Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

156. Chapter 156 - Power

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have returned! Sorry for the long wait, I was on break and enjoying myself a bit too much!

Reader Caution is advised, as this chapter deals with topics such as suicide and self-harm! Please, beware of this before you read on!

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

There's also a few more Ron fics out there that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, 'Stay Standing' by Windschild8178, and 'Cooking Like a Bachelor' by Avatar Vader. Please, go check 'em out! You won't regret it, spread the Ron love, people!

P.S: Starway Man is a chad! (I'm never removing this)

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Fate

Chapter 156 – Power

Amelia Bones' POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (The Ministry of Magic - Morning)

There was a knock on the door, followed by Crouch barging in without her permission. "Minister, the Daily Prophet has-"

"I know, Crouch," Amelia looked up from her copy of today's Daily Prophet, rubbing her temple. "How is Alastor? Has he woken up yet?"

"He was still out when I left him," Crouch answered, taking a seat. "A fractured skull, Minister…" Merlin's Beard, how is that humanly possible? "Our Head-Auror will be out of commission for a week, at least. His Healer is adamant that he will need his rest, given the severity of his injury." It was a single blow… A slap, no less… I don't understand…

"He'll escape St. Mungo's the moment he wakes up," Amelia knew the man well enough to foresee that he wouldn't trust his Healers not to poison his food.

"Be that as it may, his attacker is still on the loose," Crouch adorned a darker expression. "Dumbledore spirited him away, and is no doubt sheltering him even as we speak." Crouch then leaned forward. "Give me permission to bring them both in, so that they can answer for their crimes against this Ministry."

"Bring Albus Dumbledore in?" Amelia chuckled mirthlessly. "Find me the Auror who can subdue that man, and I will name that Auror the next Grand Sorcerer…"

"Weasley, then," Crouch growled, not hiding his displeasure. "You can't just attack a Head-Auror without consequences! If we don't bring that boy to justice, your Ministership will be over within the week!" …It's over either way, and you know it.

"Putting him through another trial will not win me any favours, either," Amelia sighed out, cursing Ronald Weasley from the bottom of her heart. "If I don't act, I will be seen as weak and incompetent. If I do act, I will be upsetting the thousands who see that boy as a champion of the downtrodden." As damning as this article is, Skeeter's reputation is nothing compared to Weasley's. No one will buy this, not really. She has built her reputation on words alone, whereas Weasley has built his reputation through both words and actions. And, as for me, my reputation is tied to the Ministry's, which is at an all-time low.

"Then, do what you believe is the right thing," Crouch advised. "If it's over regardless of what action you take, then take the action you can live with." He's right. I will not cower in the shadow of a bloody child, even if he has captured the hearts of my people.

Amelia gave a nod, focusing. "Get Robards and Roberts in here. I want Weasley found and captured, and if Dumbledore gets in the way, then the Ministry will brand them both as fugitives. Oh, and find Arthur Weasley while you're at it. I need a word with that man."

"At once, Minister."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Ronald Weasley's Cottage – Morning)

"Boss, what the fuck were you thinking?" London paced, waving her copy of the Daily Prophet about. "Just-… What the fuck were you thinking?! Alastor bleeding Moody?! They'll take your wand for this! He's a bloody war hero, and the current Head-Auror of the Ministry! What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Ron chewed his breakfast in silence, staring at London's hysterical act with hollow eyes. "You're ruining my breakfast, London. I like to eat in peace."

"Well, enjoy it, then!" London gestured towards his plate in an exaggerated manner. "It's the last good meal you'll have before they lock you up in Azkaban!"

"I won't be going to Azkaban, nor will I lose my wand," Ron assured her, putting down his knife and fork.

"Have you read this thing?!" she demanded, slapping the newspaper with her spare hand. "The True Face of Magical Britain's Brightest Boy Revealed! Another Day, Another Scandal!" Yes, Skeeter certainly knows how to catch people's attention. I'll give her that much, at least. "She's all but commanded the Ministry to bring justice down upon you, and you know how politicians work, don't you?! The press plays a tune, and they start dancing to it!"

"If I was any ordinary bloke, sure," Ron sighed out, gesturing her to sit. "Let me explain to you how the world really works, London. Go on, sit."

"Oh, this should be good!" London huffed, falling into the seat across from him. "Go on, then, boss. Educate the adult in the room, please."

Ron's eyes flashed red, and London promptly lost her haughty demeanour. "I get that you're worried, but if you keep speaking to me in that tone, I'll give you a smack of your own." I like you, but I don't like you that much. I won't tolerate such disrespect from my own employees.

She swallowed thickly, tensing up. "…Sorry, I'm just-"

"What I did was foolish, yes, but this isn't the end of the road," Ron continued, not caring for her apologies, only her obedience. "Do you know the definition of power, London? Power is the ability to change the course of events, either around you, or, around others. Now, I wasn't born with power… Hell, I wasn't even born with wealth. I literally come from nothing, but look at me, now. I have changed everything around me for as long as I can remember, and this time will be no different." I can even change the Tapestry of Time, that's the level I'm on. "So, if I decide that I don't want to go to Azkaban, or, hand over my wand, then neither of these events will take place. Not if I'm smart about how I proceed from here."

"I'm not going to bet against you, boss, but… What exactly is your plan here?" London asked, keeping her tone in check, now. That's much better. Her shouting was giving me a headache.

"I have powerful friends, both in this country and beyond," Ron explained, smirking. "Those within this country are a part of the Wizengamot itself, and they can make things exceedingly difficult for the Minister. As for my friends beyond, they too wield a great deal of influence, and they will exercise that influence to shield me from being inconvenienced in any way. Power, London… I have more power than the Minister and all her Aurors, and that's why this fiasco is nothing more than a tiny setback for me." Ron then picked up his utensils, again. "However, before I start depending on others, I will take action myself. I will go to the Minister, and I will speak with her. I will apologize to her, and then, to Alastor Moody himself." The Headmaster was wrong… Whenever I'm certain that I've wronged others unjustly, I do apologize. Any real man would. "He didn't deserve my wrath, despite his attempt to intimidate and bully me. No… It's Desislava Grueva I should have struck down, not him."

London gave a slow nod, her brow furrowed. "What happened, exactly? What set you off like that?"

"She murdered one of her Elves unfairly and cruelly," Ron replied, cutting up some bacon. "He wanted to be free, so she tortured him to death and then strung him up for her other Elves to see. I took his body and brought it here… He's buried up on the hill, a little ways away from the mess hall." Find peace, Tabby. You deserved better than this, but it's all I can do for you, now.

"You buried him yourself?" London blinked, and he shook his head. "Who helped you? Was it one of the lads?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"…Oh…" she muttered, scratching her chin. "Powerful friends, indeed."

"The Aurors will eventually come here, London," Ron told her. "My father will be questioned about my whereabouts, and he'll tell the Minister where I am. I'll be long gone by then, of course, but when they arrive, I want you to treat them with respect. Explain to them that I left for the Ministry to answer for my outburst, that I'm taking accountability."

"What if they try and question the wolves?" London asked. "To try and get dirt on you, I mean? After all, this'll be personal for them. You did clock their boss."

"Then, remind them gently that your numbers eclipse theirs. Remind them that the Death's Hand doesn't fuck around when it comes to serving the man who pays them. I won't tolerate the Werewolves suffering because of my lapse in judgement, and your job is to see to that."

"Understood, boss."

"Brilliant. Now, please, let me eat in peace. I have to think of what I'm going to say to the Minister."

---

Arthur Weasley's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (The Ministry of Magic - Morning)

The True Face of Magical Britain's Brightest Boy Revealed!

Another Day! Another Scandal!

Gather around, my fellow truth-seekers, for once again, it is time to talk about Ronald Bilius Weasley, the Boy-Who-Desires-To-Be-King! Not content with the controversies already surrounding him, he has now run afoul of Magical Britain's latest Head-Auror, the legendary Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody!

Last night, at a most prestigious gathering of the Wizarding World's finest, Ronald Weasley made an unwelcome appearance. Barging into the home of the ever-gentle, and currently grieving, Lady Grueva, Weasley demanded that he be allowed to join the festivities, despite not being invited. Many guests described him as rude, obnoxious, entitled, and quite possibly, drunk upon arrival! However, against her better judgement, Lady Grueva remained composed and allowed the wicked boy into her humble home.

In hindsight, we can all adamantly admit that her kindness was for naught.

Weasley spent the majority of the night gorging himself, with some onlookers vowing that he drank over ten tankards of Butterbeer within the first hour of his unfortunate arrival! He was curt, downright disrespectful, and utterly snobby with any polite enough to approach him in a thoughtful, yet futile, attempt to make him feel welcome! Many even claim that he struck Lord Dennis Sokolov of Magical Russia unprovoked, claiming that he was beyond the confines of Magical Law! And, when being a violent brute wasn't enough to sate his ugly appetites, Weasley began leering at and harassing the young Ladies around him!

He even dragged a poor girl away from her mother and into Lady Grueva's gardens! She returned a little while later, teary-eyed and terrified, according to Mehmet Bey of Magical Turkey! Only the Gods know what Weasley did to her, but whatever it was, they would surely frown upon it, a sentiment we too must share if we believe in a just and compassionate society!

And, if all of this wasn't outrageous enough, he then humiliated our beloved country in the eyes of all those in attendance by, once again, directly undermining our valiant Ministry! When the brave, and righteous, Alastor Moody stepped in to put an end to Weasley's rampage, the vicious little blighter struck the Head-Auror across the temple with a bottle, injuring him so terribly that he had to be escorted to St. Mungo's!

A Head-Auror of Magical Britain struck down by a brutish, callous boy who has proven time and time again that he does not respect, nor believe in, the laws that govern us all! No, this boy is under the delusion that he can do as he pleases, regardless of the harm caused by his increasingly selfish acts!

How long must we, the law-abiding citizens of Magical Britain, entertain this boy's blatant narcissism?! How long can we hope to ignore this danger to our society before it's too late?! Make no mistake, my vigilant readers, Ronald Weasley is not the 'Hero' he portrays himself as in his 'Quibbler'! I would even go as far as to say that all of his 'acts of kindness and compassion' were maliciously undertaken as a means to shield himself from all manner of criticism!

This young, Dark Wizard, for that is what he is, will not fool us so easily!

We see him for what he truly is, and we must implore our Ministry to do the same! If he can threaten the safety of our most noble friends, then I promise you, he can threaten the safety of us all!

The Ministry must see justice delivered upon Ronald Weasley, once and for all!

Your ever-humble servant,

Rita Skeeter

Arthur put the newspaper back on the table, letting out a deep sigh and pinching his eyes. "…Minister, I don't know what to say…" This is humiliating, and not just for the Minister. Ron… Why did you turn out so wrong? We gave you everything we could, but it just wasn't enough, was it? "…Skeeter is making things up, again… My son-… Ron… He wouldn't do these things…"

"You sound very unsure of your own words, Arthur, and that bothers me," the Minister said icily, her expression impossible to read. Why did she call me here? Is it to fire me? Or, does she want to know where Ron is? Should I tell her that he's at the Werewolf Sanctuary? I mean, it would be the right thing to do, given what he's done this time around.

Despite his anger, sorrow, and shame, Arthur still felt every father's need to protect his child, regardless of how terrible said child had turned out. If I tell them, they'll break his wand for certain. Even he can't talk his way out of this mess.

"Why am I here, Minister?" Arthur asked outright, bracing himself.

The Minister looked to the Aurors standing behind Arthur, Gawain Robards and Jane Roberts, before addressing him, again. "Where is he?"

"…He's um… He ran away from home a few days ago-" Arthur started.

"Don't lie, Arthur," Gawain cut in, his voice almost threatening. "Tell us the truth, or, you'll face consequences of your own."

"I'm not lying," Arthur said, keeping his eyes fixed on the Minister. "He's run off, and if you don't believe me, you can go check for yourself. My wife will tell you the same thing." If she even talks to you, that is… She's barely said a word since Ron left…

"Why did he run off?" Bones asked, and Arthur blinked.

"Um… It's a family matter, Minister-" Arthur started, but stopped when she raised her hand.

"You're going to tell me everything about your youngest son, Arthur," the Minister commanded, her strong jaw clenching. "But, for now, I will settle for his location. Where is he, if not at home? Where would he run off to? Is he with Dumbledore?" Dumbledore? "He is, isn't he?"

"I… don't know," Arthur lied, drawing in a shaky breath. "Minister, I… I don't know how to say this, but… I don't know him anymore than you do…" I failed him as a father, and he's failed me as a son. The way he chooses to carry himself… Some part of me is very glad that he's just gone… That I don't have to see him every single day…

Arthur shifted in his seat, averting his gaze. What kind of father would have such thoughts about his own son? His son, who was terminally ill? His son, who had been driven mad by his own genius? His son, who had saved so many lives in such a short amount of time? Why couldn't he have just been a normal boy? What did Molly and I do to deserve all of this? We raised him as best we could, didn't we? Are some people just born twisted, is that it? How could he do such a thing to a noble and courageous man like Alastor-?

"Arthur, look at me," the Minister called, breaking him out of his miserable thoughts. "I know this is hard, but Alastor is in critical condition. Your son is out of control, and it's only a matter of time before he starts sending other people to St. Mungo's. You have to tell us where he is, before it's too late." …Critical condition…

Arthur let out a resigned sigh, shrinking. "…Try the Werewolf Sanctuary…" She's right… He has to be disciplined before he hurts more people…

"He'll be protected there, Minister," Gawain commented. "His goons and wolves won't hand him over without a fight, and we don't have the manpower available to snatch him away."

"Threaten the Werewolves with charges of treason, it ought to frighten most of them into-" Bones started.

"You can't!" Arthur spoke up, shocked. "Minister, they're good people, and they've suffered at the hands of the Ministry their entire lives! We can't threaten to take their homes away from them-!"

"Be silent," Bones ordered, stopping him short. "If they choose to stand against this Ministry, then they will face the consequences. Their suffering does not put them above Magical Law." She then looked back to her Aurors, staring at them. "Roberts… You're awfully quiet, today. You know the boy, don't you? Surely, you must have some insight that can help us apprehend him."

Arthur looked back, staring at the thin-lipped Auror. She stared right back at him, her amber eyes cold and judgemental. She then drew in a sharp breath, turning her attention back towards the Minister.

"What did Mad-Eye do to him, Minister?" Roberts asked bluntly, surprising them all. "I know them both, and between the two, I find Ronald to be the more level-headed one."

"You're out of line, Jane!" Gawain was the first to speak, frowning deeply.

"What did Mad-Eye do, Minister?" Roberts remained unfazed. "Despite his young age, Ronald is a man who adheres very strongly to his principles. He is disciplined, intelligent, and above all, compassionate. I find it hard to believe that Skeeter is telling the truth about what happened last night, that he was being a public nuisance and that Mad-Eye was just trying to protect the peace. No… Those Purebloods did something to push Ronald over the edge, and Mad-Eye must've done the same."

Arthur blinked, visibly taken aback by her unwavering faith in his son's innocence. He turned to face the Minister, again, waiting for her to respond to Roberts' insight. Well? What really happened? Why aren't you saying anything?!

"…Alastor followed my orders, nothing more," the Minister eventually revealed, leaning back in her chair. "He approached the boy early in the night in an attempt to intimidate him into revealing his machinations against this Ministry and myself." Intimidate him?!

"You had an Auror threaten my son?" Arthur muttered in disbelief, anger ever-so-slowly seeping into his heart. And, now, you want to threaten the Werewolves too? Is that what this Ministry does, now?!

"Not threaten, Arthur, not exactly," the Minister looked entirely unapologetic. "Your son is doing everything in his power to weaken this Ministry, that is a fact. His Quibbler, his Pureblood friends, his popularity… He is using everything at his disposal to undermine the only institution that stands between order and chaos. Now, I always assumed that he was simply trying to help the downtrodden, even if his age limited his perspective and his control over his emotions, but after speaking to him last night… He knowsexactly what he's doing, and he confessed as much to me himself. He wants to tear this building down around us in order to build one that suits his 'principles'." She then looked to Roberts, ignoring the scowl Arthur was now wearing. "If he can attack the Head-Auror of our country without consequences, then it's only a matter of time before he gets his wish."

"These Purebloods have attacked plenty of Aurors over the years, Minister… Where are their consequences?" Roberts asked in response. "How did Skeeter put all of this together so quickly? From what I've heard, there were no reporters at this party."

"They went running to her, no doubt," Bones answered. "The truth is that Ronald was better behaved than the majority of the people I spoke to last night. He wasn't drunk, he didn't drag some poor girl away to abuse her, and he most certainly wasn't welcomed with open arms. He was insulted throughout the entire night, and was even sent to eat in the kitchen with the Elves because Lady Grueva believed wholeheartedly that his mere presence would upset the stomachs of her 'illustrious' guests." …What? Why would he put himself through all that? "As for what pushed him over the edge… Lady Grueva had one of her Elves murdered in a most brutal fashion, and that's when the boy lost it. Alastor attempted to calm him down, to try and get to the bottom of what had happened, but Ronald lashed out like some wild beast. In a single blow, he brought down the most powerful Auror this country has ever seen. I imagine, witnessing such a sight scared the Purebloods stiff. It definitely scared me. So, they did what they always do, they ran to the Daily Prophet to protect themselves and their reputations… To control the narrative, and in doing so, discredit and humiliate someone they're beginning to fear."

Silence filled the room after the Minister had finished, and Arthur took the time to look back to the newspaper. Just staring at it filled him with contempt for Rita Skeeter, the mouthpiece of the Purebloods' twisted beliefs and undeserved vanity. She's had it out for him for a good while, now, and he's not helping himself by making enemies wherever he goes. Still, most people know that Skeeter is a liar who chases gossip rather than news, so I can only hope that they don't buy her drivel-…

"Now, regardless of what I've just told you, the fact remains that Ronald Weasley attacked the Head-Auror of this Ministry," Bones broke the silence, grimacing slightly. "He broke Magical Law, and he did it in front of an audience. He must be brought in for that, and I will hear no arguments on it. Gawain, I expect him to be in custody by the end of the day. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Minister," Gawain responded, while Arthur simply resigned himself. "By your leave, Jane and I will depart at once."

The Minister waved a dismissive hand, watching her Aurors leave without uttering a word. Once they were gone, she turned her focus back onto Arthur, studying the man across from her with calculating eyes. I should ask to be dismissed myself, before she starts asking me more questions that I don't want to answer-…

"Do you know what I find most strange, Arthur?" Bones interrupted his thoughts.

"What, Minister?"

"That one of my Aurors spoke out in defence of your son, but you didn't," she said, cocking an eyebrow. "Most strange, indeed." She doesn't know him like I do…

Arthur averted his gaze, thinking of Ron ordering the maiming of one of his own mercenaries over a trivial slight. There is something evil in him, and I can't ignore it any longer… I can't defend it any longer. He's hurt everyone who ever cared for him, and even though he's my son, I just-… I can't bring myself to keep forgiving him… I can't force myself to love him as I used to…

"Was he always like this?" the Minister suddenly asked, and Arthur looked up. "I can't imagine that he was, because how could a child foster such grand ambitions? In all my years, never have I come across someone like your boy, Arthur. Not a single person. So, tell me, what made Ronald Weasley into what he is today?" If I knew that, my life would be infinitely more peaceful.

"…I don't know, Minister," Arthur confessed, unable to hide how frustrated he felt. "Molly and I didn't raise him to be this way, that's all I know."

"What was he like? Growing up, I mean," Bones asked, leaning forward. "Was he restless? Was he eager to leave home? Was he unhappy?"

"None of those, no," Arthur replied, thinking back to the happy boy that was always trying to stand out in his parents' eyes. "He was well-behaved, for the most part. He looked after his sister without complaint, he got along with his brothers more often than not, he generally did his chores in a timely manner, and he tried his best not to get on his mother's nerves. He um… He sought my attention relentlessly, begged me to teach him to fly every chance he got." Arthur then let out a sorry chuckle, remembering his youngest son's antics. "He'd sneak into my shed and wait for me with Charlie's broom in hand. He'd pout for days on end when I would send him away, dragging his feet wherever he went. He was terribly persistent in his efforts, even to the point that his mother started hounding me on his behalf."

"So, you ended up teaching him, then?" the Minister's lips quirked upwards, sounding a little amused.

Arthur swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "No… I had his older brothers teach him, instead."

"Why?" the Minister asked, curious.

"I was busy, or, at least, that's what I told myself at the time," Arthur sighed out, scratching the back of his neck. "When you have as many children as I do, Minister, it gets tiring… I was working from dawn till dusk, and when I would finally get home, there was no peace to be found. My children were… very energetic, and as they got older and grew bolder, I found the quiet of my shed more and more appealing. I'd have gone mad, otherwise… Ron… He came too late, I suppose…" Arthur shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "You must think me a terrible father for saying such things-"

"No, not at all," the Minister interjected, offering him a look of understanding. "Seven children, Arthur… I can't even begin to imagine how chaotic your household must've been. When Susan, my niece, was younger, I'd look after her from time to time, and let me tell you, that girl pushed me harder than any political rival ever did. She demanded all of my attention, and if I looked away for even a second, she'd run off to cause all sorts of trouble. She was a climber, my niece. A climber, and a jumper. Oh, and she was a biter! She once bit Rufus so hard that she drew blood, and do you want to know what he said in response? That she'd make a great Auror, someday." A gloomy smile appeared on her usually stern face, making her seem older than she was. "I never wanted children of my own, not really, but when I was taking care of her, the idea didn't seem so… disruptive…"

"Disruptive, Minister?"

"Disruptive to my career, my ambitions," she clarified, losing the smile. "If a woman working in the Ministry has a child, her career tends to stagnate." It does? "Especially if she's trying to become the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Bones then drew in a sharp breath, regaining her composure completely. "Being a parent is a great responsibility, Arthur, and I understand that it's not always a rewarding one. So, no, I don't think of you as a terrible father. In my eyes, you and Molly have done what very few people could do, especially given your circumstances."

"I… Thank you, Minister," Arthur said, feeling more at ease. She's not so intimidating, after all.

"Still, what little you've shared with me doesn't explain your youngest son's bizarre character," the Minister leaned back in her chair, before removing her monocle. "I didn't lie to you before, Arthur… Your son is a significant threat to my Ministership, especially right now. He is turning the Wizengamot against me, he is turning the people against me, and soon, I fear he will try to turn my own administration against me. When I spoke to him last night, he mentioned that he was 'guiding' me to make the right choices, but that's not how I see it. I see his actions as an attack on me and my Ministry, and I will not allow it. He can pretend to be my friend all he likes, but I know ambitious men when I see them. So, I implore you, not only as your Minister, but as someone who has laboured to better this Ministry alongside you… Tell me everything you can about him. Shed some light on this mystery, before it's too late."

Once again, Arthur shifted in his seat, feeling as though he was being torn between duty to his child and duty to his Ministry. Any decent father would walk away right now, but none of them have a son like I do… A cruel, conceited, callous boy… He sees nothing wrong with turning his back on those who raised him… Me, Molly, Pandora, and now, even Sebastian and Mary… He can't be allowed to keep getting away with hurting people. He has to learn that there are consequences for every terrible choice, and if the Minister can teach him that invaluable lesson, then I ought to help her… For his own sake…

"As I said before, he was a perfectly normal boy growing up, Minister," Arthur started, already feeling racked with guilt over his decision. "But around the time he turned eight, something changed in him. I don't know how to describe it, but he became different."

"Different?" the Minister leaned forward, grabbing her quill. "Different how? And, around eight, you said?"

"Yes, around eight," Arthur nodded weakly, hating himself as she began jotting down notes. "There was an incident of Accidental Magic on his eighth birthday, and that's when he started to change, I believe. Now, I wasn't there to see the incident myself, but from what Molly described, it was… unnatural… He just started screaming out of nowhere, holding his head as if it were going to split open… Scared the life out of everyone… And…" he trailed off.

"And?"

"And, his Magic tore the kitchen apart," Arthur sighed out. "Every plate, every glass, even the windows… Six other children, Minister, and nothing of the like ever happened with them. I still don't know what to make of it, but it was after that incident that Ron started behaving differently."

"I need specifics, Arthur. Did he become more aggressive? More aloof?"

"No, no… He-…" Arthur shook his head, thinking his words through. "Ron always despised studying, he'd give Molly the worst time whenever she sat him down for his lessons, but after the incident, he approached his brother, Percy, and started studying under his tutelage. Every single day, Minister, I'd catch him hiding in the corner with his nose buried in a book. And, that wasn't all… He started running, too. Every morning, even before the rooster's call, Ron would be out there doing laps around the house. And, I mean every morning, Minister… It was like he was possessed, or, something. Though, honestly, I was simply too taken by the change in him to question what I was seeing at the time. I even bought him the proper clothes to encourage his sudden love of fitness."

"Sudden love of education and fitness…" the Minister wrote it all down. "What else, Arthur?"

"Um… Oh, I mentioned him going to Percy, but I didn't mention that he started keeping journals," Arthur added. "There were two, if I'm remembering right. One was filled with Spells that his brothers, and I, wrote down for him, but the other one… The other one was a mystery to us all. He kept it hidden as best he could and was very secretive about it… I think, it was his personal diary-"

"You think? Did you never read through it?" she asked, frowning a little.

"He was a little boy, Minister," Arthur muttered, internally scolding himself. "I just-… Molly and I could see that he wasn't comfortable sharing whatever he wrote in that journal with us, so we didn't push the matter. I don't think he realized that he wasn't hiding it all that well, so bringing it up would have done nothing but upset him. We were just glad that he was finally taking things a little more seriously, and we didn't want to do anything to discourage him."

"Does he still have that journal?" Bones asked. "If so, could you make a copy of it?"

"Minister, I'm not comfortable with-"

"Children can be fickle, no doubt, but they don't change so drastically overnight, Arthur," she interjected, stopping him short. "He suddenly becomes a different person, and you didn't even question it? Not even a little? Whatever is in that journal, it could give us the answers we need. It could explain the reason behind his sudden change. Aren't you curious about that yourself?"

"Of course, I am… But this is going too far, isn't it?"

"No, your son is the one going too far. He is turning this country into his own circus, and he's not alone. The papers don't mention this, but your son didn't show up alone last night. He was with Albus Dumbledore." …What? He was with Dumbledore, again? What exactly is going on between those two?

"Why would the Daily Prophet hide-?"

"Because no one in their right mind would believe that Dumbledore allowed Ronald to behave like a thug, and that would poke holes in the Prophet's narrative," the Minister interrupted him, again. "But, that's beside the point, Arthur. He is being backed by Dumbledore, and I have to wonder why. What's the old man playing at? Why is he so enamoured with this foul-mouthed boy? I have a million questions on my mind, and I don't even know where to start searching for the answers. So, you will find this journal, and you will bring me a copy of it. Otherwise, I might decide that the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office no longer deserves funding of any sort."

"What?! You can't do that!" Arthur felt his stomach drop, he had spent his entire career trying to keep that Office alive. "I've worked for years to bring that Office-!"

"I am the Minister for Magic, and I have the authority to shut down any Office that I deem unsuccessful," Bones promised sternly, her eyes hardening. "When was the last time your Office managed to bring forth a legislation that the Wizengamot didn't shut down immediately? A year ago? Those are very poor results, Arthur, and I'd be doing this Ministry a favour by allocating your funding to an Office that will not waste it."

Arthur could do little but stare at her in utter disbelief, she was demanding that he betray his own son's privacy in the hopes of preserving his life's work. This-… This is wrong… Even Fudge had more tact than this! If she's willing to put her own people in such a position, then I don't want anything to do with her Ministry! Damn the consequences, I won't be forced to betray my own kin! My own bloody son! I just want him to realize that he can't go on like this! I just want him to be safe! I just want him to be a better man!

Arthur drew in a sharp breath, but just as he went to reject her ultimatum, there was a knock at the door. The Minister frowned deeply, gesturing him to remain silent as she turned her attention towards the door.

"Not now, Abigail," Bones ordered. "I am in the middle of a meeting-"

The door creaked open, and the Minister's secretary poked her head through. "I know, Minister, but… Well, there's a problem, and it's urgent."

"Now, what?" Bones grit out, looking beyond frustrated.

"Um… Ronald Weasley is here… He just strolled up and asked if he could see you," Abigail reported, laughing nervously. Ron is outside?!

"What?!" the Minister snapped, whereas Arthur felt his jaw drop open. He just walked in here?! Is he mad?! "He just strolled all the way up to my bloody office without facing any opposition?! How?!"

"T-The Aurors are all out, a-already," Abigail stammered under Bones' furious gaze. "And um… Well, he's Ronald Weasley, Ma'am… No one tried to stop him…"

"Unbelievable…" Bones groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gods be good, just-… Tell him to wait, and while he does so, go fetch Crouch. Now!"

"Yes, Minister!" Abigail squeaked, shutting the door before running off. Ron, what are you doing? You can't attack a Head-Auror, and then strut into the Ministry like you own it! Oh, Merlin's Beard, this is going to be a disaster!

"The sheer bloody nerve of that-" Bones started, but stopped, shooting Arthur a deadly glare. "Do you see what I mean, now? This is all a game to him! People's jobs, people's very lives, are at stake, and he's having a grand old time!" A grand old time? Do you even understand how sick he is?! He's working himself to death every day for those who have no voice!

"My son suffers more than you can imagine, Minister," Arthur frowned deeply, still pissed with her for threatening his livelihood. "This isn't a game to him, not at all. He's just… eccentric…" Insane is the more apt description, but I'll refrain from using it. "And, as for this 'meeting', it's over. I will not sit here and be threatened to go against my conscience, not even by you." Arthur then rose out of his seat, ready to resign in protest. "I thought you'd be different from Fudge, that you would change how this Ministry works, but I was wrong. And I won't work under another Minister who doesn't see the value of my work. My Office is there to protect Muggle-Kind and the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, but it's been crippled time and time again by the likes of Lucius Malfoy. I will resign before I let you-"

"Sit back down, Arthur," the Minister ordered, exhaling. "Just-… It was a bluff, nothing more. Calm yourself, and sit down." A bluff? I find that hard to believe! "I'm telling you the truth; I have no plans to gut the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Despite my frustrations with your son, I will not put my self-interest above what this Ministry needs, and it needs people like you. People who aren't just out for their next promotion. People who are passionate about their work. People who are loyal to the Ministry and what it represents. So, please, sit back down."

Arthur drew in a calming breath, before doing as he was told. "My son has his issues, Minister, but never doubt that there is good in him. It can be hard to see, sometimes, but it's there. All the people he's helped, all the people our Ministry has looked down on for centuries… I've seen him put those people above his own health so many times that I've lost count."

The Minister lowered her gaze, appearing thoughtful, but just as she went to break the silence, the door creaked open, again. "…Abigail, I asked you to wait-"

"Hello," came Ron's voice, and Arthur immediately turned to see his youngest son step into the office. Ron?! You can't just walk into the Minister's office without permission! Are you trying to land yourself in Azkaban?!

"Mr. Weasley, what is the meaning of this?!" the Minister demanded, rising out of her seat in outrage. "You cannot simply walk in here-"

"I got tired of waiting," Ron smiled pleasantly, closing the door behind him. "And, I figured that your girl had run off to find some Aurors. Forgive me, but I'd rather have a chat with you face-to-face, and not from behind iron bars."

The Minister grit her teeth, her jaw tensing. "…You have a lot of nerve walking in here after what you did to Alastor…"

"It's not nerve, Minister," Ron walked further into the office, ignoring Arthur's presence. "I came here to apologize, and to discuss my punishment." Both Bones and Arthur blinked at that, visibly surprised. "It's not Alastor Moody I should have smacked into the next century, it should've been Grueva. But… I lost control… What they did to Tabby, it brought out the worst part of me, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry for how things ended last night, and for the terrible position I've put you in."

"Tabby?" the Minister raised an eyebrow.

"The Elf I buried last night… The Elf they murdered," Ron answered, making Arthur's stomach drop. "May I sit, please? I want to negotiate my punishment before we get interrupted." The Minister grumbled under her breath, before gesturing him to sit beside Arthur. "Thank you."

"The Ministry does not negotiate sentencing with law-breakers, Mr. Weasley," the Minister sat back down, joining her hands atop her desk.

"The Death-Eaters who still prowl our streets would beg to differ, Minister," Ron countered, earning himself a dark frown. "I am willing to pay a hefty fine, as well as give both a personal apology to Alastor Moody and a public apology to the Ministry. I think, that's quite fair-"

"Fair? You don't decide what's fair, Mr. Weasley," Bones interrupted, scoffing. "You are beyond reasoning, aren't you? This latest piece by Skeeter is filled with lies, yes, but she got one thing right… You don't respect, nor adhere to, the laws that govern your fellow wizards."

"No, I don't," Ron confessed without hesitation, and Arthur let out a tired sigh. Don't just admit that so openly… What on Earth are you up to, Ron?

"Son, think about what you're saying," Arthur tried, giving him a meaningful look. "Please."

"Your laws are a joke, as is your government," Ron continued, his pleasant demeanour all but vanishing within a heartbeat. Merlin's Beard… "These laws you speak of, Minister… They're not there to govern us, they're there to oppress us. They were written by the Purebloods for the Purebloods, and we both know it. I mean, honestly… You yourself have protected, or, outright ignored, crimes far more heinous than my own in the past, and why? Because they were committed by the wealthy and the powerful, that's why. The Carrow Twins slaughtered hundreds over the last decade, and yet, your laws sheltered them. Lucius Malfoy bribed and coerced the former Minister for years, and yet, your laws made him evermore powerful. Even the 'esteemed' members of the Wizengamot blatantly abuse their power every chance they get, and yet, your laws do nothing but vindicate them. Where are your laws when they need to be punished, eh? Where are your laws when ordinary people need you to defend their rights?" Ron then looked to Arthur, giving his father a sorry smile. "This man right here, my father… He is a good man. He is a 'law abiding citizen', and yet, he's forced to live an inch away from poverty because his government places no value in his well-being. And why? Because some criminal, cut-throat Death-Eater like Lucius Malfoy despises Muggle-Kind, and anyone who would dare defend them." His words are harsh, but fair… Even the Minister can't argue the fact that this Ministry places certain people above all others. "So, no, Minister, I don't respect your laws as they are right now. They're not made to protect and safeguard the rights of people like me, and I'd be a fool if I thought otherwise."

The Minister stared at them both blankly, seemingly unaffected by Ron's speech. "Your words… There is truth to them, I won't refute that. The Ministry has made mistakes-"

"Not mistakes," Ron interrupted icily. "Choices. You chose to persecute the weak because the strong asked you to. You chose to ignore rape and murder because justice was inconvenient at the time. You chose to keep good people like my father down because they dared to stand up for what they believe in." Ron then smiled, but it was anything except friendly. "I won't let you hide any longer, Minister. It wasn't just Fudge who fucked it all up, no… The Ministry was a problem long before he showed up, and I think it's past time people saw you lot for what you really are."

"And what are we, Mr. Weasley?" the Minister whispered dangerously.

"Puppets," Ron answered immediately. "The Purebloods pull the strings, and you dance in response." He then leaned forward, matching her gaze. "So, let's 'negotiate' my punishment, and then, I can get out of your hair. My offer still stands… A hefty fine, and a pair of apologies. If I were you, I'd graciously accept those terms." Heavens above, where does he find the courage to speak to the Minister like that? He has to have some sort of leverage here, something that we've all missed… But what could it be?

The Minister studied the young redhead, and eventually, her expression turned stern. "That will not be enough, I'm afraid. I am no puppet, boy, nor will I allow you to turn me into one. The minimum sentence for injuring an Auror in this country is five years in Azkaban-"

"Minister, please!" Arthur pleaded, but when Ron started laughing, he could do little but give his son a look of utter disbelief. What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?! She's going to lock you away! Stop laughing at her, you idiot!

"Ministry throws terminally ill teenager into Azkaban, but Death-Eaters still roam free… Minister brings justice down upon Weasley, but a proper villain still lurks in Diagon Alley… Oh, I can already see the headlines that will end your career," Ron continued laughing, much to the Minister's chagrin. "Can I tell you something, Minister? Do you know what I was doing before I came down here?"

"I don't care-"

"I was in Diagon Alley," Ron went on, piping down slowly. "Bloody hell, sorry… You really cracked me up just then… Anyway, as I was saying, I was in Diagon Alley. I was questioning people about their thoughts on Skeeter's latest hit-piece on me, and do you know what they all said to me?" The Minister's stern expression weakened. "Not one person believed it was true… Not. One. Person." He then grinned, like the cat that had devoured the canary. "You put me through another trial that threatens my freedom, and the streets will erupt in protests. Riots, even. And, when Albus Dumbledore himself comes forward and says that nothing in that article is true, and that you're just another puppet like Fudge, your time as Minister for Magic will come to an abrupt end. It will be the shortest term ever served… Children will gather around your house and throw eggs at your windows, and they will laugh because they found the house of the most pathetic Minister to have ever taken up Office. And, I'll still be out and about, doing what I do best, which is bringing people who think they're untouchable down on their knees."

Silence… A horrible, uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Arthur found himself feeling entirely out of place. I-… I can't believe this is the same boy who used to cry and hide from the twins whenever they were in a foul mood… What exactly went on in those sessions he used to have with Sebastian?

Ron suddenly stood up, buttoning up his suit. "I'm giving you the chance to not only save face, but to also keep your job. I mean, only Merlin knows what sort of Minister the Wizengamot will replace you with, but one thing will be certain… That Minister will definitely be a puppet of the Purebloods, and as a result, nothing about this Ministry will change going forward. Neither of us want that, now, do we? So, just accept the deal I'm offering, and let's move on from this mess." The Minister's hands balled into fists, her knuckles turning bone-white as she gave a half-nod. Merlin, he just walked in here and made her submit to his will… The leader of our nation, and he just-… What the fuck? "I told you last night, didn't I? You can have me as a friend, or, you can have me as an enemy. Well, consider this a taste of us being enemies, Minister." With that, Ron turned and walked away, but stopped at the door. "Gawain Robards threatened my friends with a weapon, and last night, Alastor Moody put his hands on me… Keep your Aurors in check if you want to keep them, eh? Like you said, I don't care about your laws, and I care even less about your Aurors. I catch them threatening underage witches and wizards, again, and I'll drag that entire Department through the mud."

Ron opened the door and walked out, and the moment the door closed behind him, the Minister slapped a stack of parchments clear off her desk. Arthur jumped in his seat, blanching when he saw the murderous look on her face. She was seething, he could literally feel the anger radiating from her in waves of Errant Magic, and he knew that if he didn't excuse himself, that anger would eventually come crashing down on him.

"Pardon me, Minister," Arthur stood up and made his way out, quickly sealing the door behind him. Merlin, what a morning… I'd best stay out of her sight for a couple of weeks, or, she really will gut my Office.

Drawing in a sharp breath to steady himself, Arthur went after Ron, finding his son near the gold-gilded elevators. Oh, bloody hell… Ron was now locked in a heated exchange with Crouch, who was accompanied by Nymphadora Tonks and Rodney McKellar.

"…I don't care about whatever deal you've struck with the Minister, Weasley," Crouch hissed as Arthur approached, gesturing his Aurors to take Ron. "Put him in chains, now!"

"Stay as you are, both of you," Arthur heard himself order, attracting everyone's attention. This deal has to stick! Or, Ron will end up sharing a tiny room with a dozen Dementors! Crouch is heartless when it comes to this sort of thing! Just look at what he did to Sirius! "The Minister and Ron have come to terms, and they are favourable to the Ministry."

"And who are you to order my Aurors around?" Crouch sneered at him, but Arthur's love for his son, despite the many hits it had taken, far outweighed his fear of Crouch's wrath.

"I'm the one who witnessed her agreeing to the deal, and even you don't have the power to overturn her decisions, Crouch," Arthur said adamantly, pulling Ron behind himself. "It's over, now. This whole bloody mess… It's over. Ron will keep his word to the Minister, you can count on that, and we will all carry on as if this never happened. That's what the Minister wants, and she's going to get it. Tonks, McKellar… Step out of the way. Let Ron through, that's an order."

"An order?" Crouch adorned a twisted smile. "You don't give orders to Aurors, Arthur… You're not in any position to give orders to anyone, as a matter of fact. You are the least of us, never forget that." Maybe… But you're going after my son, and I'll punch that moustache of yours clean off your face before I let you throw him in Azkaban.

"These are the Minister's orders, not mine," Arthur stood his ground, straightening up. "You're the one forgetting his place, Crouch, not me."

The two men locked eyes, neither of them backing down, but eventually, Crouch gestured his Aurors to get out of the way. "This isn't over, Arthur. I will be speaking to the Minister about this, and be assured, I will have your Office torn down brick by brick." …Brilliant… "A man who raises a criminal has no place within these hallowed walls." That's rich coming from you-…

"Didn't you raise a fucking Death-Eater?" Ron asked, and Arthur let out a tired sigh. Gods be good, he can't help himself, can he? He just loves the taste of his own bloody foot too much to resist! "…Damn, there I go speaking my mind, again. I'm just so silly, sometimes, aren't I? Now, be a good man and get out of the way. I have places to be."

"This. Isn't. Over," Crouch snarled, glaring directly at Ron. "I will see you rotting in Azkaban yet!" Over my dead body!

"I very much doubt that," Ron smirked, walking past them all without a care in the world and pressing the button to summon the elevator.

Arthur fixed up his shabby robes, ignoring the look of utter contempt Crouch was sending his way as he followed after Ron, standing just behind his son in order to block him from Crouch's malice-filled eyes. The elevator arrived shortly with a loud ding, and Arthur hurried Ron into it, closing the shutter behind them before rapidly pressing the 'Ground Floor' button. Move, dammit! The last thing Arthur saw before the elevator began to descend was Crouch marching off towards the Minister's office, and Tonks giving him a rather sorry look. What a mess… Still, it brought Ron to me, and I can finally talk to him about-…

The elevator came to a sudden stop, and Arthur looked back to see that Ron had pressed the 'Stop' button. "Son? What are you doing?"

"You want to talk, right?" Ron asked in response. "Well, I want to talk as well, and this is as good a place as any." Right…

"I don't even know where to start, Ron…" Arthur sighed out, turning to face the boy.

"Then, I'll start," Ron offered, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, dad." Huh? "The Minister, Crouch… I've put you in their crosshairs. What I did was really fucking stupid, and I'm really sorry that you have to deal with the fallout. Honestly, I really fucked up last night…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Sorry." Arthur's expression softened, it felt good to hear him take accountability. "You were really impressive, though. Standing against Crouch like that… I like seeing that side of you. It was 'badass', as London would say."

"What?" Arthur blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?" My arse is bad? What? I'm so confused…

"It's a Muggle saying, dad," Ron chuckled weakly, waving a dismissive hand. "Never mind… You were brilliant, that's what I'm trying to say." Oh…

"It was nothing, son," Arthur said casually, fighting the urge to break out in a victorious grin. "Crouch is-… He's a dangerous man, and he's cruel-hearted to boot. He doesn't make idle threats, Ron, so keep your wits about you from now on. He's got his eyes on you, and he won't be looking away anytime soon." And the same goes for me… Damnit all…

"It's the Minister that has me worried, truth be told," Ron said, frowning to himself. "…Fuck… So bloody stupid… I've made a dog's breakfast of my relationship with her…"

"You managed to talk your way out of this mess, but yes… She made it quite clear that she sees you as a threat, and she wants you investigated."

"Investigated?"

"She wanted to know about you as a child, Ron, that's why I was there," Arthur clarified. "She wanted to know every tiny detail about your life, and I imagine it's because she wants you brought low. Merlin, I'm still shocked by the fact that she let you walk out her office in one piece…"

"Oh, that was easy," Ron said, and Arthur gave him an incredulous look in response. Easy? How was that easy?! I damn near pissed myself when she threatened you with five years in Azkaban! "Dad, this is a woman who ignored truly fucked up shit because she was chasing a promotion. Don't let her reputation fool you, she's just as ambitious as all the other pricks in this building. No offence, of course."

"Disruptive to my career, my ambitions," the Minister's voice rang in his head, giving him a new perspective on the witch. She's given up on everything to get to where she is now, hasn't she?

"She wants to remain Minister, but more than that, she wants to be remembered as someone who left their mark on the Ministry," Ron continued. "The first, and most important, rule of negotiation is to know what your opponent wants. Well, she wants to keep the power she's spent her entire life working towards, but unfortunately for her, she only got it because the Minister before her fucked everything up. The British Ministry is probably the most hated Ministry in the Wizarding World right now, and she believes she's the only one who can turn that around. Really, when I think about it, I got lucky this time… I can't afford to make another mistake like this ever again."

"Did Sebastian teach you all of this, Ron?" Arthur asked, unable to hide his awe.

"…Yes," Ron answered curtly. "He taught me a great deal."

"I'm glad for it, because it saved your life today," Arthur finally felt as though he could relax a little. "And, I'm glad that you understand that you can't go on like this."

"What I need right now is to vanish for a little while," Ron said, speaking more to himself than Arthur. "Step away from the Ministry's eye, and the eye of the public. Scandals like this will undo my work, my influence-"

"You can come back to the Burrow," Arthur suggested, mostly for his wife's sake.

Ron looked up into his father's eyes, before shaking his head. "No."

"…Why not?"

"You lot don't want me there, and I don't want to be there myself," Ron answered. "I'm not blind, nor am I deaf. I can see and hear how miserable I make everyone-"

"That's not true-"

"It is, and you know it."

Arthur exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead. "…Ron, your mother is devastated… Please, just come home…" He's not going to listen… He never listens. Ron does what Ron wants, that's blatantly obvious by now. Still, I have to try for Molly-…

"I'm going to return to Hogwarts," Ron interrupted his thoughts, surprising Arthur.

"…What? You can't be serious-"

"Things are simpler at Hogwarts, and I have to return to Slytherin," Ron said, giving him a meaningful look. "Dad, my House… The Dark Lord is going to come for it. I know these children, and I like quite a few of them. And, even those who I don't particularly like, I don't want to see them in that maniac's clutches. I'm finally in a position to start influencing the entire House, and I'm not going to shirk this responsibility. It's up to me to watch out for them, and I will."

"What do you mean it's up to you?" Arthur had to ask, frustrated, again. "Why do you have to do this, Ron? Why not someone else?"

"Why do you feel the urge to protect Muggle-Kind, even though it wins you no favours with those above you?" Ron asked in response.

"…Because it's the right thing to do…" Arthur replied, taken aback.

"That's why it has to be me," Ron smiled tiredly. "I didn't just learn from Sebastian Greengrass, dad… I learned from you as well." Arthur didn't know what to say to that, but his heart was both soothed and overjoyed to hear those words. He really learned something like that from me? "I know I don't make things easy, and that I keep secrets… But, dad, I know what I'm doing. You just have to trust me." With that said, Ron pressed the button to restart the elevator. "Keep your head down for a few weeks, this will all blow over when the next crisis rears its ugly head. I'll be doing the same thing myself."

"What about the apology?" Arthur had to ask. "Once you admit to attacking Alastor, Ron, you won't be able to hide behind your popularity."

"I will use the apology to point the finger at the Purebloods," Ron responded. "The majority of people can't stand cruelty, dad, whereas the Purebloods have become so used to it that it's become natural to them. I just need to remind the people that it was the Purebloods who were behind two of the worst wars Wizarding-Kind has endured, and that both of these wars were fought in this very century. Outrage, dad… It's a damn powerful weapon, and I will turn it in the Purebloods' direction."

"What of your alliance? What of Sebastian and Mary? And their daughters?" Arthur asked, somewhat disturbed by his son's thinking. He wants them torn apart in the streets from what I'm hearing…

"They need to be humbled too, but I will shelter them for now," Ron shrugged. "They're still useful to me, after all." He then adorned a very serious expression. "Don't trust Sebastian and Mary Greengrass, dad… They are not who you think they are. Sebastian is a murderer, whereas Mary is his greatest accomplice."

Arthur blinked. "…What are you saying, Ron?"

"Keep them close, but only so you can watch them for me," Ron said, not elaborating. "When the time comes, they will need to be dealt with. I will not allow either of them to roam free in the world I'm going to create. Can you do that for me, dad? I need you…" He needs me? "Please."

"I-… Ron, what is going on between you and the Greengrasses?" Arthur asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper, now. "You're scaring me, son… Just talk to me-"

"I've come to learn that Sebastian didn't just shed innocent blood as a Death-Eater," Ron whispered, making Arthur go wide-eyed. "He even murdered his own father, dad, as well as many others simply because it was convenient for him. Money, land, titles… These matter more to him than the lives of others." Sebastian murdered his own father? No… I heard that the Death-Eaters got him… But Ron sounds so certain about it…

"Mary too?" Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"She's not like him, but she's willing to ignore his evil acts for her own happiness to endure. Evil is evil, dad, the scale of it matters not, and as far as I'm concerned, those who ignore evil become evil themselves. The lives of others mean nothing to her if those lives inconvenience her in any way. A woman like that… She doesn't deserve freedom and luxury. She deserves a cell in Azkaban, and so help me, I'll see her in one before long." …Merlin's fucking Beard… "Keep them close, dad, and keep me in the loop. We can't let them escape."

"I… I will…" Arthur muttered, his head spinning a little. "But, do you have proof of these claims, Ron?"

"I do, and I will show it to you," Ron gave a strong nod. "Look through the Ministry's records, you'll find out that Sebastian was trying to evict Centaurs from a piece of land that he owned the deed to. The Ministry refused to help him, because the truth is that that land was sacred to the Centaurs long before Sebastian got a deed to it. In the end, he got his wish, but only after he poisoned their crop and murdered their children." WHAT?! "This was after the war, dad… After the Dark Lord… He's probably done this to many others for all I know-" The elevator stopped with a loud ding, and Ron drew in a deep breath. "Check the records, but they'll most likely be buried deep. I need you to do this for me, dad. Can I count on you?"

"…Of course, son…" Arthur swallowed thickly. "I just can't believe-… Circe have mercy… Molly and I are having dinner with them in a couple of days…"

"They'll get what they deserve, but for now, we have to be patient," Ron said, exiting the elevator. "Goodbye, dad, and again, I'm really sorry for causing you trouble. I'll do better from here on, I promise."

And just like that, Ron was gone, leaving Arthur alone to lean against the railing. He had grown extremely fond of Sebastian and Mary, but if what Ron had just told him was true, then… I need to find those records, no matter how buried they are. But, for now, I ought to return to my Office. I need to be a model employee for the next several weeks, but after I've clocked out, I'll go digging for the truth. And, I'll have to keep this between Ron and I… I can't even tell Molly, for her own protection.

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Near Midday)

"You should lie back down, Alastor," Albus tried, but the Head-Auror ignored him. "Even you need time to recover from an injury of this magnitude-"

"What I need is to throw your boy into Azkaban," Alastor growled, failing to strap on his wooden leg. "Blast these straps!"

"It's not the straps, my friend, it's your fingers," Albus said, he could clearly see that they were struggling to follow commands of any sort. "You need to rest, or, your coordination will only get worse."

"My coordination?" Alastor scoffed, shooting him a dark frown. "It's not my 'coordination' that has you worried, Albus. You just don't want me find Weasley and get even with him-"

"Get even?" Albus interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Alastor, with the greatest respect, if you confront him as you are now, he will send you right back here. I give you my word on that, so please, listen to me and lie back down."

"Who is he, Albus?" Alastor demanded, snarling. "More specifically, who is he to you? I want honesty from you for a change! Why did you bring him to that place? What are you two up to?"

"I will explain it all, for that is why I've come here," Albus smiled apologetically. "I wish it hadn't come to this, Alastor, that you'd see Ronald as an enemy, because the truth is that we need him to win the war against Lord Voldemort."

Alastor's frown weakened upon hearing those words, while his Magical Eye narrowed onto Albus' face. "…Keep talking." Good, I got his attention, at last.

Albus drew in a long breath, preparing to tell the story he had prepared this very morning. "Ronald is an incredibly powerful Seer-"

"What?" Alastor's frown returned. "A bloody Seer? You expect me to believe that? The Weasleys don't have Seer blood, Albus-"

"I too had my doubts, at first, but he's proven me wrong. Please, Alastor, I need you to listen to me, now. Ronald is indeed a Seer, but not like any other I've encountered in my life. He does not deliver Prophecies, but rather, he has visions of events to come-"

"Visions? Really?" Alastor interrupted, again. "What sort of visions?"

"The terrible sort," Albus replied. "He has seen horrors that rival our own experiences, which is why he is such a troubled young man. For instance, during his first year, he saw Harry Potter die at the hands of a troll that was snuck into Hogwarts. Ronald intervened, and by doing so, he saved the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Oh, so he can not only see the future, but he can also change it?" Alastor laughed mirthlessly. "Albus, don't insult me… Seers have no power over the future. They don't even have power over the Prophecies which they vomit onto anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. You're lying to me-"

"You are right to be suspicious, as I too was suspicious," Albus continued, undeterred. "Time and time again, I found myself questioning Ronald's curious behaviour and the fact that he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm ashamed to admit that, for a time, I even suspected him to be a Dark Wizard in the making. There were just too many things that didn't add up about the boy, just too many terrible coincidences surrounding him to be ignored, but then, out of the blue, he came to me and told me the truth. He showed me proof of his unique ability, and from then on, I've consulted him for guidance-"

"Consulted him for guidance?" Alastor was taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean? You're letting some child dictate your actions?! Have you grown senile, Albus?!"

"It was Ronald who pushed me to reconvene the Order, Alastor, and it was Ronald who convinced me to broaden the pool from which we selected Order members," Albus answered, making Alastor go wide-eyed. "Yes, it's true… Emilia Travers, the Greengrasses, Madame Maxime and the French, even Minister Bones… Ronald has helped the Order grow powerful, again, and all for one vital purpose; the death of Lord Voldemort. If it weren't for him, we would still be waiting for our greatest enemy to reveal himself. If it weren't for him, Lord Voldemort would still be lurking in the shadows of Magical Britain."

Alastor just stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and confusion marring his scarred face. "…I don't believe you."

"Think, Alastor," Albus implored. "All those that Ronald came in contact with inevitably wound up strengthening the Order. His mentor, the French, Minister Bones, myself… The only constant in everything is him, because he was at the heart of it all. From the time he was eight, Ronald has been fighting this war that now looms over our heads. He has been preparing himself, and preparing others, to stand against Lord Voldemort."

"Why? What vision did he have that led to him doing all of this?" Alastor questioned, running his hand through his dark grey, grizzled hair. "If any of this is even true, that is…"

"He watched the conclusion of a terrible battle at Hogwarts when he turned eight," Albus replied. "He watched his brother, Fred, dead as a result of Lord Voldemort's attack."

"This is-… I'm sorry, Albus, but I just can't believe any of this," Alastor shook his head, frowning to himself. "He is fourteen, for Merlin's sake… You really expect me to believe that he's somehow behind the Order's movements? That he's fighting to take down You-Know-Who? Do you have any idea how absurd this all sounds?" I do, unfortunately, but most of what I've told you is very much true. "I mean, the mere fact that he has visions of the future is mental enough, but you're telling me that these visions of his will help us win the war?"

"Don't forget that it was a Prophecy that undid Lord Voldemort in the last war, not us," Albus said simply, his expression dead-serious. "Knowledge of things yet to come… It is a heavy burden, one that has taken a severe toll on Ronald's mind and body. I know, and understand, your scepticism, but our world is full of wonders that we don't quite understand yet. Ronald is one such wonder, and we are most fortunate to have him on our side."

"Yes, fortunate…" Alastor grumbled, gesturing him to look around them. "I feel blessed, truly…"

Albus gave Alastor another sorry smile, realizing that the man's pride was wounded. "I will be the first to admit that Ronald is volatile, that he can't always control himself, but I ask you-… No, I beg you, Alastor, to try and understand him. As you said, he is merely fourteen, and the depravities of the coming conflict he has been forced to witness due to his gift… They've left their mark on him. You and I can sympathize with such a thing, can we not? After all, we didn't come into this world so weary and disillusioned ourselves. War changes people, and almost always for the worst."

"He nearly killed me, Albus," Alastor snarled, the anger in his voice refused to leave. "And for what? Over some bloody dead Elf?"

"That Elf, Tabby, was murdered for sport," Albus reminded his friend, not masking his displeasure. "Ronald has great fondness and respect for Elves, and he understands, unlike most, that they have been mistreated by Wizarding-Kind for too long. Alastor, he spent the entire night being insulted, a Russian Lord even struck him, but he didn't lash out even once. Not until he witnessed the Purebloods' cruelty aimed towards the helpless… I know it sounds as though I'm excusing him, but the truth is that I'm exceptionally proud of him. Ronald, despite his own mounting troubles, is still willing to fight for the sake of others, especially those that Wizarding society places no value in." Albus then drew in a sharp breath, giving Alastor a meaningful look. "Work with us, my friend, not against us. The future belongs to the young, but Lord Voldemort will steal it from them unless we help them secure it."

"He broke Magical Law by attacking me, Albus, so my hands are tied," Alastor responded, not entirely convinced just yet. "Even if I choose to believe this… madness, Bones and Crouch won't. They will hold him accountable for his actions, you know they will."

"I will speak to them as well, then."

"And tell them this very story?" Alastor scoffed. No, I will strongarm them, instead. "They will laugh in your face, and then, they'll throw that boy in some cell and forget he ever existed." I doubt Azkaban could hold Ronald for long… Whatever has happened to him with the Entity, it has altered his very soul. The way Fawkes reacts to his every command, the way Octavia bowed before him and called him a God… I doubt the Dementors would even go near him, let alone attack him. They are, after all, notoriously cowardly-… "What is it? Why have you gone silent all of a sudden, Albus?"

"Ronald will not be going to Azkaban, Alastor," Albus whispered dangerously. "I will not allow it, and if I must tear that wretched prison apart to keep him at my side, then that's what I'll do." Alastor paled slightly because of the deadliness lacing Albus' tone, visibly surprised. "He has suffered too much as it is, and if any try to harm him further, then they will suffer my wrath. The Ministry, the Aurors, the Dementors… I will lay waste to all of them." Ronald, and his Cycle, must be protected at all costs, and even my own soul is not above being used as payment.

The two men stared at each other for nearly a minute, neither of them willing to break the silence, not until a knock at the door disturbed their battle of wills. Alastor's Magical Eye promptly darted towards the door, and his expression turned hostile, again. Oh, no… Don't tell me-…

"He's here," Alastor confirmed Albus' fears. Not now, Ronald! "Let's see if his story matches yours, shall we?"

With a wave of his hand, Alastor opened the door, and Ronald stepped inside the room without hesitation, adorned in another fine, tailored suit. Within his hands, he was carrying a box that smelled of freshly baked pies, which seemed to pique even Alastor's curiosity. Is that for Alastor? Circe's Breath, dear boy, you can't bribe your way out of this. Alastor does not accept gifts of any nature, I'm afraid.

"You're awake and fixed up," Ronald smiled softly, his eyes scanning the Head-Auror. "That's good, Sir, for both you and me."

"You've got a lot of gall showing up here after what you did to me," Alastor hissed, eyeing the box in Ronald's hands. "I'm not interested in your gifts, boy, not one bit-"

"These aren't for you, Sir," Ronald said swiftly. "I got these for my friend, Tracey. I bring her treats to encourage her, but mostly, I just want to spoil her." Oh? What a sweet, and thoughtful, gesture.

Albus smiled fondly, deciding to trust Ronald to play along with the version of events he had provided Alastor with. He's clever. He'll catch on within a few seconds, I'm certain. Plus, what I've told Alastor is the truth. I simply cut out the parts that are beyond belief, such as the existence of the Entity and Fate.

"Why are you here, Weasley?" Alastor demanded, his Magical Eye darting about in all directions.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Ronald replied, surprising even Albus. "I lost control over myself last night, and I did something incredibly stupid. I am sorry I struck you-"

"Save me your false apology, you little shit," Alastor interrupted, sneering.

"Alastor…" Albus sighed out, giving the man a disapproving look.

"No, he's just here to save his skin, nothing more," Alastor growled, swiping his hand and slamming the door shut. "Have you heard much about Azkaban, Weasley? Do you know what that place does to criminals like you?" You're still trying to intimidate him? Even after he sent you here?

"I hear it's a terrible place," Ronald answered, not fazed in the slightest, however. "Sadly, I won't be going there. Not over this, at least. I spoke to the Minister this morning, Sir, and she and I have come to an agreement." What? You went there before me? Why? We agreed that I was to speak with Barty and Amelia-… "So, no, I'm not here to 'save my skin', because I've already saved it. I'm here to apologize because what I did was wrong, and unlike what most people think, I do apologize when it's warranted." Was that a dig at me? It appears so. Still, I had not expected this from him, but I'm glad he proved me wrong.

Once again, Albus felt a strong sense of pride thanks to Ronald, the boy was healing ever-so-slowly from his recent ordeals. One step at a time, Albus. That's how you'll bring him back from the darkness.

"How did you manage to convince the Minister, and more importantly, Barty to overlook your actions, Ronald?" Albus asked, finally managing to relax a little.

"They're not in a position to make any more unpopular decisions, and I reminded them of that," Ronald shrugged, smiling at him. "Did you manage to get some sleep last night, Headmaster?" No, I'm afraid not. "I'm sorry about making you stress over me, as well. I've made a habit of that, haven't I?"

"It's quite all right, dear boy-"

"Enough of this," Alastor hissed, gesturing Ronald to come closer. "I've questions for you, and this time, you will bloody answer them!" Albus gave Ronald a subtle nod, and the young wizard sauntered over to the bed. "Albus here tells me that you can see the future, boy… That you get visions of things yet to come."

"You told him?" Ronald looked to Albus, locking eyes with the Grand Sorcerer. "Sir… You said that my gift had to be hidden for my own safety…" Oh, well done, my boy! Well done!

Alastor's eye widened a little, whereas Albus fought the urge to grin from ear-to-ear. "I know what I said, Ronald, but Alastor can be trusted. He is not only a formidable fighter, but his mind is strong enough to withstand even Lord Voldemort's attacks."

"Right," Ronald nodded, looking back to Alastor. "Everything the Headmaster's told you is completely true."

"When did you have your first vision, then?" Alastor eventually asked, both eyes fixed solely on Ronald, now.

"When I was eight," Ronald replied. "I saw my brother, Fred, dead in the aftermath of a battle at Hogwarts. I thought it was a bad dream, at first, but then, I had more visions, and I quickly realized that I wasn't dreaming… I was seeing the future, and that it was my job to save my brother's life."

"What were these other visions?" Alastor asked, as if conducting an interrogation.

"I saw Pandora Lovegood die as a result of a Spell gone horribly wrong," Ronald elaborated. "I decided to intervene-"

"That's why you were there?" Alastor cut in. "It wasn't blind luck?"

"You've heard the story?" Ronald asked in response, and Alastor gave a nod. "I found a clever trick, you see… My visions aren't exactly visions, per say. Instead, I'm there, in the future that I'm witnessing… It's hard to explain, but I can walk around and gather all sorts of information. Every time I had a vision, I'd find a calendar, or, anything that would hint at a date. With Pandora, I found a calendar and a clock… I knew exactly when I had to be there, but unfortunately, she went and cast the Spell before I could figure out a way to warn her. I should've just told her the truth, but I was scared that she wouldn't believe me. Or, worse, that she'd send me back home."

"You saved her regardless, my boy, and that is what matters," Albus smiled encouragingly.

"…Who else knows of this?" Alastor asked, his expression still stern. "Your visions, I mean?"

"Professor Snape, the Headmaster, and now, you," Ronald answered. "I'm not 'barmy', Sir. I'm-… I've seen things that…" he trailed off, his eyes becoming distant. "It doesn't matter. I came here to apologize, not to be interrogated. I am sorry for what I did, but saying that, don't make an enemy out of me. If you get in my way, I'll make you regret being born." Damn, there it is… He's crawled back into his shell, again.

"You're really going after the Dark Lord?" Alastor asked, ignoring the threat.

"He doesn't deserve to live," Ronald said plainly, his voice turning cold. "Him, his followers, those who live solely to be cruel to those weaker than themselves… I was put here, on this Earth, to eradicate them, and that's what I'm going to do." You are meant to be more than just a destroyer, dear boy, and I'll make you see that yet.

"So, it really was you, then," Alastor muttered in disbelief, looking towards Albus. "He's the Butcher of Birmingham, isn't he? The one that orchestrated it all? And you knew this whole time, didn't you? Did you enjoy pulling the wool over our eyes, Albus?"

"Before you pass judgement on me, let me ask you this," Ronald spoke up before Albus could, not admitting it nor denying it. "If you were there, if you witnessed those bastards raping children and raising the dead with vile Necromancy, what would you have done?" Alastor looked back to Ronald, but he didn't say a word. "Ah, yes… I can see the answer in your eye… The real one, I mean. You would have slaughtered them all, and you would have enjoyed every second of it."

"Amycus Carrow… You're the one who beat him to death, aren't you?" Alastor asked in response, sitting up straighter. "When we found him, Tiberius and Gawain thought that a troll had gotten his hands on that incestuous fuck… But, when I woke up this morning, I knew it was you… What are you, boy? Visions of the future, unnatural strength and vigour… What exactly are you?"

"Consequences," Ronald answered icily, and then, he turned around and left the room without another word.

Albus and Alastor sat in silence for a few moments, before the older wizard too decided that it was time for him to go. However, before I do… "Do you still trust me, my old friend?"

"…I'm not sure, anymore," Alastor replied, staring at Albus as if he were a stranger. "There was a time when you would have stopped someone like him, rather than take him under your wing."

"Ronald has reopened my eyes, and I must admit, I don't like what I'm seeing," Albus spoke honestly, not hiding behind any façade this time around. "This is my third war, Alastor… I am tired of watching the young perish while I grow old. I am tired of watching good people suffer while I sit idly at Hogwarts. The Wizarding World has to change, before it's too late, and Ronald is inspiring that change. However, he still has a lot to learn, but that is why I'm here." Albus then rose up, smiling down at the Head-Auror. "I am going to teach him forgiveness and mercy, Alastor, that is why Fate put me in his path, I believe. There must always be forgiveness and mercy, always. I tried my hardest to teach you that as well, remember?" But you never listened, because you enjoyed killing your enemies too much. When Barty gave the order, you were the first to start casting the Unforgivables. You and Ronald are not so different, but there's still time for him to change. "What I've shared with you today, it must never be repeated. You owe me that much, Alastor."

The scarred veteran said nothing in response, merely giving a grunt and a nod before lying back down. Thank you. Albus bid the man farewell before making his way out of the room, spotting Ronald waiting for him a few feet down the hallway.

"That went better than I thought it would," Albus admitted as he approached the young wizard. "Your timing, as always, is impeccable."

"You told him about my visions," Ronald said, raising an eyebrow. "Why not show him the Golden Memory if you were going down that route?"

"Because, and I know you don't quite understand this, that memory is poison," Albus explained. "Knowledge like that, Ronald, is a terrible thing to grapple with. I myself struggle to sleep because of it, and I know you and Severus are no different. Alastor, despite our occasional disagreements, is a dear friend of mine. I do not wish to see him suffer, nor do I wish to see him become consumed by the hatred within his heart. If he saw what Fate showed you, it would put him on a path that would lead to his certain death. Remind me of our pact, again, dear boy, so that I know you still believe in it."

"Save what can be saved, and destroy what must be destroyed," Ronald answered, nodding in understanding.

"Destroy what must be destroyed?" Albus asked, he didn't remember that part.

"Oh, I added that," Ronald grinned. "I hope you don't mind." Cheeky boy.

"Even Fawkes destroys his body before his rebirth, so no… I don't mind it too much," Albus decided to meet the Champion of Fate halfway. "Now, about Barty and Amelia-"

"I know, I know," Ronald sighed out. "You wanted to speak to them yourself, but… I just couldn't let you…"

"Why not?"

"Because, Headmaster…" Ronald mumbled, his ears slowly turning red. "I'm the one who fucked up, you know? And, when I thought about you kissing their arses to protect me… When I thought about you lowering yourself like that because of what I did… I just couldn't let that happen…" Ronald then cleared his throat, straightening up. "You're too brilliant to kiss anyone's arse, and nothing will convince me otherwise." I see.

Albus smiled lovingly, his eyes twinkling. "You think I'm brilliant, dear boy? You're too kind to me-"

"Piss off," Ronald frowned, making Albus laugh. "You know you are, so piss right off. I was trying to be nice, and you start pulling my leg immediately. Does Professor McGonagall know that you bully the students like this behind her back?"

"No, and even if you told her, she would never believe you," Albus pinched his cheek, making him jump back as if he'd been burned. He's blushing! I should stop before he gets genuinely upset, but it's just too fun to pull at the lion's tail! "I suppose, with Barty and Amelia sorted, I can return to Hogwarts. Enjoy your time with Tracey, my boy-"

"Actually, Headmaster, I was hoping you could join me," Ronald cut in, losing the frown. "Tracey would love to see you, and I think it would really mean a lot to her if you could say some kind things to her. I mean, even the Slytherins really look up to you… When you're not favouring Gryffindor, that is… So, could you spare a few minutes?"

"I must admit, I am curious to see how her recovery is going for myself," Albus nodded, stroking his beard. "Very well, I will accept your invitation. Lead the way, please."

"Thank you, Sir," Ronald beamed, before quickly turning on his heel and marching forward. "She's on this floor, just around the corner."

"Slow down, my boy," Albus laughed. "My legs are not what they used to be."

"Oh, sorry," Ronald chuckled nervously, slowing down. "By the way, I've decided to return to Hogwarts. Immediately, as a matter of fact. I'll bring my things over tomorrow night, before dinner is served."

"Really?" Albus asked, wondering if this was a wise idea. I'll be better able to watch over him, as will Severus, but what if he loses his temper, again? He could seriously hurt another student-…

"I was planning on coming back soon, but after last night, I've decided to speed things along," Ronald explained. "I need to move away from the spotlight, Headmaster. Scandals aren't good for my plans, and at Hogwarts, I'll be able to keep my head down and just focus on my studies. Plus, I could use a break from the Wizarding World… I used to think that my House-mates were a difficult lot, but Merlin's Beard, I actually miss how simple they all are."

"If you think it best, then I will let the Professors know once I'm back," Albus decided to place his faith in the boy. And, I'll be sure to let Severus know that you're to have Occlumency lessons every day.

"Fair warning, though… Madam Pomfrey might ask you to rethink your decision," Ronald said, and Albus smirked to himself.

"Then, it's a good thing that I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and she's not."

"Lucky me," Ronald sniggered. "Oh, can I ask another favour?"

"Of course."

"Can you close the doors to the Great Hall tomorrow night? During dinner?"

"Why? What are you planning, now, my boy?" Albus asked curiously, surprised by the strange request.

"I want to make an entrance!" Ronald grinned mischievously. "I bet everyone will have read the papers by then, and they'll all be gossiping about what's going to happen to me… But, then, when no one expects it, I'll march into the Great Hall in a fresh suit and a smirk on my face! It will blow their minds! The Slytherins, especially!" What?! When does he come up with these outlandish plans?!

"You are a very strange person, Ronald!" Albus gave a full-bellied laugh, lifting his half-moon spectacles to wipe a tear from his eyes. "Oh, you make my sides hurt, sometimes… Very well, I will have the doors closed tomorrow night, and I will be looking forward to this 'entrance' most keenly."

"Cheers!" Ronald's grin got wider, somehow. "Trust me, this will be brilliant!" The young redhead came to a sudden stop in front of a closed door, kicking it twice, waiting, and then kicking twice again. "That's our secret knock. This way, she knows it's me."

"Shouldn't you keep a secret knock a secret?" Albus asked, but Ronald merely shrugged.

"I don't think she'll mind if you know," Ronald replied, before gesturing towards the door with his head. "Could you get the door, please? My hands are full."

"Certainly," Albus replied, opening the door and letting Ronald enter first.

"Tracey! I brought you pies this time!" Ronald announced himself, brimming with excitement. "Oh, and I found some loony old codger along the way and he followed me to your room!"

Albus chuckled to himself, before entering the room and spotting Tracey Davis on her bed. Her eyes shot open so wide at the sight of him that Albus feared they'd pop out of her head. My, she's looking rather healthy for someone who was in a coma only recently. Must be the Silver Leaf's doing, no doubt.

"Good afternoon, my dear," Albus beamed, while she squeaked in surprise and straightened up. "Do you mind if I join you two, today? I do so love pies, and I didn't get the chance to have breakfast this morning."

Tracey looked towards Ronald, a blush creeping onto her face. "Don't look at me, it's your room, Trace."

The young witch looked back to Albus, managing a weak smile as she nodded profusely. "…Come… in, Sir…"

Her torn voice summoned a great swell of pity from within his heart, but Albus showed no signs of it. Instead, he closed the door behind himself with a wave of his hand, after which he made his way over to Tracey's bedside. Ronald sat down by her feet, whereas Albus planted himself on a chair to left of Tracey's bed.

"It pleases me to see that your recovery is going well, Tracey," Albus said, she had gone completely red in the face, now. "May I call you Tracey? Or, would you prefer Miss. Davis?"

"…Tracey…" the girl whispered, shifting in her spot a little.

"Look at her pretending to be the shy sort," Ronald teased, earning himself a frown from her. "She's not usually like this, Sir. She's the sort of girl who'll fart on you for a laugh-" Tracey hurled a pillow at his face, stopping him short. "…See? Not shy at all…"

"That is no way to speak about a young woman, Ronald," Albus chastised, keeping his eyes on Tracey. "However, there is no need to be shy with me, dear girl. I'm just glad to see you 'on the mend', as the Muggles say." She relaxed a little at that, smiling more fully. "Shall we eat, then? You can tell me about your plans regarding Hogwarts while we do."

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Mrakogubci Hideout – Afternoon)

She drew in long and steady breaths, trying to suppress her worst fears. She could no longer embrace them as the Dragon had taught her, not since the Crucible had torn open her oldest wound, so her best course of action now was to lock them away. Years of training, of meditation and soul-searching, all of it was now useless to her. She was vulnerable, again, just as vulnerable as that little girl who had found her rotting mother sealed away so many years ago.

"…Emi…" a rasping voice called out to her, but she remained perfectly still. "…Purge them… Purge their greed…"

Scabby fingers traced her cheek, sending a cold shiver up her spine, but she remained silent and still, regardless. It's not real. It's not-… She's gone… They're both gone…

"…Be a good girl, now…" the voice croaked, and a cold hand suddenly seizing her by the hair. "Listen to me, Emi!"

Emilia jerked away, her eyes snapping open as she panted for air. She was alone, again, sitting in the centre of a run-down room. Damn you, Abadie… Damn you-… An unexpected knock at the door made her jump, and she promptly sneered at herself in disgust. Get a grip, you foolish girl! You dishonour all Ronin with this weakness!

"Come in," Emilia ordered, rising to her feet and turning to face the door.

"Yahontov is here," Artyom said, entering the room. "We leave in thirty."

"Thirty minutes?" she raised an eyebrow. "We're doing this in the middle of the day?"

"Change of guards in one hour," Artyom reported. "Yahontov says too many guards at night." He wants to cause miscommunication amongst the enemy by attacking, now, then. Not a bad plan, but it's still too risky.

"Take me to him," Emilia ordered, collecting her Oni-Blade from the bed. "If we're going to follow him into battle, I'd like to know what sort of man he is, first."

Artyom gave a nod in response, leading her out of the room and down the creaking staircase. Luka Yahontov was waiting for them in the dilapidated living room, surrounded by nine of his Mrakogubci, including Tigrov. They all parted as Emilia and Artyom approached, allowing their leader to study the pair with a cool smirk. Yahontov was younger than Emilia had anticipated, with a chiselled jawline and a roguish glint behind his dark eyes. He was, for lack of a better word, handsome, and he was definitely aware of it.

"The Order's finest," Yahontov started, his voice was heavy but full of mirth. "A Ronin, and a killer for hire. Dumbledore keeps strange company these days." I am not here on his behalf.

"Friends can be found in the most unlikely of places during a war," Emilia responded, placing her hand on the hilt of her Oni-Blade. "A fact that I myself have recently come to understand and appreciate." Ron wants me to watch Yahontov, to learn his weaknesses and his strengths. A battle is the perfect place to gather such information.

"You're both aware that this isn't going to be easy, aren't you?" Yahontov smirked, looking towards Artyom. "You won't break ranks, will you? Your kind is notorious for running away when things get difficult."

"I don't run away," Artyom simply stated. "Why waste time with this pointless talking?"

Yahontov laughed, as did his Mrakogubci. "The man might be as dull as dirt, but he's right! There's no time to lose! Welcome aboard, you two! Let's not keep the Devil waiting, shall we?!" I have no intention of dying, today.

"What's our plan of attack?" Emilia asked. "I have brought a weapon of the Old World with me, one that dispels gas with deadly efficiency. It may prove useful-"

"Gas?" Yahontov scoffed, looking amused at her expense. "Where's the fun in gas?" Fun? "No, we're going in through the front, and we're going to kill anyone who gets in our way. The Elves, the maids, the fucking pets Volkov keeps… This isn't a rescue mission, it's a massacre. Are you on board with that? Or, not?"

Emilia and Artyom exchanged glances, before the Ronin took a step forward. "The boy is our priority. We need him if we're to extort his mother-"

"And we'll get him, but he's not the only one I'm after," Yahontov cut her off. "The Volkov family has bled our people dry for centuries, and today, we're going to put an end to it. Oh, and I want Rodolphus Lestrange's head as a trophy… They say that he's a great warrior, and it's been a while since I had a challenge." A challenge?!

"Is this a game to you?" Emilia sneered, fighting the urge to cut down this lunatic and take his men for herself. "We are here to avert disaster from being unleashed across the Wizarding World. We're not here for your-"

"My country, my mission, my Aurors," Yahontov grinned, shrugging. "My way."

"What is our plan, then?" Artyom asked, stopping Emilia from arguing further. I am risking my life for the entertainment of this madman?!

"Gather around, children!" Yahontov grinned, and Emilia noticed that his hands were trembling with excitement. …There's something wrong with him. "We've had a good look at their forces and the grounds, and Vladimir believes that the front is our only way in. Tell them, Vladimir, and speak English so the Ronin can understand. And be quick about it. Time is short, today."

"The back is a labyrinth, but more than that, it's the den of a Manticore," Vladimir started, he was a burly man with several scars along his hardened face and thick neck. "So, it's out of the question. It will take too long to get through it, and the Manticore will sniff us out and attack. The sides are heavily guarded, with several wands-for-hire roaming about. We'll have a fight on our hands before we can breach the mansion, which will give Volkov plenty of time to grab the boy and flee. This only leaves the front… It's not as heavily guarded as the back and the sides, because Volkov doesn't wish to disturb the flow of his guests. That's our way in. We go in quick, and we go in quiet. Once we're inside, we split up into teams of three and we take out anyone who gets in the way. No prisoners, today. I don't care if you run into a dish-boy, you kill the bastard and you move on."

"Won't they spot us if we go through the front?" Emilia asked. "It is a large property, is it not?"

"We have Invisibility Cloaks, and we'll be moving in during a shift change," Vladimir explained. "Hopefully, no one will be paying too much attention, but even still, try and keep your Signatures hidden. We just have to get inside, then we can seal the mansion off. Luka and I have been carving Wards of Sealing around the outskirts of the property for days, now. Once we're inside, I will activate them." Wards of Sealing? A trained Curse-Breaker will make light work of them… Still, if we move quickly enough, we can find the boy and take him into our custody.

"How do we escape with boy?" Artyom asked.

"Portkeys," Yahontov answered, pulling out a bunch of Sickles from his pocket. "Once we've got the boy, and Volkov and his guest of honour are dead, we undo the Wards and activate the Portkeys."

"This is suicide…" Emilia frowned deeply. "This is your plan? You're just going to rush in and hope for the best?"

"Hope for the best?" Yahontov laughed, tilting his head. "Girl… We are the best. You haven't seen us work yet, so just follow along and don't get in the way." This is madness… Why would Dumbledore trust this fool with such a vital mission?!

"Artyom, a word," Emilia whispered, both of them stepping away from the Mrakogubci. "What do you think of this plan?"

"It is foolish, and will cause needless slaughter," Artyom replied, ignoring the looks they were getting. "But I have heard of their prowess, their skill… They are feared more than any Dark Wizard in Russia."

"We can hear you," Yahontov laughed, as did his Aurors. "We're literally right here! If you doubt us so much, then leave! Go back to Dumbledore's bosom, and let us do what we do best without his 'supervision'!" I can't return to Ron empty handed… I can't risk his wrath being turned in my direction. I need him for my vengeance.

"We are with you," Emilia frowned to herself, she was certain she was going to regret this. "This mission is too important to walk away from." If I die because of this man, I will haunt Dumbledore until his final breath. I swear it.

"Then, let's move out!" Yahontov stood up, grinning like a maniac. "Today, we teach 'The Five' that they're not as untouchable as they think they are! Today, we put an end to the Volkov family once and for all!"

---

Luka Yahontov's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (The Outskirts of Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

The Ronin glared at him with utter disdain as he snorted another line of Dragon's Breath, his body immediately seizing up as the fiery power of a Dragon coursed through every fibre of his being. YES! I'M SO FUCKING READY!

Luka growled like a cornered beast, before releasing a shaky breath. "This is it… This is fucking it! Listen to me, you dead bastards! Listen!" His Mrakogubci gathered around, as did the disapproving Order members. "This is your last chance to walk away, because after we do this, we're no longer part of the Russian Ministry. We'll be fugitives, and every piece of shit who works for The Five will be out searching for us. There will be bounties placed on our heads, on the heads of those who are close to us. Everyone we love will be in danger because of what we're about to do, and their deaths will be on our hands. This moment… It's everything! It's the end of the fucking line, and it's the beginning of a new journey! I won't hold a grudge against any one of you for turning away, now!" He looked around, studying each face keenly, and much to his delight, not a single one of his deadly weapons was even contemplating his offer. "Grab a cloak, and let's move out!"

Vladimir wasted no time in passing out the cloaks, his hands trembling and his eyes manic. The Mrakogubci adorned their cloaks, leaving only their head visible for the time being. Luka signalled them all to follow him, and together, they made their way out of the woods and towards the outer wall. This is the spot, isn't it?! I fucking hope so, otherwise, we're going to set off the alarms! Oh, I shouldn't have done that extra line! All I want to do is to climb over this wall and start fighting, already! I need to kill something right fucking now!

"This gap right here," Luka hissed, pointing towards the well-placed cracks he had left behind after disarming the Caterwauling Charm in that particular spot. "We'll climb over one at a time, got it? Don't set off the fucking alarm, or, I'll bury my axe in your face. Now, move! Andrey, you first!"

One by one, Luka's party climbed over the wall, with him being the last. Once they were inside the property, and fully covered by their Invisibility Cloaks, Luka surveyed their surroundings. The property was large, yes, but Svetlana had mapped it out for them quite well thanks to her flight reconnaissance. A few hundred metres, and we'll be in the clear!

"Get to the front entrance," Luka ordered, tightening his hold on the Invisibility Cloak. "If you need to kill someone, use the Disillusionment Charm to hide the body. We'll breach in ten minutes, with or without you. Any questions?"

"Everyone has their Portkey?" Vladimir asked, being met with swift confirmation. "We're ready, Luka."

"Try to not get yourselves killed," Luka grinned, before breaking into a sprint.

His party followed after him, but it wasn't long before they had all separated, each of them finding their own way to their shared destination. This wasn't anything new, of course, as Luka had a very 'unique' method of leading his Aurors. He didn't hold their hands, he didn't comfort them, and he most certainly never treated them as friends. They were his weapons, no different than his axe, and if a weapon ever proved itself inefficient, it was best to be rid of it before it got you killed. They'll either make it, or, they won't. Regardless of what happens to them, I'm going to kill Volkov, today! I'm going to bury my axe in his fucking chest, and crack it wide open!

He made it halfway towards his goal before the urge to hurt someone overwhelmed him, the Dragon's Breath was a demanding mistress, and Luka was all too happy to oblige her. Moving further down east, away from the entrance, Luka happened upon a guard who was enjoying a sandwich under the sun. Off-duty, is he? How unfortunate you are, my friend. Wrong place, wrong time!

Tiptoeing behind the man, Luka opened up his cloak before seizing the guard in a chokehold and dragging him under the cloak's effects. The guard struggled, they always did, but with Luka's greater strength, he could do little but thrash about feebly as the Head-Auror slowly crushed his windpipe. Ah, it's been so long! The last bit of action I got was back in Knockturn Alley! I've been dying for another fight ever since!

Satisfied for the time being, Luka hid his handiwork with the Disillusionment Charm, before turning back towards the entrance. There were four guards patrolling by the door, weren't there? Someone else got to them before I could, then… Damn… I should get moving before the others breach the house without me. After a couple of minutes of sneaking about the illustrious lawn, Luka made his way onto the path that led directly to the front door. His Mrakogubci had gone out of their way to kill errant guardsman, same as him, judging by the fewer heads he saw patrolling the grounds. None of them had been caught yet, which was good, because even Luka had to admit that they were ill-equipped to lay a siege against Volkov's forces. Their only chance of success lay in the boldness of their current strategy, the sheer insanity of attacking a larger force in broad fucking daylight. We just have to get inside, then we can even the odds a little. I doubt Volkov has many guards patrolling the halls of his home, a mistake that he'll come to regret very soon.

Dashing towards the entrance, Luka was joined by another pair of footsteps. He shot a look back, and when he saw nothing, he grinned to himself. Is that you, Ronin? Or, is it the killer for hire? Or, perhaps, you're one of mine? Either way, I'm not losing to you! Luka picked up the pace, leaving whoever was at his heel in his dust. By the time he reached the entrance, the urge had returned in full-force, compelling him to speed up the plan.

"Vladimir?" Luka hissed, looking about for any signs of his Aurors. "Svetlana? Andrey? Alexander-?"

"We're here, Luka," came Vladimir's voice from his right. "Everyone is accounted for, save for the Ronin and the mercenary." Amateurs! "Oksana and Wassily are disposing of the guards who were patrolling the front, now."

"We breach the moment they get back," Luka ordered, gritting his teeth impatiently.

"What about the Order-?"

"Leave them out here to die if they can't keep up. We're not wasting this opportunity to put Volkov in the dirt once and for all, got it? He's the target, not Ivanov's bastard."

"Understood."

"Let Dumbledore's people worry about extracting the boy, we're here on our own business." Volkov will the first of The Five to fall! Today, we start taking Russia back from these parasites!

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (The Entrance of Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

She was honestly lost for words, feeling both impressed and irritated by Yahontov and his people. They were a bunch of lunatics playing the part of Aurors, and yet, they had all managed to reach the manor before Emilia and Artyom. They had even taken down several guards without being noticed, including those she had seen protecting the entrance. This mad strategy of theirs… Perhaps, it is not madness, after all, but rather, cunning masked as madness?

"We are all here," came Artyom's voice, and she looked to her left. "We should breach, now."

"Are we all here?" came Vladimir's voice. "Where's the Ronin?"

"She is beside me," Artyom growled before she could answer. "Give order to breach, Yahontov."

"With me, then," Yahontov commanded, all of them moving towards the front door. "Let's do this!"

Yahontov kicked the door down, and they all rushed inside, the Mrakogubci wasting no time in striking down the two more guards who were too surprised to even brandish their wands before being torn to shreds by multiple Curses. As Emilia tore off her cloak, one of the Russian Aurors sealed the door shut and began reinforcing it.

"Vladimir, seal us in, now!" Luka barked, reaching into an Enchanted pouch, and much to Emilia's surprise, pulling out a large, Goblin Steel axe. "Alexander, finish up with the door, already! Svetlana and Oksana, you two cover the doors!"

Vladimir kneeled, whispering dozens of incantations to himself, before suddenly stabbing the ground with his glowing wand. The ground shook for a moment, after which, bright orange lights shot out of Vladimir's wand in four different directions, blazing across the ground and vanishing into the walls. Immediately, Emilia felt a surge of Magic surround the manor, as if the entire structure was being encased in a barrier of some kind. She didn't have any time to be impressed, however, as Yahontov was already giving out the next set of orders.

"…three floors, not counting the ground floor, and we have to secure each of them before Volkov can muster his men!" Yahontov was grinning like a madman. "Vladimir needs to stay here to maintain the seal, so Alexander, you're with him! You die before you let someone interrupt him, you understand?!"

"Da!" the young man gave a firm nod.

"Oksana, Svetlana, Andrey! The ground floor is yours!" Yahontov continued, not missing a beat. "Wassily, Dinara, Ludis! You're on the first floor! Misha, you're with the Ronin and the mercenary! The second floor is yours! I'll take the third by myself! Any questions?! No?! Then, get fucking moving!" Damn it, whatever he's been snorting is making him unhinged! He thinks he can take an entire floor by himself alone?! "Those not covering this floor, you're with me! Find the stairs!"

Unsheathing her Oni-Blade, Emilia followed closely behind Artyom, their group of seven rushing ahead to find the centre of the manor. The Caterwauling Charm had been set off by the guards outside, it's shrieking and wailing had no doubt alerted both Volkov and Lestrange about the attack, and if they didn't move fast enough, Alexie would be lost to them. He's bound to be on the top floor, but Yahontov doesn't seem to care about that!

"…This way…" a familiar voice rasped in the back of her mind, and Emilia looked to see a pair of scabby feet being dragged around the corner to her left. "…Emi…"

"Stop!" Emilia commanded, digging her heels in.

The others promptly followed suit, looking back to her.

"What?! Why?!" Yahontov questioned, he was gnashing his teeth, again.

"The stairs… They're this way!" Emilia followed her gut, bolting towards the corner.

"Ronin! Get back here!" Yahontov barked, but judging by the thundering footsteps behind her, they were all following her, regardless.

As Emilia neared the corner, she sensed an incoming Signature closing in on her from ahead, and so, she gripped the hilt of her blade with both hands and charged ahead. Immediately upon turning the corner, she came across a guard, a witch slightly shorter than her, who was foolishly barrelling through the hallway in a panic. The guard's eyes shot wide-open, and although she tried to stop herself, even aiming her wand at Emilia, the Ronin reacted much faster. Ducking under a poorly aimed stunner, Emilia slashed the guard's throat, before spinning around her and slashing at her back, severing her spine. Where were you coming from? Which way are the stairs?

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Yahontov snapped at her, catching up to her. "We stick together! There's only seven of-!"

"I live in a manor myself," Emilia interjected, flicking the blood off her Oni-Blade. "The stairs won't be at the heart of this place; they'll be further within. Now that we're inside, we have to be precise in our movements. Follow me, now!"

"This fucking-!" Yahontov started, but Emilia simply turned on her heel and broke out into a run. "Follow her! Go!" Where? Where would I put the stairs if this were my manor? Somewhere accessible, but still out of the way. Remember what the manor looked like from the outside… Remember that the western wing was bulkier than the eastern wing. It's here, somewhere. I know it.

Turning the corner, Emilia was met with a barrage of Spells, causing her to dive back into cover. Damn! Well, I found the stairs, I believe! Unfortunately, Volkov's people got there, first!

"At least, five wands around this corner," Emilia grit her teeth, the others coming to a stop by her side. "They're blocking the stairway."

"Wassily, Misha, Ludis, you three are with me!" Yahontov ordered, roughly moving her aside and hugging the corner. "Dinara, take the Ronin and the mercenary with you, and find a way to flank them! Go! We'll keep their attention on us!"

"This way!" Dinara turned and ran in the direction they had just come from, and both Emilia and Artyom followed after her.

The sounds of skirmishing echoed throughout the ground floor, but fortunately for their small group, they managed to bolt through the hallways without facing much opposition. A handful of screaming Elves, a fleeing guard, and a half-naked whore were all the resistance they faced, and by the time they had circled around to creep up behind the guards holding the stairs, Emilia's blade and armour were slick with blood. Yahontov had remained true to his word, and had even gained a foothold within the long hallway, which made the job of flanking the entrenched forces so much easier.

Emilia charged forward with alarming speed, a pair of Reductor Curses flying past her from behind and finding the backs of their intended targets. Finite! Her Oni-Blade glowed blue as her Magic coursed through it, and by the time the enemy realized that another attack was coming from behind them, Emilia was already upon them. Dodging and weaving as she closed the distance, the Ronin managed to slash the throats of two guards, finding herself in the centre of three guards still on their feet. They each fired at her simultaneously, but in their panic, their aim was anything but true. Simply by ducking, she avoided their Spells, before lunging forward and piercing one of them through the sternum. The man howled in agony, while Emilia twisted her blade and pushed down with all her might, disembowelling him. Following the motion through, she turned on her heel and slashed upwards, slicing through a Killing Curse, and narrowly dodging another, her back now against the wall and a pair of terrified guards in front of her. Come! I will cut you both down-!

Her eyes went wide as Yahontov's heavy axe smashed into the side of the guard to her right, before the Head-Auror himself spear-tackled the other one to the ground. Her focused expression turned to that of abhorrence as the large Auror began bringing his meaty fists down on the guard's face, beating her bloody like an angry gorilla. He has no grace, this man… He's an animal, nothing more. Yahontov then grabbed the guard's head, breaking her neck with such force that her skin got torn in the process.

He shot up to his feet, grinning maniacally in her direction. "You beauty! Where did Dumbledore find you?!"

Emilia ignored the fool, flicking the blood off of her blade as she moved past him. "We don't have time to waste, brute. There will be more wands waiting for us upstairs."

"Slow down," Yahontov stopped her, gesturing the others to gather around. "Regroup, now!" Emilia frowned to herself, but looked back for further instructions, regardless. "Our targets are up there, so no fucking mistakes, got it?! Keep your ears open for the signal we discussed, that's your cue to get your Portkeys and get the fuck out of here! Travers, you and your giant search for the boy! Misha is smarter than he looks, he'll help you track the brat down!" Yahontov aimed his palm at his axe, and it flew to him, splattering the side of his face with fresh blood. "Kill anyone who stands in the way! And, if you find Volkov, any of you, he's mine!"

---

Luka Yahontov's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

They charged up the stairs, breaking off into their groups along the way until Luka was left on his own. Vladimir's barrier was still holding, fortunately, and as predicted, there was a severe lack of fighters within the house itself. Those at the bottom of the stairs must've been the main force. Just a handful of men. Volkov's grown arrogant, hasn't he? He must believe himself untouchable in his little palace. It's time someone proved him wrong!

Upon reaching the top-most floor, Luka closed his eyes in order to better focus on sensing what was around him, and strangely enough, it appeared as though the entire floor was devoid of life. …What the fuck? There's no one up here?! Growling to himself, Luka focused more intensely, sensing those beneath him, but still coming up short for the floor he was on. Is this place Warded? Is that it? No, I don't sense any Wards, either… There's just no one here!

Luka shot a look back down the stairs, before deciding to explore the top-most floor regardless of it being abandoned. His axe in his right hand, and his wand in his left, Luka moved through the joining hallway with as much caution as he could muster whilst on Dragon's Breath. Cobwebs, dust, barely any candles… No one comes up here, I take it. Not even Volkov's slaves. Why? Why is an entire floor abandoned like this?

His instincts were telling him to keep investigating, but he knew that he didn't have the time to indulge his curiosity, and so, he picked up his pace, until suddenly, he came upon a large painting of a young couple. He stopped, staring at the man in the portrait. Volkov… He was younger here, recently married, no doubt, a blissful smile on his usually stiff face. And beside him was his wife, though her face had been burned off, most likely by Volkov himself. The rumours are true, then… This sick fuck… He killed her, and their son, didn't he?

Tightening his grip on his axe, Luka moved on, eventually turning a corner and coming upon a bizarre sight. There, in the centre of the hallway, was the man Luka had come to kill, standing amongst the corpses of several of his own slaves. What…? He killed his own servants?

"Luka Yahontov," Volkov greeted icily, dressed in exquisitely stylish, black robes. "Even for you, this is foolish."

"It's over, Volkov," Luka grinned, ignoring the corpses. "I finally have you, now, you fucking degenerate. There's nowhere left to run!"

"Over?" Volkov chuckled, though there was no mirth behind his piercing gaze. "No… Nothing is over, not until I say so. You will be executed by your own Ministry for this transgression, this crime against me."

"It's not a crime to hunt down Dark Wizards," Luka returned, swinging his axe in a threatening manner. "As a matter of fact, it's my only reason for living." Father, I hope you're watching, because I'm about to make you very proud!

"Dark Wizard?" Volkov smirked, shaking his head lethargically. "The body of a man, but the mind of a child. Ivanov was right about you. You truly are a single-minded thug, one that Magical Russia can no longer endure."

"My axe will find her chest next," Luka promised. "This country needs a guardian at the gate like me, so traitors like you two can meet justice."

"There is no justice, not in this world. If there were, a man like you wouldn't be allowed to roam the streets."

"A man like me?!" Luka laughed, the Dragon's Breath pumping fiery blood through his veins. "What about a man like you, Volkov? You? Who murdered your own wife and son? What about you?" Volkov's expression darkened instantly, much to Luka's delight. "Struck a nerve, did I?"

"She dishonoured me, stole my honour from me, so I reclaimed it as any man should," Volkov hissed, drawing in a sharp breath. "She betrayed me… Gave me a Muggle's bastard as a reward for my devotion. I gave that woman everything, and she still spread her legs for a sub-human gutter-rat."

"Plenty of wizards have Squib children, but do you know what they don't do? They don't feed those children to a fucking Manticore!"

"It was not mine," Volkov said with absolute certainty. "My blood… It is purity given form, like the first snow of winter. It could never have produced that flawed, broken abortion. No… She dishonoured me, and for that, she had to die. That thing that crawled out of her spoiled cunt… It had to die as well."

"You're a sick dog, and I'm going enjoy putting you down," Luka rolled his neck, before adorning a more imposing stance.

"I will not die, today," Volkov whispered dangerously, raising his hands to his sides. "You should not have come to face me alone."

The dead Elves at his feet began to twitch and writhe, and much to Luka's horror, their blood began to seep out of their very pores, becoming suspended in mid-air all around Volkov. He's a Blood-Mage…? Fuck the Gods! How the fuck did he keep this hidden from everyone?! This… is going to be so much fun!

"Come here and die, Volkov, you Dark Wizard bastard!"

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

"…Emi… Purge them all…" the voice groaned, guttural. "…Your father… He too was murdered… Murdered… Purge them…"

Emilia plunged her sword into the whimpering Elf's belly, sneering at him with utter contempt as the last traces of life fled his eyes. I'll purge you all from this world! Every one of you greedy, conniving traitors! Emilia twisted the sword, before ripping out and plunging it down, again.

"He's dead," Artyom growled, pulling her away from her vanquished foe. "Where is your head, Ronin? Butchering Elves? This is not you!"

"You don't know me," Emilia ripped her arm free, giving him a warning look. "They are the enemy, and I kill my enemies! I have to! She told me to!"

Artyom just glared at her, whereas Misha shot her a wary look. I don't have to justify myself to some murderer for hire, even if he is Ron's personal attack dog.

"Do you want to have this lover's quarrel some other time?" Misha asked them, looking between the two. "We need to check the other wing for that boy."

"Control yourself," Artyom growled, before his head jerked in the direction of the stairs. "…Something is down there, and it is moving." Something? Not someone? "Follow, and stop wasting time on fleeing Elves."

Emilia frowned deeply, but didn't argue. Instead, she followed after Artyom and Misha, retracing their steps until they reached the stairs, where they found their prize waiting for them. Alexie, a scrawny, terrified boy, was being carried by a tall, dark-haired man, one that Emilia instantly recognized. It's him… Rodolphus Lestrange!

"Shit," Misha hissed, both he and Artyom aiming their wands at the dull-faced man. "Lestrange! Hand over the boy, now!"

Lestrange cocked an eyebrow at them, holding onto the boy more tightly. "Let us leave, and I will let you live."

"You're not going anywhere," Emilia stepped forward, taking up her stance. "Hand him over! Now!"

"…Calm down," Artyom whispered, but she ignored him.

"Who are you, girl?" Lestrange asked, studying her keenly. "…I recognize you from somewhere."

"I am Emilia Travers, the righteous fury of the Travers Bloodli-!" Emilia started.

"Travers?" Lestrange blinked, and then, he smirked. "You're Philip's niece… All grown up, now." His smirk then turned into a smile, and he turned to fully face her. "You are on the wrong side, my dear. You belong with us, your people, and not these lowly scum. Come to me. Help me bring this boy to safety, and I will reunite you with your uncle."

Emilia would have laughed at that offer, if she weren't disgusted down to her very soul by it. "He is no kin of mine… He is my father's killer, nothing more. And you? You're in the way of my vengeance!"

Lestrange lost his smile promptly, looking bored, again. "…I see. Well, I don't disagree with you, not entirely. What Philip did to his own brother… It was an evil act, but then again, he is an evil man." He then eyed her Oni-Blade, frowning slightly. "A British witch has no business carrying a foreign weapon, girl. Where is your wand?" Surasshu!

Her Oni-Blade glowed magenta, becoming imbued with the power of the wind. "I don't need a wand to purge the likes of you from this Earth. This is where you die, Lestrange, but take heart… I'll be sending your brother and friends to join you in Hell soon enough!"

Lestrange drew in a long breath, before gently placing Alexie onto his little feet. "Go and hide, child. I will come find you-" The boy quickly clung to his leg, hugging it tightly. "Do not be afraid, Alexie. I will come for you, I swear it. Now, go. It is not safe for you here."

The boy looked up at him, his lips quivering as he gave a shaky nod before fleeing down the hallway. Emilia took a step forward to give chase, but Lestrange blocked her view of Alexie by moving into her path. Oh, I'll happily go through you! Let's see if you live up to your legend, you filth!

"Our people have bled enough, but that look in your eye cannot be ignored," Lestrange sighed out, shaking his head. "You've been poisoned against your own, which makes you a threat to us, and I will not tolerate any more threats to my people." A burst of errant Magic shot forth from Lestrange as he unsheathed his wand, so potent that it cracked the walls around them and nearly brought them down to their knees. …What… was that…? "Well? I'm waiting. Which one of you wants to die, first?"

---

Luka Yahontov's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

He roared out of frustration, hurling Curse after Curse at Volkov, only to see the blood surrounding the Dark Wizard intervene, congealing into a hardened state and absorbing the impact before returning to its liquid form. At this rate, I won't even scratch him, let alone kill him! Fucking bastard! Fight me like a man!

Deciding to utilize his axe's ability to interfere with Magic to his advantage, Luka began to advance with each Curse he hurled at Volkov. The Blood-Mage raised an eyebrow, quickly understanding the Head-Auror's intent, and with a wave of his hand, he shaped some of the blood into long, gleaming needles. Oh, you fucker! With a flick of his wrist, Volkov sent the needles whistling through the air, causing Luka to raise a Non-Verbal shield to stop himself from getting skewered. The blood exploded against the shield, blocking his vision of his enemy. Damn! That's what he was after! Relying on his experience and instincts, Luka rolled to the side and hugged the wall, just in time to see a Killing Curse shatter his shield and fly down the hallway. Gritting his teeth, Luka stepped away from the wall, noticing that Volkov looked somewhat impressed, now.

"Not many are as quick on their feet as you," Volkov said, his voice as cold as ice.

"And not many can manipulate blood the way you can," Luka responded, tightening his grips on his axe and wand. "How many have you sacrificed for that power, you piece of shit?" Of all The Five, this one is definitely the worst of the bunch! The most deranged! He dies, today! No matter what!

"Hundreds," Volkov 'smiled', a thin tendril of blood dancing around his now unsheathed wand. "Men, Elves, Centaurs, even those disgusting fish people… As a young man, I always found blood to be-"

"Are you going to start dictating your fucking obituary to me, Volkov?" Luka sneered, utterly uninterested. "Shut the fuck up and fight!"

"As you wish," Volkov sneered back, and with a wave of his hand, he sent forth litres of blood in the shape of a whip.

Luka ducked and rolled, hearing the whip crack above his head, and as he rose back up, he swung his axe at the tendril, severing it in two. The blood, as Luka had predicted, lost its connection to Volkov's Magic, splashing to the ground unceremoniously. The Blood-Mage looked taken aback for a heartbeat, before quickly trying to re-establish control over the lost blood, which gave Luka his opening.

"Incendio Diabolica!" Luka unleashed a jet of blue fire, lighting everything between Volkov and himself on fire. Burn, you son of a bitch!

After a few seconds of channelling the scorching flame, he undid the Spell to survey the damage. The furniture, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were all on fire, now, but at the end of the fire stood Volkov, unharmed and severely pissed off. He blocked it… Damn… No more blood, though, I scorched it all-… Pain suddenly shot up his right leg, and when he looked down, he saw that the blood that had splashed behind him had come back to life and formed itself into a spike… A spike that was now piercing his thigh…

"Motherfucker…" Luka clenched his teeth, grateful that he had snorted an extra line of Dragon's Breath, which was dulling the pain somewhat.

With a swing of his axe, he severed the spike from his leg, as well as its connection to the Blood-Mage. Elf blood inside my fucking leg… That can't be good… Judging by the dark smile on Volkov's face, Luka knew that he was in trouble. He had to end this fight, but he was at a severe disadvantage. Not only was he at his deadliest in close-quarters, but now, thanks to his previous stunt, there was a firepit between him and his opponent. I got rid of the blood, but still, I can't get close to him. What do I do, now? What's the plan?

"Any minute now, my men will bring down the barrier your forces have erected," Volkov started, while Luka incinerated the last of the blood left on the floor. "Any minute now, my men will retake this manor and kill every last one of you."

"But you'll still be dead," Luka spat out, drawing in a sharp breath. "So, fuck you."

"You are a fool, Yahontov," Volkov said bluntly. "All that talent, all that fame… And you squander it on self-indulgence. A man like you… I can make you great! I can mould you into a hero of the New World!"

"I'm already a hero, in case you've forgotten," Luka smirked, aiming his wand ahead.

"A hero to peasants and scum," Volkov countered. "If they saw you for what you really are, the drug-addled, murdering barbarian, they would demand your head. They would turn on you, on your Mrakogubci, and cast you aside for the next wizard they want to put on a pedestal."

"I don't care about that."

"Yes, you do," Volkov's 'smile' grew more sinister. "You want to be worshiped, don't you?"

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

"I could seize the blood in your veins right now, and tear you apart from the inside," Volkov continued. "But that would be a waste. Join me, and I will grant your every wish. I will give you an endless war to hone your craft in."

"I already have that, you stupid fuck, because Dark Wizards like you will always exist," Luka couldn't help but laugh. "And you can't seize my blood, Volkov, not as easily as you claim. Why else would you kill those Elves? Why else would you hesitate to end this fight the moment it started? I know enough about Hemomancy to know that it takes a lot of concentration and will to manipulate the life-force of others, especially if the victim is still alive and has a connection to their blood through their Magic." Volkov lost his smile, sneering, again. "See? I'm not just a pretty face, and I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to bury my axe in your smug face, and then, I'm going to hack off your limbs for good measure-…"

The entire manor suddenly shook, spooking even Luka. What the fuck was that?! A booming, bestial roar came from outside, followed by the manor shaking, again. Luka looked to Volkov for answers, but the man simply smiled at him. The Manticore… Gods, what kind of Manticore has that much strength?!

"My old friend is awake," Volkov said in an amused tone, before turning to leave. "I suggest you all run for your lives. You've lost this battle. Shahrokh is deadlier than me by far, and none of you will survive his wrath."

"Get back here, coward!" Luka bellowed, hurling his axe through the firepit and towards Volkov's back.

The man merely stepped aside, dodging the axe as he continued on his way. "We will meet, again, Yahontov, if you are wise enough to flee."

"I'll kill you! I'll tear your fucking head off with my bare hands! Fucking coward!"

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Volkov Manor – Afternoon)

For a man who had just been released from a decade of confinement, Rodolphus Lestrange was disturbingly spry, easily juggling three opponents single-handedly. There was something foul at play here, every instinct in her body told her so. His agility, his speed, the strength of his Spells… Emilia knew that if she made even a single mistake, he'd kill her without hesitation.

"Avada Kedavra!" Artyom bellowed, his Killing Curse missing Lestrange by an inch.

Without a word, Lestrange released torrents of electricity from his fingertips, but Misha erected a shield wide enough to protect them all. The Dark Lord's most loyal soldier promptly fired a General Counter-Spell at the shield, imploding it with such force that Misha was sent rolling onto his arse. Such power! How is he capable of this?!

"Get me an opening!" Emilia hissed, and Artyom gave a nod before moving in front of her.

"Protego Maxima! GO!" Artyom roared, Non-Verbally sending the shield hurtling towards Lestrange. Finite!

Her Oni-Blade glowing blue, Emilia rushed past Artyom, giving chase to his shield. Lestrange fired another General Counter-Spell at the incoming shield, but Emilia managed to reach it in time and sliced through it herself, causing the General Counter-Spell to fly past her ear. Lestrange cussed, aiming his wand at the charging Ronin, but was quickly forced to defend himself against a pair of Reductor Curses from Artyom and Misha. This is my chance!

Using a decorative side-table as a make-shift ramp, Emilia propelled herself up towards the chandelier hanging above Lestrange, grabbing it with her spare hand and using it to fling herself at him. He fired two Killing Curses in quick succession at her allies, before looking up to see her plunging towards him, her Nodachi Katana seeking his neck. He leaped back with alarming strength, but the edge of her blade sliced through enough skin to splatter blood across the wall and floor. How is that possible?! He threw himself back several feet from a standing position?! Surasshu!

Attempting to finish the job, Emilia raised her glowing, magenta blade above her head, planning to sever the downed Death-Eater in two, but a Non-Verbal, Wandless Depulso smashed into her with the ferocious might of a Mountain Troll, knocking the air out of her lungs and launching her clear across the hallway. She landed on her back with a dull thud, wheezing and blurry-visioned, the back of her head feeling very warm all of a sudden. Failing to regain her breath, Emilia felt a strong hand grab her by the arm, dragging her away from Lestrange as a blurry figure jumped in front of her, exchanging more Spells with the Dark Wizard in order to buy her time to recover.

Artyom's distorted voice rang in her ears, telling her that they couldn't afford to waste any more time fighting Lestrange, and that the boy would be lost to them if they couldn't get past him, but another voice overpowered the Russian mercenary's.

"…Purge… Purge… Purge… Be a good girl, Emi…" her mother rasped, and for a brief moment, she saw the deranged, disfigured, crawling nightmare of her childhood creeping towards her from behind Lestrange. "LISTEN TO ME!"

"Get out of my head!" Emilia coughed out, blood spilling past her lips. "…I buried you… Get out…"

"Find boy! He is all that matters!" Artyom was shouting, throwing out Curses as well as shielding her from Lestrange's onslaught.

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!" Misha shouted back, before parrying a well-aimed Killing Curse. "Gods! What's this bastard made of?! We have to retreat! He'll fucking kill us! Get the Ronin down the stairs!" Ronin do not retreat! They do not surrender!

"…No…" Emilia grit out, summoning every ounce of her strength to drag herself up to her feet. "…My sword…"

Pain shot throughout her chest, and she was certain that she had, at the very least, two cracked ribs. Her vision still a little blurry, Emilia limped towards her Oni-Blade, only to trip when the entire manor suddenly shook. …Damn… My head… The skirmish around her ceased, all of them becoming motionless as a monstrous roar tore through the manor, before, once again, the entire structure was shaken. …What is that?

With shaky hands, she retrieved her Nodachi Katana, prepared to continue the battle until either she was dead, or, her enemy was. "…It's not over, yet… We're still standing…"

"Barely," Artyom growled, and when she looked to him, she saw that he had a bloody gash over his forehead. "…He's not human. He can't be."

Emilia looked back to Lestrange, who was already watching her. Her eyes widened when she saw that he had no visible injuries, not even on his neck. I cut him… I felt my blade slice through his flesh… Did he heal himself mid-battle? Despite being under attack by two wizards?

The sound of fireworks interrupted them before they could continue, followed by Yahontov running down the stairs and getting caught between Lestrange and them. The moment he saw the Death-Eater, he roared and hurled his axe at the man, who hurriedly raised a shield to deflect it. The axe tore through the shield, however, embedding itself into Lestrange's shoulder. The Death-Eater howled, hurling a Killing Curse at Yahontov in response. The Head-Auror parried it with relative ease, using his spare hand to summon the axe back to him. Once again, Lestrange howled in agony, falling to one knee. Misha and Artyom rushed forward to finish him off, but a dangerous form of madness overtook the calmness behind Lestrange's dark eyes, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. Waves of Errant Magic burst forth from him, causing further damage to the walls and floor.

Emilia, in her weakened state, was brought down to her knees, her ears ringing as the back of her head felt as though it was going to explode. The ceiling began to collapse between Lestrange and them, fiery wood raining down and causing Yahontov to dive down the stairs for cover.

"Hold onto me," Artyom ordered, taking her by the arm as he fished out the Portkey from his pocket. "Hold on!" …A Ronin never retreats-…

---

Luka Yahontov's POV

Saturday 1st May, 1994 (Mrakogubci Hideout – Late Afternoon)

"FUCK!" Luka roared, grabbing the stained, dusty coffee table and hurling it across the room. "Fuck it all!"

His Mrakogubci ignored him, instead focusing on tending to the injured. Vladimir had nearly put himself into a coma maintaining the barrier, Alexander was missing an ear and two toes, Misha had a concussion, and the Elves and guards within the manor had left Wassily, Dinara, Ludis, Oksana, Svetlana, and Andrey battered and exhausted. They had failed the mission, which meant that they had ended their careers at the Ministry for no fucking reason whatsoever.

Luka wanted to tear the room apart, to scream his head off, but more than anything, he wanted to go back just so he could kill Volkov. I underestimated him! I fucking underestimated him! What's the first thing father taught me?! Never underestimate the enemy! And that's exactly what I fucking did! A Blood-Mage! How did I not know about that?!

"Captain, sit," Svetlana ordered, but he ignored her. "Captain, that wound needs cleaning, before you get blood-poisoning. Sit down."

"We're so fucked!" Luka barked, before planting himself on the couch. "Volkov is already with Ivanov… Within the week, we'll be branded traitors and hunted down like dogs!"

"Worry about that later," Svetlana advised, handing him a foul-coloured potion. "Drink."

Luka did as he was told, before hurling the empty bottle at the wall. "…We have to get out of here before word breaks out. We have to go into hiding… Deep into the woods, where they won't look for us." None of our hideouts are safe, and those that are will be raided soon enough.

"How is the Ronin?" Misha suddenly asked, and when Luka turned his head, he saw the killer for hire descending down the stairs.

"Alive," the mountain of muscle replied, his eyes already fixed on Luka. "We failed." Fuck you!

"Aren't you observant?" Luka frowned deeply, glaring daggers at him. "Three of you couldn't put down one fucking Death-Eater? The man just escaped Azkaban, and yet, he nearly killed you?"

"Tell him," 'Artyom' looked to Misha, whose eyes became a little distant.

"Tell me what?" Luka asked, throwing a cushion at Misha's face when he didn't respond. "I'm talking to you, idiot!"

"Captain, there was something not right with that bastard…" Misha eventually said, silencing the room. "We hit him… Me and the mercenary, I mean. Stunners, furniture, even a Disarming Charm to the jaw… Nothing fazed him. The bastard just wouldn't go down." What?! A Disarming Charm to the face from you, and he didn't lose his teeth? You expect me to buy that?! "The Ronin even cut his throat open, but he just got back up… And…" he trailed off.

"And?" Luka asked, blinking.

"His wound closed itself," Artyom answered, his jaw clenching. "No Spells, no Magic. It just closed."

"What the fuck?" Oksana muttered, looking to her peers for answers, but finding none. "Is that even possible?"

"I sensed nothing from him," Artyom assured them. "He. Just. Healed."

"…Fuck me," Luka groaned, rubbing his face. "His Master must be behind this. He shouldn't even be walking around after a decade in Azkaban, and yet, he tore the second floor apart out of sheer fucking anger… Even I found that beyond his previous ability."

"What do we do about him, Captain?" Wassily asked. "If we see him, again?" Leave him to me, that's what.

"We have bigger problems right now," Dinara reminded them.

"She's right," Luka sighed out, feeling the effects of the Dragon's Breath dying down. "…My leg… Damn it… Start packing up. We're leaving this place-"

"Not until I bandage that leg," Svetlana interrupted. "Andrey, we need supplies."

"Don't get caught," Luka added before Andrey could Apparate. "They might be looking for us, already."

"I have to go back to Magical Britain," Artyom told Luka, who shook his head in response. "Dumbledore must be told of this."

"Travers is in no shape to travel via Portkey, and I need you with us until we find a place to hide," Luka said, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. "Once we go into hiding, not even Dumbledore will be able to find us, so, for now, you're sticking with us. I'll make you the Portkey you need to get back myself, but until further notice, you're still under my command. Got it?"

Artyom said nothing in response, but he didn't argue, either. Where the fuck do we go from here? And how am I supposed to get more Dragon's Breath without getting spotted?! Everyone and their mothers know my face! What a colossal fuck-up this turned out to be!

---

Harry Potter's POV

Sunday 2nd May, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office - Midday)

"Come in, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice before he could even knock. How does he do that?

Opening the door slowly, Harry entered the office, spotting Dumbledore sitting behind his desk with a bright smile on his face. Harry smiled back half-heartedly, wondering what this meeting could be about. I hope it's not about the Ranked Tournament, because I really don't want to talk about that. After closing the door, Harry made his way further into the office, taking a seat when gestured to.

"How have you been, Harry? Not getting into any trouble, I hope," Dumbledore started, his eyes twinkling.

"No trouble, Professor," Harry replied, feeling a little more at ease when he saw Fawkes perched atop a strange, silver contraption.

"Something is bothering you, however," Dumbledore rightfully pointed out, as if he'd read Harry's mind.

"…No, not really," Harry lied, but Dumbledore's smile grew in response. "Honest, Professor, I've been keeping up with my homework and…" he trailed off. "Everything is all right."

"You are no Slytherin, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You can talk to me, dear boy. Tell me, what is wrong? Professor McGonagall informs me that you've been withdrawn ever since the Tournaments."

"I just don't like the attention, that's all," Harry replied, which wasn't a complete lie. "People have been treating me… differently." First the Quidditch-Cup, and then, Gryffindor's only victory at the Ranked Tournaments… Fay, Lavender, and Parvati keep staring at me, and others too… Giggling and whispering to each other… It's weird.

"Differently how?" Dumbledore enquired, why was he so interested in Harry's sudden popularity?

"Like I'm some great wizard, or, something… I don't know…" Harry shrugged. "I just don't like it."

Dumbledore chuckled, again. "You are the most famous wizard of our time, Harry. It was bound to catch up with you, eventually."

"Right…"

Dumbledore studied him, his twinkling eyes making Harry feel a little self-conscious. I know wizards can read minds, now. Remus explained it to me, so I have to wonder… Is that how he always knows what I'm thinking? Is he reading my mind?

"I was quite thrilled to see your victory in the C-Ranked Tournament," Dumbledore suddenly said, making him feel guilty. "You put on quite the show, Harry. The Professors were all very impressed with you, as was I."

"…Thanks," Harry replied shortly.

"But do you know who wasn't thrilled?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry just stared at him. "You." Was I that obvious? "I can't help but wonder why, so, I was hoping that you could help this old man with his curiosity."

Harry hesitated, finding it difficult to convey what he was feeling. "Um… I'm happy for Gryffindor, Professor, I am… But…" he paused, adorning a serious expression. "My matches, Professor… They weren't rigged, were they?"

"Rigged?" Dumbledore asked, amused.

"There are rumours flying about that I only won because Remus made sure that I was facing the easier opponents," Harry explained. "Hermione and Neville say that the rumours must be coming from Slytherin, but… Well, I can't help but think that the rumours might be true. I mean, what are the odds that I went up against Brocklehurst and Cornfoot, both of whom were… terrible?"

"I was never any good with numbers, but I'd say that it's quite possible," Dumbledore replied, beaming. "Tell me, do you believe Professor Lupin to be capable of such deception?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry answered honestly. "Remus is fair, even to the Slytherins."

"Then, there is no use in lamenting your victory, is there?"

"I guess not, no," Harry gave a slow nod, feeling some of his guilt wash off of him. "Thanks, Professor."

"You are still not pleased, though, I see. Is this because of Mr. Zabini?" Damn, how does he do that?! "Yes, he worked quite hard, didn't he? He pushed himself well past his limits, and still, he came up short. I can see why that would bother you. The idea of hard work not being enough, in the end. It bothered me too."

"It did?" Harry blinked, a little surprised.

"I am his Headmaster as well, am I not?" Dumbledore asked in response. "You, on the other hand, were bothered for another reason, I believe."

"What reason would that be, Professor?"

"Empathy, Harry… Empathy," Dumbledore replied proudly. "Even though he was your opponent, even though he is a Slytherin, you felt his disappointment as your own, and that, dear boy, is remarkable. Not many are capable of such a thing, but you are."

Harry gave another nod, thinking about how sorry he felt for Zabini, especially after Snape had snapped at him. "Professor… Why do you let Snape teach at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore looked taken aback by the sudden question, though his smile never wavered. "Is it just because he's part of the Order? Because he spied on Voldemort for you?"

Dumbledore blinked, his smile weakening. "Sirius."

"He's a bully, Professor," Harry said quickly, not wanting his Godfather to get into trouble. "He told Zabini to 'get out of his sight' after our Duel, instead of helping him up to his feet. Why is someone like him even in the Order?"

"Because, despite his cold demeanour, Severus has sacrificed much in his life for others," Dumbledore replied sagely, leaving Harry with even more questions. "Because life is not always kind, nor fair, and we shouldn't judge people for becoming hardened by it."

"That shouldn't excuse his behaviour, Professor…" Harry countered, he didn't enjoy disagreeing with the old wizard. "…He tried to kill Trevor, Neville's toad, during Potions Class…"

"Did he, now?" Dumbledore muttered under his breath, drawing in a sharp breath. "I shall speak to him about this, and put an end to such behaviour. You have my word, Harry. And, do not worry, I won't tell him it was you who told me." Tell him. I couldn't care less, honestly. "Speaking of the Order… I've been thinking, dear boy, and you can refuse me if you like, but what do you think about joining us during our next meeting?" Really?! He's asking me to join the Order?!

Harry's brilliant eyes blazed in excitement, and he couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a smile. "I um… Yes, Professor, I'd love that! When is the next meeting?"

Dumbledore laughed at his childish glee, making him feel a little embarrassed about his outburst. "Next weekend, on Sunday. I will have to ask Sirius, first, of course-"

"He'll say yes," Harry assured the man. "I know he will!"

"Regardless, I must ask him," Dumbledore beamed, again. "And, if he agrees, you may join us. It will do the others good to see you, and it's only fair that you know more about Voldemort. He is, after all, obsessed with you in particular." After what he did to my parents, I'll make him regret that obsession!

"Can Hermione and Neville join too?" Harry asked, he'd promised them that he'd ask on their behalf if he ever got his foot in the door.

"Eventually, if that is what they want," Dumbledore replied, giving him a meaningful look. "This is serious business, Harry. Voldemort, and his forces, are not to be underestimated, and joining the Order means painting a target on your own back. Once I know they understand this, like you do, I will ask them to join as well." Right… Right, of course. That makes sense! "Remember this, Harry… People will always want to fight for what's right, but seldom do they understand what that entails. War is often won through sacrifice, as was the case with James and Lily. We must never see war as a game, for doing so dishonours those who gave up their lives for our freedoms."

"I understand, Professor," Harry schooled his features, though he couldn't deny his ever-growing excitement. "I won't forget that, I promise."

"Good," Dumbledore smiled, again. "You may go tell your friends, now, as I'm sure you want to." Harry got up to leave, but stopped when Dumbledore raised his hand. "Some advice before you go, dear boy… Don't run to the common room. Argus is patrolling the seventh floor, today."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry gave a nod, already scheming to send Sirius a letter. This is it! Finally, I can join the fight against Voldemort, along with Sirius and Remus! I can help stop the man who murdered my parents, and countless others! Hermione and Neville are going to love this!

---

Ginny Weasley's POV

Sunday 2nd May, 1994 (The Great Hall – Dinner)

"Have you two heard?" George asked, looking between Percy and Ginny. "About the baby in the Dark Forest?" Baby? In the Dark Forest?

"What baby?" Ginny asked apprehensively, whereas Percy kept his focus solely on his copy of yesterday's Daily Prophet.

"Exactly, Gin!" Fred exclaimed, snapping his fingers in her face. "What bloody baby?!"

"Huh? What are you two on about?" Ginny frowned at them. "Can you two speak plainly, for a change?"

"Roger Davis and Beatrice Haywood went out for a late-night stroll yesterday-" George started, an excited glint behind his eyes.

"Roger Davis and Beatrice Haywood?" Percy looked up from the papers, his expression already stern. "Late-night stroll? Past curfew, you mean-!"

"Oh, hush," Ginny smacked her brother's arm, why did he always have to be so boring? "Go on, George. What happened?"

"Well, when Davis finally decided to make his move, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he heard the cries of a baby!" George finished, grinning in a rather cruel fashion. That's… a bit scary… Why would there be a baby in those woods? It's full of monsters!

"And, not just him, Gin, but Haywood heard the cries too," Fred added, mimicking his twin's grin. "Can you imagine? Some woman, bitter and cold, left her baby out in the woods to die…"

"To be devoured by Werewolves, no less," George hummed, their grins were starting to freak Ginny out. "You know… We never wanted to tell you this, but mum used to think about leaving you out near the pond." …What?

"No, she didn't," Ginny huffed, narrowing her eyes. "You're lying-!"

"You were such a fussy little brat," Fred tutted, shaking his head at her. "You'd cry and cry, and one night, she told us that she was sick of you-"

"Enough of that, both of you," Percy intervened, frowning deeply when they broke into giggles. "Ginny, ignore them… Mum would never do that to any of us, and you're her absolute favourite. They're just envious of you."

"You're a right pair of tits, you two," Ginny grumbled, desperate to smack the self-satisfied smiles off their faces. "Was any of that true? Or, were you just trying to scare me?"

"…No… No, it's true," George said faintly, both twins becoming deadly serious all of a sudden. It is?!

"They heard a baby crying out from the Forbidden Forest," Fred said, looking to Percy. "You ought to talk to them about it, Perce. They were in a right state when Filch found them-"

"I don't believe you," Percy sneered, looking back to the papers. "What's the matter with you two? Ron's probably on his way to Azkaban right now, and you're trying to scare Ginny? Imbeciles…"

"He's not really going to Azkaban, is he?" Ginny asked, more scared now than before. The Daily Prophet is lying! Everyone knows that Skeeter is out to get him! She's always writing those horrible stories about him!

"Great going, Prefect Percy," Fred said dully. "Almost had her distracted, but you just can't help yourself, can you?" Your idea of distracting me is to scare me about some creepy baby in the Forbidden Forest?!

"Born to be a stick-in-the-mud," George added, rolling his eyes.

"Um…" Percy looked to her, giving her a pathetic smile. "I was just-… No, he's not, I promise. I was just making up a hypothetical situation-"

"Ron will be fine, Gin," Fred interrupted, his voice light and jovial. "Skeeter is full of shit, and only gossips believe in her tall tales. Why would Ron, of all people, attack Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Knowing our brother, he's probably friends with Moody!" George smiled at her, winking. …Yeah. Ron would never do something so stupid. He's probably with mum and dad right now, having a laugh about Skeeter's pathetic lies!

Ginny scratched at her scarred forearm under the table, wishing to Merlin that Errol flew straight and steady for once in his life. "When will Errol come back, Percy?"

"If we're lucky, in a couple of days," Percy sighed out, scratching his neck. "But, honestly, I've lost all hope for that bird… I think, I'll just ask the Headmaster to let me visit home. I can go and talk to dad directly, maybe even Ron himself, and figure all of this out before Errol even reaches the Burrow."

"Oh, could you?" Ginny asked, perking up a little. "And, can I come with you? Please?" I haven't spoken to Ron since he jumped Hermione and I near the common room. He doesn't even return my letters, nor Luna's.

"I'll ask him," Percy promised, and she smiled gratefully in response. "Now, you two, were you actually serious about this baby story?"

"We were-" the twins started, but were interrupted by the sound of the Great Hall's massive doors creaking open.

Most of the students, including the Weasleys, looked to see who had arrived to dinner nearly half-an-hour late, but much to their shock and awe, it was none other than Ron himself. The Great Hall erupted in whispers almost immediately, but Ginny stared in silence as her older brother sauntered in with a carefree smirk on his face, dressed as sharply as ever. What's he doing here?! Wait… Is he finally-?!

"Bloody hell…" Fred sighed out, before laughing in relief. "See, Gin?! He's fine!"

"There was nothing to worry about!" George added, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I can see that!" Ginny beamed; she knew that Skeeter was a lying bitch.

Ron looked in their direction, shooting Ginny a wink, much to her delight, before strutting over towards the Slytherins. "I saw the Hourglasses just now, you lot! I reckon, it's safe to say that we've won the House-Cup this year!"

The Slytherins exploded into cheers and whistles at that, like Fiendfyre being unleashed, banging their mugs on the table and howling as Ron gave out high-fives and friendly pats, making his way up the table one person at a time. Ginny, usually, would have rolled her eyes at the sight of the Snakes getting so worked up, but right now, all she could do was watch her brother work his House-mates into a frenzy with a massive grin on her face. He's really back!

"Settle down, all of you!" Professor McGonagall ordered, rising out of her chair. "Mr. Weasley! Take your seat, at once!"

"She sounds mad, doesn't she?!" Ron shouted back, and the Slytherins roared with laughter. "You can keep the Quidditch-Cup, Professor! We're taking the bigger trophy home, after all!"

Many of the Gryffindors booed Ron in retaliation, but their voices were drowned out by the noise the other three Houses were making. Ginny could have sworn that Professor McGonagall was just about ready to explode, going completely red in the face due to his audacity. As for the other Professors, most of them looked rather amused, especially the Headmaster, who was laughing alongside the Slytherins merrily.

"That's enough, all of you!" Professor McGonagall scolded, looking to the Headmaster for help. "Albus! Say something, will you?!"

"Silence… Ahem… Silence, please!" Dumbledore stood up, still chuckling as the noise began to die down. "Welcome back, Mr. Weasley!" Welcome back?!

"Did you hear that?! He's back, Percy!" Ginny squealed, grabbing her brother's arm and shaking him excitedly.

"Ginny, my robes, please-!"

"It would be a shame to see you in detention on your first night back," the Headmaster continued, his eyes twinkling. "So, would you be so kind as to take a seat, and save this uproar for your common room?"

"As you wish, Headmaster," Ron grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. "Oh, and I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall… Sorry that your House is Gryffindor, I mean, and not Slytherin!"

The Snakes started laughing, again, and as Professor McGonagall shot him a deadly glare, Ron pulled a face and quickly planted himself amidst the Slytherin first-years, pulling John Fawley into a headlock and ruffling his hair. As for Ginny herself, she finally felt relieved enough to look down at her empty plate, before reaching for the roast pork dish. I'll wait for him by the Hourglasses, I think! I can't believe he's back so suddenly! But, then again, final exams are only a month away, now… Oh, who cares?! He's back, and that's all that matters! I'll ask him to teach me more Spells, that's bound to make him want to spend more time with me! I can't wait!

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 2nd May, 1994 (The Great Hall – Dinner)

The Great Hall was as noisy as ever, with students laughing and talking over each other as if they were in a tavern. Still, Ron had to admit that a part of him had missed this place, and after spending a fair amount of time out in the Wizarding World, he was glad to be back. I thought that being a Slytherin was difficult, that having an entire castle to myself and being surrounded by those my own age was a prison… I was wrong. The world out there… It's not a good, nor happy, place, but Hogwarts… Hogwarts is a refuge from the darkness that lurks out there. It is a bastion of joy and wonder, and I won't forget that-…

"Hello? Ron?" Astoria called, before kicking him under the table. Huh? Did someone just kick me? "Mathew is trying to talk to you, and you're just spacing out on him! That's so rude!"

"Sorry, Mathew," Ron shook his head clear, before smiling at the plain-looking lad. "I got a bit distracted there. What were you saying?"

"Well, we were all wondering about the quota…" Mathew started slowly, looking to the others for support. "Ron, we've worked really hard all year for Slytherin, and um… Well… Um… I don't know how to say this-"

"We want the quota lowered," Flora, the more outgoing of the Carrow Twins, spoke up, trying her best to sound like a grown-up. "None of the other first-years are under as much pressure as we are, and even though we've played a major role in Slytherin's victory, we aren't really treated as a part of Slytherin." Not treated as a part of Slytherin? Ugh… The Silver Triumvirate… They must've tried their best to return Slytherin to how it used to be whilst I was gone, and Flint certainly didn't help matters, I bet. This was their reward for putting us on top? Really?

"We're just seen as first-years, nothing more…" Derek added, sighing dramatically. "No one cares about what we have to say, and… it's not really fair…" I know, mate, and I'm going to change that, tonight.

"Yeah, Slytherin has a terrible tradition of treating first-years like they don't matter," Ron started, thinking about their request. "And, you're absolutely right, Mathew and Flora. Without you lot, Slytherin wouldn't be as far ahead as we are, and so… I will grant your request-"

"You will?!" Astoria beamed, while the others were swift to celebrate.

"I will halve the quota of all Slytherins, but in your case, there will be no quota at all," Ron promised, watching their excitement brought a small smile to his lips. They're all adorable, and I can't deny that I've missed them. "However, losing House Points will still get you into trouble, so don't forget that."

"We won't lose any House Points, we promise," Lysandra squeeled, nudging Astoria. "Right?! We'll be on our best behaviour!" Oh, yeah, I'm sure…

"Our very best!" Astoria gave a firm nod, grinning.

"You'd better be," Ron chuckled softly, looking at each of them. "There's more I want to say, but I'll save it for my speech, I think. Trust me, though, Slytherin is going to change starting tonight. And you lot? You're going to help me change it."

"We are?" John asked, intrigued. "How?"

"You'll see," Ron gave him light shove, making him laugh. "Just be patient for a little longer, eh?"

As soon as he finished, the bell rang, signalling the end of dinner. Ah, the bell… I definitely didn't miss it, always telling me where to go and when. As everyone started to leave the tables, Ron grabbed a pair of chicken drumsticks to munch on, fully aware that he was going to get jumped by his siblings as soon as he stepped foot outside of the Great Hall. Might as well eat some more while I talk to them. London said that more meat in my diet will help me build bigger muscles.

Following after his first-years, Ron made his way out of the Great Hall, and just as predicted, his siblings waved him over from the Hourglasses. He took a bite of some chicken as he walked over to them, his eyes darting towards the jam-packed Slytherin Hourglass. They actually made the emeralds smaller just to fit them all in. I like that. This is the kind of proof I need to show that my leadership works. They all complained when I made training mandatory, they all complained when I enforced the quotas, and they all complained when I commanded the younger Slytherins to attend my study sessions in the library… Well, let's see them complain, now.

"Surprise, I'm back!" Ron put on a comical smile, stopping before his siblings. Too much, old boy. Pull it back a little.

"We can see that!" Fred grinned, while George patted Ron on the arm. "Why didn't you send an Owl before coming? We'd have planned a proper welcome back for you!"

"Well, probably because I'm back mostly due to necessity," Ron shrugged, the idea of his siblings throwing him another party didn't sit well with him. "And, I wanted to surprise everyone, especially the Slytherins."

"Due to necessity?" Percy asked, his brow furrowed all of a sudden. "You mean… Ron, is what Skeeter wrote about you true?"

The others exchanged looks, before focusing back on him. What should I tell them? What would benefit me the most here? I can't tell them that I fucked up, that would make me look weak… Fuck it, might as well turn this all to my advantage.

"No, it's all a big lie."

"Oh, thank Merlin-" Percy started.

"I didn't use a bottle on Moody, I actually slapped him really fucking hard," Ron grinned, enjoying the shock his words elicited. "Head-Auror, Minister, Pureblood, Muggle-Born, whatever… I don't care who you think you are, you don't run your mouth in my direction. He knows that, now, as do the pricks at that party." And, you should know it too. "Anyway, that article is full of lies the Purebloods want to spread in order to weaken my hold on the public, and I will not have those lies repeated here in Hogwarts. Spread that around, why don't you? Make sure the Gryffindors aren't gossiping about me. I'd appreciate it."

"…Sure," George gave a slow nod. "So… The Ministry just let you go? Despite what you did to the Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody? That doesn't make any sense…" The Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody? Doesn't make any sense? Oh, please… He's not that impressive, honestly. Compared to me, compared to all that I've accomplished in just three years, he's worth nothing.

"I'm a very powerful man, George," Ron said simply, somewhat vexed by their continued ignorance of his mounting successes. I can literally strongarm Ministers, now, and still, they refuse to acknowledge me? Oh, well… Those are just the cards I've been dealt, I suppose, so there's no point in complaining. I'm too far above them, now. Even if they squint, they can't see me up there in the clouds. "By the way, Perce… Sorry, but your career is going to struggle due to my rise in infamy. The Minister is not fond of me, anymore, and she'll probably take it out on you. Sorry, but it is what it is."

"It is what it is?" Percy was frowning now, glaring at him. "Ron, you can't just do whatever you want-"

"I can, and I will," Ron stopped him short. "Man the fuck up and figure something else out, yeah? It's what the rest of us have to do." He then looked to Ginny, who shot him a rather nervous smile. "Our lessons are going to continue now that I'm back, if you're still up for them." If not, then it's your loss. I'll just focus on those who do want my help.

"Really?" Ginny asked, her eyes lighting up immediately. "That'd be brilliant, Ron! I was just about to ask!" Is that so? That's my Ginny!

"Bring Luna with you, if you can," Ron said, finally noticing that the strange girl wasn't here. "Where is she? I figured that she'd be waiting for me-"

"I'm right here, Ron," Luna whispered directly from behind him, making him jump to Ginny's side. Bloody hell! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

"You're just lurking in my arse, are you?" Ron asked, feeling his temper spike. "What's wrong with you, Luna?"

"Why does everyone ask me that?" Luna hummed, tilting her head. Probably because you do shit like this to everyone! Merlin, I really hope Lysander doesn't turn out like you! A massive bloody forehead with absolutely nothing behind it!

"Luna, don't do that, all right?" Ron warned, fighting the urge to growl at her. "I've learnt to swing first, and ask questions later."

"Who taught you that?" Luna asked, giggling. "That's a bit counter-productive, isn't it?" Tell that to the bastard who tried to behead me!

Ron let out a long sigh, scolding himself internally for letting his guard down. C'mon, Weasley… Always keep your mind open to Magical Signatures. How many times do you need this bloody reminder before it becomes a habit? How does Artyom do it, that freak of nature?

"Just… Ugh…" Ron groaned, shaking his head. "Just don't sneak up on me. It bothers me a great deal, and I won't repeat myself." I will send you flying across the room next time, just to make an example out of you.

"No more sneaking," Luna promised, smiling widely. "It's good to have you back, Ron. You're looking healthier, now."

"Thank you," Ron drew in a deep breath, opening his mind to the Magic all around him. Bloody hell, that's too much at once! Fuck me! My bloody brain-!

"Are you okay?" Fred asked when he shuddered, exchanging a glance with his twin. "She's right, though. You're looking much better, now."

"Is this the work of our Nutrition Potions, perhaps?" George asked, something glinting behind his eyes.

"They help a lot, yeah," Ron admitted, nodding. "Speaking of them, actually… Could you brew me some more, please? I can't go back to the regular stuff, honestly."

"Sure thing, but you'll have to ask Snape if we can use his lab," Fred bargained, and Ron gave a nod. It's the least I can do.

"Thanks, you two, I'll talk to him about it," Ron agreed. "Now, excuse me, all of you, I have to go make a speech, and I want to finish up these drumsticks before I enter the common room. Ginny, I'll let you know what time we can have our lessons, yeah? Join me tomorrow morning for my run."

"Of course!" she beamed. "Same time as usual?"

"Same time as usual."

"Can I come too?" Luna asked, surprising Ron a little.

"You want to come running with me?" Ron asked, and she shook her head.

"I'll just sit and watch," Luna replied. Right… Of course… "I like visiting the Giant Squid. He must get lonely down there all by himself, so I'm trying to fix that." It's a fucking squid-…

"Luna, that thing is dangerous," Percy scolded, still looking upset with Ron. "Keep away from it, okay?"

"He's not dangerous," Luna said with certainty, as if she knew something they didn't. "If he was, the Professors wouldn't let him stay, would they?" That's… a good point. I should leave before this devolves into an argument about the Giant Squid, though.

"All right, I'm off," Ron said, growing bored of this conversation. "I'll see you all tomorrow. Good night."

They bid him farewell in return, and Ron promptly made his way down the Moving Staircase, all the way down to the entrance of the Dungeons, where he found Professor Snape waiting for him. Oh, shit… I'm about to get told off, aren't I? Why else would he be waiting here, at the end of the staircase, if not to ambush me?

"Hello, Sir," Ron greeted the man, only to be met with a sneer. "Ah… Right… Let's have it, then…"

"You've outdone yourself this time, Weasley," Snape started, baring his yellowed teeth. "Attacking a Head-Auror?! That's what you call control?! Do you have any idea how much danger you've thrown us in?!"

"I know," Ron gave a nod, deciding to keep his tongue in check this time around. "I'm an idiot, and I won't-"

"An idiot?!" Snape laughed snidely. "No, no… You're far more than that, so please, don't sell yourself short! You, boy, are the culmination of generations of Weasley stupidity running unchecked!" Ouch… "Just your birth lowered the collective intelligence of Wizarding-Kind! We ought to lock you in a room with the Dark Lord, as just being near you would be enough to render him a drooling simpleton!"

"…That's a bit mean…" Ron muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?!" Snape hissed, raising his cane. "I ought to beat the stupid out of you right here on these steps! Tell me, you fool, what happens if Moody decides to run his mouth to the Minister tomorrow? Or, the day after? Or, even a year from now? What happens, then?!" I go on the run and start living in caves, I imagine…

"…The Headmaster told you everything, I take it…"

"You've put all three of us at risk!" Snape continued, shaking with fury. "Albus has grown soft on you ever since we learned about this Horcrux business, but I will not let you endanger our plans any further! You will come to me every single night for Occlumency training, and if you're even a second late, I will shove this cane down your bloody throat! Have I made myself clear?!" Harsh, but entirely fair.

"…Yes, Sir," Ron gave a firm nod. "What time should I come over?"

"Right after dinner," Snape hissed, noticing the chicken drumsticks in his left hand.

With terrifying speed, Snape struck his hand with the cane, sending a jolt of white-hot pain up Ron's entire arm. Fuck me! OW!

"My chicken!" Ron cried out, watching in horror as the drumsticks rolled down the steps. "My chicken and my hand-!"

"Get out of my sight!" Snape barked, raising his cane, again. "We start tomorrow! Leave before I hit you, again!"

"I'm going, I'm going…" Ron rushed past him, shaking his aching hand as he did so. He broke my fucking fingers, I think! Damn, that really hurts!

As soon as Ron turned the corner, and was certain that Snape was not following him, he drew in a sharp breath and mumbled out several cuss words. What is that cane made of?! Merlin's saggy sac, that thing is a fucking weapon! Imagining a blossoming lotus flower in the palm of his left hand, Ron felt his Magic stir as he commanded it to heal him. His hand slowly began to glow golden; the feeling of prickling pins and needles was a welcome change from the pain he was in, and within seconds, he felt nothing but the new sensation. That's better-…

"You can't let him get away with that," came his counterpart's voice, and Ron looked to see him leaning against the wall. "Snape… He has no right to strike a God." Ugh, not this 'God' tripe, again.

"God, or, not, stupidity has to be punished, especially when the stakes are this high," Ron said, flexing his fingers and smiling a little. What a 'handy' Spell. I should keep practising it until I can summon that glow wherever I want on my body. "And, I was very fucking stupid to attack Moody… I've endangered more than just myself; I've endangered all our work by giving that one-eyed motherfucker information that he can use to destroy me."

"Then, he has to go," Ravenclaw Ron advised. "He's not exactly a good man, so he fits your code. Kill him and be done with it." Kill this, kill that, kill everybody! You're a broken record, is what you are!

"He's a great warrior, and I highly doubt I can take him in single combat," Ron countered, shaking his head. "Plus, his loss will hurt our chances of winning the war greatly. The Death-Eaters fear him, and he knows how to hunt them down. Just like the Americans, I need him doing what he does best. And, who knows? Maybe, some Death-Eater will get the best of him and save me the trouble of dealing with him myself?" He then frowned deeply, cursing his own lack of control. "I fucked up, mate, so the least I can do is take my medicine… Until this all blows over, I'll be keeping my head buried in my books. I can't risk my reputation being tarnished by scandals, not when my list of enemies is growing so rapidly."

"It's your Cycle," Ravenclaw Ron sighed dramatically. "I can only offer you advice, nothing more."

"You can offer me more than that," Ron looked to his past-self, narrowing his eyes. "Don't think for a second that I haven't noticed your lack of lessons recently. You are avoiding teaching me powerful Magic, which is one of the only reasons why I continue to tolerate you."

"Containing the World-Eater is no easy feat," Ravenclaw Ron reminded him. "But, you're right… You need more power if you're going to set us all free, and you've trained your body rather well over the last few months. You might even be ready for some more advanced Spells, now."

"Then, let's get to it," Ron smirked, loving the idea of wielding even more power. "Want to watch me lay down the law in Slytherin?"

"Sure," Ravenclaw Ron grinned maniacally. "Will there be violence?"

"No, none of that," Ron replied, continuing onwards. "They've done well, and I need to reward them for it. I need to make them feel like they've won a great victory, even! I want to unite them, and what unites people better than a sense of glory, eh?"

"Tsk… Boring, but all right…" Ravenclaw Ron groaned, floating by his side.

"Just watch, will you?" Ron chuckled, mentally preparing himself. "You might even learn something."

"Oh, I've learnt plenty from you, already," Ravenclaw Ron sniggered. "Like the fact that you love your own voice."

"That's very rich coming from you," Ron felt his lips quirk upwards. "You got any more nihilistic sermons for me?"

"Nihilistic? Do you even know what that means?"

"Oh, I know what it means… It's how losers see the world."

"I'm a loser, am I? Aren't you the one asking me to teach you Magic?"

"The only reason I can even ask you is because you lost, so yeah… You're a loser."

"That's-… Fuck you," Ravenclaw Ron frowned, unable to think of anything witty to say back. Got him!

"Victory," Ron grinned to himself, chuckling.

Just as he was about to turn the corner, Ron sensed a familiar Magical Signature waiting for him by the entrance. He stopped in his tracks in order to better focus on it, concentrating his mind until what he was feeling in his heart could be deciphered by his brain into words. The Signature felt warm, safe, and kind… So very kind, but it was struggling to pierce through the icy veil all around it. Daphne? Is that you?

"What are you doing?" Ravenclaw Ron asked, but Ron simply shushed him.

He dug deeper, feeling something entirely new this time around. What is that? Uncertainty? No, it's doubt, I think… Doubt and confusion… But regarding what, I can't tell… The warmth was growing dimmer because of it, and the more Ron focused on the negative feelings, the worse it got. It's like everything good in her is in danger… Is it because of our fights? Or, something deeper than that? Ron lost all his previous mirth, adorning a concerned expression. I don't like what I'm feeling right now, but should I intervene? I mean, everyone keeps telling me that I'm too demanding, too controlling, including Daphne herself… You know what? Whatever is wrong with her, it's her problem. She can deal with it herself. If she wants my help, she knows where to find me.

Ron drew in a deep breath, fixing up his expression as he turned the corner, and unsurprisingly, he spotted Daphne waiting for him by the entrance. "Daphne? What are you doing out here?" Be civil, old boy, but don't ever forget what she said to you. Don't ever forget how much it fucking hurt.

"Oh, damn, not this bitch, again," Ravenclaw Ron groaned at the sight of her, sneering. She doesn't look pleased to see me, does she? Well, as long as she doesn't start another fight with me, I don't care.

"The first-years didn't tell you the new password, did they?" Daphne asked him in response, keeping up her cold demeanour. I don't need a password to get in, so I didn't ask for it.

"Why you? Why not Blaise? Or, Theo?" Ron asked, studying her further as he approached.

"They didn't think about it, but I did," Daphne answered icily, before turning to face the entrance. "Clean." Ugh… Clean? Really?

The entrance revealed itself to them upon hearing the password, opening up to welcome them. These passwords… They need to change. I want something funny from now on. Like 'balloon arse'. Or, 'pointy tits'. Or, 'bulbous peckers'. This Pureblood rhetoric has to go. I'll talk to Professor Snape about it tomorrow night.

He followed her quietly down the steps, but when she stopped halfway, he fought the urge to groan at the top of his lungs. Here we go, again! What did I do this time, huh?!

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you," Daphne turned around and apologized, but her tone was as cold as the grave. "I went too far in our last spat… I know you're not those things I called you, and I'm sorry."

"There it is!" Ravenclaw Ron announced, laughing maniacally. "And, now, you'll just forgive her! As if she didn't gut you and throw you in a pit of despair! I called it! I fucking called it!" Bloody hell, he's right… I fucking hate it, but he's right… Well, I'm going to have some self-respect this time, and not just give in because of my feelings for her. She can take her half-arsed apology elsewhere. I don't want it.

"I do not accept your apology," Ron said coolly, looking down at her. "You hurt me, and that's all I have to say to you." I cried so much that I couldn't even sleep for more than a couple of hours… After everything we've been through, that's what you think of me? Fuck the Calming Draught's side-effects, and fuck you!

"It can't be!" Ravenclaw Ron gasped, floating above them. "I can't believe my ghostly ears! Ron! Ronnie! Ronnikins! Did you actually manage to maintain your dignity this time around?!"

"Ron, I was frustrated and upset-" Daphne started, her entire demeanour becoming softer, but Ron just walked past her, deaf to her tactics. Save it. You'll say anything to feel better about yourself, and I'm not going to give you that this time.

Making his way down the remainder of the stairs alone, Ron entered the common room and surveyed it. The Slytherins were all here, lounging about and socializing before curfew, and as he stepped further into the common room, they all promptly fell silent and turned their attention towards him. All right, this is it. Focus up, you twat. Remember to speak slowly and clearly, just so that there are no misunderstandings whatsoever. Daphne walked past him, heading for the couches in front of the fireplace, where the rest of their friends were sitting. He waited until she had sat down besides Pansy, and when she too was watching him, he decided to proceed.

"I hope you're all ready for another one of my speeches, because this is going to be a long one," Ron started, making some of them laugh. "I want to start off by congratulating all of you who met their quotas every week, especially the first-years, who put us ahead early and kept us there throughout the year. It's not easy being a first-year at Hogwarts, we all know that, but you lot did an exceptional job for Slytherin House. We're damn lucky to have you, and I believe, everyone here agrees with me on that." Some of the Slytherins cheered for the first-years, while others shot them fond looks. "For all of your hard work, I've decided that, starting from tonight, you won't have a weekly quota! You're all free to relax and enjoy yourselves for the rest of the school year! You've earned it!"

"YES!" Sebastian Cuttingham pumped his fist in the air, while the other first-years celebrated with face-splitting smiles.

"There's more!" Ron raised his gloved hand, silencing the laughter that followed Sebastian's reaction. "I've decided that the first-years will also have three delegates, just as the rest of the year levels do. For too long, Slytherin has treated its youngest poorly, and if this year has proven anything, it's that the first-years are just as important to Slytherin as the seventh-years are. From today on, age and Blood-Status will not determine the privileges you are granted, but rather, your loyalty and service to Slytherin will determine the rewards you are given." He could see that this decision didn't sit well with the older students already, but he could also see that they were too scared of him to speak out against him. "So, it is my pleasure to announce that Mathew Roberts, Hestia Carrow, and Flora Carrow will be the youngest students to ever be nominated as Year Delegates in the history of Slytherin House!"

The three named first-years went wide-eyed, looking around awkwardly as most of their House-mates applauded them for making history. The other first-years, save for Astoria and Lysandra, were quick to congratulate their friends as well, with Derek hugging Mathew from the side, much to the studious boy's embarrassment and chagrin. Ron smiled fondly at them, glad that he could be the one to reward them for all their hard work. Not only is this the right thing to do, but it will also secure great loyalty from the younger Slytherins, all of whom feel as though the older students push them around.

"Your new responsibilities will be explained to you by the second-year delegates," Ron continued, once again silencing the room. "Now, as for the rest of the House… After seeing our brimming Hourglass, I've decided to halve the quotas of all-!" He was abruptly interrupted with cheers and whistles, surprising even him. Really? That's how much they hate the quotas? So damn lazy… "Don't get too excited, because I'm also halving the amount of House Points you're allowed to lose before I send you to Professor Snape!"

"Boo!" he heard Theo amongst the rising laughter, which only propelled said laughter to greater heights.

"I know that we're dominating right now, but we should still be careful until we have the House-Cup in our hands!" Ron shouted over the noise, raising his gloved hand, again. "Quiet down, you animals, I'm not done yet! Quiet!" As the voices died down, he cleared his throat before continuing. "I only have one more thing to talk about, and that's regarding the party I want to throw for all of you! It'll be the biggest one I've put together, yet! There will be food, drinks, music, and dancing! All of that good stuff!"

"We have exams coming up, Weasley," one of the seventh-years spoke up, looking to her year-mates. "I don't know about you lot, but I don't need that kind of noise right now."

"I understand that, and as a matter of fact, I want to throw this party because you have N. E. W. T.s coming up," Ron explained, smiling at her. "Think of it as a last hurray, if you will. The fifth-years and the seventh-years will be the guests of honour, as well as those who made Slytherin proud in the Duelling Club." The girl nodded, looking a lot more agreeable now that she was to be a 'guest of honour'. "And, I don't want anyone to worry about the costs! I will pay for, and organise, everything! All you have to do is show up and enjoy yourselves!"

"When is this happening, exactly?!" Arthur Belmont, a delegate of fifth-year, asked, looking excited. "You haven't given us a date, yet!"

"I was getting to it, you impatient prick!" Ron chuckled, being swiftly joined by others. "It will on next Saturday, so that way, we can stay up late and go all out! Does that work for everyone?" His words were met with overwhelming approval, much to his pleasure. "Then, next Saturday, after dinner, we celebrate like it's our last night on Earth!" The Slytherins cheered, again, already keen to get drunk and stuff themselves at his expense. "If you have any dietary requirements, bring them up to my good friend, Pansy Parkinson. She'll relay them to me, and I'll sort it all out from there! Brilliant work, again, all of you! What we've accomplished this year… It proves that we are the very best of Hogwarts, whether Hogwarts likes it, or, not!"

As the House erupted into boisterous shouts and eager whispers, Ron began making his way over to his friends, waving and smiling at his House-mates as he did so, all of whom looked just as pleased with him as he had hoped. I have them, now. I will be a demanding, but fair, ruler, one who rewards excellence, and punishes weakness, without fail. The king is back, and this time, no one will weaken his grip on his kingdom!

"Ah, just like the good old days," Theo grinned as he approached, and Ron couldn't help but smirk. "I find that I can't sleep right if I go too long without one of your speeches, Ron. Tonight, I'll finally get some proper sleep, and for that, you have my gratitude."

"That boring, am I?" Ron joked, taking a seat in the centre of them, with Pansy and Draco at either side of him.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Theo sniggered, and Pansy joined in. "What a presumptuous man you are."

"That's me," Ron snorted, relaxing, at last. "Ah… I've been on edge for the last couple of days, but now, I can finally take a breath…"

"On edge?" Blaise asked, studying him a little too closely for his liking.

"You've read the papers, haven't you?" Ron asked in response, and they all exchanged looks. "Don't worry, Skeeter was making up pretty much all of it… But I did send Moody to St. Mungo's, and I've been dealing with that mess ever since…" Plus, preparing for my return, as well as worrying about Emilia and Artyom… There's so much happening at once, and I don't like it. Why haven't we heard anything from them, yet? What the fuck is going on over there? "Anyway… I can finally put my feet up for the night, and that feels great…"

He sunk into the couch, closing his eyes and humming Pandora's tune to himself. I can't sleep yet, though. I still have to practice my Wandless Magic and Occlumency, but I'm sure a nap wouldn't hurt me-…

"If you really did attack Mad-Eye, then why aren't you in Azkaban right now?" Draco asked bluntly, wearing an indifferent expression, no doubt. He's glad to see me, I know it.

"Would that make you happy, eh?" Ron asked, giving him a teasing smile. "To see me locked up with a bunch of Dementors?"

"A little," Draco shrugged, looking back to his book.

"He loves me, but he's too shy to admit it," Ron grinned at Pansy, who started sniggering, again.

Draco grumbled under his breath, shooting him a look of disgust and contempt. "You didn't answer my question."

"I will, as soon as you admit that you love me," Ron's grin grew wider, nudging Pansy's side. "Get him to admit that he loves me, Pansy."

"Stop that," Pansy laughed, playfully shoving him away. "I'm ticklish, Ron, you know that!" All weaknesses must be exploited!

"Are you, my Duelling Champion?" Ron asked innocently, before pinching her side and making her squeal.

"Stop it!"

"No! I can tickle whoever I like-!"

"Ron, how did you get out of this?" Daphne asked, sounding vexed and frustrated.

He immediately looked around for his counterpart, realizing that his twisted reflection had vanished once again. So much for learning a thing from my speech… He really has no patience for the simple things, does he? Well, I can't exactly blame him… This is the bloke who was planning to end all of Creation just so he could have the last laugh.

"The Minister's power is unstable right now, and I exploited that to get out of trouble," Ron looked to her, losing much of his mirth at the mere sight of her face. Control, mate. Control your mind and emotions. "I also apologized to Moody himself, and I promised to give a formal apology to the Ministry in the coming weeks. And, yes, before you ask… This is also why I'm back so suddenly. I can't afford more scandals, and it's best that I stay out of the Ministry's way for the time being. They are not happy with me, and if I piss them off, again, they'll definitely have me locked away."

"What possessed you to do something so stupid, mate?" Theo asked, and Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Just Purebloods being cunts, so nothing out of the ordinary, really," Ron shrugged, noticing the fancy ring on Theo's finger. "…Nice ring." Did your father gift that to you?

"Oh… Thanks…" Theo gave him a nervous smile, 'subtly' hiding his hand from sight. "It belonged to my mother." The Death-Eater's whore, you mean?

Thinking of Stoatshead Hill, Ron centred himself quickly, even giving Theo a convincing smile. "It's very pretty." Far prettier than she deserved.

"It's creepy," Pansy said immediately after. "Sorry, Theo, but that ring… It gives me a really bad feeling for some reason."

"Me too," Daphne added. "Where did your mother get it, again?"

"It's a family heirloom," Theo told them, his eyes darting towards Ron. "The gemstone, according to her stories, fell from the Heavens-"

"The Heavens?" Blaise asked, always quick to get interested whenever the stars were brought up. "It's a meteorite fragment?" It's from Space? In my experience, nothing good ever comes from that endless abyss…

"That's what father said, yes," Theo confirmed, still hiding his hand from Ron. "I don't really believe that, though. It's just obsidian, probably." I fucking hope so, for your sake.

"That is not obsidian," Draco remarked, shooting Theo a dull glance. "Obsidian has a glassy texture, but that gemstone on your finger is just pitch-black. It doesn't even reflect light, for some reason, I've noticed-"

"You're suddenly an expert in shiny rocks, are you?" Theo interrupted, frowning at him. Doesn't reflect light? Pitch-black?! Oh, fuck no! "Can we go back to the fact that Ron assaulted a Head-Auror and got away with it? That's infinitely more interesting, in my opinion."

"You shouldn't wear it," Ron warned Theo, becoming deeply concerned. "Theo… Evil lurks out there, amongst the stars… Don't wear it."

"…Evil?" Theo blinked, whereas the others gave him quizzical looks. "…Mate, it's just a rock…" Careful, Ron, you don't want to sound insane, do you? Still, you should keep your eyes on that ring, just to be safe.

"Right… I'm sure that's the case-" Ron started, but was interrupted when a tiny blonde stormed over, stopping in front of him and stomping her foot. Oh, shit… Here comes the whining-…

"What was that, Ron?" Astoria huffed in indignation, as if mimicking her older sister. "You chose Hestia and Flora over me?! How could you?! You traitor!"

"Astoria, don't-!" Daphne started, frowning in disapproval, but stopped abruptly when Ron raised his gloved hand.

"Let her speak," Ron ordered, giving the first-year his full attention. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"You're supposed to pick me over them," Astoria complained, she looked genuinely angry for once. "And why both?! Why couldn't you just pick one of them?! Flora would've been fine, but her creepy sister too?! That's not fair!" Hestia is shy, not creepy-… No, ignore it. Focus on what you have to say, instead.

"Fair?" Ron asked, hiding his irritation well. "So, in your head, it would've been fair to disregard the efforts of one sister simply because I shouldn't reward two people with the same last name?" He then looked to Daphne, as if wanting an explanation from her. "Am I being unfair, Daphne?"

"This doesn't have anything to do with her," Astoria scoffed before Daphne could answer, stomping her foot, again. "You said that we were going to help you change Slytherin, but you didn't mean all of us, did you? You were only talking about Mathew and the twins!"

"That is not true," Ron assured her, drawing in a deep breath. "I have plans for you too, Tori. They just don't involve delegate status, that's all." I brought the Silver Leaf with me, and I'm going to-…

"So, I get something better, then?" Astoria asked in a rather demanding tone. "I want them to answer to me! That'll make all of this right! You owe me that!" I owe you, do I? Whatever for?

"Mind your tone, Astoria," Pansy scolded, frowning. "You can't speak to him that way. He is Slytherin, now, and you have to show respect-"

"Who asked you?" Astoria shot the raven-haired witch a derisive look, much to Pansy's surprise. "I'm talking to Ron, not you! Stay out of it!"

"Stop being a brat, Tori!" Daphne spoke up, looking furious, now. "This is not how Greengrasses behave!" Oh, please, this is exactly how you lot behave when you don't get your way.

"Father is the only reason why he's so famous, and he's supposed to repay us for that!" Tori argued, making Ron laugh icily. "What?! It's true! Without my father, you'd be nothing! It's my father who made you rich and famous, Ron! He let you live with us, and eat with us, and go to Paris with us-!"

"Your father opened many doors for me, that's true," Ron started, cutting her off. "But don't think for a single second that my greatness comes from such a weak, tiny, greedy rodent." Astoria's mouth fell open, whereas his friends went dead-silent due to his tone alone. "I won every single match in my first Chess Tournament before I met your father. I resisted all those Veela because of my will, not your father's. I worked myself to the bone every day, in all aspects of my life, to be where I am now. Your father helped, but even without him, I would still be powerful. That is what you don't understand, Astoria… That is what you can't understand, because unlike me, you've had everything given to you on a silver platter. And, that is exactly why I didn't choose you to be a delegate, because I knew that you wouldn't appreciate that position and the responsibilities that come with it. You would squander it, you would abuse it, and you only want it so you can order your friends around. Am I wrong?"

"I'm going to tell father what you said about him," Astoria threatened, getting teary-eyed despite the anger on her face. Tell him. I know him well enough to know that he'll agree with me. You don't deserve to be a delegate.

Daphne groaned, rubbing her forehead. "…Astoria, go to your room right this instant. You're only proving his point by throwing this tantrum-"

"He's insulting father-!"

"And you're not?" Daphne interjected, going a bit red in the face. "Behaving like this makes mother and father look good, you think? Go to your room, or, I will tell father about this myself."

"You're the worst sister in this world!" Astoria spat out, before glaring back at Ron. "And you're a-…! You're a stupid Blood-Traitor!"

Pansy gasped, Theo and Blaise frowned deeply, and Draco focused even more intensely on his book. But Ron? Ron just sat there, staring up at the angry girl with a tired expression. Right… I see…

"Astoria!" Daphne shot out of her chair, looking downright murderous. "How dare you?!"

Astoria ignored her, kicking Ron in the shin as hard as she could before running away. Bloody hell… Daphne moved to chase after her, but stopped when Pansy grabbed her by the wrist.

"Don't, Daphne!" Pansy pleaded, nearly falling off the couch. "Please, you won't fix anything by hitting her!"

"I'll teach her never to use that word, again!" Daphne fumed, tugging to break her arm free. "Let go of me, Pansy-!"

"Daphne, sit back down," Ron said, and when she looked to him, he could see the shame behind her eyes.

"Ron-…"

"It's all right," Ron said, gesturing her to sit. "It's fine." Don't show weakness, Ron. A king has no weaknesses.

"It's really not 'fine', mate," Blaise said, sneering. "You have to discipline her, or, she'll just say it, again."

"…People are staring," Theo whispered, looking around. "She couldn't have waited to approach you away from prying eyes?"

"No, because, in her mind, she deserves to be a delegate because she's a Greengrass, and I stole that position from her and gave it those less deserving of it," Ron said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "She's the favoured daughter of the richest man in Magical Europe, right? She's better than everyone, and I'm just some Blood-Traitor who got lucky because her Lord Father took pity on me." He then looked to each of his friends, staring through them until his eyes landed on Daphne. "It's not her fault she's like this. No, the blame rests with her parents. She's just mimicking them, just like you lot used to mimic your own parents." He then smiled half-heartedly, shoving his hurt deep inside and smothering it. "But you all changed, and so can she. I will teach her to be better, just as I taught you."

Daphne blinked, visibly taken aback by his leniency. "…She has to understand that she can't say something like that, Ron…"

"And, she will," Ron promised, drawing in a long breath before looking to Pansy. "I'm still learning not to be an arse to my own friends, and… Well, maybe I deserved that."

"No, she went too far, Ron," Pansy said, giving him a sorry look. "I'll try and talk to her-"

"No, Pansy… She's my sister, so I'll talk to her," Daphne cut in, dropping into her chair. "I can't believe her… She's never said something like that before… I am so sorry, Ron…" You've said worse to me, because you know how to really hurt me.

"If she said it, then she's thought about it before," Draco gave his input, not looking up from his book. "You should punish her, before people start saying that you're soft and weak." If I learned one thing at that party, it's that it takes greater strength to ignore a slight than it does to lash out like an animal. Anyway… I should change the subject before this goes any further.

"I don't know if Pansy's told you lot yet, but like I said to her, I know that I've been… difficult, lately," Ron started, shooting Pansy a proud smile. "I've been short-tempered, harsh, and cold towards all of you. I'm sorry, but the last few months…" he trailed off. "…It doesn't matter. I would like another chance to be a decent friend, if you'll still have me."

"You don't even have to ask, brother," Blaise said, and Ron looked to him. "We're with you."

"You can't get rid of us so easily," Theo added, while Draco gave a short nod. Good old, Blaise, eh? Marty's report was right.

"Thank you," was all Ron could think to say, patting Draco on the back whilst smiling at Blaise and Theo.

"You were just trying to look out for us," Blaise said, giving him a meaningful look. "And we refused to take you seriously right to your face. That must've been really frustrating, and considering the things you've been through since Hogsmeade… The things we've all been through…" He shook his head, no doubt pushing his worries for Millie and Tracey out of his mind. "We're going to start listening, mate. That's what I'm trying to get at. You can do better, but so can we." Really? That-… That's all I wanted, honestly…

"You all feel this way?" Ron asked, looking around.

Theo, Draco, and Pansy nodded, but he sensed a great deal of hesitation from Daphne. Four out of five isn't bad. If Daphne feels that she doesn't need me, then so be it. I won't chase after her at the expense of ignoring those who do want my help and advice. She can find her own way, just as I have to.

"Well, I suppose, it's settled, then," Ron smiled genuinely, feeling a bit better already. "I'll do my best not to be an arsehole, and you lot won't just brush off my concerns without, at the very least, thinking about them. Is that all right?"

"That's all right," Blaise spoke for them all, giving him a soft smile. "Welcome back, Ron. We've missed you."

Ron felt his ears turn a little red, whereas Theo gave Blaise a disturbed look. "Hearing you say nice things is so weird, mate. Please, don't do it, again."

"You really had to ruin it, didn't you?" Pansy gave Theo a dull look. "Well, I thought it was very sweet, Blaise. You should do it more often-"

"No," Blaise refused, looking back to the fire with a satisfied smirk. Ha!

"What? Aw…" Pansy whined. "Can't you just say one nice thing to me, first?"

"No."

"Theo, look at what you did!"

His friends broke out into banter, with Pansy accusing Theo of ruining everything, and Ron simply listened with a content smile. Things won't ever go back to how they were, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe, the last few months is exactly what we all needed to become more honest about ourselves and what we want? I know that I've learned a lot, and after listening to Blaise, I can safely say that I'm not the only one. It's how we get back up that matters, I guess, and not how we fall down.

---

Monday 3rd May, 1994 (The Boys' Dorm – Early Morning)

Once he had finished with the bandages on his forearm, Ron covered them with his sleeve before flexing his arm about. Ow… Bloody hell, I wish the Numbing Balm worked faster-…

Another knock at the door disrupted his thoughts, making him frown. "I'm coming, just give me a second, will you?"

"I'm going to shit myself out here, Ron!" Theo howled, the urgency in his voice made Ron feel a little guilty. I'm ready, so let's just go.

He walked over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and stepping aside as Theo rushed in. "Merlin's pants! Finally! Out!"

"I'm going, you tosser," Ron grumbled as Theo all but shoved him out, promptly slamming the door shut. I'm going to miss my cottage… The peace, the beauty, the bathroom that was all mine… All of it.

Shaking his head to himself, Ron walked further into his shared room, noticing that Draco's curtains were still closed. Is he changing? Or, is he still asleep? Whatever, I shouldn't disturb him. If he wants to come running, then he knows where to find us.

"I haven't missed waking up this early," Blaise yawned, sitting on his bed in his running attire. "Is the sun even up, yet?"

"You don't have to come with me, Blaise," Ron offered, stretching his right arm. Ah… It's starting to work-…

"Don't have to come with you?" Blaise asked, before chuckling tiredly. "You're really trying, aren't you? To not be an arsehole, I mean."

"I am," Ron said sincerely, heading over to his trunk. "What can I say? I was wrong to push and push and push… I ended up pushing you lot away, instead of pushing you to be better. I don't want to make that mistake, again, that's all." And I can't be bothered if you can't be bothered. Even I have my limits.

"How did you figure that out?" Blaise asked, curious. "That you were being a menace to us?"

"A bunch of reasons, but mostly, it was Pansy," Ron answered, smiling a little as he started rifling through his trunk for a Nutrition Potion. "I know it's a terrible thing to say, but I was dead certain that she'd never win the D-Rank Tournament. I figured that since she always refused to listen to me, to train as hard as me, that she wouldn't accomplish anything when it came to Duelling. But, as it turns out, I was just looking down on her for not being like me. I was being a right prick to her, and when I realized that, I also realized that I was being a prick to you lot as well." Ah, there they are! Let me see… Only a handful left… Damn, I'll need to ask Professor Snape if the twins can use his lab, tonight. He's still pissed with me, so that should go well. "Blaise? You've gone silent, all of a sudden."

"It's nothing," Blaise answered, and when Ron shot a look back, the dark-skinned wizard was staring at nothing in particular. Was it what I said? "…I'm starting to realize that we're really quite pathetic, that's all." Huh?

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, standing back up and turning to fully face him.

"What you said to Astoria last night…" Blaise continued, looking to him. "About all the work you've put in to be where you are now… Do you think I could ever get there, Ron?" Where's this coming from? "Could someone like me become powerful? Like you?"

"Yes, you could," Ron replied, adorning a serious expression.

"Even without my mother?"

"Especially without your mother."

Blaise nodded to himself, appearing thoughtful. "Who I was just a few months ago… I don't think that boy could be anything more than what his mother allowed him to be. He was rich beyond rich, and in the back of his head, he always knew that he'd want for nothing in his life. So, what was the point of listening to someone whose family lives in a 'pigsty', right?" Oi… Not that shit, again… "…He was a fucking idiot… I was a fucking idiot… But, now? Now, I know that I have to fight for my future. I finally figured out what you've known your entire life, but it took me fourteen years… I'm so far behind-"

"It doesn't matter when you start, mate," Ron interjected, walking over and sitting down next to him. "I don't have everything figured out myself. No one does. What matters is what you do after you figure something out. Do you sit around and regret your past? Or, do you start putting the work in?"

"You start putting the work in," Blaise nodded faintly, looking ahead.

"Since you know that, you'll be just fine," Ron promised, smiling. "And, you might not have her money, anymore, but you have something that she doesn't have."

"You?" Blaise asked, looking back to him. Close.

"You have friends, mate," Ron answered. "You have a family, and this family chose you. Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Tracey, me… Even Draco, and Millicent, wherever she is. Your mother doesn't have anyone like us, and that's her greatest failure as a person. She sees people as assets to be used, and one day, that will be her undoing. But you? You'll be just fine. You'll be happy. You'll be loved and cherished."

Blaise smiled a little, nodding, again. "…Thanks, Ron. I know I said it last night, but I really did miss you. Talking to you helps me feel… safe… Like everything is going to work out just fine, you know?"

Ron said nothing in response, choosing to simply give Blaise's shoulder a gentle, affectionate squeeze. I'll protect you no matter what, brother. Against your mother, against the whole world, until one day, you can protect yourself. Draco's curtains suddenly opened, and when they looked towards his bed, they saw him staring at them blankly. Ah, he was listening, wasn't he?

"Eavesdropping, were you?" Blaise frowned menacingly, feeling embarrassed.

"If you want privacy, go talk somewhere else," Draco shrugged, his eyes lingering on Ron. "Let me wash my face, Weasley, then we can run around like lunatics."

"You'll have to wait for Theo to finish," Ron smiled at him, earning himself a frown. "What? Why are you always so cranky, Draco?"

"I'm not cranky," the platinum-blonde clicked his tongue, before huffing. "Seeing your face first thing in the morning is not exactly my cup of tea." You want to play, do you? All right, let's play.

"Ohoho," Ron grinned, much to Draco's annoyance. "You keep talking to me like that, and I'm going to shove my tongue into your mouth."

"…What?" Draco blinked, looking sick to his stomach. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're the one teasing me all the time," Ron looked him up and down, as if he were a juicy steak. "All those insults and dirty looks… You're just asking for it, Dracy-poo. You're fucking asking for it, and I'm going to give it to you."

"You're a filthy degenerate," Draco hissed, walking away towards the bathroom. "Stay away from me, Weasel!"

"He's so easy to rile up," Ron sniggered to Blaise, who shifted away ever-so-slowly. What?! It was a joke! I wouldn't actually do that! He might be blonde, but he has no tits, Blaise! No tits at all!

"He's a prick," Blaise shot a frown towards Draco. "And, you shouldn't say things like that… You're both blokes, so it's really gross."

"Now, you're asking for it," Ron smiled darkly, making him roll his eyes. "Fine… I'll stop. Tell me, did you lot treat him fairly in my absence?"

"He's still here, isn't he?" Blaise asked in response. "He mentioned wanting to pull his own weight, and that's far more than I expected from him. You're the leader, Ron, and if you want him to stay, then I won't question you." That's good enough for me. At least, for now. I can't force them to be friends, only time can do that.

"I'm going to drink my potion and begin stretching-" Ron started, rising from the bed, but stopped when Theo opened the bathroom door and let out a satisfied groan.

"What a glorious shit!" he laughed, walking past Draco and shooting him a wink. "Enjoy, Lord Malfoy!"

"…I hate this place…" Draco muttered to himself, stepping into the bathroom hesitantly and closing the door behind him.

Ron laughed mischievously, how he loved watching Draco Malfoy suffer. Theo and Blaise exchanged subtle looks, smiling to themselves but saying nothing. Ah, I needed that! The look on his face… Ha! It was more delicious than Shepard's Pie! Still chuckling to himself, Ron opened his Nutrition Potion and drank it down in one gulp.

"Oh…" he shuddered, shaking his head clear. "Merlin's Beard…"

"You reckon we should have those too, Ron?" Blaise asked, eyeing the empty vial.

"The Nutrition Potion?" Ron asked, and Blaise gave a nod. "I mean, I don't see the harm in it… But these ones are made by the twins just for me. You can order some ordinary ones from Pippin's Potions in Hogsmeade."

"…Right," Blaise muttered, nodding to himself. Wait, he doesn't have money to waste! I'm an idiot!

"I'll order you some," Ron offered, but Blaise swiftly shook his head.

"No, that's fine-"

"I will order you some, and that's final," Ron said, giving him a meaningful look. "Consider them an investment from a good friend who wants you to become powerful." He then looked to Theo, smirking. "You can order your own, though."

"Why do you treat me this way?" Theo whispered, his lips quirking upwards. "Why, Ron?"

"He's cuter than you," Ron shrugged, earning a frown from Blaise and a laugh from Theo.

"Can you stop with that tripe? Please?"

"It was a compliment," Ron looked to Blaise, grinning.

"I don't want compliments like that, especially not from you," Blaise said, standing up. "Let's just go, all right? Before you put me off completely."

"We'll go when Draco comes out, mate. Just give him a minute, all right?" It's been too long since I ran around the Black Lake. I wonder how many laps I can do, now?

---

Monday 3rd May, 1994 (The Transfiguration Classroom – Late Morning)

"Mr. Weasley, stay behind a moment," Professor McGonagall ordered, stopping him from packing up his books. "I wish to have a word with you." Uh-oh… Is this about last night?

"Have fun getting torn a new one, Weasley," Draco smirked, looking far too happy as he packed up and walked away.

Ron watched his class-mates head out one-by-one, staring at them with envy. Is this how my Cycle ends? I get turned into a table for running my mouth? Once they were alone, Professor McGonagall gestured him to approach her desk, and he did so without wasting a second.

"Is this about last night, Professor?" Ron asked, giving her an innocent smile. "I was just pulling your leg, nothing more."

She gave him a dull look, and Ron promptly closed his mouth. "No, this is not about last night, Mr. Weasley. This is about your overdue homework and assignments." Oh, fuck! "I understand why you needed a break from your schooling, but now that you are back, it is time for you to catch up to the curriculum."

"Can't you just yell at me about last night, instead?" Ron asked, and she gave him a thin-lipped frown.

"I can do both, if you like," she offered.

"…I'll take the homework, then…"

"Good," she reached under her desk with both hands, pulling out a large stack of parchments and placing them in front of him. Ugh… She could've just Conjured those up, but no… She was just waiting to drop those in front of me, wasn't she?

"Is that just for Transfiguration, Professor?" Ron asked, gawking at the massive pile of work.

"No, as Deputy-Headmistress, I have taken the liberty of collecting this from all your Professors," she answered, smirking, now. "You have a week before your exams to finish all of this, so use your time wisely. You still have to keep up with current classwork, after all." This vindictive bitch…

"…Thank you, Professor…"

"You are most welcome, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, waving her wand and vanishing the stack of parchments. "I've sent the papers to your dorm. I suggest you begin as soon as possible. Oh, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Welcome back." She's enjoying this too much for my liking.

"Grudges will give you more wrinkles, Professor."

She immediately lost her mirth, drawing in a sharp breath. "Twenty Points from Slytherin!" Worth it. "Leave my classroom, at once!"

"Before I go, is it all right if I make copies of the work you've given me? For Tracey?" Ron asked, and she narrowed her eyes. "I don't want her to repeat third year, Professor, that's all. She's got a lot of time on her hands these days, so she might as well use it effectively."

"Is she not using it to recover her strength?" Professor McGonagall questioned.

"She is, but for most of the day, she's just sitting around reading 'comics'," Ron replied. "Colourful doodles on a page don't matter, but her studies do. I can make copies of the papers you've given me, but I still need her Divinations and Muggle Studies homework, and if you could get those for me, I'd really appreciate it."

The Head of Gryffindor gave a nod of approval, leaning back in her chair. "I will speak to Professors Trelawny and Burbage, and once I deliver her assignments to you, you may pass them along."

"Thank you, Professor."

---

Monday 3rd May, 1994 (Professor Snape's Office – Night)

"That's enough," Snape suddenly said, and Ron opened his eyes. "An entire hour, and not a single peep out of you. I'm impressed." An entire hour, eh? Not bad, Weasley. "Occlumency has many uses aside from protection against Legilimency. When you put yourself in a meditative state, your brain starts the same processes of recovery as when you fall asleep. You can use this to recover your strength and your focus, without becoming vulnerable as you would in your sleep."

"It isn't a substitute for sleep, though, right?" Ron asked, realizing why he always felt refreshed after his Occlumency training.

"No, certainly not, but it is a useful ability, nonetheless," Snape replied, studying his face keenly. "Two to three hours will yield the best results, any more than that and you'd be better off taking a nap." Two to three hours, got it. "You've done well to keep up with your training without my supervision. We can move forward and start working on more advanced techniques, I believe."

"Such as?" Ron smiled, excited. Learning more advanced Magic from both Ravencunt and Professor Snape! Coming back is working out for me just fine!

"The ability to detach yourself from your emotions by dismantling them," Snape answered coolly. "After your latest stunt, I believe it's more important than ever that you learn to control yourself in moments where your emotions take charge of your mind." That's fair enough. "Without the use of potions, I should clarify."

"Potions are more effective, aren't they? But they have side-effects, especially if you abuse them."

"Precisely," Snape drawled. "Too many wizards believe themselves clever by exploiting the effects of potions, only to end up sick and unable to function without them. I have explained this to you before, as I'm sure you remember." I do, but since I have a couple of favours to ask, I'm trying to be the ideal student here.

"Do you want to start working on the next thing, now? Dismantling my emotions, as you said?"

"No, we will start tomorrow," Snape refused, staring at him. Why is he looking at me like that? "How was your first day back?" Huh? Since when do you care about how my day was?

"Um… It was fine," Ron replied, quirking an eyebrow.

"No moments of anger? Or, frustration with your peers?"

"Not really. I mean, it's only my first day back. Nothing much happened today. Professor McGonagall gave me a bunch of work to catch-up on, classes were boring but bearable, and mostly everyone in Slytherin is happy to have me back."

"You didn't run into Pomfrey, then, I take it." Madam Pomfrey?

"No, I didn't," Ron said, leaning forward. "Why? Should I be watching out for her?"

"She made it abundantly clear to Albus that you should not be allowed back," Snape explained, not surprising Ron in the slightest. I figured she would do that. "She called you a 'danger to yourself, and to your fellow students', I believe."

"Well, I've given her plenty of reasons to think that about me," Ron shrugged, leaning back, now. "How did the Headmaster respond?"

"He told her that he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, so the decision was his to make," Snape replied. "It surprised her, and the others too." The others? "Albus is usually more subtle in his machinations, as you've seen for yourself. But not this time, no."

"I won't disappoint him," Ron promised. "Nor you, Sir. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, to be gentler and more-"

"I don't care," Snape stopped him short. "Words are easy to form, after all. Prove your intent with your actions, instead." I will. "Now, you may go. I have work to do, as do you. We will speak more tomorrow."

"Actually, I have a couple of things I still need to discuss with you," Ron said, and Snape promptly frowned. "Please, Sir, they are important to me."

"…Go on."

"First, there's the matter of the passwords we use for the Slytherin common room," Ron started, looking stern. "Sir, they need to be changed."

"Changed?"

"It's Pureblood nonsense, and I don't like it. Clean? I mean, really? Or, Pure? Or, untainted? Oh, and don't even get me started on 'Pureblood'…. Just to gain entry into Slytherin, you're expected to repeat the talking points of Blood-Supremacy? Why? That's so wrong… I won't stand for it, anymore."

"It's always been this way, boy-"

"That doesn't make it right, and you know it… It's just another way Slytherin influences young students into believing themselves superior to those around them, nothing more," Ron argued. "You're the Head of Slytherin, Sir. You determine what the passwords are, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why you never changed anything about the very House that delivered so many soldiers to the Dark Lord. Yourself included; I might add." Snape's frown turned hostile, much to Ron's chagrin. "I'm not trying to be rude here, I'm just stating a fact. Those passwords are just the beginning, Sir. Slytherin needs to be reformed, and I want to start with this. I don't want the first-years of next year repeating Pureblood rhetoric from the very start."

Snape fixed up his expression, appearing uninterested, now. "This doesn't have anything to do with what the Greengrass brat said to you, does it?"

"You know about that?" Ron blinked, remembering how furious she looked with him. A brat, indeed…

"The Fawley boy told me," Snape replied. "He was quite offended on your behalf. He wanted her punished with a month worth of detentions." And, let me guess, you told him to sod off, because you simply don't care enough to punish bigotry. If only someone like Professor McGonagall was actually in charge of Slytherin, my life would be so much easier.

"John is a good lad, with a strong sense of right and wrong," Ron said in response, thinking of the boy's honourable mother and father. "His parents raised him to be decent, like themselves, and I want to do the same thing in Slytherin. Do you know why Astoria said something so terrible to me, Sir? I know for a fact that her parents don't teach her that tripe, so where did she get it from? I'll tell you where… She picked it up right here in Slytherin. She doesn't understand the history behind that word, nor does she understand the sort of people who use that word and actually mean it. She just picked up something foul that her House-mates use to describe me behind my back, and she threw it in my face during a tantrum. That's how it starts for a lot of people… They get pulled in because these types of beliefs prey on your anger and dissatisfaction. They make you feel superior, like you're better than the 'trash' around you, and that kind of thinking leads you right to someone like Lucius Malfoy, or, Corban Yaxley. And do you know what those cunts do? They hand you over to the Dark Lord, who turns you into a Death-Eater." And, so help me Merlin, I will not let that bastard sink his fangs into my House-mates! I won't let him destroy their souls to satisfy his madness!

Snape looked away with a stony expression, his thoughts impossible to figure out. Ron let out a long sigh, his frustrations beginning to mount. Why was he even arguing with the man? Snape was not stupid, he knew exactly what Ron was talking about, and yet, they were having this useless discussion? Why? What was there to even discuss?

"I want those passwords changed, and I want them changed, now," Ron put his foot down. "I'm willing to bring this up to the Headmaster, if that's what it takes." Or, better yet, I'll grab the nearest chair and beat you until you do as I say. How's that work for you?

"Well, you raised valid points in your argument, so I will change the passwords," Snape said, giving him an understanding nod. "Starting from tomorrow, the passwords will be the names of different snake breeds. They will have nothing to do with Purebloods, nor their 'rhetoric'. How's that?"

"That's perfect," Ron let out a sigh of relief, glad that the 'debate' was over. "Thank you."

"Do you have any more demands to make of me? Or, can I continue with my work, now?" Snape asked, and when Ron gave him a sheepish grin, he drew in a sharp breath. "What. Else. Weasley?"

"Could the twins use your lab?" Ron asked. "I need more Nutrition Potions, and they need proper equipment-"

Snape raised his gloved, prosthetic hand, stopping him. "That potion of theirs… I am interested in it myself."

"You are?"

"It is a great improvement on the original recipe, so yes." A great improvement, eh? He doesn't usually give out compliments like that.

"The twins are very talented," Ron shrugged, feeling proud of his brothers, but hiding it well.

"I will allow them to brew a new batch during Potions Club this week, but in return, I want them to show me how they do it," Snape negotiated, leaning forward slightly.

"Show you how they do it?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "You're not planning to steal their work, are you? The twins are very protective of their products, Sir. They won't share anything with you, not unless you make it worth their while."

"Helping you isn't enough for them?" Snape asked, sounding a little vexed. Fuck no! I'm pretty sure they hate you more than they love me, and given your past treatment of your students, I don't blame them!

"No, I don't think it is," Ron admitted. "But, let's say, if you were to give them something in return… Then, they might be more willing to show you the steps they take."

"I want to sell it, and I'm willing to give them a fair cut of the profits," Snape offered, and Ron fought the urge to grin. Time to haggle!

"Sell it? To who?" Ron asked curiously.

"St. Mungo's, for starters," Snape started. "The world of Potion-Making is always evolving, boy, and if you want to stay in business, you have to evolve your products. I already sell Nutrition Potions, but with your brothers' recipe, I can put a far superior product on the market. And, who knows? Perhaps, in good time, the old recipe will be abandoned in favour of the new one." I see… That would be quite the accomplishment, wouldn't it?

"If that's the case, then I want you to give them their due credit as well," Ron said, making Snape frown. "What? It's only fair-"

"You truly believe that I want to steal their work, don't you?" Snape whispered icily. "Is that what you think of me, boy? A lowly thief?"

"The Wizarding World is a devious, unjust place, and I've learnt not to underestimate it," Ron pointed out casually. "I want to protect my brothers, and not just from the Dark Lord and his forces. I want them to get everything they deserve. Are you telling me that people haven't tried to steal your work before? To use you to get ahead themselves?"

"…They have," Snape gave a nod, appearing calmer, now. "I will give them their due credit, Ron, you have my word. It is their product, whereas I am merely the salesman."

"Then, I will talk to them about this," Ron agreed. "They still might say no, though… The twins can be unpredictable, and they are very, very petty…"

"Not as petty as I can be, I assure you," Snape responded, something dangerous flashing behind his eye. Damn… I don't like that look one bit! "Talk to them, and let me know what they think about my offer."

"I'll do that, Sir," Ron stood up, stretching his back and feeling his spine bend in an arc without complaint. "Goodnight."

"…Goodnight…"

---

Tuesday 4th May, 1994 (The Great Hall – Breakfast)

Ron sauntered past the sitting Gryffindors, ignoring their various looks as he approached the twins with a cool smirk. They were sitting across from Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, having their own personal conversations with the two witches. They were so engrossed, in fact, that neither of them noticed him until he was standing behind the girls, looking down at them all.

"Good morning, my brothers," Ron greeted, putting on a friendly smile.

"Ron?" George blinked, while Spinnet and Johnson turned in their seats to stare at him. "Um… You okay there?"

"You're not lost, are you?" Fred teased, he looked as though he were in a great mood. "The Slytherin table is on the other side of the hall."

"I need to talk to you two about something important," Ron explained, before looking down at the girls. "Can you make space, please? I'd like to sit down."

"Space?" Johnson raised an eyebrow, but Spinnet did as she was told without delay. "Alicia?"

"What? He wants to talk to his big brothers," Spinnet smiled at George, who went a little red in the face. "I think, it's very sweet." Right… That's totally me. I'm the sweet one. "Here, you can sit between us."

"Thank you," Ron took the offer, planting himself between Johnson and Spinnet with a shit-eating grin. "This is nice! The hall feels warmer on this end, for some reason."

"It's probably the company," Fred laughed, and the other three joined in. "Don't you agree, Ronnikins?" That is not my name-… No, ignore it. He's just trying to get a reaction out of me.

"Probably," Ron ignored the bait, maintaining civility. "I spoke to Professor Snape about you two using his lab, and he's agreed to let you do it, but only under one condition."

"Condition?" George asked, whereas Fred rolled his eyes. "What condition?"

"He wants you to teach him your recipe," Ron replied.

"Teach him their recipe?" Johnson asked, suspicious. "Why? So, he can steal their idea for himself?" That's what I was worried about too, but it's been sorted.

"Quite the opposite, actually," Ron assured the twins, keeping his eyes on only them so he could gauge their reactions. "He wants to sell the enhanced Nutrition Potion to his clients, and not only is he willing to pay you two, he's also promised me that he'll give you the credit for coming up with the recipe. You'll be… partners, in a way."

"Partners? With Snape?" Fred immediately looked put off, whereas George seemed far more receptive to the idea. "I'm not working with that git, let alone becoming his partner!" Poor choice of words, Ron… Really poor choice. Don't underestimate how much everyone despises Professor Snape.

"How much will he pay us?" George asked, much to his twin's shock.

"George! What the hell?!"

"You can work out the details with him yourself," Ron replied, giving George a nod of approval. "This is a big opportunity, George. Professor Snape has a lot of pull in the Potioneering business, and you two will go much further with his 'seal of approval' than without it."

"They don't need his approval, though," Johnson spoke up, whereas Spinnet just sat there in silence. "They figured it out, and he's the one asking them for their help." Why is she interrupting a conversation between brothers? What? She's suddenly a part of their enterprise because she sucks off Fred?

"He's giving them an opportunity to work with him, and it's not a bad deal," Ron said, before drawing in a deep breath. Calm, Ron. Remain calm. No need to get worked up so easily. They are a 'couple', and she's only looking out for him in her own way. Ignore her, and focus on convincing the twins, instead. "Look, you can take it, or, you can leave it. I would recommend taking it, but, in the end, it's your decision. Just know that Professor Snape is only asking because he's very busy at the moment, and if you refuse him, he'll take the time to figure out your recipe on his own. He's beyond brilliant when it comes to Potioneering. You two are good, yes, but you're not on his level. It's only a matter of time before-"

"Not on his level?" Fred frowned deeply, as did Johnson. "We made this recipe in our spare time, mind you. If we decided to focus on potions alone, we'd run him out of business within a year." He's not serious, is he? That's not only arrogant, it's actually stupid. Johnson gave a firm nod of approval, whereas Spinnet quietly shook her head. "What? You think we can't, Alicia?"

"Why would you want to?" she asked in response, and they all looked to her. "I mean, what would be the point? You two don't want to brew potions for a living, but you also deserve the credit for that recipe. Why not just work with him, get paid, and then, get on with your lives?" Finally! Some sense! I don't know how this turned into a discussion, but, at least, there's one person here with a fucking brain between their ears. "What do you think, George?"

"The deal sounds very favourable to me," George started, looking at Ron. "I'm guessing we have you to thank for that." The Slytherin shrugged in response. "Fred, think about it. We get paid a decent sum, we get recognition for our work, and, best of all, it would get mum off our backs." Huh? "She's been sending all those letters about our O. W. L.s, hasn't she? If we suddenly contribute to society in such a meaningful way, we'll get several weeks of peace from her nagging. Don't you want that?"

"Not enough to agree to work with that slimy pervert," Fred muttered, shooting Snape a look of disdain.

"That 'slimy pervert' has saved your brother's life on more than one occasion," Ron said, feeling vexed on Snape's behalf. "You don't have to like him, but show him some respect. I wouldn't be here without him." He then looked to George, giving him a stern look. "Aside from reaping a bunch of rewards for your work, you'd also be helping a lot of people. Professor Snape wants to sell those potions to St. Mungo's, George. You'd be helping patients like Tracey, one of my best friends."

"And people like your brother, who need something stronger than what's currently on the market," Spinnet added, giving Fred a meaningful look. "I don't like Snape any more than you do, he's always treating us like we're criminals, but this isn't really about him. It's about you two getting what you deserve, and helping a lot of people along the way. Angelina? You agree, right?"

"Well, when you put it like that… It's hard not to," Johnson sighed out, poking at her eggs with her fork. "Still… Working with Snape? Ugh… I can't even imagine…" That's because your only talent is handling large balls and phallus-shaped objects.

"We'd only have to do it once, right?" George asked Ron, who gave a nod. "Then, I think, we should take the deal, Fred. Starting our business down the line will be easier if people know our names in advance."

"…I suppose," Fred grumbled sourly, shooting another frown in Snape's direction. "When does he-?"

"Potions Club, this week," Ron interjected. "You'll be fine, Fred. Just show him the steps, and let George do the talking. Opportunities like this don't come often, so you should take them whenever they do." With that, Ron reached forward and took Fred's plate. "Now, breakfast-"

"Oi, I was using that!" Fred scolded, whereas George and Spinnet sniggered.

"Not anymore," Ron grinned, already piling sausages onto the plate. "You can share a plate with Johnson here. It'll be so romantic!"

"Or, you can go back to your own table," Fred suggested, while Johnson 'subtly' moved her plate to sit between them. This table, that table, every table… They are all mine, not that you could understand that.

"But, it's warmer over here," Ron maintained his grin, making George, Spinnet, and Johnson laugh due to his cheekiness. "And, I want to hear about your Quidditch victory."

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 5th May, 1994 (The Great Hall – Breakfast)

"Weasley, do you have to do that here?" Malfoy grumbled, moving his glass of pumpkin juice away from the redhead's books. "It's breakfast… And you're taking up too much space!"

"I have a mountain of work to get through, mate," Ron replied, not looking up from his copy of Intermediate Transfiguration. "The sooner I can get through it, the sooner I can go back to learning Magic that actually matters. I mean, honestly… Who the fuck cares about turning teacups into tortoises? Bloody hell… Mostly everything this school teaches means nothing out in the real world." Well, I can't see how turning teacups into tortoises would be useful for anyone, either.

"Why don't you just use your brother's notes?" Pansy asked, yawning.

"I already am, but I need references from this textbook," Ron sighed out, shooting a frown at said textbook. "Percy's notes are so much more detailed and to the point than this thing, but they don't always cover everything."

"What Spell are you writing the essay on?" Daphne asked, despite knowing that she would receive a curt, cold answer in response. "Is it the Felifors Spell?"

"Yes."

"Maybe, I can help?" Daphne offered, trying to find a way in. "I got an Exceeds Expectations on that one-"

"I don't need your help," Ron shut her down, causing there to be an awkward silence. …I see. "Exceeds Expectations… You think that's good enough for me, do you?"

Daphne stared at him with a blank expression, while the others continued their meals in silence. Ron was doing very little to hide his anger with her, and she was starting to get sick of it. Ever since he's been back, he's been treating everyone with respect and kindness… Everyone but me. He refuses to even look at me, and now, he just outright insults me every time I open my mouth… I said I was sorry, didn't I? Why couldn't he just accept my apology and move on? Why does he have to hold grudges? She looked to her other friends, not failing to notice that they were following in Ron's example and keeping their distance from her, including Pansy. I kept us together when he was away, but the moment he comes back, they all forget that. That's so unfair and cruel of them… And Pansy, she's the worst of the lot. He was right, she's just a follower who likes to be told what to do. Right before she left for that meeting with his alliance, she was telling me to get over him and to stop trying to please him, but a few kind words from him, and she's gone back to kissing his arse at every opportunity-…

The sound of Owls flying into the Great Hall interrupted her brooding, causing her to stress over another aspect of her life. I wonder if father found those Centaurs, yet. I hope so… And I hope he doesn't plan to go back on his word about letting me help him. Not only is this my chance to prove myself to him, but now, I need to see if Ron was right about me too… If I really am just some 'sheltered, privileged girl'…

"Daphne, you might want to look up," Pansy suddenly said, tapping her on the shoulder. What?

Daphne turned her blank gaze upwards, raising an eyebrow when she saw two different owls hovering over her head. One of them she recognized immediately, it was her father's personal owl, but the other one was a stranger to her. Both owls flew down and landed in front of her, staring up at her expectantly. Who sent this Great Grey Owl? I don't recognize it at all.

"Someone's popular," Theo chuckled, eyeing the Great Grey Owl. "That's a big bird… Who's it from?"

"I… don't know," Daphne replied, retrieving the two letters bound to its legs. "Who sent these, handsome? Where have you come from?"

The unfamiliar owl gave a loud hoot, promptly flying off without even asking for a treat for its service. That was strange. Putting the letters aside, Daphne broke up bits of her bacon and sausages, feeding them to her father's Eurasian Eagle-Owl. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Ron too was focused on the owl, no doubt having recognised it himself. What? My father can't owl me in your presence, now?

Once the owl was satisfied with its tribute, it presented its leg to Daphne, which had a thin note attached to it. Is this it? It has to be… He must've found them, and he's going to ask me to join him in approaching them. He has to… He promised me…

"Um… Daphne? What are you waiting for?" Pansy asked, and Daphne drew in a sharp breath.

Without saying a word, Daphne retrieved her father's note, and after a moment to collect herself, she opened it up and began to read.

I found them, dearest daughter. Come home this Saturday. Help me correct my mistakes.

Daphne let out a sigh of relief, her lips stretching into a wide smile. Her father had kept his word, and now, it was her turn to do the same. She would be by his side as the Greengrass family redeemed itself, as it proved people like Ron wrong about them once and for all. And, I'll finally prove to father that I am worthy of being his heiress! That he was wrong to put so much faith in an outsider, and not his own flesh and blood! Once I help him undo his mistakes, I will make sure that they are never repeated! Not by any Greengrass!

Still smiling to herself, she pocketed the note before turning her focus onto the other two letters. No seals? And I didn't recognise that owl, either… Who sent these to me? And why? She grabbed the letter on top, opening it up with a curious expression.

Dearest Lady Greengrass,

Forgive me for introducing myself to you in such a strange manner, but I am afraid that I have no other choice. My name is Eric Schwarz, I am the ward of Lord and Lady Maier, your grandparents on your mother's side.

Daphne stopped; her brow already furrowed. Eric Schwarz? Why is he sending me letters? I thought grandmother and grandfather decided not to go through with seeing Tori and I? That they were still ashamed of mother, and especially the man she chose to spend her life with?

"Daphne, who is it?" Pansy asked, staring at her. "Is it Millie?"

"No… It's someone from my mother's side of the family," Daphne answered, focusing on reading, again.

We were meant to meet each other in person, and I was looking forward to this occasion, but the Fates can be cruel in their designs. My father, your grandfather, did not know of our planned visit, as it was being planned by my mother and I as a means of reuniting with Lady Mary, and in doing so, freeing ourselves from Lord Maier's cruelty. (His cruelty? Grandfather is cruel?)

I will not waste any more parchment, even though I wish to get to know you better, for there is another letter that Balint must carry, and it is one of equal importance.

My mother and I wish to be free from Lord Maier, who has become a shell of a man in the last few years. He never forgave Lady Mary for humiliating him by marrying a foreigner he looked down upon, and his anger eventually lured him towards drink. He has become violent and paranoid, and too many times, I have had to endure his wrath when my dear mother could not. We are his captives, not his family, and I am afraid that, very soon, hurting us will not be enough for him.

Please, I beg you, take this letter to your honourable mother, and tell her of the deadly danger we face. Tell her that our mother wishes to bury the past, that she wishes to hold her granddaughters close to her heart, and that she wishes to be freed of her torment at the hands of a man she once loved and honoured above all.

Forgive me for burdening you this way, young Daphne, but I have no one else to turn to. You are the only hope of a mother and a daughter being reunited after many years apart, the only hope of us living a life not ruled by fear and violence.

I hope that we can speak face-to-face someday soon, but for now, this is all I can do without jeopardizing my mother's safety. I hope you understand my dire circumstances, and once again, I am sorry for burdening you so unjustly.

Your Uncle,

Eric Schwarz

Daphne blinked repeatedly, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. What did I just read? This can't be real, can it? And why would he send this letter to me, and not to mother herself? Wait… The other letter! What's it say?! Daphne looked to the thicker letter, quickly opening it up and going wide-eyed when she recognized the handwriting. Millie?!

Dear Daphne,

This is Millicent, in case my ugly handwriting didn't give it away immediately. (Millie! It's really you! You're all right!) I've been thinking about how to start this letter, and honestly, I can't think of anything except for the truth. I made a really stupid mistake, and now, I've been shipped off to Durmstrang by my parents. I know you must all be worried sick about me, but I am okay. It hasn't been easy, not one bit, but I am okay. I promise. (Thank you, Circe!)

Durmstrang is nothing like Hogwarts, and I miss all of you so much. I read that Tracey is awake, again, and I cried because I was so happy. I wish I could see her right now, but I know that I will one day soon, and that brings me a lot of comfort. I think about us all being together often, playing cards and having a laugh, and that's enough to get me through the day. I really, really miss you lot, even Malfoy. Please, take care of Tracey, I am still worried about her. It's impossible to get more information about her, and I don't trust the Daily Prophet to tell the truth.

I have managed to make a good friend here, already. Her name is Ruta Gorski, and without her help, I wouldn't have been able to send this letter to you. She's shy and small, but she's also sweet and very kind. I am truly glad I found her; she's made my new life a lot more bearable. You'd like her, I'm sure, she has a bit of Slytherin in her. Maybe, one day, we can all get together and I can introduce you to each other. I hope so, that would make her really happy.

This last part is for Ron, Daphne, so please, show it to him. (For Ron?)

Ron, you were right, and I was wrong. I am sorry I didn't listen. My parents are not who I thought they were. I wanted to believe in their innocence, even when they asked me to spy on you for them, but I understand now that my love for them was blinding me. I was being naïve and stupid, but you paid the price for my mistake well before I did. I know I caused you a lot of trouble. I know I nearly destroyed all your hard work. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I just want you to know that I know I made a mistake, and that I'm going to learn from it. That's what you would do, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to try and be better. Before you left Hogwarts, you promised that you'd still help me, but I don't want you to, anymore. I have to do this myself. I'm going to remain at Durmstrang, because Ruta needs me. (What?! NO!) The other students treat her terribly because she isn't like them, and I can't bring myself to abandon her. When I see her, I see how I used to be, and like me, she needs someone to care for her and believe in her. You taught me what real friendship feels like, and I want to teach her the same. I hope we see each other someday, so I can apologize properly. Please, take care of your health, and don't stress over me. I will be okay.

Daphne, tell the others I love them and miss them, and tell Pansy that she will always be my best friend. I can't send any more letters, because I am being watched, nor can I receive them. I am sorry, but I have to be careful from now on. I can't make another mistake, not when Ruta needs me at her side. Also, Balint should have another letter for you. Read it, and please, help Schwarz. He has been very kind to me, and I believe everything he's told me.

I love all of you,

Millicent

Daphne dropped her hands, letting them land with a dull thud as she stared ahead. I can't believe this… She's going to stay there? For some girl she just met? This is-… No, we have to get her back! She's all alone up there, and the things I've heard about that school… She can't stay there!

"What did those letters say?" Theo asked, and she realized that they were all staring at her. "You've gone pale, Daphne… What did you just read?"

"It's um-…" Daphne felt her throat tighten, holding the letter up for Ron. "…It's from Millie…"

"Millie?!" Pansy gasped, while the others went wide-eyed. "Let me see that, please! Is she okay?! Did she tell you where she is?! Give it to me!"

Ron, however, merely cocked an eyebrow, taking the letter before Pansy could snatch it. He read through it silently, his expression giving away nothing. As he neared the end, his lips quirked upwards, and he nodded to himself before handing the letter to Pansy, who all but ripped it out of his hand.

"Good on her," Ron said simply, returning to his essay. Good on her? Good on her… Really?! That's all you have to say! What's wrong with you?!

"She wants to stay in Durmstrang, Ron!" Daphne exclaimed; she couldn't fucking believe him.

"She does?" Theo asked, whereas Blaise groaned tiredly. "Why?!"

"Merlin's Beard…" Blaise muttered under his breath. "What's gotten into her, now?"

"She's not thinking clearly," Daphne explained, glaring at Ron, now. "She's doing this out of guilt! Guilt that he's partly responsible for-!"

"This again, huh?" Ron looked up, frowning. "Did we read the same letter? She made it very clear that she's made a new friend who's in trouble, so she wants to look after her. She's trying to do right by someone else, and in the process, figure out who she wants to be. That takes bollocks, Daphne, and I'm proud of her. So, I'm going to respect her wishes-"

"Respect her wishes?!" Daphne nearly laughed, despite feeling her blood boil. "Since when do you respect people's wishes, Ron?! Since when do you do anything aside from what benefits you the most?!" Isn't it just so convenient that you're using her guilt to get out of helping her?! Just admit it, you're still furious with her and you want to punish her some more! Stop lying and manipulating things, and just tell the damn truth! You hate being challenged, and you want to hurt anyone who dares to do so!

"I'm trying to not be a 'control-freak', anymore," Ron's jaw clenched up, his voice barely audible. "I'm trying very hard to let things run their own course when it comes to my friends, because I thought that's what you lot wanted."

"I want you to care, Ron! Like you used to! Before you turned into a mean-faced statue!" Daphne argued, and the other boys immediately frowned at her. "What?! I'm talking to him, not you!"

"You sound just like your sister, now," Malfoy pointed out icily, making her blink. "Weren't you ready to smack her down because she spoke to Weasley in that exact same tone?"

"Show some respect, Daphne," Blaise warned her, the dangerous glint in his eyes intimidated her somewhat. "You and he are not equals-"

Ron raised his gloved hand, stopping the other boys short. "…It's fine, you guys. There's no point in fighting over this. No matter what you say, she'll just keep finding reasons to blame me for everything wrong in her life." He then focused on Pansy, drawing in a deep breath. "Tell them what Millie wrote, Pansy. Read it for them."

Pansy swallowed thickly, giving a shaky nod before reading the letter for everyone. They all listened quietly, and as Daphne went over Millie's words in her head, she felt even more certain that she was right. Millie was clearly still feeling overwhelmed by her guilt, and so, she was trying to be like Ron just to alleviate said guilt. She's known this Ruta girl for what? A few weeks? And she's willing to put herself through years at Durmstrang for her? I don't buy that for a second!

"Bloody hell, what a terrible time for her to start being noble," Theo sighed out as Pansy finished, shaking his head. "Still, it sounds like something she would do…"

"…I can't believe this," Pansy whimpered, looking ready to break into tears. "She's not coming back, is she?"

"We'll figure something out," Daphne promised, but Pansy didn't look convinced. "I'll figure something out, Pans, I promise."

"You mean, you'll go against her wishes because you think you know better," Ron said icily, making her cringe a little. It's not like that at all!

"This is different from what you do, Ron," she huffed in indignation, frowning deeply. "I want to help my friend, whereas you want to control yours."

Ron just stared at her, and then, without uttering another word, he started packing up his parchments and textbook. Oh, outstanding! Run away! That's what you do now, isn't it?!

"Ron, mate… You didn't even eat anything," Theo tried, making Daphne roll her eyes as Blaise and Malfoy glared daggers at her. "We're all surprised by this, and tempers run hot when people are-…"

"I don't need this," Ron growled, stopping him short. "I made it clear that I don't want to keep lecturing you lot, nor do I want to fight you. Do whatever you like, just leave me out of it."

And just like that, he stormed off, leaving them to continue his work in the common room. Daphne glowered at his receding back all the way until he turned the corner, before looking back to the others. The boys were just staring at her, all three of them looked annoyed down to their very cores. Oh, I'm sorry for upsetting your Lord and Master. Now, you can't kiss his arse, I suppose.

"She's our friend, and he's willing to abandon her because she dared to question him," Daphne said simply, but the stares persisted. "…You're all on his side, as usual, but I'm right. He's still out to punish her, just like he's punishing me-"

"If you want to help Millicent, then help her," Blaise interjected, sounding genuinely pissed off. "Why does he have to do it? And what's this about him punishing you? What? Because he's not bending over backwards to please you, that gives you the right to be a pain in his arse? You and Astoria… You're exactly the same… Spoiled and entitled down to your toes-"

"Are you done?" Daphne asked coldly.

"You keep pushing him, and you'll be done," Blaise threatened, glaring murder at her. "You think I won't hit you because you're a girl, is that it?" …What? "Try me, go on." …You wouldn't dare…

"Blaise, stop it," Theo warned, letting out a long sigh. "Both of you, knock it off. Daphne, leave Ron alone, all right? And you, Blaise… Stop making threats like that, it's not helpful in the slightest."

"…Stop fighting…" Pansy added, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "…Millie wouldn't want to see us like this."

"Judging by that letter, she won't be seeing us anytime soon," Malfoy quipped under his breath, before returning to his breakfast.

Daphne glared at Blaise, who glared right back. "Whatever… Be his bootlickers, all of you, I don't care. I'm going to help Millie, with or without 'King Weasley'." Millie, Schwarz, my father, the Centaurs… I'll help them all, and I'll do it without the help of my 'friends'. I don't need them. I'm a Greengrass, and as father always says, our strength is unrivalled! I'll prove those words true!

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Wednesday 5th May, 1994 (Potions Classroom – After Classes)

She had missed the Potions Club more than she cared to admit. It was a privilege to be a part of it, especially because she got to try her hand at more difficult potions without her grades being affected. Today, she was working on the Mandrake Restorative Draught, the very potion that had saved her from her petrification last year. And not just me, but my potion partner too.

Hermione shot him a subtle look, he was stirring the potion with absolute focus, something that she couldn't help but appreciate. His fight with his friends this morning was something most of the Great Hall had witnessed, but none had the courage to speak of it, especially not near him. Yes… Even the Gryffindors had become fearful of him, especially after he had brutalized his opponents in the A-Ranked Tournament without breaking a sweat. His own brother included. Still, the Spells he used… They were all so amazing. His Wandless Magic puts him miles ahead of everyone else-…

"Hermione, I can feel you staring at me," Ron said, shooting a glance back at her. Damn!

"I wasn't staring," Hermione lied, looking ahead with a creeping blush. "How's the potion coming along? Is it almost done?"

"I just have to keep stirring," Ron shrugged. "And, yes, you were staring. It's okay, though. I get it."

"Get what?" she asked, looking back to him.

"You're still angry with me, and I can't blame you," he shrugged, again. "I'm still sorry, in case you're wondering. I shouldn't have been such an arse to you."

"Yes, you shouldn't have," Hermione nodded her agreement. "But that's not why I was staring-…" she froze, her eyes growing wide. I just admitted to staring at him! No! I'm so stupid!

Ron's lips quirked upwards, and he shot her a rather vexing smirk. "The truth comes out-"

"Shut up," Hermione warned, feeling hot in the face.

"Sorry," he chuckled, shaking his head to himself before returning to his task.

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, all the while scolding herself internally for not thinking her words through. "You've been quiet, today."

"I don't have much to say," Ron returned. "You've been quiet too."

"I don't have much to say, either."

"That's fair enough," Ron smiled a little. "Quiet is nice. I like quiet."

"Me too."

"But, if you have something to say, you shouldn't keep it in," Ron advised. "The weak-willed remain silent, and that's not you."

"I'm not so sure about that, anymore," Hermione admitted, and he looked back to her. "…It doesn't matter. Ignore what I just said-"

"You and I are the only third years here, Hermione, and it's not because of dumb luck," he pointed out, giving her a stern look. "You're a brilliant witch, and I'm sure that soon enough, everyone who doubts you will be forced to eat their words."

She blinked, taken aback by his confidence in her. "…You think so?"

"I know so," Ron gave a firm nod, smiling lightly. "Just don't become one of the people who doubt you, and you'll be fine." He's right… I'm just really overwhelmed with all my subjects, but I'm still getting the highest grades in all of them. And, sure, I lost to Malfoy, of all people, but he had Ron training him, and I got disqualified for biting off more than I could chew.

"You're acting more like yourself, again," Hermione pointed out.

"Am I?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I think so," she replied, smiling nostalgically. "I'm sorry about your friend, Ron. The one who passed away, I mean. Really sorry. I can't imagine how terrible and painful that must've been." I don't like how you behaved, but I can understand it. You were hurting, and people don't act like themselves when they're in pain.

He visibly tensed at the mere mention of his deceased friend, but eventually, he gave a weak nod. "…Thanks."

"Ginny thinks the same, by the way," Hermione added. "About you acting more like yourself, that is. She's been over the moon since you came back."

"She has, hasn't she?' Ron looked pleased, his shoulders relaxing.

"She told me that you're going to teach her and Luna Spells this Saturday," Hermione smiled, glad that Ginny and he were getting along, again. "She's so excited! It's really adorable!"

"She won't be so excited after a couple of sessions, I assure you," Ron chuckled. "I'm a bit demanding, honestly, but it's the only way I know that works. The only way to get results is to push yourself to your limits."

"My parents would agree with you," Hermione told him. "And, honestly, I do too."

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow, something flashing behind his blue eyes. What's with that look? "You know, I remember making you a promise regarding Wandless Magic. Before I took a break from my schooling, that is. Why don't you come with Ginny? I can help you get started, at the very least." Really?! He remembers his promise to me?! No, I can't-… Oh, but I want to! But Ginny… She wants to spend more time with him… But imagine what I could learn from him! But Ginny's my friend, and I can't get between her and her brother-… "What's wrong? You look constipated, all of a sudden."

"Constipated?" she frowned deeply. "That's really rude, Ronald." I still don't find that joke funny!

"You were right, I am definitely acting more like myself," he grinned, looking far too happy with himself. Prat… "Seriously, though, the offer is for real. Wandless Magic might save your life one day, so you should consider it."

"Save my life?" Hermione blinked.

"You're Harry Potter's best mate, and the Dark Lord is still out there," Ron reminded her, becoming deadly serious. "You'll be a target someday, and you're smart enough to know that." …He's right, again… But I don't care about being a target. Harry's my friend, and I won't turn my back on him. He's going to need me.

"I don't want to take advantage of your goodwill, Ron," Hermione started, deciding to accept the offer, after all. "But, thank you. I accept. And, in return, I'll help you with your homework. It's only fair, right?"

"My homework?" Ron blinked.

"The homework you have to catch up on," she said knowingly. "I'll help you with it, but you'll have to join me in the library. I'm there mostly every day, and I can point you in the right direction without you having to stress too much about which books you'll need for the essays."

Ron studied her for a few moments, and then, he gave her a very strange smile. "We have a deal, then. You help me, and I'll help you."

"Good… That's perfect," Hermione swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Again, what's with that look? Also, I'm surprised he accepted my offer without any back-and-forth. I thought he was the proud sort, but I guess, I was wrong…

"I'll join you tomorrow, if that's all right with you," Ron hummed, looking back to the potion. "…This will be fun." Okay, then…

"Yeah, sure… Tomorrow, then."

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 5th May, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Dinner)

"Molly said that Arthur was the one who wanted to cancel our dinner?" Sebastian broke the silence, but his wife ignored him. "Mary? Did you hear me? I asked you a question-"

"He has to work late, she said," Mary replied coolly, shooting him a withering glance across the table. She's sitting as far away from me as possible… I'll be sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms, again, it seems. "The Ministry is struggling, according to her, and they need every man, including Arthur." For what? He works in an Office that barely anyone recognizes, or, respects. What would they need from him, exactly?

"…I see," Sebastian frowned to himself, wondering if Ron was behind this. It's only a matter of time before he comes after me… All the people he's killed, I can't take any risks with him. I may have to set up assurances against him as soon as possible-…

"You're not taking my daughter to that camp," Mary interrupted his thoughts. "I won't let you destroy her innocence-"

"She is almost fourteen, and I made her a promise," Sebastian felt his temper spike. "I get that you're upset, but you don't question me. I am your husband, and you will show me the respect I am due."

"You are the reason why our friends are abandoning us," Mary hissed, her face twisting from anger. "Your mistakes are going to undo us, Sebastian, and now, you want to flaunt those mistakes in my daughter's face?!" What does she mean by 'my daughter'? Am I not her father?! Am I not the one who raised her on my own through a fucking war?!

"I'm trying to fix my mistakes-"

"Then, fix them on your own!" Mary shouted, slamming her hand on the table. "Why does Daphne have to be there?! Those Centaurs… They want you dead, Sebastian, and you're marching my daughter into their camp?! Have you gone mad?!"

"Our daughter," Sebastian sneered, he was at his limit with her never-ending anger. "Aren't you the one who's been telling me to give her more attention? To show her that I love her and see her as my heir?! She came to me, Mary, and if I had turned her away, I would have lost her!"

"So, you decide to fix one mistake by committing another?! Daphne is not ready to see such horrors! What you did to those Centaurs… Jürgen's told me how they're being forced to live, what they've endured since you drove them off their ancestral lands… She will be left disturbed and shaken forever!" You think I don't know that?!

"Then, what am I supposed to do?!" Sebastian barked, slapping his glass of wine clear across the room. "Go back on my word?! Break her trust in me?! Let that damn boy poison her against me?! Just as he's poisoning others?! You think him asking you politely to stay out of his life was a form of respect?! That he still cares for you?! He's trying to divide and conquer us! I fucking taught him how to do it!"

"That 'damn boy' was like a son to us, and you betrayed him," Mary said, revulsion lacing her every word. "And I can't understand why… I just can't…" Because you don't know him like I do! You haven't seen his real face, but I have! He's a monster, and he hates people like us! I had no other choice! Not with my past crimes waiting to be found! "You're a coward, Sebastian… Damn you for doing this to us."

With that, Mary stood up and walked away, leaving him alone in the grand dining room. Sebastian grabbed the bottle of wine, uncorked it, and took a long swig, before sinking into his chair defeatedly. She was right, he knew she was, but her coldness was starting to drive him over the edge. They had never been at odds with each other like this before, and he was certain that it was only a matter of time before she packed up her trunks and left him. …If she tries to take my daughters from me, I'll kill her… I'll fucking-… Damn it all to hell!

He felt his heart twist painfully, and so, he took another swig. …I'm a fool. I acted out of fear, and this is the result. I've lost Ron, I'm losing Mary, and soon enough, I will lose my daughters. Mary's right… Daphne is not ready to see what I've done, but she's adamant about doing so, because she is as kind-hearted, and as stubborn, as her mother. Even if I turn her away, now, she'll find some other way to see those Centaurs. She wants to help them, whereas I just want to-… Honestly, I don't know what I want… Am I only doing this to absolve myself of this new-found guilt? I never gave those half-breeds-… those Centaurs any thought until recently, not until Ron made me start questioning myself. Am I doing this for him? To win him back? Isn't that just pathetic… He's never going to forgive me, because I taught him that forgiveness and mercy are a weakness. He will come for me, because that's what I taught him to do whenever someone wronged him. I made the very monster who's going to devour me.

He took another swig, feeling utterly spent. Mary's right… I'm a coward, and my cowardice has finally caught up to me… It's over… If Ron doesn't kill me, then those Centaurs will… I am undone, and the only thing I can do now is to make sure that Daphne and Astoria don't make my mistakes… All I can do is ensure that my family survive long after me…

---

Gaspard's POV

Wednesday 5th May, 1994 (Riddle Manor – Late Night)

The moment he stepped through the fire; the familiar, metallic smell of blood found him. It was overwhelming, even for blood-starved beast like him, which swiftly put Gaspard on high alert. Antonin! Don't tell me he finally took the bait I left him, but I missed it because I was feeding those damn Dementors!

Brandishing a pair of freshly-sharpened daggers, the Blood-Lord began moving through the run-down manor with the grace of a cat. Swift but cautious, Gaspard made his way to the top floor, finding the first of Bulstrode's men face-down close to the stairs, a trail of blood indicating that he had attempted to crawl towards safety before bleeding out. Gaspard turned the body over, his lips quirking upwards when he saw that the poor wretch's eyes and tongue had been extracted with surgical precision. The Alchemist's handiwork, no doubt. At last, I see it for myself, and it is as impressive as I imagined. The tongue… He pulled the entire thing out. Why? Why kill this man in such a way?

Feeling his excitement and curiosity rise in equal measure, Gaspard continued onwards. The next body he found had its torso split open down the middle, and after a small investigation, Gaspard discovered that this one was missing its heart and kidneys. The next one was missing its entire stomach, and the one after that was missing its lung, and the next its liver. Whatever Antonin was doing to these men, it was beyond even Gaspard's understanding. Why was he harvesting their organs? What purpose did such ritualistic murders hold? Whatever his reasons, I can't wait to find out what he's up to! I was growing bored of his constant silence, so I left him fresh meat to stir him back to life. It worked, by the looks of it, and it worked better than I could have hoped!

He stopped before Antonin's room, he could already hear a pair of feet shuffling about inside, and as he unlocked the door, he heard them go still. The smell of sweat, blood, piss, and shit hit him like a train as soon as he pushed the door open, nearly stunning the Blood-Lord due to his greatly heightened senses, but through sheer will alone, he persevered and stepped into the room.

"You finally left your room, I see," Gaspard grinned, spotting the tall, pale form of Antonin standing behind one of Bulstrode's men, who was sitting perfectly still in an old chair.

Gaspard studied the sitting man, realizing that he was under the Imperius Curse and free of any injuries, unlike his fellow mercenaries, who were scattered around the room, their bodies broken and bloodied. He… didn't harvest them? No, he just killed them outright. Why? What exactly is he doing? Gaspard's eyes eventually landed on Antonin's bed, and what he saw shocked even him. Antonin had laid out the harvested eyes, tongue, and organs in anatomical order, as if he were trying to create an entirely new human being from the parts of those he had recently harvested. How deliciously twisted… What horrific magnificence! What could drive a man to do such a thing to another? He's not a man at all, is he? He's a monster… A perfect, beautiful monster!

"Antonin? Can you hear me?" Gaspard called out, but the Dark Wizard ignored him, measuring the sitting man's skull with a blank expression.

And then, much to Gaspard's amusement, Antonin traced his wand across the upper region of the man's head in a circular motion, leaving behind a trail of red. The man whimpered and moaned, but the pleasant smile on his face never wavered, not even as Antonin took a hold of his hair and pulled the top of his skull off, revealing his brain. Ah, of course. The most vital organ of them all. Gaspard's eyes glowed orange as Antonin extracted the entirety of the man's brain with a flick of his wand, levitating the fluid-dripping organ over to his bed as if it were a holy object, and placing it at the top of his handiwork like a crowning jewel. Oh, Voldemort… Where you did you find all these magnificent creatures?

"Clay," Antonin rasped out his first words to Gaspard, turning his head slightly in the Vampire's direction. "Bring. Me. Clay."

"Clay?" Gaspard smiled from ear-to-ear, revealing his fangs. "How much do you need?"

"…Enough to mould a man…"

Gaspard bowed his head in respect, before turning on his heel and walking away from the skeletal, long-haired Russian. What fun I shall have watching these Loyalists, and their Master, bring the world to its natural order. A world where the strong feast upon the weak. An honest world. A world which Hecate always envisioned for us. This will be my legacy… In my final moments, I will be the one to witness Hecate's will made reality!

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Culo es Culo!