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

Chapter Forty-Two | First Blood

I blink in confusion at the blanket of silver hair that clouds my vision, eyes crinkling as it tickles at my nose.

Just as suddenly as I've woken up, I'm nearly jumping out of bed as last nights events come rushing through my mind.

Voldemort, Death, Mum and Dad, Fleur… sex with Fleur.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, burying my face in Fleur's hair and gently pulling my arm over her waist, cuddling up against her.

Eyes shut tight, I breathe her in, attempting to make myself as cozy as possible.

A mix of sweat, sex, and dark chocolate flits across my nose, and I have to stop and think for a moment to wonder how I know what sex smells like.

Of course, a small part of my mind immediately screams out, 'Because you just lost your virginity last night, you idiot.'

I smirk at the thought, a small puff of air escaping me as I try not to giggle at my childish reaction.

"Hmm?"

"Hey there," I whisper, hugging Fleur tighter and tucking her hair behind her ear as I press a kiss against her neck. "Sleep well?"

A smile crosses over my face, as I can practically feel her waking up and the confusion she's radiating.

Just give her a moment.

"Oh my."

I laugh quietly. "Oh my indeed."

Fleur clumsily turns herself over to face me, brushing her hair out of her face and looking at me through half-lidded eyes. "Look at you," she murmurs, eyes trailing over my naked form, the duvet resting just over my waist. "What a sight."

I cock one eyebrow, giving her a not-so-quick onceover. "Have you seen yourself?"

Rolling her eyes, Fleur smacks me on the shoulder. "Quiet you, you're the cute one."

"Did I call you cute?" I ask, scratching my chin. "I don't think I mentioned anything of the sort." She opens her mouth in faux horror, and I smile broadly. "…but, if I was to describe you, the first word I would use is gorgeous."

Shaking her head, Fleur nuzzles herself under my chin, hair tickling against my neck. "You'll be the death of me yet."

"I mean, that's sorta' my powers and all that, you know?"

"You know what I mean," she huffs, her breath warm against my chest.

"I know, I know, I just couldn't resist," I jibe, running my fingers through her hair.

Humming quietly, I hug her tighter, a smile creeping over my face.

"What is it?" Fleur asks, detaching herself enough to look up at me.

I glance away bashfully. "Nothing… just feeling happy."

She grins broadly, pressing a kiss against my cheek. "Hmm? Why is that?"

There's only one thing I can say. "Because I love you so goddamn much."

Fleur blushes hard. Her normally porcelain cheeks dusted heavily with a reddish pink. "Oh," she squeaks, a goofy smile on her face. "Oh."

"Once more, oh my indeed."

Rolling her eyes, Fleur scratches her neck. "Oh my indeed."

Just as I'm about to reply, I startle quickly at a loud knocking at the door.

A loud knocking on Slytherin's private chamber door in the Chamber of Secrets.

"What in the fuck?" I ask aloud, wand flying into my open hand.

Again, knocking at the door. A steady one-two-three lilt, and if I wasn't so tense all of a sudden, I'd comment on the fact that it almost sounds like a swing beat.

"Who's there?" I call out, wand held forward.

"It's Iolaire you stupid girl, now open the goddamn door!"

I blink. "Iolaire?"

"Yes, now open the bloody door so we can speak properly!"

Looking down at myself, I call out, "Gimme' a moment, I need to get dressed."

I can hear him grumbling through the doorway as I toss out a cleansing charm at my old, dirtied clothes before transfiguring them into a set of clean robes.

They'll last long enough for this conversation I assume.

Tossing one of them to Fleur, I smile at her reassuringly as I put my own set on. "Alright, I'm going to let you in now."

The grumbling behind the door only gets louder as I open it up, face to face with a very disgruntled looking Iolaire, his burgundy beard not it's usual well-groomed self, and instead quite tangled. "You alright?" I ask, looking him over. "You look like you haven't slept… do you need sleep?"

"Yes, this body needs sleep," he snaps, glancing over the room. "I see you've broken in Salazar's old chambers?"

Blushing, I nod. "Seems like it, yes."

He nods curtly towards Fleur. "Good morning Miss Delacour, I don't believe we've spoken." Walking towards her, he extends his hand. "My name is Iolaire, you may know me better as the Sorting Hat."

Her eyes widen as she glances towards the limp hat atop his brow. "Helene's told me about you," she replies, shaking his hand.

"All of it horrific, I assume."

She shakes her head. "Nothing of the sort," she denies. "She actually quite likes you from what I can tell."

I smile. "He's got a wicked sense of humour."

Iolaire returns the gesture. "That I do." He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall and looking us over. "What happened last night?" he asks, eyeing me oddly. "The papers this morning read like both an obituary and a holiday announcement."

"What do you mean?"

"The world thinks you're dead," he answers, pointing at me, before his finger angles towards Fleur. "And you're on the run." Turning back towards me, Iolaire continues. "Not to mention that you've been named a Dark Lady, defeated before she could begin her reign of terror."

"What?"

He laughs. "Exactly my reaction. I assume things didn't go as planned last evening?"

I shake my head in disappointment, remembering how the battle went. "No. Voldemort got the better of us. That man is… beyond frightening. I thought we'd had him by the first fifteen minutes, but then he just- I don't know. He wasn't taking us seriously to begin with, but when he did?" I grimace. "He's got an ungodly amount of power, knowledge, and the experience to use it."

Iolaire scratches his chin. "Well, I better tell you two now, rather than later."

"Tell us what?" we ask in unison.

"Dumbledore is dead."

"He's what?" I croak.

"Dead," Iolaire repeats. "D. E. A. D. He collapsed last night in the midst of everyone panicking as they attempted to figure out where you were." He continues to explain at my confused look. "Amelia Bones and half the Auror force were on the grounds after Mad Eye Moody was attacked by a host of Dementors and it turned out the man was actually Bartemius Crouch Junior. After that happened, she tasked her men with trying to find out where in the hell you two had disappeared to."

My fingers find their way into my hair, tugging angrily at the red curls. "Shit, shit, shit. He must have died when I did."

Iolaire raises one eyebrow. "You died again?"

I nod. "Very briefly, but yes, I died again." With a sigh, I detach my fingers from my hair, drawing one hand over my face. I suddenly remember what I was told last night by Death about the bits and pieces of Voldemort's soul that are tucked away. Information that I imagine Dumbledore knew of. "I was wanting to give that bastard a piece of my mind."

Looking down at my hands, I frown.

I'll take care of that later.

"So, the world thinks I'm dead… I'll have to let my family know otherwise. They must be distraught." I turn towards Fleur. "We'll visit your family as well, yeah?"

"Oui, I would like that," she answers, a concerned look on her face. "They must be worried sick right now."

Head swimming, I sit down on the foot of the bed. "So… what the fuck do we do now?" I wonder aloud, looking to Fleur for some form of guidance.

She clenches her jaw tightly. "We go to war."

"The two of us against the world, huh?" Fleur looks at me curiously, so I explain. "Well, the world thinks I'm a dead Dark Lady, so what happens when I show up again?" I let the question hang for a moment, Fleur's eyes widening in recognition. "So, you and I start battling against Voldemort and his Death Eaters again… whenever they make themselves public, that is. Everyone will know immediately who we are, recognize the fact that I'm not dead, and immediately make a correlation between myself and Voldemort. They're going to think that the two of us are fighting over who gets to take over Britain, nobody is going to think that we're fighting for them."

"Merde," she mutters. "This isn't good at all." Frowning heavily, Fleur pinches the bridge of her nose. "We're going to need to be ready at a moments notice to fight back against any Death Eater attacks. In my last life they always attacked early morning, or late at night. Very rarely in the afternoon." Fleur walks up to the ancient dresser against the far wall, cutting a chunk of wood off it with a well placed diffindo, and transfiguring it into a pen and paper.

With a flourish, she begins to jot down a list. "We need to get our hands on at least two or three radios, tuning them in to different stations so we can keep track of any potential attacks."

"Diagon Alley will be the first place to be attacked, Voldemort has too large of an ego to not make himself known in the most grandiose way possible," I mention, Fleur nodding in agreement.

"Agreed. Either that, or he'll gun for the Ministry immediately," she adds. "I doubt the latter will happen though, even when the world knew he was out there he still worked from the shadows. Picking off members of the Wizengamot and Ministry, bribing others… he's the patient kind of monster."

"That means we should be on the lookout for people being imperiused as well, he and his followers used that curse extensively in the last war."

A sharp cough behind us breaks our attention. Iolaire slowly draws a fist away from his mouth, one eyebrow arched precariously. "As entertaining as your brainstorming session is, I have to get going," he says, inclining his head towards the door. "I will find a way to notify your siblings that you are still alive Helene."

I smile at him. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me."

He nods once. "It's no problem." Giving us one final wave as he shuts the door, Iolaire comments, "Good luck you two. Severus and I will make sure that Voldemort does not manage to get a foothold on Hogwarts."

"Well, that's good to hear," I agree, watching as he leaves. "Severus though… how is that going to work? He still has the Dark Mark."

Fleur shrugs. "I'm not too sure myself. Last time we only had news of Karkaroff dying well into the war, so I imagine Snape will be fine if he stays within the castles wards."

I frown. "That's surprising. You'd think Voldemort would've hunted him down as quickly as possible."

"I think he pawned it off to a few of his underlings," she comments, inclining her head in thought. "As spiteful as he is, he's not an idiot. Splitting his resources so heavily to kill a traitor isn't worth it when he had the whole of Britain nearly in his grasp."

"Shame he's not an idiot," I mutter in annoyance. "Would make our lives a hell of a lot simpler."

"Since when are our lives simple, Helene?" Fleur asks, smiling sadly at me. "We're paragons of the most powerful deities in existence. Life will never be simple for us."

I huff quietly, finding it hard to keep up the elated high I felt upon waking. I knew there was a chance of war, and it looks like it's already knocking on my door.

"So, our plan at the moment is to retaliate against any Death Eater attacks," I summarize, looking over the notes that Fleur has taken.

Christ, she's extensive. Never have I been so glad for her to have already experienced war, as horrific as the notion is. We need every edge we can get.

"What about Voldemort's immortality?" Fleur asks, turning towards me with a quizzical look on her face. "Did Death tell you anything else about it?"

I shake my head. "No, not a damned thing. He just told me about it without so much as a how do you do." Gritting my teeth, I look down at the wand resting in my hand. "Although, I know who we can ask."

"Who- "

Fleur pauses, a grimace settling over her features as she realizes who I'm talking about. "Dumbledore?" she asks, more confused than anything. "I thought he… I thought he was on our side?"

"He is… was?" I shrug angrily. "I don't know anymore. What I do know, is that he held back information from me again, and I'm going to pull it out of him even if his goddamn soul is driven insane."

I close my eyes, dredging up the ever so cold magic of the afterlife, misty tendrils of black seeping up and through the cracks in the stone, forming into the shape of something roughly humanoid. Pumping magic into the immaterial substance, I reach deeper and deeper into the metaphorical pit, grabbing hold of Dumbledore and yanking.

The smoke gains shape and mass rapidly, the silhouette of Dumbledore becoming more and more recognizable with each passing moment.

A sharp cry of pain comes screaming out of the wraith, back arching away from the floor.

Dumbledore lets out a thin, rattling breath, his wispy form clawing at the ground as it struggles against invisible bonds. "H- Helene? Why- why did you bring me back?" he rasps, eyes slammed shut in what looks to be an attempt to hold back the agony he's under.

"Because you didn't tell me about the little bits of Voldemort floating around out there," I hiss, glaring at the tortured soul before me. "I thought you trusted me, Dumbledore. I thought we'd reached some sort of understanding, something amicable."

He gasps soundlessly, mouth opening and closing as he wrestles with his ability to speak. "W- what?"

"The pieces of his goddamn soul Dumbledore," I growl, staring him down. "I fucking died, again. I know for a fact that you at least had an inkling of what was going on, so tell me now and I can let you get back to being dead."

"H- Horcruxes," he splutters, eyes wide in recognition. "They- they're called Horcruxes."

I nod approvingly. "Good, what do you know about them?"

"Voldemort ca- cannot die without them being d- destroyed," Dumbledore continues, lip trembling. He lets out a thin wail, the sound grating against my spine. "I b- believe he made them out of o- objects of great power, or per- personal significance." He points upwards, arm shaking under the effort. "N- notes, in my office. Use them w- well."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

His eyes screw shut in equal parts pain and guilt. "I kn- knew of no other way to destroy the H- Horcrux inside you."

"…and Voldemort would live on forever," I murmur. "Dumbledore… I- "

My hands clench into fists, jaw clenched tight as I look down on the man that has done so much in his long life, both great and awful. "I hope I never have to see you in the afterlife… but I don't enjoy your suffering either. Go."

With that, I release my hold on the magic tying him to the living world, allowing him back to the void in an explosion of black mist, the scattered motes of Unholy magic accompanied by a sharp gasp of relief.

I feel Fleur's comforting touch on my back as Dumbledore disappears, her fingers curling into the fabric of my robes. "Are you okay?"

Pausing for a moment, I bite my lip. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"I just… fuck. I thought that we finally understood each other, that everything was fine, or as fine as it could be between us." I drag a hand through my hair in frustration. "Then he pulls this shit on me, and he had to go and fucking die."

"Helene- "

"I know, I know," I murmur, leaning into her touch, staring vacantly at the spot where Dumbledore just was. "I'm just pissed off that it all had to end this way. For a moment there I was optimistic, you know? That I would get closure or… something. I don't know. I hoped that maybe we'd even part amicably, but… god, this is so frustrating."

"At least he gave us something to work with," Fleur offers.

"True," I concede, huffing loudly. "We should check that out."

She wraps her arms around me, the room disappearing in a flash of light. I open my eyes to the sight of Dumbledo- no, the Head's Office.

The two of us glance around, wondering where he could have possibly kept his notes.

"They wouldn't be in his desk, would they?" Fleur asks, one eyebrow raised.

I shrug. "Might as well check."

She walks over, rifling through drawer after drawer, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates. After a few minutes her eyes widen, and she thrusts a thin, handbound notebook to the sky. "Found it!"

"Yeah?" I make my way over, leaning up against Fleur as she opens the journal.

The thin, eccentric, and incredibly familiar handwriting of Dumbledore meets my eyes, the notes accompanied by sketches of magical artifacts. Dates and times are scrawled into the margins, as well as locations jotted underneath, many paired with a solitary question mark, signifying guesswork and approximations.

Fleur begins to leaf through the pages, the two of us reading through the notes.

I frown as I catch sight of a familiar image, reaching forward and staying Fleur's hand as she moves to turn the page. "Wait," I tell her, finger tracing over the sketch. "I know that book."

"What?"

"I destroyed that book, twice now," I say. "It's Voldemort's diary, from when he was here at Hogwarts."

"Something of personal significance." Fleur echoes Dumbledore's earlier words. "What made his diary so important?"

"Hogwarts," I reply, wondering how I didn't make the link earlier. "Hogwarts was huge for him, monumental. He found out he was special. I remember seeing echoes of him in the Diary, memories, his shade, or whatever it was… I got the sense that he was extremely proud of the power he wielded."

"Well, we already knew he was a megalomaniac," she scoffs, garnering a laugh out of me. Fleur smiles, glancing back down towards the notebook. "I wonder what else is in here."

We continue to pour through the journal, most of the pages littered with mindless ramblings and other, useless information.

All up until we come across a sketch of five artifacts.

"The founders," Fleur declares, pointing out the iconography on each bit of inky craftsmanship. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff." She pauses, resting her finger on the image of a plain, crooked looking ring, an odd symbol etched into its surface. "But who does this belong to?"

I look at the drawing in confusion, the image almost familiar, but at the same time distant. "I haven't a clue."

"Well, we've narrowed it down at least." Fleur points at the notes on the following pages. "Dumbledore looked to be set on the fact that these are the Horcruxes."

I peer down at the thin scrawl, nodding my head. "Looks like it. So… now we know what we're looking for, but where do we look for it?"

Fleur's face scrunches up in thought. "Personal significance. Dumbledore repeats that over and over in his notes." She flips backwards through the pages. "Look," she says, pointing out a location on the page. "Wool's Orphanage."

"Is that…?"

"Where Voldemort grew up?" she says. "Probably. We'll only find out if we check it out." I hum in agreement as she taps her finger against the page. "East London is where we'll find it, should we head out?"

"After we tell our families what's going on."

"Shit, yes, yes we should do that," she blurts, looking slightly frazzled.

"You alright?" I ask, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She nods. "Still getting over yesterday."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm just somewhat… out of sorts, still."

I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. "Let's go visit your parents first."

She turns to me. "Oui?"

"Absolutely. I'm sure they're worried about you."

Taking my arm, we disappear once more. This time I'm met by an unfamiliar sight.

A large cottage greets me, made of white cream stone. Clay shingles line the roof, and ivy stretches across the walls, tickling around blue shutters that frame steel grilled windows.

It's warm out, the Mediterranean air smelling of the sea. I can hear waves crashing faintly in the distance, and the rustling of a light wind brushing through the tropical flora.

"Damn," I mutter. "Homely, but this is a really nice place."

Fleur smiles nervously. "It's home."

"It's lovely, just like you."

"Damnit Helene," she grouses noncommittally. Taking a deep breath, she grabs my hand, leading me towards the door. Eyes shut tight, Fleur raises her hand and knocks twice.

I stop and listen as someone in the house shuffles their way towards the door, their steps heavy. The door is wrenched open, Clément peeking his head out from between the crack. "Je vous ai déjà dit que je n'en savais rien," he curses, rubbing his face tiredly. He looks up, squinting, before he gasps in shock. "Fleur?" His eyes carry on, locking onto me.

With a snarl he draws his wand, and I just barely manage to get a shield off in time as he fires a stunner in my direction. "Monstre!" he shouts, brandishing his wand at me. "What are you doing here? Fleur!" He waves her over. "Get away from that… thing!"

"No," she replies tersely. "You don't understand what's going on."

"I understand perfectly well what's going on," he states, not taking his eyes off of me. "You've been caught up in something terrible. Come with me, or I'll call the Aurors."

"Père," she says, her voice commanding. "You've heard the wrong story. I'm- we're here to talk… to tell you about what happened last night and make sure you, mère, and Gabby are okay."

I look between the two of them, unsure of whether or not I should say anything. "Mister Delacour," I entreat, swallowing heavily. "I'm going to hand you my wand, alright?"

He stares at me for a second, before nodding brusquely. I flip my wand, grasping it by the end as I hand it over to him. "We just want to talk."

With a huff, he opens the door wider, inviting us in. "You better have something extraordinary to tell me, otherwise the Aurors will be here before you can blink."

"Extraordinary doesn't even begin to cover it," Fleur interrupts, resting her hand on my shoulder. "Where should we talk?"

"The kitchen, your mother is in there," Clément deadpans, leading us through the house. "Appoline, we have… guests."

As we walk into the kitchen she turns to greet us, letting out a cry of shock as she rushes towards Fleur, pulling her into a desperate hug. "On s'inquiétait pour toi, tu étais où? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"

"Je vais bien," Fleur replies, hugging her back. "Everything is fine."

Appoline sniffles quietly, grasping Fleur's shoulders as she pulls back. "Tell me everything."

"That's what we're here to do."

"We?"

Fleur nods her head towards me, and Appoline's face darkens. "You," she growls, pointing at me. "What have you done to my daughter?"

She gasps as Fleur reaches out and grabs her wrist, drawing her hand down. "She's done nothing, mother. Now can we please talk? I can't begin to understand what you're going through right now, but Helene doesn't deserve to be attacked."

Appoline scowls for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh. "Yes, we can talk."

"Please, tell us everything," Clément adds, arms crossed.

"Fleur? I think you should be the one to speak," I say.

"Oui, that seems like a good idea," she concedes, pulling herself up and onto the countertop, using it as a seat. "I… wow, I didn't expect to be telling you about everything this way." Fleur runs her hands across her thighs nervously, the fabric pinching underneath her grasp. "Helene and I are time travelers. We died. Died, and were sent back to fix things."

Clément raises his hands in frustration. "Time travelers? Really? That's the excuse you have for what's happened?"

Fleur grits her teeth. "Yes, time travelers, sent back by Life and Death themselves." She reaches over to her left, picking up a flower vase. She puts her hand over the soon-to-wilt lavender and channels her power into it, the plant lifting towards her touch like a child grasping for its mother.

She hands the vase to me and sends me a knowing look. With slight trepidation, I push my own, albeit opposite powers into the flower, causing it to crumble into nothing.

"I am of Life, and Helene is of Death," she states, once more twisting her hand over the vase, a seed within splitting open, and a new shoot of lavender rising up from the now murky water. It twists over the top of the vase, flowers blooming, larger than any sprig of the plant I've ever seen before. The petals continue to stretch out, each and every one of them a palms width and the most vibrant purple one can imagine.

Fleur clears her throat, catching her parent's attention once more. "Last night we set out to finish something that is our responsibility to finish, to kill Voldemort." She puts her hand up, silently asking her parents to hold their questions. "We knew that the cup at the end of the maze was a portkey, since we'd already lived it once before. What we didn't know, is that Voldemort is much harder to kill than we originally believed."

"You went to kill Voldemort?" Appoline stammers, aghast. "You're just… you're just children, teenagers! This isn't your responsibility!"

"Mother, we're adults," Fleur interrupts. "I died at nineteen, Helene died nearly sixteen. We've been back for almost five years now."

"That doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be fighting!"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Appoline and Clément twist their heads in my direction, shock written all over their features. "Prophecy?" Clément asks slowly.

"One given by Fate itself," I add. "Yes, Fate exists as well. No, we haven't met."

Clément balls his hands into fists, thumbs lips pursed in thought. "All of this is true then? You two went to fight Voldemort last evening?"

"Yes, we did," Fleur confirms, blinking heavily as she turns towards me. "Helene… Helene died, again. We underestimated him, and she was struck by the killing curse again. We're unbelievably lucky that Death was fine sending her back once more, but it's still our responsibility to destroy that monster."

Appoline clears her throat loudly. I almost wince at her expression, no longer one of concern, and instead one of motherly rage. "You will not be risking your lives fighting against that madman, not if I have anything to say about it. War is no place for people of your age."

"I already fought in a war, it's how I died," Fleur interjects, Appoline blanching at her tone. "I'll be damned if I don't see this through. Helene has to kill Voldemort, and I'm not going to let her do it alone."

Fleur's mother moves to argue, but Clément places a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. "There's nothing you can say to her that will stop her."

"She's our daughter, and she's going off to fight a Dark Lord! Of course I have say in this!"

"Appoline," he says, looking her in the eye. "Look at her, do you think you could stop her if you tried? She's looks like she's ready to draw her wand."

I look at Fleur, taking note of her rigid posture, the way her right hand flexes ever so slightly towards her wrist.

He's right. She is ready to draw her wand.

Appoline lets out a quiet sob, burying her face in her husband's shirt. "She's our daughter."

"I know that, my dear, but there's nothing we can do." He glances up towards Fleur. "You say you two fought Voldemort? How close did you come to winning?"

"Very."

He clenches his jaw for a moment, before nodding. "Take care of my daughter Helene, I don't believe you need me to say what will happen otherwise."

"I'd die for her, if needs be."

He nods once more. "You two should go. Fleur? Try to keep in touch."

"I'm sorry," she says, reaching out towards him before pausing. She clenches her hand, drawing it back. "I'll keep in touch."

In the blink of an eye, Fleur's grabbed me and flashed us back to the Chamber.

-::-

Amelia Bones' stomach sank as she looked over the Ministry wide emergency bulletin.

Helene Potter was dead.

Helene Potter was a Necromancer.

She read over it once more, trying to take in the sparse amount of information listed upon the thin sheaf of parchment.

Emergency Announcement
- Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge –

We have received first-hand accounts from numerous members of the Wizengamot this morning describing how they were pulled unawares from their homes by an insidious magic and viciously attacked by Helene Potter and Fleur Delacour.

These brave men fought against Potter and her creature lover but were shocked further to find her summoning and commanding a battalion of corpses during the skirmish.
The Department of Mysteries has collaborated with the victims and have confirmed that Necromantic spells were used during the fight after inspecting the location in which it took place.

Four members of the Wizengamot are now dead as a result, but thankfully, due to their courage, Potter was struck down during the battle.

We can all rest easy knowing that a rising Dark Lady was defeated before she could come to power. The news will available to the public in this afternoon's papers.

Her hand trembled dangerously as she angrily swept the bulletin off her desk.

"She was playing me the whole time," Amelia swore, getting out of her chair and making her way over to a liquor cabinet set to the side of her office. Something she kept there for just such an occasion as this.

Pouring herself a drink, she slammed the amber liquor back, eyes scrunching up as it burned her throat. Moving to pour herself another, she paused, setting the bottle aside. It wouldn't do to get drunk, not with the mess that she knew was coming.

Her whole body aching, she slumped back into her chair, defeated.

'She must have been the one at Azkaban,' Amelia realized, her eyes widening.

It all made sense. Their height and silhouette matched almost perfectly, and she'd already assumed that the person who'd invaded the prison had been either been a woman, or quite young.

Turns out she was right on both accounts.

"She fucking used me," she growled, eyes darkening.

There was one rule Amelia had lived by ever since she had joined the Aurors. If someone hits you, you hit them back twice as hard. It stopped her from being passed over for promotions because of her gender. Hell, it turned her into one of the best Aurors the department had ever seen.

And then she was tricked by a child.

A clever one at that, she would readily admit. Much cleverer than she should have been, considering her age.

Amelia found that a part of her wanted to hunt Helene down, to find her and bring her to justice. But she couldn't.

Helene was dead.

Glancing back over to the bottle, she pondered getting another drink before a sudden thought struck her.

'Something about all of this doesn't add up.' She reached into one of her cabinets, pulling open the folder on the Azkaban break in and rifling through it. Clicking her tongue in concentration, she found herself reading over her and Shacklebolt's account of the evening, recorded the night of the confrontation.

Brow furrowed, Amelia traced her finger over a single line. "The attacker mentioned Voldemort by name, said he was coming back," she murmured, tapping against the text. Reaching back down, she pulled out a more recent folder, one containing the report on the Bagman murder. Leafing through it, she looked over another quote. "The magic is unlike anything that I've ever seen… close to the spells that were used in Azkaban."

Cursing under her breath, her eyes flitted back and forth between the two reports, mind racing. "There's a connection here somewhere, I know there is," she thought aloud, lips pursed. 'But what is it?'

The high-pitched roar of the emergency siren caused her to nearly shoot out of her seat.

Collecting herself, Amelia flicked her wand, sending her glass and bottle back into the cabinet and locking it shut.

Wouldn't do to make a bad impression on her subordinates.

Opening the door, she walked out into the office, surveying the chaos in front of her. Aurors rapidly lining up, ready to be sent out into the field. Shacklebolt quickly pulled up next to her, drawing out a sheet of parchment. "Attack on Diagon Alley ma'am, men in Death Eater regalia."

She frowned, the dots and lines in her mind becoming even more convoluted. "Death Eater regalia?"

"Yes ma'am," he affirmed. "Rough estimate says about a dozen of them."

Amelia nodded, pointing to three Aurors. "Barkley, Smithe, and Carter, lock down the apparition point, make sure that civilians have a clean way out of the Alley. Tonks and Shack, you're with me, I need the rest of you to form up in your usual squads and make your way down the alley. Stunners and binding hexes unless they start throwing killing curses, in which case feel free to use cutting and blasting hexes." She stomped her foot once. "Let's go!"

The Aurors scatter in an instant, marching through the floo and off towards Diagon Alley, Amelia following behind with her squad. A short, dizzying whirl of neon green later, and she stepped through the flames and into the tavern, only to be immediately confronted by absolute chaos.

A mob was currently trying to push its way to safety, all trapped within the Leaky Cauldron. Amelia could see Barkley standing atop a table with his wand against his throat, shouting orders at the fleeing civilians and guiding them outside or towards the floo. Frustrated, Amelia slowed down dramatically as she attempted to push her way through the crowd.

Adrenaline began to course through her as she finally marched out into the alley, surveying the cloud of smoke hanging over the shops and scattered fires dotting the footpath. Shouts further down the alley drove her forward, Shacklebolt and Tonks at her side as she went to catch up with the rest of the Aurors.

Amelia cursed as the sickly yellow of a rotting curse whizzed past her head, ducking beneath a pile of rubble and glancing over to see seven of her men bunkered behind a transfigured wall. She cursed, looking past to see three bodies resting in the street, two of which were garbed in the staple crimson of the Auror Department.

"That's not good," she muttered, pulling her necklace up to her mouth, tapping her wand on it. "Report."

One of the men in the distance repeated her gesture, his voice ringing through loud and clear from her necklace. "There's about fifteen to twenty men here, all wearing the same outfit described in the report. When confronted they immediately responded with killing curses, taking down Norwood and Robertson."

"Cutting curses and blasting hexes are how we're going to do this, get the best of you at transfiguring to start setting up cover for us."

"Ma'am."

Amelia turned, ready to give orders to Shacklebolt when she was interrupted by a blinding flash of light, pure white cast out across the alley and reflecting off the cracked shop windows.

"What was that?" she growled, poking her head over the rubble to catch a glance of the attackers.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she blinked. Once, twice, three times, before conceding that what she was seeing was real.

Helene Potter and Fleur Delacour standing in the middle of the alley, firing a barrage of spells towards the Death Eaters.

"What?"

-::-

Fleur and I sit listening to the quiet hum of the radio as we go over our things. I decided to gather our belongings upon returning to the Chamber, before they could be retrieved by McGonagall and Maxime. Fleur took the chance to go and grab a radio from a market in France while I was off, setting it up as soon as she'd arrived.

We lie on the bed, cuddled up next to one another and listening to the dull hum and crackle of the Wizarding Wireless.

My nose crinkles as a shrill beep erupts from the appliance, and an emergency news bulletin begins to be read out.

"They're attacking immediately?" I shout, staring at the radio in shock as the announcer drawls out their announcement. "Are you serious?"

I was just about to go visit my parents!

"Looks like it," Fleur muttered, throwing her tournament outfit on as fast as she can, not wanting to fight in robes.

I dash towards my reclaimed trunk, throwing it open. I begin to strip, putting on my basilisk-hide outfit.

"Trying to make an impression?" Fleur jibes playfully.

"Hey, these are made for fighting in. I'm going to wear the damn things." I pull my gloves on, wand out and ready. "You or me?"

Fleur pauses to think for a moment. "Me, let's blind the bastards."

I grin, the world disappearing in a flash of white before I find myself in the midst of Diagon Alley, a slew of curses already bursting from the tip of my wand and towards the easily recognizable Death Eaters.

The men have taken cover behind debris from fallen shops and transfigured stone, and I can just imagine their eyes widening in fear at the sudden salvo of technicolour destruction careening their way.

Just as the spells crash into their hastily fashioned cover, tree roots erupt from the ground, lifting two of the Death Eaters into the air and crushing them in one single motion, blood bursting from their lips as their organs are liquified.

Nodding at Fleur's quick thinking, I close one hand into a fist, driving it to the side. A chunk of stone bursts out of the side of a shop, crashing into a cluster of the masked men and sending them flying into the next wall.

Only one of them gets up.

"Potter!"

I whip around, immediately recognizing the people behind us as aurors, taking note of the two lying motionless to my right. "Shit."

Amelia Bones stands up from behind a pile of crumbling stone, in that moment looking everything like a paragon of righteous anger. She flicks her wrist, the bright red of the cutting curse terribly alike that of the fallen aurors robes.

I duck, rolling to the side as I dodge past a trio of what look to be destructive spells, seeing as how they obliterate the cobblestone on impact. "Fleur," I shout, pointing behind me. "Go after them, I'll be fine here. Meet me back in the Chamber, okay?"

She hesitates for a moment, before rushing off towards the now fleeing Death Eaters. I turn back to face Amelia, who's standing atop the rubble and looking down at me with fury in her eyes. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

I blink awkwardly, wand still held at the ready. "You're not going to try and kill me?"

"No, I'm going to take you in and figure out what in the hell is going on," she growls. I wince as I catch sight of Tonks behind her, looking at me with confusion and dismay.

"I told you once before, I'm fighting Voldemort," I say, squaring my shoulders. "He's back as of last night. Wounded heavily, but back."

"You died."

"He should have double checked."

We stand there, staring each other down. I keep watch out of the corner of my eye as aurors begin to flank me, spreading out around me in a semi-circle.

Smart, that stops cross-fire.

I point to my right, not taking my eyes off her. "Tell your men to stand down, we're not enemies."

Amelia fidgets with her wand, glancing sharply towards her subordinates. "Stun her."

I groan, already forming a wall of stone that catches each and every spell sent my way. I leap, launching myself towards Amelia like an organic cannonball, catching her by surprise.

She gasps as the wind is knocked out of her. I catch her soundly around the waist and drag her with me, spinning her around and the wand from her hand. I place my own against her head, shouting at the aurors. "I said, stand down."

They shuffle nervously, still aiming their wands towards me, unsure of what to do. Amelia nods stiffly, and that seems to be the cue for them to drop their wands, letting the weapons clatter to the ground.

"Good, now I'm going to walk away, and you're going to let me, yeah?"

Amelia curses loudly, my ears nearly smarting at the incredibly diverse show of profanity she manages to string together. "Should I take that as a yes, or a no?"

She pauses, and I can practically feel the wheels turning as she considers the situation. "Yes."

"Good," I repeat, pushing her away from me. I twist my hand, fashioning a cushion of air beneath her to break her fall. "I'm not the enemy Amelia." I point forward at the black robed corpses, blood dripping from twisted branches. "They are."

She grits her teeth in frustration. "How do I know if you don't just want Voldemort out of the way so you can attack the Ministry?"

I laugh, loudly. "God Amelia, you're so far off the mark it's ridiculous." I wipe a tear from my eye, unable to hide the grin on my face. "I plan to kill the son of a bitch so that I can have a chance at a normal life some day. So all of you have the chance at a normal life," I add, pointing at the aurors.

Some of them flinch under my gaze, and I huff in disappointment at their apparent fear. "The Ministry is probably dangerously close to being taken over by Voldemort already, especially if he's decided a public attack like this is safe." I jab my finger towards Amelia. "You need to make sure that Lucius can't get his filthy little fingers any deeper into that pie, otherwise this war is going to be a hell of a lot harder."

"War?"

I raise one eyebrow in curiosity. "What else did you think this was?" I ask, gesturing at the destruction all around me. "The war never ended." I kneel for a moment, looking her in the eyes. "Upgrade the wards on your home, you're one of Voldemort's key targets. As much as it doesn't seem like it, I look up to you Amelia. Stay safe."

With that, I blink back to Salazar's chambers, although, I'm sure they're more ours rather than his, considering the man's been dead for near on a thousand years and we've christened the place.

I'm quickly wrapped up in a tight hug, the familiar scent of chocolate and wine washing over me, albeit muddled with the sharp tang of blood and dirt. "You alright?" I ask.

"Yes, are you?"

"Yeah, I just wish I didn't have to have a run in with Amelia. That was… awkward, to say the least."

I can feel Fleur's breath against my hair as she laughs. "Helene? Do you have a thing for older women?"

I gasp, frowning at her. "What? Where did that come from?"

She giggles louder, letting her arms rest around my waist. "I thought I'd lighten the mood. There is a war on."

"Yes, there is," I sigh, resting my head on her shoulder. "I just hope it's not as bad as what you experienced."

She hugs me tighter, fingers grasping at my jacket. "We'll come out of this just fine, and if Britain hates us for it, you can come and live with me in France."

"Live with you?" I ask playfully, raising one eyebrow. "Moving a bit fast, aren't we?"

She groans in annoyance, kissing the top of my head. "Shut up and get in the bath, we've got a long day tomorrow."

…and we're back! That project is finally, finally over. Updates will still be sporadic, but they won't be two months in between.