't have to call me 'professor' anymore, Ron, I haven't taught you in over a year now," he said.

Ron shuffled in mild embarrassment, but Ginny was quick to interrupt. "Duo? What's that?"

Tonks choked, and Hermione darted a glance in the Auror's direction. The woman was standing awkwardly on the stairs, eyes flicking from Lupin to the corridor, as if she wanted to escape.

"My son," Lupin answered, smile and tone utterly complacent.

Tonks looked like she wanted to expire right there on the stairs.

"You have a son, Professor?" Naturally, Ron completely missed the not-so-subtle visual clues coming from the Auror.

Lupin's countenance was very gentle. "Yes, although I only recently discovered this."

"Congratulations then, Professor," Hermione said politely.

Lupin's smile bordered on rueful as he chuckled, "Thank you. And enough with the 'professor' you guys."

Lupin returned back to the room he'd emerged from, and only when he was gone from view, Tonks quickly ushered them up the stairs to the third floor landing. Ron and Ginny finally clued into the awkwardness, trading looks with Hermione as they followed Tonks to their room.

Hermione and Ginny would be sharing a room, it had been decided; Ron was the room on the other side of the bathroom, which he would later share with Harry once their friend finally joined them. Hermione and Ginny tromped into their room; two beds had been conjured on opposite sides, a chest of drawers between them, and a closet by the door.

Tonks followed them in, Ron idling by the doorway as he watched the auror un-shrink the girls' trunks so they could start putting their belongings away. "Um, Tonks…." Ginny started, opening her trunk and going through her things even though her attention was really on the older woman. "What was…all that?"

Tonks shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know what you mean," she tried.

"She means how weird you were about Professor Lupin's son," Ron clarified helpfully. Hermione stamped down on the urge to smile at the boy; trust Ron to sledgehammer his way to the point.

Tonks frowned, which was such an odd expression on the usually jubilant woman. "There was a bit of an—incident, you could say, with his son Duo," she answered stiffly.

"An incident?" Hermione echoed delicately. "But he's been at headquarters, hasn't he?"

Tonks shrugged uncomfortably. "He was," she said. "He's… Duo's a Newtype, you know. One of those magicfolk from the star islands."

Ron gaped at her. "Wh- A Newtype? But-But he's Lupin's son, isn't he? Doesn't that make him a wizard?"

"Newtypes can use magic in space, Ron," Hermione corrected him. "I guess… I guess blood doesn't matter, in that context." How freeing that must be, in these circumstances.

Tonks nodded at Hermione's words. "He was brought here because he'd been attacked by Death Eaters," she said, steamrolling over their subsequent shock at this tidbit. It was as if once she got the ball rolling, she couldn't stop. "It was fine. He-He's a good guy. I think? I mean, it was a bit rough in the beginning, because he had no idea what was going on… But once we had everything explained things were fine! But then Dung – Mundungus Fletcher, you might meet him later, he's a real piece of work – stole Duo's cross, got it tangled up with some other necklaces, and one of those things was a cursed necklace…"

Here, Tonks waved her hand like her words were not enough to explain. "It – well, apparently Newtypes can have strange reactions to our magic? The necklace was one of those things – it knocked Duo out. Not even Dumbledore could wake him," she said, seeming to sink in on herself. "Remus was beside himself. It was just a lot, you know? They'd just found each other, and Duo was attacked by Death Eaters and then put into a coma."

Hermione, who most assuredly hadn't known Newtypes reacted strangely to their magic, took all this in quietly.

"Where is Duo now?" Ginny asked timidly. "Is he still here?"

Tonks grimaced, seemingly recalling something very unpleasant. "Not anymore. That was… the incident I mentioned before. Duo was reported missing, and some muggle organization put out a global alert trying to find Remus. I heard they plastered Remus's face across the whole planet and even in some of the star islands."

Hermione knew of only one muggle organization with that kind of power post-war. "Preventers issued an alert?" she ogled in horror. She'd been at the Weasley's for the most part, who had no access to muggle communications – so she'd never seen anything of the sort.

Tonks snapped her fingers. "That's what they were called! Once we saw the alert, Remus and I went down to their London Office to clear the air. But, uh, we kind of made a mistake…and got arrested."

"You what?"

"Duo was in a coma at that point! And we couldn't exactly tell them where, how, and why! So I… I assumed his identity, and we went down there to get Remus and Duo cleared of suspicion," Here, Tonks's grimace increased into a near-scowl. "Except we didn't count on Preventers having Newtypes. They figured out something was amiss and we got arrested and interrogated."

"Interrogated?" Hermione echoed in confusion.

Tonks shrugged. "They wanted to find Duo," she said, voice dry. "They were pretty clear on that point."

"So what happened? You're not arrested anymore," Ginny asked.

Tonks sighed. "Dumbledore had to come down and talk the Director into releasing us. They released us, but in return, we had to give them Duo. They were saying he needs a Newtype Healer to get better, but we haven't heard back from them yet. Don't know if they managed to wake him or not," she said. "Remus has been… Well, it's tough on him, you know? He was so happy to find out he had a son, then all this happened."

The three teens nodded in agreement, various expressions of thought on their faces. Tonks shook herself. "Anyway, let's get you three settled. You're gonna have a busy summer, you know? They cleared out all the doxy nests for Duo, but this place still needs a good cleaning. Molly said you'd all be eager to help!"

"Sure, eager," Ron drawled. Tonks snickered at his lack of enthusiasm, ushering him down the hall and into his own room.

Hermione and Ginny, left in their room, shared another look. Hermione began to hurriedly unpack; she'd already finished her summer homework, and given the state of the home, she guessed it was better to leave her clothes and belongings in the trunk to make sure they stayed clean and whole. They'd heard from Mr. Weasley that Sirius had a rather surly House Elf, and though she hated the idea of House Elves in general, she also didn't want her school uniform cut to ribbons just because she'd left it out.

"Hard to believe Professor Lupin's got a Newtype son, isn't it?" Ginny asked. She'd also followed Hermione's rationale, unpacking only a couple schoolbooks – likely so she could complete her own assignments in their downtime.

Hermione's lips pursed. "We've been writing letters recently. He was asking about the muggle war, and some other things… I know why now though!"

"A son…" Ginny agreed with wide eyes. "I mean, he's a handsome bloke, and he's still the best Defense teacher we've ever had," Hermione definitely agreed, "It's just, he seems so concerned about his lycanthropy, you know? And that's the kind of thing no one's sure if it can be passed onto their children."

That brought Hermione up short, as she hadn't considered that. "I don't think his son has it," she said after a moment. "I can't imagine how that would even work if he lives in the colonies."

"Oh, right! He's from the star islands!" Ginny said in excitement. "Is it true that they eat moon rocks?"

Hermione stared at her. "Moon- oh, no. No, space colonists do not eat moon rocks," she choked out. Sometimes she had to remember that many wizards who grew up only within the magical world lacked even the most basic information regarding the space colonies, and that years of dismissing the so-called "star islands" as muggle landmasses set even further away from them led to them developing simply absurd lies regarding them.

Hermione, as most Muggleborns, had not been allowed to develop that sort of ignorance. With one foot in the magical world and one in the muggle word, she'd been kept abreast of muggle events as discussed by her parents when she was home in the years before Hogwarts and in the few summer months while not in attendance at the school.

She could admit she was not as informed as she'd liked to think she was – this had become apparent to her when Lupin started to ask questions that she did not have an answer for: How many space colonies were there? (There were five colony clusters, and each cluster had around six to seven hundred colonies.) What did people in the space colonies eat? (Normal food, just like everyone else.) What was 'Gundam'? (Something large. Something terrifying.) When did the war begin? (I don't know.) How old did a space colonist have to be before they were enlisted in the war? (I don't know.)

Hermione knew there had been a war. Her parents had not been directly involved; they were dentists and only knew as much as the news told them. They'd been saddened and horrified every time the casualty numbers inched up, and they'd said they were so glad that Hermione was protected from muggle attacks while hidden away in the world of magic.

They didn't know anyone who'd fought in the war. Their friends and family may not have been from the super wealthy, but they were comfortable enough that the soldiers who manned the ranks were not from their family trees. The war was a tragedy, but a distant tragedy all the same; Hermione had never even been to a funeral.

When the Daily Prophet had announced the existence of magic users in the space colonies, Hermione had felt some small part of vindication. The space colonies had been outliers to the magical community, completely removed and entirely muggle; now they had magic users who had no connection to the magical community on Earth. Muggleborns weren't oddities – they were natural, such a natural part of life that they'd even popped up in the space colonies.

But Newtypes were space colonists.

Hermione was well aware it was an irrational prejudice, one she actively tried to correct internally. She'd been raised on the horror stories of colony revolts that led to mass deaths; the space colonies gave birth to rebels who were so anti-Earth Sphere they would sacrifice any number of people to be independent of the planet's help.

It had been argued planet-side that the Alliance had been the order that the chaotic space colonies had so sorely needed. They had been able to provide a wide array of examples spanning across all colony clusters to justify this: the riots on L1 that had spurred on a child trafficking ring; the biological warfare on L2 that had left thousands dead from a manmade plague; the rampant arms development on L3 selling weapons to rebel forces across every colony; the cold indifference of L4's wealthy elite, who preferred neutrality even over human life; the rigid and feral traditions of L5 who belied a growing force of suicidal rebel soldiers.

The Alliance had put a stop to these, had kept the space colonies under a tight rein in an effort to enforce peace. The violence they'd used was reluctantly utilized, but as they told the Earth Sphere citizens over and over again – it was needed if they wanted to keep their peaceful lives, untouched by the horrors that plagued the colonies since their inception.

Of course, then the Alliance had been vivisected by OZ, who took hold of the controls and went head-to-head with the space colonies' rebel forces, plunging the entire solar system into a war that had paled the faces of her parents.

How old did a space colonist have to be to be involved in war?

Hermione didn't know the answer. She wondered if Lupin's son did.

"…and so I took out his radar-eye thing. And yeah, there was a bit of blood and, uh, maybe some other gory bits, but last I heard he made a full recovery. And really, what's a little mauling between friends?"

Une's gaze was flat, but she nodded. "Happens to everyone," she agreed dryly.

"Right? So anyway, they knock me out – and in my defense, they had to use a ton of spells to do it. Did you know I could walk off the knockout spell? I didn't know that, well I do now, but like I was saying, they had to hit me with like a dozen of them. Then they carted me off to their super-secret, members-only, no-you-can't-sit-with-us hideout. Didn't even ask if I had other plans that evening."

"How rude."

"So I wake up, and after a little more miscommunication – oh, well to be fair to the old man - my old man, not the principal of Swinepimples Academy or whatever – he didn't really have time to explain what happened, 'cause I maybe-sort-of started trying to strangle him when I first woke up."

Une's eye twitched. In the back of the room, Winner silently mouthed the words 'Swinepimples Academy'.

"Anyway, we got that all sorted, they told me I was attacked by magical Nazis and that it would be best to stay put until I figured out what I wanted to do. They said they'd smuggle me out of the country, or I could go to their school. They gave me some of the coursework, so I was trying to get a feel for it, y'know? See what all this magic stuff was about since they were saying I had magic too. I should have figured that out earlier 'cause I'm the only one who can stomach Howard's meatloaf – if that isn't magic, I dunno what is."

"That was meatloaf?" Zechs's eyes looked utterly haunted.

"They didn't include me in their secret meetings or whatever, but there are at least 15 members; some work in the Ministry, others work at the school, some are on the ground. There's this one asshole that filched my cross – can you fucking believe that? He was gonna sell my cross like some kind of purveyor of Newtype merch – and so when I gave him the good ol' shakedown, he tosses a whole goddamn yarn ball of necklaces at me. I was prying them apart to get my cross back when BAM! The world's most invasive jewelry sucked me into an unwanted blast to the past."

Chang resolutely stared back at her from one corner of the room, saying without words that no, she was not going to get any more detail on that.

"And then the guys picked me up and here we are!" Maxwell finished with a winning grin.

Une looked at a point past his shoulders. "Here we are," she echoed flatly.

"Oh, and they're harboring the fugitive Sirius Black."

Une gave in to the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Of course Maxwell saved for the last – why wouldn't he? This was almost worse than that time he turned in a mission report written exclusively in crayon, with relevant stick figure pictures drawn in the margins.

"He allegedly killed 13 people 14 years ago," Yuy said.

Maxwell nodded, then paused. "Well, he said he didn't kill '12 muggles,' so there was that. I don't know what happened to unlucky number 13 though."

"He was reported to have killed 12 muggles and one terran magic user," Winner elaborated.

Chang was frowning in thought. "He told you he didn't kill those 12 specifically? Do you believe him?"

"Yeah," Maxwell said without any hesitation.

The other Gundam pilots took in these words and Une could see by the looks in their eyes that that was enough for them. Zechs just kept that air of ambivalence, as if he were mentally projecting himself out of the room to somewhere with saner people. Une stamped down on the urge to roll her eyes, though she supposed it was good to see that Maxwell's absence hadn't changed their dynamics and they were all back on the same creepy wavelength.

"We'll have to confirm that independently, and figure out what happened to the one terran magic user he didn't mention," Une cut in.

"You got it, Boss Lady."

Une gave in and threw a pad of sticky notes at him, which he gleefully batted aside with a wicked grin.

"Why did I miss you?" she muttered in good humor, the edge of a smile on her lips.

Maxwell's smile was more than smug. "I'm easy on the eyes," he offered her. Winner beamed triumphantly behind him for no discernible reason.

"So when did you guys get all magicky?" Maxwell continued. "I don't think any of us knew about that during the war."

"Recent development, for your given definition of recent," Une explained promptly. "We were made aware of the existence of magic in January, then established a line of communication with terran magical communities by early March. We also discovered some space colonists showed skills that could not be adequately explained as within the bounds of normal human behavior, or as products of highly-advanced genetic engineering."

Genetic engineering had always been a possibility, and one of the first things that was considered when they'd discovered individuals of higher skills. The Gundam pilots themselves were perfect examples of this, each of them having completed at least some level of genetic modification; it's what Une had thought to be the reason for their inhuman levels in the first place.

This, in turn, had delayed the discovery of Newtypes – as given the mess and disorganization the war had left of the space colonies, it wasn't a stretch to believe that every person showcasing some ability out of the norm had not been genetically tampered with in some way. With the introduction of terran magic into their understanding, they started to scrutinize their own much more intensely.

"I destroy their wands when I try to use 'em," Maxwell said. "That normal?"

Chang scoffed, "Terran magical conduits are too weak for Newtype magic."

"Not weak, just different," Winner countered. "Preventers developed more suitable conduits for us to use, if we prefer physical conduits to use our magic."

"I've been doing it wandless," Maxwell said. "I've got magic fingers." Cue waggling eyebrows.

Une was absolutely not smiling, and definitely didn't snicker when Chang finally gave in to his urge to smack his braided friend upside the head. "You'll need to complete a full mission report about the events in Yorkshire, and about your stay with the Order of the Phoenix," she ordered. "Barton will take you to our newest department – the Department of Newtype Affairs. Gonzalez will get you set up with a conduit to your liking."

"Man, work already?" Maxwell pouted exaggeratedly. "I just woke up!"

Une grinned at him, unabashed. "Welcome back to active duty, Agent Maxwell."

Third drawer of the dresser. In between the mattress and the bedframe on all sides. Taped to the underside of the armchair. Tucked into the upholstered curtains.

Remus fingered the crisp aluminum packaging. It was white in color, reflecting back the dim lighting of the room. It was plain packaging, bolded words in black print giving only the most basic information about the vacuum-sealed contents, written in four different languages.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, leaning against the open doorway of Duo's former room, frowning at him.

Remus stared unseeingly out the window. The wards on it had been disseminated, the physical lock broken and propped up to give the impression of working right. "It's a biscuit – baked wheat flour, soybean oil, sugar, soy, malt extract, minerals and vitamins," he answered dully.

Sirius came further inside, taking a seat beside Remus on the empty bed. The sheets – what was left of them after Duo had been taken – had been stripped from the mattress in order to be cleaned. He'd been preparing the rooms for the arrival of the Weasley's and Hermione Granger, who Dumbledore had decided would move into Grimmauld Place to await Harry's eventual arrival.

"Emergency rations," Sirius read from the wrapping. "…Did he think we weren't going to feed him?"

Remus shook his head, eyes still on the window. "They're commonly given to refugees," he murmured. "And soldiers."

The answer had been in front of his face the entire time, but he hadn't put the clues together because, on some level, he hadn't wanted to; he hadn't wanted to accept the guilt of his absence from Duo's life. It was bad enough he hadn't been there to raise his son - it was even worse to realize what raised Duo in his absence.

Remus remembered the first war with Voldemort clearly, because it was the one that took all of his loved ones away. He'd lived undercover in the werewolf packs, trying to discern the Dark Lord's next moves and if they included the oppressed and vilified packs that roamed just out of the Ministry's eyes.

Remus had seen the eyes of the youngest pack members; scarred and vicious, eager to be a part of something and defensive of it to the last. Child survivors of werewolf bites were rare; the transformation itself was too brutal for their young bodies without some aid being given, so unless they were seen by a Healer soon after they shifted back into human form, they bled to death from the injuries their wolf selves had inflicted on them.

Remus was rare because his parents had made sure to keep him under careful watch after every transformation. Even now, he still remembered the smell of the basement his father had kept him locked in during those full moon nights.

"You didn't know, Remus," Sirius sighed.

Remus opened the wrapper, eyes met with brittle brown that felt like hardened earth under his calloused fingertips. There was no discernible smell, and he pulled out the bar from its wrapper – it weighed thick and heavy in his hands, the color of uncooked dough. He snapped off a piece, ignoring the crumbs that fell into his lap at the motion, and put the bite into his mouth.

Faintly buttery and dry, but bland enough to go down without much trouble.

Remus wondered how many of them Duo had been forced to swallow.

The seventh floor of the London Preventers Branch was much larger than its physical exterior belied. Magic's ability to increase the dimensions of any given limited space was something that was already being eagerly looked into by Newtype developers, seeing if this could be replicated in space on a stable and permanent basis. As it was, they had only been able to do so while within the Earth's ozone, as the spell experienced the same ineffectiveness as the terran wizards who ascended past the planet's gravitation.

The space expander was utilized earnestly in all of the Preventers offices that had a Newtype team however, and the London branch was no exception. What should have been a limit of around 50 offices on one floor had been expanded to several times that amount, although most of the space was dedicated to different areas of research. There had been an increase in active Newtype agents directed to serve at the London Branch, a necessity given the circumstances surrounding the rumored instability of magical Britain.

Even with all this, the Department of Newtype Affairs was based in the main office of Preventers – namely, in Brussels. While the department had extended to many branch offices, the root of development, research, and investigation still took place in Brussels. This included the Research & Development office, and most importantly at the moment, the Conduit Development team.

This was how Duo found himself following Trowa into the London branch's transport room.

"We engineered a self-sustaining Floo connection," the young man Duo had been introduced to as Lacey Clark said in palpable excitement. He didn't give off the same feeling as either the other Newtype agents or even the terran magic users did, which meant he was either non-magical (or "muggle," as Lupin had termed before) or a squib, someone from a magical lineage with no magic of their own.

Clark moved over to the standalone terminal that stood before a large alcove, wherein a platform rested a step above the ground. The recessed wall showed several panels, each glowing faintly blue in dull illumination, the designs faintly reminiscent of computer hardware. The platform itself was round, six hexagons large enough for a person to stand in surrounding a clear bubble, like the petals of a flower. The bubble itself had been gray when they first entered, but as Clark began to key into the terminal, it lit up and within its translucent confines, Duo could make out the whirling of something that looked almost like powder.

"Wizards – oh, sorry, I mean terran magic users, they use a handful of Floo powder each time they make a trip. Even then, they're still able to travel a great distance in a short time, so long as the other side has an open Floo connection!" Clark rambled on. "Preventers thought Floo powder would be considerably more useful so long as it didn't necessitate wasting so much of it! So we created this neat little gadget: it calculates the exact amount of Floo powder needed to make a trip, and collects any residue that can be reused and recycles it back in!"

A few more keystrokes, and a screen set to the side of the alcove lit up with the name of their intended destination, exact coordinates included:

Earth Sphere

European Continent

50.8503° N, 4.3517° E

Rue de la Loi 200, 1049 Bruxelles, Belgium

Preventers Headquarters

Duo's lips quirked into a grin. "You guys made a teleporter?"

Clark matched that with his own bright grin. "We're actually going to call it a transporter!"

"How'd you get the Floo powder? I thought the ingredients were a secret."

Trowa glanced at him. "Where did you learn about that?"

"I nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to recreate the green flames I saw them using to walk in and out," Duo admitted.

"We bought a few samples from the store in Diagon Alley and reverse-engineered it," Clark interjected. "Floo powder is resistant to nearly all spells used to identify components, but once we'd reinforced muggle tools, we used them to identify the chemical compositions. From there, we duplicated each of the components with the Doubling Charm, which only activates when we have to use it."

"Why couldn't you just duplicate the Floo powder?"

"It's resistant to duplication as well," Clark pouted. "So we had to do it the long way around. It's not too much trouble, just takes an extra five minutes to get everything ready, although we do have to refresh the ingredients every other week to ensure they keep their magical properties. We haven't been able to beam anyone outside of the planet either."

Duo really hoped they hadn't discovered that via human trials. The terminal beeped, drawing back Clark's attention. "Okay, HQ is ready to receive! You two step on up – on one of the hexagons, please, Agent Maxwell – and give me a sec. You don't need to do anything but hold still!"

Duo stepped up onto the closest hexagon, Trowa taking the one beside him with obvious ease, so Duo assumed this wasn't his first time. As Clark was busy keying in more commands into the terminal, Trowa tilted his head ever so slightly and subtly flashed Duo a quick hand sign.

'All-safe.' The signal used between them to denote they were surrounded by friendlies and to stand down. Duo relaxed minutely.

"Alright, so you're going to see that center console there – it's full of the Floo powder, by the way! – burst into green flame. Floo fire doesn't hurt even if it comes into direct contact with you, but we keep it sealed in there to ensure no cross-contamination," Clark explained in a rush borne more from enthusiasm than haste. "Once it burns green, the hexagon under you should light up in green as well, and you'll feel like you're falling feet-first at a very fast speed. Please keep as still as you can and keep your arms tucked to your sides, or even give yourself a hug the entire trip!"

With a few more keystrokes, the panels behind them began to hum in energy, and the powder whirling in the center console swirled more violently until it was swept into a blooming green flame. There were two loud beeps from the screen showing the destination details, a computerized voice announcing "Exportation to destination – sequence activated."

The hexagon under Duo's feet lit up in matching green, and then Duo felt the ground beneath him vanish and he went into free-fall. Training kept him controlled and still, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing but indeterminate darkness until he landed hard on his feet into bright light.

"Of course you guys stick the landing."

Duo looked up from his feet – he'd landed in an identical hexagon – and into Lucrezia Noin's smiling face.

"Welcome back, Duo," she greeted him warmly. "I heard you've had an exciting vacation."

Duo leaped off the transportation platform after getting another silent "all clear" sign from Trowa, approaching the woman waiting for them. "Not nearly as exciting as whatever you guys have been up to," he dismissed glibly. "Magic and teleporters! Damn, I must have missed everything fun!"

"We'll catch you up," Noin said teasingly.

Noin lead them out of the room and out into a windowless corridor. It was sparsely populated, only two other people visible further down the hall, although they were in the opposite direction of where Noin was headed. Duo took in the featureless corridor, familiar only because of how much time Duo had spent crawling up and down the many floors of Preventers HQ.

"Basement level, huh?" Duo mused.

Noin nodded without looking back. "Yes, at least for now. There was more room to expand as basement levels 3 and 4 were mostly used for storage. We've converted both for the Newtype Affairs department, and it turns out we can recreate solar energy with a spell now, so we won't even have to worry about vitamin D deficiency."

"That just means this place is stacked with workaholics."

Noin's voice got very tired. "I can't get them to take a break, let alone go home. I have to threaten them with cut funding and sweep each room every night to make sure they've actually left."

Duo snickered, earning an explosive sigh.

"When Une offered me the job of head of the Department of Newtype Affairs, I never thought it'd be like this," Noin bemoaned. "At least as a training officer, the only thing I had to worry about was idiots overworking themselves or failing combat exercises. Yesterday, I had an R&D officer sprout wings. And I had to stop him from trying to sprout even more!"

"Who—"

"No I will not introduce you," Noin cut him off. "Stay away from R&D when you're not with an escort, Maxwell, I'm warning you. If you explode any of my labs, I'll kill you myself."

Duo sighed dreamily, "I've missed the death threats. Haven't heard one in so long."

"Leave me out of your weird kinks."

"Speaking of weird kinks, saw your boytoy before I got punted over here," Duo said, ignoring Trowa's slight tremble as the tall boy smothered his laughter. "He looks awful without you nearby. I don't think he's been eating well."

"I'm pretty sure that's because you brought up Howard's meatloaf," Trowa put in.

Noin chuckled, "And he had to handle all interactions with that terran magic user, the one called Dumbledore. Apparently, every conversation with him was like fighting a battle on multiple fronts."

"I did kinda get that feeling," Duo agreed. He hadn't spoken with Dumbledore outside of their first meeting. He seemed like an interesting fellow, but he'd given Duo the impression of someone closer to Treize Khushrenada's stature rather than one of the soldiers who followed such people.

Noin looked back at him. "Did you talk a lot with Dumbledore?"

"Nah. He wasn't really there – I was mostly left with my old man, or Sirius Black," Duo waved off.

"Oh, right, Remus Lupin," Noin hummed. "I feel like a congratulations seems a little odd, given the circumstances…"

"It's fine! Lupin's pretty interesting. He's a werewolf, ya know?"

"Oh, we have a few agents with lycanthropy working here too," Noin lit up. "The lycanthropy curse is unique – it's spread like a virus and, unlike other infectious curses, it doesn't matter if the victims are of the same blood or not."

"Yeah, he said he doubts I have it."

Trowa almost smiled. "You were disappointed, weren't you?"

"I could have turned into a werewolf, man! Can you imagine Tubarov's face?"

"He would have died either way."

"That's the spirit!"

Noin rolled her eyes but said nothing, finally coming to a stop before a set of double-doors. The plaque beside them labeled it as the Conduit Development laboratory, Noin opening the door but allowing Duo and Trowa to enter first before following them.

Duo blinked in surprise when he walked into a veritable hangar. It was the kind of space granted to mobile suit construction, except instead of heavy-duty cranes and manufactured weapons the size of trucks, the ceiling of the room had been converted into an almost looking glass window that peered out into the reaches of outer space. The ground level had tall, metal lockers covering every inch of wall, the majority of the floor dedicated to rows of tables haphazardly covered in strange combinations or rocks of varying origins, shining blocks and twines of metal, and various tools for grinding, crushing, and mixing metals.

Despite the large area, there were only four people present as they entered. Two were hovering in what looked to be the snack bar area, both males that looked to be their mid-20s, arguing heatedly over the coffee brewer. There was another person slumped over one of the tables of multicolored minerals, hands resting atop two different stones and body glowing faintly aqua blue. A woman with a cleft chin had jumped up as soon as Noin entered, moving over to them with a wide and vaguely manic grin.

"Good afternoon, ma'am!"

"Gonzalez," Noin nodded in greeting, darting a glance at the glowing figure. "What's wrong with Polar?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing – don't worry about him!" the woman waved off with an uncomfortable laugh, before turning a pointed look on Duo himself. "And you must be Agent Maxwell! I'm Melanie Gonzalez, lead researcher into Newtype Conduit Development. It's so good to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you from Agent Chang!"

"Whatever 'Fei told you about me was a dirty lie," Duo said immediately.

Gonzalez's grin did not budge an inch. "Even the part about how one of you was worth 1000 of the new recruits?"

Duo turned an incredulous look on Trowa, who shrugged in response.

"Chang doesn't get to train the new recruits anymore," Noin stated blandly. "Duo, Gonzalez and her team will set you up with your preferred conduit."

Duo gave her a playful, two-fingered salute. Noin shot one more lingering look of concern at Polar, but resolutely turned around and marched back out the doors. Trowa leaned against a nearby table as Gonzalez looked Duo up and down in consideration.

"He like you?" Gonzalez asked after a moment, the query addressed to the taller boy.

Trowa nodded.

"Not gonna waste my time on trying different alloys then," Gonzalez mused. "Isaiah – get the Gundanium alloy ready!"

One of the men by the snacks, the redheaded one, jumped at the call and dashed over to one of the lockers. Gonzalez looked back to Duo, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What do you know about Newtype conduits, Maxwell?"

"Jack-shit."

Gonzalez beamed at him. "Then let me give you the crash course!" she said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him to one of the tables covered in multicolored rocks. Upon closer inspection, Duo recognized them as different types of gemstones, small and polished.

"First thing you have to know about Newtypes is that we can't fucking use terran magical wands. Wands are a literal magical combination of wood and cores derived from magical creatures, so terran users are able to channel their magic through it for use," Gonzalez recounted. "Our magic works differently from theirs though. Something about Newtypes' exposure to the vacuum of space sourced us differently – we can't draw our magic through Earth's woods and magical creatures, so we end up destroying the terran wands when we try to use them."

Isaiah finally emerged from the locker, hurrying over with a small case. Instead of heading to them, however, he went to one of the heavier machinery, opening the case and pulling out a block of what Duo assumed to be Gundanium.

"This got us thinking that if we can't channel our magic through Earth-based resources, then maybe we should start looking at what Spacers usually identify as part of our environment. And what are the colonies made of but metal?"

Gonzalez motioned to where Isaiah was busy pushing the machinery into grinding away at the block of Gundanium. "Much like how terran wands are crafted from different types of wood, we find that Newtypes are sympathetic to different types of metal alloys. We've got Birmabright, Al-Li, Magnalium, Nimonic – and even Gundanium, as you can see! You should have seen how many conduits Agent Chang broke before we'd finally realized he needed Gundanium alloy."

Isaiah let out a whoop of triumph, pulling a baton of Gundanium out from the recesses of the machine. "One Gundanium alloy conduit, ready when you are~!" he declared, idling over with damn near a skip in his step.

"The metal alloy is one step, and serves much the same purpose as wood does in terran wands," Gonzalez continued. "Now we have to figure out what core serves you best!"

She pointed out the gemstones spread across the table. "Each one of these were mined or crafted in space, and they serve as the core of a Newtype's conduit. Please take a good look at them and let me know which one you feel most drawn to."

"So whatever catches my eye?" Duo checked, Gonzalez nodding in reply. There looked to be everything from black diamonds, to space peridot, to even actual meteorites on the table – given how interesting and sparkling everything looked, it was safe to say most of it caught his eye.

"There any meaning to which one I choose?" Duo asked, fingers skimming the surfaces of the stones. His fingertips met nothing but cold, rough mineral – none of that magical warmth Tonks had once explained to him when she was first getting her wand.

Gonzalez's head tilted at the question, eyes sharp with curiosity. "Like the 'meaning' terran magic users give to theirs?"

"I guess? The ones I met said their wand cores and wood say something about their personality or whatever."

Gonzalez smiled at him. "Mystical about everything, aren't they?" she mused, taking the Gundanium alloy conduit from her colleague. "Do the kinds of tools you use say something about your personality?"

Duo thought about it. His usual tools during the war had been the lockpicks and explosives kept in his hair, the simple and inconspicuous knives kept out of sight, the firearms he picked up and discarded as easily as used tissue. What did that say about his personality?

…Probably nothing good.

"I don't think we have anything so romantic," Gonzalez admitted, twirling the conduit between her fingers. "What your conduit says about who you are - isn't that up to you?"

Duo couldn't help but grin at her. "How novel. We give ourselves our own meaning, huh?"

"Some people ascribe meaning to gemstones, in the same way terran magic users give meaning to their wood and wand cores," Gonzalez explained, running fond eyes over the stones scattered about the table. "You can take your meaning from there if you'd like. But we don't choose them with that in mind."

It was an interesting approach, and one befitting them: not just as Newtypes, but as a people after the war, just learning to define themselves. Duo could understand the sentiment and value terran-born wizards put in their wands, the meanings implied through centuries of history that they held as sacred – but just the same, he could understand how those like Gonzalez and the other Newtypes would want to create who they were, the materials they use just as new as they were.

"What if to me, they're just pretty rocks?" Duo asked.

Could space peridot understand what it meant to starve? Did a diamond know the feeling of a gunshot wound? Would amethyst bleed and burn like he did, would emerald cry out for the things he'd always wanted?

"Then they're pretty rocks," Gonzalez murmured. "Just a battery with a more eye-catching design."

Duo recognized what was in her eyes, and the eyes of the men who worked under her – because it was the same for his eyes, the other Gundam pilots' eyes. They were the eyes of soldiers.

Gonzalez took a step back from the table, serving as Duo's cue to make his selection. Almost unwittingly, Duo chanced a glance in the direction of Heavyarms's pilot; Trowa straightened from his lean against the nearby table, coming up to Duo's side.

"It's made of Gundanium," Trowa murmured. "Just like them."

Them – the Gundams. So this was more than just a tool, but at its heart, it still was a weapon. Duo supposed the weight of that meant he couldn't just choose something because it looked cool.

Duo turned to the minerals. "Alright… which one of you wants to be the core for the God of Death?"

He allowed his fingertips to rest on each stone in turn, trying to look for something from their cold, hard surfaces. He felt more of a connection to the Gundanium Gonzalez was still holding aloft, a little chunk tied closer to who he had been during the war than anything on the table before him.

But maybe that was where the problem lay – he felt more connected to the past than the future.

He ran his fingers over the stones again. He didn't know anything about the meanings Gonzalez had spoken of before, the ones people ascribed to gemstones – so he had to figure out his own meaning for them here and now.

Emerald was too close to the color of a Gundam's eyes. Amethyst was too like his own, and he didn't want to see them encased in Gundanium alloy for that reason. He liked the look of obsidian, vicious and dark, but something about it felt ill-fitting.

Something new, something of the heart…

Duo's eyes caught on red.

"I was in Gryffindor," Lupin had told him. It had been clear from the man's face as he spoke about the school that he held those memories in fond regard, despite the war that had taken his closest friends from him. The house of red and gold, of the brave and – sometimes, often – the foolish.

"This'll work," Duo said, picking up the polished gem.

Gonzalez cocked her head with a smile. "Ruby," she identified. "A good choice!"

What a quaint thing – to believe in magic.

A/N: The chapter after this is already half-written so it shouldn't take another two years to update LOL

Anyway, please drop a review! :)