Harry Potter and the Inferi Complex
A Fantastic Beasts/Harry Potter Crossover by
Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)
Chapter 6: Reunions

NOW

As if Sirius Black needed more reminders that his dear friend, James Potter, was now dead - well, undead - their final destination was a graveyard. The very same graveyard where James and Lily had been buried, apparently. There were a couple of reasons why this was perhaps not the best idea, but Sirius hadn't complained for one reason only.

He was going to finally meet Harry. And if Harry hadn't complained about the graveyard, Sirius could hardly do so. And, too, if James and Lily were as powerful as he thought they were, it would take at least a whole team of Hit Wizards to bring them both down. Which wasn't too likely, even if Sirius's escape had already been discovered. Fighting magic-capable Inferi wasn't something even Hit Wizards were trained for, because magic-capable Inferi weren't routine at all. Sirius hadn't even known they were possible. Plus, Sirius did not think this graveyard was one of the more likely places he would be suspected to hide. In part because he wouldn't. There was no food, for one thing. So not even sentimental reasons would have driven him immediately to James and Lily's grave-site, at least not so soon after his escape.

When asked, James could only say that he and Lily had agreed to meet back at the graveyard, at least temporarily. The immediate goal was to liberate Harry and Sirius from their respective situations, and beyond that, Sirius had no idea what they had planned. Not that he was complaining. Sirius doubted he had escaped the Dementors for good, but it was nice not to have them so close for once.

They stopped only once: Sirius grabbed some food, while James got clothes for Sirius. It was all stolen, but Sirius was beyond caring. He would have worn negligee, if it got him out of his prison uniform. And thanks to prison, decent food had assumed a great deal more importance in his life than it had previously. James didn't eat anymore, and truly seemed to miss it. He watched Sirius eat with the same wistfulness that Nearly Headless Nick always had.

Any doubts Sirius had momentarily faded, when he first saw Lily and Harry. Harry was seated on the ground between Lily's legs, with his eyes closed. And Lily's arms were wrapped around Harry, her face buried in his hair, as if she feared someone would snatch him away from her.

It wasn't love. Or not just love. It was desperation. People weren't supposed to need each other that much. And while just having the thought made Sirius feel sick with shame, knowing it was true felt so much worse.

Harry spotted them first. A second later, he was out of Lily's arms, running like a thing possessed, and flung himself at James, who laughed and caught him. Harry wasn't laughing, Sirius noticed. He was crying and clinging to James, but not laughing.

Suddenly, Sirius realized that Lily was in front of him, only a few feet away. He hadn't noticed her moving, though he could not say if it was because he'd been distracted, or if she'd just moved that quickly and silently. Seeing her so close summoned that same twist of pleasure and pain in his heart that the sight of James had. Maybe it was different for Harry, because he'd never seen them alive, but Sirius knew exactly what Harry was missing out on, seeing his parents this way. As happy as Sirius was to have them again... this wasn't right. Not even close.

"Sirius," Lily said in a soft yet eerie parody of her voice.

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Hey, Lils. You..." He couldn't bring himself to comment on her looks, or tell her it was good to see her. He thought she would hear the lies in his tone. He finally settled on, "Thank you. For still believing in me."

She nodded. There was no smile. Sirius had expected one. James could still smile, at least. It wasn't quite the same, but he could. Lily apparently hadn't gotten that far along. Maybe she wasn't going to. Sirius wasn't even sure he wanted her to. To see her smile the way she once had, as she was now... he couldn't think of a worse torture just then.

Thankfully, he was saved the trouble of trying to find a conversation piece.

"Come and meet your godson, Sirius."

Sirius stepped forward, eyes on Harry, who had stopped crying and was watching him curiously. No more dwelling on the way things used to be, Sirius decided. It was time for new beginnings, and hopefully, doing things right this time around. And with that, he stretched out his hand, shook Harry's, and thought, for the first time in a long time, that maybe he wasn't quite as cursed as he felt.

Alastor Moody was carefully inspecting the front lawn of Number Four, Privet Drive when, abruptly, he was no longer alone. Someone was standing beside him, and if he hadn't been expecting her, it would have been very hard to ignore his first instinct, which was to curse anyone who got that close.

"Hello, Mr. Moody."

He turned slowly to face her and nodded gruffly. "That was fast, Ariana."

She nodded. "Yes. I assumed we won't have much time here."

"Right." He paused, shifted uncomfortably, then asked, "Did the wards I threw up a few minutes ago even-?"

"No." Ariana tilted her head slightly. "Weaving isn't quite based on the same principles as Apparition. So long as I can clearly picture the target - you, in this case - and have sufficient power and knowledge, I can bypass most wards without disturbing them. It isn't universal among Astutes, but I had an excellent teacher, and Weaving was his specialty."

"I see." Moody turned back to the yard. "Tell you what I think happened here, based on what Albus and I have found so far." He tapped the bottom of his staff against the ground, instantly bringing up a small, glowing blueprint of the entire house. As he pointed at it, a blue spot appeared on the edge of the blueprint. "An Inferius, most likely one of Harry Potter's parents, arrived here. The wards were failing when I got here, but they should have been working then. Inferius was allowed in by the wards, which shouldn't have been possible. Anyway, it's not the first one I've tracked, and I've seen a similar pattern before. Inferi don't care about footprints, makes it easy to track theirs. This one was even easier, as it was dripping wet, and the water it left was distinctive."

"In what way?" Ariana asked.

Moody shrugged. "Never seen any water, anywhere, like it. Ever. No basis for comparison." He nodded to the blueprint, and the blue spot moved into the house. "Inferius is allowed into the house. Goes straight to a locked cupboard where... well, the Muggles stashed Potter in there, for most of his life, by the look of it. Inferius breaks the padlock. And here it gets tricky, because if an Inferius had hurt Potter, it would be obvious. Seems more like it wanted to let him out. Inferius proceeds upstairs, where the Muggles are hiding in a bedroom, and kills all three the same way. A single blow to the head, instant death. Very strange."

Ariana nodded. "Because unless otherwise directed, Inferi usually tear their victims apart, as there are usually several Inferi, and in their eagerness to destroy a target, they rip it into pieces trying to be the one who completes the task first. And even when there is only one Inferius, it will attack until it is certain that there is no way for the target to still be alive. A single killing blow is virtually unheard of."

"You deal with Inferi often?" Moody grunted, impressed.

Ariana shook her head. "Never. But something told me to read up on them."

"Huh." Moody gestured, and the blue spot moved again. "Inferius goes back downstairs, and it gets tricky again. Potter was still in the house. If he had been afraid or running, that would be easy to tell. But he took time to raid the kitchen."

"He wasn't afraid," Ariana said softly. "He's probably been wishing his parents would come back for him for years." She paused and sighed. "He'd be happy, if one did. He'd go with them, not run away from them."

Moody stared at her for a few seconds, then coughed and shook his head. "Inferius and Potter leave through the back door. Explains the failing wards: all the living people the wards were meant to protect, either no longer consider this place home, or are dead. Wards start to collapse, since they have no reason to exist anymore."

"Was there anything unusual about the faces on the bodies?" Ariana asked.

"No. Wasn't really focused on them, though," Moody replied. "Blows all landed on the rear or top of the head. Why?"

"I'll show you."

They went into the house and up to the bedroom. The Dursleys were still dead on the floor. Moody either hadn't moved the bodies, or had returned them to the original positions they fell in, Ariana could tell. But he was right, there was nothing unusual about the faces, which wasn't entirely unexpected.

"Harry is an Obscurial, or was not long ago," Ariana explained. "Either way, he still has an Obscurus. I thought that this Inferius might also be his Obscurus. But it can't be. An Obscurus, no matter how varied its method of killing is, always leaves its mark on the victim's face. Gives it a bloated, grayish appearance. Extremely distinctive. That didn't happen here. Which raises more questions than it answers. Either Harry wasn't the one who reanimated his parents, or he did so in a way that I can't explain. And it still doesn't tell us what form his Obscurus has taken."

"What do you recommend?" Moody asked.

"Same thing you do, I expect: we need to find him immediately. I doubt he's in any danger from the Inferius. But there are dangers he can't possibly know about, having been with Muggles all this time. At the same time, things here... we shouldn't just leave them this way."

"Got a plan," Moody offered. "Not pretty, but it won't reveal that the Muggles were murdered." When Ariana nodded, he went on: "Gas explosion. Take out the entire house, Muggles with it. Not my first brush with arson, I admit."

Ariana frowned. "I suppose we each have our areas of specialty." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but held back.

"Agreed. Finding Potter is yours. Don't mind admitting I'm feeling out of sorts on this one. Never thought I'd see the day when an Inferius didn't behave like one."

"I think," Ariana said slowly, "you will find that the best thing to assume, when dealing with Obscurials, is that they acknowledge and follow only rules of their own design."

Newt Scamander had barely secured the sixth Fwooper in its soundproofed birdcage when Zephyrus emerged from the bushes with the seventh, suspended above his hand in a constantly swirling barrier of wispy, black wind.

"You're quite good at this," Newt observed as he took the bird and placed it in another cage.

"It's much easier than catching Obscurials," Zephyrus admitted. "Not quite as rewarding to me, but I suppose that depends on your perspective." He glanced at Sahara, who was happily playing with a frog she'd found.

"Not that it isn't lovely to see her, but I get the impression that this visit wasn't exactly authorized?"

Zephyrus considered how best to answer that. "I was authorized to follow her, and she wanted to see you. I couldn't let her go alone."

"Your loyalty is commendable," Newt said with a smile. "I can see why she's fond of you."

Zephyrus shrugged. "Loyalty to people worthy of it isn't hard."

"I pray that remains true for you, then." Newt turned his head and whistled sharply.

Sahara hurried over, carrying her frog friend. "Yes, Newt?"

Newt lifted the frog out of her hands. "What did you do?" he asked sternly.

Sahara winced. "My job," she said stubbornly.

"I thought your job was to stay inside until you proved ready. I received a letter when you reached Grade 2. I'm still waiting on the one that says you are Grade 1, and thus able to leave on assignments. Am I going to get that letter anytime soon, Sahara?"

"Don't be mad," Sahara whispered.

"I am not mad. I am disappointed. There is a world of difference. I would be mad if you made an honest mistake. I am disappointed that you knowingly ignored the rules."

Sahara shook her head. "I had to! Harry needed me!"

Newt blinked. "Who is Harry?"

"Harry Potter," Zephyrus said simply.

Newt stared at him. "Surely you don't mean-?"

"The same."

Newt turned back to Sahara. "And it didn't occur to you to notify Merrily or Ariana instead?"

Sahara pouted. "They were busy. Harry needed help right then."

"Help that you may not be qualified to give, perhaps."

Sahara frowned at him. "You weren't qualified when you helped me."

"Very true," Newt admitted. "But, being modest, I was quite capable despite that. At the very least, you should have asked for help. Demanded it, if it came to that. That, I could have encouraged. You didn't handle this well, Sahara, even though you meant well."

"I won't apologize," Sahara insisted. "Harry needed a friend."

"I don't doubt that. But he may have needed more than that. Did you give him a way to seek more information? Tell him who, other than you, he may need to contact? Warn him to be careful of possible risks following a Refinement?"

Sahara frowned. "Not exactly. But I told him that he could call me whenever he needed to!"

"And has he?" Newt asked.

"Not yet," she admitted uneasily.

"Did you give him a card?"

Sahara pouted at him. "Of course I did! How would he call me if I hadn't left him a way to do it?"

Newt sighed. "And did you explain how he can contact you?"

Her face fell. "No. But it's really easy! I'm sure if he wanted me, I'd know by now!"

Newt turned to Zephyrus. "How would you compare her handling of Harry to the way Ariana introduced herself to you?"

Zephyrus took a very long time to answer, which was an answer in itself. "Ariana answered all of my questions, and I had many. But I was also ready to believe in something new. Harry was not. I would not have sent Sahara to him." He paused. "And yet, if she had been her who was sent to me when I was nine? I would have gone with her even faster than I did Ariana. Because she would have been like Modesty was then, only happier, and Modesty and I had always been close."

"But would you have sent Sahara to Harry?" Newt asked.

"No. He is too important. I would have sent our most experienced Astute. Once he was recruited, however, that would be the time for him to meet Sahara."

"I won't say I'm sorry!" Sahara shouted.

"I never asked you to," Newt pointed out. "I only want you to learn from this. So that next time there is an Obscurial in need, perhaps you will be sent out, rather than resorting to sneaking out on your own."

Sahara sulked a bit, but didn't argue.

"I believe we promised that you would show me what you've learned," Newt said. "Are you ready to do that now?"

Without a word, Sahara vanished, and re-appeared three seconds later, tugging Ariana by the hand.

"This is Weaving," Sahara muttered.

Ariana eyed Sahara curiously. "Why are you so moody?" And then, as if she'd just recalled, "You're in trouble, you know."

Sahara frowned at her. "Then I have something else to be moody about. Great."

"I was busy, by the way. You shouldn't have just showed up and grabbed me."

"If I'm already in trouble, what's the difference?"

Ariana frowned. "This isn't like you, Sahara. What's the matter?"

"Haven't you heard? No one wants me to be me anymore."

"Didn't say that," Newt disagreed.

"Might as well have," Sahara muttered.

Ariana was able to guess what happened fairly quickly. "I'm guessing Newt wasn't as happy to see you as you'd hoped?"

"That is definitely not accurate," Newt protested.

"If we're going to keep up this game of pretending not to like people we obviously do," Zephyrus cut in, "then I'd rather not play, and would like to leave now."

"That's convenient, since I have a task especially suited for you," Ariana said. "Harry is missing. I need you to find him."

"Harry's in trouble?" Sahara demanded.

"We... don't know that for sure," Ariana admitted. "He might have run away. Or... whatever you call it when you leave home, and your parents know exactly where you are, because they go with you."

"His parents are dead," Newt pointed out reasonably.

"Indeed," Ariana agreed, pointedly not looking at him.

"So... Harry just went out?" Sahara asked uncertainly.

"He gave the very firm impression of never intending to return to his Muggle relatives. I don't blame him, but as he has neglected to keep anyone informed as to his new place of residence, we have lost him. I would like to find him. Immediately."

"I can look," Zephyrus murmured. He reached out to Sahara. "I need your help."

Sahara sniffed. "Thought I couldn't be trusted to help."

"This time, we are actually asking for your help. Please."

"Fine," Sahara grumbled as she walked over to him. "But I'm helping under protest, until someone admits that me meeting Harry was an awesome idea."

"So noted." Zephyrus placed his hands on Sahara's shoulders. "Think only of Harry's voice."

Newt leaned close to Ariana. "What are they doing?" he asked softly.

Ariana leaned in as well. "To put it as simply as I can? Zephyrus is going to extend his winds. They will listen for the sound of Harry's voice. Which he hasn't heard. Which is why he needs Sahara's memory of Harry's voice. She's the only one of us that can recognize it."

"And they can find Harry that way?"

"Assuming he actually speaks? Yes. But if he remains silent, that would be a problem. So let us hope that he is feeling especially chatty. Because in my experience, many of our targets prefer not to do a lot of talking."

"I don't suppose there's much I could do to help out?"

Ariana smiled. "You brought us Sahara. That is helping plenty... despite all current evidence to the contrary."

Harry was having what he thought of fondly as a weirdly wonderful time of his life. He understood that other people in his position would not be enjoying it anywhere near as much, but he didn't really care. It was all a definite improvement over what he'd gotten for ten years.

His parents were dead. Except that this suddenly no longer prevented them from walking around and talking. Harry had no idea why this was, but again: he didn't care, since it was much better than not having them around at all.

His mother was amazing. She had rescued him from the Dursleys. Also killed them. That part was less amazing, but Harry chose not to dwell on it, much. It was surprisingly easy. And it helped that he was still learning things about his mother. She didn't have a car. What she did have was a giant bubble that she could summon near any body of water. Somehow, there was always air in it, despite her not needing to breathe. Apparently, this was because Harry did need to breathe. So instead of him swimming, he rode in the bubble while his mother swam beside it. She didn't swim like normal people. She just sort of propelled herself with her feet... without moving them at all. Harry didn't understand it, but he also didn't question it. It got them where they needed to go.

Which was a graveyard. This, Harry knew, should have bothered him. Perhaps it would have, if he were alone. Then, it would have constantly reminded him that his parents were dead. Now, it just seemed like a thing dead people would do. If they were still walking around like his parents were, anyway.

Harry had met his fathers. Which was a big deal, because he hadn't known there were two. Or that one was in wizard prison. That should have bothered Harry, but frankly, he just thought it was cool that he had a godfather who was an ex-con. It helped that said godfather wasn't actually guilty of anything, and still met the approval of Harry's parents. He also thought it was sort of funny: all this time the Dursleys had tried to claim Harry was the delinquent in the family. Clearly they hadn't known about Sirius, or they never would have shut up about how Harry was destined to turn out bad, just like his godfather. Harry wouldn't have minded that part so much. Sirius was funny and charming, and it couldn't have been easy, maintaining either in prison.

Then there was Harry's birth father. It was nice, to finally see where Harry got the majority of his looks from. But again, Harry had to get used to the idea that his father was dead, yet not as dead as he should have been. It was odd, but remarkably easy to accept. And Harry knew that was not normal, but nothing about any of this was even approaching normal. Normal had been the Dursleys, and he never wanted any part of it again. Anyway, if there was one thing that stood out about Harry's father, it was that he talked. A lot. More than anyone else present, and even Sirius grew quite chatty once Harry accepted him, so that was saying something. It was even more noticeable because Harry's mother didn't talk much. She would answer questions, but her responses were generally short unless more detail was required. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought she hadn't been this way when alive. It was one of many things he had no real answer for, but didn't want to question.

The questions were really inevitable, though. Harry and Sirius were both alive, and neither had plans to die soon anymore, so they were really going to need the things that living people did: food, water, shelter, those sort of things that maybe dead people didn't have to think about. Except that Harry's parents clearly had thought about them. There was a bag with nothing but clothes in it, all in approximately Harry's size, and another for Sirius. It was a little too obvious that the clothing hadn't been bought. Likewise, there was all sorts of food crammed into another bag, most of which didn't need to be cooked. Again, obviously it hadn't been paid for.

The idea that Harry's parents had stolen for him was more touching than it was worrisome. There had to be a host of legal problems with a dead person trying to reclaim their living identity and any belongings that went with it. And he preferred his parents stealing from random people, to them trying to reclaim things that might have been sold to or inherited by their friends and admirers.

More to the point, Sirius no longer felt the slightest bit of shame in stealing to survive. The Ministry of Magic owed him for time spent in prison while innocent, and since he was unlikely to get even a Sickle out of them, considering he was now an escaped felon, he thought he might as well be guilty of something illegal and worthwhile. Providing for his godson apparently fell into that category.

Plans were already shaping up for the next "shopping trip" that Harry's father and Sirius would be responsible for. The highest priority item would be new glasses for Harry, although he was skeptical as to how they would manage this without him being present. For the time being, Harry was having to make do with the remains of his old glasses. Thankfully, there had not been much reading involved for Harry, although he was getting curious about some of the tombstones, so new glasses would certainly be useful.

When Sirius pulled him aside, Harry was sure it was to inform him that the new glasses would have to wait.

It was not.

"Harry," Sirius said slowly. "There is something I need to talk to you about. It's not... pleasant, exactly, but it is important."

"Okay," Harry said. "What is it?"

"Do you have any idea how it is that your parents came to be... here?"

Harry knew that Sirius was not talking about the graveyard. "No. I haven't really bothered to ask."

"I see." Sirius hesitated. "Harry, do you know what an Inferius is?"

That was an easy question, and Harry felt relieved. "No."

"What about the Dark Arts?"

"No?"

"Necromancy?"

Harry stared. "Wait, isn't that...?"

Sirius leaned forward. "Yes?"

Harry gaped at him. "Sirius, are you saying that you think I did this?"

"Harry, right now I have just as many questions about this as you do. All I know for sure is that I didn't do this. Couldn't do this. Wouldn't know how to do this."

"And you don't think it's the same for me?"

Sirius sighed. "Normally, I would say yes. But I think we agree there was nothing normal about your life before now, Harry. So I would like to say that there's no way you would know how to do this. You just found out about magic, after all, and this would be extremely complicated stuff. But you'd be surprised, what magical children can manage without knowing how they're doing it. Even so, this is-"

"Well beyond that?"

Sirius shrugged. "I can't say I've ever heard of a similar case. I wasn't there for you, and I'm really sorry about that. But being here for you now means taking care of you. And that means knowing what you're capable of, and finding out how your parents came back. You may not understand this, but typically when dead people are raised like this, the intent behind it is not so... positive."

Harry nodded. "I remember Dudley had some computer games with zombies in them."

"Right. So you can understand why it's important we find out how this happened. Because if someone who doesn't have your best interests in mind is responsible, you and I could end up in some real danger."

"But... you don't really think that's what this is, do you?" Harry asked in a pained voice.

"No. No, I don't, Harry." Sirius reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "What I think is that someone wanted very much to save you. And I'd thank them, if I could. But there are things we need to know. If this is permanent. If it's not, how long it will last. If there are conditions we need to be aware of. So when your dad and I go out, I may bring back certain things. I don't want you to think I'm blaming you. I'm just eliminating possibilities."

"I understand." Harry hesitated. "Sirius? If this isn't permanent... would you-?"

"Of course, Harry," Sirius said firmly. "I have no doubt that's why I'm here now. You are never going back to those people if I can help it."

Harry blinked. They should probably have a conversation about the Dursleys soon. Although he wasn't sure how Sirius would react, and to Harry, it almost felt like tattling on his mother. Maybe that conversation could wait. Preferably to the point where it never happened at all.

THEN

"You're forcing it."

"I have to. He hates being this size."

"You're in control. Tell him how it's going to be."

"It's not that simple! We can't be friends if I'm bossing him around!"

"Your Obscurus is not your friend."

"Maybe yours isn't, but mine is!"

"I had higher expectations for you, Sahara. This is very disappointing."

"I like the other you better. She's nice."

Hera frowned. "I'm here to teach you, not to be nice to you."

"Well, good job, then," Sahara muttered. "I'm definitely learning that you aren't nice."

Hera sighed heavily. "We will try again tomorrow. I hope you are better prepared then." She turned on her heel and vanished.

Sahara sighed and focused her yellow gaze on the Gila monster that currently had its teeth clamped onto her wrist. "I'm sorry, Arahas," she said, stroking its head gently with a finger. "I know she scares you. But it's like I said: she's part of Big Sis Ari, and they're both a part of us now."

Arahas clamped down a little tighter and made a strangled hissing noise.

"Okay, I promise. I'll find somewhere that you can be full-sized soon."

With the promise secured, Arahas immediately let go and crawled into Sahara's pocket.

Sahara flexed her wrist a bit, watching as the holes filled with sand, smoothed over, and then faded into her skin, as if they'd never been there at all. Then she turned around and ran into Ariana, who had her hand outstretched.

"Sorry, I thought you were busy studying," Ariana said, turning the collision into a hug.

"I'm done for now." Sahara clung to Ariana's hand. "Big Sis Ari, do you hate your Obscurus?"

"I'm warily respectful of it. But before that, yes, I did hate and fear it. That isn't true for every Obscurial, though. And if you feel differently about yours, that's okay. There's no need to rush your training. One day, you will master your Obscurus."

"But I don't have to be mean to him, right? I don't think he'd like that much."

Ariana hesitated, since Sahara seemed very worried about this. "Is he mean to you?"

"Not so much now. Other people make him nervous, so then he bites. But it doesn't hurt anymore. And if he just had enough room to stretch, I'm sure he'd be in a better mood. He gets cramped, living in my pocket."

Ariana blinked. "Wait, what does that mean? That sounds like-"

Sahara reached into her pocket and pulled out Arahas. "Say hi, Arahas."

Arahas hissed and ducked into her sleeve.

"You keep your Obscurus in your pocket?" Ariana asked faintly.

Sahara nodded. "Sometimes in my sleeve, or in my hood. Is that bad?"

"No, I just mean... doesn't he ever, you know, vanish? Cease to exist for a while?"

"Not since you touched me," Sahara replied. "Now he's always around. That wasn't supposed to happen?"

"I've never heard of it happening. That doesn't make it wrong, just... new."

"Okay. So no advice?"

"I... well, you're supposed to learn to master your Obscurus. But if he lives in your pocket, especially if he doesn't want to, that makes it seem like you already have. I think."

"Oh." Sahara frowned. "I don't get it."

Ariana shook her head. "That's fine. I don't, either."

from the New Astute's Handbook, by Opan Dor

The Internal Guide

Following a Refinement, a new Astute will need time to adjust to their emerging powers. The assigned instructor will ease this process. But of even greater help will be the internal guide, a mental projection who often takes the shape of the Astute who initiated the Refinement. It is important to differentiate between the Astute and the internal guide, however.

The internal guide's only purpose is to assist the Astute in seizing control of their power. It is generally no more a friend than the average Obscurus is before Refinement. Accounts from various Astutes confirm that they almost always prefer the actual person who saved them to the internal guide.

But it is still accurate to say that the internal guide, for all the discomfort they may bring, is an excellent source of motivation... if only so the new Astute can pass that first stage and be rid of them.

Continued in Chapter 7: Eaters of Death

The Potters go shopping in Knockturn Alley. A Death Eater is missed. Bones explains.

Endnotes:

If it needs to be said, "Lils" is a nickname for Lily, not a typo.

In case I don't actually get around to stating it: Ariana's teacher, Hermes, a.k.a. Opan Dor.

I prefer the visual of Moody using a magical staff to a wand, for some reason.

Ariana's discomfort with Moody has to do with the fact that she is technically the explosion expert of the two, but finds both saying so and handling such work distasteful.

Recall that Sahara's business card did not instruct Harry as to exactly how he could call her... not that he would have done so, anyway.

I at least had a vague idea of what necromancy was long before I became an HP fan, so assume it is not so... exotic that the average person wouldn't recognize the word. Likewise, I assume zombie games get imported.

Arahas is Sahara backwards... no, I couldn't think of a better name.

Sahara isn't bothered by the biting, in part, because she's a sand girl.

Don't know if Gila monsters hiss, I haven't bothered to ask one.

Hera is Sahara's internal guide. Also not so nice.