"Blah" Talking
'Blah' Thinking
"Blah" Parseltongue/Notes/Different languages
Blah Dreams/Flashbacks/Anything and Everything else
The family clock showed where all her children were; the spell to make it had been in the Prewett family for generations. When her brothers had died, she remembered her mother's clock was covered with a sheet. Her mother couldn't look at it after that and Molly never asked her what it showed. She used to wonder where her brother's hands pointed to.
Now she doesn't have to wonder.
Percy's hand points nowhere. It has no pointer anymore and instead of silver it is black now. It mocks her, sticking out and screaming for everybody to see that she is a horrible mother. She hates herself for not being able to see past Percy's hand, she knows her six other children's hands are pointed elsewhere but none of them are black.
"Mum, the floo is open." Bill's voice pulled her away from the horrible timepiece.
"The floo, dear? Are we going somewhere?" Molly asked, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Bill smiled at her but something about it seemed strained.
"Yeah, you agreed to come back with me to Egypt, remember? Fleur and I would love to have you." Bill said, wrapping an arm around her to pull her to the fireplace.
It was getting harder to concentrate and remember things; Percy seemed to dominate her mind. She hated it, but what was she to do? Forget her son? He was so young…
'And whose fault is it that he'll never be old?' A voice whispered to her, sounding remarkably like her mother.
The floo spit her out and she could see an endless blue sky and a sea of sand. She remembered coming here to visit a few years ago, before the war restarted, when Percy was just made Head Boy…
'Fred and George gave him such a hard time, maybe I should have scolded them more often, got them to lay off their big brother.' She mused, still remembering happier times.
"Mum?" Bill again. She sighed and turned to face him. He smiled at her, curling an arm around her shoulders to lead her away.
"I'm living with Fleur now. I managed to buy a nice place near enough to the site, and I can walk to work on good days. It's through the market and tucked away. Doesn't look like much on the outside, but it's got three rooms, each with their own bathroom – the plumbing for that was fun, let me tell you – a kitchen, and even a little sitting nook. All open concept, you'll see what I mean when we get there. Between Fleur and I we got a nice balance in the décor – it's a blend of contemporary and traditional. It's brilliant, you'll see." Bill talked eagerly and Molly lost the train of conversation as she remembered how interested Percy was in Bill's work and the site. He spent a lot of time with various books and listening to Bill's co-workers and was always very interested in the spell work and knowledge to be found here.
Molly jumped when a door closed behind her. She looked around and realized she was indoors.
'Is this what my life is going to be like now? Going through the motions as if in a fog while memories and thoughts of Percy suffocate me?' She thought with a detached sort of horror. She had no answers.
There were only two first years to be sorted. Letters to muggle-borns hadn't gone out that year, due to the war. Draco was already sitting and other students were still trickling into the Hall as Professor McGonagall brought in the sorting hat. She didn't call out their names but it was obvious who they were – Christina and Tessa Pyrites, the last remaining members of their family who were just made wards of the Ministry a few weeks prior, and part of an older family who made a name for themselves in both the muggle and wizarding world for their inventive architecture.
The two girls were the same height. One had short black hair that was swept out of her eyes, while her sister had long, curly black hair. The short haired one made it into Slytherin while her sister went into Ravenclaw. No one clapped and by the time the two girls were seated at their respective tables, the last few students had trickled in. Most children of Death Eaters had been pulled out, most likely the ones 15 and up were marked, and many other parents had pulled their children out because they were fleeing the country. (He says "most" just because the majority of them were pulled out doesn't mean they all were. He knows Blaise has the Dark Mark and is sitting next to him, so who knows if any of the others are marked? Better to be safe then sorry.) There were fifty-seven students in Hogwarts this year by Draco's count.
He wasn't sure if there had ever been a lower amount of students in Hogwarts' history. Perhaps when it was getting off its feet (he'd have to ask Harry to be sure of that), but even then the reason for the low turn-out would be different. It was apparent that Slytherin was the only house with at least one student per year.
"So, how was your summer?" Helena Flynn asked, breaking Draco out of his thoughts. She was a fellow sixth year who came from a neutral family.
"Boring. Yours?" Draco asked more to be polite than anything. Flynn hadn't ever spoken more than three words to him their whole Hogwarts career and he didn't see a reason to change that now.
"My family couldn't get out of the country. None of our relatives would take us in." She said bluntly. Draco paused in eating for a second to look her over. She sat calmly across from him but her hand, which was clutched around a fork, was trembling just a bit.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly. She nodded and he went back to eating. He looked around the hall and wondered how many of them have similar stories, how many couldn't leave due to money problems, or how many have been sentenced to stay because their parents were willing to die for a cause.
"Don't think about it." Blaise murmured from next to him. Draco wanted to obey his long time friend, but knew he couldn't.
The Headmaster eventually stood up and what little chatter there was in the Hall quieted.
"Children, while normally I would welcome you to a new school year, I feel that I would lying if I said I was happy that any of you were stuck in the situation we all find ourselves in. Dangerous times are upon us; there is a war going on. I would like to say that when the school year is up you will have families to go home to and that everything will be okay. I cannot. I will say that while you are within these walls, you shall be safe. Even now, people are doing everything they can to protect you and safeguard our future, your future. Hard times are upon us, dangerous times. It is now more than ever a time that we should stand as one. In an effort to protect you, I have suspended all Hogsmeade visits and Quidditch has been cancelled. I urge you all not to leave the castle, especially not after sundown. You are protected within the walls, but outside of them I cannot keep you safe. And always remember: Together, you are strong." Headmaster Dumbledore finished, looking out over the Hall.
Blaise watched as Draco and Potter talked quietly. Potter had a bracelet on his wrist that glittered just barely when light from the windows hit it. Blaise hadn't had a chance to get a really good look at it, but he knew what it was. It was probably gorgeous; after all, Draco had good taste.
He sat down near Potter, an open chair between them for Draco. The two stopped talking to look at him briefly and Draco arched an eyebrow at him.
"Figured if you were going to be obvious, I might as well sit here. Try to do some damage control." Blaise said quietly. Draco made a noncommittal noise and Potter stared at Blaise for a long time, long enough that Blaise was starting to get uncomfortable, before looking back at Draco.
'Right, I forgot that Potter is… odd, sometimes.' Blaise thought.
"Harry, this is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, this is Harry Potter." Draco murmured before moving to sit down between them. Potter smiled at Blaise, but it didn't look particularly friendly. More like the smile of a porcelain doll, complete with a strange disconnect between the smile and the empty eyes. Blaise nodded to him, before looking towards the front of the classroom.
'What in the world does Draco see in him? I mean, he's gorgeous but damn is he creepy.'
Just then, Sirius Black descended from a set of stairs that lead to an office holding his wand and smiling. He looked much healthier than he had in any of the recent pictures of him and was dressed smartly.
"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hello and well met and all that." He said. What little talking there was quieted down and people could be heard sitting down. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger took seats in front of Potter and Draco, after shooting him odd looks – not quite suspicion but also not merely acknowledgment.
"In case you didn't notice, this class is for all of the current sixth years from all houses. Seeing as we have so few of you, most of your classes will take place with all of you present. No need to have only two houses to a class when the current total of students is only about sixty, give or take a few." Professor Black continued.
"Now, given the past few teachers you lot have had over the years, I'm going to have a lot of work to do to get you all prepared for the real world. As much as it sucks, we're at war and you need to be prepared for the reality of that. Last year there was a catastrophic attack on Hogsmeade and it seemed as if ole snake-face was attacking everyone left, right, and center. Just because he's taken a bit of a break doesn't mean that things aren't still dangerous. Constant vigilance and all that." Professor Black paused here, looking over them all.
"You may have noticed that this year there was no book you needed to purchase for this class. This is because I have decided, and Professor Dumbledore has agreed, that the best way to teach all of you would be a hands-on approach. So, this class will consist of mock duels of all types – one on one, groups against groups, and any other combination I can think of. I will also teach you new spells to incorporate as term goes on, but most likely the one who will do that will be Professor Lupin, as he is back with us this year as well. One on one teaching is more his style, I'd rather just throw you in the deep end and call it good.
"Seeing as there are fifteen of you in this class, I want you all to make three groups of five. These groups will be the groups you stay in for the remainder of the year, so choose wisely. You have five minutes."
Granger and Weasley turned around and immediately said they wanted to be part of Potter's team.
"I'm with you." Draco said to Potter, who nodded absentmindedly. Longbottom came over and Potter smiled at him, waving him to sit next to Weasley. Blaise stood to see who looked like they could use an extra person when Weasley spoke up.
"Hold up, this isn't all that challenging. I think I'm going to go join someone else, so I can have more opportunities to go against you guys, it'll be better that way. Zabini can join your group." And with that he walked over to MacMillan and Bones, who greeted him with smiles.
"That alright with you, Blaise?" Draco asked. Blaise nodded, somewhat shocked at the way things turned out. Granger tossed him a polite grin while Longbottom just gave him a nod.
He sat back down and saw Potter smile in his direction out of the corner of his eye.
"Alright, all of you look like you're done. Make sure to separate yourselves and remember who you're grouped with – you'll sit together from now on. I want all of you to spend the rest of the class getting to know each other and such. Make friends or at least civil acquaintances." And with that, Professor Black pulled up a chair and got out a book to read.
Eleanor, Luna, and Ginny were sitting around a table in the library when Neville found them. Luna had what looked like an Arithmancy textbook open in front of her, but was paying more attention to Ginny, who was hunched over her own book with a scowl on her face. Eleanor's chin was resting on a book, looking thoroughly bored.
"Studying?" He asked with amusement. Eleanor snorted while Ginny grunted, waving her hand at an empty chair in welcome.
"Have you guys had Defense yet?" He asked while pulling books out of his bag.
"Not yet, we have it later today. From what we've heard though it's going to be different – some people have said that Sirius, sorry, Professor Black is crazy while others have declared him the best teacher we've ever had. Ron already declined to tell us what the big deal is, said it would be better to have it be a surprise. Or something." Ginny responded, writing on a nearby piece of parchment.
Luna turned her book sideways and something… rippled across the pages.
"What in the world?" Neville muttered, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"Oh, did you see the bookworm? It helps me with my Arithmancy and glows in the dark!" Luna said happily. Neville nodded in response, wondering if what he saw was really a bookworm or something else entirely – he's never been really sure of how much to believe that comes out of Luna's mouth.
"How in the world does a creature that eats words help you study?" Eleanor asked skeptically.
"Well, they don't eat numbers, obviously. I said it helps me with Arithmancy, not studying in general." Luna responded, turning her attention back to her book. Eleanor gave Neville an incredulous look.
"Alright, my transfiguration homework can go die in a hole. Seriously, I cannot make this essay any longer and I'm still short. I give up." Ginny said, slamming her book closed. "So, Neville, anything you want in particular or are you just here to spend time with your favorite girls?" Ginny sounded much happier as she changed the subject.
"Yeah, I guess so." Neville laughed. In a lot of ways, these three were his favorite girls – he wasn't interested in them, but they were his friends. He liked Luna's wit, Ginny's passion, and Eleanor's sense of humor. These three were also normal, in comparison to people like Harry, who seemed otherworldly at best or Hermione and Ron who seemed more mature then he was used to. Draco, oddly, was becoming a good friend, but there were times when they didn't seem to have anything in common. He really missed these three this summer.
"So… I've never gotten a straight answer out of you – do you like girls or boys or what? Because everyone knows Ginny and Luna's types and you three know my type, so that leaves us in the dark about you. Tell us your secrets!" Eleanor joked, leaning forward with chin in hand.
"I-I-Wait, what?" Neville stuttered, face heating up. Eleanor laughed at his embarrassment while Ginny snickered.
"C'mon, we're all friends – unless you're crushing on one of us?" Ginny teased. Neville laughed at that suggestion.
"Honestly, I don't even know. There's so much going on right now, I try not to think about it. I have no idea how you two do it – I can barely handle myself right now, I can't imagine how it would be if I was dating." Neville said to Luna and Ginny.
"It's easy for us, I suppose. We were together before all this happened." Ginny said, smiling at Luna.
"Crumble-horned Snorlocks tend to group together easily and I've always had an affinity for them." Luna said shrugging.
"So, you're confused or what?" Eleanor turned the topic back to Neville, who shrugged before answering.
"Not so much confused as… I don't know, it just hasn't come up? Before the war, I was concentrating more on not failing out of school and my plants and I always just thought I'd do all that stuff once I got out of school but now… it's just never come up." Neville finished awkwardly.
"Huh, I guess that makes sense." Eleanor said speculatively.
"Maybe you're like a sea-ell; they mate only when another sea-ell flashes the right lights at them but before that they never feel the urge towards it." Luna said, leaning back in her chair. He wondered vaguely if sea-ell's were real – they sounded plausible…
"Your guess is as good as mine." Neville responded, honestly not all that concerned.
"But wait, you've said Harry is attractive." Ginny said, sounding bewildered. Neville snorted.
"Yeah, because I have eyes. He's gorgeous, but I don't want to date him; sometimes I think Draco is crazy. Harry, while lovely and wonderful, is also seriously creepy sometimes and I've noticed his morals are all over the place. Yeah, no thank you; I'll keep him as a great friend, thanks." He said firmly.
"But, doesn't that imply you have a type?" Eleanor asked. Neville shrugged.
"Huh, guess it's not that big a deal. You going to tell us what Siri – Professor Black's – class is like or are you going to leave us in the dark like Ron?" Ginny asked, changing the topic with ease.
"Nah, I don't want to ruin the fun. It's different, that's for sure. We might not need Harry to teach us with Professor Black here, but I'm personally going to continue training with Harry in my free time." Neville said.
"Oh, continuing with Harry's lessons is pretty much on everyone's agenda I think. Just because we have a competent teacher doesn't mean we don't want to continue learning advanced stuff from a master." Eleanor said, before shuddering and continuing with: "Just means we're going to go back to having aches and pains and exhaustion and messed up sleep schedules."
Her bedroom here was small. One dresser, one double bed, one pillow upon that bed. She liked it, sometimes.
'This is my room and not a shared one. It will suffocate me in how alone I am but it is better than being with him. I can't.'
She loved him, she did. He killed one of her babies and she hated him. She hated herself for loving him sometimes when she wanted it to be never. She hated herself for being a failure as a mother – one of her children turned into a monster and yet she mourned for the monster and despaired for the remaining six. They would all die in this war, she knew. She knew.
"Mum?" One of her son's hesitant voices made her turn towards the door. Short, smooth hair framed a face she knew well – Charlie's eyebrows were like Percy's, along with his full mouth, and cute little nose.
She wondered when he would die. She hoped it was quick, when it came.
"Mum, I wanted to… I need to talk to you. May I come in?" Charlie asked. She beckoned him into her room wanting nothing more than to protect him from the world. Maybe she could take her children back, spare them from death?
Charlie took one of her hands in his as he sat next to her. How strange to think that once his whole hand could fit around one of her fingers.
"Mum, I'm going back to Romania. Bill will… he'll be here. But I… I need to go back, we're doing extraordinary things and I'm needed there. I- I love you, but I also love my job. I can't stay here, I can't, Mum. I need to go, I can't stay. I can't." Charlie sounded so close to tears, he sounded so upset. Was he this upset when he heard about Percy?
Charlie always was very emotional, like Percy. Bill and Ron hide upset beneath anger and, lately, ice but Charlie and Percy were always the criers. Fred and George never seemed to get upset, almost like there wasn't enough time in life to bother with tears. Ginny was a strange middle ground – she got upset and lashed out with words and tears together.
"Mum, are you listening? I need to go." Charlie said, tears rolling down his face and looking at her with a strange expression. She'd never seen an expression like that on him before…
"Go?" She asked, not sure if she was following the conversation correctly. Did he know this war would kill him and was fleeing? She hoped so.
"Yeah, I need to go. I can't… I love you, but I can't do this. I'm not like Bill, I'm not strong like he is… I can't do this. I need to go." Charlie whispered. He was in pain, so much pain. She needed to do something for him.
"Then you go, baby. You do what you can and what you need." She said to him, leaning on his shoulder. If only Percy had come to her with his pain instead of letting it turn him into a monster…
Charlie hugged her, clutching desperately at her, crying into her hair. He whispered how much he loved her over and over.
She wondered if Percy ever really loved her or if she was just some foolish woman who birthed him in his eyes.
Granger is a force of nature. Blaise has always known that she was a studier and an intellect, but he had always thought she was like Draco – that she liked to learn things but also liked to relax and disliked anything too hard for her. Boy was he wrong. She was nothing like Draco, who tended to get frustrated with things easily and drop them when he wasn't getting the hang of it. Things that Granger couldn't do or understand weren't dropped but rather attacked until they were forced into submission. It was exhausting.
Currently, she was glaring at him from across the room, hair moss-covered from a hex that he shot at her seconds ago, while he was standing unharmed and unchanged.
"How did you do that?! When I tried that spell, it didn't work! You should be vomiting blue and green worms right now! Why did the spell work for you and not me?!" She hissed at him, invoking the likeliness to her rather ugly cat, Crook or something. That cat was rather infamous in Hogwarts for being unfriendly and getting into things he shouldn't – he only behaved around her, if rumors were to be believed.
"I just did." He responded, a touch smug that he got the hang of it so quickly while she didn't.
"That doesn't make any sense! Draco just taught us this spell – we both should have failed!" She snarled.
He arched an eyebrow at her flawed logic as she huffed, looking a little sheepish.
"Alright, so that was a little childish to say. Sorry. How did you do that? Tell me in detail." She demanded.
"I visualized your spell deflecting, spoke the spell, while sharply drawing my wand down from my eyes, before slashing leftwards." He deadpanned, knowing his answer wasn't in any way helpful.
"That's exactly what I did and it didn't work for me. Your answer didn't help me learn anything at all! What did your magic feel like when you did the spell? Did any part of you warm or get cooler? Did –"
"I don't know. I just did it – it happened quickly and I didn't feel anything and didn't analyze any of it." He cut her off before she really got going.
"Cast at me again, maybe I'll get it this time."
The spell they were working on was a shield spell, but it was designed to shatter upon impact, taking the damage and force of whatever was thrown at the person it was protecting. It was designed to be something a person could cast quickly and without much energy to hold it, unlike most other spells which drained the caster, and meant for ambushes; not sieges or long, drawn out battles.
He shot off the disarming spell at her and saw her do the right wand movements and heard her say the spell – "aspido" – perfectly. Her wand shot out of her hand and landed at his feet.
"Dammit." She spat, looking frazzled. Blaise sighed, picking up her wand and throwing it back to her.
"You're not visualizing the spell deflecting." Draco said from behind Blaise.
"I think I'd know what I was or was not visualizing better than you, thank you very much!" Granger snapped.
"No, you're just pouring magic into your wand and expecting it to protect you. You have to visualize the magic deflecting because of your magic not because of the spell. All the spell does is give that idea – the idea you aren't indulging in – life." Draco lectured, sounding remarkably like his father it was almost eerie.
"I'm telling you, I'm visualizing!" She snarled as she stood back up and shot a spell at Blaise – he didn't recognize it, but didn't want to guess at what it did. He deflected it and shot a mild hex back at her. She didn't even attempt the shield, just dodged it and shot a hex right back at him. He rolled away and heard Draco laughing in the background before he spat a spell in Granger's direction. She performed the shield spell…
And was thrown into a wall, swirling different shades of blue and hair throwing off green sparks. She popped up and shot something that curved right into his side, throwing him into the air, before letting gravity take him. The impact with the ground hurt, but other than that he didn't feel hurt. He threw another hex at Granger anyway and this time when she performed the shield spell it did what it was supposed to.
Granger looked goosed briefly before a smile lit her face up. Even with swirling blue skin and tangled hair that was shooting off green sparks, when she smiled like that he could see what it was that Weasley saw in her.
"Good job, both of you." Draco said, clapping. His tone was sincere but the clapping was probably less than.
"Why can't we do this during the daytime?" Neville whined.
"I don't have any time during the daylight hours." Harry responded with a grin. "Now, I need you to concentrate. You know you can do this; you just need to be in control of it this time." Harry continued, folding to sit on the floor in front of him.
"Right." Neville muttered. During the Battle of Hogsmeade he had created his fire whip but he hadn't managed it once since then. Thus the reason he was with Harry, feeling like he had failed a class and was retaking it. He didn't want to be some berserker, only capable of powerful magic when enraged. He didn't want his magic playing him for a puppet.
He flung fire out in front of himself and willed it to hold, to twist into a weapon that could move freely and around things. He knew that this was a manner of will – there was no spell for this because the fire was already from him, all he needed was to keep control over it in the physical world. The fire sputtered out, again.
"Why isn't this working?" Neville shouted, wanted to tear his hair out.
"Did you feel any different physically during the battle?" Harry asked.
"No. I was full of adrenaline but that's fairly normal considering the circumstances. Beyond that I felt normal." Neville answered. "Was I supposed to feel different?"
"Magic is something that exists everywhere; outside and within. It is a tool, a way to manipulate the forces of nature to your will, a way to make your will reality. It is a part of you and you are a part of it; it is more connected to you than your limbs. When you use magic, even if it's only something small, you feel different – happier, perhaps, or warm. When using more advanced magic, your body reacts to it differently, depending on things like how your magical core allies itself, your bloodline, what magic you're performing, and other things." Harry said calmly, staring at Neville while he spoke.
"You've said that, I've heard it! I just don't see how that is supposed to help me learn this! What if I can't do it outside of a battle situation? What if I'm not as strong as you think I am; I'm not like you, Harry, I'm not some super powerful wizard! I'm just a stupid kid and I'm gonna die, just like Seamus and Dean! They're gonna kill me!" Neville screamed, trying not to cry and throwing his wand down. Harry wrapped him up in a hug instantly and Neville clung to him, crying like a baby into his shoulder, breaking as he always did whenever Harry hugged him.
"One day, you're going to die, Neville. Everyone is; it's the ultimate inevitability, the ultimate end. Everything that starts must end, someday. The trick of it is choosing the circumstances in which you die. Will it be in battle? Will it be defending yourself or someone else? Will it be when you're old and wrinkled, surrounded by your family?" Harry whispered to him, pulling away from Neville to touch their foreheads together. "I don't think you're a stupid kid, Neville. You're young, but that's not a bad thing. And you have so much potential. If you would just trust yourself you'd see it; it's right in front of you. I can't speak for your parents, but if you were my son I'd be so proud of you. I am proud of you, you have no idea." Harry wiped Neville's tears away and stepped back from him. Neville breathed a few times, clutching at Harry's praise like a lifeline.
He wondered what his parents would think of him, if they'd be as proud of him as Harry was.
"You aren't someone who needs a weapon, at least not one that protects your body. What you need is something that protects your choices, your choice of when to surrender to the inevitable and when to not. You need a tool more than a weapon, because you're not a warrior but something softer than that. Now, try again." Harry said.
Neville felt more worn then truly upset anymore so he just rolled his shoulders and braced himself for another failure.
'A tool, huh? Something to protect my choices, not my body…' Neville thought and flung fire out in front of himself. He willed it to become this weapon, this protection of choices. He felt something warm and sweet flare up inside, as if molten chocolate had been poured into his veins. He thought, for an instant, that he could even taste dark chocolate in the back of his throat.
And the fire twisted into a long, thick whip. He slashed his wand around and the whip followed with a crackle of warmth.
"Anastasia was a beautiful child, did you know? You resemble her in many ways; your nose, your eyes – the shape not the color – your fire, the love for your family. Especially that. Your older brother betrays your family, abandons all of you, almost kills your father, does kill countless others, and yet you mourn for him still." The man across from her said before taking a sip of his drink. He had graying hair and not a wrinkle on his face. He smelt of cinnamon and milk and she felt as if she knew him, had met him once.
"You're Rasputin." Ginny whispered.
"Yes, indeed I am. I'm dead by now, no doubt, but yet I still need to be here to teach you. Your legacy is one that has been hidden from you till now and I am here to remedy that." He said.
"What if I don't want it?" Ginny asked.
"That's not an option, I'm afraid. You have it, it's your legacy and you're not allowed to deny it. I can give it to you and not teach you how to use it, but I cannot take it back." Rasputin said gently.
"Fine." She said and found they were somewhere else: a stone room with arching windows and no doors.
"This is the training room. When you need a lesson, you will come here. Don't worry about the how, you'll know how to get here, I promise. This room will give you everything you need, including me." Rasputin said, leaning against a walking stick of some sort, wood dark and smooth.
"The first lesson is about finding things. I have taken something from you, something important, something you need, and hidden it. Find it and present it to me." Rasputin said with a big grin.
"What is it?" Ginny asked.
"Something important." He responded.
"How long do I have to find it?"
"However long it takes to find it."
"None of that was helpful information" Ginny said, getting annoyed.
"You'll know what it is immediately, trust me." Rasputin's words echoed even as she woke up. She sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. Luna, who lay next to her, stirred a little before seemingly going back to sleep.
"Ron's going to throw a fit and Harry's never going to let me live this down." She muttered, looking at Luna and wondering if she should even try sneaking Luna out. "Oh, who cares? Ron will deal." She muttered again.
"Deal with what?" Luna asked quietly, eyes still closed.
"You here with me. You know how he gets – 'Oh, my baby sister is doing sex things, she's just a little girl!'" Ginny mimicked, giving Ron a high pitched voice. Luna giggled.
"We should probably get up, what time is it?" Luna asked. Ginny reached for her wand, she kept it in its holster under her pillow. Both were gone. No wand, no holster.
'You'll know what it was immediately, trust me.'
"That arsehole hid my wand!" Ginny exclaimed, shocked more than anything else. After all, Rasputin was dead. How had he managed to get her wand and hide it? Luna tilted her head at Ginny in confusion.
"You remember me telling you about that mark on my chest?" Ginny asked.
"Anastasia's heir." Luna stated.
"I dreamed about Rasputin. He said he was going to teach me about my legacy. That he had hidden something important and that I was to find it; turns out the 'something important' is my wand."
"Well, I guess we have to find it then. If you're supposed to be able to find it and he's hidden it from beyond the grave it would make the most sense if he hid it somewhere in the castle. It's what I would do. What are you supposed to do once you find it?" Luna asked.
"Go to the training room that he showed me in my dreams." Ginny answered, not finding any real fault with Luna's logic and hoping that her wand was hidden within the castle somewhere and not in, say, Russia.
"That's rather straightforward. Let's get up, we can start looking for it today, where did you put my bra?" Luna asked, searching amongst the sheets for the garment. Ginny plucked it from under the pillows where she had shoved it last night and handed it over.
"I think I tore the buttons off your shirt, you can borrow one of mine." Ginny said, feeling her cheeks heat up a little. Luna smiled at her and pulled on her skirt before opening the curtains around Ginny's bed, dispelling the silencing charm around them, and getting out of bed.
Ginny and Amell Volutei were the only fifth year girls in Gryffindor, so they shared the suddenly too big dorm room. Normally, Ginny woke up before Voultei but this morning they had woken up at the same time. And Voultei was looking at Luna with a gob-smacked expression and her ears were turning red at the tips.
"Good morning, Voultei." Luna said, waving at the other girl. She turned to Ginny's wardrobe and began looking for a shirt to wear. Ginny sat with a sheet around her waist and in naught but her skin and felt like melting into the floor out of embarrassment.
"G-Good morning!" Voultei squeaked, looking between the two girls and turning even redder, before grabbing her robes and book bag and running out of the room.
"Oh dear Merlin." Ginny whispered in mortification, grabbing clothes to change into. Luna just laughed at her, the traitor.
And because the gods enjoy laughing at Ginny's misery, when she and Luna finally managed to get downstairs not only was a sizable portion of the house (what remained of it, but she tries not to think about how few students there are at Hogwarts, tries to ignore it for the sake of her own sanity) around but so was Ron.
"Why is Luna here and wearing a Gryffindor shirt, one that looks suspiciously like it belongs to you?" Ron demanded, immediately coming to loom in front of them. People turned to look at them and she could already hear the giggles and whispers starting up.
"Well, I couldn't very well wear mine, it had no more buttons. And I'm here because Ginerva and I have to go to breakfast and classes, which means we had to get out of bed." Luna says easily and without a trace of embarrassment. Harry started laughing behind Ron; full out, whole body laughter that Ginny was disturbed to say she hadn't heard in what felt like years.
"Ron, you're making a scene, leave it alone." Hermione said irritably.
"You-You- Get to breakfast! And please, at least pretend you're sleeping in different beds, for me!" Ron pleaded before fleeing, Harry trailing after him laughing still. Hermione snorted before winking at Ginny – Oh Circe, I'm going to die of mortification – and following them out. Luna was radiating amusement from next to her but didn't comment on anything, just took her hand and led her out of the common room.
When they got to the Great hall, Ginny sat at the Ravenclaw table, not wanting to deal with her housemates. Breakfast was in full swing and it was a mess of noise and half heard conversations, even with the reduced student count.
"So, where do you think we should look for it first?" Luna asked while cutting open a muffin to put jam in it.
"I guess anywhere – our dorms, classrooms, the library maybe…" Ginny mused, biting into a cinnamon-topped croissant. "After Transfiguration we can try a locating spell, and maybe it'll be that simple."
It wasn't. Professor McGonagall was less than impressed with her missing wand during class and once class was over Luna attempted a locator spell without success. It seemed that something was blocking the spell from finding Ginny's wand.
"We'll find it, maybe Harry can help us?" Luna said after. If anyone would be able to find her wand, it would be Harry.
Two nights later she found herself in the training room, the stone floor cold under her bare feet and moonlight streaming in through the windows. Her wand seemed to vibrate in her hand, in plain view. Rasputin was standing before her, a strange expression on his face.
"You did not find your wand." Rasputin said finally.
"Obviously I did, considering that here I am and here it is in my hand." Ginny retorts, holding her wand up.
"But you did not find it. It was found, yes, but not by you. Are you really so helpless that you cannot find something so easy on your own?" He asked and she realized that the strange expression on his face was disappointment.
And with a jolt she realized that he was right. When something was too difficult for her to do, she went to Harry. If she couldn't make a decision, she went to Harry. It was almost second nature to her now, from years of knowing Harry and having him just fix everything for her. She learned it from Ron and Hermione, who did the same thing.
"I can't help you like this; you aren't ready." Rasputin said softly.
"You said I couldn't refuse it." Ginny whispered in response.
"Oh, you can't. And you're not and I'm not taking it back. You aren't ready for this, not now; you're still just a little girl. I made a mistake, so I'll come back when you are ready." He vanished out of existence, taking the smell of cinnamon with him. The smell she hadn't even realized was there but missed when it wasn't.
"Children should stay out of war games." His voice whispered to her as she fell into true sleep.
"Bill, are you well?" Fleur asked quietly, coming into the kitchen.
"Oh, yes, I'm just peachy. One of my brothers died a Death Eater, my dad is acting like if he ignores the outside world it will go away, and my mom has had a complete mental breakdown. And that's just my personal life." Bill retorted. Fleur looked less than impressed.
"That sorry for yourself speech didn't answer my question."
"I'm sorry, I'm just stressed." Bill muttered, turning back to stove, stirring the vegetable soup. He knew he shouldn't be taking his anger out on Fleur; none of this was her fault.
"I realize that, but taking it out on me is just going to cause more strain." Fleur said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against the back of his neck. Her accent, while still noticeable, no longer hindered her actual speech. He figured she had a lot of practice speaking English between work and all the time she spent talking to his father. She was actually the one who discovered Arthur Weasley's new found phobia of news – bad, good, didn't matter, he didn't want to hear it. Mr. Weasley was determined to ignore the world as much as possible.
A timer dinged and Bill waved his wand at the oven, stepping out of the way as it opened and a dish of chicken floated out to the table. He turned everything off and waved the vegetable soup to the table and grabbed the bread to place it to the side. Silverware arranged itself neatly on the table along with dishes and glasses while milk, water, and juice flew out of the refrigerator to settle down, waiting to be poured.
"I'll go get father." Fleur announced as she left the room, leaving Bill standing there stupidly. His chest felt warm at the thought of her calling his father her own, as if they were already married. Magic take him, but he loved her.
Fleur and his father were talking about something as they came back into the room, Arthur waving his arms about and Fleur listening avidly. They dished out food and drinks and ate, talking about pointless things – how was Fleur's day? Did anything interesting happen at Bill's site today? What was the function of the ball in the ball-point pen? It almost seemed like a normal family dinner, but the absence of his mother was striking for Bill. He heard her silence in everything and felt it with every bite of food he took. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't get the chicken to taste as good as his mother's – his was always too dry and didn't have enough of something, a spice no doubt.
He was so angry at Charlie in these moments. Charlie was supposed to be here with them, trying to help their mother. He needed Charlie here, but he had run off with his dragons. 'Doesn't he care about her? She's his mother! She needs him and he just takes off to gallivant with his precious dragons! He even snuck out of the house while I was at work!' Bill thought, chewing his food viciously.
Conversation stopped suddenly, seemingly cut like a ribbon, drawing his attention. His mother was standing in front of the table, hair a mess. She looked so small, dwarfed in her nightgown.
"Mum?" Bill asked quietly, almost afraid of spooking her.
"I figured there was no need to make you take my food to me." She said, pulling a chair back and sitting. A plate and silverware popped into place in front of her. Fleur took his hand under the table, squeezing. He clutched at her, terrified and elated all at once. Was this the recovery he had been praying for?
His father got up and left quietly and his mother didn't even glance up from her meal.
Blaise wondered if, in another world, Neville Longbottom would ever be hanging out with him. They had next to nothing in common – Neville was passive while Blaise was more aggressive; Neville liked plants while Blaise wanted nothing to do with them; Neville was helpless with Potions while Blaise was very good at them (had to be when you spent so much time with Draco Malfoy). They had almost nothing in common and yet here they were, sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall during lunch eating and rolling their eyes at Draco.
Draco, who is trying to tell them that he wasn't crazy, really, and they should totally help Peeves prank their first, real Defense class.
"Draco, you don't even like pranks, why are you even bothering?" Neville asked exasperated.
"This isn't about getting into Potter's pants, is it? Because I don't know if I'm old enough for this conversation if it is." Blaise adds, deadpanned. Neville chokes a little next to him and Draco shoots him an unimpressed stare.
"Really, that's what you're going with?"
"What, you think I don't notice when he's spent the night in your room? You two aren't even pretending to be subtle, seriously, you're lucky the castle is practically empty." Blaise says quietly, wary of people overhearing despite his words.
"We're not pretending to be subtle because we're dropping the act. It's why he's wearing that bracelet I gave him out in the open." Draco said, biting into a sandwich.
"Wait, that's where he goes; he's spending the night with you?" Neville looks about as red as a tomato, which is equal parts hilarious and pathetic.
"Wow, where is your mind heading off? For all we know they're just sleeping." Blaise teases.
"Now I'm thinking about it, why did you say that?" Neville whined. Blaise laughed and Draco rolled his eyes.
"We sleep, mostly." Draco said dryly.
"No, stop talking!" Neville begged, looking five seconds away from covering his ears.
"So, no more hiding? Really, you're sure about this?" Blaise asked.
"Yeah, we hid it all last year but this year it's… there's a war going on outside these walls; but here there is still some peace. We don't want to hide, not here." Draco said.
"It's not safe, we don't know if everyone here is on the right side." Blaise said earnestly.
"They're still here; I think that counts for something." Neville said, sounding calmer now that the subject had changed.
"Yeah, that they're spies or informants." Blaise said bluntly. "Draco, this could end so badly."
"Or that they're scared and out of options. Which, honestly, isn't that great of an option either. But, I get what Blaise is getting at and I agree; this could end so badly for both of you, you could be used to hurt each other. Have you guys really thought this out?" Neville asked, concerned.
"We know, but this is too important to us to hide anymore. We're tired and I don't think it's good for him. He had to hide how he's felt for me long before we were ever together and I just can't do it to him anymore. I really appreciate that you two are concerned and you have valid points, believe me I know, but the decision's been made. We're not hiding it anymore, we don't want to." Draco said. He looked at Blaise, willing him to understand, to accept.
"Fine, you know I have your back." Blaise said, sighing.
"I do. Thank you."
The word looked so innocent, so simple, printed on clean paper.
Horecrux.
Albus almost couldn't believe how stupid he'd been, to overlook something like it. They were rare, but he knew a thing or two about rare, dark things. It explained everything – how Tom had survived, his warped magic and mind, the Diary, Myrtle. Not to mention, it would be something Tom Riddle would be familiar with, from having been taught by Aife.
'Seems that no matter what appearance Mr. Potter has, he always seems to know things he shouldn't. Which, given his age, makes more sense. Aife would have mentioned this, probably in passing knowing her, explaining something else to Tom.'
He remembered Aife Korasaki, little girl from Wales that came to Hogwarts from nowhere. Her last name indicated that she was muggleborn, but she had known this world. Left a little sister in Wales, came to Hogwarts alone. Sorted into Slytherin after only a few moments under the hat and within her first year she had befriended a Malfoy, a Black, and a Prince. Intelligent, polite, and cunning she had inserted herself into a circle of Purebloods from all the houses and demanded respect from her peers. She was never bullied, not after the first disastrous attempts that some older Slytherins had made in her first year.
Her little sister, Diamond, came to Hogwarts the next year but by then he had been paying too much attention to Tom to pay any more attention to Aife and her sister. He knew, from watching Tom, that Aife took Tom under her wing and that Tom and Diamond became closer and closer as they got older. Diamond was the only girl Tom had ever shown an interest in and Albus had worried for her. Tom had carved his circle of Purebloods, almost modeled after Aife's circle –Aife had Lycian Malfoy, Cedrella Black, Alphard Black, Orin Black, Claus Prince, and Fergus Bones. They were almost like her inner circle, they studied together and were often seen clumped together somehow – he knew that Lycian and Claus were dating throughout their entire Hogwarts career, but Lycian had married Orin in the end, no doubt due to pressure from their parents. He had no idea what happened to Claus Prince after he graduated. Tom's circle had been comprised of the younger siblings or cousins of Aife's group – Abraxas Malfoy, Walburga Black,Cygnus Black, and Eileen Prince. Tom's circle grew to encompass more people as he spent more time at Hogwarts. But Aife only ever added her sister and Aiden Fawcett, the young man she fell in love with and, truthfully, was still in love with as he reincarnated as Draco Malfoy.
Tom's group held great respect for Aife's, that much was obvious, but the two groups didn't ever really mix. Tom was the only one that would sometimes be seen with Aife's group, never the other way around. Aife's group became neutral or left the country when Tom became Voldemort; and if they didn't leave they died. Tom's group gradually became Death Eaters and, as they say, that was that. Albus never thought to reach out to Aife's old group, convinced that they weren't the type to join his cause; he thought them cowards but now he wondered if he should have tried to get them on his side. Would the death toll been so high if he had them?
After all, Harry was training his friends in magic, advanced and old magic, so most likely he had trained that group as well. If he had not been so sure of himself, could he have gotten strong allies from unexpected places?
A knock on the door broke him from his musings of the past and mistakes. He waved the door open and Bill Weasley, clutching something to his chest, rushed in eyes bright and excited.
"I think I got it! I found it, the text from those books Harry gave the Order. The thing that Merlin stole from Ancient Egypt and summoned: I found it!" Bill exclaimed, clearing Albus' desk of stray papers and books. Albus grabbed the book on Soul Magic he had been reading – the word Horecrux was still mocking him even as he tried to focus on what Bill was saying.
"I thought it was a spell to make a Guide at first, but that's not all it is. It's an experimental ritual to make a super Guide, like one of those things on every enhancer you can think of. It calls for summoning two souls – specifically an akh and an akhet – and mutating them further into one entity and then trapping it into the corpse of a vessel. That vessel then becomes the Guide." Bill said in a rush, Egyptian tumbling out of his mouth as easily as the English.
"Bill, I'm sure this is fascinating, but Ancient Egypt was never one of my subjects that I knew a lot about." Albus said.
"Oh, sorry, right. So, an Akh is a transfigured male soul, like a ghost only one without an anchor that keeps it here. A ghost is a soul that is kept here by something, magic most likely, which is why the most popular theory that only wizards and witches become ghosts is held. But, the Egyptians had ways of summoning the dead, souls that moved on, so they had specific names for them. An Akh is a male soul that was ripped from the afterlife, with all their memories still attached, which makes them deformed and often times angry and powerful in that anger.
"An Akhet is a female soul, they're basically the same thing but they have enough of their humanity and memories left that they still cling to human concepts like gender, ripping them from the afterlife takes their memories of that away from them, so they remember only their life and dying, but nothing after. They were used as curses and weapons during times of war because they couldn't die and followed the orders of the one who summoned them. They could kill and maim and torture, just like a human, but not die.
"It was considered a sin to summon one though; you had to have permission from Ra and Osiris to get away with summoning one. And then you had to undergo a purification ritual afterward, it's all very ceremonial. If you didn't have permission, the Pharaoh would get a vision from Ra and know what you had done and send for you, to kill you. It was a crime punishable by death and disgrace – you would lose your name and your family would be cut from you. It was a major deal. But, anyway, this, this right here, I think this is what Merlin stole. It makes the most sense with that Harry was saying about the thing that he summoned, trying to make a Guide and it got away from him." Bill explained in a rush.
"And how can we be sure this is what it was that he stole? Not to doubt you, child, but we have to be sure." Albus said, a headache building from all the new information.
"Because I didn't find this in a tomb on the site; it was given to me by a Professor, he wanted me to translate it. I'm one of a few handfuls of people who can translate Ancient Egyptian for a reasonable fee and you know where he got this? Rome. Specifically, from a museum that loaned it to him for his thesis; that museum? The only one on Earth that lays claim to Merlin's Estate. This is it, Albus, this is what he stole. He knew he couldn't let it out of the wards around his Estate, Egypt would find it, so he kept it there and probably lead people on a wild goose chase trying to find where he had hidden it. But it was just in his house, waiting. No one knew what it was, he had tons of manuscripts and other things littered with Egyptian writing – after all, Rome and Egypt were allies then. The Romans used to call these things man-made demons! This is it, Albus, this is it; we found it." Bill said, sounding excited and feverish.
"Can we be sure of that? Don't you think Harry would have found it, if it had been at his Estate all these years? He's one of the people that was lead on that goose chase, after all." Albus said, wanting to believe but needing to be one hundred percent sure.
"Was he? Think about it, he probably knew exactly what Merlin stole. Or had a solid idea of what it could be. Harry would have been looking for a reversal or a way to kill the thing, not this. Besides, you've read those books he's given us, haven't you? Lady Saliar wasn't exactly all together there at the end, it reads like she lost her mind. And, you were there when he was talking about it, reliving it, he didn't seem all together. I don't blame him, but… Albus, Rome fell over a thousand years ago and by Harry's own admission he's been cycling through lifetimes ever since. He's been looking for a way to kill it, but so far hasn't been successful. I think it's because he never went looking for the original thing. Why would he need to if he knew what it was in the first place, right?" Bill said.
The theory was sound. For all that Harry might be a very, very old soul trapped, for now, in a teenager's body that didn't make him some omnipresent being.
"You think he's been over looking things because of assumptions or even pride?" Albus asked.
"No. I think he's been over looking things because of pain and memories and fear. I was able to translate this and realize what it was and rush here because to me, this is a piece of history. I have no part in it, nothing ties me to it. It's old history. But for Harry? Just being handed something that came from Merlin's Estate might be too much for him. He knew Merlin. He helped raise Merlin, he fought alongside Merlin, knew his kids, his wife, he knew Merlin. I think that would fuck with anyone." Bill said quietly.
"I think, to stop whatever it is that is controlling Voldemort, that we need to know what it is. And to do that, we need to know what ritual Merlin bastardized to create it." Bill continued. "And this is it; I can feel it in my bones."
Albus trailed a hand over the aged papyrus paper, magic strumming just under his fingers keeping the paper together and strong despite its age.
"I believe you. Get me a translation of it as quickly as you can, but don't rush it. Feel free to use Latin and English both, if it helps. I also know Ancient Greek if it's needed, try and get it exact as you can." Albus ordered.
Ron flopped onto the couch with a groan. His whole body ached it seemed like and the couch felt like every good thing about the world all rolled into one object. He might never move again.
"God, I'm sore and not even in a good way. Between Sirius' defense classes and Harry's increased training I feel about ready to sleep for a year." Hermione said, flopping down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she curled even closer to him.
"I hear you. If I never have to participate in a mock battle against you ever again, it'll be too soon. Also, don't know what you're complaining about, at least your defense group can work together; mine was a mess. It's like they'd never heard of teamwork and Harry threw me into a wall!" Ron whined.
"Ours wasn't much better, honestly. Neville and Blaise worked to ensure Draco was covered and Harry mostly covered me but no one was covering him or Neville. And I was concentrating too much on knocking you around to actually be any real help; you're just so much fun to duel." Hermione said, grinning up at hm. He stuck his tongue out at her and didn't even feel childish about it.
"Still, your group is the only one without homework, so that means you did well. And you guys got to leave before Peeves came, so consider yourselves lucky."
"I heard about that; I guess it's good that Peeves is back to his usual ways. Means the castle is safe, right?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think I've ever seen Sirius that put out by a prank before." Ron responded.
"How much homework do you have? I've got a transfiguration essay, an arithmancy equation to solve, and Harry gave me a book to read. In Russian of all languages, can you believe that?" Hermione said, sounding remarkably like she was a normal teenager complaining about homework.
"Transfiguration essay, helping Luna and Ginny with the Patronus Charm, and Harry gave me an essay to read, on welding fire actually, in French. So, looks like he's worried about our language skills getting rusty." Ron said, grinning at her for no real reason.
"We should probably get to it soon then." Hermione said. Ron nodded, but neither of them made to move.
"You know, I've been wondering, like… are we dating or what? Because there was that thing over the summer and it was nice but… we haven't done anything else since then? So, are we dating or were you just in a vulnerable place and I was there? 'Cause, I'd really like to date you, so… yeah." Ron blurted out suddenly.
"We're dating, I thought it was obvious. I mean… we took a bath together last night. Alone. Without Harry there and… I thought we were dating? We spend all this time together and talk about pretty much everything and… aren't we dating?" Hermione said, sounding confused. She moved out from under his arm, tucking her legs under her as she turned to look at him.
"We did all that stuff before we were dating though." Ron pointed out, feeling a little embarrassed. "I mean, doesn't dating mean more kissing? I mean, if you don't want to that's cool too, but I guess I'm a little confused? Because we don't do anything like that and we don't hold hands or call each other cute names or even say we're dating so – "
He was cut off by Hermione's lips, soft and feather-light against his own. Her hands touched his face, his neck, before moving away from him completely, almost as if she couldn't figure out where to put them. She pulled away after a few seconds, before he could gather his wits about him to kiss her back, looking at him with warm eyes and a soft smile.
"If you want to kiss me, do so. You have my express permission, I thought you knew that. We don't hold hands because that's not something we do; we can if you want to, it won't bother me. I like your name, so I don't call you anything but that. I didn't think we needed to do anything differently, other than the kissing, which I like a lot." Hermione said simply.
"Oh." Ron said dumbly before moving to kiss her again, hesitant and unsure. He wasn't very good at this, he didn't think, but then the only other person he'd really kissed had been Harry and kissing Harry was more like being kissed by Harry, not the other way around. Hermione smiled at him when he pulled away.
"So, we're on the same page?" She asked quietly.
"Yeah, we're on the same page." Ron replied. Hermione twisted, leaning against him, a familiar weight against his side.
"After this is all over, there's gonna be so much work to do." She said some time later, from nowhere. She didn't have to specify what she was referring to – the war was a constant thrum in the back of everyone's mind.
"I can't even think about that, it seems so far away, like a distant dream." Ron whispered.
"Or a light at the end of the tunnel. When it gets bad, I think about the after. The laws that need to be changed, the attitudes that need to be re-arranged, the imbalances that must be addressed." Hermione said.
"Are you planning on ever sleeping again?" Ron teased.
"Sleep is for the weak." Hermione retorted, grinning. "It's going to be hard, but someone has to do it and if we leave it to others it'll never get done. And we're still young, so we have more time and energy to do what needs to be done. We're going to live through this, because someone has to be around to clean up this mess. And I have a younger sibling that I want to see, at least once. Even if my parents never know that I saw them." She continued.
Ron pulled her closer to him, kissing her hair briefly. He hopes that she gets to meet them but fears that it might be too late for hope and life to enter this particular storm.
"Albus, what exactly are we looking for? Besides a massively dark object?" Sirius hissed, feeling compelled to keep his voice low. It probably had to do with the run down house they were currently searching – the place gave him the creeps. Obviously abandoned and on the outskirts of a little village that looked like it had seen better days, but there was something sinister here, like something filthy and sad had sunk into the very foundation.
"I'm not entirely sure, Sirius, everything I have researched points to it being a ring of some kind, but having never seen it myself it's impossible to describe it. I'm not even sure if it is here, but I hope it is." Albus responded, shooting a spell at a nearby overturned, dust covered, remains of a chair.
"So, we're on a wild goose chase?" Sirius asked incredulously. Albus sighed, before turning to face Sirius.
"More like a slightly chaotic goose chase, if you will. I'm afraid that times are a little too desperate for anything more exact than that. You'll have to grant an old man some of your patience on this."
Sirius was going to respond, demand more of an explanation perhaps, but just then his foot hit something small that sent a chill of wrongness and… something, up his spine. He froze and had his wand trained on it in a second.
Albus didn't say anything, just bent down to look at it. Sirius hit it with a few detection spells, muttering under his breath about certain paranoid people who would have a thing or two to say about people who just bent down to look at suspicious objects without checking to see if it could burn your eyes out first.
The gold coating of the ring, large with a beautiful gem looking stone set in it, seemed to almost shine in the dim light, making it look shiny and brand new in this dump. Every spell he hit it with came up clean, but more of a new clean then a true one. Like something dark had been in it, but wasn't anymore. Those results were usually signs that someone had been tipped off to a raid and cleaned all the evidence away.
"It's clean, a little too much so if you get my meaning, but it reads clean." Sirius finally pronounced, squatting down to be more level with Albus. The old man picked up the ring carefully, turning it in his hand as he looked it over. "Albus, we should continue to look for that object." Sirius continued.
"My dear boy, I'm afraid we already found what it is we're looking for. Look here." Albus said grimly, holding the ring out so the face was visible. The black stone was cracked down the center, but around the crack was a familiar symbol: a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through the center. Gellert Grindelwald's mark.
"So, what, ole snake face got a memento from the late Dark Lord and then broke it? What the hell?" Sirius muttered.
"This isn't just Gellert's mark, Sirius. This… is baffling. Something strange is afoot here and I'm afraid that I, for once, have no idea what's going on." Albus said, a forbidding tone of finality in his voice.
Gringotts was cold and still around him. The corpse of a dragon was lying in a smoking heap nearby, a smaller dragon's body was carelessly thrown on top of some goblins. The door to a vault was thrown open, enchantments were sizzling, gold piles disrupted and some objects smoking.
He felt… more, somehow. A piece of himself that he cast away has been returned and it felt like victory, like being the smartest person in the room, like Diamond telling him she loved him.
And just like that, pain took over everything and he curled in on himself, trying to stop it. Agony was not something he has ever liked and this… this was being hungry and listening to the Nuns tell everyone to eat up because Tom can't have dinner tonight, he's been bad. This was ice in his bare hands, so cold it's fire, trying to hold back tears because they didn't ever help. This was walking on a broken ankle and fire licking at his back.
His beautiful bride was dead. Taken from him. And he…
He…
Don't think about it, it'll hurt you. Calm yourself, child. I am here.
His master was merciful and took pain away from him, left him powerful and strong. But there was something just on the edge of his memory… something important… so important…
Aife burst into the house, hair flying and eyes wild.
"He's coming, we don't have much time!" She shrieked, panicked and there was blood on her hands and a bruise was starting to form on her face. Diamond was shaking next to him and in her arms was…
He stopped trying to remember.
A/N: I apologize so much for the very, very long wait. And really, thank you for the continued favs, bookmarks, alerts, and re-reads of this fic. And the continued reviews, even if they're only to remind me that you're waiting for an update, thank you SO MUCH for your patience and literally I'm so sorry that this is taking so long for me to finish up. There's only a few more chapters left and I really, really want to get this finished soon. Thank you for your continued support, I really do appreciate it. Feel free to leave a review!