Author's Note: This chapter is a good example of why the author should never be the arbiter of when a story is finished. I didn't originally intend for this chapter to exist, and now it's quite possibly my favorite chapter in the whole story.

This chapter was nowhere planned while I was writing the rough draft of the story. Even when I started editing Light for posting, I didn't think this chapter would come to be. However, eventually I realized that it was kind of absolutely necessary. This was going to be the only chance I had for the rest of the story to explore Alana's adventures with the Death Eaters, and her reactions to her experiences [trust me, after the next two chapters there's another plot twist coming that leaves no time for ruminations on the war]. The amount of extra information I needed to put into this section of the story couldn't be done by adding to the chapters I already had, so I needed to give them a chapter of their own. As soon as I realized that this chapter had to be written, I decided that I wanted to do it as another Missives chapter. Because it's a quick way for me to write, it's informative, and it really suits my main characters.

As opposed to the other Missives chapters, I decided to focus on the letters Harry and Alana send each other. For whatever reason, Harry and Alana connect to each other much more easily when they're not talking face to face. And since I needed to advance their relationship, voila! More letters for you to enjoy.

Enough of this abysmally long author's note. Words cannot express how excited I've been to post this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

10 September 2019

Harry—

I know you'll be getting a copy of the Auror reports from Madrid. Knowing you, you'll probably Apparate to the Ministry once a day to get the latest news before the Daily Prophet sanitizes it. So I know you'll already have all the facts about the Death Eaters' activity; the raids, the murders, the movement across the country.

However, I know you. You won't be content with the facts, like Hermione will be. You'll want to know about the atmosphere, the eyewitness accounts that you can't get from an official report. I hope you'll accept these letters from me to provide you with an auxiliary account of the events you'll already be privy to. I hope whatever information I can give you will be helpful to the Aurors and to the Ministry.

I can't believe I just wrote that I wanted to help the Ministry. What on Earth are you doing to me?

I've made my foray into the organization. It's so strange, being back in this world. In some ways, it hasn't changed at all. Most of the time, the Death Eaters are civil, even courteous. After all, they count themselves as the aristocracy of the wizarding world, so I would expect some of that upper-crust arrogance and sophistication to bleed through their bloodthirsty and savage activities. Were you to walk in on a Death Eater party, you wouldn't even realize who and what they truly are— as long as you're a member of their class, they treat you with all the graciousness of the bluebloods' world. My days thus far have been filled with— of all things— garden parties, tea parties, elegant suppers; even a ball, to honor my arrival.

And then we get to the nights.

If during the day we play the parts of cultured, sophisticated aristocrats, the moonlight shows us for who and what we truly are. We don masks when we go out, but in truth all masks are stripped away at night. The man who led me through a waltz two nights ago now sets fire to a Muggle warehouse. The woman with whom I gossiped about eligible bachelors now kisses her husband for luck before he goes out to murder a fellow human being.

We call ourselves aristocrats, but in truth we're more vicious than the most hardened assassin. By night we become butchers.

Bellatrix may have accepted me into her organization, but as far as she's concerned I need to prove myself worthy of her trust. So she puts me on the Terror Brigade. Original name, is it not? It's basically a bully squad; we go into wizarding villages and attack. But only ever one house, one family. Bellatrix wants them to spread the news that the Death Eaters are active, but she wants no one to believe the rumors. She learned psychological warfare well at the knee of her master.

—Alana

Alana—

You really do know me too well. It's kind of scary.

How did you Floo it to me, by the way?

The Aurors keep getting reports of Death Eater activity all around the country, but they discredited the stories. Random villages with no strategic value, and only one or two people would claim to have seen them. The Aurors had been writing the reports off as hysteria and paranoia. However, from what you told me it sounds like we were wrong. I'll tell Moody about this and see if he won't have the Aurors re-examine the reports, see if we can make out a pattern.

So when you're not drinking tea and terrorizing villages, what do you do?

—Harry

Harry—

You won't find a pattern in the attacks. Bellatrix chooses what village to target by throwing darts at a map. The only pattern will be who she sends out on patrol. I'll send you the names; hopefully the Aurors can arrest them and get the charges to stick, although I doubt it.

When not drinking tea and terrorizing villages, I'm with Roman. Seeing as I'm only valuable to Bellatrix because of my connection to the Ministry, she wants me with him as much as we can manage. I stay in his hotel with him; he's gotten us an adjoining suite, so to all eyes we're a couple. He'll take me out to lunch, we'll play the charade of happy couple, then we'll return to the hotel and exchange information. Not that I have that much to tell him right now, but as I move up in Bellatrix's estimation I should be privy to more.

The fireplace in my room is now connected to your office via the Floo Network. Roman has someone in the Ministry keeping a close eye on it; only Roman, said official, you, and I know that it exists.

—Alana

11 September 2019

Harry—

I've met Tisiphone. Bellatrix brought me upstairs after breakfast and introduced us.

She's… unnerving, Harry. I've never seen someone so utterly soulless. If one were to just glance at her, she would look like any other teenage girl. She has Bellatrix's black hair and pale skin, a strong jaw that must have come from her father. She's not pretty, exactly, but she is… arresting. But her eyes… Her eyes are empty, lifeless. If I hadn't seen her breathing, I would have thought she was a wax statue.

Was I this much a machine when I was the weapon everyone had pinned their hopes on?

My work with the Terror Brigade continues. But it's odd; I'm rising in Bellatrix's esteem, much more quickly than I would have thought. I know I should be pleased; after all, the closer to her I become, the more information I'll be privy to, and the more I can give the Ministry. But it's not even been a week since she met me. I still don't know the names of everyone gathered here. And yet, I've met Tisiphone, Bellatrix is showing confidence in me. I didn't think I would gain her trust this quickly. It makes me nervous. She's planning something, I know she is. Perhaps something aimed at the Ministry, which is why she's trusting me so quickly. But it shouldn't be this easy.

That reminds me. Rumor has it that Bellatrix is trying to have you followed. Please be careful when you're away from Hogwarts. After all, you're the Savior; the world needs you.

If I learn more, I'll let you know.

—Alana

Lana—

You're not a soulless machine. To everyone's surprise— even my own, at times— you are fully and absolutely and wonderfully human.

I wish I were there with you. I wish I could look at Tisiphone and figure out if she's a Horcrux. Then I could kill her and get you out of there. You do the damndest things for redemption, you know that?

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Bellatrix trusts you. Use it to your advantage and don't worry about anything else. We can get you out of the country if you get in too deep.

I figured she might. Don't worry, I'm mostly traveling by Floo powder between Hogwarts and the Ministry. I'll watch my back.

—Hal

15 September 2010

Harry—

Your naivety is charming, really it is.

The disorientation continues. Bellatrix was taking me on a tour of the hacienda yesterday, and in one of the more remote rooms of the house a surprise was waiting for me. I have no idea why Bellatrix has a portrait of Draco. Granted, Narcissa was Bellatrix's favorite sister, but for years Bellatrix thought Draco was a disappointment— because he had failed to kill Dumbledore, because he had disobeyed Voldemort's orders while I was undercover. Apparently death hallowed him in her eyes; she's calling him a martyr for the Cause now. I'm sure he'd be amused by that.

I froze when I saw the portrait. It was just a shock, seeing his face in this weird surreality. When Bellatrix noticed what had caught my attention, she told me all about her sainted nephew and how fervent a supporter of the Dark Lord he had been before he was murdered. It was so jarring, hearing about his life from her eyes. At the end, Draco didn't support Voldemort's cause anymore; he'd started having doubts about it two years before. He lost all love of the cause after you were taken prisoner; he was in it only to protect our family. To hear from Bellatrix that he was such a staunch supporter made me sick.

I must admit that I now look for opportunities to slip away from the crowd for a while, to spend a few minutes sitting before the portrait. And before you say anything, yes, I fully realize how unhealthy a practice it is. I know perfectly well that it's just a portrait, that it's not really Draco. Even if he smirks at me, raising an eyebrow in that way he so excelled in. Even if the portrait interacts with me, replying just as he would have, were he still alive… I know you won't really understand it, given what great enemies the two of you were. But I miss him. I feel the loss of him, even after all these years. I know you never saw him as anything other than a spoiled, arrogant prat who was a coward beneath it all… well, when we were growing up, that was true enough. But when you weren't there to engage in a perennial pissing contest, he was my best friend, bred to be my Keeper and my match.

Do you ever wonder if we're dishonoring our first spouses, with this sham of a marriage we're in?

—Lana

Lana—

I know how you feel. There's a portrait of Ginny hanging in my room at Grimmauld Place, and I've found myself talking to it more than once, just to hear her answer. It probably is unhealthy, but after all, it's the only way we'll hear their voices again. I don't think we can be faulted for wanting that.

I wonder the same thing. I mean, I loved Ginny [make one comment about how many shades of Freudian wrong that is, and I'll have to hurt you], and you loved Draco [though you're right, I don't think I'll ever understand why]. We married them for love, and out of choice [even if your choice coincided with the Master Plan]. I don't think they'd be pleased that we've been more or less forced into this union, but I think they'd understand [at least, I know Ginny would; I can only assume that Draco wants to hex me into next Tuesday for stealing you again]. I don't think our marriage, if that's what it is, has anything to do with our prior marriages. It'd be different if we'd had an affair and left our spouses to be together, but… they're both dead. And we married to get you and the boys to England. Ginny and Draco would want us happy, and that's what matters.

Here's a question I've been meaning to ask you for a while- how do your powers still work? I mean, I thought it was all tied into the fact that you had Draco as a Keeper. Weren't your powers supposed to tear you apart if you didn't have him to keep you together?

—Hal

19 September 2019

Hal—

Really? You want me to bore you with another science lesson? Alright then, but don't say I didn't warn you.

A Star's magic is the essence of dreams. Literally. Whatever it is that makes up a dream— is it willpower? belief? some kind of heretofore unexplained magic? — that's what fuels my magic. It's an elemental force, as old and powerful as the foundation of the universe. The magic is so strong that it overpowers any magic I might have inherited from my blood; any spells or hexes I work are powered by this elemental magic. It's a force too strong to be contained within a human form, and you're right; without a Keeper the magic would rip me apart. When Voldemort ordered my parents to breed me, my mother suffered two miscarriages before she was able to have me, because those other two children didn't have a Keeper to protect them.

A Keeper is like a floodgate. They hold the key to the Star's magic— her heart, as clichéd as that sounds— and because of that, they can siphon off the magic. I told you once that only the Keeper can get exactly what they wish every single time, and that's why; it's because only a Keeper can truly control the Star's magic.

When Draco was killed, I did go haywire. Oddly enough, in hindsight it was a good thing that I was put in Azkaban. The dementors could feed off of my magic as well as my memories, seeing as the magic is made of the same things they feed from- hope, primarily. They weren't Keepers, but they siphoned off enough of my magic that I could survive.

My boys act as my Keepers now, since they have control of my heart. Julian, especially, seeing as he carries Draco's genes. I think there's probably no better Keeper in the world than a young boy who constantly wishes for candy or a faster broomstick.

—Lana

20 September 2019

Hal—

Work continues steadily. I would love to feed the Death Eaters false information and get the lot of them arrested, but Roman keeps telling me that that particular desire is counter-productive. He tells me not to be hasty, that we don't want to spook them into action just yet. He tells me I'm much more useful merely explaining the patterns and rationale for now, that they need all the information I can give them before the Aurors make their move. I know he's right, of course, but it's still frustrating.

It's strange, the degree of déjà vu I'm experiencing. It literally feels as though I'm living days of my life over again; sometimes I could swear I'm even saying things that I said once upon a yesterday.

Before we freed you from Voldemort's dungeon, I had been returned to the Death Eaters as a spy. Did I ever tell you that? It's the reason I created this mission, as a matter of fact. What I found then is that, for reasons even I can't explain, I like being a double agent. The role seems to suit me. I must say, though, I appreciate not having to report to Ron and Hermione this time around. I know they're your best friends, but really, it's impossible to work when Hermione is being overcautious and entirely too mothering, and Ron is glaring daggers at me.

Nothing has changed from the last time around. And yet, at the same time, everything has changed.

Last time, I knew that what I was doing was dangerous. But it felt very familiar, being back under Voldemort's thumb. I knew how to navigate those waters. This time… This time I'm not as certain of how the world works, or how to manipulate it. There's an underlying tension born of unfamiliarity, and I don't care for it. I find myself at times almost wishing that Voldemort were running this operation; then I would be sure of how to tear it down. There's a certain illogic to Bellatrix's operation that makes it much harder to live within.

—Lana

24 September 2019

Lana—

Well, Ron blew another gasket today. Apparently, he doesn't trust the reports coming out of Spain and he wants the three of us to go there ourselves.

I can't decide if he wants to play hero again, or if he just wants to monitor you.

—Hal

Hal—

Figures.

—Lana

29 September 2019

Lana—

Shacklebolt and Moody got Ron to calm down, finally. So you and Roman can continue working unmolested.

Which reminds me. Tell Corona I've been hearing the rumors about how he's always got his hands all over his girlfriend. Tell him I'm watching him.

—Hal

Why Hal, I do believe you're jealous.

How is Hogwarts? And how are the boys faring?

Hogwarts is running as smoothly as usual. Apparently, James has a bit of a crush on Selene Longbottom— one of Neville and Luna's daughters. Here's hoping he doesn't muck that up as brilliantly as I tended to when I was his age. From what Professor Slate— he's been the Head of Slytherin since Snape was killed— tells me, Julian is fitting in quite nicely. Honestly, Lana, it's frightening to watch the two of them! It's like having an out-of-body experience and watching myself and Draco. Except for the fact that James and Julian actually get along. Both the boys made their Quidditch teams, and their first match is in a couple of days. I'll let you know how it pans out.

Hang in there, Lana.

30 September 2019

Lana—

I have no idea how it happened. It never would've happened in my day.

—Hal

Slytherin won, didn't they.

How. How did that happen?

I assume it's because Slytherin out-maneuvered Gryffindor.

Still, the Potter clone didn't catch the Snitch? Shocking.

I hope Julian didn't gloat too much.

Boy is too much like his father.

That could be said for both of them.

07 October 2019

Hal—

Well, it's official. Bellatrix now has me sitting in on meetings with her top advisors. I've been promoted from the Terror Brigade to the Death Squad. Is that an improvement, going from property destruction to murder, even if it means that I have Bellatrix's confidence now? I still don't understand how I've risen in her estimation so quickly. It's only been a month! However, I have gone out nearly every night on patrol, and I've done my research— I've let it be known that Leto was involved in some of the more brutal attacks in Greece the last time around. Perhaps it's a good thing that I've risen so quickly; I can turn Bellatrix's blindness to my advantage.

I still hate it. I hate knowing that I have to go out and attack innocent people. I realize that I've done it before, for real… that knowledge haunts me. I realize that I'm not doing anything more than the tasks I performed as a true Death Eater… but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier. I hate knowing that when we go out to hunt Aurors, I'm putting everything you're working for in jeopardy.

I wish this was all over.

—Lana

Lana—

Don't start thinking like that. You're doing more for the war than I am. You're the Savior, this time around. You said yourself, everything has changed this time around. You are nothing like the woman you were; that woman doesn't even exist anymore, if she ever truly did. You're fighting to protect everything you love, and you're going to succeed.

—Hal

12 October 2019

Hal—

I'm nervous. I mean, I'm nervous all the time now, it's kind of a given. But this time it's not just me that's uneasy. It's everyone in the hacienda. There's a current of anxiety, of uncertain excitement, that's humming through the air. We fear, but we don't know what we fear.

Something is coming, Harry. Bellatrix is plotting something, I know she is. I can sense it in the air; I can feel my magic crackling. Someone is dreaming, wishing for something with all their strength, and the pull to answer the wish is so strong I sometimes think I might break apart.

I wish I could tell you exactly what it is I fear, but Bellatrix says nothing. She just goes about with a smile on her face. She looks… victorious. I'll send more details as soon as I get them.

Give James a kiss from me and tell him I say happy birthday. Tell him… tell both of them… that I think of them always.

—Lana

19 October 2019

Harry—

Apologies for my penmanship; I've just come back from a death patrol and I'm still shaking.

They were children, Hal. Two innocent children, asleep in their beds. They had done nothing. And Bellatrix ordered them murdered, because their father printed an article in his newspaper that she didn't approve of.

My God, Harry, what have I returned to?

Voldemort's war was horrible. You're the last person in the world I need to tell that to. But there was a method behind the Dark Lord's violence. He used fear as a weapon, and he was a master at it.

Bellatrix just enjoys others' pain and panic.

My God, Harry… My God. They were only children! And I had to stand there and watch those innocents die. Not just die, but scream, and weep, and beg for mercy. Bellatrix's Death Eaters serve her well; they're every bit as depraved as their mistress. I try to console myself by saying their deaths were a mercy compared to what could have been done to them, but I now I'm only lying to myself. Two little girls died tonight because I failed to save them.

I feel the weight of every death, Harry. It's my fault. These people are dying because I haven't succeeded yet. Those little girls were killed because I haven't defeated Bellatrix. I know now… Merlin, how I wish I didn't know it… more people are going to die. This is going to keep going until I kill Bellatrix and end this.

I don't even know their names.

Lana—

I want to find something comforting to say. I want to give you comforting platitudes, or find anything to say that will ease the pain you're feeling. But I know better. There's nothing anyone can say that will make any difference.

I'm heartsore for you, Lana. I don't even want to imagine what horrible things you're seeing, much less remember the kinds of things you must be feeling. Just know… that I'm still here, I guess. I'm here to support you, albeit from a distance; to listen to whatever you need to get off your chest, even to just sit here in silence with you.

I'm here. Always.

—Hal