"Yikes!" Morrison shouted and jumped out of the way at the corpse of the gargantuan snake in front of them. "Is that… is that a Basilisk?! Merlin's tits!"

"Rooster feathers…" Neil observed, "There's quite a lot of them."

"Yeah that does sound like the most practical way of defeating a Basilisk, no offense to your dad Lily. Swords are way cooler though," Morrison remarked and Lily couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, someone has definitely been here."

"Yes… that's why we—"

"Yeah, yeah boss, but I mean, someone has been here, bypassed all the puzzles we did. Lots and lots of puzzles. Riddles and all… Took down a Basilisk — possibly lots of other dangerous creatures too… Blimey! And we never got a Dragon versus Basilisk face-off! Am I right Tobias?"

Tobias merely sighed at the slightly inappropriate quips of his friend.

"I hope my nephew is still safe," Lily said, "I really hope…"

"There were footsteps of two young teenagers," Maud, one of their expert trackers, noted. "Looks like they passed here." She took out her wand and casted spells that traced potential previous activity for them all to examine.

The faces in front of them were all blurry — someone was familiar with countering this trick — but the form of two Third-years was hard to dispute. They were hiding behind another grown man and a shield he had conjured, or so it would appear. Beside them floated another wraith-like figure who averted its eyes. It seemed like they were waiting for the rooster to finish off the Basilisk. And then the vignette was cut-off.

"What the—"

"Identity masking," Gerold said, shaking his head. "A common trick for people hiding from the law."

But before they could contemplate further, they felt the grounds shake. The sound of roaring waves rang through the chambers. Then he saw it. Large, silvery cascades, waves, crashing through the walls, breaking them with force.

"Someone's trying to flood this place with — well— I'm not sure what this is— Ahhhh!" Morrison was caught up it before he could finish his sentence. "Oh guys, surprisingly this doesn't kill you but— Ohhhh!" And he was whisked away.

Neil wanted to run but before he could make any significant progress, he too was caught up. He was tossed up in the air and churned through what was not water, but what felt like water. "What is this? What is the meaning of this?"

"Al!" He heard Lily's shocked voice. "What — what are you doing here?"

~X~

Seeing his Aunt and Uncle reunite while both were being caught up in silvery waves flooding the tomb of an Ancient Dark Wizard felt rather inopportune, but he supposed there was no real appropriate way for a family reunion to occur. And instead of being able to diffuse any awkwardness, Nigel was striving to stay afloat and figure out his surroundings. The waves — even if they can be called that — were overwhelming his senses as they coursed through walls of the tomb. "Dora! Charlotte! Where—"

"Here! Nigel - here!" He heard Dora's voice call out again.

"Here!" Charlotte echoed. It appeared she was struggling amidst the waves too. "Ah! This is so difficult to navigate its— I can't get my broom out—"

"Don't resist it Charlotte, Nigel! Ride it. It's — it's going to take us out of the tomb," Dora shouted.

It was easier said than done. It was hard not to feel agitated especially as his attention turned to the group of Aurors being swept up. His Aunt was there. He wanted to reach out to her as she looked at perturbed and discombobulated by all that's happening but his Uncle had gotten there first, pulling her next to him and, without warning, hugged her before she could muster a reaction.

~X~

"Don't worry Lily, we'll get out here safe."

That was all he said. Her big brother. Who had gone missing for years. No other words. Just that.

She didn't know what to say. So many years, so many untold things, so many—

"I know, Lily. Truth to be told, I don't exactly know what to say either," he said, seemingly able to read her mind.

"I—"

"It's okay."

They were interrupted by the sudden emergence of a giant chasm below them. Albus frowned and his wrist quivered. The silvery cascades below them seemed to harden, but that did not seem to give him any comfort. "This tomb," he explained, "It doesn't want us to leave."

"It's sentient?" She had a bad feeling, though she had long suspected something ominous. Her brother was rarely unfazed even before he left— that he was especially disturbed brought her no comfort.

"Something like that," he muttered as he blasted aside another boulder hurling towards them.

Under normal circumstances, she would have yelled at him for showing up so abruptly without any explanation, but they were sort of in a bind now so she pushed aside her complicated emotions and merely nodded. He seemed to eye her steadily, not really attempting to say anything but she could tell - they were siblings who had known each other since children after all - that he had more to say.

~X~

Observing Albus work his magic was truly an exquisite experience as he weaved his web of spells that bypassed the usually entrapments made to ensnare visitors. She could tell that the schoolchildren were gasping in awe as he skillfully transformed the silvery whisk, a derivation of the counter-course to Fiendfyre now transfigured for other purposes, into solid ice and blew past the walls, those ominous chambers that seemed to come to life…. Not just them though, his own sister was barely keeping up.

All that potential, wasted, in a life of refuge and exile. Perhaps he did have the right to resent her. She knew, deep inside, that he did. He could have risen to Head Auror if it weren't for her, she knew and he knew too, replacing his father, who would have been content to let him take over. He would have been a good Head Auror too. Alas, the past was cruel for both of them.

Still, even the most capable of Wizards would struggle in a scenario such as this and she couldn't 100% pinpoint what was going on. There was something profoundly distributing about what was happening and—

"Do you see it, Delphi?" He rushed next to her, barely keeping up with the pace of the waves. "The true nature of this place?"

"Is it—" She could sense something… It was clear he did too. Though no longer corporeal, she shuddered too. For this was deeper, darker, powerful soul-magic. She would not be entirely immune to its effects too.

"But we can't just burn this whole place down," he stated matter-of-factly, "We'd all just die." They were nearing the exit, but that brought no comfort to him. "Well, maybe not you."

"But we can't apply the usual Basilisk venom or whatnot either," she added, aware that this elevation would only increase his agitation.

He frowned and she looked him in the eye. "I… I'm not even sure what else to do. There's only one other thing I can think of."

"There is another way…" she whispered, her heart sinking. A trick, a glitch in reality and the realm of mortality that they could make work...

~X~

"OUCH!" He heard Morrison's yelling as he crashed against the wall. It appeared that they were nearing the exit at record speed, but the panic around them had not subsided. Small surprise given that it was chaos all around them. He barely had any time to recollect himself, to take out his shrunken broom and regain some semblance of control over this wretched space. He always felt more at ease when flying.

Neil frowned as the silvery cascades around them finally subsided and they were facing what he knew was the door to the tomb. There was another familiar face that made him exceedingly uncomfortable, made him shiver on the inside — he hated to admit it but perhaps he was indeed afraid.

"Ah Neil, we meet again," the smooth voice remarked. He turned around to face those same green eyes.

Father and son. They did indeed resemble each other a little too much for comfort, save for the lightning scar. "Hello, Mr Potter. Fancy seeing you here," Neil replied tersely.

"Indeed. What a coincidence." The tone was cool, curt and calculated. "I hope you have been well."

The walls around them rumbled. "Okay what are you doing here and what is the deal with this?" He blurted out. "I'm sorry but what the hell is going on with this place? And why— what's the deal with all that silvery liquid running around— what — you know what I mean— This—"

"Long story short, this tomb is sentient, I'm here to help out my nephew and his friends and the simplest thing you Aurors can do is to stay out of my way."

Before he could utter a complaint to this bizarre dismissal, everything was already in motion. He had time to pull out his shrunken broom and prepare himself for the onslaught, but Albus Potter was already greeting the ominous swirling portals that had suddenly manifested in the middle of the chambers with a curse of his own.

In the corner, he could see the huddled and afraid young school children, with Lily standing before them with a protective stance, determined to protect her nephew as well. Tobias and Morrison had finally found each other and either one of them had casted a shield charm.

In any other circumstance, attempting capture of one of the world's most wanted criminals should be the priority of any Auror team but Neil couldn't quite bring himself to give the orders. It was clear that at least at the very moment, they were working towards the same goal, namely attempting to get the fuck out of this tomb, which, he noticed and as noticed by Potter as well, was probably sentient and up to no good. Perhaps time will come later when he could formulate a plan to deal with the matter, but not now. He did not want to risk things and there is also the matter of —

"Auror Nott, about Potter—"

"Not now, Auror Smith," Neil replied quietly to someone assigned to him for this case, "We are not to attack him. We mustn't do anything. He's our best chance of getting of here."

"But our instructions—"

"Our priority is getting the children and ourselves out here alive," he rebutted. "Instruct the rest to protect the children. Wanted criminals come on a lower tier of priorities."

Perhaps when— if, Head Auror Potter came to Greece himself to inspect the case due to the graveness and personal connection to the matter — for that would increase their chances of success — or perhaps even if either Thomas or Septimus or Cynthia were to arrive as well. Perhaps he was afraid, but who wouldn't be? Albus Severus Potter may have been curt and polite at times but he had seem the other side, heard stories about how the man could be like. Someone that persistently evaded and overcame magical authorities all over the world was no ordinary wizard.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps nothing would happen.

Until now, he could only observe and help.

~X~

One of the earliest Dark Wizards was also one of the canniest. Herpo the Foul knew what he was doing when he turned his tomb into a Horcrux. It would be an improvement of his first prototype, the rudimentary pendant that was —ironically— destroyed by Basilisk venom by the young witch Artemisia the Brave, who was hailed as a heroine by her fellow villagers for ending a persistent threat, or so they all thought.

This time, this Horcrux would not be so easily destroyed. Needless to say, Basilisk venom was out of the question given the profusion of said creature around the tomb and its likely immunity. Fiendfyre would probably end up killing everybody around him and it had no guarantee of actually destroying the Horcrux. But what is made can always be unmade.

He pondered at Delphi's observation that while the whole place seemed to be with infused the wizard's soul, its presence does shift around.

What is made can always be unmade.

For years he had poured over scrolls, notes, anecdotes over Horcruxes in an attempt to resolve his own predicament — he had memorized how it was made by heart, much to his own disdain. He had also remembered how the process was supposed to be reversed. It took a succession of spells, meticulously casted, which he had also committed to heart, and — crucially — the irreplaceable element of remorse. (He had never gotten around to figure out the last part.) But there was also something else.

A horcrux or horcruxes were contagious in their approach to each other, someone, Egor the Evile, had surmised. Once the unmaking process of one was triggered, surrounding ones were strongly likely to follow, especially if the other ritualistic ingredients accompanied.

Uttering a spell to quieten the wormhole appearing in the appear, Albus concentrated on co-opting it, redirecting it towards a far corner, far away from everything else, an esoteric form of transfiguration. He needed to use it to extend his magical signature, relying on its malleable nature.

There was only one way to do this. For many years, many sleepless nights, he had pondered how this moment could have come about but never in his dreams did this combination of affairs ever occur to him.

His Locket trembled, as if reading his mind — of course, it probably did. Delphi's ghost eyed him with concern but he gave her a curt nod. She seemed to understand what was about to happen.

This is the way, the only other way…

His lips quivered. And so it begins, he muttered in the ancient tongue of the Sumerians, fragments he glistened from fragments recorded in dark tomes which instructed the initiation of the Ritual.

~X~

The soul of Herpo the Foul was no fool, of course, it would not stand by idly as Albus sought to dismantle the Horcrux. Thus, Albus sought to cast a protecting ring around him all while completing the intricacies of the spell that would mend the soul — both souls. His soul and that of his the target.

"What is the meaning of this?" Its booming voice reverberated.

He paid no heed to its utterances of distraction, focusing on the final enchantments as his Locket shook furiously, as its glowing light enveloped the whole tomb and the walls began palpitating in a similar manner.

He gazed into the eyes of Delphi's wraith. So many complicated emotions, so many regrets, so many things left unsaid and things he never wanted to say. (And now never will…)

"I got you!" He heard her shout as she encased the silvery whisk that was reluctantly being extracted from the walls.

He felt his insides begin to burn, an agony worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Striving to prevent himself from shaking, he summoned every last bit of his willpower and turned his attention back to Delphi.

Remorse. That was it, wasn't it? But was it Delphi or himself that he needed to forgive? He recalled that fateful night when, hatred coursing through his veins, he casted the Killing Curse— at her in the middle of the Atrium, at her parents and then countless other wizards and witches whose names he could no longer remember. His soul was violently cleaved into two and lodged into Merlin's Locket, where part of it had stayed ever since.

He had every right to be resentful, he had every right to wallow in hatred and self-pity. Indeed, that was all that he had done wasn't it? All these years… wandering around the world, searching for solutions yet avoiding the most obvious path. Repentance. More than remorse, he needed repentance. To prostrate himself in front of his crimes and to beg for forgiveness — no! No! It was too much to think about, too much! Could he ever truly regret such an act? Why was it him — of all people, of all the lost souls in the world — that was condemned to such a fat?

And there was Delphi… all this time, perhaps she had loved him after all. Against his own wishes, he knew that he had loved her too. But it was a twisted form of love bathed in dishonesty when they were both alive. She was maintaining an illusion, it seems, back then, that she could have both her leadership of the Sons of Walpurgis and him. He, on the other hand, desired her while yearning to be a good Auror, one that could make his parents proud and keep everyone safe. It was folly, of course. She was no longer alive, the Sons of Walpurgis had been defunct for years and now he was England's most wanted and dangerous criminal, perpetually on the run from the law. His family … They would not have wanted anything to do with him and nor could he look at them straight in the eye. How times have changed! What fools they were!

Against his better judgement, he felt anger rising within him. He hated himself for his fecklessness, for his mistakes… He hated everything and everyone moping about this world. But there was no remorse; he could not muster it— or at least not enough of it, for he was engulfed by resentment. And then she met his gaze again. "Albus, I love you. I hope you realize you deserve your own happiness too," she shouted this time around, almost pleading, but whether for her or for him he could not tell. "I have made mistakes and you have too. You're right. Perhaps there is no other way, there was never any other way— but that does not mean you have to live like this!"

Against his better judgement, he spoke up, "But if there was no other way then—"

"Let me do my part Albus!" She cut him off, whisks of her form pealing off her and enveloping the dark clouds that were slowly being separated from the walls.

By now the pain was striking him to his core, he felt himself levitating all while contorting and convulsing. He wanted to scream but words escaped him. He shot another look at Delphi and she gave him a nod.

No… She wants to take him down with her…

"What?" He said quietly.

The disruptions caused by your Ritual, it's destabilizing the presence of Herpo the Foul's soul in the mortal world…

"And— And—" And there is one person, one being, one individual who possessed the ability, the circumstance, to drag him back to the dead with her.

… That and she does not believe you can make it.

Ouch.

It's probably a realistic assessment but still.

Before blinding light enveloped all of them, he saw her lips and she seemed to whispered the words 'Thank you.'

Suppressing his agony for just one moment, he casted a Blasting Curse towards the entrance and, miraculously, the walls came crashing down… the blockage had been lifted.

Then the walls and ceilings came crashing down.

~X~

Panting, next to the wreckage that was once the Tomb of Herpo the Foul, Albus Severus Potter turned around to see the source of his salvation, which ever wayward Auror who for some reason sought to save him.

"You might have died," Neil Nott explained, matter-of-factly, " You know, if you weren't so close to Tobias and we didn't get to hoist you upon his back..."

Ah that made sense. That was the guy with the Maladictus curse on Lily's team who had the ability to transform into a Dragon. "Well, be sure to give him my thanks." He got up, nodded and reached for his wand again in his pocket, while his other hand touched his Locket again (which continue to vibrate.) He did not bother to check whether the rest of them were planning to capture him still, for he had gleaned from their minds that they were all too stunned by the current development of things to proceed with a coherent plan.

However, there was a matter he could discern from Nott's careful mask of neutrality. A flicker of thought… A name, an image, a curiosity. He approached the man, looked him in the eyes — Nott drew back, not sure of what to make of this— and gave a small smile. He uttered the offer: "You want to know about where Suzy is?"

Neil Nott appeared taken aback, jolted. "What—" Yes. His mind was swirling with anxiety. He had wanted to say yes.

Albus gave him another look and then a nod. It would certainly be beneficial for him to have one useful contact in the British Auror department that was not a member of his family, much like his approach towards various other Auror departments, where he approached and planted sympathetic characters, people willing to turn the other eye for a small favor… It helps with creating occasional respite from law enforcement… Staring at Neil Nott — someone whom he possibly helped admit into the Aurors all those years ago due to extensive alumni networking — he conveyed a succinct mental message: I can help you with Suzy, take this offer as an exchange for staying out of my way today.

Not his way, he chided himself mentally, for technically, he had failed. He was not able to execute the full ritual. It was Delphi's actions that saved him and, by extension the rest of them. But they did not need to know.

Warily, Neil nodded again. Albus could tell that he was considering the offer. "I…"

Looking at Neil again, Albus conveyed, I will reach out to you later. He would figure out later how to contact Neil without the surrounding Aurors and family members. After all, he had succeeded once on that front.

And with that, he made his way towards his nephew and sister.

In case you were wondering, I'm still here…

I know. Delphi ended or rather disrupted the Ritual when she founded an opening to drag Herpo the Foul with her into the Realm of the Dead. Hence why the tomb — a Horcrux in its entirety — collapsed. Also, she did not believe you— we — could muster significant remorse or regret. Plus some fragment of Herpo the Foul's soul still probably resides in this world and all that mess… who knows what other trinkets he could have lying around? At least she was able to peacefully pass into the afterlife.

Yes… yes… but you realize that leaves our task… uncompleted?

Albus ignored those comments, which were more akin to this own thoughts anyway.

"Uncle Albus! You're alright!" Nigel yelled as he ran forward and hugged Albus.

He smiled back. "I'm alright so far."

"The tomb robbers are still bounded," Nigel's friend, Dora, nodded, while pointing towards the pile of extremely shocked, distressed and incapacitated men, still bound in ropes. "So I guess we'll be okay."

"Al!" Lily said as she stepped towards him.

Before she could do anything, say anything, he pulled her into an embrace. "Oh Lily… It's… it's good to see you. So much has happened…"

"No shit! In Merlin's name, what the—"

"Too many things—"

"Ah yes but where do we even—"

"Honestly, I'm not sure how I'm even supposed to start explaining things because it's a complicated story and honestly, I don't even know how to at this point."

~X~

"Then stay here a little longer!" Lily found herself pleading to her long-lost brother, as he gazed her pensively. I'm sorry, his lips almost seemed to whisper, but whatever apologies that should have come were nipped in the bud.

"I can't. And you know," he replied with a sad smile.

"But— but why not? There's so much— so much we—"

"You know why Lily." Because he was technically Europe's most wanted man, more wanted than those tomb-robbers, more dangerous too.

"We can work something out Al! It does not have to be this way!" She found herself reasoning with him weakly.

He shook his head. "Know this Lily, I don't hold anything against, nor Mum, nor Dad, nor James, nor anyone. I never had and I never will. Have a good day."

And with that he had evaporated.

~X~

"Albus."

It was not long before the heavy reinforcement arrived, arresting and apprehending the remains of the smugglers. The Head Auror was among them, yet he seemed more preoccupied about someone else. There was no reply and so the Head Auror repeated the name again, his voice weary and tired. "Albus. I know you're here. Please, Al, stop hiding."

Neil thought he saw a crow soar across the skies. An ominous sign certainly — it caught Harry's eye as well. "Head Auror Potter, I— I'm not sure whether —"

Yet before he could conclude his sentence he spotted a decidedly blatant mop of messy black hair. The eyes were not emerald green, though, but sky blue. It was a much younger face, a much smaller stature. It couldn't have been more than 13 or 14 years old. A boy. Probably still in Hogwarts. But there was something familiar about the look. He looked back and forth between the boy — who, so far, in spite of being surrounded by a small group of Aurors, made no attempt to escape — and Head Auror Potter. There were indeed familiar features.

"Grandpa!" The boy leapt into the Head Auror's arms.

There would be consequences, there would be reprimandings, there would be untangled ends — but for now, all the victims were safe, Head Auror Potter was relieved, and Neil could breath a sigh of relief.