June 1945

Tom flipped through his diary aimlessly, staring out the window of his new room at Borgin & Burkes. It was smaller than the Slytherin boys' dorm at Hogwarts but that fact was more than compensated for by the fact that he was blissfully alone in this new room. He looked down at his diary, feeling the piece of his soul he had torn off and placed inside of it pulsating beneath his hands. The feeling was disturbing and aggravating all at once.

Merlin, he had to get rid of this wretched thing before it drove him crazy.

The sound of the doorbell in the shop below made him jump and he snapped the book shut. He looked towards the door, annoyed that someone would ring the doorbell this late. It was already dark outside and the shop had been closed for an hour. Still, Mr. Burke would not be pleased if he somehow missed an important collector simply because they came outside of business hours.

With a sigh, Tom shoved the book in his drawer and left his room. He descended the stairs and walked through the dusty shop to the front door. In the gloom outside, he could just barely make out a familiar face through the glass of the door. Tom grit his teeth. If he'd known the visitor was Emeritus Lestrange, he would not have bothered to come downstairs.

"Lestrange." He said, opening the door. "It's late."

"I know." Emeritus said quickly, fidgeting nervously. "I'm sorry. I just- well it's urgent."

"Urgent enough that it can't wait until morning?" Tom asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Well, no, but I work tomorrow and...wait!" Emeritus cried, holding out his palm to stop Tom from slamming the door in his face.

Tom raised an eyebrow, truly irked now. "Well spit it out!" He snapped.

Emeritus swallowed, his face pale. "I need you to kill someone for me." He whispered.

Tom blinked, certain he had misheard. "You what?" He snapped, lowering his voice and looking from side to side out into the dark street beyond. He couldn't see anyone but that didn't mean someone wasn't listening.

Emeritus noticed his gaze and looked around himself too. "Can I come in?"

Tom hesitated for just a second and then nodded curtly, letting the boy inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it before gesturing for Emeritus to follow him into the back room. He waved his wand and light flooded into the room, illuminating rows of shelved artifacts.

"Explain." He snapped, rounding on Emeritus.

"Okay, okay." Emeritus said, holding up his hands. "I'll explain. I will."

Tom raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. Emeritus drew in a shaky breath and then let it out.

"So you know how I told you my sister died when she was 8 years old?" He asked, and Tom felt his heart stop beating.

"Well that was a lie." Emeritus said. "We just gave her up for adoption. She was a squib so we dropped her off at a Muggle orphanage."

Tom grit his teeth, fighting to keep his face impassive. "What about it?" He asked sharply.

"Well..." Emeritus said. "She's come back."

This time, Tom could not keep the shock off his face. "What do you mean come back?"

"She's come back to the wizarding world." Emeritus said. "She's working at Priya Treadwell's shop doing Merlin knows what. Probably trying to find us. Which would be bad. Very, very bad-"

"Why would it be bad?" Tom snapped, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Because she killed my father!" Emeritus cried.

Tom stared at him, his mind momentarily scrambled.

"She poisoned him when she was only 8 years old." Emeritus continued. "He never loved her because she was a squib and so she killed him. That's why we had to get rid of her. She was a monster. We put a memory charm on her so that she would be unable to remember anything to do with us."

"Wait, hold on." Tom said, holding up a hand, his mind reeling. "You're saying your sister murdered her own father at the age of 8?" He repeated.

"Yes." Emeritus said, the desperation in his voice leading Tom to conclude he really believed that.

"Did you see her poison him?" He asked.

"No." Emeritus said. "Mother just told me she confessed afterwards."

"Did she confess to you?"

"No."

Tom eyed the boy coldly, a sour taste in his mouth. "And now you want me to kill her?" He asked.

"I need you to." Emeritus said. "She might have found a way to remove the memory charm. She might be coming for us. And even if she's not...if anyone were to find out that she was a squib..."

"Well now that would truly be a fate worse than death." Tom sneered, rolling his eyes.

"Mother will pay you." Emeritus said quickly. "1000 galleons."

Tom raised an eyebrow. Did these wealthy purebloods really think they could buy him that easily? Did they think he was some kind of hired assassin? Or just poor and depraved enough to take this kind of deal?

"Why me?" He asked, eyeing Emeritus sharply.

Emeritus faltered under his gaze. "Well you...you have experience with- with this kind of thing."

Tom's jaw clenched. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell the Knights of Walpurgis he had killed Myrtle Warren. It had seemed to be the best move at the time. Explaining the truth, that her death had been an accident, would have made him lose credibility. Telling them he had intentionally murdered her with a Basilisk...well they had been twice as scared of him after that.

"I'm not interested in ending up in Azkaban or having my soul sucked out by a dementor." Tom said.

"But you won't get caught." Emeritus said, his eyes lighting up. "You've done it before and you passed it off as someone else's fault. You can do it again-"

"1500 galleons." Tom interrupted.

Emeritus faltered, his mouth opening and then closing. "I will have to ask mother-"

"Take it or leave it now." Tom snapped. "Otherwise I'm out."

"Fine." Emeritus said, shaking his head. "Sure. Okay. 1500 galleons."

"Payment up front." Tom said. "I will not touch her until I get it."

Emeritus nodded. "Of course. Thank you. I'll get you your money-"

"Oh one more thing." Tom said, feigning ignorance. "I'll need a name and a photo."

"Right, of course." Emeritus said, rummaging around in his coat pocket and pulling out a photo of a girl. He handed it to Tom, and Tom looked down at it. The girl in the photo smiled up at him, cutting up wormtails for a potion. Tom felt goosebumps run up his arms that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Amelia Lestrange was her name at birth." Emeritus said. "But when we dropped her off, we called her Amy Benson."

Finally finished cleaning up, Amy locked the door to Priya Treadwell's potion shop behind her. The sun was beginning to set, casting red and gold hues across Knockturn Alley. She stepped out onto the cobblestones, beginning the short walk to the tiny apartment she had rented. She looked around herself, still unused to seeing magic used so openly.

For the past 10 years, the wizarding world had been nothing but a series of chopped up memories. Glimpses here and there; tiny clues that seemed to lead nowhere. A door, a hat, a shop that sold ice cream. Owls and the feel of a smooth potion bowl. The smell of the robe shop, a flower blooming out of thin air, and food appearing on the plate unprompted.

And yet now, the wizarding world was in front of her; real and tangible. It was the past come back to life.

Amy rounded a corner and entered the alley that led to her apartment. She walked through the gloom to a stairwell and then ascended it to the upper floor of the building. Putting her key in the lock, Amy unlocked the door and stepped inside. She closed it and then turned on the light, a scream escaping her mouth.

"Relax." Tom sneered, his lips quirking in amusement. "It's just me."

Amy stared at him, struggling to remember how to breathe. "Jesus, Tom!" She cried, her hands shaking. "What in the actual hell are you doing in here? Did you break in here?"

Tom shrugged. "You know you really should have had someone put some protective enchantments on your door. You do know locks don't keep wizards out, don't you?"

"Well I assumed that people wouldn't purposefully break into my room!"

"And that was your first mistake." Tom said.

Amy rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here? And how did you even find me?"

"I was sent to kill you." Tom said and Amy blinked, uncomprehending.

"Right." She said, rolling her eyes. "Answer the question, Tom."

"I did." He said, raising an eyebrow. "I was sent here to kill you."

Amy felt a chill run down her spine. "You're messing with me."

Tom snorted and reached down to pick up a novel she'd left on the table. He flipped through it disinterestedly. "Why did you come here?" He asked.

Amy swallowed, not wanting to get into this again with him. "I told you before." She said sharply. "I want to find my family. Figure out why so many of my memories have been erased. Figure out what happened."

"But you know what happened." Tom said, snapping the book shut. "You were abandoned because you were a squib."

"But if that's all it was, why erase my memories?" Amy asked.

Tom considered her for a moment, his dark eyes boring into her until she started to feel a tug on her mind.

"Stop that." She snapped.

Tom snorted, looking around the room, his dark eyes cold and impassive. "You're not a murderer." He said, as if to himself.

Amy blinked. "I'm sorry am I missing something?"

Tom looked back at her. "Apparently so." He said. "You're missing the memories that could prove your innocence. That could, most likely, prove the guilt of someone else."

"What the hell are you talking about Tom?" Amy demanded, beginning to really get fed up.

Tom looked her up and down and then his gaze settled on her face. "I really was sent here to kill you."

By the time Tom finished his long explanation, Amy's face was white as a sheet and she looked ready to collapse.

"I'm a murderer?" She muttered, her hands shaking at her sides.

"I highly doubt it." Tom snorted. "It's far more probable your family just pinned the death on you and then faked your death as a way of covering up whoever really killed your father."

"But we don't know that." Amy protested, shaking her head.

"I would be willing to bet my 1500 galleons you've never harmed a fly." Tom said, rolling his eyes.

Amy's head snapped up to look at him, fear flickering behind her eyes. "Why haven't you killed me then?" Amy asked, bitterly. "If my family is promising you so much money, why haven't you done it yet?"

"Too far fetched to believe I'm not a murderer either?" He asked, and Amy rolled her eyes.

"For money, people will do anything." She replied darkly, crossing her arms.

"I think you mean Muggles will do anything." Tom corrected. "For wizards, magic is more powerful than money. It's magic that I would do anything for, not money."

"Yes, well maybe I did kill my father. Maybe I killed him because he had magic and I didn't. Maybe I-"

"Maybe, we should remove that block on your memories and find out." Tom interrupted.

Amy blinked. "You can do that?"

Tom shrugged. "I can try."

"Okay do it then." Amy said. "Restore my memory."

Tom sighed. "It's not that simple. I'll need to research it. I've never encountered this before."

"Why are you helping me?" Amy asked, annoyingly insistent on getting a straight answer on this question.

"Out of the goodness of my heart." Tom said, causing Amy to roll her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll still get my pay." He said. "I plan to fake your death to buy us some more time to remove the memory curse. Once we know what really happened to your father, we will hold some of the most valuable information in the wizarding world. Information people are willing to murder their own daughter over."

"So you just want collateral on the Lestrange family?" Amy asked, looking oddly disappointed. "That's why I'm still breathing?"

Tom heard a voice inside his head say no and quieted it. "Essentially." He said.

Amy let out a heavy sigh, turning away from him. "It was a mistake coming back here."

"I did tell you not to." Tom said, and Amy spun back around to look at him.

"That winter I came to ask for your help..." Amy said, slowly putting the pieces together. "You knew who my family was didn't you?"

Tom shrugged. "I had my suspicions."

In fact, he had discovered her heritage by accident some years before when searching from Emeritus's mind for an unrelated memory.

Amy's eyes hardened. "And you lied to my face." She ground out.

"I didn't lie." Tom said. "I told you not to go back to them. I told you they abandoned you because you were a squib. That was true and that was good advice."

"You knew I wanted to find them anyway!" Amy exclaimed, anger seeping into her voice.

"Yes, well, there is a difference between what people want and what's good for them." Tom said.

Amy glared at him. "You don't get to decide what's good for me."

Tom snorted. "I saved your life."

"And that, too, was out of the goodness of your heart, right?" Amy shot back, sarcastically.

Tom felt her words spark a tiny flame of anger inside of him but he swallowed it. "Of course."

Amy rolled her eyes, running hands through her hair.

"I could just go back to the Muggle world." Amy said, after a moment.

"You can't." Tom replied, annoyed she had not yet grasped just how much danger she was in. "They think you found a way to remove the memory curse. Now that you've shown you can and will come back to the wizarding world, they won't stop until they're certain they've silenced you forever. There's no going back. The only way out of this is through it."

Amy visibly shivered and then ran a hand through her hair. She began to pace, her anxiety palpable.

"Amelia Lestrange." Amy said, as if tasting out the way the name sounded on her lips. "It's not even a witch's name. It's as if they knew I wasn't one of them when they named me..."

"Don't be ridiculous." Tom replied, rolling his eyes. "If they'd known, they would have aborted you."

Amy winced but Tom refused to let her ignore the reality of the world. "This is how it is here." He snapped. "There's a hierarchy in the wizarding world and squibs are on the bottom. You knew this and you chose to come back anyway."

Amy glared at him. "Oh so I should just suck it up and deal with it then? Is that what you suggest?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "No." He said evenly. "You should make them pay."

Amy's expression softened ever so slightly. "Then let's get to it."