Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Thirty-Nine | First of Three

A week or two has passed since the second task, and life has slowly begun to move on.

Hermione is… adjusting. She's not the girl I knew anymore, not after what she's gone through, and only time will tell if the changes in her personality will be for better or for worse. The mood about her is often cool. Not to the extreme, but quite cold nonetheless.

I've done my best to be there for her, but it seems she grieves more differently than I do. Where I find it necessary to be around others, she requires seclusion, and I'm finding it hard to balance helping her while not coming across as stiflingly overbearing.

Ginny and Luna are both affected, although less so, and Cho… Cho I don't know about. She's spent her time since latched onto Cedric.

Not the healthiest way of coming to terms with your near death, but she's only fifteen.

More often than not Luna seems to be caught up in her own world, that faraway look in her eyes seeming ever more distant. Ginny on the other hand is more aggressive, always making her presence known via jokes and tales of nothing.

Their methods of coping make me really understand how different I am from other people, how I can walk away from a two-tonne sea monster and the death of a friend with my worries shadowed behind indifference and burgeoning acceptance.

Fleur is the same in that regard. Stoic is the word I would use to describe us.

We're not unfeeling – far from it – but our familiarity with death and tragedy has made us a bit hardier when it comes to this sort of circumstance.

It does help when we've sequestered ourselves for a few moments each day in the hopes of figuring out where in the hell Ludo Bagman lives.

The man has evidently done well to hide himself away from loan sharks and other unfavourable persons.

It's not as if we can ask around about the mans address and then kill him a few days later. If anything screams, 'yes, we're the ones who killed him,' that does.

We've relegated ourselves to attempting to put together where both he and Fudge live, choosing to go after the easier target first. That, and I'd prefer not to sabotage the already abysmally inefficient Ministry a couple of months before war may break out.

As much as I detest Fudge, killing him now will only make things more difficult if I don't manage to put Voldemort down during the third task. And it's not like he's going anywhere, the man would do his damndest to hold onto his post, even if Voldemort's return was publicly confirmed this time round.

Hell, he did hold onto his post after Voldemort had publicly returned. I just happened to be dead at the time.

I knead my forehead tiredly as I lean back in my seat, staring at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement.

The stress is beginning to pile up as the third task treads steadily closer, my to-do list seeming more and more impossible to complete.

First, kill Bagman and Fudge, as well as Crouch if I manage to get my hands on him before his son does.

Secondly, find a way to hamstring Lucius Malfoy before the third task.

Third, make sure that my family and friends can escape to safety in the case that full fledged war does break out in the next few months.

A quiet groan escapes me as I mull over what to do.

The first on my list is relatively simple, while the second and third are immensely more complicated. My current running theory is to utilize the Daily Prophet to stage a media campaign against Lucius, calling attention to his questionable bid for freedom after the end of the war, among other things.

It could work, and it could just as easily fail miserably. Only trying will tell.

Getting my family to safety would involve getting my hands on multiple illegal- no, make that doubly illegal portkeys from a reputable vendor, since they'll be cross-country. To add to that, I'd have to find a way to explain why exactly Daphne and the other girls would need one on their person at all times, not to mention a fire-drill of sorts to get them off Hogwarts grounds so that they can use it.

"Is everything alright?"

I blink at Fleur, my eyes and mind foggy. "Just thinking," I reply, sucking on my cheek.

She crosses her arms on the table, resting her chin on them. "Talk to me."

"I'm just trying to figure out what I can do about getting my family to safety if all hell breaks loose come the third task," I explain, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes and frowning when my vision blurs even more.

Fleur hums in thought, eyebrows knitted together. "Portkey?"

"Incredibly illegal and hard to find ones at that." I pop my lips in annoyance. "I have no idea where the hell I would look for something like that, let alone convince everyone I know and care about to carry one around without asking too many questions."

"That would be difficult," Fleur agrees, fingers ghosting lazily over the desk in a poor facsimile of a pianist. "Couldn't we make one?"

I shake my head. "Portkeys are advanced enchanting. I'm good with runes, but I'm not good enough to learn how to make one in only a couple of months."

"I forgot about that," she grumbles.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes, only broken occasionally by the steady tap of her fingers over the table.

Fleur gasps suddenly, shooting to her feet and nearly knocking her chair over just as my eyelids begin to droop, startling me away from the brink of sleep.

"What? What is it?"

Clapping her hands, Fleur's eyes light up. "Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Dumbledore!" she says excitedly. "Dumbledore would be able to make portkeys, international ones at that. He surely has the know-how, and it would all be perfectly legal."

I smack myself on the head. "How did I forget that? He's the Chief Warlock and the Supreme Mugwump. God I'm an idiot." I shake my head. The stress is really getting to me.

Fleur leans over and kisses my cheek, and I can't help the tired smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. "Thanks for that."

She gives me a confused look. "What for?"

"For being you."

A glittering smile spreads across her face, eyes crinkling happily. "You flatter me."

"No, really. Thank you for being you." I look down for a moment, wondering where I'm going with this train of thought. "You're just so damn amazing, you know that? Every little thing you do is just… entrancing. You're a good person, a genuinely good person, which is something you don't see all that often."

Her smile grows even wider just as her cheeks begin to flush. "I… thank you," she murmurs, eyes downcast. "Thank you."

"No, thank you."

Fleur groans loudly as she stacks the parchment away, tucking her tome into her bag. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Really?" I hold my hand to my chest. "You wound me Miss Delacour."

Rolling her eyes, Fleur slings her bag over her shoulder. "Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore," I agree, grabbing my own bag and following her out of the Room and off towards the Headmasters office.

We walk briskly, ignoring the usual stares and whispers from passersby as we quickly make our way over to the second floor.

For all the secret passages and magical space-bending corridors, one would think that there would be a simpler way to get to the Headmasters office. Going down to the second floor, and then back up a magical staircase to the tallest tower of the school?

I guess the magical world isn't known for having incredible civil engineers.

The gargoyle turns on the spot as we come into view and I can't help the reflexive nod of my head towards it as we move up the stairs.

"Did you just thank an inanimate object?" Fleur jibes.

"Force of habit," I reply, rubbing the back of my neck as she smiles at me. "What?"

Her smile grows even wider, and she shakes her head, hair tossing slightly. "Nothing, you're just really cute."

I blush, murmuring a denial under my breath.

"Miss Potter… Miss Delacour? Please, come in," Dumbledore says, announcing himself through the door.

I open it smoothly, frowning when I realize that I've probably spent more time kicking the door down than opening it properly.

Poor thing has been through a lot these last few years.

Dumbledore beckons us over, transfiguring a second chair with his other hand. "Come in, come in."

"Tea?" he asks as we take our seats, the two of us denying his offer with a cordial shake of the head. He studies Fleur curiously, eyes flicking towards me and a confused look on his face. "What can I do for you two?"

I look to Fleur. "It was your idea."

She smiles, folding her hands over her knee. "Helene and I require intercontinental portkeys to provide her family in the case of war breaking out."

Dumbledore coughs loudly. "Excuse me?"

I sigh, playfully smacking Fleur on the shoulder. "Fleur knows everything," I explain, Dumbledore's confusion quickly replaced with an understanding look.

"Ah, so the two of you are planning for a worst-case scenario?" We nod, Dumbledore scratching his chin as he pauses briefly. "I can easily make you as many as you need, it's the least I can do after everything I've done." He cocks his head to the side inquisitively. "If I may ask… how long has Miss Delacour here been aware of your more… interesting talents?"

"Interesting talents?" Fleur asks, glancing at me. "Our relationship hasn't progressed quite that far yet."

"Fleur!" I gasp, garnering a whooping laugh from her and an amused look from Dumbledore. "God damnit… what Fleur meant to say was she's known since after the first task."

"You've known the whole time then?"

Fleur nods. "Yes, I have. It was quite shocking at the time, but I know not to relate the magic to the person."

Dumbledore hums in agreement. "Something I myself have just come to understand." He turns back to me, hands clasped in front of him. "Now Helene, how many portkeys do you believe you would require?"

I frown, ticking off on my fingers as I count. "Well, my immediate family plus Hermione and the other girls… I'd need nine, maybe ten to be on the safe side so that there's an extra lying around the house."

"I can have them brought to you tomorrow night," he says. "Portkeys require quite a bit of magic to be properly constructed and I'm afraid that I'll only be able to get half of them made this evening, the other half tomorrow."

"Thank you, you have no idea how much it means to me to keep my family safe."

God, it feels odd to be on speaking terms with Dumbledore again.

"No need to thank me Miss Potter," he denies, waving me off. "Like I said, it's the least I can do."

"Er- about that," I murmur somewhat sheepishly. "You know how I said I was going to kill Bagman?"

To Dumbledore's credit, he doesn't flinch at my comment. Instead he narrows his eyes. "Yes?"

"Well, I was curious as to whether or not you know where he lives?"

Letting out a long sigh, he pinches his nose. "I do, and though I understand your reasoning and will do nothing to prevent you from killing Ludo, I have no wish to be complicit in cold blooded vigilantism."

"Please don't make me force you to tell me."

Dumbledore shuts his eyes tight, lips pursed. "Ludo Bagman lives on the outskirts of Wimborne, a few miles south of the motorway passing through the town."

"Thank you," I say, getting out of my seat. "I'll see you tomorrow evening to pick up the portkeys, you don't need to have them delivered to me tonight."

Dumbledore nods his head. "Do not let this get the better of you Miss Potter, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I know that better than most."

I pause, hand on the doorknob. "Thank you. I'll make sure of that."

"That's all I can wish for," he murmurs as we exit his office.

-::-

I hold tightly onto the silk bag, a light jingling emanating from it as I tuck it away into my rucksack.

We asked, and Dumbledore provided. Ten portkeys all enchanted to bring the users to an old Order safehouse in eastern France, the property lying in stasis since the war.

Now I just have to figure out how to tell the rest of my friends and family that I'm a time traveling Necromancer with a penchant for the occasional bout of murder.

Walking into the Great Hall, I make a beeline towards my sisters at the Slytherin table. I groan in frustration as Draco catches sight of me, his upper lip immediately curling in undisguised contempt.

"What are you doing over here Potter?" he scowls, attempting to goad me into a fight.

I cast a disinterested glance his way. "I'm here to speak with my sisters, Malfoy."

He snorts derisively. "The dyke has come to spread her sick?"

Crabbe and Goyle laugh as if on reflex, the two sycophants probably having been bred to be nothing but fat and muscle. I'd have to meet – and kill – their fathers to really find out.

"Projecting Draco?" I sniff the air, cocking my head to the side. "That's a lovely perfume you're wearing, are you sure you haven't caught the sick already?"

He blusters loudly, face darkening as a few snickers echo quietly across the hall, the other tables having heard my comment.

"You'll have to let me know where you bought that, I just love citrus," I shoot, walking past him and towards my sisters, all three of which are holding down giggles. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Daphne replies, smiling at me. "What brings you over here?"

"I actually came because I want to talk to you three tonight, if that would be possible."

All of them frown, with Tracey speaking up. "Is everything alright?"

I put my hands up. "Everything is perfectly fine, I've just got some important things to tell you, as well as Ginny and Luna."

Daphne looks off to the Ravenclaw table, before turning back to me. "Sure, where do you want to meet us? I don't think it'd be a good idea if you came into our common room again." She tilts her head towards where Draco is sitting. "I don't think another fight would go over well."

"No, no that's fine. Meet me on the seventh floor after dinner, by that portrait with the guy trying to teach trolls how to dance."

"Love that portrait," Astoria interrupts, a goofy smile on her face.

"Hate it," Daphne interjects. The two glare at each other for a moment before Daphne blinks, Astoria punching the air excitedly.

"I win again!"

"Yes, yes, you win again," she drawls, rolling her eyes at me. "We'll see you tonight Helene."

"Thanks!" I say, waving goodbye as I return to the Ravenclaw table, taking my usual seat next to Fleur.

"Are we meeting them tonight?" she asks, spreading some jam on a piece of toast.

I nod, kissing her on the cheek. "Yeah, we're meeting them tonight."

"Ginny and Luna?"

I look towards the two girls a few seats away. "I was just about to speak to them. Hey! Ginny, Luna!" I call, waving at them.

Ginny looks up from her plate, Luna glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she munches away at some terrifying concoction of breakfast foods that she's fashioned into a smiley face. "Yeah? What is it?"

"Can I talk with you two tonight after dinner? I've got some things to discuss with you and my sisters."

Her eyes lose focus for a second as she ponders over her schedule. "Sure, I can do that. Luna?"

The fairy-like blonde tilts her head to the side, closing her eyes. "I will be able to attend."

I smile nervously. "Good, I'll see you two tonight on the seventh floor, by the portrait with the dancing trolls."

Luna's mouth quirks upwards in a faint smile. "I do ever so love that portrait. Teaching trolls to dance? Maybe I should speak with daddy about writing that into the paper."

"I'm sure that'd be excellent Luna," Hermione adds, pulling in to the seat next to Fleur.

"Bonjour Hermione, how did you sleep?" Fleur asks.

A grimace flickers across her face for a moment before her features settle. "Just fine, how about you?"

"I was up late last night studying over my new book, there are some very interesting things in it."

Hermione very nearly lights up. Not quite, but close to it. "Yes? What did you find?"

"Ah, not at the table," Fleur chides, wagging her fork playfully. "I can talk to you about it later."

"Hermione, wanna' meet us in the Room after dinner? We can talk about it then," I break in, leaning forward over the table.

"I… yeah, I can do that."

Good, looks like she's slowly starting to put the pieces of herself back together.

"Sounds good to me."

I watch her for a second, shaking my head imperceptibly as I return to my breakfast, filling up my plate.

-::-

Fleur and I stand outside the Room of Requirement, my foot tapping a steady, nervous beat into the floor.

"Everything's going to be okay," she whispers, resting her hand on my shoulder.

I sigh audibly. "I know, I know… I just can't help but worry though."

Her lips ghost across my cheek. "Don't. You have nothing to worry about."

I close my eyes and lean into her, melting into her arms. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ever ask of you."

Smiling faintly, I let her cradle me, arms wrapped around my waist and my head tucked underneath her chin. She hums quietly, the sound calm and sweet as it reverberates through me.

"Hey!"

I open my eyes, smiling as I catch sight of Hermione. "Hey."

She crosses her arms, tilting her head. "So, we were going to talk?"

"Yeah, we're just waiting for everyone else to get here."

"Everyone else?" she asks, frowning.

"By everyone else, I mean them," I explain, pointing behind her at my sisters and the other girls.

Daphne waves at me. "Hey Helene, I picked up these two on the way over," she says, jabbing her thumb towards Ginny and Luna. "So… what are we doing waiting out here in an empty hallway?"

Fleur lets go of me, squeezing my arm reassuringly. "Helene and I have some important things to tell you all today, and we've got a private room all set up." Hermione gapes at us as the other girls hum their agreement. Fleur winks at her before pacing in front of the empty wall, whispering quietly under her breath.

Luna's the first to notice the change, squeaking excitedly at the door appearing out of thin air. "Oh my," she exclaims, hand over her mouth and her normally half-lidded eyes wide in surprise. "A secret room?"

"Cool!" Astoria effuses, clapping her hands.

Fleur opens the door, beckoning us over with a sweep of her hand. "Please, come in."

I follow behind as the girls enter the Room, taking a deep breath as the door clicks shut behind me.

By the look of things, Fleur has fashioned the Room to be as comfortable and welcoming as possible. A large pale cream couch rests in the centre of the room, a loveseat set opposite. The two articles are littered with pillows of pastel blues and reds, a thick gray shag rug tucked below the furniture.

Luna is sprawled over the carpet, resting on her elbows with her feet kicking playfully in the air. Ginny and Astoria sit beside her, laying against the foot of the couch, Astoria playing idly with the fabric of the rug. Daphne smiles up at me, her and Tracey having set up camp on the couch.

"What's going on Helene?" Hermione asks, having chosen to stand instead.

I cock one eyebrow. "Exactly what you think is going on."

"A- are you sure that's a good idea?" she gasps.

I shrug. "I was going to have to tell them sooner or later."

"Tell us what?" Daphne interjects, crossing her arms. "Is this about the magic you've been using? How you somehow managed to freeze over the whole lake?"

Luna tilts her head towards me. "That really was quite impressive by the way."

"Er- thank you Luna, and yes Daphne, that's what I wanted to talk to all of you about."

"Well, aren't you just really powerful?" Ginny asks, looking somewhat confused. "Well, really really powerful."

Tracey shakes her head. "Ginny, only someone like Dumbledore is that powerful."

"Well, I am, and so is Fleur," I add, reaching over and taking her hand.

The corner of her lip tugs up in a smile. "I don't believe I'm quite that powerful Helene. Close, but not quite."

Daphne clears her throat. "Wait, wait a second. Enough talk about how powerful you are, you said you have something to tell us?"

I take another deep breath, letting it out slowly, cheeks puffed. Fleur squeezes my hand, once more whispering, "You have nothing to worry about. They're your sisters, your friends. They'll understand."

"Yeah… I guess you're right," I acquiesce.

Standing up straight, I let go of Fleur's hand. "Daphne… well, I assume everyone here has been wondering why I'm so powerful."

"You did kill a bloody Chimera just a few months ago, so yeah, we've been wondering," Daphne jibes.

I frown, exhaling heavily through gritted teeth. "Yeah, yeah I did." Shutting my eyes tight, I look up towards the ceiling.

Well, here goes nothing.

"I'm a time-traveler."

Everyone freezes for a moment, before Daphne starts laughing. Ginny joins in, an odd smile on her face, while the other girls stare at me with no small amount of confusion.

I stand there, stoic.

It takes a second or two, but Daphne begins to calm down, wiping a tear from her eye. "No, seriously, pull the other one. Come off it Helene, give me a real answer."

"I'm not lying. My name is Helene Lily Potter. Died mid-June 1996. Resurrected the day of July 24th, 1991." I point towards Fleur, inviting her to speak.

She gives me a drawn smile, her jaw set forward. "Fleur Isabelle Delacour. Died September 5th, 1997. Resurrected the day of July 24th, 1991."

A heavy silence falls over the room, and I can practically feel Hermione nervously chewing on her lip. My hands are clenched into fists, fingernails biting painfully into the skin of my palm.

"I… you're joking right?"

"Deadly serious."

Daphne stammers nervously. "But- you couldn't…" she throws her hands down in frustration. "That just doesn't make any sense! You can't… what?"

"Death exists. The God, the being, the demiurge… whatever you'd like to call him… it. He brought me back, apparently over a case of red tape." I pause thoughtfully. "At least, that's the excuse he gave me."

"It's true," Hermione blurts, mouth hanging open. "I… it's true, every word Helene has said, it's true."

"It really is quite true."

The girls, sans-Fleur, scream loudly at the pale apparition that has appeared within our midst.

Immaculate suit wrapped tightly round his body and sundial adorning his wrist, Death stands there in all his glory, calmly adjusting his tie as if he's been here the whole time.

Could have been for all I know.

"Please, please, don't stop on my account. This really is quite entertaining."

Fleur walks towards him, reaching forward to shake his hand. "Death, I assume?"

He looks down in confusion, before cackling loudly. "Yes, in the flesh so to say," he drawls, clasping her hand with his own and shaking it once. "I'm sure you've heard all about me from my young protégé over here."

"Enough to know that you're quite a bit different from your wife. Please let her know I said hello."

He nods deeply. "I'll do just that when I next see her." Turning back to us, he claps loudly. "Like I said, please continue."

"What the fuck is going on!?" Tracey shouts, the others gaping blindly, too shocked to speak.

Death taps his chin. "Well, if I've been keeping track of things, Helene and her girlfriend here have just told you some very interesting facts about themselves, and you all nearly had a heart attack when I decided to show myself." He smiles dangerously, perfectly straight teeth glinting. "Don't worry, it's not any of your times yet, and if I'm being quite honest heart attacks are a dreadfully dull way to go."

"Good to see you too," I sigh. Looks like whatever this is has gone to shit.

"On the contrary Helene, it had gone to shit as soon as you had the idea to tell a room full of teenagers about yourself, I'm simply giving it a little push."

I eye him dangerously. "Could you please shut up?" Death puts his hands up in surrender, one twisting over his lips like he's locking a door. With a sigh, I turn back to Daphne. "Yes, this is Death. Yes, Fleur and I are telling the truth."

The mood in the room has become tense, everyone studying me in a whole new light. I can see it in the way that Ginny avoids eye contact, or how Tracey is trying – and failing – to hide her shaking hands.

"You… you died?" Daphne asks, horror in her eyes. "Both of you died?" She pauses once more, pointing towards Death. "He's real?"

Fleur clears her throat. "Yes, the two of us died and were brought back by Death, in Helene's case, and Life in mine."

Daphne simply sits there, lost. "I… I don't know what to say."

"No wonder you're never afflicted by Nargles," Luna comments, blinking slowly.

I snort loudly, unable to hold back the laughter that escapes me. "God damnit Luna."

She smirks at me. "Just making an observation. Nargles aren't a fan of death. I've never seen a Nargle on a Thestral, for example."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind." I roll my eyes, my nerves now long gone thanks to her timely input. "So… the reason I'm telling all of you this is because you may be in danger in the next couple of months, and I need to provide you with these."

I pull my rucksack off my shoulder, reaching in and pulling out the silken bag. I drop it on top of a table that appears in front of me, the sound of metal crashing against metal ringing out as it strikes the wood.

"In this bag is a portkey for each and every one of you, activated by the word salutem." I pull one of the portkeys out of the bag, a thin bracelet fashioned of steel. "When activated it will take you to a safehouse in France. These can only be activated outside of Hogwarts grounds, so you'd need to leave the castle to actually have it work. I'll be showing you all a secret passage that one can use to get out into Hogsmeade that only Fleur and I, Dumbledore, and the Weasley twins know about."

"Are you sure things are about to get that serious?" Hermione asks, nervously eyeing Death as she takes one of the bracelets and pulls it over her hand, the metal shrinking slightly to fit.

I nod. "Absolutely. Better safe than sorry."

Daphne slams her hand on the table. "Could someone please explain what the fuck is going on?"

"Voldemort is coming back, and it's my… Fleur and mine's job to kill him."

She pales. "What?"

"God, I'm going about this all terribly," I mutter, sitting down on a chair that materializes below me.

Death smirks at me, obviously loving every moment of the current the fiasco. I watch as he disappears. Just there one moment, and then he's gone.

I guess he didn't want to deal with the interrogation he was soon to receive.

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped. "There was a prophecy told about me a decade and change ago, before my family was attacked. This prophecy is as genuine as it gets, and it details how I must be the one to kill Voldemort. Because of this, I've spent the last four years preparing for what I know will happen from prior experience, a battle with Voldemort during the third task."

I run my fingers through my hair, stretching my neck. "This is my best chance to put him down. Returning to life from whatever halfway state he's been in since I accidentally offed him as a baby will leave him weak and unpracticed. If things don't go the way I expect them to… you have to get to safety, all of you, mum, dad, and Sirius included."

Ginny raises her hand awkwardly, and I gesture for her to speak. "This is why you're so powerful? This is why you could kill the chimera? Why you could save me and Luna?"

"Yeah. I've had a lot of time to study every facet of magic that I can, as well as learn a lot of things that Voldemort has no experience with."

"Like what?"

"Necromancy and Blood Magic."

Daphne breathes in sharply, a hand held over her mouth. "Necromancy?"

"Yes, and while I'd offer a demonstration, the last time I did it left someone quite shaken. If you remember that spell I used against the chimera, that was felfyre. Fiendfyre is a poor imitation of that."

"So, let me get this all straight." Daphne raises one hand slightly, counting down on her fingers. "You died, you time-travelled, you're trying to kill Voldemort, and you say that we're in trouble because of this?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Shite Helene, you really don't do things halfway," she groans, falling back into her seat.

I catch Astoria fidgeting out of the corner of my eye. "Did you want to ask something?"

"Er- yeah. Did you and Fleur know each other in your last lives?"

"Yes, we did, although we were only friends, not even close ones at that," Fleur answers, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. "After the first task I found out that Helene was the same as me. You couldn't keep me away from her after that."

"Hush you," I chide, smacking her playfully. "I don't want us to be that couple."

Hermione laughs. "Helene, you two already are that couple."

I groan loudly, pinching the bridge of my nose. "God damnit. I hate that couple."

"Okay, forgetting how painfully cute you two are, how are we supposed to know if something has gone wrong?" Tracey asks.

I scratch the side of my head. "Well, if you're in danger of course. If he attacks Hogwarts, the house, anything like that… just get out. Don't stay and fight."

Astoria raises her hand. "Do mum and dad know?"

"They know everything."

Daphne sits there, kneading circles in her temple. "So, what now? Are we supposed to just walk around pretending that this never happened? That my sister is five years older than she says she is, and practicing Black Magic to boot?"

"Daphne I…"

I purse my lips, tongue clicking nervously against the roof of my mouth. "Daphne, I don't expect everything between us to go back to normal, but this is something I had to tell you. You all… you matter so much to me, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt."

She sighs. "No, I get that. I just- sorry, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around this, and it's been my life for the last four years. Hell, Voldemort has been after me since I was born, this life and the last. I've just learned to roll with the punches as best I can."

I look over everyone once more, relieved in some part to see them doing well, relatively calm all things considered. Another part of me already mourns the loss of their childhood, how just by being close to me their lives may be, and probably will be thrown out of balance, forced to run from a monster that would sooner kill a newborn than risk his plans so much as hiccup.

Clearing my throat, I speak up. "I… I'm going to get going, give you some time to think about all I've said."

Daphne stands up. "Helene, I..." she shakes her head, moving forward and pulling me into a hug. "You're my sister and I love you, okay? This doesn't change anything, it's just going to take us a while to really come to terms with."

I hug her back, her hair tickling my nose. "Thank you."

She pats me on the back, letting me go. "Go spend some time with Fleur. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," I reply, the weight that I've carried since returning to life finally leaving my shoulders.

I feel free.

-::-

Fleur and I sit on a hill overlooking Wimborne, the village laid out behind us. Unseen to muggle eyes, a home rests at the foot of the hill. It's large, but not obtrusively so, looking like something out of the regency period.

The deep red tones of brickwork are easily visible between woven ivy and a sparse, but impressive garden. Hedges line the property, standing proud and tall as they mark the boundary of the magical and muggle worlds.

Turning the page on the Daily Prophet, I continue to enjoy the lovely smear piece that has been written about Lucius Malfoy on my bequest.

He's being drug through the mud by the wonderful mind of Rita Skeeter, the article having been published under one of her many aliases.

Nothing is kept safe from her peering eyes. His voting record in the Wizengamot and his 'imperiused' life as a Death Eater are the most important things that she's been investigating, and it shows.

Every single vote has been listed in an easy to read chart, showing a long-standing tradition of his to spit on any civil rights bills, as well as the many laws that he's brought to the table. Increased taxes for newcomers to the magical world, job restrictions for muggleborns and halfbloods, as well as a proposed ban on allowing the aforementioned peoples to even so much as open a store in Diagon Alley or one of its many offshoots.

So, all in all it's pointing out the fact that he's a reprehensible waste, while showing readers that even if he was truly imperiused like he says he was, his voting record speaks of a man who's views very much align with Voldemort's.

"She's really done well for herself on this one," I mutter, pointing at the paper when Fleur looks at me questioningly.

She turns her nose up. "I still believe her to be a vile woman."

"A vile woman who we have under our thumb is still very useful."

Fleur nods reluctantly. "True. I just detest the woman for what she made you go through the last time."

"What about what she made you go through? 'The Veela Temptress,'" I say, waving my hands over my head in a grandiose manner. "She tore you apart just the same as she did me."

"If she steps out of line, I'll squash her like a bug."

I snort. "I'd love to be there for that."

A flash of light catches my attention and I grab Fleur's shoulder, pointing towards Bagman's home. "Look who's back."

She squints, smiling when she sees the previously dark windows shining brightly, the shadow of a man passing back and forth on the top floor. "Took him long enough."

"You're telling me," I groan, standing up and wiping the grass off my bottom. "I'm glad we brought food to this stakeout."

Fleur hums appreciatively. "Very good food at that. I'll need to pop in and thank the house elves against for a wonderful meal."

"I'm sure they'd absolutely love that," I laugh. "Let's buck up, it's time for a little revenge."

Fleur nods, her joking demeanour shifting into something much more serious. Something hardened.

I grab her hand and we disappear in a wash of shadow, reappearing just outside the front door of Bagman's home.

Up close, it looks a bit quaint, especially for someone who was once a major quidditch star. Seems his gambling addiction is just as bad as I assumed it to be.

Peeking through the window, I get a view of the foyer. It's dim, but there's enough light coming from the upper level for me to be able to get us inside. Once more I transport us, this time reappearing in the midst of a sparsely furnished hallway, a flight of stairs to our right and a plethora of Wimbourne Wasps memorabilia hanging from the walls.

I blink at the assaulting presence of so much yellow and black, the interior looking more like a hive than a home.

"It's nice on the outside, but terribly tacky inside," Fleur comments, eyeing the decorations with distaste.

"That's for sure," I mutter, casting silencing charms on the stairs as well as our shoes. I motion upwards. "After you."

She smiles at me, moving up the stairs. "How kind of you."

I grin. "You know I aim to please."

"Oh yes?" she jests, eyebrow raised. "Maybe you'll have to show me some time."

I groan quietly. "Dear god Fleur, now is not the time for innuendo."

Smiling broadly at me, she shakes her hips, giving me a sweeping bow from the top of the stairs. "Après vous."

Holding back a playful sigh, I look about. The upper level seems about the same as the lower, what I assume to be the rest of the four-bedroom manor home. The walls are made of what looks to be mahogany, polished to a deep shine, a small decorative table at the top of the stairs made of a black ash, topped with an empty vase.

Not many visitors if he's going to leave that empty. That makes our job easier.

Silently we creep forward, following the out of tune singing that rings out from down the hall, light pouring out from a crack in the door.

I put my hand up, three fingers raised high into the air. I count down on them slowly, breaching the door as soon as I make a fist, a well placed expelliarmus catching Bagman unawares. Snatching his wand out of the air, I smile dangerously at him as I flick my wand and bind him. He collapses to the ground in a heap, struggling against the enchanted ropes that now wrap tightly around his body.

He shouts in fright and anger. "Who the hell do you think you are, breaking into my home? Bunch of goddamn…" his eyes widen as he recognizes us. "Helene? Fleur?"

"The very same." I sweep my wand over the room, casting a blanketing silence charm to prevent any sound from escaping. "You've been stepping on the wrong toes Mister Bagman."

He frowns in confusion. "The ruddy hell are you talking about? Stepping on the wrong toes? Let me go this instant!"

Fleur tuts, wagging her finger. "Now now, that isn't the way to speak to someone that has you in such a dangerous position."

"Are you two insane?" he cries, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of us. "You've broken into my home and left me bound, how else am I supposed to speak with you?" Spitting on the ground, he shoots us a glare. "Fudge was right about you two."

My eyebrows raise in undisguised interest. "Hmm? Fudge has been speaking about the two of us? What has the blithering idiot got to say?"

Bagman continues to fidget, straining against his bindings. "Mentally ill you two are, cavorting around with each other. The magic you use," he adds, directing his ire towards me. "Dark Ladies in training is what he thinks."

I let out a whooping laugh, holding my belly as I cackle madly. "That… wow, you know, he's not too far off on that." I wipe a tear from my eye, sighing. "Too bad that he's dead as soon as he loses his position, whenever that happens of course."

"Dead?"

I look down at Bagman, grinning. "Well, what do you think we're doing here?" I lean down, sticking my wand under his chin. "You allowed a good man to die for the sake of a gladiatorial blood sport Mister Bagman. All of us could have died. Teenagers, children, sent to the chopping block for what? A way for you to keep to your vices? To avoid the Goblin's that so dearly want to see you slaving away in their mines for the rest of your miserable life?"

His eyes widen in fright. "It… it was Malfoys idea!" he stammers, jaw hanging loose. "You have no idea how powerful that man really is! He- he made me do it!"

"I know how much sway Malfoy holds over the government, don't take me for an idiot," I hiss, eyes darkening. With a swipe of my hand the usual glamour that I wear collapses, revealing to Bagman slitted, inhuman eyes. "Malfoy is the least of your problems right about now, so don't even try to throw him under the bus. He'll get his own at the end of my wand just as you're about to."

"You're a monster! A monster!" he shrieks, worming backwards. "Get away from me!"

I turn to Fleur. "Would you like to do the honors?"

She nods, giving me a somewhat crooked smile. "I love those eyes of yours," she intones, quickly directing her attention back to the shivering man before us.

Fleur grabs him by the hair and hauls him off the ground, throwing him against the wall. He crashes against it loudly, head lolling as he groans in pain. Teeth bared, she gets into his face, teeth elongating into fangs and her eyes just as feline as my own.

"Because of you, Fudge, and Malfoy, Viktor Krum is dead. Because of your decisions, they don't even get a body to bury. No closure, nothing. Their child gone because of your ridiculous attempts to make the most dangerous Tri-Wizard Tournament yet." She grips his jaw forcefully, twisting his head so that he's forced to stare into her eyes. "You will die tonight, and I will take pleasure in being the one to end your miserable existence."

She lets go of him, forcefully planting her foot in his gut. Gasping breathlessly, Bagman falls back to the ground, squirming.

"Ati-dāw-ino Sfliga."

A blindingly bright spear of light lances out of Fleur's wand and impales him in the gut. Bagman screams hoarsely, pain flooding his entire body as the spear begins to shine even brighter, fractures of light crackling over his skin. His body suffuses with light, the cracks leaking the substance like a shattered vase as it creeps ever further over him.

Just as suddenly as he was attacked, he lets out one final scream, pure white shining from his mouth and eyes like a sunbeam as his body crumples.

The light fades, his eyes still left wide open in unimaginable fright, weeping a trail of thin gelatinous viscera, the organs having burst in their sockets. His skin bears scars, lines like fractured glass spread over his body.

"One down, two to go," Fleur mutters, grimacing at the sight before her.

I rest my hand on her back, rubbing small circles. "They'll get theirs."

She clenches her wand hand into a fist. "I'm just so furious. Viktor is still dead because of this bastard and his compatriots," she clips, pointing angrily at the statuesque corpse.

"I know, I know. I am too… we'll get to them eventually, but for now we have to worry about Voldemort."

Nodding reluctantly, Fleur kisses me in the forehead. "Thank you."

I shake my head. "No, thank you."

"Hush you," she says, poking me on the shoulder. "Let's get back before someone comes to investigate. I'm sure that light could have been seen all throughout the town, magical or muggle alike."

I grab her hand, reaching down for that familiar sensation of darkness. "Sounds good to me."

Ati-dāw-ino kom Sfliga: Spear of Blighted Fire. (Proto-Gaelic)

Hey guys! New chapter out.

I get a decent break coming up in the next week, so hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter or two out while I actually have free time.

School is insane, and I'm beginning production on a major project in January. It's very likely that I won't publish anything for that month and most of February, so I wish you luck in finding some other stories to read!

BattleshipFusuo: Thank you! One of the things I had in mind for the story was taking the manipulative Dumbledore trope and making it believable.
He's a terribly old, broken man who's been through far too much in his life. Yes, what he's done is reprehensible, but at the same time it makes sense.

Here's your first taste of bloody vengeance upon the government. I hope it was cathartic.

SeaweedBrain18: Helene is playing it safe with Malfoy, considering he's one of the few targets that she may not be able to kill easily. He's wily beyond belief and has a hundred different plans for how to escape a surprise attack, so she's taking the time to bring him down in the public eye before making any major decisions.

Blackholelord: Things are going to get even more distant from canon as we progress, especially now that we're starting to get into the final arc of the story. The story will get even more dark and messy, but it's still going to hold to the theme of the story that's been concurrent throughout.