This ones for you, Avanell!
Chapter Fourteen
Hope and Destruction
"Rose, dear, would you—?"
"Oh, of course, Mum," Rose said, ignoring the pang of remorse that went through her as she helped Hermione turn a page in the book set before her at the table.
"Thank you, Rosie," she said, smiling in embarrassment at her lack of ability to turn it herself. Though she couldn't lift her arm to turn the page, Hermione was very slowly making minimum progress—with her hands anyway. She could now hold a quill and write, but someone had to shift her paper up and down for her, because her arm was practically dead weight and she couldn't move it.
Rose went back to her own book that she had been reading. Hugo and Ron were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, playing wizard chess.
The floo bell suddenly rang, startling them out of the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around them. A moment later green fire leapt to life in the grate and a wizard spun into view.
Harry stepped out of the grate, ducking to avoid smacking his head on the low mantle piece.
"Good evening, Ron, Hermione," he said, nodding towards them with a smile.
"Harry," said Ron with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm actually here to talk to Rose."
Both of her parents looked at her as she looked up from her book in surprise.
"Why?" she asked.
"There's someone I think you might want to meet."
Rose raised an interested eyebrow, a questioning smile on her face as she stood up from her seat next to Hermione.
"Harry, it's nearly nine o'clock—" objected Hermione.
"I'll have her back before ten, Hermione. Promise."
"Are you taking her to meet someone, or out on a date?" asked Ron, rolling his eyes.
"Ronald, that was highly inappropriate—" started Hermione, glaring as Hugo rolled around on the floor laughing.
"Come on, Mione! He knows I was kidding!"
"Dad, you're more of a child than Hugo!" Rose groaned.
"Same as always, Ron," said Harry, grinning and shaking his head. Ron smirked and turned back to the chess board.
"Ready, Rose?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the flickering green flames.
"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously.
Harry smiled and said secretly, "St. Mungo's."
/./././././
"This woman I'm going to introduce you to is a very adequate Healer, Rose," Harry explained as he lead her down the brightly lit corridors of St. Mungo's. The smell of cleaning chemical was strong as they passed a mop that was swabbing the floor all on its own.
"Uncle Harry, why are you doing this?"
Harry stopped and turned towards her, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders. "You want to help your mother, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" said Rose, eyebrows raised professionally.
"She can help."
Harry began walking again, leaving Rose standing there with her mind churning. The prospect of finding a cure to her mother's paralysis was a miracle all of itself. Since Hermione's injury was caused by a magical curse, it was meant to be impossible to cure. If this woman, this Healer, could find a cure, Rose was willing to do whatever it took to get it.
Harry realized she wasn't next to him and stopped to look back.
"Coming?" he asked.
Rose nodded, eyes firm. Harry waited for her to walk the stretch of corridor and become level with him.
"Now," he continued as they began walking again, "this woman has been working for the Ministry for several years, curing Auror's of all sorts of different magical injuries—most of the unusual ones, anyway. Where others failed, she succeeded. The Healers that cared for your mother told us there was no hope of Hermione ever walking again. I went straight to this contact and she laughed when I told her. 'There's a cure for everything, Mr. Potter,' she told me. 'Everything but stupidity, of course.' She's a very interesting woman. I think you'll like her."
"She sounds like a very wise woman, Uncle Harry."
"She is, Rose."
They walked on in silence until Harry stopped outside a plain oak door with a window. Black calligraphy was spelled out on the window:
~A. GRIFFINS~
Specialized Healer
"Fancy," Rose commented with a smile, meaning the calligraphy.
Harry smiled and knocked on the door. The door slowly creaked open revealing a wide crystal blue eye.
"Yes?" a voice asked tentatively.
"Ms. Griffins is expecting me," said Harry.
The blue eye looked down at something. "There is no 'Me' on the list," the voice said suspiciously.
Rose giggled and the intense blue eye darted to her face, immediately silencing her.
"I meant," said Harry patiently, "Ms. Griffins is expecting me, Harry Potter."
The eye looked down again and there was the sound of ruffling papers. "Ah, yes. Harry James Potter."
Harry sighed, leaning against the door frame and pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Edgard, just let me in. Must we go through this every time?"
The door swung open revealing a grinning young man, "Sorry, Mr. Potter. It's protocol. Besides, I know it bothers you."
"Yes, yes, very well. Let us in."
Edgard stepped aside and let them come into the room. It was much larger than Rose could have imagined. There was a set of double doors on the other side of the large sitting room. Next to it was a handsome mahogany desk. Edgard lead them over to it and sat down in the chair behind the desk.
"Rose, this is Ms. Griffins's assistant, Edgard MacMillan. He's about a year older than James," said Harry.
"And already has a job as an assistant?" said Rose, surprised. "Impressive."
Edgard grinned at her. "Yeah, well, it helps that Ms. Griffins happens to be my aunt."
"This is Ernie MacMillan's son," Harry explained. "Ms. Griffins is his mom's sister."
"Oh," was all Rose said.
"I'll tell her you're here," Edgard said, standing up and walking over to the doors. They watched him knock, and before he opened the door he turned and winked at them. "Got to be all professional with her, or otherwise she'll have my head." He opened the door and poked his head in and said gravely, "Ms. Griffins, someone to see you."
"Send them in!" a kind yet serious voice said.
Edgard poked his head back out of the office and gestured for them to go in.
"Enter at your own risk!" he whispered to Rose. She smiled at him and then followed Harry into the office.
A beautiful middle-aged woman looked up from the scroll of parchment she was reading at her large desk. She smiled at them as she watched them over her half moon spectacles. Rose looked around the large office, decorated with lush rugs and leather upholstery. Bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with large volumes with titles written in languages Rose didn't know. A large portrait of an even larger man hung behind the desk. He was sleeping soundly, large snores making his frame vibrate.
Rose looked from the man to study the Healer Harry wanted her to meet. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown that was piled carelessly yet elegantly on top of her head in a bun. Her eyes were the same intense blue as her nephew's.
"Avanell, I'd like you to meet Rose."
Avanell Griffins smiled widely and she stood up from her desk and shook hands with Rose. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Weasley. Harry's told me you want to be a Healer?"
Rose simply nodded, struck awe in the presence of this woman. There was simply something radiating off of her that screamed wisdom.
"She's darling, Mr. Potter. Being a Weasley, I thought she'd be loud and obnoxious—no offense intended."
"None taken," Rose said, finding her voice. "I'm proud to say that I take after my mother more than my father."
"Oh, yes," said Avanell, smiling warmly. "Hermione Granger. Brilliant mind. I wish she would've chosen to be a Healer. It can be quite hard juggling all sorts of magical injuries these Aurors manage to attain! Speaking of which," she said sharply, rounding on Harry, "what's this I hear about Seamus Finnegan seeking revenge on these damned Terrorists that have been all over the Prophet these days?"
Harry's face turned grim. "He's missing. We don't know if he went of his own free will or if he was taken."
Avanell shook her head, tsking. "You really should take more care of your Aurors, Harry. If he shows up in my office sprouting another head, I'm blaming you."
/./././././
Draco drummed his fingers on the table restlessly, eyes fixed on the clock hanging above his office desk. A quarter to eight.
The unmistakable sound of an owl tapping on the window had him jumping to his feet and hurrying to wrench open the window. A handsome tawny owl flew into the room and landed on his desk, immediately extending its leg with the message he had been waiting for. He quickly took it and unfurled the parchment. Frowning momentarily at the two distinct penmanship's, he quickly realized that Ronald Weasley had seen fit to add his own little notes to Hermione's letter. Apparently, she had told him about his visit to her in the hospital.
Draco,
To be honest, I'm not surprised that Astoria was part of this "secret organization." From what I know of her, she seems like the one to want to avenge someone she loves dearly. Stay away from my wife, you bloody wanker. Ronald! Do not write on my parchment! Well, excuse me for wanting to protect you! I said stop, Ronald! Okay, okay. Geesh. Keep your hair on, woman!Sorry about that, Draco. Ronald just can't seem to grow up.
Anyway, I'm pleased to hear that you have discovered her true intentions. I am truly worried about Scorpius. I do hope he knows what he's getting into. Well, I hope he dies. RONALD! What? That was a horrible thing to say! And STOP. WRITING. ON. MY. PARCHMENT! Draco, you have my permission to kill Ron. HEY! If you're wondering why I didn't just siphon his ink messages off, it's because he's using the stupid 'Everlasting' kind. Apparently not even magic can get it off.
Harry just came by and took Rose to meet someone. I don't know who, but he was acting very suspiciously. I'm feeling really paranoid now. Ever since Helena Finnegan's murder, everything just seems to be falling apart! Why can't we all just get along? Because life isn't fair, Hermione. That's why. RON! I said STOP!
Please excuse me while I maim my husband, Draco.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Draco set the letter down on his desk, a small frown on his face. The owl cocked its head to the side, studying him, waiting for him to compose his reply. Absentmindedly he reached for his quill and ink.
Hermione (and Ron, who is probably reading this over her shoulder),
I have no idea what Scorpius is planning, but I'm sure he can handle himself. He is, as much as I dislike it, a 'Wolfman' and is more of a danger to Greyback than Greyback is to him. I just hope he's not walking into a trap. I confronted Astoria after Scorpius told me everything. She didn't deny any of it. I think we need to learn everything we can about this 'Fallen Brother.'
-Draco
/./././././
Rose and Harry watched Avanell silently cross the room to one of her large bookcases and begin to look at various titles, pulling down random books and flipping through pages.
"When Harry came to me, Rose, with your mother's case, I was instantly intrigued. An incurable curse! Pah! Impossible. There is not one curse I haven't cured."
"She's very modest, can't you tell?" Harry said to Rose, just loud enough for Avanell to hear.
"Hush, Harry," she said, not even sparing him a glance. "They don't call me the female Dumbledore for nothing, you know."
Rose chuckled, looking around at all the books with interest.
"Oh, yes, I see the resemblance," said Harry with a smirk.
Avanell glared at him over her spectacles. "Must I seal your lips together, Mr. Potter? Now, hush. I'm trying to concentrate."
Harry held his hands up as an innocent gesture.
"Honestly, Uncle Harry, you remind me of my dad."
"Ah, Ronald Weasley," said Avanell, climbing a ladder to get a book from a very high shelf. "What a wizard. Nothing like him, that's for sure."
"No," said Rose, nodding. "Nothing at all. I've never met such an old child."
Avanell laughed, pulling down a very large, rather dusty book titled Unthinkable Cures for Unthinkable Curses, one of the only books Rose saw that was written in English.
"Catch this, will you, Harry?" she said absentmindedly. She let go of the book and let it drop. Harry lunged forward, holding out his arms and catching it, his knees buckling at the weight of it.
"Merlin's pants, Avanell! This thing weighs a ton!"
"Well, excuse me, but there just happens to be a lot of unthinkable curses out there!" she called down to him, pushing the ladder along the shelves.
Harry heaved the huge book onto her desk, breathing heavily and massaging his shoulder. "That's really heavy," he told Rose.
"Harry, ask Edgard to come in here, please. Merlin knows he's no use to me out there!"
Harry walked over to the door and poked his head out. "Edgard," Rose heard him say, "Ms. Griffins wants you in here."
"Why?" came Edgard's snappy response.
"Because I said so," Avanell called to the door.
"Coming, Auntie!" Edgard sang, skipping into the room and bowing. "You hollered, my lady?"
"Edgard, yes. Start looking for any books with titles along the lines of 'Cures for Curses.' Anything like that."
Edgard dramatically turned in a slow circle, eyes wide and mouth gaping as he looked at all the bookshelves. "That could take years! Your library is bigger than my whole house!"
Avanell laughed. "My closet is bigger that that apartment you call a house!"
"It's not my fault Mum kicked me out," Edgard huffed. "Going on about me having to 'work for myself' and 'make a living' or 'earn some cash, you lazy punk! I'm tired of you taking mine!' It's not like she works. Dad's the one doing everything. She sits at home doing nothing, nothing!"
"Watch it, kid, that's my baby sister you're talking about," Avanell teased.
"Well, it's true!" said Edgard, turning to a bookshelf.
"What do you want us to do, Avanell?" Harry asked, examining the huge book that nearly took out his back.
"Oh, just stand there and smile, dear. That's all you really can do at the moment."
"Sounds fun," Harry muttered.
Rose felt someone's eyes on her and she looked up at the large portrait of the fat man hanging above Avanell's desk. He was awake now and watching her with curiosity. He had snowy white hair and a large, bushy beard, not unlike a lion's mane.
Harry saw her looking and chuckled quietly, drawing the portrait's attention from Rose and onto himself.
"This is Larkin Grover, Rosie. He was the best Healer the Auror Department ever enlisted—"
"The Auror Department enlisted!" the portrait roared in a booming voice, startling Rose. "Preposterous! We enlisted the Auror Department!"
Harry chuckled quietly again. "For what purpose, Master Grover? What could you have gained enlisting the Auror Department?"
"We needed to experiment on something, sir! And I can guarantee we were not about to use rats!" Grover roared with a thick accent Rose couldn't quite decipher.
"Yes, yes, that's all good and well," said Avanell crisply, "but we don't have time for one of your decade long lectures, Grover, so stuff it. We're trying to help Hermione Weasley, who happens to be one of my most favorite people in the world."
"I will not be talked to in such a way!" Grover objected, causing Rose to giggle behind her hand at his bristling form.
Edgard snorted behind the book he was holding up to his face, staring over it at Grover. He caught Rose's eye and winked.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Avanell retorted. "We know what you're going to say. 'Respect your elders, you're just a child,' blah, blah, blah-bity blah."
"Well, I never!" Grover spluttered, standing up out of the chair painted in his backdrop. "I see I'm not wanted here! I'm leaving and never coming back!"
He waddled out of sight, but they could still hear his voice: "That's right! Never coming back! Not if you begged me! Nope! You've lost me! No more of my advice for you, Avanell!"
Avanell rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the bookshelf before her.
"Did you hear me? NEVER COMING BACK!"
"Okay, Grover! See you never!" Avanell called to the portrait, casually tossing book after book over her shoulder, Edgard running circles trying to catch every one of them.
"That's right!" Grover said, poking his head back in view to stare at them. "You'll never see me ever again! I'm sure the wizards at the county will respect me! Unlike you lot!"
"I'm sure they will, Larkin," said Avanell. "Isn't that right, Edgard?"
Grover's beady eyes spun to settle on Edgard, who looked up casually from the book he was pretending to be consumed in.
"Is what right, Ms. Griffins?" he asked innocently.
"Won't the folks at the county respect him more?"
"Who more?"
"Grover."
"Who's Grover?"
"YOU INSULT ME!" Grover wailed, disappearing again, the frame of his portrait shaking as they heard him bumbling around somewhere out of sight. Harry was grinning, shaking his head slightly.
"Ms. Griffins, we should really replace that portrait," Edgard went on, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice, "this one seems to be empty."
"NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I MET SUCH HOOLIGANS!" Grover screamed, coming back into view, white hair standing on end. "Such DISRESPECT!"
"Do you hear something?" said Harry, joining the game.
Grover sighed explosively, grinding his teeth together. "I—you—I'm going to—ERGH!"
"I didn't hear anything," said Avanell, acting as if Grover hadn't said anything. "You should get your ears checked, Harry."
"YOU SICKEN ME!" Grover yelled, his booming voice shaking the frame even more violently, it threatening to fall clean off the wall.
No one said a word . . . until Edgard started laughing so hard he doubled over, clutching his sides. Harry and Rose joined him, great peals of laughter echoing around the room.
Avanell was much more composed as she climbed down the ladder with a handful of more books, chuckling.
Grover's red face quickly turned to a dark purple as he glared at them all. He raised a finger, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it again, shook his head and then put down his finger. "Just—forget it."
They all started laughing again.
"Okay, okay," said Avanell, turning her back to Grover as she began leafing through various books, "we had our fun. Time to be adults again."
!/!/!/!/!/!/!
Astoria quickly pulled the hair pin out of the lock on her cell door when she heard footsteps approaching. Hurrying back towards her cell bed, she propped herself up against the wall, watching from the shadows.
A cloaked man—she knew it to be a man by the way he held himself—walked by her cell door, a silver dagger, she saw, held in his hand. He casually pressed it against the bars of her cell, dragging it across them and making a horrible screech, reminding Astoria of nails on a chalkboard, except magnified ten times and with a metallic wail.
He withdrew his dagger from the bars, a loud metallic ring echoing around them.
"Hello, Astoria," he said in a deep voice.
She narrowed her eyes, remaining silent.
A dark chuckle sounded from the hood of his cloak. "Do you not remember me?"
Silence met his words.
Another chuckle. "No 'Welcome back, Skip' or 'How have you been'? That's just cruel, Astoria."
"Let me give you a hint," the cold voice went on. "They called me a traitor, a madman, a . . . monster."
Astoria's eyes widened in the darkness of her cell. She hugged her knees to her chest, eyes suddenly wide with fright as realization dawned on her. A tight feeling enveloped her chest, a lump forming in her throat. That voice . . . it was eerily familiar . . . .
With a sense of helplessness, she watched as the hooded man inserted his silver dagger into the lock on her cell, cutting it clean in half effortlessly.
"They called me insane. A fraud. Psychotic even," he went on, casually stepping into her cell and slipping his dagger into a concealed pocket of his cloak and advancing towards her, drawing his wand. "They called me a Legend."
And she remembered.
And it was suddenly terribly dark
!/!/!/!/!/!
"Nothing in this one either," said Avanell cheerfully, chucking the book carelessly onto the steadily growing pile on the ground. "Any luck in yours, Ed?"
"Nope," said Edgard, adding his own book to the pile.
Harry and Rose were pouring over the ridiculously large book, Unthinkable Cures for Unthinkable Curses, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of Avanell's desk, looking for anything that sounded remotely like Hermione's magical injury.
"This book could take ages to read the first chapter!" Harry said, yawning and checking his watch. It was well past midnight, and Ron, worried about Rose, had owl'd him at exactly ten o'clock, demanding to know where his daughter was. Rose, not feeling at all tired, had replied for Harry, asking if she could stay a little longer, coming up with the excuse that she was working very hard with a Healer that was interested in accepting Rose as her apprentice—it was actually true, Avanell did hint that if Rose wanted to, she could join Avanell's team after finishing Hogwarts. Rose just didn't tell Ron about looking for a cure for Hermione.
"I don't expect to find the cure tonight, Harry," said Avanell. "It would be a miracle if we did. No, it could take several weeks, possibly months, to find the cure. I'll get my staff on it tomorrow morning. But, now, it is late and we should all probably retire."
"Can I take this with me?" Rose asked, gesturing to the large book laid out in front of her and Harry.
Avanell smiled warmly. "Of course, Rose. If you're anything like Hermione, you'll probably have it finished by tomorrow morning anyway."
Rose looked from Avanell to Harry and then back again, a wide smile on her face. "Are we coming back tomorrow?"
"If you'd like," said Avanell.
"Yes!" said Edgard, punching the air with a wide grin. "Company! It sure does get awfully boring stuck here with Grover all day!"
"I resent that!" the portrait cried, face turning brick red.
Rose grinned widely, shaking her slightly she stood up from her spot on the ground and lifted the large book. Harry took it from her, insisting on caring it for her.
"See you tomorrow morning, Rose," said Avanell, smiling at her.
"When should I be here?" she asked.
"I get here pretty early, but Edgard, being the unreliable assistant he is, usually shows up around eleven. That'll be a good time."
Rose nodded, a smile on her face.
"Good night, Avanell, Edgard," said Harry, leading the way to the door.
"Good night," said Rose, waving.
"Night, Rose!" Rose heard Edgard's voice as the door swung shut.
"What do you think of Avanell?" said Harry as they walked down the corridor, frazzled looking Healers rushing past them in all directions.
"She's amazing," said Rose with a smile.
"She's pretty hardcore, that's for sure."
Rose gave her uncle a quizzical smile. "Hardcore?"
"You didn't know she did field work?"
"Field work? I wasn't aware that any Healer did field work."
"Only Specialized Healers, like Avanell. The ones that work with the Auror Department. Most of the time, when Aurors are sent on missions overseas or in foreign countries, at least one Healer is sent with them, just in case. Only the best are selected to join Avanell's team. You'd be the youngest if you chose to accept a position on her team."
"But only as an apprentice," said Rose.
Harry smiled at her. "Rose, she's never even had an apprentice. The fact that she's asking you means she wants you on her team as soon as possible. The Ministry would be suspicious if she just added you to the team automatically. You have to be her apprentice first, since you're so young."
"No offense, Uncle Harry, but that's dumb. The Ministry is very paranoid."
"It is," said Harry laughing and nodding. "It truly is."
!/!/!/!/!/!
"I guess I should say he's not so much a legend," Octavius explained. "He was more of a criminal mastermind. Evil. Cruel, ruthless. He was pretty bad. Many that know of him say he's worse than Voldemort."
Scorpius's eyes widened. "Worse than Voldemort? How is that possible?"
"Well," said Octavius, a hard glint in his eye. "Xavier wasn't exactly a saint . . . ."
"Wait," said Scorpius, realizing something. "You said that in the present tense. 'Know of him', 'say he's worse'. Is he alive?"
"I'm afraid so," said Octavius gravely. "Until recently, no. He's been dead for quite sometime, but now, I don't know how, he's alive."
"Horcruxes?" Scorpius suggested, leaning back on his hands from his position on the ground.
Greyback shook his head. "He would've been alive much sooner than now if he had used Horcruxes. They are put into effect quite quickly."
"How long ago did he die?" Scorpius asked.
Octavius stared at him. "The Founders' time."
Scorpius whistled. "That was quite some time ago."
"Yes. Few know this, but Xavier was actually a very good friend of Godric Gryffindor."
"Gryffindor? But you make Xavier sound like a lunatic! It's hard to believe that the noble Gryffindor would be friends with a madman."
"He wasn't always mad," said Octavius patiently. "He was actually one of the most brilliant minds of that time. A medieval Dumbledore, if you will."
"Then how did he become so evil?"
"He was attacked," said Greyback, staring him straight in the eye, "by a Wolfman."
Scorpius's mouth ran dry and his throat tightened. "And that turned him evil?"
"Not exactly, no. It was more of the power he had. His strength. You know how it is," said Octavius. "Strength is power, or something along those lines."
"Hold on," said Scorpius, eyebrows scrunched up. "I'm confused. So Xavier was a good guy, blah, blah, blah. He gets attacked by a Wolfman, likes the strength and what-not, and BOOM! He's an evil criminal mastermind?"
"Not all at once. He slowly found himself turning to the Dark. He started with simple things, like kidnapping children."
"Kidnapping children! That's hardly simple."
"Compared to burning down villages and murdering everyone in sight, it's very simple. He just kidnapped children to terrorize the parents. He even bit a few and gave them Lycanthropy."
"Reminds me of your dad," said Scorpius with a glare.
Surprisingly, Octavius nodded with a sad frown on his face. "Yes. But Fenrir Greyback never kidnapped them."
"He just bit them young and border lined cannibalism."
"Let's not talk about my psychotic father."
"Question," said Scorpius, eyes hard.
Octavius raised an eyebrow, indicating he was listening.
"Why did you murder my grandmother?"
"I didn't."
"Yeah, right," Scorpius snarled. "So you deny murdering my grandmother and torturing my girlfriend?
"The letter you have. That you got from Astoria. It holds information that could lead us to Xavier. That is our common enemy, Scorpius. He's the one dominating. He's not after anything but the death of every single one of us. That is why Rose is in danger. Your grandmother had to be taken out of the game, because Lucius would've intervened with our plans. He would've never let you and Draco leave the house."
"I don't understand."
"Xavier is going to start with the followers of Voldemort. Don't ask me why, but he is. We know this because Helena Finnagan was murdered."
"She wasn't a follower of Voldemort," Scorpius pointed out.
"But her father, Marcus Peters, was."
"I've never heard of him."
"No one has, but he was a Death Eater in the first war. Changed his mind after Voldemort's first downfall. Wanted to become clean and start a family."
"But he's still targeted?"
"Yes. Xavier doesn't care if you are a past or present Death Eater. He just wants you dead. He's a madman, Scorpius."
"So he's targeting the Death Eater's family too?"
"Yes. The message in the form of your dead grandmother was a warning. Not to you, or to Lucius, but to me. Xavier knows I'm after him. You and I, Scorpius, we're the only ones who have a chance to stop him."
"Why us?"
"Your Wolfman strength and my brains combined, we'll be invincible."
"If what you say is true about Xavier, we don't stand a chance. It took the Golden Trio to take down Voldemort. If Xavier is worse, how the hell are two of us suppose to take him down?"
"The Golden Trio didn't have a Wolfman, now did they?"
"No," Scorpius admitted. "But they had Harry Potter."
"True," said Octavius. He smiled, sending shivers down Scorpius's spine. "But we won't be alone."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"We have the Avengers, do we not? You're suppose to be a spy. Tell them everything I've told you. Tell Potter, tell your father. Tell everybody who will listen. We just might have a chance of stopping a war that is sure to come."
"It's begun, hasn't it?"
Octavius stood from the moth eaten sofa, a determined look in his eye.
"Yes, Scorpius. It has begun."
!/!/!/!/!/!
Eh.
Review!