In life, there are no accidents. There is only purpose. Everything happens the way it's supposed to, even those untimely events that arrived at the wrongest right time possible. Sometimes it comes barrelling itself straight into you, and at other times it dawns so slowly that you hardly know it was there. But the thing that remains constant is that it will come, right or wrong, fast or slow. Life comes from all sides.

And the question doesn't become when but rather who? Who will be by your side when it does arrive? Will it be someone trustworthy or wise? Will their love and encouragement help guide you to the light or lose the way in the darkness? Will someone be dependable to pick you up when you stumble and fall and help you face the sum of fears believed? Because who is by your side is more important than when life happens.

That's what stuck out most to Marcus as he glanced around the large sitting room in Flint Manor. To his left, standing with tense shoulders and a touch of anger rolling off them, is Hermione talking with Potter and the team of Aurors. Seated across from him on another fine leather sofa were his ragtag friends. Warrington had his legs spread out on the coffee table, hugging a grey sofa pillow. Montague sat with his arm propped on the end of the sofa with his head resting on his hand. He stared off into space. Pucey sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a teacup trying to look calm and unaffected despite his leg shaking.

For better or worse, he's surrounded himself with these people who've stuck by him in times of crisis. Truly there's no better lot to be around. Marcus considers himself very blessed in that regard, despite the tongue-lashing Hermione gave them (especially him) when she learned what they had done. It all happened after they were catching their breath from the basement and the other thing. Too keyed up to think straight, they decided to regroup in the sitting room.

They had just wandered in when Cassius headed right for the liquor cabinet. "Fire whiskey! We all need whiskey, bourbon, rum, or something alcoholic. And lots of it," he declared. Then proceeded to find multiple untouched bottles of brandy and bourbon. The unnerved blonde poured everyone a glass and wafted them to each guy before standing to drink and pace.

Warrington paced and made Graham even more nervous, to which he called out, "Will you sit down already? You're making my headache even more watching you walk back and forth." He held the glass up to his forehead as if that may help relieve the pressure.

Having gulped down the glass of bourbon, Adrian stated, "Look, this psycho shit is all well and demented. But I have a million things on my desk at work for tomorrow. I just don't have the time for the nervous breakdown I deserve to have." Then he got up and poured himself another glass of the bourbon.

That left Marcus, who sat in the oversized armchair. He rested his head on the back of it and thought about the options available. As he began thinking of how there were no good choices for this mess, his mother's voice filtered into the room.

Sitting up straight, he knew Flea would lead her to them, making him wonder, "How much of this problem did my mother know about? Did my father keep his insane, maniacal tendencies to himself or share them with his wife? After all, the family who goes insane together stays together. Isn't that what they say? How the purebloods roll?"

And so Cora Flint entered the room, unaware of what had transpired. She was further ignorant to the careful, watchful, inquisitive eyes on her and a new nasty opinion of basements being formed. The uppity, older witch greeted the young men as if nothing was wrong and all was well. "Hello, Son, Cassius, Graham, and Adrian. I saw all of your mothers this afternoon at the function."

She turned her head to Marcus specifically and noted, "I also saw Hermione. She looked splendid in her outfit, as compared to the other girls. You may tell her I said so. However, don't compliment her too much on my behalf. I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea."

Much like his fiance' earlier, Marcus could not hold his tongue. "And what idea would that be, Mother? That she's a good and decent witch who's worthy of marrying into this family of murderers? That, Merlin forbid, she actually appeared to belong among that group of vultures you call acquaintances. But let's back up, shall we? Why don't you have a seat, Mother? We need to have a long overdue conversation."

Thinking this was about Hermione, Cora squared her shoulders back and waved him off. "Now look. I admit I've been less than welcoming to her, but that doesn't mean I can't change my mind. If all the old pureblood women accept her, then I can too. You understand it will take some time to get used to everything, especially her muggle culture."

She said the word muggle as if it were nasty. But Cora never got a chance to fully finish her thoughts on the matter because Marcus interrupted her while his friends looked on in amusement. "Don't be hasty, Mother. You only accept Hermione because Draco Malfoy is now engaged. That means you want an opportunity to out wedding the Malfoys, especially Narcissa. Because Merlin forbid they throw a bigger, better wedding than you. But that doesn't matter because who knows if you'll be here to see my wedding. You may be in Azkaban."

That stopped the elder Flint in her high heels. Her face twisted into a disturbed expression, and she questioned, "What do you mean I'll be in Azkaban? Everything regarding your father, I told the Aurors. I know nothing outside of that."

As Marcus explained the basement situation, ever the gentleman Warrington floated a drink to her shaky hands. It helped some. Upon dropping like dead weight into a second armchair, Cora told the boys, "Call the Aurors."

The group sat in the sitting room waiting for the Aurors to show, and that's how Harry Potter and Hermione found them. Marcus supposes Potter called Hermione, knowing he'd be arriving at Flint Manor. While Marcus and the guys told Potter and his team everything they knew, his fiance' stared at them, horrified. The chaser could tell her brain was working overtime to put the pieces together and think of the right words to say. It was not a good position to be in for the Slytherins.

Once Potter and his team went to collect and clean out the basement, Hermione resumed Cassius's pacing. The Dowager Lady Flint had grown ill and weak upon hearing about her basement and had Flea lead her upstairs to lie down. But the soon-to-be Lady Flint was not ill, nor was she weak. No, no. She was livid. Every so often, Hermione would stop and stare at them, shake her head in disappointment, then pace some more. They thought she would speak at one point because her mouth opened, but she did not. Nothing came out; she only continued to walk back and forth. That was when they knew they were in deep shit because nothing is scarier than Hermione Granger, with nothing to say.

Adrian whispered to Warrington, "This is not a love nest like we're so used to from those two. This is a hornet's nest, and the female is getting ready to strike us down."

Hermione's head whipped toward the two boys, and her eyes glared at them. For their part, both Pucey and Warrington sunk into the sofa. "I heard that. And yes. I am angry as a hornet trapped in a coffee can," she admitted.

Then she threw up her hands and spoke to the room as a whole. "Of all the stupid ideas. And I have heard some stupid ideas in my time. Let me remind you. I am friends with Harry and Ron. They were full of stupid ideas involving Voldemort and his ilk. But then they've had really ridiculous ideas in general. However, none of them compare to this level of ignorance."

The boys swallowed thickly and sat stock still. Hermione pointed to her face. "Do I look happy? This is not my happy face," the angry female announced.

Warrington, Montague, and Pucey chuckled. Her eyes trained on them like a hawk, and they bore down upon the boys. They shrank under her stare, which she turned to Marcus, and her voice rose. "How could you lead this sneaky secret mission knowing everything about your great-something grandfather that you do? The man's a mad menace! Of course, he'd be housing nefarious things in that basement. I'm sure your father had a hand in it. So despite any risk assessment, you seized the moment to rush in like a bull in a china shop."

Cassius interrupted her to ask, "Why would a bull be in a china shop? That's silly."

But the witch wasn't having any of that foolishness. She pointed her finger at all four of them, one after the other, and explained, "No. What's silly is the four of you thinking you could clear out that level of evil on your own. Don't even think about saying it was an accident- that you didn't mean to do this alone. It's funny how accidents can change the whole direction of your life. I've got the right mind to tell Harry to put the four of you in lock up for the night. Maybe then you'd think before you acted."

Thoroughly chastised, the four Slytherins slank down into their seats and kept quiet. They stayed that way until Potter returned to the room to speak with them. Hermione stood up from the armchair she was sitting in and quietly talked with Harry first. Then they made their way over to the group. Marcus had moved to the other sofa, and Hermione sat beside him, leaving an armchair open for Potter.

The Chosen One's hair is messed up more than usual from running his hands through it. He's clearly troubled by what he saw down there but managed to let out a low chuckle. "Well, I wish I had good news, but I really don't. I will say none of you are being brought in for questioning or taken to jail. So you've got that going for you. However, what we're looking at is very serious, and yes. It does go back to Voldemort and his death eaters."

It was as if a great-horned surklump had sucked the air out of the room at that statement. Being linked to the Dark Lord or the death eaters was what the boys feared would happen. Potter leaned back in the chair, stared at the ceiling, and shook his head. Then his gaze returned to the room and landed on Hermione. He asked, "Why does trouble seem to follow us?"

Which made the witch wonder, "Is it that serious?"

Harry sighed and spoke, "So, here's the deal. Reviewing hours of testimonies from the captured death eaters, not the ones still on the run, is dispiriting. It's unsettling, but some depositions stand out among all the rest. Those are the ones that named several big vital players in the organization. One of the main people is a person that goes by the name of The Alchemist. Now most of the Aurors, like me, thought this guy, The Alchemist was one of Voldemort's chief logistical research tacticians or something like that."

Hearing the name, The Alchemist, made acrimony and bitterness sweep over the Slytherins in the room. Knowing what they know of the basement, that name is most likely the name of "Voldemort's principal scientist, potioner, healer, or whatever you want to call them. A person could have thought Snape was that guy, but Snape would never agree to the atrocities one could conjure up in that laboratory. Especially with all we know of the late headmaster now," Potter confirmed.

But then Potter said something that chilled the room. "The thing is, this Alchemist has never been caught. In fact, he's never been seen. None of the death eaters outright name The Alchemist, nor can they give a description. It's because of that knowledge that brings out two points."

The Boy Who Lived leaned forward in the chair and spoke directly to all of them. He had that classic don't bother me, I'm on a mission Harry Potter look on his face. Everyone also sat on the edge of their seats, wanting to know what he was about to say. "First, we assume The Alchemist is a man, but it could very well be a female. I'm not saying that's true, mainly because all the evidence points to being a man. But since there's no proof of personage, we can't be sure. So it could be anyone," he divulged.

Then he held up his fingers for the number "Two. The Alchemist has never been caught. This person is so good, so crafty; they always get away. They've been through two wars performing sick and twisted operations or mutilations. So this person is high up in the ranks. It's someone Voldemort trusted and someone who knew their potion formulations (among other things) because the evil one wanted nothing more than to live forever. This person was tasked with making that happen regardless of the outcome. Since The Alchemist has never been caught, likely, they could still be working on that mission even today."

The boy's heads were reeling with what they'd just learned. Surprise and fear reigned in the room, and Montague returned his cold glass to his forehead. But Harry mentioned, "I didn't tell you that to scare you. Instead, you need to be aware of what's happening with what we found in the basement. Likely this was one of The Alchemist's labs. According to reports, there are several, and I need to check those out."

The messy-haired auror turned his attention to Marcus. It made the athlete clam up even more than he already felt. "Flint, I'm not suggesting your parents are involved in what we found or your family members. Although your father was a death eater, the fact that the lab was in his basement makes me wonder. Do you have any knowledge that could tie him to it or anything you'd like to share?"

Now that was a loaded question. Marcus ran a hand through his short spikey hair, and his adrenaline pumped. Does he have anything to share? He thought back to this afternoon. Before the guys fully came into this room to catch their breath, Marcus had them run upstairs to his father's study. He needed to check the safe behind the picture. Inside it housed all the wretched dark objects and the severed head of his late great-something grandfather Magnum Flint.

When they got to the study, and he entered the combination on the safe, the picture opened as usual. What wasn't expected was what he found inside, which was nothing. "It's gone! Everything is gone! It's just disappeared or something! Everything is gone: the head, the water of oblivion, the hourglass, the expectacles, the powder of life!"

Marcus stood there stunned. His friends came over, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and looked inside. Graham stood back and suggested, "Are you sure those things were in there the first time? You didn't dream it up?"

Turning to his friend, the lord of the house said, "Not a chance! Adrian was with me. He heard the head speak. Didn't you?"

Pucey, who was just as confused as Marcus, admitted, "Yeah. I heard it, and it creeped me out so badly I thought I had wet myself. I faintly saw the other items in the safe, so I knew he wasn't making it up. Plus, the portraits all let out wailing screams as we made our way out of the house. But where could it have gone off to? It's not like a head can just up and walk away on its own."

Hermione nudging him with her arm pulled him out of his thoughts. It left the young Lord Flint with the dilemma of handing over this information or not. Perhaps he could divulge some of the details but not all, not the part of his grandfather Magnum's head disappearing? But if he didn't disclose this news, his fiance' would surely have his skin. So, his baritone voice began, "Okay, Potter. I have a few things to tell you, but I need you to promise that you won't fly off the broom handle." He tugged at his hair and stood up.

To make himself useful, Marcus went to pour the Auror a drink and refill his own glass. Harry shot Hermione a concerned look. She shook her head because she had no idea what her guy would say. Then she peeked at his friends, who were looking rather suspicious and trying to hide it. It could not be good news, and it wasn't. Once Marcus sat back down and started talking, everything came out: the safe, the dark objects, the possible mates of the dark items (like the ex and in-spectacles), and the head of Magnum Flint.

Upon the telling of his headless great-something grandfather, Harry downed the whole glass of brandy in one go. Then he questioned his sanity by wondering, "I really don't want to ask, but I must. Where are these things now?"

Hermione further knew it wasn't good news by the shaking of her fiance's leg and the look on his face. Before he could respond, she held his hand tight for support, for which her Slytherin was thankful. Staring at the boy wonder, Marcus replied, "Well, Harry, that's the funny part. After leaving the basement, the guys and I went up there to ensure the safe was still intact. And wouldn't you just know it, it's all gone- the head, the dark objects, everything. Poof!"

Except it wasn't funny, not one little bit. Hermione's mouth dropped open so wide she could catch flying quaffles, and Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Graham and Adrian had the wisdom to stay silent, but Cassius exclaimed, "Is this the part where we all yell surprise!"

Both Montague and Pucey hit him with pillows. To which Warrington remarked, "Now's not the time I take it."

All eyes turned to Harry, who motioned to the liquor cabinet, and Marcus gave him the go-ahead. In haste, the boy who lived took a bottle of uncorked elven wine, popped it open, brought it back to the armchair, and began drinking it straight. Adrian pointed and said, "I wish I had thought to do that."

Once Harry felt sufficiently liquored enough, he restated the obvious. "So, you're telling me there's a bottle of liquid oblivion somewhere out there, along with enough powder of life to raise dead, evil wizards. That's fantastic. Then the cherry-covered pillworm on top is the disappearing severed head. Robards, the head of our department, will love this news. In fact, the Daily Prophet will love it even more. I can see the headline now: Severed Head Breaks Free."

Looking at his dearest friend, Potter requested, "Please tell me you didn't know about this."

Hermione honestly did not know, so she said just that. However, she added, "But there's something else you need to learn about, Harry." Turning to Marcus, she nudged him again and muttered, "Tell him about the diaries. It's best to get it all out in the open."

Sensing that this would be a long conversation, Harry stood up and returned to the liquor cabinet. He retrieved another bottle of wine and handed it off to Flint, who popped the top and drank from the bottle too. Then he explained about the Lazarus Diaries, which left the Auror stunned stupid. That was when Cassius shouted out, "Surprise!" His two friends pelted him with the pillows again.

Honesty is always the best policy. Hopefully, the Ministry of Magic's policies has been paid up because once this information is disclosed to the public, they're headed for a headlong collision course with it. And it will leave a lot of damage in its wake.