Happy New Years Eve, my friends! I hope 2019 brings you all the happiness, love, and success you wish for!

"When you know who matters most to you, giving things up, even yourself, doesn't really feel like a sacrifice." – Kiera Cass, The Heir

Chapter Forty-Five – Christmas at Malfoy Manor

Ankaa's first meeting with Voldemort had left her reeling. There was a dangerous tension in the air that had her on edge, and the constant supervision from her grandmother was hardly helping. For the first few days that she stayed in Malfoy Manor, Ankaa felt as if she was in prison. Everywhere she went, her grandmother was with her. The only alone time she had was at night, when she was in bed, or when she was in a 'meeting' with the Dark Lord.

"I am sure you are aware that your grandmother is very gifted when it comes to her abilities as a Seer," Voldemort had said during their second meeting. His voice, ever so soft and eerie, carried across the great dining room with little effort. Alice, who sat at the table, turned her ever calculating eyes onto her granddaughter.

"We had thought that her abilities would skip three generations." He had stood up from his chair then, his bare feet trailing the floor as he silently traversed up the table to where Ankaa had sat. "Your mother, however, directly inherited her abilities from your grandmother. I believe that you have done the same."

There was a gentle pressure against her temple. Ankaa looked away from the solid oak table and her eyes trailed up Lord Voldemort's form. His eyes, the same piercing red dots she had tried to forget since their first meeting three days prior, were staring at her with great intensity. The pressure on her temple increased, and Ankaa blinked from the assault on her mind.

"Yes," He gave a self-satisfied smile, "You have indeed." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back to her grandmother without a care in the world. Without turning back to her, he waved his hand in dismissal. "You are free to go," was all he said.

Ankaa had wasted no time in muttering a 'Thank you, My Lord' (as was the custom decreed by her dictator grandmother) before turning to leave. The last sentence Ankaa heard before she closed the door behind her, made her blood run cold and her heart pound in her chest.

"She will do wonderfully, Alice."

Interactions following that were short but frequent. Ankaa suspected the Dark Lord got most of the information on her from her grandmother, which was a completely daunting suspicion as it left the young Slytherin girl in the dark about what exactly it was that the Dark Lord knew about her. The one and only good thing that stemmed from this entire ordeal was that Ankaa and Draco grew closer than ever, which in these troubled times was nothing short of a blessing.

"How much do you think she knows in the first place?" Draco asked Ankaa a few days before the start of term as the two sat by her fireplace in her room, well after midnight. Draco was not convinced that the Dark Lord knew about Ankaa and Fred. "Your grandmother probably had more important things to keep tabs on than your love life, especially while she was rotting in an American prison."

"I seriously doubt that," Ankaa rolled her eyes, pulling free yet another piece off wool from the shaggy rug and tossing it into the fire. "I've had visions of her threatening me—threatening to kill my father, to be more exact. I think she's got enough hatred fueling her."

Draco paused. "Do you think she knows about me?"

"What's there to know about you?"

Draco's grey gaze turned to her then. There was a distinct look of guilt in his eyes, but it flashed by so quick that Ankaa would have written it off as a figment of her imagination had Draco not released a deep sigh. Ankaa did not ask him to elaborate; in fact, she did not even expect him to speak on the topic.

"I told you about Zara, didn't I?"

"Zara?"

"Holloway—we talked about her, remember? I spent the night with her—"

"Okay, we're not talking about—"

"Just listen," he snapped. "Zara and I… we're friends—don't look at me like that, we're not friends like you and Fred."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean we're not dating—I'm not interested in her like that."

"Then why are you so worried about him finding out?"

"She's a muggle born. I just think my association with her won't be treated lightly," said Draco, his fingers drumming against his knee. He stared into the fire absentmindedly. Ankaa, too, turned her gaze to the fire, quietly contemplating what he had said. She turned back to him, however, when he spoke softly, "She's my friend, Ankaa. And she's not like you, she can't survive this—whatever this even is—on her own. And I know I can't stand by her when all of this happens. I—I don't know what to do."

Ankaa did not know what to do either. She had deliberately tried to ignore the rational part of her mind that constantly liked to remind her that there was a very high possibility of her friends and family not making it out of the impending war. To make matters worse, her brain liked to replay the events of her Death Day every time she tried to get some sleep, sometimes even altering her dreams slightly to punish her. Sometimes Sirius lay dead at her feet, sometimes it was Hermione, and on days that her mind wanted to be especially cruel, it was Fred or George. Never both, never none. Always one or the other.

Fred had spent the rest of his Christmas Break filled to the brim with anger. His short temper had gotten the best of him, and he had spent a majority of his time snapping at everyone when they tried to talk to him. Most of his anger was directed at the Order, more specifically at Maya and Remus, who had repeatedly and vehemently denied his requests to let him join. Furthermore, they, along with Dumbledore, had promptly decided that it was safer for the Order not to step in to help Ankaa ("for the time being," they had said), and to let the events unfurl naturally.

"What's taking them so long?" Ginny had muttered, leaning dangerously over the stairs as she tried to peek at the moving figures behind the door. "They've been in there for three hours now. Are they going to help or not?"

Hermione gently tugged on the girl's sleeve and pulled her back just enough to make sure she wouldn't accidentally fall off. The muggleborn witch cast a look towards Fred, who was standing across from her with his jaw clenched, and his hands gripping the solid wood tightly.

"I don't think so," said Ron idly. "They wouldn't just ambush Death Eaters to save Ankaa."

Fred glared at his brother's tasteless comment. George, too, cast him a disappointed look, but at least he understood that Ron had meant no harm. George elbowed his twin when he opened his mouth to ferociously taunt their younger brother and cast him a pointed look to the door that was finally being pulled open.

Dumbledore stepped out first and continued walking without so much as a glance upstairs. Harry jumped at the sight before pushing past Fred and George and racing downstairs so that he might catch up. Unfortunately, by the time the teenagers all made it downstairs, Dumbledore had stepped out of the house and Disapparated. With a disappointed sigh, Harry's shoulders slumped forward. He turned back to the door as Maya stuck her head out.

"You can come in now," she told them.

Fred and George were the first to step in. They situated themselves on the table, eagerly awaiting the news. Hermione helped Mrs. Weasley set the table, cautiously setting the plates down in front of Fred, Ginny, and George, who looked like they were ready to burst at the slightest noise. Hermione shared a look with Harry and they both settled themselves into their chairs as everyone took a seat around the table.

"So?" Fred asked pointedly, looking from one adult to the next. "What's the plan? What are we doing?"

There was a heavy silence that reigned over the occupants of the room. Sirius shot a glare towards Maya, who gave him a tired sigh before turning to Fred.

"Nothing."

"What?" breathed George, "We're not going to do anything?"

"How can you not help her!" Harry was looking incredulously at his godfather, gobsmacked that he would have let this decision pass.

Sirius did not say anything. He simply nodded at Fred and George's words before continuing to glare at his wife. "Some of us want to help," he said bitterly, "but apparently it's safer to stay put and let this run its course."

"Run its course—"

"What exactly does that mean?" asked Ginny, interrupted Fred before he could start a verbal fighting match. "Are we just going to leave Ankaa? Do we even know where she is?"

"Is she safe?" asked Hermione. She shrunk back in her seat a moment later when Maya shot her a glare.

"Of course, she's safe!" defended the woman. "I wish you would all stop acting like I'm sitting here waiting for my daughter to be killed. She's safe, Henry's with her—" Maya glared at Sirius when he scoffed, "—and he'll keep her safe, no matter what."

"But, where is she?" asked Fred.

"I can't tell you."

"You'll want to go and help her," supplied Remus, "and that's the last thing we need to do right now. Not only will you be putting her life in jeopardy, Fred, you'll also be risking yours. I don't think Ankaa would want that."

"She wouldn't have sent Tipsy if she didn't want help!" retorted George.

Remus sighed. "The Order has made its decision. Ankaa has been preparing to meet with Voldemort at some point, and if that's what's meant to happen then we can't stop it," he said, "All we can do now is have faith in her abilities, and wait until you meet her back at school."

"Dumbledore thinks its best that we wait this out," supplied Maya, "It'll be too risky for the Order to launch an attack to get her back."

"But it's your daughter!" Fred could not believe what he was hearing. "Why won't you help her?"

"Dumbledore—"

Sirius had stood up then, so forcefully that his chair had fallen back with a loud thud. Fred felt glad that at least someone else was feeling the same level of incredulous rage that seemed to be coursing through him.

Sirius stood still for a moment before, very quietly, he had said, "If I lose my daughter as well, I'll never forgive you."

While Fred had wanted to understand what might have motivated Maya and Remus to adamantly advocate for stepping down and letting Ankaa stay wherever she was, and in whatever condition. George had tried to talk to him, telling him about how Ankaa would not want him or his family to endanger themselves to save her.

"She would say 'I can do it myself' the moment you showed up trying to be a hero," George had joked.

And though he understood all of this in theory, it was a lot harder to process when he had gone a week without any kind of contact with Ankaa. George had received a letter shortly before Tipsy had arrived, but that letter had done very little to quell his worries. Ankaa had not outright said she was mad at him, but even Fred could tell that she had left because she did not want to be around him. Most of his days towards the end of their Christmas Break were spent in anger and agitation. Fred only found his spirits uplifted when he and George worked on their Joke shop, and if it weren't for George's constant reassurance, Fred would have found himself in a continuously abysmal mood.

At Malfoy Manor, life carried on just as it had before the arrival of the Dark Lord. No one found it the least bit odd or unnerving that he was residing in the Manor. Many of whom Ankaa crossed paths with, were ecstatic with his return. Alice would usher her along after sharing nods of acknowledgement, muttering under her breath about how Ankaa was too good to associate with them.

In all the days that had passed since Ankaa had been brought to Malfoy Manor, she had eagerly waited for word from the Order. She had hoped Tipsy had arrived at Grimmauld Place safely, and that the Order was busy hatching a plan to come and help. But as the days continued one after the other, that shining hope dwindled away.

It was after a few such days when Ankaa was sat by the window in her room, that her father was finally granted time to see her. He had not been forcefully kept away, but Alice had let it slip that the Dark Lord had some personal business with Henry. Alice had seemed quite disappointed at that, which had given Ankaa the hope that her father was alive and well somewhere, even if he was being kept busy to stay away.

Henry came to sit beside her, repositioning the cushion behind him so he could find a comfortable spot. There was a deep silence between the duo. Henry took this time to examine his daughter's form, noting how absolutely drained she looked. The bags under her eyes had become more pronounced, her hair was knotted from neglect, and her eyes were raking over the scenery outside with indifference.

"Are you alright?"

It was perhaps the first time someone had asked her that since Ankaa had been brought to the Manor. Ankaa only turned her eyes away from the scene outside to briefly glance at her father, before giving him the once over. Henry noted the subtle change in her then. Whatever it was that she had seen in his own haggard, broken expression, had been the last straw for her. Ankaa's indifference turned into the same cold, detached look Henry had not seen for the past few years.

"Where were you?" she asked, turning her eyes back to the gardens.

Henry hesitated, but answered, "Azkaban."

Ankaa did not ask why he had been there, and what he had been up to. Both of them knew that at this point in time, ignorance truly was bliss. Henry knew his daughter was a smart girl, but he could not discern whether or not her silence stemmed from her understanding of their position, or from her general lack of interest. He did not ask.

Ankaa finally shifted in her seat. She sat up, straightening her posture in what felt like a century, and crossed her legs under her. She had cast a muffling charm the moment she had been shown into her room all those days ago, and Ankaa cherished the room like a sacred place. Turning to her father, she asked, "How long will we be here?"

He knew what she meant. When will the Order arrive? Will the order even come to help them? With all the reassurance that her parents had given her, about her not needing to face Voldemort, they sure did abandon her at the first moment.

"Sweetheart," said Henry, "I don't think the Order will come to help. It's far too dangerous." He hoped Ankaa could understand why, so he elaborated, "I haven't been able to pass the information along, so they don't know what to expect. It's far too dangerous. One wrong move and you could get caught in the crossfire."

"You think Voldemort would kill me?"

"If he decided you were beyond his control, yes."

Her father's frank answer made her pause. Hearing she could die, and seeing it even, did not compare to knowing that her life was in the hands of someone like Voldemort, who could change his mind at any given moment. And who would stand in his way then? The only person here with her was Henry, and there was only so much he could do.

"What about you?" asked Ankaa. "What would he do with you?"

Henry hesitated. "I'm not sure," he sighed, his shoulders slumping forward as if a burden had been lifted off his chest. "He seems to trust me so far," he said, "otherwise he would not have given me the task he did."

Ankaa nodded. Sitting before her father then, Ankaa realized that it had been quite a while since they had sat and talked. The last time she could remember doing this was in her third year, when Ceph and Ankaa had suspected their mother of having an affair. Henry had been happy and carefree then, but now it seemed as if he had lost his joyous energy.

"How did you…" Ankaa trailed off.

"How did I become a Death Eater?"

Ankaa nodded.

"It's a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?"

"I don't know about you," said Ankaa, "But I don't have anything else to do, cooped up like a prisoner in this house."

Henry smiled, his grey eyes filling with a pure, innocent joy that Ankaa had come to associate only with him. Henry sat up, crossing his legs under him so that he mirrored his daughter's position before telling her his story.

The day that I first set sight on Maya Archer, was a normal day by all means. It was my sixth year, and I had been in the middle of preparing my notes for upcoming exams. They were nowhere near happening, of course, but I had a habit of keeping up with my notes throughout the school year. It wasn't because I was keen on studying, but rather the fact that my late-night activities kept me busy far too often. And I could not risk falling behind and failing classes or my father would have wasted no time in withdrawing all his support.

I had been sitting on the stone bench in the courtyard; my tailbone hurt from the hard bench, and my shoulders hurt from being slumped over my notes, my eyes strained in the cloudy morning. But I had persisted, staying on the bench longer than I had originally planned to in order to finish my work. It was during this time when I had been most irritated and exhausted, that I had seen Maya for the first time.

On the Saturday afternoon, when most students were busy at Hogsmeade, McGonagall was leading in a young teenager, dressed in all black, clutching a trunk in her iron like grip. The girl glanced at the castle in awe, an expression I was used to seeing on the faces of all of the first years that stepped into the Great Hall year after year. There was a sense of reservation about her, in the way that she clutched her trunk with one hand and used the other to bring the neck of her sweater higher as if to cover her face.

She had not noticed me. In fact, I was not surprised to later learn that she did not remember seeing anyone in the courtyard. She had been more preoccupied with following the stern-faced witch and getting sorted into a house.

I had sat there and watched her walk past, my notes lay in my lap completely forgotten. I had seen beautiful girls before, of course, I had, but there was something about her when I had first set eyes upon her that made me think of her throughout the rest of the afternoon. Eventually, I had closed my notebook and put away all material. I could not study anymore, and it was ridiculous to think that I could even try.

She was a new student, I knew that much. I also knew that she would be meeting with Dumbledore this very second, and most likely be sorted into her house for the next few years. As I reached the Slytherin dormitory and pushed the door open to my own room, I hoped that she would be sorted into Slytherin, just so I could have the chance to see her more often.

As Lady Luck would have it, that night, as we all sat at the Slytherin Table, Dumbledore introduced a new transfer student at Hogwarts. And beside him, dressed in Slytherin robes, was Maya Archer.

It had not taken me long after that to befriend your mother. Even though I was a year older, I tried my best to run into her, when we changed classes, when I knew she would be in the common room, or when she would be in the library. She didn't have any other friends back then, not to my knowledge. As far as I knew, I was her only friend in Slytherin, and in school.

"Why is that?" I had asked her.

Maya had shrugged. "There's no point," she had muttered, turning a page in her book, "After I finish here, I won't be able to see any of them ever again."

"What do you mean?"

My question had gone unanswered, and I had not wanted to push so I had simply let this slide. But in the next two years, when our lives came together and became intertwined, there was not a moment when I had wished that I had probed further, demanded an answer. I had not known then that she had been referring to the Dark Lord's plans with her.

Before her parents had been arrested by the MACUSA, the Archers had alerted the Dark Lord of their daughter's abilities. They had hoped that in their absence, their daughter would take up the position and help the Dark Lord rise to glory.

I had asked her about it once, and only once in the entire time that I have known her, what her stance was on the Dark Lord. I remember it as clearly as I remember you and your brother being born; an event of that magnitude, seared into my memory that nothing could make me forget it. We were sat on the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. Her status as a Prefect, and mine as Head Boy, gave us both the privilege to wander the halls late at night. Often, we would find ourselves switching patrol partners and pairing off together for the night.

"You stay with the Black family, don't you?" I had asked, "Aren't they rather involved?"

Maya had looked up at me from her spot a few steps below where I had been sitting. We had been friends for a year then. This was around the time when Maya had fought with Sirius, swearing off his presence for as long as she lived. Despite the fact that they ran in the same circles, Maya had adamantly refused to be anywhere near him.

"They are," she answered after a moment. "Bellatrix has already been recruited by the Dark Lord. She believes I'll be recruited soon as well."

"Surely you're not going to join him!" I had exclaimed. It seemed preposterous to me, given everything I knew about Maya. She had muggleborn friends, and half-blood friends, whom she loved dearly.

"I don't have another choice," Maya had muttered then, in a voice so broken, even I could not reach forward to console her. "If I hide, he'll find me. If I stand against him, he'll find me. There's no version of opposition that lets me escape death."

"And you think standing by his side guarantees your safety?"

She was not sure, I knew that. Despite her status as a Seer, she had not seen something so close to her own future take place. As a result, her status was just as questionable as the rest of us. At that moment, Maya Archer was a mighty woman brought low.

"It might not guarantee my safety," She had said, "But it gives me the power to at least protect my friends. If I stand by his side, perhaps the least I can do is act as an informant."

"That's—"

"Dangerous?" Maya had smiled up at me then. "I know it is," she admitted, "But it's the only option I've got."

Things were different between us after that talk. We had grown closer. We felt comfortable sharing our hopes, dreams, and fears with one another knowing that the other was listening without any judgement. Neither of us had ever had that before. We did not have siblings and my parents, while they were in love with each other and in love with me, their work left them with very little time to spend with me. Maya's parents hardly seemed to care for her even when they had been free, but their incarceration left very little for them to do.

Slowly, I began to realize that my feelings ran deeper than I had previously thought. The realization had come to me in a split second, when I had stood at the end of the hall with Regulus Black, your father's brother. Regulus had heard the commotion between Sirius and Maya, and knowing both of their headstrong personalities, he knew that this altercation could not end well. To this day, I do not know if he sought me out knowing my history with Maya, or he just happened upon me during his frantic run through the hallway to find any sort of help.

"You need to come quickly," He had panted as he rounded the corner and gripped my wrist firmly. "It's Sirius and Maya—I'm afraid one of them is going to do something stupid!"

"What's happened?"

"I ran into Sirius earlier, and I'm afraid I must have riled him up." He scoffed darkly, "I seem to do that a lot, don't I?" Shaking his head, he continued briskly, "They were arguing before I left, and it got very heated very quickly."

It seemed that the two of us realized the gravity of the situation at the same time. Both people in question were volatile, and erratic in their behaviour. And paired together, they only seemed to get worse. Perhaps it's the selfish part of me that thinks about how these two don't belong together. How did people who hated each other so much come to fall in love? How did two completely destructive forces come together and change everything?

"Go back to the dormitory, Regulus," I remembered telling the younger boy. I could hear several panicked voices coming from the hallway, and I knew something had already happened. "Thank you, Regulus," I had told him sincerely, "You've done a great job. Go and sleep now."

"But—"

"Go."

The boy had cast one look towards the voices before nodding hesitantly and making his way back to the dormitory. The moment he had disappeared from my sight, I had turned back to the hallway and pulled out my wand. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, and I dreaded turning the corner and coming face to face with whatever it was Sirius had done to you. I remember the scene so vividly, and I wish it would just erase itself from my memory. But I remember turning the corner, and pushing past Sirius and his friends, to see Maya laying on the bottom of the stairs.

See, your father, in a fit of blind fury, had shot a curse at her back. The momentum had caused her to trip down the stairs, and split her head open. When I had come upon the scene, Sirius and his friends were crowding around her, panicking about what to do. Sirius was cradling Maya in his arms, his robes soaked in her blood but he did not seem to care. How could he when he had been the cause of it.

It had scared me at first, but seeing her pale form had brought a sense of forced calm into me. Everyone else's panic meant that I had to act. Involuntarily, I reached forward and gripped her wrist. There was a pulse, slow but steady.

"Move," I remember saying to the boys. Never in my seventeen years of life had I ever heard my voice take such a deep and unrelenting tone. When Sirius, whether because of the shock of the blood or of his actions, sat completely still and did not follow my instructions, I turned my steely gaze onto his friends.

The sensible one out of them all, Remus Lupin, was first to snap out of his stupor. He lurched forward to grab Sirius' shoulder, calmly telling him to come away so that I could take Maya. Sirius, who had roughly been pulled out of his stupor, held her body tighter and began apologizing. It was then that James reached forward and gently gripped Sirius' shoulder.

"Mate," He began softly, "He'll help her. We can't lose time, let go."

When Sirius hesitated, I began to lose patience. I could not fathom how someone could be so selfish, to try and beg for forgiveness from someone for the sake of their consciousness when they clearly were in more need. Before this, I had had nothing against Sirius. He was a famous face in the hallways, not unlike my own, but I had never talked to the boy. All that I had heard of him had been through Maya, a perspective colored with bias and hate, and so I had reached no definitive conclusion concerning his character. But now, seeing the unbelievably selfish part of his nature, brought about a surge of anger in me so great that I reached forward and wrenched his arm away, twisting it tightly in my grip and making him wince.

"I want you to let her go," I told him, "Let her go and stay as far away from her as you can. If I see you within thirty feet of her, I'll throw you off the astronomy tower with no second thoughts."

Neither him, nor his friends said anything. James, it seemed, had wanted to but Remus had held him back. Whether he thought that my words had been a simple reaction to my friend's injury or a serious threat, I did not know. Whatever the case, I'm glad Remus held his friends back.

Throwing Sirius' arm away with such force that he was pushed back into his friends, I reached forward and gently wrapped Maya in my arms and hauled her up. The bleeding had slowed, and I was nervous it might have been due to severe blood loss and not the clotting.

"Let me come with you!" Black had argued, pushing against his friends who tried to pull him back.

"Please!"

That's the last I had heard of his screaming. I had not bothered to answer him, nor had I bothered to turn around and glare at him. Time was of the essence, and as much as I had wanted to throw every curse in the book his way, I had to make sure Maya got the help that she needed.

As soon as I stepped foot into the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was on me like a hawk. Together, we placed Maya on the crisp white bed. While Madam Pomfrey worked quickly, I watched the red blood seep through the sheets.

"How did this happen?" Professor Slughorn had asked a few days later. He had come down to the infirmary to check on his student, along with Professor Dumbledore. As Head of House, it was his duty to lead an inquiry into the severity of the injury. And seeing as I was the only witness, it really was all up to me.

I had been by Maya's bedside for three days now, watching her sleep. Pomfrey had said that it was quite possible that she would be asleep for a while, but even she seemed worried as to why the girl had not woken yet. Of all the people present in that room, only Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what was going on with the girl.

"I'm not sure, Professor," I had answered. "When I arrived, she had fainted and was bleeding out on the stairs."

"Oh dear," mumbled the Head of Slytherin house. "Do we know when she might wake, Albus?"

Dumbledore had stared at me for a moment longer than usual. He most likely already knew what had happened. In fact, I found out later, that Sirius had gone to him the moment I had disappeared from his sight, and while he had been covered in blood, he had asked for the adequate punishment. Whatever punishment Dumbledore decided, Sirius had said he would accept it, even if it meant expulsion from the only place he had known as his home.

I had not saved Sirius because I felt something for him. In fact, even to this day, his is not a favourite of mine. I kept my mouth shut because I knew your mother would have liked to get revenge on her own terms. Besides, for me, it was more important that she woke up from whatever part of her mind she had become trapped in.

"She's alright, Horace," Professor Dumbledore had said, finally tearing his eyes away from me. "Miss Archer will make a full recovery, but I'm afraid we can do nothing to rush her. Come, Mr. Rhyther, your friend is well tended to. There are things we must discuss."

The next year, things became a little more difficult. I started hearing from her less and less. I knew school would keep Maya busy, but I had also heard from Lucius that Maya had been kept busy by some activities by the Dark Lord. It occurred to me then that this was the perfect opportunity to incorporate myself into the ranks, as Dumbledore had wanted me to, and supply information from the inside.

You see, when Dumbledore had pulled me away from Maya's bedside back then, he had been acutely aware of my fondness for her. I can see it now that he chose to maximize that interest and use it to his benefit. I don't blame him for it either; had I been in his position, and a Dark Wizard stood at the helm of a crazed and powerful army threatening everything good in the world, I would have jumped on the first chance of salvation too. And for Dumbledore, I think Maya had represented a bit of that hope.

He had asked me to become a spy for the Order, to reside within Voldemort's ranks and ensure everything was going alright for Maya. Both of us knew it was less work for me to be included into the ranks and stay by Maya's side than to move the girl out and try and hide her somewhere Voldemort could not find her.

She didn't seem to take that news well.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed, enraged. Maya had pulled me away from the gathering the first moment could. Narcissa had cast one look at the two of us pressed together in the tight hallway before raising her eyebrows and walking away. "I told you this was too dangerous, why are you here?"

"I'm not leaving you to do this alone," I answered simply. "We're friends, aren't we? Friends don't let friends suffer alone."

Maya had let out a frustrated groan before hitting me in the arm repeatedly. I had laughed at first, but when I noticed she was tearing up, I instinctively wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. I understand now why she had been crying then, as I was one of the only friends she had had who was not involved in this fight. My parents and family had been as far removed from this as possible. Maya had been sure that even if they all died in the crossfire, at least I would survive.

I quickly rose in rank, eventually being trusted enough by Voldemort. Dumbledore had been careful to pass me letters from Maya. In the year that I had been away, she had grown closer to Sirius. It had hurt, of course. While I had been immersed in all this business with the Dark Lord, for her, she had grown closer to the one person she had sworn to hate. It took me years to understand why, and I know now.

By the end of the school year, she had told me she was in love with him. And he with her. That's when I had decided to leave the Death Eaters. I had a whole plan in place. I was to wait for Voldemort's attack on the Order, and I would slip away in the chaos. I would go to my grandparents' house in Albania; the people there were loyal, and the ancient and powerful magic on the Manor would keep even Voldemort at bay. But that's when I found out that your mother was expecting…

"Ah, Mr. Rhyther," Dumbledore welcomed me into his office. "Please, have a seat." There was a beat of silence wherein we both maintained steady eye contact. While in all the years I had been at Hogwarts, I had been thoroughly unnerved by Dumbledore's ability to keep a straight face. However, in those years I had also discerned that as much as he might have tried to keep his emotions at bay, I could read his eyes rather easily.

"You don't want me to leave the Death Eaters," I guessed plainly.

"Yes, that is correct," answered the Headmaster. Perhaps in the silence that followed, he had hoped for an outburst. Yet, I remember clearly that in that moment where my suspicions had been confirmed my energy had been severely drained. The idea of living between such people, whom I should never have been involved with in the first place had I not been itching to impress the woman I loved, drove me near madness.

"Henry, I understand that you do not wish to stay, not after all that you have had to do," said Dumbledore, "but it would leave us in a very precarious situation."

"You want me to stay, so that I can marry a woman who is in love with another man, and help to raise her children with that man?"

"Madam Vablatsky has seen something—something I cannot disclose to as of yet, concerning Maya's children. And for it to come true… Henry, I must ask the world of you."

"Do you wish you hadn't?" The question escaped Ankaa before she could stop herself. "Do you wish you would have said no, and gone to Albania instead?"

Henry took a moment to examine her. He opened his mouth to say something, probably to agree with her, Ankaa thought, but he simply kept quiet and gave a gentle quirk of his lips. "Everyone who lives through such times wishes terribly that they could have changed their circumstances, but that's not in our control," he said, "If I had said no, I would not have had two beautiful children, and a wonderful family—no matter the circumstances in which I got them. I put my faith in your mother, and in Dumbledore, and I haven't looked back since."

Ankaa turned away from his intense gaze. These things were easy to listen to, but so much harder to truly understand.

"What I did then, I would do now in a heartbeat. All those years ago, I stepped up to protect the woman I loved, even if it meant that I would never get to have what I wanted. Sometimes, we must sacrifice the things we hold dear to move forward in our lives." Henry uncrossed his legs, his shoulders relaxed and pressed against the dark panels of wood behind him. "Whatever happens here, Ankaa, you should know that your mother and I love you very much. There have been times when we have fallen short of the mark, but no one is perfect. Your mother… she's trying her best. We all are."

The young girl didn't say anything. The only indication Henry got that she had heard his words was the subtle narrowing of her eyes before she turned her head to look out the window.

Draco watched keenly as the many students bid their families a fond farewell before boarding the Hogwarts Express. He stood on the platform, beside Ankaa, patiently listening to his mother talk to him about his year.

"Be careful," she was saying, looking between both Slytherin students. "I don't think I need to remind you both of the circumstances at the present moment."

"No, mother."

"Good," Narcissa ran her thumb across his cheek. With a small smile, she reached forward to plan a soft kiss before pulling away. She turned to Ankaa and nodded a simple farewell before turning and leaving. Draco watched her leave before turning his head slightly to Ankaa.

The girl was already busy looking up and down the platform. And while Draco appreciated her attempt at being subtle, he noted the slight nervousness in her eyes when Ankaa failed to spot the familiar red-head clan on the platform. Despite it all, Draco waited by her, patiently listening to all her excuses ('I want to see if Annabelle is here yet, she might be running late'), until it was five minutes to eleven.

"Not here, are they?" Draco scanned the platform, taking note of a few stragglers who scrambled to hand off their luggage to the porters before finally boarding the train. "I'm not surprised," he remarked.

When Ankaa did not respond Draco looked down at her. There was a steely look in her eyes as she turned and passed her own trunk off to the porter before turning to board the Express, without so much as sparing a glance to the platform. The porter closed the door behind them, and at exactly eleven o'clock, the Hogwarts Express began its journey from Kings Cross Station. The duo stood on by the door for a moment longer. Whether Ankaa stood watching the platform for any sign of the Weasley family, Draco did not know.

"Come on," he took her hand and pulled her along gently. "They might already be on the train."

Ankaa nodded, but deep down she knew they wouldn't be. All she knew as she settled into her seat beside Draco, was that they had abandoned her when she needed them most.

No one helps you in this world, Ankaa told herself as the Hogwarts Express began its journey, you've got to help yourself.

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