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.

99. Chapter 99 - Do we have a Deal?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 99 is here, and my soul is still being tormented by the job search... HIRE ME!

Now that my hurt is out of the way, please Enjoy!

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

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

---

Fate

Chapter 99 - Do we have a Deal?

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 30th November, 1993 (The Boys' Room – Past Midnight)

Ron all but shot out of his bed, his pajamas, and sheets, soaked in a cold sweat.

"Just a dream…" Ron breathed out, his eyes trying their best to adjust to the dark. "It was just a dream…"

After a few seconds of looking around dumbly, Ron slowly sat back down on the bed, his head quickly being seized by his trembling hands. My hair is slick with sweat… Bloody hell, the whole bed smells like sweat. What did that dream mean? Was it a vision? If so, what was the Entity trying to show me? Ron frowned deeply to himself, he had no idea what to make of his latest nightmare. And that white crow… I just know that it was my Ravenclaw counterpart. That sick fuck clearly lost his mind during his Cycle, and I don't know why I keep seeing him.

"Power is the only real thing in this World, and no one deserves it more than the Champion of Fate…" Ron whispered the white crow's words, and then he shook his head. "Champion of Fate… Pfft… She can suck my cock."

Ron once again got out of his bed, he had no intention of going to sleep now. Silently, he made his way past the curtains, and then into the bathroom. Once he was inside, he closed and locked the door for some privacy. With his privacy ensured, Ron removed his cold, damp pajama top, and approached the mirror. Ugh… I'm covered in sweat. Should I take a shower now, or after some practice against the training dummies? Ron eyes lingered on the scar across his chest, and he frowned tiredly. It looks agitated again. Great.

Ron decided to distract himself with some practice, so he put on his top and snuck out of the boys' room. The Training Room was no doubt unoccupied right now, which meant that Ron could test out some new Spells. Or I can at least sit in silence and ponder the meaning behind my nightmare. I was buried alive by my friends and Family, and they didn't even seem to care. Not even Daphne…

Ron entered the Training Room, and much to his relief, he was all alone. Without hesitation, he made his way over to the sandpit, his eyes looking for the least worn training dummy. I wish I had a P-12 Auror Trainer. I think I'll start saving up for one.

"You, move over there," Ron ordered a dummy, and it rolled onto the sandpit. "Just stay there, and don't move. I want to try some new Spells on you." Now… What first? There are still two Wandless Spells that I haven't been able to cast; Flagellum Inferos and Lumos Solem. If I can learn to cast them, then I can keep exploring the book Professor Flitwick gave me.

Ron stretched his back, and then his arms, a look of absolute concentration marking his features. I'll start with the 'Hell-Whip', and then try Lumos Solem. Damn, I should've grabbed that book before coming down here. Alright, start with Cutis Terra, and then cast the other Wandless Spells.

"Cutis Terra," Ron chanted, and he felt his muscles become dense immediately. Woo! Let's go! "Flagellum Inferos!"

Ron felt his left palm heat up, and then he saw a bright red spark ignite right in the center of his hand. Ron waited for the 'Whip' to appear, but sadly, the spark was snuffed out almost as quickly as it came. What…?

"Flagellum Inferos!" Ron chanted again, making sure to focus on his left hand.

Once again, his left palm heated up, and a bright red spark went off. Nothing again? Over and over again, Ron kept trying to summon the whip, but to no avail. He imagined a fiery whip in his left hand, just to have a mental picture of what he wanted, but nothing seemed to be working. Bloody hell… Cutis Terra is starting to hurt me.

"Flagellum Inferos!" Ron chanted one last time, and when he saw the bright red spark, Ron closed his hand into a fist. Why won't this work?!

The sound of a roaring fire startled Ron, and before he knew it, a long tendril of red fire had grown out of his closed fist. Ron gaped at the long, fiery whip that he had just summoned, it was at least five meters long. It worked! I'm a genius! Ron grinned at the dummy, he could feel the power radiating from the fiery whip in his left hand. Wait… How do you crack a whip?

Ron looked back down at his new weapon, and he lost his grin. Just swing it, Ron. He took a few steps back, and then he pulled his left hand behind him. The whip followed his will obediently, and Ron couldn't help but admire the red flames. It looks rather sinister… Unnatural, even. Ron carefully position the whip to be by his side, and then, he tried to crack the whip in the dummy's direction. Instead of being cracked, the whip tangled itself around the dummy's chest rather quickly. What the…? I fucked it up.

Ron tried to pull the whip back, but it seemed to have latched onto the dummy. Actual fire erupted wherever the red flames were, and Ron shot a panicked look at the dummy. Oh, no! Ron tried to pull the whip off again, but it remained fixed on the dummy's chest. Let go, cunt! Ron yanked the whip back, but instead of coming off, it cleaved the dummy in two. Ron only had a moment to realize what he had done before the whip hit his right leg, and a scream tore its way out of Ron's throat.

"FUCK ME!" Ron bellowed, the whip had hit him on its return.

His concentration broke, and as a result, both of his Spells became undone. As for Ron, he was already in a fetal position, his teeth gnashing together as he pulled his right knee into his chest. That really hurt! After nearly a minute of swearing under his breath, and trying his best to not tear up, Ron looked to the back of his right leg. Ow… His pajamas were seared at the bottom, and a frightening burn mark ran across his right calf muscle. Ron slowly looked back to the dummy, which was now in two burning pieces.

"Can't use this in the Dueling Tournament…" Ron croaked. "Too dangerous…"

---

Twenty Minutes Later

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Ron apologized, and she shot him a deadpan look.

Somehow, Ron had managed to limp up to the Hospital Wing, where he had disturbed the Head Nurse with his latest injury. The burn was hurting less now that Madam Pomfrey had somewhat numbed his right leg, but Ron knew that he would have another scar to add to his collection. She wouldn't look so angry if that wasn't the case.

"What was this Spell, Ronald?" Madam Pomfrey looked back to the burn.

"Flagellum Infernos," Ron replied. "Wandless variation…" What was I thinking when I decided to yank the whip back? Thank Merlin for Cutis Terra, this could've been far worse.

"I didn't know that it could be cast Wandlessly… Describe it to me," Madam Pomfrey ordered.

"It was a whip made of fire… Red fire, to be specific," Ron replied, and then he drew in a deep breath. "Is it going to scar?" Don't say yes, please.

"Yes," she replied bluntly, and Ron did his best to not make a sound. Another scar… Perfect. "Flagellum Infernos is a powerful Curse, Ronald… I can stop the pain, and even heal some of the damage, but Dark Magic of this caliber tends to leave behind traces." I know, Dumbledore told me that. "I'll need to go grab some ointments and bandages from my store, so don't go anywhere. And don't move that leg."

With that, Madam Pomfrey left for her storeroom, leaving Ron alone on his bed. Torpor, the Numbing Charm… I should practice it. If I remembered to cast it on my leg, the journey up here would have been far less painful. Ron rested his head on his pillow, and he felt sleep calling out to him. Ron didn't know why, but he refused to answer the call. I don't want to sleep. I want to do something productive.

Madam Pomfrey returned after a minute, or so, her supplies floating behind her.

"Honestly, why were you practicing such dangerous Magic so late at night?" Madam Pomfrey frowned at him as she set up her equipment.

"I couldn't sleep," Ron admitted. "I had nightmare…" Maybe she can help me decipher it? She is my Mind-Healer, after all.

"A nightmare?" Madam Pomfrey's features softened a little. "Would you like to discuss it?"

"Are you up for a therapy session this late at night?" Ron smiled weakly, and she gave him a nod. "Well, it was rather… creepy… I was in this dark place, and I was completely alone. Eventually, this white crow showed up…" I can't tell her about the gravestones, or the crow telling me to kill everyone.

"A white crow, you say," Madam Pomfrey said slowly, she was soaking the bandages in a sweet smelling Potion. "In Divination, the White Crow is a malevolent omen. It signifies pestilence, and strife."

"Really?" Ron asked, and she gave him a nod. The war?

"What happened next?" she asked him.

"The ground fell apart, and I fell in this deep grave," Ron replied, and she waited for him to go on. "When I looked up, my friends and Family were looking down at me. They… They started shoveling dirt into the grave… They buried me alive, even as I begged them to stop. That's when I woke up covered in sweat."

"Sounds horrible," she said as she fixed his right leg into a sling. "The Potion will sting at first, Ronald, so be ready for that."

"Thank you," Ron said gratefully. "So… What do you think that my mind was trying to tell me?"

"Dreams are tricky things to try and decipher, Ronald," Madam Pomfrey sighed as she began wrapping the soaked bandage around his calf. OW! Sting a little, my freckled arse! Why isn't the Numbing Charm helping?! "Often, they mean nothing…"

"But…" Ron clenched his teeth, his right foot was shaking on its own. You deserve this pain, Ron… Consider this your lesson.

"But for us Magical folk, they can be a sign of things to come," Madam Pomfrey replied. "You don't study Divinations, do you?"

"No, I don't," Ron replied, his right leg relaxing a little as the pain subsided.

"A 'Seer' would no doubt interpret this dream as an ominous warning," Madam Pomfrey finished wrapping up the bandages. "I myself see it as a result of your high amounts of stress."

"Really?" Ron asked. "I don't feel any more stressed than usual."

"I interpret your dream as you being 'buried alive' because of other people's problems," Madam Pomfrey said, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. "Your new position at the Ministry came about because you wanted to help other people, and during many of our sessions, you tend to talk about other people's problems instead of your own."

"I do?" Ron asked dumbly.

"You are almost always helping someone else overcome their troubles," Madam Pomfrey shot him a smirk. "It was no coincidence that you were being buried alive by your most cherished ones." Ron nodded slowly to himself. "But these are just my thoughts, so don't take them as an absolute truth."

"Do I really involve myself in other people's lives constantly?" Ron asked her.

"You do, and I think that it might be because it helps you stay clear of your own troubles," Madam Pomfrey replied. "It is not very healthy, and I think you should stop it. Let other people deal with their own problems, and focus on only yourself."

"Shouldn't you be encouraging me to be more helpful to others?" Ron couldn't help but chuckle. "I mean, you're almost telling me to be more selfish."

"If you were just an ordinary child, I would, of course, tell you to be more helpful to others," Madam Pomfrey began packing up her equipment. "But you're not an ordinary child, Ronald. You are terribly ill, and your good intentions are only harming your health. I don't want to see you waste away for other people's benefit, and I know for a fact that your loved ones don't want to see that either. Sometimes… Being selfish isn't selfish, it's necessary." Pomfrey then cast a Charm on her equipment, and it floated up to her side. "Sleep, Ronald. We will discuss your dream more in your session. Oh, and I'll leave crutches for you to use throughout the day. Don't put any pressure on that leg."

"You aren't going to force me to stay in the Hospital Wing all day?" Ron grinned.

"Would you listen if I did?" Pomfrey asked in response, and Ron shook his head. "Goodnight, Ronald."

"Goodnight, Madam Pomfrey," Ron put his head back on the pillow. "And thanks for your help."

"You can thank me by being more careful," Madam Pomfrey said, and then she left without another word. She loves me, even if she won't show it.

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Monday 30th November, 1993 (Nott Manor – In the Dead of Night)

The Nott Study was now his domain, and he spent most of his time trying to keep his body together. Albus Dumbledore, and his accursed Order, would suffer for their attack on Malfoy Manor. Lord Voldemort's Vampire forces had taken severe damage, Snape had been rescued, Malfoy Manor was lost for the time being, Narcissa Malfoy had been captured, Gaspard was in a coma, and the Dark Lord's vessel was falling apart.

The stench of rot filled the Study, but Lord Voldemort's attention was focused on the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. His red eyes scanned the photograph of Ronald with keen interest, the boy had clearly grown since their last encounter. Good. He will make for a fearsome Heir, in time. The Dark Lord's eyes moved to Daphne Greengrass, and her happy smile disgusted him. She will need to be removed, of course. I cannot allow Ronald to be distracted, not when I need his abilities as a Seer.

A sudden knock at the door made him look away from the newspaper, and the Dark Lord mentally cursed his weakening Magic. I can't even sense other people's presence anymore. This body is finished.

"Enter," the Dark Lord hissed, and the door opened slowly.

"My Lord," Cornelius stepped into the room, and then he kneeled at the Dark Lord's feet.

"Speak," Lord Voldemort ordered. "What news from Russia?"

"Samara wishes to inform you that there is trouble within the Russian Ministry," Cornelius replied, making sure to hide his disgust with the stench filling his Study. "The Russian Head Auror, Luka Yahontov, has once again started watching Samara. She believes that Yahontov suspects her to be 'falling back into bad habits', and is therefore wary of her."

"Luka Yahontov… I know that name," Lord Voldemort's lips curled downwards. "He was Russia's poster boy during the Great War." And he cut down many of my followers.

"Age has made him far more… dangerous… to us," Cornelius added. "Samara claims that she cannot put him under the Imperius Curse as he could easily break free from it."

"And she cannot eliminate him without starting an investigation," Lord Voldemort hissed. "He is a celebrated war hero within Russia, after all." Can nothing go right?

"Might I be so bold as to speak my mind, my Lord?" Cornelius asked, and the Dark Lord eyed him for a moment.

"Go on," the Dark Lord whispered dangerously. Question me at your peril, worm.

"Samara seems distracted to me," Cornelius confessed. "She sends us excuse after excuse, and at this rate, she will not bring the Russian Ministry into the fold when the time comes."

"Are you questioning her loyalty?" Lord Voldemort asked, and Cornelius looked up at him.

"I am, my Lord," Cornelius replied. "She is being hesitant, which can only mean that she has other priorities." As much as I hate to agree with him, he is right. Almost all of her letters have been filled with excuses, and barely any results.

"Write to her, and tell her that Lord Voldemort is displeased," the Dark Lord said. "Remind her of her Master's promise."

"I shall do so immediately," Cornelius said, but he didn't get up to leave. "Michael has returned from his hunt, and he has brought the dog with him."

"Fenrir has been found?" the Dark Lord's eyes gleamed red. "Good, send them to me."

Cornelius stood up, bowed deeply, and then he left the Study with haste. The Dark Lord sank into his chair, he could not afford to move around too freely. The flesh on my right hand has already begun to peel off. I must begin creating a new vessel. A permanent vessel. And in order to do that, I will need Harry Potter. As long as his mother's sacrifice protects him, I cannot destroy the Boy-Who-Lived. But by creating my new body with his Blood, I will no doubt negate the 'Power of Love'. And then, I will have my revenge.

The mere thought of Harry Potter filled him with murderous rage, the boy would suffer like no one ever had. He would beg the Dark Lord for mercy, but there would be none. Not after what he did to me. Him, and his wretched mother. As the Dark Lord pondered about Harry Potter's painful, and inevitable, demise, Michael and his Vampires dragged hooded figures into the Study.

"Do you know who I am?" Fenrir snarled from under his hood, and the Dark Lord broke away from his thoughts. An incompetent idiot.

"It smells like Death's anus in here," Michael grimaced, and then he tossed Fenrir by the Dark Lord's feet. "The dog was moving through Austria when my contacts spotted him. I caught him trying to buy passage to Britain."

"Who are you?!" Fenrir bellowed, while his captured allies shook with fear.

"Shut it," Michael ordered, and then he booted the back of Fenrir's head.

The hulking Werewolf fell forward with a sickening thud, a pained groan escaping his throat. Lord Voldemort raised his rotting right hand, and Michael smirked at the Dark Lord. Impudent whelp. His father and sister are the real assets, whereas he is only good for mindless slaughter.

"You have failed me, Fenrir," the Dark Lord hissed, and everyone went dead silent.

"My… My Lord?" Fenrir muttered as he sat up on his knees, and with a flick of his right hand, the Dark Lord yanked the hood off of Fenrir's bruised face.

"I should have you fed to your dogs," Lord Voldemort sneered at his lackey, who went deathly pale at the sight of his rotting Master. "I see that my… visage… disturbs you."

"No, my Lord," Fenrir lowered his head.

"Look at me," the Dark Lord hissed, and Fenrir slowly looked back up. "If you hadn't failed to bring me my army, then Malfoy Manor would still be standing. I would not have been reduced to this."

"We were attacked…" Fenrir told the Dark Lord. "By a group of Mercenaries… The Death's Hand."

"I know that Death Squad," Michael spoke up. "They buy unregistered wands from all over the World in order to cast the Killing Curse without being traced." Michael then chuckled rather sinisterly. "They are not cheap… Whoever hired them must be filthy rich." And this method of warfare is not like Dumbledore. Someone else hired them, someone who knew about Fenrir's movements.

"You were careless, Fenrir," the Dark Lord's eyes burned to life. "Careless, and weak."

"Give me another chance to prove myself," Fenrir growled, his bestial nature coming through. "I will not fail you again, my Lord."

"Lord Voldemort does not believe you," the Dark Lord hissed.

"I recruited almost a dozen wolves… Despite my unhealed injuries…" Fenrir said, and the Dark Lord looked to the three hooded figures.

"I count only three," the Dark Lord looked back to Fenrir.

"This… vermin…" Fenrir shot a glare back at Michael. "He fed my pack to his friends!"

"Is this true?" Lord Voldemort looked to Michael.

"My men were hungry," Michael shrugged, and the Dark Lord felt the urge to shatter his mind. "Plus, they were weak. They would have served little to no purpose in our army."

"My army!" the Dark Lord hissed, and the brat was sent flying into the wall behind him. "I do not have to leave this chair to kill you, remember that."

Michael recovered rather quickly, an amused grin on his face. Damn Gaspard, and his insane offspring.

"They were sickly, and a waste of resources," Michael said calmly. "I will bring you healthier, and stronger, recruits."

The Dark Lord just stared at Michael, and in the end, he decided to let it go. I cannot lose anymore allies, not in my current state. For now, I have to exercise patience. I must bide my time.

"Why did you spare these three?" the Dark Lord looked to the hooded figures, who were shaking like leaves in the wind.

"They looked healthy, and one of them is pregnant," Michael replied. "If I had killed the pregnant one, my father would have my head."

"Remove their hoods," the Dark Lord ordered, and Michael's men did as they were told. "Ah, Kurt…" I remember this boy.

"My… My… Lord…" Kurt bowed his head, his face was covered in tears and snot. Weak.

"I see that Alexander did not survive," the Dark Lord looked to Fenrir.

"He was killed during the attack," Fenrir said. Shame, he had such potential. "These two are Bernadette the Red, and Casey Yorkshire… We had another companion who survived the Mercenary attack, but this Vampire killed him."

"Your friend tasted delicious," Michael sniggered, and once again, the Dark Lord held back his fury. The moment I get a permanent vessel, I will skin this one alive.

"Which one of you is pregnant?" the Dark Lord looked to the women.

"M… Me… My Lord…" Casey Yorkshire cried out.

"And the father?" Lord Voldemort asked, and she shot a shameful look towards Fenrir. He no doubt raped her. "Do you wish to have this child, Fenrir?"

Fenrir looked into the Dark Lord's eyes, and he knew what the Dark Lord truly meant. One of them was not leaving this room alive, and although Fenrir had enjoyed his time with Casey, he didn't plan to die for her. Or for the bastard in her belly.

"No, my Lord," Fenrir looked to the girl, whose face twisted painfully.

"Cut her throat," Lord Voldemort ordered, and Michael's men look to their commander, while Kurt and Casey began weeping.

"Don't touch her!" Bernadette struggled in her binds, a ferocious look on her face. "You bastards! Don't touch her!" This one won't follow me, I can already see it. She is too… foolish.

"Whoever kills that woman is doomed," Michael told the Dark Lord. "My father will find out that a pregnant woman was murdered by a Vampire, and he'll butcher us all. You will lose most of your Vampire allies in one night." Gaspard… Even in a coma he constantly aggravates me.

"Kill the other one, then," Lord Voldemort said, and within a second, Bernadette's throat was ripped open with sharp nails.

Kurt and Casey began wailing, while Bernadette choked to death on her own blood. Lord Voldemort kept his eyes fixed on Fenrir, who just stared at Bernadette's writhing form with a blank look.

"Take a good look, Fenrir," Lord Voldemort hissed. "Fail me again, and that'll be your fate."

"I understand, my Lord," Fenrir bowed his head.

"Throw the men into the Dungeons, and take the girl to your sister," Lord Voldemort looked to Michael. "She can care for her, and once your 'benevolent' father wakes up, he can decide what happens to her."

Michael gave a nod, while his men began dragging Fenrir, and the other two Werewolves, out.

"Leave the corpse," the Dark Lord said as one of them tried to haul up Bernadette's body. "Get out."

One by one, they all left the room, with Michael being the last. Once he was completely alone, the Dark Lord looked to Bernadette the Red. You will serve Lord Voldemort, even in death.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 30th November, 1993 (The Entrance Hall – Breakfast)

Ron carefully went down the stairs leading into the Entrance Hall, swinging on these crutches was rather fun, but Ron didn't plan to end up back in the Hospital Wing. At least not so soon. Merlin, I can't wait to try out Lumos Solem! And then I can start looking at the other Progenitor Spells in Flitwick's book! Ron beamed at the prospect of uncovering even more hidden gems, it had been a long while since he was this excited about his Spellwork.

As Ron made his way into the packed Great Hall, people shot him curious looks. They're probably wondering what happened to me. That, or they're still blown away by my new position of power. I should definitely use my increased fame to my advantage, and start approaching some older students for the study group. With their help, we might all start acting as one school. Ron made his way over to his friends, and he could already see them frowning at him.

"Hello," Ron greeted them.

"What happened to your leg, Ron?" Daphne asked, her eyes were fixed on his bandaged right foot.

"A little Magical mistake," Ron smiled sheepishly, and then with her help, he managed to sit in his usual spot. "Thanks, Daph."

"Honestly, Ron…" Daphne sighed out as she placed his crutches in-between them. "What did you do?"

"I was playing with fire, and being the dumb cunt that I am, ended up forgetting that fire is dangerous," Ron replied, while his friends just exchanged knowing looks.

"So you won't be attending classes today?" Blaise asked.

"Please say no," Theo smirked, and Ron shot him the bird.

"I'll limp to them, don't you worry," Ron sniggered.

"I can carry your books, if you want?" Millie offered.

"Oh, that's alright," Ron began making his plate. "I'll just use the Locomotor Charm, which will make my book bag float behind me. So… How was the morning run?"

"Cold," Malfoy replied in a bored tone.

"Very cold," Millie agreed.

"You've become rather lazy lately, Ron," Tracey teased. "This is the second morning run that you've missed."

"Maybe if you joined us, I'd be more inclined to come," Ron smiled at her.

"You know what? I might consider it," Tracey shrugged, and both Pansy and Daphne shot Tracey annoyed looks. "What?"

"If you start going, then he'll start asking us to join in as well," Pansy narrowed her eyes on Tracey.

"I'm no runner," Daphne huffed in indignation. But I bet that your bonbons would look amazing while you run. I have to see that, at least once.

"Running reminds me…" Ron suddenly remembered Madam Roberts' lesson. "Madam Roberts told me something extremely amazing just yesterday. She said that one's Magical Core is like a muscle, and the more one uses it, the stronger it becomes."

"Shite…" Tracey muttered, she knew where this was going.

"So I was thinking that we'd train more often," Ron finished.

All of them, except for Millie, looked rather reluctant already.

"Well?" Ron asked, his eyes scanning their expressions. They don't like the idea.

"We'd love to, but…" Pansy started.

"School is getting busier, mate," Blaise said. "We're already putting in a lot of time in the Training Area."

"And our grades are starting to slip," Theo added. I know for a fact that they aren't.

"Pansy and I are not even in the Dueling Tournament anymore," Tracey said, and Pansy nodded quickly.

"C'mon," Ron urged. "It'll be fun. It's been ages since we all trained together."

"No, thanks," Malfoy refused outright. At least he said thanks…

Ron looked to Daphne, who was suddenly very interested in the décor of the Great Hall.

"Daph?" Ron whispered as he nudged her. "What do you say?"

"Um… Ron…" Daphne looked to Pansy and Tracey for help. Fine, I get it… Whatever.

"I'll join you," Millie said, and Ron immediately looked to her. "If I teach you the Spell that my father sent me, can you teach me some Non-Verbal Magic basics? I've been trying, but it hasn't been going well."

"Sure, we have a deal," Ron beamed at her. "This'll be great, Mills!"

"Yeah, Mills… Good on you," Blaise shot her an annoyed look, but Millie couldn't care less.

Breakfast continued as normal after that, with all of them discussing various topics of conversation. According to Theo, Harry had been seen talking to Percy in a rather desperate manner this morning. There was strife within the House of the Lions, and although Ron was interested in it, he decided that he had better things to do than to worry about other people's trivial problems. Whatever Harry and Percy were discussing, Ron knew that he'd find out about it eventually.

As Breakfast came to a close, a large black owl flew into the Great Hall, and it perched itself right in front of Ron.

"Whose owl is that?" Pansy asked, while the owl stared at Ron with an almost bored look. There's a piece of parchment attached to its leg.

Ron carefully took the parchment, and the owl flew off almost immediately after.

"It didn't even wait for a snack…" Daphne cocked an eyebrow at its disappearing form.

Ron opened the parchment up, and inside were two words written in neat handwriting. 'I accept'. Ron blinked at the parchment, and then he realized who had sent it. Emilia Travers. Ron smiled to himself as he pocketed the parchment, while his friends waited for him to inform them. I should seek out Victor soon about that weapon of his. If I can get Emilia to buy it, both the Order and I will benefit.

"Let's go?" Ron asked them.

"Who was that from?" Theo asked.

"And what did it say?" Millie asked right after.

"It was from… a friend," Ron said, and then he began standing up.

Daphne helped him with his crutches, while his other friends just shrugged at his response. Ron clearly had no intention of telling them, and they knew better than to pester him.

"How long until your foot is better?" Daphne asked him as they began making their way out.

"Probably a day," Ron smiled at her. "What? You want to hold my hand?"

"I do," Daphne smirked. "When did you get hurt, Ron? I was with you all of yesterday."

"It was late at night," Ron replied. "I sometimes have trouble sleeping, so I just train until I get really tired."

"Trouble sleeping?" Daphne asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Ron replied, making sure to be careful with his crutches. I'd rather not stub anyone's toe. "After my session today, do you want to do something? Just us?"

"Yes," Daphne's lips twitched upwards, and then she shot him an almost amused look. "Yesterday, you wanted to go for a walk, and today, you want to spend time with me after your session. Very suspicious."

"Is it?" Ron sniggered. "Well, I remember our chat at the Gala… When we were dancing. You mentioned that you sometimes feel lonely because I'm always running off."

"Ron, I didn't mean anything by it," Daphne's cool demeanor cracked for a moment.

"I just want to be a better boyfriend," Ron admitted, and Daphne gave him a genuine smile. "So? What do you say? Want to cuddle on my bed after my session? I'm not supposed to be walking around."

"That sounds perfect," Daphne agreed as they made their way into the Entrance Hall. "Maybe we could start your French lessons? Just some basics."

"Do I get a reward if I do well?" Ron grinned.

"I think that's fair," Daphne shot him a wink. Yes!

"Awesome, I can't wait-"

"Ron, you got a minute?" came Neville's voice, and Ron shot a look back.

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny had walked around the Slytherins in order to approach Ron, and all four of them were staring at his bandaged foot.

"What happened to your foot?" Ginny asked, she almost sounded worried for him. Almost.

"A Magical mishap," Ron replied. "Fire hurts." My calf is still stinging a little, not to mention that I have yet another scar on my body.

"He's finally learning common sense," Theo sniggered, and Ron shot him a grin.

"It only took thirteen years," Ron joked, and then he looked to Neville. "Is there something that you needed?"

"We just wanted to see if you were alright," Hermione said. "And to thank you for the study group thing…"

"What study group thing?" Blaise asked. Oh yeah, I never told my friends.

"Hermione and Harry will be joining us on Friday," Ron said, and his friends said absolutely nothing. Yep, they're not too pleased. Oh well, they'll get over it. It's not like Harry and Hermione are going to bother them. "We'll be on our way, then. These crutches make it hard for me to move about the castle, and I don't want to be late for class."

"Wait…" Harry spoke up just as Ron was turning to leave.

"Yes?" Ron looked to Harry.

"Can I talk to you? In private?" Harry asked, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. What does he want? Does it have something to do with his argument with Perce?

"Guys, go on ahead," Ron looked to his friends. "Blaise, can you grab my books for me?"

"Sure," Blaise gave a subtle nod, though his eyes were fixed on the Trio.

"Thanks, mate," Ron smiled, and then he looked to Daphne.

"Let's go," Daphne said to the others, and they left for the Slytherin common room.

Once his own friends were gone, Ron looked to Ginny.

"What?" Ginny asked curtly.

"This is the part where you leave," Ron told her. I'm not in the mood for her bratty attitude. And whenever Harry is involved, she becomes an utter bitch to me.

"Ginny, we'll see you at lunch," Hermione said, which only served to irritate Ginny.

"Nonsense, you're leaving too," Ron turned his smile towards Hermione, who blinked at him. "Harry wants to speak to me privately, doesn't he? That means that you're not needed, so go on, be on your way." All of my friends are gone, so it's only fair that Harry's friends leave too. "Neville, you as well."

"Let's go," Neville looked to Hermione and Ginny, who looked to Harry. Fuck me, just leave. You're wasting my time. I have to limp up to Transfiguration, and if I'm late, Professor McGonagall will have my hide.

"It's alright, I'll see you guys in a bit," Harry said, and Neville nudged Hermione lightly.

"Fine," Ginny rolled her eyes, and then she marched off towards Gryffindor Tower. I'm actually sick of her attitude. One of these days, I'll smack her so hard that she'll never walk straight again. I spent forty Galleons on her dress, and she tossed it away like it was garbage. Oh, and she slapped me so hard that it broke skin.

"Don't take too long," Hermione said to Harry, and then she shot Ron an awkward smile before leaving with Neville.

"Courtyard?" Ron looked to Harry, who gave a nod.

They began making their way towards the exit, and Harry made sure to slow down his pace to match Ron's.

"Hey, Ron," a Slytherin girl waved at him, and Ron shot her a smile. "Hope that leg heals up soon."

"Let us know if you need anything," Septimus Smith said, a pleasant smile on his face. They're not even being subtle with their newfound love of me.

"I will," Ron gave a grateful nod, while Harry looked between Ron and the politer-than-usual Slytherins.

"You're doing well in Slytherin, then?" Harry asked as they made their way outside.

"Does that bother you?" Ron smirked.

"No, why would it?" Harry asked.

"Maybe because you don't like Slytherin very much," Ron replied bluntly.

"I have reason not to," Harry shrugged.

"No, you don't," Ron said calmly. "You judge everyone on the actions of the few, all the while ignoring the bastards in your own House. You're a hypocrite, and you always have been." Harry looked rather taken aback by Ron's harsh words. "Don't worry, I'm a hypocrite too. Everyone is. You're nothing special." You really aren't. "Anyway… What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you alright, Ron?" Harry asked slowly.

"My leg hurts," Ron shrugged. "C'mon, Harry, don't keep me in suspense."

"Right…" Harry gave Ron a curious look. "Um… I don't know where to start… You know how Percy is very…" he trailed off. Merlin, just talk.

"Harry," Ron adorned a more serious look. "Just say what's on your mind, please. I don't want to be late to Professor McGonagall's class."

"Your brother Percy can be really pompous," Harry stated, and Ron held his tongue in check. "He's going out of his way to get Angelina Johnson in trouble… He wants her Prefect status taken away from her, and for her to be punished. He's even trying to take away Lee Jordan's Prefect status, and Lee isn't even here to defend himself."

"And why is Percy doing this?" Ron asked.

"He claims that she knew about Fred and George's prank-war, and that she didn't do her duty by coming to him," Harry frowned a little.

"So my brother has a valid reason to go after her," Ron said. "I mean, she did know about the twins, and she refused to do her duty."

"They were just-"

"If you say that they were just having a laugh, I'll throw one of these crutches at you," Ron warned. "They spent three days targeting us with the worst sort of pranks, and no one did a thing to help us. Tell me, Harry, if we Slytherins had done that to Gryffindor, how would you feel? Imagine us Slytherins constantly targeting you Gryffindors, and not even the teachers at this school step in to help you guys out. How would that make you feel? Tell me truthfully."

"I… I don't know…" Harry admitted slowly.

"Of course you don't," Ron said. "A scenario like that could never happen. The moment we Slytherins step out of line, the Professors crack down on us in an almost vindictive manner. Bloody hell, I bet that even the Headmaster would leave his ivory tower just to protect his little Lions." Ron then drew in a calming breath, there was no point in telling Harry this. It goes in one ear, and comes out the other. "Anyway… Do you want me to talk to Percy?"

"If he gets her stuck in detentions, Gryffindor's Quidditch Team loses another member," Harry replied, he sounded a little distant now. Is he thinking about my words? "We already don't have our Beaters, Ron, so losing Angelina will destroy any chance of us winning against Hufflepuff this Saturday." Not even a day, and he's already asking me for favors.

"This is surreal," Ron shook his head, and Harry blinked at him. "It hasn't even been a day since I let you back into my life, and you're already asking me for a favor."

"Oh…"

"Yes, 'Oh'," Ron said, even he was surprised with Harry's actions. He must be really desperate.

"This isn't exactly coming from me," Harry sighed out, he detested lying to anyone. "I spoke with Percy, and then I told the Team that I couldn't sway him… So Oliver, our Captain, asked me to speak to you. He thinks that Percy will listen to you."

"And why didn't he come himself?" Ron asked, and Harry shrugged because he had no idea.

"Maybe he thinks that we're still friends?" Harry suggested, a hint of shame in his voice.

"Tell him to come and speak to me himself," Ron told Harry.

"Where? And when?" Harry asked.

"During Dinner, tonight," Ron replied. "I'll hear him out." I'll help Angelina, but I'll humiliate her for laughing at Malfoy's humiliation. Fair is fair.

"Alright, I'll let him know," Harry gave a weak smile. "Thanks, Ron."

"Not so fast," Ron clicked his tongue, and Harry stopped and gave Ron a curious look. "You owe me a favor now, Harry."

"A favor?" Harry blinked.

"I'm helping you now, and so you'll help me later," Ron explained. "One for one."

"But Oliver is the one making the request," Harry said slowly.

"And I'm only hearing him out because you want me to," Ron said coldly. "You'll both owe me a favor each."

"Ron, you can't be-"

"It is the way of the World, Harry," Ron shrugged. "If you wish to take, then you must also learn to give. As far as I'm concerned, that rule applies to every single person, regardless of their entitlements. So… Do you agree?"

"I… Fine, I'll owe you one," Harry gave a nod.

"Then I will hear out Oliver Wood," Ron smiled.

---

Monday 30th November, 1993 (The Courtyard – Dinner)

"Oh, good," Ron limped out into the Courtyard, and Oliver Wood turned to face him. "I was worried that I'd have to wait out in the cold."

Ron carefully limped to a snowy bench, and despite its wet condition, sat down on it. Good thing that I'm wearing my cloak.

"Do you mind if we talk here?" Ron groaned as he fixed his leg to the side. "My leg is aching, and I've had to limp up and down the castle all fucking day." Getting to Hagrid's Hut was a nightmare. "Well? Talk."

"What happened to your leg?" Oliver asked as he approached Ron.

"That is none of your concern, mate," Ron grinned. "Let's avoid the pleasantries, it's colder than an Ice Salamander's arsehole out here."

"Fair enough," Oliver gave a nod. "I need you to speak to your brother… Percy. It is one thing that he turned the twins in, now he's going after another teammate of mine. A very valuable teammate, if I do so say myself."

"More valuable than my dear brothers?" Ron asked, and Oliver said nothing. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. My brothers would be quite hurt to hear that."

"Is this a joke to you?" Oliver demanded, and Ron let out a snigger. The rumors are true… He's got quite the temper.

"You need to calm down, mate," Ron shook his head. "Go on, please. Tell me why I should help you instead of my favorite brother? Why should I ask Percy to stop, and in doing so, anger him?"

"Because your brother is being a massive prick," Oliver said bluntly, and Ron fought the urge to leave. "He's treating every single person in Gryffindor as if we're criminals, all the while brandishing his Head Boy Badge as if he were a bloody tyrant. He's even accused the first years of knowing about the twins' actions for fuck's sake. He is only making himself less popular."

"Do you know why he's so hell-bent on this mission of his?" Ron asked. Because I do.

"No, and I don't care," Oliver replied.

"He knows that he's right, and you know it too," Ron told Oliver nonetheless. "I know for a fact that Angelina Johnson laughed at Draco Malfoy's humiliation, and that she was waiting by the twins' side as they planned to shame a random Slytherin. She knowingly helped them, and she no doubt has no regrets over Draco Malfoy's humiliation. She is guilty." Ron then repositioned his injured leg. "You all hid this from Percy, even those who were supposed to be on his side. Now… Can you really blame my brother for seeking justice?"

"Look… Spare me your exposition, and just tell me if you'll help me," Oliver said. "Harry told me that you wanted me to owe you a favor, and I'm willing to take that deal."

"But why?" Ron asked. "I might not even succeed, and you'll still owe me for wasting my time with this."

"No, I'll owe you if you succeed," Oliver bargained. "I'm not going to help you for wasting my time." Entitled prick.

"Well… This is goodbye, then," Ron stood up, his crutches moving into his armpits. "Good luck with my brother."

With that, Ron began limping towards the Entrance Hall. Oliver waited for a few seconds, and then he chased after Ron, stopping only when he was in-between Ron and the entrance to the castle.

"So what? You're not going to help me, after all?" Oliver frowned deeply.

"You have no leverage, Wood," Ron told the Gryffindor. "If I don't help you, then Percy will have Angelina in detention very soon. Hufflepuff will massacre your Team, and life will go on as usual for me. You are asking me to help you, all the while refusing to pay me for my efforts."

"I said that I'll owe you if you succeed," Oliver said, and Ron let out a tired sigh.

"How is me pissing off my brother worth it for me?" Ron asked. "If I fail, then Percy will be upset with me, and I get nothing for my trouble. It's a shitty deal, and I'm not taking it."

"Fine…" Oliver grit out. "I'll owe you, but you have to try your hardest."

Ron put his gloved hand forward, and after staring at it with a look of distrust, Wood slowly shook Ron's hand.

"One more thing," Ron added, and Oliver rolled his eyes. "I want Angelina Johnson to apologize to Draco Malfoy tomorrow morning. In the Entrance Hall… In front of a crowd."

"What?" Oliver blinked.

"You heard me," Ron said calmly. "She played a key role in his embarrassment, and I want her to apologize to him. I'd ask the twins and Lee Jordan, but they're not exactly available."

"Why? You're a Weasley," Oliver frowned again. "Why do you care about a Malfoy being insulted?"

"It's about principle," Ron shrugged. "I offered Malfoy safety, and I failed to live up to that, so the least I can do now is to help him get some closure."

"That'll never happen," Oliver rubbed his forehead. "Angelina will never agree to something like this."

"Then you convince her, and I'll convince Percy," Ron said. "I'll be waiting for that apology, Wood. Nothing happens until she gives Malfoy a genuine apology."

"You really are the worst of your Family, aren't you?" Oliver shook his head, and Ron drew in a calming breath. "Fine, I'll talk to her. Linger about in the Entrance Hall tomorrow after Breakfast…"

With that, Oliver left for the Great Hall in a huff, while Ron couldn't help but glare at his back. He genuinely doesn't care about his teammate's actions, he just wants to win the fucking Quidditch Cup. And yet, he has the gall to insult me, and Percy, multiple times. Very well, Oliver Wood, let's see who gets the last laugh.

---

Draco Malfoy's POV

Tuesday 1st December, 1993 (The Entrance Hall – After Breakfast)

"Ron, why are we just standing around?" Davis asked, and Draco fought the urge to look at her.

Ever since their chat on the night of the Gala, both Draco and Davis had begun avoiding each other. Draco didn't know about Davis, but he personally preferred this new arrangement. She had clearly forgiven him, as she no longer shot him disgusted glares, but at the same time, she didn't acknowledge the fact that Draco had had a profound moment with her. This not only saved Draco personal embarrassment, but it also made him respect Davis a little. She clearly understood how he would feel if she told the others about their chat, and in order to save Draco shame, she kept her distance. Draco, in turn, had fully come to realize that his treatment of others was nothing short of disgusting in the past. I was their Marcus Flint, which is why they left me for Weasley in the first place.

"Are you not going to answer me?" Davis pouted at Weasley, who just smiled at her.

"I'm going to go on," Draco said, he really didn't want to be around when the other students began leaving the Great Hall.

"Malfoy, stay where you are," Weasley said, and Draco shot him a suspicious look. "I have a gift for you, and it's on its way." A gift?

Draco looked to the others, who just gave Weasley curious looks. He's up to something… Again. Draco couldn't deny that he was now intrigued, but about what, he wasn't sure. Weasley had that effect on Draco, and despite resisting it over the last two months, Draco couldn't deny it any longer. Weasley was an interesting, and complicated, individual, and Draco couldn't help but gravitate towards him. What sort of gift has he planned for me? Draco suddenly heard loud footsteps approaching, and Weasley pulled Draco to his side.

"Stay here, and stay calm," Weasley whispered. "And please accept the apology." Apology?

"What are you-?" Draco started, but the sound of the large doors springing open silenced him.

The horde of Hogwarts washed over them all, and the eight Slytherins had to step back in order to avoid being trampled to death. Weasley was clearly looking for someone, while Draco and the others just waited to witness Weasley's latest stunt. Draco knew that the others were just as intrigued as he was, but unlike them, Draco hid his intrigue behind a mask of cold indifference.

And that's when they all spotted Angelina Johnson approaching them, a slightly furious look on her face.

"Malfoy, can I speak to you?" Johnson demanded, and Malfoy just stared at her. She's going to apologize to me? Why? She had no problem laughing at me when I was at my lowest, and I know for a fact that she told all of her friends about me.

"Go on," Weasley answered for Draco, and Johnson shot him a sneer. "Just do it, Johnson. Your Team is watching." What is going on here?

"Malfoy, I'm-" Johnson looked to Draco, who just cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Ahem!" Weasley cleared his throat rather loudly, making everyone around them go silent. Merlin, my heart nearly stopped just then.

Johnson was clearly swallowing her anger at Weasley's interruption, which had garnered the attention of everyone in the Entrance Hall, and Draco found himself oddly amused at all of this. She looks miserable. Good.

"Angelina, just do it," Oliver Wood whispered in a rather agitated manner, and Johnson shot a furious look backwards.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry for my part in what the twins did to you," Johnson apologized, her tone barely controlled. No way… How did he pull this off? "I should've stopped them, but I made it worse with my… lack of maturity…" Johnson then clenched her jaw. "Can you please forgive me?"

"I…" Draco looked to Weasley, who spared him a quick glance. "I accept your apology."

People began whispering with entertained smirks, while Johnson simply turned to the exit and stormed off. Her Team followed after her, while the other students sniggered at her for having to apologize to a Slytherin. And not just an ordinary Slytherin, but the most hated student in this school. Draco couldn't help but notice that Weasley was looking in the direction of Percy Weasley, who was looking quite furious with Angelina Johnson's back. I have no idea what just happened, but I think Weasley just punished Johnson for humiliating me… Why would he do that?

"Let's be on our way," Weasley said, and then he just walked off towards the exit.

Draco and the others followed after Weasley, and Draco could see just how amused the rest of the group was. They clearly approve of his actions, but not because they care about me. They just enjoy watching Weasley knock people off of their pedestals.

"Weasley, slow down," Draco said as he moved to Weasley's side. I have to know why he did this.

"Thank you for accepting her apology," Weasley said, and Draco gave a slow nod.

"Why did you make her do that?" Draco asked.

"I owed you," Weasley replied, and Draco blinked at him. "I offered you protection, remember? I failed to deliver on that promise, thanks to my brothers of all people. I know this isn't exactly revenge, but it's the least I could do. I hope you found some closure thanks to her apology." I suppose I did… It felt good to not be a joke for a change.

"Thanks," Draco all but whispered, and he dearly hoped that Weasley hadn't heard him.

"Think nothing of it," Weasley patted Draco's back, much to Draco's annoyance.

"Don't touch me," Draco frowned, but Weasley just sniggered to himself.

"Sorry, I completely forgot about the 'No touching' policy," Weasley said. "Won't happen again."

"I doubt that," Draco shook his head. "You realize that you humiliated your brothers' friend, right? And you did it for my benefit."

"And?"

"And I'm a Malfoy," Draco reminded Weasley.

"Are you worried about what other people will say about me?" Weasley smirked. As disgusting as this is to admit, I am worried… I don't want you fighting with everyone on my behalf. Not again. "Don't worry, I'm used to conflict. You can't please everyone, Malfoy, so why not just do your best to stick by your principles, eh?"

"How very humble of you," Draco drawled.

"Thank you," Weasley grinned at him.

"I was being sarcastic," Draco gave Weasley a deadpan look.

"Oh, ouch," Weasley laughed, and Draco had to force his lips to not smile.

"Thank you, Weasley," Draco said, and Weasley had the decency to say nothing, which put an end to this embarrassing conversation.

---

Percy Weasley's POV

Tuesday 1st December, 1993 (Abandoned Classroom – Lunchtime)

Percy was left utterly disgusted by his House's complicity in the recent 'prank-war', and he couldn't deny that he was also left quite hurt. He was all alone in Gryffindor, and now he knew for certain. His Prefects would rather support the twins' chaotic behavior than help Percy establish order, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. Sure, he wasn't the most 'fun' person to be around, but they had made vows of upholding their positions with integrity.

That's what really bothered Percy about all of this. These Prefects had clearly lied to the school's staff when they had accepted their Badges, and yet, none of them had been punished for this crime. Percy had gone to Professor McGonagall herself about Angelina Johnson, and the old witch had asked Percy to stop his manhunt. It made no sense to him. Angelina had just made a public apology today about her actions, which had confirmed her crime of aiding the twins, but she still hadn't been punished. Could Professor McGonagall be putting Quidditch before the school's welfare? Maybe.

The door to the abandoned classroom suddenly swung open, and Percy looked to see Ron step inside with a wide smile on his face. Why does he feel the need to put on that smile? I know him, and he doesn't smile like that when he's happy.

"Percy!" Ron greeted, and then he shut the door quickly. "I'm glad you're here."

"Ron, why are the Gryffindor first years carrying messages for you?" Percy asked, and Ron shrugged innocently. I can't believe that half of them cornered me after morning classes, and then told me to come here in order to speak to Ron.

"The first years like me," Ron told Percy as he stepped further into the room. "Anyway… How are you today? You looked right pissed off this morning."

"Oh, did I?" Percy frowned. "Angelina Johnson all but confirmed my suspicions about her, and she apologized to Draco Malfoy in public. And here's the crazy part… I know you had something to do with that."

"I did," Ron admitted. "I wanted her to apologize for her actions, and now that she has, I have no interest in her."

"What does that mean?" Percy asked.

"It means that she's made amends, and since Malfoy accepted her apology, I won't go after her anymore," Ron replied.

"Why are you going after her in the first place?" Percy asked. "Ron, just tell me what you're up to. I don't like the fact that you are getting involved in this mess."

Ron stared at Percy for a few moments, and Percy had to admit that Ron's sudden staring put him on edge. It's such a dead-eyed stare… It's creepy.

"Oliver Wood came to me," Ron started, and Percy's ears perked up. "He asked me for help, and I accepted on the condition that Johnson apologizes to Malfoy."

"What kind of help?" Percy asked through narrowed eyes.

"He wanted help regarding you, Perce," Ron replied, and Percy blinked at his little brother. "He says that you've become a tyrant-"

"A tyrant?" Percy suddenly felt his blood boil. "They're the ones who are acting like some Guild of Thieves!" Volume, Percy. Ron hasn't done anything to be yelled at for. "They all knew about the twins' actions, Ron… And not one of them came to me. Not a single person did the right thing."

"The twins are very popular," Ron shrugged. "And although they sometimes go too far, they usually make people laugh."

"What does that matter?" Percy asked.

"It matters a lot," Ron replied. "It's why no one turned them in."

"I can't stand that," Percy frowned deeply. "The twins are rule breakers, and it's my job to stop that sort of behavior."

"Have you considered the fact that maybe your strict following of rules is why no one came to you?" Ron asked.

"I know that I'm not popular, Ron," Percy rolled his eyes. "You don't need to remind me."

"Apparently, I do," Ron said, and Percy cocked an eyebrow. "You are harassing the first years, I hear, and that needs to stop."

"They're first years, and they're already on the wrong path," Percy stated. "I'm just trying to set them right."

"By threatening them with detentions?" Ron asked. "Percy, how do you think that makes you look? You're trying to punish first years for just existing. They would never dare turn the twins in, nor would they turn you in for any wrongdoing. They are first years, and they just want to get through the year in one piece."

"So just because they're young, they're above the rules?" Percy argued. "I don't believe that, Ron. People need to be held accountable for their actions, otherwise, everyone would just do as they please."

Ron drew in a deep breath, and then he exhaled rather loudly.

"Percy, I want you to stop this… crusade… of yours," Ron said, and Percy frowned at him. And why would I do that?

"Sorry, Ron, but I plan to make an example of anyone who was complicit in this," Percy told his brother.

"It's you who will lose his Badge if you keep going," Ron countered. "You're turning your own House against you, including the first years. Tell me, why aren't you focusing on your studies?"

"Pardon?"

"You think Amelia Bones will care about this crusade of yours?" Ron asked. "I fucking wouldn't. I'd care about your grades, which need to be perfect because we have both put our reputations on the line. You're staring at what's right in front of you, all the while ignoring the storm of shite heading our way. If you lose your Badge because of this, you might lose that job offer from Madam Bones."

"And why would I lose my Badge?" Percy asked. "I'm in the right here."

"You might be, but as far as everyone is concerned, you are taking things too far," Ron replied.

"Everyone?" Percy asked slowly. "You too?"

"Personally, I don't give a fuck about this 'prank-war' nonsense anymore," Ron replied. "It's old news, Percy. The twins and Lee Jordan were at the head of this mess, and they've been punished. It's over. You're the only person not letting it go, and that'll bite you in your arse very soon."

"If I let it go, then they win, Ron," Percy said, and Ron shook his head.

"They got suspended, they lost their stash of joke-items, and I'm pretty sure that when Lee Jordan returns, he'll lose his Prefect Badge," Ron said. "They lost, Percy, plain and simple. What you're doing right now, it's only wasting your time. No one else is going to get punished, because if they were, it would have happened already." Professor McGonagall… He isn't wrong about that. The Professors are doing nothing at all. "People want to move on from this, Perce, so stop beating a dead horse. Focus on your Future, and not on this pointless crusade that won't change a damn thing."

Ron then stepped forward, and he put his hands on Percy's cheeks. What's he doing?

"For me, Perce," Ron all but whispered. "Let it go, and focus on yourself. Don't risk what we're trying to accomplish at the Ministry over something like school drama." The Ministry… Ron and I plan to take it by storm, or at least that's what he said.

"It's not just school drama, though," Percy relaxed a little. He's almost as tall as me now. "Ever since I came to this school, I've been treated like…" he trailed off. What's the point of whining about it?

"Which is why you should let it go," Ron said. "Don't risk what's waiting out there over something like this."

"Ron… Are you asking me to stop because you're worried about me? Or is it because you stand to gain something from ending my 'crusade'?" Percy asked weakly.

"Both," Ron replied, and then he let go of Percy's face. At least he's honest… "You know I love you, Perce, which is why I'm being so honest. I don't want to see you waste your time on people who don't want your help. I want you to focus on yourself."

"Angelina Johnson could become Head Girl one day, and I can't accept that," Percy said.

"You'll be long gone by then," Ron chuckled. "And it wasn't just her who laughed alongside the twins. If you really want justice, then you'll have to go after the majority of the student-body. Tell me, do you have that much time to waste?"

"No."

"Then just let it go," Ron said. "Kids at this school are mean bastards, and they thrive on gossip and drama… You and I have more important things to focus on, don't we?"

"We do," Percy gave a weak nod, and then he let out a tired sigh. "Fine… I'll walk away… I don't fully agree with you, but I can see your point. I shouldn't let this hinder the rest of my life."

"Good," Ron smiled, and then he hugged Percy tightly. Ow…

After a couple of seconds, Percy wrapped his own arms around his little brother. I don't really like physical contact, but this isn't so bad. It actually feels nice… None of my other siblings would do this for me.

"You're not upset with me?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron," Percy gave him a squeeze. "You were honest, and I can respect that. And… I love you too."

---

Draco Malfoy's POV

Tuesday 1st December, 1993 (Madam Pomfrey's Office – After Classes)

"And I actually thanked him," Draco paced back and forth, while Madam Pomfrey just watched him in silence. "Can you believe that? I, the Malfoy Heir, thanked a Weasley… And it wasn't forced, or some ploy to get on his good side. I meant it…" Father would be so ashamed, and as for mother… "I don't know what to think anymore, Madam Pomfrey… I feel so exhausted all the time." Exhausted, and confused. And lonely. I keep thinking about my mother, and my Godfather.

"Draco, you should sit down," Madam Pomfrey suggested, and Draco stopped pacing. "We have been here for nearly an hour, and you haven't stopped pacing. You are going to spiral if you keep going."

"I just want a solution…" Draco flopped onto the couch.

"A solution?"

"There has to be some answer to what I'm feeling," Draco sighed out. "Did I tell you about Davis?"

"Yes, you did," Madam Pomfrey smiled. "I am very proud of you, Draco. You did what felt right to you, and it clearly paid off."

"We haven't spoken since," Draco all but whispered. "We avoid each other, even when we're studying."

"Does that bother you?" Madam Pomfrey asked, she wanted to keep Draco away from the topic of Ronald Weasley for now.

"No, actually," Draco admitted. "What does bother me is the fact that Davis understands how I feel, and she's willingly helping me without asking for something."

"Do you think that she'll come asking for favors?" Pomfrey asked.

"No," Draco shook his head. "She's not like that… But that's the problem, isn't it? Why is she like that?"

"Draco…" Pomfrey blinked at him. "Has it occurred to you that she might just be a kind person?"

"A kind person?" Draco scoffed. "No one is just kind. No one. She feels pity for me, I know it."

"That is your pride talking."

"And what's wrong with that?" Draco demanded, even he didn't understand why he was getting angry. I don't know what to fucking think anymore. I wish Godfather was here.

"There is nothing wrong with having pride, but if you use your pride to push people away from you, then you will regress," Madam Pomfrey told him. "You are clearly grateful for your conversation with Tracey Davis, but at the same time, you resent it. There is a part of you that is trying to move forward, but at the same time, you keep clinging to your past. I believe that this is the cause for your inner turmoil. You are at war with yourself."

"I'm not like these people," Draco rubbed his face. "Weasley… Davis… Even the others. I don't recognize my own childhood friends. Greengrass used to spit at the mere mention of Blood-Traitors when we were kids, and now, she is always attached to one. I get the feeling that if either one of them dies, the other one will keel over right then and there."

"People change," Madam Pomfrey said calmly. "It is the way of life, Draco. Experiences play a large role in forming a person's personality. You used to be a bully…" Draco flinched at her brutal honesty. "But now, you have apologized to one of your oldest victims. And she forgave you."

"One of my oldest victims…" Draco sighed out, remembering one of his other victims. "Bulstrode… I used to go out of my way to pick on her. This one time, she was genuinely having a fun night with us, and I decided to ruin that. I stole sweets from everyone, and hid them under Bulstrode's pillow. After that, I got everyone to turn on her. I don't even know why I did that, all I know is that I'm… ashamed… of myself. She wasn't causing me any problems, she was just enjoying her night… I made everyone call her out on her weight, and I branded her a thief…" I really was the Marcus Flint in their lives. "She left in tears… And we didn't see her for nearly two months."

"And you never apologized?" Pomfrey asked, not a hint of judgement in her voice.

"Until recently, I didn't think that I did anything wrong…" Draco swallowed thickly.

"And now?"

"Now, I know how it feels to be universally hated," Draco looked down at his feet. "Now, I understand that I hurt her for no good reason… Why did I do these things, Madam Pomfrey?"

"That is a question that only you can answer," Madam Pomfrey replied. I know, but I just can't figure it out. "Have you considered apologizing to Millicent Bulstrode?"

"After my chat with Davis… Yes, I considered it," Draco nodded weakly. "I considered apologizing to them all. I enjoyed making jokes about Theo's late mother, and Blaise's absent father. Crabbe and Goyle were my personal punching bags, even until the end of second year. I called Greengrass a slag out of spite. And Pansy…" Draco felt the urge to bury his head in the sand. "Weasley has been good to her, even I can't deny that. She laughs a lot now, and it isn't forced. It was always forced when she used to follow me around."

"What's stopping you from apologizing to them?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"I'm… I'm scared of having those conversations," Draco admitted. "What if they don't accept my apologies?"

"Apologizing isn't about winning someone over," Madam Pomfrey told him. "It's about admitting your own fault. In a way, it's a personal thing."

"That's… That's what Davis said…" Draco said slowly. Maybe she was right, after all. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Madam Pomfrey smiled, and then she shot a look towards her clock. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Draco, but I have to get back to my other duties."

"It's alright," Draco stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she gave a nod, and Draco nodded to himself as he left the Office

He felt physically lighter after every session, and he had half a mind to thank Weasley for this. He dragged me here against my will, but it was for the best. Draco ran his hands through his hair, and then he began making his way back to the Slytherin common room. If I do apologize to them, I should do it one by one. Should I also list what I'm sorry for? That could take a while.

As Draco made his way down the Moving Staircase, he couldn't help but think of his Godfather. He's not down there. He's… Draco shook his head clear. What was he meant to do during the Yule Break? Would he see his mother again? And what of his father? Do I want to see father? Even after he betrayed Godfather to the Dark Lord? Yes, I do… I want to ask him so many questions.

"Clean," Draco said to the entrance, and it slid aside for him.

Draco went straight for his room, making sure to avoid even looking at the couches near the fireplace. I'll have to talk to Dumbledore soon. I need to know if I can see my mother for Christmas. The mere thought of spending Christmas alone tore at his heart, and once again, Draco felt himself missing his mother's presence. She used to let me eat all the cookies that I wanted, and we'd keep it a secret from my father. I wonder if the Order is feeding her properly. As Draco neared his room, he heard loud laughter coming from the other side. Damn, they're all in there.

He stood at the entrance, unsure of what to do next. If I go in, they'll just ignore me. But I don't want to sit around all by myself… I don't want to think about mother and father, or about Godfather. At least inside my room, I can be distracted.

"Are you going in?" came Davis' voice from behind him, and Draco nearly jumped from fright.

"Merlin… Why aren't you inside?" Draco turned around with a sneer, but Davis just sniggered to herself.

"Theo wanted to listen to some Led Zeppelin," Davis showed Draco her 'Walkman'.

"Who?"

"Led Zeppelin," Davis repeated, and Draco cocked his eyebrow. "It's a Muggle band, Malfoy. They're amazing!" They're Muggles, so I doubt it.

"Whatever," Draco stepped out of her way, but she didn't move from her spot. "Well?"

"Why are you loitering out here?" Davis asked.

"Why are we talking?" Draco asked in return.

"Because I want to know why you're loitering out here," Davis smirked, and Draco resisted the urge to walk off.

"I'm not 'loitering'," Draco lied. "As a matter of fact, I was just about to head inside."

"Then please, go on," Davis' smirk grew wider.

Draco opened the door and walked into the room without another thought, and Davis followed after him. Draco shot a quick look around, and immediately noticed that Weasley wasn't around. Is he in the training room? Wait… Why do I even care? Draco walked over to his bed, pulled out the book on Dueling Basics that he had read a hundred times, and began reading chapter six. I fucking hate this book.

"Who's winning?" Davis asked as she sat down with the others, and Draco subtly shot a look towards them.

"I am," Theo smirked, while the others gave him annoyed looks.

"You're either cheating, or just getting lucky," Greengrass huffed in indignation, but it did nothing to dampen Theo's amusement.

"Do you want to show me this band after I win?" Theo asked Davis, and she nodded excitedly.

"You'll love them, I promise," Davis said, and Theo looked back to the game of Wizard's Poker. He'll love a Muggle band… Ugh… I don't even want to think about this.

"Malfoy, why don't you join us?" Blaise asked, and everyone went dead silent. Wait… What?

"Excuse me?" Draco looked to Blaise, who was just staring at Draco with a bored look.

"Do you want to play Wizard's Poker with us? If so, join us," Blaise said, and Draco looked to the others.

They were all just staring at Blaise in utter disbelief, and on some level, annoyance. Why is he doing this? I bet Weasley put him up to it. Draco shot a quick look to the cards, and he felt the urge to join them. It's better than reading this damn book again.

"Why not?" Davis shot Draco a meaningful look. "C'mon, Malfoy. See if you can't end Theo's win-streak."

"Tracey…" Greengrass frowned at her best friend.

"What are you thinking?" Pansy whispered to Davis.

"Can you not?" Bulstrode added, and then she shot Draco a dark look.

"It's fine… I don't want to play," Draco lied, and then he looked back to his book. None of them want me there anyway. Fucking hell, where is Weasley when you need him?

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 1st December, 1993 (Gringotts Wizarding Bank – After Classes)

"It all makes sense now," Ron glared at the wall behind Gornuk. "That fucking prick… He actually tried to convince me that he cared about the people of this country. That he cared about 'genuine journalism'… Lying sack of shite."

"What will you do with this information, Mr. Weasley?" Gornuk asked, he had just given Ron the Elf's report.

As it turned out, Marietta Angel and Barnabas Cuffe were having a secret affair. The Elf had seen Barnabas visiting Marietta late at night many times, and judging by his appearance on the following mornings, they were rough lovers. It all makes sense. Why didn't I see it sooner? He actually told me that she worked in a bar, and that she had a messy apartment. He even mentioned that she had a noisy housemate… Why the fuck wasn't I paying attention? No wonder he was trying to sell her so hard. He wants his lover to work in her chosen field.

"I will go to her house, and I will speak to her myself," Ron replied.

"Is that wise?" Gornuk asked, and Ron turned his glare towards the Goblin.

"Go on," Ron said.

"Forgive me, it's not my place to tell you what you should, or should not, do," Gornuk apologized, his beady eyes fixed on Ron's.

"No, I mean it," Ron drew in a deep breath. "You can give me your opinion, Gornuk. You have much more experience in this sort of thing than I do." He's not at fault, so I shouldn't speak to him in a harsh tone.

"Oh…" the Goblin looked a little taken aback, but he quickly composed himself. "If you do wish to speak to her, have me set up an interview. If you barge onto her property, it will look quite… scandalous."

"You're right," Ron nodded slowly. "I was… being emotional. Sorry. Set up an interview, but don't let her know about our knowledge."

"I will be very discreet, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk wrote something down. "Will this interview be a farce?"

"I don't know," Ron replied. "Ask her to bring some of her work… If she has genuine talent, I'll give her a fair chance."

"Good choice, Mr. Weasley," Gornuk smiled a sharp-toothed smile. "We cannot afford to disregard potential assets. As for Barnabas Cuffe, I will do my best to avoid his spies."

"Just be careful, please," Ron said. "If he thinks that we're threatening his young lover, he'll turn our lives into a battle."

"You mean your life, Mr. Weasley."

"And who will I come to when Barnabas Cuffe is trying to crawl into my arse?" Ron smirked, and Gornuk chuckled.

"A fair point," Gornuk conceded, and Ron stood up to leave.

"Thank you for your work, Gornuk, and tell your Elf that we might call upon him again," Ron said, and Gornuk gave a respectful nod.

"Enjoy the rest of your week, I will send you a letter once the interview is set up," Gornuk said, and Ron made his way out of the Office.

After a moment of deliberation, Ron decided to head back to Hogwarts via the Gringotts' fireplaces. I wonder if any Aurors are following me. I should limit my movements around Diagon Alley. Ron entered the Reception Room, and when he saw an unoccupied fireplace, he quickly began setting it up.

"Ron, is that you?" came Bill's voice, and Ron shot a look back. "It is!"

"Bill?" Ron managed before his eldest brother pulled him into a hug. Oh, alright… What's he doing here?

"What are you doing here?" Bill asked as he broke the brotherly hug.

"I had business to discuss with my Logistics Officer," Ron replied, and Bill chuckled for some reason. "Why are you here?"

"I came here to discuss my job with the Goblins," Bill replied. "You are looking at the newest Supervisor of Gringotts' British Curse-Breaker Team."

"Congratulations," Ron smiled genuinely. "Good on you, Bill." A supervisor, eh? That sounds very nice.

"I didn't think that my transfer would come with a promotion, but these Gobos are a funny people," Bill said. Gobos? "Are you heading back to Hogwarts?"

"I was, yeah," Ron nodded. "But maybe we should grab a bite to eat?"

"Oh, I'd love to, but…" Bill scratched the back of his head. "Don't tell anyone this, but Charlie and Kirsten are 'at work' today…"

"What? I don't understand," Ron said slowly.

"They told mum and dad that they were working today, but in truth, they're at the Leaky Cauldron," Bill told Ron. "We're going out to Muggle London for some drinks, and I can't take you along because you're a minor."

"I guess that's fair," Ron shrugged. "Send them my love, big brother."

"Wait… Before you head off," Bill put his hand on Ron's right shoulder. "How did things go between you and Daphne?"

"Excuse me?"

"You two were extremely drunk, and I want to know if you did something… foolish," Bill gaze Ron a stern look. Does he think that I'll be intimidated by such a look?

"We went all the way, actually…" Ron lied, and Bill went dead-still.

"Ron… Are you fucking joking? Please tell me that you're joking…" Bill all but whispered.

"We snogged, and then we both went to sleep," Ron chuckled, and Bill released a scared breath. I can't believe that worked.

"Prick," Bill frowned a little, and then he smiled. "Go on, then. I won't ask you anymore personal questions."

"For tonight, that is," Ron figured, and Bill shot him a wink. "Take care, Bill, and enjoy your night. Oh, and congratulations again."

"Take care, little brother," Bill waved goodbye, and Ron looked back to the fireplace.

"Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts," Ron chanted, and then he tossed the floo-powder into the flames.

As soon as they roared to life, Ron stepped through them and into Dumbledore's Office. Home sweet home. Ron looked around the Office, and much to his surprise, it was devoid of life. Even baby Fawkes isn't here. Odd.

"Headmaster?!" Ron called, and there was no response.

"Come here, Ronald," came the Hat's voice, and Ron walked up to the shelf that served as its home.

"Hat," Ron beamed. "It's good to speak to you again."

"Likewise, my boy," the Hat chuckled. "If you are looking for Albus, I'm afraid that he isn't here, and he won't be back until tomorrow."

"Where did he go?" Ron asked.

"Albania," the Hat replied.

"Oh…"

"Indeed, my boy," the Hat said. "He intends to use Fawkes' tears to heal the villagers around the Gaia Project site. Far too much Magic in one concentrated location has begun to make people ill." Is that even possible. "But fear not, Albus and Fawkes will have them fixed up in no time."

"Really?" Ron couldn't help but smile. "That's very kind of him."

"It is, but Albus sees it as his duty," the Hat sighed. "He can be a very boring individual."

"I was talking about Fawkes," Ron sniggered. "The old man isn't the one shedding tears."

"Ha! He most certainly is not!" the Hat laughed. "How have you been, my boy? Have you given any thought to our previous conversation?"

"I have," Ron replied with a casual shrug.

"And?"

"And… Nothing," Ron replied. "I get that you don't want me to have any regrets, but the thing is… My only regret would be failing my friends and Family, because even though I'm at odds with some of them right now, I love them. I want them to be safe. Unlike Rowena, I don't have the choice to stop."

"I see," the Hat hummed. "Did anything particular inspire this epiphany?"

"My parents…" Ron smiled in content. "We're not fighting anymore, and in full honesty, their support has been very wholesome. Things can always improve." Actually, I've been a good mood ever since the Gala. Mum and dad looked really proud of me, especially after the Werewolf Legislation talk.

"I hope you're right, Ronald, for your own sake," the Hat said in a sagely manner. "Now, be off. Spend some time with your friends."

"Take care, Hat," Ron waved his farewell as he made his way towards the exit. "Come and talk to me if you get too bored."

"Will do!" the Hat called, and Ron left the Office.

He quickly made his way down the spiral staircase, past the Stone Gargoyle, and down towards the Moving Staircase. The others should be playing some Wizard Poker right about now, and I hope Blaise invited Malfoy just as I asked him to. He wasn't pleased, but he agreed to nonetheless. Ron moved past some Gryffindor students, who eyed him with confused looks. Yeah, I was on the Seventh Floor. You're not mad. As he began nearing the Entrance Hall, he saw the Gryffindor Quidditch Team heading out for practice. Oliver Wood spotted him, and he quickly stopped. Ah, Oliver Wood.

"You guys go on," Oliver told his team, and then he made his way to Ron. "Weasley."

"Oliver," Ron smiled, making the seventh year frown. "What? We're friends now, aren't we?"

"No, but thank you for taking care of Percy," Oliver replied. "I don't know how you managed it, but I owe you one."

"Has he stopped completely?" Ron asked.

"He's ignored everyone all day, and we just walked past him, and he didn't even spare Angelina a glance," Oliver replied. Good, he needs to focus on himself.

"Well, good luck for your game, then," Ron turned to leave, and Woods followed suit.

Ron made his way down to the Dungeons, all the while contemplating a strategy to make sure that Gryffindor would lose their next match. Maybe I can tell Cedric that Harry and Angelina are the only real threats on the Gryffindor Team? That could work, and I wouldn't have to get my hands dirty. Wood really shouldn't have insulted Percy.

"Clean," Ron said to the entrance, and it slid open for him. Now, let's find the others.

Once Ron reached his room, he entered without knocking.

"Hello," Ron greeted everyone, and he immediately noticed that Malfoy wasn't sitting with the others. Blaise didn't invite him? Fuck.

"You're back!" Pansy beamed. "Come and sit with me!"

"I think I'll sit with Daphne," Ron shot Pansy a smile, despite his annoyance with Blaise.

"Damn you, Daphne," Pansy glared at Daphne, who simply cocked an eyebrow in response.

Without another word, Ron lied down next to Daphne, and then he smuggled his head into her lap. Head pats, please. Daphne's left hand started playing with his hair, and Ron purred like a cat. Awesome. My day is complete.

"How was your day?" Daphne whispered to him.

"Shhh," Theo frowned at her. "No talking in Poker. You'll distract the rest of us."

"You tell her, Theo," Ron snorted, and Daphne gave his hair a tug. "Ow… Sorry. How long until this game finishes?"

"We just started this one," Millie told him.

"Oh, good… Deal Malfoy and me in," Ron sat up, his eyes lingering on Blaise. "Malfoy, come over here. I wish to swindle your sweets from you."

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Tuesday 1st December, 1993 (The Morgue (Brussels, Belgium) – Night)

She hated the stench of this place, almost as much as she hated the business that went on down here. The Morgue was Belgium's biggest criminal hideout, and it was all run by a Half-Troll named Solomon. I wonder if he'll be mad at me for cutting his face in two. Probably, but I'm sure that he's learned his lesson.

"Mr. Solomon will be right down," a Half-Elf girl announced from behind her, and Emilia turned to face the creature. A circus of freaks, and yet, they are the strongest Smuggling Syndicate in Europe.

The Half-Elf noticed Emilia's disgust at the sight of her, and she quickly left with a bowed head. And a coward to boot. Emilia began pacing the luxurious Office, which simply did not match the stench of this place, and after nearly five minutes of waiting, she began hearing loud, slow footsteps. Finally. And then, Solomon stepped into his Office. He was still extremely muscular, hunched over, and had a thick bushy beard under his bald head.

Emilia smirked at the sight of his scar, which ran through the middle of his face. His left eye is milk white. I wonder how he managed to survive.

"Shalom, Emilia!" Solomon greeted in his slow, heavy voice. "Shalom!"

"Solomon," Emilia greeted, and the hulking man slowly walked over to his chair. "You're looking well."

"Ah, life is so much easier when you're dead," Solomon grunted as he sat down. "No Aurors in my backyard, and no debt collectors knocking on my doors. I feel a hundred years younger."

Solomon then looked back to his Wizarding Card Collection, which was proudly displayed on the shelf behind his chair.

"Did you have a look at my Collection?" Solomon asked, and Emilia shot his cards a quick look. "I just need Andros the Invincible to finish it. See? No two cards are the same… That is how God sees us both in his eyes." God? Oh, yes, he is Jewish.

"It's very nice," Emilia said, and Solomon looked back to her before smacking his lips.

"Very clever, girl, very clever… So… How did you figure out that I was not dead?" Solomon asked, his good eye narrowed on her.

"You sent me a letter, Solomon," Emilia reminded him, and he blinked in confusion.

"Did I?" Solomon asked, and then he drew in a deep breath. "Must've been when they were giving me all those Potions." Solomon then looked around the Office, he still looked a little confused. It's a part of his act, don't let your guard down. "I was lying out there, on the bloody street, and when I woke up, I thought… If this is hell, it looks an awful lot like my back alley…"

"Maybe the World you woke up in is hell," Emilia suggested.

"No, the Sacred Text is very specific about hell," Solomon shook his head. "You and I… We're both fucked, we are."

"Don't your rivals realize that your business is still running?" Emilia asked. "Why haven't the authorities caught onto you?"

"I'm retired, girl," Solomon coughed out. "No more smuggling for me."

"I saw the Jewels being stashed into the bodies upstairs, Solomon, so don't lie," Emilia frowned. It's clear that his business has shrunk considerably, but it's still extremely large.

"I'm not lying," Solomon shrugged. "It's true that I'm retired, but some of the more faithful are still at it." Why am I bothering with his games? "They must make their bread, same as you and I."

"I have decided to make good on my Blood Vengeance, Solomon," Emilia said, and the Half-Troll let out a grunt. "I need your help."

"Are you going to kill these men because they are evil?" Solomon leaned forward.

"I need wands who can fight, wands who don't mind getting blood on their hands," Emilia went on. "I'm willing to pay them out of my own pocket, and I'll even give you a large 'gift'."

"So you're back in Britain now, are you?" Solomon leaned back, his fingers digging into his chair. "And how has that been for you?"

"Corrupt Politicians, would be kings, and more of the same," Emilia replied.

"My… You're a dull one, just like your Great Aunt foretold," Solomon cracked his fingers with his thumbs.

"Dull? I remember outmaneuvering you all quite effortlessly," Emilia said coldly.

"And yet, here I am," Solomon said. "I mean, what were you thinking? Was your mind somewhere else, Emilia? There was no… anger… in that last strike. I was insulted."

"You were only doing your job, it was my Great Aunt who was the puppet master," Emilia stated. "Her death was necessary, and yours wasn't."

Solomon eyed Emilia from his chair, and then he let out a tired grunt. Will you help me, or not?

"What are you paying?" Solomon asked.

"Ten Galleons a week to each wand, and five thousand Galleons in total to you," Emilia replied, and Solomon shook his head.

"Ever since my resurrection, I find that I am able to rise above such petty insults, girl," Solomon said, and Emilia gave him a nod.

"Fifteen a week to each wand, and ten thousand to you," Emilia renegotiated.

"Twenty a week to each wand, and… What's the weather like in Britain?" Solomon asked suddenly. Just go with it.

"Cold," Emilia replied.

"Right… Ten thousand is fine for me," Solomon let out a long breath, and then something shifted behind his good eye. "I was on a lot of Potions when they first hauled me back in here, you know, on account of some cunt slashing me across the face with her Magic Knife… And in that delightful delirium, I had a recurring dream."

"Did you?" Emilia cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, I did," Solomon nodded. "It was about you… I saw you, on a field, surrounded by fire." Fire? "And there was this big, black serpent watching you… Its eyes were… Well, they were quite red, they were… I think he was the Devil himself."

Emilia's heart stopped pounding for a moment, and Ronald's true voice rang through her head. No, control. Stay in control.

"Evil bastard, that snake," Solomon all but growled. "What are you trying to unleash upon us, Emilia?"

"Pretty soon, Solomon, your good friend Cornelius Nott will come to you," Emilia walked towards the exit. "He'll ask you for your smuggling services, and if you accept, he'll bind you to his Master."

"So the Dark One is back, is he?" Solomon rolled his eyes. "How terrible…"

"He will kill us all, Solomon, so choose your side wisely," Emilia said. "If we meet again as enemies, I'll take your head."

"Be sure that you do, Emilia," Solomon looked back to his Collection. "I'll be sending a letter, then."

"I'll be waiting."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Wednesday 2nd December, 1993 (Slytherin Training Room – After Classes)

"C'mon, Boris!" Ron let out frustrated groan, and Boris Grimm rubbed the back of his head. "Stop trying flashy garbage, and stick to the basics!"

"Sor… Sorry, Ron," Boris looked to the other second years, all of whom averted their gazes. He keeps wasting time showing off, and then he tires himself out and gets hit. What is the logic behind these actions?

"Again, and this time, if you try to show off, I'll ring your fucking skull," Ron said, his jaw clenching at the tiny second year.

With that, Ron moved over to the sideline, and Boris began his seventh Duel with the training dummy. After a couple of exchanges, Ron could see that Boris was doing his best to stick to the basics, but every now and then, he dived out of the way of a Spell rather dramatically. Why is he doing this?! Ron shot a look towards the other second years, all of whom were cheering Boris on. Is he trying to impress someone?

"Attack the fucking dummy already, you donkey!" Ron yelled, and Boris quickly began using stunners and Disarming Charms.

And then, through sheer dumb luck, Boris landed the perfect stunner to the dummy's forehead, which sent the dummy reeling back. The second years burst into applause and cheers, and Ron even spotted his own friends clapping for Boris. About fucking time he did something.

"Alright, next!" Ron called, and Liliana Flowers took to the sandpit. "Remember, basics win Duels. Don't waste time, and don't give the dummy the run of the arena. Attack, dodge, and attack again." I swear that if you start showing off as well, I'll tackle you with Cutis Terra in effect.

Liliana began her Duel with the dummy, and the moment she squealed when a Stinging Hex came at her, Ron felt the urge to tear at his own hair.

"At least she dodged in time," Theo whispered from behind him, and Ron shot a quick look back.

"When did you creep up on me?" Ron asked, his eyes returning to Liliana. "Attack it, Liliana!"

"Clara is waiting outside for you," Theo whispered, and Ron felt his body tense. Damn, I forgot that I had a lesson with her. "She says that she needs to discuss Triumvirate business."

"Right," Ron turned to face Theo. "You can take over here."

"Me?" Theo blinked. "Why?"

"Blaise won't scold them if they fuck up out of sheer disinterest, Pansy and Daphne don't care for Dueling, Tracey will distract them, and Millie will genuinely smack them if they keep making the same mistakes," Ron replied. "That leaves you, Mr. Lightning Feet."

"Fuck," Theo sighed out. "What about Malfoy?"

Ron gave Theo a deadpan look, and Theo seemed to realize just how dumb his suggestion was.

"Fine, I'll do it," Theo agreed. "But don't expect any miracles."

"Keep your eyes on Mathias, and Suzie," Ron said. "They're actually quite good at this, and I think that one of them will win the Tournament."

"Understood," Theo stepped up to the sideline, while Ron began making his way out.

Along the way, Ron spotted Daphne having a chat with Tracey, and when she saw him looking at her, she shot him a wink. After today, I'll be an even better boyfriend. Ron immediately felt his frustrations with the second years wash off, and he steeled his resolve. I'll pay careful attention to Clara, but more importantly, I'll behave myself. Ron stepped out of the Training Area, and he spotted Clara waiting by the common room entrance.

"Hello, Clara," Ron greeted as he approached her.

"Did you forget about our date, Ron?" Clara asked sweetly, a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm slightly hurt."

"Sorry," Ron smiled sheepishly. "I was trying to get the second years up to scratch."

"And how is that going?" Clara asked as they began making their way out.

"Mathias and Suzie have a good chance at winning, especially Suzie," Ron replied. "She's quick, improvises, and she's not scared of getting hit. Mathias is quicker than her, but he panics if things start turning sour."

"Sounds terribly boring," Clara pretended to snore. "You're too serious, Ron, but don't worry, we'll fix that up very soon."

"Um… Should I be worried?" Ron asked slowly, and she attached herself to his arm. Those massive tits!

"There's nothing to worry about," she whispered in his ear. "You'll enjoy this, I promise."

"Right…" Ron looked ahead, maybe he still had time to run away.

"I'm only teasing you, handsome," Clara kissed his cheek. "I know you don't want to get handsy, and I respect your loyalty to your beloved."

"Beloved?" Ron muttered.

"I'll give you some dating advice, and then I'll teach you about a girl's erogenous zones," Clara told him. "We can even practice, if you decide to come around."

"No," Ron refused, and Clara broke into giggles. I'll practice with Daphne, and no one else.

"Was worth a shot," she hummed, and then she led them into an abandoned classroom.

Ron immediately spotted a massive, white chart with a diagram of a woman on it. What the…? Certain parts of the woman were highlighted red, and Ron could see that every part of her was labeled. Ron then looked to the lone study chair in the room, it was sitting right at the front of the classroom.

"Take a seat over there, my padawan," Clara pointed to the chair.

"Padawan?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"A Muggle reference," Clara waved a dismissive hand. "Ignore it."

Ron gave a slow nod, and then he took his seat, while Clara walked up to the chart.

"What's that?" Ron asked, his eyes fixed on the chart. Why are some parts of her highlighted red?

"We'll get to it in a bit," Clara turned around with a playful smile.

"You really went all out with this, huh?" Ron looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the desks that had been shunted off to the sides.

"It's not every day that a young man takes the time to learn about women," Clara shrugged casually. "Most boys just fumble around with us, so I am taking this very seriously. For Daphne Greengrass, and for women all over the World."

"How passionate of you," Ron smirked, and she shot him a wink.

"Let's start off with some questions," Clara said. "Now… Don't be shy, as I'm only asking these questions for your own benefit. In no way am I indulging myself."

"Uh-huh," Ron gave her a deadpan look.

"How far have you two gone?" Clara asked, a smile creeping onto her face.

"We've kissed," Ron replied, and she waited for him to go on. "With tongue."

"What else?" she asked. Um… This is awkward to talk about.

"She's pinched my arse a few times," Ron said awkwardly. "I've… I've touched her chest before, but she was still wearing clothes. We haven't seen each other naked, or anything like that."

"So there hasn't been any real sexual conduct," Clara nodded to herself.

"We're still pretty young," Ron defended himself.

"It's alright, I'm not judging," Clara said rather gently, her smile turning kind. "Everyone goes at their own pace, Ron, make sure that you remember that."

"Um… Can I ask questions?" Ron asked her, and she gave him a nod.

"Ask anything," Clara replied. "I'm not exactly shy about sex." She said the s-word!

"At my age… Had you crossed any lines?" Ron asked. "Don't answer if that's too personal."

"Start of my third year, I helped Oliver Wood 'relax' before his first match," Clara replied, not a hint of shame in her voice. If anything, she sounds proud. "With my hands, that is. That was my first time seeing a cock. Shame that he became such a fanatic about Quidditch, he was really cute when we were younger."

"Daphne wanted to do that on Saturday night…" Ron remembered.

"But you refused?" Clara cocked an eyebrow.

"She was very drunk, and the next day, she was glad that we didn't go too far," Ron replied. "I think she wants to try that stuff soon, but she's worried about what other people will say."

"And you? What are your thoughts on the matter?" Clara asked.

"I wouldn't mind, honestly," Ron admitted, and Clara gave him an understanding nod. "But I care more about how she feels. I don't want her to feel like she's being forced into anything. I don't want her to regret dating me."

"That's actually very sweet, Ron," Clara smiled genuinely. "You should never force her to do something that she's uncomfortable with. You can suggest it, and then gauge her reaction. If she seems open to it, then you can press forward, but if she refuses outright, then back off. Oh, and this applies to you as well. Don't do anything that you aren't comfortable with, understand? Talk to her, and be extremely open, otherwise you'll both end up with regrets." Noted. I'll try to be more open in sexual department. Merlin, that'll be really awkward at first.

"So I should just ask her that I want to play with her chest?" Ron asked. Because I really want to.

"Why not?" Clara asked in response. "Talk to her, Ron. Communicate your feelings, and your desires. There shouldn't be any shame between you two."

Clara then took out a small book for her robes, and she tossed it to him. Ron caught it easily enough, and when he looked at the yellow front cover, his face flushed from embarrassment. 'Communicating with your Significant Other; Leave no door closed'… Merlin, I hope Blaise and Theo don't find this book on my person. They'll turn me into a joke.

"That book has some excellent advice on how to open up," Clara told him. "I bought it when I got my first boyfriend, and now, I want you to have it."

"Really?" Ron looked up at her. "Thank you, Clara."

"Make sure that you read it in your spare time," Clara smiled at him. "Now… Let's talk about kissing."

"Kissing?" Ron hid the book in his robes.

"That's the furthest that you two have gone, so let's stick with that for the first lesson," Clara began pacing back and forward, she was clearly enjoying this.

"Are love bites considered part of kissing?" Ron asked, and Clara's eyes flashed. "We've… We've done that too."

"Love bites are a part of kissing, I guess," Clara shrugged. "We'll talk about them as well, then."

"Alright, I'm listening," Ron leaned forward.

For the next ten minutes, Ron was bombarded with Clara's personal likes and dislikes about kissing. She told him that girls despised it when boys didn't use their hands while snogging, and she even told him what his hands needed to be doing. Personally, Ron had never paid attention to his hands whenever he was kissing Daphne, but now, he would at least try to 'feel her up' a bit more. Clara had also warned him against using too much tongue, which was another thing that Ron had never really thought about.

As she went on and on about what girls liked, Ron found himself feeling rather inept. I don't do even half of these things when Daphne and I kiss. I mean, I've never thought to bite her lower lip, or to run my hand along her spine. Nor have I ever considered smacking her arse, or squeezing it together. Also, how many people has Clara snogged to know all of this?

"Oh, and don't be afraid of making a little noise," Clara went on. "If she does something that you really enjoyed, moan or something. Girls, like you boys, are trying to figure out what their partners like, and if you don't confirm what you like, they'll keep trying new things. Plus, knowing that you're enjoying yourself is a huge turn-on for us."

"How do you know all of this?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Experience, my young Jedi," Clara smirked, her hands finding her shapely hips.

"What the fuck is a Jedi?" Ron asked slowly.

"Never mind that," Clara giggled. "All you need to know is that I've been with a lot of people, and along the way, I picked up a lot of tricks. Trust me, Ron, I'll make you into the 'Daphne Whisperer'."

"Okay," Ron smiled a bit. "You mentioned that I should… moan… if I like something-"

"Yes, it is an essential," Clara told him. "And don't grunt either… I personally dislike it when a boy starts grunting like some angry beast." Shite, I've grunted before. "Give her a nice moan if she does something right. Like this." Clara then let out a honeyed moan, and Ron felt his ears burn. That did sound nice. "Try it."

"I'll try it later…" Ron mumbled, and Clara smiled playfully.

"Cute," she said. "Now, let's talk about love-bites a bit. The main, and only, thing that you need to know is that certain places feel really nice for us girls. The neck, the inner thigh, our breasts, and for some of us, the skin right above our twats." She is almost as vulgar as me. "Oh, and don't linger too long in one spot. It can become an actual bruise that hurts, and no one wants that. Wait… Is Daphne into pain?"

"What the fuck, woman?" Ron frowned at her.

"I'll take that as a no," Clara laughed. "I'm just trying to help you here, Ron."

"Daphne isn't into pain," Ron told her. "I think… I haven't asked… But I'm going to say no because she can't even take a Stinging Hex without tearing up."

"Sexual pain is very different, Ronald," Clara walked circles around him. "Imagine walking around with a sore bruise, and knowing deep down that your pain was inflicted by your partner." Clara then stopped and leaned in near his face. "Imagine just how lust addled you made them in order to earn that bruise."

"Who hurt you?" Ron asked, and she went back to the chart with a wide smile. "Who turned you into this?"

"Little heartthrobs like you," Clara sighed dramatically. "Do you want to discuss the last topic?"

"Of course," Ron replied. "Can't leave this unfinished."

"This here is a diagram of a woman's body," Clara pointed to the chart. "Have you seen a naked woman before, Ron?"

"I… Yes," Ron admitted, and Clara cocked her eyebrow. "Theo has some magazines… We lads had a look through them."

"Ah, I miss those days," Clara smiled nostalgically. "Don't worry too much about looking at naked women, your girlfriend no doubt has seen a few naked men. It's a natural thing to do at your age."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Ron blinked. Those men no doubt look better than I ever could. That sort of… hurts.

"There's nothing wrong with looking," Clara shrugged. "We have eyes, and we have impulses. As long as you don't act on those impulses, you're not cheating." I suppose that's fair. I mean, I've stared at Tracey's legs before, and I've seen Daphne admiring Blaise's cheekbones.

"What about true love?" Ron asked, and Clara held back a laugh.

"Ron… That only exists in books," Clara told him. "It is impossible to not stare at someone else's arse, or ogle their tits, when you're just going about your business. It happens, but if you want to be faithful, then you shouldn't act on it."

"So I can't smack Theo's arse anymore?" Ron asked.

"Are you planning to sleep with him?" Clara asked.

"Perhaps…" Ron joked, and Clara grinned at him.

"Smartarse," Clara 'chided'. "You should speak to Daphne about barriers, not me." Got it. "Now… Back to this diagram. The red spots are a girl's basic erogenous zones. That means that when you kiss, lick, or touch these parts, she'll have a good time."

"Ears?" Ron cocked an eyebrow at the diagram. "Wait… I once nibbled on her ear, and she really liked it."

"See? I know what I'm doing," Clara smirked. "The mouth and lips, the neck, the ears, the breast and nipples, the sides of the ribs, the vagina, and lastly, the clitoris."

"The what?" Ron asked.

"It's a little button of nerve-endings at the top a woman's vagina," Clara explained. "It's not hard to find, but trust me, it can send a girl over the moon if you play with it. You don't need to worry about it yet, mostly because you two haven't even seen each other naked yet, but I just figured that I'd let you know. It's definitely my favorite spot."

"Noted," Ron swallowed thickly. She's so open about it, and although I'm grateful, it is a little awkward for me.

"These spots are just the basic erogenous zones, every person differs in taste, after all," Clara said, and before she could go on, the door suddenly creaked open.

Both Clara and Ron looked to see Samantha walk in, and when she spotted Clara, she let out a relieved breath.

"There you are, Clara," Samantha stepped into the room, but she suddenly stopped when she saw the chart.

Samantha then looked to Ron, and then to Clara, and then to the chart again. Now this is fucking awkward…

"I'm not even going to ask…" Samantha turned around after a few seconds of silence. "Clara, Carey needs help at the Library. Let's go."

"Guess that ends the lesson," Clara whispered to Ron, who gave her a quick nod. "Read that book I gave you."

"Thanks again, Clara," Ron got out of his chair, but she had already run off to catch up to Samantha. Maybe I should write down everything that we covered today? I mean, I've learned quite a lot, I just need to practice it.

Ron made his way back to the common room, and from there, he stepped into the Training Area. His eyes landed on the second years, who were packing up for the day, and Ron eyeballed them immediately. They do look sweaty, and tired… Good, Theo didn't let them slack off.

"You're back," came Daphne's voice from behind him, and Ron quickly turned to face her. Hide the book, Ron!

"Hello," Ron greeted, and she smiled at him. I love that she smiles at me, but almost no one else.

"What did the Triumvirate want?" Daphne asked.

"The Dueling Tournament," Ron lied. "I just gave them a report on the second years."

"Sounds boring," Daphne hummed. "Let's do something together?"

"Wait…" Ron all but whispered. Ask her, and hope to Merlin that she'll agree. "Can we go somewhere private?"

"Ohhh," Daphne's smile turned wicked. "Sanctuary?"

"Let's go," Ron quickly took her hand, and he began rushing towards the exit.

"Slow down," Daphne giggled. There's no time to waste! I have to put my new kissing knowledge to the test!

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Thursday 3rd December, 1993 (Nott Manor – Night)

The Dark Lord stepped out of the Study, and he felt his new organs move around a little inside him. They're a bit loose, but I'll hold.

Bernadette had bought him some time, and he had managed to learn something quite peculiar. During her 'autopsy', the Dark Lord had been unable to isolate the Werewolf Curse. And the reason for that was that the Werewolf Curse no longer existed within her body. This discovery had led to a very promising theory, one that the Dark Lord had half a mind to follow up on. The Werewolf Curse resides within one's soul, and could therefore be purged, if one manages to create a Counter Curse. He knew that if given enough time, he could cure Lycanthropy using the Dark Arts, a feat that had not been accomplished yet.

The Dark Lord smiled to himself, curing Werewolves was the last thing he planned to do. They were only good for one thing… They live to serve Lord Voldemort. Step by step, he made his way through the Manor. Michael's Vampires stepped out of his way, while the wandering Elves cowered in fear. The Dark Lord had once again risen, and he had an air of purpose about him.

"My Lord?" Cornelius stopped dead in his tracks, and as the Dark Lord approached, the Death-Eater kneeled with his head bowed.

"Rise, Cornelius," the Dark Lord hissed, and Cornelius did as he was told. "I have a mission for you… Unicorn Blood. I need you to bring me as much as you can find." Without its healing properties, Pettigrew's Magical Core will resist her organs, and my vessel will break apart completely.

"Unicorn Blood…" Cornelius repeated slowly. "My Lord… That is a very rare ingredient these days."

"I know, but you will succeed, for your own sake," Lord Voldemort told him. "And for your son's sake."

"I understand," Cornelius bowed his head. "I know a man… A Half-Breed. He is a smuggler of unmatched skill."

"Go on."

"His name is Solomon, he's a Jewish Half-Troll," Cornelius replied. "An utterly disgusting hybrid of man and beast, but… He is quite intelligent, and discreet."

"A Jewish Half-Troll…" the Dark Lord eyed Cornelius. "A Jew?"

"He was raised in a Muggle Orphanage," Cornelius replied. "His mother didn't want him, and neither did the Orphanage. He was raised by a Muggle Jewish Family, whom he abandoned when he became of age. That's all I know about his past. He runs a large smuggling racket from Belgium."

"How did you meet this beast?" Lord Voldemort enquired.

"With his help, I was able to smuggle Natasha Travers quite a lot of money for her Milling Business," Cornelius replied. "She wished to sell everything under the table, and Solomon served as our in-between. But it all went up in flames when Emilia Travers returned from Japan. That bitch not only killed her Great Aunt, she also kept the money I had sent through."

"Then why is she still alive?" the Dark Lord asked.

"She is careful, and for now, she is out of my reach," Cornelius replied. "But I promise, my Lord, she will pay dearly for her crimes against me."

"A smuggler could serve our cause very well," Lord Voldemort said, his mind was creating a plan. "Make a deal with this creature, and once he delivers the Unicorn Blood, kill him. We will install one of our own as his replacement. Someone with Pure Magical Blood."

"I will set up a meeting," Cornelius said.

"Take Lucius with you," Lord Voldemort added. "I fear that our slippery friend is beginning to doubt me."

"My Lord, he would never dare," Cornelius went very still.

"I see it in his eyes," the Dark Lord hissed. "The loss of his wife, and home, have shaken his resolve. Watch him, and report back to me."

Cornelius gave a slow nod, and then he began heading for the Nott Owlery.

"Cornelius…" Lord Voldemort called, and the old wizard stopped immediately. "Also make contact with our old friends, it is past time that we brought them back into the fold. If they aren't in Azkaban, then they need to be by Lord Voldemort's side." There are far too many Vampires here.

"All of them, my Lord?" Cornelius asked.

"All those who bear the Mark."

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Friday 4th December, 1993 (The Library – After Classes)

She was almost buried in books and parchments, and for the first time in her life, she felt sick of seeing books.

Taking on twelve subjects was insane, and she was genuinely starting to regret her eagerness to impress the Professors. Not to mention that as much as it hurt her, she was angry at herself for failing to live up to her own standards. She was Hermione Granger, and yet, she couldn't stomach another minute of studying.

The Time-Turner was helpful, but she was so tired half of the time that she struggled to pay attention in her classes. She was even struggling to answer questions now, mostly because she didn't have the energy to bother. Her grades were bound to drop very soon, and that only stressed her out even more. Plus, I have been putting in so much time for this Dueling Club. Unlike Harry, I don't have a personal tutor at this very school.

"Nev, that's not right, mate," came Harry's voice, and Hermione slowly looked in their direction.

The Trio were currently at the study group, and while Neville, Ginny, and Harry were studying together, Hermione had elected to isolate herself. She was already agitated due to high amounts of stress, and Harry's newfound love for D.A.D.A was starting to get to her. Professor Lupin has been helping him in his detentions, while the rest of us have to spend hours in here.

Her eyes darted towards Ron, who was currently working with the Ravenclaw first years, and she felt another strong pang of jealousy. A thirteen year old International Diplomat… Wizard Culture is idiotic at best, and completely biased at worst. He's not even old enough to pay taxes, and they still gave him such an important job because of his ties to the 'Old Families'. I mean, honestly, he doesn't even have the training. I bet he used those French Families, and their money, to strong-arm the Ministry. That's the only sound explanation behind his latest 'Heroic feat'.

"The incantation for the Seize-and-Pull Charm is Carpe Retractum, not 'Capre Retractit'," Harry told Neville, and Hermione just watched them with narrowed eyes.

"Harry, are you helping Neville with our Charms homework?" Hermione asked, and both boys looked to her.

"I am," Harry replied, while Neville began fixing his mistake.

"How do you know the Seize-and-Pull Charm?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. "It's just that we haven't gone over it in class yet, and Professor Flitwick is clearly trying to find out if anyone has read ahead. Have… Have you read ahead?" I doubt it, even I haven't had time to go that far ahead.

"Well, no, but Remus taught it to me a couple of days ago," Harry replied. It's Professor Lupin, and he should be giving you detentions, not extra help.

"That's good," Hermione looked back down at her own work, and she felt the need to scream at her books. Everyone is excelling but me… I feel like I've hit a stupid wall!

Harry, Neville, and Ginny exchanged slow looks, but none of them said anything.

"Excuse me, I need to go find a book," Hermione got out of her seat, and she quickly made her way towards the Reference Section.

Once she was safely hidden from the rest of the study group, she let out a long, and tired, breath. Why am I feeling jealous of my own friends? If it wasn't for Ron, then the French wouldn't be helping Britain at all. And as for Harry, he deserves the love of a parent. I'm being stupid. And yet, that terrible feeling was still there. She was jealous of so many people, and she was also self-aware enough to understand that she had no right to be so petty. But I still can't stop feeling overshadowed.

Ron's genius was the talk of the school, whereas her genius was ignored even by her friends. Harry was already a wizard of renown, and the fact that even Headmaster Dumbledore was fond of him was only propelling him further. Neville was the only one of the Trio who had friends outside of their little group, and more people were gravitating towards him now that he had some iron in his soul. What did Hermione have? Her intelligence? Her average looks? Her sharp wit? Her love of books? Her Muggle Heritage? No one cares about those things, no one.

"Hermione?" came Ginny's voice, and Hermione turned to face her. "You alright? You've been acting off for a couple of days."

"Off?" Hermione feigned ignorance. Look at her… She doesn't have a single flaw on her skin, and her hair is so beautiful.

"Well, we barely see you now," Ginny replied.

"I've got a lot of work," Hermione said, and then she began pretending to look for a book. "Do you need something from me, Ginny?"

Ginny said nothing, but her eyes never left Hermione.

"What?" Hermione looked back to her, and she simply shrugged. What's that supposed to mean?

"I'm just going to ask outright… Are you upset with Harry and Neville?" Ginny asked bluntly.

"Upset? With Harry and Neville?" Hermione repeated, and then she shook her head. "No, Ginny… Why would I be?" I'm upset with myself, not them. Ugh… I read that puberty could bring about negative thoughts about oneself, but this really is dreadful. "Do they think that I'm upset with them?"

"Neville keeps saying that you're stressed out," Ginny replied. I am stressed out. "And Harry has mentioned that you've shot him a couple of glares today."

"That's preposterous," Hermione said haughtily. I didn't mean to, it just happened. He's finished most of his homework with Professor Lupin's help, while I'm barely keeping up with anything.

"Ah… So you are upset," Ginny nodded to herself, and Hermione narrowed her eyes on the redhead. "Whenever you lie, you start talking in a dismissive tone."

"I absolutely do not, Ginny," Hermione put her hands on her hips. Why are you even getting involved?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked. "I'm bored of this 'study group', let's go somewhere else."

"Go somewhere else?" Hermione asked. "Ginny, I have a lot of work to do."

"Do it on the weekend," Ginny walked up and took Hermione's hand. "Let's go."

"Ginny," Hermione whispered frantically as the redhead began dragging her off. "My books… Your books…"

"Harry and Neville will bring them back for us," Ginny sniggered. "C'mon, I know a spot near the fourth floor."

"Ginevra Weasley, let go," Hermione ordered, but she barely put up a struggle. Maybe I ought to take a nap… I'm actually so tired. And why is Ginny so strong? I feel like she's going to break my hand.

---

One Hour Later

"Hermione… Wake up…" came Ginny's voice, and Hermione felt someone shaking her.

"What…?" Hermione mumbled groggily.

"Hermione, it's been an hour," Ginny said, and Hermione's eyes shot open. An hour?! I just wasted an hour?!

Hermione sat up quickly, and she shot wild looks around her. We're still under the spiraling staircase.

"Relax," Ginny laughed, while Hermione frowned at her friend.

"I asked you to wake me up after ten minutes," Hermione barely held her tone in check. "How could you let me sleep for an hour?"

"You clearly needed it," Ginny shrugged, she was sitting opposite Hermione with her back against the wall.

"What I need is to study," Hermione tried standing up, but Ginny quickly reached forward and pulled Hermione down. "Ginny, enough. I have to go back to the Library."

"And you may do that, but only after you tell me what's bothering you," Ginny said, her hand was like a vice grip around Hermione's. "You've been distant with everyone, you snap really quickly, and you've got bags under your eyes." I do? Great, I look even worse now… "Hermione, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing is going on with me," Hermione hissed. "I'm tired of that question, Ginevra. I have four essays to write, and I haven't even started any-"

"Snore," Ginny rolled her eyes, and Hermione clenched her jaw. "You're clearly stressed by your insane workload, but there's something else… Something that you aren't telling us."

"What are you on about?" Hermione looked at Ginny like she was a nutter. "My studies are my only problem right now."

"Then why were you staring at Ron just before?" Ginny asked, and Hermione blinked at her. "Harry noticed it first… He told us that you were shooting glances at Ron, and when I looked over, you were staring at him." Damnit, Hermione, does being subtle mean nothing to you?

"I was not staring," Hermione denied immediately. "I was just… watching…" That's so creepy, Hermione. And technically, 'watching' and 'staring' are the same thing.

"Creepy," Ginny sniggered, and Hermione frowned deeply.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked.

"I'm worried about you, as are the boys," Ginny replied. "But they don't want to make you even more upset, so they're keeping their distance." I'm upset, and their reaction is to not help me? Boys… "So, tell me what's wrong? I want to listen, Hermione."

Hermione stared at her red-haired for a few moments, and then she felt her shoulders slump down. Maybe I should just get it off my chest? But what if she tells the others? I don't Harry to know that I feel jealous of his special treatment, despite understanding where it comes from. And I definitely don't want Ron to know that I'm jealous of his success. I know that I'm smarter than him, but he's the one with the accolades. Ugh… I'm jealous of a sick person, how pathetic is that?

"This will stay just between us, right?" Hermione whispered, and Ginny gave a firm nod.

"I won't tell anyone," Ginny promised, a small smile gracing her face.

"You really won't tell anyone?" Hermione asked weakly.

"I promise," Ginny replied.

"Right… Well, lately, I've been feeling… down," Hermione started rather lamely. "Do you ever feel like other people are just outperforming you in everything?"

"Outperforming?" Ginny asked.

"Harry knew the incantation for the Seize-and-Pull Charm," Hermione all but whispered. "And I didn't."

"You're upset because Harry knows something that you don't?" Ginny asked slowly.

"Professor Lupin has been helping him, he's told us all about it," Hermione told Ginny, a bitter feeling emanating from her stomach. "I have to spend hours in the Library in order to finish even one essay, while Harry comes back from detention with his homework completely finished. It's not fair… Harry is being given an advantage over the rest of us. Again." It's like he has this net under him, and no matter what he does, the net protects him from hitting the ground.

"Hermione, Harry's had a rough life," Ginny countered. "He's entitled to a little happiness, isn't he? Remus is pretty much Harry's father, so of course he wants to help Harry."

"I know, which is why I hate feeling this way," Hermione hung her head. "I know that Harry deserves to have an adult care for him… But it's still not fair. This is a school, and grades matter here… My grades are slipping, while Harry's are getting better every day."

"Are your grades really slipping, though?" Ginny asked.

"Well, not yet, but it's bound to happen," Hermione replied. "I have so much work to get through, and no time to waste."

"Maybe you could ask one of the teachers to help you," Ginny suggested.

"That would defeat the purpose of homework, wouldn't it?" Hermione sighed out. "It doesn't matter… I'm thinking of dropping a couple of subjects."

"Really? You plan to drop a couple of subjects?" Ginny looked quite surprised.

"Muggle Studies is so mind-numbing for me, and Divinations is a joke," Hermione shrugged. "I feel like I'm being held back by both subjects, but at the same time, I want to do twelve subjects. Not ten."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "I mean, you don't seem to be enjoying it."

"It's not about 'enjoyment'," Hermione huffed. "It's about proving myself to the Wizarding World."

"Oh…"

"I'm a Muggle-Born, and the Wizarding World is clearly biased against us," Hermione said. "I want to prove to the Magical World that I deserve to be here."

"We know that already, Hermione," Ginny said softly.

"What about the ones who claim that I don't deserve to be a witch?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares about what they think?"

"I do," Hermione replied immediately. "If I don't prove them wrong, then things will never change. They'll keep looking down at me, and others like me. I want to be the best, Ginny, and I can only do that in academics. I mean, I know that I can be difficult to get along with, and I'm not exactly sporty… I'm only good at studying, but lately, I feel like everyone else is doing better than me at even that."

"Ron?" Ginny asked. "Is that why you were staring at him?"

"He's an International Diplomat now…" Hermione felt a strong pang of envy. "People all over the school are talking about him, and I constantly have to listen to my roommates gossiping about him. I've even had people approach me about him… Can you believe that? None of them have ever spared me a glance, but they now approach me to ask about him." They don't know that he hates me now. They don't know that we're not even friends anymore.

Hermione felt her eyes sting, and she quickly rubbed them. And why do I get teary eyed so quickly?

"You should ignore those people, just like I do," Ginny gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "And as for Ron, who cares about his latest job?"

"What…?" Hermione blinked at Ginny.

"Who cares about his latest job?" Ginny repeated. "Hermione, the people who want to desperately kiss Ron's arse don't know him. They don't know that he's-"

"Ginny, I don't want to hear it," Hermione pulled her hand away from her friend. "I don't want to hear you say that he's 'scum', or that he's a 'traitor'. He's your brother, and you shouldn't speak about him in such a cruel manner. He's done nothing to deserve it."

"Really? What about the twins-"

"They got what they deserved," Hermione said bluntly, and Ginny was clearly annoyed by Hermione's statement. "They broke the rules over and over again, and they did it for their own enjoyment. We all know that Ron set them up, but you know what, he did ask them to stop. Twice. If they can't take it, then they shouldn't dish it out."

"Fine… Fine…" Ginny said, they were veering off topic. "If that's how you feel, I won't try and change that… Let's get back to you, eh?"

"There's nothing more to say…" Hermione exhaled. "I'm being petty, and I know it. I'm jealous of someone who's never had an adult love them, and I'm jealous of…" Don't mention that Ron's sick, you moron. "I have to go back to the Library. I need to start my essays."

"Wait…" Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand again. "Sometimes, I feel jealous too. It's a natural thing, Hermione, you're not being petty."

"Who would you be jealous of?" Hermione gave a tired smile. "You're good at sports, you get good grades when you try, and every girl in Gryffindor talks about how flawless your skin is. You're even making new friends now."

"Flawless?" Ginny blinked, something had gone dark behind her eyes.

"Even Lavender talks about how pretty you are, Ginny," Hermione stood up, and Ginny let go of her hand. I really should get back to my work. "Thanks for talking to me, it helped to let it out. I think that if I just finish my essays, I'll start feeling better about everything."

"Right…" Ginny looked down at her hands. Is she alright? She just went really quiet.

"Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione asked, and Ginny gave her a nod.

"It's nothing," Ginny stood up as well. "Hey… Are you still practicing for the Tournament in secret?"

"I am," Hermione replied. "Don't tell anyone, though. They'll just distract me." Is she trying to change the subject? Why?

"Do you mind if I join you?" Ginny asked. "I just want to brush up on some things."

"Oh… Sure, Ginny," Hermione agreed. "But just you." As soon as I mentioned how pretty she was, she lost interest in our conversation. That is really weird. Does she not think that she's pretty? That's insane, she doesn't have any flaws. Her teeth are straight, her skin glows, and I've caught multiple boys eyeing her. Even Harry and Neville stare at her sometimes. "Ginny… Do you… No, never mind…"

"What is it?" Ginny asked. Should I really ask her?

"Do you think that you're not pretty?" Hermione asked, and Ginny just stared at her.

"That's a weird thing to ask, Hermione," Ginny began making her way out. Nice going, Hermione. Real smooth. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Of course," Hermione followed after her. "I mean, you're twelve, but you don't look like other twelve year olds. No pimples, not a hair out of place…" No buck-teeth. I still don't like that my parents won't let me fix my teeth with Magic. "You're extremely pretty."

"Thanks…" Ginny said without looking back. Did I say something weird? Damn my inability to socialize properly.

"I mean, you must spend ages working on yourself every morning," Hermione tried to speak in a lighter voice.

"Not really," Ginny said, and Hermione blinked at her back. What? How's that possible?

"Really? You just wake up looking like that?" Hermione mumbled, and Ginny shrugged.

"When are you practicing next?" Ginny asked, once again trying to change the topic.

"Probably Monday…" Hermione replied slowly, she was still in disbelief. "I need to work on my homework this weekend."

"Just come and grab me before you sneak off," Ginny said, and Hermione nodded to herself.

The rest of the journey down was made in silence, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder why Ginny had suddenly closed herself off. I was just trying to compliment her, but she clearly took it the wrong way. I really need to work on my people skills. Ginny is my only female friend, and I'd hate to lose her. As they neared the Library, Hermione and Ginny spotted Ron speaking to Neville and Harry outside the entrance. People are heading back to their common rooms. I wasted an hour…

"I see them," Harry told the other two boys, and although Neville shot a look back, Ron didn't even bother acknowledging their presence. "Where did you two go?"

"Just girl stuff," Ginny replied, and Hermione shot Harry a weak smile. He can't possibly buy that.

"Oh… Fair enough," Harry looked back to Ron. He bloody bought it. Was it because Ginny mentioned the word 'girl'?

"You'll invite her for me, won't you?" Hermione overheard Ron say, he was focusing only on Neville. Nothing new… He does his best to ignore Harry and me now.

"Gran doesn't really want to spend Christmas with people…" Neville replied. "She's even sending me away."

"Just ask her," Ron urged with a smile. "Tell her that her Eternal Friend would like her to attend. It's only dinner, and then she can go back to Longbottom Manor."

"Ron, I-"

"I am not asking you, Neville," Ron suddenly lost his smile, and the temperature seemed to drop. "I expect her response by Monday."

"I… I'll send her an Owl," Neville sighed out, while Hermione looked to Harry and Ginny. What's going on here?

"Is Mrs. Longbottom joining us for Christmas?" Hermione asked.

"Ron is asking Neville to invite her," Harry told them, while Neville shot another look back at Hermione.

"More like ordering…" Ginny gave her brother a cold look.

"You know what?" Ron suddenly said. "I'll send her an Owl myself… It'll look better coming from me."

"Really?" Neville looked visibly relieved.

"Yes, really," Ron began leaving for the Library. How does his brain work? He goes from being demanding to being calm within a second. Is his odd behavior related to his Brain-Damage? I have so many questions for him, but I know that I can't ask them.

"Shouldn't you ask mum and dad first?" Ginny called out, but Ron completely ignored her. "Oi! I'm talking to you!"

"Ginny, don't yell," Hermione shushed her. "We're outside the Library." Hermione then looked to Neville, while Ginny fumed to herself. "Why does he want your Gran to attend?"

"I don't really know," Neville admitted as he turned to face. "They have some sort of partnership… Remember when he came over to my house with that briefcase."

"I do," Hermione shot a look into the Library. "He went straight to her Study, and from there, he went right back home."

"He was planning to buy The Quibbler back then, right?" Harry asked, and both Neville and Hermione shrugged. "She no doubt helped him… Anyway, I agree with him on this, Nev. Your Gran shouldn't be alone on Christmas, especially after what you both went through."

Neville gave Harry a nod, and then he handed Hermione her book bag.

"Are you going to keep studying?" Neville asked her.

"I am," Hermione nodded. "That Potions Essay won't write itself…" Who knew that the Headmaster would give more homework than Professor Snape?

"Do you want mine?" Harry asked, and Hermione blinked at him. "Remus helped me with it, and it's pretty good. You can use it as a reference-"

"No, thank you," Hermione said curtly, and Harry just stared at her with a confused look.

"Okay… I was just offering… I'll be off, then," Harry said slowly, his eyes catching Neville's for a moment.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked.

"Detention," Harry groaned. Tutoring, you mean. At least be a little grateful, some of us would kill for such an opportunity. "See you guys at dinner."

"Bye, Harry," Ginny waved him off.

"What about you, Neville?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her bitterness at bay. Stop being so jealous!

"I don't know," Neville shrugged. "Mind if I join you? I won't distract you, I promise."

"Sure, that'd be nice," Hermione agreed.

"I'll be there too, by the way," Ginny looked between them. "And I will definitely distract you."

"Great…" Hermione sighed, and then she headed back inside the Library. This will be my home this weekend. God, I'm sick of studying, but I can't stop. I have to show those 'Pure-Bloods' that I deserve to study Magic, and this Dueling Tournament is the perfect place to do that.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Friday 4th December, 1993 (Dumbledore Residence – After Dinner)

Ron was once again in awe of Elf Magic.

The Dumbledore Residence was no longer a broken shack, but instead, a freshly painted Estate. The holes in the walls were gone, the windows had been repaired, every wooden surface was polished, and bright lamps illuminated every corner. Not to mention that quite a lot of furniture had also been delivered, and was just waiting to be unpacked. Ron figured that he was actually here to help with that, and personally, he didn't mind at all. He was far too excited about helping the orphans to care about manual labor.

"And up here is your room," Dumbledore said as he unlocked the attic, and both wizards stepped inside.

Ron looked around the rather tiny attic, and when he saw a fresh new mattress, he gave a nod. It's too small, and I can't tell him that because I don't want to sound ungrateful. He's already done so much for me.

"I can sleep here should I need to hide," Ron smiled at Dumbledore. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"Don't worry, we're going to expand it," Dumbledore chuckled, he knew what Ron was no doubt thinking. "Did you bring your wand?"

"Are you serious?" Ron beamed, and then he all but yanked his wand out of his cloak.

"Alright, now stand over to the right," Dumbledore instructed, and Ron did as he was told. "The incantation to the Undetectable Extension Charm is 'Capacious Extremis'."

"Capacious Extremis," Ron repeated carefully. "Capacious Extremis. Got it." I'll write it down later, and then memorize it.

"The theory behind this handy Charm is quite simple," Dumbledore told Ron. "The internal dimensions of an object are expanded, while the external appearance remains unchanged. This Charm also lightens the weight of the objects with the Enchanted space, so you can use it on objects like pouches to create mini-vaults."

"And I can just carry said pouch around?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore gave a nod. "Bloody hell… Why doesn't everyone do that? With this Spell, even the Burrow could be a Mansion!"

"The Ministry passed a Law when this Spell was first created," Dumbledore explained. "In order to cast it on a premises, one must register said premises with the Ministry, and pay a large fee."

"Why?"

"They say that it's to protect the Statute of Secrecy," Dumbledore replied, and Ron blinked at him. "Even I had to go through the proper channels in order to give you Slytherins that Training Area." Wait… What?

"You know about that, huh?" Ron asked.

"Severus came to me, and I went to the Ministry," Dumbledore replied. "I planned to install one in each common room, but Severus wasn't too pleased to hear that. He can be quite competitive."

"Well, it was his idea," Ron shrugged. "If the other Professors come to you, then you can expand their common rooms as well."

"That is what we agreed on," Dumbledore said, and then he looked around the attic. "Let's get back to your lesson." Yes, let's do that. "Before you cast this Charm, you must understand that what's not inside this attic will not appear out of thin air."

"Sorry?" Ron asked, he hadn't understood the old man.

"Think of the floorboards, my boy," Dumbledore looked down, and Ron did the same. They're shiny, and they smell nice. "When you cast this Charm, the room's length and width will expand. So… Will more floorboards appear to compensate?"

"No, because that would be like Conjuration Magic," Ron replied slowly.

"Exactly so," Dumbledore shot him a paternal smile. "Each floorboard will need to expand, just as the walls and ceiling will need to expand. It is critical that you understand this, otherwise, you'll damage the room. Now… Watch."

Dumbledore waved his wand sideways, and as he said the incantation, the tip of his wand began to glow yellow. Everything but the mattress began to expand, and Ron watched in marvel as the tiny attic became a decent sized room. Even the tiny window grew in size. Ron looked around the room carefully, and then he made an observation.

"The mattress, and the rug, are the exact same size as before," Ron said. "But are they lighter now?"

"That they are," Dumbledore said. "Everything in this room, which isn't alive, is lighter now. This room has effectively been turned into a Magical Vault."

"And the Ministry won't know?" Ron asked.

"If they pass through Godric's Hollow during their property checkups, they will know," Dumbledore replied. "But that is unlikely to happen as this place has been long forgotten." Dumbledore then turned to Ron. "Try expanding the room a little. Think of the floorboards, the ceiling, the window, and the walls. Think about how large you want this room to be."

"Alright," Ron aimed his wand forward. Just a little bigger. "Capacious Extremis."

The floor, walls, ceiling, and window began to expand, and just as Ron smiled, loud cracks emanated throughout the room. The floorboards broke, the walls cracked, and the window all but exploded. What just happened?!

"I am so bloody sorry!" Ron looked to Dumbledore, who was just smiling at the damage.

"Don't worry, I can fix this easily," Dumbledore waved his wand, and the room began repairing itself. "Let's start with something… smaller."

"Right…" Ron said, he felt a little embarrassed right now. The Triumvirate managed to cast this Spell, so some of the other seventh years could too. "Does this always happen?"

"To some," Dumbledore replied, he didn't sound disappointed.

"Did it happen to you?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"No," Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Were you in seventh year?" Ron asked.

"Second," Dumbledore replied, and Ron gaped at him.

"Second?!" Ron felt utterly demoralized. Who am I kidding? I could never hold a candle to Albus motherfucking Dumbledore.

"Don't worry, Ronald, everyone has their own talents," Dumbledore said gently. "I still cannot cast lightning from my bare hands, but you did it at thirteen."

"You can't cast the Wandless variation of Baubillious?" Ron asked. There's hope yet. I could still surpass him someday. Alright, probably not… But I can get close. Just wait until you see me cast Lumos Solem Wandlessly at the Tournament, old man. You'll be in awe of it.

"No, I cannot," Dumbledore replied truthfully. "Each wizard is different, my boy, so judging them all on the same scale is quite foolish."

"Isn't that what your school does, though?" Ron asked.

"Indeed," Dumbledore chuckled, and Ron just stared at him. He's insane, but in a lovable sort of way. "I have a spare pouch in my Office, and you can have it for practice. It is smaller…" Dumbledore then looked to the repaired window. "And less likely to explode."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Ron gave a grateful smile. "I really appreciate this."

"Shall we head back?" Dumbledore asked him, and he gave a nod.

Both wizards left the attic at that, and once they were on the fourth floor, Ron began counting the doors.

"There are thirty six rooms in total," Dumbledore told him. "Each of them has been expanded, and tomorrow, they will be furnished by the Elves. Just beds, tables, and chairs. I have decided to leave the decorating to the children." This is really happening!

"Elves really are an amazing lot, aren't they?" Ron smiled at Dumbledore's back. "I mean, look at this place… It took them a week to create this." I don't even know where they started.

"They are extraordinary," Dumbledore shot a smile back. "I once tried to learn Elf Magic in my youth, but was deeply wounded to learn that our Magical Cores differ fundamentally."

"They do?" Ron asked. "How so?"

"The Magical Core of an Elf is… sealed," Dumbledore started. "The Wizards of Old Cursed the Elves into servitude, and the Curse has passed down from Elf to Elf."

"The Wizards of Old… Why were they such vicious cunts?" Ron asked.

"It is in our nature," Dumbledore replied. "We humans, even the Muggles, have never been able to respect life around us. It is our ultimate failing, I'm afraid. The Elves were Cursed to serve their Masters, and so, their Magical Cores can only work if they are serving some entity or organization. Free Elves have considerably weaker Magic than bound ones, and some Free Elves have even lost their ability to cast Spells." Is that why they live to serve? They want to keep their Magic? Fuck, that's really sad actually.

"Why would wizards do this?" Ron asked.

"The Elves were stronger than us, and so binding them filled the Wizards of Old with great pride," Dumbledore replied. "We cannot learn their Magic because their Cores work very differently than ours."

"And they can't learn our Magic?" Ron asked.

"No, they cannot," Dumbledore replied. "They may imitate it, but they are unable to use wands efficiently." I should talk to Marty about this, he no doubt has a wealth of information on this topic. "Speaking of Elves, I have also hired three 'nannies' who will take care of this house. They will cook, clean, and teach the children to read and write, just as you asked."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Ron said.

"I still think that we should install Arabella Figg as the Head of this Estate," Dumbledore said, looking back to Ron for a moment.

"The Order has a potential spy, and it could be her," Ron repeated, they had had this chat already. "I can't ask Priscilla to bring her Family here, and then leave them with a potential traitor. These kids can handle themselves, and three nannies will be more than enough."

"Very well," Dumbledore said as they made their way down to the ground floor.

"I'll be bringing Priscilla, and her group, to your Office on Sunday," Ron told the old wizard. "Probably right after midday."

"I understand," Dumbledore agreed. "We'll all come here together, and then you can give them the tour."

"You won't join me?" Ron asked.

"No, I want you to do it," Dumbledore smiled widely, and Ron nodded slowly. Alright, then…

"I… I really can't thank you enough for this," Ron said as clearly as he could.

"There is no need for it, my boy," Dumbledore patted Ron's back, and then he guided Ron towards the fireplace. "I wanted to help."

---

Lucius Malfoy's POV

Friday 4th December, 1993 (The Morgue (Brussels, Belgium) – Night)

"This place, Cornelius…" Lucius whispered, his nose was being assaulted with the smells of embalming fluid and guts. "Why has our Lord sent us here?" Damn old fool is keeping things from me in order to stroke his ego.

"Because I advised him to send us here," Cornelius replied, and Lucius couldn't help but think that the old fool was lying. The Dark Lord heeds no counsel but his own. "Our Lord needs certain… ingredients… and I have been put in charge of procuring them." An errand boy, then? And yet, the Dark Lord didn't come to me at all. I am losing his faith, and that will only lead to my death. I must strengthen my 'friendship' with Cornelius, or else, I'll be left out in the cold.

"I am glad to see that the Dark Lord has turned his attention to you," Lucius lied. "Once Malfoy Manor is rebuilt, he will no doubt return to use it as his headquarters."

"Only time will tell," Cornelius 'smiled' at him, and Lucius returned the favor.

"Excuse me," came a girl's voice, and both wizards turned to see a Half-Elf no older than fifteen staring at them. Merlin's mercy, what is this abomination? "Mr. Solomon will see you now."

With that, she quickly slipped back through the door behind her. Lucius and Cornelius exchanged disgusted looks, and Lucius felt the urge to simply leave. I've probably caught a life-threatening disease already.

"Just let me do the talking," Cornelius whispered. "The Dark Lord has given me special instructions." Yes, I get it.

"Lead the way," Lucius said politely, and Cornelius went through the door.

Lucius followed after him, and the door led down far too many stairs. Once they were deep in the Earth, they followed the Half-Elf girl down a white corridor which led up to a metallic door. The stench has yet to leave… What kind of wizard would live down here?

"He's through there," the beast said, but neither wizard acknowledged her.

The Half-Elf clearly noticed their disregard of her, and she quickly left with her head bowed. Filth. Soon, monsters like her won't infect our World. We'll purge them all. Cornelius pushed the door open, and Lucius followed him inside. As soon as he stepped foot in the room, he was quite taken aback by the design. It was nothing lavish, but it was clean and classy, which was very unlike the monstrous man who was watching them with one good eye.

"Shalom, Cornelius," the man spoke in a deep, and heavy, voice, and Lucius knew instantly that this thing wasn't completely human. Look at the size of his forearms… Is he Half-Troll?

"Solomon, my friend," Cornelius put on a smile.

"Oh, we're friends, are we?" Solomon asked, his eye scanning Lucius. "Who's the woman?"

"Woman?" Lucius hissed.

"Is your twat as white as your head?" Solomon asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. Who starts a conversation like that? I just walked in.

"I am not a woman, beast," Lucius glared at Solomon, while Cornelius shot him a warning look.

"Oh…" Solomon looked genuinely surprised. "My sympathies, then, mate… God does indeed work in mysterious ways, and who am I to judge his creations?"

Lucius slowly looked to Cornelius, who was just smiling pleasantly at the Half-Troll. Who is this man? Why are we here?

"Cornelius, why didn't you return my letters?" Solomon asked, his eye suddenly on Cornelius. "I wrote you letters, right? And you returned a total of zero… Now, why is that?"

"I couldn't risk it after what happened to you," Cornelius replied, his finger pointing to Solomon's scar. A blade caused that. A blade, or a really well aimed Severing Charm.

"Ah, scared of her, are ya?" Solomon nodded lightly. "Yeah… She's a ferocious little thing, isn't she?"

"Who are you speaking of?" Lucius asked.

"Emilia Travers," Cornelius replied, and Lucius cocked an eyebrow at him. Philip's niece? She was at the Gala, I think. "She ruined a business deal of ours, and she'll suffer the consequences soon."

"Will she?" Solomon asked curiously. "Are you God, Cornelius? You can divine the Future, can you?"

"No, but I can nudge it in the right direction," Cornelius replied.

"That's a nice answer," Solomon said, his eye narrowing on Cornelius. "Very political, that is." Why does he talk in such an odd manner? "So… How can I help you…" his eye lingered on Lucius. "Gentlemen?"

"We've come with a proposition, Solomon," Cornelius stepped forward. "Quite soon, we will need your services-"

"Oh, you will, will you?" Solomon leaned forward. "You need a smuggler for your Pure-Blood parties, eh?"

"Things are changing, Solomon, and I'm giving you the chance to be on the right side," Cornelius replied.

"Yeah, fuck off," Solomon gestured to the door. "We give out complimentary soaps to all our visitors, but I'll be honest, they do fuck all against the stench of this place. Go on, be on your way."

Lucius' hand went to his wand, but Cornelius stopped him by raising a hand.

"What do you want, Solomon?" Cornelius asked. "I know you… You want something from us."

"Do I?" Solomon asked.

"You do," Cornelius replied.

"My men can't get into Knockturn Alley anymore… Why is that?" Solomon asked. "I have customers who are sorely disappointed in me, and I want to know the name of the bastard who has taken over Knockturn Alley."

"A Blood Lord named Gaspard," Cornelius told the truth.

"A Blood Lord? Well, fuck me…" Solomon leaned back with a wary look on his face. "Guess Knockturn Alley's gone to the monsters, then, hasn't it?"

"We know Gaspard, and if you want, we can introduce you to him," Cornelius smirked, this was his chance. "Now, tell me what you want."

Solomon studied Cornelius for nearly thirty seconds, and then he let out an odd grunt.

"There's an undertaker in Knockturn Alley, he receives my goods," Solomon said. "I have several bodies to send to him, and you'll take them into Knockturn Alley for me."

"Where do you find all these bodies, Mr. Solomon?" Lucius asked.

"We're in a fucking morgue…" Solomon looked at Lucius like he was an idiot, and Lucius felt the urge to kill him. Why is the Dark Lord demeaning us in this way? We don't need this beast's aid for anything. "Now, what are you after?"

"Unicorn Blood," Cornelius replied. Unicorn Blood? Didn't Draco tell me about the Dark Lord drinking Unicorn Blood in the Forbidden Forest?

"Ugh…" Solomon grunted again. "That'll cost you… one thousand Galleons per bottle." One thousand?!

"Listen here-" Lucius sneered, but Cornelius stopped him again.

"Done," Cornelius agreed. "One thousand Galleons per bottle, and we'll get those bodies into Knockturn Alley." Is he insane?!

Solomon just stared at Cornelius, a genuinely baffled look on his face.

"You British make deals without negotiating, do you?" Solomon eyeballed Cornelius. We don't negotiate with your kind, filth.

"We see no reason to negotiate," Cornelius smiled. "We are natural allies, Solomon. Don't you think so?" Wait… Does he intend to kill Solomon on delivery?

Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense. The Dark Lord would never work with such an abomination. He no doubt intends to take over this beast's business, and connections.

"She was right about you, wasn't she?" Solomon suddenly spoke in Yiddish, and both Lucius and Cornelius blinked at him. What is he saying? "You plan to kill us all."

"I don't understand what you're saying, Solomon," Cornelius said calmly. "Do we have a deal? Or not?"

"Yeah, we have a deal," Solomon looked into Cornelius' eyes. "Come back Wednesday, and I'll have everything ready for you. Bring the money." Then on Wednesday, there will be one less abomination in this World.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there it is! Sadly, we won't make it to 2 million words by Chapter 100, but we got mega close, so it's still a win. Also, if you can guess who Solomon is inspired from, I'll be very proud of you.

Now, a quick announcement. My brother's engagement is coming up, and we're all going to Malaysia to holiday. I won't be back until the 2nd of January, so the next chapter probably won't be out until then. I plan to write on my holiday, but posting it is another issue coz we'll be moving around.

As long as we reach Chapter 100 before the 6th of January, we'll reach our crazy goal.

See you on 5th of January!