Secret of the Blade

by ShadeslayerX

When Lily Potter comes across an artifact of immense power, hidden away by the Potters, old secrets come to light. Plans come undone and the day of reckoning is upon Wizarding Britain. Original Witchblade characters are never part of the action, only mentioned. M rating for adult themes, gore, physical and mental torture. All Criticism is welcomed and encouraged. Enjoy!

10. Chapter 8 - Wheels are turning

A.N: We are sorry for taking this long *bowing and scraping most pitifully*, but we were struck by the worst illness known to man *dramatic pause*….. LAZYNESS *omminous lightning sounds*…. Now that I have gone through with the theatrics, this is the wall of text also known as chapter 8

Chapter 8: Wheels are turning

How will you breathe when their wheels are turning? / How will you know if the sky is burning?

November 1st 10:00 AM

Remus Lupin

As the sun rose over the sleeping village of Godric's Hollow, Remus Lupin approached the one house he knew all too well, as it belonged to his friend and fellow Marauder. In the light of dawn, it looked nothing like the place he knew. The door had been blown off its hinges, the walls around the entrance were cracked and all the downstairs windows were blown out. He made for the gate, but he was promptly stopped by an Auror.

"My best friend lives here. What happened?" Remus demanded of the man and tried to push through.

"I am sorry, sir," the Auror replied, putting a hand up, "but you have to step back. This is an active crime scene. No one is allowed in."

"WHAT?! Who died? JAMES! LILY!" Remus shouted, all the way struggling to get past the guard. The man pushed him away with incredible ease,

"I gather you knew the people who lived here. I am terribly sorry for your loss, but I still can't allow you to enter."

"Is there anything you can tell me about what happened? Is James OK?" The Auror drew a hand through his greying hair.

"Lord Potter put up quite a valiant fight. The damage on the ground floor was caused by him and the intruder. We found his body in the living room."

"Merlin's ghost! What about Lily? The baby? Where's Harry?"

"There's no sign of them. Only the corpse of the intruder."

"Intruder? Who? Where?"

"Unknown. His body was found in the baby's room."

"Why weren't you able to identify him?" Remus asked.

"Because someone splattered the intruder's head all over the nursery floor, after removing it with a blade," the Auror replied. The werewolf shook his head in bewilderment.

'Could Lily have removed the intruder's head? And how? I don't remember her owning a sword or ever being trained in swordsmanship,' he asked himself. "At least can you tell me how James died?"

"By the magical signature readings, it was instantaneous. Most likely the Killing Curse. I am sorry, but that is all I can tell you for now. The investigation is still in progress."

"Thank you for the information, Auror," Remus replied with a sigh. "I'll take my leave now."

Remus wasn't feeling ready to return to his Yorkshire abode, so he decided to mindlessly wonder around the village for a while longer, trying to make sense of what he had just learned. James was dead, killed with the Killing Curse by an unknown intruder, who had been beheaded. Lily and Harry were both missing, with the Aurors possibly pretending to not have any clues as to their whereabouts.

'Do Padfoot and Wormtail know?' he asked himself pacing nervously on the deserted streets of Godric's Hollow. Another Death Eater attack and murder, and this time in their own backyard, meant absolutely no one was on the streets. 'No, I just found out this morning, doubt they would have heard anything this soon. But how? The only way the Death Eaters could have found them would be if someone betrayed them. Their Secret Keeper… no… he wouldn't. Would he?' Remus couldn't continue his thought. It was too painful.

Without paying attention to where he was going, he found himself once again in front of the Potter's hideout, when he sniffed a familiar scent. Lily's cat. Following his nose, Remus found the chocolate-furred feline in the lane, half caked in mud and looking worse for wear. He could barely see the normally white tips of his paws under all that dirt. It was limping, favoring its right side, a sign it might have been bleeding at some point. It looked as though it was oblivious to his surroundings.

As Remus neared, the furball stopped, turned and inflated its tail. A barely audible growl was coming from the cat's throat. The werewolf's wilde side resonated and a slight grown rose from his own throat. The feline in front of Moony was severely overestimating its own power of intimidation. The stalemate was interrupted by the somewhat welcome voice of Sirius.

"Dick measuring contest with a cat, Moony? I thought you were above such measly things."

The tension and aggression seemed to drain out of the feline. With a loud meow, it limped as fast is it could to Sirius and started to rub its head against his boot, all the while purring loudly. Sirius reached down and petted the furball.

"Nice to see you too, fluffy predator," he said as he rose, only to find himself at the end of Remus' wand close to his face.

"Why did you betray James and Lily, Padfoot? They trusted you!" Remus said pointedly, shoving his wand closer to the other man's face. "You were their Secret Keeper. Professor Dumbledore said so!" His hands raised to show he was unarmed, Sirius looked his friend dead in the eye.

"Wormtail was the Secret Keeper. I was only a decoy. There is no way in hell I would betray my friend. My best friend, a man who's been more family than those whose blood run through my veins. Have you been lending your ear to Dumbledore so much, his word is undeniably the absolute truth to you? He was not even there when Lily cast the Fidelius. We made sure he knew it was Peter from the moment the charm was cast." Remus' grip on his wand tightened and his eyes turned amber.

"Why would he do that? Why would Dumbledore lie to any of us?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

"For the same reason he told James you probably turned tail and were spying for The Noseless One, as you spent so much time among the packs." Remus' wand lowered slightly.

"He was the one who sent me among the packs to convince them to remain neutral in the conflict," he said in a softer tone of voice. "Swear on your life that you did not betray James and Lily, or, swear to Merlin, Padfoot, I will beat the ever-loving-shit out of you before I hand you over to the Aurors." Sirius slowly reached with his offhand into the wrist holder where his wand was, gently pulling it out, holding it by the middle with two fingers. Ever so slowly he raised it towards the sky and spoke.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, former Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, swear upon my life and magic that I did not betray Lord James Potter, of the most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, by informing the being known as Lord Voldemort of the location of this safe house. I also swear I was not the Secret Keeper for the Fidelius charm cast on the house he and his wife resided in for the past 12 months. So mote it be. Orchideous!" Remus eyed the purple and neon green polka-dotted daisies springing from the end of Sirius' wand with undisguised disgust. He lowered his wand while running his other hand through his grey streaked hair.

"I am so sorry I have doubted you, Sirius. I admit I have gotten used to accepting Professor Dumbledore's statements as inherently truthful, that I did not stop to judge them for myself." Sirius gave his werewolf friend a crooked grin, as he threw the conjured flowers over his shoulder.

"No harm done, Moony," he said as he patted him on the back. "Now, I need to get this domineering furball to my abode and then attempt to catch the tail end of James' will reading." He bent over and picked up the furball that was at that moment rubbing its head against his right leg. Once it found itself in Sirius' reassuring arms, it turned its head towards the wolf and gave a short hiss, only to purr again.

"Better come with you," Remus replied with a sly smirk, "if only to dress your bleeding wounds when you try washing the evil overlord." Sirius' reaction was to simply flip his fellow Marauder the bird.

-Section Break-

"Well, this was painless… somewhat…" Sirius mused, as he finished toweling Lily's cat off. The feline had stoically accepted having its injuries cleaned and its fur washed off of any caked mud. As if to taunt Remus, it kept spitting and hissing at him while Sirius had his back turned, only to resume an air of innocence when he gave it his full attention.

With the cat now curled up in the middle of Sirius' bed, the two Marauders Apparated at the bottom of the steps leading into Gringotts. The guard, wand in one hand and an odd device of indeterminate shape in the other, gave them a cursory glance.

"Hold," he said, with a careful, yet authoritarian tone in his voice. "State your name and business."

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, here for the reading of Lord Potter's Last Will and Testament," replied Sirius, keeping his voice neutral, yet grave. "With whom should we talk to about that?"

"Go on inside and ask for Account Manager Xanthos, as he is the one handling the reading of Lord Potter's will," said the guard as he opened the door, still watching the surrounding the area for unwelcome surprises. They proceeded towards the only free teller. Sirius was about to inquire about the goblin, but the werewolf beat him to it.

"Hello, excuse me," Remus said as he attempted to catch the teller's attention, "Would you be so kind as to point me and my friend here to Account Manager Xanthos? I believe he may be expecting us, with regards to the reading of a will." The goblin stared at him blankly for what seemed a little longer than just a second.

"You would not be the first to forward that claim today, wizard," it said with a deep sigh.

"Oh?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Little over an hour ago, Albus Dumbledore came with intent to interrupt the will reading. I hope you do not share his intent, nor do you want to cause any trouble." It paused as it looked over its glasses. "Do you?"

"Hell, no!" the werewolf blurted, only to quickly clamp a hand over his mouth. That was all Sirius needed to introduce himself into the discussion.

"I am terribly sorry, you will have to excuse my potty mouthed friend. My name is Sirius Black and the one with the budding case of Tourettes is Remus Lupin. We received a copy of the will. It was accompanied by a letter, inviting us to present ourselves to the reading itself. Please, announce us to the goblin in charge of the proceedings and see if he would grant us a little of his time."

The goblin seemed nonplussed, simply shrugged and pressed a rune on his desk, then turned his attention back to the large stack of documents in front of him. Shortly after, a younger goblin arrived. After receiving brief instructions from the clerk, it silently bid the wizards to follow and led them to a door labeled 'Will Reading Room'.

Before they could even knock, the door opened to Augusta Longbottom walking out, followed by a goblin, which the two wizards believed was the one they were looking for.

"…dore can not contest your appointment as proxy. Given your son will not be able to join us for a while longer, you can hold both proxies for the next 60 days without it being considered a conflict of interest. At the moment, the Wizengamot can not strip you of the Potter proxy without an unanimous vote of all the Ancient Houses. And yes, that does require the Longbottom and Potter votes as well."

"So unless I vote to strip myself of the Potter proxy…" Mrs Longbottom continued, only to see the two men in front of them.

"Good day, Madam Longbottom. Nice to see you in such high spirits," said Sirius bowing with an overtly fake courtesy. The Longbottom matriarch merely raised an eyebrow and made to leave. The goblin she was talking to, on the other hand, was less than pleased with the interruption.

"And who might you two gentlemen be?"

"Sirius Black…"

"And Remus Lupin…"

"At your service," the two introduced themselves, with incredible ease, in what looked like a very rehearsed practice.

"I seriously doubt that last part," muttered Augusta Longbottom. "I will send you a letter after the Wizengamot meeting on the morrow, Account Manager Xanthos," she said as she turned to the goblin. "I must bid you goodbye I need to inform Frank and Alice of today's events. And secure the copy of the will."

As the older lady made her way to the lobby, alongside the goblin who brought Sirius and Remus, Xanthos invited the two men in the room. After seating themselves in the two chairs closest to the table, the goblin once again pulled out his documents.

"Gentlemen, you are late. Any reason why?"

"You have to excuse me," Sirius said, as he rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly, his voice crackling, "I have no doubt you are aware as to whose will you have read today. He was family even more so than those of my own blood. I wanted to visit them last night and, after seeing James, all I could do not to break to pieces was to drink myself silly. In my drunken stupor, I might have smashed my alarm clock this morning."

"I will spare you the details of anyone trying to rouse him when he's partially pickled…" Remus said with a sad smile, as if he remembered an old forgotten joke.

"Well…" Xanthos said, appearing to not have been paying attention to anything the two have just said. "To make a long story short, you, Mr. Black, have been left a tidy sum and some… questionable Muggle publications Lord Potter said should go to a good home. Mr. Lupin, on the other hand, has been left an annuity, 18000 Galleons per year." The werewolf looked like he was about to faint.

"I had no idea James felt I needed the financial support. You have my humblest apologies, Account Manager, but I cannot accept a handout. I would like to be able to earn my money." The goblin looked at him over his half moon glasses and chuckled under his breath, then turned his eyes back to the parchment.

"Your friend, Lord Potter, has thought you might react like that. He specified that the money is to be paid, even if we are to forcefully glue the money bag to your restrained palm or to break into your vault to deposit it, should you not be available to receive it." Seeing the flabbergasted looks on the two men's faces, he continued. "You need not worry, we need not resort to such crude actions. The money will be added to your vault. Any incurring taxes will be fully handled by the bank."

As his lycanthrope friend was apparently still far too shocked to reply, Sirius gently slapped the man shoulder to elicit a response.

"This means you can open a business of your own, you lucky dog…" Moony gave him the most subtle of stink eyes.

"I prefer wolf, thank you," he muttered under his breath, his eyes flashing dangerously, but Padfoot didn't even flinch.

"… Use the money to pay for whatever you need to start it up. I should also be able give you a loan to supplement your funds, should you ever need me to do so." With a heavy sigh, Lupin nodded his acceptance.

"Fine. I will take the money as an investment towards my own financial security. Account Master, I'd like the money transferred to a Muggle bank, once I establish myself there fully."

"I don't see an issue with that request," said Xanthos. "Consider it done. All you need to do is provide us with the account number with the bank of your choice."

Their business done, the two men rose to leave. As they neared the doors to exit Gringotts, a goblin called for Sirius.

"Mister Black," he said in a squeaky voice, "your Head of House is currently in the Manager's office. He requested you join him. Please follow me." Sirius drew a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

"I suspect I am NOT going to like this meeting very much. Moony, here, have my key. Wait for me at the apartment. Whether or not he wants to, my grandfather will be brief, no matter what he wants to speak to me about." He then turned towards the waiting goblin. "Lead the way, then. Might as well get this over with quickly."

-Section Break-

Sirius Black

Sirius walked up to the door, constantly muttering 'must remain calm' under his breath. The goblin gave him a very strange look, shrugged and motion for the man to enter. Sirius half expected to be led into a darkened room, as his Grandfather liked it that way. Usually, he could be found alone. Today, however, he was accompanied by a hooded woman. Once the door closed behind the Marauder, ward lines crawled over the wood of the door.

"How may I be of service to the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?" Sirius asked, bowing his head. His greeting was met with a hearty laugh.

"Grandson, I never thought that all those etiquette lessons from your mother would sink in," said the man. "Or that you would ever deign to use them properly." He motioned a gesture to the woman by his side, who then lowered her hood, leaving Sirius gobsmacked. He never thought that SHE, of all the Blacks, would ever associate with the Head of the House.

"Cousin Andi, I am surprised to find you in our most esteemed Grandfather's presence. Last I heard, you had been thrown out of the family."

"She was merely disowned by her parents. Last I checked, I did not approve any such thing as her being thrown out. I have been the Lord of this Family for nearly half a century, Sirius. Do not mistake me for the fool that you call father, or that shrieking hag you call your mother," Arcturus Black bit back. "Regardless, we are not here to discuss who did what, and whose parents are worse. We are here to ensure the survival and prosperity of the House of Black." The two younger members bowed their heads and spoke in unison.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Both of you might want to sit down. This will take a while."

As the two cousins joined him at the table, Arcturus pulled out a stack of documents and pushed them in Andromeda's direction. She picked them up and perused through their content. As she did, her eyes widened. Sirius reached out and took the sheet on top to inspect what was written. It was basically a form to name Andromeda Tonks the next Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black at the first session of Wizengamot of 1982. He was mouthing along the lines of the Decree his grandfather was willing to enact. When he got to the end, he was simply shocked.

"What in the nine hells are you thinking, Grandfather? Making her the Head of House will draw a giant target on her, her husband's and her daughter's backs. Bella and Cissy's Death Eater husbands will be coming after them the very next second."

"Remember who you are talking to, young man," Arcturus said calmly. Still, Sirius felt his grandfather's voice echo through the room. He bowed his head, as the old man continued. "If you think back to the moment 6 months after the lord whatever-his-name-is started his campaign of idiocy, you would also remember the orders I gave to all the members of the house. I forbade all of you stupid children to pick a side, on pain of removal from the line of inheritance. You sided with Albus Dumb-as-a-door, Bella joined the scarecrow. So did Regulus and Narcissa's husband. Your father was too weak to keep his wife in check. The fool ended up financing the inbred brigade. Therefore, all of you have willingly denounced your right and, thus, no longer of the headship. I am going to remove Narcissa and Bellatrix from the house as well, on the off chance everyone else who can inherit the title of Head of House should suffer 'some random and equally horribly debilitating accident'."

Sirius nearly burst into laughter at his grandfather' colorful vocabulary, but schooled his face into the most neutral expression he could manage

"If I understand this properly, since dear Andi over here did not join any side and just stuck to her Mastery and work, she is the only one still eligible. And, as she is already married, she fulfills the condition to be a female Head of House." Arcturus nodded his acquiescence, which made Sirius continue: "Then what exactly do you need me for?"

"Though you might have denounced us, by siding with Dumbledore, you were the one that had been instructed to fulfill the role as the next Head of House." Sirius nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Whether I like or not, you are the only one I can trust to teach her how to be an effective Head of House. Am I to understand you decline my request?"

"Don't get me wrong, Grandfather, but James has left me with a duty to aid House Potter's Regent and also instruct his son and heir. Between that and managing Uncle Alphie's orchards and vineyard, I am unsure how much time I may have at my disposal to teach Andi how to be a Head of House."

"Yes… about that…" Lord Black continued, rubbing his bearded chin. "What do you know about what had happened last night with Lord Potter and his family?" Seeing the distrust in his grandson's eyes, he upped the ante. "I will even offer you an oath of secrecy. Nothing you tell me will be spoken of, written down or communicated in any form to anyone you do not allow me to."

"What importance does it hold to you, Grandfather? I thought you had little love for the Potters."

"James Potter was my sister's son. He put his trust in Dumbledore, and that got him killed. Now his wife and son are missing. I need that information so I can muster my political power, as well as the votes of my allies and vassals into muzzling that half moon spectacled, white bearded eyesore that leads the sheep of the judicial and ministry by the hairs of their noses. Is that clear enough for you, my little princess?" Sirius snickered at his grandfather's choice of words.

"Crystal. Swear and I will tell you all you want to know."

-Section Break-

As the ball of light conjured by the Patriarch of the Black family to verify his truthfulness faded, Sirius covertly slid his wand back into its holster and drew a deep breath as he turned towards Andromeda.

"I'm sorry, Andi, but, unless you swear by the same terms, you will have to leave the room. This is something I would rather be fully secret to the likes of Dumbledore or any Legilimens crazy enough to slip into your mind." The woman raised an eyebrow. "Or good enough to do so unnoticed." She rolled her eyes, pulled her wand and swore the same as her grandfather.

"Long story short, James and Lily managed to kill the dark fudge muncher. James weakend IT before he was overwhelmed. Lily finished IT off, took Harry and went to a friend of hers to lay low for a couple of days. But that was not even close to being the weirdest part of the evening." Sirius paused and looked at his relatives.

"What do you mean?" Andromeda asked. Both of them looked intrigued as though they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Well," said Sirius with a forced calm, "what I found weirdest was not how IT found the Potters, but how Hagrid, Dumbledore's ass kissing half-giant and Hogwarts' Groundskeeper, among other pompous titles, knew exactly WHERE and WHEN to come. He was under the impression that James and Lily were dead. He told me he was there under the Headmaster's orders to collect Harry and deliver him to Lily's magic-hating muggle sister." He paused for a second, sighed and continued. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. That oaf was firmly convinced that James and Lily were BOTH dead, because Dumbledore said so." Andromeda looked absolutely bewildered.

"How did that utter imbecile, who, if memory serves, is forbidden to use magic, get to a place the location of which he should not have any knowledge of, firmly convinced the house's adult inhabitants were dead? It sounds awfully convenient, if you ask me. Don't you agree, Grandfather?" Arcturus nodded, half lost in thought. Sirius chuckled.

"What I find even more interesting, that knucklehead claimed Dumbledore had unanimously decided what Harry's future was going to be. According to him, my opinion was irrelevant and I should have handed my godson over, based on the decisions of Albus Dumbledore the All Knowing. He was about to barge in when I promised him a practical demonstration of my training as a Black, should he take one more step. That, of course, was before Lily threw him through the house's front wall into the rowan tree in their courtyard." Silence enveloped the room.

"I see," the Black patriarch said what seemed a minute later. "It would seem I am going to have to keep Dumbledore's bootlickers from revoking Lily Potter custody of her own child. Probably even stop his bleating sycophants from challenging and overturning Lord Potter's final will." He smiled. "Finally, some proper exercise." The older man rose from the table and, with a gesture, took down the wards that he had placed over the door. "I shall catch up to you children in a few days. Should you need me, call for my elf, Twinky."

The two cousins were left sitting at the table, stunned by their grandfather's strange choice of words. As Andromeda Tonks rose from the table and pulled up her hood, Sirius burst into laughter.

"Now, if that does not prove it, nothing else will. I inherited my sense of humor from my Grandfather."

The woman shook her head and left her cousin to his merriment.

-Section Break-

Alastor Moody

"DAWLISH! GRAVES!" yelled Alastor Moody as he walked out of the office of the Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement and looked around the Auror cubicles. "Move your sorry arses over here. I'm gonna make your day. Your month even." The two named Aurors joined him almost as he finished his sentence.

"What exactly would that be, sir?" spoke Adam Dawlish half worried, half intrigued. His robes were disheveled, having ran from his seat when the older auror called him. The young man was clearly eager to prove himself, having graduated little over a year ago from the Auror training. He tried to keep what would be a regulation look, clean cut, necktie in a windsor knot, robes buttoned up. However, that did not deter him from keeping his cocky, yet somewhat childish smile. "Master Moody?"

"Hold up, kid," came the grave voice of Eldritch Graves, a gruff middle aged man, with a hint of a receding hairline. His face was streaked with scars and his eyes were weary, a testament of his own vast experience within the DMLE, second only to his superior. "Didn't I tell you If you rush in battle like that, you are short for this world. Swear to Merlin, it's like they don't train them the basics anymore," he said turning to Moody. "So, what do you have for us, today Alastor?"

"We have been allowed to track down Evan Rosier and whomever we find him with, and put them out of their misery, Graves," Moody replied with a mischievous grin at the older of the two Auror. "If we live through that, you will be a legend among our counterparts in the States. Who knows, maybe even bigger than your Grandfather." Eldritch Graves' smile was anything but pleasant.

"Alastor, I, for one, can't wait to take out that… thing that looks like a man and acts like a rabid animal. Alive or not, the parents of all the children he tortured and crucified will finally feel vindicated. My standing with the MACUSA is meaningless," the Auror said and spat as he uttered that name. "When do we start our hunt?"

"As soon as I send word to the Unspeakables," replied Moody. "They will be joining us, as we will need all the extra firepower we can secure. Gentlemen, feel free to bring all your best weapons. I know I will," he ended, tapping his temple.

-Section Break-

An hour and a few Floo trips later, the Aurors were walking down the black corridor to the Department of Mysteries. In front of the door stood two figures of indeterminate gender in grey cloaks. The one on the left stepped forward and bade them to stop.

"And what exactly is the cause for this delay?" Alastor asked, tapping his foot impatiently. "If we lose any more time dilly dallying, we might lose the little leverage we have."

"The Director is currently securing clearance for you gentlemen to enter the Department," the figure told them. "And, as the target's location has not yet been confirmed, we will not be setting out for a little while yet. A fair trade-off, as it will still take a few hours to make sure the target will not escape. With access to our facilities, intel and gear, we can make better strategies to ensure the success of our mission." The voice was bland and obviously altered, since there was no way to tell which of the figures had actually spoken, nor its gender.

"Sorry to disappoint, but…" Moody grinned, opening his coat to show his interlocutors the combat knives hanging from his belt, phial-loaded shoulder rig and two sawed-off shotguns strapped to his legs, one with blue markings, the other with red. "As you can see, I have enough toys to play with. Some body armor might be useful."

"Same for me," growled Graves,, showing a gun in a shoulder holster. Dawlish looked perplexed at his superiors.

"Why would we need Muggle weapons?" he asked.

"Because, young Adam," replied Moody with a heavy sigh, "this particular Death Eater won't expect us to have any weapons other than our wands. And there is no way any of those inbred bastards would be prepared to cast a shield strong enough to stop a bullet before we pull the trigger. Not that they'd know how to cast a kinetic barrier anyway."

As if it waited for the conversations to enter, the nondescript black door opened of its own accord, and the Unspeakables showed the three Aurors in.

-Section Break-

Frank Longbottom

The man had been slowly walking the length of the 30 seat dining table for the past couple of hours. His pacing was wearing on his wife's nerves. A couple of seconds later, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"That's enough, dear. You'll wear a hole in the carpet," Alice tried putting her husband's worried mind at ease with a smile. "If you do that, your mother will get snappy. And, if she decides to rant about your lack of patience again, you, mister, are on your own." As she said that, she brought her hand to her face in a gesture of fake dread. "If she rants at you with her usual gusto, I'll lock myself in our room and have the elves deliver a few meals. You will be left to the grisly fate that is your mother's hour long rants on propriety and manners."

Frank gave his wife a small smile, some of his worries having been washed by her attempts at humor. Shortly after, he felt the wards on the fireplace notify him of his mother's arrival through the Floo network. He took off like a shot towards the office, changing his full-out charge into a half-sprint as he entered to see her brushing herself off.

"Well…" Augusta cleared her throat and, after setting her purse and her feathered hat on the top of the desk, pulled out a rolled-up parchment, a silvery wax seal bearing the Potter coat of arms. Frank gently took it and was ready to break the hard wax seal when a house elf popped into the room with an expression of fear written all over her aged features.

"Missus 'Gusta, you told Mips to check everything that comes in for tracking spells. You have some on your hat and handbag." Stringing together some of the foulest expletives she had learned in her long life, she threw said items to the elf.

"Empty the bag," she said fuming, her face turning red, "then send both of them in the middle of the bloomin ocean." By the time the Longbottom Matriarch finished turning the air blue, her daughter in law entered the office.

"Problems, Augusta?"

"I came back tagged with a bloody tracker. I didn't think to check myself before using the Floo. Damn it!" Frank and Alice shared a worried look.

"If it puts your mind at ease," said Frank as he laid his hand on his mother's shoulder, "Call Sirius Black and Remus Lupin."

"Might as well have some extra wands around here for a little while," added Alice, nodding in agreement.

"That is not a bad idea," said Augusta. "Have Mips send an owl to them as soon as possible. Now, you should hear the strangest thing that happened today. Albus Dumbledore alleges that the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been defeated. Yet, for some outrageous reason, that blasted buffoon tried to stop the reading of James Potter's will." The occupants of the room fell silent.

After what felt like half an hour, Frank took the scroll, gently removed the seal and read the contents as he paced around the room.

"This does not look like it contains anything that could be remotely considered a security risk. This does not bode well," he said, before turning to his wife. "I am sorry, Alice, but this sort of business should only be the burden of the Head of House. If you would be so kind, please send an owl to Sirius and Remus. Ask them to join us here to bolster the security." Shortly after his wife left, Frank locked the door to his study and placed a privacy ward on it, then asked his mother to sit, as he took his seat as the Head of House behind the desk. "Now Mother, please tell me everything you have seen and heard Dumbledore do at the reading. And spare no details."

-Section Break-

After listening to his mother describe the strange behavior of his once esteemed Professor, Frank took to pacing for a minute or so.

"So… he's been trying to get the Wizengamot to pass some discretionary drivel to overturn James' will, all to get custody of Harry. Typical," he said with a heavy sigh. "Check with our allied houses to see who else was notified of this special session, why we were NOT summoned, and what reasons did the old man give for trying to usurp one of the oldest Houses of Magical Britain. On my honor as the Head of House Longbottom, I will not let this stand. Call on Arcturus or Orion Black if you have to." Augusta raised her hand in an attempt to stop her son's rant.

"Frank, the stress must be getting to you," the old woman said. "Have you forgotten that Orion Black was poisoned the same year rumor has it Bellatrix killed her parents?" Frank huffed.

"Regardless of my memory issues, I want this farce of a man stopped. You know me, Mother, I am all for equal chances, but this is exactly the kind of abuse of power that a member of one of the Lower Houses would perpetrate the moment they find themselves in a position of authority. We need to put a permanent muzzle on that man and his absurd ambitions, even if we have to dredge up the High Council or call on the British Prime Minister to overrule the Wizengamot on every little thing. Who the hell does he think he is? A god?" His mother tried her best to stifle her laughter behind her handkerchief.

"Well, he did defeat Grindelwald," she said, sarcasm dripping from her every word. "That makes the masses deify him." Frank scoffed.

"Then the masses need to deify Newton Scamander. Good old Newt aided the Magical Congress of the United States their DMLE stop an Obscurus and Grindelwald himself in New York in the same damn night, if what you and Father told me is accurate. All the while the great and all mighty Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs in Europe."

Both mother and son shared a hearty laugh, before a knock was heard. After taking down the privacy wards, Frank opened the door to see his wife with a couple of sheets of parchment in her hand, which she promptly handed to him.

"As you asked, letters to the allies of House Longbottom. Have a read through and sign them if you approve. We've been out of the loop for too damn long. And your mother cannot be everywhere to put a muzzle on anything we don't approve of." Frank nodded.

"And we also need to get to Gringotts and officially take up the Proxy for House Potter, before the Wizengamot pulls another idiocy out of their collective arses."

As the younger couple were brainstorming, Augusta Longbottom smiled warmly.

"It is times like these when I miss my Harfang."

November 2nd

Alastor Moody

Moody, his two Auror companions and three Unspeakables Apparated silently in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Before any Auror could ask, the Unspeakables headed towards the 'Horny Toad' brothel. They slammed the door open and anyone present in the room was knocked unconscious due to various spells, some recognizable, some utterly alien. In a blink of an eye, the Madame was tied to a chair and submitted to an unknown grey curse.

"Would it kill you to let us in on the plan?" barked Moody at the first Unspeakable he saw. "Or was the so called talk back at the Ministry just for show?"

"She knows about Rosier," came the Unspeakable's unphased voice. "She will tell us everything as soon as we ask. Now, if you would be so kind, Auror Moody, stand back and watch for angry patrons."

One of the other unspeakables turned back to the bound woman and woke her up with a heavy backhanded slap to the face.

"Evan Rosier. His location. NOW!" a distorted voice barked, without missing a beat.

"With Augustus Selwyn and Phineas Travers in a hunting lodge in the Forest of Dean. I was about to send some girls over there." The Madame's voice was perfectly emotionless, as though her will power had been suppressed. The Unspeakable laid a hand on her head, closed their eyes, and, shortly after, nodded in acknowledgement. Another Unspeakable pulled their wand and, with a speechless flourish, put the Madame back into a sleep-like state, repaired the hinges and motioned for the team to head out.

Graves looked slightly disgusted after witnessing the Unspeakables', whom he previously revered, questionable behavior. Moody saw his companion's reaction, simply shrugged, and followed the cloaked individuals.

Outside, the contingent provided by the Department of Mysteries was gathered around a metallic object that was not there when they first arrived. With a silent tap of the wand, the object started to glow blue, then red, then back to blue. When the glow disappeared, one of the Unspeakables motioned for the Aurors to approach.

"Weapons out. If any of them manages to escape us, good on them. Otherwise, we intend to take no prisoners, so don't bother trying to stun anyone." The Aurors nodded.

Moody took out a combat knife, Graves unholstered his gun and Dawlish pulled out a huge knife, with an eagle head pommel and a wide single edged blade.

With a tug, the portkey activated and took the taskforce away and towards their quarry.

-Section Break-

The landing was perfectly silent. None of the six passenger felt any of the discomfort usually associated with travelling by portkey. One of the Unspeakables pointed his wand towards the mouth of his demonic-looking mask, motioned for silence and attention.

'Auror Dawlish…' the young Auror heard a disembodied voice inside his head, 'take this runestone and place it on the southern wall. You will enter through the breach. Auror Graves, as soon as the door opens, shoot from a crouched position. We will provide a smoke screen and covering fire.' The gruff man nodded in agreement. 'Master Moody, please be so kind as to throw this unstable concoction through the door as soon as it is opened. Proceed as soon as the distraction commences.' The elder of the group gave a curt nod and tightened his grip on his own wand. With the roles clarified, everyone moved to their designated positions.

With a wave of their wands, the Unspeakables' robes turned to a form fitting uniform that still concealed their identity and gender. One of them raised a hand and counted down from five.

When the countdown reached one, the runestone Dawlish placed on the wall detonated. A thick cloud of smoke began emitting from the pieces. As soon as that happened, a flurry of hexes and curses started flying through the breach. Dawlish leaned in and threw an empowered Reducto through the dust, six feet away from the breach, then, with his knife in reverse grip, jumped in. The roar of Eldritch Graves' gun could be easily heard through bouts of loud cursing. The concoction Moody threw in resulted in a blinding green fireball.

Moody entered, holding his combat knife in a reverse grip, tip parallel to the wand. One of the lodge's occupants was scorched beyond recognition, apparently having caught the brunt of the fireball. Another was lying splayed face down in the entry hall, his right knee cap blown clear off by a bullet, gaping and bloody. Moody thought about using a blood clotting charm on the downed man, as he did not seem to be one of those they were here for. Before he cast the spell, however, he spotted what seemed to be a tattoo through a cut in the man's sleeve. While deflecting an incoming curse and cutting at a charging assailant, he focused on the tattoo. With the tip of the blade, he widened the cut and saw that, surrounded by a patch of red skin, there was what looked like a fairly fresh Dark Mark of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

'No prisoners, Master Moody,' one of the Unspeakables whispered in his thoughts. Moody shrugged and made no move to kill the barely breathing Death Eater. His hooded partner was not as merciful, shooting the purplish black blade of an unknown spell, effectively slitting the man's throat, before moving on.

The next room was where the wall had been breached through. Bodies were strewn all over the room, the sole survivor being Dawlish. The young Auror was moving his wand in wide arcs, running some form of detection, all the while trying to hold back his bile. His huge knife was sticking out of another body clad in full Death Eater robes.

"That would be Selwyn," said Moody, as he slit the man's left sleeve to see a similar Dark Mark. His contemplation was broken by Dawlish.

"Another two fled through that door as soon as I threw the first spell. It's barricaded."

"Evan Rosier one of them?" one of the Unspeakables asked, as they shot a piercing curse at Selwyn's corpse. The body twitched, but nothing happened.

"Not sure. Both were masked," replied the young Auror, still fighting his urge to retch the contents of his stomach. He reached to pull the knife from the corpse, but Moody beat him to it. The older man raised an eyebrow, flipped it in the air, catching it by the blade, and extended it to his younger subordinate.

"Where on earth did you get this monstrous blade, Adam?"

"Family heirloom," replied the Auror, as he wiped the blade on a clean patch of Selwyn's robe, all the while trying to keep his breakfast down. "It was made for an ancestor of mine, who, along with a couple of his friends, went hunting for a rogue vampire in Whitby. The blasted creature had killed his fiancé."

"It's lighter than expected," growled Alastor. "Should have been a lot heavier, given its size."

"Part of it is hollow," replied Adam, still breathing heavily and spitting the bit of bile that managed to crawl up his gullet. "It's filled with mercury." Spat another gob of snot. "Really appreciate the distraction, sir." The old Auror patted his shoulder in a fatherly manner and turned towards Graves and the rest of the Unspeakables.

"So, gentlemen, what's the plan?"

One of the Unspeakables pulled another three runestones out from a pouch on his belt and placed them on the locked door. Graves and Moody, alongside the rest of the strike force, took position, flanking the door. Dawlish sheathed his knife and ducked behind an overturned table, upon which he had cast a Hardening spell.

A short countdown later, the runestones exploded, but this time, the pieces did not emit any smoke. A flurry of curses soon followed. The petrified table was pushed back slightly, causing Dawlish to cuss most vigorously. One of the Unspeakables tossed Moody another phial to throw into the room. Graves transferred his gun to his off hand, inched his wand past the frame of the door and muttered Fumo. The smokescreen caused the visibility to drop suddenly.

As the phial flew through the smoke, a Reducto hit the doorframe and Graves was thrown to the floor with his back full of splinters. With a flick of their wand, one of the Unspeakables pushed him away from the line of fire and threw another phial, this time filled with a substance of a different color, through the breached door. Shortly after, he lit a piece of what looked like paper and flicked it through the fading smokescreen. A small detonation followed.

A full minute passed with no spells fired from inside. Moody used a mirror to look through the room.

"Empty."

Suddenly, Adam Dawlish found himself tense up. As his eyes turned glassy, he rose from behind his cover and brought his wand to his throat.

"Throw away your weapons," he said. The young Auror's voice had an odd reverberation to it. "Or I will put him through the worst pain he has ever been in his life."

The Unspeakable closest to the breach shifted his gaze from the Imperioused Auror to the inside of the room and, with a remote whisper in his companions' ears to catch their attention, motioned with his head to a spot less than a foot away from the edge of the breach, behind an overturned armchair. One of the others raised their empty hand, pointed to the spot indicated by their partner and spoke a single word. "PILA!" A line of javelins formed in the air and darted in the direction the Unspeakable was pointing in. One apparently had hit something, as the invisibility charm failed and a masked man fell to the floor, a spear protruding from the middle of his forehead.

Dawlish regained control over himself and rushed towards were Graves lay to check on the older man, levitating the hardened table to his new position in order to shield them both in case this was not the end of the fight.

A booming blast came out of nowhere and, before anyone could process what had just happened, Moody found himself knocked back on the floor. A purple lash came from somewhere within the smoke cloud and wrapped around the entirety of his left calf, ever tightening and searing his flesh, until it was yanked back. Pain shot through his entire body, blurring his vision. When he came back to his senses a moment later, he noticed he was bleeding profusely from below his left knee. His leg had just disappeared. Something hit the Unspeakable that fired the line of javelins in the chest, throwing him against the wall with an ominous crack.

The rest of the Unspeakables swept through the most probable locations for the assailant to hide in and, even though they used some of the most destructive spells at their disposal, they hit nothing but air. Another of them fell, screaming horribly, clawing at his chest. His colleagues continued unperturbed.

Moody used the respite granted by his DoM allies forcing the mysterious assailant to focus on them to crawl over to Graves and Dawlish. When he reached cover, he removed a phial of clear yellow liquid from his bandoleer, pulled off the stopper and poured it over the stump of his leg. The wound smoked and sealed over. Through gritted teeth, he muttered a series of detection charms, some darker than others.

"How bad is it, Adam?" he asked the younger Auror, who was busy removing splinters from his unconscious colleague.

"The dragonhide armor we got from the DoM stopped most of the damage. Minimal injuries, nothing an hour in the infirmary wouldn't cure. However, he is out for the count at the moment."

Moody nodded and, with a groan, summoned some of the bigger pieces of wood from around the room, fashioning them into a crude peg leg, which ended in a clawed foot. With a muttered charm, he stuck it to the stump of his leg. Dawlish's eyes widened at his leader's survival instinct.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch. But at least I can move," he growled through his teeth, as he watched the last Unspeakable shoot randomly, hoping to catch the assailant. "Dawlish, get Graves out of here…"

"How?" Adam asked, looking shellshocked.

"Activate the bloody emergency portkey, boy, and watch my back. He's toying with us."

After Graves had been swept away in a rainbow of swirling light, Moody resumed casting a slew of detection charm, hoping against all hope he would find the last Death Eater, most probably Rosier, before the last Unspeakable would fall. A shift of the battered wooden floor alerted him to the location of the assailant. Without blinking, he conjured a shimmering shield, which saved him from a cloud of metal shards that came flying towards his head, but could not withstand a second wave that blasted through the weakened charm, embedding themselves in his dragon hide vest, without piercing all the way through.

Rolling away, he saw the last Unspeakable burst into bloody chunks. Then, another set of conjured metal shards made their way towards Dawlish's unprotected back, the young man still oblivious of the impending danger. Instinctively, Moody threw himself in front of the barrage and erected a multilayered shield.

"Watch out, sonny," he said, raising his arms in front of his face, praying that the younger man would pick up the slack and shield them after this volley.

Having felt no impact, he lowered his offhand to the blue handled shotgun, dangling on his injured leg, all the while scanning the area in front of them with his wand. The first movement of the foe, albeit being nigh imperceptible, was met with a blast from the gun. Slowly, the disillusionment charm dropped off of an injured Evan Rosier. His dark eyes shot anger and pain, his jet black hair plastered on his handsome face, sweat dripping in small rivulets. He was gripping his side, blood seeping through the fingers, and the wand was held loosely. The other hand, whether armed or not, was covered by the long sleeve of his robe

"What… in the… seven hells… did you… put in that muggle abomination?" the Death Eater asked.

"Glass shards," replied Moody, as he raised the gun to shoot again, when the hidden hand came up holding another wand, and he felt something pierce through his left eye, making his shot go wide. "Dawlish! Leave! NOW!" he yelled, his vision blurred. When he made to reach for the other sawed-off shotgun, instead of the normal sound of a portkey, however, Alastor heard a whistling noise.

He shook himself to clear his head and saw the eagle headed pommel of his subordinate's knife. Said oversized weapon was now protruding from Rosier's chest. The Death Eater, however, did not fall. As if holding his body upright by sheer will alone, Rosier made to raise his both wands, but, that very instant, the older Auror grabbed the second shotgun, aimed from the hip and pulled the trigger. The contents of the shells removed one of Rosier's legs below the knee in a huge spray of blood and bone shards. One of the man's wands dropped to the floor.

With adrenaline slowly fading from his system, Moody lowered his weapon, letting it drop with a metallic clang. He tried reaching for the belt buckle portkey, but his hand did not have the energy to move the short distance anymore. The last thing he glimpsed before slipping into unconsciousness was Dawlish, the greenest of the previous year's crop of graduates, approaching the dying Death Eater, fire in his eyes, and Graves' revolver clenched in his hand.

-Section Break-

Augusta Longbottom

The matriarch of the Longbottom family walked through the doors of the Ministry of Magic and up the stairs that led to the second level, which housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the chambers of the Wizengamot. As she approached Courtroom 10, the venue of today's meeting, she heard a familiar voice, one which she had not heard in ages.

"Merlin's beard…" she said as she saw the tall man with a mane of lustrous black hair heavily flecked with silver and white, with a nigh regal presence about him, discussing with a smartly dressed man, most likely representing of one of the lesser houses. "Arcturus Black, as I live and breathe. You honor us with your presence today. How come?"

Lord Black stopped midway through his sentence and looked a little taken aback by the unexpected semblance of familiarity, but instantly schooled his features into a mask of neutrality.

"We will continue this inside," he said to the man, who simply nodded and walked away. "Aggy Longbottom," he continued with a smile, turning to face his old acquaintance. "It has been far too long since we were both at the same 'Mot session." Before she could reply, his smile faded. "We need to talk. Preferably now."

"Of course," the Longbottom Matriarch replied, noticing the urgency of his tone. She raised a privacy barrier, only to see Lord Black raising an additional layer himself.

"I need your help, Aggs," he said, in a hushed voice. "We need to muzzle Dumbledore." Augusta nodded in agreement.

"We are of the same mind, Arc."

"Good."

"And how do you propose we go about achieving this?"

"I am calling for the High Council to investigate and rule on his discretionary decisions," Arcturus continued in the same hushed voice, looking around as if the privacy barrier might fail at any time. "As I have yet to manage to get in touch with Evelyn Greengrass or Pat Parkinson, I would appreciate your assistance in seconding my motion. Can I count on you?" She looked at her interlocutor carefully, and after mulling it over a few seconds, nodded.

"I am certain Frank would have no problem with supporting such an endeavor. As a matter of fact, he wants the exact same thing. You can count on us, but only for the sake of young Harry. Going by James' will, it falls to us to train the boy in the dances, something I can't do unless he stays right where his father wanted him: with his mother and godfather."

"The House of Black thanks you," Arcturus said, sketching a slight bow, "and will be in your debt for your assistance."

They made their way inside with predatory grins on their faces. Anyone who saw them felt shivers running down their spines.

-Section Break-

As the members present for the day's Wizengamot gathering talked among themselves about the recent events, seemingly not paying attention to his usual musings, Albus Dumbledore decided to bring down the gavel and call this meeting to order. All eyes fell upon him, a few familiar faces regarding him with the reverence he was accustomed to. Some, however, shot glances filled with an unusual, newfound distrust.

"Alright everybody, settle down, settle down." The chatter slowly died down, except for a couple hushed mumbles in the back of the room. "We have a full agenda and the time is short. Fellow members of the Wizengamot, I wish to welcome you all to today's meeting. I have asked for your presence to address a couple of recent developments within the Wizarding world - the death of the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort," - a couple of people winced at hearing the name - "as he attempted to claim the lives of the Potter Family. During this gruesome attack upon their home, I am saddened to say Lord James Potter lost his life. Lily and their son Harry have since disappeared, their current whereabouts unknown."

"To our knowledge," Mrs Longbottom interrupted, "you had a very large part in assuring the security of the Potter Family. Similarly, you have, to a small extent, provided a so called improvement to the charms placed on my own family's residence. Should the Longbottom Family be worried of a possible retribution spearheaded by You-Know-Who's Death Eaters?"

"Indeed," another man chimed in, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still has who knows how many people still following orders issued who knows when."

"You need not worry, I have received assurances that the Aurors of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries are raiding all known locations where these Death Eaters are known to congregate as we speak."

"That does put our mind at ease," replied Mrs Longbottom, "if only a little. What I would like to know, Chief Warlock, is how was it possible for the most advanced and complex security charms you went to great lengths to provide have failed, without even the slightest hint of reinforcements or aid being provided or any alarm being raised. How do you respond to these allegations, Chief Warlock?" Dumbledore seemed to have been waiting for a question along those lines.

"Current evidence I have come across point towards a dastardly betrayal of one of our own," he said, a small twinkle in the corner of his eyes. "Lord Potter was betrayed by the Secret Keeper, his so-called best friend, Sirius…"

Dumbledore's tirade was interrupted by the sound of a Cannon Blast Charm. All those gathered turned to face the source of the commotion, scared and wands at the ready. What they saw was Lord Black, looking livid.

"I strongly recommend," he said, tightening his grip on his wand, "you… shut… your fat… gob, you sanctimonious prune." He seemed to shimmer a faint red glow.

"Lord Black, how dare…" Dumbledore attempted to speak, but found his voice gone.

"Oh, no you don't," Black said, a slight grin on his face at the sight of the confused man in front of him. "Know your place Albus Dumbledore of no House worth mentioning. This is not something you would learn in any fancy book you might have up at Hogwarts, but if the Lord or Lady of an Ancient House takes up word in this gathering, not even the Chief Warlock can stop them. You may be my elder, but I am your better." The members of the lesser houses looked shell-shocked. "A few bits of information for those unfamiliar with the relationship between my Grandson and the House of Potter. Sirius is the sworn Godfather of the Potter Heir, just as the lamented James Potter is my sister's son. As many of you may know, such a vow exerts a heavy price on those who would break it, not unlike the consequences of a broken Unbreakable Vow. The instant he attempts betrayal, his heart would stop. Sirius is very much alive, two days after the event."

The air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife. As the silence seemed to only deepen, an idea dawned upon the Director of the DMLE, who just so happened to be present for the proceedings.

"If I may," he said, shooting a nasty glare at Dumbledore, "there is a way to dispel any doubt as to whom was the Potters' Secret Keeper. Betty," he summoned one of his aides, a quiet mousy girl.

"Yes, Director?" Dumbledore seemed to squirm uneasy.

"Would you kindly bring the contained item on my desk, should have a DoM report attached." The girl nodded and darted out of the room. "You see, by the orders bequeathed by the late Lord James Potter in his will, the DMLE and, by extension, myself, have been granted a memory phial of the day Lady Potter cast the Fidelius over the house they hid in. Its contents have, of course, been verified by an expert on the authenticity of memories." His aide entered the chambers as he spoke and handed him a small box and a thin file. Nodding his thanks, he scanned through the file and smiled. "And it would seem the contents of the memory have not been tampered with. The named Secret Keeper was not Sirius Black, but a man named Peter Pettigrew." Everyone's eyes fell on him, as he closed the file. "Therefore, this dog and pony show is meaningless."

For the first time in a long while, Dumbledore looked like he was at a loss for words.

"I assure you," he said as he regained his composure, "I was informed otherwise. Their location was disclosed not in person, but in written form."

"You were their teacher, correct?" asked Arcturus, barely containing his rage, the red glow flickering around him. Dumbledore nodded. "And you want me to believe you did not recognize the writing on that piece of paper?" The Lord of House Black did not wait for his reply. He drew a hand through his hair.

"Arcturus," whispered Augusta, who was sitting close by. "Now is not the time."

"You are right." He took a deep breath and turned to face the others. "Fellow members of the Wizengamot, I must apologize for my outburst. It is not often that there's such a slanderous attack at my family's honor, let alone by one such as him." He spat the few last words. Murmurs rose through the room. The commotion was once again broken by the sound of a cannon blast. They turned to see Mrs Longbottom with her wand aloft.

"Quiet, I can't hear myself think with you hens bickering," she demanded. A moment later, she turned to Arcturus and asked: " So, Lord Black, what do you suggest we do?" The man shot a nasty look and a sinister smile graced his face.

"I, Arcturus Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," he said without missing a beat, all the while keeping his eyes affixed on Dumbledore, "hereby call upon my peers of the High Council of Great Britain to bring charges against and stand in judgement of Wizengamot's current Chief Warlock, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"And what charges would you bring against me?" asked the accused, the same all knowing smile on his face.

"I accuse the Chief Warlock," Arcturus continued addressing his the rest of the gathering, not taking his eyes off of his quarry, "of an attempt to overthrow the rightful succession of one of the oldest Houses of Magical Britain. This charge is all the more aggravated by the fact he is using his position and authority in this endeavour. Anyone wish to carry the motion?" Both him and Dumbledore looked around for a moment.

"I second the motion," declared Mrs Longbottom, standing up from her seat.

An unexpected echo reverberated throughout the room, as a second voice spoke in unison. Even more unexpected was the one who spoke out - Evelyn Greengrass. The Chief Warlock looked gobsmacked. Clearing his throat, he brought down the gavel, seemingly compelled by his position.

"Motion passed, due to three Noble and Ancient Houses calling for bringing charges against me. Any other points you wish to bring to order?"

"Oh, yes, Chief Warlock," Mrs Longbottom said matter-of-factly. "I call on you to account for your actions yesterday. You entered Gringotts with a documents signed by some of the members of this very gathering. Who supported that motion? And, for that matter, why were we of the Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom not called upon to vote?" She looked around the room and saw Lady Greengrass and Lord Black ready to say something. "Evelyn, do you wish to say something regarding this charge?" Evie rose and cleared her throat.

"I wish to inform you that the House of Greengrass has received no notice of a meeting yesterday. I, for one, had no idea about such a document having been passed until you mentioned it, Madam Longbottom." She turned to face the room. "Who among the Sacred Twenty Eight has received any notice about yesterday's meeting?" she asked. The room remained silent. "Elder Houses?" A couple of hands rose.

"What of those of the Noble Houses?" Mrs Longbottom asked. Silence. Evie sat back down, leaving Augusta to continue the inquiry. "No one? Then, if you would excuse my French, how in the NAME of the Morrigan did Chief Warlock Dumbledore get such a controversial motion passed with so few actual votes? How did he have the absolute gall to come to Gringotts, attempting to seal the will of one of his betters and, in the process, usurp the guardianship of his better's heir? Some of you are either lying through their teeth, are morons or bootlickers." Silence reigned and Mrs Longbottom sat back down.

A few moments passed, as the members of the Wizengamot mulled over the accusations brought not only against the Chief Warlock, but against some of them as well.

"He might have done it based on information we are not privy to. He may know better," came a single, sheepish voice. Lord Black muttered a few expletives under his breath.

"For Merlin's sake," he finally spoke. "Fellow members, let me ask you a couple of questions. When did this grand body hand over its authority to a man whose position is based on dubious facts and events? Since when does the Sacred Twenty-Eight bow before a man from a far lesser house than them? Have you lost your collective minds? Was this why he managed to sway you so easily?" A few of the members looked appalled. "Need I remind you the will of an Ancient and Noble house is untouchable by all except for the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the current reigning monarch? For better or for worse, we are allowed to govern ourselves and continue our existence within this country exactly because we keep them informed and, in what seems more a symbolic way, bend a knee to the highest of their hierarchy. By trying to pass such a motion in the Wizengamot makes every single one of us, including those who have never voted on the motion, guilty of trying to wrest control of our slice of the country from its rightful rulers. All our lives would have been forfeit the second the Minister for Magic would have reported this to their superior, the Prime Minister. Does the Wizengamot feel that Albus Dumbledore of no House worth mentioning knows better now? Are you willing to risk our very existence on the whims a single man?"

Murmurs rose once again, which soon turned into contradictory yelling. Minister Bagnold, who up until that point had been quiet, broke the silence with her own amplified booming voice.

"Why would I report that MY Ministry is in defiance of mere Muggles? We are their superiors in every way," she declared in a mocking voice.

"For the love of…" Arcturus started to mutter, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He didn't get a chance to offer a retort, because…

"STUPEFY!"

The spell impacted the minister in the temple. Witnessing this caused some to jump out of their seats, wands at the ready, and others to hide behind overturned chairs, but they breathed a relaxed sigh when they saw Bartemius Crouch walk over and slap a pair of magic inhibiting manacles on the limp Minister.

"This has gotten out of hand," he said, scorn in his voice. "Rennervate!" Minister Bagnold stirred.

"What is the meaning of this? Release me!" she demanded.

"Silencio!" barked one of the Aurors present, almost predicting Crouch's intent.

"Thank you, Auror Shacklebolt," said Crouch as he turned to the woman at his feet. "Madam Minister, by my authority as Director of the DMLE, I hereby place you under arrest for attempted sedition. Consider this your termination notice." Turning to the silent gallery, he motioned to the now mute minister. "Lord Black, can you add the trial of our now ex-minister before the High Council to the meeting's agenda?"

"I second Director Crouch's motion," bellowed Augusta. "Lord Black, would you kindly answer the man?" she continued with an almost imperceptible smirk.

"Yes, Director Crouch. I will place ex-Minister Bagnold's trial for the crime of sedition on the meeting's agenda. I will ask the DoM Director send the official summons for a High Council meeting a week from tomorrow."

"I also motion we appoint an interim minister, even for a few weeks. And it will definitely not be the Chief Warlock."

"I agree." He turned to the rest of the gathering. "All in favor of appointing Director Bartemius Crouch as interim Minister for Magic, say Aye!" he said without skipping a beat.

"Aye!" said almost everyone in the room.

"I…" Crouch seemed to be speechless. "I humbly accept. I wish to thank the Wizengamot for the trust."

"Don't mention it," said Arcturus. "If anything, you deserve it far more than anyone else. Now, unless anyone else has something to bring before this body, this meeting is over."

"Ahem…" Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Lord Black… As long as I am Chief Warlock, I and I alone can bring a Wizengamot meeting to an end."

"Oh, I am sorry, Chief Warlock," replied Arcturus. "I almost forgot about you. Come to think of it, I do wish to add one more subject to the agenda. Appointing an interim Chief Warlock, until all the charges brought against the current one are addressed."

"All in favor say Aye!" said Mrs Longbottom.

"Aye!"

"This meeting is adjourned!" declared Dumbledore, with a defeated sigh.

-section break-

"Could you do an old lady a favor," said Augusta, "and offer her a moment of your time, Director… or should I say Minister?" Augusta motioned to an alcove close to the elevators. The man nodded and followed. After raising a privacy barrier and switching her wand to her offhand, she cleared her throat. "Is there anything you can disclose about the nature of that… man's death? Anything that you would feel comfortable enough to also share with the Wizengamot, of course." Crouch looked at her with suspicion.

"Mrs Longbottom, with all due respect for you as a woman and a member of the Wizengamot, you need to understand that if I were to tell you anything, it may turn your stomach. Are you sure you want to know?" Augusta remained silent. "Last warning, Ma'am, are you willing to risk losing your breakfast?"

"It's not like I've had the appetite to eat much in the past couple of days," the old woman said with a sigh. "Please, continue," she said with a small nod.

"Psychometry revealed that Lord Potter put up quite a fight in order to buy time for his wife and son to evacuate. He kept that… thing occupied for what seemed like 5 minutes. He fell to the maniac's signature spell, the Killing Curse. After collecting young Harry, Lady Potter attempted to activate a Portkey, which failed for some reason we have not yet been able to determine. She was forced to face the attacker in the nursery. After that, something… odd happened, as there was a lot of interference with the psychometry, so the sequence of events is… sketchy. One thing is certain. When the interference finally cleared up, Lady Potter had disappeared along with her son, that… creature's head was removed from the rest of his body with a blade and was crushed underfoot. The poor boy's nursery was covered in blood and fragments of things I'd rather not think about. Under further investigation, we could not find any weapons that could have inflicted that sort of damage in the house." By the time the Acting Minister finished, the old woman looked slightly nauseated, and had to lean against the wall.

"If there is anything that can be said about you, you certainly don't pull any punches," she said with a deep sigh. Crouch raised his wand to summon a nearby chair, but was stopped by Augusta. "I'll be fine… Eventually." She cleared her throat, straightened her clothes and put on her regular business-as-usual smile. "Thank you, Director, and allow me to wish you good luck with the challenges of your new position. Merlin knows you got your work cut out for you."

"Are you sure you are feeling alright, Ma'am? Should I call someone to see you home safe?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, you don't get to reach my age without learning to take bad news, even gruesome ones at that, in your stride. Not to mention your staff would be needed here."

"Right you are, Ma'am. Now that you mentioned it, I still have some affairs of my own to put in order. A good day to you. If you will excuse me," said Crouch as he lowered the privacy ward and walked off towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Frank Longbottom

"C'mon, Nev, don't worry. Jump!" said Frank as he encouraged his son. Little Neville was walking precariously on the sofa and looked sheepishly at the floating golden snitch plushie zooming around his head and stopping every so often in front of him. With another careful look at his father's extended arms, he jumped. With a swish of his wand, Frank started to levitate him. The boy started swimming through the air, chasing the toy. He was about to hit the bookcase when he did a flip turn worthy of an olympic swimmer and, with an extra push off of the wooden frame, he caught the golden snitch.

"Be careful, you two," Alice said with an absent minded smile, all the while reading the evening copy of the Daily Prophet. "Frank, if you want to play like that, at least set some pillows on the floor. Don't want him to break anything, especially now." She sounded extremely tired. Frank picked Neville up and came closer to his wife.

"Are you alright, darling?" asked Frank, as he caught the floating baby out of the air and smoothed out his hair.

"You could call it cabin fever," she replied with a resigned sigh. "It's been close to a year since Nev was born and I still haven't had a chance to take him to a proper walk outside. I hate being cooped up in the house for this long. I want to leave. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I want to have Neville smile at the sun, as he should have been able to since the day he was born. I want us to breathe fresh air. I want out…" A single tear rolled on her cheek. Frank sat down next to her and, holding Neville in his left arm, put the other arm around his wife and placed a soft kiss her on the top of her head.

"I know, sweetie, but… you know why we can't do that. It's still not safe for us out there just yet. Yes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been slain and most of his followers have been rounded up or killed by the Aurors, some of these bastards are still at large. However, we'll get out of here soon, I promise."

The tender moments came to a swift end as one of the house elves rushed through the door.

"Master Frank, owl brought letter for you," said the tiny being as she held up a folded note. He made to take it, but hesitated when his wife cleared her throat. Loudly.

"Have you checked for any traces of harmful charms, Loly?" Alice piped up from her place, eyes on the folded piece of paper.

"Yes, Mistress," replied the elf, as she nodded vigorously, her oversized ears flopping about comically. "Has magic on it. The magic Mistress Gusta always used to add secrets to what she wrote."

"I see. Thank you, Loly, I'll take it. You may return to your duties," said Frank, as he opened the note and quickly skimmed it. The handwriting was not unfamiliar, but sort of… unexpected and definitely… odd.

Frank,

It has been too long since this Pup's written you.

Virgo's Brightest has finally decided to cast his light upon his scion. And, wouldn't you know it, it is definitely not this bad pup. Not after I walked through the mud. But, hey, at least I don't have to take a bath and put in those awkward pretty bow, I've always hated that. I still need to teach this kid some tricks and how to sniff out friend and foe before the light fades.

I got the ball you threw me, the one your mother brought home, and the fact that it smelled of cat is definitely worrisome. You might want to change the cleaner, as Whitebeard's soaps have been known to stain the fabric, more or less on purpose, to keep someone's business so to say. I would not hand him anything, if I could help it, because, sparkly white as his beard might be, there's always soot on his fingers. Change the soap. If you can, try to find the Longbottom family long lost recipe. I know for a fact, it has been battle tested. Make sure you wash your mother's clothes THE INSTANT she returns from the park. She reeks of cat.

Unfortunately, this pup can't come out to play, but the Italian kid in our year will definitely drop by, loaded for bear. Bring out some of your toys as well. I strongly recommend you all go camping, I hear the city is getting a bit crowded and we all need a vacation. I will join you as soon as I can. School can be a bit… ruff.

Best wishes,

The Dirty Pup

P.S.: It is only fair to let you know the scion has been chosen from outside the main kennel, so Shiny Coat and Orion's bitch, as well as their spawns are no longer allowed to play for top dog.

P.P.S.:Also, don't forget to water the Devil's Snare before you leave. I solemnly swear you always forgot to do that even in school.

Frank took a deep sigh and reread the letter, trying to make some sense of it.

"Who's it from?" asked Alice, noticing his puzzled look.

"It's from Sirius Black. An odd letter if anything, especially for my cousin. Here, read it for yourself and tell me what you make of it," he said as he handed her the letter.

"A joker through and through. He sure knows how to write an entertaining letter," she replied shortly after with a small laugh.

"You mean you understand all of this… insane letter?"

"You're related to him, you've been housemates with him and James Potter for five years at Hogwarts and you're still not used to his writing?" Frank questioningly raised an eyebrow. "Fine, let me translate it for you."

"Still. How in Merlin's name do you understand what he wrote?"

"He used to write me… when we were in school…" Alice whispered. "I never responded," she added quickly when she noticed Frank's eyes go wide. "But the letters were too fun not to read. He was trying to sound smart, while playing the goofball." Her husband gave a little laugh.

"Yes, he was a bit of a ladies man in school."

"Now, do you want me to tell you what he said in the damn letter or not?" Frank nodded, all the while smiling. "He says that Arcturus Black, the Lord of House Black, has chosen his heir and, to Sirius's joy, it is not him. He's been dirtied by associating himself with lessers. To his dismay, he has to teach the Lord or Lady to be how to run the family affairs." Frank rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine. What do you make of this drivel about my mother smelling of cat pee?"

"What is Sirius' pet of choice?"

"The dog."

"And, in the old wisdom, what are cats to dogs?"

"Natural enemies. Of course. My mother has been tagged with a tracking charm by someone who is not looking for our best interest. That would mean that the cleaner and Whitebeard's soaps are a metaphor for the wards that Dumbledore's set up around the house." Frank sighed deeply again.

"Does he mean he suspects there's something wrong with Professor Dumbledore's wards?" Alice eyes widened in a look of puzzlement and shock. "Are we safe here?"

"Don't worry, we're still OK. Sirius gave us the solution. Each Ancient House has their own ancestral war wards. They are rarely used… I almost forgot about them. So, he says we should change the wards as soon as Mother is home."

"Great. Let's do that," Alice said, relieved.

"Still the rest of the letter makes even less sense."

"Sirius says he can't come here, as he's tied up, most likely with family business, but he will have Remus join us for added protection. The Post Scriptum mentioned something about the heir is not from the main family. The last part is… most likely something you would know." his wife said, looking somewhat amused.

"A password. Of course."

"What does that even mean? We don't keep that blasted plant in our greenhouses. And Sirius knows I hate the damned things. That saying though… "I Solemnly swear"… that sounds like something Sirius and his posse would say a lot in school. Made them sound so pompous." Alice fell quiet as she looked at it.

"Are you sure that is all?" Frank asked a moment later. "I mean, yes, he is can be a damned good joker. Most of the time. But he is dead serious when he means it. There must be something else to it, or he would not have written in such a manner."

"Here, let me try something," his wife said as she took her wand and tapped the letter. "Revelio…" The letter remained unchanged.

"Honey, you gave me an idea…" Frank pulled out his own wand. "Specialis revelio…" The piece of paper flashed for an instant. "Oh, that brilliant sonuvabitch… He did indeed hide something in the text. But how to uncover it?" It was Alice's turn to chime in with a suggestion.

"You could try their catchphrase…"

"You might be onto something. Well… here goes nothing. I solemnly swear I hate Devil's Snares," he said as he tapped the piece of paper. The text of the letter seemed to fade, the ink running and shifting to reveal a new message.

Good. You deciphered it.

Now, I don't know why, but the wards placed on James' safehouse somehow broke with little difficulty when Ol' Morty attacked them. Lily's portkey almost burned her hand off. Whoever your Secret Keeper is, I hope it's not someone the Hogwarts Headmaster picked for you.

Now Frank, if you ever trusted me, even in the slightest, I implore you. Do NOT trust any security measures you, Alice or Augusta have not set in place yourselves. Avoid Portkeys. Better yet, always have your House Elves nearby, to take everyone they can away if you are attacked and the wards fail. Human wards cannot stop an elf, no matter how powerful the caster is.

"Well…" Frank said with a heavy sigh, after reading the message a couple more times. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. Alice, be a dear and get my mother. It's time to bring out the incantations for the old Longbottom wards."

He took his jacket off, rolled up his sleeves and started tracing the walls with his wand.

November 3rd

Alastor Moody

His vision was blurry. He had to blink several times to be able to see his surroundings clearly. The sunlight shone through the sheer curtains to reveal walls of a dull white and privacy screens of a clean faded green. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen already when being at the mercy of a healer. He strained his ears to hear something, anything… Nothing at all. He raised his hand to feel at his left now-useless eye and all he felt was the coarse texture of the bandages. It seemed to have sunk lower into his skull than it should have. Yet there was no pain.

'At least the Healers did their job…' he thought to himself. He heard a door open somewhere on his blind side. Three voices.

"… a real wonder he could stand, let alone fight with a crude, improvised prosthetic," one of the voices declared. It was a woman.

"Never underestimate this man's ability to fight, no matter how badly he's outnumbered." It was the younger of his colleagues, Dawlish. "He is a different breed of combatant altogether. Once he retires, the Department will be all the weaker for it."

The faded green screen was suddenly pulled back and Alastor Moody came face to face with a person he had never seen before, a short-haired woman in her late forties. He saw she was wearing a skirt suit, with a bulge under one arm which looked like a gun holster. Next to her was a taller man with completely white hair in a well-worn Healer's uniform.

"Good morning Auror Moody," said Adam Dawlish as he got close. He looked relieved. The woman regarded him with a critical eye, while the older man simply seemed intrigued.

"Good morning to you too, Adam." His voice was hoarse. "Healer Wood," he acknowledged the man, with a nod, and turned to the woman. "Alastor Moody," he introduced himself. "And who might you be?"

"Liaison to Her Majesty's Government, Judy Dawlish," the woman followed up, not even blinking.

"My mother," motioned Adam, as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Liaison? What interest would Her Majesty's Government," the Auror spat last few words, "have with what has been going on this side of the veil? I was under the impression that, as long as the Statute of Secrecy was upheld, they would let us be. And they haven't given two knuts about us until now."

"You were right, Adam. He is as blunt as they come. No need to be rude, Mr. Moody," said Mrs. Dawlish.

"It's Auror… Moody. And I prefer not beating around the bush. Now, why did the Muggle Government suddenly decide to send a liaison?"

"Auror… Your Wizarding War is starting spill over. When this self-styled Lord Voldemort and his so called Death Eaters started attacking non-magical objectives, we needed to step in. However, we couldn't do much, not without risking revealing your existence to the rest of the world. We publicly branded them as terrorists. All of our law enforcement agencies have been alerted to keep an eye out for all their known associates and to not engage, but inform us immediately. That is how the Department of Mysteries found some of your targets."

"I must have missed that memo," replied Moody, visibly annoyed with the situation. "Auror Dawlish… what happened after the battle?"

"The emergency Portkeys we got from the DoM dropped us off Saint Mungo's Emergency ward."

"Well, Alastor," Healer Wood intervened, "we did our best to counter some of the curses you and your colleagues ve been hit with. Let's take you, for example. We attempted to regrow the bone and muscles that have been removed, yet the curse that has been used rendered the Skele-Gro and the Muscle Malt… useless. Your patch job, on the other hand, seemed to be far more effective."

"When you've been at it as long as I have, Aeson," said Moody, "you learn to make do with what's at hand."

"Hope you don't mind me saying, but given your… fighting prowess, you could not have picked a better replacement."

"What of the eye?"

"Last time you were here, you said that, if anything happened to your eyes, we should not attempt to fix or regrow them."

"Can't afford loss of acuity, not in this line of work," growled Moody. "Moreover, I have a far more suitable substitute waiting for me at the Ministry." He turned his face towards his fellow Auror. "Adam, please check my vest pocket, there's a small key ring. Pick the smallest one and open the last lock of my trunk in my office. Retrieve the black box you find and give it to Healer Wood. He will know what to do with it. I would be grateful if you would complete this task within the hour."

"Understood," replied Adam, thankful he had an excuse to get out of there.

"Now, what of the rest of my team?" the old Auror enquired. "Graves? The Unspeakables?"

"I have no information on the Unspeakables. A representative from the DoM has retrieved all three of them. Graves's in the other room recovering from his wounds. He's with his wife. He should be able to leave within the next couple of days."

"Good."

"Now, if you'll excuse me," the Healer said, "I need to check up on a couple more patients. And, if the item your colleague will bring is what I suspect, I need speak to Healer Ainsley about giving me a hand with the… transplant. And the fitting of a Muggle-made prosthetic, which will allow you to regain most of your previous agility."

"Aeson, one more thing." Moody's voice was softer than he'd let himself be in a long time. "I know your son is married with a Muggle. Those sons of bitches the Ministry's tasked us to catch have targeted mainly those outspoken against the so called Tenets of Blood Purity. Tell me… is your family safe?"

"Oh, yes…" the Healer sighed. "I've made sure they are out of reach. My wife, along with my son and his wife and son, are hiding somewhere in Spain, at one of my daughter-in-law's relatives. Haven't seen them in almost seven years." He seemed to be drifting in thought. A smile lit his face a moment later. "But, with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's demise and if you and your fellow Aurors keep doing your job as you have done lately, I will be able to meet my grandson… Oliver. He's seven years old now."

"Patch me up and I promise you, you will meet him before Easter next year," Moody replied as he returned the smile, which warped his already scarred face. For those who were unfamiliar with him, such as was Mrs. Dawlish, it was an unnerving sight. Placing a hand on his patient's shoulder, Aeson nodded in gratitude, excused himself and left the room. It was just the opportunity Mrs. Dawlish seemed to had been waiting, for, as soon as the door closed, she laid into him.

"Why, in God's good name did you bring my son on that mission?" She was visibly miffed. "Your Director was told to send whomever he thought would be best for the job. I for one expected you to bring someone more experienced. Like my husband." Moody cringed.

"If you do have intel on our orders," he said, clearing his throat, "you are aware of the fact that the Aurors and Unspeakables are spread thin as it is. You, of course, are right in stating that your husband John has the field experience and has been battle tested."

"Then, why did you not pick him for this mission? Why pick Adam?"

"Because your husband no longer displays the same endurance as he once had. Because, while you see Adam as nothing more than your son, which is understandable, he is a far superior strategist than his father, with better aim and far larger magical reserves. His Academy transcript lists him as a Mind Magics prodigy. And the DoM intel indicated a high probability that Rosier might have had Mulciber with him."

"And did you encounter Mulcifer there?"

"That's Mulciber. And I honestly don't know if he was there at all. We had more Death Eaters in the house than intel suggested, one of which was too badly burned to confirm the identity by sight alone. So Adam was the far better choice, given what we could have gone up against. He was invaluable, keeping his wits about him better than any one of us. And, to top everything off, he saved my sorry hide. I stand by my choice. If anything, I owe your son my life, Ma'am."

"As a mother, I am not happy with this," said Judy, "but, as a strategist myself, I cannot fault your choice of team." She made to leave the room. "Oh, and of the three Unspeakables, only one was killed. The other two are currently in Intensive Care, at a DoM-MI6 joint medical location. I am told they will eventually fully full recover. I thought you would like to know."

"Thank you," growled Moody.

"There is one more thing to settle," Judy remembered just before opening the door. "The unofficial bounty Her Majesty's Government has placed on the terrorists you and your team have neutralized." Moody was quiet for a second.

"You can give my share to the family of the fallen Unspeakable. They will need that more than me."

"Your partners said the exact same thing." For the first time today, she smiled a bittersweet smile. "John told me about you, Auror Moody. You and your team don't do this for the glory or for the gold. You are in it for something else."

"Oh?" Moody sounded intrigued and felt a slight tug at the bandages that covered his left eye, as though his eyebrow was raised.

"You preserve the old ways as though you are trying to keep alive something akin to the Code of Honor of the Knights of the Round Table."

"Oh… hah…" Moody gave out a raspy chuckle. "I supposed I should thank you. That is the closest thing to a compliment that does not revolve around my combat prowess I have received in decades."

"I wish you a speedy recovery. You did promise Healer Wood something and it would not do for an honorable man like you to break that promise."

Judy Dawlish gave a small nod, which Moody reciprocated, and left the room.

Remus Lupin

Remus always hated travelling by portkey. For the regular witch or wizard, it was awkward and uncomfortable. But he was no regular wizard. The heightened senses granted by his… condition, were a blessing at times, allowing him to avoid and escape many dangerous situations. Travelling by portkey, alongside with the associated feeling of having a hook pulling him from somewhere behind the navel to whatever location it was linked to, always affected his sense of smell and balance far worse.

This time was no different, as he landed hard on the wet ground. A sharp pain shot through his right knee, causing his eyes to tear up. He took a moment to get his bearings, to still the ringing from his ears and to blow his nose in an attempt to regain his unhindered sense of smell. A few seconds later, he got up and noticed the path that led him out of the clearing and through the woods.

He perked up his ears and tried to hear anything that would be out of the ordinary. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. But for the faintest heartbeat. It was fast, as if it was a tightly wound clock. He was not alone.

'Whatever it is, it's afraid,' he thought to himself. 'Good.' He expelled all the air in his lungs and inhaled deeply. A whiff carried on the slight breeze entered his nostrils. The scent had a delicate trace of magic, which seemed restrained. Remus smiled. He knew exactly what it was. Deciding to test out his theory, he put his wand away.

"If thy comes on thine master's behalf, announce thine presence." With a resounding pop, something appeared just behind him. He did not turn to face the creature.

"You know Old Elves' customs?" a squeaky voice spoke up. Remus nodded. It was just as he suspected. "Are you Mister Wolfie?" it asked. He couldn't help but chuckle, as he could never take anything a house elf would say seriously. It always sounded too funny for him.

"Would you believe me if I simply said yes?"

At that very moment, Remus felt the tip of a wand pressing against the back of his neck. 'Funny, there was nothing there a moment ago,' he thought to himself. A short sniff told him who the would be attacker was. "Ah, a very good day to you too, Mrs Longbottom. No surprise you would come to greet me here. I simply came to return the silver fork," he said as he raised the now inactive portkey. "I may not have been raised in a lavish household, but I know it is generally considered bad manners to break up a set of silverware."

"Manners? Impressive? How am I to know you haven't consumed Polyjuice Potion and didn't take this from the person who was really meant to come here?" asked the disembodied voice of the old Longbottom matriarch. "Tell me. How am I to know if you are not an impostor?"

"An impostor would insist he is who he says he is and possibly attempt to defend himself. I, on the other hand, submit myself to your scrutiny, for as long as you can afford to spare."

"Are you certain you want to do this? I would be able to tell if you are lying or not."

"I believe I know about myself enough to not have anything to worry about."

"We'll see about that. Who was the girl Frank tried to set Remus Lupin up with back in 1975?" A few seconds passed. He felt the wand dig slightly further into his neck, as if to find a certain spot.

"Pandora. Pandora Cathbad," he said with a sigh. "But she was dating Xeno Lovegood at the time, so that fell through fast."

Augusta Longbottom dispelled the Disillusionment charm and silently handed him a piece of paper. As he read it, he realised exactly where he was.

"You have put the seat of House Longbottom under a Fidelius? With Frank and Alice in it? Isn't it a matter of public knowledge? Wouldn't it be listed in the Ministry Archives?" The woman gave a chuckle.

"They're not in the Longbottom Manor and I am not giving away their actual location," she replied. "The building I indicated is still within our domain, but it only serves as the place we are going to take a secure and private Floo connection to them and bring them back to the house. I've already activated the wards."

"You did think of everything, Madam. Lead the way."

Barty Crouch Sr

A loud knock in the middle of the night awoke the new Interim Minister for Magic. Not that he was asleep, but he needed the least bit of sleep if he should function at a proper standard, so, of course, he would rest the best he could in the confines of his office. When a second knock came, he rubbed his eyes and checked the time. It was little over three o'clock. He opened the door and listened to the brief report the young Auror brought.

"House Longbottom has been attacked, you say?" Bartemius Crouch Sr asked. "How could that be? I thought they were under a Fidelius Charm. How could they have been found?"

"Unknown, sir. But the perpetrators have been apprehended, all of them bearing the Dark Mark. Three of them are members of the Ancient House of Lestrange we have previously suspected to have sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Rabastan, his brother Rodolphus and his wife Bellatrix. The last one, however…"

"What's wrong?" Crouch temper was flaring. It was late, there another crisis to be dealt with and the schmuck in front of him was looking like he was about to puke. "Spit it out. NOW!"

"The last one's name is… Bartemius Crouch Jr."

Sensing his blood boiling and a slight nervous tremble about to overtake him, he turned his back to the man in front of him. He would need time to figure out how his wife deal with the impact of the news that their son was one of the madmen who'd terrorized their world in the past couple of years. He suddenly felt a century older than he was, but he couldn't show any sign of weakness, not now. Taking a few steps closer to his desk, he bid the man in.

"Any sign of the suspects not having acted of their own volition? Any sign of them being under the Imperius Curse?" he asked, keeping a neutral tone. After all, it was a standard question. Especially with the times they were living.

"None. Then again, until we run a more thorough check, we can not be certain," the young Auror said.

"Of course. What is the preliminary report?"

"You will be glad to hear there are no fatalities. Frank Longbottom has been subjected to and is currently being treated for heavy exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. His wife and son are safe, but still in shock. The old lady is suffering from magical exhaustion."

"What of the attackers?"

"They incurred severe injuries, but nothing life threatening. Rodolphus Lestrange has a punctured lung. His brother lost an arm. The woman has a shattered kneecap and four broken ribs. Your son…"

"Who, with regards to this investigation, shall be henceforth referred to as Barty Crouch Jr," the Director said, in a deadpan manner. "Don't sugar coat it or you will not make it far in this department. And don't you dare make it sound like I should offer him preferential treatment. He will be submitted to the same investigation and justice process as every single one of them. Continue."

"Of- of course, sir," the Auror stuttered. "Crouch Jr was pinned to the floor by a china cabinet."

Barty Crouch Sr walked to the bookcase behind his desk and pulled out a book that he simply set on the desk. From behind it, he pulled out an old looking bottle filled with an amber liquid. The label read Blishen's Emberwhiskey. He poured himself a glass and downed it in a single swig.

"Anyone else present we should know about?"

"No, sir."

"Were any of the attackers treated for their injuries?" Crouch asked.

"Basic first aid, to stop the bleeding. Nothing else."

"Good. Have Auror Longbottom moved to the secure ward, with two guards at the door, and place the rest of his family in protective custody. I want no one but his mother to know where they are."

"Auror Longbottom's family will most likely demand to stay by his side."

"Must I really think of everything?" the man asked angrily. "If need be, get them a couple of emergency doses of Polyjuice potion and have them in the same ward. Or have them moved into a secure location and get one of St Mungo's doctors transferred to where ever YOU decide to stick them in. I don't care if you have to throw a dart at the map or draw it out of the hat, make sure no one, and I mean NO ONE, from this ministry knows where they are. Have Mrs Longbottom obliviate you if necessary. Until we weed out all of his supporters, we can't trust anyone."

"What of the suspects?"

"Get Mrs Lestrange in Interrogation Room 1. Make sure she is leaking Veritaserum from every pore and let Scrimgeour wring the truth out of her. That should make his day."

"And Bartemius Crouch Jr.?"

"I will handle him alone. Have him moved to Room 2 and block the door to the adjacent observation room." He poured another glass of Emberwhiskey. "I want the preliminary report of the first responders on my desk within the hour," he added as the Auror left. The young man nodded and closed the door behind him.

After finishing the drink, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and soon-to-be Interim Minister for Magic looked at the glass in his hand. Thoughts were whirring through his head. Dark thoughts.

"This will be the end of Victoria," he said to himself. "Our son having been branded a slave… Hell… this will be the end of the Crouch name. I couldn't have picked a worse time to get named Minister, even if it's temporary." In a moment of weakness, he threw the glass against the wall behind him, shattering it into a million pieces. He closed his eyes and massaged his aching temples, running his hands through his greying hair. "I need to play this right."

With a swish of his wand, the glass reformed itself, as if it had never been broken. If only the solution to his problems would have been that easy.

-Section Break-

He stood in the shadows behind Rufus Scrimgeour as his colleague went through a meaningless cycle of control questions in order to ensure the truth serum had taken hold. Alas, his thoughts were not on the two people in front of him.

'How could that foolish boy shame our family so?' Crouch asked himself. 'Have we not provided him with everything he could have wished for to be a productive member of society?' He was snapped out of his musings when he heard the woman in the chair speak a name.

"… Mundungus. Dung… Fletcher? He claimed he had the portkey coordinates for the place where the Longbottoms had been hiding."

"Provided by whom?" Crouch asked, in a growling voice. He couldn't stop himself, the question had simply slipped out.

"He claimed he didn't remember. Just that he had to give them to me," said the woman cuffed to the chair in a monotonous voice.

"And that didn't strike you as peculiar at all?" Rufus asked, intrigued. "Why did he have to give them to you? Why did he wish to betray the Longbottoms? By all reports we have, they were part of the same group who had been actively opposing your… what did you call him again? Master?"

"No. Who am I to deny the Dark Lord such delicious information? He wouldn't turn away anyone willing to assist his ascension to his rightful place. Maybe Fletcher decided he was done fighting for the wrong side and thought he would through his wand in with my Master, in hopes he, a Mudblood, would be praised and, most of all, spared."

"A reasonable assumption," Scrimgeour said. "After all, had I been as useless as Mr. Fletcher with magic, I would hedge my bets and play both sides of the war. But, then again, if that were the case, I wouldn't be the one questioning you, would I?" Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes were blank, while Crouch's twinkled. He'd noticed it too. "Know what," he continued, "I don't think sharing this information was Dung's idea. He's an inferior form of life, of that we can all be certain. But, I doubt he would have had access to such privileged information, the more or less exact whereabouts of the Head of one of the Noble Houses, nor would have had the balls to betray one of his companions. How did you get to Fletcher? Did you capture him and torture him for information?"

"No, he sought me out of his own volition."

"And you didn't think it odd? It could have been a trap set by your Master's sworn enemy, Albus Dumbledore."

"It is a matter of public knowledge," Bellatrix said, "no matter how recent, that Dumbledore and the Longbottoms didn't quite see eye to eye on many a topic."

"Let's set it straight, he was trying to usurp power from one of the oldest Houses in the United Kingdom," Crouch intervened.

"For all I care, he could have served them up on a silver platter, and I could care less."

"Yet, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been vanquished only days ago," continued Crouch, unfazed. "Somehow, I doubt even a shithead like Dung Fletcher would be stupid enough to side with you, after that. So, it is fair to assume you didn't into him in the past couple of days?"

"No, I met him weeks ago."

"For all you know, Dumbledore might have modified his memory, provided him with those coordinates and simply set him in your path. And I ask you again. You didn't think this might have been a trap. Why? "

"As long as we took many of those blood traitors with us, I would be happy. The Dark Lord would have approved."

"That answer tells me you didn't check for any memory altering charms prior to acting upon Dung's information. You played right into Dumbledore's hands."

"Please tell me why are you so keen on involving Dumbledore in this? No, Dumbledore did not have anything to do with it. The ease with which we found them and got to them, stands as a testament to the Dark Lord's genius. If Dumbledore laid a trap for us, he would have employed far better protection. Whoever had Fletcher leak the Longbottom's location, did not wish to protect them. Those wards were weak. Far weaker than they should have been, and would have probably failed within a month."

"Rufus, please remind me, don't we have a record of who placed the wards that would have raised an alarm with the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Crouch asked his subordinate.

"Of course, Sir," replied Scrimgeour and rifled through the papers in front of him. "The wards were cast by one Augusta Longbottom, Matriarch of the House, and one Albus Dumbledore, as leader of the group known as the Order of the Phoenix, who decided to undertake the responsibility of protecting the Longbottom's into their own hands."

"What of the ward tied to the Ministry Response Team, do we have any record of who cast that particular ward?"

"It would seem to be Albus Dumbledore's work, Sir."

"If it was Dumbledore or not, I honestly don't care, those wards were bound to fail soon," said Bellatrix. "And if you really wish to know who instructed Mr. Fletcher to seek me out, why don't you ask him directly? I am sure he should still be in London, trying to pawn off the silverware he stole from me. Who knows, maybe you would be so kind as to catch him before he does that. You see, they're a family heirloom and I would so love to have them returned to me."

"Oh, we will have a little chat with our old friend Dung Fletcher soon," Rufus said. "I still don't know one thing. How did he find you? A known supporter of the most hated and hunted wizard in all of Great Britain surely knows how to hide better than that."

"Why don't you ask your son, Barty?" she replied, looking straight into Crouch's eyes. "He was the one that brought him to me, after he heard that dung beetle spout off his importance. He was the one that convinced him to spill the beans in the hope if a reward."

Crouch shot her an evil look.

"Get her to tell you everything about what happened tonight and of any other Death Eaters she has knowledge of." Scrimgeour nodded. "And I mean everything."

"No worries, Sir," his subordinate said, setting his wand on the table. "If need be, I will pry them from her mind and have the Department of Mysteries sort them out."

"Keep her functional, will you? Anything less and the Daily Prophet will have a field day," growled Crouch and stormed out. His aide was waiting just outside the room.

"Your orders sir?"

"Put the word out, get every available Auror tracking down that naffin con Fletcher and quietly. He might be the key to unravelling who was behind the attack and, if word gets out we're looking for him, I doubt the Death Eaters would be kind enough to gift wrap him for us."

"Understood. Sir, as per your request, Mr. Crouch Jr. is waiting right next door. Would you like to have us administer Veritaserum to him before you begin your interrogation?"

"No, let him stew for a little bit longer. I'll go to him in a couple of minutes."

His aide heading to the on-call Auror pit, he felt he needed to compose himself before facing his son, the one who just might be the downfall of the Crouch family name before he could attain what they have all worked towards for the past two centuries. It was finally within their grasp and that petulant child would be their doom.

He entered his office and checked the pendulum clock hanging on the wall. It chimed 5 o'clock. The hour of the wolf. If the old tales were to be believed, it was the hour when most people die, when sleep is deepest, when nightmares are most real. But he did not have time for superstition. Feeling the pressure of the next couple of hours, he conjured up a cup of coffee.

He took a look at the early morning edition of the Prophet on his desk. The front page was shared by the two main news of the morning. The first one, covering a half of the front page, read THE ANCIENT AND MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF LONGBOTTOM ATTACKED. No photo was included, but showed their coat of arms stabbed by multiple daggers. The brief caption below simply said what was already public knowledge.

Late last night, the seat House of Longbottom was attacked by an unknown number of assailants, who broke through increased security.

Lord Frank Longbottom has been staunch opponent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a fierce advocate of wizarding equality since he took over the role of Head of House from his mother, the venerable Augusta Longbottom. Sources indicate all the members of the Longbottom family have survived the attack, which all signs point to have been orchestrated by the remnants of You-Know-Who's inner circle.

Continued on page 3.

Right underneath, in a font usually reserved for emergencies, the second title read: MILLICENT BAGNOL - SACKED! BARTEMIUS CROUCH SR APPOINTED INTERIM MINISTER FOR MAGIC. Underneath the title, there was his picture, stern and brooding, scowling back at him.

In the wake of the attack on the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and the demise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Bartemius Crouch Sr., Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, has been named Interim Minister for Magic, as former the Minister, Millicent Bagnol, has been deemed unfit to hold the office any longer, due to what the Wizengamot considered irreconcilable differences.

Mr. Crouch has been the Director for the DMLE for the past decade, spearheading the fight against You-Know-Who and his followers, the self-styled Death Eaters. Sources within the Wizengamot have stated the wizarding community needs reassurance and who would be better suited to provide it if not the one who, in spite of the numerous hindrances and shortages caused by the War, has kept us all safe .

While his track record speaks for itself, Mr. Crouch is known for his stern demeanor, which, some would say, could be the exact opposite of the Wizengamot's wishes with his naming. An Auror under his direct command once jokingly stated that he would even prosecute his own family if he thought they've gone dark. Whether it is a good move on the Wizengamot's part, we will only see.

More to follow as the news unfolds.

'Well… it could've been worse,' Crouch thought to himself, as he poured another glass of Emberwhiskey. 'They could have named the attackers. Sources or not, it's good some secrets can still be kept.'

He stood up from his desk and downed the glass instantly. The fiery warmth of the liquid spread through his body, yet he felt cold and stiff. The little sleep and added stress seems to have taken its toll on him. He couldn't show any sign of weakness, not now when he was so close to his life's goal.

It was time. He opened his office door and walked out towards the interrogation room where his son was waiting. Having seen the state he was in, the few people still present on the corridors did not ask him anything and simply stepped out of his way. He placed a faintly trembling hand on the door knob, steeled his nerves and opened the door.

The first thing Crouch saw was a familiar shock of disheveled straw-coloured hair. The young man looked up and met his father's eyes. His eyes were red and puffy - had he been crying, Crouch asked himself. His son looked terrible, far skinnier than when he last saw him, his once subtle freckles now akin to pockmarks against his pale and gaunt face.

"Have they been treating you OK?" Bartemius Crouch Sr. asked. "Do you need anything?"

"Father, please, there must have been a misunderstanding!" Barty Crouch Jr. said in a shaky voice.

"You've been found in the company of known Death Eaters. What do you have to say about that?"

"I… Nothing…"

"Do you deny your association with those who attacked the Longbottoms?"

"Yes! No…" Crouch Sr noticed his son looked distraught.

"Listen, Barty," he said in a softer voice. "You need to understand, you've been missing for months, your mother and I didn't know anything about you. You want me to help? I need to know what happened. Both in the past months and tonight."

"I… don't… remember. Honestly, Father, I don't."

Crouch Sr. could barely contain his anger, but, as much as he would have liked to throttle the man in front of him, he was still his son. He wished that was not the case.

He cursed under his breath - he needed to figure out who allowed the Prophet to make his naming public and, thus, have the entirety of the magical community have their eyes affixed on him to have this mess cleaned up.

He needed time to figure it out, yet time was the one thing he did not have.

He needed another drink.

That was IT. A drink would loosen his son's lips. He conjured a bottle with a familiar amber drink, alongside a couple of glasses.

"Look, we both had a long night, and Merlin knows we could use something to warm our bones." He sat down across the table and set his wand aside. "Drink up."

"I'm not thirsty," his son replied, in a hushed voice. The young man was fidgeting, his hands now in his lap, obscured by the table.

"You sure?" he asked as he pulled a glass and poured. "It might be the last decent drink for a long time." His son shot him a distrustful look look. "Ah, of course. You fear I might have added Veritaserum to this fine drink." He raised his glass and downed it. "Should that have been the case, I wouldn't be able to lie." Clearing his voice, he declared loud and proud, "I hereby solemnly swear I am a pink unicorn in human form." That got a chuckle out of his son.

"You have lost your damn mind, Father," said Barty. His son poured a bit of the amber liquid and took a sip. Both shared a smile, one so bitter some would say they just drank bile, not one of the most exquisite liquors the wizarding world had to offer.

The air between them was tense enough to cut with a knife. A few minutes passed, as the old man tried to get a read on his son, trying to get into his mind, while Barty was slowly rocking back and forth, with his eyes closed. Crouch Sr. broke the silence.

"I am pretty sure you didn't get a chance to read the Prophet," he said. "The front page had two big headlines. One was that I had been named the Interim Minister for Magic."

"Congratulations, Father," his son said, sarcasm oozing out of every word. "I know you've been working SO hard for this. Hard enough to forget you have a family."

"The other was that the Longbottoms had been attacked," he continued without missing a beat. "Let me give you an update on that story, they are naming you and your cohorts responsible for one of the most brutal attacks that had been perpetrated by Death Eaters. They are calling for all of you to be handed over to the Dementors. As much as I would like to say we have all the time in the world to figure out the truth, the truth is we don't have that luxury. So, unless you give me something, anything at all, not only will you be dooming yourself but everything I have worked so hard for." He poured himself another glass of Emberwhiskey, downed it in a single gulp and slammed it against the table, shattering it. A trickle of liquid ran down his stubbled chin.

"Careful, Father."

"Tell me what happened and what your part was in all of this and I promise you a fair trial."

"As you wouldn't send me to Azkaban regardless." His son laughed and stood up from the chair. He made for his wand, but noticed his muscles were not listening to him. "I believe you might have had one too many, for you to say such things. If they were to see you now, tired and drunk while interrogating one under suspicion of being a Death Eater, what do you think they would say?" The young man collected his father's wand off the table, pointed at the door and cast an Imperturbable Charm on it. "We don't want to be disturbed, do we?"

"How?"

"How, you ask? Full Body Binding curse. Easy enough to cast with a wand, a bitch to pull it off without one."

"Wandless magic… but how could you? You never showed any aptitude for it."

"Didn't you want me to study for a semester abroad? I did that, in my seventh year, before I took my Newts, in Uagadou, in the Mountains of the Moon, in Uganda. You know, the wand was a European invention. African wizards, on the other hand," his son said, twirling his father's wand carelessly in his fingers, "have relied mostly on incantations and wandless magic. Even with the wands having been introduced in most African countries in the 20th century, most still prefer the old ways. They offered a crash course and I took it. I would still take a wand over anything else, they're simply faster. That curse took me the better part of five minutes to cast."

Crouch Sr. raised an incredulous eyebrow, seemingly impressed, but quickly steeled his face.

"You do know that they are monitoring the room," he said, "and that they would be breaking in and restrain you."

"If they did indeed be monitoring us right now, which I know you forbade them to do it, given who I am, they would have already tried something. Now, would you kindly shut up? Silencio!" The old man felt his voice leaving him and knew it would be pointless to struggle. "See, Father, I remember almost everything you told me about this place. Most spells can be cast safely without triggering an alarm. However, any offensive magic would light up the Auror pit as if it was Christmas."

With his father now restrained and unable to call for help, Barty felt safe enough to finish safe enough to finish his glass of Emberwhiskey, enjoying the subtle aftertaste and the burning sensation down his throat. He sat back down, poured another glass and set it and the aside.

"You wanted to know what happened last night. Let me tell you. I could bore you with how I got to serve the Dark Lord and to be one of his most trusted servants, even for my age. But you, yourself, said we don't have the time.

"We got wind of where the Longbottoms were hiding and how to bypass their wards. We were set to attack as soon as the sun had set, but we found reinforced wards and added traps. Tell me, Father, have you ever attempted to go through the War Wards of an Ancient House? Not to mention the traps they had set up for us. With a bit of finessing around, Rabastan managed to have most of the traps triggered, enough for us to break through the more dangerous protective layers.

"Of course, it triggered some silent alarm wards, because what we found when we entered the house was one angry old bat and one shaggy mongrel, who laid into us with all sorts of curses and hexes the moment we walked in. Rabastan and Rodolphus threw up shields that held long enough for me and Bella to slip through and returned the onslaught a hundred fold. These men have been on the battlefield more half the Aurors you have under your command combined. If you could only see them dueling, oh, what a pleasure! Their wands were a blur of crimson, cutting into their opponents." Going by the tone of Barty's voice, he seemed to revere the Lestranges. "But, alas, I couldn't stay and admire their prowess. I was there for the Heir of House Longbottom and it was not polite to let your host, nor your dance partner, to wait too long. I followed Bella who seemed to know where she was going. After all, she might have attended a Christmas party or two at the Longbottoms when she was a girl."

Crouch Sr. looked in muted horror at his son, talking about last night's attack with such ease. Yet, he was powerless to stop him, so he focused his

"We found practically no resistance along the way. Whatever house elf was still present popped out of our way, however, I did manage to practice the Killing Curse on one or two that were too old or too slow to react. I honestly thought that they kept their reflexes in their old age, otherwise what would be the point in keeping them around?

"The study doors were locked and warded yet again, so it took a couple tries to blast through, but, when we finally did manage to break through, we heard a loud pop. Frank was standing with his back at us, spouting nonsense about Bella no longer standing on decorum and not showing any respect towards her host. Never seen that lady smile a more wicked smile as she curtsied and bowed her head mockingly. That seemed enough for Longbottom, as he turned as well, bowed and went into a defensive dueling stance.

"They fired their curses at the same time, and a lot of them at that, enough to make the air feel thick with magic. It was an exquisite display, the ever so nimble way she danced around him and the way he stood his ground, without budging a single inch. I wish I had a camera set up for that. The Prophet would have paid a sizeable fortune off of that recording. They were a perfect match, but little did Longbottom know, he was being played with. Bella seemed to get tired of toying with her prey and, in an instant, disarmed him with a flick of her wand. That was my cue. I immobilized him while she questioned him. We were not there for him, or at least not for him alone, we needed his wife and his son. He refused to answer and even stooped so low to spit in her face when she promised she would make it quick and painless. Having been sidelined for the entirety of the battle and blood rushing through my veins, that impolite gesture was enough for me to snap.

"I subjected him to a Cruciatus curse so intense, I thought my own wand would break under the strain. I only stopped because Bella asked me to. We couldn't break him just yet, we needed the information. We needed to know where his son was and if there is any way to bring the Dark Lord back. When he didn't answer, Bella picked up where I left off. Seeing Longbottom writhe in agony, screaming at the top of his lungs, made me feel a bliss unlike anything you could ever experience, Father. But, alas, good things aren't meant to last.

"Before we could ask him anything else, the old dame flies in like a bat out of hell and blindsides us. She banished Bella straight into the bookcase, cracking a couple of ribs in the process. If she was here, she and her mongrel must have managed to take out Rodolphus and Rabastan. I tried putting up a fight, but, damn, this woman was deceptively fast, faster than most men a third her age. Soon enough, she disarmed me and knocked me out, just as your Aurors came in. I only woke when I was carted here."

While recounting the night's story to his father, Barty Crouch had been pacing, circling his captive. When he finished, he poured himself another glass of Emberwhiskey.

"It's quiet. I'd like to hear what you think of your son now, knowing what the one you groomed to walk in your footsteps, to be your shadow and your successor." With a wave of his wand, he released his father's voice. Crouch Sr. coughed and cleared his throat.

"You were such a sweet child," he said. "How could you align yourself with these… monsters? How could you fall so low, to cast an Unforgivable Curse?"

"Hah!" his son laughed. "Years of neglect can do that to you, you know."

"How DARE you!?" he barked. "We never…"

"Oh, shut it. How dare I? Yes, you provided for a lavish lifestyle, showering mom and me in gifts, but where were you when I needed a friend, a mentor, a father? Bella filled that gap and taught me more about how to handle myself in the real world than I ever learned from you. Life is not a game of chess, but a battlefield."

Silence engulfed the room for what felt like an eternity.

"What are you going to do now?" Crouch Sr. asked, a minute later. "You are holding me, your Father, the Interim Minister for Magic, prisoner in an interrogation room which is surrounded by two entire shifts of Aurors, deep within the Ministry itself. You can not possibly think you can escape with your life from this. Release me and I will do my best to prevent them from killing you on the spot."

"That's my father for you, trying to talk his way out of trouble. Tell me, did you ever savour even a single fight you fought in your carrier? Or did you simply overpower them and talk them to death?"

"Taking a life takes a toll on your very being."

"Oh, I forgot, you believe you still have a soul to tarnish, so you don't kill, you simply stun and imprison." Barty took another sip of Emberwhiskey, seemingly mulling something over in his mind. "You wanted to be respected, rather than feared. Let me show you what you have missed, what you could have inflicted in your enemies." He ran a hand through his hair, raised his father's wand simply said "CRUCIO!"

The pain of thousands of hot knives boring into his skin enveloped Bartemius Crouch Sr. brain, making him writhe on the floor in agony. Outside the interrogation room, in the Auror pit, an alarm started blaring. Shortly after, the door rattled as Scrimgeour tried to enter. He shouted for his superior, but no one answered.

"Listen," said Barty, releasing his father from the curse. "They're calling for you. Let's make them hear you through these thick walls. CRUCIO!"

Failing to open the door using the Unlocking Charm, Scrimgeour resorted to a wall shattering Exploding Charm, which seemed do do little against the magically reinforced room.

"Dawlish! Savage! Proudfoot! Robards!" he called for his colleagues. "Help me open this door! NOW"

"Ah, they must be getting desperate," said Barty, with a chuckle, noticing their seemingly futile attempts to break in.

His father was in a very sorry, nearly catatonic state. His eyes were rolled back and blood and spit were dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"You were right about one thing, Father, we certainly don't have the time I wish we had." He finished the glass of Emberwhiskey. "Well, time for me to leave. But before that, allow me to bestow upon you one final gift, that of mercy. You wouldn't want them to see you like this, now would you?" he asked. "Goodbye, Father. Avada Kedavra!" he whispered just as the door and walls of the interrogation room crumbled.

Before any of the Aurors' stunning spells, he Disapparated in a swirl of smoke, with a booming pop.

"What the blazes just happened?" roared Scrimgeour. "Savage, Robard, get the Healers in here!"

"It's no use, Sir…" said Proudfoot. "Minister Crouch was hit with the Killing Curse."

"How the hell could the prisoner escape? Wasn't this place warded against such attempts?"

"It would seem he used an empowered version of Disapparition just as the suppression wards weakened when the wall fell."

"Get everyone out to find this bastard. I'll need to find a way to inform the Wizengamot and the rest of the public," the old Auror said, in an exasperated voice. "This is going to be a nightmare," he added as he rushed out.

November 4th

Sirius Black

Normally, anger at the news and frustration with his friend for not calling him would have made the veins in his temples bulge. The Prophet's front page brought the news he'd been dreading, but he was too tired to even care properly. He poured another cup of coffee, the first having shattered against the kitchen floor earlier, when an elf bearing the Longbottom coat of arms popped into his house, bringing a note signed by Augusta.

"Bella, you crazy broad…" he said to himself as he read the note for a third time. "You went against Madam Longbottom. Did it not cross your tiny little mind that going wand to wand with the widow of the most decorated Auror, a woman he himself feared to anger, might not be a good idea?" he mused as he made his way back to his living room and his comfortable armchair. Which had been occupied by Lily's cat.

"Do you mind?" he growled at the cat.

"Mrrreow!" it replied with its eyes closed.

"Know what, you have a perfectly good pillow on the floor and a full milk saucer in the kitchen."

"Mrrrreeeow!" it refused its host's offer and proceeded to purr.

"Lily is going to kill me if anything happened to you while you're in my care. But, she doesn't know you are alive, does she?"

The cat continued purring, ignoring him, then rolled over and continued its kitty nap.

"Would you kindly relocate your fluffy tail before I move it for you."

The cat whipped its tail at him, making him lose the shred of temper he usually had in the mornings without coffee

"You asked for it, cat."

Setting the cup and the newspaper on the table next to the armchair, he scooped his furry guest up, gently set it on the couch, claimed his comfortable seat and finally got to enjoy the piping hot beverage. Just as he was about to start reading the Prophet, the cat jumped into his lap and started kneading his leg, all the while digging its claws into its host's flesh.

"Can't wait for Lily to take you back, you purring annoyance. She wouldn't allow you to pull that kind of stunt with her."

Begrudgingly, Sirius let the beast continue torturing him and engaged in his morning caffeination ritual, taking a careful sip and opening the newspaper to read the report about the Longbottom attack.

He was not even halfway through the third paragraph when the doorbell rang. Unable to stand from his chair, due to his lap currently being held hostage by a purring ball of doom, he cast a quick charm on the cracked mirror on the wall. The image shifted to the fragment he had carefully hidden in a dark corner just outside his front door, showing his bedraggled and weary lycanthrope friend.

"Come in, the door's open," his visitor heard him say through the hound's head shaped door knocker's mouth. "I am sorry I couldn't come to the door myself," he shouted from the living room, "join me in here and you'll see why." Remus could barely contain his smile when he entered the room and noticing his friend's cringing smile.

"How can I argue with that? The fluff ball seems to have made itself feel right at home."

"You're having a laugh, aren't you? Now, if you could wipe that smirk off your face, would you mind telling me what the bloody hell happened last night, Moony? How could Frank get tortured with you, his mother and his wife watching his back?"

Running a bandaged hand through his prematurely greying hair, Remus threw himself on the couch.

"Well… long story short, they employed the tried and true tactic of divide and conquer." Remus gave off a huge yawned

"Here, you seem to need this," said Sirius. With a flick of his wand, he summoned another cup of coffee from the kitchen for his friend.

"Oh, thanks, mate, you're a lifesaver." Remus took a few gulps and gave a satisfied sigh.

"Now, tell me everything, and I mean Everything."

"I met up with Mrs Longbottom outside their domain. After passing her scrutiny, she transported us to the house, where we did as you said - we laid as many traps as time allowed, which were not as many as I would have liked, and, to my shame, not my best work under the pressure. I barely got to say hello to Frank and Alice, when the silent alarm outside was tripped. In an instant Alice and Neville got transported away by the house elves. Mrs Longbottom ran downstairs and I followed her.

"Somehow, your psychotic cousin and the Lestrange brothers managed to break through the wards and the traps before we even got to take off our coats. We instantly laid into them, but they turtled down pretty fast. Rabastan and Rodolphus raised shields as that hellhound you call cousin returned fire. Mrs Longbottom return in kind. Never seen blasting curses making shield spells flicker like that like that. I had to dodge flying furniture that came out of nowhere when I noticed one Barty Crouch the younger."

"Waaaait up, mate. What does the son of the Acting Minister have to do with Bella and her merry band of moronic baboons?"

"He was with them, happily chucking curses at me with incredible ease, trying to lob my head off. He was the one who gave me this," said Remus, holding up his bandaged hand. "He shot a cutting curse that sent my wand flying out of my hand. The pain blinded me for a second, but it seemed long enough for Bella and Junior to make themselves scarce. The Lestrange brothers started pushing Mrs Longbottom back. Without my wand, there was little I could do, so I let Moony out to play." Sirius raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"And how may I ask did you do that without a full moon? That was an entire week ago and you were still recovering from it when James was attacked."

"Well… I'll tell you later. And, after all, a partial transformation is better than being wandless in a fight."

"That makes sense," Sirius nodded, "Great, now I have to be careful about you losing control pretty much the entirety of the month."

"A partial transformation doesn't make me go feral. As long as I don't transform the snout, I am good. Apparently, the olfactive sensory overload is what drives a werewolf feral."

"Fine, fine. Care to continue telling me what happened?"

"Mrs Longbottom was shooting a rainbow flurry of curses at the two, but she was still outnumbered and would have been outmatched if I didn't move my ass. I have to admit, pain can drive us feral as well. I caught Rabastan by the wand arm. I intended to crush it, enough for him to stop his wand work. How… ever…," Remus smiled as he paused for dramatic effect, "I might have been a bit too eager to do so, because I may or may not have ripped his entire arm out."

"You did… what?!" Sirius was gobsmacked.

"Yes… and I also may or may not have beat Rodolphus with it." Sirius was looking at his friend like said man had grown a second head. "What? Mrs Longbottom didn't seem to mind. Moreover, she appreciated the brief respite. She threw a clotting charm at Rabastan at some point, allowing me to focus on your cousin's husband."

"The Prophet forgot to mention that part."

"Fun-ny. Regardless, it was less than a minute when we had them both beat and tied up with an empowered Incarcerous spell. When we were done, I turned back to my little old self, retrieved my wand and administered what little first aid I could to those two. Couldn't let them die just yet, they had an appointment with the Aurors. Mrs Longbottom, however, didn't stick around. As soon as those two fell, she darted upstairs. I could hear the battle all the way down the main hall. As soon as I felt that the two dung eaters were stable enough, I ran upstairs, but the old lady had already taken care of things. She told me what had happened as we tied up Bella and Junior."

"Care to fill me in?"

"To my surprise, I learned that Barty had been the one that kept Frank under the Cruciatus curse, while your cousin was busy cackling like a hyena at our friend's suffering. She managed to knock them both out, but it did take a toll on her. She was pretty much spent and could barely hold the wand, let alone cast anything. I did my best to alleviate Frank's pain, with a pain relief potion I still had with me after my monthly… party."

With a sigh, Sirius shooed the cat from his lap, got up and made his way to the drinks cabinet. He pulled an almost empty bottle of gin and poured two glasses. After handing one to Remus.

"I do have to ask," he said, he drained his glass in a single gulp, "what did the Aurors have to say about you beating an upstanding pureblood member of an Ancient family with his own brother's severed arm?" He sat back down in the chair. The cat jumped back on his lap.

"Well, after we tied everyone down and administered the proper first aid, Mrs Longbottom had an elf clean me of any blood splatter and get me a new set of clothes, as mine got pretty torn, even with my partial transformation. Then she claimed she'll be taking care of everything, as, for better or for worse, the potion I gave Frank prevented him from suffering any long lasting nerve damage. She only bade me to remain silent, as the Aurors came in, to which she told a highly convoluted cock and bull story about the Lestranges having been caught in the crossfire of their own Dark curses. I supposedly only arrived after she incapacitated them all and only assisted with the emergency first aid."

"Got to hand it to the old battleaxe, she spun quite a yarn. Of course, given the prestige of House Longbottom, no one has the balls to question her account of the events," said Sirius as he stroked the cat, who'd been purring in his lap. "Now, if you don't mind, I really want to know. Where in the name of the Morrigan have you learn to harness your inner beast like that?"

"Remember when Dumbledore asked me to infiltrate Greyback's pack? Trying to convince them to join our cause was not the only thing I did. I wanted to better control my senses and strength. You see, a regular werewolf can transform only when the Moon is full, however Greyback could transform even with a new Moon. I also remember seeing him shrugging off multiple Stunners on quite a few occasions, and lengthening his nails into razor-sharp claws. I wanted to learn to do that, how to use the Moon cycle to my benefit and I have, by watching that walking bag of fleas. It's quite the advantage, you know."

"Oh, most definitely…" Sirius looked at the grandfather clock hanging on the wall. "Now, on a totally unrelated topic, we should probably tell Lils what happened. I am sure she will want to know more than what's in the newspaper."

"So you know where she is? Is Harry with her?"

"Where else would he be?" Sirius replied, rolling his eyes. "With his magic hating Muggle aunt and her family, like our dear Headmaster wanted?" Remus' face lost all traces of mirth.

"Wait… WHAT? Why would that even be an option?"

"Because, for some reason, Dumbledore believed Lily had died alongside James. Without waiting to confirm it or to go through the regular process in such cases, he sent Hagrid to take MY godson to the muggles, just because he believed it to be the best course of action. AS IF!"

"Regardless, you do know where they are, correct?"

"With her friend Evelyn Greengrass. She was Lily's best idea at the time. And I don't blame her. The Greengrasses haven't been active in the war against You-Know-Who all that much, so they would be off the Death Munchers' radar."

"The proper thing would be to send an owl announcing our intention to visit them. It just would not do to just walk up to the gate unannounced."

"Who knows Moony. If we don't, we might the nasty side of a very angry House Elf."

-Section Break-

An hour and a few chicken wings later, a somewhat reluctant House Elf appeared in Sirus' living room with a piece of parchment that had the seal of the Greengrass house.

"Message for Mr Sirius Black."

A startled Sirius took it with a trembling hand and read it aloud.

Lily is unavailable until after noon. You may come here at any time after 2 o'clock. Call for Minnie to bring you here.

"Elf, are you Minnie?" Remus asked. The elf nodded.

"We'll call on you soon to take us to your mistress," said Sirius as he folded up the parchment

"Yes Sir. If Mistress Lily allows Minnie, Minnie will bring you."

-Section Break-

A couple of hours later, back at Greengrass Manor, with Lily

"...and this is what we know happened while you were away Lily."

"Now that my business is over Sirius, it's time we have a little talk with Peter."

A.N: Cliffie, I know. Who and how Dung-for-brains got the location and why go to Bella and co is going to remain an unsolved mystery(yes, we are that lazy). But rest assured, Dung is NOT going to see 1982. I found his character in cannon bland and his personality idiotic. Peter will be dealt the same fate. Can't remember who exactly inspired the High Council bit, but it's from a fic called "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards"(a harry in azkaban story where luna is the only person he remains friendly to), which I have copied to my hard drive, repaired the grammar and re-read when I need a good laugh. The sheer reaming the members give to dumbles and fudgie is awe-inspiring. Now, before I leave ya to your own devices, a small oppinion piece: the idea that a pickpocket doing a year and a serial killer/psychopath like Bellatrix doing life are housed in the same prison and subjected to the same psychic torture because lazy government is the dumbest thing ever. In this fic there will be ONLY irredeemable criminals housed there, and never getting out. Others will go to the regular prison system with magic suppression.