AN: Hello all. I'm back. Very *very* sorry for the long wait. I went back home last weekend and was going to update but 1) I had some confusion with one of my beta readers and 2) I had such a busy weekend.

I don't really have any other excuse but I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Nariyah is a favourite OC of mine.

Also, thank you to the guest reviewer Alas for the review. I appreciate the comment, and while Halley is very likely going to experience those thoughts at some point or another, I haven't got that end in the works for her. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)


Chapter 10: Can anybody find me somebody


Nariyah Daugher was immensely busy and immensely bored. This job was definitely not worth the ink that had been used to hire her, but she had been hired. And if she didn't work at least one job a month, then her family would somehow guilt her into coming back home to Egypt.

And she didn't want to be in Egypt. It was especially hot at the end of August, and there were not enough cooling charms in the world to stop the dust that carried itself in the air from sticking her. And the men were more interested in the wealth and power her Daugher connections would give them.

"Are you listening?" the woman who'd hired her asked. She was Latin American and gorgeous to look at. A bore to listen to though. She was trying to find out if her daughter was trying to sue her for stealing a new tanning spell patent.

The daughter was.

"Of course not," Nariyah said, drawing out the words. "I sent you all the documents yesterday. It's your solicitor's job to go through them with you."

The woman huffed, looking highly offended.

"Can I have the rest of my fee now?" Nariyah asked.

The woman unhappily went into the room adjacent to theirs and a moment later came out with a sack of galleons. "Ungrateful brat!" she spat in Spanish.

"Sí señora. ¡Mucho gusto!" It wasn't nice to meet her at all. The woman was patronising from start to end. But Nariyah left without saying anything else. She did, after all, have a portkey to catch.


The job in Paris was somewhat more interesting. A man training to be an Unspeakable - though she wasn't supposed to know that apparently - was looking for the site on which the early French Wizards had originally bound House Elves to families.

It had been more of a challenge, especially because everyone involved in the 1402 project had long since died and were sworn to secrecy; a smart choice considering it was questionable practice to bind one sentient being to another for servitude.

This job had taken about a month and had also required her to procure unspeakable information (pun intended) through means of sex. The trainee had been quite happy to sleep with Nariyah, even if he didn't realise why.

The sex had been alright. The memories she'd obtained were even better. The idiot hadn't realised that he'd seen the layout of the ritual site in one of the texts he'd stumbled upon in the Paris Wizarding Library.

Of course, it was in Old French, but still.

That one had taken a month and a half and Nariyah was given a hefty bag of gold - which she fully deserved seeing as she was helping him with Unspeakable Training and that shit was known to be gruelling - and the man had stuttered out a thank you, and should she ever be in Paris again…

She'd let him know she would. With a parting kiss and a quick question. Nariyah had found out that he was researching the bond between House Elf and Families in the hopes of further understanding the effects of Amortentia. That was highly fascinating and she told him she was looking forward to reading his work.

She didn't say that he probably wasn't going to get past the training phase. He was easy to read. Of course, most didn't have her gift for 'finding things' but he was also a shit liar, so…

She was in and out of her hotel before she noticed the grey owl that had been flying for miles to catch up with her. It wasn't happy. She was off on another job.


The third and fourth jobs were fucking mind-numbing. A husband wanting to know how much his wife was hiding from him - 2000 galleons - before divorcing her, and a German Heir wanting to ensure that her groom-to-be was the firstborn and not, in fact, the magically-weak identical twin.

Nariyah had decided a long time ago to not ask questions on the inane, but that one had tempted her more than she'd ever been tempted. "Why would you think it was his twin?" she asked the heiress.

"It's not uncommon," was all she said.

Right. It wasn't uncommon. Nairyah shouldn't have asked; it wasn't worth the brain cells.

Somewhere between those two jobs a grey owl had flown her a letter but she had placed it somewhere in amongst her things and had forgotten to open she had lost it. Then she'd left for a far more interesting job courtesy of Bill Weasley.

Was it back in Egypt?

Yes.

Was she going there because she had a bit of a power boner for the man?

Also yes.

He'd asked her if she could help him research genetic curses. She'd accepted. Bill wasn't as enthusiastic as he usually was, but then his sister had died earlier on in the summer, and his family were hounding him to return. She'd taken his mind off it, researched, almost got attacked by a mummy and had to face the wrath of her own mother when she'd found Nariyah in Cairo's private hospital Almaladh Alaman.

"Do you have a death wish?" her mother asked furiously.

"Moma I'm in a hospital! I obviously don't." That was sort of difficult to say after some of her magic had been drained from her, courtesy of the mummy.

"Ya Heka! Why have I got such a rude daughter?" her mother asked looking skyward. Then she started talking about how Nariyah was going to come home and they would look after her in the State House. Apparently, Adina was going to be getting married soon and wouldn't it be nice to be there for her sister as she prepared for her wedding.

Yeah, Nariyah didn't think that the God of Magic was going to do much by way of answering her mom any more than she thought her mom was going to let her rest in peace (pun unintended).

And the Healers weren't even going to kick her out because of how much they donated yearly! Though 'donated' was not the right word. The Daugher's had two sons who were a curse breaker and a ruthless lawyer, and another daughter other than Nariyah who liaised with the Egyptian No-Maj government.

As far as her parents were concerned - and possibly her extended family - making sure Almaladh Alama stayed functioning at the best of its ability was an investment into their children's safety.

But her mom eventually left. It was just in time for Nariya to receive a yellow envelope from a grey owl. It bit her when she took the letter from it.

It wasn't a howler, but it definitely seemed unpleasant. She almost chucked it away, but the owl squawked when she put it over the trash can, and she recognised the handwriting so she opened it fairly quickly. By which that meant she read it after dinner.

Nariyah, while I am aware you have a penchant for ignoring - or worse, forgetting - about your mail, I do believe I have something that will interest you, if you were so inclined to respond!

She heard the attitude, but she also found it far more amusing that it was from Lysander. He was just so uptight or overly excited when it came to ethically questionable research, but she understood. Honestly, that was almost her favourite type of research.

The rest of the letter was vague and par for the course. He couldn't explain in writing but she would find out in person. She would be required to take an oath of silence - that wasn't in the letter but Lysander hadn't managed to stay out of Azkaban during the Second War because he was an angel - and she would be well compensated.

Well. She was now thoroughly intrigued.

Nariyah took out a pen - quills were useful for pomp and circumstance but not the best when you had a shaky hand and she thought it would be better if Lysander could actually read her writing - and wrote out her acceptance.

Her mom was just going to have to pin her down some other time. Though maybe she would try and see Bill before she went. Maybe he'd even tell her if the Bone Thinning Curse was passed down through generations and could accumulate in one unlucky person, or if it was more of an instantaneous thing.


It was almost Samhain when they heard news from Lysander's woman. Tom was unsure if the girl was even alive; unfortunate as it may have been, he would probably need to punish Lysander for wasting their time.

The longer it took for him to get the stone, the more time he was out in the open vulnerable and unstable. All it took was one unlucky instance and Dumbledore could find out about him, or his other self could recuperate enough strength to return. Not ideal, to say the least, and then Tom would just have to kill Lysander, regardless. He knew too much.

But the 29th of October brought with it a falcon carrying a rolled-up piece of paper. Paper. Not parchment. And the falcon was exhausted.

So, she was in Egypt then.

The letter was insolent. It began with a Hello and ended with I'll be there as soon as I'm out of the hospital.

It was one sentence. Tom was not confident in her abilities. Not at all.

Then came November the 2nd and the wards alerted Lysander to a visitor. Tom came face to face with the researcher. Lysander had made it very clear that he should neither touch her nor answer any of her questions until she had sworn an oath of secrecy. It was an odd warning, but he listened.

She entered the Manor and immediately gave Lysander a big hug. What was more interesting was that Lysander returned the hug with a grandfatherly smile.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. Her accent was that slightly American drawl that came from international students - a slight mish-mash of American, British and whatever home accent they had. Though Tom had no doubt that she would be able to switch to something more...becoming if the need called for it.

There were two types of rich kids that Tom had noticed in his time at Hogwarts.

The first were the most common in the circles he'd run in, though things may have changed over the 50 years he'd spent in the diary. The first was the high-born; old money, and painfully Aristocratic British types. They were born looking down on others and as a result, the only way to get in with them was if you were born as one of them or had a way to overpower them. Financially, politically, magically, it didn't matter.

That had been relatively easy once he'd made it clear just what his lineage entitled him to.

But the second type, they were the kind that had money and power but didn't flaunt it. Who cashed in favours under the noses of anyone, no matter their wealth or power, who wore carefully designed clothes to show they knew exactly how much you could not afford but said nothing about it. Those ones he didn't know what to do with. Yet.

And it was clear that Nariyah Daugher was the second kind. He could tell from the expensive-looking muggle jeans and the enticing smell of Desire No. 5 following her as she walked to Lysander. And the way her makeup was expertly applied to make her eyes look bigger, and the darker shade of red on her lips matched her fingernails showed enough care if one knew what to look for.

Tom was, as much as it pained him, a proponent of giving silent credit where it was due so he had to acknowledge that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"I had a run-in with a mummy," she continued, tilting her head of large curls to the side, "it wasn't fun."

"Yes. Is that why you didn't answer my owl?" Lysander asked.

"Nope." She popped the 'p' and gave him a large grin. "I was working. So who are you then? Lysander's new assistant?" she asked Tom. Tom bit back a response at the insolence as Lysander stepped in front of him.

"A good try, my dear, but I prepped him for your arrival."

"He must have a lot of secrets if you felt the need to prep him. But sure. Standard oath?" she asked, her wand already out and twirling in her fingers.

Lysander shook his head. "I'm going to need a bit more than that this time."

"Let's get to it then." Nariyah's eyes sparkled with interest and mischief. Apparently, Lysander couldn't have said anything better to the woman because she all but skipped to Tom's side. "Set your terms, stranger."

It was alarming how willingly she was going along with everything, and Tom so wanted to ask her why she was just letting herself be tied to an oath when she didn't know what it would involve, or how much danger it would put her in.

But he wasn't sure how far her gift extended to him asking questions, and it was no skin off his neck if something happened to her because she was stupid enough to go into this blind.

Lysander was the one to do the oath - she trusted him it seemed - and he and Tom had already gone over the fine points, just in case. It was done in a matter of minutes, though from all of his training with Lysander, Tom was now able to feel the moment her magic allowed Lysander's to bind her to him.

Tom smiled to himself.

When the magic settled she turned to the two of them with her own red-lipped feral grin. Her teeth glinted under the dull light. "So, what's this big project then?" she asked.

"We need you to locate Nicholas Flamel. Or his wife," Lysander said.

"If you can handle that," Tom added blithely.

Nariyah's eyes flickered to Tom's and she raised her head a little. She wasn't small for a woman, at least 5'7, and the heels gave her a couple more inches, but Tom was still taller than her. It didn't matter. The best intimidators didn't let something as benign as height stop them, but it gave him a thrill that she had to look up at him to meet his eyes.

"And who are you?" she asked.

Tom immediately raised his Occlumency shields. Lysander didn't know just how she managed to find the answers she looked for, but he would take precautions nonetheless.

"That's not really your concern Miss Daugher," he said.

She smiled coquettishly and Tom had a feeling he'd fallen into some sort of trap. Nariyah hummed and took one step closer, and while Tom didn't step backwards or raise his own wand in warning, he did hold it tight against his sleeve. Just in case.

But she didn't move any closer. Her brown eyes only roamed over his, "Fair enough, I suppose. But how about a bet. If I can find Flamel in under six months, you tell me just why you want the Philosopher's stone, ok?"

"And why would I do that?" Tom asked.

Nariyah laughed softly to herself and stepped away. She called for a House Elf and asked it to take her bags to 'her usual room' and Tom was left wondering just how many times Lysander had employed the woman.

It took less than a minute but Tom had the feeling that she was ignoring him somehow, and his hand itched to throw a curse at her for the impertinence. He wouldn't, not yet. She was a guest of Lysander's and she was also the only one that would be able to find Flamel, apparently.

But Circe be damned if she ignored him again!

"Nariyah, please don't antagonise Tom. He's a guest of this Manor and indispensable to this project."

"I bet he is," she said.

She was still smiling! And on top of that, Tom now had to wonder just exactly how much she had gleaned from the miniscule amount of interaction she'd had with the two of them.

"Will you answer the question?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think you'll tell me because it'll make you feel easier than constantly wondering what I know?"

"And what makes you think I can't find out other ways?" he asked tightly. He was trying very hard to control the threat that was pushing its way out of his mouth, if only because he didn't want to scare her off. But she was making it very difficult.

Nariyah shrugged. "I've never had information forced out of me by way of torture, but I don't expect I'll be all that cooperative about it. I suppose you can try Legilimency, but as every established family knows, you teach your kids to protect themselves from mind shit."

Tom narrowed his brows at what could have only been a dig, and from the other side of the room Lysander sighed. The two of them together were probably going to drive him mad.


At Hogwarts, Halley Potter was walking along the corridors just a little behind Greengrass after being let out of Defense. The classes were more structured than they had been with Quirrel and far more useful than Lockhart's had been but the professor was sort of odd. He would continuously look at Halley like he knew her and she was quite sure she'd never met him in her life.

Ahead of them, Malfoy and his goons seemed to be kicking up a fuss about something. Halley saw a flash of shocking red hair and figured that Malfoy was antagonising the youngest Weasley.

She wished he wouldn't. He'd just lost his sister and any more aggravation would hardly be stood for if he went to McGonagall or Dumbledore. Or really any other teacher but Professor Snape.

It was cruel and they would see it that way too.

But she wasn't going to get involved. It wasn't for her to step to Malfoy. If Weasley really wanted to get him in trouble then there were plenty of ways to do that. So she kept behind Greengrass and walked on.

But when she came up to the interaction it wasn't Ron Weasley but Percy. He was flanked by the twins on either side and the Prefect looked like he was struggling between crying and giving all the detentions possible. She understood why as she caught the tail end of Malfoys idiocy.

"...fainting. Like a little girl. I'm surprised you're still allowed to be Perfect after everything," Malfoy said.

The Weasley twins raised their wands unanimously. "Say anything else," one of them spat.

"We dare you!" the other added.

There was a crowd now and even if Malfoy had the common sense to stop, he wouldn't. Too many people were watching.

"Don't," the Prefect Weasley said quietly. But his brothers kept their wands up.

"Trying to be all good and just, Weasley?" Malfoy laughed. "It's funny because I doubt that's what your mum thinks of you now."

Everyone in that corridor noticed the simultaneous tension that the Weasley twins shouldered and the way that the Prefect slumped in defeat. Malfoy had just struck a nerve in the whole family and now that he'd seen it he was going to go in for the kill.

It was uncalled for, and maybe as part of his house the Slytherins in the corridor should have stopped him. But who was going to do that? The handful of people that had the pedigree to even talk back to Malfoy somehow were nowhere in sight. And they would have probably given a last spiteful comment anyway. Either way, the Weasleys would have been hurt.

But what was stopping the rest of them? House politics were nowhere near as blatantly political in the other Houses and what about the Gryffindors that were just standing there? Why weren't they doing anything?

And with Malfoy unchecked, he gave the final lethal blow. "Wasn't it your job to look after your little sister, Weasleys?"

The Prefect let tears shed. The twins attacked. Parallel streams of magic hit Malfoy in the face and then he was on the ground. Screaming. Blood had started staining his pale face and hair almost instantly, and something was growing from his mouth. A moment later it became clear that his teeth were growing far too large for his face and at too-quick a speed. They were cutting his gums and his mouth. And if it wasn't stopped soon, it might start cutting into his face.

At the same time Halley felt a burst of anger and...possibly hatred.

It was abrupt and left her breathless, and she couldn't explain what had happened to Greengrass when she asked her. She just knew that for a split second, she had wanted to take the girl's blond locks in her hand and ram her head into the wall.

Halley turned and fled just as one of the professors came around the corner after being alerted by a portrait.

Halley rushed to the closest bathroom to get some water on her face. When it was all but dripping down the collar of her shirt, she looked in the mirror at her pale, tired face.


AN: So...what did you think of Nariyah? I personally love that she DGAF, but I'm biased 😂. I'd love to hear your thoughts on her.

I'll be updating next week so keep an eye out for that 😊. Have a great weekend.