Sirius Black, despite the opinions of some of his professors, had never been a stupid man. He was actually quite intelligent, despite (admittedly sometimes deliberate) appearances to the contrary. He had graduated with quite a few OWLs, did excellently on his NEWTs. Most purebloods thought they could coast by on their connections, but Sirius refused to do anything better than his absolute best out of spite if nothing else.

He therefore knew quite well it was a horrendous risk meeting up with his cousin, the wife of a Death Eater. Narcissa could easily have him killed if he showed up or even worse – she'd always been a deft hand with the Imperius Curse. Or it could have been a trap to turn him over to the Aurors. But Sirius had decided it was worth the risk. Narcissa valued family. She loved Draco and it was a very open secret by now that Draco and Harry were head over heels for each other. Perhaps she wanted to help free him for the sake of the boy who would no doubt become her future son-in-law, as bizarre and still vaguely horrifying as that idea sounded.

So Sirius accepted the invitation. They agreed to meet at a neutral location in the Muggle world, the café at the National Gallery in London. It was a public place where Narcissa couldn't cast spells without the risk of breaking the Statute of Secrecy, which Sirius knew she had always been loathe to do. Sure, there was still risk. Narcissa could, for example, tip off the Muggle police, since Sirius was wanted in the Muggle world as well. But Sirius decided to go with his gut and trust his cousin.

"Sirius, you're looking surprisingly well for someone who's been on the lam," Narcissa said, kissing both his cheeks in a typically European fashion. "I do apologize it's taken me this long to get into contact."

"Save the act for someone who's fooled by it," Sirius said as the two of them sat down. "We both know there's no love in your heart." Sirius had always liked Narcissa for her pure rationality and her ability to put Lucius in his place at the drop of a hat, but he'd never, ever trusted her and knew she was a stone cold sociopath at heart.

Narcissa looked offended. "That's where you're wrong, Sirius," she said, her voice angry. "There is love in my heart. Not for my husband, of course. Or even myself. No, all the love I have in my heart – admittedly, a meager amount – is reserved for Draco and it is for his sake I am here." Sirius felt smug at realizing he'd been right. "I'm sure you know of the blooming romance between my son and your godson."

"Yes," Sirius said, a bit sourly. He was happy Draco made Harry happy, but it would take a long time before he would be able to look at Draco and not see Lucius. "I presume you want to prove my innocence to gain Harry's trust?"

"Wait, you're innocent?" Narcissa said, tilting her head. She was almost certainly trolling him. Almost. Surely she knew him better than that. "Well, that will certainly make things easier. Tell me what I can do to help."

Sirius considered the consequences of telling his story to her, then decided he had absolutely nothing left to lose. If she was going to sell him out, she'd have done that already. So he told the whole story to her. Narcissa gave him a thorough tongue lashing for being dumb enough to hand over Harry to Hagrid and then go after Peter without getting any backup or telling anyone, which annoyed Sirius to no end. As dumb as he had surely been, Narcissa had no right to criticize him given that she'd served Voldemort and helped place him in that situation in the first place.

"Getting you a trial will not be too arduous a task, but getting you acquitted would be significantly difficult – though not impossible – without Pettigrew," Narcissa said. "Mind you, if I do get you a trial, the Kiss on sight order would be rescinded. This would make you safer, but give us a time limit. Ultimately, it's up to you, Sirius. I can get you top of the line lawyers, bribe a significant chunk of the Wizengamot, and calm the minister, but it may not be enough."

Sirius did appreciate how upfront Narcissa was being. And he believed it was possible for her to get him acquitted. When she put her mind to a task, it got accomplished. It was just getting her off the fence to do something that was difficult. "I think I'll stay on the lam for now," he decided. "I need to be able to protect Harry if he needs me and I can't do that from a prison cell."

Narcissa sighed deeply. Clearly, she had hoped he would take her offer and be indebted to her. "If that is what you wish, Sirius."

"I don't trust the Ministry to not give me an 'accident' before my trial anyway," Sirius added. This was very true. There were a lot of powerful people who would end up with egg on their faces when the whole debacle became public. "So how goes the politicking business, Cissy?"

"Call me that again and I'll turn you in without even blinking," Narcissa warned him. Sirius merely stuck out his tongue at her. She'd been making all sorts of dire but empty threats about that nickname since they were kids. Deep down, Sirius knew for a fact she actually liked it. "It goes…strangely. Robert Greengrass, of all people, seems to have abruptly started the war drums against Dumbledore. No one is sure why. Rumor has it he knows some deep, dark secret of his. He's trying to form a commission to investigate him."

Sirius arched an eyebrow. Ever since that article had come out, Dumbledore had slid down to the bottom of his list of favorite people. The only people lower than him were Wormtail, Voldemort, and maybe Bellatrix. Dumbledore either had some sort of sinister plot in mind for Harry or he was an idiot who'd completely lost the plot, and Sirius had no clue which explanation disturbed him more. He had been assuming the Daily Prophet was bullshitting when it came to talking about all the horrors Harry had faced in his previous years, but that interview in the Quibbler was Harry the whole way. It had all been real. His godson had been in danger numerous times. And it made Sirius steaming mad.

"Robert's not the kind to talk out of his arse," Sirius said. "If he thinks Dumbledore's up to no good, he's almost certainly right."

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Dark times are upon us, Sirius. Lucius's Mark grows ever clearer. People are disappearing. Bertha Jorkins, Bathilda Bagshot…"

Sirius blinked. "I didn't hear about Bagshot." He had no idea why anyone would want to disappear the famed historian and only living relative to Grindelwald.

"Not many people have," Narcissa said darkly. "Someone's keeping it quiet. I don't know who. The point is, Sirius, the Dark Lord is on the rise, and it is time to choose sides. This is a part of me choosing mine. The Dark Lord was utterly mad and tortured people, including me, on the drop of a hat. I will not permit him to do that to Draco."

Sirius bit back a smart-arsed remark with great difficulty. It would not do to antagonize Narcissa, given what a formidable ally – and equally dangerous enemy – she could make. "Any ideas about how to get Harry out of this tournament business?"

Narcissa scowled. "Alas not. The Goblet is ridiculously powerful. Some have speculated it was forged by Merlin himself, and frankly I see no reason to disbelieve it. As intelligent as I may be, magical theory is very much not in my wheelhouse, much less figuring out a way to tamper with the Goblet." Sirius had figured as much, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"What about suspects for putting his name in the Goblet?" Sirius demanded. "You think Dumbledore did it?"

"He does seem to be the likeliest suspect," Narcissa admitted. "Of course you'd never be able to prove it. Sirius, if I were you, I'd take Harry and run. Just…hide until the old geezer croaks. It can't be that much longer."

"Harry isn't going to leave his friends behind," Sirius pointed out. If Sirius had thought it was feasible for them to make a run for it, he'd have done it years ago. "Especially your son."

Narcissa gave a fond grin. "Yes, they'll be quite the exceptional power couple." Sirius couldn't help but let out a soft groan. Narcissa just smirked at him. "You'll stay for lunch?"

"Sorry, but I'm pushing it as it is," Sirius said, more to excuse himself from spending a single second longer in his cousin's presence than he had to. "The glamorous life of a fugitive."

"Of course," Narcissa said, obviously not believing it for a single second.

Sirius was just going to have to get used to Narcissa's Machiavellian attitude, he supposed, if Harry was really going to end up with Draco, which anyone with eyes could see was going to happen. He had no intention of going up against Narcissa unless she became a threat to Harry and the idea of doing so was fairly terrifying. He just thanked his lucky stars Narcissa was aimed towards his enemies. She'd been one of the Death Eaters' best fighters, insofar as she was skilled at winning fights quickly with minimal casualties, even if her actual power level was a fraction of Bellatrix.

For now, he had other business to conduct before he returned to his hiding spot, business which brought him to a secret passageway between Hogwarts and he was absolutely sure Dumbledore knew absolutely nothing about. Well, reasonably certain, at any rate. He just thanked his lucky stars Harry still had the Marauder's Map. If Dumbledore had gotten his hands on it, they'd all be screwed.

"Sirius?" Harry called out as he stepped out of the shadows. He looked a bit panicky. Had he been suspecting a trap? By the looks of it, the tournament had not been doing great things for his mental health.

"Hey, deerling," Sirius said, spreading his arms wide, signaling he was open for a hug if Harry wanted. He knew well abused children sometimes had difficulties with touch, especially unexpected touch. Harry gave him a warm smile, but didn't make a move to hug him. Sirius gave him a nod and returned the smile, trying to signal it was okay.

Harry shuffled awkwardly for a bit, looking unsure what to say. "I know you didn't kill them," he said eventually. "You wouldn't kill Dudley."

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. The primary purpose of the meeting was to assure Harry he was not responsible for the Dursleys' deaths. He didn't know who was – though his gut told him it was Dumbledore – but he had been drinking with Muggles in Aruba at the time. While Sirius hated the idea of just lounging on a tropical beach while Harry was suffering, everything he'd read on Dementor exposure said that the best way to mitigate the long term effects was sunshine and relaxation. Well, maybe he hadn't quite achieved the latter, but he'd gotten a lot of sun.

"Harry, what would you say if I offered to get you out of Britain?" Sirius asked, just for the heck of it. He knew what the answer would be, but it was necessary to ask anyway just to say to himself he'd done it later. "You and your friends, and heck, even the Malfoy boy. There's a magical school in Curaçao you could attend…"

"Honestly, Sirius, any other year, I might have said yes, but that damn Goblet…I can't risk losing my soul. I just can't." He looked at Sirius pleadingly in the eyes and Sirius felt almost nauseous. He knew the look in those eyes. It had been on his face numerous times as a child. It was the look of someone whose hope was being drained from him. And it looked horrendously wrong in the eyes passed on by Lily, the most optimistic and hopeful person Sirius knew.

Sirius reached out a hand on instinct to reassure Harry, but sent it back just in time. But then Harry abruptly pulled him into a hug. "I'm so scared, Sirius," he whispered. "I don't want to die! I can't figure out the egg and I'm just so terrified all the time. Something's going on and I don't know what, and I'm so paranoid all the time and I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it's awful!"

How the hell was Sirius supposed to respond to that? How the hell was anyone supposed to respond to that? This was not in the godparents' manual! When James had told him he was making Sirius godfather, he assumed that it meant he was going to teach the deerling about how to get in trouble Marauders' style. Not to be one of the few adults left who gave a damn about him! Not to have this teenager, this child, in a death tournament, being manipulated by a master strategist for some unknown but sinister purpose. It was more than he could handle, honestly. Remus should have been the godfather. He could have handled it.

Sirius decided to latch onto the only practical concern Harry had addressed during his monologue. "Now, about that egg…it's some sort of puzzle? Maybe I could help you solve it."

"When I open it, it makes this unholy screeching," Harry explained. "It's horrible! Maybe it's a banshee? Maybe I have to fight a banshee? Can't be worse than a troll, can it?"

"I find it very disturbing you're so cavalier about this," Sirius muttered. "Look, why don't you get the egg and bring it here? I might know what it is."

Harry shrugged. "Can't hurt." He pointed his finger in Sirius's face. "Do not leave this spot."

Sirius assumed an expression of innocence. "Me? I don't know what you mean. I've never gotten into trouble in my life."

Harry gave him an exceedingly skeptical look which was eerily similar to Lily's skeptical look, then ran off. (Seriously, that woman could spot mischief a mile away. It was scary.) Sirius hummed under his breath and considered his next steps. Harry was right, unfortunately. They could not risk the Goblet taking Harry's soul if the tasks weren't completed. And running away to Curaçao would just cause Dumbledore to realize they were onto him, and there was no telling what he'd do.

Sirius just could not understand what was going on with the old man. This wasn't the first time he'd had issues with Dumbledore. His actions in the last years of the war were bewildering and inconsistent and Sirius had given real thought to the idea he might have dementia. Seriously, a no killing order? Dementia was the only logical explanation. The only other explanation Sirius could think of was that he was trying to lose, and that made no sense. Dumbledore knew the consequences of Voldemort winning: the breaking of the Statute of Secrecy and the Muggles taking over the magical world.

"Here it is!" Harry shouted as he ran back into the passageway. "Listen. It's absolutely horrible."

Harry opened the egg and proved himself quite right a second later. It was absolutely the most cacophonous sound he could think of. Sirius sank to his knees and tried in vain to cover his ears from the force of the sonic blows.

"Sorry," Harry said when he'd finally gotten the egg closed. "Any ideas?"

"Not a one," Sirius admitted. "But I'll ask Remus what he thinks. He reads a lot more than me. He probably has some ideas." He cast a Doubling Charm on the egg, shrank it, and pocketed it.

Harry looked at the floor suddenly, looking anxious. "Has…has Professor Lupin said anything about me? Has he…do you know why he isn't writing me?"

Sirius blinked. As far as he knew, Remus and Harry were corresponding regularly. "You're not getting his letters? He's getting yours."

"But I'm not writing any letters," Harry said and then narrowed his eyes. "Dumbledore," both of them said with venom in their voices.

Sirius was glad they cleared this up. No doubt, Harry had been thinking Remus had abandoned him when nothing could be farther from the truth. He just thanked his lucky stars he'd insisted Remus keep the details of Sirius's location secret from "Harry." "I'll talk to him," Sirius promised.

"Okay, well, then –"

"STUPEFY!" a strident voice called out and Sirius was slammed against a wall with great force. Sirius was terrified for a second that it was Dumbledore, but he calmed down, though not entirely, when he saw Draco Malfoy stride down the passageway, a murderous look of fury on his face.

"Get the hell away from Harry, you traitorous scum!" Draco snarled.

Sirius gave Harry an unimpressed look. "I assume you forgot to tell your boyfriend I'm innocent." Harry did a face palm. "Hi, Draco. Mind not killing me before we've had a chance to talk things out?"

Draco cast a spell and Sirius was pinned against the ceiling. Sirius may not have liked Draco very much, but he certainly had power, that much was for sure. And the idea of him wielding that power against Harry's enemies was a reassuring one. Him using that power against Sirius, not so much. "Don't you say a word. Death Eaters lie all the time. I should know. I was raised by one." His eyes went sad for a few seconds, before his face returned to a perfectly composed expression that would make Narcissa very proud to see.

"It's not what you think!" Harry said frantically, seeming to realize Sirius was in actual danger now. "It was Pettigrew! He was the Secret Keeper! Sirius was framed!"

Draco dispelled his earlier spell and Sirius fell onto the floor with an unceremonious thud and a wave of pain that he felt everywhere in his body. "Talk," he ordered Sirius.

So Sirius once more recounted the whole ridiculous tale. Draco was openly skeptical and incredulous through the whole thing. "So you just gave him up to Hagrid?" he said when Sirius was done. Just let him take Harry away! You let them abandon him at the Dursleys!"

Sirius gave Draco his sternest glare. "Draco. I have spent the last twelve years bitterly regretting that. I've been left quite demented, if you know what I mean." Shame briefly flitted across Draco's facial expression. "Do you believe me?"

Draco gave a long suffering sigh. "If it were literally anyone else…but this is exactly the sort of ridiculous thing that could only happen to Harry."

"HEY!" Harry shouted, looking indignant for some reason. Sirius didn't know why. Draco was exactly right.

Draco looked like he was trying to refrain from devolving into giggles, which was…honestly quite disturbing, in Sirius's opinion, only matched by what would have happened if he failed. "Don't worry; you're cute enough to make up for it."

"He thinks I'm cute!" Harry said in a high pitched stage whisper.

Sirius gave a pained attempt at a smile which he was pretty sure made him look like he was constipated instead. "Draco, dear cousin, let's talk in private for a few moments." He cast a healing spell, put a tight hand on Draco's shoulder, and led him towards the other end of the secret passage.

"Is this where you threaten me?" Draco said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"I've never been one for threatening children," Sirius said. "No, I just want to ask you to please look after Harry while I can't. Keep him happy. Make sure he eats enough. He's got his friends, but I think you mean a lot more than they do. Well, maybe not more, but you're special to him in a way no one else is."

Draco looked like Yule had come early. "Really? Oh, wow, cool!" He coughed awkwardly. "Yes, Mr. Black. I'll do everything I can to protect him."

"Call me Sirius, lad," Sirius said with a warm smile. "Who knows, maybe one day you'll call me dad."

"That will never happen," Draco vowed immediately.

Sirius shrugged. "Well, I had to try."

Robert Greengrass had always prided himself on being the ideal Slytherin. Not a thuggish brute like the Death Eaters and, distressingly, many of Daphne and Astoria's classmates were, but a subtle, cunning man who ruthlessly leveraged his strengths and worked around his weaknesses. It had always distressed him when Slytherin was seen as the house of bigotry, hatred, and, more to the point, crassness. Even more so when he realized people may have been right to see the bulk of Slytherin thusly. How he longed for the olden days when there were Slytherins pursuing a wide variety of political agendas, instead of exclusively interested in pursing the will of a Dark Lord who was defeated by a baby. And then twice more by a mere child.

But Robert worked with the hand he was dealt instead of deluding himself into thinking he could change it substantially or, worse, that he had been dealt a different hand entirely. Bringing down Dumbledore wasn't easy, especially when Dumbledore's goons kept on trying to kill him, but slowly, meticulously, he had been making progress and assembling evidence. Luna's revelation that Dumbledore had been siphoning power from the students had been the key. There were very few spells that required such an immense amount of power, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly which one Dumbledore had been using the energy to power.

Robert's researching, interviewing people on both sides of the war and neutral parties, had led him to pinpoint the near exact point where Dumbledore had started to lose his marbles: June 12, 1979. The day before that, Dumbledore had personally dueled a mercenary known only as the Raven, rumored to have been tutored in the Mind Arts by Grindelwald himself. Though the Raven had perished during the duel, she had hit him with numerous spells. Dumbledore had apparently insisted in convalescing at a magical hospital in Switzerland instead of St. Mungo's. The hospital in question had no such records of the stay.

It was Robert's belief that the Raven's spell had given Dumbledore dementia or some other debilitating brain disease. Dumbledore's siphoning of power from his students was, in Robert's opinion, empowering a very obscure spell meant to strengthen a user mentally. He was using his ill gotten power to keep his brain operating. Robert could certainly sympathize. He would have done the same thing in Dumbledore's shoes. But he was not in Dumbledore's shoes. He was his own, and the shoes belonged to a man whose daughters were being weakened by Dumbledore.

Admittedly, Robert still hadn't figured out what all this had to do with Harry Potter or Dumbledore's no doubt sinister plans for him, but if he could make the charges he was about to lay against Dumbledore stick – and he was absolutely certain he was – Dumbledore's obsession with Potter would no longer matter.

"Thank you, honored colleagues, for joining me for this commission of inquiry," Robert announced as he stood up from his seat in the Folkmoot. The Folkmoot, unlike the Wizengamot chamber, was modeled after the equivalent chamber in the Muggle parliament, the House of Commons, with rows of unobtrusive green seats facing each other. The room was deliberately less fancy than the Wizengamot. Robert had always approved. The Folkmoot was a house of the people, not a house of out of touch elites. (Granted, his massive business empire meant he was pretty darn elite, but at least he was not out of touch.) "It may disturb and distress some of you to be investigating a man who has, I do not dispute, done great things for this community. But not half as much as to what you will learn today."

Robert looked around him to see if his margin of support was what he thought it was. Happily, it was. He had approached members of both the conservative and liberal factions of the Folkmoot to get their support in helping take down Dumbledore. It had been a surprisingly hard sell to both factions, not just the liberal one, because Dumbledore was, in his own inept way, helping both of them. But in the end, he was able to dig up enough dirt – both on Dumbledore and the people he was beseeching – to acquire a solid majority of allies.

Robert looked over at the center of the room, where Dumbledore was standing, looking calm and serene, in sky blue robes, the perfect image of a powerful and benevolent wizard. He clearly thought he had nothing to fear, but he was very, very wrong. Robert was about to tear the blinders off of people's eyes. No one would ever harm his children if he had anything to say about it. And happily, he very much did.

Speaking of which, the children in question were in the visitors gallery above them, next to Luna and her father. Robert couldn't remember what argument they'd used to persuade him it was a good idea to attend the hearing when Dumbledore was clearly dangerous, but it must have been a good one, because otherwise, he never would have let them attend. Rita Skeeter, that awful woman Daphne had unwisely chosen to trust, sat nearby, eagerly taking notes on a Quick Notes Quill.

A headache suddenly stabbed at him, but he shrugged it off. "Honored members, you may think I stand before you telling you Albus Dumbledore is an evil man. I do not make that claim. Albus Dumbledore is a good man who has, as have so many before him, become corrupted by power and desperation. I pity him more than anything." Robert thought he detected the ghost of a smile on Dumbledore's face. "But he has put our children's welfare at grave risk and we cannot tolerate that any longer."

Robert outlined the theory about Dumbledore's mental state in meticulous detail over the better part of an hour. He pointed to numerous situations where Dumbledore's questionable decision making could only be attributed to mental decay. He reminded them of the incredible dangers their own children had faced in the last three years alone, and revealed the existence of the geases that had prevented them from learning the truth, even when injuries occurred. Even some of the most die hard Dumbledore supporters were starting to look wary by the end of it.

"But the most concerning piece of evidence I have found is what Dumbledore has done to the wards of Hogwarts," Robert finally said. Dumbledore looked startled for the first time in the meeting. He clearly did not know Robert had figured it out. And with good reason. Robert had gone to extreme lengths hiding his presence at Hogwarts from Dumbledore. "It is not just our children Dumbledore has siphoned power from, but the wards that protect our children. I have spoken to experts, and they all agree. They have all been weakened to a horrendous extent and are functionally useless. More to the point, they perhaps have months left. I doubt they will last the calendar year."

Dumbledore took a step backwards, looking rather disturbed. "Thank you for telling me, Robert," he said in a voice that quivered ever so slightly. "It is always good to know your limits. I have clearly overestimated mine."

And then he waved his wand and the Folkmoot chamber disappeared entirely, replaced by a dingy Muggle warehouse. There had never been a commission of inquiry meeting. Robert had been ensorcelled into thinking he was participating at one, just so he could spill what he knew to the enemy. He looked around him frantically. The only real people there were him, Daphne, Luna, Skeeter, and Dumbledore.

Skeeter tried to run, but Dumbledore performed a spell which turned her into a water beetle. Oh. She was an Animagus, wasn't she? Well, that would certainly explain a lot about how she got her stories.

"No, please," Daphne said weakly, but Dumbledore stunned Rita and then stepped on her, causing her body to be ripped to shreds.

Dumbledore gave a warm smile, the kind of smile that did not belong at all on the face of a man who had just murdered a woman, no matter how annoying she was. "I have your daughter to thank for today's presentation. Isn't that right, Daphne?"

Daphne looked at the floor, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, daddy…" she said. "I had to. It was the only way…" She took a deep breath. "Drop your shields. All the way."

"NO!" Robert shouted. "If I do, I'll forget you."

"Do it, sir," Luna said, and Robert unhesitatingly dropped his shields. In his experience, Luna Lovegood almost always knew what she was doing, even if no one else did.

She was still there. Daphne was still in his mind. He had not forgotten her.

Dumbledore had done it. He'd accomplished the impossible. He'd broken the Morrigan's curse and cured Daphne. Now she could live a normal, albeit fatherless life. She could marry, have children and/or take on any career she so chose. It was what Robert had always wanted for her and now it was at reach. It was just such a shame he wouldn't live to see it.

"I made a deal," Daphne said, guilt coloring every word she said, but there was also pride behind it as well. "In exchange for his curing the Morrigan's curses – and, yes, I said curses; he cured Astoria – I would deliver you to him. Me and Luna are to be Obliviated." She gave a savage smile. "Rita, poor thing, was not part of the deal. That will teach her to hurt my friends."

Robert snarled at her, trying to feel fury deep down in his heart, keeping his true feelings locked away where hopefully Dumbledore couldn't see them. "You filthy, Muggle loving brat!" Daphne jumped in shock. "How dare you betray your own father?!"

"I…"

"Enough of this," Dumbledore said, sounding bored. "It's a shame you won't get a chance to see the glorious new order that is about to arrive. But let's be honest, I probably would have killed you anyway eventually. I've never liked you very much."

As Dumbledore raised his wand and uttered the two words that ended Robert's life, Robert felt nothing but pure pride. Because Daphne had outsmarted Dumbledore. Dumbledore had no idea Luna was immune to Obliviations. Luna would remember everything. The two of them would be able to keep going regardless. Robert's children had been cured of their curses. Daphne had come out of the deal ahead. Robert was more than happy to go to his death with the knowledge it had saved his children. He didn't blame her at all. It was the right move to make.

Daphne was a true and worthy Slytherin. Just like her father.

Bill Weasley did not share his father's affinity for airplanes in the slightest. It was all well and good, loving Muggle transportation, until you actually had to fly on one. The goblins were strict taskmasters who delighted in coming up with seemingly arbitrary rules. They refused to allow their mage employees to travel on magical transportation while on the bank's business. And technically, Bill's job did not end until he reported to his superiors about his assignment to search the gas crater known as the Gates of Hell to the Muggles in Darvaza, Turkmenistan for the tomb of a Dark Lady (or Dark Khatun as they were known in that neck of the woods).

So he was stuck traveling by plane for hours on end, including a ten hour layover in Istanbul, and by the time he finally arrived at London Heathrow airport, he wanted absolutely nothing more than to find a bed anywhere at all and sleep in it. Unfortunately, he was going to have to undergo a debriefing which would probably be very long, if his sadistic bosses had anything to say about it. The only bright spot was that the mission had been a rousing success which was going to net him a very nice bonus, but right now, Bill would give it all for a comfy bed.

He was really not all that much more aware than an Inferi by the time he grabbed his luggage from the carousel and thus missed the first three times someone called his name. Finally, the fourth time, he finally caught it, and only because the speaker was yelling at the top of his lungs.

Bill turned around and through his blurry vision, saw what seemed to be his brother Charlie. But that wasn't possible, since Charlie lived in Romania and hardly ever ventured out into the Muggle world. Yet unless this was a hallucination – a possibility Bill was not entirely ruling out – this was definitely Charlie in front of him.

"Bill, where the hell have you been?" Charlie demanded. "We've been trying to get a hold of you for months!"

"Well, you can blame Adzis Khanym for that one," Bill muttered. "Stupid Dark Lady had a goddamn Horcrux. Lucky I got supplied with basilisk venom just in case. Man, she had a punch like a mule."

Charlie looked bewildered before shrugging it off. He usually did that with anything that didn't involve dragons, in Bill's experience. "Listen, Mum's lost her mind," Charlie said. Bill bit back a smart retort; Charlie was clearly serious. "Since Ginny came out – she likes girls, by the way…dating Luna from next door, remember her?"

"Yeah, hard to forget her." Bill made a mental note to send a supportive note to his little sister and give Luna a shovel talk.

"Anyway, after she came out, Mum went berserk. She's…not well at all. She's violent, unhinged. Keeps on insisting Ginny is destined to marry Harry, because of some marriage contract or some dumb shit like that. She keeps sending the most awful, homophobic Howlers to her, Bill! Our Ginny! Every day! I think someone may be influencing her, Bill. I don't…I don't want to think of the other alternative."

This all sounded quite unbelievable. In fact, Bill was still certain the odds were hovering around 15% this whole encounter was nothing more than a jet lagged induced hallucination. He did know, however, that if this was real, Charlie's suspicions had definite merit to them. Such a radical change in attitude was only attributable to some sort of mental influence, perhaps the Imperius. Mum had always been a stalwart supporter of people like Ginny in the past. While Mum's temper and habit of jumping to conclusions had caused them pain in the past, she'd never hurt her children in such a sustained, intense fashion like this in her right mind.

"Okay," Bill said. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to burn every last favor I have and probably owe maybe about twenty more favors to get Mum examined by goblin healers. It will not be easy and I will probably be feeling the repercussions for at least a decade. But I'll do anything for family. We'll get this fixed. I promise you, Charlie. And if it can't be fixed if there's nothing to fix…then we'll deal with her ourselves. One way or another, Ginny won't be hurt again."