She had fought a Dementor, bested politics, handled being introduced to a vigilante group with which she flew a VIP to a safe location, yesterday. However, somehow, she had a feeling like today may finally end her.

It was the late evening, and Agatha was just listening to the rain, and reading the newspapers after her latest denial for a flat in Diagon Alley. She sat in a small café at the very end of the alley, hoping they'll conjure up a half good coffee while she looked through the remaining lease openings.

While perusing the advertisements for flats all across magical Britain, she gave her best to ignore the article written about yesterday's events. While Fudge and, as Agatha now knew, Undersecretary Umbridge had to concede the battle, they weren't about to give up the war. The first counter-barrage came in the form of slanderous articles in the Daily Prophet.

Which she wouldn't mind. She had been called worse than "demonic brood of a deranged old wizard". Much worse. What did grind her gears, though, was the fact that nobody wanted to lease to "demonic brood" like her.

They denied her having four walls, a bed and blessed privacy. Fudge had made an enemy for life.

Eventually the waiter came, cups clinking and shaking with his shivers. He put down the black coffee and was gone as fast as he politely could.

Just smelling the brew under her nose she could tell that London would never be Vienna when it came to coffee.

"No need to enjoy this, then. Great." she growled to herself. With one gulp, the coffee went down her throat, steaming through her slightly opened mouth. While she could stomach the heat, who served coffee that almost boiled? Uncultured barbarians, that's who.

There was some silver lining, tough. One last ad for a small house for lease in Hogsmeade by a lady named Collins. The ad itself didn't show much of it, but it was available, and at this point Agatha had no more requirements than that. She gritted her teeth because she would have to swallow living right next to Hogwarts; right next to her father. But there were walls, doors and the whole of Hogsmeade buffering between them when she was out of the school, so it still remained better than moving into Hogwarts itself.

Throwing a few Knut on the table, she left, apparating as soon as her foot left the door. She landed right in front of the Three Broomsticks and checked the ad again.

The description led her through the small, picturesque village, away from the usual routes the students would take, down to the lake itself. She followed the path down a willow and oak grove, where just the smallest of trickles ran down the hill. Fern and bushes created a marvellous little oasis of calm right before the path opened into the tiniest of beaches, barely wide enough for two benches and a table to be placed at its top.

The house itself stood to her left, nestled into a foundling that itself had the size of a three-story house. Agatha sighed when she saw the state in which it was. It had seen better years, decades ago. The windows were murky and cracked at places. The roof was an assortment of shingles, in every colour and form imaginable, patched up with wooden boards and metal at some places. The brick with which the house was built seemed soaked through, brittle and where it wasn't looking broken, it was because vines and moss covered it.

However, Agatha wasn't discouraged, just annoyed. She meant it when she said she wanted to visit her students. Renovating a house - or at least making it adequate - was not in her plans. Alas, this was her last hope before she'd have to rent a permanent room in a tavern, or swallow her pride and move into Hogwarts.

She knocked on the old, but beautifully carved door. Soon enough a muffled voice accompanied by tiny footfalls could be heard.

"Yes, how can I… Aaah!"

Agatha grinned as she saw the tiny old lady hold her heart. "I do apologize."

"Oh dear, oh dear. Scaring an old lady like this." Her voice was weak and croaky, but she gave Agatha a small smile. "You are Miss Dumbledore? How can I help you?"

She held up the ad in the newspaper. "This house is for lease? Correct? Mrs Collins?"

"Oh dear," she blustered. "Two on one day. Who'd have thought."

"Two?"

"Aye, lass. Come in, come in. I'm not quite young enough to have this conversation twice a day. Let's get this over with." Collins led her back into the house, passing a small kitchen, a dining room and two even smaller bedrooms. Everything was made from wood, or hammered metal, giving it a distinctly solid feeling.

What she didn't expect was to be led into an enormous living room, stacked full of empty shelves and inner balconies on which old furniture waited to be used. The room had a magnificent view of the lake, opened up by huge windows stretching across the entire wall, up three stories until they reached the roof of the room. The bright light of the afternoon sun shone into the decommissioned library to drive the breathtaking ambiance home.

There just wasn't enough time for Agatha to enjoy the view, before her senses picked up the distinct, flowery scent of fae-folk. In the ragged couch, sipping on tea, sat a woman of such beauty that it took Agatha a while to remind herself that she sensed her heritage. Veela, then, she deduced. Half, or even less, she added a bit later when she could also smell distinct human undertones.

"Miss Delacu is also interested in the house. Please, take a seat next to her." Collins offered.

"Agatha Dumbledore," she introduced herself.

"Fleur Delacour." she answered with the smallest hints of disdain for the way Collins slaughtered her name. Her eye narrowed at Agatha. It was on.

"Oh dear, when I placed the advertisement, I didn't expect two young women of such calibre. I must say, I have no idea how to decide."

"Why do you lease it? Is it not your home?"

Agatha did try to keep the investigator in her at bay, but there was something off. She felt it. She just couldn't put her finger on it, yet. It didn't help that the flowery scent of fae kept tingling her nose, drowning every other aroma out.

"Oh yes, but I've become quite sick, recently, and I need the money, you see, dear."

"What do you have in mind, in terms of price?" Fleur asked.

"Just a… I thought maybe a hundred galleon a month?" Collins couldn't even meet the eyes of the two women staring at her.

"Merde," Fleur hissed so low, Agatha barely noticed it.

"You've moved out, already?" she asked the old lady.

"My nephew takes care of me."

Agatha nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling of something not adding up. Collins was tense, and while no one was entertained by leasing a house, Collins seemed like she was sitting on hot coals.

"May I look around for a bit? I'm not keen on buying the cat in the bag, as they say."

"Of course, of course." Collins gave it her best smile. "Miss Delacour, you are free to look around as well, of course."

Both stood up right away, and began to peruse through the house. It had a certain charm, no doubt. Beneath all the dust and disrepair, Agatha could imagine it becoming a nice, little hideaway again.

She entered the small kitchen, with a hearth, an oven and some working surfaces. All was kept in oak and black metals, with the occasional white, splintered finish breaking the image. Agatha came in because finally something smelled strong enough to drown out the fae scent.

Fleur came in after Agatha, looking around with an obvious lack of motivation.

"You are a Triwizard champion, right?" Agatha asked, not looking at her.

"Qui. I did compete."

"Means you're a smart one." Agatha turned around, and listened once more for the old lady. She was still sitting in the living room, audibly slurping her tea. "Something is off. I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel it. Any guesses?"

Fleur came closer, whispering. "What do you mean? She's an old lady asking way too much for a hovel."

"She is sick, she says." Agatha shook her head. "I can't smell anything, tough. Odd."

"You smell such t'ings normally?"

"I do." Agatha turned around again and walked further into the kitchen. She looked over the used oaken surface, the scratched and dinged up oven, the marble sink that seemed to have been cleaned and stopped. "The sink is clean."

"Mon dieux, at least one thing in this 'ouse." Fleur bit out, then turned and looked Agatha right in the eye. "One thing in the 'ouse?"

"Hmm," Agatha leaned over the sink and began to investigate inch by inch. Magic would have made it easier, but there was no need to make Collins suspicious, yet. Her eyes and nose did a well enough job of finding what has been hidden. She found something, eventually, within one of the tiny cracks in the marble. "Meat, of some sort." she stated.

"Now that I think about it, she also insisted I come today, even though I asked for a different date. Odd, no? An old lady has time, does she not?"

"Insisted, you say?"

"Qui, she was quite specific in her letter."

"What day is today?" Agatha asked.

"Tuesday?" Fleur answered.

"No," Agatha said as she looked out the small window of the kitchen. "Its full moon."

Fleur rushed over to the window to see the full circle of the moon rise above the mountains. "Merde,"

"Indeed,"

Agatha pulled out her wand, grabbed tight onto Fleur's hand and tried to apparate. It was like pressing against a wall, hoping to get out. She sighed and made a definite decision about jotting this day down as the worst she had in quite a while.

"Brace yourself. We're already caught in their trap. I'm sure the moment we step out of the house, we're werewolf dinner."

"What do we do?" Fleur already had her wand at the ready. "Stand our ground?"

"Fight," Agatha thought for a second. "Specifically, we're gonna turn this trap around. With all that werewolf bounty we'll hunt today, you may be able to afford rent."

"I can afford…!"

"Don't bother. Heard you whisper before."

"Merde,"

"Exactly." Agatha then rushed out of the kitchen, into the hallway, and with all her speed she broke down the door to the living room, her heaviest arsenal of spells already on the tip of her tongue.

Fleur wasn't far behind, her own wand already glowing with a spell.

They both halted at the sight of a cowering, small, white-furred werewolf lying in the light of the full moon shining through the enormous windows.

"Mrs Collins, I presume?" Agatha tried.

She didn't smell any Wolfbane potion brewing, but it may very well be that this house was a staging ground for assaults for quite a while now. Even the stench of aconite would have been gone after a few months.

Her suspicion proved correct when the small werewolf stood up, still cowering in front of the two livid witches. Collins used her claws to push an envelope towards them.

Fleur read. "I am sorry. But I cannot disobey. He threatens my family."

"So whats the deal here? You lure us into the house and wait for them to ambush?"

Collins shook her head and pointed at Fleur with one claw.

"Oh, I see. I wasn't part of this plan. Of course, I didn't announce myself." Agatha's smile widened. "Why didn't you call it off then?"

"We should just go." Fleur pressured. "Fight until we get through the barrier and apparate."

"Absolutely possible, but not satisfying. I have a reputation to uphold." Agatha stared down Collins. "So, why is this still happening?"

This time Collin pointed at Agatha, then at the newest Daily Prophet lying next to the tea service.

"Ah," Agatha's smile became a silent laugh. "Very well, then. Consider the Executor sufficiently excited to do her work."

"Excusez-moi?"

"We're gonna hunt us some wolf, tonight." Agatha turned to Fleur. "You're up for it?"

"I presume you 'ave a plan?"

"Aye," she began waving her wand in a specific pattern. First she sought the spell that kept them from apparating, and murmured a low chant to bend it. Another swirl with her wand, and her own anti-apparition charm folded itself on top of the enemy's.

"Now they are trapped. Remember, they only expect you to be here. If they know of me, I know which wolf dies first tonight." Agatha glared at Collins, letting her know by her aura alone what fate awaited a snitch.

"Wait! Die?" Fleur took a step back from Agatha. "No! I will not become a murderer."

"Murder requires the intent to kill." Agatha's grin stretched impossibly wide around her face, showing her fangs, back to her last tooth. She leaned into the rage, the anger and the hunger her demonic side always felt. With it, her face took on an uncanny caricature of a human's. "I'll give them a fair warning. After that, they're resisting the authorities."

Neither Fleur nor Collins dared speak up against the horror in their midst. The air around them seemed to take on an uncomfortable heat. Shadows grew more intense, while light blurred and faded, and all that could be seen in the dark were red eyes, and white fangs, shining out from an abyss of shadows.

"I shall wait for them to enter. See if they are smart enough to keep lookouts outside. I doubt it." Agatha cast a small charm on the sole of her feet. As if gravity had reversed, she walked up the walls, and eventually hung from the ceiling like a demonic bat. "Be ready, Fleur Delacour. You bested a dragon. What are a few werewolves?"

"Abyss t'emporte, démon." Fleur cursed, only earning creepy giggles from above.

The door opened. It was as if the intruders savoured the creaking of the door. Agatha counted steps. Five, or six werewolves. Her eyes quickly scanned the area she could see through the windows, and saw no others. Her grin stretched even further, back to her ears. None of the little dogs wanted to miss dinner.

None of the little dogs were feral, however. There was plenty of Wolfsbane in the air to smell now. The worst kind of werewolf, then. Those who knew what they did.

They howled and snarled at Fleur as six of them stormed the living room. Agatha was impressed. The french witch held her wand out, and gave them her fiercest look. Not a shiver on her body. Only the tremble of muscles ready to spring to action. The werewolves stopped and slowly began circling their supposed prey.

Although, if Agatha had her way, Fleur would not have to lift even one finger.

She drew a large spell circle above the werewolves, spreading her presence through the entire room. She could see from their tongue sticking out that the inferno within her already pushed the room temperatures to a furred creature's limits. Collins was already on the floor, panting and trying for air.

The bit of Veela within Fleur, creatures of fire that they were, saw no issue with the heat of hell. Her human side started sweating and panting as well, but she kept standing like a bulwark.

The werewolfs themselves halted. They knew something wasn't going to plan, but before any of them could even think about running, the door slammed shut, and bricks enlarged; grew like vines, to fortify it, and the windows. Only then, Agatha was ready to explain to them how much bad luck they had today.

"I know you can understand me, wolves." she whispered, and her voice echoed throughout the room, directionless, everywhere. "I smell the potion. I know you are aware. Aware of your intent; of your sin."

She dropped from the ceiling, one mass of shadow and grin building itself up behind the wolfs. "Kneel. Be shackled. Be judged. Disobey my command, and you will find yourself delivered to your gods. By the authority of the Confederation, I offer you justice or death."

She loved this moment. Despite their canine faces, she could see the wheels turning in their heads. What would it be? What would they choose? Their tensing muscles, their unsure looks, and the realization that they have messed up was like sweet honey on her lips. She could almost bite off a sweet, juicy piece of the chaos in their minds.

"Imbéciles," Fleur hissed when the wolves just kept idling between the two witches. With one fell sweep, she pushed out a spell kicking their knees in from behind. With one strike, all of them kneeled.

Agatha gave Fleur a short look, but focused back on the wolves. "Is that your decision? I'll let you stand up and give it an honest try if you'd like to fight your fate. Amuse me."

She couldn't help it. At this point her voice purred. Every word she spoke sounded like silk wrapped into syllables. Small flames licked at her cheeks and horns, while the shadows surrounding her grew denser, almost becoming like oil swirling in the air. They remained on the floor, whimpering like little puppies.

"Very well. Stay still. Stupor!"

One by one they fell before her. Unconscious, they were an easy target for conjured metal shackles to bind them into neat presents for the Aurors.

Finally, when the werewolves were safely bound, Agatha let the manifestation of her demonic blood subside back into the natural shadows. The heat remained, but a swing of her wand opened the large windows, to let cool air wash over them.

Collins whimpered and dragged herself away to the corner of the room. Agatha didn't bother noticing. She was more interested in the furious looking Fleur Delacour.

"You saved their lives." Agatha walked towards her with slow, deliberate steps. Her nails scratched slightly over Fleur's sweat soaked chin, following down the throat until eventually, beyond the silk that was plastered to her skin, she would…

"Ouch!" Agatha held her cheek where she could already feel the slap leave a mark. "Damn. I deserved that. I needed that, really."

"What are you thinking!?" Fleur bit out. She was about to add another slap, but was halted by Agatha who pointed her wand at her own face and cast a stream of water into it.

After she drenched her face, Agatha stood straight, took a deep breath with closed eyes and released it with one, long exhale. "I'm very sorry. Thats just... stuff like this makes the succubus come out. I mean you... ah, shite." Agatha sighed and gave a pained smile to the Veela. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh," Fleur's raised hand sank back to her sides. Unsure, she took a step forward, and instead of a slap, laid her hand on Agatha's tense shoulders. "I understand, I think."

"I would think so, fae-kin." Agatha winked. "I wondered since I saw you. How much Veela is in you, if I may ask?"

"My grandmother is Veela."

"Quarter, then." Agatha scratched her chin. "You smell way more like the fae than that."

Fleur took her hand off Agatha. "What about you? How much Succubus is in you?"

"My mother."

"Half, then." Fleur began to clean some of the tossed furniture and the broken teacup up. "A Tiefling, no?"

"Aye, a Tiefling."

"You are a terrifying being." Fleur said, and despite the words, her tone made clear it was no insult. "I almost forgot I was supposed to point my wand at the werewolves, not at you."

"That is quite the compliment coming from you." Agatha sat down in the cushions of the old sofa behind her.

"Why? I am no one special."

"Triwizard Champion? You sent a dragon to bed?"

Fleur rolled her eyes at her. "I made last place."

"You survived." Agatha answered, with quite a bit of force in her voice. "Anyone participating and surviving, won the Triwizard Tournament. The Triwizard is bloodsport, and all four of you managed to not give the audience what they came for, despite the odds. Well… until the end."

"It not bloodsport. It is not designed to kill."

"It is, actually." Agatha just shook her head and rubbed her eyes. The day was beginning to get to her. "But we're getting sidetracked. Let's call the Aurors and let them deal with the rest."

"Mrs Collins?" Fleur asked.

"I'll stay here and testify for her."

Fleur bent down to the still cowering werewolf and cast some cooling spells on her. "I'll stay too, then."

"You really don't have to."

"Oh, and let you snatch the house once Mrs Collins can talk again? I think not."

Agatha grinned, shook her head and pulled her wand to call the authorities. Her wand on her temple, she cast the Patronus to send a message. "Werewolf attack at the Foundling Path, Hogsmeade. Wolves are under arrest. Executor on location."

Her Patronus, the rabbit with wings and antlers, sprung forth from her wand and vanished into the night.

"You have a Wolpertinger as Patronus?" Fleur wondered.

"Mongrel that I am, it fits, doesn't it?"

"Mongrel?" she laughed. "What am I then?"

"A better looking mongrel."

For one moment they stared at each other, waiting for the other to do something. Then, like a button pressed, both began laughing in earnest. Full belly laughs echoed through the large room. Only the sound of apparition around the house made them sober up again.

"One thing before they're in, Mrs Collins." Agatha turned to the werewolf in the corner, who was still whimpering. She could see how much the ordeal had taken from her, but it was important. "Your nephew. Once these jackasses are in Azkaban, will he be safe?"

The old wolf nodded and gave the smallest, meekest of howls.

"Good," she said, as the door was opened. No one was standing behind it, but Agatha could see the lightened wands in the hallway.

"This is Executor Dumbledore. Location is clear of hostiles. One more werewolf, but harmless. You can come in."

Four Aurors entered the room, and Agatha was glad to see a familiar face from the Order. Kingsley was first through the door, wand half raised, but a small smile on his face nonetheless. After him, three more Aurors entered. Judging from their burgundy robes, devoid of insignia, it was clear that they were barely out of training. They still had their wands up and ready.

Agatha placed herself in front of Collins, just to be sure the people her age in the room didn't do something stupid. "Three trainees and you, Kingsley? Are they trying to kill you, or has the DMLE run out of Aurors?"

"Your Patronus said you had the situation under control." he shrugged. "I figured it's a good chance to get them in the field."

"You could start by reminding them never to point a wand at peaceful civilians, lest I remind them."

The three young Aurors looked at her with unmasked confusion.

"The werewolf behind her is on Wolfsbane, lads." Kingsley explained. "Lower your wands."

"On Wolfsbane and non-aggressive. Important second variable." Agatha pointed at the six wolves shackled and unconscious before them. "Those six are also on Wolfbane, but decided to use that to be smarter while killing. Those, boys, are the ones you really need to be careful around. Bonus points for anyone who can tell me what that means?"

"They're... they're..." one of them began, but stuttered when he realized how in the spotlight he pushed himself. "They're to be tried as beings, not beasts, right?"

"10 points to the DMLE." she grinned again. "They're gonna go to Azkaban for quite a while. I heard it is even worse for those who hear the wolf's howl."

"What about this one?" another of the young Aurors asked, pointing at Collins.

"She got blackmailed into luring victims here. These six had an eye on her family. You should probably start taking the statements now, Kingsley."

So he did. Agatha and Fleur took their time giving their witness statements, with minute detail as to what happened. Meanwhile the three young Aurors packed the werewolves up and sent them one-by-one into cells via Portkeys, leaving the senior Auror and Executor alone.

"She took the first chance she saw to get out of this with her family alive." Agatha finished.

"Agatha," Kingsley took his time. He made it obvious that he was about to tell her some bad news. "Umbridge is on the warpath. If, no… when she finds out you're the witness protecting Mrs Collins, she'll make an example out of her."

"That is highly illegal," Fleur began, but Kingsley stopped her with a simple gesture.

"It is, but we still don't know what the meat was that you smelled in the kitchen, Agatha. If her lure had worked before, she's an accomplice."

Collins shook her wolf head, whimpering and whining at Kingsley. He, in turn, gave her an understanding nod. "I'll see what I can do, but Umbridge wields a lot of sway. Are your family also werewolves?"

She shook her head again.

"Very well," he bowed slightly, saying farewell. "I'll come again tomorrow, take your statement and get this wrapped up."

With that, Kingsley vanished into the aether, apparating back to the DMLE.

"Those three junior Aurors will talk." Fleur stated.

"They will. To whom matters little. Word spreads quickly, and once it is out, Umbridge will take her pound of flesh wherever she may find it."

"What do we do?"

"Wait," Agatha leaned back into the couch and nestled into the old, but soft cushions. "Once Mrs Collins here turns back I'll take the statement for Kingsley, and then we'll see about saving her skin. Until then, we wait."

Fleur stuck around for the night, but conversation was meager, to say the least. Once Agatha had sat down, Fleur wasn't far behind, with Mrs Collins wrapping into a bundle of fur on the large chair. She has looked forward to hearing some stories from Fleur, and she did, one. Agatha had laughed at the game of espionage the Triwizard champions had played to find out about the dragons. It led to her beginning the story of how she infiltrated a cult in Prague, when she heard only the answer of a loud snore during the best part of the story.

Agatha had smiled at the exhausted quarter-Veela. She did mean it when she said that she was impressed. Fair enough, she did make last place, but from what she knew, Fleur just didn't have the best of luck in an already rigged game.

Alone at night, Agatha went to securing evidence on her own. She knew the young Aurors had scoured the place, but especially at that age, money made many things appear, or disappear. Especially the sink interested her. However, one small spell to determine the origin of the last hint of flesh merely revealed a successful deer hunt.

She watched the moon fall from the sky, and the sun rise over the mountains to the east. She imagined sitting in this room, drinking coffee, while watching exactly this sunrise again and again. Hovel it may be, but Agatha only needed one night to begin to love it. So, a plan formed in her mind.

When the sun rose, so did Fleur, and a once again human Mrs Collins. The werewolf fought her own body to sit straight on the chair. Bones cracked and the pain must have been unbearable, but eventually she found her way to a somewhat comfortable position.

Agatha had conjured her notepad in the meantime, and prepared to take the woman's statement. It was done quick enough. It was an uninspired matter of blackmail, threats and assaults the woman had endured to keep her non-infected family save. She begged Agatha when it came to the meat in the sink. "It wasn't human meat, I swear. It was just animals from the woods. I… I hunted those, in bad nights."

Agatha gave her an unimpressed stare. "I do not doubt you. My spells last night confirm your statement."

"Oh," she let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, I…"

"You should probably think about leaving the country."

"What?" both Collins and Fleur burst out.

"Reason one. Those six belonged to some werewolf pack, I guarantee it. It may be a small one, and ultimately no danger, but it may also be one of the larger groups, such as Greyback's. If that is the case, they will seek revenge, after a while."

"No," Collins pleaded.

"Reason two. Even if no werewolves would be after you, you did shine up as a werewolf in an official report, who helped other werewolves committing crimes." Agatha held up her hands when Collins began to defend herself. "I know. I know that you did this to protect your family, you were blackmailed, and the only one who could get you into trouble is Fleur here, whom you lured in."

"I won't get you into trouble, Mrs Collins." Fleur said.

"However, the fact remains that the Undersecretary of the Minister hates werewolves and hates me and mine even more. If she thinks she can get even the pettiest of victories over me, she will come after you, and I cannot guarantee what happens then."

"But, my family." Collins began to cry now. Fleur was quick to sit beside her, with an arm over her shoulders and one grabbing for a handkerchief.

"Well, I cannot make this decision for you, Mrs Collins." Agatha leaned back into the couch, and took in the lake's waves playing with the sunlight. "I can make you an offer, tough. One hundred thousand galleons, and I buy the property."

"One hun…" Collins gasped.

Fleur gave Agatha the meanest of looks, while the old werewolf tried for some order in her thoughts.

"It is over value, I am well aware. But I have the money, and well," Agatha gestured vaguely at everything the panorama showed them.

"It is magnificent, is it not?" Collins stared out the window, at nothing and everything at the same time. "I loved it as a child. My grandfather was always here, reading and researching, and I played in front of the window."

"So peaceful," Fleur said to Agatha. "Imagine you standing outside. You'd look like someone misplaced their dark artefact in a candy shop."

Agatha grinned at Fleur. "I'd finally have a reason to enter a candy shop." she turned to Collins, grin quickly back to sombre neutrality. "I pay that much because it would allow you to move to anywhere in the world, with or without your family. If you want, I can give you some contacts who can provide Wolfsbane."

"Is there," Collins sobbed. Large tears ran down her cheeks. "Is there a place where I could… where I could just… run? Just run around some forest during full moon without fearing I'll hurt anyone? I just… I don't want to hurt anyone."

Agatha took her notepad, wrote her name and a few words down and handed it to Collins. "I know just the place. Even better than you'd think. Chief Abornazine is… well, he owes me. Give him that. He knows what it means."

She took the note, and read. "Pray for Eada, for the cold hearted never find redemption?"

"The wendigo slumbers in all of us." Agatha answered, her voice thick with remembrance. "It is only when the shadow is granted the power to swallow the light that the monsters show. Mrs Collins, I believe you never granted the shadows this power. You'll fit right in."

"I…" Collins stood up. Her entire body still shook from the stress of transforming. Unsure steps carried her to the large widows. Her hand, resting on the wooden frame, found purchase to stop the trembling. "I accept. How fast can I go to… where am I going?"

"Chicago DMLE. You'll register with them, make it official, and tell them you're there to speak with the Abenaki. Show the note to the first one who identifies as a member of the Abenaki."

"My family?"

"Write them. Explain. Maybe they follow?" Agatha shrugged. "Other than you, they're in no hurry. Kingsley is going to arrange the protective surveillance, just in case."

"Won't it look like I'm running?"

"You register. If you're needed for questioning the Chicago DMLE has plenty of rooms for british Aurors to question you." Agatha answered. While the conversation went on, she had placed a small pad of fine paper decorated with geometric patterns and a large sigil, on the table. She wrote the number one-hundred-thousand and the symbol for Galleons on it. Once done, she pushed it over towards Collins.

"What is this?" she asked. She picked it up and studied the sigil on it.

"You see, if I'd walk in more than five feet into Gringotts I'd be full of crossbow bolts within seconds." Agatha waved it off. "Goblins really despise demons. I'm talking beyond reason hatred. So, I have my money with the dwarves. There is a dwarven bank in Chicago. You just say what you give me for it, and the paper is going to become a contract."

"Ah, I see. Now that is quite something." Collins studied the number on the paper, took a deep breath and spoke. "For the price of one hundred thousand galleons I trade the property and all assets of Foundling Path one, Hogsmeade, Scotland to Agatha Dumbledore."

The small slip of paper widened, became a book-page sized sheet and had the words spoken, written in silvery script.

"Once you get that stamped and archived at the bank, the deal is done."

"I see, but how am I going to get to Chicago?"

"Don't you worry, I know just the guy." Agatha held out her hand. "Fawkes!"

Blistering light exploded in the room, and a ball of fire appeared right atop of Agatha's hand. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful fire of a phoenix made itself comfortable on her arm. Fawkes lowered his head against Agatha's, and pressed lightly against her.

"Missed you too, mate. I need a favour. You in?"

Fawkes trilled a warm yes, filling the space with a calm and comfort nothing else but his song could achieve.

"Mrs Collins there needs to get to Chicago. First the DMLE, then the bank. Can you keep an eye on her until she's settled in?"

Another sung yes.

Agatha stood up and brought the magnificent phoenix to the old werewolf. Collins recoiled slightly, but let the phoenix grab her shoulder, and eventually settle on it.

"Goodbye, then, Mrs Collins. If anything happens, a letter is enough and I'll be there."

"Me as well, Mrs Collins. I shall 'elp 'ow I can." Fleur added.

"You are a very odd, very kind person, Miss Dumbledore. Miss Delacour, I will never be able to thank you enough for defending me last night." Collins gave them both a small smile, filled with gratitude. "Never change, both of you."

With that, Fawkes and Mrs Collins vanished in a large ball of fire that would scare the living hell out of some nightshift Auror on the other side of the ocean.

Agatha leaned into the couch that was now hers, looked out through her windows, onto her very own panorama of the Black Lake. Fleur was still sitting next to her, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

"Fleur?"

"Yes?"

"You're still looking for an apartment?" Agatha let her head roll over to Fleur. Fleur lets her roll over to Agatha. "I just spent all my money on a house, and I could do with someone helping pay the bills."

Fleur smiled. "Qui."

Fleur had her hands full, holding both her suitcases, while floating two more behind her. Finally, she could escape the cheaper rooms in the Leaky Cauldron. Remembering still made a cold sweat run down her back.

On the other hand, as she made the track past the outlying houses of Hogsmeade, the fact she would be sharing a house with, by some's definitions, a literal demon, did make her swallow the rising dread.

Agatha Dumbledore. The odd tiefling had Fleur thinking since she first saw her. Cruel as she presented herself, it could not have been more obvious what a facade that was.

On the other hand, the enchantments she just passed gave her the distinct feeling of having a knife at her neck. Fleur tread carefully down the remaining gravel path. Forest and lake still presented themselves as beautiful as they could, but she couldn't shake that feeling of darkness lurking.

She stopped. Her suitcases were forgotten on the gravel, as she scanned her surroundings. Her wand was out, and pointing from tree to tree, stone to stone, bush to bush. Agatha hadn't been the only one sensing the Other in the room. Little tickles and the heat of her blood had alerted her to the arrival of the devilish creature. Just like it did now.

Fleur did trust her guts. Something demonic was awaiting her next move. Her eyes roamed. There! The thinnest of lines drew straight through the path, as if somebody had laid a bit of black steel in the gravel.

She had to admit that this was the first time she encountered a threshold-charm this anxiety inducing. However, now that she knew what it was that gave her goosebumps, she took the leap and stepped over the thin black line.

The moment her toes crossed the invisible barrier above the line, she saw dozens, maybe hundreds of small, blue glowing pairs of light in the trees. The lights shone from the empty sockets of various sorts of skulls, from bird to squirrel, lizard to fox. Their bodies were horrid approximations of the animals the skulls once belonged to, oily and not quite solid, more horrible memories of nightmares than anything else.

A hundred small voices echoed through the forest, whispering "Fleur," and "Welcome back" to her like an abyssal choir.

Just what she needed to further question her sanity.

Walking further down the rest of the path, she felt the pressure of enchantments and charms, layer for layer, ease on her. The academic in her took note of the strategic layout of an absolute deathtrap, and pitied the poor fool that would try and break through these protections. For her, they began to feel welcoming, like a warm blanket around her.

It also helped that Agatha seemed keen on making the house as homey as possible, as fast as possible. Once she walked out from the shadows of the forest, she was hit with the polar opposite.

The little bay the house stood in was bursting with the feeling of Fae. Fleur, knowing what to look for, saw pixies and sprites busying themselves with the formerly empty flowerbeds. From time to time Fleur could see a flower spontaneously growing, some uprooted themselves and were rearranged, all to create a small paradise of flowers and all sorts of herbs. From sage and aconite, to basil and rosemary, all nested in between magnificent spreads of wildflowers, roses and even a few orchids and other exotic flowers that had no business growing in Scotland.

Just the house itself seemed as it was when she left.

Suitcases following her, she entered and was immediately proven wrong. The hallway alone had been reformed to four times its former size. Just like the hallway, the bedrooms were resized and cleaned.

"This one seeks approval for their work." a silken voice whispered behind her.

Fleur screamed and by sheer reflex shot a Stunner straight at the voice behind her. In the same breath, she turned and brought her feet down into a fighting stance. What she saw made her stop in her track, tough.

Before her, the same blueish lights stared at her from a porcelain and gold body. When it spoke, the face remained a solid, finely crafted porcelain face. No expression could be read from the being and its porcelain body stood motionless before Fleur. The only thing moving were barely visible faces, eyes, mouths and hands, some moving fast, some slow, some screaming, some laughing, some crying, but all of them focusing completely on Fleur.

"This one seeks forgiveness. They should not have triggered the defensive instincts of the mistress."

"Wha…?" was about all Fleur could get out. It kept staring at her, she kept staring at it.

"I see you've met."

Fleur released a long, calming breath when she heard Agatha just next to the being standing in the doorway. Her smiling face popped in, and her hand slapped the porcelain being on the back with a solid thump sound.

"I would not say we met." Fleur righted herself up, and put her wand away. "It just appeared behind me."

"Well, then, let me introduce you." Agatha slapped it again on the back. "It is they, and they are Styx. Styx, this is Fleur Delacour."

"Understood. Fleur Delacour." Styx nodded.

"Styx? Like the river?" Fleur asked.

"Yes! I came up with it because they also carry somewhere between a few hundred and a few hundred thousand souls in them." Agatha pointed at the translucent shades that kept emanating from Styx, smiling like a child showing off their favorite toy. "See? They try to escape, but whoever built Styx trapped them in the construct. Its quite ingenious."

"Indeed, this one is a marvel of arcane craft." Styx added.

"And what is Styx doing here?" Fleur asked. Both Agatha and Styx looked down to the fast tapping foot, then up again to see Fleur's right eye twitching.

"Uhm,..." Agatha began.

"This one serves." Styx waved their hand and opened the suitcases, floating clothes and utensils to their respective place in and on furniture.

"They also already filled the library with my books. Alphabetical order and all that."

"So, they are a butler?"

"This one serves."

"They're a housemate."

Fleur sighed. "But the point is they're going to be around the house?"

"Yes," Agatha and Styx answered.

"Comment mériter ça?" Fleur hated that her voice began to sound whiny, but the situation did somewhat call for it. "So, we have demons in the forest, pixies in the garden, a walking graveyard as housekeeping, maybe some extradimensional unspeakable creatures I'll encounter while in the bathroom?"

"No, but you should be nice to the sharp edges in the house, they still need to get to know you."

Fleur nodded her head, slowly up and down while taking deep breaths. "Sure. The sharp edges. Of course."

"I feel like I should've talked about a few things with you beforehand?" Agatha tried.

"You think?" Fleur shouted. "I know you for what? A bit over a day now? And you managed to scare me to death more times than I am willing to count. What is… what?!"

"Well, I…"

"No! No. You don't get to speak yet! Es-tu complètement fou, démon fou?!"

"I mean, I…"

"Did you ever stop to think for one second how scary your protection charms are? I nearly ran straight back to the Cauldron when I walked in here. Gods know what I would have done, if I weren't a Charms genius."

"They'll calm dow…."

"And what kind of madwoman are you to place a horde of what I can only assume are imps in the trees?"

"I also got pixies?"

"The pixies!" Fleur was now at hysterical volume, her voice straining from the sheer loudness. "Did you make a deal with fae?"

"Well, they made a deal with a devil, so who's the idiot here?"

"You!" her voice now cracked. "Clearly, you!"

"Now, that's just hurtful."

"I don't… you know what? This was a mistake. I was looking forward to getting out of the Leaky Cauldron, but maybe… I don't know."

"No, wait!" Agatha stormed to her and took her hands. Fleur was surprised that she let her. "I apologize. I usually don't have to think about someone else. Promise, no more additional beings without your approval first, housemate."

"You wanted even more?!"

"Well, now I no longer do."

Fleur slipped out from Agatha's arms, and let herself sit on the freshly made bed. The sheets were the softest wool, covering fluffed up blankets and pillows. She couldn't wait for the night and to lie in this crass opposite to what the Cauldron provided. Not even looking at her, Fleur sighed and asked Agatha. "Just because I fear I'll die if I don't ask this. Why am I to be nice to the sharp edges?"

"Oh, that's because of my dogs."

Fleur nodded as if she understood even one bit. "Elaborate?"

"I've hunted a time traveler a year or so ago, and in order to snoop him out I bought two puppies." Agatha touched one of the corners of the doorway, and began petting the air, or so it seemed at first. Suddenly her hand vanished, doubled, changed all in the same position. "They're Tindalosian Hounds and very good boys."

"Have you ever caught the traveler?" Fleur asked.

"No, but Fox and Lloyd are on it. I'll just have to be patient, and eventually they'll have hunted him through all timelines, all possibilities and impossibilities, every last corner of the multiverse, back to me. They have his scent, they won't forget." Agatha grinned, her quiet giggle taking on echoes and raspy reverb as she gave the corner a small peck. "I'm sure he'll run and hide for millennia, just to end up at the business end of my wand."

"That is…" Fleur was at a loss for words. Instead, she began shaking her head at the sheer madness she fell into, and as much as she tried, she couldn't suppress a small smile creeping on.

"There she is." Agatha cheered. "Now get settled in, I'll get us lunch, and then you tell me why you would stay in this madhouse."