Fate Chapter 84 - Bishop takes Rook, a harry potter fanfic

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 84 is done!

Please Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

Fate

Chapter 84 – Bishop takes Rook

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 17th October, 1993 (Slytherin Training Area – Evening)

"Don't jump so hard," Ron said, and the second year named Roger nodded fervently. All of them are so damn nervous around me, which is not helping. "Let me show you guys again, alright?" Ron then looked to Tracey, and she gave him a nod.

"Stupefy!" Tracey chanted, and Ron took a short step to his left. The red light flew past him and struck the wall behind him.

"See?" Ron said to the second years. "Just a small step is all it takes. Spells like Expelliarmus and Stupefy don't have large hitboxes, and since most of the people in Rank D depend on them, all you need to worry about is small steps. That's what we'll focus on today. Everyone find a partner, and then take turns dodging Spells. Only use stunners or the Disarming Charm, nothing dangerous." Everyone began looking for partners, with Daphne quickly sliding up to Ron.

"Partners?" Daphne smirked, but Ron found it difficult to smile at her. He was still so bloody shaken by his visions, and just looking at her made him feel guilty. Instead of taking her out on dates, I should be teaching her how to defend herself. If what happened to that Ravenclaw girl happened to Daphne, I think I'd die from heartbreak. "Ron? Hello?"

"Yeah, partners," Ron nodded, and Daphne gave him a slightly baffled look.

"Hey, are you alright?" Daphne asked gently. "You weren't at lunch, and you've been off ever since you got back from your meeting. Did something happen with Cuffe?"

"No… Daphne, I'm just… I'm having an episode…" Ron whispered, and Daphne blinked at him. "Mood swing… I just feel really down… But other than that, I'm perfectly fine."

"Oh," Daphne whispered back, and then she looked around at everyone in Rank D. Pansy and Tracey had paired up, while the second years had paired up with each other. "Maybe you ought to teach us another time?"

"No," Ron said quickly, this was helping him stay distracted. After dinner, I'm going straight to Dumbledore and Snape. They need to know about what I saw. "C'mon, I made you a promise, remember? You're going to win Rank D."

"The Ranked Tournament is a long way away," Daphne couldn't help but smile a little.

"Practice makes perfect," Ron said with a weak smile. "Don't let my mood get you down, alright? This just happens to me sometimes…"

"Alright," Daphne agreed, she didn't want to overstep with him right now. "But I'm here if you want to talk, or if you want kisses." Ron reached forward and took her left hand with his gloved one, and after giving it a squeeze, he took a few steps back.

"I'll throw the first Spell," Ron said, and Daphne gave him a nod. "Stupefy!" Daphne took a late step to her left, and the stunner missed her by an inch. "Don't wait so long to react."

"Right," Daphne nodded. "Stupefy!" Ron easily moved out of the way, and Daphne made sure to observe his movements. "You dodge in such a fluid manner."

"Thanks," Ron said, and then he aimed his wand at her. "Stupefy!" This time, Daphne dodged in time. "Very good, Daph. Just like that."

"Thanks," Daphne smirked, she looked quite pleased with herself. They both exchanged Spells for around ten minutes, during which no one was hit. But eventually, Ron heard a squeal from behind him.

"What happened?" Ron asked Rogers, who was just staring at an unconscious Bethany. Ron walked up to the slightly chubby brunette, his eyes focused on her face.

"I got her with a stunner," Rogers said guiltily.

"It's alright, mate," Ron shot the guilty boy a reassuring smile, which seemed to jar the second years. "Rennervate!"

"Ow…" Bethany groaned as she woke up, but once she saw him, her eyes widened. "I'm sorry! My foot slipped, and I couldn't-"

"It's alright," Ron said gently, he didn't want to frighten them during training. What I did to Flint was a necessary evil. These second years might be lazy, but they don't deserve my anger. "Here, let me help you up."

"Th… Thanks…" Bethany muttered, and then with Ron's help, she was on her feet in no time.

"Mistakes happen," Ron reassured her. "It's part of the learning process." Ron then looked to Tracey. "How many times have you seen me take a hit, Trace?"

"More times than I can count," Tracey replied, she was quite glad that Ron was being soft on the second years. She had expected fire and rage, not soothing words and pleasant smiles.

"See?" Ron managed a smile at the brunette. "It's fine. Practice makes perfect. Ready to get back at it?"

"I am," the brunette nodded, her confused eyes darting towards her equally confused partner.

"Alright, let's keep going!" Ron said to the second years, all of whom quickly got into their positions. Ron then walked back to Daphne, who gave him an approving smile. "What?"

"You'll win them over if you keep at this," Daphne hummed, and Ron simply shrugged.

"Making them miserable would serve no one," Ron said. "I learnt that from teaching all of you…"

"It is true that you're a lot gentler with us now," Daphne noted. "Especially Pansy." Ron shot a look towards the raven-haired witch, who was currently dodging a stunner from Tracey with practiced perfection. Very nice dodge.

"I'm growing as a person," Ron joked, but Daphne just nodded her agreement. "C'mon, let's get back to it."

"Yes, Sir," Daphne smirked, and her words made him feel a tiny bit better.

Saturday 17th October, 1993 (The Great Hall – Nearly End of Dinner)

"Why don't you ask the first years to join us next time?" Pansy asked, her eyes darting towards them. "I reckon they'll stop being scared of you if you show them just how good you are with the second years."

"I'm teaching them tomorrow," Ron shrugged, his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table. He had noticed that Lavender's lot were eyeballing Hermione quite angrily, while Hermione was glaring right back at them.

"You haven't heard, have you?" Blaise asked, and Ron looked to him.

"Heard what?" Ron asked.

"Granger's made herself some enemies," Malfoy smirked, and Ron looked back towards Hermione. Enemies?

"Lavender found out that her pet rabbit died last night," Millie started, she felt quite bad for the girl. They had made an odd bond over each other's cats, and despite being a little airheaded, Lavender wasn't a bad person at all.

"Binky died?" Ron asked, Lavender had told him all about her pets during the earlier study group sessions. Theo, Malfoy, and Blaise shot him confused looks, why would Ron even know the rabbit's name?

"Eaten by a fox," Millie sighed. Ouch.

"The thing is… Professor Trelawney predicted her rabbit's death," Pansy spoke up, and Ron cocked an eyebrow at her. Divination? She did make that Prophecy about Harry… "What was it that she said again?"

"The thing that you are dreading will happen on the sixteenth of October," Tracey said spookily. "And lo and behold, her rabbit died. Rest in pieces, Binky, you will be missed."

"Tracey, don't be rude," Millie frowned a little, which only made Tracey snigger.

"Sorry, I forgot that you actually like Brown," Tracey said, and Millie frowned more deeply.

"Granger was apparently less than tactful about Binky's death," Daphne told Ron. "Apparently, she even went as far as to prove why Professor Trelawney is a 'con-artist'. Turns out, Granger doesn't like our Divinations Professor very much."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Why are you so interested in Granger, Weasley?" Malfoy asked, and Ron just shot him a frown. Daphne just stared at Ron, she clearly wanted an answer as well.

"If I know about her problems, then I can help solve them," Ron told Malfoy. "Which in turn improves my standing with her friends and House-mates." That, and I don't want someone to smother her in her sleep.

"Professor Trelawney told us that books won't be much help when it comes to Divination, and ever since then, Granger has been moody during class," Pansy told Ron, who nodded slowly. "Either way, Granger isn't on good terms with her House-mates right now. I suggest that you take Brown's side on this, mostly because only Potter and Longbottom are with Granger on this."

"And they're quite reluctant about it as well," Theo pointed out. "Pansy's right. Siding with Brown helps you more."

"I'll get her something tomorrow and give her my condolences," Ron decided. "She's quite popular in Gryffindor, so that should net us some goodwill."

"Get her chocolates," Pansy advised. "I hear that she has quite the obsession with chocolate, and as it happens, Sugarplum's Sweets Shop sells rabbit shaped chocolates. They hop around and put on a show for the eater, which ought to cheer her up a bit."

"Thanks, Pansy," Ron smiled at her, and she perked up immediately. "You're brilliant, especially when it comes to gifts." Rabbit shaped chocolates… I would've never thought of that.

"Why, thank you," Pansy beamed, her entire face lighting up. Malfoy looked between the two of them, and he looked back down at his plate. Weasley certainly knew how to keep people in line. The bell rang loudly, and people began to shuffle out of the Great Hall. I'll go to Snape's Office, and from there, to the Headmaster's Office. As they made their way up the steps leading out of the Entrance Hall, Ron spotted a Gryffindor seventh year pointing him out to Percy. Shite, that's the bloke who saw me fire off that Confringo.

"I need to go see Snape," Ron told his friends, and then he picked up his pace. His friends quickly followed after him, while Percy got bogged down by the students in his way. As they entered the Dungeons, Ron began to slow down.

"What was that?" Blaise asked, while Ron let out a relieved breath.

"I caused an explosion today, and a Gryffindor saw me commit the crime," Ron replied, much to their surprise.

"An explosion?" Theo asked.

"A Confringo," Ron replied, and they all nodded slowly. "Long story short, I was just practicing."

"Why do you need to see Professor Snape?" Malfoy asked, his eyes narrowing on Ron. If he starts getting jealous like Harry, I'm going to throw him off of the Astronomy Tower.

"He's heard about my new role in the House, and he wants to talk to me," Ron lied, he knew for certain that no one had told Snape a thing. Because if they had, then he'd have cornered me already.

"We'll be in the common room, Ron," Daphne said, and Ron gave her a nod.

"Wizard's Poker?" Tracey asked, and everyone but Malfoy nodded.

"Blaise, please keep my portion safe until I get back," Ron said. "And keep it away from Theo."

"Why me?" Theo asked with a smirk.

"Because you're a bastard," Ron smirked back, and then he began heading for Snape's Office. After a minute or so, he found himself standing in front of Snape's door. Ron knocked on it loudly, and Snape suddenly pulled the door open with a frown. He must've been by the door.

"Kick it down next time," Snape hissed, and Ron blinked at him.

"Okay… But I won't be paying for the damages," Ron said, and Snape tried to shut the door in his face. "Wait! I need to talk to you about the Future." Snape reopened the door, and he gestured Ron to get inside. Ron quickly made his way inside, and after Snape shut the door, they both turned to face each other.

"What's happened?" Snape asked.

"I had two visions today, and you need to know about them."

Twenty Minutes Later

Ron sat in his chair, and he simply watched Dumbledore and Snape come to terms with what he had just told them. It never ceased to surprise him that his visions took such a toll on both men, who were both much stronger than he was. Snape seemed to be taking refuge in his own mind, while Dumbledore had begun pacing behind his desk.

"1997, you say?" Dumbledore looked to Ron, and Ron nodded.

"April, 1997," Ron replied, and Dumbledore closed both of his eyes. He looks like he fell asleep whilst standing up.

"Four years," Snape finally spoke up, and Ron immediately looked to him. Snape looked more gaunt than usual, and Ron knew that the vision of Hogwarts burning had gotten to him. "Let's dissect these visions." Ron gave him a nod, while Dumbledore just stood there with his eyes closed. "You watched Hogwarts burning… And a lake full of dead students… Was there anything else?"

"There was a fourth year Ravenclaw," Ron started, he had left this out until now. "She was being attacked by five men, all of them well-built and in trench coats."

"She was Dueling them?" Snape asked, and Ron swallowed thickly.

"She… They were defiling her," Ron all but whispered, and Snape's face became stone like.

"Snatchers," Snape said to Dumbledore, who just gave a solemn nod.

"Snatchers?" Ron asked.

"Snatchers were Muggle-Born hunters," Snape told Ron, and Ron genuinely felt disgusted. Hunters? Of people? Merlin… "They mostly acted as the Dark Lord's foot soldiers, but their main goal was to line their own pockets and bask in the slaughter. As for the students in the Lake…" Snape looked to Dumbledore.

"A contingency plan," Dumbledore told them. "Should Hogwarts be attacked, her students would be vacated towards the Lake via secret passages. From there, the Groundskeeper would ferry them towards Hogsmeade for protection."

"I didn't see Professor Hagrid in my vision," Ron commented.

"The water most likely pulled him in," Snape told Ron. "Hagrid is quite large, and quite heavy."

"I see," Ron nodded slowly.

"And the entire castle was on fire?" Albus asked, and Ron nodded once again. "Peculiar. Hogwarts is filled with Wards designed to keep her safe, but if Lord Voldemort was to attack the castle, he'd bring down those Wards. The only problem being that he would never do that."

"He wouldn't?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"To him, Hogwarts is the only place that ever felt like home," Dumbledore replied, a distant look on his face. "He even tried to become a Professor here right after his graduation, and then again after a few years passed." He was still Tom Riddle Jnr back then. Theo's report told us as much.

"This is the Dark Lord we're discussing," Snape joined in. "You forget that he is capable of anything should his life be threatened."

"You are right, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, this second vision was from one of Ronald's previous lives. The vision that we need to be focusing on is the one involving Fred Weasley's death." Ron felt his stomach turn at that, but he kept his face in check. "By April, 1997, the Ministry will have fallen. Diagon Alley will have been deserted, and Snatchers will be openly hunting Muggles and Muggle-Borns without any resistance. This… This is truly disheartening."

"The Order might still be active," Snape said, but Ron just shook his head.

"What does that matter?" Ron asked. "With the Ministry gone, and people dying by the thousands, what's it matter?"

"It matters," Snape argued. "The night is always darkest before the dawn. You might still be fighting the Dark Lord in April, 1997."

"I wouldn't be," Ron shook his head, and Snape blinked at him. "The moment I lose a member of my Family, I will commit suicide and restart the Cycle." Both Dumbledore and Snape went dead silent, their eyes fixed on Ron.

"Ronald…" Dumbledore said after a few seconds, he looked quite shocked for once.

"I've told you, I'm not losing the people that I love," Ron said firmly. "My job is to keep them safe, and I'm not above using my Cycles to my advantage."

"You…" Snape started, but then he simply stopped. Ron couldn't quite figure out Snape's expression, but he knew that it was a mixture of anger, shock, and shame. "Forget Fred Weasley's death, let's focus on the finer details."

"Severus-" Dumbledore started, but Snape stopped him with a meaningful look.

"In just four years, not only will the Dark Lord have returned to the height of his power, but he will have devastated the country," Snape continued. "That means that he'll be in open warfare against the Ministry between 1996 and 1997. Maybe even as early as 1995. The war is approaching much faster than any of us anticipated."

"What is the Order doing about it?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Snape frowned, and Ron just blinked at him. "We spend more time bickering about morals than we do planning."

"Are you fucking serious?" Ron asked, and Snape looked to Dumbledore. "Headmaster?" Dumbledore merely shook his head, he truly didn't know how to proceed. "For Merlin's sake… What's wrong with you people?"

"Things are more complicated than they appear," Dumbledore said. "The addition of the Greengrasses has split the Order…"

"Split the Order?" Ron fumed, and then he turned his head and cracked his neck. "We have watched Our brother die twice, and yet, you do nothing with the information that We provide." Ron suddenly felt lightheaded, and when he looked back to the two wizards, he found them just staring at him with startled looks.

"You just-" Snape started, but Ron cut him off.

"I know," Ron frowned deeply. "I remember it." I just felt so fucking angry right now that I nearly attacked them.

"You remember being possessed?" Dumbledore asked slowly, and Ron nodded curtly.

"Gods…" Snape sighed out, and then he rubbed his forehead. "Can nothing go right?"

"Don't worry about my mental state," Ron told them, and then he looked to Dumbledore. "Do you know why the Order is split? It's because you allow them the privilege to become split. If I was you, I'd fucking clap anyone who stepped out of line. You're their leader, not their friend. Tell them to get in line, and tell them to get shite done!"

"You'd have me become a dictator?" Dumbledore asked, his expression hardening.

"I'd have you lead," Ron matched the old wizard's gaze. "I didn't risk my life by including you two, only to watch you squander whatever information I pass onto you. The Dark Lord is on the move, he has two powerful Pure-Bloods who are dying to meet him, and now we find out that he not only amasses an army in the next four years, but he fucks up all of his enemies using said army. And what is the Order doing? Nothing… What's this about arguing about morals?"

"Sebastian Greengrass wishes to assassinate Fenrir Greyback, a known associate of the Dark Lord," Snape replied, and despite not liking the boy's tone, he somewhat agreed with Ron. "Greyback is a Werewolf, one who is currently building an army of Werewolves for the Dark Lord." Huh?

"What? Since when?" Ron asked, he had clearly missed a few things. "Is that what your meeting was about today?"

"Indeed," Snape replied, his eyes darting towards Dumbledore. "In the end, we accomplished nothing. Sebastian offered to have Fenrir killed in Hungary, but the plan was killed in its crib by most of the Order members, including your parents."

"He's already building his army," Ron spoke to himself, and then he glared at Dumbledore. "And you're not doing anything about it. Why?"

"I cannot just do as I please, Ronald," Dumbledore replied. "If I pin the Order under my heel, then I'm no better than Lord Voldemort." Ron just stared at Dumbledore for a few moments, and then he slowly stood up.

"Our enemy has moved his rook, and he has no idea that we are already onto him," Ron said clearly, but softly. "He thinks that he's got the upper hand, while we have a way of disturbing his stratagems. You can either take his rook now, or you can watch as his rook takes your bishops, or your knights, or your rooks. This whole debate about being better than the Dark Lord is just in your head… People joined the Order not because they worship you, but because they want to defeat the Dark Lord. You're letting your own pride blind you, and until you get your head out of your arse, I will not stand in the same room as you. You don't have to kill this Fenrir Greyback, but the fact that you couldn't rein in your own soldiers is just pathetic."

With that, Ron turned around and walked up to the fireplace. He flooed straight to Snape's Office, but just as he was reaching the door, Snape flooed in behind him.

"Wait," Snape said, and Ron turned to face the Potions Master. "You were more than just distrustful of him, you were quite rude as well."

"I spent the whole day thinking about my brother's corpse," Ron said, his eyes glazing over. "And when I got back, I saw the rape of a fourteen year old girl… I watched a lake full of dead children… My school-mates… My friend John… I swallowed all of that horror, because I knew that once I told you two, we could come up with a plan. But the Order is so incompetent that it can't even come up with a strategy without 'bickering'. Why don't you understand?"

"Understand what?" Snape asked rather gently, he had never seen Ronald so numbed.

"That we didn't fail four hundred and sixty three times because of just bad luck," Ron replied, his head felt so heavy that he feared he might fall over. "We failed because unlike us, the Dark Lord doesn't second guess himself. He merely acts, while we're too 'noble' to act. A good offence is the best defense sometimes, but all you lot want to do is to be on the defensive. I'm no expert at war, but if you don't make a move against Fenrir Greyback, then we'll be outnumbered by the end of the year. His numbers will only swell after that, while we'll be stuck with a handful of defenders. And then, we'll die." Ron then drew in a deep breath, and he rubbed his face in a tired manner.

"I have to go and sit with my friends now," Ron went on. "And I'll pretend like everything is just fine… That I don't know what's going to happen to us in just four years. I want to tell them, but they'll never believe me. And even if they do, we're just kids. It's you adults who have all the power. Just… Just stop wasting time, Sir."

Severus Snape's POV

Saturday 17th October, 1993 (Snape's Office – Past Curfew)

Snape watched Ron leave the Office, he honestly didn't know what to say. Perhaps this wasn't the time to say anything, instead, it was perhaps the time for action. Snape turned around and flooed back to Albus' Office, only to find the Headmaster waiting for him.

"Ronald?" Albus asked, his face showing his concern.

"He's had a tiring day," Snape replied. "Most grown men wouldn't be able to endure what he saw today… We can't forget his age, Albus. What he said to you… He didn't really mean it."

"I fear that he did," Albus said weakly, and then he walked over to Fawkes' perch in order to feed the Phoenix. "He is right, but at the same time, he is wrong. We must move against Fenrir, but Ronald wishes for bloodshed."

"You don't know that," Snape said, but Albus just shot him a weary look. I know…

"He wants someone to pay for the crimes that he sees in his visions," Albus said, his hands feeding a hungry Fawkes. "He yearns to see justice for the atrocities that are yet to happen, but his pain blinds him. Revenge is not justice, and until he learns that, he will never find peace."

"He is thirteen," Snape said, he didn't even know why he was defending Ron. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for the boy, despite not wanting to. "He watched his brother die today, Albus. The same brother that he began his quest for. I… Perhaps we should take his words into consideration."

"I want to," Albus admitted. "Merlin help me, Severus… I truly want to. The tales I have heard about Greyback's recent activities truly disgust me, but if I have him murdered in the night, Ronald will be convinced in his ever-growing resolve."

"I think you underestimate him," Snape said, and Albus turned to face the Potions Master. "I think that Ron understands just how damaged he is. And yet, he keeps pushing forward. You want to save him, I can understand that, but Ron doesn't wish to be saved. Didn't you hear him? He plans to kill himself if his dream of what the Future ought to be is damaged beyond repair. As disturbing and selfish as that is, it shows just how much love he has in him. He would rather die than fail his loved ones." Albus was stunned silent for the second time tonight, he had never heard Snape speak like that before.

"You keep praising Potter's affinity to love, and yet, you don't seem to hold the same faith in Ron," Snape pointed out. "Ron has risked his life far more often than Potter, and whether you like it or not, he should lead the Order once we're both gone. Not Potter. Not Black. Not Moody. Unlike the three people that I just named, Ron isn't held down by prejudice. He may be angry, even vengeful, but he only ever blames those who are responsible."

"He will kill Lucius," Albus told Snape, and Snape nodded slowly.

"Lucius was my protector in my darkest years," Snape said softly. "But much like myself, he's made his bed." Snape then used his Occlumency to calm himself down. "Ron is right about Fenrir, Albus. He needs to die. You and I both know why the Dark Lord is building his army of Werewolves first."

"Azkaban," Albus nodded.

"The prison holds his strongest pieces, and he will sacrifice his pawns to break them free," Snape said, deciding to use Ron's analogy of Chess. "Once Dolohov, Bellatrix, Mulciber, the Lestrange brothers, all of them… Once they get out, the war will begin. Each of them is more dangerous than even you know. You might not have ever faced them Albus, but I saw what they were capable of up close. Half the Ministry was under Mulciber's Imperius Curse, while Bellatrix singlehandedly killed seven Aurors in one night. Fenrir Greyback is the key to their escape."

"I understand that you want Ron to be a better person than he currently is," Snape went on. "But this war is bigger than Ron. It's bigger than you, or me, or the Order. Don't lose sight of what's truly at stake here." Albus looked conflicted for a moment, and then he drew in a long breath.

"Tell Sebastian to do what he must," Albus conceded, and then he walked off towards his bedchambers. Snape walked back to the fireplace, and after calling for Greengrass Manor, he stepped through the floo.

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 18th October, 1993 (Madame Tessa's Massage Parlour – Morning)

"Ronald, where is your head today?" Madam Roberts asked, they were both waiting for Ron's appointment. "Ronald? Boy!"

"Pardon?" Ron broke out of his thoughts, only to see Madam Roberts frowning at him. "Sorry, Madam Roberts, but I'm a little… anxious… today."

"Your scars will mean nothing to your massage therapist," Madam Roberts assured him. "This place is used by many Aurors as a treatment center, and believe me, we all have scars." I didn't even think of my scars. I just feel really guilty about speaking to the Headmaster like that last night. Merlin, I hope he wasn't hurt by my words. I was so out of line. I need to apologize to him.

"Mr. Weasley!" the wizard at the reception called, and both Ron and Madam Roberts stood up. They then walked up to the receptionist, who gave Ron a yellow ticket. "Head to the back, Madam Roberts knows the way."

"Thank you, Bradley," Madam Roberts said curtly, and then she pulled Ron after her. Once they were in a room drowning with the smell of incense, they were greeted by a witch in her late twenties.

"Madam Roberts, welcome back!" the witch smiled brightly, while both Ron and Madam Roberts felt uneasy with her ever-growing smile. "And who's your handsome companion?!" Why is she so excited?

"This is Ronald Weasley, Nina," Madam Roberts introduced, she really disliked this particular witch.

"The Ronald Weasley?!" Nina exclaimed, and Ron felt the need to run away. One of my fans is going to see my scars. Fuck! "Must be my lucky day!"

"Nina, is there anyone else on duty today?" Madam Roberts asked bluntly, but the peppy witch shook her head. "Very well… Ronald, go and change behind the curtains." Ron gave Madam Roberts a pitiful look, but she wasn't fazed by it. "Go. Now." Aw! Ron quietly walked to the purple curtains, and once he was hidden behind them, he came face to face with a pair of white boxers.

"Wear these," Ron read the sign over them, and his face immediately burned. "Fuck my arse…" Ron changed out of his clothes, and once he was in his provided boxers, he desperately wished to be saved from his fate. All of his scars were on full display, and Ron found himself frozen in his spot. What if she tells people? How can I trust her?

"Hurry up, boy," came Madam Roberts's blunt voice, and Ron grit his teeth. Fucking bitch! Ron then slowly came out of hiding, his eyes darting towards the white massage table. If she tells anyone, I'll find a way to make her life miserable. Much to his surprise however, he found Nina just staring at him with a calm smile.

"Just plant yourself on the table, Mr. Weasley," the raven-haired witch said, and Ron nodded slowly. She's not disturbed by my scars? Ron looked to Madam Roberts, who was already reading an old copy of Seeker Weekly by the waiting area. She talked with Nina? Once Ron was lying face down on the padded table, Nina put a white towel over his bum.

"Um… Don't tell anyone about my scars," Ron said dumbly. "Please."

"I wouldn't be working here if I ever thought of doing something so crass, Mr. Weasley," Nina told him, and then her cold hands touched his back. Ron tensed for a moment, and then he forced himself to relax. She felt up his back for a few moments, and then she let out a sigh.

"Something wrong?" Ron asked.

"Madam Roberts, I can't heal this with a wand alone," Nina said to the Hit-Wizard. "I've never seen someone with such a tense set of muscles. He has knots all over his back, and I haven't even started checking his other muscles." Shite, that doesn't sound good. "I'll need to 'dig' these knots out of him, and only then can I use my wand to heal his muscles."

"Take all the time you need, Nina," Madam Roberts said coldly. "It is a Sunday, after all."

"I'm really sorry about what I have to do, Mr. Weasley," Nina whispered to him, and Ron turned his head to face her.

"Is it going to hurt?" Ron asked, and she gave him a sorry nod. "I'll do my best not to cry then." Nina blinked at him, and then her lips twitched upwards.

"Good man," she commended, while Ron returned to his former position. "We'll start with your shoulders."

Sunday 18th October, 1993 (Diagon Alley – Midday)

"Merlin, I feel so light," Ron grinned, his entire body moving fluidly. "This feels fantastic!"

"I'm glad that you enjoyed wasting my morning," Madam Roberts said, they were nearing the Leaky Cauldron.

"This was your idea," Ron chuckled, which earned him a frown. "What?"

"You don't talk to your Superior Officer in such a tone," Madam Roberts told him. "You want to be a Hit-Wizard one day, don't you?"

"I do," Ron said slowly.

"Then learn to show some respect," Madam Roberts said, and Ron stopped walking. Madam Roberts stopped after a few steps, and when she turned to face him, she found him staring right at her.

"I'm your student, not your punching bag," Ron told her. "And I do respect you, but don't expect me to kiss your arse." Madam Roberts just stared at him, and he decided to match her gaze. I refuse to be treated like that ever again. I won't let anyone look down on me again.

"You have a spine, I'll give you that," Madam Roberts finally broke the silence.

"Do you want to tell me why you've been so snappish today?" Ron asked.

"No," she replied.

"Alright, just don't take it out on me," Ron said. "I've got my own shite to deal with."

"Are you done?" Madam Roberts asked.

"Are you?" Ron asked back, and silence ensued once again. After a few moments, Ron decided that he was done with her for the day. "I have some business to attend to in Diagon Alley. I'll see you next week." Ron turned around and left at that. After a few minutes, he found himself within Sugarplum's Sweets Shop.

"Can I help you, young man?" a plump witch waved him over, and Ron walked up to the counter.

"Good afternoon, Madam," Ron gave a polite bow, and she let out a chuckle.

"Good afternoon, young Sir," she gave him a bob. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"I am," Ron nodded. "Do you have rabbit shaped chocolates? The sort that dance around for the eater?"

"Ah," she nodded in understanding. "Witch Greene's Easter Bunnies! I've got a few boxes stashed in the back. I'll go grab you one." Easter? That's ages away.

"Thank you," Ron said politely, and once the witch was gone, Ron heard the front door open.

"A sweets shop?" came Madam Roberts' voice from behind him, and Ron turned to see her frowning at him.

"They're not for me," Ron said truthfully. "A friend of mine lost her pet rabbit, and she happens to like chocolate."

"Here you are, young Sir," the plump witch said as put the box of chocolates on the counter.

"Could I also please grab a Sugar Quill?" Ron asked, and she pulled one out of thin air. "True Conjuration…" What the fuck?

"My, you're certainly a well-read young man," the witch chuckled. TEACH ME! "That'll be two Sickles and three Knuts." Ron reached into his pouch, and then he handed her the money. "Have a pleasant day!"

"You too, Madam," Ron gave her a respectful nod, and then he picked up the sweets. Ron then began to walk towards the door, which Madam Roberts opened for him. Once they had stepped back out, Ron pocketed the Sugar Quill.

"Is that for your friend as well?" Madam Roberts asked.

"Different friend," Ron replied, his eyes darting towards the inside of the shop. "That witch just used True Conjuration… Did you see that?"

"I did," Madam Roberts nodded curtly. "It is a difficult branch of Magic, but everyone can learn it if they are resolute enough."

"I've been trying to learn it," Ron admitted, and she wasn't even surprised. "I can't even cast Avis properly… All I get are headless birds, or worse, birds with bits missing." I can't use that Spell near Pansy again, she nearly burst into tears.

"The trick is to clear your mind of birds," Madam Roberts told him. "The Spell summons a random flock of birds, so if you think about it, your own expectations damage the Spell's work."

"Oh," Ron blinked. The Headmaster failed to mention that. "So… You followed me."

"You are my charge, Ronald," Madam Roberts said as she began to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron. "I don't leave my charges unattended." Ron followed after her, but he made sure to stay a few steps back. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Ron replied.

"My treat then," Madam Roberts said, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if this was her way of apologizing. Either way, he smiled a little to himself. Softie. As they made their way into the Leaky Cauldron, Madam Roberts signaled Tom the bartender to bring over a couple of menus. They sat down in a secluded corner, and Ron placed Lavender's chocolates on the seat to his right.

"You know, after that massage, I've worked up quite the appetite," Ron smiled at her.

"Good," Madam Roberts responded, she clearly didn't understand that he was making a joke. "A boy your age needs a full stomach. Get whatever you want."

"Thanks," Ron decided to say. "How's work?"

"Increasingly more dangerous," Madam Roberts replied. "If I have to go to Albania again, someone is going to get hurt."

"Bandits are still at it?" Ron asked, and she gave him another curt nod.

"We can't even disperse them," Madam Roberts frowned a little, while Tom walked up with the menus.

"Usual, Jane?" Tom asked.

"I'll have the fish pie today, Tom," Madam Roberts replied, and he wrote it down.

"And you, Mr. Weasley?" Tom asked, and Ron blinked at the fact that Tom referred to him as if he were a casual.

"I'll have the steak, medium rare," Ron started. "I'll also grab a bowl of chowder, the Tropical Salad, and a pork sandwich."

"Right," Tom chuckled. "We'll fill you right up, Mr. Weasley." With that, Tom left for the kitchens.

"I feel sorry for your mother," Madam Roberts said, though she sounded a little pleased for a change.

"You shouldn't," Ron shrugged. "She gave me my eating habits. We might be poor, but my mother always made sure that our stomachs were full. Anyway… Why can't you disperse the bandits?"

"Civil rights," Madam Roberts rolled her eyes. "Our Minister has forbid us from using any force against the Albanian population."

"That's fair though," Ron countered. "I mean, he probably doesn't want an International Incident on his hands."

"Tell that to the Albanian Aurors," Madam Roberts said. "I saw their Head Auror break a man's fingers with her mace."

"A mace?" Ron went wide-eyed.

"She prefers Close Combat," Madam Roberts told him. "Basically, you use offensive Spells to close the distance to your enemy, and then you hit them with a Magically Enhanced weapon. In her case, an unbreakable mace."

"That's pretty cool," Ron admitted. "I'd like a sword, I reckon. Or maybe an axe."

"You can't bring that to a Dueling Tournament," Madam Roberts pointed out.

"Really?" Ron asked. "What if I Conjured it?" Madam Roberts blinked at him, and Ron's face split into a grin. "Ohhh. Did I just blow your mind?"

"I must admit, I've never seen that done," Madam Roberts said slowly, a smirk appearing on her face. "Nor do I know if that's illegal."

"We'll figure it out," Ron laughed. "Pretty soon, I might be chasing someone down with an axe in my left hand."

"Now that… I'd like to see," Madam Roberts admitted, and then she got serious. "You mentioned that you have your own problems to deal with. Are your conditions causing you trouble?" One of them is, and that condition is nicknamed 'The Entity'.

"I get lightheaded sometimes, and I had… mood swings… yesterday," Ron said, though that wasn't entirely true. "I became really sad, and then I bottled it all up, but eventually, I exploded on a friend of mine. And then, I got really tired. Basically, I'm as hormonal as a pregnant woman." Xeno mentioned that Pandora's been having bouts of sadness and anger lately. I hope she's alright.

"You are getting help, aren't you?" Madam Roberts asked.

"I am, but it's mostly internal," Ron replied. "I can learn to cope with my stress, but sometimes, I just don't have the strength to resist…"

"Describe it to me," Madam Roberts said. "I wish to know more about what I'm dealing with."

"Um…" Ron made a face, he really didn't want to talk about this. "Having you ever felt like there's something wrong near you? Like someone is watching? Or that something terrible is coming your way?"

"I have," Madam Roberts replied.

"It's always like that for me," Ron replied.

"Always?" Madam Roberts asked seriously.

"Always," Ron nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the table. "It's gotten so messed up that I just ignore it now. But it's always there in the back of my head, making my stomach feel full of lead, but I just go about my day. I eat, I socialize, I study, I practice my Spellwork, and I solve my Chess conundrums… But it's always there in the background. A feeling of… dread. Like cold tendrils trying to suffocate me…" Ron closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, he could almost feel the Entity looming over his shoulder.

"Is your Brain-Damage to blame for this feeling of 'dread'?" Madam Roberts asked.

"I don't know," Ron replied, but he knew that it wasn't. "My Chronic Stress does impact my Brain-Damage however, which is not good. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Certainly," Madam Roberts said slowly.

"I don't think that I'm going to live past the age of twenty," Ron confessed, and she just stared at him. And then, she drew in a sharp breath through her nose.

"Don't think like that," she ordered. "Things will get easier, Ronald. I'm sure of it." No, they won't. From here on out, things will only get worse.

"I've never confessed that to anyone," Ron told her, he could feel his mood becoming somber. Damn mood swings…

"Then why tell me?" Madam Roberts asked.

"Because you don't treat me like damaged goods," Ron replied. "Everyone who knows about my conditions does, but not you. You treat me like I'm a normal bratty thirteen year old." Even Daphne sometimes turns into a nanny.

"It's because you are one," she said, but he knew that she didn't mean it. "Just do me a favor, and don't take any Spells to the head."

"I'll do my best, Ma'am," Ron couldn't help but laugh. "Merlin, where is that steak?"

"I think Tom went to catch my fish for the pie," Madam Roberts smirked, while Ron shot her a smile.

Sunday 18th October, 1993 (The Seventh Floor – Before Lunchtime)

"How do you know where our common room is?" Angelina Johnson demanded, Ron had run into her as he was waiting for Lavender Brown. "Did Fred tell you?"

"I know where all the common rooms are," Ron replied, he owned the Marauder's Map after all. "Can you please send Lavender out here? I heard that Binky passed away."

"Stay here," she said, her eyes narrowing on him. So passive aggressive.

"Thank you," Ron 'smiled' at her. She shot him a frown, and then she disappeared around the corner. Ron waited around for nearly five minutes, and just as he was about to walk away, all the Gryffindor third years turned the corner. Unsurprisingly, most of them looked extremely suspicious of him.

"How do you know where our common room is?" Hermione asked immediately, she sounded more intrigued than upset.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," Ron said politely, and her face seemed to flush.

"Don't expect manners from her, Ron," Parvati said in disgust, and Hermione shot the beautiful girl a murderous glare.

"Who told you about our common room?" Harry stepped up, his emerald eyes burning with mistrust.

"It was Finnegan," Ron lied, and everyone looked to Finnegan with utter disbelief.

"What?! No, it wasn't!" Finnegan roared. "Guys! He's lying to you! I'd never!"

"It was joke," Ron chuckled, why were they so gullible? "Anyway… Lavender, can I talk to you? In private?"

"Sure," Lavender nodded a little too quickly, while Hermione looked aghast.

"You can talk to her near us," Finnegan started, but Parvati and Fay shushed him harshly. Ron merely stepped away from the group, and Lavender followed him. Once they were out of hearing distance, Ron turned to face her.

"I heard about Binky," Ron said, and her face immediately dropped. Ron noticed Hermione glaring at him and Lavender, while Neville and Harry were trying to stop the girls from arguing with Finnegan and Thomas.

"He was so little," Lavender whimpered, her eyes glazing over. "Mum and dad couldn't find enough of him to bury."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ron said genuinely, he knew that if Helios got hurt, he'd be left in a right sorry state. "I got you these." With that, Ron pulled out the box of chocolates from his robes. "They apparently dance for the eater, and I figured that you'd probably enjoy that." Merlin bless Pansy Parkinson.

"They're chocolate rabbits," Lavender said slowly as she took the box, and then she looked up with slightly wide-eyes. "You got these for me?"

"I was in Diagon Alley today," Ron said, her look of awe was kind of disconcerting. "My friends also send their regards."

"Even Daphne Greengrass?" Lavender asked, her tone slightly teasing.

"She knows that we're friends," Ron gave her a smile. "Again, I'm really sorry about Binky."

"Thanks," Lavender managed a smile, and then she quickly latched onto him. Ron was a little surprised, while Hermione's jaw dropped open. Ron decided to return her hug, mostly because the other girls seemed to be quite excited by what they were seeing. Finnegan is going to kill me, I just bloody know it.

"Take care of yourself, Lavender," Ron said as they broke apart, and she gave him a shaky nod. Embarrassed now? Fair enough. Ron turned around and left at that, while Lavender rushed over to her friends in order to show them what Ron had gotten her. He could hear their loud squeals even as he turned the corner, but what caught his attention were the footsteps following him. Hermione is pissed off. Good thing I bought a Sugar Quill just for her. Ronald Weasley is not taking any sides here.

"So you're taking her side?" Hermione demanded, and Ron turned to face her. Neville and Harry rounded the corner at that, both of them giving Hermione's back wary looks.

"I'm not taking anyone's side, because there are no 'sides' to take," Ron told her, and she scoffed angrily. "She lost her pet rabbit, and since she's my friend, I gave her my condolences."

"Hermione, Ron's right about this," Neville spoke up, but Hermione just scowled at Ron. "There are no sides in this… Lavender lost her rabbit, and she's clearly struggling with it."

"I never said that she wasn't," Hermione bit out. "I just think that she's deluding herself into believing that her rabbit's death was predicted by the worst Professor in this school! I mean honestly! Why would she even dread her rabbit's death?! Not to mention that her rabbit died before the sixteenth!"

"Hermione…" Harry sighed out.

"What? I'm right!" Hermione turned to face her best friends.

"Being right isn't even important in this situation," Neville countered. "She lost something that she loved, and you're refusing to understand that."

"I understand it perfectly," Hermione said haughtily, while Ron just watched the argument with an amused expression. This is turning a little ugly. I should give her the Sugar Quill now.

"Ahem," Ron cleared his throat, and when Hermione turned back to face him, he presented her with the Sugar Quill. "This is for you, Hermione."

"What?" Hermione blinked, her fire was seemingly extinguished by Ron's sudden actions.

"It's a Sugar Quill," Ron told her, while she just stared at it. Both Harry and Neville seemed to be quite surprised as well. "I'm not taking Lavender's side, or yours. I have no business involving myself in Gryffindor affairs. I was simply expressing my sympathies to my friend."

"That's for me?" Hermione asked, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if she had ignored his little speech. "You got me a Sugar Quill?"

"I did," Ron nodded. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" Hermione asked slowly.

"Because you're a little bookworm," Ron said teasingly, and Hermione just stared at him. Right. Ron took her right hand with his left one, and then he planted the Sugar Quill in her palm. She has really soft hands. "Don't be upset with me, alright?"

"Alright," Hermione nodded dumbly, and Ron gave her a smile before he turned around and left. As he neared the Moving Staircase, he cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself. I should go see Dumbledore before lunch starts. Apologizing to Dumbledore had been on his mind all day, especially because his anger at the old wizard was unwarranted. Dumbledore wasn't like the Dark Lord, and to fault him for it was just unfair.

"Lemon Sherbet," Ron said to the Stone Gargoyle, and it slid aside for him. Ron quickly traversed the spiral staircase, and then he knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Enter," came the Headmaster's voice, and Ron made his way inside. "Ronald."

"Hello, Headmaster," Ron greeted Dumbledore, his Disillusionment Charm shattering. As Ron closed the door, he steeled his resolve. Just be like Daphne, Ron. Just apologize without beating around the bush. "Can we talk?"

"Take a seat," Dumbledore gestured, his eyes going back to his work. Ron walked up and sat down, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore. Just do it.

"I'm sorry about my behavior last night," Ron apologized, and Dumbledore looked back at him. "I had no right to take my fear out on you. I was scared, still am, but using you as my lightning rod was extremely unfair." Ron then shifted in his seat a bit, the old man's gaze was hard to match. "I sometimes forget that you're just a human being, and not this God that everyone sees you as. When I realized that, I figured that much like myself and Professor Snape, maybe you're scared as well."

"Terrified," Dumbledore admitted, and then he leaned back in his clawed chair. "I am petrified, Ronald…"

"Me too," Ron said, though hearing Dumbledore admit that really hurt Ron. "Do you… Um… Do you want to talk about it? I mean, we're both in the same boat." Dumbledore smiled tiredly, while Ron just sat there with a sorry look.

"Sebastian Greengrass has set things into motion," Dumbledore told Ron. "You were right… Inaction will be the death of us."

"And the Order?" Ron asked. "What will they say about this?"

"Sebastian is willing to take the blame for us," Dumbledore replied, and Ron nodded slowly. "He will claim that he went ahead with his plans despite the Order's refusal. He understands that bloodshed is inevitable, and he is willing to bear that burden."

"I don't think that he really cares about what the Order thinks," Ron said. "I know that I sometimes have a blind spot when it comes to him, but I'm not stupid. He, and his wife, are both very dangerous people." And they no doubt want revenge on the Dark Lord.

"The World is more grey than black and white, Ronald," Dumbledore said. "I have often forgotten that fact, and it has cost me dearly. The Order has followed me in my blindness, and because of that, they have become rooted in their ways. At the end of the day, our enemies believe that their cause is sacred, just like us."

"The Dark Lord has a cause?" Ron asked. "He's a Half-Blood who preaches Blood-Purity."

"Lord Voldemort serves only himself," Dumbledore clarified. "But many of his followers believe in his poisoned words. He has infected them like a disease, and turned them rabid."

"They allowed that to happen," Ron said, his body relaxing into his chair. "There are Pure-Bloods out there who resisted, who chose to value tolerance over fury. I will not, and cannot, feel any sympathy for the Dark Lord's followers. If they wish for violence, then we'll give them violence. When a dog turns rabid, you put it down. You don't wait for it to bite someone."

"I wish that you wouldn't think like that," Dumbledore said, but Ron merely shrugged.

"I'm not your project, Headmaster," Ron said softly. "I'm my own person. In the end, I'll have to answer to myself. Same as you and Professor Snape."

"You are quite wise for your age," Dumbledore smiled in a kind manner, and Ron snorted.

"Not really," Ron replied. "I just understand that you can't win Chess without taking your enemy's pieces. And despite not wanting to, I'll leave the glories for Harry Potter." Dumbledore lost his smile at that, mostly because he heard genuine jealousy in Ron's voice.

"Harry's legend inspires hope, Ronald," Dumbledore started, but Ron decided to forgo the speech.

"I know, and I understand," Ron told the Headmaster, who gave him a weak smile. "I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm just a guy who really loves playing Chess. Speaking of which… Care for a game?"

"Certainly, dear boy."

Wednesday 21th October, 1993 (The Dungeons – After Potions Club)

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, a pleasant smile on her face.

"It was," Ron admitted. "I'm glad that for once, we finished before everyone else."

"Well, we did have the easiest assignment," Hermione said. "Odd that Professor Snape asked us to just prepare ingredients." Odd indeed. What's he up to, eh?

"I'm kind of glad," Ron admitted. "After the Draught of Living Death debacle, I'm just glad that I didn't get yelled at again." They both stopped near the stairs, and Ron waited for Hermione to be on her way.

"Do you want to spend some time together?" Hermione asked, and Ron blinked at her. Pardon? "You know, as friends. In the library. Doing study." Doing study? "I mean homework, that is! Which is technically still studying…"

"I'd love to, but I've got some Slytherin business to attend to," Ron said, he had to teach the second years about Shield Charms. Hermione's smile fell a little, and then she gave him a nod.

"Some other time?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Ron replied, and Hermione quickly left the Dungeons. I wonder what Daphne is up to?

Ron made his way to the Slytherin common room, and once he had given the password, he made his way inside. Just like the last few days, people stayed clear of him. A few eyes followed his every move, but the number of people leaving the room whenever he entered had dwindled greatly. Flint's lot were nowhere to be found, and Ron figured that they were on the Quidditch Pitch again. Oddly enough, Flint had started working harder at being Captain just to prove Ron wrong. Ron, however, welcomed this change.

For one, Flint was no longer around to cause strife within the House. Without Flint and his gang around to back up rebellion, the older delegates had quickly started to weaken in resolve. The Triumvirate already had them on a tight leash, and now with Ron as their 'muscle', the Triumvirate had seized complete control over Slytherin once again. Secondly, Flint's refocus on his duties had been mistaken as cowardice by many, which only served to benefit Ron's ever-growing reputation as the strongest wizard within Slytherin.

As Ron stepped into the Training Area, he was greeted by a rather odd sight. His first years were practicing with Shield Charms alongside the second years, while his friends walked around making sure that everyone was putting in an effort. What's going on here? Ron decided to cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself in order to snoop around, this was rather intriguing.

"Fawley, don't just stand in one spot after blocking," Millie instructed, and John nodded fervently. He's actually sweating. Tori?! Ron quickly looked around for the younger Greengrass, he already knew that she had a frail health. It took him a few seconds to spot her, and much to his relief, she looked quite alright. A little sweaty, but not exhausted. Ron then spotted Daphne hovering near her sister, which further eased Ron's mind.

"Mathias, relax your grip on your wand," Theo told the second year. "It's not your cock, mate."

"Ahem," Pansy cleared her throat, while the second year girls looked scandalized. The lads, however, started cracking up at a slightly embarrassed Mathias.

"Alright, switch partners," Blaise ordered, and everyone quickly found new partners. "Five more minutes, and then you can take a breather."

"You're all doing great," Tracey quickly added, which had a positive effect on everyone. Ron circled the Training Area with a smile on his face, he was rather proud of his friends right now. Would you look at that? Even Malfoy is here. Ron spotted the blonde wizard teaching an uncertain Lysandra how to keep her footing whenever she blocked a Spell. Eventually, Ron managed to sneak up behind Daphne, who was overseeing Astoria and Derek exchanging stunners.

"Whose idea was this?" Ron whispered as he hugged Daphne from behind, and she let out a squeak. The first years shot her a surprised look, but her Ice-Queen persona was already back in place. They quickly went back to practicing, while Daphne frowned deeply.

"You scared me," Daphne whispered, her voice coming out as a whine. "Ron, what are you doing?"

"Watching," Ron whispered.

"Pervert," Daphne said curtly, and Ron snorted.

"Seriously though, what's going on here?" Ron whispered.

"Malfoy decided that we needed to show leadership qualities ourselves," Daphne whispered. He did? "He made a great point about us being seen as your underlings." Ah, he doesn't want to be seen as being beneath me. Well, if it helps everyone in the long run, who am I to argue?

"But you're not my underlings," Ron whispered.

"I know, but people like to talk," Daphne whispered, and Ron rested his head on her left shoulder. "Plus, this eases your burdens."

"Thank you," Ron whispered, and then he kissed her sweaty cheek. "Ew…"

"Sorry, we've been at this since classes ended," Daphne whispered, and Ron kissed her cheek again. "Really?"

"I like my meat salted," Ron grinned, and Daphne stepped on his foot. Ow… Ron didn't make a sound, but he did clench his teeth. "It was a joke…"

"Pervert," Daphne's lips twitched upwards.

"I'm going to keep looking around," Ron muttered, he was just glad that his Disillusionment Charm hadn't broken. Ron then limped past a couple of second years, and he was quite pleased with their blocking skills. They're lazy, not academically challenged. And they respond to praise above everything.

"Just one more minute," Blaise called out.

"I've got fresh orange slices!" Pansy announced, much to everyone's excitement. Courtesy of Marty, eh? The ninth member of our squad. As the minute came to an end, Ron spotted Samantha and Clara step into the Training Area. Their eyebrows were immediately cocked at the sight before them, and they quietly observed Ron's friends.

"Can we help you?" Daphne called out to them, while Ron stopped beside Sebastian and Mathew.

"Where is Ronald?" Clara asked, her eyes scanning the room. They need my help.

"Here," Ron said as he broke the Disillusionment Charm, which resulted in Sebastian and Mathew screaming from fright. Ron barked out a laugh as the first and second years stared at him in astonishment, while Sebastian and Mathew bent forward and wheezed. "Sorry, lads!"

"Did you see that?!" Rogers exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe. "He just appeared out of thin air!"

"You were all doing an exceptional job, and I didn't want to disturb you," Ron smiled at them, which they all seemed to enjoy. Ron then patted Sebastian's back, and he shot Mathew a grin. "Keep up the good work everyone." With that, Ron walked up to Samantha and Clara.

"The second years are coming along," Samantha noted, and Ron gave her a nod.

"It was slow at first, but they're getting there," Ron told them. "I'm focusing on defense, mostly because second years don't really need much more than that. As long as they can dodge, block, and throw stunners, they'll do well."

"Carey and I tried to speak to you during the Potions Club, but you were a little busy with Miss. Granger," Samantha started.

"We have a problem," Clara finished.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Your brothers," Clara replied, and Ron blinked at her. "The twins… They've been targeting the Slytherin fourth years ever since Monday, and it needs to stop."

"They're just playing pranks," Ron said.

"Embarrassing a Lady by Hexing off her eyebrows in public is not funny," Samantha said firmly. "Sure, Madam Pomfrey can fix it. But your brothers used Colin Creevey's camera to take photos, which they no doubt plan to release all over Hogwarts."

"They'll be praised by the other Houses for being ingenious 'pranksters', while a Slytherin girl will lose face within the school," Clara frowned deeply. "They will never listen to us, but you're their brother."

"I'll get onto it right now," Ron said, and both girls gave him grateful nods. "Dinner is almost about to be served, I'll talk to them after. Who is the girl that they took photos of?"

"Barbara Miller," Clara replied, and Ron decided that he needed to talk to her first. "She's in the common room right now, and be warned, she's quite cross."

"Noted," Ron said as he moved past them. He knew what Barbara Miller looked like, of course, but he had never spoken to her before. As such, he had no idea about how she felt when it came to Blood-Traitors. Once he spotted her sitting with her friends on a round table, Ron walked up to them with a pleasant smile.

"Hello," Ron greeted them, and they tensed at the sight of him. "Barbara Miller, might I have a word with you?"

"Um… Sure," Miller said slowly, her eyes traveling towards her companions. They quickly got up and left, and Ron couldn't help but notice that Miller seemed even tenser now.

"You aren't in any trouble," Ron assured her as he took a seat. "I've heard that my brothers played a rather cruel joke on you."

"They did," Miller frowned, her voice was rather high-pitched for a girl her age.

"And why would they Hex you?" Ron asked.

"Because they're jerks," Miller frowned even more deeply.

"I'm on your side, Miller," Ron said gently. "The twins once burned a hole through my tongue as a joke. They can be so barbaric sometimes that I just…" Ron trailed off. Now that the sad story is out of the way. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I'm blaming you, that's not my intent. Tell me what happened, and I'll find a way to solve this issue before it escalates."

"They Hexed my eyebrows off," Miller all but shrieked. "And then, they used that creepy boy's camera to take a photo of me! They told me that they were going to spread the photo around in order to teach me a lesson!" A lesson? Also, did she just call Colin 'that creepy boy'?

"You were picking on Colin Creevey, and the twins showed up," Ron figured, and she looked down at the table with an angry pout.

"He takes photos without permission…" Miller glowered. "He took one of me and my friends, and I had enough of it. He says that he just wants to send pictures back to his parents, but I don't believe that for a second." Trust me, he was telling the truth. But I can understand why she feels annoyed. "He's a little pervert, so I took his camera away. That's when your brothers showed up…"

"I'll take care of it," Ron promised her as he stood up, but she said nothing in response. Guess I'm tangling with the twins tonight. Shite.

Wednesday 21th October, 1993 (The Entrance Hall – After Dinner)

"Fred! George! Hold on a second," Ron caught up to the twins, who turned to him with identical smiles. Ron recognized those smiles far too easily, the twins had been up to no good today. "Can we talk in the Courtyard? Just us?"

"Of course," Fred sang. "Come along, Ronnikins." Fred then put his arm around Ron's shoulders, and the three brothers exited the castle. Once they on the far end of the Courtyard, Fred finally let go of Ron. Merlin, I'm a little tense at seeing Fred right now.

"Great breeze tonight," George said, and then he took in a deep breath. "Just smell that air!"

"You two are in a great mood," Ron noted, and the twins laughed merrily. Well, I'm about to ruin it.

"We locked Filch in a bathroom today for nearly three hours," Fred sniggered.

"Without his cat running around, no one even went looking for him," George added.

"Right…" Ron said slowly. "I hear that you also Hexed the eyebrows off of a Slytherin girl today." The twins stopped sniggering at that, but they still looked rather proud of themselves.

"And what if we did?" Fred asked.

"Are you here to defend her honor?" George smirked.

"No, but I am here to defend her reputation," Ron replied, and the twins cocked their eyebrows at him. "You took a photo of her… Can I please have it?"

"No," the twins refused. Bugger.

"Look, she learnt her lesson," Ron started, but Fred just tutted him.

"I doubt that, dear little brother," Fred wagged his finger in Ron's face.

"We caught her harassing poor Colin," George added. "She was quite happy with herself at the time, and if we hadn't intervened, she would've broken his camera."

"So, we're using that camera to knock her down a peg," Fred finished.

"From what I've heard, Colin was taking photos of her and her friends," Ron argued. "He's been known to do that." Doesn't Pansy call him Colin Creepy?

"Yeah, and he sends those photos to his Family," Fred countered.

"But Muggles can't see Hogwarts," Ron said, and Fred rolled his eyes.

"McGonagall Charmed his camera, Ron," George told Ron, and Ron nodded slowly.

"Still, he took photos of Barbara Miller and her friends," Ron said. "They acted terribly, and so did you. Let's call it even. There's no need to ruin a Lady's reputation over something like this."

"A Lady, he says," Fred laughed, and George joined in. "You don't talk right anymore, little brother."

"Be that as it may," Ron said, he had no idea why that stung so much. "Please hand the photo over. I'm asking you this as a favor, one that I'll gladly pay back."

"Why do you care about Miller so much?" George asked.

"Are you cheating on young Daphne?" Fred asked, and Ron grit his teeth. Everything is a damn joke to these two.

"I would never do that," Ron said as calmly as he could. Remember to breath, old dog. "I have… risen… within Slytherin recently."

"Risen?" the twins asked quickly.

"In popularity," Ron said, and the twins narrowed their eyes on him. "If I help Miller, people will take note of that. So please, as your brother, I'm asking for your help."

"Tempting…" Fred started.

"But no," George finished.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because you're trying to charm us," Fred said, a smirk on his face. "That might work with everyone else, but we know you better than that."

"You're only saying what we want to hear," George added. "That's no way to treat your Family, Ronnie."

"We'll be making multiple copies of the photo tomorrow," Fred said, and Ron's ears perked up. Tomorrow? They haven't duplicated it yet.

"Guys, please?" Ron asked again, but they merely walked off in laughter. Fuck! "Fucking identical twats…" Ron waited until the twins had entered the castle, and once they were out of sight, he walked into a dark corner. "Marty!"

"Master called Marty?" Marty bowed right out of his apparation.

"I did," Ron smiled at his Elf. "I have a job for you."

"Truly?!" Marty beamed.

"Yes, and it's a little dangerous," Ron replied, and Marty clapped his hands.

"What does Master need from Marty?!" Marty asked with a toothy smile.

"You can apparate into the Gryffindor dorms, right?" Ron asked, and Marty nodded quickly.

"We Elves can apparate anywhere in Hogwarts," Marty told Ron.

"Are you familiar with my twin brothers?" Ron asked, and Marty pulled a face. "What?"

"Master's brothers set off Dung Bombs in the Kitchens once… Marty's bed smelled of Dung for days, Master," Marty replied. "Enchanted Dung Bombs!" Ron felt his temper flare at that, but he didn't show it.

"I'm very sorry, Marty," Ron said as he kneeled down in front of his Elf.

"This was before Marty met Master," Marty said quickly.

"Still, I'm sorry," Ron patted the Elf's upper arm. "How would you like some revenge tonight?"

Thursday 22nd October, 1993 (Slytherin Common Room – Past Midnight)

Ron sat by the fire, his head drooping from side to side. He was utterly spent, but Marty had yet to show up with the twins' trunks. The plan was quite simple, and yet, brilliant. Once the twins were asleep, Marty would travel to their rooms and steal their trunks, which he would then deliver to Ron. Ron had figured that the twins had set up protections to keep their trunks safe from the other Gryffindors, but with Samantha's help, Ron knew that he could get them open.

"Master!" Marty whispered from behind him, and Ron quickly turned to see his Elf hiding behind a sofa.

"Marty, no one is here," Ron assured the Elf, and Marty quickly hopped into view. "Did you get the trunks?"

"Marty brought them!" Marty beamed, and Ron grinned in response.

"Well done, mate," Ron said excitedly, his tiredness forgotten. Ron then walked up to Marty, and he spotted the trunks sitting behind the sofa. "And you didn't open them… Excellent work!"

"Thank you, Master," Marty bowed deeply, and Ron nudged Marty lightly.

"You don't have to bow to me, Marty," Ron said. "We're friends."

"Friends?" Marty asked, he looked a bit confused by that. "No bowing?"

"As in partners," Ron clarified, and Marty nodded slowly. "And if you don't want to bow, then don't. I mean, Blaise doesn't bow to me, and I still love him."

"Marty will keep bowing," Marty said, and Ron decided to let it go. Too tired to refuse him. "But… Thank you, Master friend." Master friend?

"You're welcome, Marty friend," Ron said, and Marty giggled like a child. "Right, I need to get these opened."

"Marty shall await Master's call," Marty said, and then he disapparated. Ron turned to the trunks, and he felt truly giddy. I've got you two now!

"Locomotor," Ron chanted, his wand aimed at the trunks. Both trunks began to float a few inches off of the ground, and Ron quickly began making his way towards the Triumvirate's room. He knew that it was really late, but he also knew that they would help him. After all, these trunks belonged to the most infamous duo in Hogwarts. Once he reached their door, he knocked on their door a little too loudly. After a few seconds, he heard movement from behind the door.

"Who is it?" came Clara's tired voice.

"Prince Charming," Ron replied, and the door slowly opened. "Hello."

"Ron?" Clara blinked at him with her tired eyes, her hands securing her bright pink robes. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I need your help," Ron replied. "More specifically, I need Samantha's help. She's the best at Runes between you three, right?"

"Runes?" Clara asked. "In the middle of the night?" Ron looked to the twins' trunks at that, and she followed his gaze. "What the…?"

"The twins' trunks," Ron looked back to Clara, who cleared her eyes in order to get a better look.

"Circe's song," Clara muttered. "How did you get those? Wait… Your Elf…"

"Shhh," Ron shushed her, he didn't want anyone hearing that. It's so annoying that she figured that out. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Clara said as she stepped back into the room, and Ron made his way inside with the trunks hot on his trail. "Carey! Samantha! Wake up!"

"What?" Carey groaned from her bed.

"Ron's here," Clara said, and Ron immediately heard shuffling.

"You let him in?!" came Samantha's voice, and then a lamp turned on.

"He needs help with something, and I couldn't refuse him," Clara smirked at her disheveled friends, while Ron averted his eyes.

"We're decent, Ron," Carey sighed out as she stepped out of her bed. Ron? Not Ronald? I guess she's a little too jumbled right now. Ron looked to Carey, his eyes lingering on her silver sleeping robes.

"Clara, explain yourself," Samantha frowned deeply, and as soon as Ron looked at her, he averted his eyes again. A black tank top and tiny shorts! Make yourself decent, woman!

"Ron broke into Gryffindor Tower and stole his brothers' trunks," Clara told them, and both girls gaped at Ron.

"Ron?! What were you thinking?!" Carey demanded, her eyes landing on the floating trunks.

"You needed my help, remember?" Ron said quickly. "The twins refused to hand over the photo, so I decided to try a different approach. Samantha… Do you want to wear something else?"

"They're just legs, Ron," Samantha rolled her eyes, and then she began inspecting the trunks. Ron slowly looked back to her, and he made sure to not stare at her long legs. Unlike Clara and Carey, Samantha's hair was still relatively neat and tidy. She had it done up in a very long plait, one that reached her bum.

"The twins probably have some protections on their trunks, and I don't know how to get past them," Ron told them. "We touched on breaking Enchantments in Runes class, but we didn't really delve into it. I figured that since you're really good at Runes, you could help me out here."

"Put them down," Samantha said, and Ron did as he was told. Samantha walked over to her bedside table, and after retrieving her wand, she kneeled down in front of the trunks. "Which one do you think has the photo in it?"

"Try George's," Ron replied, his eyes fixed on the trunk with the massive 'G' on it. "He's cautious, and generally plans the pranks."

"Specialis Revelio," Samantha chanted, her wand rapping smartly. Ron leaned forward a little, his mind memorizing the Spell.

"Does that Spell help you figure out which Enchantments are on an object?" Ron asked, and Samantha gave him a nod.

"An Anti-Theft Charm, a Concealment Charm, the Impervious Charm, the Intruder Charm, and even a couple of Hexes," Samantha told them.

"Can you open it?" Carey asked, and Samantha looked back to the trunk.

"It'll take a few minutes," Samantha replied. "I'm a bit disappointed with the Protections on these trunks, I expected a lot more."

"Well, they have to use these every day," Clara pointed out. "It'd be impractical of them to add too many safeguards." Samantha started muttering some incantations under her breath, and Ron leaned in closer to hear what she was saying.

"Ron, I'm trying to concentrate here," Samantha gave him a deadpan look, and Ron gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," Ron said as he took a step back.

"He was trying to look into her cleavage," Clara teased, and Ron quickly shook his head.

"I'd never do that," Ron denied. "I swear. I just wanted to hear which incantations she was saying."

"Quiet down, you two," Carey shushed Ron and Clara. "Let Samantha concentrate." With that, Carey walked over to her bed and sat down on its edge. "Ron, a word?" Ron walked over to Carey and stood in front of her, and Clara decided to join them.

"I can't believe that you brought these down here," Clara chuckled, and Ron couldn't help but notice that the girls weren't being cold to him. Probably because they're really tired. And shocked.

"How did you manage this, Ron?" Carey asked, and then she yawned. "Sorry…"

"Now I feel like yawning," Ron said, he too was utterly spent. "I had some help with the trunks, that's all I'll say."

"Well, I feel the need to commend your efforts," Carey said. "You are taking your duties very seriously, and people are taking note of that."

"Thanks," Ron said.

"How do you think the second years will fare on Sunday?" Clara asked.

"They'll do better than before, but other than that, I'm not too sure," Ron admitted. "I wish I had more time with them."

"As long as they don't embarrass this House again, it's enough," Carey said, and Ron couldn't help but agree. "How's the trunk coming along?"

"Getting there," Samantha replied.

"Are you going to return their trunks?" Clara asked Ron.

"I mean, I have to," Ron replied. "The last thing we need is the twins getting angry."

"Maybe we ought to confiscate their toys," Carey said, a smirk appearing on her tired face.

"Hogsmeade weekend is coming up," Clara started. "They'll just buy more prank items from Zonko's, which they'll then use on us. Let's just take the photo, copy it, and then let Ron send it all back."

"Copy it?" Ron asked, he wasn't expecting that.

"Call it insurance against Barbara Miller," Clara replied.

"You mean blackmail," Ron frowned. "I'm sorry, but that's just wrong. She's one of us, and she's clearly scared of that picture going out. We're supposed to protect the House."

"You burned Flint's hand without hesitation," Carey cocked an eyebrow.

"Flint has a history of bullying people," Ron countered. "For Merlin's sake, he nearly killed Malfoy when he shot him out of the sky. Not to mention that Flint attacked me first. Barbara Miller hasn't done anything to us."

"Yet," came Samantha's voice.

"I can understand the advantage of having something on her, but I'm not comfortable doing something like this," Ron told them. "It's wrong."

"Fine," Carey said. "But just remember this… Being noble isn't always the smart move."

"I'm not being 'noble', I'm just not keen on blackmailing another person," Ron said calmly. "A person who hasn't even done anything to wrong us. Imagine if someone had an embarrassing photo of you, and they used it to strong-arm you into being their slave."

"Slave?" Clara asked. "Ron, we're not going to do that. The photo will just be a tool to keep her in line."

"Please don't do this," Ron said to Clara, and she looked a little taken aback. He knew that he could just order her to not do such a despicable thing, but that would only serve to strain their partnership even more.

"Alright, Ron," Clara said slowly, her eyes darting towards Carey.

"If she does step out of line, I'll deal with it," Ron promised. "But not like this."

"It's done," Samantha called, and the three of them made their way towards the trunks. "Who wants to open it?"

"Did you get rid of all the Protections?" Carey asked.

"Maybe," Samantha replied.

"Maybe?"

"The twins are crafty," Samantha shrugged. "They might have left behind other traps." Shite… That does sound like them. "So… Who wants to open it? I've already done my part." Ron shot Carey and Clara quick looks, and then he let out a sigh. If they get hurt, it'll be on me.

"I'll do it…" Ron volunteered, while Clara and Carey sighed out in relief. Ron slowly kneeled down in front of George's trunk, and after drawing in a deep breath, he undid the latch. "Fuck! That hurts!"

"What happened?!" Samantha asked quickly, while the other two girls tried to pull Ron away from the trunk.

"Hehe," Ron chuckled, and he was immediately smack by Clara and Carey. "Sorry… Sorry… Just trying to ease the tension."

"Honestly…" Samantha frowned deeply. "You scared me half to death…"

"That wasn't funny, Ron," Clara glared at him, and Ron let out a guilty laugh. Her lips twitched upwards, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Back to it," Ron said, and then he quickly flung the trunk open. Ron immediately spotted the photo of Barbara Miller sitting on top of George's clothes, and Ron couldn't help but note how disturbing she looked without eyebrows.

"Right on the money, Ron," Carey smirked, while Ron pocketed the photo.

"I'll give this to her," Ron told the others. "That ought to prove to her that we can be relied upon."

"What's that?" Clara pointed towards an envelope in the far corner, and Ron picked it up. It was marked with a lipstick kiss, and Ron quickly put it back. "C'mon, Ron… Don't you want to know who's sending your brother love letters?"

"I do, but…" Ron started, but then he stopped. It would be wrong to do this to George. But what's wrong with a quick look? The twins have always pranked me, so maybe I should get back at them for a change. Still… This wouldn't really be a prank.

"Just a quick read," Clara hummed. "That's all."

"The twins would never do that to me, so I can't do that to them," Ron said, though his voice gave away his temptation. Ron closed the trunk quickly, and then he let out a shaky breath. Who was it from though? Maybe Katie Bell? She's quite the looker. Or maybe Alicia Spinnet? Either way, George is probably seeing someone in secret.

"Boring," Clara booed.

"Respectful," Samantha corrected, and then she patted Ron's right shoulder. "Good on you, Ron. Don't listen to Clara, she was dropped on her head as a child."

"Probably," Clara shrugged. "I'm going back to bed. Ron, want to join me?" She's flirting with me again? Ron smiled a little at that, and then he shook his head.

"My night isn't over yet," Ron said as he stood up. "Thank you for your help. Goodnight." With that, Ron cast Locomotor on the trunks, and then he began to head towards the door.

"Make sure to hand that photo over to Miller," Carey called out, and Ron gave her a nod. Time for Marty to return the trunks.

Thursday 22nd October, 1993 (Outside the Slytherin Common Room – Before Breakfast)

"Here," Ron said as he handed Miller the photo, which she all but snatched out of his gloved hand.

"Is this the only one?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Merlin, she looks like she wants to run away. "No copies?"

"It's the only one," Ron replied, and she just stared at him. "What is it?"

"You aren't hiding any copies for later, are you?" Miller asked meekly. "To blackmail me?"

"I swear on my Family's honor that I am not," Ron promised, and she gave him a weak nod. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to burn it," Miller said a little angrily. "Um… Thanks… Weasley. You're alright…"

"Take care, Miller," Ron gave her a smile. "And if the twins hassle you-"

"I'll come to you," she nodded more surely, and then she left in the direction of the Dungeon Bathrooms. Ron decided to join his friends at that, they were waiting for him by the stairs that led out of the Dungeons.

"You did the right thing, Ron," Daphne smiled at him, and he quickly took her free hand with his gloved one.

"Good on you," Pansy said firmly, while Tracey gave him a slap on the arse.

"Easy, Trace," Ron chuckled, but she just wagged her eyebrows at him. As they began making their way towards the Great Hall, Ron noticed that Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy weren't too pleased with Ron for throwing away an asset. "What?"

"She's popular in Slytherin," Theo clicked his tongue. "You made a mistake by letting it go, mate."

"If she ever sides against you now, you have no way of stopping her," Blaise pointed out.

"Not to mention that you could've turned her into a spy for us," Malfoy added.

"Blaise, why are you of all people defending blackmailing?" Millie frowned. "You honestly don't remember what Malfoy did to you?" Malfoy drifted off at that, and Ron figured that he was done with this conversation.

"Just because I don't like being blackmailed doesn't mean that it's not a valid strategy," Blaise said coldly, and even Ron frowned at him. There's a limit, Blaise.

"Creeps," Pansy all but hissed, which earned her eye rolls from all three boys. "Ron's leader, so he gets to decide what happens."

"Don't call me leader," Ron sighed out, but Pansy just clung to his free arm. "Merlin, Pans… I nearly slipped."

"Pansy's right," Daphne started, and then she shot Pansy a cold look. The raven-haired witch quickly let go of Ron, and then she gave Daphne a sorry smile. "The Triumvirate asked Ron for help, not you three."

"We can disagree with him, you know," Theo frowned deeply.

"Not about something like this," Tracey narrowed her eyes on Theo, and he quickly fixed his frown. "Honestly, what if someone had taken a photo of us?"

"Again, it's a valid strategy," Blaise told them. "What's done is done, I suppose. We'll just have to wait and see how things turn out."

"But before that…" Millie said, her eyes landing on the twins.

"I'm in deep shite," Ron said as they stepped into the Entrance Hall.

"All of you, scram," Fred ordered upon seeing Ron and his friends.

"Go on, guys," Ron said. "I'll join you shortly."

"Are you sure?" Daphne asked, and Ron gave her a nod. "Alright." As Ron's friends left for the Great Hall, Ron followed the twins out into the Courtyard.

"How did you do it?" George asked as he turned around with a manic grin. Huh?

"Did you pay someone off?" Fred asked, his tone much lighter now. "Was it Lee?"

"Don't play dumb, Ronnie," George laughed. "How did you do it? You've got to tell us." These two are insane.

"You're not angry?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Why would we be?" the twins asked together.

"You pulled a really sneaky one on us," Fred smirked.

"We're actually proud," George nodded along. "Surprised… But still proud." What the fuck?

"I think I'll keep my methods to myself," Ron decided to say, he didn't want the twins to figure out his tricks.

"Did you use the Marauder's Map?" Fred asked, and Ron didn't make a sound.

"He couldn't have bribed anyone," George said, his fingers rubbing his chin. "People fear us too much."

"Can I go and eat breakfast? Please?" Ron asked, he was just glad that the twins weren't angry.

"He has bags under his eyes," Fred went on, and Ron began to head back inside. The twins followed after him, their theories endless.

"He clearly had to stay awake for his plans to work," George mused. "Wait… Did you sneak into Gryffindor last night?"

"No," Ron replied.

"He could be lying, brother mine," Fred said quickly. "How did he get past our Protections?"

"Easily," Ron smirked, and the twins felt slightly annoyed by that.

"Very curious indeed," George said slowly.

"Have you been talking to Bill?" Fred asked, and Ron gave him a confused look. "Never mind then…"

"He helped you with your trunks?" Ron asked, and George smacked Fred's arm. I should get him to help me with mine, but I haven't seen him since before I started Hogwarts.

"Ignore that, Ronald," George ordered. "Now tell us how you got the photo."

"Otherwise, we might ruin your little date on Hogsmeade weekend," Fred smirked, and Ron stopped walking. How do they know about that?

"Oh, yes," George sang. "We've heard rumors of a certain teashop being booked by Daphne Greengrass."

"You wouldn't," Ron turned to face them, and their smirks suddenly boiled his blood. "Don't you bloody dare, you two. Daphne's put a lot of effort into planning the day, and if you ruin things for her, I'll hurt you."

"Ohhh," the twins pretended to be frightened.

"I'm serious," Ron warned. "This is my first date with her. Don't ruin it." Ron began to head into the Great Hall at that, while the twins just grinned at his back.

Thursday 22nd October, 1993 (Slytherin Training Area – After Lunch)

While Ron's friends lazed about during their free period, Ron and Malfoy sparred against each other. So far, Malfoy hadn't managed to land even a stinger on Ron, whereas Ron had disarmed him multiple times. Ron had also decided to practice his 'breathing' exercise during the Duels, which he always kept forgetting about.

"Stop panicking when I get the upper hand," Ron frowned at the panting wizard. "Stay focused, and you'll find an opportunity."

"That's easier said than done, Weasley," Malfoy snapped. "You don't relent!" Ron felt annoyed by his tone, but after a deep breath, Ron decided to let it go. Yelling won't help him, I know that now.

"Don't yell at him when he's clearly trying to help you," Millie snarled from behind her book, and Malfoy's jaw clenched in response.

"Malfoy, just relax," Ron said calmingly.

"Don't tell me to relax," Malfoy grit out. "You're so condescending… Every time you talk, you're looking down your massive nose."

"Doesn't feel very good, does it?" came Theo's laugh, and Ron shot a frown at the weedy boy. "What? He's a prick."

"Stop angering him," Ron scolded, and then he looked back to Malfoy, who was now pacing angrily. "Take a breather, Malfoy. We can try again later."

"Sod off," Malfoy hissed, and then he stormed off to go sit by himself. What an arsehole. Ron took in a few more breaths, mostly just to forget Malfoy's comment about his big nose. I just hope my face catches up to it someday. Ron then decided to just practice on his own for now, it had been a while since he tested out a new Wandless Spell. Ron walked over to his friends, and he took a seat by Blaise.

"Why are you even helping him?" Blaise whispered.

"Sparring with a person is much more challenging," Ron shrugged, and then he pulled out Flitwick's book on Progenitor Spells.

"He really despises you, mate," Blaise said, and Ron nodded.

"I know," Ron said, his eyes looking for a useful Spell.

"No, you don't," Blaise whispered, and Ron looked to him with a curious look. "You've become an actual leader in this House, and that's done his head in. Not to mention that he's forced to rely on you as well."

"What am I supposed to do?" Ron asked.

"Cut him loose," Blaise replied, and Ron just looked back to his book. "You're keeping a snake in your bed, Ron. One day soon, he'll bite."

"If I cut him loose, he's probably going to come after me sooner," Ron said. "At least this way, I can keep my eyes on him. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a new Spell that I want to try out."

"Merlin… Should we vacate the premises?" Blaise smirked.

"Think of it this way," Ron smirked back. "Since our common room is located within the Black Lake, blowing a hole through a wall will result in our immediate death. Then, we don't have to worry about Malfoy's schemes."

"Then by all means, drown us all," Blaise chuckled, while Ron made his way back to the sand pit. Cutis Terra. Roughly translated to 'Earth Skin'. Similar to the Unbreakable Charm, but can be applied to the caster's very skin. Used by the ancient Druids of Britain to greatly enhance their strength and durability. A truly difficult Spell to Master, it leaves a slivery shade on the caster's entire body during its application.

"Alright, let's try it," Ron whispered to himself, he couldn't help but feel a little trepidation at the prospect of this Spell backfiring. Just don't force it, and I should be alright. Ron aimed his left palm forward, and he chanted the incantation. His entire left arm seized up, as if it was being incased in stone. Shite! OW! FUCKING OW! Ron quickly tried to undo the Spell, but judging by the skin on his left hand, it had never really worked in the first place.

"Fuck, that hurt," Ron grit out as he bent forward, his left arm seeking refuge in his stomach.

"Ron, are you alright?" came Blaise's voice, and Ron nodded his head quickly.

"I'm okay," Ron breathed out, and then he checked his left hand again. The skin had become red and agitated, much to Ron's bewilderment. So much for that… "I… I need to go see Pomfrey."

"Did the Spell backfire?" Millie asked quickly, her book coming down.

"I think so," Ron groaned, the bones in his left arm were starting to ache. "Don't worry, I'll see you guys shortly." With that, Ron began making his way out of the Training Area, but he was quickly followed by Millie, Theo, and Blaise.

"Let us see your hand," Millie said, but Ron just shot her a smile.

"I'm fine, I swear it," Ron said, but the look on her face made him think twice. "Fine…" Ron showed them his left hand, and they just observed it with curious looks.

"It's a bit red," Theo said. "Sort of like before a bruise."

"What were you trying, Ron?" Millie asked.

"A Wandless Spell called Cutis Terra," Ron replied, his right hand massaging his left forearm. Shite, it's really starting to ache. "I need to go." Ron quickly began making his way towards the Hospital Wing, while his friends just frowned and shook their heads. Ron was truly insane to keep doing this to himself.

Five Minutes Later

"I've had it, Ronald," Pomfrey frowned at him, while he just sat there without a shirt. His entire left arm was beginning to bruise, and the ache in his bones was getting worse. "You have become a weekly patient because of your constant need to injure yourself. What was it this time?"

"Cutis Terra," Ron replied sheepishly, she looked genuinely pissed off.

"Pardon?" Madam Pomfrey blinked, she hadn't heard of this Spell before.

"It's a Wandless Spell," Ron started, and she immediately frowned again. "It's supposed to make my body stronger while it's active… But it didn't work."

"Clearly," Madam Pomfrey bit out, her eyes scanning his left arm. "Look at the state of your arm, Ronald. It's completely bruised."

"And it hurts, so please heal it," Ron said, but a dark look from her shut him up. I guess I'll just sit here. In pain.

"Whatever this Spell is, it's not good for your muscles," Madam Pomfrey started, the tip of her wand tracing his arm. "Your muscles contracted far too quickly, and that's caused them to swell. Do you know what a muscle spasm is?"

"A spasm of muscles," Ron replied, and Madam Pomfrey gave him a deadpan look. "I like being cheeky."

"Well, I have half a mind to give you swollen cheek," Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes darting back to his arm.

"That was a good one," Ron noted, a weak grin on his face. "I mean, I'm a little too old for a spanking, but if it's you who-"

"Be quiet," Madam Pomfrey snapped, and Ron sniggered to himself. Got her! Ow! My arm… "Judging from your latest injury, I'd say that you were far too relaxed."

"So I needed to tense my arm?" Ron asked. Make a mental of that, Ron.

"Perhaps," Madam Pomfrey said off-handedly. "Lie down for me, Ronald. This will take a while."

"My arm hurts," Ron whined.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said with a tinge of annoyance, but she still numbed his arm with her wand.

"Oh… That's so much better," Ron relaxed as he lay down. "Which Spell is that?"

"Torpor," Madam Pomfrey replied. "The Numbing Charm. It is quite useful for treating injured patients."

"Torpor…" Ron said to himself. "The Numbing Charm, eh? Haven't heard of it before. It could be useful in a Duel too. Imagine using it on a person's leg mid-Duel."

"I don't need to imagine it," Madam Pomfrey told him.

"Oh, I sense a good story. Mind sharing it?" Ron asked, a full smile on his face.

"There was a particularly nasty girl in my youth," Madam Roberts said calmly, her wand slowly healing his upper arm. "One day, she decided to throw a Hex at me, and I numbed both of her feet in response. She simply crumpled then and there, and afterwards, she never dared to come after me again."

"I expected more… But good on you, Madam Pomfrey," Ron nodded his approval.

"It's not something to be proud of, Ronald," Madam Pomfrey said curtly. "I stooped to her level, which made me no better than her. She stopped coming after me because she thought that I was worse than her, and that made me feel truly ashamed. Violence shouldn't be met with violence, it becomes a vicious cycle otherwise."

"Right," Ron said slowly, his mind thinking of Flint. No. He got what he deserved. No half-measures.

"Do you have something on your mind, Ronald?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and Ron shook his head.

"No," Ron replied. "Just a passing thought not worth thinking about."

Fenrir Greyback's POV

Saturday 24th October, 1993 (Hungarian Forest – Near Midnight)

The last few days had been exquisite. With his old Master returned, Fenrir had unleashed his bestial strength upon Hungary's Werewolf community. Getting all the Pack Master's under one roof hadn't been difficult, singlehandedly disposing of them all, however, had left its mark on Fenrir.

The fight for dominance had left Fenrir bruised and battered, which slowed down his new 'army' considerable. As such, they had yet to cross over into Austria. Not to mention that Fenrir was quite out of practice when it came to leading small armies, and this one needed to pass through entire countries unnoticed. The truth was that rumors of a massive Werewolf community moving through Hungary were already spreading around, which only made Fenrir uneasy. Sooner or later, the Hungarian Ministry was going to get involved.

Fenrir was woken up by the sound of an explosion, which was then followed up by loud yelling. What is going on? Fenrir sat up, and his sharp senses immediately pointed out that a massive fire had started within the camp. He sprung to action, grabbing his wand off of the floor as he ran out of his tent. His woman made a squeak behind him, but he completely ignored her. A fight? Which pack is it now?!

"Help! There are men in the woods!" came a yell, and Fenrir turned to his right. The fire! One of the larger tents was ablaze, and after shaking his head clear, he realized that most of the yelling was coming from the direction of the fire. Fenrir snarled and broke into a sprint, his muscled legs carrying him through the camp at optimal speed. Men in the woods? Are we under attack?

"You!" Fenrir bellowed at a scrawny lad, who gave him a frightened look. "You've got a wand! Come with me!"

"Oh… Oh, alright!" the boy yelled back before giving chase, his frightened look still in place. Only a third of our number have wands, and most of them are uneducated in using them. We won't be able to beat the Hungarian Ministry's Aurors. Once Fenrir reached the fiery tent, he found complete chaos. People were screaming and yelling, with some of them trying to put out the fire while the others cried about there being 'men in the woods'.

"Quiet down, you mongrels!" Fenrir roared, and everyone looked to him with panicked looks. "Put out the fire! We can't afford to be seen!"

"There are men in the woods, Greyback!" an older witch called out. "I saw them!"

"Someone fired a Spell at the tent from the woods!" came Alexander's voice, who then looked to the scrawny lad who had followed Fenrir here. "Kurt?! What are you doing here?! You're meant to be with our-"

"Shut it!" Fenrir yelled, and then he gestured to the tent. The other Werewolves quickly began to control the fire. "Bloodied Claws! Go search the woods ahead of-" A red flare flew past his head, only to explode not twenty feet ahead of him. Fenrir was left dazed for a second, and then he spun around with an angry glare. A squad of wizards had flanked them, which had effectively left them cut off from the rest of the camp.

"They're behind us!" an old man roared. "They've cut us off from the elderly and children!" It all makes sense! The fire lured the fighters to this side of the camp, while they separated the weak folk! They mean to kill us all!

"THEY WON'T HOLD BACK!" Fenrir bellowed, he knew now what was happening. "IT'S NOT THE MINISRTY! THEY'RE MERCENARIES!"

"I can't smell how many!" someone yelled out, but they were quickly silenced by a Killing Curse. Not ordinary mercenaries either! It's a Death Squad! They lit the fire to fuck with our senses, and so they could pick us out!

"Fight!" Fenrir ordered, and then he fired a Confringo at his closest target. Shields quickly went up from both sides, and within seconds, Spells were being exchanged between the attackers and defenders.

Fenrir took every opportunity to strike back, but his injuries put him on the defensive. Which was for the best, mostly because his 'army' was filled with incompetents. The Death Squad, however, knew what they were doing. Half defended, while the other half fired Killing Curses, and before long, even Fenrir began to panic. Screams of disarray echoed all around him, while his wolves were cut down at an alarming rate. We're completely outmatched!

"FLEE!" Fenrir commanded. "Run to the woods behind us!" Fenrir himself turned to flee, but he only got a few feet forward before Spells came flying towards them from on ahead.

"They've got us surrounded!" a woman screamed. "The men in the woods were-' A Reductor Curse blew her side clean off, while Fenrir felt the ground shake from behind him. He turned to see Exploding Curses flying at them, and he quickly pulled the lad named Kurt out of the way of a Reductor Curse. It struck an older man in the chest, who was sent reeling back with a massive chunk of his chest missing.

"They're culling us!" Fenrir told his shattered fighters. "Flee to the sides! Run for the cliffs!" Fenrir dragged Kurt with him, all the while shoving people out of his way. Alexander followed after them, but unlike Fenrir, he was ordering the other wolves to follow him. A great many of them were shot down before Fenrir found himself nearing the end of camp, at which point he broke into a sprint.

There was shame in running, but dying here was never part of the plan. He had been doing just fine before the Dark Lord had reentered his life, and right now, he couldn't help but Curse his old Master. If it weren't for the Dark Lord, he wouldn't be in this position in the first place. He could've been creating more of his kind instead of watching them get massacred by a Death Squad.

"Keep running, runt!" Fenrir yelled as he shot a look behind himself, only to see Alexander fall to a Killing Curse.

"Alex!" Kurt screamed, but he didn't stop running. The wolves tried to scatter out, but the Death Squad gave chase. From above them, wizards on brooms rained death down upon the wolves. Apparate!

"Apparate to safety!" Fenrir yelled, but when he tried it, a Ward blocked him.

"They've got Anti-Apparation Jinxes in place!" a wizard yelled, and then he screamed as an Expulso Curse blew up the witch just ahead of him. Fenrir was bombarded by thick chips of wood as he dodged the Curses aimed for him.

"Just run then! Apparate when you're out of range!" Fenrir yelled, and then he fired a Non-verbal Braking Charm at one of the flying wizards. The witch's broom halted to a stop, which sent her flying down to the Earth. As she landed on her head, Fenrir managed to make out her outfit due to his heightened eyesight. Two sickle shaped wands on her back? Death's Hand! What the fuck are they doing in Hungary?! They're a German Mercenary group! Someone rich must've hired them! No Ministry would pay for their fees!

"What about the others?!" Kurt yelled, he could barely keep up with Fenrir despite the bigger wolf's injuries. "They killed Alex!"

"They've got the camp locked down by now! We won't be seeing any of them again!" Fenrir yelled back, and then he barely dodged a Killing Curse. "Just run, you fool!" Fenrir could feel his blood leaking out of his bandages, but he grit his teeth and kept running.

"I don't know how to apparate!" Kurt called out, he was slowly falling behind. "Slow down! I'm begging you!" Fenrir did no such thing, he was not dying for the sake of a weak little runt. I might cover his escape if I pass the Wards, but nothing more! After a minute of running, Fenrir felt himself cross past the Wards. I'm through! But he didn't apparate, instead, he turned to cover Kurt's escape.

"Avada Kedavra!" Fenrir snarled, and a jet of green light struck down one of the chasers. Kurt and a few other managed to reach him, and Fenrir quickly grabbed the runt mid-run before apparating to a lake a few miles behind them. As soon as they came out of the apparation, Kurt and Fenrir tumbled down into the lake's cold water.

The cold water knocked the air out of his lungs, and he barely managed to swim back to the surface. Kurt had a similar experience, but he didn't have the strength to stay afloat. Fenrir spotted the runt trying not to drown, and so he grabbed him by the collar before swimming for the nearest shoreline. The cold seemed to numb his pain a little, and he managed to get both himself and Kurt to safety. As he dragged the runt onto the beach, Fenrir founding himself too weak to even stand anymore. And so he collapsed into the sand, his body drenched in freezing cold water.

Friday 23rd October, 1993 (Hungarian Forest – Dawn)

Fenrir woke up with a start, and he quickly looked around himself.

"Don't move too much," came Kurt's voice, and Fenrir grit his teeth. Death's Hand? Fenrir slowly sat up, only to find himself in a pack of five wolves including himself. There was a small fire going, with two women and a man warming themselves nearby.

"Fire?" Fenrir snarled. "Put it out, you damn fools!"

"They're gone, Greyback," one of the women said, her dull-eyes landing on him. Bernadette the Red? I left her in charge of the Timberwolves. "They're fucking gone…"

"Who were they?" Kurt managed to ask, his voice sounded strained.

"Death's Hand," Fenrir lay back down, his sides were killing him. "A fucking Death Squad from Germany…"

"Death squad?" the other woman squeaked.

"Why us?" the weary man by the fire asked.

"Don't you get it?" Bernadette hissed bitterly, her eyes fixed on Greyback. "They came for him! The wolf who wanted an army!"

"Shut your mouth, woman," Fenrir spat out, and then he felt a jolt of pain run through his left leg. "My leg…"

"A piece of wood was sticking out of it," Kurt said quickly. "I carried you for a bit, and then I ran into them. Bernadette, Casey, and Yolk. They apparated near the lake as well. We patched you up, but none of us know Healing Magic." And neither do I… Fuck…

"You fucking did this to us!" Bernadette accused, her wand suddenly aimed at him. Fenrir merely cocked an eyebrow at her, while Kurt aimed his wand at Bernadette.

"He saved my life!" Kurt managed, but his voice cracked quite loudly.

"Step aside, runt," Fenrir snarled as he sat back up, his eyes fixed on the angry witch. "Go on then, bitch. Try and kill me… But just know that when you fail, I'll tear your fucking throat out." Bernadette kept glaring at him, but then, her wand slowly began to lower.

"What are we going to do?" Casey cried out. "We've got no food… They could still be out there… And I broke my wand… Gods, save us!"

"Yolk…" Fenrir grit out as he stood up, and the weary man looked to him with a dull expression. "We need food… Go and get some…" My wounds are too severe. We can't leave this spot for at least a couple of days. Yolk stood up slowly, and then he drifted off towards the lake. Fenrir limped to the fire's side before kneeling down from exhaustion, and Kurt quickly helped lower him to his side.

"They killed us like animals…" Kurt sniffled, and Fenrir grabbed the runt's left forearm tightly.

"Grab a hold of your cock and be a man," Fenrir growled, and then he tossed the skinny lad aside.

"What do we do now?" Casey asked again, her face showing her lack of hope. "They got my father… I saw… saw it…"

"Be quiet, girl," Bernadette sighed out. "Thinking of it will only make it worse. Focus on surviving." Bernadette then looked to Fenrir. "Your army is routed, Greyback. What now?"

"Britain…" Fenrir replied weakly, his strength was fading again. "Go through Austria… Find more wolves…"

"Why?" Bernadette demanded. "This wasn't enough for you! They'll never stop hunting our kind!"

"Death's Hand?" Kurt asked slowly.

"The Ministries!" Bernadette snapped, her face twisting from anger. "Who do you think hired that Death Squad?"

"It wasn't the Hungarian Ministry," Fenrir shook his head. "They'd never spend that much money just to attack Werewolves. Not to mention that they can't explain this form of violence to the population. No… The Death's Hand was hired by someone wealthy… Someone who knew of our movements…"

"One of the men accompanying the Red-Eyed Lord?" Kurt suggested, and Fenrir let out an angry grumble. Lucius and Cornelius… Maybe… They do hate our kind… But they don't have the backbone needed to defy the Dark Lord. No one does. Fenrir felt dread at the prospect of meeting his Lord now. He had failed to build an army, and would no doubt need to settle for a much smaller number of wolves. If he was being hunted by the Death's Hand, then he couldn't afford to leave behind a trail.

"Two days… And then we move…" Fenrir managed, his vision was beginning to darken. "Austria…"

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Saturday 24th October, 1993 (Dumbledore's Office – After Dinner)

The Hungarian Ministry had found a battlefield littered with the dead, and upon closer inspection, they had identified many Werewolves from their Werewolf Registry. This had resulted in the Hungarian Ministry reporting the battle as a spat between rivaling packs, which had only increased the fear of Werewolves in Hungary.

The Order had all learned of this massacre this morning, and a meeting between the leaders of the Order was quickly arranged. The Order knew that it was Sebastian Greengrass who was behind the attack, just as they knew that Fenrir Greyback had been the real target. Elphias and Alastor were adamant about dismissing Sebastian and Mary from the Order, while Aberforth suspected Albus' own hand to be behind the massacre. This time, Albus' brother was right about his crimes.

"He disobeyed your command, Albus," Elphias shook his hand. "He has forever shamed the Order's good name, and it only took him a week."

"My sources in Hungary say that all the dead Werewolves had wands on them," Alastor pointed out. "No children were killed. Instead, they are rumored to be hiding out in the wilderness. Even now, the Hungarian Ministry is finding stragglers from Greyback's army." No mercenaries have been found then? They cleaned up after themselves.

"Are you defending this?" Elphias asked, a cross look on his face.

"No, Greengrass needs to go," Alastor growled. "But his actions have helped us greatly, there is no denying that." Albus looked to Aberforth, only to find his brother just staring through him. A pang of guilt passed through Albus, but he didn't show it.

"I have summoned him here to explain himself," Albus told the three wizards.

"The whole Order should be here to send that man away," Elphias said coldly. "I never trusted him, Albus. He's not like us. No respect, and no morals."

"He is a cold man, there is no doubt about that, but we must hear him out first," Albus said, and Elphias gave a weak nod. As if being summoned by Fate herself, Sebastian flooed into the Office.

"You!" Elphias stood up, while Sebastian just cocked an eyebrow at the older wizard. "Shame on you, murderer!"

"What murder?" Sebastian asked calmly as he stepped closer to the Order's leaders.

"Don't play dumb, Greengrass," Alastor snapped. "You sent mercenaries after Greyback even after you were ordered not to."

"I did no such thing," Sebastian lied, and Albus just stared at him. What's he doing? He told Severus that he'd take the blame. "I followed Albus Dumbledore's orders." What's your game, Sebastian?

"What?!" Aberforth demanded, his face twisting in anger at Albus. Albus kept a calm demeanor, his blue eyes fixed on Sebastian Greengrass.

"Liar!" Elphias dismissed Sebastian.

"I alerted the Hungarian Ministry, just as I was told," Sebastian said, and everyone waited for him to go on. "They hired the mercenaries, not me."

"Is that so?" Alastor asked, his Magical Eye darting between Sebastian and Albus.

"I wanted to hire assassins, not a group of mercenaries," Sebastian told them. "This is the Hungarian Ministry's ploy to hide their dirty work. If you had all listened to me and hired one good assassin, all of this could've been avoided. This is your fault, not mine."

"The nerve of this… This Death-Eater!" Elphias spat out. "He commits mass murder, and then he blames us for it."

"I fear that he speaks the truth," Albus said calmly, and everyone looked to him.

"Albus… My old friend, you cannot be serious," Elphias said in disbelief.

"The Hungarian Ministry is quite cruel to its Werewolf denizens, which is no secret," Albus said, he had figured out Sebastian's game. He means to discredit me in order to keep his place here, while I can't afford to send him away. "Why else would they report this as a Werewolf spat over turf?"

"And why is it that you haven't shared your opinion until now?" Aberforth demanded, his eyes narrowing on Albus.

"I wished to see Sebastian before making any presumptions," Albus replied. "He is telling the truth, I can see it."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Sebastian said, his cold eyes landing on Alastor and Elphias. "Am I to be expelled for following orders?"

"No one is being expelled, Sebastian," Albus said, and he noticed Elphias shaking his head. "Please, give me some privacy with Sebastian. I need to speak with him about his Future amongst our numbers." Albus then looked to Alastor. "Sturgis has found Mundungus in Knockturn Alley, he is hiding away in the White Wyvern Pub. Do accompany him tonight, Alastor."

"I'll get it done," Alastor nodded curtly, and then he limped to the fireplace. Aberforth and Elphias followed after the retired Auror, and while Elphias eyed Sebastian, Aberforth eyed Albus. He was supposed to hire one assassin, not a Death Squad. And now he's made it all look like it's my fault. Once Alastor, Elphias, and Aberforth had flooed away, Sebastian took a seat in front of Albus.

"You lied to Severus," Albus said calmly, while Sebastian just stared at him. "Why?"

"I didn't lie," Sebastian replied. "I thought of a better strategy after our talk."

"A better strategy?" Albus couldn't help but frown. "You sentenced nearly a hundred people to death."

"Savage wolves, not people," Sebastian said coldly.

"Isn't Remus Lupin your friend?" Albus asked. "He's told me that you know of his Curse."

"Remus Lupin is not a savage," Sebastian said, there was no hint of emotion in his voice. "As for my strategy, it's more beneficial for us in the long run."

"How so? You've just made me look like a fool," Albus said, though he didn't sound very angry.

"I've made you look human, which I suppose is a new feeling to you," Sebastian countered. "The Order will believe that I went to the Hungarian Ministry, just as you asked, and it resulted in this massacre. So the next time I bring up the notion of using a knife in the dark, there won't be as much opposition to the idea. Blood has to be shed, but I've served to limit that."

"And Greyback?" Albus asked, he was quite impressed with Sebastian's foresight. Impressed, but disturbed. He is truly as cold as they say. This man is also molding the mind of Ronald.

"He was not found amongst the dead," Sebastian replied.

"So he lives," Albus sighed out. "That is unfortunate."

"I've put a bounty on his head," Sebastian said. "If he tries to amass another force, the Death's Hand will find him. For now, he is off of the board." Sebastian then drew in a deep breath. "Some of the people who were captured told the Death's Hand something rather peculiar."

"Peculiar?" Albus asked.

"They claimed that a 'Red-Eyed Lord' had approached them," Sebastian started, and Albus leaned forward. "A Red-Eyed Lord, and two Englishmen. One older gentleman who drank a lot, and one young and fair gentleman who carried a serpentine walking cane. The descriptions match Cornelius Nott and Lucius Malfoy." It all hit Albus then. Lord Voldemort had already made contact with the two Pure-Blood wizards, which meant that he had the backing of two powerful Families already. Should we have stopped them when we had the chance?

"What did the Death's Hand do with the captured?" Albus asked.

"Erased their memories and set them free," Sebastian replied. "They didn't kill the elderly and children, I made sure of it. And they only lost a handful of their own. Greyback's horde was mostly filled with unschooled savages, who didn't really know how to use their wands. Now… What is this about Cornelius Nott and Lucius Malfoy?"

"It appears that the Dark Lord has made contact with them," Albus replied. "They are back in Britain now, which means that he could be as well. I will send out word to the Order after this. We must hide our homes with the Fidelius Charm."

"I'll invest in more Safe-Houses then," Sebastian said as he stood up. "James has found more properties in Muggle London for us to use. I suggest that we start furnishing them as soon as possible."

"I will leave that to you," Albus said, and Sebastian gave him a nod.

"Before I leave… Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy spend their time near my own," Sebastian started. "You will keep your eyes on Daphne, Astoria, and Ron, won't you?"

"Your children, and Ronald, will be kept safe," Albus promised. "This also applies to the other Slytherins."

Saturday 24th October, 1993 (Dumbledore's Office – Past Curfew)

"We should've stopped Malfoy and Nott when we had the chance," Ronald said, a bored expression on his face. "Now they're working for the Dark Lord again. Not to mention that their sons are always around me."

"Lucius would never involve his son with the Death-Eaters," Severus said, and Albus couldn't help but doubt that. "Not until Draco is of age."

"Lord Voldemort would not ask, Severus," Albus said. "He only knows how to command. Either way, keep an eye on them." Ronald and Severus nodded at that, while Albus leaned back in his chair. "Fenrir Greyback is still a threat. Sebastian's plan to kill him failed, but he's bought us some time. Fenrir is no longer a threat, and won't be for some time."

"How many people died?" Ronald asked. "The Daily Prophet was quite unclear on the matter."

"Nearly a hundred," Albus replied bluntly, and then he watched Ronald's expression. There was little to no change, which truly disturbed Albus. He's turning into Sebastian Greengrass. No… Sebastian holds much influence over Ronald, but a lot of this coldness is from his lifestyle. He's become numb to conflict. That's… unfortunate.

"Were they all fighters as the Daily Prophet suggests?" Ronald asked, and Albus gave him a nod. "Alright… What do we do about Malfoy and Nott?" Severus and Albus exchanged glances, but neither of them said a word. He completely compartmentalized all those deaths. Albus knew that children were quicker to adapt to their lifestyles, but this was unprecedented.

"Severus, you must speak with Lucius," Albus said, and Severus nodded. "Get him to invite you before Lord Voldemort."

"I understand," Severus said coldly, while Ronald eyed Severus for a few seconds.

"You'll be careful though, right?" Ronald suddenly asked Severus.

"No, I plan to announce my betrayal to the Dark Lord," Severus replied scathingly, and Ron shot him a frown.

"No need to be a jerk," Ronald huffed. "I was just asking out of politeness."

"I don't think that you were," Albus said, and Ronald just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever…" Ron said blandly. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Albus replied, and both Ronald and Severus stood up. "Goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight, Headmaster," Ronald said, while Severus just left for the fireplace. Ronald caught up to Severus, his eyes fixed on the Potions Master's face. "You will be careful, right?" Snape simply frowned in response, and then they both flooed away.

Albus leaned forward in his chair once they were gone, his hand stroking his chin. What is his next move? Where would Tom go after Hungary? Would he return to Britain in order to plan an assault on Azkaban? Or would he seek more allies? Why send Cornelius and Lucius back to Britain? Where are you, Tom?

Lord Voldemort's POV

Saturday 24th October, 1993 (Ardeal (Transylvania) – Late Night)

The Dark Lord had always enjoyed Romania. Or at least, Magical Romania. It was perhaps the most simple of places within Europe, mostly because the Romanian Ministry largely ignored the darker aspects of its country. This had resulted in Romania acting as a safe haven for the rejected and the downtrodden, who often made for loyal servants.

Romania had its own underground system, which was governed by the rich and the corrupt. All of whom were of Pure Blood and Old Families, but right now, they weren't the Dark Lord's priority. Over the last few days, he had been tracking down the Blood Lord who was apparently roaming throughout Romania. People knew him only as Gaspard, and no one was foolish enough to speak too much of the Blood Lord.

Lord Voldemort had to admit that he was rather excited to meet a creature of Gaspard's quality. Vampires were already dangerous enough, but with age, they grew even stronger. The only real weakness that they had was that they were slaves to their endless thirst. This meant that a majority of Vampires didn't live past the ages of sixty to seventy. Most of them died at each other's hands, while a few of them were culled by wronged wizards and witches.

But Blood Lords were different, they were the eldest of the Vampires. It was true that Vampires could live up to three hundred years without aging, but eventually, their bodies simply broke apart. Their dead halves would always conquer their living halves. This meant that Gaspard was most likely well over two hundred years old, but younger than three hundred. No matter how Lord Voldemort looked at it, Gaspard was probably the longest lived creature that he would ever meet.

Lord Voldemort landed behind a thick tree, his scarlet eyes scanning the Thief's End Tavern. Unsurprisingly, the tavern was utterly deserted. The Dark Lord's inquiries had all led him here, to this deserted tavern in the forgotten parts of Transylvania. A Blood Lord… How terribly intriguing. The Dark Lord glided to the door of the tavern, and with a wave of his hand, unlocked and opened the door. With his hood still in place, he stepped inside.

His eyes immediately landed on five children, all of whom were dressed in colorful robes which contrasted against their pale skins. The 'children' sat around a dusty table, large red goblets sitting in front of them. Their bored eyes landed on the Dark Lord, but none of them moved from their chairs.

"Can I help you, stranger?" the bartender asked, and the Dark Lord looked to him. He was an old man, one who probably lived out here by himself. And he only has six customers, five of whom are clearly Vampires.

"Avada Kedavra," Lord Voldemort hissed, and the bartender's horror was left etched on his face. This only served to intrigue the 'children', while the blonde haired man sitting at the bar shot the Dark Lord a curious look.

"You killed my bartender," the man spoke calmly, his eyes were orange and cat-like. Fascinating. He must be Gaspard.

"You must be Gaspard," the Dark Lord hissed from the door, and the Blood Lord looked back to his drink. You dare turn your head while conversing with Lord Voldemort?

"Leave," Gaspard spoke in a dismissive tone, which only served to enrage the Dark Lord. I must be calm.

"I only seek words," Lord Voldemort started, and then he pulled off his hood. "One of my followers approached you not too long ago."

"Cornelius Nott," Gaspard said, and then he looked the Dark Lord over with a dull expression. He is as fair as Fenrir is savage. "Lord Voldemort, I presume?"

"You are brave to speak my name," Lord Voldemort's eyes flashed red. "Or quite foolish." Lord Voldemort then glided across the tavern, and stopped near the Blood Lord.

"Then what shall I call you?" Gaspard asked, his glass of Magical Blood swirling in his left hand. Master.

"How about ally?" Lord Voldemort suggested, his body looming over a seated Gaspard. "I am rebuilding my army, and a Blood Lord would prove quite the asset. Join me, and I will give-" The Dark Lord's offer was interrupted when a fist collided with his face, and the overwhelming force sent him rolling across the dirty floor. Before he could make sense of what had happened, Gaspard had grabbed him by the neck and thrown him right through the front door. The Dark Lord just lay there on shattered wood and glass, he could feel that some of his bones were not in their proper places. He attacked me?! Without provocation?!

"Your first mistake was to think that I would care about your 'crusade'," came Gaspard's voice, while the Dark Lord fixed his body's bones back into place. "Your second mistake was to kill my bartender." Gaspard stepped out of the tavern, his tall frame casting a shadow over the Dark Lord. "And your final mistake was to look down at me."

"You will regret your course of action," the Dark Lord said as his black robes lifted him to his feet. "I will not kill you, but you will serve me." Scarlet red eyes clashed against orange ones, and both Lords stood up to their full height.

"Come then," Gaspard spread his arms, his expression now manic.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord hissed, his wand aimed at the Vampire. Gaspard ran forward at an alarming speed, his body crouched and his sharp nails outstretched. The red light of the Cruciatus Curse flew over Gaspard's head, and before the Dark Lord could apparate away, sharp nails dug into his chest. Lord Voldemort felt no pain from this assault, but he was still left dazed after Gaspard slammed his body into the Earth. Three powerful blows landed on the Dark Lord's serpentine face before he managed to restrain the Blood Lord with his robes.

"Filthy beast," the Dark Lord hissed as he tossed Gaspard through the wall of the tavern. The sound of wood shattering echoed into the night, and the Dark Lord felt his mind being clouded by bloodlust. He had been struck not once, but multiple times. Each blow could have killed a normal man, which only angered the Dark Lord even more. I cannot lose this body just yet! I must subdue him before he does any more damage to my vessel! A plank of wood came flying through the hole in the wall, and the Dark Lord readied himself.

"Depulso," Lord Voldemort chanted, and with a wave of his left hand, he sent the plank flying elsewhere. Gaspard stepped out of the tavern, a piece of wood sticking out of his upper right chest. With a pained grunt, the Blood Lord yanked the wooden spike out of his chest.

"The 'Darkest Wizard in History'," Gaspard laughed, his sharp features twisting from sick amusement. As Gaspard tossed the wooden spike away, the Dark Lord found himself reaching his limit for diplomacy. "Beaten by a little boy in Godric's Hollow…"

"You don't have a wand," Lord Voldemort hissed.

"I haven't used a wand since I was turned," Gaspard circled the Dark Lord, his fangs on full display. "And that was over two hundred years ago."

"A monstrous brute then," Lord Voldemort said in disgust. Vampires are highly resistant to Spells, and if I use powerful Curses, he could die. This will not be easy. He has far too much strength, and if I'm not careful, he'll destroy this body beyond repair. "How did you acquire your title without a wand?"

"My title? You mean 'Blood Lord'?" Gaspard asked, his eyes glowing in the dark. "We Vampires have our own hierarchies, but that doesn't matter right now. Give me a worthy fight!"

"Immobulus!" the Dark Lord chanted just as Gaspard ran at him, and the Vampire's momentum was slowed down considerably. The Dark Lord once again bound him with his robes, and Gaspard snarled violently as one of the strands tied itself around his throat. "You cannot beat me, Vampire. No one can."

Much to the Dark Lord's shock however, Gaspard yanked himself back with ferocious strength. Lord Voldemort was pulled forward, and the Vampire charged him again. But before he could lay a hand on the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort took off for the skies. He could feel Gaspard struggling to break free from his binds, so the Dark Lord obliged him. The Blood Lord fell to the Earth from around forty feet, which no doubt left him greatly injured. Lord Voldemort flew back down with the speed of a bullet, and as Gaspard was standing back up, Lord Voldemort grabbed him and flew him threw the tavern. They came out of the other side covered in wood and dust, with Gaspard's back shred up.

"Serve me," the Dark Lord hissed as he tossed the Blood Lord's ragged body away with the help of his tendril like robes. "There is nothing to be gained from fighting Lord Voldemort. Resistance is futile."

"That was good," Gaspard said as he stood up slowly, and Lord Voldemort could hear the Vampire's bones healing themselves. That quickly?! His age must be the reason behind his incredible vigor. "After I kill you, I'm going to find your followers. The old man, the platinum haired coward, and the man who reeked of Potions. I'll eat them whole."

Gaspard suddenly threw a knife from his black robes, one that the Dark Lord batted away without even blinking. But what caught the Dark Lord by surprise was the flash bomb that Gaspard set off in immediate succession. The Dark Lord quickly put up a Silvery Shield to defend himself while his eyes readjusted, and Gaspard slammed into the shield with the strength of a Mountain Troll. Lord Voldemort had to dig his heels into the ground to keep himself from losing his footing, while Gaspard snaked past the shield's radius as if he were as flexible as a serpent.

The Dark Lord found himself being slammed into the wall behind him, which was then followed up with two mind-numbing haymakers. His vessel's jaw was clearly dislocated, and a molar had been knocked right out of his mouth. Enough of this! Before the third haymaker could land, the Dark Lord reached into the Vampire's veins and seized his blood. Gaspard grunted from the pain, and once the Dark Lord's eyes had readjusted, he came face to face with the struggling Blood Lord.

Lord Voldemort lifted the Blood Lord off of his feet, and Gaspard twitched wildly from the agony. That twitching quickly stopped as the Dark Lord slammed Gaspard skull-first into the ground, and then he did it again and again. The Vampire crumpled onto himself when the Dark Lord let him go, his head had split open. While the Dark Lord fixed up his damaged vessel, the Blood Lord's skull slowly began to heal.

"You feel no pain," Gaspard gurgled from the ground, a sick grin on his pale face.

"Lord Voldemort is beyond pain," the Dark Lord hissed, his mind still slightly rattled.

"I've lost then," Gaspard sat up, and the Dark Lord aimed his wand at the Vampire's back. His skull is still broken, and yet, he seems to have recovered. Astonishing. "Not only are you holding back, but you feel no pain… My chances of victory are nonexistent."

"Have I earnt the 'privilege' to speak with you now?" Lord Voldemort asked, his wand lowering to his side.

"I have no interest in your schemes," Gaspard stood up. "But a war… Now that is tempting…" The Blood Lord turned to face the Dark Lord at that, his orange eyes glowing with excitement. "A chance at a violent death."

"Then you concede to join my army?" Lord Voldemort demanded.

"I concede to shed blood for your side, that's all," Gaspard said bluntly. "Until we meet again, Lord Voldemort." And just like that, the Blood Lord stepped back into the tavern through a broken wall.

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 25th October, 1993 (Madam Roberts' Suitcase - Midday)

"You did well today," Madam Roberts commented, her wand healing his left leg. "Just remember to focus on your breathing, and make sure that you don't break your stance."

"I understand," Ron replied, his left leg twitching a little. Despite Madam Roberts' words, Ron knew that he had been distracted all day. His mind kept drifting off to the 'Hungarian Werewolf Massacre', and his role in it. In a way, Ron was to blame for all the deaths that had happened. He, a thirteen year old boy, had helped orchestrate so much death. The thought jarred him, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite grasp it yet.

He felt guilty, of course, but not guilty enough to despise his actions. Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be coping well enough with what had happened, as was Lord Greengrass, and so Ron found it a little easier to cope with it all. At the end of the day, they had struck a fierce blow against the Dark Lord's army. An army that would have no doubt done a lot of damage in the Future. Ron couldn't help but wonder what his Family would say about his actions. How would they react if they knew who Ron really was? They'd be disgusted, wouldn't they?

"I understand that we won't be seeing each other next Sunday," Madam Roberts said, and Ron broke out of his thoughts.

"I will be competing in the Dueling Club," Ron said, and she gave him a curt nod. "I'll do you proud, Madam Roberts." She cocked an eyebrow at that, but she didn't stop his treatment.

"Remember to stay clearheaded," Madam Roberts ordered. "Do not lose control."

"I'll do my best," Ron promised, and somehow, he knew that he would manage that.

"How is your Wandless training coming along?" Madam Roberts asked, her wand moving to his right leg.

"Slowly," Ron admitted. "It's actually quite difficult… I don't know which Spells my body is ready for most of the time, and every time I try out a new Spell, something goes wrong."

"Don't rush yourself, Ronald," Madam Roberts advised. "You have no reason to be pushing yourself so hard." Except I do.

"Right…" Ron said, his mind drifting off again. Madam Roberts just shot him a quick glance, but she didn't say anything. She had noticed that the boy wasn't completely present today, but he had done well enough that she didn't feel the need to berate him.

Sunday 25th October, 1993 (The Black Lake – Late Afternoon)

The cool breeze felt divine, and Ron found himself just staring at the lake's black water. He had initially planned to go watch the second years in action, but in the end, he had decided against it. The thought of watching people throw Spells at each other filled him with anxiety for some reason, and so he had wound up here, even if he feared seeing dead bodies floating in the lake.

He needed to do something. Anything. He had to keep himself occupied, or he was going to start thinking about the Werewolves again. Nearly a hundred… And yet, Greyback managed to survive. It's only a matter of time before he tries to create another army, which will result in even more death. He understood that death was going to become a norm in the upcoming years, but it still jarred him. Or was it that the deaths of the innocents that jarred him? Would he care if Greyback or Malfoy died? No, he really wouldn't. That in itself was an odd thing.

"I figured that I'd find you here," came Blaise's voice, and Ron turned to see Blaise walking down to the shore. "The second years were hoping that you were there to watch them."

"I doubt that," Ron said, his eyes traveling back to the water. "They're scared of me."

"Everyone's a little scared of you," Blaise smirked as he stopped by Ron's side. "Merlin… That's a nice breeze."

"How did they go?" Ron asked.

"Six out of eight have qualified for the quarterfinals," Blaise replied, and Ron was quite surprised by that.

"Really?" Ron asked, and Blaise gave him a nod. "Wow… Give me the summary."

"Thirty two people started, and only sixteen are left," Blaise started. "Six out of sixteen are ours, four are from Gryffindor, two from Hufflepuff, and four from Ravenclaw. The whole school is quite shocked, including the Slytherins. Turns out that knowing how to dodge, block, and retaliate is quite the handy technique. Most of the second years Duel like morons, so the focus on defense worked out for us."

"This is great news," Ron managed a smile.

"The Triumvirate definitely think so," Blaise patted Ron's back. "They were nothing but smug about it."

"Thank you for your help with them," Ron said, but Blaise just waved a dismissive hand. "I'm serious, mate. They were listening to me, but they were too nervous to do well. You and the others managed to turn that around. So thanks."

"Yeah… Well, we're a team," Blaise said nonchalantly. "Ugh… Pansy would swoon if she heard me say that."

"Then you ought to say it near her," Ron chuckled.

"Actually… I asked Padma Patil out today," Blaise said, and Ron blinked at him. What? Did I change the timeline again? "She said yes."

"Good on you, mate," Ron congratulated Blaise, who merely shrugged in response. "Look at us… Both of us have girlfriends now."

"Don't be weird," Blaise said aloofly, and Ron just sniggered. Does that mean that Pansy won't die by her mother's hand? I don't even fucking know anymore.

"So… How did Pansy take it?" Ron asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaise asked in return.

"Well… You two seem to get along…" Ron said awkwardly, and Blaise rolled his eyes.

"I haven't told them," Blaise said rather calmly. "Yet."

"You figured that you'd come to me for advice first?" Ron smirked, and Blaise simply shook his head. "Here's some advice for you… No means no, Blaise."

"Shut up," Blaise shoved Ron, while Ron just grinned at him. "By the way, your sister Ginny made it into the quarterfinals."

"I see," Ron lost his grin. "And Luna?"

"She won the first match, but lost to Colin Creevey of all people," Blaise replied. "People are already betting on Ginny Weasley to win the second years' tournament. She's quite good with her Hexes."

"She won't win," Ron said, and Blaise waited for him to go on. "I'll make sure of it. We need to dominate the Dueling Club, Blaise. Otherwise, we'll be knee-deep in shite. I've put everything on this."

"Well, so far, people are starting to see that you were right," Blaise offered. "The second years are proof of your plan being sound."

"We have more time with them now," Ron said. "Over the next few weeks, we'll get them up to par with people like Ginny."

"Your sister is all aggression," Blaise pointed out. "There's no strategy, no forethought, nothing… Can I be blunt with you?"

"Aren't you always?" Ron asked.

"She was angry," Blaise told Ron, who nodded slowly. "She was bloody fuming, Ron. Her first match was against Rogers, and she hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex that made even my stomach tense."

"We Weasley's have tempers," Ron shrugged. "And she's been having a rough go of it lately."

"Whatever her reasoning, she's quite hateful towards our House," Blaise said. "You might want to do something about that."

"Of course," Ron exhaled. "Ginny's issues should always be my first priority…"

"I didn't say that," Blaise said aloofly. "But sooner or later, you'll have to deal with it. She's your kin, mate… You're stuck with her."

"I know," Ron said softly, his eyes scanning the water. She would've been one of the students being evacuated, right? "Honestly, Blaise… I'm sort of scattered right now."

"Really? I couldn't tell," Blaise smirked. "What is it? Why are you brooding out here whilst the rest of us are enjoying the second years' performances?"

"I'm not brooding," Ron frowned a little. "I'm just thinking about my next move."

"Move?" Blaise asked.

"In Slytherin," Ron lied, and Blaise bought it.

"My advice would be to keep being you," Blaise said, and Ron shot him a curious look. "Barbara Miller speaks quite highly of you now, mate. You were right to not blackmail her. And now that the second years have surprised everyone, people are taking you more seriously."

"I see," Ron said, his head turning to the Black Lake again. "Thanks, Blaise."

"Are you alright, Ron?" Blaise asked, and then he followed Ron's gaze to the water. "What are you looking at?" A lesson in failure.

"Anything else happen today?" Ron asked, ignoring Blaise's questions.

"Theo and Malfoy got letters from their fathers, Tracey danced all day to her Walkman, Pansy and Millie-"

"Theo and Malfoy got letters?" Ron asked, and Blaise stopped listing things.

"Yeah… From their fathers," Blaise replied. "They both said that it was just their fathers letting them know that they were back in the Country."

"Right," Ron said slowly, he didn't believe that for a second.

"We didn't really question them," Blaise said. "After all, who cares what their fathers are sending them?"

"I care about what Malfoy's father is sending him," Ron stated. "And you should too. Don't forget that Malfoy hates me."

"Then toss him like I suggested," Blaise said. "And by the way, I don't buy that whole 'keep your enemies closer' tripe that you've convinced the others of. You've got plans for Malfoy, don't you?"

"Maybe," Ron shrugged. "I'll just have to wait and see." From now on, I'll keep a closer eye on Malfoy. Theo I can trust, but I should also be careful around him. Nott Snr is a Blood-Supremacist, and eventually, he'll ask Theo to join him. I cannot let that happen.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you guys enjoyed that! I should've named this Chapter 'The Order strikes back'. Hehe.

See you guys on Thursday/Friday!