CHAPTER 49: A Wintry Homecoming (Part 3)

Shadowfield Estate

December 23rd, 1995

7:00 a.m.

Shadowfield Estate wasn't nearly as eerie as Grimmauld Place. Old and proud, the castle that had housed the Heads of House Black was impressive and elegant. There wasn't a room in the manor that wasn't drowning with galleons, whether they were in the form of majestic pieces of art or top of the line furniture.

Even her room, which was one of the smaller guest rooms of the castle, was bigger than her own. Everything inside was pristine. The bathroom was large and with her own personal tub, and the nightstand and study in the room were made from dark, firm wood. Below the brass chandelier, in the centre of the room, sat her bed - the most comfortable and relaxing bed she had ever slept in.

And yet, that didn't take away from her restless night.

Turning and turning as time began to fade away, she couldn't exactly pinpoint at what hour she had managed to force herself to fall asleep. Not that it mattered, she was woken up at seven sharp by her old habits. With eyes burning and the feeling of a constant weight on her back, she managed to get off the bed and into her chair, knowing she would not be able to fall asleep once more.

The hours passed as she went about reading the material that would be held for the following term. Pulling out the stack of fifth-year books from the previous year - graciously given to her by Katie Bell - she began reading over what should come in the next course.

It was a futile attempt at rebellion. Umbridge had entirely changed the curriculum, and that included the books that the students were supposed to read. She couldn't do magic outside Hogwarts, and as much as she could try, simply learning the theoretical aspects would not help her with the practical area - her biggest area of opportunity.

Last term, there was the DA. But after Potter - Harry - backed out and locked them out of the Room of Requirement, there was no other safe place to conduct the meetings. And even if she managed to find a place, it wouldn't have the qualities of the Room of Requirement, meaning they wouldn't be able to reach it due to Umbridge's eyes all over the castle and her tasking the teachers and members of the Inquisitorial Squad to act as the student's constant guides.

And once more, her mind drifted back to Potter. It had begun happening more and more over the year. After Halloween. After the Three Broomsticks. But after yesterday, he was constantly there in the back of her mind. That gaunt look on his face, the way his blood drained, and the fight completely left his eyes - she hadn't realised she could feel bad for Potter until then.

It was around three hours after she had woken up that her mother came to check up on her. Knocking lightly on the door before immediately opening it, she greeted her with a smile before telling her to come down to breakfast. Her father was already waiting there, sitting in front of a sombre looking Sirius. His hands were shaking as he held the fork, which wasn't unusual, what was unusual was the quiet.

For all that Azkaban had taken from Sirius, it hadn't managed to take his spirit. Not completely. Whether it was through shouting or laughing, Sirius always made his presence known. But as he sat there, he was quiet and looking straight down at his plate.

"Dumbledore forced him out of Grimmauld," Remus Lupin, who was sitting next to Sirius, answered her unasked question. "Out of the Order."

Hermione gulped, feeling the pit in her stomach grow. "And you're surprised? He snapped Ha- Potter's wand, Remus."

"The little bastard deserved it," Sirius spat without looking up.

"You can't be serious!" Her parents were eying her warily, though she didn't blame them. She hadn't even sat down before picking a fight, a fight about something they knew nothing about. "Death Eaters snap wands, Sirius. Not the Order. Not even the Ministry. How could you take away someone's magic, a piece of themselves, and not feel anything towards it?"

"Because the brat doesn't deserve it!" He roared, and her parents immediately looked alarmed.

"Easy," Remus forced Sirius down to his seat with his right arm before her parents could say anything.

Sirius' murderous look began calming gradually before he turned downwards again. "Sorry," he muttered.

"What's going on here?" Her father asked.

"Just a philosophical disagreement-"

"You can't seriously be defending him?"

"I don't know," Remus said quickly. "I… I still don't know how to feel. Just… Harry Potter is a threat, to all of us. It may not be our proudest moment, but if this puts him off the board for good, then maybe… just maybe… it was worth it."

"But-"

"Hermione," her mother said soothingly. "Let's just have dinner, okay?"

She bit her lip, nearly drawing blood from the sheer strength with which she did, but nodded.

No one spoke for the rest of breakfast. Her father was more than willing to let the topic go, he hadn't looked happy at Sirius' reaction towards her. Her mother, though, blond and ditzy she may look, was far from it. Smart in her own right, she wasn't the academical prowess she or her father was, but the woman was still smart. This wouldn't be the end of their conversation, her mother had simply redirected it to a place and time when she may have better ground and less yelling.

Remus sat conflicted, while Sirius was outright angry. Or sad. It was hard to tell with him. Eventually, the tension seemed to be enough for the former because he cited some business Dumbledore gave him to do before leaving. Soon after that, Sirius grunted something and left towards his room.

Before either of her parents could ask anything, she began ranting about the term. About Umbridge, about the Ministry infiltrating their school. She hid everything she was doing with the DA from them, hid her attempts to deal with her increasingly aggressive friend, her other increasingly infuriating friend, and the Slytherin boy who had had her on edge for the entire term.

People had always had a problem with her hundred miles per hour speech speed. She hadn't noticed just how much until she began her friendship with Ron and Neville. However, over the years she had learnt it was a smart way to derail the conversation completely from an unwanted topic. It was a tactic she mostly used with her parents, and the professors, whenever they questioned her about their more… unsanctioned activities. And it worked wonders with the both of her parents.

She drove the conversation from Hogwarts, to Umbridge, to the Ministry, to the Weasleys, and on and on until she could finally excuse herself from the table, claiming she had homework. Her parents replied with a smile and "good luck," before they returned to their meals. And for a while, she had thought she had gotten away with it. Had thought her parents would just scratch off the argument as a meaningless wizarding debate.

But when she heard two knocks at her door a mere hour later, all her hopes flew away.

"Come in," she said, keeping her voice as disinterested as she could.

Her mum stepped inside, closing the door behind her before settling on the bed and giving her a soft smile. "Not even a day out of Hogwarts, and you're already back to studying."

"I need to learn everything I can before I get back to Hogwarts. With Umbridge there, I can't really learn anything." She answered mechanically.

"Your father also used to have his myriad of excuses whenever I caught him studying on our summer and winter breaks. Though, I'm afraid his were a little more believable."

"I'm not lying."

"Oh, on that, I agree. But I somehow doubt that school is what's on your mind at the moment."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her mother. "You seriously doubt that? Of me?"

"Well, I might not have if not for your… chat with Sirius and Remus earlier this morning. I must confess, I hunted down the pair myself to try and squeeze some info out of them, but that was a bust. Remus was evasive, while Sirius was outright quiet."

"So now you're here to pester me?" Hermione flushed at the words. She always got prissy when annoyed, and she hated acting like that with her mother.

"Pester's such a crude word," her mother waved her off pleasantly. "I prefer the term 'nag.'"

"Look, mum, it's-"

"Not nothing, young lady." She said calmly. "After last summer, I managed to figure out when you were lying and when you're telling the truth. And ever since you came home last night, you've been… rattled. You've talked about your term at Hogwarts… but I don't think you've been fully forthcoming."

Hermione sighed. "It's just… it's nothing bad. Well… I don't know. But definitely not something like…"

"Like having to uproot our entire life because some evil wizard came back from the dead with the pure intent of killing your best friend and us muggles?" She smiled. "It's hard to top that, sweetheart."

"You're forgetting about the basilisks, dementors, and three-headed dogs." She chuckled nervously.

"I'm really not, just wanted to let you off the hook for that."

"Fair enough."

"So, will you now please tell me what's going on?" She laid down on the bed, propping her head up with her elbows as she looked at her. "Did something happen at school? Ooh, is some boy involved?"

"It's not about boys, mum," Hermione whined, ignoring the flush that was reaching her head. "It's about me. It's about… it's about everything."

"Deep philosophical ponderings, huh? Well, at least you're not brooding. Your father likes to brood when he gets into his soul-searching moods."

"I'm serious, mum."

"No, I'm pretty sure you're Hermione," she grinned. "Bad joke. Look, honey, I've been around the block a couple of times. I'm pretty sure I've learnt enough to help you with your teenage woes."

Hermione bit her lip. "How… how do you know if a person is good?"

"That's… a bit heavier than I was expecting." Her mother sat up. "I'm going to need a bit more than that."

"I… can't."

"Honey."

"No, mum. I know you and dad want me to be open about everything that happens at Hogwarts. But not about this. Just… please, trust me and just try to help me."

Her mother looked resistant to the idea for a second before she sighed. "Alright. What can you tell me?"

"I don't know," Hermione moaned. "It's just… ever since I was a kid you've taught me that it's important to always do the right thing. No matter the cost. It's the reason you and dad have let me stay, even with the threat of… You-Know-Who. You've taught me to always follow the rules, to follow the law, and to do what is right. What is good. But after this term… I don't know what that is anymore."

"And you want me to tell you."

"Yes!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Hermione," she gave her a sad smile.

"What? Why not?"

"You're a smart girl, I think you know why."

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you," she huffed.

"I can't tell you because there's no straight answer to this question, Hermione. Everything's much simpler when you're a kid. It's a simple life, with concerns that are far from complex. What's right and wrong is elementary. It's right to pay attention in class and put in your best effort, it's wrong to be mean and to be lazy. But once you grow up, you come to realise life isn't that simple. Authority figures can be corrupt. Rules or laws can be changed to fit the needs and agendas of others. Tell me, do you think someone who has killed is a bad person."

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean? Of course, they're a bad person! Killing someone is wrong."

Her mother gave turned sombre for a moment. "Not always… not necessarily. Your father's killed people."

"He… what?"

"A group of insurgents attempted to attack his unit when he served in the British Army. He put down three of them, saving the rest of his Section as well as a group of innocent women they were escorting out of danger. Even to this day, there are still nights when he has nightmares about it. Tell me… does that mean your father is an evil man?"

"No! I mean… he was a soldier. He was trying to protect people. To do good."

"And yet, in doing so, he killed other people. Other people who they themselves thought they were doing the right thing."

"But they weren't!"

"Are you sure? I'm not saying they were, I don't know these people. But how can we so easily assume they were in the wrong just because they didn't see things our way?"

"So… dad's killed before?"

She smiled, and once again it held a tinge of sadness. "Your father would hate me if he knew I was telling you this. A part of him will always see you as his little girl. You knowing what he was forced to do in the army, you even beginning to consider that there's more to the world than black and white… it's best if you don't tell him about this conversation."

"I won't."

"What you're doing… where you're headed… so much like your father, it's sometimes hard to see myself in you. I was forced to sit back and wait while your father left for two tours, and now I'm doing the same while you go on and fight a war."

"Mum-"

"It's okay, honey. You're growing into a smart, fierce young woman and I could not be more proud. But this life that you want to lead… it's not easy. And before you continue, you need to figure things out yourself. You need to accept that there will be people on both sides who truly believe that they, just as you, are doing the right thing. Just as you're going to have to accept that there will be monsters on both sides who will do unspeakable things to win this war. There are no true rules on morality, especially in times of war. You can't simply box people into being good or evil, not anymore. People are complex. Hopes, dreams, experiences, past traumas. Wholly evil people do not exist. Nor do wholly good."

"That's depressing."

"That's life." Her mother shrugged, standing up. "We all must do what we truly believe, deep in our hearts, is the right thing. You won't always make the best choice, and neither will the people around you. But if you want to keep yourself in line, make sure you don't lose your way, you need to decide your own version of morality - you're going to have to decide what makes a person good and what makes them not. Good and Evil aren't concrete, objective terms. It's all in the eye of the beholder, I can't give you those answers, no matter how much I want to."

Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom

September 26th, 1993

11:45 a.m.

"Ah, Harry," Remus Lupin exclaimed cheerfully as he opened the door. "Come in. Please, come in. I had forgotten we were meeting today."

"Too much work to grade, sir?" He asked politely, stepping across the room before sitting at their regular table in the corner opposite to the grindylow's tank.

"Indeed," he nodded. "As a student myself, I never realised just how tedious and time-consuming reading over four-hundred essays every week. Alas, this is the price I must pay."

Harry laughed, and Remus brought over some biscuits and tea to the table before settling across from him.

It had been just over three weeks since he had met Professor Lupin. An enthusiastic professor with a clear fascination with the subject and a subtle careless charm to him, he was better than the other two Defence professors he'd dealt with in the previous years. And ever since that first class, he had been hanging around the professor - who was oddly keen about his presence.

He had hoped that with time, the professor would allow him to have a go at the boggart that nearly everyone in the classroom had faced. More than just the curiosity as to how his boggart would manifest and the need for him to know he could defeat one if confronted by it - it was a point of pride. Pretty much everyone in the classroom had faced their boggart and defeated it, even fucking Longbottom, whose worst fear turned out to be some idiotic old lady. The moment Remus had stopped the session and disavowed him from facing his boggart, he had been pissed.

Not that Remus managed to gather that, he had invited him to sit down for a cup of tea and talk as if they were old friends. He hadn't stopped prodding about the boggart, though Remus remained steadfast against the idea.

It wasn't until their third meeting when he had finally stopped asking about it. Talking with Remus had turned out to be surprisingly fun. Hearing the older man reminisce about his days at Hogwarts, he began living vicariously through the grand stories of friendship, bravery, and pranks.

Half the stories sounded too good to be true, and the other half sounded too insane to be true. But the way he told them, he could almost feel himself with the so-called Marauders. Remus hadn't given out their names, not for lack of trying from Harry, though he stopped at the occasional dark looks the man would get when pressed about it.

Regardless, he had quickly grown accustomed to come for tea with Remus. They had their bi-weekly appointments - Wednesdays and Sundays - as well as the occasional visit he paid whenever he was bored or just fed up from his practices.

After the diary situation, he had grown even more intense about his Defence trainings. And though he hadn't brought up the subject to Remus yet, he intended to do so. Practising spells alone in his dormitory would only get him so far. He needed to find a way to actually train, not just to find a place where he could train in peace, but to have a sparring partner. Someone with whom he could actually train for real life situations.

Three weeks ago, he would have thought he wouldn't have wanted such a thing. But now… Remus didn't feel like such a bad idea. The man was clearly smart and talented, and for some reason, he just felt drawn to him.

The two of them made small talk over tea and biscuits for the following half hour, and it wasn't long until the Marauders were brought back into conversation. Remus spoke of one of its members, the son of a rich house who was disowned, who made a lot of money by selling homework to lazy students in his year or the ones below. It was with that money that he bought an arsenal of prank items from Zonko before sneaking into the Family Home in the middle of the night and tarnishing it all with the props.

It was a fascinating story, one that drew various chuckles out of Harry by the sheer ruthlessness and cunning of the man.

"After that whole debacle, his parents changed the wards of the house and sent him a Howler." Remus said mirthfully.

"That's perfect," Harry laughed. "Bloody brilliant."

"Yeah…" Remus trailed off for a moment, his face sobering up. "He was surely something.

"Whatever happened to him?" Harry inched forward. "I mean, surely someone like that can't have just dropped off the map? What family was he part of?"

"You promised me not to pry too much if I talked," Remus said patiently.

"I mean, yeah, I did. But… you know. It'd just be fun to actually know who these people are. What happened to them after all of this."

"Well, I haven't had contact with any of them for the past twelve years," Remus said with some force to his voice. "Can't really tell you much."

"But…" Harry trailed off, the look on the Professor's face making it clear he wasn't going to speak further on the subject. "Fine."

Suddenly, Remus began coughing fervently. He had noticed how pale he had looked today more than Friday, though he didn't take it for much. But now, he was only realising just how weathered he looked.

"Are you okay, Professor?"

"Just fine, Harry," he gave him a tired smile. "Seasonal allergies, I suppose."

The Purple Chamber

December 23rd, 1995

11:15 p.m.

Vast and elegant, the Purple Chamber was a mere step away from the ceiling dripping with liquid gold. There were no exits or entrances, no floo-powered fireplaces, not even a single window. And yet, the Purple Chamber was brighter than any other room he'd ever sat in. Torches adorning the walls, leaving no room for shadows in the corners. Candles lit up, flying above the large mahogany table where the members would sit. The white, marble floor was almost shinning as well.

With purple walls and gold promiscuously sprinkled across the room, it was a sight to behold. More than just the meeting table reserved for the Heads of the Families - and, in special meetings, a chosen successor - the chamber was littered with bookcases, filled with tomes older than he could begin to grasp. And all around the room, displayed proudly in unbreakable glass cases, were various magical items. Deeply powerful. Most thought lost by society, and few used within the past hundred years.

The Purple Chamber was a sight to behold.

They were already waiting for him. Mister Snyde sat at the Head of the Table. The current leader of their order, one whose first name he didn't even know. He seemed a sickly old man, and while he was old - though he didn't exactly know how old - he was far from sickly. A brilliant genius who had devoted his life to mastering the Dark Arts, they had left their toll on him. But as physical as that was, he was far from death, and even further from being even slightly weak.

On his respective right and left sat Evan Rosier and Robert Greengrass, two of the original twelve members of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters from his school days. Younger than Mister Snyde, they still held seniority over the rest of the council. Aida Mulciber and Henry Avery sat between the seniors and the newest members.

Walking across the room as the others silently waited, he took his seat in front of Corban Yaxley, who was looking at him with a glint in his eyes. He leaned back on his seat and draped his arm over the top back of the chair before turning towards Mister Snyde.

"The Dark Lord's return is imminent," the old man said. "Earlier today, my sources placed him near the border of Switzerland and France and headed north. At this rate, he should be back either tomorrow or the following day. Ares follows with him."

"Have you managed finding out what they were seeking?" Rosier asked.

"No. Purely finding their locations was toilsome, and even then, there are still weeks when they went fully dark. Their last known location before journeying up the continent was Turkey-"

"Which means that whatever they were after, they found it there."

"Or perhaps their search has led back home," Yaxley proposed airily.

"Egypt. Afghanistan. Saudi Arabia. India. Kazakhstan. Turkey. The six countries we have managed to place the Dark Lord in have all been within the Middle East or its surroundings. It's very unlikely their crusade wholly switched towards Western Europe."

"Agreed, but I rather hate resorting towards guessing and assuming when facing a very real and mighty threat."

"Then by all means, Mister Yaxley, feel free to research into the Dark Lord's most current crusade." The way Mister Snyde spoke, it didn't seem like an offer.

"Certainly." Yaxley smiled, though the action seemed more cowed than confident.

"The Dark Lord's return means more trouble than simply the obvious. While whatever he was seeking is certainly something of concern, things back home have not been as smooth and quiet as the Dark Lord had instructed us to keep. I'm afraid he'll be most displeased by the new developments."

Silence hung around the room, and he noticed a couple of glances towards him.

"You mean the Potter boy?" Eli asked, icy calm.

"He has been at the centre of the various scandals… as has your family."

"I rather think my brother being murdered out of the blue should leave me and my family accountable."

"Though it wasn't out of the blue, was it?" Robert Greengrass pointed out. "From what I gathered, your brother was making the rounds at Hogwarts. Being the oldest of the Knights in the castle, he gained a sense of entitlement that led him to threaten and blackmail his own brothers and sisters of the order for an idiotic power play with the Potter boy."

"You didn't have much of a problem with it when originally informed."

"And I still do not. For they were merely threats, and if my granddaughters aren't capable of overcoming them on their own, they would be unfit of the family name. But as it stands, they are still Greengrasses, and if your brother had resorted to employing his threats, I would see that as an attack on my family."

"Graham was smart, he knew not to do something so stupid. Besides, him being murdered should absolve him of any ire you might still have towards the situation."

"Indeed, it does."

"Your brother's death also poses another difficulty." Yaxley said. "My sources claim that your brother was summoned by the Dark Lord and Ares."

"Was he?" Eli asked carelessly, his mind well-trained to keep his cool in situations of disadvantage.

"What did the Dark Lord ask of him?" Mister Snyde queried.

"It wasn't the Dark Lord, but Ares, who asked something of him. He wanted Montague to bring Potter into the fold, to offer him a spot with the Death Eaters as Ares' protégé."

"And the Dark Lord gave his blessing to this?" Eli asked. "I find it hard to believe he'd simply allow the son of two of Britain's biggest blood traitors, the people who killed my mother and father, to join his Death Eaters - much less his inner circle."

"If the Dark Lord was present during the meeting, we can only assume that he authorized the proposal." Mister Snyde said. "This… complicates things even further."

The chair dragged along the floor as Mister Snyde stood from his seat and placed his hands flat on the table. He was quiet for a moment, looking over at all of them, before his eyes settled on Eli.

"The Potter boy is off-limits. At least until we can figure out the connection between him and Ares, and how it came to be that one of the highest-ranking Death Eaters and most skilled combatants settled on him as his protégé rather than any other aspiring towards the position."

"The Potter boy is mine," Eli said. "You promised me him after he murdered my brother."

"The situation has changed."

"It is the code of the Knights. The murder of one of its members, whether head or successor, is punishable by death. No pardons, no exceptions."

"The Potter boy will face justice-"

"When, exactly?"

"When I command it!" Mister Snyde shouted, and Eli felt his back straighten as he fixed his position. "Potter is marked for death, his crime against the Knights of Walpurgis will never be forgiven. Never be forgotten. But the survival of this order, especially with the Dark Lord's return from the death, has been through subtlety. We survive by maintaining secrecy, and the survival of this order is more important than the debts it owes. By targeting Potter, we bring more attention towards us… more than you already have."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Attacking the Three Broomsticks to get at the Potter boy was stupid. Not only has it brought more attention to what the Dark Lord is doing by becoming the first mayor attack this country has seen since the end of the last war, but it can be easily traced back to you. Anyone in the know of Potter's part in your brother's murder will easily identify you as the perpetrator of this attack.

"You think I had anything to do with this?"

"Hiring the likes of Dolohov and a band of useless drunks is not as smart as you may think."

"My family doesn't have the wealth it used to," he said coolly. "And even if we did, I wouldn't waste it in hiring useless idiots to execute my own revenge."

"I assume you'll say the same thing about Cassius Warrington?"

"What of Warrington?"

"Don't act coy," Mister Snyde berated. "His neck snapped, Aurors haven't finished their investigation, but I'm sure they'll rule it an accident."

"What are you talking about?"

"You met with Warrington earlier this month," Yaxley said indifferently. "A few weeks later and he's found dead. I wonder… what did you tell the boy that merited his death?"

"I had nothing to do with this." Eli repeated, his frustration at his impotence over the situation surfacing.

"Regardless, you are not to get near the Potter boy or anyone else for that matter without my explicit authorization. You've caused enough damage to this order in the past few months, so unless you wish for the Montague line to be extinguished once and for all… I suggest you follow my lead and put on hold this idiotic vendetta."

Eli didn't answer, not vocally, at least. But before leaving the Purple Chamber he knew the truth, he'd rather be dammed before obeying Snyde's orders and allowing his brother's murderer to go unpunished.

Head Auror Office

December 24th, 1995

10:30 a.m.

Rufus stood in front of his murder board as he pondered over the new developments of the case, not knowing whether to feel alarmed or appeased by it.

The Potter murder board wasn't new, in fact, he had privately set it up before he even managed to get permission to investigate the boy from Amelia. Less than two months it had been up in his office, and yet, it had gotten much larger than any other murder board he had crafted in such a little time.

Potter's participation in the murder of Graham Montague was out of the question. Though the evidence was manipulated to frame someone else, he could feel Potter's presence from the mere pictures of it. Unfortunately, he couldn't make a case with the only evidence being a gut feeling - regardless of whether that gut feeling is right or not. The Davis girl was sent to rot in Azkaban, and for a while, he had thought that Potter would get away with everything.

Then the attack at the Three Broomsticks happened, and once again, the boy was front and centre in this scandal. Granted, personally, he couldn't blame the boy for taking violent means in such a situation. It was self-defence, henceforth, not a crime. It was, however, the sheer brutality of the crime. Brutality such as the one he had only seen in crime scenes from violent, ruthless Death Eaters that raised the alarms in his head. For it was one thing for a fifteen-year-old boy to defend himself, and a whole other thing for him to mutilate his attackers without a shred of remorse, and even more frightening, the ease in which he did it.

A hero or a monster, he wasn't in charge of determining what the latest attack made him. He'd devoted his entire life to becoming an Auror, to protect the magical citizens of Britain and uphold the law to the best of his abilities. It wasn't his concern if Potter was doing what the majority considered morally right or morally wrong, it was his concern making sure Potter paid the price for whatever illegal actions he committed in doing so.

As such, besides Amelia's support on investigating the Potter boy, there weren't any other benefits towards the situation. It garnered more questions than answers, though it did wholly convince him of something.

Harry Potter did kill Graham Montague.

Dolohov and his men were hired by someone, though no one dared to say much more than that. Which meant that the Potter boy had gained some new and powerful enemies recently. But given the nature of the attack, it could have been a myriad of people behind it. It could be the Montagues seeking revenge for Graham. The Davises trying to kill Potter for framing Tracey. Or any other family which Potter had attacked recently, which meant just about all the Slytherins he put down along with Montague.

Questions about the Parkinson girl and Nott boy being involved with Potter and some others in a large conspiracy also rose. With the Order and the Death Eaters - and the hidden perpetrator of the Three Broomsticks attack - adding yet another conspiracy to the list was more irritating than anything. Especially since they had little to no information on any of the other conspiracies.

And then, just as things looked about to finally settle and give him time to fully investigate into the situation, the Longbottoms suddenly take custody over Potter out of the blue. While to most, the gesture was made in good will towards the grandson of her deceased daughter-in-law. But he knew Augusta well, the one was not one with a tender heart and the craving to help those in need. Acquiring magical guardianship of Harry Potter was a political and precise move from Madam Longbottom, which meant adding them as interested parties in his murder board.

And now… things only got more complicated. The Potter boy had escaped from the Longbottom's custody, which had been the perfect excuse that allowed him and Amelia to organize a countrywide manhunt for the boy. Granted, it was in order to bring him back to his new family, but finding the boy would surely lead him to some new and crucial evidence.

However, that was only just the first part of the new developments. The second one was the death of Cassius Warrington. A seventh-year Slytherin… one that had had a previous run in with Potter and who was close friends with Graham Montague.

Given the time frame in which Potter supposedly escaped from the Longbottoms, and given the fact that the boy has shown a previous mastery of apparition, it was possible that Potter was behind the death. Forced to rule it an accidental death given the circumstances, the lack of any evidence that Potter was at the Warrington home that night, and Amelia's remaining hesitation at branding Potter a murderer without being actually sure of his status, Rufus was left with his hands tied.

And now he was left with nothing to do but wait. He had no idea how ingenious the boy would be on the run. Though given his experiences with the boy over the past two months, something told him it was going to be harder than what most of his Aurors were thinking. The boy hadn't shown up at any of the usual places a runaway would be found. The house of the Nott boy and the Parkinson girl could be an option. They wouldn't manage to obtain warrants to search or even conduct thorough espionage on either of the families, especially given the lack of evidence.

Sending Aurors to sit by their homes would bring more attention to the covert operation than he wanted. He'd have to find the spare time to do so himself, and without getting caught, no less.

"Sir," there was a knock on the door before it opened and his secretary, Selina, peered inside. "There's someone here to see you. She claims to have evidence about one of your ongoing investigations."

"Which one?" He asked, grateful the murder board was cloaked as an empty board to anyone but himself.

"I don't know… she wouldn't say. But she says it's urgent."

"Fine, bring her in."

Running his hand through his desk gently, he sat on his chair and looked up just in time to see the girl walk in. It had been over a month since he'd last seen her, and he hadn't thought he'd be seeing her anytime soon. He didn't make his shock known, merely looked at the girl, who gulped as the door to the room shut behind her, before she squared her shoulders and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"Please, take a seat, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," the girl said primly, complying as she sat in front of him. "I won't waste more of your time than needed, sir. I know you're investigating into Harry Potter… and I would like to join your investigation."

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

I've gotten a lot of comments lately, so I haven't been able to answer them all as I used to, or even most, or even any of the last chapter lol. I'm swamped with work and school and writing this so I haven't had the time. I will try to respond to them though, as soon as I get the time. Still, I'd rather use what free time I have to write this rather than to answer reviews. Regardless, I read all of them and thank you for everyone that's been supportive or giving polite and constructive criticism! :)

Next chapter you guys are getting a Ron POV, a Sirius POV, and a pretty important set up for the events that will surround the entire next arc, so be excited! :)

By the time I'm posting this, I'm three chapters ahead and have started writing the next arc titled Year's End, and it's one I'm pretty excited about. If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)