When the Dark Lord finally threw the greenish Floo powder in the blazing flames of the familiar fireplace of Spinner's End, the words 'Lestrange Manor' on his lips, it was much later than he had originally anticipated.

Following the proclamation of the verdict, Courtroom Ten had unsurprisingly erupted into chaos, chaos that was only broken by the absolute tears of joy of Corvus Lestrange who had dropped most of his usually immaculate Pureblood masks as he stormed towards his sons. Most members of the Wizengamot froze, although only briefly at that, as the Lestranges were reunited in a heart-warming embrace.

Under normal circumstances, Tom would have preferred to stay longer but they had a plan to follow as Severus led them towards the exit of Courtroom Ten which by now had turned into a frenzy of flashy cameras as the armada of reporters present tried to get the best shot of the freshly reunited family. Meanwhile, plenty of Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot appeared to be moved by the family reunion given the openly affectionate expression some were sporting.

Still, there were exceptions.

The toad-like witch Dolores Umbridge looked like somebody had turned her pink clothes into a colour similar to mud or vomit while a few outspoken anti-Dark fanatics and Dumbledore-lovers like Elphias Doge appeared to be sharing the sentiment, trying to contest the validity of the verdict.

As his eyes moved over the rowdy crowd, his eyes briefly stopped on a figure which appeared to behave in a rather peculiar way. Unlike everyone around him, Bartemius Crouch Senior had not moved an inch since the proclamation of the verdict. Seeming shell-shocked, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was simply staring at his hands, his eyes open wide and his jaw slightly unhinged. Maybe, just maybe, it had finally dawned on the failure of a father how badly he had treated his son before ultimately signing his death warrant by sending him to Azkaban. No one should ever be forced to be under the exposure of Dementors for lengthy periods of time but especially not a merry individual such as Barty. Hopefully, Bartemius Crouch Senior had finally realised the gravity of the mistreatment of his son.

Before he could think more about the elder Crouch, Severus urged him to move. They had almost reached the exit of Courtroom Ten when a tall figure stepped into their way, "Severus, my boy, we need to talk."

Leaving no room for protest despite the Potions Master's best attempt to evade the inevitable, Dumbledore led them to his private office. Once the magical voice had announced that they had arrived on ' Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff ', Dumbledore gestured to them to exit the nauseating lift and follow him towards the private offices of the more high-ranking members of the Wizengamot. While his Equal and the Potions Master were invited to follow the Headmaster inside the moderately-sized office with the golden nameplate ' Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards ', Thomas Prince was told to wait in a nearby half-open visitors' room which looked like it had been designed with small children in mind.

Over the course of the next hour, fragments of the conversation between Dumbledore, Severus, and Harry were conveyed over the strengthened link. Apparently, the Headmaster was less than pleased with the way Harry had treated his recovering godfather but could not do much because of Severus' presence. Eventually, the over-curious Lord of the Light started to question the two on Thomas' bad influence . Unsurprisingly without success.

Eventually Harry was told to leave while Dumbledore had some 'important issues' to discuss with Severus. After another hour, the Potions Master finally left the office, gesturing his two wards to follow him towards the lifts. When the door of the first arriving lift opened, Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the box of death much to their surprise, gracing the godfather of his son with a slight nod before heading deeper inside the highest level of the British Ministry of Magic.

Once they had finally returned to Spinner's End, much later than anticipated, the Potions Master informed the Dark Lord and his Equal that Dumbledore had not found any inconsistencies concerning Thomas' past yet and still had not managed to locate Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone, although there appeared to be a promising lead in Liechtenstein. Maybe, it was time for the fugitive to make another appearance.

When they arrived at Lestrange Manor, the sun had already set.

"Lord Prince," a small elderly House Elf dressed in a immaculate tea towel bearing the Lestrange sigil right above his heart materialised in front of them, "Masters is currently occup-"

"I know, Cobalt," Tom replied, gracing the small creature with a genuine smile, "Corvus and Healer Gibbon are expecting our arrival."

"Master… Master Tom," the Elf stuttered with big eyes, "is… is that you, sir? Cobalt will never forget the kind Master of my Master."

In answer, the Dark Lord nodded his head.

"Will… will you make Masters Rodolphus and Rabastan healthy again?" Cobalt asked with teary, hopeful eyes.

"That is the reason why Harry and I are here," Tom answered, "that is why we are here."

"Should Master Tom require anything," the House Elf's high voice echoed through the large entrance hall of Lestrange Manor, "call for Cobalt."

"I was unaware of your latest… group of admirers," Harry chuckled as they were walking up a case of stairs leading towards the private wing of the vastness that was Lestrange Manor, "if only Dumbledore would know. Tom Riddle, proud Halfblood and champion of House Elves. He would faint on the spot."

"Probably," Tom replied, his lips curling into a devious smile at the imagination of the fainting Headmaster, "I should get proper business cards stating all my illustrious accomplishments but only on bone-white paper of the highest quality and with Silian Rail for the lettering. Of course, I need a watermark."

"You might be able to get reservations at Dorsia with that," Harry cackled, "or if that does not work, try the Three Broomsticks. The Hog's Head is always an alternative."

"What kind of madness are you talking about?" Severus sneered as they had finally reached the top of the stairs.

"We might have read a bit too much Bret Easton Ellis lately," the Dark Lord chuckled, "who knew that the American yuppy culture could be so interesting. The early work of Huey Lewis and the News was always a bit too New Wavey for my taste. You should keep an eye on the Muggles, Severus. They are quite creative."

A few minutes later, they had finally reached their designation. Tom could feel the magic of four wizards buzzing inside, although two of the signatures were rather difficult to detect given their poor state of health. After he had knocked twice, he could hear quick steps approaching the door followed by the voice of Water Gibbon with its slight German accent, "I am busy and do not let anyone inside unless it is-"

By that point, Corvus Lestrange had already opened the door, signalling Tom, Harry, and Severus to enter.

"I hope you forgive my intrusion, Walter," the Dark Lord said, stepping closer to the Healer who was examining Rodolphus' infected open fracture, "how bad is it?"

"Father," Rabastan spoke up, his eyes on the three wizards, "who… who…"

Before the younger of the Lestrange twins had even finished the question, the Dark Lord had lifted his hand to his temples to lower the Glamour hiding the true colour of his eyes, "I am glad to see you, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and relieved that you are alive and finally free."

Opposite of him, both twins appeared to be shell shocked before Rabastan regained his ability to speak, "My Lord, I am so sorry for questioning your presence and going after-"

"Enough," the Dark Lord said, his voice lacking any acidity, "there is no need to apologise given my… new appearance. Furthermore, I do not blame you for what happened to Frank and Alice-"

"We… we should have stopped her," Rodolphus interjected, sounding like he was begging for absolution from his Lord, "I am so sorry that we failed you and-"

"Quiet," the Dark Lord hissed before switching to a much calmer tone, "I was present at the trial and saw what really happened. I neither blame you nor Barty. You do not revel in mindless torture nor would you ever be reckless enough to disobey my direct orders. If someone should apologise, it must be me. I should have kept Bellatrix on a shorter leach and monitored the information passed to her more thoroughly given her… instability. Unfortunately, I did not."

"My Lord," Rabastan whispered, "we do not blame you-"

"While I appreciate your feelings on that matter, Rabastan," Tom continued, not bothering to hide his true emotions on the matter, "I still feel responsible for your unjustified suffering. As your Lord, it is my responsibility to take care of you and I failed… Therefore, I will do my best to rectify what has been done to you."

"It is not your fault," Rodolphus protested, "you do not have to-"

"But I will," the Dark Lord spoke with determination, "otherwise, you would still wither away in Azkaban."

"You… you arranged for the trial?" Rabastan asked with big eyes, having caught up to the words of the Dark Lord quicker than his older twin.

"I might have played my part in setting up your trial," Tom explained, signalling his Equal to step closer to the Lestrange brothers, "but I could not have done it without Harry here and a few other people-"

"Is that Harry Potter?" Rabastan Lestrange asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am," his Equal was replying lightly, "nice to finally meet you, Heir and Spare of the Ancient and Most Noble House Lestrange."

While both Lestrange twins were staring at the two of them with big eyes, all Pureblood decorum forgotten, Harry leaned over to Tom, "I think we have a bit of explaining to do."

Once they had informed Rodolphus and Rabastan about what had really happened on the faithful Samhain night of 1981, Dumbledore's manipulation, Harry's terrible upbringing, the discovery of the real prophecy, and the resurrection of the Dark Lord, the Lestrange twins had gone through a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from amusement at the expense of the latest misfortune of Dumbledore to pure rage concerning the cold and ruthless schemes of the Lord of the Light. Eventually, the two Dark Lords revealed how they had set up the trial of not only the Lestranges but also Sirius Black by exposing Wormtail and the negotiations with the Longbottoms.

"Father," Rodolphus asked, staring at his father with a mixture of astonishment and calculation despite the obvious pain he was suffering, "did you really?"

Resolutely, Corvus Lestrange stepped closer towards the twins, "I did what I had to do to save my sons and I would do it again, even if it meant aligning ourselves with House Longbottom."

While father and sons were staring at each other, Walter Gibbon cleared his throat, "Now that everything is sorted out, can we please return to the healing. I must be at St Mungo's at 5:30. If not, my absence will surely raise questions."

"Of course, Walter," the Dark Lord said, "how bad is it? Have you finished the Diagnostic Charms?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," the Healer replied, reaching for two scrolls of parchment, passing them to the Dark Lord, who swiftly unrolled them with his Equal looking over his shoulder, "as you can see, the vitals of both brothers are quite concerning. Much like Sirius Black, I suppose that both only survived the last decade because of their magic. The organs of both are on the verge of failing, their bones are dangerously brittle including numerous fractures, their muscles are extremely weak, they are malnourished, and have been exposed to coldness and humidity for far too long."

Once Gibbon had finished, Tom slowly nodded his head, indicating that he had indeed understood everything while continuing to scan the medical reports of the Lestrange brothers.

"Is it treatable?" Corvus Lestrange asked, his voice laced with concern, "will they get better?"

"Well, I hope so," the Healer sighed, "but given the progress Sirius Black has made so far, it will be a slow and long process and…"

"And what?" Corvus Lestrange asked, "Walter, tell me. Do not sugar-coat whatever bothers you."

Leaving out a long sigh, Walter Gibbon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Under normal circumstances, I would start the Potions treatment right away like I did with Sirius Black. In the case of Rodolphus here, I am afraid that it is slightly, to be honest, a lot more complicated. If the open fracture remains untreated any longer, the already beginning infection will spread, and we might have to amputate. Under normal circumstances, I would simply remove the infected tissue, apply Healing Salve, vanish the affected bones, and administer Skele-Gro. As the affected area is quite large, a simple Healing Salve will not be enough. Therefore, I would have to use Dornfeld Essence since even the Grand Wiggenweld Potion would not be potent enough to undo the damage. Unfortunately, Dornfeld Essence and Skele-Gro draw on the magic of the one who ingested both Potions, and that witch or wizard only. Under normal circumstances, the amount of magic required should not be dangerous but given how weak both brothers are, it could be weeks until they are strong enough to handle both Potions. While our Lord here and Mister Potter developed an alternative, rather promising Potions-based treatment to counteract severe malnutrition, muscle weakness, and bone deterioration, little to nothing is known about any possible negative reactions. Furthermore, given the seriousness of the open fracture, I am afraid we do not have the time."

"Is there no other way?" the Lord of the Lestrange family sounded almost like he was begging, "Walter, you are the best Healer at St Mungo's. There must be another way. Please…"

"I am sorry, Corvus," Walter Gibbon sighed, "but even I have my limits when it comes to Healing. There are no better alternatives and we do not have time to nurse Rodolphus' magic back to health before the infection will spread."

"There is a way," the Dark Lord said, suddenly sensing all eyes in the room on him, "although it is tricky and potentially risky."

"My Lord," the Healer looked at him intently, "would you please explain whatever treatment you have in mind, or maybe even discovered yourself."

"It is quite funny that you imply that it was me to make this discovery," the Dark Lord chuckled, although it was a humourless kind of sound, "Harry, please explain what you discovered concerning the wonderful field of Permanent Transfiguration?"

"Permanent Transfiguration?" Gibbon coughed, "you cannot heal wounds like these by simply Transfiguring the flesh and bones of a living being. It will not last. Everything will disintegrate, leaving the patient in a worse state than before."

"Severus' left hand hardly looks like it is about to disintegrate," his Equal spoke up while pretending to observe his nails, "am I correct, Severus?"

The eyes of the Healer grew wide upon hearing Harry's words. As curiosity and scepticism overtook his brain, Walter Gibbon forgot all about Pureblood decorum and crossed the distance towards the Potions Master with quick steps, reaching for his left hand. With an audible sound of repulsion, said hand was moved out of reach in a lightning-fast movement, making Walter Gibbon remember who he was dealing with.

"You are not inspecting me like some sort of laboratory rat," Severus sneered, his onyx eyes shooting daggers at the Healer while he was signalling in the direction of the Dark Lord and his Equal, "I cut it off during our Lord's resurrection and they replaced it magically, restructuring what had been lost with Permanent Transfiguration. Their method works."

"Do it," Rodolphus Lestrange's raspy voice testifying of a decade of disuse echoed through the large, airy chamber, "I trust you."

"While I know that you trust me, Rodolphus," Tom's crimson eyes were fixated on the elder of the Lestrange twins, "do you also trust Harry, since he is the more experienced of the two of us with Permanent Transfigurations? Given that he discovered this branch of magic with the surprising help of Muggle science, he will be the one to perform the procedure while I will merely assist."

With a surprisingly steady voice, the elder of the Lestrange twins answered, "While I do not know Harry Potter, I trust your judgement, my Lord."

Somehow, Tom could not help but feel touched by the words of Rodolphus Lestrange while still feeling the faint touch of guilt of being responsible for the decade of hell both brothers had had to endure because of the trap the Dark Lord had fallen victim to. Still, now was the wrong time to contemplate further about his guilt.

Sometime later, the Dark Lord felt Walter Gibbon's hawklike questioning eyes. Moments prior, his Equal had put away his illegal Alder wand after magically cleaning the open fracture. For the rest of the procedure, he would use wandless magic since he had much better control when performing Permanent Transfigurations given that he had learnt to do it without a wand.

"Stop looking at me like that, Walter," the Dark Lord hissed, making the Healer flinch, "Harry knows what he is doing even though he is not holding a wand right now. Although that means nothing. He could easily cast all of the Unforgivables without one and he has."

That shut the suspicious Healer up.

"Can we finally start?" his Equal asked, sounding bored.

"Of course, me dear," Tom purred before turning to Rodolphus, "I am going to cut off most of the blood flow to your leg to prevent you from bleeding out while also controlling the nerve signals which will be sent to your central nervous system for the duration of the procedure. Afterwards, Harry will start."

Once the elder Lestrange brother had signalled his consent, the Dark Lord began his work carefully isolating most of the leg's functions from the remainder of the body. Otherwise, the risk of accidentally transmitting pain signals would just be too high. It was not supposed to happen, but there was always the chance, especially since Rodolphus' open fracture was not a small one. Luckily, this had not happened when Tom had regrown Severus' hand, or the Potions Master had been in enough pain already to not react to even more pain. He would have to ask Severus once they were back at Spinner's End.

Once Tom had finished, all vitals carefully under control, the real show began.

Without further ado, Harry began to Vanish any necrotic or infected tissue surrounding the open fracture. The stench of rotten flesh soon filled the room as his Equal uncovered the depths of the damage. How Rodolphus still was alive and had not died was truly a miracle. Somehow, his magic despite being compromised due to the exposure to Dementors must have contained the infection. Otherwise, he would have long been dead although the injury could not be older than a few weeks..

By the time all affected tissue had been removed, a thin layer of sweat had appeared on his Equal's forehead. Still, he continued regardless of the obvious strain the procedure had caused so far.

Over the next hour, Harry slowly regrew the marrow of the fractured bones, effectively reattaching the previously separated fragments, before focussing on the solid exterior of the bones. Once the bones were whole again, his Equal began to work on the nerve cords, blood vessels, and the muscles, stunted by years of infrequent use. Meanwhile, the eyes of those watching were growing wider and wider as Harry's magic seamlessly repaired what should be almost impossible to heal with traditional Wizarding Healing methods and Potions.

Once the skin had finally been fully regrown, Walter Gibbon could no longer keep quiet. Rolling his eyes, the Dark Lord grabbed his exhausted Equal and moved them in the background. Whenever the Healer had one of those maniacal glints in his eyes, usually present in the face of a new discovery or another strife for knowledge, it was better to step aside.

"Ich kann es nicht glauben," the Healer whispered half an hour later, "das ist wirklich unvergänglich… In der Tat von Dauer."

"Did I not promise to you that it would be permanent?" Harry asked mockingly, keeping his voice similar to the one Tom was using whenever he was dealing with witches or wizards who were trying his patience, "much like your Lord, I do not lie. Or has he ever lied to you, Walter?"

"Nein, natürlich nicht! Never!" the Healer answered quickly, once again slipping back into German before realising his mistake, "it is just… I have never seen something like this. Never thought it would be possible. How?"

"Muggle science," his Equal said, keeping his words light as he was inspecting his nails, "I could lend you a few books."

"Yes, please," Walter Gibbon's urgent words echoed through the room, all of his aversion to Muggles suddenly forgotten, "is there any way to mend all the damage?"

"Eager, are we?" the Dark Lord chuckled before turning serious once more, "technically, it is possible, but it would require far too much magic to undo all the damage, magic we cannot spare for now. Besides, we doubt that it would be wise to randomly mend and replace certain body parts, since the recipient has to relearn how to use the specific body parts anyway after such a long time of disuse. Therefore, this method should only be used for the more pressing cases like Severus' hand and Rodolphus' leg. Furthermore, regrowing full limbs only works for a very limited time frame after the loss of the original one. Therefore, this method should be applied sparsely. Still, we might use it to reset your shoulder, Rabastan. Maybe tomorrow."

Before the Healer or Rabastan could reply, Rodolphus' raspy voice broke the brief silence, "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you."

"This is the least I could do, Rodolphus," the Dark Lord said quietly, "and I wish I could do much more. Sadly, my hands are bound for now."

"That is way more than I could have ever hoped for, my Lord," Rodolphus whispered, "father, there is something that I have to ask you. While I am aware that the trial of Sirius black opened quite a few doors for those of us who have suffered in Azkaban for ages, I highly doubt that the first case to be reopened would be the one of those who were believed to have tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom. there is no way that this would have been the first case to be picked. Therefore, I assume there must have been some dealings in the shadows. So please, tell me what you have done."

Before the Lord of the Lestrange family could utter a single word, a House Elf appeared with a soft pop, although it was not Cobalt, "master, your guests have arrived. They will be here momentarily."

Without further ado, the creature disappeared, leaving behind two confused brothers.

"Guests?" Rabastan whispered, "father, who are you expecting?"

"My sons," Corvus Lestrange began to explain, looking nervous for the first time in ages Tom could remember, "as you know, I tried everything to get you out of that hellhole, but all paths were blocked no matter what I tried. While the trial of Sirius black opened some of the paths, most of them were impossible to wander. Then, our Lord had an idea. I negotiated a deal with-"

Before Corvus could say more, the large double door was thrown open, revealing the impressive figure of Augusta Longbottom, wearing her trademark vulture hat and a steely mask of indifference which would put most Purebloods to shame. The expression was mirrored on her grandson's face, who was standing tall by her side.

While his twin appeared to be at loss for words, Rabastan, whispered, his eyes wide open, "Impossible."

"Mister Lestrange," the Lady of the Longbottom family replied with a faint smile gracing her face, "I assure you that my presence is indeed possible. Otherwise, you would not be here."

"Father," the eyes of the younger of the Lestrange twins flickered between the clearly nervous form of Corvus Lestrange and Augusta Longbottom, "what have you done?"

While the Lord of the Lestrange family had opened his mouth to answer, no word appeared to be leaving his lips, seemingly too proud to reveal his deeds to his sons. After almost a minute of silence had passed, Corvus Lestrange finally straightened his back, "I did what I had to do to save this family, to save you. Therefore, I promised our allegiance to the Longbottom family in return to Augusta here requesting a trial for you."

" Promised ourallegiance ?" Rabastan repeated with big eyes, "in what way precisely?"

Without speaking, Corvus Lestrange began to undo the top buttons of his robes, thus revealing the mark of the Vassal Bond he had sworn while trying his best to keep his face impassive.

Opposite of him, the faces of his sons were steadily growing paler the longer they stared at the vibrant mark on their father's pale chest. Taking a deep breath, Corvus' steely grey eyes focussed on his sons, repeating his words from before, "I did what I had to do to save my family. In return for your trial and in reparation of the harm caused to their family at the hand of one of our own, I, as the Head of the Lestrange family, promised to protect the Longbottoms for as long as they deem necessary while our voting rights in the Wizengamot remain our own.

As always, Rabastan was the one to process the words of his father the quickest as his eyes flickered between Corvus and the Longbottoms, stopping on the latter, "While I understand the intentions of this deal, what use could our allegiance be to them. Everyone knows that our line is doomed to disappear in the books of history since neither Rodolphus nor I as well as any potential children of ours will be eligible to take over the mantle of the Lestrange estate given our incarceration. Therefore, this vassal bond is basically useless since it will be terminated with our deaths unless…"

"Unless your father fathered another potential heir," Augusta seamlessly finished the sentence, "then, the Lestrange line would live on."

"Father," Rabastan whispered, "you… you promised to mother on her deathbed that you would never take another…"

Tom remembered that day vividly.

He had just returned from a meeting in Papua New Guinea, negotiating with the Dark Lords and Ladies of the Sahara and Oceania, when the urgent message delivered by Corvus' translucid panther Patronus begged him to come to Lestrange Manor to save his wife Dahlia, née Rosier, the younger sister of Druella. The Dark Lord had immediately Apparated to Lestrange Manor only to realise that it was far too late for Dahlia and the unborn child she was carrying. The unknown Dark Curse she had been hit with at Diagon Alley in broad daylight had already fatally damaged their hearts. On his wife's deathbed, Corvus had sworn a magical oath, thankfully no Unbreakable Vow, to never take on another lover and to exterminate the unknown murderers of his wife and unborn daughter. Rodolphus and Rabastan, who both had been present, had been six years old by that point.

Overall, it had taken Corvus the better half of the next decade to fulfil the second part of his oath.

After almost two years of investigation, the Lord of the Lestrange family finally uncovered that Jasper Bentham, an uprising Auror and Heir to the ancient, mostly Light Bentham family, had been the one to fire off the Dark Curse at Dahlia Lestrange, apparently to underline his disapproval of some of the pro-Dark legislation Corvus had been pushing for in the Wizengamot. Over the next few years, members of the Bentham family kept disappearing to be never seen again until only Jasper Bentham was left. Eventually, his mutilated body was found in front of the same store Dahlia Lestrange had been attacked seven years prior. While the Aurors suspected Corvus' involvement, all attempts to prove his guilt came to nothing.

"Your father never broke his oath," the Dark Lord spoke up, making all heads in the room turn, "this happened before your parents were even married and if it had not happened, your niece would not be here to continue the ancient Lestrange legacy."

"Niece?" the question of both twins echoed through the room.

Once the Dark Lord and his Equal had explained how Harry had befriended Hermione Granger and discovered her true family history, Rabastan started to chuckle, looking at his father, "If only Abraxas knew. All those years you ridiculed him for seeking out that Muggle woman only to have done it yourself, although a lot more discreetly. Still, I do not mind."

"Me neither," Rodolphus spoke up for the first time since the arrival of the Longbottoms, having always been the quieter of the twins, "where is she?"

"That was indeed the breaking question," the Dark Lord thought to himself as he and his Equal sat down for breakfast three days later.

Both Lestrange twins certainly had not been pleased when they had been informed that her niece was still staying with her verbally abusive Muggle parents. While they understood the reasoning behind the decision, both twins openly expressed that they did not like the decision.

Neither did Tom nor Harry.

If there had been any other way, they would have spared Hermione from spending any time at all with her parents but given their busy schedule until that point, which also included Corvus Lestrange, the Malfoys, and the Longbottoms. It had been better that way, although Tom refused to call it for the greater good . Hopefully, Hermione's suffering would be over soon but for now, they had not heard back from here. Also, Harry had specifically told the Gryffindor to only contact them should the situation at the Grangers' house get out of control. Therefore, Tom and Harry assumed that it had not been that bad. Still, bad was a relative term and both Tom and Harry loathed, hated abusers like Hermione's parents. Hopefully, she would soon be at a safer place.

Once the Lestrange twins had been informed about their niece's whereabouts, Healer Gibbon had postponed the healing of Rabastan's shoulder to the next morning since both twins appeared to be on the verge of passing out. Once they had taken their first vials of Bone-Strengthening-Solution, Advanced-Nutrition-Potion, and Dreamless Sleep, everyone had retired for the night. The next morning, Rabastan's shoulder had been magically mended and reset.

"Anything interesting in the paper?" Harry asked, reaching for a piece of toast.

"Not much," the familiar drawl of the Potions Master echoed through the small kitchen of Spinner's End, "mostly speculation concerning the Lestrange trial and several other convicted potential Death Eaters. The new senior reporter of the Prophet, Rita Skeeter, has been quite busy, pointing out inconsistencies concerning several trials, amongst them the cases of Augustus Rookwood, Thurlow Nott, and Lynwood Mulciber."

"Interesting," Tom remarked, lost in thoughts, "while I think there is little we can do about Mulciber given his preference for the Imperius Curse, the same applies to Nott Junior, I have high hopes for Augustus. After all, he only passed information to our side, which could be classified as accidental depending on the right perspective. He never actively participated in any of the raids and was convicted by dear old Barty Crouch Senior the day after the trial of the Lestranges and his own son. This all should play in our favour since the unlawful disclosure of classified information is punished with five years in Azkaban and not life imprisonment. Combined with the five years for being a member of an illegal organisation, the former Unspeakable should be good to go since he had already spent more than ten years in Azkaban. Hopefully, his case will be-"

The Dark Lord stopped, reaching out his magic, and so did the other two occupants of the room.

Someone had entered the property.

A Muggle to be precise, which should be impossible given the strong Anti-Muggle Wards unless the Muggle in question had a serious reason to enter the property.

Moments later, the click of the letter-box and the flop of a letter on the doormat echoed through the silence of the house. For a brief second, crimson eyes met Avada-green ones before Harry lifted his hand to silently and wandlessly Summon the letter which had just been delivered. Not much caring for etiquette, the envelope was soon ripped open.

"It is Hermione," Harry whispered once he had finished scanning the letter, "we are going to get her tomorrow."

The sun had not fully risen yet when the Dark Lord and his Equal joined the Potions Master in the small living room the next morning. Given their plans for the day, both Tom, his eyes already Glamoured, and Harry were wearing Muggle jumpers of dark colours paired with jeans. Severus meanwhile had Transfigured his trademark black robes into something similar to a Muggle suit, obviously in black.

A minute later, the Floo flared up and the tall and regal figure of Corvus Lestrange stepped out of the fireplace, vanishing the soot on his clothes with a flick of his wand.

Seeing the Lord of the Lestrange family in front of him, Tom had to admit to himself that he was impressed. Safe for the goatee and long hair, which was bound together in a low ponytail, Corvus could have easily passed as a Muggle businessman working for one of the top companies of the financial district of London. His shiny leather shoes looked like they had been custom made in Italy while the three-piece suit with its subtle pinstripe pattern of tasteful greys perfectly hugged his tall and muscular frame.

"Have I passed the test?" the Lord of the Lestrange family asked, sensing the critical eyes of the Dark Lord and his Equal on his form before gesturing towards his suit.

"Most certainly," Tom chuckled, "tell a certain Augusta Longbottom that her sense for fashion has not failed her despite what some of the gossip rags print from time to time."

For a moment, Corvus appeared to be contemplating whether to confirm or deny the statement of his Lord. Instead, he went on to ask, "How did you-"

"You hate patterns. You always have," Tom cut short his question with a tone that left no room for protest, "you would have never selected anything but plain fabric."

"While this talk about fashion is certainly enlightening ," the familiar drawl of Severus Snape sadly cut short their discussion, "we are on a tight schedule."

"Indeed, we are," Harry said, his face having turned serious, "if we do not depart this instant, they might be gone. Severus, you arm."

A second later, his Equal and the Potions Master disappeared from view. Without another word, the Dark Lord offered his arm to the Lord of the Lestrange family before they Apparated away with a soft pop. Fractions of a second later, they reappeared in one of the quieter streets of Hammersmith, one of the richest neighbourhoods of London not very far away from Kensington and Chelsea. Porsches, BMWs, Bentleys, Aston Martins and the occasional Lamborghini lining the streets, screaming wealth and money.

When Tom had Apparated Harry to Hammersmith the day before in preparation for Hermione's rescue, he noted that the neighbourhood was quite different from the busy working-class living quarters and buzzing factories of his childhood. Instead, the rich and wealthy had claimed the renovated buildings leaving no room for the original occupants of the neighbourhood. Somewhere along the line, Tom thought, the industrial charm of Hammersmith had been taken away as they had inspected the polished streets.

"I take it that all papers are in order," the Dark Lord cleared his throat, effectively catching Corvus' attention who had been busy inspecting a nearby Aston Martin AMV8, "otherwise this trip is fairly futile."

"Tom, they are," the Lord of the Lestrange family answered with a steady voice barely concealing his nervousness, "your friend Ragnok checked them himself."

"Very well," the Dark Lord replied, satisfied with the answer, "please follow me."

When they arrived at their destination, the shiny, black Mercedes-Benz S-class, the pride and joy of William Granger Junior, was still parked in front of the townhouse Hermione was forced to call home. With a wave of his hand, Tom gestured to Corvus to take the lead. Visibly swallowing his nervousness, the Lord of the Lestrange family gathered himself and climbed the stairs toward the front door with the golden letter 8. Moments later, the sound of a doorbell echoed through the quiet street. Seconds later, approaching feet could be heard on wooden floorboards before the front door was opened.

The man who opened the door looked like the splitting image of his father. Apart from wearing a light blue dentist tunic instead of a three-piece pinstripe suit, the absence of Corvus' trademark goatee, and the difference in hairstyle, William Granger Junior had inherited the impressive stature, high cheekbones, and strong jawline from his father. There was no denying that he was a Lestrange.

For seconds, which appeared to be stretching for minutes, father and son were staring at each other. Then, the eyes of William Granger Junior hardened, and he forcefully reached for the door. Unfortunately, Corvus Lestrange's foot prevented the door from being fully closed.

"Leave!" William Granger Junior hissed, once again trying to close the door, "or I will call the police."

"Son, he must talk," Corvus Lestrange replied as calmly as possible, pushing open the door with surprising strength for a man his age.

The words appeared to only enrage Granger Junior further given his red face, "I am not your son, and you are not my father!"

For a brief moment, father and son were once again staring at each other, neither of them moving, until a snort broke the silence. Given the ridiculousness of William Granger Junior's statement, the Dark Lord could certainly understand why his Equal had reacted the way he had. There was simply no way that William Granger Junior and Corvus Lestrange were not related.

Still, Harry's snort appeared to have revitalised Granger Junior's effort to close the door as the wooden structure once again slammed hard against Corvus' foot in the door.

"William, what is going on?" a concerned female voice asked, sounding like it was approaching the door. Moments later, a petite woman with a severe expression on her face which would not be wrong amongst the Darker Pureblood cycles came into view. Just like her husband before, the woman, which could only be Hermione's mother, stopped dead in her tracks as she stared at the grandfather of her daughter. Unlike her husband, Jane Kathrine Granger possessed much better control over her emotions as her expression did not slip. If only, it turned much colder as she hissed in a voice reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange, "Leave! You are not welcome here."

"Not without my granddaughter," Corvus Lestrange replied calmly, firmly holding the front door open.

"Fine, if you are here because of her," William Granger Junior snapped, "take that freak, leave, and never come back."

"Not so fast," Severus' familiar drawl made everyone turn their attention on the tall black figure that was the Potions Master.

"And who would you be?" Jane Granger snarled, "another of our supposed freakish relatives?"

"No," Severus answered calmly, although his voice had turned icy, "I am one of your daughters' teachers and will be overseeing the legal proceedings. Unlike what you might think about our kind, we do not simply abduct children. Just like the non-magical people, we have rules to follow passed by our own government. Unless you want to go over the paperwork here on the street, I would prefer to relocate to your living or dining room. It should not take more than twenty minutes."

"I will not be late to work because of freaks like you," William Granger Junior spat, once again trying to forcefully close the front door, "take the freak and leave."

Knowing the way his friend's shoulders were rapidly moving upwards and downwards, it was more than obvious that Corvus was close to losing his temper. Severus, too, seemed to have sensed the increasing potential for conflict, thus pulling out his wand while Tom and Harry quickly erected strong Anti-Muggle Wards and Notice-Me-Not Charms with their wandless magic.

"Mister Granger," the Potions Master drawled as he stepped closer to the front door, his wand clearly visible, "I am afraid that this was no request. We are not leaving this place with your daughter unless you and your wife have read and signed the official documents. The longer you stall the legal proceedings, the later you will be for your precious work. But if you insist, I am delighted to inform you that we have all time in the world and be assured that I will not allow you to leave."

By the time Severus had finished, the face of William Granger Junior had turned into an interesting shade of red, "You can not force me to stay. Freaks like you are not allowed to-"

"Try me," the Potions Master drawled, sounding bored more than anything else, "you would be surprised what freaks like me can get away with. So, how long shall we wait?"

"William," Jane Granger whispered, seemingly having come to the realisation that it was better to cooperate rather than to defy, "maybe we should listen-"

"I will not," William Granger Junior began to shout, "let any more freaks into my hou-"

He stopped, looking down at the tip of Severus' wand pressed into the tender flesh of his throat.

"If you use the word freak one more time in my presence, I will not be held accountable for my actions," the Potions Master hissed with a dangerously quiet voice, pushing his wand further into William Granger Junior's neck, scorching his flesh with a few sparks, "I would prefer to relocate to your living room. Now!"

With shaking knees, the Grangers finally moved, letting the four Wizards inside their home. The interior, just like Tom had imagined, looked like it had been designed with only one thing in mind: to impress those running in the same pretentious - although they liked to think of themselves as elitist - circles as the Grangers.

They had not gotten far, when light steps on the old wooden stairs made everyone's head turn.

Hermione looked like she had gone through hell. Although only four weeks had passed since the end of school, the Witch looked like she had lost quite a lot of weight given the way her sickly-pale skin was stretching over her pointy bones and her face appeared to be slightly skeletal. While it was not nearly as bad as the appearance and overall physical condition of her uncles Rodolphus and Rabastan, Tom still wished he could have spared Hermione from the past few weeks. Given her puffy and bloodshot eyes, it was more than clear that she had cried a lot.

"Hermione," Corvus Lestrange smiled as he saw his granddaughter for the first time, suppressing the horror at her physical condition, "while I wish the circumstances would be better, I am glad to finally meet you and-"

"Enough of this nonsense," William Granger Junior spat, "your frea-, abnormal kind can exchange pleasantries once you have finally left our perfectly normal hou-"

"One more word against me and my granddaughter, and it will be your last one," the Lord of the Lestrange family whispered, his wand pointed at William Granger Junior, while the smile on his face had morphed into that of a true predator who would not hesitate to resort to extreme measures of violence to protect what was his, "are we clear on that matter, son ?"

While said son appeared to be willing to protest at first given his open mouth, William Granger Junior seemed to have changed his mind at the last possible second, nodding his head to signal that he had indeed understood.

"Fine," Corvus said with a cold voice before turning back to his granddaughter, "Hermione, there are a few things I have to discuss with your… parents as well as a few documents to be signed. It should not take longer than twenty minutes. Boys, please help her to pack."

Once Tom and Harry had given their 'okay', the adults left for the living room, while the Dark Lord and his Equal approached the stairs. Then, without warning, Hermione stormed down the remainder of stairs and threw her arms around his Equal, catching him in a firm embrace, while tears of joy were running down her face, "You cannot imagine how happy and relieved I am that you came to take me away from them, Harry. I… I do not know if I could have taken it much longer. They…. They…"

They never found out what Hermione wanted to say about her parents since a series of loud shouts drowned her words. Given the rather unpleasant content of the shouts, Harry quickly asked Hermione to relocate to her room to start packing. Almost like in trance, the Witch grabbed Harry's hand and led him up the stairs. Tom followed quietly. Once they had reached Hermione's room, the Witch threw her arms once more around Harry, burying her head in his Equal's neck as she started to shed silent tears.

"Shhh. It is alright," his Equal said, massaging the small of her back, "I am here for you, and you will never have to spend any time here ever again. We are making sure of that."

While he continued to soothe the upset Witch, their eyes met. Tom could see the anger boiling inside the Avada-green eyes and knew that at some point, the Grangers would probably disappear off the face of the earth for what they had done to their daughter, although that day was quite a bit of time away. Indicating that he had understood the silent promise, the Dark Lord briefly lowered his head in confirmation before signalling his Equal that he did not mind if he continued to calm Hermione. Given that Hermione was one of Harry's friends, he was not jealous. He understood perfectly well why she needed closure.

Once they had finished their silent conversation, the Dark Lord's eyes wandered over the bare walls of the tiny room, the empty shelves, and the packed trunk. Despite Hermione having spent four weeks at home , the room did not look like anybody had spent any time in there at all, as if the life of its occupant there had been erased. Not even the bed looked like it had been used. The sole indication of life was a single book on the bedside table. It was the Family Chronicles of the Lestrange Family, the book Corvus had gifted to his granddaughter.

Eventually, Harry cleared his throat, before pulling back slightly, looking at Hermione, "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhhm," the Gryffindor mumbled, wiping the last tears off her cheeks.

"Just hold still for a second," Harry said, raising his right hand towards her cheek, pushing forth his magic to Vanish any visible signs of her breakdown, "never show people like them that their words or actions got under your skin. You will leave this place, but you will leave with your head held high. You will show them that you are so much better than them because you are. Hermione, I believe in you. I know you can do it."

"Thank you, Harry," the young Witch whispered, trying to whip away her tears only to realise that they were all gone by now, "but Harry, did you just use magic? You can get expelled for using magic outside of Hogwarts. You are still underage-"

"Don't worry," Harry explained, sending a reassuring smile in Hermione's direction, "since we are in the presence of adult Wizards, the Trace's magic will simply assume that it was them using Magic and not us. Because of that loophole and the ancient Wards of many Wizarding properties, students with Witches or Wizards as parents can use Magic during the holidays. As long as no magic is used directly against any Muggles, we are fine."

"That loophole," Hermione smiled, although it looked strained and faint, "I remember Pansy… lecturing me."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "you really seemed to enjoy those… lectures . Anyway, do you need to pack or are you ready to go?"

Given the state of Hermione's room, the question was almost ridiculous to ask. Therefore, it was hardly surprising that Hermione shook her head once she had carefully stuffed the single book on her bedside table, the Lestrange Chronicle, into her magically expanded satchel.

Without a second glance at her childhood home, the Witch left her room, tightly clutching her satchel against her chest while the Dark Lord and his Equal followed, carrying her trunk between them after a silent, wandless Featherlight Charm had been applied.

As they were walking down the stairs, the voices originating from behind one of the closed doors in the entrance hall grew in volume and aggressiveness until they could only be classified as shouts.

The sound of a fist forcefully connecting with a table silenced all screams before Corvus' impressive baritone thundered through the house, having turned vicious and deadly as a viper, "I do Not care about your petty arguments. You will be here on the first day of the Hogwarts summer holidays next year. Otherwise, you will be deeply sorry for not obeying my order. Let me remind you one last time that this is indeed an order, son , and not a mere wish or demand on my behalf. If both of you are not here at the requested day and time, I will find you and I will make you pay in the worst ways you can imagine. Do you understand?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, the protesting voices of the Grangers could be heard although they were immediately drowned by Corvus' venomous snarl, "You will be here! Otherwise, I will find you and I will repay every moment of abuse you forced upon my granddaughter. I will see you in eleven months."

Moments later, a door was thrown open, briefly revealing the ashen-faced figures of William Granger Junior and his wife sitting at a large table before the impressive figure of Corvus Lestrange obscured them from view, Severus on his heels. He stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fell on Hermione who was still standing on one of the lower stairs trying her best to project a Pureblood mask of indifference on her face. Once the Lord of the Lestrange family had processed the fact that his granddaughter had most likely heard his words, he snapped back to reality, forcing himself to move forwards, "I am glad to see that you are all packed up, granddaughter. Thankfully, the paperwork has been finished. Shall we depart, Hermione?"

Much to the Dark Lord's surprise, Hermione's acting skills must have improved over the summer since she answered with an impressive mask of indifference that would have made Walburga Black proud, "I am glad to hear that everything is in order, grandfather. I am ready and delighted to go."

The scene that followed could have easily been choreographed. Once Hermione had accepted Corvus' outstretched hand, grandfather and granddaughter headed towards the front door with long and elegant strides, not sparing the Grangers a second glance. Once Severus had thrown a final threatening glance in the direction of the Muggles, causing both to flinch, the Potions Master gestured to Tom and Harry to follow the two Lestranges. Out on the street, Corvus and Hermione did not stop. Instead, they continued walking until they had reached a quiet back alley.

"Hermione," the Lord of the Lestrange family cleared his throat, sinking to one knee so he was eye to eye with his granddaughter, "I am deeply sorry that our first meeting occurred under these… less-than-ideal circumstances. I had hoped for something better… Something more… You deserve much better. Furthermore, I must apologise for the words earlier. I wish you would have been spared from overhear-"

"No, please do not," Hermione's whispered words cut through those of her grandfather, "there is no need to apologise. If anything, thank you for defending me and getting me out of there, Lord Lestrange. Apart from those present here, no one… no one has ever stood up for me… Before entering the Wizarding world, I have always been alone hence why I thank you deeply for saving me from those… despicable Muggle I am forced to call parents ."

"Those times are over," two strong arms protectively wrapped themselves around the petite witch, "you are not alone anymore. We are family and you will never be forced to return to those people ever again. I promise on my magic."

The ripple in the magic around them was intense as Lady Magic accepted the promise.

Understanding the implications of the magic, Hermione stared at her grandfather with big eyes, "You… you did not have to do this."

"I know," Corvus smiled, "but I wanted to."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, "Is it really true that I never have to return to them again?"

"Never, Hermione," the Lord of the Lestrange family confirmed, his eyes sparkling with truth, "your time in the Muggle world is in the past."

"Am I going to stay with you?" the witch asked, carefully keeping her words neutral, "is that why you are here, Lord Lestrange?"

"First and foremost, I am here to get you out of the toxic environment you were forced to call home," Corvus answered, meeting his granddaughter's eyes as he remained down on one knee, "concerning your future whereabouts, I would like to discuss that matter with you and please be honest about your personal opinion. Your hopes and wishes are what matters. Not mine. I want you to feel comfortable and be happy wherever you choose to stay. Before we talk about your options, I think breakfast is in order, would you agree?"

For a moment, Hermione appeared to be contemplating the words of her grandfather. Then, she slowly nodded her head.

"Is there a specific place in Muggle London you would like to visit," Corvus asked, trying to suppress his dislike of the non-magical world, "or would you mind accompanying us to a quaint little café at Diagon Alley?"

Already having had a suspicion what place the Lord of the Lestrange family had in mind, Tom was hardly surprised when Corvus informed them of the exact Apparition Point within Diagon Alley once Hermione had revealed that there was no Muggle place she would like to visit. For appearance's sake, the Dark Lord and his Equal reluctantly accepted the offered arm of the Potions Master. Moments later, they materialised in one of the more upscale side streets of the famous magical alley.

Since it was still rather early, the street was mostly deserted. Most shops and cafés were yet to open or had just opened. Looking at the sign of the café Corvus was heading for, Tom felt like being transported back in time. After all, it had been more than three decades since he had last entered the Prancing Pegasus, although it was nothing like the first time, he had been dragged inside the café by his year mates. During his visit to the alley before the start of second year, he had still been nothing more than a penniless orphan. He had been shocked by the astronomical prices and decadent luxury inside. At first, he had refused to order anything. Thankfully, Abraxas Malfoy had taken care of the bill.

Inside, the exquisite mahogany furniture was still as spotless as ever, the massive chandelier with its thousands of diamonds was reflecting the sunlight shining through the large window façade, and the rich colours of the intricate hand woven Persian carpet on the floor was as vibrant as it had just been spelled clean. Not bothering to acknowledge the grandeur of his place given his frequent visits, the Lord of the Lestrange quickly requested a private room before ordering breakfast for five.

Only when they had taken place at the richly laid out table within one of the exclusive private rooms with a lovely view on the neatly groomed backyard did Hermione's eyes land on the Dark Lord, like she had just noticed his presence, "I am terribly sorry for my inattentiveness. I think we have not been introduced yet. I am Hermione Granger, ward of House Lestrange."

As Tom was shyly eyeing the offered hand, Harry cleared his throat, "Hermione, this is Thomas Prince. Thomas, this is Hermione Granger."

A bit reluctantly, the Dark Lord finally shook Hermione's hand. Not because he did resent the witch, but because Thomas was supposed to be slightly on the introvert side.

"Nice to meet you, Thomas," Hermione smiled, "I think I have not seen you at Hogwarts yet. Will you start at Hogwarts the next your or do you attend one of the international schools?"

"Miss Granger," Severus' familiar drawls echoed through the private room of the Prancing Pegasus, answering for his ward, "so far, Thomas has been home-schooled, but he will attend Hogwarts after the end of the summer holidays. He will be transferred into second year. Due to tragic and rather unexpected circumstances, he has been staying with me for the past month as I am his last living relative. Through my mother, I am a direct descendant of the main bloodline of the Prince family and recently obtained its Lordship."

The arrival of breakfast put an end to the explanation. For a while, the only noise that could be heard was the sporadic sound of cutlery connecting with porcelain.

Eventually, Hermione looked up from her plate, "Lord Lestranges, please enlighten me on the options that I have."

"You may call me Corvus," the Lord of the Lestrange family said, "we are family after all. Furthermore, given the circumstances, I suggest reducing the formalities to a minimum if you do not object, Hermione."

Once the witch had shaken her head, Corvus cleared his throat, "While you were packing, your parents signed a magically-binding contract thus transferring custody to myself and Severus here, although only temporarily."

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking confused and sad simultaneously.

"First of all, it would be rather improper to adopt someone, even if it is a family member, it you have never met them before," the Lord of the Lestrange family explained, "secondly and most importantly, you should be given and deserve the chance to get to know your family properly before deciding to live with them or not. Once you have decided on your future guardians, we will return to your… parents one last time to finalise the paperwork to transfer your custody. As you probably have overheard, the earliest possible date would be at the beginning of the summer holidays. Is that acceptable for now?"

Opposite of the Lord of the Lestrange family, his granddaughter nodded her head, "Thank you for giving me time. But… but which choices do I have? I thought… I thought…"

"Just because we are family, it does not mean that you are forced to live with me," Corvus explained, trying his best to keep his voice neutral, "hence why temporary custody was in equal parts transferred to me as your grandfather and Severus, since he already offered to host you, which brings me to the next part. Concerning your whereabouts during the remainder of the summer holidays, you can either stay at Lestrange Manor, or at Severus' home together with Harry and Thomas here. Of course, you can stay mainly at one place and visit the other as frequently as you like. I am more than aware that this is the first time we have met and that my family does not enjoy the best reputation despite recent developments-"

"Recent developments?" Hermione asked with big eyes, "what kind of recent developments. Excuse my ignorance but I was not allowed to receive the Prophet or any other owl post."

"From now on, you will," Corvus said quietly, the only indication that the words of his granddaughter had gotten through his skin being the slight twitch of his left eye, "the discovery of Sirius Black's innocence and severe inconsistencies during his first conviction led to the demand for the reopening of similar cases, surprisingly amongst them the convicted torturers of Frank and Alice Longbottom as per request of Lady Augusta Longbottom. Much to my relief, the outcome was similar to Black's trial. My sons never lifted their wands against the Longbottoms. Only Bellatrix did. In fact, my sons tried to stop her. Unfortunately, they were incapacitated by Bellatrix first. Thankfully, the truth was uncovered and Rodolphus and Rabastan are finally free."

Opposite of the Lord of the Lestrange family, Hermione's face went through a rollercoaster of emotions as confusion morphed into shock before being torn between joy and fear.

"Hermione," Corvus reached for the hand of the shaking witch, "just because my sons, your uncles Rodolphus and Rabastan, are free, it does not mean that I will ever abandon you or merely view you as a tool to ensure the survival of my bloodline. You are family and family is precious, most precious to all of us. Therefore, I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety, your happiness, and your well-being and I can assure you that Rodolphus and Rabastan share my opinion. I hope you understa-"

"Yes, I do," Hermione attempted and almost succeeded to smile, "it is just slightly… unexpected. Still, I am glad to hear that my… uncles never committed the crimes they were accused of. How… how are they doing health-wise? Are they recovering from their most unfortunate incarceration?"

"Psychologically, they are in a far better state than I could have ever hoped for. Fortunately," a faint smile graced Corvus Lestrange's face, "physically, they have a long way to go but they are in good hands."

"Are they staying at St Mungo's?" Hermione asked, looking excited at the prospect of visiting the magical hospital.

"No, they are not. They were still found guilty of being members of an illegal organisation as well as not being able to stop Bellatrix, which I find ridiculous after viewing the memories of my sons," the Lord of the Lestrange family laughed darkly, "just because Bellatrix is a witch and those moronic imbeciles running our nation still believe that women cannot possibly outduel men. Therefore, the Ministry will not cover their recovery, which will take months, maybe even years. Given the estimated lengths of their recovery, treatment at St Mungo's is out of question since not even the fortunes resting inside our family's vaults would be quite large enough to afford such a treatment without bringing us in a financially precarious position. Thankfully, one of my old acquaintances agreed to treat them. Healer Gibbon is the best within his field."

"While I am glad that they are in good hands," Hermione began, "is there no such thing as public healthcare?"

"While something similar to public healthcare, which would grant access to affordable medical treatment to everyone, has been proposed, it was shut down by several influential figures of the Light faction of the Wizengamot just like several attempts to restructure the educational funding of Hogwarts to make the seven years of schooling more affordable for everyone," Corvus explained, his voice having turned colder, "the same applies to the establishment of magical schools for Vampires, Werewolves, Veelas, and other magical Halfbreeds , as they are called by some members of our society, as well as schools for Squibs, magical orphanages, and domestic assault shelters. The list goes on and on."

"How are the people not on the streets protesting for changes?" Hermione asked with big eyes.

"They were," the Lord of the Lestrange family said darkly, "until they were all deemed Dark and thus dangerous. Enough of politics now. Where would you like to stay? Remember, I will accept and support your decision no matter the outcome."

"Thank you, grandfather," Hermione replied shyly, her eyes flickering between Corvus estrange and the other occupants of the small room, "I certainly appreciate your offer and your hospitality. However, if Professor Snape's offer still stands-"

"Miss Granger, Hermione," the Potions Master's familiar drawl echoed through the small room, "I would not have offered my home to you unless fully intending to go through with my offer."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione smiled before turning back to her grandfather, her eyes momentarily landing on Harry, "while I really want to get to know you, my uncles too, I… I… I feel uncomfortable staying at Lestrange Manor for now… It is just… I hardly know you apart from today and the letters we have exchanged… Once I feel more comfortable around my true family, I might move into Lestrange Manor permanently, but for now, I think I want to stay with Harry since… since he is my best friend and I… I trust him more than anyone I have ever met. Although, I still want to spend time with you and visit Lestrange Manor if that is possible."

"Hermione, I am delighted to hear that. I can certainly understand and accept the reasons for your decision. Still, I must repeat that you can visit Lestrange Manor as often and for as long as you like," Corvus smiled, seemingly content with the decision of his granddaughter, "you decide, you alone. As for today, would you mind accompanying me to Gringotts to confirm your status as a Lestrange?"

The fact that Corvus was not even mentioning the Inheritance Ritual was telling in itself since it underlined that the Lord of the Lestrange family had already accepted Hermione as a member of his family.

Hermione, too, appeared to have caught up on the hidden message in the words of her grandfather, "I would love to accompany you to Gringotts, Lor… grandfather."

"Excellent. If you want to and do not feel too tired," Corvus suggested, "we may explore the Alley since I am sure you only visited the most important establishments for your school shopping. Afterwards, I can Apparate you to Severus' home or we can use the Floo."

Once Hermione had happily agreed to the arrangement, the Lestranges left towards the white marble building that was Gringotts while Severus Apparated his wards back to Spinner's End.

"Did you know that she would decide that way?" the Potions Master's familiar drawl echoed through the cramped but cozy living room.

"I suspected the outcome," the Dark Lord's Equal answered, "still, it was quite surprising to hear how much she trusts me."

"Unsurprising," the Dark Lord chuckled, "given that you were the first person in her life to give Hermione a chance, help her, teach her, and accept her. You were her first friend, showed her how to integrate herself into our society, and gave her a family."

"You have become an influential position in her life indeed," Severus concluded, his eyes firmly on Harry, "are you going to manipulate her into following you?"

"No," Harry chuckled, calmly meeting the onyx eyes of the Potions Master, "she deserves to pick her side herself."

"What are you going to do?" Severus asked, too familiar with the mechanisations of the Dark Lord and his Equal.

"You will see once they are here," Harry replied, his lips morphing into a Cheshire grin which showed too many teeth. Opposite of them, Severus looked like he had just bitten into a lemon, clearly dreading whatever ingeniously evil plan his two wards had come up with. He would be surprised. That the Dark Lord was sure of.

It was long past time for dinner, when the fireplace in the living room finally flared up, bathing the small room in green light. Looking up from the third year Charms manual, Tom watched Corvus elegantly stepping out of the fireplace, Vanishing the soot from his expensive robes with a casual flick of his wand. Moments later, a smaller figure appeared in the fireplace, her long wild curls flying around her as she was spinning before awkwardly landing on her feet. Being unaccustomed to this kind of magical transportation, her grandfather's strong hand was the only thing keeping Hermione upright.

"Thank you," she whispered shyly while Corvus was busying himself Vanishing the soot on her hair.

"Actually, this was quite good for a first attempt," the Lord of the Lestrange family proudly declared, "most fall on their first attempt or do not utter their desired destination clearly enough, thus unwillingly travelling to a wrong address. Trust me, you will get better. Anyway, Severus, I must excuse myself for taking so long. I apologise for keeping you waiting. You should have started dinner without us. We had a late lunch at Monsieur Rouergue's café."

Once Severus had signalled that waiting for dinner had not been a problem, Corvus turned to his granddaughter, "Hermione, if you need anything, you know how to contact me. Remember that you can visit Lestrange Manor whenever you want. You are always welcomed there. I hope that you enjoyed the day as much as I did despite the rocky start we had. From now on, you are where you belong. No one will decide your fate. Only you."

"Thank you, grandfather," Hermione whispered, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, "thank you so much-"

"Hermione," Corvus said, gently reaching for her hand, holding her small filigree fingers in his much larger, calloused ones, "you never have to thank me. I would do everything for our family."

"Everything for the family," Hermione repeated the words of her grandfather, sounding almost reverently.

"Indeed," the Lord of the Lestrange family smiled, letting go of her hand and turning towards the fireplace, "if there is nothing else to be addressed, I think I am going to return home-"

"Not so fast, Lord Lestrange, "the authoritative voice of the Dark Lord's Equal echoed through the small room, "there is one more thing we need to address, something which might alter your decision, Hermione. Everybody, please sit down."

While the atmosphere in the small living room had been pleasant so far, there was nothing left of it once Harry had stopped talking. Confusion made its way onto Hermione's face given that she had never heard Harry use that tone before while both Severus and Corvus were trying to fathom the plans of the two Dark Lords.

"Hermione, there is one thing you need to know before you decide to stay here," Harry cleared his throat once everyone had taken their place, all eyes in the room glued on the Heir of the Potter family, "one thing not many people know about, but we want you to know since it could alter the way-"

"Harry," Hermione began while realisation dawned on Severus' face while Corvus caught up on the Potions Master a second later, "nothing could ever change the way-"

"You have not heard the thing I want to share with you," the Dark Lord's Equal said, his words accompanied by a single raised, almost challenging eyebrow, "not yet."

For a moment, tense silence filled the room. Then, Hermione looked at Harry, her head slightly tilted to the side, her eyes filled with a sort of stubborn determination, "Well, you have not told me yet."

"We can change that," the Dark Lord's Equal chuckled before turning serious again, "as you know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort or however he is called came after my family, the Potters, during the night of Halloween, 1981, killing my parents and trying yet failing to kill me. He did so, because one of his followers had overheard a prophecy, marking me as the one with the power to defeat him. Unsurprisingly, the Dark Lord decided to eliminate the threat to his life, me, but when he lifted his wand against me after he had disposed of my parents and the Killing Curse rebounded, he realised that something was wrong, that he had been set up."

"Set up?" Hermione asked with big eyes, "how do you know?"

Then, Harry told her about his childhood and all the things which had been discovered, starting with Dumbledore's words being overheard once Sirius Black had been sent after Peter Pettigrew, the magical bindings, the Compulsion Charms, the abusive behaviour of the Dursleys, the schemes and setups he had encountered at Hogwarts to test him, and finally the discovery of the real prophecy.

"Unbelievable," Hermione whispered once he had finished, staring into space, "and all this time, he… he…he has been-"

The young witch stopped dead in her sentence as her gaze focussed and her eyes suddenly landed on Thomas Prince , "It is you, isn't it? You… you are the Da… Dark Lord… and… and Harry help… helped you…"

"Yes," Tom smiled, removing the Glamour concealing the true colour of his eyes, "once we had uncovered the extent of Dumbledore's manipulations and the content of the real prophecy, Harry here help me regain a physical body, although all men in this room were involved at some point."

"That is the reason why you were busy," Hermione breathed, her eyes darting between the Dark Lord and his Equal, before stopping on Harry, "but… but… but he killed you par-"

"He might have killed them," Harry said sternly, leaving no room for protest, "but it was Dumbledore who painted a big target on their back long before by deliberately leaking that fake prophecy to one of Tom's followers."

"Your name is Tom?" Hermione blurted out before horror replaced the baffled expression on her face as she realised who she had addressed so carelessly, "excuse me, Lor- sir."

Instead of being offended, the Dark Lord only snorted, "No offense taken. I cannot blame you though. 'Tom' certainly is not the most menacing name there is. To answer your question, it is indeed my real name. To elaborate on Harry's explanation, and I swear on my magic, that I would have never specifically gone after a magical child unless it would pose a threat to my life which the fake prophecy led me to believe. Magical children are precious and vital to the survival of our kind, regardless of their parentage and whether they are Light, Grey, or Dark."

The wandless, silent Lumos after he had finished confirmed that Tom had indeed spoken the truth.

"But you still killed them," Hermione whispered, "and raised your wand against Harry."

"Hermione, for Merlin's sake, they were fighting on opposite sides of the war," Harry snapped before Tom could voice his thoughts, "chances were high that they would have been targeted anyway. Still, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters would not have specifically gone after my family, well, toddler Harry, unless they had a very good reason which Dumbledore gave them. Given that Dumbledore orchestrated the switch of the Secret Keeper of the Fidelius Charm, which was supposed to keep them safe, from my father's best friend and an avid supporter of the Light, Sirius Black, to a known Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew, my family was basically presented on a silver platter, not speaking of all the things the old fool did to me after I had been saved from the ruins of Godric's Hollow."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Hermione's bright brown eyes met Harry's Avada green ones, "Do you… do you… Are you on his side?"

All eyes in the room wandered towards the Dark Lord, before Harry's laugh broke the silence once more, "Hermione, I would not be here without Tom. He has helped me more than Dumbledore ever has. He has always been there for me, helped me, taught me, listened to me, given me advice, yet never forced me or persuaded me to do anything I did not want to do. I trust him with my life, the same way he trusts me. Furthermore, I support his agenda and his vision of the Wizarding word, of our world, wholehearted-"

"But," Hermione protested, "he wants to kill all Muggles, Muggleborns, and Half-"

"Do I?" the Dark Lord asked with a raised eyebrow, "that would be new to me. Next thing I know is that the press and Dumbledore tell me that apparently I want to kill all Light Witches and Wizards, too."

"You… you don't?" Hermione asked unsure.

"Of course not," Tom chuckled, although the noise lacked any humour, "while I am not particularly fond of the Muggles and the dangers they pose to our society given their technological advances should they ever discover us I see no point killing them. There are simply too many of them and too few of us to do anything about them. Let them destroy themselves with their atomic bombs, chemical weapons, fusion bombs, guns, tanks, and other means they might manage to manufacture to cause death and destruction. While they fight over money, resources, religion, race, and creed, I prefer to stand back while they take care of themselves. I merely seek to separate our worlds so that ours will not suffer the same fate as theirs to protect our people."

"Why… why would we need protection," Hermione stuttered, clearly unsure of her words, "we have magic… They do not… Most of my friends at Hogwarts keep sayi-"

"The are fools," the Dark Lord interrupted her, his words cold and cruel, "they always have been, unlike Witches and Wizards like us, Miss Granger , who have lived at the mercy of Muggles who were afraid of the powers of the children they were forced to take care of."

"Us?" Hermione whispered with big eyes.

"Yes, us," Tom explained, his voice firm, "I grew up in a Muggle orphanage in London where my mother, a Witch, died giving birth to me. I know how it feels to be feared by those who do not understand us, who do not possess our powers, who envy or resent us for what we are capable of, who are afraid of us. There have been countless quarrels some might label genocide because of petty things such as the colour of skin or different believes. Just imagine what they would do should large numbers of Muggles ever discover that Magic Wielders like us exist."

For a moment, Hermione remained silent. Then, she spoke quietly, "They… they… they would not-"

"Come on, Hermione. Don't be so naïve," Harry shook his head, "think about everything your own parents have done to you. What would strangers do to you if they knew what you really are? They would either try to exterminate our kind, try to steal our powers, or both. While there might be decent people out there, they rarely are the ones in charge. Fear and power are dangerous and compelling motives."

Once Harry had finished, nobody spoke, all eyes on Hermione, curious as to how she would react. Lost in thoughts, she remained silent.

"Miss Granger, I understand that my real identity is something you did not factor into your decision of staying here and will most likely affect your future whereabouts," Tom broke the silence, "still, you are the one to decide and I am not forcing you to do anything against your will. That I promise, although there might be consequences depending on the decision you make. If you cannot bear the knowledge of my true identity, the events of the last hours could be erased from your mind and other accommodations within the Wizarding world could be arranged, for example with Mister Longbottom. Be assured that you will not be forced to return to the Muggles. Otherwise, you can still stay with your grandfather or here at Spinner's End if you swear a Vow of Secrecy which will be lifted once your Occlumency Shields are strong enough to sufficiently protect yourself against any mental attacks. Be assured that the latter two options are not synonymous with being forced to join my ranks. I only accept those into my service who wholeheartedly believe in our cause and willingly want to join our ranks once they are old enough to make the decision. As a concession to my demands, you may ask me any questions without fear for repercussion since I forced my presence upon you. While I will not lie to you, I may opt for the right to remain silent. Your decision, Miss Granger.

Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, Hermione's eyes darted between the four Wizards in the room before eventually stopping on Harry, "You… you trust him and agree with him on everything he has said, don't you?"

The last part almost did not sound like a question.

"I do. Wholeheartedly," his Equal said, "without him, I would not be here today. Without me, he would not be here. We trust each other and nothing will ever change that.

"If my word counts anything," Corvus Lestrange's voice boomed through the small room, "let me assure you that I would never swear my allegiance to a madman, although I would never condemn you for not following in my footsteps."

"Thank you, grandfather," Hermione tried to smile before her eyes found the ones of his Equal, "I… I trust you, Harry, more than I have ever trusted anybody else. You… you have done so… so much for me… More than I can ever thank you for-"

"And you do not have to," Harry smiled reassuringly.

"I know," Hermione said, "but I still want to. You are my best friend. Your trust in him is enough for me. I will stay here."

While he had been aware of the trust the Witch had in his Equal, the Dark Lord could not help but feel surprised how deep her trust went. Neither did Harry.