Focusing on the tranquil darkness before him, he began constructing the perfunctory barriers within his mind. Such were the routines of nighttime, tasks to be performed before bed. His natural-born capacity for Legilimency only exacerbated his desire to master Occlumency even more— the mind was such a vulnerable thing, so easily breached— and notwithstanding his distaste, well, study sessions with her in the past, he needed to construct a fortress in his mind. She can be overlooked. It was too much of a risk to leave himself so exposed. Other Auror departments, wayward gangs, congregations— surely, all of them needed a Legilimens.

It was actually why the Aurors were so happy to accept him among their ranks, his father included, he suspected. All those clandestine thoughts, the secrets, the intrigue… it all came so naturally to him. Septimus once joked that he was a real time-saver and hence budget cutter when it comes to interrogations. (What will they do now without him?)

Sure people can learn Occlumency but you needed to be a very skilled Occlumens and most were just not at that level of depth and dexterity. Plus as he grew older, his potency for worming his way into people's minds only increased. It took a long time— along with copious scolding from Scorpius — for him to acknowledge that simply snooping around people's thoughts was not a polite function. It took uncanny willpower for him to stop doing such a thing. Still, back in the day, Albus would frequently linger around the Mind Arts area of the Restricted Section to gain more understanding of his abilities. He was sure he had browsed through every single book it had to offer. After the basics, he moved on to complex illusions, which were more difficult to comprehend— but the results were fascinating.

Sitting before a chamber of lies, of illusions, manufactured out of figments in his mind, Albus gave the sight a brief pause. They were all there, his past regrets. The wrong was, however, righted. It was no longer so mangled and twisted. She was just a normal person— no psycho lineage, no nefarious plan, smiling so sweetly. Scorpius was there too, his best mate, the only person who could have fixed things. Scorpius was happy with them both, letting their children play on his lap and promising them ice cream. Their godfather. Albus would have named them Cassandra and Tristan, Delphi really did love those names. Or perhaps now. Perhaps he would go along with James' teasing and call them Elmer 1 and Elmer 2, respectability be damned. Okay maybe not. That was a tad ridiculous. Anyhow, they were all picnicking. Him, her, Scorpius, their children and little Terry — not so little now!— whom he never got to meet. Rose and Scorpius had, before all of them, mostly at Rose's insistence, made him little Terry's godfather. He briefly wondered if Scorpius would have minded but another whispered at the back of his mind and told him he was being a cynical dickhead and that Scorpius — whatever their disputes— loved him like a brother.

He wondered how little Terry was doing. He had gotten glimpses into the boy's life from Nigel's mind, but there were still questions. He knew the boy loved reading, much like his father, Al's best friend. He knew the names of all the Ministers of Magic, a pointless trivia, much like Scorpius. He liked to sing at times, very much like Scorpius. He liked candy, much like anyone sane. He—

Al shook his head. It was pointless speculating beyond this. It wasn't as if he'd ever garner the courage to face the boy, nor Rose, nor , nor—

Or perhaps he'd be able to glance at the boy, his supposed godson, surreptitiously, like so many of his correspondents. And he'd be able to learn a lot more about the boy.

("You can't detect everything, you can't predict everything, either. Sooner and later, you have to realize the limits of Legilimency," his father had chided him when he was 19, fresh out of Auror training. He was both the youngest and top of his graduate class— the wonders one can achieve if you actually tried hard at classes. Scorpius would scold and shudder and pester him about why he never bothered when they were still in school. "There are some things that aren't so simple to understand." Easy for his old man to say.)

Perhaps he should relent. Repent. Go back to his family. Admit his wrongs, his sins, and accept his prison sentence.—

No.

No way.

No way in hell.

~X~

Summer was waning but the beaches of Mallorca were still just as alluring and comfortable, still infested with rowdy British tourists. Hair dyed ice-blond— not his original intention, but some acquaintances persuaded him— skin tanned till golden brown and bright green eyes concealed with sunglasses, Albus Severus Potter gazed lazily at the ocean. The ebb and flow of the tides calmed his mind as the Sun soothed his skin.

He had been in Mallorca for 3 weeks. 3 perfectly relaxing, tranquil, uneventful weeks. He had pretty much earned that, or so Albus tried convincing himself. He had saved up enough money for a vacation ie the ability to be left the fuck alone.

He hoped nothing would disrupt him. Yet this was, indeed, a foolish feeling, for a young woman had shot a volleyball his way, which he quickly ducked with the dexterity of someone used to evading nasty hexes and curses. He picked it up from the beaches and handed it to her. "Yours," he said politely.

She blushed. His eyes met hers and he saw everything. A muggle woman and… was it… he thought he had glimpsed Lily in her thoughts. Lily! His own baby sister— it — was it her— She was British, lived in London with her friends, here in Mallorca with her friends… "Hi…" she uttered, "Would you like to join us?"

Sighing, he contemplated his options. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. It wasn't as if she'd be able to rat him out to the Magical Authorities, being a muggle and all of that. "Sure, why not?" He grinned back at her. She gave a tacit, inviting smile back.

~X~

Nigel pulled his friends into a hug after they got together on the Hogwarts Express. A long summer had passed between them and what a time it was! He got to play Quidditch with the rest of his family in the Burrow, visited France and saw his cousins Florian, Anais and Remus, frequented the Weasley joke shop and spent time learning how to cook with Mother and Father. He had gone to Karen's house with the rest of the gang for her birthday too.

Before he got on the train, dad had insisted that he pull SOME sort of prank this year. "Anything to get into trouble and lose house points!"

"You wish dad. Ravenclaw's going to beat Gryffindor this year!"

"Oh but House points are just a ploy to—"

"Nope, James dear, none of that nonsense in front of our son! Ignore your father, Nigel," Mother had interrupted and insisted. She kissed dad who jokingly pinched her cheek. Both of them then waited for him to board and stood with the rest of their kids. Andy was carrying his youngest brother Charles while the twins— who were growing so fast— bounced around.

So he approached his cabin with his friends, who had already amassed an impressive array of Sugar Quills, Mice Caramel and Chocolate Frogs, along with a large deck of cards. Card games then, so it would be. It would be a fun journey.

~X~

The year had got off to a mixed start. Truth to be told, Nigel really did crave the position of Seeker. He had trained hard for it. He had practiced with all of his family, who played it for leisure. Grandpa Potter had even praised him.

Serena offered the position to Yiannis instead. He got Chaser.

In truth, he should have been happy. It was rare for Second Years to get onto their House Quidditch teams: his father was the only Second Year player in the entire school and his mother had joined as a Third Year. His Grandma was famous Chaser back in her day and he always did love playing her, but even she only joined her Fourth Year. He, Yiannis and a Gryffindor girl— Charlotte — were the only Second Years that made it to their teams.

Plus, everyone on the Ravenclaw team— they were all praising his skills. Especially the captain and fellow chaser Serena. Yet they praised Yiannis even more. The boy was a natural and nimble beyond comparison. It made Nigel slightly jealous. Nonetheless, he tried wiping away all traces of envy, for he did not want such discontents to get in the way of their friendship.

"Nigel!" Yiannis called after him in the corridor. They were getting ready to head for Defense Against the Dark Arts and the hallways were hectic with students. It was strange seeing the First Years totter around and no longer being the youngest bunch around the block. "Nigel!"

"Yiannis!" Nigel greeted his friend as they got together, holding their bags and books. "What's the matter?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," Nigel said.

"About Quidditch, I… I hope you don't mind or aren't angry about me getting Seeker," Yiannis finally finished stumbling, feeling rather conflicted, "I—"

"Oh come on— I'm fine with it!" Nigel assured him but apparently, he didn't sound convincing enough.

"Are you sure?" Yiannis whispered quietly. The guy can be so nervous at times.

"Mmmm… I did want to be Seeker, okay, I'll admit," Nigel finally said, deciding that opting to be truthful was the best course, "And I am a little jealous. But I'll also be very happy— for you. No matter what happens, we'll be friends." Openness and transparency, not secrecy, was the best way of dealing with it among friends.

"Thank you… I, I didn't mean to imply—I know we'll always be friends," Yiannis said finally but Nigel could tell he was shy and hesitant about it.

Nigel smiled back. He wasn't 100% okay now but he knew he would be. And that was all that mattered.

Before they could hug each other, Conrad joined in and pulled them all into a group hug. Feeling left out, Karen chimed in too. Friends stick together.

~X~

Her name was Viola. She was an amiable person, very fun and kind at heart. She worked as a vet in Cambridge, but had family in London and Manchester. Away at Mallorca for a brief respite for the toils work, they have had a particular friends-with-benefits arrangement that both respected during the last few weeks.

Oh and she was also a muggle— but something about that was relieving. Unlike any wizard girl he might have stumbled upon for a one-night stand, she had no idea who he actually was. (Because unfortunately, being the most wanted wizard in England, he was rather notorious.) With her he could take on a fresh new persona. Well, no, it wasn't as if he was pretending, but in a sense, he was. She had no idea who he was and he did not attempt to acquaint her with it. This was a mere tryst that will soon fade into oblivion. He could read her thoughts— he knew she didn't think this was serious and he wasn't serious either. In time, they will part as friends on amicable terms.

But something else caught his eye when he glimpsed into her interior mind. It was his… his sister! Lily was with another guy she knew, a university acquaintance. Oxford. Both of them went there. Lily was dating again. Dating… a muggle? This was new development. Lily had — or so if rumors were to be believed— a rough dating life the past few years. Don was a substandard boyfriend, Albus always knew that and as much as he tried to be open-minded about his siblings' love lives, he knew Don. While not a bad person, Don really wasn't the most reliable type you'd want as your sisters' boyfriend. And perhaps he was feeling little protective, but it was nice seeing his sister with a normal guy who seems alright. Although he wouldn't judge too soon, their relationship was fairly recent — and it wasn't as if he had the most reliable record with the opposite sex.

~X~

Neil frowned at the case file in front of him, for the contents were indeed concerning. Violent activities in France were escalating. The underground criminal gangs were being more flagrant in their activities, hurling Unforgivables at each other in broad daylight, within a whisker's reach of muggles. There was a name — Cyril Duponte— that was hung around the lips of all the French Aurors who visited the British Ministry of Magic. Thomas had called him to a meeting, for Thomas was now his immediate superior that he would now report progress to — funny how things worked. (Although the guy had been very supportive and often offered help. ) They would discuss the situation in France during the meeting.

"Cyril Duponte has been reported on charges of necromancy," Marlene Wilson reported when they all met.

"Necromancy?!"

"But—"

"Inferi? Are we talking about Inferi?"

"No. Not Inferi."

"They say he has found the capacity to talk to the dead."

"They what?!"

"They suspect… they suspect actual cases of … resurrection, however flawed it may be."

"Resurrection? That's impossible!"

"Not completely," Head Auror Harry Potter finally uttered, answering the befuddled faces. There was something reticent, something grim about his expression, Neil thought, although he wasn't completely sure. "Not completely. My French counterpart has requested our help on this matter..."

~X~

Lily Potter stood in front of her father's office. They would be embarking on the same mission together to France. The French Auror office was very insistent on getting Harry Potter on the case, they even got the French Minister of Magic to perform a special diplomatic request to Aunt Hermione. Something the guy said must have convinced both Dad and Aunt Hermione to agree. But she was not here for work purposes. Not entirely.

"Come in Lily!" Harry called cheerfully. His eye-bags were visible — the result of a long night's work — but he still smiled beneath his glasses. He always found the chance to in front of his children.

"Dad, I—"

"How have you been?"

"Good, fitting in nicely. It's a change from St. Mungo's."

"I mean— yes. Yes, of course. I hoped my colleagues have been accommodating towards you."

Lily grinned. Her dad was doing his "awkward thing" — to paraphrase James— again. It was pretty funny. "They're very nice. Cynthia and I go out for drinks. Thomas is pretty cool. Peter's a friend, has been before I joined. Also, I'm err… I'm seeing Neil's roommate. Beginning stages of a relationship. " She almost giggled as she saw her dad blanch, slightly stunned, unsure about what to say. Mum was almost always better at things like this but James insisted that she tell dad before she brought Freddy over.

"And… and this Freddy… who —"

"He's… well, he's…"

"Is he… uh…"

"I'd like to bring him over for dinner sometime. We've been seeing each other for almost half a year. Oh and"— she finally found the right opportunity to mention—"he's a muggle."

"Does he know you're a witch?" Harry ventured.

"No. And errr… it would be nice if you and Mum would… would…"

"I grew up in the muggle world, you know."

"Yes but things have changed. I know we all follow the news but I would appreciate it if you guys didn't …"

"Didn't reveal ourselves just yet? I don't think Ginny and I are going to be your sources of woe."

"James and Claire are surprisingly well-adapted to all-things muggle. They're really fond of TV. Reality TV, in particular."

"So does your mother and grandpa Arthur."

"Oh dear."

~X~

"…AAAAND Ravenclaw has the Snitch! Fresh new recruit Yiannis catches the Snitch! What a game! What a day!" The commentator — Finius Grant — bellowed at the top of his lungs. Cheers erupted across the stands as the rest of the team, Nigel included, dismounted the broom and swarmed onto Yiannis. They tossed their teammate in the air and, euphoric, started to belch some tune.

Karen and Conrad waved at them from the stands. Grinning, Conrad gave them a thumbs up. Even Maggie was there, despite being in neither Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff, to support her cousin at his first game.

"Good game," Tim, the Captain of the Hufflepuff team, gave Serena a fist bump.

Indeed, it was a good game. Yiannis's catch may have been the highlight but Nigel and the other Chasers pulled a good run too, with Nigel himself scoring a decent hat-trick to the cheers of the crowd. He assisted Serena on a sensational counter-attack and then proceeded to score two other goals. Quidditch was just as fun as mum and dad said it would be.

~X~

"Necromancy? Necromancy?!" Morrison gasped as they headed towards the French Auror headquarters in Paris.

"Quiet!" Neil chided, casting a concerned and fleeting glimpse at the people around them. So far so good. "There are people around us!"

"No one's going to assume we're ACTUALLY talking about Necromancy right?"

"Morrison, please. Not now," Neil pleaded, hoping they were not drawing in too much attention.

The Auror Department of the British Ministry of Magic had dispatched a sizable task force to France for an urgent, highly classified task. Neil didn't have full clearance of knowledge but he knew that there was a strong possibility of it being related to recent news events about wizards and witches all over France witnessing dead people— their dead loved ones, especially. It was sowing fear, uncertainty, discontent and jealousy all over the country.

The diplomatic representative — he only glimpsed the man and his words briefly— the guy seemed genuinely distressed. More importantly, Head Auror Potter seemed even more worried. When they got into a room and discussed the classified details of the issue, Harry Potter himself immediately agreed to help his French counterparts out, which was normally a rarity.

Morrison, of course, was both intelligent and observant on the factual details and clues of the case, whilst being completely oblivious and insensitive to the necessity of the appropriate human reactions and emotions required to conduct oneself in the midst of it all. But Neil wouldn't have it any other way.

~X~

Neil usually hated eavesdropping. It was the uncouth behavior of misfits — something Lawrence, his much less responsible older brother, liked to do at times. More so in the past than the present. But this time, curiosity got the best of him. Morrison and Cynthia got to him. Plus, he didn't appreciate Thomas concealing what was clearly important information. So there they were, striving to glimpse words between their Head Auror, Thomas and his French counterparts.

"… The Stone… It can't be! I thought it was— it was just a myth!" A gasp from a French Auror.

"It thought it eez until Monsieur Potter here suggested ozerwise."

"Wait — what?" Thomas seemed befuddled.

"The Deathly Hallows," Head Auror Potter began explaining, "They're not quite mythology…"

Neil's brows furrowed as he listened to the conversation. The Stone was reported stolen by a highly skilled thief — could it be her? - and subsequently recovered by a prominent member of the Rosier family — perhaps he could consult with Calypso over her French relatives? - who was then surreptitiously assaulted, had their memory wiped, by one of Duponte's men. A convoluted story enmeshed in a convoluted web of lies, and concealments. There was a missing piece to this puzzle, many missing pieces to this puzzle, actually. It seemed a lot more complicated than initially appeared.

Evidence part one: the mythologized Resurrection Stone of the Second Peverell Brother, Cadmus, existed. It really was capable of communicating with the dead at least in some rudimentary form.

Evidence part two: said Stone was as defective as the old wives tale suggested. People could communicate with the dead, but not bring it back. Not quite.

Evidence part three: many people, multiple parties, are looking to get their hands on it.

Conjecture part one: Harry Potter knew something about this. The French representatives seemed desperate when they approached the British Auror Headquarters. More than that, the man himself seemed agitated after gaining an impression of the full picture.

Conjecture part two: the Stone was driving people mad, eating into their minds, and preying on their most forbidden desires. Once news of its existence spread throughout the underground, every criminal desired to get their hands on it, whether for selfish reasons of posing and scamming people with necromancy or genuine desire to see their loved ones once more. First came Cyril Duponte, notorious underground gangster— but it did not stop there. The man had somehow how found a way to acquire it. Then someone had taken it from him, likely hired by someone else. Social unrest, anxiety, hope, hopelessness… it consumed the French Wizarding World's Underground. Murder too— Duponte had repossessed the stone through a target assassination. The dead were meant to stay dead; such was nature's will. There were risks in tempering with life and death. A price to pay. The French authorities were panicking— they did not want the Wider French Wizarding World to find out about its existence, or indeed the Wizarding World in general. They also wanted to limit muggle sightings of increased wraiths floating around and murders committed in the name of the stone.

"Neil!" Cynthia's voice wrestled him out of his reverie. "Neil! Are you paying attention?"

"No," he replied."I— I was just contemplating on what they were discussing earlier."

"Yes, Neil, I'm just saying — according to books I've read," Morrison contemplated.

"Conspiracy theories…" Tobias chimed in.

"Not this time," Morrison declared with some bravado. "Though," he said as his eyes flitted around, "I wouldn't tell Lily about this just yet. Well, actually…"

"A reminder that no credible source has verified—"

"Let him talk, Tobias," Cynthia commanded.

"Well, there's this theory that none other than Harry Potter dropped the Resurrection Stone off at the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts."

"… And it didn't stay there?" Neil was a little skeptical.

"It's a theory alright, but the theory— according to anecdotal accounts, not really sourced, I know, but they say that he came into contact that that Stone and after an encounter with You-Know-Who in the Forbidden Forest, Harry Potter willingly—"

"What are you guys talking about my dad?" Lily Potter's voice interrupted their discussion.

"I—" Morrison looked flustered and flabbergasted, evidently caught off guard.

"We're talking about the Resurrection Stone," Neil explained. "What? She already knows we're talking about it. Plus, she might know some things we don't."

"I've heard about it. Grandma read The Tales of Beedle the Bard when we were kids. I… I'm not sure about my Dad though. There are rumors, but, well, some people said he knew about the Deathly Hallows. I— He never really told us about anything specific when we were kids so it's all just hearsay. "

"Not anything?" Neil inquired. Now he was curious. Lily appeared deep in thought.

"I'll.. Well… Here's what I know… This is coming from Uncle Ron's drunk mouth so..."

~X~

His performance in Quidditch was doing him wonders around the Ravenclaw Common Room, eclipsed only by Yiannis. (And at times, even past Yiannis, for the guy was much shyer.) Everyone now knew him as the Quidditch wunderkind. "You said you played Quidditch — wow— but you never said you were this good!" Karen exclaimed the morning after the match and Nigel, while realizing this was rather uncharacteristic of him, couldn't help but feel a little bit smug.

It was a nice change. Last year, he was known — being a member of the famed Potter-Weasley clan and the first grandson of the esteemed Harry Potter to attend Hogwarts — but he wasn't really known. People knew of him, but not really him. They knew he was some kid who got sorted into Ravenclaw and, like the rest of his house, was probably some studious first-year. Most of the older Ravenclaws thought the same. But now people knew Nigel Potter, the super-competent Chaser. They gave him fist-bumps, he was suddenly popular in the Common Room and even Maggie wanted to include him in her friend group, which he often politely declined but still, it was ego-boosting. He hated to admit it, but maybe he did like being popular. Sometimes.

"Nigel!" Serena called him in the Common Room one night whilst he was working on a Charms essay — which he was struggling with and which Conrad was struggling to help him on — "Quidditch practice tomorrow! And then we're having a short party. Nothing too forbidden… no alcoholic drinks for those under Fourth Year but we'd love it if you and Yiannis would come!" She winked at them and Yiannis looked a little flustered.

"Way to go!" Conrad grinned. "Hanging out with the cool kids!"

Karen laughed and Yiannis looked like he didn't know what to say. Nigel shrugged in reaction as he stretched his legs on the sofa. It was a long day. Defense Against the Dark Arts was both fulfilling and challenging. Professor Warbeck had asked him to demonstrate the Immobulus charm for Pixies in front of the class and — to his relief — he succeeded on his second try. However, he did feel rather drained and exhausted after this. He wanted to rest, to crash into his bed.

But first… he needed to attend to his letter. Uncle Albus had written to him; Uncle Albus rarely writes to him but he always cherished those letters. It made him feel like they shared something important — something crucial that only they knew. No one else — well, except for Yiannis — knew about this. "Right guys, I'm heading back! Night!"

Ascending the stairs, he caught sight of Suyin, who gave him friendly wave and Mark, who gave him a fist-bump. Alex, a Third-Year in his Quidditch team, bypassed him on the way to the Common Room and gave him a friendly nod. Nigel responded to all of them amicably. He turned another corner and saw Marius with Thaddeus, both of whom gave him curt nod, but seemed to be avoiding eye-contact. He didn't think much of it because he never really got along too well with either of them; they tolerate each other and that was tolerable.

When he finally reached his bed comfort and relief washed over him. He was about to pull Uncle Albus' letter out of his bag when—

It was missing. Frowning, Nigel rummaged through his bag and then emptied it onto his blanket. Nothing.

He froze.

Someone stole his letter.