"How did you find me?" Clarisse asked, glaring at the Mediwitch, who refused to leave her alone. Frankly speaking, she might have been doing her job, but Riss wasn't going to let her. Not when there was so much to do and so many questions to answer.

She didn't even remember anything that happened after the kiss. Some people appeared in the basement, interrupting their moment and demanding answers. She remembered watching them take away her captor's stunned, motionless body, but everything that had happened later... It was all a blur. The adrenaline stopped working and shock hit her like a tsunami, making it literally impossible to stop herself from shaking.

But now, after several hours had passed and she was finally allowed to see anyone, she hardly needed medical attention. They would take better care of her, if they could just give her something to eat. She was bloody starving.

"Did you honestly think that your boss was going to leave you without supervision?" Aedan said with a smile and shook his head. "I thought that you were actually smart, don't disappoint me now."

A part of her wanted to smack him, but she was also glad that despite the kiss, he was still acting relatively normal. Of course, his touches lingered more than before, and the way he looked at her made her kind of wish she wasn't still in a hospital, but otherwise... He was still a prick. Her prick, no matter how dirty and pathetic it sounded. Oh, Merlin. She was turning into one of those girls, wasn't she?

"Deschamps told me to watch you, since I'm not actually a part of the department. He wanted to do this discreetly, so we wouldn't jeopardise your position before the hearing. We wouldn't want people to think that you're so unstable that you need people to watch over you." Despite his gentle smile, Clarisse couldn't help, but to feel embarrassed. Well, she was unstable. She had gone off on her venture, completely alone, after all.

"It's definitely a good thing that I decided to be predictable for once," she muttered and glared at the witch again. "Ouch. Can you, please, stop pricking me with that freaking needle?! I almost died! Don't you think I deserve some rest?!"

The witch looked slightly scared by her outburst, but Aedan sighed and smiled gently at her, letting her know that it was alright to leave for a moment. The woman escaped the room in a hurry, making Clarisse scowl. She probably should have been nicer.

"What took you so long to get there, if you have been trailing me?"

"He covered his tracks pretty well, Clarie. I knew that you went to the club, but it wasn't easy to keep an eye on you all night. Just as it wasn't easy to follow you later on, when that guy put you into his car."

"So how did you do it?"

"I put a Tracking Spell on the vehicle, but he had left the car couple of streets away. He was careful. It wasn't easy to find his house, and it wasn't easy to break through his wards."

"But you did it," she said with a smile and he nodded, raising his hand and caressing her cheek gently.

"Yeah, I did. Although I still want to kill you for being so reckless."

"I had a plan, Aedan." She rolled her eyes theatrically. "How could I know that the killer would turn out to be my mother's friend, huh? And that my father..." Her voice broke off, when she realised that she still hadn't explained anything to him. To anyone, for that matter. "I don't think I want to tell this story twice. Can you please get Deschamps in here?"

Aedan lowered his hand and nodded, leaving the room instantly. Clarisse watched his silhouette with a weird sensation in her stomach. She had never really let herself notice how handsome he truly was, but now it seemed pointless to omit that fact any longer. Her mother was right, when she had said that Aedan was her type. Tall and lean, with blond hair and a dazzling smile. Although his face was always clean shaven, he didn't look like a boy. His jawline could be envied by many men, just as those carved cheekbones. He was bloody handsome, but she was far from falling for someone, because of their meaningless exterior.

He was not perfect. Actually, he was arrogant, chauvinistic and so full of himself that she wanted to slap his face. She could not stand his attitude sometimes, and his mocking comments made her blood boil with anger. But something about him... Something about him felt soothing. Maybe it was the fact that they were so similar in certain ways, and he was still a good man. Maybe he gave her hope that she could function in a relatively normal way. Or maybe... Maybe he didn't just accept her, allowing her to believe instead that it was alright to be herself.

Whatever it was, she liked it. There was no denying that fact, just as there was no denying the fact the dynamics of their relationship had changed irrevocably. They were about to take a risk, and she was surprisingly okay with that.


"He only wants to speak with you. Says that no one else is going to get anything out of him," Deschamps said, looking at her cautiously. He would never admit that, but Clarisse knew he was worried sick about her.

"That's going to be difficult, isn't it? I'm still suspended," she noticed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at a man behind the charmed glass.

"It doesn't matter. Not now. Not when we don't even know his name," Deschamps said and shook his head with annoyance.

Clarisse bit her bottom lip, knowing that it would probably be wise to reach out to her mother, but she didn't feel ready to do so. She wasn't ready to face the woman, who sacrificed so much for her, to simply accuse her of withholding information significant to their investigation. Because that seemed to be the case, at least according to the man sitting inside of the interrogation room.

She hadn't told anyone about that part of their talk. She wanted to talk to Eugenia first, give her a chance to explain everything, before anyone came barging in, asking questions that would undoubtedly incriminate her. She wanted to, but something stopped her. Riss really didn't want to tell her mother that her little prophecy had turned that man into a monster. She didn't want to tell her that her husband murdered innocent girls. Because Eugenia Bouchard, with all her flaws and weird quirks, didn't deserve to be hurt.

Clarisse sighed, knowing that she really had no choice.

"Fine, I'll go in. I don't think he's going to tell me anything useful, though."

"We have to find Kylian, Auror Bouchard. Our society is not safe, until he's dealt with."

She ignored shivers that ran up her spine. Deschamps' words were dry and emotionless, making their meaning pretty clear. Her father was a criminal now. Unless his memories could be restored, he was a killing machine, with a great power. Catching the great master of this entire scheme couldn't be the end. Not in this case.

Clarisse nodded and entered the room without hesitation, even if her heart kept banging against her ribcage with a great force. She ignored the smile that appeared on the man's face, and sat down on the chair, opposite to him.

"What's your name?" she asked bluntly and he clicked his tongue, making her shift slightly. She bloody hated that sound.

"How are you, Clarie?"

"Great. What's your name?" she tried again, but he remained quiet. "You should know that telling us this, won't change a thing. You're still going to be charged."

"With kidnapping you, of course. But when it comes to the rest of your accusations..." He smiled and shrugged. "It's your word against mine."

"No one is going to believe you, after you've kidnapped me. My statement would be enough to put you away for life. Especially once we've found my father."

"But you haven't," he noticed and smiled viciously. "Until then, it's an open case, really."

Clarisse studied him for a moment, trying to keep her anger at bay. Hurting him was tempting, but it could mess up their entire investigation. She'd rather eat her own tongue, than let him walk away.

"What do you want?" she asked and he looked up towards the ceiling.

"Why haven't you talked to you mother, Clarie? I'm pretty sure she could provide you with answers."

"My mother is a civilian. Aside from giving us your name and early history, she's hardly going to be of any help," she stated dryly and leaned forward. "Where is my father?"

"You're asking the wrong question, Auror. Finding him is, after all, one thing. Restoring his memories, on the other hand, is a completely different case, isn't it?"

"You've just admitted to knowing that he was Obilviated. You might as well tell me where I can find him."

"Someone told me that he doesn't remember his own family. I mean, how tragic is that?" he said and smiled with sadness, making her clench her fists in fury.

"Pretty tragic. In fact, so tragic that I'm sure you cannot stand forcing his family to endure another second of that torment," she mocked and he laughed in response.

"I think I'm good."

Clarisse shook her head and stood up. Talking to him was completely pointless. For him, it was only a game, a form of entertainment. And she really didn't want to play along.

"Why did you want to talk to me, if you had no intentions of telling me anything?" she asked the final question, and suddenly, his smile was gone.

"You might be Kylian's daughter, but you're also Genie's. You remind me of her so much..."

"Go to hell," she spat and walked out of the room, knowing that the inevitable was finally here. She had to go to her mother. Because Eugenia Bouchard was probably the only person, who could break him.


Her mother looked sad and ashamed. Clarisse would lie, if she'd said that she'd ever seen that expression before, because Eugenia rarely felt the need to criticise herself. This time, it was clear as day that she wasn't proud of her own actions, and that made Clarisse feel really angry.

"Why didn't you tell me, mom? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"What was I supposed to say, pumpkin?" her mother asked quietly and sighed. "That I once had a friend, who was completely fixated on the idea of ruling the world? I've never had the certainty..."

"That's because we never have the certainty! Not until that very last moment, not until we get a confession out of the criminal's mouth!" Clarisse said and rubbed her forehead. "You believe in your hunches, mom. Every single time. You've even warned me about this case!"

"It doesn't mean that I want my hunches to become reality... I'm sorry, sweetheart. I made a mistake and you could have died because of it." Her mother's lip quivered slightly, and Clarisse's anger evaporated.

"Just... Just tell me everything. It's not too late to fix things."

Eugenia nodded lightly and started to fidget with her fingers. She didn't look like the confident, elegant woman she usually was. Actually, she looked broken, and Clarisse hated it to the core. She wished that all of this could just end, that they both could move on and find a new balance in their lives. They were so close to having that... So close, that they needed to be find the strength to hold on, just a bit longer.

"His name is Bernard. Bernard Dumont. We've been friends since our early childhood. Other kids didn't like him, but I always thought it was unfair to exclude him, just because of his weirdness. He was quite likeable, when one went through all the effort to get to know him."

"What about that prophecy? He said that you..."

"I lied to him," her mother said, before she could have finished. "I was just a little girl and I wanted him to become a good person. I hoped that if I convinced him that his future was bright, it would push him to do some great things for the world. And I obviously don't mean his current idea. It never occurred to me that he had this darkness inside of him... Not until it was too late."

"He wanted you to go with him."

"Yes. Yes, he did, but I was already married to Kylian. We were a family, and I'd never leave you."

"So you let him go. Knowing what it could mean."

Her mother looked at her guiltily, and Clarisse couldn't help, but sigh. She couldn't stay mad at her mother, for acting like a young, naïve girl. She was a young, naïve girl back then.

"I had no idea about any of this. The ancient magic, the Alchemists... How could I know, Clarie?"

"You couldn't. No one could," she said in response and bit her lip for a moment. "Mom... I haven't told you this before, but... That Bernard is only partially guilty. He orchestrated everything, alright, but... He didn't kill those girls."

"Kylian did, didn't he?" she asked and glanced at her hands. "I had a feeling that it might have been him. After you've seen him in that club, everything started to fall into place. Bernard must have kidnapped him, out of spite, or maybe hoping that I would change my mind. It shows just how awkward he has always been. I've never thought about him much after that. Never had the time."

Clarisse fell silent for a moment, thinking about her mother's words. She was angry that Eugenia hadn't told her anything, but Bernard seemed to have become a distant memory by the time he decided to come back. Still, Riss really hoped that her mother could provide her with some more details.

"He's clearly sentimental," she muttered and frowned. "His plan was to kill both you and father, like...

"Romeo and Juliet," he mother said, nodding her head. "He always liked that play. Maybe because he was never able to truly understand the concept of love so great, that it was more important than life."

"Yeah, well, he's not the only one," Clarisse rolled her eyes. She hated that bloody play. Obviously. "Anyways, he said that I reminded him of you... All he does, seems to be meticulous and planned, but there is a strong connection to his past. Your past. Maybe it's just a big puzzle? Maybe he wants me to find that last piece on my own?"

Eugenia fell silent for a moment, and then she gasped, covering her mouth with her palm.

"Right before he set off, he told me about this man... His new friend, from Ireland."

Clarisse froze and her heart stopped for a second. It was impossible. Completely impossible.

"He specialised in the ancient times. He told Bernard about the ancient magic and the Alchemists."

"Let me guess... His name was Cillian," Clarisse muttered gravely, while her mother shot her a surprised look.

"How did you know that?"

"I've heard that name before. He's Aedan's father," she explained.

"Your boyfriend's father's name is Cillian?!" her mother exclaimed and let out a shaky breath. "What a coincidence, that your father..." She broke off and covered her eyes with her palm. "It's not a coincidence. Bernard must have chosen him specifically, because of that similarity. He probably thought that it would be poetic, if someone with that exact same name was the source of his knowledge, leading him to the power he sought."

Great. Just splendid.

"He's planned all of this, hasn't he? Leaving breadcrumbs all over the place for you to pick up, but not enough to make you sure of anything. I bet things were the same for Aedan's father. Merlin, how much I hate that fucking bastard..."

"Language, Clarisse!" her mother said and frowned.

"Seriously, mom?" Riss asked with disbelief, while her mother's expression softened.

"Sorry, pumpkin, it was an impulse. I hate that fucking bastard too."


"This is not how I expected to meet your father," Clarisse muttered to Aedan, tugging at her robe's sleeve relentlessly.

To be honest, she couldn't really tell, who was more anxious about all of this. Her... um, boyfriend looked like he was ready to pass out, which was kind of pathetic, considering he had no problems with breaking all the wards in Bernard's house, and rescuing her heroically. She had no intentions of mocking him, though, because his unusual behaviour only stressed her out.

"I've never expected you to meet my father. I sort of hoped to avoid that moment forever."

"Isn't it what people do, when they... you know." She cleared her throat and made a frantic gesture with her hand, managing to evoke the tiniest smile from Aedan.

"What are you, six?"

"Are you interested in children?" she talked back and he sent her a glare in response. "Then shut up. I suck at relationships. I probably suck at meeting parents too."

"It's for a case, Clarisse. We don't even have to tell him. Just act professional and everything is going to be fine."

She wished she could believe him, but, unfortunately, Finley sounded as though he was trying to convince mostly himself. Before she could accuse him of making her feel even worse, the door opened and Clarisse found herself face to face with Aedan's father.

She kind of expected him to look similar to her own dad, but she realised how stupid that was, as soon as she had laid her eyes upon Cillian Finley. Actually, she could pick up on all the similarities between him and his son easily. He was just as tall and lean as Aedan, and he had the same blond hair. His expression though... It was mildly terrifying –stern, and judgmental. Clarisse rarely felt intimidated by other people, but it was hard not to feel completely dominated in the presence of that man.

"Auror Finley," she greeted him in the most professional tone she could possibly muster, and he looked at her cautiously. "I'm Auror Clarisse Bouchard, and I'm..."

"Fucking my son," he finished the sentence for her, making her so shocked that she couldn't find any words.

"Father!" Aedan yelled and rubbed his forehead. "Why do you always have to do that?!"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"No! We're not fucking, as you've wonderfully described it."

"Shame, she's a pretty gal. Definitely prettier than the previous ones." Cillian smiled mockingly and Clarisse decided that she wasn't going to let that slide. He could have been the Minister for Magic himself, but she wouldn't let anyone talk to her that way.

"That's good to know, sir. Your approval has been high on my list of the things I couldn't care less for," she said and smiled sweetly. "Now, can we please get to business? Because I'd really like to get back to Paris, so I can fuck your son in peace."

She couldn't tell which of the men had been more shocked by her statement. Both looked surprised, although she had a fair certainty that Aedan would very much like her to follow up on that promise. She smiled at him mockingly and then sat down at the table, crossing her legs casually.

"No objections? Splendid. Auror Finley, we've recently discovered that you've been in contact with a man, named Bernard Dumont. You've helped him with his research on the ancient times. Is that correct?"

Cillian didn't answer right away, studying her face cautiously. Clarisse was too agitated to feel threatened by his harsh gaze, so she simply stared back at him, putting her bitch face on. Judging by the tiniest smile, which had appeared on Cillian's lips, her tactics worked perfectly. Anyway, she wasn't going to admit that her anger got the better of her, again.

"You have balls. I like that, Auror Bouchard. It makes me believe that Aedan won't actually replace you with another gal."

Clarisse had a weird feeling that he was now ordering Aedan, rather than anything else, but she wasn't going to share her thoughts on the matter. She had more important things to do.

"Yes, I know him. Not many people take interest in that topic, so I felt inclined to help him, despite my usual... demeanour." He probably meant being an utter prick, but she wasn't going to say that either. "I found our correspondence very stimulating. A brilliant mind, for sure. Did something happen to him? Is that why you're here?"

"Don't tell me you haven't recognised those rituals, father," Aedan said angrily, and Clarisse sighed. What happened to being professional? "You gave me that freaking book."

"I did. But I never gave it to Bernard," his father answered and Clarisse smiled.

"Ah, so you do knowwhat this is all about," she noticed and watched Cillian scowl slightly. "Good, it makes things much easier. Auror Finley, we're not accusing you of anything. You couldn't have known that your research would lead to the creation of one of the most dangerous killers we've ever seen. You should know that Mr Dumont is currently in custody, but refuses to talk. He had an accomplice of sorts. More like a puppet, to be honest." She flinched, thinking about her father in such a gruesome way, but it really seemed adequate.

"And what about him?"

"His name is Kylian Bouchard, he happens to be my father, and he is currently missing. Unfortunately, he had been the one to perform all those rituals, making him incredibly powerful and dangerous. Mr Dumont has hidden him, somewhere, and we would very much like to find that location."

"What makes you think I know that location?"

"Nothing, actually. Except for the fact, that Mr Dumont seems to have a peculiar sense of drama. It's not a coincidence that he chose my father. It's not a coincidence that he chose you, someone bearing that exact same name. It would only be fitting if he had somehow told you about a secret location. It would be poetic, if Cillian could be the only one able to save Kylian."

Aedan's father looked at her for a moment, appraising her cautiously. His gaze started to become more distant with every second, until she realised that he was probably searching his mind for a clue. Clarissed relaxed back into her chair, trying to refrain from anxious movements, or fidgeting too much. She also didn't want to look at Aedan. Showing any signs of weakness in front of his father, didn't seem like a good idea.

Finally, after a couple of minutes of heavy silence, the man opened his mouth and said:

"He's talked about his family's other house. It was old, ancient even, at least to some people. He used to mention it in context of their arrogance, because they didn't care enough to learn about the history, about the actual timeline."

"Oh, yes. Seems like a place he might have used. Do you know where it is?"

"No. He's mentioned a lake few times, but other than that, I have nothing."

"Well, it's still better than what we've had until now," she said and stood up. Clarisse straightened her robe and glanced at Aedan, who tried to kill his father with an intense look. "Auror Finley, thank you for your cooperation. I'll leave you both to it. You seem to have a lot to talk about."

With that, she left the room, knowing that Aedan would probably be pissed at her. Well, she could live with that. Seeing his furious expression was totally worth it.


Finding the house had been easy. In comparison to everything they'd gone through, it was a child's play. Clarisse couldn't stop herself from fidgeting, as she watched a couple of Aurors walk into the house, with their wands raised in alarm. They had no idea what they would find inside, and they'd rather be safe than sorry. She wasn't allowed to enter, which drove her mad, but she was able to understand it, in a way. Predicting her reaction to seeing her father was simply impossible, and reliability was necessary in those kind of actions.

She hoped that they would walk out of the house unharmed, with her father at their side. They had orders to bring him in alive, but things could go very wrong. He could fight, or go completely crazy, turning this entire raid into a bloodshed. This entire situation was nerve-racking. Her palms were sweaty, her cheeks red from the pent-up anxiousness, and her heart raced at such speed that she briefly worried about having a heart attack.

Suddenly, it was all over, when her father walked out of the house, calm and unharmed. She wanted to cry, seeing his blank expression and knowing that his capability to feel was taken away from him. He looked like a wreck of a man, and she began to wonder if killing him would really be so vile, as she had previously thought. A man like Kylian Bouchard would rather die, than to live in an empty shell. She was sure of it. Because it was exactly what she feared the most as well –being a prisoner of her own body.

And she knew that her job was not done yet. Because she would do anything to save him, whether it meant bringing back his memories and feelings, or killing him.


"You've said something about restoring my father's memories," she said, looking at Bernard.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation, making her frown.

"Is it possible?"

"Yes."

"Can I do it?"

Bernard laughed coldly and offered her a vicious smile, which told her that it wouldn't be that simple.

"No, I'm afraid that it has to be me. The only way to reverse it, would be to think about the exact opposite of the spell used to take the memories away."

Shit. So the only way to actually help her father and rebuild their family, was to make a deal with a criminal? A criminal, who was so dangerous, that they really kept him in a cell without any handles?

"I assume that you're not going to do it," she stated and, to her surprise, he shrugged.

"I've lost everything, Clarie. Why would I deny myself the pleasure of restoring your father's memories?"

Pleasure? What was he talking about?

"Explain," she ordered and watched his smiled change into a very satisfied one.

"It's simple, really. I can restore his memories and watch the guilt slowly kill him. He had murdered those girls, after all. He can be acquitted, but he will always remain the monster I've created. And the guilt, the remorse, the pain... Oh, to someone like Kylian Bouchard, it will be pure torment. It will weigh him down, day by day, eating up his soul, piece by piece, until there's nothing left," he finished and his smile grew wider. "So... Yes. I'd love to restore his memories, Clarisse. I'm dying to do it."

She swallowed back her tears, although she wanted nothing more, but to just cry. Because that bloody man was right.

"We should do it, Clarie. He deserves to know, he deserves another chance," Eugenia said, barely holding back her tears.

They both looked at Kylian Bouchard through a charmed glass, trying to decide what to do. It was an impossible decision to make, and Clarisse realised that, in a way, Bernard Dumont had won. Because even if they had managed to catch a very dangerous psycho, her life was about to change drastically. All of the wounds that had already healed, were bleeding again.

It hurt. There was no better way to describe the way she felt. She'd never understood the tales of broken heroes, treating them as a warning to all of those, who wanted to throw themselves into meaningless fights, without any care for their own well-being. Suddenly, she understood Harry Potter and his awkwardness. She understood why defeating Voldemort hadn't turned into an endless celebration. It was because there really was nothing to celebrate. Because of all the deaths and because of all the lost pieces of sanity.

"It's not going to fix things. It's not going to make our family whole," she whispered and clenched her fists.

"He doesn't deserve to live like a shadow, Clarie. Even if he decided to leave, after this is over, I'd still rather watch him leave than exist in that pitiful form," her mother said and Clarisse knew she was right. It didn't make things easier, but they still needed to be done.

"I'll fetch Bernard," she said and left, trying to ignore the stinging pain in her heart.

An hour later, she watched Bernard restore her father's memories with a maniac laughter escaping his throat. She'd seen the pain on Kylian's face, as he became conscious. She followed every tear that had left his eyes, trailing them with her own gaze. She'd done all that, holding Aedan's hand, just to remind herself that she needed to stay strong, even if she felt broken and exhausted, even if it hurt to think about the future.

"Eugenia? Clarisse?" Her father's voice reached her ears, and she couldn't stop herself from sobbing.

In a blink of an eye, both she and her mother were on their knees, holding Kylian's hands and crying in his lap. Even with all the pain, Clarisse couldn't help, but to think that she'd dreamt of this moment for a very long time.

She couldn't stop herself from glancing at Bernard, who stopped laughing, watching them with growing anger and despair. And somehow, it was all she needed to believe again.