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"Fear cuts deeper than swords." - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones

Chapter Forty-Two – The Turning Tides

"Madam President!"

Sofia Young turned to find her Chief of Staff, Alexander Morgan, rushing towards her with a host of files in his hand. Without breaking her stride, Sofia continued walking the hallways of the MACUSA, and towards her office. Sensing the matter to be urgent, President Young waved away her personal assistant. They had been planning a meeting with the Muggle President, intending to talk about the diplomatic relations between America and the United Kingdom.

"What's the matter, Alexander?" She turned slightly, holding out her hand so that he could pass her one of the files to look at. Dutifully, Alexander passed off the first one. Sofia flipped it open to find a criminal record for Alice Archer. The woman in the mugshot was unnervingly calm, holding her name card with manicured fingers that reached up to gently flick her hair away from her face. Unnerved by her haughty demeanour, President Young's eyes scanned the rest of the charge sheet.

"Arrested along with her husband, Joseph Archer, in 1984, for the attempted murder of three No-Majs in Salem," Alexander listed off quickly. "They were given special consideration—"

"What for?" Young asked as she strolled into her office. Nodding to her secretary, who closed the door behind her. Young gestured for Alexander to sit down as she examined the rest of the charge sheet as he quickly summarized Archer's history.

"They were suspected to be under the Imperious Curse," said Alexander, handing the President another file. "The Archers had been previously under suspicion for plotting hate crimes against persons of No-Maj relations."

"Why is this not listed on their charge sheet?"

"They were never arrested for it," shrugged Alexander. "The MACUSA suspected foul-play, and that they had help from their extended family overseas."

Young nodded. Flipping open the second file, the President spotted an equally haughty-looking man in the photo in the top left corner. Straight dark hair framing cunning brown eyes. Much like his wife, Joseph Archer was smirking at the camera, tilting his head ever so slightly as if to say, 'what now?'.

"And they were given special consideration because of their connections?"

"Not exactly, Ma'am," said Alexander, handing her a file surmising the investigation against the Archers. "Initial investigations concerning the plotting did not reveal anything that could be directly linked to the Archers, and therefore they were reluctantly set free. We suspected that the threat of being watched might keep them in check, or that they would run to their family in London."

"But they didn't."

Alexander nodded. "We had received an anonymous tip from someone in London, we suspect it might have been one of their family members or someone on the inner circle, that alerted us to their plot. Thankfully, we were able to stop the murder itself, but there was significant proof to accumulate an assault charge."

"And the problem now is…?"

Alexander handed off the last file in his hand, one that was bulkier than the rest and had several photographs in it as well. President Young flipped it open quickly, taking note of the several photographs of stealth missions gathered years ago. There were people and streets she did not recognize, which Alexander promptly told her were from covert missions in London.

"The Archers were not executed for their crimes because they pleaded their innocence," informed Alexander. "They told the court that they had been placed under the Imperious Curse by Voldemort, who had been rising to power in London if you remember? Yes, well, given that there was not enough justifiable proof, they were imprisoned under special circumstances in the underground prison of Alcatraz."

"Are these recent?"

President Young held up transcripts of confessions. Some house-elves had been noticing unusual activity around the Archers' previous residence and had reported it to the MACUSA.

Alexander nodded, "Intelligence suggests that they might try to break the Archers out of prison. The British Ministry of Magic continues to deny that Voldemort has resurfaced, however—" Alexander leaned forward to pull out a neatly snipped page of the Daily Prophet, "—during the Triwizard Tournament last year, a Hogwarts student died under mysterious circumstances that lead us to believe that Voldemort is back and attempting to gather followers."

"Are the Archers still important enough for him to venture across the ocean to free them?"

Alexander stilled. "I'm not sure, Madam President. They did not do as much as some of his other supporters, that is for certain, but I do believe they were entirely devoted to the cause and perhaps remain as much today." Alexander shuddered, recalling how he had visited the high-security prisoners a few days before, intending to conduct a psychological profile for his report to the President.

President Young nodded, "I understand, Alexander. Thank you for your input." With a wave of her wand, she vanished the files and stood up, "I want you to dispatch a unit of Aurors to Alcatraz immediately. If the Death Eaters are adamant about recruiting the Archers, we must do our best to stop them."

"Yes Ma'am," Alexander stood, straightening his robes.

"Oh, Alexander?"

"Madam President?"

"If, for whatever reason, the Aurors are unsuccessful in stopping the Death Eaters," President Young stood erect, "you have full authority to execute the prisoners, for the sake of national security."

"Yes, Madam President."

At Grimmauld Place, Sleep evaded them all. It was no surprise of course, given that no one was sure about Mr. Weasley's condition. Although Ankaa lay in bed and closed her eyes, all she saw was Mr. Weasley being struck again and again by that horrid Snake, Nagini. Ankaa turned over in her bed, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the duvet and scrunching her eyes closed. She tried to clear her mind, but once the uncertainty of Mr. Weasley's fate left her thoughts, Fred's venomous words rang loud.

With a scowl, Ankaa sat up in bed. She had purposely moved away from where the others had set up camp in the sitting room. Finally, after a brief moment of deliberation, Ankaa tossed the covers aside and hauled herself out of bed. Quietly, she crept downstairs. Ankaa spared no glance into the sitting room as she crossed it stealthily to head towards the kitchen, where she could see the light was on.

Ankaa quietly took a seat in front of her mother. Maya gave her a soft smile, reaching forward to clasp her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Where's Sirius?"

"Getting some sleep," answered her mother. "We've been up, trying to work around the vision," her mother said, carefully scrutinizing Ankaa's reaction.

Ankaa's shoulders slumped, and her eyes immediately focused on the table. "You've seen it then?" she asked, not raising her eyes to meet her mother's worried gaze. Maya had to have seen it by this point, something that important had to be forced by the Inner Eye.

"Yes," Maya affirmed, "but you needn't worry. Sirius and I… we've got everything sorted out."

Ankaa gave her mother an inquisitive look, but Maya only shook her head with a smile. Her hand reached up and her cold fingers ghosted over Ankaa's cheek, moving some of her hair away from her face. As she tucked the curly strand of hair behind Ankaa's ear, Maya's eyes carefully searched her daughters face. It seemed to Ankaa that her mother was trying to memorize her features.

"W-What's wrong?"

Maya looked to her right, at the entrance of the dining room, before turning back to Ankaa with a small smile. Clasping her hands, Maya said, "Just remember, whatever's meant to happen will happen."

"Is someone going to die?" Ankaa asked immediately, tightening her grip on her mother's hands when she tried to withdraw. "Mom, please—"

"Sweetheart," Maya sighed, "You know someone has to take your place. The Order—Sirius and I…we're all going to try our hardest to make sure you and your friends make it out alive."

"Who's going to take my place?"

"No one you've got to worry about," said Sirius, strolling in and leaning against the table to her right. He had a soft look on his face as if he was exceptionally tired. Ankaa had only seen him this way once when he had just escaped from Azkaban and was on the run.

"I hate when you both do this," Ankaa snapped, her temper flaring up once more. "You don't need to lie to me! I can help you—tell me what you're up to!"

Rounding the table, Maya placed her hands on Ankaa's shoulder and gave them a squeeze. Although it was a gentle touch, Ankaa could feel that there was a tremendous weight behind them.

"We'll take care of this, Ankaa," said her mother seriously, brown eyes boring into Ankaa's grey ones. "This is not your burden, you understand? We'll take care of you."

That little phrase irritated her more than the last few hours combined. Ankaa absolutely loathed the fact that people were trying to shelter her from things that she could obviously help with. Remus had tried to reason with her when he wrote, saying that it was not her responsibility to be thinking of all these when she had school to concentrate on. But of course, even he had the nous to back off when Ankaa had written a scathing letter about all the absolute crap she had to put up with because the adults refused to keep her in the loop.

She sat there for the remainder of the morning, with her arms crossed over her chest. Sirius and Maya continued having light conversations as they skittered about the kitchen, gathering supplies for breakfast. In a characteristic show of defiance, Ankaa pointedly ignored them when they tried to include her in their conversations, choosing instead to stare at the worn-down table where Sirius had carved his name when he had been younger.

However, at ten past five in the morning, Ankaa was forced to take refuge in the kitchen and talk to her parents after Mrs. Weasley returned from St. Mungo's. The woman looked pale and tired, but she delivered the good news that her husband would be alright. Not wanting to intrude on the Weasley family as they rejoiced, the three Blacks moved into the kitchen indefinitely to start on the breakfast.

"What about your mother?" Ankaa asked Maya softly as she helped crack the eggs into the pan. "If your parents were in the vision—"

"We've alerted the American Authorities," Maya told her, "We've tipped them off to a possible escape attempt, or something of the like. We can only hope for the best."

Ankaa nodded. She was glad at least her mother was telling her something. Though, Ankaa had a sneaking suspicion that it was Sirius who did not want Ankaa to know what they were planning. If there was one thing Ankaa had gathered from her mother's diary, it was that Maya had hated being left out during her time as a Seer in training as well. It really was a shame sometimes that Ankaa was not close to her mother, she had a feeling they were more similar than they let on.

"Mom," Ankaa murmured, "Please, just tell me what you're going to do."

Maya glanced at her sideways before her shoulders slumped. "Honey, if we've seen that vision, then your grandmother has seen it too. And she's seen it years ago, so she's had time to plot every single possibility and every single move. Its best if you leave it to the Order." When Ankaa opened her mouth to interrupt, her mother sighed, "Please, Ankaa. I've never asked you for anything else. I'm asking you to trust me. As your mother, I won't let anything bad happen to you. Please, trust me."

With a defeated sigh, Ankaa looked to her mother and nodded. Placing her trust in anyone other than herself was a completely foreign concept, but her mother was right. If the way their visions worked were true, Ankaa's grandmother saw less frequently than she did, but her visions were of events far into the future. This meant that in all the years she had been imprisoned, she had time to plot her strategies. No wonder she had threatened Ankaa in her vision.

Great, Ankaa scowled inwardly, another problem on my plate.

Maya gestured for Ankaa to move away, so Ankaa decided to help by setting the table. Ankaa had barely lifted the plates from the dresser when Mrs. Weasley reached for them and effortlessly lifted some out of her hands. The woman stood before her, her bottom lip trembling dangerously as she looked to the younger girl.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Ankaa," she said in a muffled voice, stuffy and her whole frame trembling slightly. "You and Harry… if you two hadn't seen him, they might not have found Arthur for hours—"

"Oh, it's no—"

"Thanks to you he's alive, and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis…"

Mrs. Weasley then turned to Sirius and Maya, thanking them profusely for taking care of her children in her absence. Harry arrived at Grimmauld place right after Mrs. Weasley announced that everyone would be staying there for Christmas. As Ankaa suspected, Harry looked deeply troubled and sought out his godmother and godfather immediately. She debated joining them, but she had had enough of her family for a moment.

The Weasley children shuffled into the room, finally looking upbeat. George cast Ankaa a small, cautious smile before turning to Ginny and helping her with the utensils. Fred, as Ankaa suspected, did not even glance her way once. Instead, he engaged in a joyous talk with Ronald as he helped pour the juice. With a scowl, Ankaa started setting down the plates.

If he doesn't want to apologize, that's his problem, Ankaa told herself as she set down the plate rather roughly. You don't owe him anything after all that he said to you.

Ankaa could feel her anger mounting with every second that passed. She tried to take part in Ginny's conversation, to distract herself from the irritation that seemed to augment every time someone opened their mouth, but nothing worked. Ankaa was livid at the circumstances, livid at how her parents were treating her and how Fred did not feel the need to apologize for his actions. Leaving her breakfast halfway, Ankaa made up some excuse about being too tired and needing sleep. Mrs. Weasley was only too enthusiastic to agree.

But no sleep came to her. Ginny was passed out on her bed, looking worry-free for the first time since Ankaa had seen her. Feeling guilty for making so much noise while she tossed around in bed, Ankaa gingerly pulled the sheets away and headed to the living room.

"Can't sleep?"

Ankaa looked up at Harry as he settled himself on the sofa across from her. Ankaa merely shrugged at him. The two sat in silence for a while, staring at the peeling wallpaper or the cracking ceiling.

"How are you feeling?" Ankaa asked him finally, briefly turning her head to gaze at the boy. His eyes were sunken, and his shoulders were tense. Before Harry could lie about being alright, Ankaa said, "It's the first time you've had some sort of vision, and it's not a light one."

"I talked to Sirius," said Harry, almost defensively, "And Dumbledore."

"And you're still tense. Those two can't have been too helpful if you're still here wallowing and not sleeping."

"I could ask you the same thing."

Ankaa snorted, "My troubles aren't because of that. I just had an argument."

"With?"

Ankaa gave him a blank look. "If you want to talk to me about your vision, you can, otherwise we're both just going to sit here in silence. It's up to you," She said with finality.

Harry frowned at her but did not make a move to argue. After a moment of preparing himself, he finally told her of what he had experienced. His first lesson with Snape had been a complete waste, full of nothing but mental abuse. Ankaa smiled at that, knowing that she had been in this exact position a few weeks prior.

"Relax, Harry," she told him, "Snape's not bullying you. He's trying to prepare you. The faster you accept him as your teacher, the faster you'll learn and be able to keep Voldemort out of your head."

Harry scowled viciously at that as if the mere idea of having Snape as a teacher left a sour taste in his mouth.

"I'm being serious," Ankaa admonished him, "He might be a bit hard to handle, but he's a good teacher."

"To you maybe. He hates my guts." With renewed gusto, Harry sat up on the couch and asked, "Can't you take your lessons with me?"

"Nope," Ankaa snorted, "I'm too advanced for you. Besides… If there really is a connection between you and Voldemort, it's probably better if I stay away."

"Do you think that's really the case?"

Ankaa nodded slowly. "It would explain the vision you had. When I saw it, I just saw the snake striking Mr. Weasley. And if your scar was hurting, like you said, it's quite possible that you and Voldemort really do have a connection. Dark Magic often does."

"Sirius said that might have been an aftermath of the vision," Harry muttered quietly, looking forlorn. "But it felt like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me—"

"Not possible," Ankaa put his wandering thoughts to rest immediately, knowing that if she left his mind to wander, Harry Potter would inevitably come to the most ridiculous conclusion and go looking for trouble. "You can't have been in two places at once, and Voldemort can't just possess people."

"He did it to Ginny—"

"And have you asked her about what it's like to be possessed?" When Harry shook his head, Ankaa shrugged, "Maybe do that then? I'm sure she'll tell you the exact same thing—that you weren't possessed."

But Harry did not seem consoled. Eventually, Ankaa gave up and fell asleep on the couch, leaving the Gryffindor to mull over his thoughts. She could understand his worry, of course, given that visions of any kind were highly disturbing. And considering everything the two of them had been through in the last year and were still suffering through in school, Ankaa knew this ordeal could not have been easy on him.

But the most she could do was tell him what she thought. The rest, Ankaa left for Harry.

The next day, Fred and George ambled down the stairs and slid into their seats beside Ron at the dining table. They had all slept through the morning following yesterday's fiasco. Fred eyed the food on the table before him before his eyes looked at the new form that entered the dining room. Harry, looking slightly worn-down, plopped himself down on his chair in front of Ron and started piling his plate with food.

In the next few minutes, everyone in the house had come to settle down by the table. Sirius assumed his usual seat at the head of the table and started eating without a word. Fred raised a brow as he looked around. Ankaa still hadn't come downstairs.

"Is Ankaa not coming down for food?" he asked. At his question, everyone at the table turned to look at Sirius and Maya. While Maya continued eating nonchalantly, Sirius looked up from his food and shot a glare towards Fred.

"No," he said shortly.

"Is she still sleeping?" George asked.

"Don't know," came the reply.

Fred's brow twitched in annoyance. He had known that Sirius wasn't his biggest fan at the moment, most likely due to how he had behaved with him last night. Taking a deep breath, Fred turned back to his food. He would go and check in on Ankaa after lunch.

A few days later, Ankaa awoke from a serene slumber with warm, bright sunlight streaming in through her window and onto her face. Blinking lazily, she turned over in the emerald silk sheets and burrowed deeper into her bed. She had spent so long away from Rhyther Manor, she had forgotten what her old bed felt like. Gliding her hands along the expensive silk, she propped herself up and took a look around her room.

Her father had made sure to maintain her room while she had been away. Tipsy, her loyal house-elf, continued to dust and clean regularly. In fact, Tipsy had been elated when Ankaa had Apparated to the gates a few days ago with her trunk in tow.

"Mistress has returned!" Tipsy had immediately settled herself onto her knees and bowed so low that her forehead rested on the rough pebbles. "Oh, Mistress! Tipsy has kept your room clean for you. She has cleaned the sheets every three days!"

Ankaa had smiled amicably. "Thank you, Tipsy. You're a gem. Now open the gates for me, will you?"

Ankaa looked around the room. She had missed the luxurious life. More importantly, she realized she had missed Rhyther Manor. She could recall previous Christmas Breaks where the whole family would gather downstairs by the fire and set up the Christmas tree. When Ankaa had returned home, she had noticed a clear absence of the trademark Rhyther Christmas Tree.

"Oh," Henry had glanced at the empty spot slightly crestfallen. "I thought I would be home all alone. I didn't want to set it up…"

After her shower, Ankaa changed out of her pyjamas and ventured downstairs. Some of the house-elves were clearing away the table, and her father was sat at the head of the table with a cup of coffee and his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Good morning," He smiled as Ankaa settled herself beside him. "I've got to head to the Ministry for a few hours, but I should be home by noon. If you'd like, we can head to the shops. Have you got Christmas shopping to complete?"

Ankaa nodded. "Some of it," she said, "Most of it is already complete." She wondered if Fred would give her a Christmas present, or was he still throwing a tantrum? Regardless, she would not accept it unless he apologized profusely and grovelled on the floor for her forgiveness.

Henry nodded. Promptly, he folded up the Daily Prophet and set it aside on the table. With a quick kiss on his daughter's head, he gathered his coat and bid her farewell. He stepped into the fireplace, securely clutching the Floo Powder in his hand, and enunciated clearly, "The Ministry of Magic!"

Once the green flames cleared around him, Henry stepped onto the black tiles and into the Ministry corridor. With a quick wave of his wand, he cleared off all the dust that had settled on him. Nodding to all those who addressed him in the hallways, Henry finally settled himself into his seat as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He reviewed the collection of reports on his desk, all summarizing recent activity in the subdivisions that ran under his charge.

Henry had only just deposited the last of the reports in the 'out' labelled box (which his secretary would subsequently take away and sort) when an interdepartmental memo flew into his office and settled itself on his desk.

Mr. Rhyther,

Please come to my office immediately. There are some urgent matters that concern you.

Sigmund Munx

Department of International Magical Co-Operation

Immediately, Henry called for his secretary to clear the rest of his schedule. On his way to the department, he clutched the note securely in his hand. With a slight frown, he stepped off the elevator and headed towards Munx's office. His assistant, a severe-looking witch, glanced up at him before waving him through immediately.

"Ah, Mr. Rhyther!"

Henry walked in to see two gentlemen settled on either side of the table. Sigmund Munx was one that he was familiar with. The greying hair and handlebar moustache were easily spotted every time Henry ventured into this department. The other wizard, however, was not one with whom Henry was familiar with.

"This is Alexander Morgan," Munx gestured to the man, who stood immediately and held out his hand. "He is the Chief of Staff at the MACUSA. I'm afraid we have some rather urgent, and slightly distressing news for you, Henry."

"Oh?" Henry settled himself into the hair beside Morgan and eyed the man critically. The American reached into his black briefcase before pulling out a white folder, with a golden insignia of the MACUSA. Wordlessly, he handed it to Henry. Quickly, he flipped it open and felt his blood run cold.

"I'm afraid we were not able to stop them, Mr. Rhyther." Morgan sounded sincere in his apology, but Henry could not take his eyes off the photographs in front of him. They looked like they had been captured off the Muggle video cameras that were all around the markets, for security purposes.

"At ten fifty-five last night, Alice and Joseph Archer were broken out of Alcatraz," Morgan told the other two gentlemen, "We had their homes and known safe-houses under surveillance, but they haven't resurfaced."

"What makes you think they would come here, to England?" Munx asked, looking between Henry and the American official.

"During the escape attempt, one of the Death Eaters that had been sent to orchestrate the escape was captured and killed. We are, therefore, under obligation, to inform you that as their next of kin you are the next likely contact. I would strongly suggest that you increase your security parameters."

Munx nodded. "Keep an eye out, Henry," he warned, "these are dark times."

Henry could only nod, completely dumbfounded. He had a sinking feeling. If Voldemort had not told him that he had intended to break out his in-laws, then it most likely meant that Voldemort did not trust him anymore. Perhaps he had finally given into his suspicion. Regardless, he had to get home. If the Archers were back in England, it meant that Ankaa was not safe at Rhyther Manor.

With unparalleled speed, Henry shot out of the office and down to the Ministry Atrium. Wasting no time, he raced towards the fireplace and quickly disapparated. Apparating into his living room, he noticed the unnerving quiet in the house. He had been entirely alone these past few months, with few visitors in between, and had grown accustomed to the quiet house. However, with the impending threat, it seemed dangerously quiet.

"Ankaa!" When no one answered him, Henry rushed up the stairs. Spotting Tipsy on the staircase, he quickly asked her where Ankaa was.

"Mistress is in her room, Sir, but—"

Henry raced past the frightened house-elf and towards Ankaa's room. Throwing open the heavy oak door, he first spotted Ankaa sitting at the vanity. Behind the young girl stood her grandmother, holding her wand to Ankaa's head with an empty smile.

"Ah, Henry, you're home," Alice Archer mere turned her head to greet the latecomer before turning back to her granddaughter. Leaning down to her granddaughter's level, her all-knowing brown gaze foundAnkaa, and she softly whispered, "Shall we go to lunch then, my darling?"

Notes:

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