They were on guard duty among the Department of Mysteries again. It was by no means the his first time doing this but it always gave Neil a feeling of unease. This time there was no attack, no nasty surprises, no nothing, really. Those shifts have become more frequent given the lack of cases in the recent months after the commotion in France. A moment of peace, in a way.

Yet…

Something felt off.

Ghosts were nothing to be afraid of if you were a wizard, nothing like those weird, hysterical tales Morrison or Arthur would spew, tales that their muggle parents or relatives believed. But still— ghosts lingered at the Department of Mysteries all the same. It was hard for them not to. It did not arouse fear in him so much as discomfort. Who were they — after all— to elect to spend their dead here instead of amongst other more merry ghosts or in after-life?

It was when Cynthia took her obligatory midnight coffee break that one such ghost approached him. He could barely discern her translucent silhouette, as whisks of her form unfurled around her blurry entity. It was a her, yes, this much he could tell from the voice.

"You… I think I remember you…" The voice was like the shadow of the wind. Stray your attention for a moment and you may miss it.

"I don't think I know who you are" was the blunt response.

"Your cousin told me enough about you for me to recognize you," it said in an amusing tone.

"You'll have to specify which one. I have a ton of cousins, more from my mother's side than my father's but still."

"Never mind that. It is not a part of my past that I remember fondly, at least not anymore."

"Aye, plenty of people are involved with my family and drama and all that shenanigans. The Notts and the Rosiers are both a dramatic bunch. Some of them have definitely tried to kill each other. Like, that one time my great-great-great-great grandma plotted to murder her husband. She probably did end up succeeding but no one could prove anything."

The ghost laughed. "My fiancee murdered me too."

"Oh I'm sorry, that must be rough." He didn't know what else to say; it really was quite awkward.

"Don't be. I left him with no choice." There was a certain wistfulness about her tone., but Neil decided she was too weird for further conversation.

As if on cue, Cynthia returned and the ghost had faded amidst the shelves.

~X~

The boy was less naive now than he had been when they last met. Nigel was thirteen now. Even less wide-eyed than the last time they encountered each other in Egypt, where he could already detect traces of skepticism compared to the boy's sister. He was on the cusp of becoming a teenager and understanding how the world really worked, of what actually transpired. It made Al slightly sad to think about it. Still, Nigel acted in good faith. After all, he had done all that Albus asked of him, dispatched all the letters with full obedience— but there was doubt in his heart.

They were all clustered together in a merry family moment. It was Winter Break. Nigel, his sister Andy and their younger siblings, along with their parents. The sight of James almost made Al's heart stop. It hurt to see him. Admittedly, he had indeed deceived his brother that night, or at the very least, concealed vital information from the both of them and taken advantage of their fears to spend a night at their home, then took off the next day as a fugitive. Everything was changed then, changed forever.

It did not matter, he told himself, the past was the past and he was well-concealed under his Invisibility Cloak. None of them could detect him even if they wanted to. James snickered at something as he pointed at the Orangutans and Claire smacked him on his arm. The younger children giggled as their youngest — couldn't have been much more than a year old — cooed in his baby carriage.

There was another family of four near them and they appeared to be friends. Al could tell that the wife was an American, as her accent and a brief perusal of her mind would confirm. Beside the woman was her British husband who was merrily chatting with their older daughter, who rolled her eyes and seemed to eye Nigel with a oh god please help me explain this gaze. She had light brown hair and light brown eyes. Her younger sister possessed similar features.

But as they were getting ready to leave for another exhibit, Nigel seemed to ask his parents if he could stay behind with one of the other girls, the older one. His dad winked at him in jest and Al felt himself roll his eyes along with Nigel. James, ever the inappropriate. Some things never change.

When everyone else had left, Al took off his cloak. "So we meet again, Nigel." He gave a sad smile, for he knew there was something amiss.

"They… some animals... had told me you were there," the girl said with some hesitancy, her brows furrowed. "She… Nigel, I…"

"Dora figured someone was following us," Nigel said, "For some reason, uncle, I knew it was you."

Al nodded. "It's been a while." He snapped his fingers.

"What did you do?" The girl, Dora, asked.

"A Concealment Charm- a modified version at least, it's for people other than you two," he answered nonchalantly. "Just in case."

"Professor Flitwick said that wandless charms are very difficult to do," Nigel said, in slight awe.

"They are," he stepped closer to the two of them and gave Nigel a hug, who responded not without some reservation. "It took me a while to figure this one out."

"… You don't mind Dora joining us right?" He asked.

"No, I don't mind at all."

"I won't tell anyone anything," Dora added quickly. "Anna told me everything. She says you helped her parents and frankly I believe her. She's a good friend."

"Well, it's nice to see that my favor towards the couple are compensated in more than one way," he remarked wryly.

"Dad thinks you're horrible and you caused a lot of problems to our family. He was on a drunken rant about it when we were at dinner with Grandpa and Grandma the other day. They— …" Nigel hesitated to finish his sentence but Al knew what he was going to say.

"They know you've met me, you don't have to hide that. They tried to be nice about it. They knew we met in Egypt; they knew I put an end to the kidnapping. They probably knew about the letters I sent."

"Uncle, you don't know that they…" Then it seemed to click. "Oh. I guess you do. Mom suspected you might be able to read minds. She said that to Dad and Grandpa one night."

"Your Grandpa knew about this since I was but a little boy," Al responded rather wistfully. He did not know why but memories of his father made their way to the surface of his mind. Back then he had been so afraid of his abilities, so fearful that all the voices he was here was just him going mad. "He helped me manage it the best he could. One has to give him credit for trying. I eventually got the hang of it." Though not before she had got to him. It had been too late.

"Oh…"

"Nigel," he said before the boy could muster any more sentences, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you the truth before."

"There's no need to apologize," Nigel whispered quietly. "Nothing to me at least. You've always been kind to me."

"But your family knows… they know we've been communicating now. I… I should never have burdened you with anything. It really was most inappropriate for me to send you all these letters about what transpired in France."

"No. I'm glad you did. I… I was a little mad because I thought you were using me," the boy admitted.

His gaze softened almost reflexively. "No. I wouldn't — and if I gave you the wrong impression that I were, please— please let me know." Perhaps he had lost so much of his family that he did not really want to lose the last person that still held an ounce of goodwill—

"No, no, it's okay. You trusted me. I…"

"Nigel, I did and I still do now. But do not overburden yourself with the feeling that you've been somehow aiding me against the authorities, or that our communications are somehow a way for me to turn you against the rest of our family. Perhaps one day I will make it up to them, but not now. Perhaps one day I will find the courage to do so." He was being shockingly honest and it scared him to his core that he was being so open about all of this.

Nigel only nodded. "I'm glad you're telling me this. I think they know, but— but they're trying to be nice about it. They don't want to overburden me or anything."

Of course they wouldn't. Despite everything that transpired between them, despite the occasional resentment that Al did not want to surface… he knew deep down inside everyone was just trying to be reasonable. "Okay. And if you ever need help on anything, if you're ever in danger. Let me know. I'll always try to help. But I'm no fool. We will have to be more discrete."

"Nigel won't say it out loud but he thinks quite highly of you. You saved his life once," Dora, the girl, who had been observing all of this conversation with keen interest, remarked. "He was very eager to speak to you once we figured out you were nearby."

"Right," Al said as he turned his attention to the girl. "You're Dora… Smith? British and American. Third-year at Hogwarts with Nigel. Both your parents are muggles."

"Yes. They were quite surprised when they found out I was a wizard. My older brother wasn't one. Neither, or so it would seem, was my younger sister. But everyone has been most supportive."

There was something else that slightly bothered him but Al pushed that to the back of his mind for the moment. "Ah, and I take that my brother's wholly Wizarding family has decided to befriend yours to familiarise them with this world of yours."

"Aye, yes, they've been most welcome and charitable."

~X~

It had been 9 years… 9 years. But somehow she knew he would be here. It was midnight outside the Burrow. Not many lived there anymore, it seemed, outside of holiday gatherings. The silence was palpable.

Donned in a casual longcoat, he was tossing a small black dagger in the air and catching it again. She thought the years had only made him even more attractive, for there was a certain alluring harshness that wasn't there before. He looked weathered, in a way, yes, but also sculpted into a more serious figure. His frame was broader, his emerald eyes more intense (she had missed those eyes), his movements more polished and precise.

"Who's there?" he growled in a dangerously low voice. He shut his eyes but she was not fooled about what he was actually doing. The air around them was emanating with his presence and power. He was trying to sense sentience through expanded Legilimency. It was something she saw him working on back then, but it appears he had refined the technique throughout the years. Ghosts seemed to elude it, however. His brows furrowed. "I'm leaving this place. I'd rather not wake my Grandma up. Her health has never been the same since Grandpa passed. Follow at your own peril."

He didn't say a thing, but his figure turned pitch black and moulded itself into lonesome crow. It took off and for a brief moment, she considered following suit. She had taught him how to fly without a broom but he had always preferred transfiguring himself into a crow, said there was something about having wings that was irreplaceable. She knows she had ruined him but knowing that he still seemed to enjoy this gave her some small comfort.

"Albus…" she whispered his name for the first time since her death, right after he took off so that he would not notice her soft words.

No. She would not go after him tonight. She needed time to process this man.

He had changed; she knew he would. People change as the years go by when they're alive. But in a way he hadn't. Part of her ached for him but he was capable of what he is today. She had seen the traces of his cold efficiency, the way he could have made others tremble, the manic pursuit of magical deviations… all wrapped in a sweet, eager demeanor that men and women rarely suspected, coated in the form of a savior's son that seemed destined to become the next hero.

In a way, he still was, she bitterly conceded. They say that a hero would sacrifice you to save everyone else, while a villain would sacrifice the world to save you. His choice had been clear back then.

But what were the consequences of that?

~X~

Conversations with random ghosts were fast becoming a convenient way to bypass patrol time, which had become more frequent given the dearth of any actual serious cases. This time, Morrison had joined him and, thus, the conversation had been exuberant.

"So… when did this happen? Is he still alive?" Morrison questioned one of the ghosts Neil had previously encountered, the one with the murderer-fiancee who seemed a little crazy.

"Yes.. yes… I'm afraid he is. Though… I… part of me yearns to see him… I still wander off to see him from time to time, against my better judgement. I feel as if without him, my life would have little joy in it."

"That… sounds really messed up. I'm sorry." This was getting really weird. Maybe he shouldn't have said that or tried to comfort. Maybe one really shouldn't talk to random ghosts period. Morrison, however, sounded engrossed in her story.

"In the end, I did love him though. At first, I was merely fond of him, but … ah! What a fine lover he was!"

"So, I mean, how did he kill you and what exactly happened? Was it strangling? The Killing Curse? Fire? Drowning?"

"Morrison!" Neil looked appalled at the interest of his team-mate. The guy was always found of murder mysteries but still.

"The Killing Curse. Although he did burn down my house and my adopted parents with it," she admitted.

"This is so messed up," Neil groaned.

"No, no this is the most interesting thing I've heard tonight, Neil, seeing as we're not actually aloud to explore the shelves and different secret chambers here. I wanna know more."

"And you still love him?" Neil asked skeptically.

"Yes. He was the only person in my life who loved me, even before I love him back. My parents were… cruel people. Both my birth parents and my adopted ones. I was only a tool for them."

"Okay, wait so the part where he burned your house down and killed them and all.. was that sanctioned by you?" Morrison piped up.

"No, I found out about that only after I had passed. It was regrettable. If I had known… I would have given myself to him. Helped him cover everything up, surrendered every fibre of my body… He would have taken good care of me. We would both be free."

This was really, really awkward. A ghost - out of the blue - was commiserating about her love life where her lover appeared to be at the very least a homicidal pyromaniac. "Well, why don't you go up to him and tell him how you still feel? I know he murdered you once but he can't murder you again, right?" It sounded so stupid the moment it came out of his mouth. Oops.

Morrison guffawed at his comment. "I'm definitely telling everyone about this at work."

The ghost giggled this time and it sounded so high pitched and girly, like a shy teenager when before it had sounded like a wizened, weary woman. "I … I just … I knew things could have gone differently. If only— if only I had realized what I had wanted before, perhaps things would not have been this way. All of this just feels like bolting the stable door once the horse had left. And he had been so good to me before, so handsome, so eager to please… I could tell, even fresh out of school, that his magical prowess would shake nations, the fabric of reality… Though back then it was so nascent... "

"Well, alternatively, you can just linger here forever and torment researchers and Aurors. And gush about how your powerful and good-looking fiancee murdered you or something. I'm sure it would entertain some bored people. Or you can leave this place and confess your - literally - undying love for him, while he's still alive," Neil continued .

"Hey!" She looked positively affronted but by now Neil was no longer afraid. He was both amused at himself and everyone else's reaction.

"It's your choice!" He shrugged. "We the living won't last forever and who knows if he'll decide to linger a ghost like you."

"Bro are you playing relationship counselor on a ghost and her murderer-fiancee?" Morrison chimed in.

"Well, something like that," Neil shrugged. "I guess we all have messed up people that we love. You know my crazy gran Primrose. She's the type that thought the Death Eaters went too far for including Half-Bloods. Also, she was pretty racist towards my mother for being French."

"Damn, remind me to never visit your home."

"Nah she's too old to do shit. Worse things worse she'll yell at you. I mean she clearly dislikes my mother and even implied Dad might as well have married a muggle. Again, not my words. Plus, Lawrence used to invite droves of people from Hogwarts to party at my place. No one was really harmed. I even brought Arthur and the lot home and all we did was play Quidditch and she never even left her room. But my point is we all have messed up family that we just deal with."

"Indeed, we do," the ghost nodded, smiling.

"Don't you have any… uh, I don't know, trauma with all of this?" Morrison asked, mildly horrified.

"Why would I?"

"Your mom and your great-whatever Gran hate each other and she's one step away from offing the next muggleborn girl you bring home. And you told me once before, your dad only got invited back to inherit that giant manor because everyone else was either quote 'in prison or dead' unquote or in your words 'in some connection to muggles or muggleborns.'"

"Why do you think I have my own apartment now?"

"So it was unpleasant?"

"I mean Gran's tirades are kind of a lot but there's also Nayla's cooking— oh you don't know, she makes the best creme brûlée- the giant gardens, that huge place to practice Quidditch… There were upsides too. I have mixed feelings about it all, to be honest. If my dad's male cousins weren't so insane we'd probably be living in Brazil, but it passed to him out of all people and he's trying to make the best of it. You're always welcome to visit, I swear it's perfectly nice and safe."

"That's actually kind of sweet but I'll pass for now. Also weren't we talking about the ghost and her fiancee? When did the topic shift to your whacky family."

"I assure you both, mine is crazier," the ghost commented airily.

"Mine isn't crazy. Some are crazy. There's a difference."

"Okay, okay, stop being so defensively. Anyways, uhhh… female ghost with silvery and blue hair. So, tell us more … did your fiancee meet your family? How was that? Or was the first time they met the time when he burnt down the house— or—"

"No they met a couple of times. He was always courteous enough to put on a facade for my sake, but they never only aired their views either. I don't know, just … the way he held my hand and kissed me after all those family dinners… I… I couldn't be more thankful. The house I grew up with was quite trauma-inducing."

"See, Neil? Not everyone who grew up with bigots end up being so well-adjusted."

"Sometimes I fantasized that we'd take down my adopted parents together. " She looked regretful.

"Neil, I've never been more thankful that you're so well-adjusted. Thank Merlin."

"He was so good to me back then. And he was such a good lover too…"

"I did not sign up for this, Morrison. You started it. You just had to ask her and now we have a ghost playing out her arson-murder-sexual fantasies and all we can do is listen."

"… his tongue was warm and responsive…"

"This is some wild shit."

"… his arms always enveloped me so thoroughly, so firmly… he would carry me to bed and…"

"Nope. I'm not doing this." He got up. Bathroom break it is.

"Oh Merlin this is the best thing that's happened in a week. Disturbing, but so amusing. I'm so telling Tobias and Cynthia—"

"Nope. Nope. We shall not speak of this."

He sighed. It was going to be another long night.

~X~

Strictly, it wasn't a bloodless affair. Some of them bled slightly when they collided with the ground, but she marveled at how quickly he had executed his plan. None of the Aurors really stood a change against him as he methodically whispered a tranche of spells that would delicately modify their memories, until no trace of their encounter could be detected. He took great care to delve into their minds to craft convincing narratives. Efficient as always. There was a certain visual pleasure in witnessing him at work.

Shaking his head, he headed back to the nearby cave where he had set up his small, cozy hiding place. It was protected by three barriers, not an easy feat to penetrate. But ghosts weren't bound by such protections, at least not the particular ones he employed. Or at least, she wasn't.

She observed with some amusement at the seemingly comfortable bed he had smuggled into the cave, along with lamps that were levitating and a nice, warm fireplace to dispel the cold. He even had a cupboard, no doubt stored with all sorts of trinkets and luxuries. There was a fridge too, for some reason, which he probably maintained through spells. For such a plain, even primitive exterior, his dwelling was much more elaborate and comfortable than one would imagine. He grabbed a sandwich from there, along with a green smoothie inside.

Crouching by the fireplace, he made progress on his simple meal, eyes fixed on the flames, unreadable. His skin seemed paler than the last time she glimpsed him, courtesy of being in England instead of Spain. His hair was mussed up as usual (he had long stopped that ridiculous style of slicking it back using hair gel, which he apparently did all the time back in school). He wore a black T-Shirt that tightly hugged his frame and showcased the contours of his muscles rather nicely.

It was an hour, after he had eaten, after he had cast a cleaning spell on himself, that he approached her concealed form, unwavering. "I know you're there. I know you've been following me for a while. You've managed to get past my wards and barriers, which were meant even for ghosts… well, maybe not all ghosts. Perhaps there are such loopholes. I can think of a few. But I cannot detect you through Legilimency, even the most accomplished Occlumens can be detected, though not deciphered, which narrows the pool further."

There was no reply and he gave a grim smirk, an expression of cynicism that he displayed more and more often during their later days.

"But this should work." He brandished his wand and her form illuminated. She looked into his eyes, wistful.

"Albus… It's been so long…" Delphi whispered.

"So you did linger in this world," he snorted, folding his arms. His breath quickened. The objects around them trembled.

"Please… Albus… I can explain."

"Walk with me," he commanded as he put on a coat and headed towards the exit, the frosty intonations in his voice a contrast from their past warmth.

"Why not fly?"

"Well, why not?"

~X~

When they finally landed in the midst of an expansive forest, he looked so furious it made her shiver. "You have some nerve, Delphi, coming to me as a ghost, after all you've done and after all those years I've spent in ruin."

"I know." The moonlight suited him, she thought. He was now roughly her age when she died. How times have passed. "But I can't wait forever."

"You can't wait to poison my life even more? Is this enough for you? Are you happy now that even as you failed to resurrect the cause of your parents, that you have succeeded in infighting blows to their enemies?"

"Don't put it that way, I—"

"You were raised that way? Oh I'm sorry." Their surroundings seemed to darken. "I guess that excuses everything then. I guess you'll have to tell little Terrence why he's going to be raised without a father because someone decided his death was needed because they were raised a certain way."

"Albus, please… I… I'm sorry." That did not seem to allay his anger as he drew close to her, his gaze fixated on hers with cold fury. She was sure that if she weren't a ghost he have personally strangled her, but for some reason it never bothered her.

He laughed. "Huh. After all this time." He laughed some more.

"What I did was evil. I regret it deeply. I should never have attempted to make Horcrux — I — I should have listened to my instincts. I should have chose you over that wretched life. I—"

"Well, that's too late now, isn't it?!" He snapped as he pulled out that same locket. His eyes seemed to flash red. "You have no idea what you did to me."

"No…" Her hands clasped around her mouth.

"What? Did you just expect me stopping your Horcrux ritual — the only way possible — would result in zero consequences?" A silvery whisk curled around the surface of the Locket of Merlin as the object levitated in the air. "You have ruined me. In many ways. You may be dead but I might as well have died that night." The locket floated back towards his palm and he pocketed it again. "There's no going back for me and you did this."

"If I had known, I would never have— I would—"

"There's no need for trite apologies. There's nothing left for me to do in this world except being the most wanted man in Europe, I guess. Forever being trailed by law enforcement… A life of crime and infamy." He whispered the last part and looked at her again. His agitated voice had subsided now, all that was left was a certain emptiness. "A life you might have wanted for us, correct?"

Once upon a time, she did had fantasies about him joining her cause, but now she knew that he loved his family too much to do so. It was truth in plain sight. "You should tell your family — all of them — that you still love them, lest you die with regrets like me. Please Albus."

"You're avoiding the topic."

"I've had a lot of time to contemplate in death."

"9 years, huh? Yeah it's been a while. You know, you gave me murder-fantasies in my dreams. Also, one time I fucked and stabbed a boggart that looked like you. With this very dagger." He held it up again. "It was a gift from some Russian criminal. He had it made for me by a bunch of goblins, insisted so, after I saved his daughter. Turns out even some of the shittiest people in this world care about their family."

It hurt her, not because of his murderous fantasies, for she knew all this time that he was capable of them, even back when he was an impressionable twenty year-old. But it did hurt her, that circumstances had inflicted such things on his psyche. "Well… Albus…"

"Do you wish to accompany me?" He folded his arms as he leaned against a tree.

"To where?"

"In general…"

"I thought we've established, Al, that I am the cause of your ruin and—"

"Well, yes, but it's not as if there's anything I can do to stop you from following me? There's no spell to vanquish a ghost, only certain wards and charms, yes, but I'd have to cast them permanently since I'm always on-the-go. And it's not as if you're not plaguing my dreams already."

"Al— there, before you burst into another one of your tirades — you do realize there are ways you can reverse the damage on your soul, right? You don't have to keep living like this?"

"Even if I do, the criminal records are still there. Sure, I got a bunch of mine erased in Europe, Egypt and East Asia after a few connections here and there, but not in England, there's too much of it to ignore. And there is only one way to reverse the damage… I can't do that just yet, it requires feeling remorse."

"You don't regret how things turned out?"

"I'm not sure," he whispered. "You left me with no other way."

"Do you know what caused me to linger in this world?"

"I can guess why. But I thought you always wanted to see your parents," he dismissed, ignoring her insinuations.

"They would never have loved me. At the end of the day, you were right. None of them would have been capable of love." She felt sad and weary. "But you were then, even if you did not feel that way anymore."

He chuckled at how messed up their conversation was. "What an idiot I was."

Not long after, silence reigned. It seemed there was nothing else he wanted to say anymore.

"I love you Albus. I always will." She did not want to envelope in with any embrace nor press her ghostly mouth upon his for fear that he would flinch. "I know you don't feel that way anymore, but…"

"That's enough Delphi." He shook his head. "We have nothing to say to each other anymore. There was a time when I would have given the world to be with you. I was naive back then." But against all odds, his lips curled. There was a small smile, as if he were reminiscing. "Yet it was a certain blissful stupidity. You were so beautiful, so vibrant, so fun. I had lost so much but in a way, I suppose I did gain something, if only for a brief moment." His tone was soft.

She smiled back. His eyes told her everything she needed to know, even if he was reticent with words. What she searched for, for so long. And yet for some reason, as he made his way back to his cozy hiding place, she knew she would continue to linger. There were still unresolved matters that permeated their presence and she knew, deep down, that the answers lay in that Locket. It chained both of them, stubbornly, to the mortal realm. "I won't disturb you anymore, Al."

By then he was gone.

A/N: Ok I may have lied. Al doesn't technically reunite with his family... but that will happen soon.