A/N: Though I'm usually very firmly against revealing anything ahead of time or outside the story itself, I've had more than a couple reviews on the subject of Snape. Seems quite a few people hope he'll 'come around,' as one of you put it.

Now… don't get me wrong. There are some amazing stories that make a great case for a Severus Snape on the side of the good guys, even if he isn't necessarily a kind or good person himself. There are even a couple that made me LIKE the man – and I hate Snape with a fiery passion. (As examples, check out Pet Project by Caeria, and the Like None Other series by aspeninthesunlight. Both have a Snape who isn't friendly, who is largely in character, but still a 'good guy.' And actually extremely interesting.)

THIS is not one of those stories. My Severus Snape will not come around. He will not redeem himself. My Severus Snape is a complicated person in many ways, but at the end of the day, he will always do whatever it takes to GET whatever he wants, damn the consequences to anyone else. He's always right, he's always justified, and he's always the victim.

And really... if Lucius freaking Malfoy being somewhat startled and shocked by Snape's proclivities wasn't enough of a warning for you? ('Your idea of 'hunting' is too much even for me, old friend' he says while they're drinking together.) Well… you'll see. Might want to start bracing yourself now.

Here's hoping all my readers continue to enjoy the story and… well, if you're Snape fans, I'm sorry. Hopefully, you still enjoy the story despite that.

(Also, while I'm breaking the fourth wall... Cursed Child does not EXIST to me, because just NO.)

Now... onward, I suppose. They do a LOT of talking in this one.

~*~ALIBI

The Paths We Tread

Chapter 13:

If Ye Break Faith

Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surrey

June 23, 1996

(Ten weeks ago)

Harry had been 'home' for only two days, and already, he had forcibly stopped himself from re-packing his trunk no less than six times.

The Dursleys had been more – tolerable, he supposed – than he had known them to be in years. They hadn't locked away his trunk and wand like normal, hadn't trapped Hedwig in her cage, hadn't tried to lock him in the second bedroom. In fact, aside from giving him his chores, they had hardly spoken to him at all. Aunt Petunia didn't even look at him.

But there was something in Vernon Dursley's eyes. Something Harry had seen on many other faces already throughout his life, and it made his skin crawl.

Thank goodness, the man and his whole family had left that morning for a drill convention. They would be gone for an entire week.

And apparently, Moody really had frightened his Uncle Vernon, because not only had they left him food, they'd even left the padlock off the fridge. He couldn't remember the last time they'd actually left him full run of the kitchen. He wasn't sure they ever had.

Harry rocked back on his heels and rubbed the back of his arm across his forehead, letting out a heavy sigh as he glared down at the plant. He'd been fighting with that exact rosebush for over an hour already. If Neville were there, Harry was fairly certain he'd already be halfway through the yard.

It was unusually chilly for a June day, but he'd been working in the yard for so long that he'd already begun to work up a sweat. With another scowl, he picked up the trowel and began stabbing the dirt around the stubborn rosebush.

"I don't know what that plant did, but I'm sure it's very sorry," a voice called from behind him, and Harry shot to his feet, spinning quickly towards the sound. One hand dove into his pocket for his wand and the other tightened around the trowel, brandishing the garden tool like a knife.

A tall man stood on the curb, his hands casually shoved in the pockets of his black leather jacket, an amused grin on his face. The strange man had long red hair pulled back in a ponytail with a fang earring dangling from one ear. Under the jacket, he was wearing a dark concert t-shirt, and his black jeans were ripped and frayed in spots. Harry was sure he'd seen the man before somewhere – then it clicked.

"Bill?" Harry asked suspiciously, and the older man's grin widened.

"At your service," the eldest Weasley son said cheerfully, bending forward at the waist and bending his arm in an exaggerated bow. As Harry watched silently, Bill straightened up and looked around the yard, his eyes narrowed slightly. After a moment's pause, he strode into the yard and came to a stop at the front stoop next to Harry, calmly sitting down and studying the street. All the while, Harry noticed, he was turning a small blue gem in circles in his palm.

"Is this what you do for fun, when you aren't saving the world?" Bill asked after a moment, eyeing Harry with a frown. "I mean, to each his own, but from what I've heard you don't seem the gardening type."

Harry scowled at him lightly, and the older man quirked a grin. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked curiously. "Did the Order send you?"

At this, the cursebreaker let out a startled laugh. "Ah, no," he said after a moment, coughing quietly. "No, the Order didn't send me."

"Then what – ?"

"I wanted to talk to you, Harry," Bill replied easily, turning on the stoop to look at him. "You're my youngest brother's best friend. Ginny has worshiped you since the day she finally realized that there were other people on the planet than just our family." The man shrugged. "My family matters to me, and you matter to them. I thought that you and I should at least have a passing familiarity."

Harry stared.

After an awkward pause, Bill laughed again. "What, this?" he asked, gesturing towards the gem in his hands. Whether Bill was genuinely misunderstanding, or just being nice and giving him an excuse for his staring, Harry couldn't quite tell. "It helps me to see the wards," Bill explained, holding up the gem towards the sky. "Want to see?"

Harry looked at the man questioningly then held out his hand, and Bill dropped the gem into his outstretched palm. With a slight frown, the cursebreaker tapped his wand on the gem. He whispered something under his breath and Harry gasped. All around them, beams of light in a brilliant emerald green had appeared, arching up over the house towards the sky, disappearing into the grass. The light seemed to be constantly shifting and moving, like there were small particles travelling along the beams. It was a strange but beautiful sight.

Suddenly, he realized how incredibly flashy a lightshow the wards were, and he looked worriedly up and down the street.

Bill laughed again, reaching out and taking the gem back out of his hand. "They can't see them," he said reassuringly, tucking the gem into his pocket. "Actually, they can't see us at all." With a slight sigh, the man turned his attention on Harry, frowning at the teen's face. "I am a bit concerned now, though," the cursebreaker murmured. "You took that out of my hand without doing any check, and without even knowing for sure that I am who I say I am."

"Dumbledore said the wards will keep out anyone who means me harm," Harry replied, although he felt a sudden flash of dread. What if – ?

"Not exactly," Bill muttered, glaring at the door behind him, then he glanced out over the yard again, his eyes narrowed. Harry felt a strange sensation in the air, almost like static building around them, but he shook his head and the feeling vanished. "They are brilliant, I'll give him that. Intricately done." The cursebreaker pushed to his feet and crossed the yard to stand at the edge of the property next to number 6. "I've seen this signature before, but I can't quite place it. Fortescue's for sure, but… They tied in here, and – " Kneeling, the man touched the ground with the tips of his fingers, then rubbed the dirt between his thumb and index finger. "Is this really a seven-layer cascading – "

Harry cleared his throat.

Jumping to his feet, the cursebreaker spun around and gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, forgive my nerd moment. I love a good mystery." His grin vanished after a moment and he regarded Harry seriously, his eyes narrowed again. "It's a dangerous world these days, Harry, you know that better than most. You need to be more careful."

"Fine," Harry muttered, letting out a tired sigh. Everything Ron had told him about his eldest brother suggested a laid-back, fun-loving guy, but Harry felt like he'd been lectured more in the last couple minutes than he usually dealt with for days – excepting Snape or McGonagall. Honestly, did this man think he was Harry's teacher?

"What lives in your parents' attic?" Harry asked suddenly.

"A ghoul," Bill replied instantly, "likes to rattle his chains around at night."

"Where did you meet Fleur?"

Here, the seemingly cool man flushed slightly, hesitating before answering. "Hogwarts," he said shortly. "At the final task for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Visiting you."

Harry nodded, the matter settled in his mind. He'd quizzed the man; maybe now he'd lay off on the security lecture before he really got going. "How is she doing?" he asked absently.

"Fine," the cursebreaker glowered at him a moment, then walked over to sit back down on the stoop. "Where are your relatives?"

"Gone," Harry said, biting back a scowl.

"And how long are you going to be alone here?"

"Er," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck with the trowel. Bill watched the movement and made a face. "A few days."

The cursebreaker frowned again, nodding slowly. "Right, then," he said as if to himself. Standing abruptly, the eldest Weasley son spun around and looked at Harry. "Well, I just got in this morning and I'm starving. Know anywhere good around here?"

"Ah…" Harry set the trowel back in the basket by the steps and sighed. "I don't really – "

"That's alright." Bill clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. "We'll find something. Come on."

He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but thirty minutes later, Harry found himself sitting in a center booth across from Bill in a small Muggle diner. The cursebreaker smiled charmingly at the waitress, who turned bright red and forgot her own name then dropped the menus in Harry's lap. After letting out a mortified sigh, the woman literally put her head in her hands, counted to ten, then looked up to calmly take their orders. Or looked at Bill, rather – she didn't seem to even realize Harry was there. Bill just smiled politely the whole time.

Then doubled Harry's hesitant request for a BLT, giving the teen a quelling look when he protested.

For being a stranger, the cursebreaker was surprisingly comfortable to be around. It was awkward at first, Bill prodding slightly to start conversation. After a short time, the older man seemed to realize Harry wasn't really the sharing type, and instead, he began to regale the teen with tales from his jobs.

Harry didn't say much of anything for a while, sitting there quietly and letting Bill's stories wash over him. The older man told him about the pyramids in Egypt – Harry had wanted to go since he'd first seen a book on them in the library when he was six. He told him about traipsing through the jungles in Peru. He told him about braving a blizzard in the Ukraine. All the while glancing at Harry's plate every time the teen stopped eating, raising one eyebrow before continuing with his story.

Harry wasn't sure why he picked up the sandwich every time Bill did that and started eating again, either. He felt like he was being managed.

Finally, after about an hour – and after Marissa the embarrassed waitress had brought them two drink refills and a slice of pie each – Bill began to ask Harry questions.

He asked about Harry's favorite class subjects, both at Hogwarts and in muggle primary before. He asked about Harry's favorite hobbies, his favorite books, his favorite foods.

The older man didn't say one word about Harry's childhood, the dangerous things that had happened at Hogwarts, or the people he had lost. Instead, he ran with every answer to the simple questions that Harry granted, spinning each one into a story about something silly from his past, or about Ron, Ginny, Charlie, the twins.

Harry was baffled.

Somewhere along the line, it stopped being awkward, and he and Bill were going back and forth with an easy familiarity, shooting random questions at each other. Bill had laughed out loud when Harry recounted the tale of turning his teacher's wig blue. It was when Harry was trying to figure out how to answer the question "where have you always wanted to visit?" that the door to the diner swung open. He stiffened in his seat as the tall, elderly man stepped through the door, his long beard sweeping towards his knees.

Across the table, Bill straightened slowly from where he'd been leaning forward, something flickering across his face. He flashed Harry a quick wink then looked at the Headmaster calmly, a friendly smile fixed to his face.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," Dumbledore said gently, slipping into the booth beside Harry with a wince. Fixing a stern look on Bill, the Headmaster said in a near-whisper, "William, it is not safe to remove Harry without a guard."

Bill smiled politely, setting down his fork and sliding his plate across the table to the Headmaster, who looked down at the blueberry pastry and frowned. "I'm right here," Bill said, and Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"You are one man," the Headmaster replied. "And Harry is safest on Privet Drive."

Harry sat there, his mind flashing through all the hundreds of times he'd not been safe on Privet Drive, and bit back a retort. As he scowled, he began to shove his leftover pie around the plate with his fork. Across the booth, Bill's eyes slid down towards his plate, and Harry sighed and began to fork up bites of pie again. Bill smiled at him lightly, then turned back to Dumbledore.

"I cast a notice-me-not on him, as I know you realize, since it took even you a moment to spot him," the cursebreaker said calmly. "I cast a rather large dampening net over the area, as well as several strategic blockers, and I muddled our trail along the way. I have a mobile ward around the table and, all of that aside – no Death Eater has been spotted nearby in the last couple days, and no one knows I've returned to England yet."

"I suppose I don't need to ask how you got past the guard," Dumbledore mused, finally picking up the fork and prodding at the leftover pie. "Clearly, Nymphadora had more than one reason to ask to trade shifts with Sturgis."

Bill shrugged, a slight grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. "You are about to start training, correct?"

With a sudden scowl, the Headmaster set down his fork, though he looked regretfully at the pie. "How do you know about that?" he asked softly, and Bill simply shrugged again.

"As I understand it, you've already paired them off," the cursebreaker continued. "Two mentors per student – but Harry's only got you."

Harry looked back and forth between the two men, his brow furrowed.

"For one, you weren't planning to teach him at Privet Drive," Bill continued calmly. "But for another… you're a busy man, Headmaster, were you really going to leave Harry depending on only you?"

The air around them seemed to sharpen as the two men stared at each other. The silence stretched on, and Harry had the awful feeling he was missing something. He scowled, and Bill's eyes flickered over to his face for a moment before the cursebreaker turned back to Dumbledore.

Harry hated being left in the dark.

You're not being left in the dark, a voice in his mind sounded. He's bringing this up to Dumbledore right in front of you. You didn't know about any of this.

Harry's estimation of Bill Weasley grew slightly. His scowl vanished.

Next to him, the two men finally ceased their staring contest. Reaching back down for the fork, Dumbledore's expression softened somewhat. "Are you volunteering, young William?"

"I am," Bill said, waving to the waitress.

Dumbledore frowned, fixing the younger man with a disappointed stare. "If you wanted to help with the war effort, we could have used you this past year."

The cursebreaker just gazed at Dumbledore steadily. "I had things to do."

"And now?"

"I have things to do here."

Harry choked back a laugh as Dumbledore's brow furrowed. Before the Headmaster could reply, Marissa returned, no longer bright red, and smiled at Bill bashfully.

"Love, can we get a slice of pie for my grandfather here?" he asked with another wink, and Marissa nodded brightly and rushed off to the kitchens as Bill tossed a roll of notes on the table. Rising to his feet, he nodded at the door. "Come on, Harry, we've lots to do before I bring you back for the evening."

Harry hesitated, shooting a worried glance at Dumbledore, before he scooted out of the booth and stood. Bill clapped Dumbledore on the shoulder with an easy smile then moved towards the door as Marisa bustled back to the table with a plate in hand.

"William," Dumbledore called, and Bill stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "Come to my office this evening."

Bill nodded silently, then opened the diner's door and gestured for Harry to go first. The teen could feel Dumbledore's eyes following them.

"The shore," he said suddenly, and Bill frowned.

"Come again?"

Harry flushed, glancing down at the ground. "I've never been to the shore."

"Well," Bill smiled and held out his arm. "That's an easy fix."

Shell Cottage

Tinworth, Cornwall

Present Day

September 5, 1996

Harry woke with a start, his eyes flying open and his wand clenched in his hand as he stared around the room. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep – but he must have, because Fleur had been sitting in an armchair when last he saw her. The teen smiled when he saw the part-Veela tucked into the bed beside Bill, her arms wrapped protectively around the cursebreaker. Both were sound asleep.

Bill had woken twice since they had returned from Malfoy Manor, both times relatively alert and in good spirits. When he'd tried to stand the first time, however, sparks had run from his feet into the floor and nearly started a fire. It had been his friend Alex who had basically forced him back into bed, ordering him to sleep it off.

His heart had stopped once, just before midnight when he woke the next time, then started again of its own accord before they could even call for Pomfrey.

He and Fleur hadn't dared to leave Bill's side.

"You need to get some rest somewhere more comfortable, lad," a soft voice sounded, and Harry looked up into the worried face of Arthur Weasley. The Weasley patriarch looked exhausted, but he smiled gently at Harry, holding out a hand to pull the teen to his feet.

"I don't need sleep," Harry said shortly. "I need coffee."

Arthur snorted quietly. "Well, that isn't in this room either."

Harry glanced at his guardian a moment, frowning, and Mr. Weasley's gaze followed his. As they stood there, the older man let out a tired sigh. "I'm worried about that boy," Mr. Weasley confessed, and Harry swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "Here." The Weasley patriarch tapped his wand on the headboard of his son's bed, stepping back and nodding to himself. "If something bad happens, we'll know," he said simply, and turned and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry glanced back over his shoulder again but allowed himself to be steered down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was early, the sun not yet rising over the horizon, and a grey fog was rolling across the beach. Harry sat silently at the kitchen table, staring out the window. Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Arthur crossed to the coffee pot and began to set it up.

Harry frowned, watching him. The coffee pot had been adapted for magic, sure, but it was still rather Muggle in design. And this was the man who couldn't say 'electricity' right and didn't understand what batteries or plugs were for.

While running a Ministry department dedicated to tracking altered Muggle items, he thought, scowling. While altering a car to fly.

Mr. Weasley was many things, Harry realized, but stupid was not one of them.

"Does anybody know it's an act?" he asked simply, and Mr. Weasley looked back at him with a furrowed brow.

"Come again?"

Harry gestured at the coffee pot in the dim light from the lantern. "Your lack of knowledge on all things Muggle," he explained. "Does anybody else realize you're faking that?"

The steady drip of the percolator echoed through the room. With a strained laugh, Arthur set down the mugs he'd pulled from the cabinet and shook his head. "No," he replied quietly, shooting Harry a rueful grin that was oddly reminiscent of his eldest son. "No, aside from Bill and the people who already knew, they don't realize."

Harry nodded, accepting the mug Mr. Weasley passed to him. He took a couple gulps of coffee as the balding man sat across from him, letting out a sigh. The older man looked worn, dark spots under his eyes and his hands tremoring now and then.

"It must be exhausting," Harry said lightly, setting down the mug. He met Mr. Weasley's eyes with an understanding smile, and the Weasley patriarch grimaced.

"Yes, well, you would know a bit about keeping things back, I imagine," the older man murmured, a flash of sadness crossing his face. Harry bit his lip, looking down.

"How long?" Harry asked, and he heard another heavy sigh from the man across from him. He glanced up again and saw the eldest Weasley studying him quietly, a frown on his face.

"Well, as Croaker has already outed me rather thoroughly," the older man said with a laugh and a scowl. "Twenty-five years, Harry. We started it twenty-five years ago."

Harry gaped at the man. Behind him, the sun started to creep over the shore, throwing long shadows across the dunes. "Why?"

Mr. Weasley quirked a grin. "Bill was a baby, and Charlie was already on the way. My family tends to be… prolific, and I knew Molly wanted a large family. You didn't really think the Ministry pays enough in a low-level department to feed nine mouths and maintain a home, did you?" Shaking his head, Mr. Weasley sighed again. As Harry stared, the balding man leaned back in his chair, rubbing tiredly at his temples. "No. In all seriousness… while that's certainly true as well, in 1970, Voldemort hadn't yet arrived on the world stage. But there were already whispers. Wizards and witches live long lives, so in the grand scheme of things, Grindelwald's war hadn't been over for very long. It shattered the country, turned brother against brother – the man was very persuasive."

He frowned, biting his lip as he stared at something off in the distance. "There were rumors of a charming, intelligent young man travelling the world and attempting to gather up items of importance – family heirlooms, charmed artifacts, ancient texts. Nobody knew what he was trying to do, if anything. But the International Confederation was rather wary."

Harry frowned. "So they came to you? Why?"

Mr. Weasley glanced over his shoulder as the sun finally started to ascend in the sky behind him. Getting to his feet slowly, he flicked off the lantern by the sink, grabbing Harry's empty mug and pouring them both a refill. "You know, Harry, I've never quite figured that out," he chuckled, and Harry grinned. "But whatever the reason, I was approached by a wizard from the Confederation. And so the task force began. We travelled the world, routing out ill-intentioned witches and wizards that were beginning to gather followers – before they could do any real damage. Gathering up lost items and artifacts that would pose a danger to the wizarding world and keeping them safe."

"But Voldemort still rose," Harry pointed out. He closed his eyes for a moment as his mother's screams began to sound in the back of his mind.

Mr. Weasley nodded simply, a sad look on his face. "He was always ahead of us," the Weasley patriarch said quietly. "Quite frankly, I don't believe we were ever anywhere close to impacting him."

Harry fell silent, fiddling with his dragon tooth necklace.

"Your father almost got him once, you know," Mr. Weasley murmured, and Harry's eyes shot up to the older man's face. Arthur smiled at him gently. "James Potter, Sirius Black, and Frank and Alice Longbottom were the best Aurors for a generation. Your father and Sirius, especially, were nearly unstoppable. Always did tend to rush headlong into danger, though, so… I was wary of recruiting them." The man's frown reappeared on his face, his gaze distant. "Maybe if I had…."

He shook his head and refocused, lifting his mug to take another swallow. "In late 1979, Voldemort and a slew of Death Eaters stormed Diagon Alley, intent on killing everyone in sight. No one is sure why, but the Aurors were delayed. Your mother was trying to put up wards to block them, and Lupin was standing guard over her as your father and Sirius went on the offensive. Your father managed to hit Voldemort with a killing curse."

"What?"

Arthur shrugged. "Clearly, it didn't take," he said wryly. "I've had a team dedicated to trying to figure out why he didn't die for years. They haven't gotten very far." Getting to his feet, the man crossed to the ice chest and pulled out eggs and a rasher of bacon, lighting the stove with his wand. Harry jumped up and nudged the man aside, taking over – he'd had plenty of warnings from Mrs. Weasley and the Weasley children about their father's cooking.

Mr. Weasley held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning, though he pilfered a chunk of cheese as he stepped back. "I suspect," he continued, and Harry shot him a questioning glance, "that Bill has been working on much the same thing. The last several years, many of the sites he's worked have been rumored to hold artifacts linked to immortality."

"But why – " Harry swore under his breath, shaking out his hand as a bit of hot grease splashed out of the pan, hitting the side of his wrist. "Why would the goblins care about how Voldemort stayed alive?"

"That's a good question," Arthur agreed, sitting back down at the table. "It may be coincidence, or greed. Merlin knows, most of those artifacts are worth far more than their weight in gold. But somehow… I just don't feel like it's that simple."

Harry let out another tired sigh and glanced at the ceiling, his ears straining for any noise from the upper level. "Do you – do you know what happened to him?" he asked haltingly, frowning at Mr. Weasley.

A long silence grew between them, and Harry scowled to himself. Right. Of course, he wouldn't –

"Bill was supposed to be in Italy for six months, at least," Mr. Weasley began, and Harry hastily plated up bacon and eggs before turning to sit at the table again, his eyes fixed on the older man's face. "Instead, the day before your term ended, the job was abruptly cancelled. They'd been there only three weeks. Goblins have very – extreme ways of dealing with a breach of contract, but instead, from what I've been able to figure out, they helped Bill's team get out of the country. The ones who survived, at least."

Harry nodded. He already knew at least one person had died. Bill had told him as much, the night he and Fleur had woken Bill from a nightmare. The night Harry had first really seen the sparks coming from Bill's hands.

It sounded like that job had been much worse than Bill let on.

The Weasley patriarch picked up a slice of bacon and broke it in half, his eyes resting meaningfully on Harry's plate. Harry bit back a laugh. So that was where Bill had learned to use that unsubtle hint as a tactic. He shrugged, obediently picking up his fork and scooping up some eggs, and Mr. Weasley continued.

"At least two people died down there, including one of Bill's best friends, Jessica. I know now that Alexandria and Deacon have been in Peru, at least recently. Louis has been spotted hopping across the globe here and there, always alone, always in a hurry. No one has seen a trace of the others. But as for Bill," Mr. Weasley rubbed one hand across his forehead, closing his eyes tiredly, "he didn't tell his mother and me, or any of his siblings, for that matter, that he was coming back. I suppose he must have contacted Dora somehow, to get her to switch her guard shift, but otherwise… the first we learned that he was even in the country was when Albus contacted me in a panic, asking where he had taken you. Bill went straight to Privet Drive when he returned."

Harry stared blankly at his plate, his brow furrowed. "Dumbledore doesn't trust him," he said quietly, and Mr. Weasley shook his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is a brilliant man, but he is not always right," the Weasley patriarch said simply. "And besides, he doesn't trust whatever happened to Bill. There is a difference." The older man glanced up to the ceiling and frowned a moment before shaking his head.

"Do you?" Harry asked, his voice gone flat as he tried to hide his worry. Harry couldn't claim to know much about goblins, but his own interactions and five years in Binn's classes had taught him they weren't the warmest and fuzziest beings ever. For them to forgive a cancellation of a job, to basically smuggle Bill and his team out of the country, as Mr. Weasley suggested…

Harry had a very, very bad feeling. Overhead, a slight shuffling sounded.

"I believe in my son," the Weasley patriarch said quietly. "Whatever happened, if something has affected him or is controlling him somehow, I believe he will turn it to his advantage." The older man grinned at Harry suddenly, snatching up another piece of bacon. "Or yours, rather," he added. "I've never seen Bill so devoted to anything as he has devoted himself to you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Do you think he's in danger?" he asked lowly.

Behind them, he heard the slow movement of footsteps on the stairs, and he spun in his seat as Fleur came into the room, Bill leaning slightly on her side. Jumping back to his feet, Harry crossed the room and reached out, shifting Bill so that his arm was thrown over Harry's shoulder. The cursebreaker scowled at him as Fleur smiled, kissing Harry on the cheek before moving across to the stovetop.

Harry settled the protesting Bill in a chair and stepped back, taking the plate that Fleur passed to him and setting it down in front of Bill with a thud. As his guardian glared blearily at him, Harry glared back, then turned around and grabbed Bill a coffee as Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"I'm fine," Bill ground out, his jaw clenched, and as Harry watched, Mr. Weasley looked at his eldest son's plate with a frown. Harry bit back a laugh as the cursebreaker scowled, rolled his eyes, and picked up his fork. It was nice to see someone else being managed, for a change.

"'e does seem to be eemproving," Fleur agreed, coming to sit at the table with them. "'e didn't fall when 'e got out of bed thees time."

Bill scowled. "So what's the update?" he asked tersely, eyes narrowed on his father.

Harry glance over at the Weasley patriarch, who had straightened somewhat in his chair, the exhausted air about him vanishing as soon as Bill came into the room. "We lost Moody, as you've already heard," he said slowly. "Ron and the others successfully cleared out all the prisoners, but… Bill, Charlie didn't want you to know until you were better, but he was hurt rather badly."

Harry and Bill both stared at the older man, Bill dropping his fork with a clatter. "How?" the cursebreaker demanded hoarsely, and Mr. Weasley winced.

"Greyback," Mr. Weasley replied shortly. "As I understand it, Sue Bones is the one that saved him."

"Will he – ?" Harry trailed off, shaking his head, and Mr. Weasley looked over at him sadly for a second.

"Apparently, Greyback used his claws, he didn't bite," the older man murmured. "He'll be monitored for the moon, but Pomfrey and Lupin don't think he'll turn. And he's alert and mobile."

Bill nodded absently, his eyes shadowed. Harry and Fleur locked eyes across the table, and Fleur let out a tired sigh before rising to her feet and grabbing the three men's coffee mugs, crossing the room and refilling them all as she started her espresso.

"We did learn something important," Mr. Weasley continued, eyes locked on Bill's face. "There was a Legacy Ward at Nott Castle."

Bill's eyes snapped up to meet his father's gaze, and Harry felt the heavy static in the air that built whenever Bill's strange electricity surged. A cold fury flashed through his guardian's eyes, and Bill seemed to forcibly calm himself, letting out a slow, steady breath before closing his eyes then quickly opening them. The static sensation vanished.

"I suppose that's how Greyback was able to get to Charlie?" he bit out. "They weren't all keyed in before they were ambushed?"

Mr. Weasley nodded, and Harry shot a questioning look at Fleur, who shrugged helplessly at him. "Only Sue Bones, Hannah Abbott, Moody and Minerva, aside from Ron," he explained.

Bill scowled. "I have a new job, I suppose," he said angrily, stabbing at his eggs.

"According to Theo Nott, those wards have been on his property as long as he could remember," Mr. Weasley frowned. "Voldemort has never been known to use them before, but we have to assume the senior Nott shared the secrets with him, and he will now." Gulping up another sip of coffee, he made a face, smiling at Fleur when she leaned over his shoulder and dumped a heap of sugar into the cup. "Do you know how to dismantle them?" he asked his eldest son, and Bill shoved his hands into his hair, dropping his head down.

"Not yet, but I'll figure it out," the cursebreaker said with another scowl.

"What's a Legacy Ward?" Harry asked impatiently, as it seemed neither of the Weasley men were going to explain.

Mr. Weasley shot a glance at Bill, but his son was ignoring them both, having pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill from out of nowhere. As Bill began to draw diagrams on the parchment, muttering to himself, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and turned to look at Harry. "They are ancient blood wards, son," he said quietly, his face twisted in disgust. "They block any but those keyed into the wards from performing the slightest bit of magic on the property."

Harry gaped at the man, then shook his head and jumped to his feet to cross to the ice chest and put away the leftovers as Fleur began to gather them up. "Why aren't we using that?" he asked as the part-Veela squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

"Because they are activated and maintained by blood," Mr. Weasley replied, "but not from the living, like the ones at Privet Drive."

The blood drained from Harry's face as he contemplated the idea.

"They require 5 liters of blood a week to maintain," the Weasley patriarch added. "Which means essentially, killing one person a week just for the purposes of the wards. Per property."

"Woefully inefficient," Bill muttered under his breath, still diagramming. "We'd run out of Death Eaters long before six months were up."

"Beel!" Fleur gasped, dropping the plate in her hands with a crash, and Harry stared at his guardian in horror. In the back of his mind, he heard Bill's voice from the day they spoke about Brand; 'He's not our friend, Harry, he's the enemy.'

Bill looked up at his fiancé steadily, his face a blank mask. The part-Veela gazed back at him, shock all over her striking features.

"Not to mention, it's morally abhorrent," Mr. Weasley said in a falsely casual tone, his eyes fixed on Bill's face. The cursebreaker didn't look away from Fleur, his mouth set in a thin line.

"That too," Bill said simply, then turned back to his diagramming.

Harry looked back and forth between the other three, his mind racing.

"I was going to go through the things we took from Malfoy's place," his guardian muttered, "but this is far more important to figure out."

"Don't you think it's time to call in the rest of your team, Bill?" his father asked. "There's certainly plenty they could be doing."

"Alex already did."

The tension in the room was giving Harry a headache. Clearing his throat, he looked over at Bill and gave the cursebreaker a lopsided smile. "I need to check on Ron, Hermione, and Nev," he said quickly. "And Ginny was asking for my help with something, I just didn't want to – "

Bill looked up from his diagramming, smiling at Harry easily. "I'm fine, kid, I promise."

Harry bit his lip, nodding, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fleur and Mr. Weasley exchange a worried glance.

"Actually, my dear," Mr. Weasley spoke up, turning to Fleur. "I need to meet Remus for something, and we could use a friendly face, if you're willing to tag along? I'll explain when we get there."

"Oui," Fleur nodded, setting down her espresso and crossing the table to kiss Bill on the cheek. Without another word, the Frenchwoman swept out of the room and up the stairs to change, and Harry cleared his throat, turning back to Bill.

"Right, then," he said anxiously, looking the older man over. "If you're sure – "

"Harry, go ahead," the cursebreaker said simply. "Let Charlie know I'll be by later and say hi to Ron and Gin for me."

Harry nodded, glanced over at Mr. Weasley, and left the room. As he stepped into the hearth, he heard Mr. Weasley's voice softly in the other room.

"Bill, we need to talk."

Yes, Bill, Harry thought to himself, yes, we do.

Gringotts

The remains of Diagon Alley

London

Bill moved slowly as he climbed the stairs to the bank, his wand held tightly at his side and his eyes narrowed as he scanned his surroundings. The slight haze over his vision made every shadow seem deeper, every stir of the breeze seem to be a thing moving, and he loathed his paranoia. He tapped his wand on the door handle and the gleaming bronze glowed red hot, then flashed with a white light before the handle turned of its own accord, the door swinging open. With a shaky breath, he slipped through the doors and set his face in a careful mask before striding into the bank.

He crossed the empty lobby quickly. Bogrod was sitting behind the counter, his eyes fixed on Bill, but the usually social banker stayed at his station. No one stopped him – Bill had risen quickly through the ranks at Gringotts over the years, and as the highest-placed human employee, he was able to come and go as he pleased. Pushing through a heavy door on the far left, he disappeared down a winding corridor and came out in a tunnel, standing just feet away from the edge of a bottomless ravine.

He looked down over the abyss, his eyes shadowed, as the sensation in his veins rose. A sudden pull moved him closer to the edge, and he heard his heart pounding in his ears as an angry whisper echoed through the air around him.

You can't steal this secret.

With a shaky hand, he shoved his hair back from his face, scowling, and turned on his heel.

It took over fifteen minutes of traipsing through the tunnels, but finally, he stood before the heavy stone door. He raised his hand to knock and it swung in before his knuckles even touched the surface, Ragnok gazing up at him worriedly.

"In, quickly, quickly!" the goblin hissed, peering down the tunnel past Bill, and he reached out a gnarled hand and grabbed Bill's wrist, yanking him into the cavernous room.

The door slammed shut behind him and Ragnok let him go with a grunt, turning and disappearing into the darkness. Bill followed, rubbing absently at his now-sore wrist, his eyes narrowed for anything moving in the shadows.

He trusted the goblins in general, but rather like wizards and Muggles, any group had a few bad apples.

Another door swung open before them and Bill followed the goblin into a smaller room, the space brightly lit from every direction. In the center was a low hospital bed, a rolling cart covered with potions and sharp instruments beside it. He scowled lightly, stepping forward and sitting on the bed as another, slightly taller goblin entered the room. With a shaking hand, he slipped his jacket off and folded it carefully in his lap.

Bodrig gave him a sharp-toothed smile as he crossed over to the wizard, eyes narrowed on Bill's face. "It happened quicker this time, didn't it?" the goblin asked sharply, and Bill sighed and nodded. The goblin reached out and wrapped one clawed hand around Bill's arm, snatching up a syringe from the tray beside them. Bill let out a hissed breath between his teeth but made no move to stop the goblin as he plunged the syringe into Bill's bicep. A terrible icy feeling spread through his veins, and Bill closed his eyes, clenching his teeth as the ice spread. Frost sprang up on his arms as he sat there, perfectly still. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. The freezing sensation had vanished, and the biting pain of the electricity in his veins dulled.

"It's only going to get worse," the goblin said quietly as he moved around Bill, picking up a small jar from the beside table. He opened the jar and handed it to Bill, who grunted absently and scooped out a pinch of the pungent cream, rubbing the remedy into his hands slowly.

"Abernathy and Rothschild seem to have found some promising leads," Bodrig continued, and Bill shot him a sharp glance.

"Leave it," he said shortly, and the goblin scowled at him.

"Might I remind you who holds your contract?" the goblin medic replied, eyes narrowed. "Your talents are worth quite a lot to us alive, Bill, and you are well-liked. But your value diminishes considerably if you die."

Bill snorted, shaking his head with a wry grin. He shook out his hands as the potion began to spread into them, slowly easing the burn inside his skin. "I can use this. And it's necessary. You know it is," he insisted as the goblin began to shake his head.

"None of this is necessary," Bodrig muttered darkly. Gathering up a handful of potions, he settled them carefully into a carrying case before looking back up at Bill. "For what it's worth," the goblin began slowly, "I'm sorry for my part in sending you there. Jessica Picquery was a singular witch, and her loss is…"

"Enough," Bill cut in, shaking his head. The cursebreaker pressed his lips together in a thin line, gazing straight ahead as the goblin watched him warily.

"I would take this burden from you if I could, child," the elderly goblin said quietly. Shaking his head again, the goblin stepped back, and Bill got carefully to his feet. The stiffness in his muscles was already fading, and he felt his mind sharpening again, his blurred vision clearing. With a tap of his wand, the carrying case shrank, and Bill stowed the tiny case in the pocket of his jacket.

"The others have gathered in the primary launch room," Ragnok spoke up suddenly, and Bill shot him a look.

"Lex and Deacon?"

"Heading in now," a voice confirmed from the doorway, and Bill turned slightly to see Louis standing in the entrance, frowning at him. A scowl shot across Bodrig's face and Bill glanced at him sharply. The goblins shouldn't have allowed him to choose his own team if they weren't willing to coexist with them. Lou was a pain in the ass sometimes, but the man was good.

"Right," Bill muttered, shrugging his leather jacket back on. "Let's get to it, then." The other wizard turned and left the room, and Bill strode across to leave the chamber. At the doorway, he paused, looking back at the two silent goblins.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, breaking protocol.

Bodrig snorted. "Thank us by staying alive, wizard," the goblin growled, and Bill left the room without another word.

He wasn't looking forward to the coming conversation, any more than the one with Charlie later that afternoon, or with his father that evening.

Merlin, did he miss the days of simple treasure-hunting.

Dorset, Shire County

England

"I can't believe we forgot about them," Lupin muttered angrily. "The second we began to suspect, they should have been the first we checked on."

Tonks nodded lightly, frowning as she gazed up at the small townhouse. Beside her, Fleur bit back a retort. The place certainly looked empty, nothing in the windows, no lights on. There was no car in the driveway, and the paper that lay on the stoop was days old, drenched through from the recent storms.

"Kingsley did the normal check just two weeks ago," Arthur pointed out quietly.

"But they are clearly not here," Lupin ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing.

Fleur said nothing. Her eyes were scanning slowly over the area, taking in every detail. She'd seen Hermione's prior home. Her mother had kept a huge plot of prized rosebushes out front. Everything was artfully arranged, a gradual deepening of colors and shift of patterns. The entire space was immaculate.

Yet at their safehouse, the gardens were in desperate need of weeding.

She shrugged, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as the door to the neighboring townhome opened. An old man shuffled out onto the stoop, glaring at them balefully, and Fleur smiled softly. It might be nothing – but it would be easy enough to find out. After all, wasn't that why Mr. Weasley had brought her along?

As the others stiffened behind her, she crossed the yard quickly with a brilliant smile, reaching the man and putting a hand lightly on his arm. With firm concentration, she turned up her 'persuasive charms,' as Bill called her Veela powers, and slowly the elderly man softened, gazing at her with a besotted smile.

"I am looking for my freends," she said softly as the man stared adoringly at her. "Wendell and Monica Wilkins. 'ave you seen zem?"

The stooped-over man smiled brightly at her, shaking his head. "They packed up some two weeks ago," he replied. "Said something about an emergency back home with their daughter. Haven't seen 'em since."

Fleur frowned, her concentration slipping slightly, and the man swayed towards her. With a shake of her head, she stepped back, pulling her blocks back up, and slowly, the man's suspicious glare returned. She smiled at him gently and turned away, heading back across the yard to the others.

If the looks on their faces were any indication, they had heard just fine. Fleur looked at her future father-in-law with a solemn gaze, then turned to look at Tonks, who was staring at the abandoned house, her eyes filling with tears.

"Must have moved them right after Kingsley's check-in," Mr. Weasley muttered, and Tonks shook her head, pulling her arm away as Lupin reached out to her. Fleur moved to the older woman's side, wrapping an arm around her back as her hair turned to a striking black, her eyes going perfectly white.

"How am I supposed to tell her?" the metamorphmagus whispered.

Room of Requirement

Hogwarts

Ginny let out a squeak and flung herself around the room, slamming into Harry and knocking them both into the wall. The Potter heir huffed out a disgruntled laugh, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame and tucking her head into his shoulder.

"We're all okay, Gin," he said quietly, and Ginny felt a stab of sorrow run through her.

"Not all of us," she whispered, angry tears welling in her eyes. Her friend stiffened, nodding slightly, then pulled back, gently shoving her back from him to look her over.

"I've just been to check on Charlie," Harry told her. "He seems to be on the mend."

"Again," Ginny scowled. Charlie had been hurt one time too many that summer for her comfort. "And Bill?"

Harry shrugged as he moved away from the wall. "Up and about," he said tersely. "He seems… rather on edge. His temper is high."

"Isn't it always?" Neville asked from where he sat on a low couch, flipping through a huge, dusty tome.

Ginny glanced at Harry and bit her lip, the raven-haired wizard shaking his head.

"No," Ginny said softly. "That's… new."

Luna hummed to herself as she picked up the Quibbler. "He's just trying to eliminate all the Nargles from the world," the Ravenclaw said simply. "That would make anyone stressed."

A strange tension was emanating from the wizard on her right, and Ginny glanced over to see Harry gazing at Luna seriously.

"Luna," he began, "do you know what's – ?"

The airy girl hummed to herself, turning a page in her upside-down magazine, and as Harry opened his mouth to speak again, the door behind them slammed open.

"Right, then," Ginny said sharply, clearing her throat as Viktor, Sue, Hannah, Seamus, and Dean stepped into the room, Fred and George bringing up the rear of the group. "We have work to do."

Defense Professor's Quarters

Hogwarts

Hermione frowned lightly as Kingsley steered her through the corridors, her arm linked through his. She was certain the man had no intentions of being an irritant, but she had so much work to do, and she was so tired that she just….

She shook her head, stopping in her tracks and biting her lip, and the burly Auror turned professor turned around, looking at her sternly.

"Hermione," he said in his usual quiet rumble, "this is important."

"What's going on?" she asked again, but the older man only shook his head. Reaching out, he took hold of her arm again and led her the rest of the way towards his quarters.

"We just need to talk to you," Kingsley murmured, and as the door swung open, Hermione stepped through to meet the serious gazes of Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin. The two men were seated in matching leather armchairs by the fire, with Tonks and Fleur sitting a short distance from them on a small couch, wringing her hands. The Frenchwoman looked up at Hermione and smiled tightly, gesturing to the place beside her. Tonks was looking steadily into the fire, her eyes red-rimmed.

Hermione turned around and stared at Kingsley, her eyes narrowed, as the man spelled his chamber door shut.

"What is going on?" she demanded again, and Kingsley looked away, crossing the room to sit on the couch opposite Fleur. Hermione hesitated a moment, glaring balefully at him, before walking over and sitting down between Fleur and her silent guardian, looking expectantly at the other two men.

Professor Lupin shot a look at Kingsley before glancing at Mr. Weasley, who nodded once and scowled. Turning to face Hermione, her former professor rubbed a hand tiredly across his face then muttered, "Hermione, we need to talk to you about Severus Snape."

Get out of there, the dark voice in the back of her mind whispered, and Hermione felt a flash of dread. She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, her mind racing through every memory of the last several weeks, every moment the voice had spoken up and told her to do something, or to avoid someone. Always trying to steer her away from any man, especially the Weasleys and Harry. Fighting to keep her apart, to make her continue to keep secrets.

She'd thought it was just her own nerves, her own instincts… until the other night in Bill's workshop, when she had felt genuine fear of the man who had only tried to protect them. When she'd truly thought he was going to attack her. That was when she had known something must be wrong.

She opened her eyes, met Mr. Weasley's somber gaze.

"What did he do?" she asked, her voice shaking, as the voice in the back of her mind began to grow angry.

Somewhere in Scotland

"I must confessss," the Dark Lord hissed. "I am surprised at you, Severusss."

Snape looked at the Dark Lord steadily, his gaze calm and focused. He waited patiently, ignoring the sharp pains in his knees from the cold, unforgiving stone floors.

"I had thought you had rather grown sssoft after spending ssso much time with Dumbledore."

Snape allowed himself a smirk as the gathered Death Eaters chuckled around them. "I had to be cautious, My Lord," he said simply. "But I admit the temptation grew too much to resist."

"And now, they have banished you," Voldemort hissed, a delighted smile twisting his reptilian features. The Dark Lord's red eyes flashed in the darkness, and Snape let a small smile form on his face. "No matter. Your talents are best served here now. I have plenty of little spies in the castle, and more need of your potions skills than anything else you can offer."

"What would you have me do, My Lord?" Snape murmured, and the Dark Lord gazed down at him with an almost fond smile. Inwardly, beneath the frozen pond that guarded his mind, Snape felt a flash of victory.

The Dark Lord gestured imperiously, and Snape stood carefully, his gaze steady on his master. "Time enough for that later," the Dark Lord said simply. "For now, what do you desire as a gift for your dedicated service?"

"Hermione Granger."

A murmur broke out among the Death Eaters around them, and Snape could feel Dolohov's heated glare burning into the back of his skull. To Voldemort's left, Malfoy was eyeing Snape worriedly. The blond aristocrat shook his head ever so slightly, and Snape ignored him, his eyes fixed on the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was staring back at him, his eyes narrowed, and he brushed one hand across the back of Nagini's skull as he looked at the Potions Master. "This seems an awfully familiar conversation," the Dark Lord whispered, the exaggerated hissing gone, his eyes narrowed angrily. "Have you finally replaced the charming Lily Potter?"

Severus looked the Dark Lord straight in the eyes, lowering a section of his shields. "I do not ask that you spare her, My Lord," he said smoothly, a smile twisting his lips.

Voldemort simply looked at him steadily, waiting.

"I ask that you give her to me."

Moody's Hideout

Unst, Shetland Islands

Scotland

Ron stepped through the wards with a scowl, his eyes narrowed as he gazed around the property. He'd cast every spell that he could think of – every detection that Moody, his father, and Bill had taught him, everything he'd gleaned from Hermione – and as far as he could tell, the place was deserted. But a Fidelius always fell when the Secret Keeper died, and Moody –

His thoughts trailed off as he shook his head roughly. He wasn't going to think about it.

By the time they'd managed to get a team back to Nott Castle, the place had been cleared out. There was no way of knowing if Bellatrix Lestrange had walked away, or if the Death Eaters had removed her body. If she were still alive – he didn't give a fuck about Tonks' crusade for justice. Dora would just have to get to the bitch first, if she wanted a crack at her.

The letter was clenched in his left hand as he gazed around the field at the lopsided picnic table, the still-standing obstacle course, the small pond in the background. He swallowed harshly against the sudden lump in his throat and headed to the little cottage, his steps even and careful.

The door opened without any resistance, and Ron stepped carefully into the room, his wand still held at the ready. Silence met him, and he stood there a moment, waiting, but nothing moved. He was sure Moody wouldn't have allowed any creature – a Boggart or otherwise – to get into the property, but then, he'd been gone for a couple days at that point and…

Ron scowled again, shutting the cottage door gently behind himself. With a few quick waves of his wand, he set defensive wards around the cottage, then stowed his wand in his holster.

He crossed the empty room and headed down the hall to the library, turning immediately right and pressing his hand on the carved-out Phoenix near the door. With a click, the Phoenix slid forward, and the wall rumbled, sliding away to reveal an entire hidden cabinet behind the panel.

"Right," Ron muttered to himself. "Moody wasn't kidding." Setting the letter quickly down on the table behind himself, he stepped forward and gazed at the contents of the cabinet.

There were four shelves, each of them at least four feet across in length, two feet deep. On the shelves sat dozens on little phials filled with shimmering silver threads, a small Pensieve resting in the center. The upper shelves held countless weapons – swords, daggers, a couple throwing stars – along with a small bundle of ancient-looking books.

In the very front, up against the Pensieve, rested a small phial. A tiny roll of parchment was fastened to the top. Ron reached out slowly and unwound the parchment, swallowing again as he took his mentor's spiky handwriting.

Son,

If you're reading this, I didn't make it. Hopefully, I took some of those fuckers with me.

The memories in these phials are from Auror training classes. You may see more than a couple familiar faces. Use them to continue your training, and to train your little army. I have no doubt the war is nowhere near over, and you'll need every advantage you can get. Which brings me to my next point.

I was the only one left, so the Moody line is now finished. I've never had a kid, never wanted one, so my house and all my possessions had nowhere to go. Until now.

Earlier this summer, I changed my will. It's yours, boy. You have my house to take care of now, and my car – and you'd best take care of that car, boy, if you know what's good for you. Bill can help you sort out the vaults with the goblins. Be brave, and be careful, boy, and remember – don't dwell on the darkness.

I'm proud of you, Ron.

-Alastor

In the empty room, Ron set down the parchment with a shaking hand. He reached behind himself blindly and pulled out a chair, sitting down heavily. With a sharp gasp, he dropped his head into his hands and stared at the tabletop through burning eyes.

Across the room, a small dagger shone in the cabinet, the jewel growing brighter and brighter.

~*~ALIBI