The only light in the prison cell came from a weak lantern hung just outside the bars. The prisoner's entertainment in his waking hours came from the inconsistent dripping of a tap somewhere. His hair, grey, dirty, unkempt, hung like frayed curtains around his once handsome face.

Gellert Grindelwald was a wrinkled old man, his daily life the embodiment of what it meant to be defeated.

He lay on his back, atop thin foam that apparently constituted a mattress. At footsteps, he turned his head to the bars. He sat up, and his eyes scanned the face of one of the older, grizzly looking guards he saw every day.

"And who might you be?" asked Grindelwald, causing the guard to raise an eyebrow.

"Finally losing your mind, eh?" said the guard. "I'm the one who spits in your breakfast every morning, remember?"

Grindelwald had to laugh. "The guard whose face you're wearing - I've never heard his voice before. They all have strict instructions not to speak to me. I am too dangerous even for a conversation, it seems."

The guard paused for a few seconds, then sighed and waved a wooden hand over his face. The face melted off, revealing the features of a young blond man with the eyes of a person about to tell a joke. "What gave me away? Before I spoke, that is."

Grindelwald smirked. "The guards also have strict instructions not to make eye contact with me." The man put a hand to his temple and winced.

"I may not have my wand," Grindelwald continued as the man's eyes grew unfocused, "but a truly skilled Legilimens shouldn't need one."

"You can't control my mind," grunted the man. Grindelwald could feel the man mustering his mental defenses of Occlumency. "Not without a wand."

"Perhaps," said Grindelwald, ceasing his efforts to probe the man's mind. "But that wasn't my intention. You've just given me my first real update on the outside world in decades, my friend. That alone is priceless. You can lower your mental defenses, by the way. The horrors of your mind are of no further interest to me."

The man looked at him warily. "You have seen my thoughts?"

"Yes, my dear Anton Windstrum," said Grindelwald, his smile widening. "Indeed I have. Pleased to meet you."

"If you have seen into my mind, then you know why I am here."

"You," said Grindelwald, struggling not to laugh, "are here for advice. From me."

"You were the biggest proponent for wizard rule over the Muggles since Salazar Slytherin himself."

Grindelwald tilted his head. "High praise. Although from what I saw in your mind, there is someone new. This… Dark Lord."

Windstrum shuddered. "Yes."

"You served him."

"I did."

"You betrayed him."

"I do that a lot," Windstrum mumbled.

"And now… you don't know what to do."

"I want wizards to come out of hiding," said Windstrum fervently. "Magic shouldn't be a thing done in shadows and secrecy. It should be on full display, helping to push humanity forward."

"That is also what this Dark Lord wants, no?" said Grindelwald.

"It is," admitted Windstrum. "But he's also a psychopath."

"A psychopath who wants to kill you."

"Yes."

"Because you betrayed him."

"Among many other people, yes."

"And so you come to old Gellert Grindelwald, to gain some insight into how you can achieve all your nasty little goals."

"They are your goals too," said Windstrum. "We want the same things."

Grindelwald shrugged. "Perhaps once we did."

Windstrum frowned. "Once?"

"Decades of solitude do wonders to shift one's perspective." Grindelwald raised a finger. "If we reveal magic to the world, how will the world respond? Applaud us? Throw their hats in the air and hand over the reins? No, like many confronted with potentially superior power, they will stick their feet in the soil and stand their ground - a very stupid, very human trait. Take it from someone who has already lost a war. We will pose a threat, and they will respond to that threat in kind. This will result in all out war, which we will, of course, win. And at what cost?"

"We'll be in control," said Windstrum.

"And they will be enslaved, at the end of a nuclear winter. The road you would start us on leads to the very same world this Dark Lord of yours wants to create."

"That is not a world I want to live in."

"You already knew all this, of course," added Grindelwald.

Windstrum sighed, then nodded slowly. "I figured, if there was anyone else in the world who could remind me why Wizards should rule over Muggles, it was Gellert Grindelwald."

Grindelwald shrugged once more. "In the last few years, I have stumbled across a phenomenon that I believe you are just starting to experience yourself."

"Which is?"

Grindelwald smiled. "Remorse."

Windstrum snorted now, and turned to leave. "Old age has ruined your mind, Grindelwald."

"Be grateful, then," said Grindelwald, eyes glinting in the darkness. "Because you won't live long enough to suffer the same fate."

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Grasslands flitted past the windows of the Hogwarts Express, only a few minutes into its journey to Hogwarts.

Lily and Remus sat in the Prefect's compartment.

Most of the other student leadership was there already, with only a few others still skulking in late to the meeting.

"Should I start it?" Lily muttered to Remus.

"He'll be here," Remus said confidently.

"What time he'll be here is the part I'm most concerned about."

A few more minutes passed. Soon, every member of student leadership was there but him.

"Okay," Lily sighed. "That's long enough."

"Wait," Remus insisted. "He-"

The compartment door slid open, and James Potter strode into the Prefect's compartment.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, running a hand through his hair. "A First Year down the front of the train thought she saw a ghost." He paused. "She did, of course, but I had to convince her it's normal for us."

All eyes in the room honed in on the badge pinned to James' robes reading Head Boy. There was silence for a moment.

"Impossible," someone uttered.

"Improbable," James corrected.

"This must be some sort of joke," said Severus Snape. His face was expressionless, but his eyes bored into James' skull, filled with a hatred the likes of which Lily couldn't even fathom.

"I'm afraid not, Sniv- ah, Snape." James cleared his throat loudly and addressed the room. "Look, you lot. I don't care if I'm not the Head Boy you expected, or even wanted. I'm the one you've got. So let's all collectively get over it right now, and crack on." He clapped his hands. "Lily?"

She started. "Yeah?"

He looked at her expectantly. "What's first on our agenda for today?"

"Right," she said quickly. She cleared her own throat in the silence. "First of all, welcome back to another wonderful year everyone."

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"Ok," said Frank. "I think I've got it."

"Are you sure?" said Gideon.

"No," Frank admitted. "Can you explain it to me one more time?"

"Ok," said Fabian. "But listen closely this time."

Frank accepted his coffee from a waiter, then nodded. "Ready."

Fabian waited for the waiter to be called off somewhere else in the little cafe before continuing. "The Shadow Hand Gala will be the largest gathering of the wizarding underworld in centuries. And with the appearance of a new terrorist group-"

"The Life Eaters?" said Frank.

"Yes."

"Weird name."

"What's more interesting than their name is the fact that they killed my whole squad, and almost us too," snapped Seojun. The young woman was an Auror field commander, which meant that every mission Frank went on with her would count towards his internship hours for Auror school.

"Right," said Frank awkwardly. "So the Life Eaters are going to be at the Shadow Hand Gala?"

"Possibly," said Fabian.

"So we're going to the Shadow Hand Gala."

"That's right."

"Which is where?"

Gideon glanced at Frank, eyes lighting up with excitement now. "The Heptagon."

"The… Heptagon?"

"An experiment by the American Department of Mysteries," Fabian explained. "It's a floating island with seven sides.

"A floating…"

"That's not the best part, though," said Gideon. He leaned in. "The island is basically a giant time turner."

"A giant time turner?"

"For how long will you just keep repeating what we say?" said Gideon.

Frank shook his head. "Elaborate on the giant time turner part, please."

"Exactly what it sounds like. A time turner, just really big."

"It doesn't work, mind," added Fabian. "Not practically, anyway. To function as a time turner it would need about a thousand wizards concentrating for hours on end for even the tiniest bit of juice. In theory, once powered it could turn back time to the very conception of the universe."

"But when it's not powered?" said Frank.

"When it's not powered, it's still a seven sided floating island that exists outside space and time."

"Which is still very cool," Gideon added.

Frank frowned. "Outside space and time?"

"Is repeating back key words the only thing you know how to do?" asked Seojun.

"It's a lot to take in," Frank said defensively.

"The Heptagon exists outside space and time," said Fabian. "What that means for us is that it's impossible to find, and time there passes at a different rate."

"A day on the Heptagon is three days in the real world," said Gideon.

"Wait, so we lose time in there?" Frank clarified. "Wouldn't the creators have wanted it to be the other way around?"

"Maybe they did," said Fabian. "Like I said, it's largely considered a failure. The Americans sold it to some Danish wizard with too much money on his hands. He hires it out for events such as these. Untraceable, untrackable, no jurisdiction from any nation's Ministry."

"If it's so impossible to find, how are we supposed to get there?" asked Frank.

Seojun held up four small pieces of thick black parchment. Shadow Hand Gala was written upon them, along with fine text. "We confiscated some of these off a few dark artifacts dealers last night. These invitations will act as a portkey to the island. Within the hour, we and all our fellow invitees will suddenly find ourselves aboard the Heptagon, and our day's festivities will begin."

"And three days will be lost," said Frank glumly.

"Welcome to the job," said Seojun humorlessly.

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While the other Prefects filed out of the compartment at the end of the meeting, Severus stayed exactly where he was. He watched Lily and James pack away sheets of parchment as the others all left.

When the last Prefect sidled out of the compartment, Lily glanced around. "Severus." She sounded surprised. Then her expression grew guarded. "Can we help you?"

"Actually," he said, his voice cold, eyes on James, "I wish to speak with the Head Boy."

Lily opened her mouth.

"Alone," he added

She closed it. Then she glanced at James. There was a warning of some sort in her expression.

James gave her a reassuring nod, before she slung her bag over her back, gave Severus a calculating stare which he did not meet, and she left the compartment.

The compartment door slid closed, and there was silence for some time as Severus Snape and James Potter watched each other.

"Head Boy," Severus said eventually.

James nodded expressionlessly. "Yep."

It was the first time the two had exchanged words in over a year. For the entirety of their Sixth Year, without ever coordinating that they would do so, the two boys had left one another well alone. They had existed on opposite ends of the castle, or the corridor, or the classroom. Not because of how much they hated each other. If anything, they'd needed to push down their hatred in order to maintain their haphazard, unspoken ceasefire. No, it wasn't for hatred. Nor was it for Lily, or the teachers, or any other person.

It was because, for two people like James and Severus, after having said the countless awful, hateful things to each other that they had, after expressing the depths of contempt they felt for each other as passionately as two classical lovers might in a twisted, disfigured fairy tale, after everything they'd done and everyone they'd hurt in their celestial war of the spirit, there was… nothing left to say.

They had exhausted it all, leaving room only for the same repetitious routine - or death, a fate which both suspected may come from the hand of the other.

"We have dueled on the battlefield of war," Severus said slowly, eyes boring into James' face, "and something like this seems so trivial in comparison, but…" he had to let out a small snort, "you had payed insult to me in every other conceivable way. You just had to add this to the list."

"I didn't choose to be Head Boy, Snape."

"But you know you don't deserve it."

James sighed slowly. "This isn't just about Head Boy. Is it? And maybe I don't deserve it. But nor did I force you to call Evans that word that day."

"You know you don't deserve her, either."

"And you do?"

"What a coincidence that the second there is a crack in my friendship with her, James Potter changes. He doesn't do pranks anymore. He tutors students now. A lazy facade as thin as parchment over the ugliness of his arrogance. And the worst part is, she actually believes it."

"Wow," James murmured. "You don't see her as being autonomous at all, do you?"

"You took her from me."

"She's not a possession to take or give."

"You can lower your facade, Potter. She can't hear you." He lowered his tone. "I know who you really are, beneath the mask."

James strode forward, got right in Severus' face, and snarled. "We both saw who I really am, that night in the Whomping Willow. You tried to get Remus expelled, and I saved your life, Snape. I have been arrogant and stupid for much of my life, but I have never been evil." Severus met his gaze evenly, said nothing. Neither boy even bothered making a move for their wand. Today was not that day.

James turned his back to Snape, slung his bag over his shoulder, and opened the compartment door. Just before closing it, he glanced back, his expression hard. "And I'm not the one who runs around wearing a mask, Snape."

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The Prewett brothers stared at Frank, and Seojun rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, as the four continued sitting idly in the café.

"-and during the ninety minutes of play," Frank was saying, "both teams take turns kicking the ball around."

"One ball?" asked Fabian.

"Just the one."

"On the ground?" asked Gideon.

"Muggles don't fly, so… yes."

Seojun sighed. "There's no way you two don't know football."

The brothers looked indignant.

"We grew up in a very Muggle-ignorant household, thank you very much," said Gideon. "It's not our fault."

"But I'm Pureblood too," countered Frank. "So that's no excuse."

"Well, how are you two so knowledgeable about Muggles then?" Fabian demanded.

"I'm half-blood," said Seojun, sounding bored. "Mum's muggleborn."

"And I just took Muggle Studies for a couple years," said Frank. "It was interesting."

"Why didn't we take Muggle Studies when we were at Hogwarts?" Gideon asked Fabian.

"Because it didn't involve waving our wands and blowing stuff up."

"Ah, that rings a bell."

"Well, you missed out," said Frank. "It's a great opportunity to educate ourselves about-"

"Hold that thought, Frank," said Seojun, holding up the four small pieces of black parchment. The words Shadow Hand Gala were glowing orange now. Seojun quickly handed them out so they each had one, and within seconds Frank felt a familiar pull at his navel.

They each looked at each other.

"See you on the other side," said Fabian.

No sooner had he said it than the world turned black.

Then white.

Then a couple other colors that Frank didn't actually recognize.

This, Frank thought to himself as reality around him tuned itself like a radio, is not travel by Portkey.

The colors began to blend with one another, becoming cohesive, and Frank blinked and suddenly he was in a room.

It was the size of a sitting room, and had portraits on the walls that smiled and waved just like any normal magical place.

Frank wasn't alone in the room.

There were six others of various peculiar descriptions. Some wore dress robes, some wore suits, some wore tatty, dirty coats.

The most interesting of the lot was a woman in an exquisite blue dress with caramel skin and a little monkey sitting on her shoulder. Some of its fur was white, some black, and when it opened its mouth it looked like it was laughing.

"Welcome, group twenty-nine."

Frank turned around. A man in a portrait, the largest portrait in the room and closest to the door, looked at them all solemnly. He wore loose blue denim from head to toe and had a very serious face.

"You are the last of the guests to arrive at the Heptagon."

The man had an eastern european accent. Frank remembered the Prewetts explaining that a wealthy Danish man had bought the Heptagon off the American Ministry.

"The last?" someone called out, sounding confused.

"Yeah," called someone else. "The portkey, my invitation slip, pulled me away at the exact same time as my associates."

The man in the portrait chuckled, a stiff sort of chuckle, as though he wasn't sure if he was doing it properly. "The same time? You are in the Heptagon now. Time on earth means nothing."

Frank frowned. "We're… not on earth?"

"You are not even in the same dimension as the earth," said the man. "Yes, the Heptagon is a giant floating island, wandering around the earth. But as soon as one steps foot on its surface, they leave the earth, and are taken to a place beyond space and time, beyond the comprehension of mere creatures with heart and brain and conscience, beyond-"

"Limbo," said the woman with the monkey on her shoulder, looking bored or impatient. Possibly both. Her accent had a slight spanish lilt. "The Heptagon resides in Limbo. The place where vanished objects go. The place we are when we apparate or floo or use portkeys."

"It is a part of Limbo, sure," said the man. "Different parts have different rules, causing time to work in different ways. My point is, each of the invitation slips corresponded to a specific group, and each group was set to arrive here at a different moment. Your group is the last. By staggering the arrival times of each group, I have maintained a smooth flow and avoided the confusion of all the guests popping in at once - and the confusion of a guest list so fond of and gifted at bloodshed is certainly something to avoid." He chuckled again. It genuinely sounded like he had heard someone chuckle once, a long time ago, and was trying to recreate it.

"So…" someone said, "now what?"

"Oh, yes," said the man. He lifted an arm, and the door opened. "Enjoy the gala."

They left the room one by one. Frank went last.

He entered into a banquet hall, around the size of the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. Many circular tables were spread throughout the hall. There were only a handful of seats left at various tables, and the rest of group twenty-nine moved quickly to fill them up.

Frank spotted the Prewett brothers and Seojun at a table, and he moved over to them.

At the front of the hall was a raised stage. A man stood atop it. He had a scar below his left eye and a gold tooth, and he smiled. Something about his smile was off putting to Frank. When he spoke, his voice was magically amplified to resound loudly across the hall.

"And here comes group twenty-nine," he said. "I'm sure you've already been debriefed about our lovely premises, the Heptagon, by our very generous patron for these festivities, Mr Nicklas Simonsen. Or at least, by his especially charming portrait."

There were chuckles from the crowd at this.

Frank spotted Simonsen sitting at a table near the front, wearing the same denim outfit as his portrait self. He was doing the same awkward chuckle.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin in earnest. Welcome to the Shadow Hand Gala. Most of you will already know me, and those of you that don't will certainly have heard of me. I am called Mr Unscrupulous. I did not choose the name, but it was hurled at me one day and since then it's just sort of…" he licked his lips, "stuck."

The way he said the word unnerved Frank.

"For those who've just arrived, I will run through the event schedule for the Shadow Hand Gala once more."

Frank reached the Prewett's table and sat at the last empty seat.

"Saved it for you," Gideon whispered.

Frank nodded his thanks.

Gideon slid a slice of cake on a plate over to him, and a goblet of mead. "Saved that for you too."

"Thanks," Frank whispered. He turned in his seat to give all the faces around the room a quick scan. There were a couple of faces he recognized from wanted posters he'd seen in his brief visits to the Auror department. He saw the woman with the monkey sitting more gracefully than any person with a monkey on their shoulder should have any right to. Then he spotted a blond man who looked like he'd just thought of something quite funny sitting on the far side of the hall. "Professor Windstrum is here," Frank said, surprised.

"Not your professor anymore, mate," said Fabian.

"Habit," said Frank absent-mindedly, continuing to scan the faces. "So did our targets actually show up? The Life Eaters?"

"One of them," said Seojun, her voice deathly quiet, her gaze fixed on the table.

Fabian nodded his head to the side, and Frank peered in that direction. There were three figures at a table wearing shimmering golden robes. Two of them had their hoods up. The third had a sharp face and a red goatee.

"Those are our guys?" Frank asked.

Seojun's fists clenched. "Those are our guys."

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"So if you pass," said Peter to Marlene, frowning, "you leave Hogwarts in December? Halfway through your Seventh Year?"

Alice and Remus turned to Marlene, waiting for her answer. Sirius continued staring out the compartment window, appearing disinterested in the conversation - a most unconvincing act, in Remus' opinion.

"That's correct, Peter," said Marlene, looking only at Alice, Remus, and Peter. "If I pass the entrance exam, I will begin my study at Dieudonnée's Academy in France in December."

"Oh, we're going to miss you, Mar," said Alice earnestly.

"I haven't passed the test yet," Marlene reminded them. "No point getting sad now."

"You'll pass," Remus told her. "You're too bright not to."

Marlene bit her lip. "Here's hoping."

The compartment door slid open then, and Lily stepped in, throwing herself on the seat next to Marlene. Her school robes were on already, while the rest all still wore their casual clothes.

Lily sighed loudly.

They all stared at her.

Lily sighed again, louder.

"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark," said Alice, "and assume that something is the matter."

It wasn't James and Snape's little showdown that bothered Lily, but something far more uncharacteristic, that she hadn't yet thought to voice.

"Do you think I'll be a good Head Girl?" Lily blurted.

Marlene and Sirius rolled their eyes. "If you're not a good Head Girl, Lily," said Marlene.

"Then no one is," finished Sirius.

"But what if I don't do as good as Dumbledore expects me to?"

"His expectations will have to be extremely high for you not to meet them," said Peter earnestly.

"But I'm me," she said. "Dumbledore's expectations will be extremely high."

They all stared at her again.

"If anyone needed proof that our newest egomaniac spent the summer at James Potter's house," said Alice, looking amused, "look no further."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"I see nothing wrong with a healthy bit of ego," Sirius said, looking at Lily almost proudly.

Remus snorted, considering this an understatement.

Marlene tilted her head. "At what point does an ego become unhealthy?"

The door slid open again and James walked in. "Head Boy coming through. You may bow once, quickly, then return to your seats."

Sirius and Marlene looked at each other, seeming to be trying for a moment not to laugh. Sirius looked out the window. Marlene looked at the floor.

"No bows?" said James, hands on hips. "Some people have no respect for authority."

"They probably get it from you," said Lily, grinning at him.

"Yeah," said James, grimacing and dropping down beside her. "I have appallingly little respect for authority. Especially my own."

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While Frank saw only a smattering of familiar faces around the gala, the Prewetts and Seojun seemed to be smiling, scowling, or hiding their faces at almost everyone who neared - Seojun did a lot of the scowling, while Gideon and Fabian split the smiling and face-hiding evenly between themselves.

All the attendees of the gala had split off in different directions. There was an auditorium in which there was currently an auction taking place - Frank and the others had left sickened when three mermaids were sold for half a million Galleons - and there was a smoky room with the world's foremost Seer, Amelia Trelawney, niece of the great Cassandra Trelawney, sitting in front of a crystal ball, where many business minded folk were congregating in an attempt to gain some sort edge over the future competition.

Frank and the others left this room, each dubious of Trelawney's actual ability, and instead of perusing the many other spectacles spread out across the Heptagon, they returned to the banquet hall. Drinks and finger foods were being served while the attendees milled about, mingling and chatting, each with greedy looks in their eyes.

"This is where the most important business will be conducted during the festivities, I imagine," said Fabian.

"I don't see our Life Eater friends in this room," said Seojun, scanning the crowd.

"Nor do I," said Gideon. He glanced back the way they came. "Hey, maybe they're in the kitchens. I think we should check that out next."

"Why would they be in the kitchens?" asked Frank.

"They could be hatching some sort of nefarious plot… while eating pumpkin pasties."

Fabian shook his head and glanced at Seojun. "Before we check out the other rooms, it may be worth sticking around here first. The Life Eaters may not be here, but with all these people trying to get something out of each other there must be someone who can give us some informa-"

A man bumped into Fabian then, and they both stumbled.

Gideon caught Fabian. "Hey, watch where you're…"

"Apologies," said the man, straightening himself. He froze.

Anton Windstrum stared at them and they stared back.

He bolted, got two steps, and the Prewett's caught him by each arm and hauled him back.

"Not so fast, Windstrum," said Fabian, spinning Windstrum around.

"You're not allowed to arrest me," said Windstrum quickly. "This is neutral land and violence or law enforcement are expressly forbidden by Mr Unscrupulous and Mr Simonsen - 'business only, or risk penalty of death'. It was written on the invitation card."

"Arrest you?" said Gideon. "Don't be silly! We're just old friends, catching up. Isn't that right, Fabian?"

"Too right," said Fabian. "How are you, Windstrum? How have you been since you betrayed us?"

"Which time?" asked Windstrum.

"Pick one," said Fabian.

"Well, I've been grand, thanks." Windstrum paused. "How are you?"

"Splendid," said Fabian. "Gideon?"

"Spectacular," said Gideon.

"Frank?" asked Fabian.

"Uh," said Frank, "good… I guess."

"Seojun?" asked Fabian.

Seojun sighed impatiently. "Lillandra and the Life Eaters," she said to Windstrum. His eyes narrowed. "We had a run in with them, and apparently you're acquainted. What can you tell us?"

Windstrum glanced at the grip the Prewetts had on his arms. They grudgingly let go, and he stretched his arms a little before looking at Seojun. "Acquainted is putting it kindly."

"They told us you betrayed them," Fabian said.

"That doesn't sound like me at all."

"But what that means is," said Gideon, "you know them."

"Right," said Windstrum. "And you want to know them."

"We want to take them down," said Fabian.

"That is optimistic and suicidal and I would be delighted to set you on that path," said Windstrum. "I'll tell you everything you want to know."

They all glanced at each other.

"That is what we wanted," said Frank with a shrug.

"Right," said Fabian, nodding. He looked back at Windstrum. "Start talking."

"Well, they're extremists," said Windstrum. "But I doubt that comes as a surprise to you. When Lillandra recruited me, they weren't calling themselves the Life Eaters just yet - that name came as a reaction to the sudden notoriety of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters in the last few years. When I was recruited, I was promised a world in which Wizards and Witches can live in the open instead of hiding in the shadows."

"Sounds the same as the Death Eaters," said Frank.

"It's not," said Windstrum. "The Dark Lord and his followers despise Muggles, believing that we deserve to rule over them. Lillandra's vision for the future is of Muggles and magical folk standing on an even playing field."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Gideon.

"Perhaps not," Windstrum admitted. "But at the time, I had a more hostile view of things."

"So you betrayed her," said Fabian.

"There's that word again," Windstrum muttered.

"That's all just riveting," said Seojun, "but you still haven't told us who these people are. Or how we can kill them."

"Arrest them," Fabian corrected gently.

"Crush them," she snapped.

"Or be killed by them," Windstrum added with a hopeful nod. "It's all still on the table."

"If they want peace, why would they kill Seojun's whole squad?" Frank asked.

Windstrum laughed. "Peace doesn't just sprout from the concrete, unbidden. You have to crush the cement, dig a hole, plant the seeds, exterminate any weeds that threaten to cut it short. Like I said, they're extremists."

"So what's their plan?" asked Fabian.

"That I don't know. Lillandra has some sort of… tool, for lack of a better word. Instrument, or machine, maybe. She plans to use it to change the world. I don't know how. I don't know what it does. All I know is that it is incomplete."

"How many of them are there?" asked Seojun. "How many Life Eaters?"

"There are seven of them at any given point," said Windstrum. "When I left them for the Dark Lord, I managed to kill three. I imagine they've filled those vacancies since then."

"You-Know-Who knows of them?" asked Gideon. "I had never heard even a whisper of their existence until we were attacked."

"The Dark Lord knows most things," said Windstrum. "He and Lillandra had a fearsome showdown that day - one of the most spectacular I've seen. Ultimately, he had her outmatched - she took her three remaining followers and retreated. Although I imagine since then, her power has grown exponentially."

"Grown?" asked Fabian.

"Some time after I left, she found a way to use her instrument, the machine, if you will, to increase her magical ability. From what I've heard, she did the same to her followers." Windstrum scoffed. "Typical that she'd figure it out only after I turned on her and left."

"That explains why they were all so powerful," Gideon said to Fabian. "We couldn't even touch them."

"You killed three," said Seojun. "What can you tell us of the other four?"

Windstrum shrugged. "Well, you already know Lillandra. She was one of the most powerful wizards or witches I'd met before she exposed herself to the machine. Now, her only matches would be the Dark Lord and Dumbledore." He flexed the fingers of his wooden hand. "Although I wouldn't quite count myself out of that contest."

"What else?" Seojun urged.

"I imagine you've met Lysander?" At their quizzical looks, he continued, "The bloke with the red goatee."

"Ah," they all said.

"He's Lillandra's right hand man. He was a powerful Legilimens when I knew him. These days they say he's the best in the world. Also a bit of a git."

"I can attest to that," said Gideon, nodding.

"The last two that I know usually operate together. I don't know their actual names, so I always thought of them as Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Tweedledum, if you believe the stories, can suppress magic."

The others stared.

"If he concentrates, no one can use magic within a certain distance of him," Windstrum explained. "Including himself. It's not a spell, you see, so it doesn't counter itself."

"That's possible?" asked Fabian.

"I wouldn't have thought so, but that's what I've heard," said Windstrum. "He certainly didn't have this ability when I knew him."

"One of them," said Seojun, "the only other one that we've met, he could suppress apparition - like a portable anti-apparition jinx."

"Tweedledee," said Windstrum, nodding. "You see why they make a dangerous combination. If they both have those skills active at the same time, note they're skills and not magic, I imagine there's not much one can do to escape death - Tweedledum is built like a truck, afterall."

"And that leaves three that we don't know of," murmured Seojun.

"We saw Lysander an hour or so ago, he and two other Life Eaters, seated with the rest of us in the hall," Fabian said to Windstrum. "Any idea where they could be?"

"None at all. Although, there may be one more thing I can help you with. They killed your whole squad, you say?" Windstrum asked Seojun.

She nodded. "We were raiding the headquarters of some low level Death Eaters. It was going great, until they appeared out of nowhere. Killed everyone but these two idiots and myself."

"Oh Seojun, you'll make me blush," said Gideon.

"Have you asked yourself why the Life Eaters came to that headquarters that day?" asked Windstrum.

"Of course," said Seojun.

"And?"

"I still cannot fathom why," she answered.

"Well, I might hazard a guess." Windstrum smiled. "Like I said, Lillandra's machine is incomplete. She needs it completed to realize her vision for humanity. There is nothing else on her mind, no other mission. So if she was at that headquarters that day, it means that she expected someone there to have something she needed, doesn't it? If she killed everyone present, it means that person was not there. So if you want to know where she'll be next… I'd say you should figure out who that missing person is."

They all stared at him once more.

"That," said Fabian slowly, "was extremely helpful."

"Well," said Windstrum, winking at Frank, "I was a Professor at Hogwarts, once upon a time."

"You had better go now," said Frank, glaring at him.

"Too right you are." Windstrum tipped an imaginary hat at them all. "If you'll all excuse me, I have an appointment with a woman and her monkey."

They watched him saunter away, the personification of twisted brilliance, and they could only shake their heads and scowl.

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The Seventh Years took the carriages up to the castle for the last time.

It had astonished many of them that they could now see the thestrals pulling the carriages on.

"Sometimes I'm glad Dumbledore trusted and respected us enough to let us fight in this war so young," Lily said softly to James as their carriage approached the castle. Her eyes were on the gleaming black hide of the thestral. Professor Kettleburn had once told them of these creatures during a Care of Magical Creatures class, and their role in bringing the students to the castle every year. They had all dismissed him at the time. Now they were quiet and grim.

"Other times," she continued, "I question his sanity."

James thought about what she said as he slept. Was he glad he had fought in the war? He was certainly grateful to play his part and feel like he was making a difference, but whenever he woke from violent dreams of severed heads and lifeless eyes, he couldn't help but feel he'd made a mistake.

The next day, James dove head first into his Head Boy duties. He directed First Years to their classes, forced Peeves to stop lobbing dung bombs at Professor Flitwick, and even gave a First Year directions to the library.

"You know where the library is," said Lily, looking at him with eyes that danced.

"No need to rub it in," winced James, scratching his head. "I'm ashamed enough as it is."

They sat at the breakfast table in the Great Hall with Sirius.

She nudged him. "Told you you'd be an excellent Head Boy. You were a no-brainer, really."

James snorted. "Good one."

"Hey, you're outperforming me so far," she said. "And if I may say so myself, that's high praise."

"Little egomaniac," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Never knew you had it in you, Evans."

She laughed.

Marlene approached their spot at the table, bag over her shoulder. "Ready?" she said to Lily.

"Yep." She stood after taking one last bite of toast, and picked up her own bag.

"Where are you two off to?" asked Sirius.

"Free period, innit?" said Marlene. "So we're going to sunbathe on the one sunny day we get in a year."

Sirius opened his mouth.

"With our clothes on," Marlene said with a roll of her eyes.

Sirius raised his hands. "Just checking."

She laughed and shook her head, and she and Lily waved and walked away.

James looked from Marlene back to Sirius. "No drama, huh?"

"None at all, mate," said Sirius, slicing through an egg. "Now those dung bombs you took from Peeves - still have them?"

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Windstrum watched her, the woman with the monkey on her shoulder, turn a corner down one of the heptagon's corridors.

He waited a few seconds, then turned the corner and-

"You're following me."

Windstrum yelped and stumbled back.

She stood at the corner, a hand on her hip. The monkey pointed at Windstrum and opened it's mouth wide. It was laughing at him.

"I am not," he said, glaring at the monkey and standing back at full height. "This is a large stronghold on a large floating island. I'm exploring."

She raised an eyebrow. "The size of this place only makes it more suspicious that you're ten steps behind me everywhere I go… Anton Windstrum." Her accent sounded Spanish to him.

"So you know me," he said. He shouldn't have been surprised, given the bounty on his head. "What else do you know about me?"

"That you'll betray anyone who gives you the chance." The monkey leaned close to her ear, covered its mouth for a moment, then leaned back. She tilted her head. "And apparently your middle name is Frances. That sounds like an old lady's name."

"It's unisex," he hissed.

"What do you want from me, Anton Frances Windstrum?"

He pointed. "That monkey can read minds?"

"Charlie is special in many ways," she said, stroking the top of the monkey's head with one finger. "But no, he can't."

Windstrum shook his head. "Whatever." He pointed to her instead. "I have come to you, the Witch of Worcestershire, to make an offer."

"And what offer would that be?"

"You're going to help me kill the Dark Lord."

She stared at him for a moment. Then she laughed. "Are you stupid?"

"You're the most celebrated information broker on the continent, and I know from experience that the Dark Lord is no mere mortal. He can't be. So you're going to help me find a way to kill him."

The Witch still looked at him like he was an idiot. "No. I'm not going to do that. Offer rejected, we're done here."

She made to turn away.

"And in return," said Windstrum. She paused. "In return, I'll tell you your name."

She turned back fully. "You lie."

"I don't."

"You're Anton Windstrum. Lying is what you're most famous for."

"Well, I'm not right now. I know your name."

The monkey leaned close again, whispered something in her ear.

"You're telling the truth," she murmured. A dozen expressions crossed her face. Anton wasn't able to pinpoint any of them.

He nodded to Charlie. "But you weren't able to figure out the name, eh? Guess you can't read minds after all."

Charlie hissed at him.

"Do you know why they call me the Witch of Worcestershire?" the Witch asked softly. He waited for her to continue. "Because I have no other name. It's been taken from me."

"But also because you once killed all those people in Worcestershire," he added.

She glared. "You're every bit the prick they say you are."

"People should really stop talking about me behind my back," he muttered.

"You're the famous betrayer," she continued. "And now you're suggesting I work with you, just to be betrayed like all the others."

"I won't betray you, Witch. I swear it."

She rolled her eyes and turned again. "Sure. Now you're just wasting my time."

"Okay," he said quickly. "That was a lie. I will betray you. But only after both ends of our bargain have been fulfilled."

"Good," she said, pausing once more. "No pretenses. We both know who you are."

"You don't have the most stellar reputation for loyalty yourself," he said, narrowing her eyes.

She shrugged, extended a hand. "Help each other first, betray each other later."

He couldn't lie… he had never heard a more attractive sentence before. He took her hand. "You have a deal."

They paused for a moment, and Anton wasn't sure if they were sharing a moment or sizing one another up.

Then, she whirled around and strode off down the corridor. "Don't follow me this time," she called without turning.

Anton watched her retreating figure.

It occurred to him that he may have bitten off more than he could chew.

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Frank slipped his hands in his pockets and looked around absent-mindedly - as he had done for the rest of his time at the Shadow Hand Gala.

They had been forced to conclude that this Lysander, with his red goatee and powerful legilimency, had left - along with the other two Life Eaters that had been with him at the opening speech.

Frank didn't feel like he'd been at the gala for very long, but according to Fabian, two whole days had passed in the world outside the Heptagon. He didn't mind terribly. This all counted towards his intern hours for Auror training.

The Prewetts and Seojun were in discussions with a bunch of important looking people. Frank wasn't paying much attention.

"You're a Muggle?" he heard Fabian say.

Frank tuned in, curious.

"I am indeed," said a man in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and he had a sleazy smile. "You'd be surprised how many of us know about magic."

"And you don't tell anyone?" asked one of the others, an older woman.

"Why would I?" the man said. "A rival business owner decides one day to shut down his business and start a farm in Slovenia, no one bats an eye. But if things like the Imperius curse or Confundus charm were common knowledge, it would be a very different story."

"So you have a wand for hire under your employ," said Fabian.

"I have many," said the man, smiling widely.

"Strange," said Fabian.

The Muggle shrugged and gave that smile again. "War makes strange bedfellows."

"And the war doesn't scare you?" asked Seojun. "You know what it's being fought over, right? There are many people who aren't overly fond of Muggles."

Another shrug. "I have yet to meet someone whose hatred is stronger than their greed - with my resources, I get along with all magical folk just fine."

The conversation continued as Frank lost focus again. He turned and surveyed the rest of the room, thinking about what Alice would be doing at that moment. It would be a couple days into the new term by now.

He was struck by a small wave of melancholy and nostalgia, missing the castle and the lake and the Quidditch - he even found himself missing classes.

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"Another year of classes," Sirius grumbled. "Having to pretend to learn things we already knew because we're so brilliant."

The Seventh Year Gryffindors walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class on the fifth floor, with Sirius dragging his feet.

"Is that right?" said Marlene, glancing back at him with the corner of her lips lifting. "Well then, if we cover anything you don't already know today, you owe me ten Galleons."

He raised a brow. "Bit of a steep price."

"But you have nothing to lose, right?" called Lily from the front. "So take the bet."

Sirius glared at her back. "Fine. You're on McKinnon."

They shook on it, before Sirius continued to complain.

"I thought you'd be more excited for this class," Remus said to Sirius. "Millicent Bagnold is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. We all worked with her in Germany - it should be a fun class."

Sirius huffed. "Class is class. Doesn't matter who teaches it."

When they reached the classroom, Millicent Bagnold smiled at them all and greeted them each by name. "Good to see you all again," she said.

"You too, Mi- Professor Bagnold," said Alice, correcting herself.

After introducing herself to the rest of the class, Millicent started writing on the blackboard. "We'll begin today with a fun one you may not have heard of. The Ebublio Jinx! Break into pairs, please."

The Gryffindors glanced at Sirius, grinning. He licked his lips, gears turning behind his eyes.

Marlene waited a moment, then smirked at him and stuck out her hand.

Sirius sighed, reached into his pocket, and dropped ten Galleons into her hand.

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They went to lunch afterward, and discussed at the table how much they enjoyed Millicent's class.

Lily and James were distracted from the conversation when, behind the Gryffindor table, in the middle of the Great Hall, two younger students started yelling at each other. It seemed like some sort of petty squabble.

James and Lily glanced at each other, and made their way over to the students. When the students pulled their wands out, looking suddenly ready to duel, James and Lily ran forward.

"That's enough," said James, as Lily cast a shield charm between the two students. "You know dueling is against the rules. Why would you do it in front of all those teachers up there?"

"He means why would you do it at all, regardless of who is watching," Lily corrected.

"Yes, that's exactly what I meant."

One student pointed at the other. "He made fun of my pigtails."

The other student pointed back. "She said my cough relief potion was the worst in our class."

"Well it was!"

"And your pigtails make you look ugly!"

"Alright," said Lily loudly. "Detention, both of you."

James made a face. "Detention is a bit much, isn't it?"

"Well, what do you think they should do?" asked Lily.

"They can't just apologize to each other?"

"I feel like that's too little."

James and Lily looked at the two students appraisingly.

"You," James said at last to the girl. "You're going to help him with his cough relief potion until it's just as good as yours."

Lily nodded. "And you," she said to the boy. "Never, ever call a girl ugly. You hear me?"

The boy nodded somberly.

"I'll find out if you do," she added.

He nodded again, faster.

"And I'll find out if you don't help him with his potion," James added to the girl.

She nodded too.

"Off with you both, then," said Lily.

James gestured with his hand. "Shoo."

The kids ran off, and James and Lily glanced at each other.

"We're not going to check up on either of those things, right?" said James.

"Oh, absolutely not," laughed Lily. She patted his arm. "That went quite well, I think."

"Yeah?" he said, beaming as they headed back towards the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah," said Lily. "It seems we balance each other out perfectly." She glanced at the teacher's table. "I guess he really is a genius."

James glanced at the table, saw Dumbledore watching them both. The Headmaster lifted a goblet towards them, and winked behind half-moon spectacles.

"Sure." James turned away. "Batshit crazy, though."

She laughed and nudged his arm.