My views, and ideas for Heirship, Lordship, etc. will be explained further down the story (including the next few chapters), so please be patient with me. I'll do my best to allow the story to explain itself. But that doesn't mean you can't leave suggestions. Those are always welcome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 29

Cyrus remained in his study, watching as the door behind Daphne closed; the lock clicked softly, ensuring no one would enter without his explicit permission. The grandfather clock on the far end of the small room struck two in the morning, making him sigh heavily; he rubbed his tired eyes. Roxanne wouldn't be home for precisely another four hours and nine minutes. Meaning he should go to bed soon if he wanted to avoid an argument with his wife. She always hated when he stayed up so late, no matter if his job demanded it or not. Not to mention he had to be in the Ministry by nine o'clock.

Still, the conversation with his eldest daughter didn't go as he expected. Before Cyrus even registered his actions, he was already pouring himself another glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. His hand stopped after filling precisely one-third of the glass. With a few quick movements of his wrist, the burned leaves in his pipe were banished to the small trash. He put a new batch of dried plants inside. Incendio, he thought, observing as they started burning slowly. Cyrus took a deep drag, marveling at the stinging sensation in his throat and lungs. His eyes followed the smoke that lazily escaped from his mouth.

Any lesser man would require a Pensieve to carefully examine the conversation they deemed important. However, one didn't climb the ranks of the Department of Mysteries as quickly as Cyrus if one couldn't trust their own memory. And so, focusing his gaze on some random point on the wall, Lord Greengrass carefully went through his talk with Daphne, trying to find all the small details that could have escaped his notice when his daughter was in his study. His heart clenched tightly each time he recalled her calling him 'father.'

The room was becoming more and more shrouded in smoke as Cyrus continued scanning the depths of his mind. Both Daphne and Astoria have always been quite vocal when it came to expressing their thoughts about the Malfoy family, so her aversion wasn't anything new to him. He himself never particularly liked that man, even when they were still at Hogwarts. But personal opinions should never come before family matters. His parents and in-laws were a perfect example of that. And Cyrus couldn't be happier with the effect of their decisions, even though he disagreed with them in the beginning. He honestly hoped that would have been the case with his eldest daughter as well.

Cyrus had to admit that he hoped Heir Malfoy would jump at such a great opportunity as the Yule Ball and prove to Daphne he was capable of acting like a proper man and not a spoiled child. And yet, if his daughter's words were any indication, his behavior only worsened. Cyrus sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shuddered slightly, trying not to imagine what his daughter meant about young Draco's insinuations. Cyrus was glad they hadn't had that conversation before the ball at the Malfoys; he doubted he could control himself enough not to have a word or two with Lord Malfoy's son.

Lord Malfoy was another thing, even more important than his son. After all, Heir or not, Draco was still just a boy, roughly in the second half of his life at Hogwarts. Three years was a lot of time, and he could either become the next Lucius or a nobody carrying the Malfoy name. His father was the man Cyrus had to keep a close eye on, especially since he expressed his interest in connecting their families.

He said many names I know personally from Slytherin and those balls we attend, Daphne's words echoed in Cyrus' mind, making his right leg move up and down rapidly beneath his desk. He scowled, placing his hand on his knee to stop the nervous habit he thought was long gone.

Cyrus wasn't a stupid man – he was well aware that there were Death Eaters who escaped punishment by claiming they'd been forced to cooperate by the 'Imperius' Curse. However, even a few years after the Dark Lord's fall, the Ministry came back from time to time to those people, often sending them to Azkaban. It wasn't the first time Cyrus regretted remaining in hiding for so long. Perhaps if he attended the many trials that followed the Dark Lord's fall, he could have helped in delivering justice. Or, at least, he would have a better perspective on the people he had to work with so many years later.

Sirius Black's name crossed his mind for a split second, making him frown. Even after all these years, Cyrus still couldn't understand how he and his family managed to survive. After returning from their hideout and learning about Black's fate, Cyrus spent many sleepless nights wondering how they hadn't been outed. Especially when so many other families that received help from the former Marauders have been found murdered in their own hideouts or simply went missing. Some of them weren't found until that day, and Cyrus had little doubts as to what happened to them. Then how are we still alive? He wondered. The Prophet's article from a few months earlier about Remus Lupin didn't help him solve that riddle.

Cyrus picked up Lord Malfoy's letter that reached him a few hours earlier. He scanned its contents once again, considering what Daphne said about the man. His gaze hardened, and he clenched his teeth as he read Lucius' accusations about his daughter's scandalous behavior, not only during the ball but also during the last school year. He had to admit that the letter made him worry a lot about Daphne's unexpected company throughout the past few months, especially combined with the events of the Second Task. However, he had no reason to doubt his daughter's words; she had never lied to him before.

Cyrus' chest tightened as he remembered her accusations about Lord Malfoy. It would mean that the Death Eaters know precisely where we live and how to reach us without any difficulties, her words sounded in his mind; Cyrus bit his lower lip, glancing at the closed door of his study as if he expected to hear the Floo flaming to life suddenly. Still, Daphne had no proof supporting her claims, other than Potter's words.

"Tipsy," Cyrus spoke softly, clearing his throat. Alcohol and tobacco dried his throat. With or without proof, Daphne believed what Potter said.

The small House Elf appeared immediately, bowing lowly. "Yes, Master Cyrus?"

"Please, check if Daphne is already asleep," he said, returning his gaze to Malfoy's letter. "If not, ask her to write down the names she had heard. She'll know what I mean. And bring them to me immediately," he ordered. Tipsy bowed again and disappeared with another soft pop.

Cyrus' eyebrows rose slightly on his forehead as he read the letter again. No amount of money given to charities and other noble causes could justify the usage of the words 'filthy Half-blood' in Cyrus' opinion, especially considering Daphne's, or rather Potter's, words about the man.

Tipsy returned after a minute or two, placing a small piece of parchment on Cyrus' desk. After making sure that her Master wouldn't require her service for now, the House Elf disappeared, leaving Lord Greengrass alone again. Crabbe. Goyle. Nott. Malfoy. MacNair. Avery, Cyrus read, feeling himself grow paler and paler with each name he read. People who were always there whenever Lucius Malfoy organized a ball at his family manor. People who were always by his side and supported him whenever he wanted to get something done in Wizengamot; at least those who had a Seat. People who all claimed to be under the 'Imperius' Curse over a decade earlier.

People who all voted in favor of the most recent project in Wizengamot, two days before Potter's ridiculous claims saw the light of the day, voiced by Albus Dumbledore and printed by the Daily Prophet.

Cyrus' leg started moving up and down rapidly again, though he didn't try to stop it that time. He took a few deep drags from his pipe and downed the contents of his glass in one go as he recalled the most recent voting. The one he didn't participate in.

He read the summary, of course. The voting was almost unanimous, with a few odd exceptions of people voting against it or not voting at all. However, it was easy to pass something through Wizengamot if the session was held in the early hours of Sunday morning when many weren't even in the Ministry. And at that moment, in the middle of the night, Lord Greengrass found himself cursing himself. I couldn't have known, he tried to justify his absence, but it gave him little comfort.

Even though none of the listed men brought the project in front of Wizengamot, Cyrus had little doubt that one of them, most probably Lucius, persuaded the Minister to present it. With all the information he received both from Daphne and the Daily Prophet, Cyrus couldn't label it as a 'coincidence' that the voting was held in the first hours of the morning after the Third Task – the Dark Lord's supposed date of resurrection.

Fear Cyrus hadn't felt in over a decade gripped his heart as he looked at Malfoy's letter once again. If what Daphne had told him was true, then it would mean he failed as a husband and father. He failed to see the threat that entered his home with his own permission. Like many, he allowed himself to be blinded by promises of safety and prosperity after the Dark Lord's fall. But he shouldn't be like the masses. He was CyrusGreengrass – the Lord of Most Ancient and Noble House. He should have made sure that those promises of safety and prosperity would come to fruition for the sake of his family.

Instead, he allowed others to do the work that he should have done.

Incendio, he thought, glaring at Lucius' letter. Not even Merlin himself would have the right to accuse Cyrus' daughter of defiling herself. The parchment lit up immediately; the flames danced in his eyes as Lord Greengrass watched it turn to ashes. Lord Malfoy has always been an obnoxious man, but Daphne's accusations gave Cyrus a fresh perspective on that.

"Tipsy," he called again, waiting for only a second or two for his House Elf to appear. "Close the Floo," he ordered, not waiting for Tipsy to say anything. "No one is allowed to enter my house or contact us without my permission, effective immediately. Also, I want you to scan every letter or parcel we receive in search of any possible threat you can imagine."

"Did something happen, Master Cyrus?"

"Hopefully, nothing yet," he replied, rubbing his eyes. "And I want to keep it that way."

"Of course, Master Cyrus," Tipsy said, bowing lowly. "But what about Mistress Roxanne? She won't be able to return if Tipsy closes the Floo right now."

"Right," Cyrus murmured, grabbing a small piece of parchment. He wrote down a quick message before grabbing his wand. "Portus," he said, pointing his wand at the message. "Deliver it to my wife and tell her I'll explain everything once she returns."

"Of course, Master Cyrus," Tipsy replied, accepting the short message. With a pop, the House Elf was gone.

The grandfather clock struck three in the morning, making Cyrus sigh heavily. He cast one last longing glance at the names Daphne wrote down before shaking his head. For the time being, his family and his house were safe, and there still was time to investigate those people's trials. But Cyrus had to be alive if he wanted to get to the bottom of things and find out if Potter's accusations had any confirmation. And he feared his wife wouldn't control her temper if she found him in his study upon her return.

And so, despite his desire to keep going, he downed the Dreamless Sleep Potion, leaving the small room and heading to the master bedroom. He honestly wished that Potter's words were nothing more than a distressed young man's imagination. After all, the death of the Diggory boy wasn't possible to question, and Cyrus could only imagine what the young Gryffindor was going through upon witnessing his Schoolmate's demise.

But if, Merlin forbid, Potter's words turned out to be the truth, Cyrus hoped that he wasn't too late with ensuring his family's safety. With that thought in mind, he lay in bed; he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Fair point. Yes, her name's Hedwig. And I think she says 'thank you.' At least, I think so. It's hard to understand what her hooting might mean.

Your owl is beautiful too. What's its name?

You might have a point there. I guess I just got used to constantly being in 'mortal danger,' so, you know.

Don't worry about that. It's not like I can forget about the Tournament and everything that happened. As for my relatives, I'm just trying to ignore them right now, so you really shouldn't worry about it either.

Yeah, I guess he can be even worse if you have to spend time with him every day. It's hard to imagine him being any worse, to be honest.

If you ever turn him into a ferret, please make sure I'm there to see it. I doubt it could ever get boring.

Another secret? Don't think I forgot about our bet before the Third Task. I still want to get the truth out of you, Daphne.

I'll take your word for it. I honestly dreaded the Yule Ball when it was announced, and I don't think I would fit in a party like that. Especially with the people you've mentioned.

It doesn't ease my worries. Can't you talk to your parents about it? Maybe you can persuade them not to go or, at least, not tag you along.

Professor Dumbledore explained it to me, but it didn't make much sense, to be honest. I mean, I know now that the Cup was turned into a Portkey, but I still don't understand how Crouch managed to break through Hogwarts' wards. Something about connecting two living beings to one Portkey? And I think the Headmaster doesn't understand it fully himself. He promised that he and Professor Flitwick would look into it more closely during summer and try to improve them.

Don't worry, I wouldn't. I still remember when you froze the floor underneath me the first time, and I don't want a repeat performance. Jokes aside, I meant what I said. I didn't lie earlier when I said I dreaded the Yule Ball. Honestly, back when Professor McGonagall announced it, I'd rather have faced that Horntail again instead of going to the Ball.

Well, I was desperate when I cast that spell. But I was serious when I said I want to learn wandless magic. If a situation like that happens again, I want to be ready, and not weaken myself accidentally. I just hope my fingers will survive it. But there should be a book about it, shouldn't it? Perhaps we've done something wrong? Well, at least you could heal yourself immediately. I honestly forgot to use magic to fix my fingers, and I set them on my own.

I never knew about this. I was at the Weasleys' a year ago and also before our Second Year, and Mrs. Weasley never allowed anyone to use magic. But why did you say you couldn't practice your Patronus during Christmas break then?

Speaking of Weasleys, do you remember when we talked about Charlie and that I can collect the Horntail's corpse? Well, he wrote to me recently. Turns out it won't be as easy as you made me think. Since it wasn't a wild dragon, but the property of a Romanian sanctuary, I can't just claim the corpse as my own. He said that its hide will be harvested to create some kind of armor for the workers there, and the rest will be sold at auctions. Horns will be sold for the Potion Makers and Healers. He said he can try to harvest some tooth pieces for me, but he couldn't promise anything.

I get it. I didn't think about it, to be honest. Quidditch maybe? I mean, I didn't really look into what I can do after school. It never crossed my mind. I'll try to think about it this year before we have to select our N.E.W.T subjects. I really don't want to end up learning something useless like Divination simply because of my laziness.

Can't argue with that. It was nice to have someone to talk to this past year – someone who actually listened to what I was saying. Except for when you decided to ignore me. Don't think I'll forget this any time soon – I'm still waiting for the explanation.

Well, it's not that difficult to prove Malfoy wrong, is it? Hope to hear from you soon.

Potter.

"Give it back, Tori!" Daphne seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at her sister.

Potter's reply arrived much earlier than the Slytherin girl anticipated. If she had to guess, she would say that the Gryffindor wasn't sleeping that night. Hedwig wasn't the one who delivered his letter – instead, it was Celeste who woke Daphne up by hitting her beak against the window of her room.

She was surprised, to say the least, to see the owl so early, with a letter tied to her leg. Her surprise only mounted when Tipsy popped into her room and examined the letter before Daphne even had the chance to untie it from Celeste's leg. She was pleased to hear that it was her father's order to scan anything that arrived at their house. Combined with his odd request a few hours earlier, when she was already in bed, made her hope that he finally saw reason.

Daphne allowed Tipsy to scan the letter, going to the ensuite bathroom to satisfy her body's demands. Upon returning to her room a few minutes later, the House Elf was already gone, apparently deciding that the letter wasn't cursed in any way.

Tipsy might have been gone when Daphne returned from the bathroom, but she was replaced by a Gnome commonly known as Astoria Greengrass. And it seemed she took it upon herself to examine the letter as well, even though no one asked her to do it.

Her younger sister darted out of Daphne's room instantly upon noticing her sister, with Potter's letter opened for her prying eyes and firmly clutched in her hands. Daphne chased after her immediately, grabbing her wand from the nightstand.

"You didn't say you have a boyfriend," Astoria called out, running down the stairs while doing her best to read as much of the letter as she could. She yelped when a bright light passed through the spot where her head was a mere second earlier; the spell collided harmlessly with the wall. The youngest Greengrass resumed her frantic dash through the Manor, heading towards the door.

Daphne ran down the stairs, chasing after her sister with all the strength her legs possessed. Her icy blue eyes burned with righteous indignation as the grip on her wand tightened. Sick or not, Astoria needed to learn not to cross certain boundaries.

"He worries about you," her sister squealed, opening the front door. "That's so sweet!" she fake swooned, leaning against the doorframe. Her act didn't last long, though; Astoria quickly pushed herself away from the door and closed it behind her. The wooden entrance to the Greengrass Manor shook slightly when Daphne's spell collided with it.

Daphne ran out after her sister, nearly breaking down the door.

"Enough!" their father's voice cut through the air, instantly making both girls freeze in their spots; the spell's incantation died in Daphne's throat, and Astoria stood on one leg. Her frantic sprint was interrupted, and upon hearing Cyrus' command, she dreaded even putting her other foot on the grass. Both girls looked up instantly, searching for the voice's source.

Cyrus was standing on the small balcony overlooking the front door of the Greengrass Manor. He was half-dressed for another day at work, carrying a mug of steaming liquid, most probably coffee, and a scowl that accompanied him only after not having enough sleep. Even from her spot a few meters beneath him, Daphne could still see the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

But she couldn't find it within herself to pity her father after their talk last night.

"I thought I made myself clear about what I think of you two throwing spells at each other," he said, glaring at Daphne. "I honestly believed you two were responsible enough to listen to my words only. But if you're not, perhaps I need to confiscate your wands for your time at home. Besides, have you thought, Daphne, what could have happened had one of your spells hit Tori?" he asked. The 'what-if' hung in the air unpleasantly as Cyrus drummed his fingers against the wooden railing of the balcony.

"She stole something from me," Daphne replied after taking in a few calming breaths. Of course, she knew what could have happened. "Something private." Cyrus' glare moved to the youngest Greengrass. One of his eyebrows rose in a silent question, urging her to either confirm or deny her sister's accusation.

"I didn't steal anything," Astoria replied after a moment of silence, finally putting her other leg down as she started losing her balance.

"Then what is it you're holding in your hand?" Daphne snapped, shifting her gaze from her father to her sister. It seemed that Astoria only then remembered about the letter if the hasty hiding of her hand behind her back was any indication.

"Tori?" Cyrus prodded, leaning over the wooden railing.

"Okay, fine," Astoria sighed, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "I might have borrowed something from Daphne. I just thought she would be in the bathroom a few minutes longer."

"Might have borrowed?!" Daphne repeated, not believing what she had heard. "You ran out of my room the moment you saw me with my letter in your hands! And do you really believe it would have been okay had I stayed longer in the bathroom?!"

"Well, Tracey and Blaise never write to you so early in the summer, so I was just curious," she replied, giving Daphne her best puppy-dog eyes. That look alone usually worked on her older sister, especially enhanced by the constant reminder of her sickness.

"That doesn't give you the right to snoop around," Daphne hissed through gritted teeth. But it didn't work that time.

"I believe I've explained to you enough times why you can't overexert yourself, Astoria," Cyrus admonished her. Astoria's face quickly dropped; her father only used her full name when he was furious, and she could count on the fingers of one hand all the times it happened in her life. "Give Daphne back the letter," he ordered, his tone leaving absolutely no room for any argument. "And if I learn either of you has been throwing spells at one another, you'll see your wands when it's time for you to return to Hogwarts," Cyrus growled, disappearing in the house.

Daphne ripped the letter out of Astoria's hands the moment she was close enough. The youngest Greengrass stuck out her tongue at her sister.

"So, how long have you two been together?" she asked as both sisters walked back into the Manor. Daphne clenched her teeth, doing her best not to look at Astoria. She feared she might do something she would regret later if she looked at her. Tori's infuriating smile only grew at her lips as she continued digging holes in Daphne's head with her eyes.

"You know, I think he's really sweat. At least, based on the letter," she continued, walking upstairs alongside her sister. "When did you become a couple?"

Daphne stopped in front of the door to her room; her grip on the doorknob was so tight that her knuckles turned white. "Potter isn't my boyfriend," she said, not trusting herself to look at her sister. "And try stealing one of my letters again, and I promise you that the Curse won't be what ends up killing you," Daphne added, slamming the door behind her as she locked herself in her room.

Cyrus entered the Ministry via the Apparition Point. Having always used the Floo, Lord Greengrass decided it would be best if he woke up earlier, even after sleeping far less than his body demanded. His daughters' fight in the morning only helped him to get out of bed, though he wasn't fond of that.

However, arriving at the Ministry with half an hour to spare before he had to appear in his office had its advantages. Correcting his robe, Cyrus started walking towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The previous night raised many questions – ones that couldn't wait to be answered.

Many people greeted him as he walked through the hallways. Each time, Cyrus replied with a polite nod of his head, though he paid them no mind. There was only one person he wanted to talk to at that moment.

"Is Madam Bones in her office?" he asked after reaching his destination. A young secretary sat at the desk adjacent to the door separating Cyrus from the head of the DMLE. The girl, who had to be a year or two after finishing Hogwarts, looked up from some papers.

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" she replied with a question of her own; her voice held the perfected tone of forced politeness. If Cyrus hadn't spent half his life working in the Ministry and even more amongst other Purebloods, he would have easily mistaken it for a genuine one.

"No," Cyrus answered, mimicking the secretary's tone. "However, I had hoped that Madam Bones would be available at such an early hour," he added, clasping his hands together behind his back.

"Let me ask her," she said, clearly recognizing the unspoken order. Cyrus' steely gaze also helped her make the decision faster.

He watched, satisfied, as the young woman sent a missive to Madam Bones' office. He knew from personal experience that no one enjoyed being bothered so early in the morning, even the secretaries. Cyrus took a small step backward, directing his gaze from the woman to the door as if he wanted to force the person on the other side to make the decision even faster.

"Come in!" Madam Bones ordered after a minute or two. Not waiting for the secretary to repeat her words, Cyrus marched into the office, slamming the door behind him. "Lord Greengrass," Amelia acknowledged him, not bothering herself to hide her surprise at his presence. Clearly, the young woman outside the office forgot to mention his name. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Forced politeness, like everything regarding working in the Ministry. "Good morning, Madam Bones. I hope you weren't too busy to see me?" he said, standing roughly a meter away from the door. Amelia shook her head, scoffing slightly.

"I sincerely hope I won't see the days when I have to be busy before nine in the morning," she replied, taking a sip from a small cup. "Please, sit, Lord Greengrass," she said, gesturing at the chair on the other side of her desk. "Now, to what do I owe this honor?" Amelia asked again once Cyrus accepted her invitation.

"There is something that kept me up for quite a while tonight, Madam Bones," Cyrus said, deciding that the direct approach was the best. There was no point in dancing around the topic. "Things I've heard from one of my daughters, combined with the recent… developments at Hogwarts, made me relive some of the events from over a decade ago."

Madam Bones narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his face. "You believe Mr. Potter's claims?" she asked after a short moment of silence.

"Absolutely not, Madam Bones," Cyrus answered immediately. "However, it can't be denied that two people were murdered during the Tournament."

"We don't know-"

"Oh, I beg to differ, Madam Bones," he interrupted her. "If I recall correctly, Mr. Crouch's body was handed to my Department for examination. Not that the examination was necessary in the first place – even an untrained eye could clearly see that his death wasn't natural," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "Mr. Crouch was brutally murdered, and, based on what I've heard from the reports and the Daily Prophet, young Mr. Diggory fell victim to the Killing Curse. Add to that the events from the World Cup last year, and I'm pretty sure you can understand why someone can be… anxious about current events. The recent project that was accepted by Wizengamot also raises a few questions, wouldn't you agree?"

"What is it you're suggesting, Lord Greengrass?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Madam Bones," he replied, putting on his best comforting smile, even if it was as insincere as one could make it. "You've asked me about the purpose of my visit. I would like to review the reports of the Death Eaters' trials from fourteen years ago, Madam Bones. As I'm sure you know, me and my family were still in hiding during those events." Asking for the report about Sirius Black would be suspicious. Cyrus was more than certain of that.

"And why is that, if I may ask?" she queried, putting her monocle on the desk. "Those cases are closed."

"And yet, somehow, the Death Eaters reappeared a year ago," Cyrus replied easily. "Whether someone believes Mr. Potter's words about You-Know-Who or not, you can't say they weren't there. As well as the Dark Mark."

"Still, I believe it's my Department's job to investigate all those events," Amelia countered. "I can assure you, Lord Greengrass, that I will personally see to it that my Aurors do that with extreme diligence."

"Using future tense certainly didn't ease my worries, Madam Bones," Cyrus said, resting his left hand on the armrest; his Family Ring flashed brightly in the gentle light coming from the ceiling. "Besides, I didn't come here as the Head of the Department of Mysteries, which you surely have noticed, because not once have you called me 'Unspeakable Greengrass.' I came here as Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House, Madam Bones, as well as a husband and a father. Recent developments and rumors leave me no other choice but to think about the safety of my family."

"You almost made it sound as if you were accusing me and my Department of not being efficient enough," Amelia stated, crossing her hands on her chest. Cyrus snorted quietly.

"Forgive me, Madam Bones. It wasn't my intention. However, one cannot deny that many unnerving things happened quite recently – things your Department should have prevented, starting with Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban." Amelia winced at that. "And since many of those events were, more or less, connected to Hogwarts, I'm sure you'll understand my concerns. You have a niece there if I'm not mistaken?"

"What do you want to gain from those reports, Lord Greengrass?" Amelia asked, closing her eyes; her voice was considerably softer after the mention of the only family she had.

"It is my greatest wish that I'll gain nothing from them, Madam Bones," he answered with a small sigh. "But if there is the slightest possibility I can do anything to ensure my family's safety, then I'm ready and willing to do whatever is necessary."

"I'll have the copies of the reports delivered to your office, Lord Greengrass," Amelia sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Thank you, Madam Bones," Cyrus smiled genuinely for the first time that day, pulling out his pocket watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to work," he announced, standing up from his chair without waiting for the response. "Thank you for your time. I'll be sure to let you know if I learn anything important from those reports."

'How can Cyrus not believe Voldemort's return?' I'm sure questions like that will be asked even more after this chapter, so let me give you an example. Although I hate doing that. Imagine that, suddenly, a group of Nazis starts a riot during some international incident, and they leave a swastika. Then, a year later, a FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD BOY claims that H*tler is back… Do I really need to go on? I hope not. Now, I know – 'but magic, etc.' STILL, Horcruxes aren't common knowledge, at least according to what Rowling wrote. And over 99% of magical society believes it to be impossible to cheat death. Also, keep in mind that in my story, less than two weeks have passed since Voldemort's return. Is it really so surprising that no one is willing to believe Harry's claims?