Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

88. Chapter 88 - Their Problems, not Mine

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 88 is done! I was pleasantly surprised to hear that a lot of you enjoyed the Hogsmeade Visit, and that you all appreciated Ron having a grand old time. I enjoy giving him a break sometimes, because Lord knows, I love making him miserable as well!

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.

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Fate

Chapter 88 - Their Problem, not Mine

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 12th November, 1993 (Beauxbatons – After Lunch)

A vortex of bright orange flames erupted in the courtyard of Beauxbatons, and from it emerged Ronald Weasley. Fawkes let out a loud shrill to announce their arrival, which was followed up by loud chatter amongst the students who were heading towards their classes. Ron looked around with a smile, because in an odd sort of way, he enjoyed the fact that he had caught everyone off-guard. Except for the people who are aiming their wands at me.

"Monsieur Weasley?!" came Raphael's voice, and Ron spotted the butler approaching him with a surprised look on his face. The students moved out of his way, but their widened eyes never left Ron.

"Raphael," Ron beamed at the butler. "It's been a while! How are you doing?"

"Monsieur Weasley, what is the meaning of this?" Raphael demanded, and then he noticed that the students were loitering. "Va dans tes cours!" The students jumped a little, and then they all began to hurry away. Ron tried to look for Amanda in the dispersing crowd, but all he saw were the surprised faces of strangers.

"I'm here to see Madame Maxime," Ron told Raphael, who frowned at him.

"This intrusion borders on being offensive," Raphael said, and Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Madame is a very busy woman, and you should have the courtesy of sending word before you trespass on private property." Motherfucker, I will slap you.

"Headmaster Dumbledore sent me," Ron whispered, and Raphael blinked at him. "This is Fawkes, his Phoenix." Fawkes let out a shrill at that, and then he flew away to explore the grounds. "This is very urgent, Raphael. The Madame's reputation is at stake." That ought to get him moving.

"Madame's reputation…?" Raphael muttered under his breath, and then he looked to Fawkes with something akin to astonishment. "Come with me, Monsieur Weasley."

Ron followed after the Groundskeeper of Beauxbatons, his eyes once again taking in the beauty of Beauxbatons. Hogwarts had a special place in Ron's heart, but this school just impressed him greatly. It felt like a ginormous Manor where all the beauties of the World lived, and even though he loved Daphne, he didn't mind having a look. As they made their way up the stairs, Ron felt a dull ache in the back of his skull. Veelas.

"Le fléau de Vélane," Ron heard a young girl whisper, and he looked to see three tiny brunettes eyeing him with exalted smiles. They must be too young for classes. Ron shot them a wink, and they burst into giggles and began waving at him. Ron waved back before turning the corner, while Raphael kept up his pace.

"Wait here," Raphael said as they reached the Golden Crest, and Ron stood by as Raphael unsealed the Crest. After that, the Groundskeeper walked up and knocked on the door.

"Entrer," came Madame Maxime's voice, and Raphael quickly made his way inside and shut the door. Right, I'll just wait here. Again. Wait a minute. Ron slowly turned to look at the statue of the naked Nymph, and just like last time, it came to life when it noticed an admirer.

"Hello again," Ron smiled at the statue, and she beckoned him to her. Ron walked up with his smile in place, his eyes fixed on her face. Don't stare at her nakedness, Ron. Be a gentleman. "Are you capable of speech?" The Stone Nymph shook her head. "But you can understand me." The Stone Nymph smiled at him, and then she held the sides of his face with her stone hands. Um… Let go, please.

The Stone Nymph leaned forward and pecked his lips with her cold lips, and then she let go of him. Ron just stood there, his confusion rivaled only by his shock. The Stone Nymph shot him a wink, and then she took on a seductive pose before freezing in place.

"Kissed by sculpted rock…" Ron muttered under his breath, and then he walked back towards the Crest. "That was so fucking weird…" Raphael exited the Office at that, and Ron quickly cleared his mind.

"She will see you," Raphael told him, and then he looked over Ron's appearance. "All is in order, please go on."

"Thank you," Ron smiled at the older man, who gave Ron a polite nod before leaving. Ron made his way to the door, and he knocked on it rather firmly.

"Come in, Ronald," came Madame Maxime's voice, and Ron entered the lavish Office. The smell of toffee apples, just like last time.

"Good afternoon, Madame Maxime," Ron greeted as he closed the door, and then he made his way over to her extravagant golden desk. "It is a pleasure to be in your presence again."

"Likewise, my friend," Madame Maxime smiled, and then she gestured to a chair. "Please, take a seat." Ron sat down, while she flicked her wand at her golden tea set. "Raphael tells me that you've come to save my reputation. Might I ask who is targeting me?"

"Forgive me, but I told Raphael what he needed to hear," Ron admitted, and Madame Maxime's smile faltered for a moment. "I'm not here to save your reputation, I'm here to save the lives of your students."

"Pardon?" Madame Maxime lost her smile, and Ron took out Dumbledore's letter.

"The Headmaster asked me to give this to you," Ron said as he passed on the letter, and Madame Maxime took it slowly.

Her eyes never left Ron as she slowly opened it, and then, she began to read Dumbledore's words. A cup of honeyed tea floated in front of Ron, and as he began to drink from it, he kept his eyes on Madame Maxime. He had no idea what the letter consisted of, but whatever was written on it seemed get to Madame Maxime. Her expression had gone from being wary to being shocked to being dead serious, and once she was done, she looked to Ron with a coldness that he had not seen since the Tournament.

"Is this a joke?" she demanded, her voice devoid of any friendliness. Shite, she didn't take it well. What did the old man write?

"You know that it's not," Ron started, he wasn't going to let her intimidate him. The old man is counting on me. "The Headmaster sent me here with his Phoenix, and that's his handwriting on the letter."

"Have you read this?" Madame Maxime asked, her expression almost angry.

"No, but I imagine that it's about the Dark Lord's return," Ron replied, and Madame Maxime sprang out of her chair. Ron flinched a little, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she began to seal off her Office with powerful incantations. The lights dimmed, the fireplace turned cold, and the windows slammed shut. What's she doing?

"The Dark Lord is dead," Madame Maxime finally looked to Ron, her graceful demeanor was completely gone. Merlin, she's tall. "His armies were scattered."

"Most of his lieutenants were pardoned when they pleaded to being under the Imperius Curse," Ron started, while she looked back at the letter. "Most of them are now considered the 'Elite', and once they rejoin his cause… Their cause… We'll be knee deep in a war."

"And why would Dumbledore send a child to deliver such a letter?" Madame Maxime questioned suspiciously, and Ron drew in a deep breath. "Why not come himself?"

"Because I'm proof of the fact that the Dark Lord has returned," Ron replied, and he felt an odd sensation in the middle of his forehead. And then, Madame Maxime stepped back with a frightened look. What just happened?

"What are you?" Madame Maxime muttered, and then she aimed her wand at his head. Woah!

"Hey! Calm down!" Ron stood up quickly, his hands extended in front of him.

"Champion, she attempted to enter your mind… We blocked her trespass…" the Entity snarled in Ron's mind, and Ron closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Shite! How could I forget that she's a Legilimens?

"A dead mind… Pure emptiness… The Abyss…" Madame Maxime muttered under her breath, her expression hardening. "Answer me, creature. What are you?"

"You tried to use Legilimency, and I blocked it," Ron lied. "Listen to me… I'm Ronald Weasley, and I was sent here by Dumbledore. He has brought back the Order, and he told me that in the last war, you were his ally. He needs your help again, that's all." She looks so pissed off. Fuck me, this was a mistake.

"You… A child… Blocked my attempt at Legilimency without even flinching?" Madame Maxime questioned. "Don't make me laugh, creature. What you used was not Occlumency."

"Fifty Veelas," Ron reminded her. "I'm not some ordinary 'child', now please put down your wand. I am Dumbledore's man, and he's counting on me to show you proof."

"Proof?" Madame Maxime asked, her wand still fixed on him. Just do it, Ron. Do it before she blows your fucking head off.

"Nicolas Flamel gave Dumbledore the Philosopher's Stone," Ron started, and she blinked at him.

"Nicolas and Perenelle told no one but me this," Madame Maxime said. "Me, and those involved in hiding the Stone."

"He hid it at Hogwarts," Ron said quickly. "I think his plan was to lure out the Dark Lord, and then trap him somehow… But it didn't work. The Dark Lord had a servant who smuggled him into Hogwarts, where he attempted to steal the Stone. I tried to stop him-"

"And why would a boy interfere in such matters?" Madame Maxime frowned deeply, she was still unconvinced.

"It wasn't just me," Ron replied. "Harry Potter was with me."

"Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived?" Madame Maxime asked.

"Yeah… Yeah, he was there," Ron replied, his heartbeat had increased due to the circumstances. "If you ever meet him, ask him about it. Anyway… The Dark Lord was unable to retrieve the Stone, and while he was making his escape, he saw me. He attempted to possess me."

"Human possession?"

"He was like a wraith," Ron replied. "I managed to cast him out-"

"Your story keeps becoming more and more unbelievable," Madame Maxime interrupted.

"I have proof of it," Ron swallowed thickly. "On my skin…" Madame Maxime just stared at him, and so Ron slowly pulled back his left sleeve. Her eyes lingered on his serpent-trail scars, but she showed no signs of revulsion.

"He did that to you?" Madame Maxime asked, and Ron nodded slowly. No, he didn't. But it was still his fault. His, the Entity's, and mine.

"I was in a coma for a month, as I'm sure you already know," Ron said calmingly. "You've researched me, right? So you know that my story lines up with me being in a coma. Everyone was told that my coma was because I had conducted an ill-planned experiment, but that was a lie."

"Your Headmaster hid the truth," Madame Maxime stated. "A very Dumbledore thing to do… To lie."

"He had his reasons," Ron said. "Reasons that I now understand, and even respect. I am telling you the truth, Madame Maxime. That letter in your left hand is telling you the truth. The Dark Lord has returned. The Inferno in Albania… The Accidental Fire at St. Mungo's… Our country is already under attack. And soon, yours will be too."

"Sit," Madame Maxime ordered, and Ron slowly sat back down. She moved to her own chair, her wand still aimed at him. "Talk."

"The Headmaster faced him in Albania, but he escaped by setting the Forest on fire," Ron told her. "Xenophilius Lovegood was helping the Headmaster, but in order to keep the panic in check, the Headmaster Obliviated him. The Dark Lord went on the run again, and eventually, he found his way into St. Mungo's, where he possessed the soulless Peter Pettigrew. The Dark Lord then massacred everyone in the Hospital, and set the fire to hide the truth."

"How do you know this?" Madame Maxime asked. "All of it."

"The Headmaster told me," Ron replied. "As for how he knows about St. Mungo's, the Dark Lord cut off his connection with his Mark before he made his escape from St. Mungo's. Possessing a complete body with no soul returned a great deal of his power, so he severed the connection in order to stay hidden."

"What is your role in this? Why does the Headmaster of Hogwarts trust you with such sensitive information?" Madame Maxime asked.

"Because, like I told you, I'm no ordinary child," Ron replied, and Madame Maxime began to lower her wand. "I am a secret member of the Order… No one knows of my role except for the Headmaster, and now, you. That's the truth. The whole truth." Dumbledore was right, if it hadn't been for my story, she wouldn't have believed him. Dumbledore was also right about people choosing ignorance over the truth in this matter.

"Another war is coming?" Madame Maxime asked, her anger slowly crumbling away.

"It's already here," Ron breathed out. "But we have time to prepare. That's why I asked Dumbledore to reach out to you."

"He takes your counsel?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He does," Ron replied, and then he made up a reason as to why. "Once I woke up from my coma, I was smart enough to figure out that a war would come eventually. So I started making powerful friends… Alliances."

"Which is why a thirteen year old boy forgave my actions without a single complaint," Madame Maxime realized.

"The Headmaster caught onto my plan, and instead of stopping me, he offered his hand in partnership," Ron said, and Madame Maxime slowly looked back to the letter. "He sent me here because not only do I have proof, but also because we are friends. As your friend, I beg you, please believe me. Don't ignore your instincts. It will only hurt us all down the line."

"What do you want from me?" Madame Maxime asked, her eyes fixed on Ron's. "I cannot go to the French Ministry with this, they will strip me of my position. I will be labeled as a madwoman, and a warmonger."

"I understand," Ron said, though he still felt vexed by it. "People don't want to believe that he's back, so if someone says that he is, they will be cast out. The Headmaster has not spoken to the British Ministry for the very same reason. I have come here to invite you into the Order. You are intelligent, clever, and you have resources and standing. We need allies like you."

"If the Dark Lord has indeed returned, why should I risk his ire by joining you?" Madame Maxime asked.

"The same reason why you helped in the first war," Ron replied. "How many students in this school are part-Veela? I'd say at least over a hundred. The Dark Lord will kill them all. His Pure-Blood fanatics will burn this school down in his name."

"Merde!" Madame Maxime grit out, and then she stood back up. Ron tensed a little, but he relaxed once she began pacing. She's reading it again. "It says here that he wishes for me revoke my vote for the Triwizard Tournament. I cannot do that. The contracts have been signed, and the French Ministry has already begun preparations for it." I'm sorry… What?

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Ron asked, and then he remembered something that his father told him. "There hasn't been a Triwizard Tournament in just over two hundred years."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you?" Madame Maxime asked, and Ron shook his head. "Barty Crouch Snr, the British Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Ludo Bagman, the British Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, have worked together with their opposite numbers to revive the Tournament. It is to be held at Hogwarts next year."

"Bloody hell," Ron shook his head. "We don't have the time for this sort of idiocy."

"Your Headmaster was the only person who spoke out against it, but he was outvoted," Madame Maxime told him.

"Outvoted by who?" Ron asked.

"By Igor Karkaroff, and myself," Madame Maxime replied. "In the end, the decision lay with the Principles of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. The dice has been cast, Ronald, and it cannot be taken back."

"Tell me more about this Tournament," Ron leaned forward.

"It is an Old Tradition," Madame Maxime explained. "Three European schools compete to find the most worthy student in Europe. Each school gives only one champion, each of whom must complete three tasks. The Winner is named the Triwizard Champion, which provides them with prestige and eternal glory. That's the summary of it. Oh, and the Tournament lasts all year long."

"Why do you think that Dumbledore wants you to renounce your vote?" Ron asked.

"If the Dark Lord has indeed returned, then the Ministries will be too distracted to notice him," she replied. "He'll stay hidden for as long as he is able. That's how he nearly won the last time. By the time people realized that war was upon them, the Dark Lord had devastated the country with his shadowy machinations."

"Do you know any French Families that would be interested in helping the Order?" Ron asked, deciding to take the risk of reaching for more.

"This is England's war, not theirs," Madame Maxime adorned a stern look.

"I beg to differ," Ron said firmly, he had to do more. "The Dark Lord doesn't care about England, he cares about winning. Once he's done here, he will attack the rest of the World. France included."

"I'm not sure that I even believe you," Madame Maxime said, her expression returning to normal.

"I'll bring the Headmaster here if that's what it takes," Ron told her. "Now, please answer my question. Do you know any French Families that would be interested in helping the Order?"

"Any Old Family with Veela Blood will reject that tyrant," Madame Maxime replied. "But of all of them, I can only think of a handful who would even believe me. Families that lost many to the last war."

"Then you should talk to them," Ron said, and Madame Maxine clicked her tongue. "What? You should if you care about them. This war isn't just England's problem, it's everyone's. You and I can work together bring the Old Families of our respective countries to the table. Wars are not cheap, nor are they won without soldiers. While the Ministries laze about, we can make sure that people are getting prepared."

"And how much French Blood will be spilled to pay for England's mistakes?" Madame Maxime asked, and Ron was left dazed by her question. Blood? French Blood? England's mistakes?

"What is the matter with you adults?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Pardon?" Madame Maxime frowned.

"This type of xenophobic and uncompassionate thinking is exactly what the Dark Lord relies upon," Ron told her, an indignant look marking his features. "He wants us to be disconnected from each other. He wants his soldiers to hate anyone who isn't like them. Xenophobia and hatred are his weapons, and yet, you all think in a similar way."

"Do we now?" Madame Maxime challenged.

"People are… people," Ron said. "It doesn't matter which country you're born in, or which language you speak, or what type of Blood runs in your veins. We all dance, sing, cry, fight, hate, and love. We all feel the same emotions, and have the same daily problems. So what does it matter that the Dark Lord was born in England? He will kill everyone who is not on his side, whether they be French or English. You don't want French Families to spill their blood in fighting an 'English tyrant', but when he comes after you all after he's done with us, their blood will be spilled anyway. But if we're united, and if we're prepared, we stand a better chance at winning."

"I… I will need time to think," Madame Maxime sighed, and Ron decided to back off for now. "Enjoy the grounds before you leave. I asked Raphael to call your friend Amanda once again. She is outside." Is that why she sealed off this Office?

"Before I go, I'd like to put forward an idea," Ron said, his mind coming up with a scheme. "On the Twenty-Eighth of November, the British Ministry is hosting a Gala at Minister Fudge's Estate. At the Gala, the Old British Families will be asked to donate five hundred Galleons each for the restoration of St. Mungo's Hospital. If you could convince some of the Old French Families to attend and donate, I could get them all invites. The British Ministry needs the help, and a French donation would serve as a lovely gesture of goodwill."

"Now you want to involve them in British Politics?" Madame Maxime asked.

"I want the French and English to have a better relationship in order to unite us against a great threat," Ron replied, he was reaching again. "You and I can bring this alliance together, which will earn us both great favor with a lot of powerful people."

"And great annoyance from others," Madame Maxime added.

"Think of the good press, Madame Maxime," Ron influenced. "Our friendship is already established, and even well known. If we do this together, it will make us both look saintly." And with that influence, I can bring in more people. I can turn the Weasley name into something to be truly proud of. "Not to mention that these Families will then have reason to keep contact with Britain, where the Order is located."

"You and I would act as the bridge," Madame Maxime said to herself. "Madame Olympe Maxime and Le fléau de Vélane." She's buying it! Ron stood up at that.

"Please think it over, and contact me with the details if you agree," Ron said, and she gave him a curt nod. "May I inform the Headmaster that I've secured your alliance?"

"You may," Madame Maxime said. "Gods help us all."

"We should help each other before we turn to the Gods," Ron smiled at her, and then he turned to leave. Trust me, the 'Gods' are a bunch of uncaring twats. As Ron neared the exit, Madame Maxime called out to him.

"I will be in contact with Dumbledore, Ronald," Madame Maxime said. "This better all be true."

"It is true, and you'll believe that soon enough. I will wait for your letter, my friend," Ron said, and then he left the Office.

"Ronald!" Amanda beamed, she was waiting just outside the Crest.

"Amanda," Ron smiled widely, and then he walked into her embrace. "It is good to see you."

"You too!" Amanda laughed over his shoulder. "Welcome back to Beauxbatons! Why didn't you send word? You promised me, remember?"

"This visit came from urgency," Ron squeezed her before letting go. "I'm sorry that you're missing class on my behalf."

"I despise Transfiguration, Ron," Amanda tangled their arms together. "You've done me a service."

"Oh… Then you're welcome," Ron chuckled, and they began to head towards the grounds.

"Rumor has it that a Phoenix brought you here," Amanda said. "Is it true?"

"His name is Fawkes," Ron replied, and she looked utterly awed. "Do you want to see him? I can call him, you know."

"Is he yours?" Amanda asked quickly. "You have won a Phoenix's companionship?"

"No," Ron replied. "He is Albus Dumbledore's companion, but he has taken a liking to me. That's still something, right?"

"More than," Amanda tightened her hold on his arm. "I can't say that I know any student who has such a marvelous ally. And yes, I would love to meet him. An actual Phoenix… I've read so much about them! Wait… Why would the Headmaster of Hogwarts give you his Phoenix?"

"I asked nicely," Ron smirked, and Amanda smirked back.

"I was being serious," Amanda said.

"As was I," Ron countered. "How have you been, Amanda?"

"You'd know if you sent a letter once in a while," Amanda teased. "I have been busy with my studies, and with training. I go to my Mentor's Villa every second week for tutelage, and I don't want to brag, but my skills have definitely sharpened." Her Mentor allows her a week off? Lord Greengrass, where is your compassion?

"Any Tournaments coming up?" Ron asked.

"No," Amanda sighed. "My Mentor wishes to see me reach a certain level before competing. He only accepts victory."

"He and Lord Greengrass should meet," Ron laughed.

"They are both Chess Masters, so I'm sure they already have," Amanda smiled at him. "What about you, Ron?"

"I've never been busier," Ron admitted. "School, work, training, my business… I barely have time to relax."

"Your girlfriend doesn't mind?" Amanda asked, she knew that she would.

"I think it does bother her, but she doesn't say anything," Ron replied slowly. "She can be very understanding, especially when it comes to me." Maybe she doesn't want to stress me by adding another thing on my plate? I really hope she doesn't think like that. They made their way outside at that, and Ron breathed in the fresh air.

"Let's go to the Gardens, and then you can introduce me to Fawkes," Amanda glowed.

---

One Hour Later

"So your Family has no Veela Blood whatsoever?" Ron asked, while Amanda scratched Fawkes' chest.

"None," Amanda replied. "Mother and father are very proud of that fact. Not because they dislike Veelas, it's mostly because it sets our Family apart. Though we're not prominent enough to really have much say in Politics. Father has a nice business, and my mother is friends with a few French Wizengamot Officials."

"Tell me a little more about Veelas in French Politics," Ron requested, and Amanda let out a laugh. If they are not completely human, they can be my allies against the Dark Lord.

"You're a very strange thirteen year old," Amanda told him, and he just smiled at her. "Well, Veelas have always been respected in France. They've been around since before Wizarding Kind settled in France, and because of their beauty, they were quickly integrated within Wizarding Society. Wizards Dueled each other for their favor, while witches worked tirelessly to copy their beauty and grace. Most Wizarding Families in France have Veela Blood in them, some more than others."

"However, it's not all rainbows and sunshine for them," Amanda went on. "Many Pure Wizarding Families see them as 'impure'. Half-Breeds they call them… It's disgusting. If you are even a quarter Veela, you cannot hold a position of real power in the French Ministry."

"Really?" Ron asked.

"Sadly, yes," Amanda replied. "They can't become Heads of Departments, or run for Minister. They are even banned from using their allures on Ministry Officials. Although the allure restriction has its merits. A few Veelas have attempted to control politicians within French History, and it has never ended well."

"So Veelas are well-respected, but not always seen as equals," Ron summarized, and Amanda gave him a nod.

"Their roots are deep, but we wizards have a habit of being wary of those who are different," Amanda said. "That's what my father always says."

"What about you?" Ron asked. "What do you think of Veelas?"

"I don't mind them, though they can be very unpleasant sometimes," Amanda replied. "They have a habit of going after other girls' boyfriends. It's an impulse of theirs…"

"An impulse?" Ron asked.

"They gravitate to what they can't have," Amanda sighed out. "That, or they see a strong wizard and dub him a worthy mate."

"What?"

"Yeah, they can be quite animalistic," Amanda told him. "I understand that they can't help it, especially the younger ones, but it still bothers me. Did I tell you that a Veela once stole my ex-boyfriend?"

"You did," Ron nodded. "Speaking of which, how is your current boyfriend? I completely forgot about him."

"He isn't my boyfriend anymore," Amanda shrugged. "He was awfully jealous of my friends. If I ever spent time with anyone but him, he'd complain and pout all day. It grew old very quickly. Oh, and he kept pestering me about sex." Sex? Ron shifted a little in his spot, and Amanda noticed. "Oh! Sorry! I forgot your age, Ron!"

"It's alright, I know what sex is," Ron said quickly, his cheeks heating up. "I'm not a child." They shared an uncomfortable stare, but it ended when they both began to snigger out of embarrassment. "Sorry…"

"No need to apologize," Amanda kept laughing. "I just remembered that you saw a contraception Potion in my room the last time you were here." Yeah, that was awkward.

"I have to admit, Beauxbatons seems to be very open about sexuality," Ron noted.

"They have to be when there are so many Veelas here," Amanda shrugged. "The younger ones need to be taught about such matters before they make a mistake. They can be a handful, especially when they get riled up. They don't exactly have great impulse control. We actually have sexual health lectures quite often."

"I wish we had that at Hogwarts," Ron said. "I mean, it's not a big problem, but it'd be nice to have some sort of knowledge on it."

"All you have to know is that when you feel ready, you should try it," Amanda smirked. "But don't rush yourself." Noted. Ron suddenly felt a weak jolt of pain in the back of his skull, which made him look around. "What is it?"

"Allures," Ron replied, and then he spotted a young girl looking at him from behind a hedge. "Hello there!" The girl shrunk away from sight, much to Ron's bewilderment.

"Excuse me, Ron," Amanda said, and then she got up and walked over to the hedge. Ron watched Amanda disappear behind the hedge, and then he heard her talking to a bunch of children. I wonder what this is about.

"What do you think, Fawkes?" Ron asked, and the Phoenix let out a shrill. "Helpful." Fawkes flapped his wings in indignation, while Ron grinned at him. "I'm just pulling your feathers, mate. No need to get riled up."

"Ron, some of the younger students want to feed Fawkes," came Amanda's voice, and Ron looked to see her surrounded by children. "They're not very good at English, and your reputation frightens them." Oh. I'm Le fléau de Vélane.

"Of course," Ron smiled at them, but only the boys smiled back. Ron felt another jolt of pain, and he decided not to say anything. Amanda started speaking to the children in French, and all of their faces lit up before they ran over to Fawkes, their hands full of treats. Fawkes let out a shrill before he began to select which treats he wanted. Amanda joined Ron with a smile on her face, both of them watching as Fawkes was treated as royalty.

"Are their allures still on?" Amanda whispered.

"Some…" Ron looked down at his feet.

"Rien de cela!" Amanda ordered, and Ron jumped a little.

"Amanda? What was that?" Ron asked, his headache subsiding.

"You can't let them get away with that, Ron," Amanda told him. "They have to understand that they can't do that to other people. Madame Maxime always does her best to reinforce this lesson. Their allures are a dangerous thing, even for them."

"Le fléau de Vélane?" a girl with silvery-blonde hair walked up to Ron, a look of awe on her face. "Montre-nous ta Magie?" I remember her.

"This is Gabriella Delacour," Amanda reminded him. "She's asking you to show her your Magic."

"My Magic?" Ron asked, while Gabriella looked at him expectantly. "As in Spells?"

"No," Amanda sighed. "The Veelas believe that you have special powers that ordinary wizards don't have… It's another silly rumor, one that really intrigues the Veela children." Amanda then looked to Gabriella, and she began to explain that Ron was just an ordinary wizard in French. Hmm, I could show them some Wandless Magic. That'll impress them, and my reputation would only increase.

"Very well," Ron stood up, and Amanda stopped midsentence.

"Ron?" Amanda blinked, while Gabriella excitedly began calling over the other children. They flooded Ron, looks of awe and wariness etched on their faces. Ron spotted Fawkes sitting on a girl's shoulder, his eyes fixed on Ron.

"Can you tell them to step back?" Ron asked, and Amanda translated quickly. The children took a step back, their eyes unblinking.

"Ron, you don't have to entertain them," Amanda started.

"They're kids," Ron smiled at her. "Plus, I don't want them to fear me."

"Alright," Amanda smiled a little, while Ron looked back to the children. What first? Oh, I know.

"Incendio," Ron whispered, and his left hand began to glow orange. The children let out excited squeals, while Amanda went wide-eyed.

---

One Hour Later

He was getting really exhausted. He had shown them Glacius, Incendio, Brachium Colubrum, Accio, Wingardium Leviosa, and now he was demonstrating Cutis Terra. The children were genuinely bordering on hero-worshiping him, while Amanda too looked immensely impressed.

"Zat!" a girl said excited, her little finger pointing to a stone bench. Bloody hell… That looks heavy.

"Sure," Ron put on a smile, and the children cheered him on. I'm going to pass out at this rate. "Cutis Terra." Once Ron felt his body feel incased in stone, he grabbed the bench from its sides.

"Ron, you can't possibly lift that," Amanda started, but when he lifted it with a grunt, her jaw dropped open. My fucking spine! Ron carefully put the stone bench down, and then he wiped the sweat rolling down his brow. The children cheered on in French, and so Ron looked to Amanda for translation.

"What are they saying?" Ron panted.

"They're saying that you're really strong…" Amanda replied, her jaw still hanging open. "Ron, how are you doing this?"

"I'm really strong," Ron smirked, he had been making sure to say the Spells under his breath.

"More!" a young boy yelled.

"One more," Ron decided. "After that, I need a break." Amanda quickly translated for him, and the children waited for him to show them more of his 'powers'. Ron drew in a deep breath, and once his lungs were full, he whispered 'Fumos'. Ron then breathed out black mist into the air, and the children squealed before running away from him.

"Il est comme un Dragon!" Gabriella shouted, and the others nodded fervently.

"They're saying that you're like a Dragon," Amanda translated, she was utterly shocked by what she was seeing. She had never seen Magic like this before. Ron grinned at the children as the black mist began to descend, but it was suddenly banished by someone.

Ron turned to see Madame Maxime staring at him, a curious look on her face. Before Ron could say anything, she was surrounded by the excited children, all of them shouting over one another. It's like she's their mum, and they're all trying to get her attention.

"She must've seen us from one of the windows," Amanda whispered to him.

"Really? The Gardens are pretty far from the school," Ron said.

"Madame has very sharp eyes," Amanda told him, and Ron nodded slowly.

"I reckon I should be on my way," Ron whispered, but Amanda grabbed onto his gloved hand.

"They are telling her of your powers, Ron," Amanda whispered. "Look at her, she looks impressed."

"Really? She stares blankly when she's impressed?" Ron whispered, and Amanda frowned a little. "No offence, of course."

"Just wait," Amanda whispered. Ron did as he was told, and eventually, Madame Maxime told the children to return to the school. They all waved at Ron and Fawkes as they left, and Ron waved back with a friendly smile.

"Explain yourselves," Madame Maxime said as she walked up to Ron and Amanda.

"They wanted to see my 'powers', so I showed them some Wandless Magic," Ron replied, and Madame Maxime nodded slowly.

"Wandless Magic at thirteen… You continue to bewilder me, Ronald," Madame Maxime said, and then she looked him over. "You are exhausted."

"I could use a nap, yes," Ron admitted. "And a shower." Plus, it's past time that I went home. I have homework to get done, and then dinner with Mr. Cuffe.

"Are you really about to leave?" Amanda asked, and Ron gave her a nod.

"I have homework to do," Ron smiled at her, while Madame Maxime took a step back to give them privacy. "It was great seeing you again, Amanda."

"You too," Amanda smiled a little sadly, and then she pulled him into a hug. "Goodbye, Ron."

"Take care, Amanda," Ron gave her a squeeze, and then he let go of her. She gave him a parting nod, and then she left the Gardens with a glum look. Once she had disappeared from sight, Madame Maxime handed Ron a letter.

"Give this to your Headmaster," Madame Maxime instructed, and Ron pocketed the letter. "Tell him that I wish to meet in person."

"I'll do that," Ron promised, and Fawkes flew onto his right shoulder. "I'm sorry for bringing such bad news."

"No… I am sorry for how I reacted," Madame Maxime said softly, she had a cloud of melancholy hanging over her head. "Our peaceful days have come to an end."

"I know," Ron said, and then he took a step back. "Goodbye, Madame Maxime."

"Goodbye, my friend," Madame Maxime managed a weak smile. "I will speak to the appropriate Families about this Gala, and eventually, about what's to come. Give me time."

"I understand," Ron smiled at her, he liked the sound of that. "Fawkes, take us to the Headmaster's Office."

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Thursday 12th November, 1993 (Seventh Floor – After Classes)

Something was definitely up with the Golden Trio, and both Pansy and Tracey had also realized it. Throughout Divinations, they had spotted Granger and Longbottom looking in their direction. Even Potter had spared the three Slytherin girls some looks. This added in with the fact that Granger had skipped Potions Club yesterday greatly intrigued Daphne.

Granger, as far as Daphne knew, was no slacker. Nor would she disrespect Professor Snape by skipping his club on a whim. According to Ron, Granger had made no excuse for her absence yesterday. Ron knew this because Snape had apparently taken offence to Granger's absence. Daphne's instinct told her that something was afoot, but she also knew that Ron didn't need the Trio getting upset with her. So for now, she decided to let go of her suspicions.

Once Divination had ended, Professor Snape had pulled her out of the common room and sent her to the Headmaster's Office. According to Professor Snape, the Headmaster needed to see her for an opinion, which rightly baffled Daphne. And so, she had made her way up to the Seventh Floor, given the password to the Gargoyle, and now waited at the door.

"…Don't know what to do anymore, Dumbledore," came Arthur Weasley's voice, and Daphne stopped just before knocking. "…So cold to us." Daphne placed her ear on the door. What are they talking about? Why is Ron's father here? Doesn't he have work?

"I tried to write a letter to him, but I can't think of the words," Molly Weasley sniffled, and Daphne's heart clenched. Ron… They're discussing Ron, aren't they? "It's like hearing from us angers him…"

"Did you speak with him?" Arthur asked.

"I did indeed," Dumbledore replied. "He finds your efforts to slow him down… tedious. They bother him greatly, I imagine."

"He's making himself more sick," Molly countered. "He's thirteen, but he's in such a hurry to grow up. It isn't right."

"I can't think of anything anymore, Dumbledore," Arthur admitted. "I can't think of a single way to reach him. And I can't even blame Slytherin anymore… I've met his friends, and they are good children. It's just him." Ron, look at what you're doing. Daphne drew in a deep breath, and then she knocked on the door.

"Enter, Miss. Greengrass," came Dumbledore's voice, and Daphne did so slowly. Her eyes met Ron's parents' as she closed the door, and then she approached them with her head held high.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she greeted with a short smile. "Before I say anything, please let me apologize for being so rude to you the last time we were in each other's company. It was wrong of me to raise my voice, and for implying that you weren't intelligent. I was frustrated, and I gave into my baser nature." Molly and Arthur looked quite taken aback, while Dumbledore just wore his usual smile.

"Tensions were running high," Arthur smiled weakly. "We were all not ourselves. There is nothing to apologize for, Daphne. Please, come join us." Daphne gave him a grateful nod, and then she took her seat by Molly's right.

"Arthur and Molly here want to ask you some questions relating to Ronald," Dumbledore explained. "Is that alright?"

"Of course," Daphne agreed.

"Has he mentioned that we asked Pomfrey for a Family Counseling session?" Molly asked quickly, her eyes were slightly puffy. What?

"No, he hasn't," Daphne replied truthfully. "Is that why he was so bothered after his last session?" He didn't tell me about this. Why?

"He didn't take it well then," Arthur sighed deeply, as if some theory of his had been validated. "Pomfrey told us that he felt that he was too busy for extra counselling."

"Why is he being like this?" Molly demanded, and Daphne swallowed thickly. She's so distraught. Daphne stared at them for a few seconds, and then she drew in another deep breath.

"He feels that you don't respect him," Daphne gave her personal thoughts. "He's achieved so much, but you still treat him as if he's a child."

"He is a child," Molly interrupted. "My child."

"I don't think Ron is proud of who he used to be," Daphne said, and the Weasley's blinked at her. "So when you coddle him, he's reminded of 'Little Ronnie', and that's what sets him off. These are just my thoughts, however, so take them with a grain of salt."

"Why do you think this?" Dumbledore asked, he was quite interested to hear her answer.

"He says things sometimes," Daphne replied slowly, she didn't want to give away Ron's secrets by mistake. "At our date, he brought up a story about Ginny's dress and Aunt Muriel's anger with it."

"He told you that?" Molly asked, she sounded a little embarrassed.

"He told me that he hated himself for it," Daphne replied.

"What?" Arthur asked immediately.

"He believes that he stole Ginny's dress, and that he embarrassed your Family's name," Daphne replied. "To him, that's who 'Little Ronnie' is… 'A weak brat'… He says that sometimes as well. You remind him of 'Little Ronnie' whenever you try to make him slow down." Daphne then stopped, she needed to tell them his side too.

"Look, he works so hard," Daphne restarted. "He studies constantly, trains, works, plans for The Quibbler, and he even runs the largest study group in the school. Just ask the Headmaster. Ron is quite famous around the school for his kind and approachable demeanor."

"He was recently seen playing tag with all the first years," Dumbledore told them. "He is a true advocate for House Unity." Because he believes that a war is coming, but I can't tell them that, they'll think that Ron's insane.

"He does all of this every single day," Daphne said a little too proudly. "It's nothing short of amazing. And here's the thing, he's happiest when he's busy. But when people tell him to stop, or bring up his conditions, he feels like he's not being given his dues."

"So us telling him to act his age insults him?" Molly asked. "How do we fix that?"

"Do you really want to?" Daphne couldn't help but ask. "I mean, aren't you proud of him?"

"Of course we are," they said together.

"All he wants is respect from you two," Daphne told them. "He even asked Mr. Weasley to help him with his Quibbler work, but Mrs. Weasley tried to shut him down. Once again, he was 'Little Ronnie' in her eyes. A little boy who doesn't know what's good for him. That's why he lashed out. That, and the Potion makes him forget human decency."

"So we just stand by as he runs himself into an early grave?" Molly asked in a defeated manner, and Daphne felt a strong pang of guilt. Her boyfriend was wrong to treat his parents so coldly, despite his reasons being understandable.

"If you want, I can talk to him," Daphne offered. "It might take a while, but maybe I can convince him to sit down with you and Pomfrey."

"He'd listen to you?" Molly asked quickly, she'd do whatever it took to get Ron to sit down with her.

"I'm not promising-" Daphne started, but she was interrupted by a fiery vortex. Both Daphne and Ron's parents stood up quickly, their eyes widening at the fire behind them. Ron? Daphne's jaw dropped open at the sight of her boyfriend, while the Weasleys looked surprised to see each other.

"Ronnie?!" Molly exclaimed, while Ron looked quite taken aback.

"Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?" Ron asked.

"Is that… Is that Fawkes?" Arthur asked, and the Phoenix shrilled loudly. The Headmaster's Phoenix took him to France? I thought he was catching a Portkey… How did he convince the Headmaster to let him borrow Fawkes?

"Welcome back from France, Ronald," Dumbledore greeted, and Ron's parents looked back and forth.

"France?" Molly asked, and Daphne could see this going downhill. Say something, Daphne. Don't let Ron say, or do, anything foolish.

"Did you take care of The Quibbler issue?" Daphne asked, and Ron gave her a nod.

"Everything is back on the rails," Ron told them all, his eyes darting towards Dumbledore.

"I allowed Ronald to borrow Fawkes," Dumbledore explained. "He said that he was in a hurry, and I saw no harm in it."

"He went alone? To France?" Molly asked Dumbledore, she sounded angry all of a sudden.

"He went straight to Beauxbatons, Molly," Dumbledore assured her. "There was no danger whatsoever. Fawkes watched over him during his trip." Danger? Watched over him? What are they on about?

"Dad, don't you have work?" Ron asked, while Fawkes flew onto his perch. "Why are you both here? And why is Daphne here?" And then, he seemed to realize something. "I have dinner with Mr. Cuffe tonight, and I've got homework to finish. Can we please not do this today?" Wow, Ron.

"Ronald…" Dumbledore sighed out, while his parents just stared at him.

"I'm not trying to start anything, but please… I'm very busy today," Ron said, his face devoid of any emotion. Daphne signaled him to shut up, and Ron blinked at her.

"Ronnie, please just listen to us," Molly started, and Ron drew in a deep breath. "You are hurting yourself…" Didn't I just tell her not to do this?

"Molly, let's go," Arthur said, much to everyone's surprise. "Ron is busy, and he needs to focus on his homework."

"Arthur…" Molly started, but he hushed her.

"Let's go, love," Arthur said, and then he herded his wife towards the fireplace. "It was good to see you, son. Please write once in a while." And then, after giving Daphne a quick look, Arthur Weasley took his wife home via floo. Daphne couldn't help but notice that Ron looked relieved, and that immediately pissed her off. Those are his parents! I don't care how they've treated him, he owes them a certain amount of respect.

"Well… That was weird," Ron said, and then he looked to Dumbledore. "Thank you for letting me borrow Fawkes, Headmaster. Is our game still on for tonight?" Chess?

"It is, Ronald," Dumbledore replied. "Please, don't let me keep you both."

"Let's go, Daph," Ron smiled at her, but Daphne didn't return his smile. They were so hurt, and he couldn't care less! Ron led the way out, and Daphne followed after him quietly. Once they were past the Stone Gargoyle, she grabbed his arm and began to drag him towards the Sanctuary. She needed to have some words with him.

"Daph… Where are you taking me?" Ron asked quickly.

"Sanctuary," she all but hissed.

"What's gotten into you? Daph, I have homework to start," Ron said, and she shot him a dark look. "Woah… What did I do?"

"Be quiet," Daphne snapped, her temper flaring. As they reached the Sanctuary's entrance, Daphne began to pace back and forth angrily. His mother had been crying! Once the door had appeared, she dragged her boyfriend inside and shut the door. "Why didn't you tell me that they wanted to have a Counselling session with you?"

"Pardon?" Ron asked. "Daphne, what's this about?"

"It's about you treating your parents with nothing short of malice," Daphne got riled up. "How dare you speak to them like they're beneath you?!" Ron flinched a bit because of her volume, and she quickly tried to steady herself. "They brought you into the World, Ron… You owe them respect for at least that much. They fed you, clothed you, and raised you. They're your parents, not your whipping boys."

"What malice? What are you on about?" Ron asked, his own temper flaring. "I didn't do, or say, anything to upset them. I just got back to Britain."

"You literally told them to leave you alone because you had other things to do!" Daphne snapped.

"Don't yell at me!" Ron snapped back.

"I'll yell all I want!" Daphne bellowed. Damn it, Daphne! Calm down!

"What the fuck?!" Ron roared, and Daphne felt her heart stop for a moment. He quickly took in a deep breath, while Daphne regained her composure. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Ron broke the silence. "I've had a long day… I don't need this…" Ron turned to leave, but Daphne ran between him and the door. "Daphne, stop-"

"You didn't even wait for them to explain themselves," Daphne told him. "You just assumed the worst about them. Can't you see how much that must've hurt them? Ron, they're trying to reach out to you."

"They're finding ways to get in my way," Ron frowned deeply.

"Your father clearly skipped his work to be here," Daphne ignored his delusions. "He came all the way to Hogwarts just to reach out to you! You're dead wrong here, Ron, and I won't just let you get away with it! I know just how much you hate your current relationship with your parents, and until you do something about it, it won't get fixed!"

"Daphne, I'm leaving," Ron said, and she jumped in his way again.

"No!" Daphne barked. "I'm still talking to you, Ronald Weasley! Ugh… You make me so angry sometimes!"

"Yeah, well leave me alone then!" Ron snapped, he had clearly reached the end of his rope.

"No!" Daphne clung onto his right arm.

"Get off me!" Ron ordered, but he didn't jerk himself away.

"You're only hurting yourself by hurting them!" Daphne tried to tell him, why was he so thick sometimes? "You're letting your anger ruin things for you, and you can't even see it! I'm trying to help you!"

"How is this helping me?!" Ron demanded. "Let go! Your fingernails are hurting me!" Daphne immediately let go of him, and he checked his arm over with a frown. "It's always the same with them! I was having a good day today, and they ruined it with just their damn faces! What the fuck do they want from me?! Why can't they just leave me alone?!"

"Is that what you want?" Daphne hissed. "To be left alone by everyone?"

"Sometimes, yeah!" Ron barked. "Right now, definitely!"

"You're so… shortsighted!" Daphne nearly screamed, and Ron just froze. "All you have to do is see them once a week, and that could be enough for you three to find peace, but you just don't want to put in the work. You're the one who's being lazy this time, no one else."

"Lazy? Me?" Ron scoffed. "Shortsighted? Me?"

"Why are you talking like that?" Daphne huffed in indignation.

"I just secured French aid for this country," Ron told her, and she blinked at him. What is he on about? "Do you understand that? I'm helping this country! That's how far my reach goes now! You think I got this far by being lazy and shortsighted? Give me a break." With that, Ron tried to move past her.

"Stop walking away from me!" Daphne grabbed his stomach from behind, her heels digging into the ground. "I'm your girlfriend, and you owe me the respect of hearing me speak!"

"Speak? We're just fighting because of them!" Ron stopped and turned around, his entire face had gone red. I bet mine has too. He's so frustrating sometimes!

"We're fighting because I hate the way you treat your parents!" Daphne corrected. "I understand just how much they've hurt you, I really do! I've been there for all of it, and I hate that they did that to you! But you're the one who's hurting them now! You are being your own worst enemy! Again!"

"So what? I just start seeing them every fucking week?" Ron asked haughtily. "I'm completely swamped right now, but I'm just supposed to drop everything for them? When did they do that for me? Huh? Where were they when I wanted to spend time with them? Oh, I know! Putting my 'brilliant siblings' first! Or playing with Muggle toys!"

"You have the opportunity to show them that," Daphne tried again. "You have the chance to fix this problem once and for all, Ron. I know that it's bothersome, and that it stresses you out, but in the long run, it's the right thing to do. Just listen to me, please! I'm trying to help you!"

"Fuck me…" Ron muttered, and then he shook his head clear. Daphne blinked at him, while he cleared his throat and took a step back.

"Ron?" Daphne said, her voice strained from the yelling.

"I used a lot of Magic today…" Ron sighed, his fingers massaging his forehead. "I'm too tired for this… I just want to do some homework, and then attend my dinner. I'm leaving. Yell all you want." With that, Ron turned around and left.

"Fine," Daphne followed after him. "But this isnt over. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Ron muttered, and Daphne vowed to bring this up again. I don't care if we keep fighting, I'll make him realize that he's being stupid about this. He's just hurting himself.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 12th November, 1993 (Snape's Office – Near Dinnertime)

He had done his homework, taken a shower, drank his second dose of Nutrition Potion, and he was still pissed. His day had been going so perfectly, and despite being only thirteen, he had a chance to really help with the restoration of St. Mungo's Hospital. If his plan with Madame Maxime worked, then Ron's name would spread throughout the Ministry. His entrance into Politics would be supported with an admirable achievement, one that would no doubt attract many potential allies to him.

Ron was putting the World first. He was working himself into exhaustion every single day, and what was his reward? Constant badgering and doubts. Everything had been going so well, and then his parents had shown up with their 'hurt feelings', and now Daphne and he were fighting. His girlfriend had refused to speak to him after their fight, and knowing her, she wasn't going to relent any time soon. Everything had been perfect, but his parents had ruined that with their problems. Why can't I just be left alone? All I want to do is my job, nothing more. I'm not asking for the World here, just some fucking peace.

"Come in," came Snape's voice, and Ron entered the Office.

"Good evening, Sir," Ron greeted unenthusiastically. Why did she have to yell at me?

"Off to your dinner?" Snape asked from behind his desk.

"Yes, Sir," Ron replied as he moved towards the fireplace. "I'll see you at the Headmaster's Office after I return."

"Before you go, do you care to tell me why Granger skipped the Potions Club yesterday?" Snape asked, and Ron looked to Snape with a confused look.

"I honestly don't know," Ron admitted. "Maybe she was sick?"

"She wasn't, I checked with Poppy," Snape said coldly.

"Well, it's not like her to skip something like this," Ron told Snape. "She's too serious about her academics to skip your exclusive Club."

"My thoughts exactly," Snape said, and then he frowned to himself. "Perhaps I should show her that skipping my Club results in consequences." Consequences? Ron turned to the fireplace to leave, but then he decided to give his opinion.

"Don't kick her out because she skipped one meeting," Ron looked back to Snape. "She's brilliant at your Club, and you know it. Kicking her out for such a minor offence is just… petty. She works her arse off at your Club, Sir. I think you should follow up with her, and let her explain her absence."

"So… You are back to being their friend now?" Snape cocked an eyebrow.

"Hermione and Neville aren't investigating me, only Harry is," Ron sighed. "And Hermione is an amazing lab partner. She does her work, and she does it brilliantly. And sometimes, she even teaches me tricks that I didn't previously know. She deserves the chance to explain herself, that's what I believe."

"Even I cannot argue her commitment to her studies," Snape said, and then he gave Ron a curt nod. "I shall find her after dinner." He will? He actually took my advice? Don't gloat! Just take the win and go.

"Goodbye for now, Sir," Ron said as he took a pinch of floo powder.

"Goodbye, Ron," Snape looked back to his work, while Ron cast the powder into the flames.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Ron said, and once the fire blazed green, Ron stepped through it.

Oddly enough, the moment he walked into the Leaky Cauldron, Ron felt calmer and more in control. He simply stood by the fireplace, his eyes surveying the busy tavern. No pointless arguments here. Just me, and my work. Ron drew in a deep breath, and he shut out his frustrations with his parents and girlfriend. Fucking Hogwarts… He began making his way towards the exit, his mind slowly focusing on his dinner with Barnabas Cuffe. As he neared the door, he nearly walked into a tall, blonde man.

"Sorry," Ron stopped right before the collision. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Please, you go first." Seriously, Ron, wake up.

"Thank you," the man smiled at Ron, his black round shades catching Ron's eye. It's nighttime… Why is he wearing shades? The man stepped through the exit, and Ron slowly followed after him. "You were in quite the hurry, young man."

"Again, I'm sorry," Ron apologized, and they both began walking in the same direction. "And yes, I was in a bit of a hurry."

"A date?" the man smiled at Ron.

"Merlin, no!" Ron grimaced, and the man held back a laugh. "A business meeting with an old man at The Pond." Speaking of which, there it is.

"I see," the man said. "Well, I wish you good fortune."

"Thanks, have a nice night," Ron managed a half-smile, and they parted ways as they neared The Pond. Ron watched the tall man walk off into the night, and after shaking his head clear, he walked into the restaurant.

"Mr. Weasley, welcome back," Rudolph greeted with a pleasant smile.

"Good evening, Rudolph," Ron smiled back, though he still felt bogged down by his fight with Daphne. Stop thinking about that right now.

"Mr. Cuffe has been awaiting your arrival," Rudolph said, and then he led Ron towards a table near the center of the restaurant.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Barnabas smiled and stood up, and Ron gave him a polite nod.

"Mr. Cuffe," Ron greeted back.

"Thank you, Rudolph," Barnabas looked to the dark skinned man. "Mr. Weasley and I can take it from here."

"Your food will be here momentarily," Rudolph said, and then he left for his post. Food? He ordered without me? That's just fucking rude.

"I ordered you the Honey-Glazed Lamb," Barnabas said as they both sat down. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm in a bit of a rush tonight."

"Do you have somewhere else to be?" Ron asked.

"My daughter is returning from the States tonight," Barnabas smiled genuinely. "She went there to study Wampus Cats, and now that her paper is published, she wishes to come home."

"Congratulations," Ron said, he wasn't sure about what a Wampus Cat was. "Please, send her my regards."

"I will," Barnabas said, and then he leaned back in his seat. "The Headmaster allows you to roam free even at night then." Here we go.

"Am I in danger, Mr. Cuffe?" Ron asked in response.

"Not at all," Barnabas replied. "I just find it very peculiar that the Headmaster abuses his power in such a manner. I mean, the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not meant to have favorites."

"Trust me, I am no one's favorite," Ron said, and he quickly regretted his words. For fuck's sake, stop moping already. "Is there anything that you wished to discuss tonight? Or is this just a social dinner?"

"I prefer to have conversation before I talk about business," Barnabas replied.

"And I prefer to get down to business immediately," Ron said.

"Very well," Barnabas said, a calm smile on his face. "You've struck a deal with the Ministry."

"The brochures?" Ron asked, and Barnabas gave him a nod.

"The restoration of St. Mungo's Hospital," Barnabas started. "I must admit, your advertisement agency knows how to do their job. Everyone at the Daily Prophet found those brochures in their homes and offices, myself included."

"Well, I am paying them an obscene amount of money for their services," Ron said.

"And how much is the Ministry paying you?" Barnabas asked.

"Nothing," Ron told him.

"Really? You expect me to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" Barnabas asked.

"Frankly, I don't care what you believe in," Ron said coldly, and Barnabas just stared at him. What?

"You are not in the mood for conversation today, are you?" Barnabas asked, and Ron drew in a deep breath. "Shame… I rather enjoy our banter." Honestly, I just want to go to sleep.

"Two order of Honey-Glazed Lamb," Tiffany walked up, and Ron shot her a quick smile. Beth's sister. "Please, enjoy your meals." With that, she made her way back to the other customers.

"Let's eat first," Barnabas suggested. "Maybe that will lighten your mood a little?"

"If this dish is as good as I remember, then it'll definitely help," Ron picked up his cutlery.

---

Gaspard's POV

Thursday 12th November, 1993 (Knockturn Alley – Dinnertime)

"Password?" the Vampire asked, and Gaspard removed his shades. The younger Vampire gazed at Gaspard's eyes, and then he slowly stepped aside. Clever lad. Gaspard moved on and entered the dingy building.

"Just as I remember it," Gaspard smiled to himself as he put his shades back on. The building was rundown on the outside, but inside, it was probably the most well-maintained establishment in Knockturn Alley.

This particular Den was known as the Fanged Grotto, a name that Gaspard didn't particularly like, though he appreciated the need for this place. Every Vampire was cordially invited to this Den, and should they feel the need to find companionship, the Fanged Grotto never disappointed. It was the perfect place to establish his roots for the oncoming war. A fresh supply of soldiers will stroll right through the front door.

Gaspard made his way to the bar, where he was greeted by a young, pale bartender.

"Are you new?" the woman asked over the noise.

"No, I was actually here when they first established this fine institution," Gaspard replied truthfully, his eyes admiring the Gothic Architecture from behind his shades.

"Of course you were," the bartender rolled her eyes, she clearly didn't believe him. Vampires had a tendency to lie about their age amongst their ilk, it provided both respect and safety. "This place is nearly two hundred years old, mate. You might want to come up with a better lie next time. Now… What are you having?"

"Who is the current Leader of this Den?" Gaspard asked, he wasn't exactly hungry right now.

"The Leader?" the vampire blinked, and then she looked towards a group of rowdy Vampires. "You see that bearded one? His name is Robert the Strong." Gaspard eyed the muscled and bearded Vampire, who was currently laughing far too loudly.

"Is that his name?" Gaspard couldn't help but laugh, why did younger Vampires feel the need to give themselves titles?

"He's almost a hundred years old," the bartender told him, her dark eyes moving between the two. "Just enjoy your meal, and be on your way. He's got a violent streak."

"And what is your name?" Gaspard asked, and the bartender stared at him.

"Arietta," the bartender replied eventually, and then she drew in a deep breath. "Let me guess, you're about to challenge Robert for leadership?"

"I plan to stay here for the foreseeable Future," Gaspard stood up, while Arietta began to hide the bottles of blood under the counters. Trust me, there won't be a fight. Gaspard walked towards Robert's gang, and the smell of strong perfume infiltrated his nose. That's when he spotted a thin brunette girl sitting in Robert's lap, she looked quite uncomfortable and unsure of herself. Very young, most likely a prostitute. And judging by her strong perfume, I'd wager that she's never been in the company of Vampires.

"Robert the Strong?" Gaspard asked, and the Vampire grinned at him.

"That's me," the bearded Vampire laughed. "Who are you? I haven't seen you in my Den before."

"You may call me Gaspard," Gaspard said, he quite liked this name at the moment. "I wish to take over this Den. Will that be a problem?" Robert's gang stopped making noise, while the bearded Vampire lost his grin.

"Are you daft?" Robert asked, his eyes scanning Gaspard's smaller frame. "Fuck off."

"Is that a forfeit?" Gaspard asked, and Robert lost his humor completely.

"Forfeit?" Robert repeated, and then he pushed the young brunette off of his lap. She fell into the arms of another Vampire, who quickly began to reach into her dress. The girl didn't even react, though Gaspard could smell her fear. Foolish girl. They plan to eat her tonight.

"This Den belongs to me now," Gaspard told Robert. "If you want to keep it, then you will face me in combat."

"Who is this idiot?" Robert asked his posse, who just shook their heads. "You want a fight? Fine." The bearded Vampire stood up and towered over Gaspard. They were around the same height, but Robert was far more muscled. "Let me guess, you want to use wands?"

"No wands," Gaspard replied, and Robert grinned from ear to ear. He thinks that he's stronger than me. Good.

"Everybody move back!" Robert bellowed as they moved to the center of the Den. "Get those tables out of the way! I don't want to pay for too many damages after this!" While Robert riled up the spectators, Gaspard watched him with a calm look. I'll have to kill this one. If I let him live, he'll try and take this Den back through treachery.

"No wands, no Magic!" Arietta the bartender announced, her eyes lingering on Gaspard. "Winner takes over the Fanged Grotto!"

"Come on then, skinny!" Robert laughed as he tore off his robes, revealing a mass of hairy muscles. "I'll rip off your arms, and then I'll beat you to death with them!"

Gaspard just smiled at him, which only served to anger the other Vampire. Robert ran straight for Gaspard, and the two Vampires clashed hands. Gaspard dug his heels into the ground, while Robert did the same, both of them trying to overpower the other. He is strong for his age, I'll give him that. Gaspard tightened his hold on Robert's hands, and soon enough, he could hear the larger Vampire's bones cracking.

"FUCK!" Robert yelled as he tried to pull loose, but Gaspard kept his grip with little to no effort. There was a sickening crunch as Gaspard's hands crushed Robert's, and then, Gaspard yanked his hands back. Robert screamed in agony as his fingers, and chunks of his hands, were ripped clean off. And that's that.

"Shhh," Gaspard shushed as he quickly grabbed onto Robert's skull, and with a little effort, his fingers cracked through Robert's skull. The larger Vampire twitched and gurgled uncontrollably, which stopped as Gaspard caved in his skull completely.

The silence was deafening as Robert's body fell face first onto the ground, and as Gaspard shook the blood off of his hands, Arietta slowly walked up to him with a clean towel.

"Thank you, Arietta," Gaspard smiled as he took towel. That was thoughtful of her.

"Who are you?" Arietta whispered, her wary eyes darting towards the other stunned Vampires. "Where have you come from?"

"I am your new Den Master," Gaspard replied. "That is all you need to know about me. Now… Please go and grab me a glass of water. 'Tonight's special' has passed out from shock."

"The girl?" Arietta asked, her eyes darting towards Robert's 'date' for the night. The brunette had slipped into unconsciousness from the horror of seeing such a brutal murder.

"Whilst I am here, no Vampire will touch children," Gaspard told her. "Make sure that the others know."

"I understand," Arietta said as she bowed her head a little. "I'll get that water…" she trailed off.

"Gaspard," he said. "You may call me Gaspard." Arietta nodded quickly, and then she ran to the counter to get him a glass of water. Gaspard looked to the other Vampires, his eyes still hidden behind his shades. "Eat him! Leave nothing but bones behind!" The other Vampires looked utterly jarred by his order, but some of the older ones understood.

"It is the Old Way," one of the Vampires nodded. "Come… Do as your Den Master says."

"What?! Robert could still heal!" one of Robert's 'friends' spoke up. "Just get him some blood!"

"Be quiet, New Blood," one of the older Vampires hissed. "He'll kill us all if you don't shut it!" Yes, I will. Gaspard made his way over to the unconscious girl, while the other Vampires slowly circled Robert's bloody form. Many of them were hesitating, but in the end, their bloodlust took over.

"Here's the water," Arietta walked up just as Gaspard took a seat by the unconscious girl. "I'll join the others." He understood that the smell of blood was taking away her senses, just as it used to do to him.

"Go," Gaspard said as he took the glass of water, which he planted on the table. Gaspard sat the unconscious girl up, and then he fixed up her revealing dress. She's a Squib. I can barely smell any Magic in her veins. Gaspard used his slightly bloody fingers to flick some water onto the girl's face, which slowly brought her back to the land of the living. She looked around with a confused look, but when her eyes landed on his blood stained face, she screamed and tried to flee.

"Scream again, and I'll eat you," Gaspard lied as he pulled her back down, and the girl began sobbing immediately.

"Please don't kill me…" she begged, her face sinking behind her hands. "I'm not even… even sixteen yet… I won't tell anyone… about this…"

"No, you won't," Gaspard said, his right hand still wrapped around her skinny wrist. "Because if you do, then I'll find you. Do you understand?"

"Please…" the girl shook in her spot, thick tears rolling down her face. "Please… People depend… on me…" Is that so? Let me guess, more Squib orphans. She might be the leader of a pack of strays.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, then I'll find them as well," Gaspard said, and she let out a pained sob. Gaspard then reached into his robes, and he pulled out his pouch of money. "This has nearly fifty Galleons inside it. Take it."

"Wha… What?" the girl sniveled, and Gaspard found his patience draining quickly.

"Take the money, and use it to move yourself and your orphan friends to The Leaky Cauldron," Gaspard ordered. "If you stay in Knockturn Alley, you'll all be dead soon enough. So here, take it." Gaspard put the pouch in her trembling hand. "Now be on your way, girl. Find employment fit for your age, and keep your friends away from the sex trade. Oh, and don't forget, I have your scent memorized." The girl nodded fervently, and after sobbing again, she ran for the exit with alarming speed.

Gaspard relaxed in his chair, his eyes drifting towards the other Vampires. The floor was stained with Robert's blood, and even his former friends had given into their bloodlust. They gorged themselves on their previous Den Master's corpse, and the sight of them disgusted Gaspard. What a pathetic lot. I hope my son and daughter get here by tomorrow, otherwise, I might lose my temper and kill everyone in this Den.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 12th November, 1993 (The Pond – Night)

Ron had finished his meal in nearly fifteen minutes, and he had to admit, he felt a little more like himself now. Whilst eating, he had decided to be more tactful with Barnabas. After all, the man had done nothing to upset Ron. Not yet, anyway. Except for the fact that he eats at a snail's pace.

"That was certainly delicious," Barnabas said as he finished his meal, and then he wiped down his moustache. And it's shining once again. Marvelous.

"It was," Ron agreed. "Sorry that I ate so quickly, but I was quite hungry."

"Shall we discuss business now?" Barnabas asked, and Ron gave him a nod. Finally. "As you are no doubt aware, the Ministry and the Daily Prophet have an alliance of sorts."

"I think the whole World knows that," Ron said.

"It is a… lucrative… partnership," Barnabas said. "For both parties, that is. However, The Quibbler threatens that partnership."

"It does?" Ron asked, feigning ignorance.

"Of course it does, and you know it," Barnabas replied. "Madam Bones was no doubt going to come to us before you approached her, and because of that, we lost business. Now, here's the thing, Mr. Weasley. Losing business is understandable, but losing it to someone who gives away any chance of making a profit is just insulting."

"You're upset that I didn't exploit Madam Bones?" Ron asked.

"It's the message that bothers me," Barnabas replied, and Ron waited for him to go on. "Why go to the Daily Prophet when you have Ronald Weasley handing out freebies? Do you understand?"

"I didn't ask for money because I want her to spend her money on the Hospital," Ron told Barnabas. "This deal was never meant to put money in my pocket."

"So, in the Future, you won't be as benevolent?" Barnabas asked.

"It depends on the situation," Ron shrugged. "Did you think that I was just going to bankrupt my business with charity?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Barnabas replied. "You are, after all, a child." That's a backhanded comment if I've ever seen one.

"Well, you have nothing to worry about," Ron 'smiled'. "My business is here to stay."

"That remains to be seen," Barnabas said, and then he reached for his briefcase. What's this? Barnabas opened the briefcase, and then he pulled out a thick file. "Take a look at this." Barnabas handed Ron the file, and Ron looked at the cover.

"Marietta Angel," Ron read the name on the file. "What is this?"

"That right there is a young witch from the States," Barnabas replied, and while Ron opened the file. "Have a read." Ron looked through the file, his eyes skimming through the information.

"Why have you handed me a file on a twenty three year old witch?" Ron asked, he was thoroughly confused. "It says here that she wants to be a journalist, but all of her articles were rejected by you."

"Not by me," Barnabas said firmly. "She was rejected by the Daily Prophet. I am the Chief-Editor, not the hiring team. This girl had real talent, and now she's working as a barmaid in London. Has a dirty little apartment, and a noisy housemate."

"Please just get to the point," Ron requested. "Why was she rejected if she was so talented?"

"She is Muggle-Born, which gave her a little too much sympathy for the 'downtrodden'," Barnabas replied. "She wished to report on the dangers that wizards pose to the World around them. You know, Dragon butchery… Centaur relocations… The fear of Werewolves and Vampires… Disgusting Merpeople… I happened to look her work over, and although I did not agree with all of it, I couldn't help but admire her work. She has talent."

"But the Daily Prophet, which favors Wizarding Kind, didn't want her type of journalism," Ron figured.

"Indeed," Barnabas gave a nod. "You will need a staff soon-"

"I am not hiring her," Ron said bluntly. "I don't trust you, or your 'help'."

"Mr. Weasley, listen to me," Barnabas started. "The Daily Prophet is far more complicated than you think. Hundreds of people have their fingers in the pie, so to speak. I am the Chief-Editor, but when it comes to reporting on news that could be considered controversial, I have no power. I worked years to get to where I am, only to find out that the Old Families and The Ministry plan to use me as their puppet for the rest of my life."

"Yes, I'm sure your life is so difficult," Ron cocked an eyebrow. "You're wearing silk, Mr. Cuffe."

"I said that I was a puppet, not a pauper," Barnabas smirked. "I wanted to buy The Quibbler in order to abuse a loophole that I found in the Prophet's contracts. I was going to use The Quibbler to hire people like Miss. Angel, but you swiped The Quibbler from under me."

"You were going to dismantle The Quibbler," Ron stated.

"No, I wasn't," Barnabas told him. "I told the higher ups that I was, but in truth, I planned to convince them to let me use it after I had it in my grasp. Since The Quibbler isn't the intellectual property of the Daily Prophet, it would instead work as its own form of 'free journalism'. Sort of like how Witch Weekly, and Seeker Weekly, write small articles in our paper. With The Quibbler in hand, I could give people like Miss. Angel a chance. I could have changed the Prophet for the better."

"You expect me to believe this mind-boggling tale?" Ron asked. "You expect me to believe that you planned to bring integrity to the Daily Prophet? I'm sorry, Mr. Cuffe, but I just don't trust you. And I certainly don't trust this Marietta Angel. For all I know, she could be a spy."

"A spy?" Barnabas blinked. "Mr. Weasley, you are being awfully paranoid."

"Maybe, but I don't care," Ron said. "I mean, I 'steal' The Quibbler from you, and you in turn bring me potential staff members? I dare you to tell me that that doesn't sound mental."

"Then allow me to be frank with you," Barnabas leaned forward a bit. "I am not happy with the Daily Prophet, or the chains that I am bound in. Our country is on the brink of collapse, and yet, the Daily Prophet will not report on it. And those who wish to report on such matters are never hired. Our fellow wizards become more ignorant by the day, and if nothing is done about it, then this country is doomed to collapse." What is he on about?

"So you want to help me because you can't report on our country's problems?" Ron asked.

"I would not only lose my job, I'd lose all credibility," Barnabas replied.

"So you want to do a 'good thing', but you can't because you love your money," Ron put the file down on the table.

"I won't refute that," Barnabas told Ron, who was now planning to be on his way. "You and I can help each other, Mr. Weasley. I have experience and contacts that would be very valuable to you."

"So you and I work together to change the country's outlook on everything? Is that it?" Ron asked. "And tell me, why should I trust you? You've had me followed, you've cost me a lot of money, and you've actively attempted to bring down my business. And now, you want me to help you while you get to keep making large sums of money from the Daily Prophet."

"I can understand your doubts about me," Barnabas sighed, and then he picked up the file and stowed it away. "Please think more on this before you make any decisions." Bloody hell, I just don't trust this man. And he's story is barmy at best.

"I think I should be heading back to Hogwarts now," Ron said, and they both stood up. Once they made their way to the pay counter, Ron made sure to pay for his own meal. He had no intention of letting Barnabas 'treat' him. After that, they both made their way out of The Pond.

"Before we part ways, I'd like your permission to send you more dossiers," Barnabas said, while Ron breathed in the night air. "There are many young talented journalists out there, and all they need is opportunity."

"And who would they be loyal to?" Ron asked the older wizard. "Me, their employer, or you, the man who put them in my business."

"What will it take to convince you that I truly wish to work with you?" Barnabas asked. You want me to take the hits, while you keep making absurd amounts of money.

"Time is a start," Ron turned to leave.

"I will be in contact, Mr. Weasley," Barnabas called out, and Ron didn't bother replying. I can't trust him. I'll have Gornuk look into this Marietta Angel, and if Cuffe sends me any dossiers, I'll have them all checked out as well.

---

Twenty Minutes Later

"So, what does it say?" Snape asked Dumbledore, who was reading Madame Maxime's letter.

"It contains a summary of what Ronald told her, and of what they discussed," Dumbledore replied. "And it contains her home address, she wishes to meet me in person."

"Yeah, she did mention that," Ron said. "Does she still have doubts?"

"I imagine so," Dumbledore replied, and the he hid the letter in his desk. "Well done, Ronald. I knew you were up to the task."

"Thanks," Ron smiled. "I mean, I nearly ruined it when she pulled her wand on me, but it all worked out in the end."

"Olympe loves her students, so she would never dare disbelieve us completely," Dumbledore smiled in his kindly manner. "However, getting the French Families involved was risky."

"Yeah, sorry for reaching," Ron said. "I saw an opportunity and decided that it would be wrong not to take it. With this Gala for St. Mungo's restoration coming up, I figured that we could use their help as well. By the way, are you both attending?"

"I was not invited, nor do I wish to attend," Snape replied. "However, Albus will be there."

"Why don't you want to attend? There'll be free food," Ron said, and Snape just stared at him. "Maybe we can buy you a sense of humor on the way home. If you behave, that is."

"Ronald," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lucius and Cornelius will be there," Snape told Dumbledore, he clearly planned to ignore Ron. "Lucius refuses to speak of the Dark Lord, and I think that Cornelius is behind his silence. The old man doesn't trust me, so I'm being kept out of the loop." Or maybe the Dark Lord doesn't trust him?

"Severus, we need to know where Lord Voldemort is," Dumbledore said.

"I will speak to Narcissa," Snape said. "Maybe she will be more forthcoming than her husband."

"Still no word on Greyback?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore shook his head. "Well, shite… The man just up and disappeared in a puff of smoke…"

"He will resurface, and when he does, we will be ready," Dumbledore assured Ron. "Sebastian has extended his contract with the Death's Hand, and they've agreed to keep searching for Fenrir. The moment he resurfaces, they'll find him for us."

"And what is the Hungarian Ministry doing?" Snape asked.

"As far as I know, nothing," Dumbledore replied. "They are forcing their population to believe that this was all a Werewolf turf war, which is only increasing Werewolf persecution throughout Europe."

"Should we do something about this?" Ron asked, a strong pang of guilt flooding his mind. "I mean, we were behind that massacre… The Werewolves are paying for our choices…"

"They made the choice to follow Fenrir Greyback," Snape said dismissively. "Their deaths are on them, not us. As for them being persecuted, they all deserve to be kept in kennels." Woah!

"Please tell me that that was your 'Death-Eater persona'," Ron said, while Dumbledore just shook his head.

"They are a danger to every single person that they are near," Snape whispered in his cold voice. "They don't belong to live and work near us. One mistake on their part, and your life is over."

"Wow…" Ron muttered under his breath, while Dumbledore just watched Snape. "Are you sure that you're not missing your old loyalties?"

"Careful, boy," Snape said dangerously. "I was serving the Order when you couldn't even wipe the drool from your chin."

"Enough, you two," Dumbledore said, this was a topic that was best avoided. Whatever… I just forgot that Snape can be a massive git sometimes.

"When are you meeting Madame Maxime?" Ron decided to change the topic, he hated thinking about the Werewolf Massacre.

"Tonight," Dumbledore replied. "After this meeting, Fawkes and I will go to her private residence. She is waiting for me."

"Then we won't keep you," Snape said as he stood up, and Ron followed suit.

"Ronald, stay a moment," Dumbledore said, and Ron slowly sat back down. What's this? I didn't do nothing! Snape billowed towards the fireplace, and then he flooed back to his Office. Once they were alone, Dumbledore just eyed Ron with an odd look.

"Headmaster? What do you need from me?" Ron asked, he was starting to feel uncomfortable. The old man is looking into my soul, I just know it.

"Your parents-" Dumbledore started, and Ron let out a groan.

"This again?" Ron asked. "For fuck's sake, give me a damn break here. You know how busy my day has been, right? I secured Madame Maxime's alliance… I convinced her to find us French allies, who by the way, are going to help England restore St. Mungo's. Hopefully. I'm working my arse off out there, and the only thing that my parents care about are their own hurt feelings. Give me a damn break."

"Do you feel better now?" Dumbledore asked, and Ron blinked at him.

"No," Ron replied bluntly. "I just… Please, I don't want to deal with this shite. I'm not going to change, nor am I going to stop pushing myself. So just tell them to get over it." Ron stood up at that.

"Madam Bones informed your father that she sent you the Weasley Family letter instead of him," Dumbledore told Ron, who nodded slowly. "She told him that it was per your request."

"So?" Ron asked.

"He is the Head of your Family, Ronald," Dumbledore said calmly. "Shouldn't you discuss such matters with him?"

"Why? So he can give the Ministry the only twenty Knuts in his vault?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore said nothing in response. "He can't do anything to help St. Mungo's, but I can. So why should I even involve him in the matter? All he's going to do is give useless advice which I'm not going to follow, and then we'll have another angst filled encounter. Fuck that shite, I'm done explaining and apologizing. They can either get on board, or they can just leave me alone." Ron walked over to the fireplace at that, his mood slightly soured.

"Honestly," Ron looked back to Dumbledore. "Shouldn't he be focusing on securing the Burrow? After all, Pandora is living with them right now, and she's pregnant. Tell him to get his shite together." Ron grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and then he tossed it in the fire. "Professor Snape's Office." The fire blazed green, and Ron stepped through it. Glad to be out of there.

"I take it that your talk did not go well," Snape said from behind his desk, and Ron looked to the Potions Master.

"You knew about it?" Ron asked.

"Albus mentioned it before you got back," Snape replied.

"Thanks for the heads up," Ron frowned, and then he began to make his way towards the exit.

"I spoke to Granger," Snape called, and Ron stopped. "Do you want to hear her excuse?" Ron slowly turned back around. "She told me that she forgot about the Potions Club." Huh?

"Yeah, that's a lie," Ron told Snape. "I called out after her once Study of Runes had finished. She outright ignored me and ran off." Which was really weird.

"So, what would you have me do with her?" Snape asked.

"Um… Nothing," Ron replied slowly. "She missed one meeting, and I still stand by what I said. She is amazing at Potions, and she works her arse off to impress you. Just let it slide this time."

"Let it slide?" Snape asked, a slight frown on his face.

"Yeah, let it slide," Ron said. "What's the matter with you adults? Why do you all make mountains out of molehills? I mean, Hermione is apparently doing every subject available to us third years, so she's clearly busy and stressed out. Why are you taking this so personally? Why do you want to punish her for pushing herself to her limits? Give us kids a break, we're doing our best here." What the fuck am I even saying? Snape just stared at Ron, who decided that he needed some fucking sleep.

"I'm going to bed," Ron sighed out, and then he left the Office. I'll try and talk to her at the study group tomorrow.

---

Friday 13th November, 1993 (Library – After Classes)

Ron sat with the first years as usual, but his attention was focused on everyone. Harry had decided to join Hermione and Neville this time around, and the Golden Trio currently sat together. Neville, who had taken to pairing up with the other members of the group, was once again working with only Hermione and Harry.

But that wasn't even the most annoying thing to Ron. What truly annoyed Ron was the fact that Ginny was here today, which was coincidently the very same day that Harry had reentered the study group. She currently sat with Luna and her friends, and from what Ron could see, she was pulling her own weight.

As for his friends, things were running smoothly for the most part. The only problems were that Daphne was still angry with him, while Padma seemed to feel uncomfortable due to Blaise's indifferent behavior towards her. Millie had asked Lavender to partner up with her personally, which was a little odd, but nothing to be suspicious of. Pansy, Tracey, and Theo were working with the Hufflepuffs, and from what Ron could tell, they were all getting along nicely. As for Malfoy, he was sitting alone in a corner, his presence all but forgotten.

"What's the Wiggenweld Potion used for, Ron?" Lysandra asked, and Ron broke out of his thoughts.

"It's a Healing Potion used to treat quite a few minor injuries, and it can also reverse the effects of the Sleeping Draught and the Draught of Living Death," Ron recited from memory, and all the first years who didn't know the answer jotted it down.

Ron looked back to his own homework at that, while the first years exchanged answers and discussed their classes. For the next ten minutes, Ron focused on the study of Undetectable Poisons and occasionally answering questions for the first years. During these ten minutes, he spotted the Golden Trio, specifically Hermione, shoot him quick looks. Ron ignored them at first, but as the looks became more frequent, he decided to talk to them.

"I'm going to roam around a bit," Ron the first years. "Mathew, make sure that everyone stays on task."

"I understand," Mathew gave a firm nod, while the others rolled their eyes. He's like a Slytherin version of Percy. Ron got out of his chair, and he walked over to the Golden Trio.

"Hello," Ron greeted them, and they all gave him meager smiles. Is Harry smiling at me? What the fuck? "How are you guys going?"

"We're doing just fine, Ron," Neville answered, while Hermione and Harry looked back to their work.

"Is everything alright?" Ron asked them, but Hermione and Harry kept their heads down.

"Everything is just fine, Ron," Neville replied, and Ron blinked at him. 'Just fine, Ron'? Why is he talking like that?

"You sure? It's just that you three are sitting by yourselves," Ron started.

"We always sit together," Hermione looked back up.

"I know," Ron said slowly, why was she being defensive? "It's just that Neville was getting along really well with the Hufflepuffs, and even some of the Ravenclaws."

"I know, but I just figured that I'd work with Harry and Hermione today," Neville all but whispered. "We're doing the same homework…" Right.

"Fair enough," Ron said, and then he looked to Hermione. "Hermione, can I talk to you?"

"About what?" Hermione blurted out, while Neville and Harry looked to Hermione with expressions akin to worry. Seriously, what is wrong with them?

"About the Potions Club…" Ron replied slowly. "Are you three alright? You're acting off…"

"Actually, Ron, can we talk about that some other day?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring his question. "I'm terribly swamped right now."

"It'll only take a second," Ron said, and Hermione drew in a deep breath.

"Oh… Okay," Hermione whispered to herself, and then she slowly stood up. "Let's just go over there." With that, Hermione quickly made her way away from the group. Ron followed after her, and he spotted both Daphne and Ginny staring at him. Both of them are pissed with me. I swear that my face just pisses people off.

"So what happened?" Ron asked. "I missed you at the Potions Club, Hermione. I had to work with Professor Snape because I didn't have a partner, and he can be… difficult."

"I just forgot that we had it," Hermione lied.

"But I reminded you after class," Ron said, and Hermione blinked at him.

"I don't think I heard you…" Hermione muttered.

"Hermione, you all but broke into a sprint at the sound of my voice," Ron reminded her, and she shifted in her spot. "Are you upset with me?"

"What? No, Ron," Hermione said quickly, and Ron managed a weak smile. "None of us are upset with you."

"Good," Ron said. "I wasn't really sure if I had said, or done, something to upset you."

"Why would you think that?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Lately, I've been pissing people off unintentionally," Ron shrugged.

"Greengrass?" Hermione asked.

"So you've noticed the angry glares," Ron chuckled mirthlessly.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't matter," Ron replied, he didn't want to involve Hermione in his personal business. "We just had a spat, that's all. I'll let you get back to your study. Just don't skip Potions Club again, I really don't like partnering with Professor Snape." Plus, Snape will kick you out if you skip it again.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked before Ron could leave.

"Pardon?"

"How are you feeling? No signs of another seizure, I hope," Hermione said, and Ron blinked at her. Seizure? "Are you taking care of your health, Ron?"

"Um… Yeah, I'm fine," Ron replied. "How is your health?"

"My health?" Hermione asked, and Ron just stared at her. "Oh, my health is fine. How's yours?"

"Hermione… You just asked me that," Ron gave her a confused look, and she seemed to realize her mistake.

"I… Um… I'm glad you're feeling better," Hermione mumbled, and then she walked past him and rejoined her friends. Ron was left genuinely confused, and when he looked to her, she looked away awkwardly. What the hell just happened? We were having a normal conversation, and then she went mental out of nowhere. Am I missing something?

---

Two Hours Later

"See you next week, mate," Cedric waved as he left with his friends.

"Definitely," Ron smiled and waved back, all the while wondering how Cedric got his hair so perfect. He's so damn handsome. One by one, everyone began heading back to their common rooms. Ron made sure to smile and thank them for coming, and eventually the Golden Trio stopped by. Ron waved at them, but instead of leaving, they started to linger around awkwardly.

"Are you guys alright?" Ron asked once again, now he was getting suspicious. Why is Harry acting like the other two as well?

"We're fine," Hermione said, her eyes clearly scanning him.

"You three are being weird," Ron couldn't help but point out, and they looked like deer caught in headlights. "Are you sure that you're alright?" What are you hiding from me, eh? Neville nudged Harry forward, and so Ron looked to the bespectacled boy with a furrowed brow.

"I was wondering if you wanted to fly sometime…" Harry started, and Ron was genuinely taken aback. "We used do that, and I was wondering if you wanted to restart that… With me, that is…" What in the…?

"I'm not trying to be rude here, but you've been a right prick to me for the last couple of months," Ron said unapologetically.

"I know…" Harry shot a quick look back at his friends. "I'm really sorry for how I've been acting… I was wrong to act that way. It's just that I was going through some personal problems, and I blamed you for them… I'm sorry." Hermione and Neville seemed pleased with Harry's apology, while Ron just stared at him. Something is definitely wrong with them, and it's obviously got something to do with me.

"I see…" Ron said, his eyes digging into Harry's. What are you hiding from me, Harry Potter? "I'll think about it."

"That's fair," Harry said, and then the Trio left together. Ron watched them leave, his eyes fixed on Harry's back. Something was definitely wrong, and because of that, Ron felt a small amount of anxiety course through him.

"I'm glad that you two are starting to heal your friendship," came Luna's voice, and Ron turned to see her smiling at him. Her friends were with her, including Ginny.

"Yeah… Healing our friendship," Ron muttered to himself, his eyes lingering on Ginny. Why does she have that unhappy look on her face? Whatever.

"We'd best be off," Luna hummed. "We're going to show Ginny our favorite part of the castle."

"You do that, Luna," Ron said, he was glad to see her finally bringing Ginny into the fold. Luna and her friends left at that, while Ginny lingered back for a moment.

"Why didn't you accept his apology?" Ginny asked him, and Ron rolled his eyes. "And why did you have to call him a prick?"

"He didn't seem to mind," Ron said coldly. "Why do you?"

"Who says that I do?" Ginny took on a defiant stance.

"Well, you've been ignoring me for a while now, but as soon as the Boy-Who-Lived speaks to me, you show up," Ron pointed out. "Do me a favor, and go away. I don't have it in me to deal with your shite right now." Ginny glowered at him, while Ron left to go find his friends. It didn't take him long to find them, they were all cleaning up after the study group.

"You guys don't have to do that," Ron told them. "I'll take care of it, alright?"

"We don't mind," Pansy smirked at him. "You have other problems right now."

"I do?" Ron blinked, and that's when he spotted Daphne just staring at him. Fuck me dead…

"Let's go, Ron," Daphne said as she walked past him.

"Have fun fighting," Tracey laughed.

"Shut up," Ron frowned at her, but that only served to make the others snigger.

"I'll take your books back for you," Blaise smirked, and Ron didn't even bother to respond. He instead followed after his agitated girlfriend, who was no doubt going lecture him about his shortcomings.

"Daph, I don't know why you're being so pushy about this," Ron said as they exited the Library.

"Pushy?" Daphne huffed.

"Aggressive," Ron replied. "Unpleasant. Forceful. Hostile."

"I get it," Daphne frowned deeply. "Let's just wait until we get to an unoccupied classroom." Or, I can just fuck off. No… That'll only make this worse. Ron followed after her quietly, and soon enough they found an abandoned classroom to fight in. Once Ron closed the door, Daphne drew in a sharp breath.

"Before we start," Ron said. "Let's not resort to yelling this time."

"Alright, no yelling," Daphne said. "Have you thought about what I said?"

"I have, and I've decided that I don't care about what you have to say," Ron replied, and Daphne looked quite shocked. "You said that 'you've been there for all of it', right? That you've seen just how much they've hurt me? Well, you're dead wrong. You've only seen a couple of letters, a few spats, and some hurtful words being exchanged. But that's nothing…"

"You weren't there on the day that I was born," Ron went on. "My mother wept with disappointment because I wasn't what she wanted. So do you want to know what she did? She got herself pregnant just months after I was delivered, and when Ginny was born, she stopped having children. Of all my siblings, I've always been the least wanted. That's not me whining, that's fact. I spent years skulking around the house, doing outrageous things to get their attention, but never quite enough to be seen."

"I constantly felt unwanted, unloved, and never quite good enough to deserve either," Ron continued. "I fucking hated myself for it, and eventually, I got used to it. That's what they did to me. Now you can make all the excuses that you want for them, but at the end of the day, they could have done better. I was always put last, but when Pandora began to put me first, my 'saintly' mother began throwing jealous fits. At the time, I loved that they were fighting over me. But now… I'd fucking slap her for being so twofaced." Ron then walked over to Daphne, his figure looming over hers.

"I have my own problems, my own 'demons', to deal with," Ron told her. "I am constantly scared for my health, my stress makes me want to give up on life sometimes, and my dreams haunt me. I'm… I'm done with their badgering. I really am. It hurts me to be near them because I just know that sooner or later, they're going to start acting like they own me. Quite frankly, I'm through with that shite. I am done being the person who gives in. I don't have time to coddle them through their angst. I have work to do."

"They're your parents," Daphne finally spoke up.

"I will act like their son when they finally realize that I'm my own person," Ron said, making sure to keep his voice calm and steady. "I'm not theirs to shape and form as they see fit. I know what I want, and I'll keep fighting to secure it. And if anyone tries to hinder me, I'll put them in their place." The Future is all that matters.

"I just don't like how your own Family sees you," Daphne told him. "And recently, you're the one who's pushing them away. Even last year, I would have told you whatever you wanted to hear… But I've learned not to. If I just keep saying whatever you want to hear, then you'll keep growing apart. I don't want you to lose your parents, Ron. You've nearly lost Ginevra…"

"And what did I do to lose Ginny?" Ron asked. "What was my crime?"

"Malfoy…" Daphne replied.

"I helped a kid who was being beaten and humiliated every day," Ron clarified. "Sure, he is a prick most days, but he didn't deserve to be beaten by an adult. My sister is so caught up in her own trauma that she can't see that. She hates all Slytherins, and by extension, a part of me as well. I tried explaining, I tried to calm her down, and I even kept quiet when she labeled me a 'fucking traitor'… Tell me, what would you do if Tori called you that?"

"I… I don't know," Daphne sighed.

"You don't know because your Family doesn't expect you to be their bitch," Ron told her, and she gave him a slightly confused look.

"What?" Daphne muttered under her breath.

"Ginny wants her 'big brother' back, but what she really wants is for me to give in to her every whim like I used to," Ron started. "Mum and dad want me to be their 'little Ronnie' again, but what they really want is a son who will just shut up and obey. Actually, it's why mum always yells at the twins. They do as they please, and she can't bear that. She wants her children to be exactly how she pictured them when she first got married, and when they're not, she becomes upset and forceful. It's why Percy is her favorite, not counting Ginny."

"Why not tell them this at the Family sessions?" Daphne asked him.

"Because right now, I just don't want to deal with their problems," Ron replied. "I mean, look at us… We were both genuinely happy with our lives, and then they show up. They spill their shite all over the place, and now everything stinks. These 'Family sessions' are just another way for them to reinforce their control over me, but I won't fucking have it. You don't know how… disheartening… it is to be doubted by your Family."

"Then tell me," Daphne said gently.

"It's like there's this… stigma… attached to you," Ron said, he couldn't quite explain it. "No matter what I do, I'm the bad guy. If I focus on my career and business, then I'm just 'hurting' myself. If I excel in my studies and House, I'm a fucking traitor. If I don't behave like I used to, then I'm clearly under too much stress and need 'help'. And if I do act like I used to, then I need to grow up. It's just never ending, and I'm sick of it. So… I'm going to just be me, and if my Family can't love that, then it's their problem. I'll settle for the respect of strangers rather than bend to a Family that doesn't appreciate my efforts."

"You don't feel appreciated?" Daphne asked.

"Not by my Family," Ron admitted. "But my friends appreciate me, which is why I'd do anything for you guys. It's why I refused to leave Slytherin, I think. Do you remember the advertisement firm issue?"

"Of course," Daphne replied, most of her fire had burned out before any fighting had even started.

"If I had gone to my parents with my problems, I'd have been met with patronizing shite like 'Well, you are just a kid, Ronnie'," Ron said. "And yet, when I told you about it, you helped me. All of you helped me. There was no judgement, no second-guessing, no doubts, nothing… You all actually helped me."

"My Brain-Damage and Chronic Stress aren't my weakness, my true weakness is that I'm seen as a broken thing when I'm not," Ron said, and then he drew in a deep breath. "That's why I haven't told my siblings anything… I already know that, just like my parents, they'll start mollycoddling me. They'll start treating me like something to be fixed. I don't want that. I don't need that. What I truly need is for people to just leave me to my work."

"Fine…" Daphne sighed out. "If that's what you want, then I can't force you." Daphne made to leave at that.

"Are you still angry with me?" Ron asked before she left the room.

"No, Ron," Daphne said without turning around. "I tried to make you see reason, but now I see that I'm not equipped to deal with such deep-seated issues. I'm your girlfriend, not your keeper."

"You still want me to go get Family Counseling," Ron determined.

"I do," Daphne admitted. "I want you and your parents to be a Family, even if it's an imperfect one."

"Why?"

"Because if I lost my Family, I'd regret it forever," Daphne replied. "Let's go, Ron… Dinner will be on soon." I guess the cold shoulder is better than outright anger. Bloody hell, what a mess.

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Friday 13th November, 1993 (Moscow (Minister's Backyard) – Dinnertime)

"Fly?" the little boy laughed, and the Dark Lord levitated him up in the air. The boy squealed and laughed excitedly, and after floating him around for a few seconds, the Dark Lord brought him back down. "No! Fly! Pl… Um… Peze?"

"Please?" the Dark Lord whispered from behind his hood, and the boy nodded wildly. Very well. The Dark Lord levitated the boy again, and this time, he allowed the boy to mimic a bird. The boy was no older than five, but the Dark Lord still couldn't excuse his simplemindedness. After all, what sane creature would actively try to befriend a cloaked figure who flew into their backyard? This stupid child apparently.

"Alexei! Время ужина!" came a woman's voice, and the Dark Lord's lips curled up.

"Мама, иди сюда!" the boy laughed loudly, and the Dark Lord brought him within touching distance. "Я сделал нового друга!"

"Новый друг?!" came the woman's voice, and then she walked out into the backyard. The sight of a cloaked man jarred her, and before she could reach for her wand, the Dark Lord rested his right hand on the floating boy's back.

"Мама?" the boy blinked at her, and she quickly put on a smile for her son's sake. She is still quick on her feet, I see.

"Кто ты?" the woman asked with a calm voice, but Lord Voldemort could sense her motherly fear.

"You know who I am," the Dark Lord hissed, and the raven-haired witch froze in her spot. "I'm your son's new friend, Samara."

"Friend!" the boy laughed, his arms and legs flailing excitedly.

"It's time for his supper," Samara said, her voice cracking a little. Are those tears in her eyes? Already? She has changed… The Dark Lord was filled with disappointment, and he knew that this brat was to blame for Samara weakening in her resolve.

"Of course," the Dark Lord said, and then he brought the child down. "Иди поужинай, Alexie."

"Bye, friend!" the boy hugged his right leg, and the Dark Lord ran his long boney fingers through the boy's black hair. Alexie then ran over to his mother, all the while shouting out praises about his new friend. The boy is clearly lonely. It's hard to believe that Samara became an overbearing mother. Samara ushered her son inside the house, and then she closed the door rather quickly.

"If you reach for your wand, Samara, I'll skin him alive," the Dark Lord hissed, and Samara stopped moving.

"I heard that you had died…" Samara slowly turned to face him, her dark eyes showing her fear.

"Your Master is beyond death," Lord Voldemort responded, and then he glided towards her. "You have changed… You've become weak." Samara flinched a little, and the Dark Lord felt the urge to Crucio her.

"I have not forgotten your teachings, Master," Samara bowed her head.

"No… You merely use them to further yourself within the Russian Ministry," Lord Voldemort spat out in disgust. "The youngest Minister in Russian History… Bah. I gave you real power, and you have squandered it. Tell me, who sired your bastard boy?"

"An Australian Delegate," she replied, making sure to keep her voice steady. If she showed her Old Master any weakness, he'd hurt her son. "He was Pure, like me, and I enjoyed his company."

"Not enough to marry him, obliviously," the Dark Lord taunted. "Or perhaps, he didn't plan to enjoy your company for more than a night." The Dark Lord then circled her, his sneering face hidden by his large hood. "Why didn't you look for me after my fall?"

"Lucius Malfoy told me that you had died," Samara replied. "He wanted me to keep your Russian Forces on hold while he subdued the Loyalists, but then, he surrendered himself. The war was lost, and you were presumed dead."

"You broke your oath to me," the Dark Lord whispered dangerously. "You abandoned me."

"Never, Master," Samara said firmly, though the Dark Lord could see that she was starting to tremble.

"Bring your son to me," the Dark Lord ordered, and her head shot up.

"Please… He's just a boy… Please, don't hurt him," Samara pleaded, and the Dark Lord struck her across the face.

"Weak," Lord Voldemort frowned in disgust, while Samara was left dazed. "He has made you weak."

"Please," she repeated, her voice almost a sob.

"Very well… Lord Voldemort is not without mercy," the Dark Lord said, and he saw a flash of hope in her eyes. "He will make a fine soldier one day."

"Soldier?" Samara blinked, and the Dark Lord smiled at seeing her hope dashed to pieces.

"War is coming, Samara," Lord Voldemort said. "The Russian Ministry will aid me. You will aid me. Together, we will create a Pure World. A better World."

"I…"

"Don't show any more weakness," Lord Voldemort warned. "You are smart enough to know that you cannot hide from me. No amount of Wards, Aurors, or Ministry Officials can hold me at bay. Serve me, and one day, your son will rule Russia in my name. In the name of Lord Voldemort."

---

Gaspard's POV

Friday 13th November, 1993 (The Fanged Grotto – Near Midnight)

Gaspard reread the article on Sirius Black, and he found himself rather amused. This Rita Skeeter woman was clearly a shrew, but her writing was certainly enjoyable. Enjoyable, and informative. So Black and his gang joined the Order during the last war, and now, he is Harry Potter's legal guardian. Interesting.

Gaspard's eyes darted towards his son and daughter, both of whom were arguing over which Order member to attack first. Michael wanted to attack Sirius Black himself, while Natalia wished to attack Elphias Doge. It was a shame that Lucius Malfoy knew so little about the Order, the man had only given Gaspard three names of already known Order members. Sirius Black, Elphias Doge, and Remus Lupin. We need more information, but even I don't know where to start looking for it.

"Sirius Black is literally acting as Harry Potter's father," Michael hissed, his orange cat-like eyes gleaming with malice. "If we're going to war against the Order, then we should hit them where it hurts."

"How is that strategic?" Natalia frowned, her orange cat-like eyes filled with annoyance. "You kill Sirius Black, and the Order will immediately hide Harry Potter. If we're to win this war, we need to be subtle."

"Subtle…" Michael rolled his eyes. "War is hardly subtle. I say that we hit them as hard as we can, and while they're grieving, we hit them again! Father, surely you agree with me?"

"Elphias Doge is an old man, father," Natalia looked to her father, who was just staring at them with an amused smile. "Not to mention that he has proclaimed himself to be Dumbledore's oldest friend, and even goes as far as to talk about his involvement with the Order. We can make his death look like an accident, and then, when the Order gathers to put him to rest, we can see who is who. We need to know more about our enemy, father." I agree.

"We do need to know more about our enemy," Gaspard leaned back in his chair.

"Of course you take her side," Michael grit out, and Natalia let out a tired breath. And here comes his tantrum.

"Brother… Please…" Natalia said calmingly, her annoyance forgotten.

"Fine, go after the old man," Michael shot out of his seat, and then he stormed out of the room.

"Michael…" Natalia called out, but her brother was already in one of his moods again.

"Leave him," Gaspard said, and Natalia shot her father a sorry look. "Don't give me that look, Nat."

"He's just confused… As am I," Natalia told him. "Father, why are we involving ourselves in this war? During the last two Wizarding Wars, we kept our distance. Why pick a side now? And why pick the side of the Dark Lord? Neither of us understand your actions. And why did you leave the little ones with Hecate? You know that she fills their heads with nonsense." I need to tell them.

"Come here," Gaspard smiled warmly, and his daughter walked over to his side. Gaspard took her hands, and he gave them a light squeeze. "Daughter… My time has come." Natalia blinked at him, and then, her demeanor weakened.

"What?" Natalia whispered. "Father, you still have fifty years left in you. Your time isn't-"

"I have grown tired, my love," Gaspard said gently, but his daughter still flinched because of his words. "I wish to die as my mother did… A sword in my hand, and my skin slick with the blood of my enemies. I want an end that is worthy of my life, and this war is the perfect opportunity for that."

"You're here to die?" Natalia muttered under her breath, her eyes welling up with drops of blood.

"No tears, Nat," Gaspard smiled lovingly, and then he stood up and put his hands on her cheeks. "Everyone dies, my love… Even us 'immortals'. Don't weep for me, I beg you."

"Michael will be heartbroken…" Natalia told him. I know. Natalia had walked this Earth with Gaspard for well over a century, but Michael was only fifty one years old. He was a young Vampire, and just like Gaspard in his youth, Michael was prone to giving into his bloodlust.

"You will be there for him," Gaspard said. "Once I am gone, I want you to take him far from this country. Teach him as I taught you."

"He wants to learn from you," Natalia's voice cracked. "All he wants is for you to treat him as you treat me. Don't leave us, father… Please…" Gaspard felt his heart ache for a moment, but he didn't show her any signs of his pain.

"I have made up my mind," Gaspard stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "I will turn England into my Funeral Pyre, and once the Dark Lord falls, I will die too. The World will move on, as it always does, while you and the others will live on." Gaspard then let go of her. "Go to your brother, and calm him down before he kills someone. We will speak more tomorrow."

Natalia gave him a weak nod, and he sensed that she wished to embrace him, but in the end, she chose not to. Instead, she left to go find her brother before he gave into his temper. Gaspard looked back at the Daily Prophet, his eyes fixed on a photo of Sirius Black. Not yet, but soon. First, I need to know who I'm hunting down.

And that's when a thought occurred to him. Didn't Albus Dumbledore have a brother?

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 14th November, 1993 (Greengrass Manor - Lunchtime)

Slytherin was still dominating the other Houses in House Points, especially now that the second years were making an effort. If they kept this up, then the House Cup would be theirs without a doubt. Was Ron worried about the Quidditch Team? Of course he was. Harry was unbeatable on a broom, and now that he had a Firebolt, Gryffindor was going to win the Quidditch Cup rather easily. But doing so would only earn Gryffindor around three hundred and fifty points, which was nothing compared to the points available for the Dueling Club. Ron couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore had done this on purpose. Maybe the old man wanted people to focus on the Dueling Club if they wanted to win the House Cup, which in turn would prepare them for the Future.

The second years had dominated their year-based Tournament, as had Ron and his friends. The fourth years had been average, but with a little work, they too stood a chance at winning. The fifth years were sadly doomed to fail tomorrow, as they had to face people like the twins and Cedric Diggory, all of whom were A Rank Duelists. The sixth years were an unknown variable to Ron, while he felt quite confident in the seventh years. All in all, Ron was certain that if he kept at it, he could help secure the House Cup for Slytherin.

"Ron, are you not hungry?" Mary asked, and Ron broke out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I spaced out," Ron said, and then he gave her a smile. "The food is really good, Mary."

"What has you so distracted, Ron?" Lord Greengrass asked from the Head of the table. "I've noticed today that you are… disorganized." You already know why I'm 'disorganized'. I know that you two have spoken to my parents.

"Is everything alright at school?" Mary asked, she was hoping to see him open up a little. "How are things with Daphne?" Why would you ask that? Ron noticed that Lord Greengrass had lost all interest in the conversation at the mere mention of his daughter dating Ron.

"Things are… rocky," Ron admitted, and Lord Greengrass suddenly grew interested.

"Rocky?" Mary asked.

"We had a spat, and things haven't been the same since," Ron replied. First she was angry, and now she's just upset with me. "But we'll work it out."

"Here's some advice, Ron," Lord Greengrass said, surprising even his wife. "Fighting is a part of every relationship, but the ones that last don't focus on the fighting, they focus on working through the rough patches. Give my daughter some time, and then sit down with her. Be honest, and speak true. Things will work out." Ron gaped at his Mentor, while his wife just stared at him. "What? I might not like that Daphne is in such a rush to grow up, but I am still her father." Rush to grow up? Is that why he's so upset by this?

"My husband is right," Mary smiled at him. "As long as you both respect each other's differences, things will work out." Right. "After all, nothing can be achieved by fighting with your loved ones." Wow. Ron felt a ball of anxiety in his stomach, which only served to irritate him. Pestered at every turn… This is getting ridiculous.

"That was subtle," Ron sighed out, deciding to focus on his meal.

"Ron, we truly don't want to get involved in your personal affairs," Lord Greengrass started. "But your mother and father are growing worried. And try as we might, we can't help but agree with them."

"I am here for work, not for counseling," Ron said, his tone changing completely. "You're my Mentor in Chess, so let's stick with that." Lord Greengrass stared at Ron, who matched his Mentor's gaze.

"If that is what you want," Lord Greengrass said, while Mary deflated a bit.

"Are there any Tournaments coming up?" Ron asked. "I think that it's past time that I started competing again." And I could really use the money.

"I agree," Lord Greengrass said, his eyes focused on his meal. "I will find something for you." Good. After I give five hundred Galleons to the St. Mungo's project, I'll have less than three hundred Galleons left in my personal vault. I really need to start making a bigger income.

---

Harry Potter's POV

Saturday 14th November, 1993 (Quidditch Pitch – Afternoon)

Harry held up the Golden Snitch as the Gryffindors cheered maniacally, he had caught it in seven minutes. His teammates flew to his side, all of them cheering and patting his back. Harry, however, had his eyes focus on the stand where Remus and Sirius sat. Seeing Sirius cheer wildly as he shook the life out of Remus brought the widest smile to Harry's face, he had completely forgotten about his guilt for the moment.

"That's one win down!" Oliver cheered, and then he shot the sulking Slytherin Team a smug look. "They stood no chance against us! We keep this up, and the Quidditch Cup is as good as ours!"

"We should throw a party tonight!" Angelina suggested, her hair disheveled and her face wind beaten.

"That's a given, beautiful!" Fred laughed.

"Let's go to the change rooms!" George said, and they all began to descend.

Harry quickly waved at Sirius, and then he pointed towards the change rooms. Sirius nodded fervently, and then he began exiting the stands. Harry flew down towards Madam Hooch, and once he had handed over the Snitch, he flew towards the change rooms. The Gryffindors cheered his name, and Harry waved at Hermione and Neville. They both waved back with wide grins, the excitement of seeing Harry secure Gryffindor's victory seemed to have freed them of their own guilt.

As Harry descended in front of the change rooms, he spotted Marcus Flint yelling at his teammates. The sight brought a smirk to Harry's face. Keep fighting, and we'll keep beating you lot. Harry hopped off of his broom, and he waited for Sirius to come down. After waiting for a couple of minutes, he saw both Remus and Sirius walking to him with wide smiles.

"Kid! You were brilliant!" Sirius ran over, his arms pulling Harry into a hug. "Seven fucking minutes! That's got to be a record!"

"I actually caught the Snitch in five minutes once," Harry spoke into Sirius' chest, and then he wrapped his arms around the man. It felt so fulfilling to hug him, and when Sirius gave him a squeeze, Harry felt safe and loved. I bet hugging dad would have felt the same.

"Harry, you were wonderful out there," Remus smiled, his hands ruffling Harry's hair. "Though that dive nearly stopped my heart."

"He takes risks on a broom, just like his dad," Sirius laughed. "It's why he beat that Slytherin kid, Remus! Harry's got spirit!"

"Thanks," Harry said, his already good mood increasing. Sirius suddenly let go of Harry, and then he reached into his robes.

"Here, Harry, I got you this," Sirius said, and then he handed Harry a Black Snitch.

"What's this?" Harry smiled widely.

"Just something to help you practice with," Sirius told him. "The shopkeeper told me that all the Professionals use these. It helps them improve their eyesight, and apparently, this thing is deadly fast."

"Thanks, Sirius!" Harry beamed, and then he pocketed his gift. "And thanks for coming, it really means a lot to me."

"Where else would he be?" Remus chuckled. "I've got to return to the castle with the other Professors. I'll see you at dinner, Harry. Oh, and well done again."

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said, and Remus left towards the exit.

"How's school going, kid?" Sirius asked. "Is Remus a dreadful teacher?"

"Not at all," Harry said quickly. "He's actually become everyone's favorite, despite that article wounding his confidence a little." Wait… I shouldn't bring that up.

"Yeah…" Sirius said, and then he shook his head clear. "Remus is the toughest man I know, and an article from a bitter old hag isn't enough to bring him down. By the way, he told me that he's tutoring you. How's that going?"

"Oh, I've only had two lessons with him," Harry replied. "He's just teaching me some useful Spells, and 'the benefits of dodging'. Truth be told, we spend too much time talking about the theory behind Spells. It's dreadfully boring… I prefer a more hands on approach, you know."

"I get that," Sirius nodded. "Tell you what, Harry. I'll subtly give Remus some hints, and before you know it, you'll be casting Spells rather than discussing them."

"Really?" Harry asked, and Sirius shot him a wink. "Thanks, Sirius! I reckon I'll learn more if I actually use Magic." I should ask him about his daily life. "How are things with you? Is Kreacher still being weird?"

"Merlin, that fucking Elf…" Sirius sighed. "He scared my date half to death when he showed up in my bedroom at the crack of dawn…" Huh? Harry felt a little uncomfortable with Sirius' openness, but he dared not stop him. He just knew that he didn't want Sirius to stop talking. "And just this morning, I caught him polishing my shoes without me even asking. Something's not right with him, and I've had it. He needs to go."

"He's a bit too old to be let go, isn't he?" Harry asked. "I mean, where will he go?"

"I don't rightly care, to be honest," Sirius shrugged. "You've spoken to him, haven't you? He's a cruel little bugger, and now he's just being shady. I'll get another Elf, I reckon. One that isn't as old as sin. But enough about that, why don't we go for a walk? I want to hear all about those girls who were cheering for you."

"What girls?" Harry asked as Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Pretty much all of them except for the Slytherins," Sirius laughed. "Honestly, Harry… Where is your head sometimes?"

"I was focusing on the match," Harry said as they began to walk towards the Pitch.

"Yes, I'm sure that you had your eyes peeled for balls," Sirius smirked, and Harry's lips twitched upwards. "But now that you've won, it's time to celebrate, isn't it? Tell me, are there any girls that strike your fancy?"

"No…" Harry lied. He wasn't blind, he knew that there were pretty girls in his House. I just don't know how to talk to them, nor do I really want to learn.

"Boys?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not gay, Sirius!" Harry said a little too loudly, which made Sirius bark out a laugh.

"You're young, Harry," Sirius said. "Learn to live a little. C'mon, tell me about the girls in your year. I'm positive that a lot of them would love to get to know you."

"You want me to take advantage of my fame?" Harry asked.

"You're damn right I do!" Sirius laughed. "Now, speak up." I guess it won't hurt to talk about it. I mean, my year-mates are already trying their hands at dating.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 14th November, 1993 (The Great Hall – Dinnertime)

Ron stepped into the Great Hall, and he immediately heard the Gryffindors being far too loud. He knew what that meant, Slytherin had gotten its arse handed to it on the Quidditch Pitch. Yeah, Terence Higgs never stood a chance against Harry. Ron began making his way towards his friends, his eyes scanning the sulky looks on the Slytherins' faces. It's just Quidditch, they need to get over it. Our focus should be on the Dueling Club anyway.

"Welcome back, mate," Theo greeted him, and Ron noticed that Daphne was sitting with the girls. Great…

"Hello," Ron greeted them as he sat down between Theo and Malfoy. "I see that we lost today."

"Lost?" Malfoy sneered at the Gryffindors. "Potter stole the Snitch in seven minutes. The Slytherin Team was laughed off of the Pitch." Ouch. Ron shot a look towards Harry, and surprisingly, he saw Harry talking to Fay Dunbar of all people. They both seemed to be enjoying their conversation, and Ron spotted his own sister focusing on nothing but her food. Yeah, she's not happy about Harry's new friend. Ron suddenly spotted Hermione waving at him, and he waved back.

"Stop encouraging her," Daphne said without even looking back.

"Pardon?" Ron asked.

"Stop waving at her," Daphne said coldly, and the others felt a little uncomfortable because of her tone.

"I'm not encouraging her, I'm being polite," Ron countered.

"She doesn't see it that way," Daphne met his gaze. "You're just making it harder for her to move on."

"I agree with Daphne," Pansy piped in. "She obviously fancies you, and she won't stop until you let her move on."

"I guess everything really is my fault then," Ron said, and then he began making his plate. "Can't even fucking wave at someone without causing problems…"

The others exchanged looks, but no one said anything else. They all ate in silence for a few minutes, and then, Millie decided to break the silence.

"My father sent me that Spell today," Millie told Ron. "It's called the Shockwave Charm, and I reckon it could be really handy in a Duel." Shockwave Charm?

"What's the incantation?" Blaise asked.

"Fluctus Inpulsa," Millie replied. "The wand movement is a little weird though, I'll show you guys after dinner. Basically, you have to twirl your wand before sticking it into the Earth. There's pictures, so that should help us."

"You're willing to teach all of us?" Theo asked. "Didn't your father send that Spell just for you?"

"He did, but we can all benefit from it," Millie shrugged, and Ron smiled a little to himself.

"What Theo meant to say was 'Thank you, Millie'," Tracey said, her elbow nudging Millie lightly.

"You're welcome, Theo," Millie said to the weedy boy, who just snorted to himself. "Ron? Do you want to try it out tonight? Or are you too tired from work?"

"I'll try it with you," Ron replied. "Thanks, Millie." Maybe while we do that, I could try perfecting Avis again. I still can't summon an uninjured bird yet. I need to focus on my Conjuring and Non-verbal skills. As for Wandless Magic, I think I can take a small break from it for the time being.

"Ron, are you listening?" Tracey called, and Ron shook his head clear. "Theo's trying to tell you something."

"Sorry, I missed what you were saying," Ron said.

"While you're at Greengrass Manor tomorrow, I wanted to hold a session for the first and second years," Theo told him, and Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"Like another training session?" Ron asked.

"Not quite," Theo replied slowly. "The first years have been working pretty hard, and we all figured that they deserved a break. I wanted to hold a training session, but Pansy suggested that we take the first and second years out on a picnic. Sort of like a treat for their hard work, you know."

"It'll be good for them, I think," Pansy spoke up. "A reward will show them that their hard work is being noticed, and that they are valued."

"And who will do their homework?" Ron asked them. "And what hard work have they done? They study and answer questions in class, that's it." 'Hard work'… Apparently, studying in a school is considered hard work now.

"Ron… They've been busting their arses for you," Tracey said, she was quite taken aback by his response.

"For me?" Ron asked. "It's the other way around."

"You're being a prick," Malfoy said bluntly, and Ron just stared at him. Malfoy shrunk back a little, while Ron drew in a deep breath. Ugh… Whatever.

"Fine, take them on a picnic," Ron said dismissively, his eyes focused on his food.

"What's crawled up your arse?" Blaise asked, and Ron decided to ignore him. Fuck it, I'll ignore all of them. I need to come up with a plan regarding Madam Bones anyway. If Madame Maxime does manage to convince the French Families to pitch in for St. Mungo's, then I need to convince Madam Bones to let them. And as I do that, I need to make sure that Madame Maxime and my efforts are made public. I only have two weeks before the Gala, so time is of the essence.

Ron missed his friends just staring at him as gave his food a vacant look, something wasn't right with their red-haired friend.

---

Gaspard's POV

Saturday 14th November, 1993 (Falmouth – Night)

Gaspard walked through the snowy settlement, his shades and walking cane giving him the persona of a blind young man. Falmouth was a pretty little town, and currently the hometown of Elphias Doge. The old wizard had picked a town full of Muggles for his home, and that would be his undoing.

As Gaspard turned the corner, he spotted an old man walking towards him. That must be him. Natalia's information was spot on as usual. Gaspard made sure that the street was empty as he kept walking towards the old man, who was wearing an eccentric hat and carrying a bag of groceries. I smell apples, meat, and milk. He even shops at a Muggle store? How open-minded of him. Though he still dresses as a wizard. Gaspard walked into the old man, who wheezed as he dropped his bag of groceries.

"Watch where you're going," Doge snapped, this young man had clearly walked into him on purpose.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Gaspard looked around, pretending to be blind. "I… Did you drop something? I'll grab it for you. I'm really sorry." Elphias stared at the blonde man as he knelt down to pick up Elphias' shopping, and once Elphias saw that the young man was fumbling about, he realized why they had collided.

"You're blind," Elphias sighed. "I'm sorry for my sour outburst, young man. Here, let me help you." Elphias knelt down beside the young man, his hands putting apples inside the bag. As Elphias reached for the last apple, he felt a hot white burning sensation fill his chest.

"Shhh," Gaspard shushed, his blade had sunk in deep. "Don't move, Elphias Doge. Your body will go into shock very soon, and once it does, there will be no more pain. Don't struggle." The old man slowly looked down to the side of his chest, and his eyes widened when he saw the blade.

"Who… Why…" Elphias tried to speak, but a spurt of blood leaked out of his mouth. That's one down.

"Your comrades will join you soon," Gaspard promised, and then he twisted and pushed the blade further. Elphias Doge let out a weak cry before his face fell in the snow, he had lost control over his own body. "Forgive me for this, but I need to make it look like a Muggle mugging." Gaspard then turned out the old man's pockets, and once he had found a pouch filled with Muggle and Wizarding money, he yanked the blade out.

Dark red blood pooled around the old man's dying form, its enticing visage on the bright white snow made Gaspard reveal his fangs. No. Stop. This has to look like a Muggle attack. Gaspard pocketed the pouch, picked up his cane, and began to walk away. He could hear the old man wheezing for air as his life poured out of him, and before Gaspard turned the corner, the wheezing had stopped. Elphias Doge, Dumbledore's oldest friend, was dead.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there it is! R.I.P Elphias Doge... Press F to pay respect. I wonder how the Order will take this turn of events. I imagine a lot of anger, and even sorrow, will grip them.

As for Ron... Well, he's about to be proven right. The Enemy has no intention of second guessing themselves, and it's past time that the Order do the same.

See you all on Sunday/Monday!