Draco's heart was hammering when they eventually landed in the forest on the outskirts of the Manor, the whole flight having been a sweet kind or torture that he hadn't entirely hated. She'd settled back into him and pretty much held his hand the whole way there, a glorious patch of pale skin just visible beneath her scarf, that he had to fight not to bury his nose into. Her hair, as it always seemed to, smelt like strawberries and the heady mix of cool crisp air and the sweetness of her curls made him feel like he could have achieved flight without the aid of his broom.

Hermione quickly hopped off the front of the broom, stumbling in the snow, her arms flailing comically till Draco jumped off after her and managed to steady her before she fell over completely. He couldn't help but grin down at her rosy cheeks; how someone so intelligent and feisty could be so adorable was beyond him. Hermione, however, refused to meet his gaze adjusting her coat and pulling two strange items out of her bag. They looked like two wands, of a type and make that he had never come across before; both were bright green with what seemed to be strange mirrors at the one end. She handed one to Draco and he tapped the end, noticing that there was a small piece of glass between his finger and the mirrors.

"What is it?" Draco asked, turning it this way and that in his hands, his thumb brushing over a large black spot that felt rubbery to touch.

"It's a torch."

"A what?" Draco was surprised, wondering where exactly the flames were going to come out of.

"A torch, you press this button here and – see it lights your way." Draco jumped as a great beam of light came out of the end of Hermione's muggle wand.

"Mine does that?" Hermione nodded, quickly turning on his for him, which he immediately turned towards his eyes to inspect where exactly the beam was originating from.

"Ow, geez, my retinas."

"Yes well, don't turn it towards your face."

"Point taken." He pointed the light back towards the ground sheepishly, holding the torch like it was going to explode in his hands. "Why can't I just use my wand? Lumos is really easy to cast, you know, Granger."

"I don't want you using magic any more than you have to."

"No one's going to know." He smirked, watching her bristle at his statement.

"I'll know, besides, what if the whole thing with your ancestor's wand is a fluke and – and I don't know next time you'll be caught."

"That's a heck of a lot of flukes, Granger." He winced when Hermione stopped, whirling round to him, her face a mask of anger and worry.

"Exactly how many times have you used it outside of school?"

"I'm going to go with not many?"

"Urgh, your blatant disregard for rules makes me wonder why I can even stand your company. They are there for a reason you know, to keep us safe and protected. What if you'd attempted a spell that you couldn't handle?"

"You're so optimistic, Granger. A little ray of sunshine on proceedings." He muttered sarcastically, shaking his head in amusement. He wondered how he could have ever found this side of her annoying, it was almost (he couldn't believe he was thinking it) endearing.

"I just prepare for all possibilities, that's all. And things going wrong with magic is a tremendous possibility."

"And yet here you are." Hermione's back straightened at his words.

"That's different."

"Is it now?"

"Yes."

"And I suppose all the times you've broken the rules with Potty and Weasel, those are different too." Hermione huffed but didn't give him an answer, stomping off ahead of him – much to his amusement.

When they eventually made it out of the dense forest it seemed as though Hermione had forgotten their little argument, grasping Draco's sleeve as she stared open-mouthed towards the Manor. Its ruins loomed over them, a single tower remaining from the four it had once possessed, pointing crookedly towards the clouds as though it were the finger of an old aged giant. The manor was a regular tourist attraction for most witches and wizards and as such he had visited it quite a number of times in his childhood. In the past, it had always seemed such a wondrous place, plenty of small little hideaways that he could get lost in and explore. That those happy memories took place somewhere that housed such a dark past had never seemed possible. Now though he could imagine it. the whole place felt and looked so different, its broken pieces were no longer able to keep its secrets hidden away, all the atrocities that had taken place within its walls were laid bare and it looked all the darker and more menacing for it.

"It looks smaller somehow," Hermione breathed sadly. Though she had no particular love for the Manor there had been happiness in Mina's memories, a glimmer of a childhood that spoke of love and laughter and of the Manor being a beautiful safe place. Now all she saw were dilapidated ruins, walls that have fallen in on themselves no longer able to bear the weight of age that pressed down on them. It made Hermione angrier at Arden for infecting the place as he did, inviting something so insidious to pollute everything the Manor had been. She wondered if maybe the Manor could have remained in all its former glory if Arden had chosen a different path.

"Not quite the grand Manor it was back in the day?" Draco queried, as he shone his torch on a sign standing outside the ruins, bosting a rich history within, right down to the reasons why such a grand place stood as it did.

"No where near." Hermione shook her head as Draco brushed some flakes from the sign, leaning forward to read, his breath curling lazily in the light.

"It says that Arden, our dear friend, left the ruin because, blah de blah de blah, lots of history, yada yada yada, something about a fresh start."

"So, guilt then."

"I would seem so. A bit of lightly veiled covering of his cowardly arse." Draco said straightening, unable to quite fully squash the anger he felt at the people who'd written the sign. They'd painted Arden as some sort of benevolent spirit who could no longer live with the memories of his fallen family, a far cry from the conniving coward the wizard had actually been.

"He seemed like the type." Hermione commented, and Draco nodded. He hadn't turned up in many of Edwards memories but when he had Draco had spotted the mannerisms of his cowardice a mile off. Arden moved as though he were a puppet, dragged by some invisible strings. He knew the look well, seeing it as he often did in his father and – rather sickeningly – when he'd seen it in himself.

"We should get moving." He muttered, his fingers brushing Hermione's as he stepped past. All day Daphne's words had been ringing in his head, over and over till they had all but driven him mad. What kind of Slytherin was he that he didn't go for what he wanted? What kind of person was he to let something as spectacularly fantastic as Granger slip by without so much as a taste? Another thought struck him as he glanced back to see if she was following, whenever he'd avoided her, tried to keep away, he'd looked in the mirror and seen his father looking back at him - all limp-limbed and following orders - when he was with her he felt different, like something better, something far more tangible. He wondered that maybe if he was that person, it wouldn't matter who they were, because he would have the guts to make it alright.

Finding their way into the Manor was easy as it was practically an open wound, bleeding all it was out on t the ground, drifts of snow lining the walls within that were still partially covered by a decaying roof. In the entrance the whole of the second floor had disappeared, giving a clear view up right to the night sky. Magical steps had been taken to slow degradation, so as ruins went, it looked pretty good, but it was nothing close to its former glory. Inside was a shell of emptiness, all its rich and luscious furnishings gone, no doubt taken by opportunists looking to make a bit of money from such 'important history'. Arden – The Sanctuary of the Witch and Wizard had been newly painted above the door and it made Hermione a little sick. If only they knew what they had named the Manor after, if only they knew what had really happened.

"You know," Hermione commented, running her hand over a plaque that commemorated Arden Masarvas as a profoundly wise wizard; strong and kind, "all this makes me wonder why he was so hard to find in the Hogwarts library. You think there'd be more about him."

"He was a professor there, maybe he had a hand in relieving them of some of the books. You never know, he might have felt bad for all the worship and adoration." Hermione guessed he had a point, looking at the image of the old wizard adjusting his robes on the plaque, she thought she detected a tiredness that went well beyond his age, perhaps he did feel guilty, perhaps he did want to take it all back.

"When I learnt I was a witch I – I found so many things that non-magic users got wrong; Santa, ghosts, most of science and – and I realised that I'd been wrong too. I learnt everything I could about magic; its history, its beginning, how it came to be what it is today, I learnt potions, spells…and now? It feels like it's all wrong." Hermione was shocked when she found her voice breaking a little, a lump of sadness getting stuck in the back of her throat. Draco gently wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him and resting his head on top of hers.

"Can't always be right, Granger," He mused trying to squash how wonderful it felt to have her tucked into his side.

"I know, it's just…so many things, so many people just…gone." She looked up at him sadly, letting out a huge sigh before moving on, her step hesitant enough to make him hope she did not want to step out of his embrace.

They carried on down the corridor, their beams crisscrossing in front of them, sometimes hovering over various carvings and the names and dates of some wizards that had seen fit to leave their mark for eternity. Hermione shook her head with a chuckle as she leant forward and read of Maisy's undying love for Jack.

"You know in some ways, magic users aren't that different from…muggles." She always struggled over the word, seeing very little difference between herself and the rest of the population.

"You think?" Draco asked curiously, stopping down to read the little messages with her.

"Yep, they love to graffiti too, will stamp their name on literally everything."

"Who'd have thought. Will have to tell my dad that little snippet of information, sure he'll be thrilled." Draco muttered drily, making Hermione giggle a little. Here in the darkness all their differences seemed insignificant, they were alone on an adventure, sharing in discoveries and nothing else seemed to matter beyond that. Hermione moved her beam a light the end of the corridor, faltering when it illuminated briefly, something that she did not recognise ever having been in any of Mina's memories she'd seen so far. A statue of knight stood proudly in a large alcove, the handle of its sword grasped in both its hands, blade facing down towards the floor.

"I don't remember this," Hermione breathed, running her fingers against the stone and drawing back quickly, looking at the tips of her fingers in shock.

"It's warm.' She touched the stone again, fingers running down the length of the blade, shaking her head.

"There's a load of them," Draco pointed out, stepping back to fully take in the knights that lined the corridor, each tucked away in their own alcove, each wielding different weaponry.

"Where have they come from?" Hermione queried, and Draco shrugged, sucking his teeth as he peered at the helmet of one, great horns rising out the top of it.

"Not very welcoming, are they?" Draco commented, shivering at the chill that ran down the length of his spine. Hermione couldn't help but agree with him, there was something incredibly unnerving about them, all lined up and apparently frozen in their readiness for battle. And statues were not supposed to be warm, especially not on a cold winter night.

As they moved deeper into the Manor it seemed to be in a much better state of repair, the floor above only having one or two holes in it, where small flakes drifted down as a draft moaned its way through the various gaps and crevices.

"I can't believe magic keeps this all together, I mean I can it's just...it's amazing." Hermione mused, taking in the site of a rather precarious looking pillar, tilting slightly, a large crack running down its length. She had seen plenty buildings in similar states of disrepair near her home, usually with huge 'keep out' signs adorning large fences that ran all the way around them, but none of them had been as old as the Manor.

They came to a large staircase that spiralled up to the second floor and third floor, the third being where Arden's father's study lay. Hermione tried to imagine the walls bedecked with the large tapestries from Mina's memories, with paintings of old wizards who'd once walked the halls gazing down at them wisely.

Draco, who'd already made it halfway up, paused to look back at her, his brow furrowing with worry.

"You okay, Granger?" He stepped back down to her, hesitantly reaching out to wrap his hand around the top of her arm gently.

"Yeah, I just…it looks so different…" Draco nodded glancing around himself.

"I bet you're the only one who knows how it really looked, what it was really like." Hermione stared up at Draco with wonder, not quite able to fathom how he, of all people, could make her feel so special with just a few words. Draco noticed her gaze and glanced down at her.

"What?"

"You're just…you're never what I expect." Hermione said softly, the tips of her fingers brushing the buttons of his coat as she lay her palm on his chest, checking that he was real. Draco stopped breathing, letting his hand slip down her arm till it gently cupped her elbow. After a brief moment of considering whether it was a good idea, he decided to stop listening to reason and tugged her closer. As she moved forward he slipped his arm around her waist, stepping closer to her and then instantly jumping back in fright as a shrill voice rang out.

"The large spiral staircase is a staple of the Manor…"

"Oh, sweet magical ways of Merlin, I forgot about these things." Draco knelt down, eyeing up the small smiling face of an old witch appearing to shimmer on the surface of the steps.

"Lords and Ladies were frequent visitors of this grand place and would have often used this stairway to…"

"Apparently information is much more interesting when you nearly die of fright."

"It does seem like a weird place to put them." Hermione mused, kneeling down herself to inspect the Old Witch's face. She was a very proud looking woman with a huge hooked nose and a constant smirk upon her thin lips as she retold countless tales of the Manor that Hermione knew were all completely fabricated.

"It's…argh what's her name now? She has her knobbly fingers in all the historical monument pies. Likes the sound of her own voice too." Hermione didn't doubt it, considering the witch was still merrily waxing lyrical about the staircase and all those that could have possibly walked up and down it.

"Mural, that's it. She comes to visit my mom every now and again. Wouldn't surprise me if she was dead set against giving people the choice to learn things. This way she can sneak up on you."

"How do you get it to stop?" Hermione winced as the witch took a deep breath and flew the explanation of how such a rare type of stone happened to end up at the manor.

"If it's Mural, I imagine you don't, just watch your step from now on."

They made there way carefully up the winding staircase, Hermione's thoughts straying to what would have happened if Mural and her whiny voice and completely misguided information hadn't interrupted. Draco had pulled her forward, his grey eyes serious and so dark that thinking of them made her shiver a little in anticipation. She glanced at his back wondering if he were thinking the same, quickly scolding herself. He had a girlfriend and besides, they were seeking out the solitude of the Manor for any such things, they were looking for information and she resolved to focus on that and that alone. They eventually made it to the third floor, the staircase opening out onto yet another corridor that Hermione knew all too well, a shudder of disgust shaking her whole body.

To the right was the study, it would be the last door at the end, a large oaken door with the depictions of a forest carved into the wood, but to the left? If she followed the corridor down she would eventually come upon the tower, the only tower that remained standing and the only one that Hermione feared. Ghosts whispered the walls and haunted Hermione's mind alike as if they lived both in the Manor and within her. She could have imagined it, but she could have sworn that the darkness was thicker that way, heavy and oppressive, so black that even the torch seemed to be dimmed by it.

"The tower…" Hermione started, unable to finish her sentence, but Draco followed her gaze and from his grim look he guessed what she meant.

"Do you want to?" He asked, removing his hat and tucking it into his coat pocket. Hermione shook her head quickly, she was curious, of course, she was curious, but she had seen the horrors of the tower first hand and to all intents and purposes did not want to relive it. The fact that it still stood after so much else had crumbled worried her though, as if the evil that spawned Mina's terrible memories were still at work, holding it together.

"So, the study then?"

"Yes, yes, it's this way." Hermione mumbled, pointedly turning her back on the tower as though not seeing it would wipe all that had happened from her mind, from history itself.

The study was the only room that seemed to have the skeletal remains of furniture littering its floor, bits of rotten wood were strewn everywhere in forlorn splinters. Hermione thought she could work out the outline of the portrait that had once hung above the safe - the portrait of Arden's father - but she guessed that was impossible, just her mind supplying what she'd expected to see. So much time had passed and while some things would have remained, a simple discolouration of stone could not have survived the centuries.

"I thought it'd be bigger." Draco scoffed, turning in the centre of the room, taking in the drab and underwhelming scenery with a look of disdain.

"Hmmm." Hermione hummed in agreement. Everything about the place seemed to have shrunk. When she had witnessed Sornious and Arden within the study it had felt cavernous, full of dark corners where the worst of shadows could hide away. Looking at it now though, it felt as though she were in the wrong place.

"it's so strange. It feels-it feels the same but different."

"Wow making all the sense, Granger," Draco commented drily, and Hermione scowled at him, wondering what reaction she'd really expected of him.

"Forget it." They were silent for a moment before Draco spoke again.

"I get it. You have and haven't been here before. It's going to feel strange." Hermione thought of when they'd found his ancestors wand and ring. Draco had seen snippets of the memory, witnessing the battle at Hogwarts and Edward secreting his ancestors' belongings away, she guessed Hogwarts must have felt different for him after too.

"So, where's this safe then?" Draco asked, examining the walls and coming up blank.

Hermione moved towards the end of the room, placing her palm against the wall and finding that it was, again, warm, just like the statues.

"Here."

Draco nodded, quickly undoing his coat and drawing his ancestor's wand out of his inside pocket, moving to stand beside her.

"And I say?"

"Shani a'din."

"Right." Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on his magic. Every time became easier and his magic brighter.

"Shani a'din." He guessed it had worked as Hermione let out a gasp, reaching to grasp his arm and, sure enough, when he opened his eyes, a door had appeared. For while they just stared at it, the reality of being the first ones to see both the door, let alone enter it, in so many years was quite mind-blowing.

"I can't believe this is real." Hermione breathed, wondering – as she quite often did – whether she would suddenly start away in her bed and find that the world of magic had been on long, fairly elaborate, dream.

"Well, believe it, Granger." He grinned opening the door to reveal a brightly lit room, much larger than anything Draco had imagined. It was full to the brim, everywhere they turned there was something new and curious to investigate.

"Well, at least we know why he could get away with such a small study." Draco quipped, peering at a pile of scrolls and seeming to get lots in their contents.

"There's…there's so much here."

Hermione was finding it difficult to process it all; scrolls, books, maps, potions that lined the large dusty shelf that loomed over a workbench housing a dusty cauldron and there were various instruments she guessed were for magical use, the likes of which she had never seen before. Hermione felt a rush of panic when she realised how much there was to know and to find out and how little time they had.

"Granger look at this." Hermione stepped over to Draco, who moved to the side, pointing down at the scroll he'd been reading. Obliviate was scrawled across the top in fancy letters and as Hermione read her eyes widened.

"It seems obliviate was a much bigger deal back then."

Hermione spluttered, feeling as though Draco's words were one giant understatement. According to the scroll, it seemed as though the spell was regarded with fear and respect, warning upon warning littering the page.

"One should cast with care lest lives be lost, persons obliterated, worlds torn asunder."

"Mightily dramatic, aren't they?" Draco mused.

"When Obliviating memories of a person or persons be aware, magic will remove them from mind and all other mind, so that their very existence be called into question. Restraint then when casting. Only the most able wizard may attempt."

"Well, that's dodgy."

"I suppose old magic is linked to everything so, I guess, could affect everything."

"Look here, it says it can affect other powerful magic, forcing it to act unnaturally. A bit like when you got kicked out of the Sensieve. Maybe that whole thing is to do with this." Draco reiterated his point, jabbing his finger on the pile of scrolls.

Hermione considered it, though it had only happened a couple of times it did play on her mind. The obliviate spell seemed like a pretty good explanation, but then there was the issue of what Mina would want to forget. She had seen so many terrible things, Hermione couldn't imagine what would be more terrible that would lead her to wipe her memory.

"I don't know, but I suppose…well, it's something to think about." She shuffled through the rest of the scrolls as Draco wandered away, perusing the various nik-naks. He paused at a large cabinet decorated with woodland animals, a large stag in the centre the gold paint of its antlers curling and peeling away from the wood. He gave both handles a tug and stepped back quickly as a Pensieve floated towards him, the cabinet behind it containing rows and rows of tiny bottles, with names scrawled in blurred ink across their tiny labels.

"Er, Granger?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I've found something." He commented as he retrieved a wand that was nestled at the back of the cupboard, bottles clinking as he gently knocked them. She moved closer to him slowly, as if afraid that it was all some mirage and any sudden movement would disturb the air and make it ripple out of existence.

"Is that?"

"From the way you described it," he moved the wand about in his hand, inspecting it closely, "I think so." He held it out to her and she took it reverently with both hands. It was exactly as she had seen it; the blossoms, the tree. Hermione sucked in a shaky breath knowing that Mina had one held the wand, that her hand was touching the very same item that had been linked to Mina by blood. Mina had never felt closer or more real than she did at that moment. Hermione gripped it as Mina would have done before she cast a spell, marvelling as she felt the familiar grooves pressing into her palm.

"I can't believe it's here."

"Arden must have kept it, you know- after…" It wasn't very often they spoke of the first memory they ever experienced and even now Draco found it difficult to voice it. It wasn't just that it had a been a dreadful experience and it had. It was also the fact that it was an end for two people that they had both grown incredibly close to. Thinking there was such an end to their tale was sickening, an injustice that was painful to even contemplate.

"He must have."

As Hermione continued inspecting the surface of Mina's wand, Draco began pulling out some of the small bottles reading the names and, finding he hardly recognised them, placed the bottles back in turn. He only paused when he noticed that one of the bottles held his family name.

"A. Malfoy."

"What?"

"It's what it says here." He turned the bottle to Hermione, "should we see what it has to offer?"

Hermione nodded quickly shuffling forward, looking down into the Pensieve as he topped the memory at last out of its confines.

Falling into the memory as herself felt strange, a part of her ready and waiting for the onslaught of emotions that never came. Instead, the memory materialised around her and she and Draco stood in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Hermione glanced up, a gasp leaving her when she noticed that the ceiling was normal, no sky to be seen only beams and stone. Voices rose to an astounding volume among the few wizards that had gathered and stopped abruptly when the dark-haired wizard – that Hermione recognised from the council – lifted one pale hand in the air.

"Fighting amongst ourselves will do little to help our predicament, we have decided upon a plan and we shall see it through."

"Such a spell is dangerous, potentially disastrous. How could we possibly make it work on such a grand scale? The slightest change, the smallest emotion could throw it all off." He was a small, round man with pinched features who shuffled, gesturing wildly and glancing at his companions for support.

"Phillipe is right, the spell is dangerous. There is a reason why it is hardly used."

"We have very little option Lady Knott, were your husband alive he would have felt the same, I am sure." Hermione glanced up at Draco at the sound of his friends' second name. The witch in question was thin and short, her features sharp and her hair scraped back off her face. Lady Knott began to shake with rage, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

"You dare to speak of my husband as though you know his heart."

"You would suggest that his heart would not want what is best for our people." Lady Knott turned her head away from the dark wizard sharply crossing her arms and refusing to speak any more.

"The point still stands that this is not done, the spell itself was an accident in its conception, should we really pin our future, the future of our people on an accident."

"That is a myth Slughorn and you know it." A tall man with a long nose glanced at Phillipe in a rather bored manner and Hermione gasped.

"Slughorn?" She whispered, turning to stare open-mouthed at Draco who met her shocked expression with his own.

"A myth? A myth?" Phillipe Slughorn spluttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Yes, a myth, the writings of obliviate are sketchy at best. As one would expect when a wizard is researching a memory spell. One can hardly be expected to keep detailed notes when one cannot remember their own name." The tall man flicked his long dark hair over his shoulder and sniffed, smirking at Slughorn who was shaking with barely concealed rage.

"I have done research!"

"Perhaps you should stick to your gardening." A handsome man cut in, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

Hermione and Draco had been so caught up with the argument that they had not noticed the blonde witch and wizard that had been stood behind them the whole time. When one of them spoke they both whirled around, separating quickly and holding their breath as the two walked between them

The one man was proud, his shoulders back and chest puffed forward as he supported the witch at his side, who was hunched over and hobbling painfully. Hermione gasped, once again grabbing Draco's arm for support when she noticed that the witch was, in fact, Lady Greengrass, her light hair streaked with grey, her pale skin littered with silvery scars.

"What have they done to her?" Hermione breathed, her heart aching at the agony she must have faced, the pain and fear she must have been subjected to.

"Enough." Lady Greengrass spoke, her voice ringing with authority in spite of her hunched and weak appearance. "We argue pathetically even as our enemy closes in."

"Arden has been defeated, his followers scattered to the wind, what immediate threat could we realistically face."

"Castien you are young and immature. What you know of the world you have learnt through books and little else. Arden has fallen, but to whom do you think he fell." The blonde-haired wizard holding Lady Greengrass up spoke quickly and scathingly, in an extremely Malfoy way, so much so that Hermione was left in no doubt that it was Draco's ancestor. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat at the thought of a Malfoy being with a Greengrass even in the past, a part of her not wanting to look at them. Even as she felt sorry for Lady Greengrass she despised her a little.

Castien – the tall wizard with the long nose – seemed to shrink under the wizard's authority, shutting his mouth quickly and examining the floor.

"We must cast this spell and we must do it now, let us fall into hiding, into our own world, into safety." The dark-haired wizard nodded at Lady Greengrass, turning to address the other witches and wizards in turn.

"There is one other order of business that we have to deal with." He lifted one arm and gestured at the man waiting at the door, who bowed and opened it quickly. A young man walked in, two axes strapped to his back, hoisting a man in purple robes before him with ease.

"Granger, that's Taigen."

"What?" Hermione whirled round to Draco who had not taken his eyes off the door.

"The man holding, Arden, it's Taigen."

Hermione had not expected Taigen to look the way he did; he had eyes of steel, his mouth pressed in a grim line and a scar running the length of his jaw and stopping just beneath his chin.

"He looks different," Draco commented as Taigen pushed Arden towards the other wizards. The man that held onto Arden was so different from the boy that had shook before Bear, who followed along with Rhylan and Edward with wide-eyed wonder. Draco briefly wondered what had happened to the rest of them, he knew of Edwards fate but nothing of what became of Rhylan and Bear.

"What's he doing here?" Hermione breathed, and Draco shook his head, too shocked to answer Hermione's question sarcastically.

"Merlin know's."

"Arden, you will explain to the council what it is you have proposed."

"You would take advice from him?" Lady Greengrass spat, pointing her shaking finger at the crumpled wizard on the floor.

"He would seek to atone for all that he had done." The dark-haired wizard spoke grimly, eyeing Arden with mistrust.

"His death would be all that could atone for the things that he has done."

"There will be no more death, Lady Greengrass. I will have no more of our people needlessly slaughtered. There has been too much bloodshed. We have fought among ourselves for too long."

"And who's fault is that?" Lady Greengrass pointed out, moving from Malfoy's grasp and shuffling forward, "you do not know what he has done, you do not know what I have seen."

"We have all faced terrible things, My Lady. It is time to put that all behind us."

Lady Greengrass lifted her chin with pride, tears glimmering in her eyes.

"You forget what I have been through for everyone here."

"No one could forget My Lady, no one. But we must move on, we must. For the sake of our people." Lady Greengrass was silent, her whole bent form shaking, Hermione could not guess whether it was from rage or defeat. The dark-haired wizard turned, once again looking down at the pitiful mess of Arden, his gaze hardening.

"You will tell us what it is you propose." Arden nodded, not lifting his gaze from the floor, taking a scroll from his robe and opening it out.

"Our magic, it has no control, no end. It is in everything and we are linked to it and each other through it. As such, terrible magic, insidious and evil has grown and manifested."

"And you have sanctioned it, allowing it space and freedom," Lady Greengrass reminded him bitterly. Arden lowered his head even further at her words.

"I cannot deny my role in such things, but I would seek to aid going forward. And to go forward our magic needs to change."

Hermione couldn't help the anger bubbling in her stomach at Arden's words, everything that had happened, everything he spoke of was his doing and he was acting as though it wasn't.

"Why are they letting this happen?" Hermione spat, stepping forward to gauge the reactions of the other wizards in the room. They all seemed uncomfortable with Lady Greengrass' words but none of them said anything, deciding to look anywhere but at her.

"How can they just…" Draco stepped forward taking her hand and drawing her back to him.

"I know, Granger, but there's nothing we can do." Hermione let out a breath, wanting to argue with him but she couldn't, he was right. Everything they saw had already been and gone and they were living in the consequences of those actions.

"In order to control magic, I propose a way that is not linked by blood."

"How is that even possible?" Castien asked.

"The blood is replaced with particular ingredients, unique to each witch and wizard. It will make the wand powerful but separate from the full potential power. It will be safer and easier to control.

"How do we know this could even work, obliviate will be hard enough to perform, but what about after? How will we make this work, how will we remember it?" Slughorn countered, peering down at the paper in Arden's hand.

"Arden will remember." The dark-haired wizard spoke quietly, refusing to look at his fellow council member as they froze. There was a moment of silence before their protestations rose, voices clamouring over one another to be heard, each of them shouting their disagreement and concern.

"ENOUGH." The dark-haired wizard raised his hands and they all fell silent, begrudgingly relenting to his authority.

"While I am not completely against a control of magic, on the contrary, it is much needed, but leaving behind the very wizard that rose against his own kind, that betrayed them, performed all manner of magical experiments on them? You have made some grand decisions in your time, your majesty, but this…I feel that you have not properly considered the implications of leaving him with such knowledge." Everyone nodded at the handsome wizards' words, turning to look at their leader expectantly.

"Dorian, you raise a valid and careful argument. But I assure you that I have thought this through. I have obsessed over this for as long as I have been able, and I can see no other way."

"Perhaps a more trusted advocate could keep all their memories."

"None but Arden shall keep his memories." Their leader stated, crossing his arms, "and if you will allow me, I will explain why it must be so."

There was a general muttering amongst the magic users gathered, but eventually, they fell silent, turning their attention to their leader. He nodded once, placing his arms behind his back and turning to walk up the steps to the platform where all the teachers usually sat, his robes sweeping the space where the table would have been.

"My good friends now is the time that we put aside all that made us different and focus on what we are together. We are powerful and strong, but we are hurt and if we are not careful we could be hurt again." There were many scoffs that accompanied this line, especially from Hermione. While she completely agreed with the Wizards going into hiding, she wondered how 'His Majesty' could have so easily decided to leave Arden with his memories. What purpose could such a decision possibly serve than give him the opportunity to hurt them all, again?

"When we have forgotten there will be much planning, much organising and," he turned to his audience, "much to hide." There was a collective intake of breath as they all suddenly realised.

"Their hatred," Draco commented, gazing at each of the robed figures in turn, "it clouded their judgement." Hermione looked up at him and then followed his gaze as many of the people gathered had the common decency to look slightly ashamed at their oversight. Hermione realised with shock that she had allowed the same thing to get in the way of such a logical explanation. His family were famous for it, hiding things was what they did best and, she realised, he had done it spectacularly.

"Arden shall clear up what we have left, Taigen will help." The young man nodded his head once, the dark look on his face never leaving. "We will create a guard against unlawful magic use, an armour that will cloak our world and keep it safe. When this is done," he reached into his robe and took out his wand gazing down at it sadly, "we will cast obliviate and begin our lives anew."

"But can the boy really be trusted, he is a muggle, what is to stop him from reporting back to his people," Slughorn complained, shrinking back when Taigen turned his gaze to him.

"Taigen has protected our kind many times and he has offered to do so again. Such views should be put aside, I would not have them infect our new beginning." Slughorn nodded solemnly, adjusting his robes uncomfortably.

Draco's ancestor turned to Lady Greengrass, familiar grey eyes filled with worry,

"I would recommend you do not cast obliviate." He whispered, and both Draco and Hermione shifted closer to listen.

"I am one of the council, one of the few that remain from the original six. I will do my duty."

"Your hatred, if unchecked could infect us all. We cannot create a new world with such malice among us." Lady Greengrass eyes lit with hatred, venom swimming in their depths.

"My hatred is my own and shall remain my own." Draco's ancestor shook his head sadly.

"I pray that you are right."

The memory faded, and they were one again stood next to the cabinet. Hermione looked up ad Draco with wonder and as one they reached for another bottle. They had time and she had to admit that they gained a lot more information than if they simply read all the scrolls that Arden had kept. This was the truth, all that had actually happened, a window right into the past.