A/N: Here we begin the proper rewrite. Hopefully this time, the scenes do not feel as sudden and jumpy as before.

After spending the previous night at an inn in one of the neighbouring towns, the two men had resumed their journey before dawn and now stood facing a most wicked field of ruin and destruction. What would have once been a lush and lovely flower field was now a field of overgrown weed and thorns, and where the smell of rot and decay pervaded the air. Even the sky was coloured in the brown shades of malaise and plague, and devoid of birds soaring in the air. As they quietly made their way through the maze of toppled, cracked and eroded gravestones that were covered in grime and mold, and where the engraved names of the dead could no longer be recognized, rats scurried between their legs and spiders continued weaving webs on every surface and in every corner.

Suddenly, one of the men's knees buckled and he fell unceremoniously onto one of the graves. His long, matted black hair plastered on his face as he continued perspiring. His lungs painfully heaved in the wicked air around them. His glistening face was a mixture of paleness and redness as drool leaked from the corners of his mouth. His glassy grey eyes had reddened terribly before they fluttered close as his lips puffed out and he blew hot wisps of white smoke. "Corban…"

Immediately, his companion helped him – one of his arm slung around Yaxley's shoulders while Yaxley wrapped an arm around his waist. "Hang on bastard, we are almost there," Yaxley sighed as he half dragged his deathly best friend out of the cemetery and towards haunting edifice that stood alone on the hill in the center of the weed field.

Vines wrapped themselves tightly around the walls of the structure and dirt, dust and fleece covered the once colorful rainbow windows. A broken weathered sign stood just a little off the threshold of the massive building. Sold. Gently, Yaxley ran a finger on the signpost as a fleeting smile curled on the corners of his lips before he continued trudging and pushed open the ancient doors. He continued into the dark entrance before he waved his hand.

Immediately, the doors swung shut and the chandelier lit up, followed by the fireplace and every lamp and candle in the room. The interior of the building betrayed the haunting mystery that its exterior had portrayed. Yaxley deposited his best friend on the sofa carefully before he fell gracelessly into a nearby armchair.

"Master!" a small house elf in an old apron chirped as she curtsied before Yaxley, "Potsie welcomes Master! Potsie is happy!"

Ignoring the doe-eyed elf, Yaxley gingerly dragged the tip of his wand against the top of his clothes down to his naval. His clothes tore open and he winced as the air touched his skin.

"Master!" Potsie whined as she stared at her master's battered torso, "Potsie be he-"

"No," Yaxley grimaced as he inspected the severity of each of his wound, "Antonin needs healing."

"Anto- Grumpie Wizzie?" the elf repeated as she tilted her head before she slowly turned to see the other wizard and a startled gasp escaped her, "G-Grumpie Wizzie be alive? Master succeeds! Master succeeds! Potsie believes! Potsie believes!" Immediately, she twirled excitedly as she skipped towards the unconscious wizard and summoned an array of flasks. She began working on injecting the wizard with multiple potions before she transported him into a room on the upper floors. She made sure the thin wizard was settled in comfortably, and wiped down and changed into a clean robe before she left him.

When she returned to the drawing room, her master had already disappeared, leaving his devastated clothes behind and a light blood trail for her to follow. She followed his footsteps, taking turns and passing by rooms until she stopped before a pair of huge mahogany doors that was left marginally ajar. "Master?" she called as she pressed her webbed fingers against the door and slowly walked into her master's haven, "Does Master need Potsie? Potsie serves. Potsie always serves!"

Her webbed feet curled as they stepped onto the deep green grass. Bushes of different flowers lined neatly and beautifully. Just beyond the bed of flowers, a noticeable footpath was flanked by groves of various species of trees whose branches spread wild and free. A small herd of unicorns trotted towards her, neighed gently before they turned and travelled towards the woods. Potsie stared at the silvery manes before she followed them and allowed her webbed fingers to brush against the tree trunks that she passed by. The deeper she went into the woods, the louder the sound of rushing waters; and then, she ran as fast as she could. When a small waterfall that was connected to a small lake appeared in the clearing and she grinned excitedly. The light reflected off the water looked like a finely meshed net. The water was crystal clear, and it was marvelously easy to spot the fish that swam just beneath its surface. Potsie giggled as she dipped her webbed hands into the water and felt the gentle tickling from the fish that swam too close to her hands.

Potsie remembered the early days of her master's greenhouse. He had taken weeks to build the dome and enforced runic inscriptions to keep the place protected and hidden by a veil of reflection. From the outside looking in, it was impossible for anyone to know the forest existed unless the runes were rewritten. It was only after her master was satisfied with his rune work, that he began working on the garden. He had started with the lake and the waterfall – digging and building, and filling it with water – over the course of a few months. After he had the lake functioning, she had remembered it took him a few years after that to fill the forest with life. Every morning, he would task her with caring for the plants while he would leave the hall only to return at night with a new pet. It was only last December that he had brought in the herd of thestrals, and he had announced quite happily to her that his forest had finally reflected his vision.

Just as Potsie was enjoying her memories of the forest, a Kelpie burst through the lake's calm surface and flipped its glorious purple mane before it dived into the water again. Potsie laughed jovially as she was drenched twice by the playful sea horse, and she shuffled closer until her knees were balancing on the edge. She stretched her hands as far as she could and laughed when the horse surfaced gently so that her fingers could comb its mane. It was not long before the horse nudged her hands gently that Potsie entered the water to mount the beast. Holding onto its neck, Potsie laughed excitedly as it swam, and leaped in and out of the water before it tossed her lightly into the air and she fell into the water with a loud splash. Potsie laughed merrily when her head resurfaced and she clapped her hands happily at the Kelpie that neighed joyfully.

"Having fun?"

Immediately Potsie froze. That voice and question seemed menacing enough to freeze everything. Even the playful horse in front of her had stiffen. Slowly, Potsie turned her head to look at the half-naked man standing by the waterfall. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the horse moved a little behind her as if it could hide. "Master," she whispered guiltily as she teleported to stand beside him. Her wet ears flattened against her round head, and her big eyes cast downwards. She should have remembered this was her master's favorite place – his sanctuary – and she, of all people, should have known not to play in such a sacred place. Her lips wobbled, and she clasped her hands in front of her as she sniffed, "Potsie sorry! Potsie punish Potsie!"

Just as she tried to dunk her head into the water, her master grabbed her by her nape and lifted her until they saw each other levelly. Yaxley stared at her from head to toes, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Wandlessly, he patted her head and cast a warming charm on her that went through her. Slowly, the dampness left her and Potsie felt the comfortable heat and grinned widely at her smiling master. "Potsie thanks Master! Potsie happy!" she chirped as she clapped her hands excitedly and curtsied gratefully, "Master kindest!"

"Am I really the kindest?" Yaxley echoed with a teasing smirk as he pinched her cheek lightly before returning her onto the ground, "Don't get used to it. I'm just in a good mood."

He walked around her and approached the edge of the water. He knelt down, gently slipped his hand into the water and whistled. Potsie watched as the Kelpie from before swam towards her master and gently broke the surface. Her master stroked the horse's mane gently and she maintained her silence as she observed the serene yet despairing look on his face. "How is Antonin?" Yaxley asked softly as he was grooming the water horse.

Potsie approached her master carefully, and knelt beside him and stared at his reflection waved away the horse, and began beckoning to the silver-tailed fish and the other marine creatures. His face was a mixture of sadness, loneliness and helplessness, and even his violet eyes that usually danced with delight looked a little more dull and empty. Potsie bit her lips as she watched her master's long fingers moved mechanically. Every day, he did the same set of preliminary methodical procedures and sometimes she wondered if he needed his sight and if his muscles had remembered the moves. It was something she had heard her master speak aloud when he was still a student. He had called the phenomenon muscle memory.

Finally, after a long time of watching her master, Potsie answered gently, "Grumpie Wizzie be resting." If she was honest, this was not how she had imagined when her master told her he was fetching Grumpie Wizzie from prison. She had believed everything would be back to what it was before – they would be safe and peaceful – not at all like this. The turmoil in her master's eyes hurt her and she had to still her hand from reaching out to comfort him. "Grumpie Wizzie be alive," she reassured softly, and saw his reflection nodded slowly and the silence fell between them.

After he was satisfied on checking on all his aqua pets, Yaxley ordered Potsie to pick a various number of herbs and ingredients from the garden. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts, he stared at his reflection on the still water surface. Deep violet eyes stared at him in a strange mixture of apathy, remorse and relief. If he had his way, he would have flown home directly from Azkaban with the skinny bastard. Alas, there was a reason Azkaban was renowned for its impregnable defenses and the negligible chances of prison escape. The wounds he suffered were not shallow, but at least, they were not fatal. For now, the Russian bastard was safe, but it would be sooner rather than later before they came to find him here. Yaxley scratched his chin as he pondered if he could have polished his plan better, but he found that he could not. Flying home would have been a wrong move, as much as it seemed to be the best move considering Antonin's broken state. They needed to move as roundabout as possible without the weak Russian bleeding to death; if only to create diversions and stall for time. The only problem was that he had initiated the plan much earlier than expected but was it terribly bad? After all, there was not a time like the present especially when the old man -

"Master," Potsie called softly as she stood beside her master who jolted a little, "Potsie collects."

Yaxley looked at the bounty in her arms, levitated them into the air before he alchemized the ingredients into a salve that he spread carefully on his wounds. Hissing and wincing, he clenched his eyes as his wounds burnt and released white wisps of steam. Then, he summoned his clothes, carefully donned them to avoid pressing on his freshly-healed wounds, and walked away from the lake. Potsie followed him close behind and she watched as the branches extended behind her and the vines festoons them to close the path and hid the peaceful haven. As she left the garden, she stared at her master who closed the doors behind her and leaned his forehead against them.

"Master? Master be fine?"

"Potsie," Yaxley shuddered and croaked as he turned to look at his loyal servant, "Is this enough? Will they ever forgive me?"

How many times had she been asked by her master over the years? Potsie knew about his nightmares, and the feelings and thoughts he would never speak aloud but allowed them to shine brightly in his eyes if only people would look past his seemingly cruel façade. Potsie never needed him to tell her who he meant or what his questions truly meant – it just felt to her like she inherently knew. After all, she had seen him grow from a good boy to a lost adolescent to a despaired adult and finally to a wizard who was feared for his unpredictable nature.

Potsie stared at the violet eyes that were shining with unshed tears, and simply kept silent and averted her eyes from him. Those violet eyes usually twinkled with mirth, or darkened with anger had hardly ever shined with tears. It was not often her master would be emotional but when he did, she would gladly allow him the chance. This was the only reason she had, the only reason for her to believe that he was not the mad wizard the world loved to believe. He was certainly, beyond all doubts, still sane. Regardless of what anyone would tell her, Potsie firmly believed her master was most certainly human and faraway from heartless.

Closing his eyes, Yaxley took deep breaths and exhaled slowly. When he finally reopened them, he looked at his watch and sighed heavily. He had dawdled for too long musing over senseless things, when there were more important things to do. "Potsie, see to it that Antonin recovers peacefully," he ordered as he walked past her, "I have a very important appointment at Malfoy's Manor."

"Master…"

"What is it?" Yaxley looked over his shoulder at the little elf whose webbed hands were fretting on the hem of her clothes.

"Potsie…" she fumbled over her words as she peeked at her master who had turned around to fully face her, "Potsie believe… enough. They be happy, master."

Yaxley blinked at her and then for a flicker of a moment, a small genuine smile curled on his face as his serenity shined in his eyes.

Thank you for lying.

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