"Please... Please — Al— I need your help with this. They're still trying to get to me! I swear!" Cornelius wailed for the umpteenth time as Al twirled the sugar cubes in his black coffee. He stopped having it with milk years ago but sugar was the one luxury he could not let go. He stared at the man in front of him impassively, trying to maintain a neutral expression and suppressing the urge to chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it all. No, that would be far to unkind and irking a celebrity beloved by middle-aged housewives has its downsides.

Coffee in the late afternoon did not encourage subsequent sleep but it had an invigorating effect during a long day and listening to Cornelius rant about his extended family made time grind to a halt. Al took a sip. "I know you're agitated. Anyone with a fortune like yours would be," he paused carefully, contemplating on the best way to proceed, "But I have investigated your relatives here in Belgium, in France, in Germany, I couldn't find anything remotely resembling a murder plot or even personal sabotage— both obvious and not obvious. That said, I will keep looking out for you. Don't worry."

In reality, the man was simply paranoid. Excessive wealth, self-made or inherited, and a large extended family can create such circumstances. But he couldn't simply say that so he played along, conducted the investigations he was paid for (that was the easy part) and infiltrated, collected intel, researched every single member of the man's household.

"But you haven't double-checked my relatives in France yet!" Cornelius exclaimed. "You've double-checked everyone else! Especially cousin Marie's family!"

"There's nothing in her head for you to worry about," Al said. "Sorry, that came across as kind of crude."

"No, you're right. She is a bit of an airhead," Cornelius chuckled.

"That's not what I meant. And for the record, I checked her parents too. And her brother. Though… they seem to be preoccupied with something else."

"What? What could possibly preoccupy those twats?"

"You've heard about what's going in France, right?"

"No."

"Have you been living under a rock?" Al eyed the guy in front of him curiously.

"Mate, I'm focused on making music for my fans, not gallivanting around the seedy underbelly of the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter!" Cornelius seemed both defensive and indignant. "I don't know what you get up to these days! Sweet Merlin! I— I'm sorry I don't mean things that way. Please don't take it the wrong way."

Al knew what he was thinking, the man briefly let his outburst overcome his fear. It irked him that his once acquaintance from high school was afraid of him. It irked him that they were all afraid of him. But he said nothing in response. It was expected, all those wanted posters, the reputation traveling by word of mouth, the stories in the press. And some things, he presumed, were well-founded. "Well, I suppose I can't exactly leave the affairs in France completely unattended," he remarked. "Your affairs, I mean."

"Look, if they're plotting against me— I want you to— to—"

"To kill them?"

"I'm not explicitly saying so."

"Very well. I have been meaning to pay an extra visit to France. I'll see what I can do."

~X~

It was funny. Neil once thought that the Elder Wand was the most dangerous of the Deathly Hallows, sought by ambitious and blood-thirsty men who craved power and dominance, but the Resurrection Stone, if wielded by the right man, could be even more deadly. It had the ability to ensnare the hearts and minds, inflame their passions, consume their wills. Duponte was — apparently — such a man or at least he had men around him who gave him the fortuitous advice.

Suspicious circumstances were piling up and by now it was all but clear that the French Ministry of Magic was frantically trying to cover up everything, particularly the reason as to why so many people have been communicating with their dead loved ones. Cyril Duponte was running circles around them and the Aurors there had little success in locating him. He had cover from hundreds of people whom needed him — desired what he possessed. Harry Potter suggested that he could have been hiding in a location protected by the Fidelius Charm, after analyzing the evidence the rest of the team had collected. Apart from that, however, there was little the British Aurors could to to help their French counterparts, who were now changing tactics and focusing on locating those who may be the Secret Keeper.

"We don't have to find his Secret Keeper," Head Auror Potter suggested one day, "We just need to locate him when he's out of hiding."

"What do you mean? He's always in hiding," his French counterpart complained, peeved by what he seemingly perceived as an insult on his intelligence. "None of us have been able to locate him. He communicates, finds new clients, victims, through his followers."

The two Head Aurors have not functioned particularly smoothly in the past few weeks. The French Head Auror had not initially wanted his British counterpart to get involved in the case and only reluctantly relented after pressure from the French Minister of Magic. This was news for the rest of the. British team, however, as it appeared that the French Head Auror had personally asked Harry Potter for help after being seemingly persuaded by the French Minister of Magic. It was all rather convoluted.

"What if we found a way to get to him through his followers?"

"I've already— we have tried to interrogate the ones we've captured on his location. None of them have been able to—"

"I think what our Head Auror was saying," Thomas explained, frowning, "or suggesting, is infiltration."

"I can try to disguise myself as one of his followers or clients," Teddy Lupin offered. Everyone knew he was a metamorphigi and excellent in the art of disguise, but not all seemed happy about it. The conversation was terse and not getting anywhere.

"And how—"

Head Auror Potter held his hand up, politely cutting off his French counterpart. "I think we have eavesdroppers."

"Damn!" Cynthia kicked the wall. "They found out about us—"

"Cynthia please, don't—" Neil tried to complain before the rest of the room turned its eyes on them.

"Um, Dad, we were just curious," Lily explained, "We didn't really like being kept in the dark about this. You never told us about owning the Resurrection Stone—"

"And just dropped it on ze floor of the Forbeedden Forest in Hogwarts! What could have gone wrong!" The French Head Auror flung his arms in the air, flabbergasted. "I couldn't believe it! Anyone could have taken it! Such foolishness! Such irresponsibility!"

"Well, no one did until it came into Duponte's hands," Teddy defended his godfather.

"Okay but then who could have known? Who could have just taken it—"

"Anyone! Anyone!" The French Head Auror exclaimed.

"When…" Neil muttered, unsure of whether to join the conversation given the essentially unauthorized and unwanted position of his team. "Did…" The sightings, the dead— it all began almost a year ago, first slowly and then gradually accelerating in severity until everyone was scrambling to cover it up. "I…"

"Neil, is there something you want to say?" Thomas seemed to have picked up his hesitancy. Suddenly all eyes were on him.

"… When did the sightings start? I mean— the dead people. When was the first sighting? I was just wondering if we could pinpoint the time someone took the stone and whether that would be helpful," Neil finally said. He wasn't sure what that added to the conversation given that it was probably trivial. It didn't matter who or when— all that was relevant was the damaging it was now wrecking on France and potentially the rest of the Wizarding World.

"Last Christmas," the a French said, getting irritated. "That was the first case reported to ze Aurors 'ere. But I'm not sure whe'zer —"

"No. He's onto something. What if someone took the Stone around then or maybe a few weeks before and the Stone made its way to France," Cynthia suggested, ignoring the bewildered gazes. "What if— wait — we — I mean the Forbidden Forest is huge but what if we can figure out any wizards who had set foot in that specific place you dropped the stone, Dad, and then we can find any trace of people who've been there or any sightings and —"

"Duponte has many followers, any of them could have been sent there," a French Auror interjected.

"Customs control," Harry said. "We can check if anyone entered England around last November or December that might have been connected to Duponte. Coming to think about it, anyone he has sent to retrieve the stone must either be someone he trusts — potential Secret Keeper — or … someone who probably knows about the Stone in the first place and either gave Duponte the Stone or had that taken from him. There aren't many people I can think of who might have known."

"Does your son know?" The French Head gazed at his counterpart with an accusatory glance.

There were gasps around the room.

Two French Aurors were exchanging whispers and Neil frowned. "These folks don't seem to be happy with us."

"Yeah," Morrison nodded and Neil was, in honestly, surprised the guy had been so quiet thus far.

"You guys understand French?" Lily remarked.

"Yeah my parents made me take French lessons so I can communicate with my cousins here," Neil explained. Not that he liked those lessons very much but they did their job.

"Well actually—" Morrison was finally speaking and Neil let out a groan. This was going to be one of those moments again."— Well actually Monsieur, he has two sons — deux fils - so you are going to have to specify which one."

Everyone else groaned too but that somehow lessened tensions in the room. The French Head gazed at Morrison, baffled. "Eez not stupid is right?"

"He has a photographic memory," Tobias remarked, "He's pretty smart." But also devoid of social skills, which Tobias very kindly omitted.

"Dad never told us anything about his experiences with the Deathly Hallows," Lily said defensively. Neil and the rest knew, of course. She had only told them that the Potter family may have inherited the Cloak of Invisibility but nothing about the Stone or the Elder Wand.

"And who is 'us'? You, no. And your banker brother, probably not. But—"

"Enough, Stephan. I know what you mean. I told Albus in passing once. A very long time ago. Ten years ago, to be specific," Harry Potter finally said with a semblance of calm, but pain was hidden just underneath the surface. "Told him about the day I almost died and saw a glimpse of my dead loved ones through the Stone. We were having tea in my office."

Thomas folded his arms, frowning. "I don't see how this is relevant to the case."

"If the person who retrieved the Stone is a member of Duponte's inner circle and we can identify them, we have a potential lead," Teddy explained succinctly while trying to bring the conversation back to the relevant topic.

"And if not, we know who is responsible for this mayhem," the French Head Auror glared at his British counterpart. "I recall your son was in England mid November last year, was he not? And there were rumors he was sighted around Hogwarts too. I know he's a dangerous criminal, I've heard enough from my Aurors and failed missions. You are letting your … fatherly instincts blind you."

Harry stood up and glared at the French Head. He was visibly trying to hold back his anger. The man glared back at him.

Lily looked stone-faced, Teddy appeared indignant on behalf of his godfather, Thomas looked stunned at the scene of tension before him, Morrison was pretending he was distracted with his cloak, Tobias was doing breathing exercises and Cynthia was shaking her head. The surrounding French Aurors were whispering frantically.

"I assure you," Harry said, striving for a calm and diplomatic tone, "That I am not aiding and abetting my wayward… criminal son and that I am trying to help you with this case to the best of my abilities. However, do bear in mind that we are coming here as a favor to the French Ministry."

There was a moment of silence before the French Head finally spoke up, "My apologies, Monsieur Potter. It was not my intention to start an argument, but you have to understand. We are in dire conditions."

"I understand. And I think I have an idea of how to help," Harry said, gazing at Teddy and then at Neil's eavesdropping team, who had by now forgotten all about how they were supposed to not be here.

~X~

The Locket reverberated against his skin as he stood atop a Parisian balcony. Ah the city of light and love… Thrown into such turmoil by a mere stone. Heart palpitating, he threw himself into a trance. It was a novel field of magic… so novel no one else had delved into it the way he had. His consciousness floated between minds, islands in the vast oceans of oblivion. The trick is knowing how to navigate between them, which ones to dock (any mind of interest really), which ones to avoid (presumably those who are familiar with Occlumency) and which ones to linger.

Vignettes flitted in his mind, assaulting his perceptions. It was difficult, very difficult. He knew that Cornelius's worries about plotting family remained just that, unfounded worries. For something else preoccupied them and much of the French Wizarding families old and new. Marie was a sympathizer of Duponte's, entranced by his promise of giving her access to her dead lover and acting as a facilitator. Nights were spent at the crime lord's lair — along with his other devotees— in communication with the dead. For access, they gave Duponte in return, boundless resources to operate and evade the authorities. Marie agonized at whisps of her lovers' presence, hungered for his words and figure, the phantom of his touch, however, faded it may be. But all the time she spent with him only made her heart yearn even more, propelling her into an even deeper depression. She was no unique case.

Frowning, Al wondered again into the mind of a certain wizard known better as the Siren, a figure with exceptionally potent persuasive skills and charisma, the right-hand man of Duponte in hopes of figuring out more about Duponte's operations. There was no overarching plot, no grand plan to become the next Dark Lord or to take over the Wizarding World, not on Duponte's part at the least. The man was a crime lord and an agent of chaos and anarchy. He had no interest in taking over, only in tearing things down, causing mischief and making the world burn. He was causing mayhem among France and, soon, the rest of the World because he could.

Shaking his head, Al dug deeper. His consciousness migrated again to Duponte himself. It carried certain risks. The man was familiar with Occlumency and they had crossed paths before, meaning there was a change his presence would be both detected and recognized. He had helped Emilia Pratchett-Dubois - an old acquaintance - with a favor under the promise that her well-connected husband would do all that he can to erase all traces of his criminal records in France and Italy, every one of them. They held through their end of the bargain, hence why he was so unperturbed by all the existing French Aurors. They had nothing to prosecute him on, even if they desired his capture. Yet the bargain and troubles that came with it transpired to be even worse than he anticipated. The Stone. It was his fault that Duponte possessed it the first place for he was the one who took it from the Forbidden Forest. Cursing himself for lack of foresight — hadn't that always been his fatal flaw, the lack of consideration of unintended consequences? — he realized all of this chaos was technically his doing. He thought he was being clever back then, swearing an unbreakable vow with Duponte to not harm the Dubois and his own family in return for the Stone. He had upheld his end, guaranteed the Dubois' safety and his families and his records in France — the largest Wizarding government in the western side of continental Europe — would be erased. Oh, his arrogance, his assurance in the infallibility of his own plans…. what a fool he was!

Back to Duponte. There wasn't much he didn't know in the man's mind, aside from the fact that… no. It was very well hidden. The secrets. There may have been no endgame in that man's part in terms of taking over the world but that did not mean there were no ulterior machinations. There was something very wrong. An infiltrator. No. Swimming through Duponte's mangled thoughts, Al's fingers moved towards his floating quill subconsciously. There was something important he needed to tell someone. Someone he could trust.

[Certainly not the French Wizarding government.]

[Not his father either for obvious reasons. Nor any of his siblings. The tie was severed long ago. ]

[Not any member of the criminal underworld, really. They wouldn't know what to do with it.]

[His old friends? What are they going to do?]

[That left only…. only….]

~X~

Nigel hurried towards the fireside, excited to be on his first firecall with Dora who was visiting France and staying with her friend. They had been chatting more and more in the last few weeks of term, seemingly repairing a formerly distanced relationship. She was quite funny and charming; he realized he did miss having her around, although Conrad, Karen and Yiannis seemed less intent on hanging out with her. It helped that he was friends with some of her friends like Maggie and, increasingly, Anna as well.

Now that he thought about it. He had a lot of female friends: including but not limited to Maggie, Anna, Dora, Karen and surprisingly Charlotte, the only other second-year Quidditch player in his grade. They bonded after a really close match where Ravenclaw only won by 10 points. He thought about consoling her but she was so cheery and good-natured about it that they ended up chatting for hours. His dad made fun of him about all of this, proudly proclaiming with bravado that his son was a "ladies man" in front of the rest of his family, much to Nigel's chagrin.

"Nigel! Hi!" Dora waved to him from the fireplace, grinning. He could see an opulent living room in the background and a dimmed, blurred series of ancient portraitures, a marked sign of Wizarding French Aristocracy, which was spared the troubles of its Muggle counterpart. She was indeed staying with Anna then. "Anna! Nigel's here! Quick! Come down!" Dora called upstairs. "Well… Nigel, how's it going?" Her attention returned to him.

"Fantastic, been trying out those wine gums you gave me! My mum doesn't know they're alcoholic yet," Nigel quipped and Dora chuckled in return.

"Oh we've been having real wine here down in France," Dora said with a wink, "Anna's family owns a very nice winery."

"Come visit some time!" Anna offered as she joined Dora on the other side. "Your have family in France too, no?"

They proceeded to talk just about everything. From platitudes about holiday season to spicy gossip about their friend circles to their favorite literature and theories floating around. Anna was a surprisingly pleasant and easy person to talk to and it was clear why she grew close to Dora instead of Maggie who — bless her — does not seem to understand the concept of not leaving your friends for upperclassmen company and being obsessed with popularity, which he seemed to gather from his observations. (Although most of this was uttered in jest.) Their conversation turned to Quidditch, for some reason, and the girls had a lot of questions for him. Like whether he thought any of them stood a chance at trying out for team next year. (How was he supposed to know?) Like how was Charlotte — the only other second year to make it to any team apart from him and Yiannis? (Apparently she was friends with Anna despite being in different houses. They were put together as partners in Potions class because Professor Cervantes insisted on mixing up the houses.) Like who did he think would win this year. (Hopefully Ravenclaw but there was no way of knowing) Like—

"Nigel! You've got a letter!" Andy hopped beside him and gave him a bear hug while handing over a piece of parchment. Before he could pay greater attention to it his thoughts were interrupted by his sister yet again. "Hi! I'm Andy!" She waved to the girls on the other side, who waved back.

"Guys, this is my sister. You guys may have seen her on the Platform and—"

"DAD! Nigel is calling with GIRLS! Nigel has a girlfriend!" She hollered with glee and Nigel was aghast.

"Anna, Dora… I'm sorry my sister is a little… hyperactive…" His face turned red.

"Awww she's so cute!" Anna remarked. "None of us are dating your brother, Andy. Though Dora…" She ribbed her friend and Andy's smile only widened.

"DAD! Nigel has a girlfriend! She's called Dora! Nigel has a girlfriend! Nigel has a girlfriend!"

"Okay Andy can you please stop?" Nigel pleaded but it was slightly too late.

"Oh really?!" came Dad's eager voice from the other side of the room.

Nigel thought he might die of embarrassment as James Sirius Potter picked up Andy and said hi to his friends while laughing, "Nigel is quite the ladies man, right?" He winked.

Mother's chiding voice resonated through the room like a saving grace. "James, honey! Come look after the twins! I need to feed Charles again!"

"Coming baby! I'm just saying hi to Nigel's girlfriends!"

Nigel buried his face in his hands, screeching internally. In the midst of all the laughter and embarrassment, the letter remained unopened and perched on the table top.

~X~

Now that his mother had finally decided to leave her job after giving birth to Charles, she had a lot of idle time to spend when not caring for the rest of his siblings. This meant an increase frequency of tea parties at home. It also meant that as long as Winter Break lasted, he would spend hours and hours preparing food in the kitchen with her, being designed the eldest and most responsible sibling. "Oh it's lovely how you're friends with Emilia's daughter too! I've been meaning to invite them over for ages but James and I could never find the time. What with work being so busy… " Mother rambled as she placed the mixture of brownies in the oven. "Well, never mind that. We're inviting your father's friends for lunch tomorrow and my brother for the evening."

"Does that mean I'll have to listen to Cousin Maggie complain about her hair again?" Nigel groaned. "I'm joking Mum — just a joke!"

Mother laughed as she shook her head. "I'm sure you can offload some of her attention to Andy or the twins or the baby."

"Maggie's been wanting to put Andy in makeup for ages. I can't wait to see what transpires," Nigel declared. "Here we have an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object!"

The afternoon went on nicely. It was so calm and uneventful, almost enough to make him forget the letter — still tucked away at a corner beneath his bed. He had browsed through its contents so many times but did not know how to proceed nor what to make of it.

— It pains me that this time, dear nephew, I am not bringing entirely good tidings…

He knew Mimsy was already half-suspicious about his situation, having almost witnessed their encounter with his Uncle. He knew that Andy had a big mouth when it came to such secrets and, as such, kept the true nature of the letter away from her, claiming it came from one of his friends in Ravenclaw.

—… By now you must have known that the French Wizarding World is falling into turmoil, one that your Aunt Lily and Grandpa Harry and Uncle Teddy are soon becoming engulfed in. A few vital details have come into my knowledge, some of which could be crucial to putting an end to this mess…

In all honesty, Nigel felt both curious, resentful and hopeful, for the memory of his uncle concealing information at Hogwarts still stung, but the pleading tone of the letter, all the fun things they could do together, the adventures promised… the genuine look of regret he would glimpse at the man whenever they were together, it made Nigel feel a certain responsibility.

— … I do not ask this request lightly and I know that its urgency is indeed a burden for someone of a such age as yours, but I am afraid there is no one else I can trust to relay this information to the correct hands. There are two pieces of information that would aid your Aunt and Grandfather's investigations in France; they must be sent to two different sources and anonymized. I have detailed the process and the spells necessary — do not worry, they are perfectly doable for a Second Year like you…

"Mother! I'm done with the last tray! I'll be up in my room doing some reading! Gotta improve my knowledge on Herbology because Merlin knows I was so close to failing last year," Nigel remarked as he sought an excuse to be alone.

"Oh Nigel, don't worry! I'll ask Andy to finish the rest of it when everything's fully baked — or your father, if he's back at work. Ah how refreshing it is to have a studious son…"

— … cousin Teddy is a master at infiltration but that alone won't be enough to pierce Duponte's secret lair, for the list of decoys and entrapments are numerous and difficult to dispel without further information. The Prachett's must receive information on the precise coordinates, decoys, passwords and entrapments on the Crime Lord's Headquartersand relay it to the French Aurors. That should dispel any existing fears of culpability in the future for your friend. This information should be fed into the investigative department greatly aid them in the speeding up of their endeavors. The details are are as follows…

Quill in one hand and eyes focused on the letter before him, Nigel began scribbling furiously, seeking to capture every single necessary detail needed. His uncle was counting on him.

— … And secondly, you must inform the British Aurors on the team — and only the British Aurors, of this one terribly inconvenient revelation. Sending it directly to your Aunt or Grandpa may pose difficulties in anonymization but the other members of the team…

After finishing his second letter, Nigel beckoned forward his owl Hecate. It was a meticulous and time-consuming endeavor and he had had to pretend he was studying to fend off efforts by his parents and siblings to beckon him downstairs — not to mention the recently acquired knowledge of letter anonymization charms, which he was sure was still fairly rudimentary and incomplete but seemed to work decently well for untrained eyes — but he was finally done.