"… haven't seen anything like it…"

"… the death toll is catastrophic in alpine nations …"

"… entire towns have been torn to shreds. There are cracks - look here – cracks in the walls ..."

"… the Americans are blaming it on the Russians, of course …"

"… je courais et je ne sais pas d'où ça venait mais il y avait un loup! Sorti de nulle part! J'ai pris mon fils et j'ai couru! Je ne savais pas quoi faire …"

"… the Prime Minister is here to address the situation …"

"… wolves I tell you! They were rabid wolves! Full moon too… man… what are the odds of that? …"

"… the Canadians have had a major outbreak. Some sort of unknown disease. Now, the Prime Minister is keeping things well under wraps but multiple hospitals throughout the Northwest Territories and Northern Manitoba have reported a virus that is spreading, and it's spreading fast …"

"… best explanation we have at the moment is a global earthquake …"

"… It wasn't a damn earthquake. All this shows is a failure in the education system. There is no such thing as a "Global Earthquake"…"

"… it's a sign from God. Obviously. We're doomed, and this was the first sign! …"

"… coastal cities are still being affected by the repercussions …"

"… One by one the towers fell. It was like a bomb had gone off …"

"… there'sa large group of scientists saying that it is possible for the Earth to have, quite literally, accelerated its usual rotation, skipping us all out on roughly three hours … "

"… the… uh, Global ramifications of something like this …"

"… trade through the Suez is simply not possible at the moment. There is a global endeavour to clear it before we face some sizeable economic consequences … "

"… hundreds of missing children throughout Europe …"

"… The Panamanian Government is asking for a ridiculous sum of money for repairs to the Panama Canal. But who are we to deny the need? Without it, we will have not one, but two major slipstreams completely blocked …"

"... death by wolves? It would seem that hundreds of everyday citizens have died from some unknown virus ..."

"… some higher power caused this! I'm tellin' you! ..."

"… Nepal is facing severe destruction. The UN is spread too thin at the moment …"

"… another failure in a long line of global organizations …"

"… tell me, Margret, why are we prioritizing the rich countries in this? Coastal cities in poorer nations need more help than the god damn Capitol Building …"

"… Now look here…the year is 1995. 2012 is only… what? Seventeen years away? I'm tellin' you it's connected! …"

"… How the Americans always find a way to blame Russia, is, in my humble opinion, relatively pathetic. Is the Cold War not over? …"

"… Volcanic activity, as a whole, has spiked. We're keeping our eyes on those that have remained dormant for a… well, a fairly long time …"

"… Towers this tall are not made for a quake of this magnitude. So, yes, the foundations are failing. We're lucky so few have collapsed …"

"… It's a bloody miracle that the ring of fire has remained relatively stable through all of this …"

"… A normal day on Earth lasts roughly twenty-three hours fifty-three minutes. If you're telling me we lost three of those hours, well, you're daft is what you are …"

"… The trouble is we don't know how it happened, and we don't know if it'll happen again. If it does, how do we prepare? …"

"… there has got to be a better explanation for all this! …"

"… It is truly inspiring to see the speed and ingenuity of the repairs going around worldwide. Poorer countries are suffering, but they'll make it out. They always do …"

"… we likely won't see a return to regular tidal behaviour for quite some time …"

"… I'm telling you this was no earthquake. We here at the New Salem Philanthropic Society believe that this was caused by PEOPLE. Understand that these people… they're not like you and me. Believe me when I say this was WITCHCRAFT! …"

Regretfully Uncaring

Chapter 27: The Clock is Ticking Faster

"… The Muggles are unaware of course. MACUSA is once again dealing with their non-magical population's suspicions. The ICW is convening in Bhutan on the thirtieth to discuss the possible cause …"

Dudley Dursley sat bolt upright at the word 'Muggle' and stared around the room. There was a small wireless sitting on a desk next to his bed. He slammed the top of it to turn it off, only then realizing that he'd accidentally destroyed the thing. He'd completely crushed it.

Dudley was strong, but he wasn't that strong.

He'd been transferred to a "Specialized Hospital" according to that policewoman Nymphadora a couple of days ago. He'd been drifting in and out of sleep for the past couple of days. He'd wake to a different voice on a different radio station before dozing off again. It was the twenty-second of April, and Dudley felt abysmal. His head pounded like that time his best mate, Piers Polkiss, had broof ught over a couple shot glasses and a bottle of vodka.

Actually, it was far worse than a hangover.

This felt like being run over by a car fifteen times over. This felt like something worth dying for, just to get rid of the pain.

The door suddenly opened, and Dudley turned his head to face it. Fuck, even moving his head felt awful.

It was the policewoman again, only this time she was dressed in a pair of shorts and a bright orange blouse that contrasted terribly with her… bubble-gum pink hair? Dudley could have sworn her hair had been brown the day before yesterday.

He noticed with a start that the room he woke up in was unnaturally sparse in… well, anything. There was no medical equipment and no photographs on the wall. Not even a small television in the corner. It was miserably empty.

Nymphadora walked in and was followed shortly by a very tall man with light-brown hair. His face had deep scars running down the length of it, but they had faded to white and weren't all that noticeable without the light shining directly on his face. He was wearing a typical cotton t-shirt and, again, shorts. The same exact kind as Nymphadora, actually. They looked much better on him than they did on her. "Why is she wearing men's clothing?"

"Hello, Dudley, I've brought a visitor," she said kindly. Her smile lit up her face quite prettily. Pink hair or not, she was most definitely attractive.

"Hullo," he tried to wave his hand at the man, but he only managed to increase the throbbing in his head. He winced and the man threw him a sympathetic smile.

"Hello, Dudley, my name is Remus Lupin," he tapped Dudley's shoulder once and Dudley was quite relieved that it hadn't hurt him in the slightest. Instead, it was rather soothing. It was almost like magic.

His father would have killed him for thinking it.

For some reason, thoughts of his father didn't bring many warm memories to the front of his mind. He'd been… well, he was a father, he supposed. But he wasn't exactly supportive or helpful. That had been his mother.

She was gone as well.

It was that which stung.

"I understand that you are in quite a bit of pain at the moment," Mr. Lupin continued, and Dudley was brought back to the present. "Believe me, I underwent the same symptoms,"

"You had what I have?" Dudley blurted out nervously. Maybe this man could help him.

Mr. Lupin smiled kindly at him. "Yes. Though I regret to inform you that I still have what you have. There is no cure,"

Dudley clenched his jaw to fight the onslaught of emotion that seemed to be hitting him. For some unfathomable reason, Dudley felt like crying. He hadn't cried in a very long time. Not seriously, in any case.

"There are things, however, that can make it better," Mr. Lupin injected, and Dudley's attention centered back on him.

"Like what?" Dudley asked, tentatively. He noticed that the Nymphadora woman had left the room.

"Well, it has been a very long time since I'd been bitten… but I do happen to know someone whose experience is quite fresh," said Mr. Lupin delicately.

The door opened and Nymphadora once again came through. What shocked Dudley to the core was the young man who followed in after her.

It… looked like Harry in some ways, but he wasn't the scrawny weak little brat he'd been the last time Dudley had seen him. He was taller, his hair was long and fell around his face stylishly. His jaw was well defined, and his cheekbones now protruded in a different way than the summer before last. It wasn't out of malnourishment, but out of… well… growth. He had gained a noticeable amount of muscle, but he wasn't bulky. He was lean and sinewy. He looked a good two or three years older than he should be.

"H-Harry?" Dudley asked stupidly. He genuinely wasn't sure if this was his cousin.

Harry smiled slightly. "Hey, Big-D," he said, striding into the room confidently and sitting at the foot of Dudley's bed. "Alright?" he asked.

Dudley stared at him for a moment before he laughed out his nose slightly. "Been better," he replied. As much as he really didn't like Harry, it was honestly so nice to see someone he knew, someone he was related to, that he didn't mind it quite so much.

Harry laughed. He actually laughed! And said, "Yeah I felt the same way,"

Dudley swallowed, remembering what Mr. Lupin – who had taken a step away from the bed – had said about Harry having been afflicted as well. "How does it… does it ever get better? Does it ever hurt less?"

Harry eyed him peculiarly for a long while. "Yes… it did, for me," he paused and looked around the room for a moment before his eyes settled back on Dudley. "Have you heard a voice in your head lately?" he asked conversationally.

Dudley blanched. He should have expected this from Harry. He was always a freak. Always weird. "No, why would I have heard a voice in my head!?" he shouted defensively.

Harry didn't seem to react; he just rolled his eyes. "Because that's a guaranteed symptom," he replied easily. "I had it, I still have it, and I'm sure you do too. It should be a voice that isn't your own. Like a companion,"

"How do you know it's common? How do you know it's normal? What if you're the only one? You were always a freak!" Dudley cried.

Harry stared back at him coolly. "Dudley, I came here to try and ease you into this. But you're being a bit of a prick, so I'll drop you into the cold water," he stood from the bed and came to Dudley's side. "Where do you think that wolf came from?"

Dudley shivered. The wolf had haunted his dreams since that night. It had been a simple outing to get his father's prescription, when all of a sudden, a wolf killed his mother, then his father, then his aunt, and had the cruelty to spare him. "I'd assume it came in through a side entrance of some sort… killed the chemist behind the counter and then proceeded to… to…" Harry dropped a hand to Dudley's shoulder and again it felt comforting instead of worsening the pain. It seemed that human contact mitigated the symptoms. He wasn't quite sure.

"I'm sorry about your mum," he said apologetically. Dudley was surprised at the amount of emotion in his voice. "I may not have loved her… but I never would have wanted her to die. She… well I know she meant a lot more to you than she meant to me but just," Harry sighed and took his hand off Dudley's shoulder. "I lost my parents when I was too young to remember them… what's happened to you is far worse but… if you need someone to talk to, I'm here," Harry sighed and bit the inside of his lip.

Dudley didn't react. He couldn't explain it, but he didn't really... miss his parents. They were just there. A staple of his life. Either he hadn't accepted that they were gone over the past week, or he simply didn't care. He couldn't pinpoint it.

"That wolf was the chemist," Harry said quietly after a short while.

Dudley frowned. "I'm not following,"

Harry took out a stick, similar to the one Nymphadora had tucked behind her ear, and the realization hit Dudley like a bus. He flinched when Harry waved his wand and a small chair appeared, which he sat on. "You're going to have to get used to magic, Dudley,"

"Why," Dudley spat.

"Because, as far as I am aware, you are now a wizard,"

Dudley gaped at him and then shook his head repeatedly. "No. I won't believe in such nonsense."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "As I was saying… the Chemist was the wolf. On April 15th, there was… a terrorist attack of sorts from my world," goose pimples rose on Dudley's skin at the mention of his world. "There are… diseases in our world that don't typically spread to yours. You must have a trace amount of magic in you,"

Dudley shut his eyes tight. "Why?"

"Why? Because most people like you would have died the second the wolf bit you… but you didn't. Which means you now carry the curse... and you must have some magic," Harry continued.

Dudley gulped. "What curse?"

"You're a werewolf," from the way Harry was talking, you'd have thought Harry was laughing. When Dudley turned his head to face Harry, he noticed tcousin was clearly trying not to smile.

"How the fuck is that funny, Potter?" he spat.

Harry chuckled for just a moment and tried desperately to straighten his face. "It just sounds so ridiculous…" he sighed and leaned his head back, so he was staring at the ceiling. "Like, I was told that you'd been bitten, and I was… well, a bit concerned, really. But now that I'm here and talking to you I just sort of… well, it's mildly hilarious,"

Dudley continued to glare at his cousin. "I know you're just taking the mickey. There's no such thing as werewolves,"

"Dudley, for fuck's sake there's no such thing as magic either but we both know that one's real," Harry replied in a bored sort of voice. "I don't actually know if you've gone full wizard or not. I'm just guessing. But I know that when you're bitten, you grow a second, or in your case, first magical core. That's where your magic will come from," he explained, letting his head fall forward again so he could look at Dudley. "I'm just going to let you know that there is an excellent chance that you'll be living with me now. So, I'd recommend adopting a less judgemental lifestyle." he smiled and patted Dudley's knee.

"Right, so, if you want that headache to go away, you're going to need to find your voice. It's erm… it's like a whisper at the back of your mind that sort of just… it's a constant presence. You'll find it eventually," Harry frowned for a moment. "I don't know what form yours will take, though."

Dudley was slowly beginning to accept the situation. But he would never admit to that. "How can you prove it? How can you prove that I'm a… werewolf," he made it through without stuttering out any magic words. He was proud of himself.

Harry's expression turned to one of amusement. "Well, you'll find out on the 14th," he replied cheekily.

"What?"

"The fourteenth of May is the next full moon. I reckon turning into a big hairy monster may be an indicator," Harry paused and seemed to stare deep within his soul. Dudley turned away. "I can be here with you if you want," said Harry quietly. "Me and Remus,"

Dudley turned to Mr. Lupin with a frown. He had seemed kind enough, but now, with the context of the situation, he seemed so much worse. For some reason, Dudley hadn't connected the dots to see Mr. Lupin as a w. He didn't really want to see Harry. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment. But if what Harry said was true, he knew he couldn't handle it on his own... but he'd never admit to that.

"No, I'm alright," he protested triumphantly.

Harry seemed to sigh in relief. "Alright. Tonks here," he pointed to Nymphadora, "is going to explain the rest to you. I'm off to school,"

"School?" Dudley asked stupidly. "It's a Saturday!"

"It's a boarding school, mate. I live there," Harry replied with a laugh. Then, he hesitated in exiting. "Hang on, Dudley, can you try something for me?"

Dudley stared apprehensively at his cousin. "Like what?"

Harry came back to his bedside and pulled out a wand. This one was different and appeared almost dusty. "This is my old wand," he explained rapidly. "I want to see if the bite gave you any magic,"

Dudley really, really, didn't want to do this. In fact, he ranked it so incredibly low on his bucket list that it wasn't even worth mentioning. It was far below getting arrested.

But he seemed to be in a freakish hospital surrounded by freaks so he might as well just accept his fate. He cautiously reached out, fighting the throbbing in his skull, and wrapped his pudgy fingers around Harry's old wand.

"Give it a wave," Harry instructed.

Dudley delicately swished it and Harry sighed. "Mate… I meant really wave it."

Dudley grunted and flicked the wand in the wall's direction. A bright purple light shot out of its tip and struck the wall, leaving a large splodge of purple paint. Dudley hastily dropped the wand to the bedsheets and Harry stared open-mouthed at the wall opposite.

"Holy shit," he muttered, "HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed, far louder. Harry started laughing and collapsed into the chair he'd made appear out of thin air. "Fucking hell my twat of a cousin is a wizard," he said as though Dudley wasn't in the room. He ran a hand through his long unruly hair. Harry stood abruptly and made his way to the door. "Tonks, this is your problem now!" and left.

Dudley had no idea that this would be the last time he saw his cousin for a very long time.

The castle grounds were wet from the pouring rain. Ron had heard Ginny grumble through her homework about the lack of a, in her words, "Bloody electrical storm,".

Ron had smiled slightly at that, but his face quickly returned to its now typical frown. He'd buried himself in schoolwork. Something he'd always berated Hermione for, whenever things got difficult for her, but he could see it now. If he was distracted by the stress of finishing homework, he could forget the dread and weight that came with the inevitable thoughts of his dead brother.

It had been nearly two weeks. Two weeks of inescapable hell. He'd written home practically every day and had endured the jeering and teasing that Malfoy threw his way. Though the ferret may not belittle Harry anymore, thanks to the fact that the git owed him, it didn't stop him from taunting Ron.

He'd laughed and pointed at Ron, demanding to know why he was so down. "Did Granger reject you again?" Ron didn't even have the fight left in him to retaliate. He just shrugged his shoulders and moved passed.

It was a surprise to Ron that when The Daily Prophet arrived with news of Charlie Weasley's death in the morning roughly five days after Fleur, Bill and Percy had returned from Austria, Malfoy had immediately stopped what he was going on about.

While they'd waited in line for their potions class, Ron could have sworn that Malfoy made an attempt to talk to him. He didn't know if it was going to be more teasing or not, but Malfoy almost seemed apologetic.

It was highly disconcerting.

Harry had attempted to lighten the mood between Ron and Ginny. Honestly, he and Colin were a blessing at the moment. They never talked about it unless they knew Ron or Ginny wanted to, - not that Ginny ever did - and they didn't beat around the bush either. Which was nice, in Ron's opinion. Everyone else was pretending that nothing was wrong.

Ron was tired of pretending.

Hermione had comforted him the first night. She stayed up with him in the Common Room as he shared his favourite memories of Charlie. Yes, the full days' worth of classes that followed their all-nighter was brutal, but without it, Ron didn't think he'd be holding up as well as he was.

Now, however, Ron just felt nothing but a strange urge to do something. He didn't know what, when, or how he was going to do something. But he had an itch to stop laying around. Greyback had killed his brother, apparently. That had been a particularly sore point for Harry, who hadn't been a werewolf for a full year at this point.

Ron was glad he was friends with Harry, and to an extent, Professor Lupin. Because if he hadn't been, and he'd heard the news of Charlie's death - the pain he had to endure. Well, he would have lost his shit at the news that came this morning.

On the morning of April 29th, 1995, werewolves were officially granted the rights to be educated, employed, govern, and become legal guardians so long as they'd been screened by the Ministry. They were still considered part-humans, though that fact didn't seem to matter as much legally anymore. They had the exact same opportunities as regular witches and wizards, and supposedly, the reception had been incredibly positive.

Ron felt that the positive reception would have been clouded had Fudge not paid off every news publication to hide the fact that the full moon's early arrival had caused a severe spread of the virus and had been the cause of many muggle deaths. Ron only knew about it through Tonks. It was being kept under wraps by Fudge himself. He needed some positive feedback on his new laws, or else he would never make it passed the election in November.

Ron knew deep down that the laws and legislation were good progress, and necessary in creating a better future… but people like Greyback really left a stain on lycanthropy as a whole.

Ron knew Harry was pleased, but he could tell that his best mate was trying not to look so happy with himself. Harry was like that. He only saw his own joy as a weapon against others. And considering the fact that his two best friends were currently mourning the loss of their brother, to a werewolf no less, Ron could understand the hesitancy to react.

Professor Lupin hadn't outright announced his lycanthropy. According to Harry, he was waiting for someone to figure it out and announce it to the class. He thought it would be "fun" that way.

Ron found it a bit dim, actually. Loads of people had figured it out, they just hadn't said anything. And, honestly, they'd likely continue to say nothing.

Ron cracked open the window engrained into the wall to his right. From where he sat at one of the many high tables of the common room, he could see the entire grounds of Hogwarts. Due to the storm, his vision was impeded somewhat, but that didn't matter at the moment.

He just wanted to smell the air, feel it blow through the window over his face and through his hair. He felt like a spectator to his own life. He wondered if this was how Ginny had felt while possessed.

The sound of millions, perhaps billions of raindrops clattering against the many turrets and battlements was soothing to Ron. The lack of any thunder or lightning only amplified the calm.

A sudden distortion in the sound came in the form of a pair of flapping wings and a beautiful dark brown eagle-owl. In its talons was a small parcel.

The owl dropped it delicately on the table and Ron murmured a soft thanks, stroking it for a moment before it flew out the window in search of the mercifully dry owlery.

The parcel was delicately wrapped. The strings holding the paper together were tied with clear elegance and care.

His name was written across the front in beautiful looping cursive. He didn't recognize the handwriting.

Carefully, he pulled on the string and let the paper unfold itself. It was masterfully put together. The paper fell away and morphed into a large paper bird. Ron didn't know what species it was meant to represent, but the contents of the parcel lay below the charmed bird's feet. "Wicked," Ron muttered as he inspected the charm work on the bird. He'd never been this good at animating inanimate objects. It was something that seemed to come from N.E.W.T level classes, but he'd seen Malfoy and Parvati accomplish similar things before.

He continued to admire the bird for a long while before he delicately pushed it away. The bird opened its beak as if to squawk at him, but, seeing as it was made of paper, no sound came out.

Ron chuckled slightly and picked up what was obviously the back of a Chocolate Frog Card.

He turned it over and gasped. It was Agrippa. The only rare-level card he'd been missing for years now. It was well known that Ron had quite the impressive collection of cards and was a go-to source for many of the younger years in trading advice and/or opportunities.

What was not well-know, however, was that the one card he was still missing was Agrippa. He'd only ever shared that information with Harry, and maybe Fred and George at mealtimes. He didn't like bringing it up because it was a bit of a sore spot.

So then who had sent it to him? The card was worth hundreds of galleons on the after-market. Surely, they wouldn't give something so valuable away for free.

Luckily for Ron, there was a card included in the package. The paper bird kept pecking at it and its paper beak had folded in on itself. Due to its aggressive pecking, the bird looked quite deformed.

The sight drew out the first true, unfiltered laugh out of Ron in a while.

He gently reached for the card and cracked open the seal. He pulled out the thin piece of parchment enclosed and unfolded it so he could read. There wasn't much written.

"I have a few Agrippa's. Care to trade me a Dumbledore?

-Greengrass,"

It was the first time someone had done something so blatant in an effort to make him feel better that had actually worked. He grinned down at the parchment and shook his head repeatedly. It was so pathetically simple. He loved it. Dumbledore was one of the most common cards. Practically everyone had a few. Hell, Harry - who didn't even collect - had three or four.

She'd really just sent him a 100-galleon card to cheer him up.

They weren't even really friends!

Were they?

Merlin, he didn't care.

He ran up the steps to the fourth-year boys' dormitory and rummaged through his trunk before he pulled out the binder that held all of his cards. He flipped through to the back where he kept his extras. He pulled out a Dumbledore with few creases or other general damage. It was practically mint condition.

Ignoring the bewildered stares of Seamus and Dean, he clattered down the stairs and tore off a piece of parchment from the Charms essay he was writing and dipped his quill in ink before he wrote,

"I have a lot of Dumbledores. So, you're in luck, Greengrass.

-Weasley 6,"

He didn't have any fancy envelopes, so instead he rolled up the small note, tied it and the card with the string that had held his parcel together, and faltered.

He didn't have a bird to use at the moment. He let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling before a sudden realization hit him. He scrambled for his wand and held it tightly in his hand. He pointed it at the paper bird Greengrass had made and muttered "Impervius!"

The charmed bird shivered slightly as though a strong wind had rustled its feathers. And Ron tipped a small drop of water out of his goblet experimentally to see if it affected the paper.

His charm work held, and his smile broadened. "Will you take this to Daphne Greengrass for me?" he asked, extending the rolled-up note and card to the bird.

It stared at him with its flat paper face, and Ron could feel the contempt radiating off of it. He laughed again and pushed the note towards the bird, before pulling back again. The bird opened its paper beak once again to protest and Ron mumbled, "Yeah, yeah keep your feathers on… let me just make sure the card doesn't get wrecked," he pointed his wand at the card and note and repeated the same charm as before. He tested it carefully and was, once again, pleased with the results.

Ron held the now waterproof note and card out to the bird, which quickly flapped up and gripped the bundle with its paper talons before flying out of the open window.

Ron sighed. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. He turned back to his charms essay with newfound enthusiasm. It was funny, he thought, how easily a simple action could brighten up the gloomiest of days.

The morning of Sunday, the 14th of May 1995 dawned bright, warm, and cheery. The past month had been an excruciatingly depressing venture for Harry.

Fleur's veela charm had been non-existent since she'd returned. She wore a haunted look on her face. It resided deep within her eyes that could not and would not fade away.

Then there was Ron, who he'd never seen so determined to succeed in his classes. Remus had to pull him aside in class to make sure he was alright with the current curriculum. Ron was currently the best in Defense Against the Dark Arts for the fourth-years'. He was followed closely by Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Draco. Neville had climbed his way up in the class as well, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with Remus's teaching methods.

To Harry, though, it felt as though four people had died that night. Fred and George were unrecognizable. Both of them had taken Charlie's death far worse than he'd expected, if he was honest with himself. It seemed so impossible to see a frowning Fred, or a scowling George, but Harry had now experienced it. They were getting better, it was true, but they weren't the same.

According to Ron, Charlie had been a bit of an inspiration to the two of them. Unlike Ron, they hadn't gained the determination to persevere in their endeavours following Charlie's death. Harry didn't know what to do, but he felt for Lee Jordan, who was desperately trying to help his two best friends.

But the biggest loss had been Ginny. Outwardly, one may not notice the difference. She still ate at mealtimes, she never skipped class, her grades were as good as they had always been, but Harry felt like he couldn't reach her.

She hung around him all the time, it was true. They still spent pretty much all of their free time in the library, but she might as well have been a ghost. A shell of what she'd been before.

Harry had let her grieve for a few weeks before trying to really talk to her. She'd gently rebuffed him and hadn't spoken much since.

A silent Ginny was infinitely worse than an angered Ginny.

Harry dressed and made his way down to the common room. He wasn't surprised to find Ginny laying horizontally on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She had a book on advanced transfiguration hovering above her. In her left hand, she held a water goblet. "Hi Harry," she greeted him softly.

"Morning," he replied. Sitting in the middle of the sofa and forcing her to squirm out of the way.

"Fuck off," she grumbled, and Harry laughed.

"Wanna go get breakfast?" he asked, gesturing to the portrait hole.

Without moving her head, she glanced down and away from her hovering book. She sighed dramatically and threw her left hand, with its full water goblet, over the cushion's edge, and onto the floor. It was a remarkable fake death pose, and Harry chuckled. "I suppose I could go for a piece of toast," she said exasperatedly.

"Piece of toast, eh? Such a hearty meal. Full with all the nutrients you'll need in a-" he was cut off by the light punch thrown at his arm as she sat up, glaring at him.

"All I meant was that I'd get breakfast with you. I'm not seriously going to eat a solitary piece of toast," she grumbled and got to her feet, stretching her arms high above her head.

Harry stood up and made his way to the portrait hole, making sure she followed him. "So, why are you up on this lovely Spring Sunday morning?"

Ginny smiled slightly as she clambered out of the portrait hole. "Today's the full moon. I always wake up early on the full moons,"

"Oh yeah? So you can spend as much time with me as possible, eh?" he teased, but she didn't laugh. She continued to walk forward and glanced down at her toes with a light blush. Harry realized that that might truly be why she always woke up early on these days. He felt like a bit of a prat now, as they lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk to the Great Hall. Just as Ginny was about to make her way in for breakfast, Harry grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her down a side passage. She protested, asking him what he was doing and why. But Harry ignored her.

They stopped in front of a portrait depicting a bow of fruit, and Harry reached up with his free hand to tickle the pear. It squirmed away from his finger, and Harry heard Ginny let out a short snort of laughter.

The portrait opened inwards, and Harry led Ginny through into the Hogwarts kitchens.

They were greeted with an onslaught of house elves. Each of them was clambering to serve them breakfast and Harry sighed, instructing them to provide a smaller version of whatever they'd sent up for the rest of the school.

The portrait swung shut and Harry led Ginny over to a small table that had appeared.

"How did you find this?" she asked, before answering the question for him. "The Marauder's Map,"

Harry nodded at her guess and elaborated. "Right, well, I'd been curious about where the twins were getting all of their food and stuff. I knew they'd nicked it from the kitchens, but I hadn't known where they were, or how you got in. Well, the map told me to tickle the pear… Hang on… you don't even look all that surprised!"

Ginny laughed properly for the first time in weeks, it brought a smile to his face even though he'd obviously been had. "Who do you think found it? Fred and George, for all of their bragging, aren't the only ones who know this castle inside and out," she sobered slightly. Whether at the thought of the twins compared to their current state, or maybe whatever she was about to say next. "Granted, I didn't gain my knowledge of the castle with the same… enjoyable methods,"

Harry swallowed. Merlin, the Diary had affected everything.

"If you could leave Hogwarts…, would you?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

Ginny eyed him peculiarly for a long while. So long in fact, that the house elves had time to bring them their breakfast. Which consisted of toast, eggs, and porridge. "Yes. I would," she replied finally.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" he asked.

Ginny nodded confidently. "I wouldn't hesitate, honestly," she shimmied her fork in between the yolk and the white of the egg. Making sure not to pop the yolk bubble. "But the people keep me here,"

"Don't let me hold you back," Harry blurted out. "If you aren't happy, you should leave,"

Ginny smiled sadly at him. "I shouldn't… my family needs me. Now more than ever. I haven't seen my mum lately, but I'm sure she's a wreck," Ginny sniffed and stared back down at her egg. Harry realized that she was talking about more than leaving Hogwarts. "But I haven't been happy for a long time," she admitted, stabbing the yolk bubble and letting it pour out all over her plate. It soaked into her toast, and she sighed. She hated when her toast got infected by the yolk. Harry, without thought, tossed his toast over to her, making sure it avoided her plate, and landed beside her left hand so she could still have her toast.

She nodded slowly to herself. "I haven't been happy for a long time, Harry, you know that." she looked at him pleadingly and he nodded. "Charlie… Charlie is just another nail in the coffin. And I know that you see this place as your home. I know that this is… the best thing that ever happened to you… but Hogwarts has been horrible for me. Until this year, until we became close, I held nothing but resentment for this place. It isn't The Burrow. It isn't home."

Harry took her words and mulled them over in his head. He could tell that his mother was letting him think about this on his own. She must want him to do this properly. "But the Burrow hasn't been home for you in a while either, has it?"

Ginny shook her head. Her eyes stared pointedly down at her plate. Harry sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a quick sip.

"Where is home for you, Ginny?"

She swallowed and looked to the side, her jaw resting on her palm. She wasn't looking at Harry, but the torches reflected in her eyes, and Harry could see they were brimming with tears. "I don't have one," she answered finally. Harry's chest constricted as she said it.

"I want to leave, Harry. I want to leave and never come back," she turned to face him. Harry felt the pressure at the back of his eyes as well. It hurt to see a friend in so much pain. She swiped at her nose and sniffled again. "I just… this Tournament… I haven't… I haven't been honest with you," she breathed out shakily.

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded for her to continue.

"I don't think Tom is trying to kill us with the Tasks," she whispered. Harry could only hear her due to his wolf senses. The crackling of the fire in the large stone furnace behind him only amplified the tension. "I think… I think he's testing us. I think he's going to use us," she hesitated but Harry filled in for her.

"Like he did last time,"

Ginny nodded and sighed. "And it just makes me think that this whole thing has been this big setup for… for him to do something and I don't know if he needs me again, or if he just wants me for something… And there is a clear difference between the two, make no mistake... I don't know what it is he's planning, Harry…" she paused for just a moment before she clenched her jaw. "But I hate it so much, Harry. I hate it," she started crying silently and Harry didn't know what to do. He had never seen Ginny properly break down. And this was still fairly contained, all things considered. Ginny was just staring at him as the tears fell.

Harry stared right back at her, trying not to cry at the sight of her tears. he cleared his through and ducked his head for a moment, breaking eye contact, before looking right back up at her. "Well… children marked by Voldemort ought to stick together…" Harry paused and reached forward, grabbing hold of her hand. "Until the end,"

Ginny turned her palm to hold Harry's in return. "Until the end."

They sat there for a long time. Their eyes eventually fell to the table, but their hands remained locked.

There was nothing but the sound of the elves cleaning up after the mad dash they'd performed to cook not only the school's breakfast but Harry and Ginny's as well. The distant inconsistent clatter of utensils and the creaking of cupboards filled the silence.

"You know… Ginny… you can talk to me. You know… about the Diary? And Tom?" Harry said tentatively. The break in the silence seemed to ruin the moment.

Ginny pulled her hand out of his and wiped at her eyes. "I can't," she said, simply. "Goodluck tonight,"

She rose from the table and Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd made a mistake. "Tell me about Charlie," he said desperately. She halted in her progress to the door and Harry saw her shoulders tense. "Tell me about him," he pleaded.

Ginny didn't turn around. She continued to stare off into the corners of the kitchens. Harry could faintly pick up on her breathing. It was slow and calm. It was in stark contrast to the near sobbing she'd been in before. Just as Harry was sure she would leave without saying a word, she looked over her shoulder and said, "He was brilliant," in an emotionless voice, before turning and leaving the room.

Harry sighed and dropped his head to the table.

"You did well, Harry."

"Doesn't feel like I did well…" Harry grumbled mentally.

Lily sighed. "Perhaps not, but I don't think you need to feel that you did well… Ginny knows that you care, and that's the best you can do for now,"

"I was to do more, mum... I just wish I could do more..."

Dudley Dursley had been left to his own devices three hours ago. The full moon was due to rise in two hours, and he was dreading every second of it.

A part of him wished he'd asked Harry to stay with him. At least then he wouldn't be alone. but he didn't want anything to do with the freak.

His world had destroyed his own.

As for his ridiculous soul-searching activities the Nymphadora woman had gotten him to try, well, that was all a load of shite. There was no voice inside his head. It was as empty as it had always been.

His mother and father were dead. They had been for thirty days, yet he felt nothing. It wasn't a lack of compassion or sociopathic behaviour. He just didn't care. That fact haunted him, however. He wished he cared. He wished he could cry over his mother's shredded body.

But he couldn't. He'd tried.

There was no funeral. Who would come? His parents were the equivalent of living mannequins. No personality and no truth behind anything they displayed. They had no friends. They had nothing but aquantences. So he'd had them both cremated. Their ashes had been sprinkled in some irrelevant community garden his mother had enjoyed.

Of course, Dudley was different. He had friends. he had people who'd care about him if he died.

But he hadn't died. Oh, how he wish he had. A near-constant migraine for a month straight had left him defeated and irritable. The freaks who came in with their wands and their probes did nothing for him. They couldn't help him. He'd never be himself again.

Supposedly he'd be let out to get himself a wand soon. Oh, like that was meant to make him feel better. The freaks thought it was odd that he wasn't pleased with the news. How any 'muggle' would be clambering for an opportunity like the one he had been granted.

Bullshit.

No one would want to be a werewolf. And who the FUCK would want to be a wizard?

So Dudley continued to lie staring up at the ceiling, wondering where his cousin was and what he may be doing. "I'm just going to let you know that there is an excellent chance that you'll be living with me now. So, I'd recommend adopting a less judgemental lifestyle." he'd said. Absolutely ridiculous. Dudley would rather live in an orphanage than live in whatever dump Potter called home. He'd lived happily in a cupboard for most of his life. He probably sat in a cardboard box in some dingy freakish alleyway.

Dudley knew that he'd only grown more resentful and glum over the past month. He knew his negative thoughts had done nothing but spiral into a worsening storm. But he didn't give a single fuck.

"Interesting," said a voice from the corner of his room. If there was one thing Dudley didn't mind about his new condition, it was the fact that his senses had strengthened. The voice was raspy, almost hoarse. "I never thought Potter's cousin could be so... special,"

Dudley turned to the corner and saw a pair of legs. The rest of the man's body was concealed in the shadow of the corner. He must have been sitting in a chair.

"Who are you," Dudley spat. He noticed with a start that the pounding headache was gone. It was an unimaginable relief.

"Believe me, boy, that relief... that freedom you feel... I can give it to you," the voice said. A small light shone in the darkness and Dudley registered the smell of cigarette smoke.

Dudley clenched his jaw. "How can you help?" he said, slowly sliding out of bed. He was taller now. He'd thinned out, though not as Harry had. No, Dudley was bigger. Broader. His musculature was thick and defined. That was another positive of his affliction.

"Oh... I can make sure these people... this..." he took a deep breath, "... society... won't hold you back any longer..."

"What's your name," Dudley shouted into the darkness.

The man chuckled. "I go by many names... I am a master, I am fire, I am... a storm,"

Dudley had always been rubbish at riddles. "What's your name," he repeated.

"You can call me Him,"

Dudley snorted. "That's ridiculous..."

Dudley felt his arms snap to the sides of his body, and his legs lock together. He fell to the floor on his back. "You'll learn some respect... you're a Lowen... Entry-level. You don't deserve to hear my name... if you want this life..."

"I didn't say I did!" Dudley yelled through clenched teeth. He couldn't move his jaw from the body bind.

"Shame," the man said with mock pity. "They'll think you died... that's alright, really. Dudley Dursley dies today... you'll have a new name soon..."

Dudley could do nothing as the man made a magical copy of himself, placed it on the bed, and grabbed hold of his magically bound body. He felt a hook dig in from behind his navel, and he never saw the inside of that dreaded freakish hospital again.

"Astoria!" Daphne called, dragging out the 'a'. "Stop running! Mummy wants us inside! It is going to rain! You'll wreck that lovely dress of yours!"

Astoria ignored her. Choosing instead to run around, diving in and behind their charmed topiaries. One of them, which Daphne liked to call Mr. Orangles, depicted a large flamingo.

"Mr. Orangles?" Daphne greeted kindly. "Have you seen Astoria? She should've been right... here!" Daphne reached inside of the plant, much to its chagrin, and grabbed hold of Astoria's little arm.

"Sister!" Astoria whined. "I wan'ed to hide!"

"It's 'wanted', not 'wan'ed'," Daphne corrected.

Astoria made a 'hmph ' sound in indignation and made her way back towards the manor. "I'm only four," she said, holding out four fingers to make sure Daphne understood that four did, in fact, mean four.

"I'm well aware of that fact, thank you," said Daphne politely.

"You're boring now..." Astoria said sadly. "You used to be funner,"

"That isn't a word," Daphne reprimanded as they began to climb the marble steps to their home.

"See!" Astoria cried. "You're so boring..."

"Consider it revenge for when you were a baby and I had to deal with how boring YOU were. You couldn't even walk," Daphne teased with a smile. Astoria giggled.

"Mummy!" Astoria called. "We're back in now!" and not a moment too soon, it would seem. For the rain came down hard, then. Thunder clapped and Astoria jumped with a short scream. Daphne herself was rather apprehensive but didn't show it.

"Mummy?" Daphne called, a little louder than her younger sister.

No answer came.

"She was having a meeting with Mr. Malfoy," said Daphne absently. More to herself than anything.

Astoria frowned. "I don't like him very much..." she commented, making her way to the grand staircase. "He makes me feel all shivery,"

Daphne nodded. Together, they made their way up the stairs. Mummy's office was the first door on the left. "Mummy?" Daphne asked quietly.

"Muuuummyyyyy," Astoria dragged out in a whisper, gigging as she did so. she thought this was a game. And, up until this point, Daphne had thought so too. But she had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong.

Daphne lifted her hand to reach the door handle and turned it carefully. The door was perfectly oiled by their house elves, so it made no sound as it swung open.

"Mummy?" Astoria asked carefully trying to see around Daphne.

Daphne's arms went slack. She stared at her mother, laying on the floor with her gown torn open in places Daphne had always been told to keep well hidden. Her throat was bloodied and bruised and her glassy eyes stared unseeingly at Daphne. She was perfectly still.

Astoria's screams and wails were drowned out by a thick fog. Like that of a modified pensive memory.

"Interesting," came a voice from behind Daphne. She was the spectator of this nightmare. She had been ever since it had happened nine years ago. But this voice had never spoken to her.

Daphne whirled around. She was no longer her six-year-old self. Instead, she stood in her nightgown, her hair a mess, and tears streaming down her face. She was still in the dream, but she was conscious, somehow. She was living it.

A man stood in front of her. His hair was long but well kept. He appeared to be roughly the same age as Dumbledore. "Who are you!" she asked, raising her wand.

The man waved his hand and her wand vanished. "Magic blooms... only in rare souls..." he said with a small smile. "But the abilities you possess. The ones so few before you have graced... well, let us say that you are quite the commodity, Miss Greengrass,"

"Commodity? I am not material for trade," she ground out. "I ask you to identify yourself. This is my mind, after all,"

The man's smile broadened. "That it is... So you should be able to know who I am without a doubt. If this is your mind, you should know me... yes?" he had a slight accent to him. She was certain it was Eastern European.

Daphne faltered. It was her mind. this was her dream. So how had he reached her? And why was it that she didn't know who he was? "I haven't a clue who you are," she said slowly, turning the riddle around in her head, "So I suppose that means you come from the outside? That you've entered my mind?"

"Quite correct," the man nodded in approval. "You may know of my past endeavours... they were not noble, I must admit, but I have not seen another like you... another like me... in quite some time,"

"Who are you," Daphne asked for the third time.

"I am Gellert Grindelwald, though I am sure you are frightened, especially judging by your past experience with dark wizards... My, I knew the Malfoy's were a dodgy lot but the murder and rape of your mother for the betrothal of your sister to his son... Tut Tut, Lucius,"

Daphne's heart was pounding in anger. She swallowed hard. "How do you know all of that,"

"It's all here, inside your head," he explained. Then, he frowned. "Surely you know that?"

Daphne nodded slowly.

"Now, I am here to give you a warning, and I want you to listen very, VERY clearly..." he paused and waited for Daphne to return the attention. She clenched her jaw in determination and waited for him to speak.

Instead, she heard a distant ticking. The ticking of a watch. The sound deepened, becoming the ticking of a clock, only for it to deepen once more, gaining a reverb, indicating the ticking of the Elizabeth Tower, if it had been graced with a hand to measure the seconds.

"The Clock is ticking faster, Miss Greengrass," Grindelwald said with a wide Cheshire grin. "It is time we all chose a side... wouldn't you say? But then again, there are four sides of a compass, four rights on a watch... Two sides of a war..." his smile vanished. "History has a tendency to repeat itself," the distant ticking sound stopped, and a loud, booming chime resonated from somewhere in this strange abyss they stood in. It was deafening, and Daphne's vision blurred from the sound.

"The.

Clock.

is.

Ticking.

Faster."

And then he was gone. And Daphne Greengrass stood alone in the emptiness of her mind. in the emptiness of her heart.

Grindelwald was active once more.

Newt Scamander paced in front of Dumbledore's desk. "I've done some thinking," he said after a long moment.

"I can see that," Dumbledore remarked, tenting his fingers.

"Right, well, from what Percy described to us… I think I misinterpreted the ritual," Newt commented.

Dumbledore sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "A boy has died and you come to me with this information… Newt… I honestly-"

"I know that Dumbledore, I know what you're going to say. How I'm insensitive and can't grasp people's emotions but you're wrong about this. This is important to understand, Dumbledore!" he exclaimed angrily. "Greyback may attempt it again. Just… listen to my hypothesis."

Dumbledore let out a long breath but nodded for Newt to continue.

"I thought that Greyback needed four purebloods… but the more I think about it, the less it makes sense. For one thing, four is not magically significant. Three and seven are. On top of that, 'four purebloods' is too generic…"

Dumbledore conceded that it was rather undefined. Rituals, especially those based on blood, moon position, and geographic location, were typically incredibly precise.

"What do you think of it then, Newt?"

"I think the ritual goes like this. They needed the full moon, they needed three purebloods of the same bloodline, and they needed it to be in that exact location. We both know that there are parallels…" Newt trailed off and Dumbledore blanched.

Newt clearly felt that Dumbledore hadn't grasped the situation. "Three brothers? The castle where Cadmus first used the stone? The full moon? Dumbledore, it's the Deathly Hallows!" Newt threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. "It is a ritual with death's magic. I am sure of it!"

Dumbledore sighed and levitated a bottle of wine onto the table. With a flick of his wand, he poured out two glasses and magically sent one to Newt, who nearly dropped it once it reached his hands. Dumbledore still hadn't said a word.

"I know you gave up on the search years ago… but do you have any idea where the stone could be? If these artifacts land in the wrong hands…" Newt trailed off at the blank expression on Dumbledore's face.

"I really thought he'd stay," Dumbledore murmured over his wine glass. His voice lacked any and all emotion. "I can't believe I thought he'd stay,"

Newt closed his eyes and let his head drop to his hands. "I know," he said tiredly. "Me and Tina thought so too,"

Dumbledore opened his desk drawer out of view of Newt and stared at the corrupted ring that lay on its velvet lining. The large black stone with its triangular eye engraving stared right back up at him. His blackened, rotting hand seemed to mock him out of the corner of his eye. He sighed and slammed the drawer shut. "I'd believed a lie, it would seem,"

"No, Albus, we both know that isn't true… we both know that Grindelwald-"

"We don't actually," Dumbledore forced a smile Newt's way and shrugged. "We don't know what he would or wouldn't have done. What's happened has happened, and I can guarantee that the Hallows are safe. Neither Greyback nor Gellert will lay a finger on them,"

Newt knew when he was dismissed, so he gently replaced his wine glass on the desk and stood. "Have a good night, Albus," he said softly, before making his way to the fireplace, and disappearing in a swirl of emerald green flames.

Dumbledore hummed a sorrowful tune as he walked over to one of the more comfortable armchairs that sat near one of his large windows. It overlooked the whomping willow and the Quidditch pitch. He could see the elves working on their scaffolding to extend the stands vertically for the audience to be able to watch the maze of the third task.

The final task of the Triwizard Tournament would begin in five days' time. The Tournament had been a disaster of obscene proportions thus far.

He twirled his beard around his finger and lapsed into complete silence.

He hoped that the Ministry's heightened security after the charm failure of the second task would be enough to contain whatever scheme Tom Riddle had planned.

Dumbledore would be watching.

A/N: I don't know if people pick up on the little things, so I'll just go into it a bit.

In Daphne's nightmare, a sequence I wrote way back before the first task chapter, Astoria says she feels all funny when Lucius is around. That she gets a bad feeling around him

In chapter 12: Back to Hogwarts, Colin, Harry, and Ginny start a project on runes, and why certain people can feel enchantments and certain others can't. This project gets elaborated on later, but as the story has progressed I have introduced multiple characters with this subtle ability.

With some, it's been explicitly pointed out, while with others, it's more subtle.

Fleur and Harry can NOT feel them. They only felt them when they directly attacked them. (Fleur in Chapter 26 with greyback's wards, and Harry in Chapter 12 with the Runes class protections.)

Also, Newt and Dumbledore are just like really close friends, and I like their dynamic. I know he's close to Elphias Doge in the books, but imma be honest, we've seen Dumbeldore do shit with Newt more than we saw him do anything other than being school friends with Doge. So, Newt and Dumbledore are best buds.

Plus, Newt canonically knows all about Dumbledore's tragic past. So... yeah.

Side note: The Lockhart imposter thing isn't a plot thread. It was really just for comedy and a fun little bit of surface-level world-building. The imposter is a nobody, I like to think it was an ex-employee of Flourish and Blotts. Anyway, he's arrested and the show doesn't run anymore. Tonks's interview was his last program, making it all the more famous. Naturally, this means Tonks hides her relationship with Remus because that would be outing him as a werewolf. Even though it's legal now, Remus doesn't want everyone to know.

This is, of course, explored later.

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