A/N: Oh boy, some of your questions are pretty tough to answer without going into extreme detail. I strongly believe the following chapters will definitely satisfy your curiosities.

P.S. Some of you have said some real kind and encouraging comments recently. I truly hope you enjoy reading this as much as I write it. Thank you once again.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Chapter 34

Centaurs are living proof of the noble savage, a theory stating that people were innately good, and that civilization was its sole corrupter.

The ancient legacy of these beasts stems back to thousands of years in the past, to a time where even witches and wizards thought of their existence as myth. It was only upon the inception of the very first civilisations were these sentient creatures given the chance to stand equally, and in some cases even higher, in the world of humans.

The paradoxical combination of docility and fighting prowess was prized amongst warriors and scholars in ancient times, and subsequently was echoed down in the annals of history. Namely, even the Muggles themselves are aware of the existence of a legendary Centaur called Chiron, the wisest and justest of all centaurs, who personally trained the Greek hero, Achilles.

Their ability to predict fortunes by cataloguing the shifting of stars astounded the oracles, sibyls, and haruspices of their time. Often the ones in full control of city states, these human soothsayers – usually having more power than the reigning King or Queen – would in secret beg these revered Centaurs to impart their secrets upon them. With not an ounce of malice or chicanery, these magical creatures would generously share their arcane knowledge and esoteric learnings.

They only realized many centuries later, after their consummation with Man, the price they had to pay for entering this world.

Shoved into squalid, dirt-ridden huts hidden in dense undergrowth, they have fallen far from glory. Hunted, captured, or enslaved, their existence as a race to bestow knowledge upon others and to engage in prophesizing has all but expunged from their societal teachings. Upon contacting humans, nearly all of their ancient values and cultural heritages have been lost to the sword of time and have been replaced with acrimony, cynicism, and wrath.

To kill a creature so pure that is a unicorn and to imbibe on its lifeblood, not for yourself but with the intent to save others, requires both a heart of gold – of equine nature, and a soul of darkness – of human nature.

Thus, the noble savage.


"The die is cast," Ophelia intoned without a trace of emotion in her voice, "For you, this is the point of no return."

Wild anger coursed through Ariana's veins. It wasn't irrational anger, vicarious anger, or even anger of ophidian nature, but rather for the first time, her anger. She was healed yes, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. She snarled and automatically opened her mouth to let loose sharp words towards a magical creature that had committed one of the greatest sins worldly possible – but stopped at the last second as a wave of rationality hit her head on.

She suddenly remembered with a shudder that unicorn blood was one of the key ingredients in Voldemort's resurrection potion, one which allowed him to return from his state of limbo to a corporeal form at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. She also vividly recalled the physical and mental state Voldemort was in after his rebirth – grotesque, twisted and monstrous. Could his madness been due to the ingestion of unicorn blood, or was it from the splitting of his soul, or both perhaps? She truly did not know.

Ariana looked down blankly at the ground as her mind coughed up even older memories, her long, lustrous hair cascading down to hide her face as she delved into the past. Her mind spiralled ever inward, thinking back to one Professor Quirrell and his misbegotten desire to live on despite the parasite that was attached to the back of his head and sapping his lifeforce every single day. As she delved deeper and deeper into her memory bank, she finally found the exact scene she wanted.

"The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price," she softly murmured, finally breaking the silence as she uttered words that were imparted upon her in her past life, "From the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have but a half life, a cursed life."

Ophelia somehow managed to overhear her mutterings.

"A very accurate description indeed," the Centaur agreed with a serious nod, "However, it was my arrow released from the nook of my bow which pierced and slew the unicorn. Furthermore, you have only ingested a diluted form of its blood. Inasmuch I have shouldered these terrible burdens, the resultant consequences for you will not be as… severe."

Ariana flinched, "So what will actually happen to me?" she asked quietly.

Ophelia's eyes shifted to the side, refusing to make eye-contact, "As I've said once before, I do not know how a human will respond to this potion," she replied hesitantly. She then took a deep breath before continuing, "All I can say with certainty is that you have to be fully prepared for what's to come. Regardless, it matters not now because…"

Ariana was completely ignoring what Ophelia was talking about as a light bulb suddenly went off in her head. The young witch suddenly had an epiphany. She was theorizing that the beast had in one form or another planned this grand scheme out beforehand. They must've known the exact date when she was going to wake up. What other reason could there be that this Centaur had already prepared a pot of this miraculous liquid beforehand, steaming and simmering at the exact second she woke?

What in Merlin's name could they possibly gain from doing this?

Oh well… first things first.

"Where's my wand?" she asked in a light tone as she interrupted the still-speaking Centaur. She kept a neutral countenance and refused to let her dark thoughts make themselves obvious.

A look of annoyance flashed over Ophelia's face but was promptly quelled – but not quick enough for the young girl to notice. Ariana didn't care however, for time was of the essence. After waiting patiently and humming a little tune to fill the uncomfortable silence as the Centaur was rummaging around in the same bag the bowl was taken out from, she was soon presented with her faithful and trustworthy ally… well, what remained of it.

"Bloody hell," the young witch cursed loudly, taking the remains of what was once a proud and gleaming magical entity back in to her hands. Although she didn't quite feel the same attachment to this Thestral wand as she did with her phoenix wand, a genuine tendril of sadness rested atop her breast at the sight.

Blackened yew that was once a smooth surface to touch was now splintered, frayed and fractured at three points, housing a flattened look almost as if a heavy object had suddenly been dropped ontop of it. What once felt like a perfect fit in the palm of her hand now felt like a piece of lead; she knew the damage at this point was irrevocable and beyond repair. Another visit to Ollivander's was due, it seemed.

"… and with that, we can now begin your training," came a voice beside her, breaking her out of musings.

Ariana refocused as her ears caught the last few words, "My what?"

"Your training. We have been waiting a long time for you, and now that you're awake, we can formally begin. I'm unsure how long it will take to hone your Magic of Old, but I have faith that you can master your powers. We have a great many teachers in my clan that are proficient in– "

"Nope," the young witch interrupted flatly.

Ophelia blinked in astonishment, "Come again?"

"I'm not interested in whatever this is, sorry."

Ophelia's right eye unconsciously twitched from her response, "The prophecies have all rang true. We cannot deny the Fates any longer," she said in a slow and controlled voice, "We rescued you from a moribund state, given you all our precious and limited sources of healing oils, and shielded you from all manner of evil for nearly over twelve full moons. Do you not think within your heart that you are beholden us, even just a little?"

Ariana bowed her head deeply, "For all you have done, I am eternally grateful," she replied earnestly before lifting her head back up, "However, it will have to wait," she paused for the briefest of seconds, "I promise that I will return once everything is sorted. There are things I must do first."

With that abrupt end to the conversation, she turned on the spot and walked straight towards the exit without looking back. She knew she was coming off as rude and unthankful, but she'd explain it all later to this particularly patient Centaur the next time they had a chance to speak.

"WAIT!"

Ariana's mask of pleasantness and cordiality cracked, "You will not stop me," she growled as she violently whirled back to make eye contact with the magical creature, "I don't want anything to do with your stupid prophecies and fates. My entire life, both past and present, has always been dictated by the will of others. That will be the case no longer. My destiny is my own."

Ophelia gave her a strange look at the belligerent attitude before replying, "Perhaps," the beast said a hint of amusement on her face, ignoring the burst of emotion, "But what I meant to say is… I'd rather you not leave without clothes on."

Ariana looked downwards and immediately realized she was stark naked at this very point in time, "Y-Yes, of course… sorry," she stammered apologetically as her face flushed in embarrassment, her hot anger quickly melting away.

The Centaur nodded understandingly before once again rummaging around in that odd hemp sack the creature was holding protectively to its body – one that the young girl highly suspected was magically expanded and accessible only to the creature's touch.

"I apologize if this is not to your tastes," Ophelia conversed good-naturedly as she pulled out a large, rustling piece of fabric from the depths of her magical receptacle, "I am a little outdated when it comes to the fashion of witches nowadays."

It was a dress robe that looked so bizarre that one could only assume it was to attract general attention. It consisted of a turquoise-green doublet, a little faded and worn, and over this a magnificent baldric, worked in gold, which shone like water ripples under the soft luminescence. Bedecked with aiguillettes in garish colours of umber and gold, the interwoven threads almost gave it an ecclesiastical look.

"I think your fashion sense is off the mark by a couple hundred years," Ariana muttered non-unkindly under her breath, guessing that this outrageous outfit must have belonged to an erstwhile adventurer.

She then took the proffered robe with appreciative nod before slipping effortlessly into the ghastly attire. It took her a while to meticulously inspect herself and confirm that parts of her body she didn't want to show, weren't.

"It fits," she declared authoritatively when she was finally satisfied.

"Indeed, it does," Ophelia softly chimed in from the shadows. The Centaur's gentle eyes then turned slightly wary, "But before you leave this place, know that certain events have been set in motion during your slumber, things that will not, and cannot be changed."

"Nothing is ever set in stone," Ariana automatically blurted out before she could stop herself.

Ophelia gave her a sidelong glance. "Perhaps for some," she murmured, "Perhaps not for others." She then shook her mighty head to clear her thoughts.

"Come, little one," the beast motioned towards the entrance of the tent, "I will accompany you to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. What happens after that, is entirely up to you," she gave a heaving sigh, "Although I would like to begin your training right away, I cannot do so with one so unwilling." Her eyes then started to shine with some unknown light before continuing, "But before we depart, can you allow me to say just one final thing? It will take naught but two minutes."

Ariana hesitated when she felt a subtle burst of unidentifiable magic pulsate from the Centaur's body, but nodded regardless. She then learned of the terrible prophecies that surrounded her anomalous existence, the unspeakable horrors that portended her future, and the fateful destruction she would wreak upon both the living and the dead.

All prognostic conjecture, of course.

"I will keep those words in mind," the young witch said with a shaky voice after carefully committing every last word to memory.

And with that, Ariana finally left the warm confines of the tent and stepped out into the crisp night air for the first time in over a year. The drastic change in temperature almost made her keel over initially, but her body quickly acclimatized.

The trees were veiled in the lightest of mists under the dappled moonlight, their trunks sombre brown with sable cracks that gnarled their bark. It must've been the young girl's imagination, but her keen ears caught the faint echoes of something coming deep from within the woodland. It sounded like a mix of terrified weeping, anguished braying, and the gnashing of teeth. Her hero complex kicked in and overpowered all other feelings, as always, causing her feet to automatically orient themselves and starting walking in the direction of these sounds.

She only got a few steps before a hand fell on her shoulder and tightly gripped it, completely halting her advance. As she twisted her head back in confusion, all her eyes met with were the sorrowful gaze that of an ancient Centaur. With a slow nod, the witch complied with an unspoken request and obediently followed the trotting beast back towards the outskirts of Hogwarts, away from the noises.

It felt as if a blazing fire was looming behind her, flickering and burning, warming her back as she walked away. As dark, black clouds of the night sky billowed above her, she then heard what could only be describe as heavy crashes in the distance. Snarls. Screams. Cries. She couldn't seem to distinguish what manner of creature was uttering such nightmarish noises. Fear gripped her heart – but it didn't control her as it once did.

"What's happening over there? Is there a fight going on? I think I heard some people getting hurt," Ariana whispered after her curiosities reached its critical limit.

Ophelia gave a heaving sigh but kept her movement steady.

"There is always a price to pay for freedom," she murmured softly, her words laced with a great sorrow. A single, shining tear meandered down her face as she continued, "And for my people, that price is paid for… in blood."

From that point forward, no matter how much Ariana tried to get the Centaur to speak, all she was met with was a sombre silence.


It wasn't the absence of sound that unnerved her, but rather the stillness.

Ariana found herself standing before the gates of the McKinnon Manor, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – or what she hoped still was, for one year had elapsed since her last visit.

It was only an hour ago that she had bidden farewell to Ophelia and traversed across the grounds of Hogwarts with the intent of meeting Albus even though a burning desire within her wanted her to seek out James above all others, else just to tell him she was alive and well.

While on the move, she had been speculating wildly about the events that would theoretically arise due to her absence. Logically, she told herself, Albus would weave some elaborate story that she would be temporarily returning to Scotland with matters regarding hereditament. On the other spectrum, assuaging the concerns of her new family would have been a daunting feat for the revered wizard, but she had confidence Albus had somehow pulled it off. Besides, they had rehearsed these type of scenarios countless times beforehand just in case situations like this would ever arise.

To her abject dismay, she soon realized Albus was nowhere to be found when she reached the castle. He was neither working his office, asleep his private quarters, nor wandering the school's moonlit passageways for a late-night stroll. After her first task had failed, she had then intended to seek out her father. However, she could not venture into the dormitories due to the protective nature of the paintings that guarded the students as they slept, keeping silent vigil night after night.

When those routes failed, she then pooled her magic and sent it out in invisible waves of magic as she called urgently for Fawkes, using herself as a homing beacon. Once again, dead silence. Just as she was about to give up, a stroke of serendipity had come her way when she was wandering near the entrance to the kitchens. She had chanced upon a certain house-elf that went by the name of Nolly, the very same creature that Albus had called when trying to rid Ariana of her Horcrux-induced possession, and was one he trusted above all its other kin.

After a very Slytherin-like approach of harsh questioning then followed by gentle cajoling, she eventually extracted two very important things from the house-elf. One was knowledge, the other, was something material. She had learned from the diminutive creature that many months ago Albus had vanished from the school for such an extended period of time that Professor Slughorn had to step in and unofficially declare himself as acting Headmaster. When the creature told Ariana this fact, she was extremely dubious. Even in the hardest of times, she knew Albus would always keep a level head and act in accordance with the greater good. She theorized that something terrible must have happened in order for him to forsake his pedagogic and managerial duties to the sentient edifice and its occupants.

The second thing, arguably something of greater importance, was that Nolly was able to summon her trunk from an undisclosed location to her. Prior to chancing upon the house-elf, she had tried to locate her precious repository of magical goods – i.e. her brown, leather trunk, for it housed rare potions, emergency Portkeys, and all other manner of items needed to vanquish a Dark Lord. However, there was just two things she needed: her ever-full flask of Polyjuice Potion and the backup Portkey to headquarters.

Needless to say, this was the reason why she was currently standing in front of the looming silhouette of the McKinnon Manor under the disguise of Polyjuice. She also knew that if Albus was missing, this was the most likely place he would be.

Ariana absently traced the strange necklace she always wore under her shirt as the full moon softy bathed her in its silvery luminescence. She remembered ever so vividly that Albus made her swear an oath to never use it unless it was the absolute last choice she had. It had intrigued her from the very first day she received it. The strange and seemingly meaningless symbol of a hollow triangle with a circle nestled within which was intersected by a vertical line had nearly driven her mad at one point in the past from trying to decipher what it meant.

"Why is he so deathly afraid of me using this?" the young witch murmured under her breath, the temptation to use the mysterious Portkey strengthening with each passing second.

Shaking her head to clear her digressive thoughts, she then refocused and marched purposefully towards the main entrance of the house. Upon drawing closer however, only then could she notice the changes that had been wrought over the twelve long months she had vanished from the world.

The once proud mansion now looked like a glorified shed. The roof seemed to have collapsed inwardly on itself somewhat, like a loaf of bread taken out of the oven too soon. The windows were glassless and now bore gaping holes for wind to rush in and out through. The grand doors, formerly a towering and impressive sight, now hung on rusty hinges at an angle as long unkept grass that was surrounding it only accentuated its decline.

The entire house was a rotten heap. The indefatigable spirit of revolution and fiery justice was all but absent.

"It's just a new look. Nothing to worry about," Ariana reassured herself brightly with a lie as she forced herself to calm down, "The Fidelius Charm still holds. Everything is as it should be." There was some truth in her words, for she did indeed feel the familiar, cocoon-like magic that kept this location secret caress her skin the moment she stepped onto the manor grounds.

A draft of acrid air greeted her nose when she managed to squeeze past the broken door, the stench smelling almost like decaying meat.

Merlin, it stinks.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust but kept venturing further into the obviously abandoned house in absolute silence, keeping her guard at an all-time high. The ambiance was dim, uninviting, and suffocating. It also felt as if someone was watching her.

The minutes ticked by as she systematically and cautiously checked each and every room with a sliver of hope in her heart, only for them to turn up empty. As she moved even deeper into the house in near total silence, partly due to a low-powered wandless Quietening Charm on her feet, the prickling sensation of paranoia only intensified.

Now she was certain beyond belief that someone or something was spying at her from the shadows.

Her upper hand in this foreign environment was her ability to acutely sense magic. Her disadvantage – the absence of a functioning wand. Ariana internally cursed using every expletive she knew as she prepared what little wandless magic Albus had trained her in for the inevitable confrontation to come.

After a minute of loud shuffling and purposefully making noises to lure her stalker into a favourable position, she soon found the perfect place. She was now standing absolutely still in the middle of a shadowy hallway, one that her mind had deemed highly advantageous to her. She could feel incipient magic thrum and rise up within her, coursing through her body and blanketing her skin as she patiently waited.

My opponent is invisible. I can see their magical threads from here.

Just come forward a little more, that's it…

She held her breath and tensed up her body.

NOW.

A string of stunning spells unravelled rapidly from her tongue, like yarn unfurling, as she raised a palm in the direction of her advancing opponent. To her dismay, the figure had somehow sensed her coalescence of magic and dived to one side, managing to skillfully evade the bursts of red and white magic even though they were in the confined space of the hallway. It wasn't a loss however, as she distinctly heard a male voice cry out in surprise when she first attacked.

So, it's a wizard, not a magical beast. Perfect.

Ignoring the first strains of magical fatigue that were beginning to hit her body from using wandless magic, she reached deep into her pockets and brought forth a curious looking trinket that was shaped like a tube. This small, opaque object was something she and the twin geniuses, Fabien and Gideon, had created through combined effort a while ago. Grunting with effort, she hurled the mysterious cylinder at the invisible man with all the force her body could muster.

Then, an explosion.

Not from chemical combustion or molecular chain reactions as one would expect, but rather an eruption of photons. This burst of blinding light mimicked the efforts of what the Muggle special forces would use in militaristic settings and would also call a flashbang. It was her direct inspiration really, as she remembered once sneakily watching a Muggle action movie from the top of the stairs whilst the Dursleys were unaware.

Time-delayed, object-oriented, and magically charged, this burst of luminance was specifically a highly concentrated form of Lumos Maxima. This novel device was actually a breakthrough in magical experimentation and engineering and was one that was previously unheard of, even in the future. Ariana had often and bitterly questioned the higher powers why those two red-headed prodigies were slain in their youth by faceless Death Eaters in her old world.

With hands tightly covering her ears and eyelids fully shut, the effort finally popped off. Given the current level of darkness, it was like a miniature sun had suddenly materialised into existence for a brief millisecond.

When it all ended, Ariana reopened her eyes and charged forward, glad that her bodily proportions were that of her alter-ego Harold, as she shifted her weight appropriately and slammed hard into the disorientated figure with a heavy grunt. This was another tactic she had endeavoured to refine. Ninety-nine out of a hundred wizards would have no clue how to react if somebody violently grappled them around the midriff. Their absolute reliance on magic was often a crutch in extreme situations like this. She truly did not want to get this physical, but the lack of an attuned wand had thrown many viable options out of the window.

Interlocked, thrashing, tearing at each other's clothes, the invisibility for her opponent eventually dissipated as each tried to gain the upper hand and pin the other against the rotting floorboards. Every single time the wizard tried to reach into his robes to grasp for his wand, she would grab his arm and ruthlessly twist it away. Curiously, the fight was moving almost in slow motion to Ariana, as if every action and response was carefully choreographed. Although this was the case, her opponent still fought valiantly and adroitly, managing to strike her a few times despite the disadvantage.

It was all over when she mounted his chest and decisively clamped her hand around his throat, squeezing hard and crushing his windpipe. Her brutal act caused her opponent to freeze in shock before sputtering and grasping weakly at her constricting grip, which she battered away with her free hand. She had never fought this barbarically before, but she could tell neither had her opponent.

Just as she was about render her stalker unconscious through asphyxiation, his face was temporarily lit up from a passing beam of moonlight that filtered through a faraway window. Although he carried a broken nose from her pummelling, the young witch instantly recognized the features of this person's face.

"Augustus Rookwood!" she gasped in surprise.

After hearing nothing but choking noises after a second, she realized what she was still doing and instantly released the iron grip she held around his neck.

The clammy face of the wizard met hers for a fraction of a second before he scrambled away from her backwards on all fours like an animal, only to stop after his back hit a wall. Wizard and wizard-in-disguise eyed each other warily as they both caught their breath. The first to recover, Ariana quickly glanced down and gave herself a once over. Blood was coating her knuckles and she could feel the beginnings of a large bruise forming above her right eye.

"Augustus Rookwood," she called out with a shaky voice, trying once again, "Are you Augustus Rookwood?"

The jawline was oddly misshapen, the face gaunter than usual, the hair wild and uncombed, the face adorned with a scraggly beard, and the eyes black as night – nevertheless, she was sure that this was the Order's spy.

A voice that seemed wooden and scratchy, like the sound of a dry sticks scraping underfoot, came forth.

"Merlin's beard… is that you, Harold?"

Ariana almost fainted from relief as she nodded vigorously. She was going to respond but to her surprise, her comrade's wariness turned into bitter, scathing fury.

"Where the bloody hell were you?"

Ariana's mouth was dry. She gulped nervously, realizing for the very first time that she had no idea what she was even going to say. So focused and eager was she on meeting up with Albus, James, Sirius and the other important people in her life, she had inadvertently forgotten the crux of the matter – that she had been missing for a year.

"I was…was…" she stammered as her mind blanked out, "Y-you see what happened to me… what I mean to say is…"

She got no further as Augustus gave a loud, hacking cough before interrupting her mindless rambling.

"We'll talk later. Come quickly, we have to hide," he croaked urgently as he wobbled to his feet and took off without a look back. The black, hooded robe he always wore to display his Unspeakable status was absent, instead he was wearing a worn and tattered robe, one that was so filthy that amalgamated clumps dust and grime were visible to her naked eye even in the dark.

Ariana vacillated for a brief second in the shadowy hallway before she too jumped to her feet and started sprinting after the retreating wizard, her heart wildly pumping from a fear of the unknown. As she ran, she noticed that the colourful frescos, murals, and paintings that had once decorated the walls with the most lively and vivacious of characters had all been burnt off. Burnt was actually an understatement, for the charred walls and the telltale patterns of soot all strongly pointed towards the use of cursed fire, to be specific, Fiendfyre.

The physical activity wore on her pounding muscles as they descended rapidly into the bowels of the massive manor, leaping down shattered stairways three steps at a time, dodging loose and precariously balanced bricks that rained down from above, and twisting and turning around expansive and creepy cellars until they finally reached a dead end.

"W-Where to now?" she gasped breathlessly, resting her hands on her knees as she greedily reoxygenated her lungs despite the foul taste of the air.

Augustus was completely ignoring her as he pressed on bricks which lay in the walls in a certain order, an act which instantly reminded her of entering Diagon Alley for the very first time. With a start she also realized that they were standing in pitch blackness – but not to her however, for her eyes could see everything in greyscale; a peculiar and unexplained side-effect after consuming diluted unicorn blood. She mentally filed away a question to ask the wizard about his night vision magic for later.

After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, a low rumbling accompanied the opening of a tiny gap in the wall that wasn't there previously. Augustus was motioning urgently for her to follow him through the newly created aperture, his movements so emphasised one would assume this was a life-and-death scenario.

She had already come this far; there was no going back now. Holding a look of collectedness and confidence, she squeezed through the tight opening with slight difficulty after the wizard, hearing the entrance seal up behind her once she fully stepped through and hoping that this secret passageway wouldn't lead her to certain doom.

She followed his leaping figure through a claustrophobic tunnel, hemmed in by sandstone walls as her feet pounded over uneven granite, the path leading her into the abyss of the manor. Cold dirty air invaded her lungs and stung her eyes, but she didn't have to endure it for long however, for the tight shaft eventually widened and led her to a small room dimly lit by candles.

Despite the dimness, sounds of water steadily dripping from the ceiling instilled a sense of calmness within her, as if it was a heart-beat at rest. Unlike the tunnel, the air here moved like cool water and the faint aroma of wax candles infused her far more deeply than it ever did before. There was no furniture of any kind, just a single bed in the corner and a few lumpy pillows scattered around the area, ones which had obviously been scavenged from the manor itself.

Environed by walls of sandstone in curious hues of yellow and orange, she made herself as comfortable as possible on the floor before facing the wizard that brought her here. Foregoing all greetings, apologies about her assault, or explanations about her disappearance, she launched directly into what she wanted to know.

"Can you tell me what happened to the Order of the Pho–"

"DON'T!" Augustus suddenly screamed in panic, interrupting her mid-sentence as he lunged at her.

The explosive leap was so unexpected and sudden that Ariana didn't even have time to react. He collided into her fiercely, causing her back to slam roughly into the stone wall behind her and knock out the remaining air in her lungs. She noticed a frenzied gleam in his eyes as his hands bizarrely grasped at her face. Panic now began to fill her being from the proximity to this seemingly deranged wizard.

"Stop struggling you imbecile, and listen… I said LISTEN."

The young girl in disguise ceased her frantic wiggling from the forceful command, realizing only then the reason why no sounds were coming out of her mouth was because both his large hands were clamped tightly over the lower part of her face.

"Do not, and I repeat, do not say the full name of the resistance group we are part of. Just call it the Order, nothing more, nothing less. You will bring them here. Understand, Harold? I said do you understand?"

With eyes wide and pupils dilated, Ariana frantically nodded as a picture started to form in her head. From the way Augustus was acting, it was clear as day that certain phrases were blacklisted. She then paled dramatically as she realized that this type of magic was somewhat familiar.

Upon thinking back to her old world, Ariana only now realised how powerful this type of magic was and the terrifying accuracy it possessed to sense whenever somebody said the world 'Voldemort' over roughly an area of the size of England. Sure, the Ministry also had the ability to sense whenever magic was used in the presence of Muggles, but that was all due to specialized sensing equipment that could detect steep gradients of magic. For a single man to achieve this concept, extrapolate the sensing technique to words spoken verbally, and somehow interpolate conditions to activate when certain phrases are uttered, was near unprecedented in remembered history.

Ariana scrunched up her face as she tried to remember anything relating to this. How did Voldemort manage to pull this off nearly two decades before it was debuted? Perhaps the Dark Lord always had this power at his fingertips but had no need for it last time? This seemed the mostly likely case to her.

She also realized that the hands on her mouth were gone. Instead, each now held within his grasp a grimy bottle.

One was proffered to her.

"Firewhiskey?"

Despite the event that had just transpired, Ariana reached out and gratefully accepted the alcoholic beverage, in dire need of something to calm her down.

The soft amber colour belied the harsh taste. The firewhiskey burned her throat as it made its way down. She had not drunk alcoholic beverages of any kind with this new body yet, and although she knew full well that her body was underaged, she carried on with the act. It was only moments later that she regretted touching it, for her world began to blur just at its edges just after the first few swigs.

As their moods grew more cordial and their excitement lessened in fiery energy, the atmosphere mellowed. It was at this point the young witch was keenly aware of both of their physical conditions. Augustus' nose was broken, and trickles of blood were oozing out of numerous lacerations on his body he bore from their earlier scuffle – mostly from being smashed against sharpened pieces of debris. Ariana in comparison was in a relatively good condition; the swelling above her right eye had now developed into a massive bruise and the muscles in her body ached. She could easily heal herself right now as the other wizard then did when she brought attention to it, but abstained from doing, for the question she had initially asked still lay unanswered.

"Augustus," she began quietly, "Where's everyone?"

The spy blinked twice, looking at her as if she just sprouted Hippogriff feathers from her head.

"What do you mean where's everyone?" he echoed with a blank look on his face.

"What do you mean, what you mean where's everyone?" she replied with equal amounts of confusion. After still seeing a bewildered countenance, she cleared her throat and elucidated, "What I mean to say is, where is Albus, Sturgis, Alastor, Fabian, and the rest? You know, people from the… Order."

"Oh. Well, if you're referring to the members of Order, then to my knowledge…"

Augustus took a long, long drink from his bottle of firewhisky before finishing.

"…they are all dead."