CHAPTER FIFTY

Griphook and Rosberg arrived at Gringotts on January 1, 1945, at nine-thirty in the morning, both quietly wishing they hadn't requested a meeting with Lord and Lady Lestrange so early in the morning – especially considering that everyone had stayed up to meet the new year once more. Gringotts was already starting to come alive again with goblins, Cursebreakers and security coming back from their Yule holidays, many looking knackered from the evening before. While the humans at the bank hoped that their assignments and their schedules would be a little less hectic that day, and also for the rest of the year, the goblins hoped to Gleipnir that the coming year would be better than any of the years the 1940s had brought them already.

Griphook went to get himself some coffee at the meeting room Rosberg had booked; Rosberg had the same idea because he came in soon after the Accountant of the Peverell Vaults. "Morning, Griphook."

"Morning, Rosberg. So you did keep your eye on your mail this year?" Griphook quipped as he sipped his coffee.

"I was forced to," Rosberg growled irritably. "Lord Lestrange would see me removed from my position if some new information about his daughter arose and I wilfully did not answer mail about it."

"True," Griphook agreed readily. He regarded his colleague for a moment. "Have you heard anything more from Rava on Mistress Nymera's tests?"

Rosberg swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "I have tried to get updates but Rava either doesn't reply to any of my letters or practically sends me a Howler, telling me to be patient and not to disturb her or her Healers when they are running complex tests."

"I suspected as much," Griphook chuckled. "Rava doesn't like being disturbed during her research hours."

"Rava never likes be disturbed!" Rosberg pointed out with a snort. "She once sent a Howler to the King for asking a simple question while she was brewing."

"Touché," Griphook conceded.

It was at this precise moment that there was a sharp knock on the door and the door opened to reveal a disgruntled Ironfang, who clearly had been ordered to do his current job by the King. "Griphook, Rosberg, I have Lord and Lady Lestrange for your meeting," he stated with a growl.

"Thank you, my friend, show them in," Rosberg smirked a little.

Ironfang grunted, turned, and beckoned to the guests before leaving. Lord and Lady Lestrange, both looking tired, came in and gave only small smiles as they took their seats on some of the chairs around the table.

"Good morning, my Lord and Lady," Rosberg bowed his head, Griphook following in close suit. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?"

"I would be most obliged with a cup of tea, thank you, Rosberg," Lady Lestrange answered with a sharp exhale. "Green or chamomile if you have it."

"For me as well," Lord Lestrange added.

Once the two cups of green tea were prepared, the two goblins sat down and the atmosphere around them turned even more tense than it had somehow already been. Griphook decided to take the lead, seeing as the state of the two Nobles didn't affect him as much as it did Rosberg.

"We called this meeting to discuss who would, in theory, be the best person for us to contact on Lady Peverell's behalf in order to discuss the 'undisclosed legal matters' she is saddled with," Griphook stated, getting straight to the point. "Given that she has information regarding a secret that is not her family's own, we need to know the lawyers can be relied upon for their discretion and are trusted by all parties involved."

"Yes, indeed," Lord Lestrange agreed readily. "With that in mind, Rhiannon and I spent a great deal of time discussing the matter yesterday and thus, have prepared a list of names to consider," he continued as his wife gingerly reached into her winter mantel and pulled out a leaf of parchment.

The Lady Lestrange handed the list to Rosberg, who unfolded the list and he and Griphook immediately read through the names. Lady Lestrange went back to sipping her tea.

Regina and Alexander Avery

Patrick Underwood

George Norland

Ivy Loughborough

Harfang Longbottom

"Hmmmm," Griphook frowned at a few of the names on the list. "The Averys … their reputations are practically unrivalled, but I do not know how well acquainted her Ladyship is with the family-"

"Lady Hera is good friends with their heir, Malum," Lady Lestrange could barely stop herself from answering. She only realised that she spoke out of turn far too late and bowed her head in embarrassment. "I am so sorry, please forgive me."

"Nonsense, my Lady," Griphook reassured with a small smile. He turned his attention back to the task at hand. "I suppose I could suggest the Averys if Her Ladyship is acquainted with the heir."

"I would also suggest Patrick Underwood. His reputation might not be as prolific as the Averys but the Underwoods are vassals to House Nott," Rosberg pointed out. "I am sure since Heir Nott had been the original target, they would want to help to get to the bottom of it."

"That was our thought as well," Lord Lestrange concurred.

"Perhaps," Griphook answered curtly. He continued reading. "I do not know the Norlands well and I am very certain Lady Hera is not content to trust this with a stranger. She is secretive by nature, after all. The same goes for Ivy Loughborough. However, Harfang Longbottom is married to Callidora Black, and we are all aware of the close friendship between Orion Black and Her Ladyship."

"Mr. Longbottom is very reliable. He managed to deal with several difficult matters on our behalf in the past," Lord Lestrange informed carefully. "He is a fine gentleman and knows how to keep a confidence. His word is his bond, and I cannot say that of everyone."

"Then I will certainly suggest Mr. Longbottom," Griphook decided with a smile and got to his feet. "Well, there is no point in wasting time – time is of the essence after all. I will get onto the letter immediately and try and have this sorted before the children go back to Hogwarts. Thank you so much for taking the time to do this, my Lord, my Lady."

Rosberg and the Lestranges got to their feet and bowed respectfully as he left.

Lady Lestrange could not help but sigh, her breath quivering with nerves. "I do hope that the Lady Hera approves of any one of them. I cannot stand the suspense any longer, Mr. Rosberg."

Their Accountant bowed his head. "Indeed, my Lady," he responded diplomatically. "I am sure the Lady Hera will deal with the matter swiftly."

"Hopefully," Lady Lestrange commented coolly.

"My dear, I am sure that everything will be resolved soon enough," Lord Lestrange tried to reassure her. "We cannot do anything until the Lady Hera has made a decision, so let us not fret too much about that right now. Heron is meeting young Tom Riddle today for his birthday celebrations and-"

"Francis, I need to know who poisoned my child!" Lady Lestrange exclaimed, eyes flashing dangerously. "Sooner rather than later!"

Her husband and their Accountant winced as a crystal jug of water exploded with her wild magic. Lady Lestrange wilted a little. "I am … so sorry. I didn't mean …"

There was a moment of tense silence; Lady Lestrange began sobbing quietly. As for Lord Lestrange, all he could do was hug his wife. "I need to know too, my darling," he whispered soothingly. "I need to know too."

#########################################################################

Rollo was rather happy Ophelia had plied him with coffee and an Invigoration Potion that morning or he would have likely fallen asleep at his desk; not because the reports that were in front of him, but due to the fact Rollo had gone to bed late. His mother and Aunt Livia had insisted on the whole family staying awake as always, despite the fact knowing Rollo would need to return to work on New Year's Day. Katerina and Miles were also back at the office, both also recovering from their own New Year's celebrations.

As for the Head Cursebreaker, he did not understand why everyone always made such a fuss about New Year's Eve; during the time that Rollo has been spying for Grindelwald, he noticed that year in year out that nothing changed all too much. It was just either the same nonsense with a different coat of paint or nothing barely changed anyway. The number of reports, paperwork, and assignments he had to deal with also proved that quite thoroughly!

As Rollo started on his third file of the day, there was a knock on the door. "Rollo, are you busy? I am sorry to disturb but I have an update about Oscar and Satoshi," Miles called from outside.

Rollo frowned. That was quick.

"Come in, Miles!" Rollo called, setting the file aside for a moment.

Miles entered quickly, looking quite nervous but also a little relieved. "I am so sorry, I know you're busy – I was just going through my own paperwork and I found a letter from Oscar amongst my morning mail. I nearly overlooked it."

Rollo felt himself sit up and give his friend and colleague his full attention. "What did he write?" he asked eagerly.

"As part of their plan to try and lull the perpetrator in a false sense of security, the decision was made that Oscar will return home and Satoshi will remain in Japan," Miles responded, eyes dancing with trepidation. "Oscar is taking the one o'clock Portkey to South Africa and is then taking a Portkey from there back home."

Rollo could barely believe his ears. "Wait, what? Why is he going all the way to South Africa and then coming here? Why was I not informed?"

Miles' eyes darkened further at this point. "You haven't been reading the Daily Prophet lately, have you, my friend?" he asked, his tone slightly ominous to Rollo's ears.

"I always avoid the papers around my family," Rollo reminded his colleague. "For very obvious reasons."

"Indeed," Miles agreed snarkily before composing himself once more. "Well, I will tell you: because of what happened at the Malfoy Ball, Minister Spencer-Moon faced backlash, as you probably know, but what you might not have heard, is that one can now only get a Portkey into the country via one of the countries that are part of the Commonwealth."

"Oh my," Rollo's eyes bugged out. "So that means-"

"Our people in the field either have to find a way to get to one of the Commonwealth nations, or are completely stuck until King Ragnok can find a way for them to return home," Miles confirmed darkly.

"When … when did this pass? Why was I not informed earlier?!" Rollo's blood started to boil.

"It passed only a few days ago, and to be honest, we all only got informed via the Daily Prophet article," Miles admitted. "As for why no one informed you, I have not the foggiest idea. I think you may be summoned to a meeting with His Grace and the Council soon because I just passed the King's office and – well, he is not happy, let's put it like that."

Rollo shook his head in disbelief for a moment before looking back at his friend. "You will stay in touch with Oscar?"

"Of course," Miles smiled. "Katerina also has her mirror on her at all times."

"Good," Rollo sighed deeply. He shook his head despondently. "It's just one thing after the other, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Miles agreed as he headed towards the door. "Happy New Year; here is a new problem already!"

Rollo laughed coldly in agreement.

"I will leave you to your work again. I am sorry I could not bring you good news, but I will keep you up to date," Miles stated before closing the door behind him.

Rollo took a moment to process what Miles had just told him. Apparently he couldn't take a momentary break from real life and his duties for a single second! In hindsight, Rollo knew he should have probably read the papers too, but he was rather happy with taking a mental break.

If I am not careful, I could turn into Rosberg, Rollo commented internally.

The Head Cursebreaker forced himself to get back to work. His guards came in at around his lunch break with some coffee and a sandwich for him. His half an hour break ended ten minutes prematurely when Rollo heard the dreaded whirring of the telegram machine in his closet. His guards stopped gossiping immediately.

If the possibility of Cursebreakers getting stuck in foreign countries due to stricter travel measures passed by Minister Spencer-Moon was bad enough, Grindelwald decided to give Rollo a New Year's gift in the form of some new orders. Rollo sighed in exhaustion but got up to see what the maniac wanted – and if Queenie's orders would be backed up.

Sit under the tree and hear the crying songbird's aria tomorrow. Presents will arrive soon.

Oh for Merlin's sake.

Rollo pinched the bridge of his nose; it seemed that Queenie was not simply putting him to the test. Part of him hoped that the Dark Lord was still a little hungover from New Year's Eve celebrations like everyone else, but Rollo knew that was wishful thinking.

"What is it, Rollo? Have you received an order of crumpets for the Dark Lord?" one of his guards sneered.

"If only," Rollo responded dryly. "Would one of you fetch Goldheart here, please? He needs to see this."

Both of the guards glared at him, exchanged a look but complied to his request. Goldheart responded very quickly; the Head of Security had gotten there in such a short time that Rollo wondered if the goblin had used some form of Apparation or something.

"All right, Mr. Rowle, what have we got?" Goldheart sounded so jovial that one would think they were invited to a State banquet instead of having to deal with orders sent by a dangerous Dark wizard.

"Another order regarding the 'songbird'," Rollo answered with an exhausted sigh. "I am supposed to also get 'presents' to use no doubt during the meeting."

"What does 'sit under the tree'?" Goldheart immediately asked.

"A public place of my choosing," Rollo responded wryly. "I haven't been asked to question an informant in years, and I still have no clue who this 'songbird' is."

Goldheart read the telegram again and then frowned. "Hmmm … oh! There is an adjective added. 'Crying songbird'. That is interesting."

Rollo frowned. A 'crying songbird'?

Perhaps it wasn't an adjective but a name? That begged that question, what kind? There were no goblins with names that referred to crying or mourning. None of his Cursebreakers' names had a meaning relating to crying … Rollo didn't know anyone with a name that referred to lamentation.

Wait.

Lamentation. Rollo suddenly paled. There was a pureblood family with the name Lament, and they were not the friendliest bunch. They were anti-Muggle, anti-Muggleborn, hostile to half bloods and they wanted a separate magic school for the Muggleborns and the half-bloods so that they didn't share the same space as purebloods. Not many pureblood or Noble families wanted anything to do with them because of some of their vile and repulsive ideas, also concerning elves and Dark creatures.

Plus, it also didn't help that Neil Lament was recently expelled from Hogwarts for attacking Oizys Avery and three familiars, including Sigyn. Rollo despised his cousin's cat with a passion like most people, but no one in their right mind would actually do anything to hurt the Russian blue or any other familiar for that matter!

Well, apparently the eldest Lament had been that mad.

But what in Merlin's name could those vipers know about the Lady Hera that Grindelwald was desperate to know?

"Rollo?" Goldheart knocked the Cursebreaker out of his train of thought. "What is it? You look really pale. Do you need a glass of water?"

Rollo swallowed audibly. "I think I know who I have been ordered to talk to," he admitted, wincing a little at how disbelieving his tone sounded.

"Who?" his handler wanted to know immediately.

Rollo shook his head despondently before answering, "Goldheart, does the name Lament mean anything to you?"

Apparently it did, because the face of the Head of Security scrunched up and an ugly sneer appeared on his countenance. "Ill-mannered wand-wielders who have a gross sense of entitlement that frankly make me want to kick them to the curb the moment they enter the building," came the candid response from the goblin. "The woman is worse than her husband, somehow. A right nasty piece of work."

"Yes, she is," Rollo agreed grimly.

He fortunately had not many interactions with Esther Lament because that woman was a vicious harpy, plain and simple. In fact, Rollo had met with hags that were much more amiable than the woman in question.

"You are not suggesting that the 'crying songbird' is a Lament, are you?" Goldheart's eyes started bugging out of its sockets, comically enough.

"It is one of the only families I know with a name that refers to crying or mourning," Rollo responded darkly. "For the Lady Hera's sake, I hope I am wrong."

Goldheart did not know what to say for a good few seconds. "Where are you going to meet this informant?" he wanted to know.

"I was thinking somewhere public but private," Rollo answered. "I was thinking perhaps the White Wyvern pub in Knockturn Alley? Given the Laments and their prejudices, it would be the safest choice to ensure that they actually do show up for the meeting."

"How are you going to send the invitation?" Goldheart asked curiously.

"Anonymously. Naturally I have my own signature identifying me as part of Grindelwald's Alliance," Rollo scoffed at this, "and I know where Bert and Perrie the hawks reside. Sending it won't be the issue. The issue is if Lament is going to take the risk to come and meet me."

"You think he or she might not?" one of his guards spoke up for the first time.

"I think as someone who secretly supports Grindelwald and his ideologies, he or she would be very careful and very suspicious about those who claim to think the same or want to talk about that subject, especially if they have a good head on their shoulders," Rollo responded candidly. "Because at present, anyone who is found to agree with the ideas of Grindelwald or Adolf Hitler are arrested by the Aurors, kept in Azkaban for trial and if found guilty, put straight into the maximum security section of the prison where the only guards there are Dementors," Rollo reminded them.

"Ah yes. One of your Ministers better decisions," the other guard stated with a grin.

"I still am of the opinion Minister Spencer-Moon should have done something similar to M.I.19's M Room operation," Goldheart stated thoughtfully.

"Erm … what?" Rollo blanched.

Goldheart cleared his throat. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. So, regarding the execution of the orders, I will leave it in your hands, Mr. Rowle. However I will insist that your guards be present in the room when you two meet."

Rollo frowned. "You don't think two goblins in the White Wyvern won't raise a few eyebrows?"

"I assure you, no one will notice us," his left guard smirked.

"Very well," Rollo knew better than to argue. "I will arrange the meeting."

The Head Cursebreaker sometimes really did hate his life. The New Year was already getting off to a shitty start and his mood only soured even more when he came back to find a vial of Veritaserum and a strange pin. The pin came with a note:

You cannot afford to look shabby – Aurem.

Great. Now he was also Queenie Goldstein's dress-up doll. Rollo already wanted to start drinking and it was not even lunch time yet.

####################################################################

Harry, Altair and Tom awoke at nine-thirty almost at the exact same time. The triad had slept together in Tom's room without the adults making a fuss about it; while the boys slept well, Harry had once again been on Psychopomp Sorting duty. Athenaïs and Andras came to sleep in the room as well. Thanks to Hypnos knowing exactly when they would wake, Melinoë already had their coffee ready for them and brought it up for them.

"I will miss this," Altair commented the moment Melinoë had shut the door behind her.

"Indeed. I doubt Hogwarts house elves approve of beverages in dorms usually," Harry laughed before sipping her first cuppa of the day.

"True, but I wasn't talking about the Hogwarts elves or the coffee in bed," Altair responded, his grin retracting in size. "Mother and I have to go home today, just in case Father comes home. We can't risk him knowing that we were not languishing at home, being miserable."

Tom and Harry's expressions darkened considerably.

"That man needs to be taken down a peg or two," Tom stated coldly.

"Agreed," Harry concurred readily. "When do we go back to Hogwarts again?"

"January 9th," Altair answered gloomily. "I am stuck at home with him for another week and a bit."

"I am getting Arc to get you out of there," Harry decided. She then grinned and tried to cheer the situation up a little bit. "Are you boys up for continuing our little game or is that too early in the morning?"

Altair lit up. "Are you kidding? I found a dragon guarding a princess and they seem to be friends. I want to know more!"

Tom laughed. "I am not sure if I want to know where my story is going with the strange little girl but I am curious."

"OK, let's start with you then, Tom," Harry smirked. "Last we left off you accepted the girl's hospitality. So she shows you a guest apartment in the house while asking, 'what would you like for dinner? My friends are good at cooking.'"

"'I could eat a horse; you pick'," Tom answered with a grin. "'Who are your friends? The wisps?'"

"'Oh no, the wisps can't cook! These are different friends; they have helped to look after me since Mama and Papa died. Shall we have spaghetti then? I love pasta!'"

"Different friends?" Tom frowned.

"House fairies," Harry decided to clarify for him.

"Oh, you mean like Roman 'house gods'?" Altair lit up. Harry nodded.

"I agree to dinner," Tom decided.

"Good! Right, Altair, Sophie welcomes you warmly as her dragon friend looks through the window. 'I am so glad you are not here to 'rescue' me! I am Sophie, the king's daughter. Who are you?'"

Altair grinned. "'I am Altair, nice to meet you. Why are you in a tower with a dragon guarding it?'"

"'Oh that is a long story! Would you like something to drink? We know how to make a good cup of tea'."

"'Errmmm … yes please'."

"'Aksa, you heard him! My friend makes the best tea around. Anyway, the reason I am in this tower is quite simple. I am the king's only child so naturally knights and noblemen keep seeking my hand. Well, I got thoroughly fed up with it.' Sophie stirs her tea. 'I befriended Aksa on a walk, much like you, and asked her to help me to pick a decent suitor – by getting them to 'rescue' me. Of course, whenever a knight comes Aksa describes him to me to see if he is a good match and if I say no … well, he turns into a crisp.'"

Altair paled at hearing that; Tom started laughing. "I like this girl already!"

"'How many have turned into a crisp?'" Altair dared to ask.

"'Twenty,' Sophie answers with a satisfied sigh. 'I must say I have been a little cooped up. Would you like to play a game, Altair?'"

"'What kind of game?'" Altair looked worried for his character.

"'Just a game of chess. Nothing too sinister,' Sophie smiles angelically."

"Angelic my pinkie toe," Tom commented.

"Can we go back to Tom and the creepy kid now?" Altair begged, looking comically terrified, causing Harry to laugh.

"Very well. So, the little girl takes you to the dining room where two plates of spaghetti are waiting for you. 'Do you like to cook, mister?' she asks you as you take your seats."

"'I do not. I am not very good at it either,'" Tom chuckled. "'How long have you been alone?'"

"'I don't know. A while,' the little girl answers as she twirled her spaghetti onto her fork. 'Do you have a mama and papa?'"

Tom smiled sadly. "'No, they are both dead.'"

"'Just like me! Do you have brothers and sisters?'"

Tom grinned. "'Unfortunately not.'"

"'Well, I can be your sister if you want. I have always wanted a brother,' the girl says with a smile. 'My name is Amalia. What is yours?'"

"'Marvolo,'" Tom looked petrified. "I am not giving this girl my real name! I am not an idiot."

Altair was hiding under the covers in fright while Harry was laughing at their genuine fear; Athenaïs, Andras and Frey watched them in amusement. Their humans really were strange sometimes.

"Would you like another break to catch your breath, boys?" Harry teased.

"Yes please," Altair squeaked, still hiding under the covers.

"I think that might be wise," Tom gulped. "It is too early in the morning for a horror story."

"OK then," Harry swigged the last of her coffee down and swung her legs out of bed. "I am going to go and take a bath. If I am going to have to put up with Malum and Felix's teasing I am going to have to charge my social battery."

"Awww," Altair pouted, finally resurfacing from under the duvet. "You won't stay for five more minutes?"

Harry rolled her eyes, smiling fondly at him. "I am ready to start the day, lazy bones. I think you two should also take a shower; it will wake you up."

She dodged Tom and Altair's attempts to grab her and drag her back in bed, laughing, with Athenaïs hot on her heels. Andras and Frey laughed at their antics; they howled and hissed even more when Altair almost fell out of bed but Tom caught him, both boys laughing.

"She is right, we do need to shower," Tom concurred once he recovered.

"I know; I just wanted some more time in bed before I have to deal with Caius and my father's nonsense," Altair replied bluntly.

Tom smiled sadly and kissed him on the forehead. "I wish you didn't need to go back, just because the man has a vendetta against you and your mother."

"The only consolation is that Ava will be back tonight too," Altair sighed. "And I can always pretend that my targets for knife throwing are my father and the Trollop." He smirked coldly. "I would love to see dear old Papa's face when he realises I am not as weak and harmless as he thinks I am."

"Thanks to Harry and her guardians," Tom grinned and sobered quickly. He swallowed a little. "Altair?"

Altair cocked his head slightly to the right. "Yes, my Moon?"

Tom swallowed. He hoped that he would not sound as mad as he thought he did with the next question. "This is going to sound strange, but have you ever noticed Harry, Henry Burke and Melanie using a nickname around Thomas Burke?"

"What, Tosti?" Apparently Altair had. "Yes. Yes, I have."

"Do you remember what Harry and the Three Brothers said when she offered us to meet Death?" Tom continued.

"That they know him as Thanatos," Altair responded easily, his eyes then widening almost comically. "And that they have a nickname for him: Tosti, which he apparently hates."

Tom nodded despondently.

Altair frowned thoughtfully. "But why would they call Thomas that nickname? Unless …" It was at this point that he sat bolt upright on the bed, looking paler than the freshly fallen snow outside. "Oh Merlin! You don't think … you don't think we have been spending Yule with the God of Death?!"

"I have no idea what to think anymore," Tom felt he could admit, his heart beating incredibly fast. "Harry is the Mistress of Death, and at the same time, it would make sense that Death would want to keep a very close eye on her and make sure that she is safe. While I hope that it isn't the case … nothing is ever normal around a Peverell."

Tom felt himself shake a little; Altair noticed and decided to try and distract his lover from the trepidation that was slowly setting in by imprinting light, loving kisses and nips onto his neck. Tom soon found himself focusing on controlling his moans rather than his shocked realisation that he could have been spending time with the God of Death without knowing it.

"I say we ask Harry," Altair purred in between nips. "She offered us to meet him anyway."

"Mmmhmm," was all Tom could answer.

Altair chuckled, laying a quick kiss on Tom's lips. "Lost for words, my dear?" he teased.

"Not yet," Tom managed to say, gathering enough breath.

"Hmmm, seems I am not doing my job well enough, then," Altair's hazel eyes gleamed with mischief.

"We need to shower," Tom reminded him.

That mischievous glint only intensified. "I know," a Cheshire cat grin spread onto Altair's countenance. "I just don't fancy using my own shower."

Tom's eyes widened comically at the implication. "But … that is a major courting faux-pas-"

"Yes, I know. The issue is, I no longer care," Altair answered bluntly, his hands beginning to snake under Tom's shirt. "We took a bath together even before we were courting – yes, I know we had other people around us. Mallory has broken several courting rules with every single one of his girlfriends, Lucretia Black had no issue breaking one rule after the other in order to scare suitors away and I am sick of worrying about being judged for wanting to be with the two people I love more than my own life!"

Every rational synapse in Tom's brain was telling him this was a bad idea; if anyone discovered what the pair had done, it would possibly get them into trouble and Lord Nott may be spiteful enough to use it as a pretext to withdraw his approval for the match. However, Tom was just as fed up of having to conform to someone else's ideas about what was appropriate between a Sacrum Vinculum triad; there wasn't even official regulations on the bond because it was so rare!

"All right, let's shower together. Just this once," Tom could not stop himself from answering. Altair lit up; Tom really loved how those hazel eyes shone.

Altair let him sit up and Tom was practically on automatic pilot as he followed the one half of his heart to his bathroom. The Heir of Slytherin tried to distract himself from his nerves and excitement by starting to get the water running. However, it seemed that his countenance was betraying him.

"Tom," Altair's authoritative tone made Tom close his eyes as a pang of desire hit him again. "What's wrong?"

Tom, quickly removing his shirt before he chickened out, laughed shortly. "I am worried that … we won't be able to stay in control."

He sensed Altair approach. Tom almost sighed with relief as his lover cupped his cheek and made him look at him.

"We will," Altair reassured gently. "I know we will."

Perhaps it was the confidence in Altair's tone and eyes, or perhaps it was because for once Tom wanted to indulge in the desires he had been having for months – Tom threw caution to the wind and waved his hand at his bathroom door, promptly locking it.

########################################################################

"Damn it," Arcturus muttered to himself as another of his daggers missed the dead middle of the target he had set up at one of the trees at the back of the grand garden of Rosier House. True, there was not much space for a proper shooting and throwing range in their garden but the one Arcturus had managed to make sufficed well enough.

The Rosier heir had been up a while, mainly because he had woken up early but also because he could not get back to sleep due to more than a few things weighing on his mind. The cold air also helped to focus. Arcturus was worried about the amount of times Druella went to spend time with Walburga Black and Artemis Potter; he could clearly see that she had something on her mind but was keeping it to herself. Arcturus knew his relationship with his twin sister was not the best, but he desperately wanted to go back to the days where they would tell each other everything.

Plus, Altair had not called in a while, which annoyed Arc a lot, and both of his parents had started looking at potential pureblood heiresses for Arc to consider courting, which also added to the Rosier heir's nerves. He didn't want to consider a future bride anytime soon, especially one he had never met.

Arcturus drew another blade and was about to throw it when there was the sound of something zooming through the air; he turned sharply around to see an arrow fly towards the second target, lodging itself almost in the dead centre.

"Morning, brother!"

Arcturus huffed as he turned around fully to the person behind him. "Do not scare me like that, Dru," he protested.

"Do not be a wuss," Druella rolled her eyes as she fetched her arrow with a grin. "You were up earlier than normal."

"So are you, especially when you are going to train with Potter and McGonagall," Arcturus shot back. "I do not see why I should explain myself to you."

"I am not training with them today," Druella countered easily. She regarded him with an unblinking look. "You're snappier than normal today, Arc. What have you got on your mind that has made you get up so early after yesterday to throw daggers?"

"As if you would give me a straight answer," Arcturus retorted coldly, turning back and letting the dagger in his hand fly. He grinned with satisfaction as it hit the dead centre. Finally! Caius' advice was really paying off.

Arc decided that he owed Caius a drink for his patient explanations; Dolohov had taken to knife throwing much easier than Arcturus had and had always been prompt in answering any questions he had sent via owl.

"What is that supposed to mean?" his sister demanded as she fired another arrow with much greater ease than before. Arcturus scowled a little to himself when the arrow hit the target dead on again.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," Arcturus rounded on her, eyes flaring. "You have been keeping secrets from me. I don't know about what or who, but I know all your tells, dear sister. You have also been spending more time with the Blacks than normal – what is going on?"

Druella regarded him coolly. "As if you would believe me if I told you."

"Why don't you try me?" Arcturus suggested with a tone embedded with snark, drawing another blade and letting it fly. Inner ring hit; he scowled to himself at that.

There was a moment of silence; the Rosier heir was almost resigned that he was not going to get an answer from his sister. Scoffing, he drew another dagger.

"It's about Harry," Druella eventually confessed.

That made Arcturus stop and turn to face her, his eyes wide. "What? What's happened? Did Altair and Tom lose control with her?"

Druella's cheeks flushed instantly. "No! At least not as far as I know and I am pretty sure Harry would have told Wally and myself about it. No, it is not really something that has happened to Harry. It's more about something that Harry's … being."

"You are making no sense, Dru," Arcturus informed her, cocking his head to one side.

"Yeah, well, I am still wrapping my own head around it, so forgive me if I am as clear as mud," Druella huffed, kicking the ground with her snow boots. She exhaled sharply. "Walburga and I noticed Orion acting strangely-"

Arcturus could not help himself; he snorted with laughter, letting another dagger fly.

"Shut up!" Druella laughed shortly too. "Anyway, Orion was acting strangely so we decided to search his room to see if we could find anything and … well, we discovered some books and notes he had been reading and taking about the Peverell Family Magic, Soul Magic, Death Magic. Wally and I found it strange but we put two and two together – Orion believes that Harry might be the Mistress of Death and … I think he may be onto something."

Arcturus could hardly believe his ears. "Mistress of Death …" he repeated under his breath.

"It does make sense," Druella continued as she began pacing. "I mean, Harry survived the Killing Curse; she was Marked by Death. She has been hunted; she knows where the Hallows are. Harry can appear and disappear in thin air; she's a Soul Mage, for Morgana's sake! It would explain everything that is so weird around her."

Arcturus, who had listened intently to her reasoning, could not help but begin nodding in agreement. Yes, it would explain why Harry was so strange and why little made sense around her, but it would mean accepting that there may be some truth to the fairy tale that had scared Arcturus for years as a child.

Then again, Muggles did not believe in magic. The fairy tale was thus plausible.

"Have you asked Harry about your theory yet?" Arcturus wanted to know.

Druella scoffed. "I don't think Wally and I need to. Orion is meeting her tomorrow; we will get our answers soon enough."

Arcturus considered something that made him begin to laugh. Druella looked as though he was going mad.

"Do you need a Calming Draught, brother?" she asked sassily.

"No," Arcturus answered lightly. "I was just wondering when we became so blasé about finding out that our friend may be a semi-immortal from a fairy story."

"Yes, indeed, I am surprised that you are not determined to ostracise her again," Druella quipped easily, making Arc swallow a little with guilt. His twin smirked coldly. "Don't think I will allow you to forget that quickly, Arc."

"No, I didn't expect you to," Arcturus reassured with a small, weak smile.

"So we are clear," Druella's expression softened a little. "Are you going to Tom's birthday outing today?"

"I have been invited, so yes. It would be rude to not attend without a sufficient reason not to," Arcturus answered. His brow furrowed a little. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Druella shrugged.

"I even have a gift for him," Arcturus added.

Druella grinned. "I know, I have seen it. Tom is absolutely going to hate it!"

"Can you sound a little less gleeful, please?"

"Nope," Druella replied happily, popping the 'p'. The smirk didn't fade from her countenance either. "How about a small competition? Best five out of five? Loser has to forfeit twenty Galleons."

Arcturus grinned. "You're on, Dru! Prepare to lose."

###########################################################################

Harry was thankful that neither Perenelle nor Amaris kicked up a fuss at her wearing her usual more boyish outfit and her new leather jacket from Loreley and Abraxas for Tom's birthday outing with the Knights. She really could not deal with pestering purebloods after receiving a letter from Griphook with the list of lawyers that the Lestranges had suggested could apparently be trusted.

Patrick Underwood! No doubt a relation of the Trollop; there was no way to Valhalla, Annwn or any other Underworld or Otherworld that Harry was going to consider that man for a single moment. It was all she could do not to start boiling with anger at the very idea she would ask an Underwood to be trusted with investigating their own.

As for the Loughboroughs, Harry had never heard of them – she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but every one of her senses told her that it was not a good idea to trust an unknown element with this business. Even if they did come recommended by the Lestranges; loyalty of lawyers only went so far.

As for the Averys, Harry was already planning to see if Malum could give a bit more of a personal insight into them; the journals could only give a limited amount of information. Malum may be biased but he would know his parents' practices better than anyone. Harfang Longbottom was also a very good candidate, especially since Orion had given him a very candid and glowing review.

The Traveller was forced to grind that train of thought to a halt as Altair handed her cloak, gloves and scarf to her after she had dealt with her boots. Harry gave him a quick smile in thanks, reinforcing her Occlumency shields just in case anyone got any funny ideas. Altair noticed something off – it was written all over his face that he sensed her tension and slight anger – but he didn't push the matter.

The triad soon Apparated to London, all three bracing themselves for what was about to happen. They arrived in a small alley next to the Leaky Cauldron, ignored by the bustling and chatting Muggles.

"Who do you think is going to be the one to make the most fuss?" Altair commented before they entered.

"My money is on Malum," Harry smiled wryly.

"Felix is possibly a close second," Tom added with a sharp exhale as he pushed to door to the Leaky Cauldron open.

As always, the pub was filled with chatting witches and wizards, friends and family still celebrating the New Year over pub food and alcoholic beverages. When Tom the innkeeper saw them, he gave them a cheery wave, especially since he recognised Harry. The Traveller waved back but her future Consorts had no idea how to respond. The boys were saved by embarrassment by a call.

"Ah! There he is! You know how to keep your guests waiting, Mr. Riddle!" Malum called from a large table in the back, waving the three of them over. Felix, Caius, Arcturus, Heron and Abraxas also had their heads turned in their direction; Felix and Arcturus were also waving for them to join.

"You are the one who arranged this, Malum. They are more your guests than mine," Tom answered back easily as he, Altair and Harry joined the group, with Tom sitting between Heron and Felix, Altair between Arc and Heron, and Harry between Malum and Caius.

"Got anything good from the future in-laws, Tom?" Felix asked with a teasing grin.

Tom could not help grinning, which made Harry smile. "Absolutely."

"Are we not going to get even a clue as to what they gave you?" Felix started to pout when Tom refused to tell them what he had been given.

"My guardians gave him books on Parsel Magic that used to belong to one of his ancestors," Harry supplied with a smirk.

The Knights lit up at hearing that; Tom flushed red in embarrassment.

"No way!" Malum's eyes danced.

"Of course the Burkes would know where to track down Gaunt grimoires," Caius huffed. "Thomas Burke is a book collector after all and his brother teaches History at a Muggle university."

"Still, Parsel Magic is really rare," Heron grinned.

"And it means that they really like you," Arcturus added.

"Yes," Tom readily agreed with a short laugh. "Somehow."

"And you thought that you could dissuade them from making you a cake," Altair teased. "They went all-out yesterday."

Heron then turned his attention onto Altair and Harry. "So, what did you two give Tom?" he wanted to know.

"Mind your own business," was Altair's cheeky comment, smiling rather smugly.

"Not telling," Harry agreed.

"Oh come on!" Felix begged. "Don't be so mean! Just a clue. Please?"

Harry rolled her eyes at his antics. She exchanged a look with Tom, who was silently begging her to make Felix stop his prying. The Lady Regnant stifled her laughter by biting her bottom lip. She coughed, pretending to clear her throat.

"A locket," was all she decided to divulge.

Caius snorted. "A locket? Really?"

"Caius, shut up," Heron advised, seeing the darkening looks in Tom and Altair's eyes.

The Russian held up his hands placatingly. "I am just surprised! It isn't really a present one normally gives a man. I know that there are different rules with the Sacrum Vinculum – there is no need to bite my head off, Heron!"

"Don't worry, it's not just any old locket," Harry decided to be nice and give an extra clue, smirking with satisfaction.

"I should say not!" Altair agreed, chuckling.

Arcturus looked at the both of them with narrowed eyes. "Why do I have a feeling that you two are hiding things again?"

"Because we are," Harry answered brightly, turning the beverage menu over. "Oooo hot chocolate. That sounds really good right now."

A waiter came to get the orders for Harry, Tom and Altair's beverages at this point.

"Speaking of gifts and courting, I have been hearing some very interesting news," Felix grinned, turning his attention onto Heron as soon as the waiter left. "You and Artemis have been spending a lot of time together over the holidays."

"That is perfectly normal during a courting," Heron huffed, cheeks turning a little pink.

"True, but it isn't always perfectly normal to snog your Lady before she leaves instead of kissing her knuckles," Felix looked giddily happy as he relayed this, clearly enjoying Heron's embarrassment.

"No way!" Caius laughed.

"Nymera saw everything, and she told Oizys, who told Felix and me," Malum explained, also in possession of one Cheshire cat grin as the waiter returned with Tom, Altair and Harry's drinks.

"May I remind you, gentlemen, that this was inevitable during a courting pair who have genuine feelings for each other?" Harry stated dryly, trying to save what was left of her friend's dignity; Heron was very tomato red. "You are all acting as though a Lord has been caught in a broom cupboard with his wife's lady-in-waiting."

Tom, Altair and Arcturus broke at that. Felix had the decency to look a little sheepish.

"But Heron has never kissed a lady before," Malum told her, still grinning. "We thought that we would never see that day!"

Heron, still bright red, countered with, "I thought I would never see the day that the Averys and Rowles get into more serious negotiations about setting you up with Ophelia!"

"Since when?!" Felix perked up instantly, as did Arcturus and Caius. Abraxas shook his head at his friends' antics.

Malum was now the one who was the colour of fresh strawberries. "Not too long ago," was all he was able to answer.

Harry lit up. "Well I think we can assume that Ophelia is not averse to it because I am pretty certain if she had been, your family would have been inundated with owls with hexed or jinxed letters or she would have pranked her parents into submission or something. She got rid of Ygraine's former Goyle suitor after all."

"That is good news indeed!" Caius laughed.

"Malum has a chance – have your parents decided on what kind of courtship yet?" Arcturus wanted to know. "Will you guys get a Presentation or will you go about the taking-trips-to-Hogsmeade route?"

The Avery heir spluttered, utterly flummoxed. "I … I don't know! Nothing has been decided fully yet because our parents are still in negotiation with each other about Ophelia's potential dowry."

"Oh for goodness' sake," Harry huffed, sipping her hot chocolate. "A dowry? Remind me, did we accidentally mess with time and go to 1645?"

"It is antiquated," Arcturus agreed. "Unfortunately for families who do not have a Noble rank, a dowry is one of the few ways they can gain more respect and standing within society. The grander the dowry that gets paid to them, the more people pay attention – publicity for the families of both the bride and groom, essentially. One can show off their wealth and the other can prove they are important enough to be considered a match."

"Does Lucretia have a dowry?" Harry asked, the thought suddenly popping into her head.

"I suspect she does. A rather substantial one," Felix informed.

"Most prominent heiresses do, especially if they are the daughters of Lord and Lady Regnants," Malum continued.

"Druella had one too," Arcturus added with a sigh. "I half suspect that was the only reason Pollux Black paid her any attention what so ever."

Do I need one? was the question that suddenly began swimming around in Harry's head. She quietly hoped not.

Fortunately no one seemed to notice her creeping dread because Felix then turned to Abraxas. "Don't think we haven't heard anything about your father considering a formal alliance with House White."

"I am sure you have, my friend," the Malfoy heir drawled, sighing deeply.

"With Ygraine White?" Caius' eyes bugged out. "You must be joking!"

"Well, the Whites only have one heiress, Caius," Harry quipped, causing him to flush a little. She turned back to Abraxas with a smile. "So your father is listening to you. I am glad to hear it."

"Sorry, what?" Heron frowned.

"My father lined up families with heiresses I have frankly no interest in at all. Either they came from families who were voracious social climbers, far beneath the standing of the Malfoy name, or there is an age difference between us that concerns me," Abraxas huffed, sounding like he was talking about the state of the roads rather than potential courting prospects. "I was getting rather fed up with it and during the Ball, I tried to escape the insipid nonsense. That was when Harry, Potter, Druella and Loreley found me and Harry suggested something that wasn't entirely stupid."

"Thank you," Harry commented dryly, attempting not to smile.

"You suggested your own friend?" Arcturus could barely believe what he was hearing.

"Yes," Harry shrugged.

"Why would you do that?" Altair cocked his head.

"Thank you, Nott," Abraxas commented snarkily.

"Practicality, mostly," Harry admitted. "Ygraine is someone I care about and ideally I would love her to be able to choose her own husband but apparently your society is determined to try and make people miserable so I tried to make sure that Abraxas could have a wife he could trust and potentially care about and Ygraine to not be saddled with a complete stranger."

"Merlin," Arcturus grinned. "Perhaps Dolohov and I should enlist your help, given how Mulciber's head has been turned by War."

Felix scowled at him for that; Arc ignored him. Caius suddenly developed an interest in his empty glass.

Harry chuckled, trying to make sure no one would start paying attention to Caius' clear hurt at that statement. "I think the both of you have enough family members who are putting fish in front of you left right and centre. Besides, I don't know enough about the heiresses from other Houses to say which would make decent matches your parents would approve of."

"Fair enough," Caius managed to comment.

Fortunately the topic soon moved onto something much safer – the Knights giving their gifts to Tom – and while the group was focused on watching Tom's reaction to their presents, searching for approval, Harry found her eyes drawing to the stairs that went upstairs to the guest rooms of the inn.

The Traveller's verdant eyes widened as she spotted Meg, followed by two gentlemen whom Harry assumed were Ghost and Goliath – considering one of them had a giant stature and big, muscley arms that made him stick out in the crowd very easily, coming down the stairs. Very quickly, Harry ducked behind the menu card and tried to hide herself in the corner as much as possible.

She really did not have the energy to deal with the Hit Wizards at that moment. But what surprised her more, was that they were still in England. Harry had assumed that the three of them had gone back to Europe to chase down Queenie and Vida.

Why were they still here?

Was it for Ambrose and Bradley?

Her behaviour had been noted though.

"Harry-"

"Sssssh!" Harry snapped, cutting Altair off. "Tell me when they're gone."

"Who?" Arcturus sounded incredulous.

"The three who just came down the stairs."

She felt the group turn their heads, shifting in their seats a little.

"Who are they?" Malum wanted to know.

"The Hit Wizards who came knocking that one time for answers about what happened to Ambrose and Bradley," Harry replied easily. "Meg, Ghost and Goliath. They had been ordered to capture Queenie and Vida at the Ball, but failed – now they are still here and I cannot think why."

"You think they will bother you again?" Caius guessed.

"They were pretty persistent the last time. I would not put it past them," Harry answered easily.

"Going … going … gone," Altair announced.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as she sat up and put the menu away, her friends shaking their heads at her antics. They sometimes forgot that Harry was not like other Lady Regnants, no matter how much etiquette and decorum training had been pushed onto her. She took a few deep breaths and was soon joining in the Gauge Tom's Reaction game that the group was doing when Arc gave him his present.

Muggle books.

Harry couldn't help herself; she broke. As did Altair, Felix and Malum, especially after reading the notes that came with the books clearly from Orion Black about Tom having "his own copies of the books now so Harry doesn't need to switch the books again".

Tom attempted to look as infuriated as possible but even he was having a difficult time trying to look angry. Seeing her lover like that almost made Harry forget that she had a mission to complete.

Malum started to get up. "I will go and pay for the drinks. It is on me."

"I will come with you," Harry stated immediately. "I need to ask you something?"

"What is it?" Felix frowned. "Maybe we can help?"

"Not this time," Harry replied, feeling a little sorry that she had to be so blunt. "I need to talk to an Avery about an Avery."

Heron had caught on immediately, judging by the look of anticipation that had come onto his countenance. As for Malum, he simply shrugged and allowed Harry to join him in the line to pay.

"So, how can I help?" Malum asked jovially.

"Your parents are lawyers, and from what I read, pretty good ones," Harry got straight to the point. "I was wondering what their view on client confidentiality is and if they are willing to take new clients."

Malum clearly had not expected this because he looked at her as though she had asked him his opinion on women's shoes or undergarments. He swallowed a little, still looking at her unblinkingly for a moment.

"May I ask what this is about?" he finally managed to inquire.

"I'm afraid not. Mainly because it concerns matters that are highly sensitive," Harry replied truthfully. "Matters that for once do not concern my family but two other powerful Houses. I need some legal advice on something I have discovered – that is all I am willing to say."

Malum nodded. "OK," he stated. "Well, my parents consider client confidentiality as their sacred bond, almost akin to a kind of religious vow." He snorted at this. "They take every case they can get: from people accused of thievery to murder to suspected spies – just as long as they have the money. I don't know the details of their cases but I do remember sometimes eavesdropping on them during their late nights when I was little. It was like listening to Generals planning a battle." The Avery heir chuckled quietly.

It was their turn to pay at this point. Once Malum was done and they moved aside to let the people behind them pay for their drinks and food, Harry asked the question that was the deal breaker to her. "Can I trust them?"

Malum looked at her unblinkingly. "You know as well as I that no one can be trusted fully when it comes to law and politics."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And, if you need to get something off your chest, you can always come to me," Malum smiled warmly. "You know that, don't you?"

The Lady Regnant could not resist smiling back. "I know," she reassured. "The same goes for you."

Malum actually sighed with relief at hearing this.

"Malum, Harry! Come on; let's see if we can get into Prestige!" Felix called excitedly. Malum and Harry already saw the reluctance of both Tom and Abraxas and the excitement of everyone else.

"Oh boy," was all Harry could comment.

"My sentiments exactly," Malum chuckled, eyes dancing with mirth. He then offered his arm with a grin. "May I escort you back into the madness, my Lady?"

Harry tried to keep her own grin off her face as she took his arm. "You may, my good sir."

######################################################################

"Good evening, my Lady. How was your holiday?" was the very surprised question from Ava when Lady Nott, Altair and Andras came home not too long after Tom, Harry and Altair had returned from London. Amaris had been worried about the fact they were a little later due to Felix Mulciber's antics but was relieved that they had come home before dinner.

"The most pleasant and enjoyable holiday I have had in a very long time," Amaris answered honestly as Ava took their cloaks and the elves took their luggage. She swallowed a little. "Has … Mattheo returned home yet?"

Ava's face hardened instantly. "He has not, my Lady. We all returned yesterday to a near empty house, much to our own surprise." The lady-in-waiting bowed her head. "Forgive my impertinence, ma'am, but where were you?"

Amaris Nott smiled smally as she took her maidservant's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I am so sorry that we worried you all, Ava. We were spending Yule with the Lady Hera and her guardians and her other guests. On their invitation since Mattheo …"

Amaris wilted a little. Altair frowned and gave his mother's arm a reassuring pat; Andras nuzzled her leg, whining a little.

"He left you alone for Yule," Ava did not even need to guess.

I really hate that braggard, the maidservant thought to herself.

"Yes," Lady Nott was forced to admit. "I mean, this isn't the first time he went away for Yule but it is the first time that he had no qualm in leaving us completely alone."

"That is still no excuse, Mother," Altair's tone was deceptively calm and collected. In truth, his blood was boiling and had his father been in the same room as them, he would have no tribulations about hexing him black and blue.

A good trip to St. Mungo's was long overdue for his dear Papa.

"No, indeed, Master Altair," Ava agreed primly. She took a deep breath, composed herself and smiled. "Well, would my Lady like a bath to be drawn and shall I ask the elves to prepare a hearty meal?"

Lady Nott sighed in delight. "A bath! Yes, please, Ava."

"I am getting rather hungry," Altair admitted.

Ava got to work immediately. Altair and Andras escaped to his bedroom, where the elves were already unpacking, carefully handling his presents as they did so. Altair ignored them; his mind was occupied elsewhere. He had managed to keep the Occlumency shields up around his thoughts and the memories in question long enough – he allowed the memory of that morning and the memory of sleeping with Harry in his arms to come to the forefront of his mind.

The Nott heir was frustrated with himself. He had not been sorry for feeling the desire he did for the Mistress of Death and was furious that the courting regulations were making him feel obligated to apologise for almost acting on it. Altair wanted to do with Harry what he and Tom had done that morning; showered together, explored their bodies and – admittedly – almost lost control with each other … again. It had been the sound of his mother and Perenelle near Tom's chambers that had stopped them from crossing a dangerous boundary.

Altair undid his shirt a little to trace the Mark that was on the skin where his soul resided. It was like a triskele made of lightning; he had only noticed it that morning when Tom had traced it lovingly with one hand. Altair closed his eyes as he replayed how electrifying Tom's touch had been on it.

The sooner we complete the bond, the better, was a thought that crossed Altair's mind more than once.

Andras watched his Wizard with concern. The familiar knew something was bothering him; Altair was never good at hiding his emotions for too long. The Northern Inuit hound also knew it had to do with his Wizard's two mates – being away from them for too long caused Altair a great deal of discomfort. But they had not been away too long.

Perhaps something happened while Altair was out for his mate's birthday?

The vibrating of Altair's two-way mirror with Arcturus pulled both the Nott heir and his familiar out of their trains of thought. The Nott heir quickly did up his shirt again; Altair was rather relieved that he had a distraction and picked up as soon as he was ready.

"Your father home?" was the first thing Arc wanted to know.

"No, and thank Merlin he isn't because I am not in the mood to deal with his shit," Altair replied candidly.

"I guess leaving his harlot's bed is too much of a chore for him," Arc commented snidely. "By the way, I assume you got a privacy shield from Harry as well for Yule?"

"I did," Altair confirmed immediately and turned to see two elves hanging said shield up on a bare part of his wall that he never knew what to do with. "I am currently watching Hany and Riny hanging it up on my wall." He frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Activate it," Arc replied simply.

Altair's frown did not abate. "But why?"

"Just do it. I need to talk to you about something that no one should be able to overhear."

Altair really did not like this particular tone that his oldest friend donned; it was far too serious for the conversation to go anywhere good. He really wanted to press the matter but suspected he was going to find out the truth anyway, hence Altair waved his wand lazily and activated the shield.

Poor Hany and Riny almost dropped the shield in shock as it glowed.

"All right, it's activated. What's with the secrecy, Arc?" Altair wanted to know as the elves started to make themselves scarce.

"I think I am going absolutely bonkers," Arcturus responded, his voice sounding a little shaky. "I should be freaking out but I am not; Dru is right, it all just makes sense. Why everything is so strange around her but I don't know if you-"

"Arc, you have lost me completely," Altair stated candidly. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry," Arc responded curtly. "Altair, you are going to think I am mad."

"That ship has long sailed, my friend," Altair snorted. "What is it?"

Then came the answer that the Nott heir had perhaps suspected was coming. "She's the Mistress of Death."

For a moment, Altair's heart did skip a beat, his body stiffened a little and he inhaled rather sharply but on the whole he was rather pleased he had managed to remain so calm. However the silence was of great concern to the person on the other side of the mirror.

"Altair … are you OK?" Arc asked tentatively.

The Nott heir shook himself out of his stupor. "How long have you known?" was the question he posed once he found his voice. "Have you told anyone else?"

It was now Arcturus' turn to be absolutely stumped.

"Holy mother of Merlin," the Rosier heir stated breathlessly. Realisation had only just hit him there and then. "You already knew!"

"Of course," Altair rolled his eyes. "Did you honestly think you could live in a house surrounded by Peverells and not catch onto one or two secrets, especially after getting clues to them beforehand."

"Touché," Arcturus was forced to agree, still sounding in disbelief. "I take it Tom knows as well."

"He does," Altair confirmed readily. "He was the one who figured it out and told me. I nearly fell out of the bed when he did. You still have not answered my question. How long have you known?"

"Just today," Arcturus answered. "Druella told me."

Altair's eyes bugged out. "What?"

"Yeah. She and Walburga went through Orion's things – he had been acting weirder than normal apparently and it had to do with the fact he was following a hunch. That is what she told me," Arcturus chuckled. "I mean, I am not surprised but it is still a lot to take in and I wasn't sure if you knew or not – I wanted you to know just in case."

"Who else did you tell?" Altair repeated his second question.

"No one," Arc responded readily. "Because I am not an idiot who goes blabbing about a dangerous secret like this to just anyone. I mean, something tells me that Harry's girls are already onto her and everyone else may soon follow."

"Do you think Ophelia and Ygraine know?" Altair wanted to know.

"There is a very good chance that they do," Arc confirmed. "They know Harry very well. It wouldn't surprise me if it was one or both of them who also put the idea in Walburga and Dru's heads as well."

Altair nodded ponderingly. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"First, I am going to fortify my Occlumency shields. Next, I am going to brace myself for dinner because my parents are starting to join my aunt in suggesting pureblood ladies to consider for courting and then I am going to spend my evening training," Arc listed, sighing. "I wish I could lock myself in my room."

Altair snorted. "You can always come and visit," he suggested.

"I will take you up on that. Would you like a sparring partner tomorrow morning?"

This actually made Altair smile. "I wouldn't mind at all. I haven't trained in a few days."

"Good. You're giving me an excuse to miss breakfast with my family. Thank you!" Arc sounded way too happy about that. "I will put up with your damn father if it means avoiding the never ending cycle of trying to make political alliances."

"Maybe you should ask Malfoy for his list of foreign families to consider?" Altair grinned.

"I might actually do that if my mother gets worse," Arcturus huffed.

CRACK!

"Master, dinner is ready!" Riny announced happily.

"Ah, timing," Arcturus chuckled. Altair huffed but his stomach betrayed him by growling like a starved bear, causing his brother-in-all-but-name to start laughing. "Go and eat. We can talk later if you want."

Altair grinned. "I might take you up on that. Bye, Arc."

Altair had braced himself in case he would be forced to deal with his father at dinner. However, Merlin had decided to be merciful apparently, because he and his mother were alone for their evening meal.

Fortunately for the both of them, Lord Nott did not return until both his son and his wife had retired for the night.

#######################################################################

The next morning, Harry woke in a situation that was quickly familiar to her: in her own bed with Athenaïs sleeping at the foot of the bed on this occasion and Tom, still in the Realm of Hypnos, curled up close to her. The books that they had been reading – one of Tezan Gaunt's Parsel Magic grimoires in Tom's case and a wizarding children's novel in Harry's case – were laying on their side, precariously about to fall of the bed.

Harry carefully rescued both books, trying not to wake Tom or Atty as she did so, and picked up her book again. Harry was mid-way through the second book of the Allies of the Aes Sídhe series – Saving the Winter Queen – and she was already vastly enjoying it, despite it being written for children between the ages of eleven and sixteen. One of Harry's favourite characters was one of the main witches, Chloe, whose snarky attitude and propensity to find a non-magical solution to problems, such as finding the root cause of the Winter Queen's illness, spoke to her.

The Lady Regnant cast a quick Tempus: five minutes past seven. She still had some time before the house would start to come alive again. She moved to sit up and begin reading again, but was stopped when the arms around her started to pull her back towards the seemingly slumbering young man next to her.

"Where do you think you're going?" came the teasing question.

Harry rolled her eyes. "Morning, Tom. I wasn't going anywhere; I just wanted to continue reading."

"It's too early in the morning to read," Tom answered, causing Harry to snort with laughter. Atty stirred a little but did not wake up yet.

"No, you just don't like the fact I won't be lying in your arms," Harry shot back with a chuckle.

"You're entirely correct," Tom readily admitted, his beautiful lapis eyes beginning to open. Mirth danced within those blue-burgundy orbs, causing Harry to smile brightly. "I still do not hear you objecting, though, my Lady."

"That's because I have something better – a bribe," Harry responded teasingly, holding up Tezan's grimoire.

Tom mock-scowled at her. "You're not playing very fair."

"I was put into Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw for a reason," Harry reminded with a smirk. "Fair's for fools, in this case."

"Hmmm, I have to say that I completely agree," Tom grinned. He closed the distance between them, laying a gentle, loving kiss on her lips, which Harry returned in seconds as Tom began carding his hands through her curls again. Harry soon lost herself in the kiss, which meant her grip on the books loosened. Once he knew she was sufficiently distracted, Tom plucked Tezan's grimoire from her hands, grinning into the kiss triumphantly. "I win," he whispered smugly, breaking the kiss momentarily.

Harry surprised even herself when a growl escaped from her throat. "You evil braggard."

Desire flashed in her lover's eyes. "Come, come, my Lady, do not be angry. It is an honourable defeat-"

Tom didn't get to finish that quip; he was too busy being cut off by a fiery, vengeance-filled kiss and by his own surprise when Harry manoeuvred herself on top of him as she dominated his mouth. Harry smirked to herself with satisfaction as Tom set aside the books immediately and began exploring her body with his hands, a loud moan escaping from his throat as he did so. She ran her own hands through his hair as she bit his bottom lip and moved onto kissing his neck.

"Harry," Tom's moan sounded more like an exaltation to a deity, and Harry could easily admit that she rather liked that.

"Yes, my love?" she asked teasingly in between kisses. "Is there something you want?"

Tom nodded, clearly unable to articulate fully; Harry nipped his neck, eliciting another dangerously sinful moan from the one half of her heart. "Tell me, sweetheart," she ordered with a purr. Harry grinned with satisfaction as Tom tried to speak but no words came out at all. She tutted at him. "Oh dear. I think I will just have to improvise."

Harry incanted an spell in her mind and with a flash of silver in her eyes had removed Tom's night shirt; she was too preoccupied with feeling and kissing her lover's torso that the Lady Regnant did not notice Tom's eyes glowing a neon blood red. "Harry," this time her name came out in an animalistic growl; one that almost drove her over the edge. "You're playing with fire."

"Funny. Altair said that to me too," Harry smirked as she worked her way to Tom's stomach and began kissing the strange Mark that she only just noticed was there. She lovingly ran her fingers over it, tracing the pattern reverently. "So beautiful …"

"It's a Mark, like yours," Tom managed to inform her breathlessly. "Because of the … ritual."

"I thought as much," Harry answered with a small smile. So this is what her strange quintessence had done to Tom … did Altair have one too? The bolts went into him as well. Harry did not get much time to contemplate that because soon she found herself on her back with Tom hovering over her, eyes red and black.

"You have not won yet, my Lady," he growled teasingly with a smirk.

Harry was set to fight back when she felt Tom begin to trace her right leg with his right hand; the touches, albeit light, to her sensitive skin knocked the fight out of her, causing her eyes to shut and Harry to moan wantonly. The Lady Regnant would normally have kicked herself for succumbing so easily but at that moment, she didn't care. Tom captured her lips in a deep, longing kiss as his hand continued up her leg; Harry kissed back fervently as though she had been starved of oxygen. Both moaned into each other's mouths as Tom's hand came to rest precariously close to Harry's nether region.

"Tom," Harry was the first to break. "Please…"

"My love, we are already pushing it," Tom whispered back.

"You and Altair pushed it yesterday," Harry winced a little at how petulant she sounded. But ever since she had felt the desire of both of her future Consorts – and taking an educated guess at what they had been doing – Harry could not help but feel a little jealous and left out.

Tom considered for a moment; there was an apologetic look in his ruby eyes that joined his lustful one. "You're right. We did."

Tom's hand slipped under her undergarments; Harry did not even try to stifle her moan as her back arched as Tom's touch to her sensitive sex. As for Tom, he was focusing on maintaining every ounce of control he could as he felt how wet she already was – he managed to slip a finger inside of her without too much difficulty, which made his beautiful Lady writhe underneath him.

Tom was besotted with the sight. "Hera … you look divine."

"Not … divine," came Harry's feeble protest.

"To me, you are. To Altair, you are. Hera," Tom leant down and whispered in her ear, moving his finger inside of her. "I love you, more than you can ever know."

"I … love you … too," Harry answered breathlessly.

Tom kissed her with heated passion as he removed his finger from her sex; Harry mewled in protest. "We need to stop," Tom hated to say it; he didn't want to, but he also knew it was already difficult to maintain any level of control.

Perhaps Athenaïs, who was now fully awake and had closed her eyes and ears to what her Witch and the Heir of Slytherin had been doing, had sensed this also. The Familiar of the Mistress of Death had used her Gargouille stealth to sneak up on the pair and with a happy Kyyuuuooo! had jumped between the pair, nuzzling them both as they protested and laughed. Patting and cuddling the young dragon gave both Harry and Tom a moment to compose themselves and calm down.

"So, what time are you meeting Orion today?" Tom asked quietly as he rolled onto his side and caressed Harry's cheek.

"Ten," Harry answered as she continued to pat Athenaïs' back, eyes closing at Tom's touch. "What will you being doing today?"

"Reading, training – I may see if I can talk to some of my friends," Tom smiled. "I will be OK. You just have fun."

Harry nodded. She was secretly rather thankful that Melinoë soon knocked at the door with their morning coffee; Tom quickly covered his bare torso with a conjured shirt, blushing a very pleasing pink colour.

"Morning you thr- two. I am apparently used to seeing three in a bed! I do hope Altair and Amaris come back soon. The house is rather quiet; then again the Flamels are not awake yet so breakfast is my job," the disguised Goddess of Ghosts grinned.

"May we help?" Harry asked, lighting up. She had actually wanted to make breakfast again but Perrie always beat her to it.

"I would love that! We actually have managed to get our hands on some eggs," Melinoë grinned.

Harry and Tom carefully got out of bed with coffee in hand, Athenaïs at their heels, and the three of them followed Melinoë downstairs. They decided to make scrambled egg with bacon on toast, which made Perrie huff a little when she, Nicholas, Thanatos and Hypnos came downstairs. Nicholas cooled her indignation by pointing out she had been doing most of the cooking during the holidays and to allow others to do it if they wanted to. Plus, Harry was meeting a friend soon so breakfast couldn't be too big.

The Mistress of Death quickly washed, dressed, opting to wear a similar outfit as the day before including her new leather jacket, and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron at nine-thirty to wait for Orion to show up. Much to her own amusement, it seemed that Heir Black had a similar idea to her because when she entered the Leaky Cauldron, Harry quickly spotted Orion, reading a book and dressed in a very fancy suit with a long coat and hat that could easily pass for Muggle clothing.

"Morning!" Harry greeted brightly as she approached.

Orion jumped a little in his seat, raising his head sharply. When he saw her, his countenance immediately lit up. "Harry! You look stunning as always. How are you? How are Tom and Altair? I heard from Great-Uncle Arcturus you visited Prestige yesterday. What did you think of it?"

"I am well; Tom is well and Altair is disappointed he and his mother had to return home early," Harry answered candidly as she sat down opposite him. "Your Great-Uncle Arcturus' club is impressive. Really impressive."

She wasn't exaggerating either; the club had an interesting and artistic architecture, similar to the one of The Mosai. There was a definite 1920s and 1930s vibe to it, mixed together with an Art Nouveau aesthetic. Arcturus Black the Elder had also hired some of the best human and creature singers that Harry had heard in a while; more than good enough to perform in a professional theatre.

Orion beamed. "I am rather glad most of Diagon Alley has been spared the bombing. Speaking of buildings spared by the Muggles in flying machines, my favourite bookstore has not been blown apart! It's actually not too far away. Shall we go already or would you like something hot to drink first?"

Harry smiled brightly at him. "I am OK for now, thank you, my friend. Let's get to the bookstore."

Orion nodded, put his book in his inner coat pocket and gathered his things. As they stepped out of the pub into Muggle London, Orion gallantly offered Harry his arm, which she happily accepted.

"How is your family faring?" Harry asked as the pair set down Charing Cross Road.

Orion grinned. "Lucretia is happy in her courtship, which means there is far more peace under our roof. Father is far more relaxed than he was and Mother is back to her usual fussy, shop-a-holic self; much more than usual. She even has gone to afternoon tea with her friends again! There is also much excitement about Cederella courting Septimus; Cousin Cassie is less than enthused because now all eyes are turning on her to find someone. Most in the family are beginning to give up that Aunt Lycoris will ever find a suitor."

Harry chuckled at that.

"Have you heard that the Rowles are considering a match with the Averys?" Orion wanted to know. "And that Abraxas and Ygraine may be matched with each other?"

"I have," Harry confirmed readily. "Especially considering I suggested Ygraine as a candidate to Abraxas."

"You did?" Orion's eyes bugged out. "When did you do that?"

"At the Yule Ball," Harry smiled as they carefully crossed the road. "Abraxas was hiding from his father and Loreley, Artemis, Druella and I found him in the garden – that's when I made the suggestion."

"Wow," Orion chuckled. "I genuinely did not see that coming."

"Well, I was already in matchmaker mode," Harry admitted with a wry smile. "I would prefer Ygraine to find someone that her heart truly falls for, but I also realise that pureblood society in Great Britain is … much different to what I am used to and frankly, I trust Abraxas with Ygraine more than any other man."

"Plus Mulciber is taken with War and Dolohov isn't all that cuddly," Orion added.

"Caius has his own issues to deal with," Harry was willing to divulge, which caused Orion to frown a little. "He is stuck in a rather complicated situation when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Like what?" Orion wanted to know. "Is he in love with someone he cannot have?"

Harry couldn't help but smile in disbelief; Orion had almost hit the nail entirely on the head. "You could say that."

"Oh wow. Poor sod," Orion's eyes and voice became soggy with sympathy.

"Yeah," Harry exhaled sharply. "I just hope he takes my advice."

"I hope so too. I have no idea what was said, but I know you well enough to know that you gave him sound advice," Orion's smile was blinding. "Have you been out with your girls lately?"

"No, but I think we should before we go back to Hogwarts," Harry responded with a small, guilty smile.

"I think that is a good idea. Wally and Dru miss you and I am willing to bet Ophelia, Minnie and Ygraine have as well. You should see them soon, especially since the second week we're back Slytherin and Hufflepuff will be having their rematch!" Orion looked like he was announcing a secret, second Yule no one knew about. "We have so much to prepare. I cannot wait!"

"Me neither!" Harry laughed. "I have been doing some thinking and had this idea to buy some colouring books and pencils for kids as well as a thermos or something for hot chocolate and a bottle of Firewhiskey in case Dumbledore starts acting up."

Orion's eyes shone. "Are you joking? That is even better than our original plan to curse Dumbledore's cushion to make his beard turn sunshine yellow when he becomes too annoying. I say do it!"

"By the way, I have been meaning to ask; what are the binoculars for?" Harry wanted to know, smirking evilly.

The mischievous glint in Orion's eyes intensified. "I thought that if we want to play another game of I Spy or if we want to embarrass someone in the crowd, they could come rather in handy," he confessed with his own evil smirk.

"I love how your diabolical mind works," Harry commented as they crossed another street into a less busy one.

"Thank you," Orion preened.

Very soon the pair came to a halt in front of an unassuming building that was one of the few businesses left standing in a street where more than half the buildings were just gone; Muggles were busy clearing the street of rubble. Orion led the way into the bookshop, the bell above the door ringing as he did so. Harry immediately took in her surroundings and smiled when she saw that not one inch of wall wasn't a bookcase filled to the brim with paperbacks and hardbacks.

"Oh my! Hello, welcome," the pair were immediately greeted by a young woman who was perhaps a few years older than they were. She could not have been older than twenty-five.

"Hello. We are just here to have a browse," Orion informed with a winning smile.

"Of course, sir. Browse away!" she beamed, bowing her head to him and then to Harry.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go to the back – the Classics are there and I am trying to find some more works by Lord Byron," the Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black stated happily, leading the way down the narrow path way, guarded on all sides by tall bookcases. Harry followed obediently, eager to see her best friend in his element.

Watching Orion searching for the section and then excitedly going from one shelf to the other to find the titles he was looking for was now one of Harry's favourite sights. He had lost all fastidious and stiff formality and was now simply Orion the bookworm instead of Heir Black. Despite the fact he wasn't one to hide his likes and dislikes, Orion was still a Black and there was always an element of that in his behaviour.

"Oooo The Prophecy of Dante! Thyrza … I wonder … might as well take this one along too … Irish Avatar – never heard of this one, but I think I will try it anyway. What do you think, Harry?"

"I think you should do what makes you happy," Harry responded simply, her smile growing brighter.

Orion looked up from the books and grinned back. He hurried to pay for the books with his best friend chuckling behind him. The young woman who ran the store watched the two of them banter with a smile, only stopping to count the money Orion handed over to her and to hand over the change.

"Here you are. Enjoy your books, sir. I hope your lady friend likes them too," she grinned.

Harry flushed at that and Orion's eyes bugged out comically. "No, no, she's not my lady friend! She's my sister," he hurriedly told the Muggle woman, who turned red with embarrassment.

"Goodness! I am so sorry, please forgive me," she apologised profusely.

"Ma'am, it is perfectly all right," Harry tried to reassure her. "You could not have known."

The bookstore keeper looked very relieved that she had not insulted her customers and bowed to them again. "Thank you, miss."

It was safe to say that the shock still had not abated from both Harry and Orion until they were outside and heading back towards Charing Cross Road. Once they were certain the bookstore keeper could not hear them, both burst out into profuse laughter, garnering a few concerned looks from a few passers-by.

"Well, I don't think Wally should be told about that," Harry stated through giggles.

"Oh the poor girl. I almost feel sorry for making her feel so embarrassed," Orion added, wiping a tear away from his eyes.

"Indeed! You should have just said I am a friend and not your sister!" Harry shook her head at him. "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing, other than that is what I see you as," Orion's admission caught her off guard slightly. He smiled smally at her flummoxed expression. "Lucretia agrees that you would have made a wonderful addition as our sibling."

Harry smiled brightly at that. A brother and sister, like she always wanted. "I see," was all she could answer for a few seconds. "When did I become a topic between you and your sister?"

"A few days ago," Orion informed her. "There was apparently some … talk in the family about us. Lucretia I think put a stop to some of it but you know how some people can be."

Harry nodded grimly.

"Well, Lu wanted to know what I … feel for you and I told her the truth: that I do love you but I am not in love with you. I felt like I had found a lost sibling when I met you and got to know you better," Orion continued.

Harry could not keep the bashful smile from her face. "That is … close to how I feel about you," she felt comfortable in admitting. "You made healing some of my emotional wounds a whole lot easier and I will always be grateful for that."

"I am glad," Orion beamed at hearing this.

"May I ask something?" a rogue thought prompted Harry to switch the subject.

"Of course!"

"How did you know the bookstore we just visited exists?" she wanted to know. "You know the way very well."

Orion smiled at this. "As you know, growing up in the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black comes with guidelines that each and every one of us have been taught from birth. However, Lucretia and I always felt a little … different to the rest. As children of Lord Black we towed the line and tried to keep to all the rules and beliefs but unlike most members of my family, we were raised from day one in Grimmauld Place instead of Black Manor."

Orion stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. He chuckled shortly. "Everyday, mostly when Father wasn't looking, Lu and I would spend a great deal of time in my room watching the Muggles underneath our window. The arguments we heard, the children laughing, people stopping to talk to each other while walking the dog, gossip about the Abdication, politics – we heard it all. Because of this, the both of us started to … question some of the things our family was teaching us, but as the Heir and Heiress, we held our tongue. The more I saw, though, the more I wanted to know about them – I couldn't help it. I was nine when I first asked Lucretia to help me get some Muggle books."

It was here that Orion started laughing. "Lu was eleven, I think. She had snuck out of the house to try and find a Muggle bookstore – she had already converted some Galleons into Muggle money – and apparently found her way to that bookstore we just visited. Mother and Father, of course, were frantic when they discovered that Lu was missing so she got an earful when she came back. Lucretia was not allowed out for a week but she said it had been worth it because she brought back Sherlock Holmes, The Three Musketeers and five Jane Austen novels."

Harry gaped. "How did she manage to get those books in the house?"

"They were disguised as magical novels," Orion grinned. "She used a trick similar to your own; she has been using it ever since. Lucretia is a savant when it comes to learning spells. But anyway, every time I want a new Muggle book, she goes to that same bookstore."

"Wow," Harry shook her head despondently as they drew closer to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Indeed," Orion agreed. He wilted a little. "Of course in recent years we are not ask close as we used to be, but I … am trying to change that. She is still my sister."

Harry nodded in agreement.

Orion pepped himself up quickly. "So, shall we take a look at Scythe and Raven's future offices, or shall we have some lunch first?"

Harry grinned. "I am not that hungry yet. Let's see the offices before either of us forget."

"OK! I hope you like it because they are rather pleasantly situated and the size of each room is pretty decent for the rent we will be paying," Orion informed as he held the door open for her.

The Leaky Cauldron was currently packed with their lunchtime guests; all the tables were packed with people. A few people noticed the strange Cursebreaker and the Heir Black but no one called out to them or anything else of the kind. Tom the barkeep did give them a quick wave, which they returned. As for Diagon Alley, the shopping street was for once not as bustling as it was during the summer or Yule season. Harry could not help but peek into Tosti's bookstore and was delighted to see that the God of Death had a decent amount of customers to deal with.

Three Raven Alley was practically deserted in comparison to Diagon. There were of course people who were going to Prestige, one of the smaller cinemas and theatres but other than that there were people heading home or heading towards the main shopping alley. Harry worried a little whether the fact the offices were situated in a side alley would affect their clientele, but she pushed that thought aside quickly.

The office building was pleasantly situated close to the end of the alleyway, close to a small park with a pond and a few trees, which Harry had not expected. The building itself was perhaps late 1800 and rather handsome in comparison to some of the others: it was a red-brick building with a dark oak door. Orion took out a key from his inner pocket and led the way in.

"Scythe and Raven would be making use of the ground floor, first floor and second floor," he informed her as Harry scanned the decent size room, eyes already widening. "I already discussed with Loreley and Altair, and they agree that the ground floor should be a waiting room-slash-initial meeting room. They also say that the first floor should be our offices and the second floor rooms be used as classrooms to train new Cursebreakers and wardsmiths."

Harry was speechless; the offices were almost as big as some of the ones at Gringotts! The Lady Regnant had no trouble admitted to herself that she really hoped she could bagsy the office with the windows that looked onto the small park. The rooms could fit desks, chairs, perhaps a meeting sofa, cabinets – she almost began laughing as she found herself planning the layout of some of the rooms in her head.

Orion, who had let his soul sister explore her surroundings in silence, could not help himself. "So, what do you think? Some of the rooms are a little small but we need to start somewhere after all and the other offices we visited did not offer us more than the ground floor and the first floor-"

"Orion, it's perfect," Harry reassured with a smile.

"Good," Orion sighed with relief, leaning against the doorframe. "Good."

Harry detected something untoward in his tone; his jubilation had abated slightly and that told her Orion had something else on his mind that he was not saying. She turned away from the window to face him. "Orion, what is it?"

"Hmmm?" Orion tried to act innocent. "Oh – nothing. It's nothing. Just something on my mind; it's stupid, don't mind me-"

"Orion Nigellus Black, I know you longer than a day. I can see something is wrong, so out with it!" Harry huffed.

There was an assessing look in those electric blue eyes as they fixed on her with an unblinking gaze. Orion swallowed a little, considered for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Harry, I need to ask you something and I really hope you don't take this the wrong way …"

Harry waited for him to continue but felt her heart beat begin to race. Finally Orion forced himself to say it. "Harry, are you the Mistress of Death?"

The Lady Peverell let out the breath she had been keeping in, chuckling softly in relief. "Of course you would be the fourth to figure it out," was the comment she found herself making.

This made Orion gape. The Black Heir turned towards her, eyes wide. "Who else knows?" he inquired as he walked further into the room.

"Tom, Altair and Ophelia," Harry responded easily. "Tom and Altair – I have no idea how they did it but apparently all their clues added up. I think it was similar for Ophelia. I don't know who else has figured it out or is close to figuring it out from our friends, but you four have been the ones to confront me with the same question."

Orion took a moment to process this for himself. "So, the fairy tale is true …"

"Parts of it," Harry informed him. "It would take me a whole day to explain which parts are and which are a work of fiction."

"No wonder Grindelwald has spent years hunting your family down," Orion's eyes suddenly blazed with a fire Harry had hardly seen in him.

"Indeed, especially since the Elder Wand is rebelling against him," Harry decided to inform him.

Orion's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

Harry smiled wryly. "I have allies who keep me up to date on such matters," she hated that she still had the feeling she needed to keep some things as cryptic as possible. "Mr. Weird-Eyes sent his Generals to England on a reconnaissance mission to hasten the possible discovery of the Flamels and through them, me. I have no idea if they succeeded or not in getting the information they want."

Orion's eyes flashed dangerously. "Well, I hope to Merlin that they haven't."

"You and me both," Harry admitted readily. She took a deep breath and pepped herself up. "Well, since you now know almost everything one could know about me, would you like to meet some friends of mine after lunch?"

"Friends of yours?" Orion repeated, lighting up instantly. "Here in London?"

"Indeed," Harry chuckled. "They have lived here for … a long time."

"I would love to! But we won't be too much of an imposition will we? I mean, we have not given them fair warning that we will be calling-" Orion babbled.

Harry cut him off gently. "They would love to meet you. I am sure of it. Now, will we have lunch in the overcrowded Leaky Cauldron or shall we go to the Higgs' family restaurant down Knockturn Alley? Their food is rather good."

"Oh you went there already? I have not been there in so long," Orion stated happily as they went back downstairs.

The Traveller laughed at his exuberance. Orion locked the office building behind them and they set off towards Knockturn Alley, talking about their New Year's celebrations and how they pity poor Miss Grey – Malum and Felix were no doubt going to put her through the ringer the moment they all got back to Hogwarts. The slightly dodgy witches, wizards and Dark creatures ignored the pair; most of them recognised Orion and Harry, thus saw no reason to cause any trouble.

Harry did notice for herself that Rollo Rowle went into The White Wyvern pub. She had wanted to call out to him but decided he was probably on his break and didn't want to spend his lunch on a young Cursebreaker, especially the ward of the Burkes. Harry had noticed Hypnos looking forlorn when he thought no one was looking; it seemed that perhaps Rollo was keeping his distance from him.

Orion and Harry talked about everything and nothing over the cause of lunch; Orion especially tried to get some more clues on the identity of Harry's friends but the Mistress of Death refused to divulge anything. It was rather fortuitous that it seemed that the Yeomen seemed to have decided to take an impromptu nap that afternoon; Orion was utterly nonplussed as to why Harry had taken him to the Tower of London until the Black Heir had come face to face with Edward V and Prince Richard, followed on this occasion by Queen Catherine.

They had apparently been playing pranks on the Yeomen again before they arrived. Harry already tried to imprint Orion's delighted expression at being introduced to the Tower Guardians and listening to Edward, Richard and Catherine's stories of how they had been keeping the Blood Magic strong over the centuries while bullying unsuspecting Yeomen, spying on other prisoners that were kept at the Tower, and teasing tourists. Lady Jane and the White Lady spoke a great deal about a prisoner by the name of Carl Hans Lody, who was executed by firing squad. The Guardians even spoke of one Rudolph Hess, who had been imprisoned in the Tower for four days in 1941.

"He was an odd fellow," Richard recalled. "I don't speak much German – Anne and Jane are the linguists amongst us – but he kept muttering about 'something that must be done'. He kept pacing a lot too. Mr. Hess hardly slept a wink. It didn't help that we played under his window a lot but it didn't seem like he had enough peace to go to sleep."

"I could have sworn he could see us," Edward V continued. "I sat next to his window once; Mr. Hess would often look in my direction during his more coherent babbling. It was really disconcerting."

Neither Harry nor Orion knew about this high ranking Nazi being kept at the Tower; thus both had listened very intently as the Tower Guardians talked. They stayed for about an hour and a half, playing games and just simply talking about everything and nothing, before Orion had to go back and Harry decided it was best she go home as well – naturally, she wasn't allowed to go until she had promised the Guardians to bring more friends on her next visit.

###########################################################################

Rollo kept his eyes on his glass on Firewhiskey he had ordered, trying to keep his mind as calm as possible. He could feel the eyes of his goblin guards on him but that was not the reason why he was feeling the pressure. Rollo had been waiting for half an hour, and still there was no sign of Norton Lament at all. The Head Cursebreaker was getting bored of watching a bunch of idiotic wizards trying to chat up a werewolf, a vampire and a Veela or listening to the crappy band play some very depressing music.

I will give the man another ten minutes or I am leaving, Rollo promised himself.

He would take whatever punishment Goldheart and King Ragnok chose; if there was one thing the Rowle heir hated the most, it was having his time wasted, even if it was by a supposed informant for the enemy.

Rollo sipped his Firewhiskey. Just as the female werewolf launched the fool who could not take no for an answer across the room, and raucous laughter sounded around The White Wyvern, the bell sounded and the door opened. Rollo's eyes drifted up to see a man with a sharp face, dark hair and dressed in black entered the room. The man closed the door behind him and looked around, dodging the semi-fight that was breaking out.

It seemed that Norton Lament had finally decided to grace Rollo with his presence. The Rowle heir commented snarkily to himself how almost common the man looked; he could have so easily been overlooked had Rollo not been on edge. Lament did notice Rollo quickly and hurried over to sit opposite him in the booth.

"I did not expect you here, Mr. Rowle," Lament commented with a grin.

"Indeed?" Rollo drawled snarkily. "Did you expect Macnair, Lament?"

"Yes," Lament admitted readily as he put off his cloak and gloves. "At least the future Lord Rowle knows where his loyalties lie."

Rollo glowered at him. "Are we going to really sit here and make small talk, Mr. Lament? I think you can imagine that our mutual friends are not the most patient of people. What is it that you wish to relay to them?"

Lament swallowed a little. "What is he willing to offer me in return for the information?" he demanded.

The double agent snorted and laughed coldly. "You are hardly in a position to be making demands of anyone, Mr. Lament, let alone of a man like our friend."

"Oh I beg to differ," Lament's eyes shone with a malice that normally would have sent shivers down Rollo's spine but the spy was more than well versed to keeping his nerves under pressure. "What I have to say is worth paying for. My family have been humiliated by this little harlot and we want our standing back!"

"Considering your son was the aggressor in the attack of a child and three familiars, I doubt our friend would consider you entirely innocent," Rollo shot back easily. "We both know your son got off lightly. Anyway, even if what you have to say is in theory worth listening to, how am I supposed to know you're telling the truth?"

Lament glowered at him; Rollo could have smirked with satisfaction at this point.

"How do you propose I prove it?" Lament demanded.

The double agent did not even try to hide his smirk as he put his hand into his left pocket and took out a vial and uncorked it. Lament must have guessed what it was because his eyes widened.

"Veritaserum," he stated.

"Is that a problem?" Rollo asked in a faux-sweet tone.

The disgraced wizard glared daggers at him. "No," he answered through gritted teeth.

Three drops of the Veritaserum went into the Firewhiskey in front of Rollo and the double agent gently pushed the crystal glass towards the man in front of him. Lament, clenching his jaw momentarily, swigged the last of the Firewhiskey back, set the glass back down and then his expression went slightly vacant.

Rollo smirked to himself. "So, let us first make sure the Veritaserum works. What is your name?"

"Norton Quincy Lament," came the immediate answer.

"What is your opinion on the wars?"

"I hope Grindelwald turns the tide on the Resistance and the Muggles do our job for us," Lament had tried to bite his lip but it was no good.

Rollo simply could not resist a third question. "Are you pureblood?"

The Lament patriarch shot daggers at him as he was forced to answer by the truth potion in his system. "No."

Interesting.

The Head Cursebreaker felt like chuckling but decided it would not be prudent to antagonise the man further if he wanted to get the information he needed. Rollo cocked his head to one side. "What do you know that is seemingly worth Grindelwald's attention?"

"The location of the last Peverell," Lament was more than happy to answer this time, looking almost too pleased with himself.

It was perhaps fitting that a waitress dropped a glass at this point behind the bar, causing many in the pub to flinch, including Rollo, who was happy he could use that as an excuse for his momentary lapse in composure. He quickly recovered, keeping his face suitably composed.

"Are you sure your information is correct?" he demanded.

"Absolutely. My son was in the same House as the Peverell girl," Lament responded easily. "She had everyone under her thumb in less than a bloody week. Not that there is anything too special about her!"

Oh, I beg to differ, Rollo sneered internally.

"What is her name?" Rollo forced himself to say it.

"The world knows her as Lady Hera Evans," Lament's grin was malicious at this point. "Your little Cursebreaker, Rollo. You had a Peverell right under your nose."

The Rowle heir did not even attempt to stop the ferocious glint that entered his eyes, causing Lament to gulp a little. The Head Cursebreaker continued to glance contemptibly at the man opposite him as he handed the man the antidote to the Veritaserum.

"Thank you for your candour," Rollo stated through gritted teeth.

"I will discuss with your leader how he can pay me for this information," Lament responded arrogantly as he got to his feet, gathering his cloak and gloves with a smug and greedy look on his countenance Rollo desperately wanted to hex off. "Have a good day, Rollo."

The Head Cursebreaker did not say anything; he simply continued to glare daggers at the retreating back of the bitter, hypocritical man. Rollo felt his hands curl into fists; he took his frustrations out on the pin he had been sent over, ripping it from his coat and stuffing it in his pocket.

It was at this point that his goblin guards seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They both had an impressed look in their eyes that soon turned very serious. "We just received orders from Goldheart," the left one informed him. "It has been decided by His Grace and the Council that Lament is too much of a liability; they want you to take away any recollection of what he knows about Lady Hera's identity."

"How?" Rollo wanted to know. "A Memory Charm? A Memory Alteration Potion?"

"Whatever you deem fit," the guard on the right responded. "Goldheart does not care how it is done, only that it is done. Sooner, rather than later."

Rollo nodded as his guard spoke. "Leave it to me."

The double agent rose to his feet. He paid for his drink and then promptly left The White Wyvern, and silently cast a Tracking Charm on his pocket watch; Rollo was rather happy that he could easily remember a face and name.

##########################################################################

While Orion was still out with Harry, Walburga and Druella had taken the opportunity, given that Lord and Lady Black were out with Pollux and Irma at afternoon tea with friends, to confront Lucretia about how much she knows. The Black Heiress was playing Chopin's Fantasie in F Minor on the piano in the entertaining room, utterly completely alone. It was a golden moment for the girls.

Bracing themselves for any fireballs that may be flung at them for disturbing Lucretia, the girls left Walburga's room and made their way downstairs and tried to act casual as they sat down in the fine armchairs in the corner. Lucretia, though focused on her music, knew fully well she now had company.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, cousin?" Lucretia asked, not taking her eyes off the notes in front of her. "I take it, given that there is no one else at home, that you simply do not wish to discuss the latest edition of The Court of Britain."

"May we simply not enjoy the music, cousin?" Walburga countered easily, looking at her nails, internally disgruntled that Lucretia seemed to have them sussed out in a heartbeat.

"Of course. No one is forbidding you, but you and I both know you are not here to hear me play," Lucretia responded easily, turning the page of her book. "Is this about what the two of you discovered in my brother's room? Invading his privacy? I must say, I expected better from a future Lady Black. As for you, Miss Rosier, I wish I could say I am surprised, but I am not."

Walburga and Druella stiffened at this.

"He was hiding something pertinent," Walburga replied coolly. "I highly doubt he would have given me a straight answer and given the times we live in, I really cannot stomach more white lies. Especially considering the … secret we have to keep."

"You mean the one concerning the Lady Hera Peverell?" Lucretia took great pleasure in the disbelief and surprise that soon took over the countenances of her cousin and Druella. The Black heiress clicked her tongue. "Yes, I know about that. Ignatius informed me in the strictest confidence. Naturally, I have already begun reading some Occlumency books; I simply need to find a Legilimens to put the shields to the test. Perhaps you would do me the honour, cousin?"

"How much do you know?" Druella could not contain her surprise any longer.

"I know the Peverells have been in hiding, young Hera was a soldier in a war she should not have been part of, and she managed to escape to England after another attack," Lucretia answered smoothly. "Oh and you and your friends are all being trained in Mind Magicks in order to protect the secret Riddle and his foolish little friends decided to spread around the school because they were surprised Hera didn't trust them to keep their mouths shut."

"Yeah, that about sums it all up," Druella chuckled shortly.

"How the Lady Hera managed to hold that boy in any regard after what he did to her is a mystery to me," Lucretia continued as she began playing Mozart's Fantasia in D Minor. "Had that been me, Riddle would have been fed to the Grindylows."

"Indeed," Walburga readily agreed with a smile. "However Harry has a more forgiving heart than most."

"Almost to her own detriment," Druella added.

"I must say, I am rather glad the girl managed to snap Heir Nott up," Lucretia grinned. "It was getting rather depressing to see the poor boy looking so forlorn every time he had to show his face in public. Plus, a Peverell with a Nott? Now that is definitely what I call a match!"

Walburga swallowed. "What has Orion been doing, cousin?"

"He's chasing the reason for why the Lady Hera has been hunted; as it turns out it is the same reason why every single Peverell before her has been persecuted," Lucretia snorted in disgust. "I sincerely hope Lord Potter, the Weasleys and their delusional allies never gain a majority because then we are all lost!"

"What do you mean?" Druella dared to ask.

"Do not pretend to be a fool, Druella Rosier, it does not suit you," the Black heiress stated primly. The Black heiress turned her gaze onto her family members, her hands still darting over the ivory keys of the piano. "The Light faction would love nothing more than to demonise that family. You know as well as I why the Peverells have been sought by many with a foolish notion of immortality. The Deathly Hallows; they make one Master of Mistress of Death."

Walburga and Druella exchanged a quick glance; that was all the confirmation they needed. The only thing that could substantiate it, was verbal confirmation or denial from their friend.

Would Harry even be willing to admit to it? Walburga found herself thinking. Her friend was a naturally careful and suspicious person; this kind of secret was not something that she would likely get a straight answer to.

Lucretia continued playing. "I wonder how many of your friends have figured it out already. In some of those cases, I hope it is never. Dolohov and Mulciber are two families who cannot be trusted with that kind of information – the Averys are too slippery to be trusted with this kind of secret."

"Caius is an O-grade butthole when he wants to be, Felix isn't the brightest at times and Malum too has his blind loyalty to Tom Riddle, but they would not be very likely to tell their parents a single thing about Harry," Druella responded; she really had to swallow her pride at this point.

"I am willing to bet Loreley Malfoy may already know," Walburga contributed. "That girl seems to know a lot of things before they happen."

"Indeed, but then again that is not surprising with Saint Pol blood in her veins," Lucretia smirked with amusement. "The fairy blood is so potent that even their Muggle relations are born with a latent form of magic for Merlin's sake!"

Walburga regarded her cousin closely. "You almost sound as though you are enjoying this, Lucretia."

"Oh but I am!" the Black heiress confirmed jovially, looking and sounding more like her mother at this point. "I am now a Secret Keeper to the Peverells. I cannot think of anything more exciting at present! Wally, would you mind teaching me some basics of fighting with a sword? I have always liked the look of that."

"Of course, cousin," Walburga could not help but smile.

"Excellent."

It was at this point that Orion came back home, looking exceedingly happy with three new books in tow. "Hello, Lu! Wally! I have finally found some new Byron works I have not read. Dru! Are you OK? You're looking a little peaky."

"Ah, is that your expert diagnosis, Healer Black?" Druella quipped with a snort.

Walburga too chuckled and pointed at the empty armchair. "Sit down, my dear. We have something to ask you – about Harry."

It was Orion's turn to become a little pale, especially when shooting a knowing look at Lucretia. The game, it seemed, was already up.

######################################################################

After spending the majority of the day combing through every book that could possibly hold some mention Travellers in the Rowle library, Ophelia started seeing the words begin to blur in front of her eyes. A run around the Rowle grounds or knife throwing session had helped to alleviate the headache that she was getting and gave her enough mental energy to get back to her research but the second time round, Ophelia was left feeling just as confused as the first time around.

The Rowle heiress was sitting on the floor near the grand fireplace, tomes – many of them still opened or on their front – and papers littered around her, pinching the bridge of her nose, silently berating herself.

What are you doing? People will think you are going mad, she tried to chastise herself.

But I just cannot shake this funny feeling at all, was the thought that had kept coming back. There is just something that still does not add up with Harry.

Ophelia's eyes fixed again on the strange illustration of one of Granny Steward's old grimoires; the one she and Rollo had spent ages looking at. According to Granny Steward, all Travellers were Marked, much in the same way the Master or Mistress of Death was; they felt naturally strange because of this. Ophelia found the same in several other books – but it did not help her in trying to see if her theory that her semi-immortal friend was also another kind of practically-mythical entity.

The Rowle heiress was about to continue reading when she felt her two-way mirror begin to vibrate in her pocket. Ophelia frowned – she knew it couldn't be Walburga, Druella, Ygraine or Minerva because she had already spoken to them the day before. Was it Harry perhaps?

Secretly, Ophelia hoped not. She wasn't entirely certain if she could not ask a very stupid question to her friend. However, the Rowle heiress knew she also needed to have a distraction from her own mind and took out the mirror to answer it.

"Hello, Ophelia."

Loreley Malfoy.

This was very unexpected.

Ophelia swallowed a little. "Loreley. To what do I owe this unexpected call?"

"Oh dear, the books really have fried your mind. I think you know exactly why," came the serene but slightly ominous reply. "You are not going mad. You are just as sane as I am."

Wow, that really is not helping, Ophelia could not help but comment internally.

"How do you know I am even going mad?" Ophelia wanted to know. "I am perfectly fine-"

"I know this is untoward, and believe me, my brother has attempted to dissuade me from contacting you," Loreley cut across gently. "But I fear the consequences if you are not told that you are not losing your sanity."

The Rowle heiress had no idea how to answer this. Loreley continued. "I do not have much time so let me get straight to the point: take a break. Leave the books for a bit; perhaps take a bath later. Do not second guess your instincts. Just, be very wary about to whom you divulge them to. Ah, I think I need to go – there is another who wants to talk to you and I know you would rather speak with them rather than me. Remember, trust your instincts and be careful."

Ophelia gaped as Loreley hung up.

"What the …" she found herself whispering to herself.

Ophelia did not get much time to process what had happened because the mirror vibrated again. She sighed to herself and, perhaps against her better judgement, she picked up the mirror.

"Hey, Ophelia. Am I disturbing?"

Malum. She felt her cheeks burn almost immediately. Had Loreley … known?

"Good evening, Malum. No … you're not disturbing," Ophelia quietly kicked herself for sounding a little nervous, clearing her throat.

"OK, good," Malum sighed with relief. "I know this is really untoward and perhaps impertinent, but … I was wondering if you have some time to meet with me soon? Perhaps for a drink or a training session at Rowle Manor? There are some things I would like to discuss with you."

"Oh," Ophelia smiled smally. "Sure. Does the day after tomorrow suit you?"

"Perfect," Malum flashed a winning smile. "How is the rest of your evening? You look rather pale."

"I am just very tired," she admitted with a short laugh. "I have been doing some research and … I think I have completely lost the plot. Plus, I just had a strange call from Loreley Malfoy that I still can't wrap my head around."

"About what?" Malum asked curiously.

Ophelia scoffed. "You would not believe me if I told you. I can hardly believe it myself. It doesn't … really matter all too much right now." She shut the book in her lap quite sharply.

Malum seemed to catch on rather quickly, though. "Has it got to do with Harry?"

The Rowle heiress smiled smally. "In a manner of speaking."

"Yeah, I have been asking the others about Harry and some of them – Heron especially – outright refuses to talk about the strange things that have happened around her," Malum admitted to her. "I can't get this feeling out of my head that there is more to her than just being Lady Regnant to House Peverell. She knows where the Hallows are, she is a bloody Soul Mage and somehow she can use spirit animals in battle. I mean … there are a lot of people who would give an arm and a leg for any of those abilities."

Ophelia sighed. "I wouldn't," she confessed. "The pressure to keep something like that hidden, it is insane. Not everyone can make keeping secrets look as easy as Harry does. She has trained to do it her entirely life."

"I suppose," Malum conceded quietly. "One of those secrets; she needs legal help with apparently."

Ophelia's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Yeah. She asked me if my parents could be trusted regarding client confidentiality and if they were taking new clients," Malum scoffed quietly. "I asked Harry what it was about and she told me it wasn't entirely her business so couldn't say anything."

"What in the name of Morgana does Harry need a lawyer for?" Ophelia could not help but wonder out loud.

"Whatever it is, it must be serious," Malum answered, his eyes darkening.

"Have you asked your parents if they want to help her?" Ophelia wanted to know.

"Not yet. I thought about it, but I think it is too presumptuous," Malum sighed.

Ophelia found herself grinning. "Like calling your potential Lady before anything has been formally decided?" she teased him.

She was very pleased when she saw Malum turn a nice shade of tomato red through the mirror. "Yes," he readily conceded. "But then again, we already did something that many would consider presumptuous before a courting."

It was Ophelia's turn to blush as the memory of their kiss started to push against her Occlumency shields. "Indeed," she agreed. "Though," Ophelia swallowed, "I would not mind if it were to happen again."

Malum was kept in stunned silence for a moment afterwards. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "When you so much as refused to look at me before the film last time I thought you hated me and regretted what happened between us. When Father told me your family had accepted me, I thought it was because your father was making the decision for you."

"No," Ophelia dissuaded him readily. "I could not look at you for fear of betraying how much I wanted it to happen again. Harry and Minerva were already suspecting something – I didn't need anyone else to see, especially your mother and sister."

Ophelia saw that Malum's eyes had dilated at hearing this. "I am … rather relieved to hear that. I feared I scared you off; that I had lost another girl I liked."

Another?

Ophelia smiled brightly. "It takes a whole lot more to scare me away," she stated confidently. "One of my closest friends is Harry, after all."

"Touché," Malum conceded with a fond chuckle. He cleared his throat. "Well, I will let you enjoy your evening."

"Thank you. Sleep well later," Ophelia replied with a smile.

"You too."

Ophelia didn't realise she was holding a breath in until Malum had hung up. She then laughed as a thought crossed her mind: seems like Loreley Malfoy was onto something.

#######################################################################

By Aradia, Circe and Medea, was the first thought that Queenie had once she had lost connection with Rollo's strange recording device that the Alliance engineer had termed a 'bugging device'. Queenie had at first thought that it was perhaps too overt; apparently, no one seemed to know what a bugging device was. But it had come in useful, more than useful.

The Natural Legilimens was secretly relieved that she was the only one in the room to have heard the conversation between their spy in Gringotts and the informant. Gellert had decided that he did not need every General on the case and had sent Vida, Credence and Carrow on their own separate missions. Queenie had never been more grateful for it. She had spent the hours since she had heard the truth mulling over exactly the implications of what she had heard.

The Lady Hera Evans, was actually the Lady Hera Peverell! This was everything that Gellert had been hoping for, Queenie knew, but she could not help but feel absolutely sick to her stomach. The same girl who had been keeping Gellert entertained, the Cursebreaker – the daughter or niece of General Evans – was the last Peverell.

Queenie felt herself pacing around the room.

How? How had they missed this?!

Wait … General Evans had been married. That husband of hers had also been a pain in the neck, especially since he had a propensity for using Muggle guns and had decent skill in knife throwing. Queenie could not remember his name, but she knew that his aim had been rather deadly, much like his wife's.

Had that man been a Peverell?

The General knew she should be celebrating and not acting like she had just been informed that Teenie had lost a child. However, Queenie could not help but feel a sense of foreboding. She had warned the Peverell girl about attracting Gellert's attention too much, and now Queenie had the information that would put her in terrible danger.

It was perhaps fitting that at this point it began to snow quite heavily outside; Queenie went to the window and watched the flakes tumble from the skies as though they would help give her some more clarity on how to proceed with what she now knew.

I can't keep this from Gellert forever, she stated to herself.

But I can hold my silence a little while longer. Just until the girl is back at Hogwarts. Gellert tried to get her there and failed.

Queenie prayed to whoever would deign to listen to her that her prayers would be answered and that Gellert would not discover the truth before the Lady Peverell could get to the safety of the Hogwarts wards.

Meanwhile in London, stilled confined to the Janus Thickney Ward of St. Mungo's, Ambrose and Bradley stirred roughly in their sleep, their night nurses watching over them with concerned expressions.

Indeed, it was perhaps their eerie muttering that had the nurses contemplating fetching one of the Healers on night duty.

"Danger … they know … danger … protect the girl …"

###########################################################################

Queenie Goldstein has discovered the truth to Harry's identity; will she be able to keep it a secret long enough for Harry to go back to Hogwarts or will Grindelwald discover using another method? Will Harry's other friends discover the truth to her identity? Will Harry's lawyers be able to assist her in resolving the matter regarding the attempted murder on Altair Nott and, inadvertently, Nymera Lestrange? Stay tuned to find out!

Oh my gods, I am so sorry it has taken this long. I have had job interviews and a rather important deadline for an article I have been writing to contend with – I have two job offers to consider so that is a definite high note, but it has made my uploading rather sporadic.

Orion: Merlin, those ghosts are really fun! They have so many stories to tell; I love how despite everything they manage to stay in high spirits!

Gellert: … Did you intend to make that pun?

Orion: Pun?

Harry: Gellert, shush.

Orion: Do you think he is salty Queenie is hiding your secret?

Gellert: I can hear you! And yes.

Harry: Don't worry. I am sure it won't affect the buying of your favourite cookies.

Gellert: It had better not!

Oh dear … we will see you guys next chapter!

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