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.

100. Chapter 100 - The Beginning of the End

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 100 is here! And we did it! 100 chapters released in one year, and TWO MILLION words, baby! Woohoo! This is the longest Chapter I've written so far, and it seems fitting because it's such a big milestone for me!

Now, real fast, sorry about the delay. Turns out that Malaysia has different wall outlets than Australia... Who'd have thunk? Anyway, I'm back, and I had an amazing time! Malaysian Food is top quality, and I gained like three kilograms, which is a lot for a skinny dude like myself. Would definitely recommend Malaysia to any one planning a holiday!

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 100 - The Beginning of the End

Harry Potter's POV

Saturday 5th December, 1993 (Quidditch Pitch – Morning)

As they stood around the change room, all of them looked to Oliver for one of his pre-match pep talks, but it never came… Instead, Oliver just kept pacing back and forth, and every time he looked to McLaggen or Jack Sloper, the substitute Beaters, he would shake his head. It was no secret that compared to Fred and George, McLaggen and Jack Sloper were wretched Beaters. Not just wretched Beaters, but genuinely bad Quidditch players.

"Harry, a moment?" Oliver beckoned him, and Harry quickly made his way over to Oliver.

"What is it, Oliver?" Harry whispered, and Oliver drew in a deep breath.

"I'm counting on you today, Harry," Oliver whispered back. "I know it's not fair that I'm putting so much pressure on you, but without the twins playing as our Beaters, we can't expect to outscore the Hufflepuffs. I need you to catch that Snitch, eh? Can you do that?"

"I'll try my best, I promise," Harry replied, trying his best to sound reassuring.

Oliver looked like he wanted to keep pressuring Harry, but the sound of thunder and gale stopped him from speaking. This storm… It's going to make this match even more difficult than it needs to be. Cedric Diggory is bigger than me, which actually works to his advantage in such weather. I'll be getting blown off-course by the wind, but his extra mass will help him maintain control over his broom. More thunder cracked through the sky, and this time, it was so loud that Alicia let out a frightened squeal.

"They ought to cancel the match," McLaggen suddenly spoke. "What if we get hit by lightning out there?"

"Quidditch doesn't get canceled, everyone knows that," Angelina told him. "We'll just have to be extra careful today. Watch each other's backs, and so on."

"In this weather, it'll be really hard to see," Oliver told his team. "Keep your eyes open for scarlet robes, and don't crash into each other. Alicia, I need you to-"

The sound of a loud whistle cut Oliver off, and the Gryffindor Team quickly lined up. As they began walking onto the pitch, the wind nearly knocked Harry over. If the crowd was cheering at their arrival, Harry couldn't hear them. The only sound that filled his ears was that of the thunderstorm, and when he looked up towards the Gryffindor stands, rain pelted down onto his glasses. I can't see anything… How am I going to spot the Snitch in this weather?

The Hufflepuff Team emerged from the opposite end of the pitch, their canary-yellow robes were difficult to make out due to the heavy rain. The Captains approached each other, and as they shook hands, Cedric shot Oliver a friendly smile. Oliver, on the other hand, looked as though he suddenly had lockjaw and merely nodded.

"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch yelled over the storm, and Harry mounted his Firebolt. "Are both Teams ready?"

Both Oliver and Cedric gave firm nods.

"Let the match begin!" Madam Hooch announced, and then she tossed the balls into the air.

Everyone blasted off of the ground, and Harry used his Firebolt's powerful acceleration speed to reach the top of the pitch. I can't see a damn thing! Rain battered against him, while the strong winds staggered his smaller frame.

Within five minutes, Harry was soaked to the bone. He could hardly see the players, let alone the Golden Snitch. He flew back and forth along the pitch, barely dodging the scarlet and yellow shapes, in an effort to spot Cedric Diggory. He had absolutely no idea what was happening in the game, mostly because he couldn't hear the commentary being provided by Professor McGonagall over the storm. The balls are clearly on our side of the pitch, which means that Hufflepuff is controlling the game. I need to find the Snitch as soon as possible, or we'll lose just by sheer goals scored.

As Harry continued his search, he flew past the crowds that were hiding under thick cloaks and battered umbrellas, and he couldn't help but wonder where Sirius was. Probably near the Gryffindor stands. The game went on for another ten minutes, and in that time, Harry barely dodged over five Bludger strikes. Eventually, he was forced to go on the run as the Hufflepuff Beaters suddenly began chasing him down in an effort to knock him off of his Firebolt.

Another ten minutes were spent dodging Bludgers, and players, until, very suddenly, Madam Hooch's loud whistle tore through the noise of the storm. Harry descended down towards the Gryffindor rest area, and he was quickly pulled in close by Alicia Spinnet, who began doing her best to warm him up.

"What… What's the sco… score?" Harry shivered, while Alicia rubbed his arm as she pulled him into her side. God, she's bloody shivering as well.

"We're down sixty points," Oliver grit out, his lips were almost blue. "Beaters… What the fuck are you doing out there?"

"Stop aiming for your own teammates," Angelina glared at them, her left armband was gone. Did they end up hitting her?

"Beaters?" McLaggen snapped, he too was shaking in his boots. "Don't just blame us because we're the subs… I don't see you stopping them from scoring, Wood."

"Their Beaters are controlling the whole damn game!" Oliver roared. "They're chasing poor Harry down like he's some sort of animal! Why aren't you contesting the Bludgers?!"

"We can't even see in this storm," Jack Sloper rubbed his cold face. "Look, I don't even want to play, and you've dragged me out here… Just give me a break…"

Oliver clenched his jaw, he was no doubt about to start yelling, but Angelina stepped forward and put her hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I know it's freezing, and I know that you're not trained enough to play on the Team, but please…" Angelina gave him a meaningful look. "We need you two to start controlling those Bludgers. I can't hold the Quaffle for long when their Beaters start breathing down my neck. And Harry can't focus on winning us this game if he's too busy running away from Bludgers. You can do this, Jack. Just get in there, and throw caution to the wind."

Jack gave a shaky nod, and Angelina looked to Oliver.

"Give Alicia and Katie the Quaffle if you can," Angelina told Oliver. "They're sticking to me like glue."

"Alright," Oliver gave a nod. "Katie and Alicia, try and fly the Quaffle out of our side. We need to get their Beaters to stay away from Harry." Oliver then looked to Harry. "Any sign of the Snitch so far?"

"I can't even see with these on," Harry tapped his wet glasses. "I'm blind out there, Oliver. I'm really sorry-"

"Harry!" Sirius suddenly snuck into their rest area, his soaked cloak held above his head.

"Sirius?" Harry blinked at his Godfather, who, without a word, nicked Harry's glasses off of his face. "Hey! I need-"

"Impervious!" Sirius chanted, his wand held against the glasses. What is he doing down here?! He'll get us disqualified! "Here, use them now. They're water proof."

"Really?!" Oliver's eyes suddenly sparked to life. "Brilliant!"

"I can't use these! We'll get disqualified for-"

"Then don't get caught," Sirius grinned, and then he snuck out of the rest area and disappeared into the crowd.

"Alright, Team! Let's get out there, and take the pitch back!" Oliver roared, and just like that, they were once again flying out into the storm.

Sirius Spell had done the trick, and Harry could actually see the players and balls flying around. Too bad I'm still frozen to the bone. Harry shivered as his fingers tightened around his Firebolt, he had to find the Snitch as soon as possible. Harry took off after Cedric, who was flying back and forth in an effort to locate the Snitch. I'll stick to him, and let him find the Snitch for me. My broom easily outranks his, and with my smaller frame, I can make sharper turns than him.

As soon as Harry reached Cedric's side, forked lightning cracked through the sky, illuminating the entire pitch with its bright flash. And that's when Harry saw the bright golden shine of the Snitch hovering just above the ground beneath him. Thank you, Sirius! Harry threw himself forward on his broom, and he immediately shot down towards the Earth. Cedric, noticing Harry's bizarre dive, followed after the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry pulled his broom back just before he hit the ground, and when he looked forward, he saw the Snitch dashing about in front of him.

"C'mon!" Harry yelled at his broom, which sped up even more as Harry tightened his hold on the handle.

Just as Harry was about to seize the Snitch, it shot up into the sky. Harry pulled his body back in order to give chase, but Cedric had read the Snitch better than Harry, and so, he cut right in front of Harry, which forced Harry to slow down before he crashed into Cedric's broom. Now that was a dirty trick if I've ever seen one. Harry grinned to himself, and he quickly veered to the right in order to catch up to Cedric. The two Seekers flew side by side as they chased after the Snitch, but Harry's superior broom gave him the speed he needed to cut in front of Cedric, forcing the Hufflepuff to slow down. Fair is fair!

Harry reached forwards, and just as his fingers brushed against the Snitch, a Bludger smashed into his ribcage. The World turned upside down, and for what felt like hours, Harry had no idea what had happened. And then, he felt the air battering his face as he fell towards the Earth. Panic seized him, and just as he began to scream, a strong hand grabbed his right forearm.

"I've got you, Harry!" Cedric yelled, but due to Harry's added weight, he was quickly losing control of his broom. "Hold on!"

That was the last thing Harry heard before they both smashed into the stands, and everything went black.

---

An Unknown Amount of Time Later

"But he'll be alright, won't he?" came Hermione's voice, it was hoarse and cracked.

"Pomfrey says that he just needs rest," Sirius said. "Here, Hermione, use this."

"Thanks," Hermione sniffled, and then she blew her nose.

"When will he wake up?" Ginny asked, and Harry slowly opened his eyes. I can't feel anything… Why?

He was surrounded by his muddy, shivering female teammates, and to his right were his friends and Godfather, all of whom looked drenched from head to toe. All of them except for Hermione, who was completely dry. She was at the Library… I remember now. She's completely swamped with her studies.

"Sirius…" Harry groaned, he couldn't even raise his head. What's going on? Where's Remus?

"Harry! You're awake!" Neville beamed. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't feel anything…" Harry managed, his throat felt extremely dry.

"That's thanks to the Numbing Charm," Sirius informed him, he was visibly relieved at the sight of an awake Harry. "You took a lot of damage, kiddo… Pomfrey's numbed you up completely."

"Damage?" Harry asked.

"Three cracked ribs, a broken arm, a concussion, and a twisted ankle," Angelina told him.

"What happened?" Harry blinked.

"You got hit, and then you fell," Alicia shivered. "We'd thought you'd died."

Hermione let out a sad whimper at that, her eyes were completely bloodshot from crying.

"McLaggen hit you, Harry," Ginny told him, she looked furious and relieved at the same time. "He says that he was trying to get Cedric Diggory off of your tail, but the wind took the Bludger, and you ended up getting hit. He lost Gryffindor the game, not you."

"We lost?" Harry asked immediately. No… "I couldn't get the Snitch…"

Shame washed over him, and he realized that this was the first time that he had been unable to catch the Snitch. I failed even after Sirius helped me.

"No one blames you, Harry," Angelina said quickly, she could see the guilt on Harry's face. "Not even Oliver."

"Where is he?" Harry managed to ask.

"He's trying to convince Madam Hooch for a replay," Katie told him. "It's not going to happen, but he's still trying."

"Diggory caught the Snitch?" Harry asked dully.

"Actually… He caught you," Sirius replied, and Harry's eyes met his Godfather's. "Soon as you got hit, he dove after you. He caught you, but lost control over his broom, and then crashed into the stands. He's right over there."

Harry's eyes darted to where his Godfather was pointing, and he spotted a horde of Hufflepuffs surrounding someone's bed. They all came to see him?

"Is he alright?" Harry asked.

"He broke his hands," Angelina grimaced. "Madam Pomfrey says that he'll be fine, but his finger were quite… mangled."

"So we lost because of goals?" Harry asked, and the three Chasers nodded.

"We were forty points behind when the accident happened, and Madam Hooch called an end to the game," Katie replied. "She gave Hufflepuff the win before you two were carried back to the castle."

"Now that you're awake, we should hit the showers," Alicia looked to her fellow Chasers, who gave her nods. "We'll come and see you after, Harry."

"Don't go anywhere," Angelina tried to joke, a slightly sad smile on her face as she looked him over.

The Chasers left the Hospital Wing, while Harry closed his eyes in order to remember what had happened. Slowly, it all came back to him. His fingers had touched the Snitch, and in his haste, he had failed to pay attention to his surroundings. That's when the Bludger hit me.

"Wait… My broom?" Harry looked to Sirius.

"Don't worry, it's just scratched up a little," Sirius sat down on Harry's bedside. "It ended up flying into the Slytherin stands."

"A bunch of them got hit pretty hard," Ginny smiled at him, but nothing could elevate Harry's spirits right now. "Cheer up, Harry… You can still win the Quidditch Cup."

"Yeah, it's just one match," Neville added.

"Hufflepuff has two wins now," Harry sighed out. "Gryffindor only has one…"

"And Slytherin and Ravenclaw have none," Ginny countered. "When Gryffindor plays against Ravenclaw after the Break, and wins, we'll be on par with Hufflepuff."

"Unless Hufflepuff defeats Slytherin," Hermione said slowly, and both Neville and Ginny just stared at her. "It looks like Hufflepuff and Gryffindor will end up competing for the Quidditch Cup this year, Harry. Neville and Ginny are right, you can still win."

"But right now, you need to focus on recovering," Sirius said, why was he smiling? I made him sit through a storm for nothing. "Neville, hand me the Potion."

Neville quickly handed Sirius a Potion from Harry's bedside table, and once Sirius had pulled the cork off, he tilted the bottle against Harry's lips.

"Drink this, and sleep," Sirius said. "Pomfrey's orders, Harry. I'll see you on the thirteenth of December."

"Thirteenth?" Harry croaked after he finished drinking the purple Potion. "Wait… The Dueling Tournament…"

Sleep began to take over rather quickly, and Harry's vision blurred terribly. The last thing Harry saw were his Godfather and friends, all of them relieved that he was going to be alright.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 5th December, 1993 (Flourish and Blotts – Near the End of the Tournament)

Ron just stared at his opponent with a bored look, while his opponent kept second guessing every single move that he made. We're going to be here for days… Hurry up, please.

Ron had smashed through his competition with relative ease, because as it turned out, Lord Greengrass' training regimen was borderline child abuse. Ron had spoken to his competition before the matches, and they were all horrified to learn of Lord Greengrass' unrelenting methods. None of them were given homework, none of them were yelled at for making small mistakes, and all of them only saw their Mentors once a month. They were expected to practice in their own time, which meant that they often just slacked off. I don't have that luxury. Lord Greengrass would tear my self-esteem apart, and then he'd probably smack me around a little.

Ron shot a look towards his Mentor, who was glaring at Ron's slow opponent. I know, right?! Make a damn move already! Ron's eyes drifted towards his mother, Pandora, Xeno, and Mary, all of whom looked quite bored right now. From there, Ron looked to the four French Families who had come to watch Ron out of respect. No Emilia Travers… Where is she? After her owl, I haven't heard anything from her.

His opponent finally made a move, and when Ron looked to the board, he was shocked to see that his opponent had checkmated himself. This clown… He left his king to my rooks. Ron moved one rook back a space, and then he looked to his opponent.

"Checkmate," Ron said, and his opponent was left genuinely shocked. Don't ever leave your king undefended, mate. That's just a basic rule.

"That's match!" the announcer called quickly, and Ron stood up and put his hand forward.

Once Ron had given his opponent a firm handshake, he walked back to his seat as the audience applauded his victory. I need to move up a rank, or something. I can't play with these people anymore. They don't even bloody practice. It's not fun for them, and so it's not fun for me.

The cameras took photos of Ron, while the announcer called him out. Ron left his seat in order to join the announcer, who then named Ron the winner of the Tournament. Ron was given a bond for two hundred Galleons, and once he had shaken hands with the Officials, he made his way over to the exit.

"Mr. Weasley!" one of the reporters yelled out, and Ron shot the reporter a confused look. Why are they here for such a small event? They're making everyone nervous with their presence. "Congratulations on another victory! Did you have anything to do with the French being here today?!" Now it makes sense… They're here to bombard me with more questions.

"The French are here to show me their support, but I had no idea that they were coming," Ron replied, he could see Lord Greengrass pushing his way towards Ron. "I am grateful for their support, as well as yours. Thank you."

With that, Ron began making his way towards his Mentor. I just want to be on my way.

"Well done, Ron," Lord Greengrass met him with a genuine smile. Ah, this shining smile. He only gives it out when I bring home the trophy. "Another fine win."

"Thank you, my Lord," Ron smiled back. "Can we be on our way, please? I'm starving."

Lord Greengrass shot a look towards the reporters, who were still yelling and taking photos, and then he looked back to Ron.

"They are an annoying lot, are they not?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"Immensely annoying," Ron nodded.

"Let's go," Lord Greengrass began guiding Ron out. "The other all but fell asleep in your last match, I'm afraid."

"I know how they feel," Ron shrugged. "It was a dreadfully dull affair."

"You could've ended it very early into the game," Lord Greengrass told him. "Ron, he put your king in check, and you forgot about Castling… Instead, you wasted several moves trying to protect your king." Oh, fuck, I totally did that. "I know that against a slow opponent, the game can become mind-numbing, but you mustn't let your guard down. Some people actually play very passively just to catch their opponent off-guard. If that boy had more skill, he could've done some real damage to your pieces."

"Right," Ron gave a nod. "I won't forget next time, and I'll pay better attention."

Lord Greengrass gave his back a fond pat, and they made their way towards the exit of the building. Once they stepped outside into Diagon Alley, Ron saw his Family speaking to the French Families who had attended. The Abadies, the Coutures, the Delacours, and the Lenoirs. It's a shame that Madame Maxime left for Beauxbatons, it would've been nice to speak to her again.

"There's the Champion," Mary smiled at him, and Ron smiled back.

"Where?" Ron looked around, making the others laugh.

"Well done, love," Molly pulled him into a hug. "We're very proud of you." More support? They're really trying now, aren't they?

"Thanks," Ron gave her a squeeze. "Dad's at the Ministry?"

"He's watching the twins," Pandora replied, and Ron gave an understanding nod. Poor dad.

"Congratulations, Monsieur Weasley," Lady Abadie stepped forward, a pleasant smile on her face. Ah, the greedy bitch.

"Lady Abadie," Ron kissed her knuckles, and then he addressed all the French. "Thank you all for coming here in order to show me your support. I'm sorry if you were left bored, Chess is not for everyone."

"Nonsense, we enjoyed ourselves," Lady Couture lied, and Ron gave her a grateful smile. I know she's just being polite, but I'm still grateful that she took the time to come here. I won't forget this.

"You enjoyed yourself," Christina Couture rolled her eyes, much to her parents' annoyance. "May I explore Diagon Alley now? Or do you want to force me through another-"

"Enough, Christina," Lord Couture frowned at his daughter, while Ron shot a quick look towards Flourish and Blotts. Oh, fuck, they're all coming out.

"Reporters," Ron whispered to the others, and all of them immediately followed Ron's gaze.

"Looks like our chat is about to be cut short," Lord Lenoir sighed out.

"Come, Fleur, we let's be on our way," Mrs. Delacour said, and her daughter shot Ron an odd look. She looks… distressed. "Fleur, let's go."

"Oui, mama," Fleur sighed out, her eyes lingering on Ron. She wanted something from me?

"Should we go as well?" Xeno asked, and everyone said 'yes' without hesitation.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"And then I moved my rook back, and trapped him completely," Ron told his father, who listened with keen interest. I'm probably boring him to death, but he's never asked me to describe a game before.

Ron had returned to the Burrow for lunch, where he had learned that Bill, Kirsten, and Charlie were currently at Grimmauld Place. They had promised to help Sirius move some furniture around, or at least that's what his father had told him. Ron knew, however, that the three of them were watching over Snape, who was still recovering rather slowly. As for the twins, they were still up in their room, and they had no idea that Ron was downstairs. Good thing too because I really don't want to deal with them.

"Well, congratulations, son," Arthur said with a proud smile.

"Thanks," Ron smiled back, and then he took a bit out of his sandwich.

"I'll transfer your extra Galleons into your account once I'm back at the Manor," Lord Greengrass told Ron, while Mary spoke with Pandora and Molly about Christmas plans. Extra Galleons… He's giving me one hundred extra on top of my two hundred Galleons. Now that I understand the value of money a little better, I can't help but think that Lord Greengrass is extremely generous to me. Either that, or he has so much money that one hundred Galleons is nothing to him.

"Thank you, my Lord," Ron said gratefully. "I'll put it to good use."

"Will you?" Lord Greengrass asked, while Arthur and Xeno leaned forward.

"Well, right now, I'm saving up to repay Daphne," Ron replied. "I still owe her one thousand Galleons, but once I've paid that off, I'll be debt free."

"And what do you plan to do after that?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"Save up, I suppose," Ron shrugged. "I have plans for The Quibbler." I have plans for the war. Not to mention that I'll be paying for Priscilla's gang soon.

"What sort of plans?" Xeno asked. "Should we start hiring soon?"

"The Quibbler won't launch properly until March, so we have plenty of time," Ron told Xeno. "My Logistics Officer will handle most of the searching and interviews, while I'll focus more on who we end up hiring. I'm thinking of at least five reporters, not counting you. All the costs are already looked after because I have the money needed saved up in The Quibbler's Vault."

"I've already written plenty of articles," Xeno said with an excited smile. "I'll send them over to you for approval soon." Good, he understands that everything goes through me first.

"Have you heard anything from the Fawleys yet?" Arthur asked Ron.

"About the Werewolf shelter?" Ron asked, and Arthur gave a nod. "No, but I will chase up with them soon. Actually… That reminds me… I've invited Great-Aunt Muriel and Augusta Longbottom over for Christmas Dinner."

"Augusta as well?" Arthur asked, and then he shot a quick look to his occupied wife. "Your mother had a slight panic attack when Muriel's letter came in… I really wish that you had told us first, Ron. You know how Muriel can be."

"You're right," Ron said. "I just figured that since she's a Prewett, I should extend my hand to her."

"You have plans for her, you mean?" Lord Greengrass smirked.

"I do," Ron admitted.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Lord Greengrass looked to Arthur and Xeno, both of whom focused on Ron. Wow… They're almost treating me like an adult. Should I really tell them, though?

"Money," Ron said, and all three men waited for him to go on. "I have projects in mind that will help the needy, but I myself can't fund them. Great-Aunt Muriel and Augusta Longbottom are quite wealthy, and since I have connections with them, I plan to persuade them like I persuaded the Fawleys. I was also thinking of meeting the Shafiqs, the Shacklebolts, the Abbots, and the Macmillans through Augusta Longbottom, she is friends with the Heads of these prominent Families. Or at least, she's worked with them on some charities."

"These Families are all part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Arthur pointed out.

"Just like us, dad," Ron said, and Arthur looked a little uncomfortable with that. "I'm trying to bring these Families together."

"For charity?" Xeno asked.

"Charity, and power," Ron replied.

"Power?" Arthur blinked, while Lord Greengrass' smirk turned into a smile.

"They have influence, and if I'm a part of them, then I have influence too," Ron clarified. "With the French already here because of me, I have many powerful, and wealthy, allies."

"And where do the Greengrasses fit into your never ending schemes, Ron?" Lord Greengrass asked, he was clearly quite amused.

"I can't spoil that, now, can I?" Ron smiled at his Mentor.

"Just don't forget whose daughter you're dating," Lord Greengrass said. "I expect your plans regarding my Family to be respectable." And what is respectable to you, Lord Greengrass?

"They will be," Ron assured him.

"When do you come up with these plans, Ron?" Arthur couldn't help but ask.

"Truth be told, I improvise a lot," Ron replied truthfully. "Unlike what some people believe, I'm not always scheming. I've just learned to look for, and seize, opportunities."

"What are you men plotting over there?" Pandora looked towards the men, her eyes lingering on Ron.

"World domination," Lord Greengrass smirked, his eyes fixed on Ron.

"Arthur, stop that," Molly clicked her tongue, and Arthur shot Ron and Lord Greengrass a frown. "Ron, do you want another sandwich?"

"No, thank you," Ron patted his stomach, he had eaten six already. "I'm trying to watch my weight."

"Has he always had such a sharp tongue?" Mary chuckled.

"No, and he'll watch it if he's careful," Molly 'eyeballed' her son, who just grinned at her.

The sound of sudden footsteps silenced everyone in the Kitchen, and both Fred and George suddenly came down the stairs.

"Mum, can Fred and I spend some time outside?" George asked, and Ron cocked an eyebrow at them. They're not allowed to go outside without permission? Merlin, mum must be really pissed.

"You…" Fred suddenly spotted Ron, who simply smiled at his brother. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Ron replied.

"Fred, leave your brother alone," Arthur sighed out. "And yes, you can go outside, but be back before dark."

"Heard you had a Tournament today, Ronnie," George said, his eyes digging into Ron's. "Did you lose?"

"I don't lose," Ron smiled. "How's the suspension going?"

"Don't worry, we'll be back at Hogwarts soon enough," Fred said, and then he left without another word.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Molly called out after Fred, but he was already gone.

"It means that the twins haven't learned their lesson yet," Ron stood up, and then he walked over to George. "Rule-breaking is nothing to laugh at, George. I was hoping that you two would grow as people after such… embarrassment. I mean, look at all the problems that you've caused. Gryffindor is dead-last in the race for the House-Cup now, and it's all your fault."

"Ron, stop goading your brother," Molly warned. "George, keep your eyes on Fred. He has a tendency to do stupid things when he's upset. Go on."

George just stared at Ron with contempt, and then he left without uttering a single word. They really can't take it, can they? I mean, they killed and tossed my pet through my window in order to hurt me, but now they're skulking about because I gave them a light spanking.

"They didn't even congratulate me," Ron turned to look at the adults. "Have they not heard about my new job?"

"Ron, don't make things worse," Molly said sternly, and Ron raised his hands in surrender. She's got a point, Ron. Being petty has never worked out for you in the past.

"Fair enough," Ron said. "Well, I'm going to head back to Hogwarts. I still have a lot of homework to get done."

"You make sure you stay on top of your class," Pandora said, and Ron gave her a nod before heading for the Living Room.

From there, Ron flooed directly to the Headmaster's Office. As soon as he stepped through the fire, he spotted Dumbledore looking into a Pensieve. He has a Pensieve up here? I haven't seen one since second year.

"Ronald," Dumbledore greeted without looking back, and Ron slowly approached the old wizard. "How was your Tournament?"

"Another trophy will be sent to Hogwarts," Ron replied.

"That is good to hear," Dumbledore shot him a smile.

"Which memory are you looking into?" Ron asked.

"You know what a Pensieve is?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Lord Greengrass used one to get my memories, remember?" Ron asked, and Dumbledore gave a slow nod.

"I remember being blackmailed by you," Dumbledore suddenly chuckled, and Ron couldn't help but smile.

"The good old days, right?" Ron said. "Maybe I'll blackmail you again for nostalgia's sake?"

"I'd rather that you didn't," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling at the Pensieve. "I am trying to decipher the identity of a potential traitor, but so far, I have been unable to do so. All current members of the Order are loyal."

"As far as you can tell," Ron added.

"I know these people, Ronald," Dumbledore turned to face him. "All of them have lost much because of Lord Voldemort, and they would never willingly join him. Most of them would be killed on sight, actually."

"What about the newcomers?" Ron asked. "Lady Abadie might grow angered if we don't give her what she wants."

"She is not a fool," Dumbledore countered. "The Dark Lord plans to eradicate anyone who isn't 'Pure', and she understands this. She might pull her support, but she will not go to her potential murderer out of spite. She values her life too much."

"I think you're worrying too much about something that we have no control over yet," Ron shrugged as he began heading for the door. "For all we know, the Dark Lord learned of the Rookery through sheer dumb luck. Either way, I plan to make sure that my father is the Secret-Keeper of the Lovegoods. We can't rely on just one person being everyone's Secret-Keeper, mostly because if that person gets captured, then we're all in danger."

"I agree," Dumbledore said just as Ron reached the door. "Ronald, one last thing before you continue your day."

"Yes, Headmaster?" Ron turned to face the old wizard.

"Daphne Greengrass came to my Office with a letter this morning," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"She did?" Ron blinked. Please tell me that she didn't ask him to give me that Order of Merlin: Second Class.

"She nominated you for the Order of Merlin: Second Class," Dumbledore told him, and Ron let out a long groan. "Well, she asked me to nominate you."

"Please don't," Ron sighed out. "That rewards will just garner unwanted attention. Plus, I already have so many people who despise me, so the last thing I need is to provoke action through jealousy."

"People have been rewarded this award for doing less, Ronald," Dumbledore said. "And it is an immense honor. You shouldn't be so quick to reject it."

"Do you think I deserve it?" Ron asked. "Tell me honestly, Headmaster. Do I deserve this award?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, and Ron drew in a deep breath. He's only saying that because he knows why I brought the French here.

"Whatever," Ron turned to leave. "Do as you please, then."

"I will," Dumbledore smiled widely.

"If you do decide to give it to me, then you need to give it to Madame Maxime as well," Ron said before he left. "The idea might have been mine, but she is the one who made it work. If you reward my merit, then you have to reward hers."

With that said, Ron made his way down the spiral staircase, and then past the Stone Gargoyle. It would be nice to get that award, but I don't think that I've done anything that special to earn it. The French Families are here to help the Order, not the Ministry. Plus, if I do get an Order of Merlin, I want it to be for something that I personally achieved. Ron made his way down the Moving Staircase, and just as he reached the stairs leading down into the Dungeons, he was approached by Luna.

"Hello, Ron!" Luna suddenly stepped into his way from the Entrance Hall.

"Hello, Luna," Ron smiled. "Why are you so wet?"

"There's a thunderstorm," Luna replied aloofly as she rocked back and forth. "Can't you hear it?"

"I can, but why were you out there?" Ron asked. "You'll catch a cold."

"I was watching the Quidditch match, just like everyone else," Luna replied. The Quidditch match? Did Beth deliver my letter to Cedric?

"Who won?" Ron asked.

"Hufflepuff," Luna replied, and Ron's smile widened. "Does that please you, Ron?"

"No, why would it?" Ron asked in response, and Luna just stared into his eyes with her aloof smile in place.

"Harry broke a lot of bones today," she said suddenly, and Ron's smile faltered. What? "Yay! That bothered you!" What's that supposed to mean?

"Luna…" Ron blinked at her.

"I was worried that you wouldn't care about Harry being hurt, but you do care," Luna hummed, and Ron could do little but stare at her. Of course I care, I need him. "You can still be friends."

"What happened to Harry?" Ron shook his head clear, he didn't have time to decipher the mind of Luna Lovegood.

"He was hit with a Bludger, and then he crashed into the stands," Luna replied. "He's in the Hospital Wing right now. I was going to visit him, but they told me that he's on a Sleeping Draught." Oh. "You should go to the Hospital Wing, Ron."

"Why?"

"Cedric Diggory is still there," Luna replied. "He broke both of his hands."

"What the fuck?" Ron frowned. "What kind of Quidditch match was this?"

"A terribly wet one," Luna said bluntly. She's so damn weird sometimes. "I'm going to go join my friends now. You should go and see Cedric, at least."

"Luna, go up to your room and get into dry clothes," Ron ordered.

"But my-"

"No buts, go," Ron stepped aside, and Luna let out a sigh.

"Okay," she mumbled, then she began dragging her feet up the stairs.

While Luna made her way towards the Ravenclaw common room, Ron headed for the Hospital Wing. How did Cedric break both of his hands? Bloody hell, I'm kind of sorry that I missed this brutal match. I wonder if my friends attended. Ron walked into the Hospital Wing with an expressionless face, and once he was inside, he looked around for Harry and Cedric. Harry was easy to spot, as his bed was quite close to the entrance, and Ron noticed that Hermione, Neville, and Ginny were sitting by Harry's bedside. He looks quite hurt, actually. Harry had bandages on his head and torso, his right arm was in a sling, and his right leg was hanging in the air.

"Luna was right," Ron said as he approached Harry's bed, and all three Gryffindors looked back at Ron. "He looks like he's been through hell."

"Yeah, it wasn't pretty," Neville gave Ron a weak smile, while the girls said nothing. Neville and Ginny look wet, but Hermione is completely dry. "He's going to be in here all weekend."

"Madam Pomfrey will fix him up, don't worry," Ron said in a comforting manner, his eyes lingering on Harry's sleeping form. I forgot how brutal Quidditch can be sometimes. "What was the damage?"

"A concussion, three broken ribs, a broken arm, and a twisted ankle," Hermione replied hoarsely. She's been crying. "He fell off his broom, but Cedric Diggory managed to catch him." He did? "Diggory then lost control over his broom, and they both crashed into the stands. It was quite terrible, I hear."

"You weren't there?" Ron asked, his eyes scanning her dry clothes.

"I was in the Library…" Hermione sniffled. She can't possibly blame herself for this. "I've been terribly mean to him lately…"

"Hermione, not now," Ginny suddenly whispered, her eyes darting towards Ron. Wow. She doesn't want state secrets being spilled to a 'traitor', is that it?

"Harry isn't the sort of person who holds grudges against his friends, Hermione," Ron said as gently as he could. "Once he wakes up, you should talk to him."

"I plan to," Hermione nodded weakly.

Ron walked over to Harry's other side, and he traced his gloved hand over Harry's arm sling. I don't know why, but I hope that he passed out from shock instead of going through all that pain. Broken bones are not a fun experience, and I know that thanks to the Entity.

"What are you doing?" Ginny demanded. "Don't touch him, he's asleep."

"Ginny…" Hermione sighed out. "The Potion he's on won't let him wake up for at least another eight hours."

Ron pulled his hand back, his eyes landing on Neville.

"Neville, aren't you cold?" Ron asked, and Neville blinked at him.

"A little," Neville replied slowly.

"Then you should get changed out of those clothes," Ron advised. And take my bitter sister with you. "Hermione's right about Harry not waking up for a long time. You're not helping him by freezing your arse off. Go and get changed before you catch a cold."

"He's right," Hermione looked to Neville, her eyes fixed on his wet clothes. Did she not notice that her friends are soaking wet? "Neville, your lips are slightly blue. And Ginny… You're shivering…"

"I'm fine," Neville lied, while Ginny just watched Ron. She's so damn confrontational, isn't she? She's always been like that, but never against me. Not until the start of this school year.

"No, you're not," Hermione countered. "Let's all go back to the Gryffindor common room, and once you're changed into warmer clothes, we can come back."

"Hermione-" Ginny started, but Hermione was already on her feet. There's that resolute look of hers. She's on a mission now.

"Getting sick won't help Harry," Hermione said, and then she cleared her throat in order to get her voice back. "C'mon, let's get you two changed." She sounds like mum.

Hermione reached forward and took Neville's hand, and then she began dragging him off.

"We didn't eat lunch either, so that needs to be fixed as well," Hermione said firmly. "I have biscuits in my room."

Ginny looked between the departing Gryffindors and Ron, and then she shot her brother a frown.

"What?" Ron asked. "You need to get changed, Ginny, or you will get sick." You can hate me all you want, but at least look after your own health.

"Like you care," Ginny rolled her eyes, and then she began following after Hermione and Neville.

Something snapped in Ron's head because of her comment, and he quickly moved into her way with a murderous glare. Ginny stopped to give him attitude, but his expression jarred her into silence.

"I don't care?" Ron whispered dangerously, his large build looming over Ginny. "You walk around with a two hundred Galleon bracelet on your fucking wrist, and designer clothes stashed away in your trunk, and you think that I don't care?"

"I…"

"You are quickly reaching the end of your free pass, Ginny," Ron warned her. "Enough is enough. I have hurt people for less." Ginny blinked at him as she took a timid step back, while Ron pointed a finger in her face. "You will stop this cruel behavior, Ginny… I won't warn you again."

Something sparked behind her eyes, and she took on a defiant stance.

"I'll stop when you remember that you're a Weasley," Ginny said haughtily.

"When I remember that I'm a Weasley?" Ron scoffed. "What do you do, Ginny? What have done for this World besides petrifying Muggle-Borns?" Ginny immediately lost her defiant stance, and a hurt look crossed her face. "You need to grow up, do you understand? You actually need to pull your head out of your arse, or one of these days, I'll do it for you."

Ron then reached forward to grab her arm in order to toss her towards the exit, but just before he was able to touch her, he stopped himself. Don't grab her, Ron. The last time you did that, you bruised her wrist. Don't make the same mistake twice. Ron slowly pulled his hand back from a distressed Ginny, his expression softening a little.

"Just go and change," Ron stepped out her way, his tone coming out more bitter than he anticipated. "I'm just… I'm done with you, Ginny." No more. If she can't love me, then she damn well better respect me. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me… Just fuck off. I don't need this sort of stress in my life, so just fuck right off."

Ginny slowly moved around him, she couldn't deny that she had seized up when he had reached for her, and his murderous glare had genuinely frightened her. Not to mention that his cruel remark about her biggest regret in life had hurt far more than she expected. Once she was out of his reach, she quickly left the Hospital Wing before her eyes teared-up.

As for Ron, he began breathing in deeply, hoping to Merlin that he could feel the presence of Stoatshead Hill once again. After nearly a minute of concentrating, Ron felt a wall moving to the front of his mind. A calmness began to wash over him, and his bitter feelings were repressed. Ron then looked towards Harry's sleeping form, and he let out a deep sigh. I can't even blame him for this anymore. He might have fed her negative thoughts about me, but she clearly reached her own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if it was Ginny who pushed Harry into investigating me, or at least, her behavior towards me convinced Harry of my 'guilt'.

Ron looked around the Hospital Wing, and he noticed that there was one bed that was currently hidden behind white curtains. That must be where Cedric is. Ron walked over to the curtains, and he stopped right before barging through.

"Cedric, you decent?" Ron called.

"Ron? Yeah, come in," Cedric replied, and Ron stepped through the curtains.

Cedric was sitting up against the head of his bed, his hands completely covered in thick bandages. Around Cedric were flowers and sweets from his friends and admirers, and Ron carefully avoided them all before sitting on the edge of Cedric's bed.

"How are your hands, Cedric?" Ron asked, and Cedric gave him a better view of the bandages.

"Should be healed by Dinner," Cedric gave a loopy smile. Is he alright?

"Are you in pain?" Ron asked.

"No, Madam Pomfrey gave me a Pain-Relief Potion," Cedric shook his head. "I'm really out of it, I think."

"You certainly look happy," Ron gave a weak smile, his mind was still lingering on Ginny's comment. I shouldn't have gotten into her face like that… She'll probably hate me even more now.

"You don't," Cedric said bluntly. "I… I heard you and your sister." Great.

"What did you hear?" Ron asked.

"Bits and pieces," Cedric replied. "Nothing much, truth be told, but I did hear you telling her 'to leave'."

"Right…" Ron sighed out, this was a little embarrassing. "Not my finest moment, eh? Telling my little sister to fuck off… My mum would rip my tongue out if she had heard me."

"Then you should apologize," Cedric said.

"Fuck no," Ron gave a mirthless chuckle, and Cedric cocked an eyebrow. "I will not give into the demands of a delusional idiot, even if she's my Blood." Ron then drew in a deep breath. "Do you have siblings?"

"No," Cedric shook his head. "I'm an only child."

"Lucky you, then," Ron said. "Siblings are… useless. They give you nothing but grief, even when they have no right to. My sister wears a two hundred Galleon bracelet on her wrist-"

"Two hundred Galleons?!" Cedric gaped, his droopy eyes made him look ridiculous."What kind of bracelet costs that much money?"

"The kind that you should never buy," Ron sighed out. A waste of money. "I spent my winnings from Paris on her because she was struggling with some personal issues, and for a while, she was coming back to us. I was so glad to be a part of her recovery…" Ron then shook his head clear. He's not your therapist, Ron. "So… You got my letter?"

"Ah, so that was from you," Cedric replied. Well done, Beth. "I appreciate the gesture, mate, but we already planned to target Harry and Angelina. It's just a shame that everything went to hell like it did…"

"You won, and that's all that matters," Ron shrugged.

"Harry was going to get the Snitch," Cedric told Ron. "His hand was almost around it, but then his own teammate shot him out of the sky. We didn't deserve that win."

"Nonsense," Ron disagreed. "Unforeseen circumstances always arise, it's just the way of things. Harry lost his focus, I'm sure, and that's why he lost. You earned your win, Cedric, don't think otherwise."

"I can understand where you're coming from, but it still feels like a hollow victory," Cedric said.

Ron was about to argue some more, but Madam Pomfrey suddenly popped her head through the curtains, and when she saw Ron, she looked a little taken aback.

"Cedric, I said no more visitors," Madam Pomfrey stepped through the curtains. Was she in Professor Snape's Potion's Lab? She smells just like he used to… Fumes and sweat. Not to mention that she has smoke-marks on her face.

"Oh, I forgot," Cedric blinked, and then he looked to Ron. "Sorry, mate, I'm not fit to have company."

"That's fine," Ron got off of the bed. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright, which you clearly are. I won't disturb him any further, Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll walk you out," Madam Pomfrey opened the curtains, and Ron stepped through them.

"Any idea when Harry will wake up?" Ron asked her as they walked to the exit.

"Hard to say because of his injuries, but it hardly matters when he wakes up," Madam Pomfrey replied. "He will not be leaving his bed for the entirety of this weekend." I see. Well, I might visit him if I get bored tomorrow. Though I doubt I will, considering my plans.

---

Sunday 6th December, 1993 (Madam Roberts' Suitcase – Midday)

Ron all but dove out of the way, and the stunner from the P-12 shot past his head at an alarming speed. It's so damn quick! Ron quickly regained his footing, and before the P-12 could attack, Ron fired a Non-Verbal stunner at it. Just like Ron, the P-12 quickly rolled out of the way, but Ron now had the advantage. Don't relent! Chain Spells quickly, and start closing the distance!

Ron fired his combo of stunner, Disarming Charm, and stunner again at it, but the P-12 easily parried all three Spells. Ron wasn't really surprised, mostly because he himself knew that his Chaining speed was quite mediocre, but what did surprise Ron was how speedily the P-12 began to back away. Shite! Does it know what I'm trying to do?!

Sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eyes, making this Duel even more one-sided. No matter what Ron tried, this dummy was always prepared for it. It had inhuman reaction speed, and it was not afraid of hurting Ron. Madam Roberts watched quietly from the side-lines, an extremely critical look on her face as she noticed that Ron was getting frustrated.

They exchanged a few more Spells, and once again, Ron was forced into the defensive. The P-12's Spells had more weight behind them, and it was faster at Chaining than Ron. I need to get close to it… That's the only way that I can win. Unless… Ron smirked a little to himself, perhaps it was time to show off his latest trick?

The P-12 fired a three stunners back to back, but with Ron's slightly crouched stance, he easily dodged past them.

"Cutis Terra!" Ron chanted, and he felt his muscles harden almost painfully. Now! "Brachium Colubrum!"

Ron slammed his fists into the Earth, he could feel an overwhelming amount of Magic coursing through his strengthened body. Dozens of ethereal serpents rushed out of Ron's sleeves, their hisses were almost deafening as they shot out of the sand and towards the P-12. The dummy quickly raised a shield in order to stop the tidal wave of ethereal serpents, but the ghostly snakes were guided by Ron's strategic mind.

Before they clashed against the shield, they moved downwards in an unnatural manner, their bodies disappearing into the sand. The dummy quickly undid its shield, but it was too late. Ron's ghostly snakes had already shot out of the sand right beneath the dummy's feet, and just as quickly, they had restrained the P-12. Without a second's hesitation, Ron shot up to his feet and yanked both of his arms back. The sound of wood shattering echoed throughout the Magically Enhanced suitcase, and Ron grinned proudly as the P-12 was reduced to nothing but thick shards of useless wood. I win, bitch!

"Well done, Ronald!" Madam Roberts called, a pleased smile on her face. "Excellent use of terrain!"

Ron bent forward and began panting, while Madam Roberts approached him with a glass of water. I had to rely on Wandless Magic again. No matter what I tried, I couldn't outclass the P-12 with my wand alone. Madam Roberts handed Ron the glass, and while he sated his thirst, she cast 'Reparo' on the P-12's corpse.

"You've been practicing with Cutis Terra," Madam Roberts looked back to Ron, while the P-12 began to reassemble.

"You were right, Madam Roberts," Ron shot her a quick smile, and then he downed the glass. That's better. "Cutis Terra enhances my Spells greatly… I can even cast Spells that I haven't tried before with relative ease." Except the Undetectable Extension Charm… I keep fucking that up.

"It is a remarkable Spell, indeed," Madam Roberts walked up to Ron. "It's only drawback is that it's difficult to hold."

"I can usually last about twenty seconds," Ron told her. "After that…" he trailed off.

"Then we need to work on extending that window of time," Madam Roberts put her hand on his right shoulder, and then gently, she began guiding him towards the couch. Is… Is she being friendly with me? "If we can increase the duration of Cutis Terra to even one minute, then I can safely say that you'll win quite a few Tournaments. The P-12 is no easy foe to defeat, but you've done it twice now."

"I've also lost to it four times," Ron chuckled weakly. Basically anytime that I didn't use Wandless Magic.

"Losing is part of winning," Madam Roberts told him. "My father used to defeat me constantly when I was your age."

"He trained you, right?" Ron asked, and she gave him a nod.

"He was a harsh teacher, but because of him, I am where I am now," Madam Roberts said, and then she helped Ron onto the couch. "Lie down, Ronald. I need to heal your muscles."

Ron did as he was told, while Madam Roberts pulled his left sleeve back. Ron tensed almost immediately, while Madam Roberts just studied his left forearm with a furrowed brow. What is she doing?

"Um…"

"Your left arm is starting to bruise," Madam Roberts told him.

"Another drawback of Cutis Terra," Ron sighed out. "Madam Pomfrey thinks that because my muscles harden too quickly, they become injured, and therefore, I get bruised. Usually I can cast it without bruising, but sometimes, I'm not so lucky."

"We'll have you fixed up soon enough," Madam Roberts pulled his sleeve back down, and Ron relaxed immensely. "We'll start with your arms this time, mostly because they need the most attention. Relax, Ronald, we've done this before." Ron did as he was told, while she began healing his muscles. Merlin, that feels so nice. "I understand that Hogwarts is having a Dueling Tournament next Sunday."

"Yeah," Ron gave a nod. "You can come and watch, if you want." Please do. "I mean, it's on Sunday, and it will be held during the same time that we train."

"Oh, I will be there, I assure you," Madam Roberts shot him a quick look. "I wish to see you compete against actual people, and more specifically, people your age. I plan to gauge their skill against yours." Shite, another test. "Tell me, will you be holding back against your fellow students?"

"Um… It depends," Ron replied slowly, what kind of a question was that?

"It depends?" Madam Roberts repeated a little coldly. "There is no 'it depends', Ronald… You will go all out, or I'll know the reason why."

"Pardon?" Ron blinked as he moved his head up.

"Don't move," Madam Roberts scolded, and Ron quickly put his head back down.

"You want me to go all out against students?" Ron couldn't help but ask. "Some of them are quite-"

"Champions don't hold back because of silly reasons like size, or gender," Madam Roberts said matter-of-factly. "I have seen skilled wizards fall in combat because they underestimated their opponents based on appearances, and you will not fall into the same trap. I am here to mold you into a Dueling Champion, boy… But for that happen, you first need to understand that in a Magical Duel, even the smallest and weakest wizard can drop you if you let your guard down. A stunner will stun you, regardless of who sends it your way."

"But I might be Dueling my girlfriend," Ron told her. If she manages to beat Hermione, that is.

"What difference does that make?" Madam Roberts cocked an eyebrow. "When you are both on the sandpit, you are not a couple… You are competing to see who the stronger wizard is, and if it's not you, then I will be sorely disappointed." Oh… "Listen to me, and listen well. In an actual Duel, gender and size mean nothing. The only thing that matters is that you're the one who's left standing, do you understand? The difference between a Champion and a pretender is that the Champion never stops giving his best."

"I… I can't physically assault girls, Madam Roberts," Ron said softly, he personally didn't agree with this. "I was even forbidden from it by our Defense Professor, and he's the one who's acting as the referee."

"So they can hit you, but you can't hit them?" Madam Roberts scoffed. "Do you think those rules apply in actual Tournaments? No, they don't. I will have words with this biased Professor of yours, and then, you will show me the fruits of your training. Never show any hesitation in a Duel, Ronald, or you'll be dead long before your Brain-Damage catches up to you."

---

Sunday 6th December, 1993 (The Leaky Cauldron – Afternoon)

Ron had eaten a grand meal at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, but he hadn't really enjoyed it. Madam Roberts' words made sense to him, much to his annoyance. The truth was that Ron understood his limits, and he knew that if he let his guard down against someone like Hermione, or Millie, he'd eat a stunner for his troubles. But at the same time, Ron knew that if he hit them like he would hit a boy, he could do some serious damage. Millie could no doubt take a hit from me, but I'd rather lose than to lay hands on her.

It was almost strange now that he thought about it… He had absolutely no qualms with striking fellow males, but when it came to girls, Ron almost always held back. Even during training sessions, Ron decimated Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy, all the while treating the girls like fragile dolls. I don't even yell at the girls anymore, but whenever the lads make mistakes, I all but explode. Does this make me sexist? No. I just know that girls aren't as physically strong as boys. Plus, hitting people who are smaller than me seems cruel.

"What is this?" came Tom the Bartender's voice, and Ron quickly looked to the entrance.

Priscilla, and around twenty five, children had stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, their faces marred with distrust and disbelief. At least Priscilla looks hopeful, but I think that's only because she understands that she has very few choices left. Ron quickly stood up and approached them, Tom was already speaking with Priscilla. They all have overnight bags… I'm guessing that they live out of those.

"I told you, girl, that you can't be here," Tom sighed out, his eyes traveling towards Priscilla's friends. "Look, I'm really sorry for you lot… But my other guests won't have it."

"It's alright, Tom," Ron said, and the Bartender looked back to him. "They're with me."

"Mr. Weasley," Tom blinked, and then he looked back to the children. "I'm sorry, but I can't let them stay here."

"They won't be staying," Ron assured the man, and then he smiled at Priscilla. "Come with me."

Priscilla gave him a weak nod, while Ron pulled out his Gringotts Pouch.

"We were never here," Ron said, and then he handed Tom ten Galleons.

"I… Right…" Tom took the money slowly, and after shooting the children one more sorry look, he left for his bar.

"Is this everyone?" Ron asked Priscilla, all the while counting the children in his head. Twenty-Eight in total, and all of them are around my age. Fucking hell, why don't we have more programs to help children like them? What is the Ministry doing?

"It is," Priscilla replied, and Ron ignored the looks the children were giving him. "A few didn't come… They don't trust this offer of yours." Shame.

"They might come around yet," Ron gave her a calming smile. "Come, let's be on our way."

Ron led the children towards the fireplace, and the few patrons that were in the tavern eyed the horde of homeless children with curious looks. Ron, and his companions, ignored the patrons completely. As Ron prepared the floo, Priscilla pulled the youngest children to her side.

"Hold hands, alright?" Priscilla told them. "Courtney, keep Mary and Trist with you. Rob, you're in charge of Albert and Ivar. Tiberius, stay in the back and make sure that everyone goes through the floo."

"It's ready," Ron said, and then he stepped out of the way. "Please, go on. I will follow you after-"

"You'll go first," Tiberius said rather harshly, his eyes narrowing on Ron.

"Tiberius," Priscilla hissed, but Ron just raised his hands in surrender. Be patient, Ron. They have every right to be wary of you.

"I will go first," Ron said, and then, he stepped through the fireplace.

The first thing he saw was Albus Dumbledore, who was patiently waiting for the Squib children.

"Ronald? Where are they?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling as usual.

"Behind me," Ron replied as he stopped by the Headmaster's side. "Is the house ready?"

"More than," Dumbledore patted Ron's back. He's more affectionate towards me lately… Why is that? "The caretaker Elves are waiting for the children, and I must say, they are very excited."

Priscilla stepped into the Office at that, and both wizards immediately smiled at her. Priscilla stopped moving at the sight of Albus Dumbledore, her jaw hanging open slightly.

"Priscilla, this is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," Ron introduced, and she took a slow step forward.

"How do you do, my dear?" Dumbledore asked with a happy smile, but she just stared at him as if he were an illusion.

The fire roared to life once again, and one by one, the Office was filled with awed children. Most of them were looking around with hanging jaws, while a few were just staring at Dumbledore as if he were a God. I should let the Headmaster take over from here on out. They look like they'll listen to him.

"Are we in Hogwarts?" a tiny girl asked meekly.

"You are indeed," Dumbledore replied in a kind tone. "This is my Office, please feel free to look around while Ronald and I speak with Priscilla."

"What's that?!" one of the younger boys asked loudly, his little finger aimed at a baby Fawkes.

"That is Fawkes, my Phoenix," Dumbledore chuckled, while Ron just smiled to himself. "You may feed him if you want, he's quite friendly."

Within a heartbeat, the Phoenix was surrounded by excited children, all of them cooing at the confused bird. Priscilla and Tiberius approached Ron and Dumbledore, and Ron couldn't help but notice that even Tiberius looked to be in awe of Dumbledore. His mere presence changes how people behave. Now that is real power.

"So this is really happening?" Priscilla asked softly, she clearly didn't want to displease the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"The house, or rather the Estate, is ready," Dumbledore promised, and the two Squibs exchanged slow looks. "We have also hired three House-Elves to act as caretakers-"

"We can take care of ourselves," Tiberius interrupted, and his 'sister' hushed him harshly.

"Tiberius, don't disrespect the Headmaster!" Priscilla looked scandalized, while her brother quickly closed his mouth.

"It's alright," Ron reassured them. "You have every right to be wary of us, and please don't feel the need to keep your opinions to yourselves. We need to communicate in order to make this work." Thank you, Clara's book on dating. "The Headmaster has hired the Elves as caretakers, not as your Masters. They will cook, clean, and teach you all how to read and write. In time, we can even start sending you all to Muggle schools." I hope so, at least. I'll need to start saving up for that too.

"Muggle schools?" Priscilla blinked.

"My mum has a second cousin who is a Squib, and he's rather successful from what I've heard," Ron replied. "With an education, you can all find success in the Muggle World, and keep your ties to the Magical World."

"Ronald is right," Dumbledore joined in. "Godric's Hollow, where the Estate is located, is quite large, and its population is a mix of Muggles and Wizards. I believe that you will all fit in quite nicely, and in time, even become part of the community." Dumbledore then looked to Priscilla. "I have old friends in Godric's Hollow, and if you wish, I can help you find a part-time job."

"It would be nice to work," Priscilla admitted, and then she shot the Headmaster a weak smile. "Thank you… Thank you for everything that you're doing for us."

"There is no need for that," Ron quickly stepped in, he didn't want them to feel indebted to him. "Let's just do our best to make this work." Ron then looked to the little ones, who were playing with Fawkes. "For their sake."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

The Estate was abuzz with laughter, and loud footsteps. The younger ones had taken to the Estate immediately, mostly because they were too young to understand what was really going on. Ron figured that in their minds, they were all going to live as one big, happy Family, and truth be told, Ron wanted that to be the case himself. From the moment they had entered the Estate, Ron couldn't stop smiling. It was probably wrong to be so pleased with oneself, but he couldn't deny just how good it felt to help people. Especially people who have been treated like dirt for something as stupid as their 'Status'.

"And this is the Dining Room," Dumbledore said, he was giving Priscilla and Tiberius a tour of the Estate.

Unlike Dumbledore and Ron, the two Squibs hadn't been able to smile, or speak, from the moment they had arrived. It was obvious that they were in genuine shock, but at the same time, Ron could tell that they loved this place. They definitely wanted to stay here, but a life-time of struggles had made them wary. They're waiting for the other shoe to drop, which is quite sad. Not that I'm any different from them in that regard.

"That's a really big table…" Tiberius broke his silence, his eyes fixed on the massive dining table.

"It seats thirty-six people," Dumbledore told them. "This is where you will all come for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Packy will cook the meals for you all." Packy, Tacky, and Racky. Odd names for Elves, but they seem perfect for this job. They're already showing the younger ones around with happy smiles. "Tacky will do the shopping, while Racky is in charge of cleaning."

"We'll never have to worry about food again?" Priscilla muttered.

"No, you won't," Ron promised. I'll make damn sure of that. "The Headmaster was kind enough to give the three Elves a spare key to his Vault, so all expenses in regards to food and clothes will be paid for by him." I can't believe that he's so loaded.

"Thank you, Sir," the Squibs said together, and Dumbledore just gave them a polite nod.

"Priscilla! I have my own room!" a little blonde girl ran into the kitchen, her entire face was red from running around. "Come and see!" She's so thin… I'll ask the Elves to feed them properly. Oh, and I'll ask them to buy cakes as well.

"Tiberius, can you go with Trist?" Priscilla looked to him, and he looked to Ron immediately. "Tiberius, he's helping us… Go with Trist. I want to speak with them in private."

"Are you sure?" Tiberius whispered, while the girl named Trist tugged at his arm. How old is she? Nine? Bloody hell, she looks small enough to pass as a five year old.

"I'm sure," Priscilla replied, and Tiberius slowly left the kitchen with an excited Trist.

"Do you want to sit down?" Ron asked as he gestured to the table, and she gave him a nod.

The three of them sat down at the end of the table, with Dumbledore taking the chair at the head of the table.

"This…" Priscilla started, but she stopped immediately. "All of this… It's so much…"

"We understand that this is a bit too sudden," Dumbledore said gently. "All we can ask for is that you give this a try, my dear. The streets are no longer safe for anyone, especially children."

"No, they're not," Priscilla looked down at the table. "I want to repay you both somehow… But I have nothing to give…" She's proud, just like me.

"You can repay us by keeping everyone in this Estate safe," Ron told her, and she looked up at him. "The Elves are here to help, of course, but these kids look up to you. You're their leader, and therefore, their safety is your responsibility. Some of the younger ones are too thin, and-"

"Ronald," Dumbledore said, and Ron stopped his fretting. "Priscilla, we are not here to give you any commands. The truth is that we both know about the state of Knockturn Alley, and we know that you cannot go there again. This Estate is your chance at a better life, and the same goes for all the children with you. The only thing that Ronald and I can ask for is that you use this opportunity, and in doing so, help create a better life for your friends."

"I… I won't waste this opportunity, I swear it," Priscilla looked rather humbled. "No more criminal behavior… And I'll urge the others to study. We won't do anything to ruin this."

"I am glad to hear that," Dumbledore said, and then he stood up. Where is he going? "I must return to Hogwarts in order to resume my work, but Ronald will stay behind for a little longer." I will? "Ask him anything."

"Thank you, Sir," Priscilla stood up and bowed her head, much to Ron's surprise.

"Please, don't do that," Dumbledore smiled, and after giving her a parting nod, he left the kitchen.

Priscilla just stared at the empty doorway for a few moments, while Ron relaxed in his chair. Now is a good time to give her the key to her Vault. And to ask her some questions about Knockturn Alley, and Victor.

"Priscilla?" Ron called, and she looked back to him with an almost somber look. "What's wrong?"

"I'm trying not to cry…" she all but whispered, and Ron tensed a little. Please don't, I'm not trained for that.

"Take a seat," Ron said with a polite smile, and she slowly sat back down. "This is real, Priscilla. You're all safe now."

"I don't know what I did to deserve this… All of this…" Priscilla's eyes became watery, and she quickly wiped them clean before sniffling.

"I don't think that it's a matter of 'deserving'," Ron said. "This is how things should be. What good is power if you can't use it to help others?"

"Those with power tend to use it against others," Priscilla said, there was a lump in her throat. "In my experience, anyway…"

"There are people who don't believe in doing that," Ron said, making sure to sound comforting. I don't want her to cry.

"People like you?"

"People like the Headmaster," Ron corrected. "I'm… I don't know where I stand… I want to be good, but complications always arise." Ron then shook his head clear, and he produced the golden key to her Vault. "Here, take this."

"Is that for Gringotts?" Priscilla asked as she took the key.

"Show that to a Goblin, and he will take you to your Vault," Ron told her. "I've moved a hundred Galleons into said Vault already. Use that money to buy yourselves whatever you need."

"A hundred Galleons… That's too much," Priscilla stared at the key in her hands.

"There's a lot of you," Ron shrugged lightly. "I want you all to be happy here."

Priscilla looked into Ron's eyes at that, while he felt rather embarrassed for saying something so sappy. Control, Ron. Don't give into your emotions so easily.

"I won't waste this," she promised him. "I swear on my life, I'll make sure that the others get a fair chance at life." Good, that's all I need to hear.

"You mentioned that some people refused to come," Ron stated, and she gave a weak nod. "Find them again, and bring them here. Please."

"I will," she said a little more strongly. "I still don't know why you're doing this, Ronald, but thank you… Truly."

"You're welcome," Ron said, deciding to accept her gesture. "Priscilla, I need to ask you if you're still in contact with Victor Burke…" She blinked at him. "He is a dangerous man from what I've seen, and I don't want him to discover this place."

"I have not seen, nor spoken to, Victor since I escaped Knockturn Alley," Priscilla replied. "I'm done with him… Forever." She then shifted a little in her spot before leaning in. "He… He sent me to a Vampire Den…"

"Pardon?"

"He wants to make more friends, and he promised to help me if I helped him," she whispered, a look of shame crossing her face. "I agreed, and I nearly died… Knockturn Alley is overrun with Vampires, Ronald, so please don't ever go back there again." This is useful. I need to keep her talking.

"Overrun?" Ron asked.

"They're everywhere…" she swallowed thickly. "In every shadow… The Aurors have abandoned the district completely, and the Vampires have taken over most businesses." Bloody hell. I need to relay this to the Headmaster. "I… I met their leader. He murdered someone in front of me, but then he let me go."

She looked visibly relieved to finally tell someone, while Ron just stared at her.

"What did this leader look like?" Ron asked, and she blinked at him. "I need to know this, Priscilla."

"Tall… Blonde… Handsome," she slowly recalled. "He wore round shades… He crushed a massive Vampire's skull with his bare hands…" Round shades? Why does that image feel familiar to me?

A sudden crack emanated from behind him, and Priscilla let out a high-pitched squeal. Ron looked back to see Packy smiling up at him, and he slowly relaxed himself.

"The children are hungry, Sir," Packy told him. "Packy will make a big lunch!" Fair enough. I should be on my way as well.

Ron stood up at that, and Priscilla quickly did the same.

"You're leaving?" she asked.

"You should all eat, and then settle in," Ron smiled at her. I shouldn't prod her too hard just yet. I'd hate myself if she left because of my inability to stop making moves.

"You… You can eat with us," Priscilla offered meekly.

"Can I be honest with you?" Ron asked, and she gave a slow nod. "The others are not comfortable around me."

"I… I know," she sighed out. "I'm sorry about that. They know that you're famous, and that you're a genius of some sort." Me? A genius? What? "Give them some time… I'll bring them around."

"Alright," Ron gave another smile. "Once they get used to me being around, I'll drop by for dinner sometime. Until then, please take care of each other. And don't shy away from using your Vault." Ron then looked to Packy. "If they ever need anything from me, come and find me at Hogwarts."

"Packy understands," the Elf bowed deeply.

Ron made his way into the large living room, and he couldn't help but smile a little when he saw the excited children running around. They're inspecting every single corner of the Estate. It's cute. Some of them shot him excited smiles, but most of them seemed to be avoiding him completely. As Ron reached the fireplace, Priscilla caught up to him.

"Wait," she stopped right behind him, and Ron turned to face her. "Is this building hidden from the Muggles?"

"Muggles, wizards, cats, and dogs," Ron replied. "The Headmaster cast the Fidelius Charm on it, so it's completely hidden from the outside World. You know about it only because you're inside it."

"So… I'll forget once I leave?"

"No," Ron replied. "Since you have seen it, you will remember that it exists. You just can't tell anyone about it. The Headmaster is the Secret-Keeper, so only he can tell other people where it is."

"But I can show them by bringing them here?" she asked, and Ron gave her a nod.

"You're on the mark," Ron replied. "Remember the name of this Estate, Priscilla."

"Dumbledore Abode," she said, and then she shot him a weak smile. "Thank you, Ronald… You said that you don't know where you stand when it comes to good and evil, but I'm starting to think that you're good…" Am I? I've done horrible things to get here. I even sanctioned the deaths of over seventy Werewolves without a second thought.

"Thanks," Ron all but whispered, he didn't know what else to say to her. "Um… I'll be going now…"

Priscilla began to move forward, but she stopped herself just as abruptly. What was that?

"We'll see you soon?" she asked.

"Of course."

---

Emilia Travers' POV

Tuesday 8th December, 1993 (The Morgue - Evening)

Staying in Brussels had been a wise move.

Not long after her meeting with Solomon, one of his people had found her in a Magical Café. According to the messenger, who happened to be part-Goblin, Solomon had a deal for her that she 'couldn't refuse'. And so, here she was again.

"Where are the bodies?" Emilia looked around the empty Morgue, and the messenger said nothing. "Are you deaf now? Answer me."

"He's already said his piece," Solomon stepped into the large room, his bulky frame hunched a little. Finally. I've been waiting in here for five minutes. "Isiah, you may go about your day."

The part-Goblin gave his boss a nod, and then he left for the place where Solomon had creeped out of. As for Solomon himself, he began walking around the room with a rather curious look.

"Well?" Emilia asked. "Your messenger told me that you had a deal for me. A deal that I couldn't possibly refuse."

"Imagine that you couldn't see," Solomon looked to her, his expression dead serious. Here we go again. "And one day… God gave you sight, and so, you could see… everything. What would you do, Emilia?"

"I would travel the World," Emilia replied, deciding to humor him. "I'd see all there was to see."

"Exactly!" Solomon suddenly clapped his hands together. "You'd see the World… Now that is what I intend to do."

"You want to travel?" Emilia cocked an eyebrow.

"Want… Need… Forced to… It's all the same for a wandering Jew like myself," Solomon began walking around again. "My people, yeah… They've been kicked out of their homes since the very beginning… In a way, we're like the Gypsies, we are. Hated for being born." Solomon then met her gaze. "Do you hate, Emilia? Do you live with hatred in your heart?"

"Yes."

"That'll get you killed," Solomon grunted as he shook his head.

"Solomon, why did you call me here?" Emilia asked.

"Unicorn Blood," Solomon's face tightened a bit. What? "The Dark One wants it, and his dogs came to me to play fetch."

"Cornelius Nott came here?" Emilia's eyes flashed with malice.

"He came, and he went," Solomon replied.

"You let him go?" Emilia's hand went to the hilt of her Blade, but Solomon didn't even budge. "You've chosen your side, then?"

"Sides… Who's on my side, Emilia?" Solomon stepped up to her, his large build looming over her. "Who cares about my people?" Don't threaten me, Half-Breed, or this time, I'll end you.

"Speak plainly, you damn degenerate," Emilia all but snarled.

"I'm the only one who speaks plainly 'round here," Solomon told her. "You… Cornelius… You all speak in fuckin' riddles, mate. They want Unicorn Blood, and then, they'll ask for my blood. As for you, you bring war to my fuckin' doorstep, and then you stand there, and you judge me? Fuck off. None of you say what you really want, but you expect me to show you the same respect?"

Solomon then moved around her, while she tightened her hold on her Oni-Blade. Be ready. Be focused.

"My people, they don't have nothing to do with your fuckin' war, yeah," Solomon went on. "And yet, we're getting fucked, aren't we?"

"I'm not asking for your blood, Solomon," Emilia told him. "The enemy is asking for your blood. I'm only asking for your aid."

"Eh… Same thing," Solomon groaned as he cracked his knuckles. "I got them their Unicorn Blood, girl. It's currently in my Office."

"And?"

"And, you can have it," he told her, and she turned to face him. "I want you to deliver it to them." Is that so? This can only mean one thing.

"When?" she asked.

"Tomorrow night," Solomon replied. "I'll be leaving some of my people behind here for the illusion."

"Illusion?" Emilia asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah, the illusion," Solomon nodded slowly. "We can't afford to look closed down, now, can we? Things have to look proper."

"For the ambush?" Emilia smirked a little.

"They won't be coming alone, so you best take care," Solomon turned to leave. "And let one of them escape with the Unicorn Blood, won't you?"

"Why?" she lost her smirk.

"The Banshee's Wail," Solomon replied as he walked off. The Banshee's Wail? Isn't that a powerful poison? One that can't be detected unless you're looking for it specifically? That is not an easy weapon to get one's hands on.

"The Order could use you, Solomon!" Emilia called out as he neared the exit. "A smuggler of your skill could help change the face of the war!"

"Is it still pissing down in Britain?" Solomon turned to face her, a tired look on his face.

"It is."

"I'll have Isolde grab my coat, then," Solomon said, and just like that, she was alone in the room again. He'll find me when he's ready to talk again. Good. We will need him.

---

Wednesday 9th December, 1993 (The Morgue – Near Nighttime)

Just as Emilia had requested, Solomon had provided her with men for her war. She was to command, and pay, thirty of Solomon's worst criminals. Right now, fifteen of said criminals were pretending to work around the Morgue, making sure that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The other half hid with Emilia in the rafters of the large room, and they would descend upon the Death-Eaters with murderous fury when the time was right. Just need to be patient. Let the others bring Nott into this large room, and then I can kill him.

Emilia's thoughts came to a halt when she heard loud footsteps approaching the room, and shortly after, wizards and witches walked into the room. Emilia immediately recognized Lucius Malfoy, Cornelius Nott, and Fenrir Greyback, but she couldn't recognize the twelve others. They have fifteen, while we have thirty. The numbers, and element of surprise, are on our side. I can cross two names off of my list tonight.

"Where is Solomon?" Nott demanded from the 'seller'.

"Not here, I'm afraid," the seller, Jones, replied. "I'm the person that you're dealing with tonight."

"Bring Solomon, or we'll go home," Nott frowned at Jones, while Emilia and her ambushers readied themselves.

"Then be on your way," Jones said casually, while his fellow 'workers' subtly began to circle the Death-Eaters.

"Why is he not here?" Nott demanded. "We had a deal."

"Do you have the Unicorn Blood?" Malfoy asked calmly, while Nott seemed less than pleased.

"It's right over here," Jones gestured towards the two bottles. "Two thousand Galleons, and it's yours."

"Pay him," Malfoy looked to Nott. "We shall see Solomon soon enough, and then you can give him a piece of your mind." You mean kill him? Arrogant fools, he's much more cunning than them.

Nott began to pay for the poisoned Unicorn Blood, and Emilia spotted one of the Death-Eaters looking around the room with a suspicious look. Who is he? Emilia eyed the black haired man with the orange, cat-like eyes, and she began to worry. Whoever he is, I think he's onto us. Just as she thought that, the black haired man looked up with a grin, his wand already brandished. What the fuck?!

"Confringo!" the cat-eyed man yelled, and a fiery orange light smashed into rafters.

The force of the explosion sent Emilia, and her men, tumbling down with debris. Panic ensued as Emilia fell onto the ground, all of her senses dazed. She could hear Spells going off, people screaming, and the smell of smoke was trying to squeeze the life out of her. How…? What just happened? Slowly, she raised her head, only to come face to face with pandemonium. Her men had already began the fighting, and the element of surprise was completely lost. With a pained grunt, she rose up to her feet, her uniform sullied with muck and drops of blood. My back is on fire. Focus, Emilia.

As her Occlumency secured her mind, she drew her Oni-Blade. Burn! The Blade began to glow red hot, and Emilia rushed into the fight. Within a second, she had slashed open the belly of an unfocused Death-Eater, his cold blood splattering on the side of her face. Cold blood? Vampires!

"They're Vampires!" Emilia roared, and three stunners came for her from the dust and smoke.

She dodged all three with relative ease, her Blade held in front of her with both hands. Finite! Her Blade began to glow with a faint blue color, and she used it to begin cutting through oncoming Spells. The only time she opted to dodge was when someone fired the Killing Curse at her, she didn't plan to risk her life just yet.

Through the haze of battle, she made out Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Nott, both of whom were fighting alongside the black haired man. That piece of shit! Emilia carved a way forward with her Blade in tow, making sure to strike down one unsuspecting Vampire. I need to get to their commanders!

"Kill Nott and Malfoy!" she ordered her men, while the Vampires began to rally towards their own.

Shields were going up just as Emilia's men became reorganized, while the Death-Eaters began to move towards the nearest exit. While Emilia deflected, or cut down, several Curses, her men bombarded the Vampires' shields with Curses of their own. Fire, smoke, and ash filled the room, and Emilia vowed to kill the cat-eyed bastard for seeing through her ambush. How could he tell?!

"Use Finite Incantatem!" Emilia bellowed, and a Killing Curse barely missed her head. Fucking hell!

Emilia moved further back in order to give herself more time to dodge certain Spells, and just as she had ordered, some of her men began using Finite Incantatem to shatter shields. Three more Vampires were struck down by Killing Curses, and Emilia felt the rush of battle course throughout her body.

"AGAIN!" she commanded, and once again, more Vampires fell. Almost through! Keep pushing them!

As their numbers were being culled, Malfoy and Nott rushed out towards the exit. Emilia managed to spot them just as they were running out of the room, and she let out a furious yell.

"Jones! Cut them off!" Emilia ordered, and she heard some of her men rush out of the exit on her right side. "The rest of you! Use Finite again!"

"Bombarda Maxima!" came a yell from the Vampires' numbers, and Emilia saw a white light smash into the already damaged ceiling. Run!

The majority of the ceiling collapsed as a result of a second explosion, and Emilia barely managed to reach the exit in time. A few of her men, and their Vampires, were not so lucky. Dust flew through the open doorway, but Emilia was already chasing after Jones' company. I need to reach them before Nott and Malfoy can escape. Corridor after corridor, she ran past the gore and corpses that littered the underground building. They can't apparate within this property, but as soon as they step outside, I'll lose them.

As she turned another corner, she spotted Fenrir Greyback running straight towards her. By the time he managed to stop in his tracks, Emilia had ducked past and slashed his side open. The massive Werewolf roared in agony as he fell to his side, his left hand already covering his bleeding wound. Emilia wasted no time in turning around and slashing Fenrir's wand hand, but the Werewolf managed to roll out of the way. Damn!

"Avada Kedavra!" Fenrir hissed, his wand aimed at her.

"Finite!" Emilia's blue Blade cut right through the Killing Curse, the sides of her body freezing as the cold Curse became undone around her. "Surasshu!"

Emilia's Blade glowed magenta as she slashed the wind ahead of her, and Fenrir's right shoulder was cut open by a gust of wind. Once again, the Werewolf roared with agony, while Emilia moved in for the killing blow. Just as her Blade was about to come down on Fenrir's writhing form, she sensed a Killing Curse approaching her from behind. Without another thought, she rolled to side in order to have her back against the wall. Fenrir to my right, and this bastard to my left. The black-haired man had once again thwarted her plans, and she glared murder at him as she readied her Nodachi Katana.

"This bitch can cut through Spells!" Fenrir yelled from the ground, while the cat-eyed man grinned maniacally.

"A Ronin?" the Vampire showed his fangs. A learned Vampire? "I have no fucking idea what's happening, but this has turned into a very interesting night."

"How did you figure out my ambush?" Emilia demanded.

"Ohhh, and she's arrogant," the Vampire laughed. "Let me guess, I wounded your precious pride by outsmarting you?"

"Filth!" Emilia snarled, her hold on her hilt tightening.

"I mean, why else would you ask that question in such a situation?" the Vampire goaded, but Emilia refused to take the bait. Focus. Keep your mind on the Blade, Emilia. Listen to it hum with Magic.

As her mind realigned with purpose, she drew in a calming breath.

"Come," Emilia ordered. "I will take both your heads tonight."

"Crazy bitch," Fenrir growled as he leaned up against a wall, his clothes torn and bloodied. He's losing a lot of blood, and quickly. I need to focus on the Vampire in this fight.

Fenrir and the Vampire focused their eyes on her, while she looked from side to side using just her eyes. And then, they began firing Curses at her. Emilia cast Finite Non-Verbally, and with trained precision, began dismantling and dodging each Curse. Fenrir's assault was slower, and weaker, so Emilia kept her focus on the Vampire, who was incredibly fast at Chaining Spells. At this rate, he'll hit me! I need to close the distance!

"Confringo!" Fenrir roared from behind her, and she managed to turn her head in time to see the fiery orange light explode against the ceiling. Both Emilia and the Vampire were sent flying by the force of the explosion. Fenrir had stepped away from Emilia, and then cut off the corridor by collapsing the ceiling. He left the Vampire behind. Coward.

"That fucking coward," the Vampire laughed as he stood up, the man didn't look bothered at all. "He did a runner on me."

"No honor among thieves," Emilia stood up as well, her Blade rising to her side. "Guess it's just you and me now, Vampire."

"Name's Michael," the Vampire bowed slightly.

"Emilia Travers."

"Well, Emilia Travers," Michael grinned. "Come at me, and meet your end."

"Finite!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Emilia cut through the Killing Curse, and Michael sent another one Non-Verbally. Fuck, he's fast. Emilia dodged the second Killing Curse while slashing the wind ahead of her at the same time. The Ronin Slashing Curse sent an invisible blade of wind through the corridor, one which carved the sides of the corridor as it moved forward with frightening speed. Michael bent his knees unnaturally in order to fall onto his back, effectively dodging Emilia's assault. Now! Burn!

Emilia ran forward with a fiery hot Oni-Blade, and as soon as Michael rolled back onto his feet, she slashed at his throat. The Vampire moved his head back and dodged in the nick of time, but Emilia turned using the weight of her swing in order to roundhouse the grinning Vampire. Michael's molar flew out of his mouth as his head jerked into the wall beside him.

Emilia roared as she slashed upwards, and Michael jumped back just before losing his arm. Follow through. Emilia began stepping forward with each slash, while the Vampire dodged with inhuman speed. After her fourth slash, the Vampire managed to aim his wand at her side, but Emilia had already seen this coming. With a swift motion, she slashed the Vampire's right hand, her red-hot Blade severing the Vampire's fingers and wand.

"Fucking whore!" Michael screamed, and Emilia felt his boot collide against her ribs.

Pain shot throughout her entire body as she was sent reeling into the wall, and then, onto the floor. He broke something… I can feel it. A cough tore its way out her throat, and she felt hot liquid pour out of her mouth.

"My fucking hand!" Michael yelled, but his voice sounded distorted. Get up and fight, Emilia!

"Your… head… is next," Emilia stood up shakily, she couldn't take another direct hit from this monster.

"What did you do to my hand?" Michael hissed at her, his wounds weren't healing at all.

"Cursed Fire," Emilia smirked weakly, her Blade glowing hotter. "Any final words?"

"Yeah, suck my cock," Michael grinned once again, and then he drew a shiny dagger from his coat pocket.

"Goblin Steel?" she asked.

"Of course," Michael readied himself. "Your Oni-Blade… That's Goblin Steel as well, right?"

"Specifically imported at my request," she said, and then she drew in a calming breath. Focus on the Blade.

They slowly moved back and forth, and then, she lunged forward with an overhead slash. Michael's weapon was much shorter, which gave Emilia a distinct advantage over him. Plus, I can still use Magic. Emilia did a couple more slashes, and Michael managed to deflect them as he moved from side to side. He can't attack me at this range. Emilia suddenly jumped back, and she sent another 'Surasshu' at him.

Michael's eyes widened, and he quickly rolled forward in order to avoid being severed in two. Emilia, on instinct, swung around him and brought her Blade down upon him, and just as she slashed open his back, he slashed the outside of her right thigh. Their places exchanged, both wounded warriors limped back onto their feet. I can't lean on my leg anymore. This needs to end now, or I'll die before claiming my vengeance.

"How about we call it even?" Michael laughed, much to her shock. Does he not fear death at all? "We both got some-"

"Silence," she bit out, she hated people who couldn't stop running their mouths. "Fight with some dignity. Are you a warrior, or not?"

The Vampire stopped grinning at that, his cat-eyes fixed on her. Slowly, Michael took on a more serious stance, and Emilia knew that this was it. One last swing for us both, eh? Let the faster warrior win, then. Emilia readied her Blade at her side, her breathing becoming slow and lethargic. Focus. They both suddenly lunged forward, and Emilia waited right until Michael's blade was nearing her throat. She dropped to her knees and slid across the floor, her Oni-Blade cutting diagonally. Cold blood sprayed onto her, and the walls, as she slid past the Vampire. The sound of a clanking weapon echoed through the destroyed corridor, and Emilia rose to her feet. When she looked back, she found Michael kneeling down with his entrails in his hands.

"Fuck…" Michael coughed harshly, his face twisting from agony. "That… That was good…"

Emilia raised her Blade as she stepped up behind the dying Vampire, who was clearly holding back a scream.

"You… win… Make it clean… Ronin," Michael raised his head, which was swaying from side to side.

Without a single word, Emilia severed the Vampire's head from his shoulders, and Michael's corpse fell forward with a dull thud. One less piece of filth in the World.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Emilia sat in the rubble of the large room, while her men cleared out the debris and found the corpses. So far, she had lost over fifteen men, and it was all because of Michael. Emilia looked to her left, and she eyed the severed head sitting beside her. Michael's cat-eyes had rolled up into his skull, and his swollen tongue was sticking out of his mouth. I'll have this nailed to a wall in Knockturn Alley. Whoever this Vampire was, he was clearly important.

"Nott and Malfoy got away," Jones walked up to her, his right hand covering the side of his stomach.

"I see," she frowned a little. "Have you found any more bodies?"

"We're still searching," Jones replied.

"Fenrir Greyback?" she asked. He lost a lot of blood, but he's a big one. He might have managed to escape.

"Still not found," Jones looked around the room. "Do you still plan to employ us?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Emilia asked.

"Well, for one, most of us got killed," Jones replied coldly, and Emilia looked up at him.

"If you have something to say, say it," Emilia ordered, and Jones just stared at her. "Well?"

"You abandoned your own soldiers in here while you chased after Nott and Malfoy," Jones said. "To me, that's not how leaders should act. We were already on their trail."

"And yet, you failed to kill two men," Emilia stood up.

"Two Death-Eaters," Jones corrected, and then he turned around to leave. "We'll keep searching."

"Over here!" one of Emilia's men called, and both Jones and Emilia looked to see a young man being pulled from the rubble. "This one's alive!"

"Is he ours?" Emilia asked as she limped towards them.

"No," her mercenary replied, and Emilia studied the young man's face. He has faint scars on his cheeks, and a gaunt look about him. A Werewolf?

"Check him for bite marks," Emilia ordered, and the young man was quickly stripped down.

Just as she expected, the young wizard had a Werewolf bite on his left calf. One of Fenrir's dogs, no doubt.

"Wake him," Emilia ordered, and her mercenary did as he was told. "If he tries anything, Jones, break his jaw."

"Gladly," the dark skinned wizard prepared his boot.

"Where… Where am I?" the young wizard croaked, his eyes barely opening.

"What is your name?" Emilia asked.

"Ku… Kurt…" the Werewolf replied.

"Well, Kurt, you've been captured by your enemy," Emilia kneeled down, her knee digging into the young man's throat. "I'll be sure to cut some information out of you."

Kurt's eyes welled up, and he let out a meek cry before Jones kicked him in the temple.

---

Lucius Malfoy's POV

Wednesday 9th December, 1993 (Nott Manor Grounds – Nighttime)

Lucius, Cornelius, and Greyback landed on the grounds with a dull thud, they had been forced to Apparate side-by-side multiple times in order to get back to Nott Manor. Damn Cornelius for losing our emergency Portkey… Arrogant, yet stupid, old bastard. Greyback groaned pathetically from the ground, while Lucius tried to fix up his damaged, and bloody, robes. As for Cornelius, the old man could hardly breathe since their escape.

"Your fucking smuggler set us up," Lucius hissed at Cornelius. "How could you not see this coming?"

"Did you see it coming?" Cornelius glared at Lucius. "No? Then leave the judgement to the Dark Lord." The Dark Lord… Damn it all to hell. He'll punish us for this failure.

"Did you manage to at least protect the Blood?" Lucius demanded, and Cornelius pulled out the two bottles from his robes. "Thank Merlin…"

"We may have lost a few Vampires, and Solomon escaped with his life, but we got the prize," Cornelius boasted, and then he looked to Greyback. "Greyback, get up."

"I can't…" the Werewolf groaned. "The bitch cut me deep…"

"Was that Emilia Travers?" Lucius asked Cornelius. "I didn't get a good enough look at her."

"It was," Cornelius sneered. "She is after me, Lucius… And if the rumors are true, then she's after you as well." Who doesn't want me dead these days? "Come, let's head inside."

"What about him?" Lucius looked to Greyback.

"Leave him… I'll send an Elf later," Cornelius said coldly, and Lucius couldn't agree more with his actions.

Both wizards made their way into the Manor, and Lucius felt pain from each step he took. He had been hit in the back by some Spell residue, and it had no doubt left a Spell-Burn on him. We cut through four men to get out of those infernal corridors. Not a single Vampire that was with us survived, not even Michael. His father will not be pleased when he wakes up.

"Cornelius… Lucius…" the Dark Lord's voice rang in their heads, and Lucius felt his body seize up. "Come to me…"

The two wizards exchanged slow, tired looks, and then they began their journey towards the Study. Explaining what had just transpired was not going to be easy, and Lucius found himself resisting the urge to flee. Lately, he had filled with thoughts of surrendering to the Order. Maybe even the Ministry. What's the point of all of this if Draco and Narcissa are not by my side? No, don't think like that. I can get them both back, I just need to stay strong. The Dark Lord cannot be resisted, and in time, he will destroy the Order.

Lucius and Cornelius stopped in front of the door leading into the Study, and both men exchanged looks once again. It's your house, you go first. Cornelius drew in a deep breath, tightened his hold on the two bottles, and then he pushed himself into the room. Lucius followed after Cornelius, and they both knelt, with great effort, in front of their Master.

"What happened?" the Dark Lord hissed, his red eyes scanning the two wizards before him.

"An ambush, my Lord," Cornelius replied, making sure to display the bottles of Unicorn Blood.

"Solomon betrayed us," Lucius elaborated quickly. "He saw through Cornelius' schemes, and he left behind thirty or so wands in an effort to assassinate us."

"You were outfoxed by a Troll, Cornelius?" the Dark Lord's eyes became fixed on the older wizard.

"My Lord, I-"

"Silence!" the Dark Lord stood up from his chair, and the air seemed to grow thick with residual Magic. "Where is Fenrir? Where is Michael?"

"Fenrir is outside, my Lord," Lucius replied, while Cornelius kept his eyes fixed on the ground. "We could not carry him in with our own injuries. As for Michael… He did not manage to escape with us."

"He's dead?" Lord Voldemort whispered coldly.

"We did not see him fall," Lucius admitted. "But I doubt that he managed to escape."

"I see," something shifted behind the Dark Lord's eyes. "A shame…" Is it, though? "Gaspard will not be pleased once he awakens."

The Dark Lord sat back down at that, his eyes once again fixed on his Death-Eaters.

"We secured the Blood, my Lord," Lucius heard himself say. Be calm, Lucius. Don't make a mistake.

"Indeed you have," the Dark Lord said, he didn't sound very pleased. "Tell me, you fools, why would Solomon give you Unicorn Blood if he planned to betray you from the start?" Huh?

Both Lucius and Cornelius looked up, and they immediately felt the Dark Lord entering their minds. Lucius tried not to resist, but he also made sure to mask his doubts. After nearly a minute of staring, the Dark Lord's lips curled into a look of disgust.

"Call an Elf," the Dark Lord commanded.

"Bricky!" Cornelius called, and a skinny Elf Apparated into the room.

"Master called?" Bricky asked meekly, and when he noticed the Dark Lord, he fell to his knees with his head bowed.

"Give him a bottle," the Dark Lord ordered, and even Lucius tensed at this command. What if those bottles are laced with poison? He'll kill us both!

Cornelius slowly handed his Elf a bottle, while Lucius made sure to keep his expression from showing his growing fears. Why did Solomon give us these bottles? Now that I think about it, it makes no sense. Bricky just stared at the black bottle with a slightly frightened look, his big eyes trying to determine what he was about to drink.

"Drink it," the Dark Lord hissed, and the Elf opened the bottle.

It took one look inside for Bricky's eyes to well up with thick tears, Unicorn Blood was quite easy to make out due to its unique look. The Elf looked back and forth between Cornelius and the Dark Lord, he's bottom lip was beginning to quiver.

"Master?" Bricky squeaked.

"Drink it at once," Cornelius snapped. "That is my command."

"Bricky… understands…" Bricky muttered, and after sniffling, he slowly took a sip from the bottle.

All three wizards just stared at the Elf, who looked genuinely anguished by his own actions. After a few seconds of silence, Bricky suddenly grabbed at his throat, while the bottle crashed down onto the ground. The Elf began to cough loudly, and Lucius felt his stomach drop. We're both dead… He'll kill us for this. Within seconds, Bricky was clawing at his throat, all the while making a 'wailing' sound as his throat closed up. The Elf's eyes bulged further out of his tiny skull, and as blood began to pour out of them, they began facing the opposite directions. By the time Bricky collapsed, he had pissed and shat himself, filling the room with an even worse stench.

The Dark Lord frowned at the dead the Elf, and then he looked to his Death-Eaters.

"My Lord… We didn't-"

"CRUCIO!"

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Thursday 10th December, 1993 (Grimmauld Place – Past Midnight)

Minerva and Albus stepped through the fireplace, an emergency meeting had been called by Alastor at Grimmauld Place. He should still be resting. Albus quickly moved into the Kitchen, his eyes quickly becoming fixed on a bloodied Emilia Travers. What is this? She sat calmly at the end of the table, and by her dinner plate sat a severed head. Sirius, Sturgis, Alastor, and Mundungus were inside the Kitchen as well, but Albus found it difficult to look away from Emilia. Albus suddenly heard Minerva gasp from behind him as she too entered the room, she no doubt was thinking the same thing as him. What has Emilia done?

"Alastor, what is the meaning of this?" Albus moved further into the room, his eyes fixed on Emilia, who was quietly eating Molly's cooking.

"From what Travers has told us, she ambushed Cornelius Nott and Lucius Malfoy tonight," Alastor reported from his chair, he still looked a bit sickly.

"Emilia?" Albus looked back to her, and she shot him an expressionless look.

"Who gave you permission to use my first name, old man?" Emilia asked coldly, and Albus saw Minerva and Sirius frown from the corners of his eyes.

"Explain yourself," Albus ignored her comment. "What have you done?"

"I have struck a blow against the enemy," Emilia replied as she put her fork and knife down. "My men and I killed ten Vampires tonight, and we also managed to injure Fenrir Greyback, Lucius Malfoy, and Cornelius Nott. We even captured one of Fenrir's dogs, who I will interrogate after my meal."

"She means torture," Sirius spoke up, and Albus looked to him. "She dragged some skinny runt in here, and then locked him away in one of my rooms. This is my house, Dumbledore, not a damn dungeon!"

"No one is going to torture anyone," Albus looked back to Emilia, this girl was a loose cannon. "This is not how we operate, Emilia. Why didn't you alert the Order about this?"

"I only learned about this opportunity on Tuesday, and I figured that I didn't need any of you," Emilia shrugged. "As for the boy, he's my prisoner, so I will do to him as I please."

"He's barely of age," Sturgis said. "This is not happening, do you understand? If you lay a hand on that boy, I will-"

"Save your threats," Emilia cut him off. "I might be injured, but I can still cut you down."

"Sturgis, remain calm," Albus said, while Minerva glared at Emilia. "Emilia, explain everything that happened."

For the next five minutes, Albus and Minerva listened to Emilia's story, and despite disagreeing with her actions, Albus couldn't help but feel a little pleased with her results. Hopefully, Tom fell for Mr. Solomon's trick.

"If you had come to us, we could have captured both Malfoy and Nott," Minerva scolded, but it didn't seem to bother Emilia.

"They have most likely poisoned their Master by now," Emilia said. "I don't know about you, but I see this as a success."

"And who is this?" Albus looked to the severed head.

"His name was Michael," Emilia replied. "He seemed important."

"Albus, he has orange, cat-like eyes," Alastor spoke up. Really? "I checked the head myself… This could be that Ancient Vampire's Progeny."

"So Deckard and his Progeny are dead," Albus said, though he wasn't sure if Deckard was truly dead. Why do I get the feeling that the monster that attacked us was actually Deckard? Alastor is sure that he put the Vampire down, but it seems too easy.

"I have also secured the aid of Solomon," Emilia interrupted Albus' thoughts. "With a smuggler of his skill on our side, the Order will greatly benefit. Information, goods, rations, and wands for hire are now open to us."

"Guess I can pack up and leave then, eh?" Mundungus chuckled weakly, and everyone shot him annoyed looks. "Sorry… Just tryin' to lighten the mood, is all…"

"And where is Mr. Solomon?" Albus asked.

"Wandering about," Emilia smirked. "Don't worry, he will find me when he's ready."

"A smuggler, Albus…" Minerva shook her head. "We don't need any more criminals filling our ranks…"

"Any more?" Emilia cocked an eyebrow, and Minerva met her gaze.

"What you have done tonight is nothing short of criminal," Minerva said sternly. "You honestly expect us to look past your murderous behavior?"

"There is no such thing as murder in war," Emilia stood up. "I did not attack civilians, nor did I execute those who couldn't defend themselves. Keep your righteousness to yourself, you old harpy."

With that, Emilia picked up the severed head and limped towards the exit.

"I need a room," she looked back to Sirius, who just rubbed his face with an annoyed look.

"Third floor…" Sirius said. "Pick whichever one you want."

Emilia left at that, and a thought occurred to Albus.

"Sirius… Sturgis… Guard the boy's room," Albus ordered. "Make sure that she doesn't harm him." We'll need to deal with him eventually, but not like this.

"He could have information that we need," Alastor said, while Sirius and Sturgis left to guard the young Werewolf's room.

"Torture, Alastor?" Minerva frowned deeply. "Is that what we're doing now?"

"This might be hard to understand, but in a war, you need to get your hands dirty," Alastor growled from his chair. "Say whatever you want about that girl, but she did do us a service tonight." That she did, but she needs to understand that we need to work together. We could've captured both Lucius and Cornelius if she had alerted us.

"There will be no torture, and that is final," Albus said, and then he used his Occlumency to calm himself down. "She should've come to us, but what's done is done. The information that she's delivered is quite important. Now we know what Lord Voldemort is doing."

"He's trying to keep his vessel from falling apart," Alastor said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Good… Let the bastard rot. I say that we use Travers' methods to bring in this Solomon character. From what I've heard, he's a better fit than Mundungus bloody Fletcher."

"I'm right here," Mundungus stated.

"I know," Alastor shot him a warning look. "With Knockturn Alley closed off, what good are you to us?"

"Alastor, you will not disrespect fellow Order members," Albus said, but Alastor merely grumbled to himself. "Mundungus, I need you to find out more about this Mr. Solomon. We can't just let someone like him into our ranks without information on him."

"I know a few shady lads from Brussels," Mundungus stood up. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Albus said, and Mundungus quickly left before Alastor could chastise him again.

"What are we going to do with this boy, Albus?" Minerva asked. "I say that we Obliviate him, and then send him on his way."

"Nonsense," Alastor argued. "If the Dark Lord finds him, he'll reach into that boy's mind and extract any, and all, information about this place. I say we either put him down, or get him to squeal."

"What part of no torture do you not understand?" Minerva asked.

"You're a clever witch, McGonagall," Alastor started. "You know that we can't just let that boy go. And don't forget that he's a Death-Eater in training. As far as I'm concerned, he's no longer human."

"No longer human?" Minerva blinked, and then she adorned an outraged look. "This is not like the Great War, Alastor, and you no longer have the authority to decide who lives and dies."

"We Aurors are the only reason why the Ministry didn't fall-"

"You all committed war crimes," Minerva said with disgust. "You killed anyone that you 'suspected' to be under the Dark Lord's service, and no questions were ever asked. Albus, speak some sense into him."

"I will speak with this boy myself," Albus said. "We don't know how he came to be under the Dark Lord's service, so we can't just pass judgement on him. For now, leave him to recover from the battle. Once he is healthy enough, I will use Legilimency on him."

"Fine, but he won't be leaving that room of his," Alastor conceded. "And if he tries anything, I'll finish what Travers started."

"What do we do about her?" Minerva asked, her frown lingering on Alastor. "She can't be allowed to run rampant, especially because she is not a British Citizen. If she draws too much attention to herself, we could all be undone."

"She is more cunning than she looks," Albus stated. "Why else would she bring that boy here? She knows that now that he's seen this building, we'll have to deal with him. I don't know what her goals are, but she clearly understands how to trap people in her schemes."

"Not to mention that unlike her fellow French countrymen, she's got a pair on her," Alastor almost sounded impressed. "While they argued over who gets what, she went out and got results. I say that we send the bureaucrats away, and keep her around."

"We need all the help that we can get, Alastor," Albus said. "With the Dark Lord in hiding once again, we must utilize this window of ceasefire. Over the school Break, I intend to travel in search of more allies. I have friends in Africa who would gladly stand against tyranny." Albus then looked Alastor over. "Are you fit to accompany Remus and Tonks?"

"I am," Alastor replied immediately. "I'm tired of wasting away in a bed, Albus. You need me out there."

"Very well," Albus gave a nod. "Minerva, you may return to Hogwarts, there is nothing more to be done about this tonight. Inform Pomona, Remus, Hagrid, and Filius of what has transpired." I'll need to tell Ronald about Emilia. After all, he brought her into this country.

Both Albus and Minerva left the Kitchen at that, and while she went towards the fireplace, Albus began making his way up. He wished to see Severus once again, and he needed to speak with Narcissa Malfoy about Draco's Holiday Break. The boy cannot stay with his mother… That much is obvious, however, he cannot stay with Severus either. Severus is in no condition to take care of a child, especially one that might try to contact his father. For now, Severus has to focus on his own recovery.

Albus knocked on Severus' door, and he waited for his friend's response.

"Enter," came Severus' voice, and Albus made his way inside. "Albus? What are you doing here?" He's still awake. Good.

"Order business," Albus replied as he shut the door, his eyes scanning Severus, who sitting up against the head of his bed.

"What has happened?" Severus asked, his eye returning to the book in his lap.

"Emilia Travers, a new Order member, has struck a blow against Lord Voldemort," Albus replied as he sat down on the edge of Severus' bed. "She did this in secret, mind you, which has caused some… uproar."

"I see," Severus looked back up, and then he closed the book with his left hand.

"You are looking healthier," Albus smiled his kind smile.

"Molly Weasley's doing," Severus said coldly. "She has been forcing four meals into me every day… I wish to return to Spinner's End, Albus. I grow weary of seeing Black's face every day." Every day?

"He's been helping you with your walks," Albus smiled more widely. Good, Sirius needs this. And so does Severus. It is past time that they buried the past.

"Don't look so amused," Severus frowned at him. "I can get better on my own, and I don't need that degenerate's help. He is forcing himself upon me in order to feel better about himself."

"Forcing himself upon you?" Albus chuckled, and Severus' face turned cold.

"You have been spending time with Ron, I see," Severus suddenly became expressionless. "How is he?"

"Busy, as always," Albus replied. He has made me so very proud lately. "He misses you."

"Does he?" Severus rolled his eye. Don't pretend like that doesn't please you somewhat. "I have been reading the Daily Prophet, and his name keeps appearing everywhere. He's brought the French here, and you've assimilated them into the Order."

"Our army is growing," Albus said.

"Speaking of which… I wish to return to Hogwarts," Severus stated.

"Severus… You are in no condition to teach-"

"I need to do something, Albus," Severus' eye became fixed on Albus'. "Sitting in this bed all day… It is disagreeing with me. I am not helping anyone from here."

"You are helping yourself," Albus countered. "Do you honestly think that you can walk up and down the Moving Staircase right now?"

"I'll stay in my Lab," Severus said almost petulantly.

"Poppy will have my hide if I agree to this, Severus," Albus said. "You may return after the Break, but only if Poppy gives you permission."

"Fine…" Severus whispered icily. "What about my request for Spinner's End? I need to prepare it for Draco's arrival."

"About that… I cannot let you do that," Albus said, and Severus just stared at him. "Severus… He is not ready for this, and neither are you. Who will cook your meals? Who will clean the house? Raising a child is no easy thing, and you are still struggling to even walk straight. Not to mention that Draco might attempt to contact his father."

"So not only am I to stay here for the foreseeable Future, but I also cannot have custody of my Godson?" Severus demanded.

"He will be allowed to spend his Break here, if he wishes," Albus said.

"But you will have Kreacher watch him," Severus figured.

"For now, we cannot take any chances with him," Albus said. "He will, of course, not be allowed to see his mother. Narcissa tries to persuade him to rebel against the Order at every opportunity." She is blinded by her hatred of Muggles, and she is also under the delusion that the Dark Lord will win.

"She loves him, but you're right," Severus agreed. "Lucius and Narcissa have poisoned Draco enough. He must choose his own destiny, for better or worse." Choose his own destiny… Aren't we taking his choice away as well? "How is Draco at school? Is Ron watching over him?"

"Like a hawk," Albus replied. "As for Draco, he is… quiet, but given what he's been through, it is completely natural. His World has been shaken to its bedrock, and as a result, he has closed himself off. From what I've seen during meal times, he only speaks to Ronald, but even then, Ronald is the one who always starts the conversations."

"I suppose that's enough for now," Severus said. "Just remind Ron that he made me a promise, Albus." What promise?

"I'll tell him," Albus agreed, and then he stood up. "Get some rest, Severus. Teaching Potions has never been my forte, and your students miss you."

"Highly unlikely," Severus said icily. "One more thing before you leave… I've arranged my memories just as you asked. Whenever you are ready to approach Amelia Bones, you can have them."

"Once she returns from her trip to Albania, I'll come straight here," Albus smiled. "Thank you, Severus. I am sorry that you had to relive your-"

"Stop apologizing every time you come here," Severus frowned deeply. "It only serves to agitate me." Ah, how I miss his cold remarks.

"Sorry," Albus chuckled, and Severus drew in a sharp breath. Ha. "Goodnight, Severus. I will be sure to relay your message to Ronald, he is eager to see you again."

"Tell him to focus on his own life," Severus reached for his book, and Albus left the room with a parting nod.

Once Albus had shut the door behind him, he made his way towards the attic. Now this was a conversation that he didn't want to have. Albus had never been fond of Narcissa Malfoy, even at school she had been particularly cold and cruel towards anyone she deemed as 'lesser', but ever since she had married Lucius Malfoy, her ego had reach the stratosphere. She might not be a Death-Eater, but she is the next worse thing. Albus knocked on her door, and when he heard her shuffling about, he unlocked and entered the attic.

"Hello, Narcissa," Albus greeted, she had just put on her sleeping robes.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly, her tired eyes suggested that she had been asleep.

"I've come to tell you that your son will not be seeing you over Christmas," Albus told her bluntly, he himself wanted to be on his way.

"What?" she blinked, her mask cracking for a moment. "Why? You said that he would spend his Christmas here."

"And he will, but he will not be allowed to see you," Albus replied. "You will not whisper doubts and venom into his ear."

"Oh, that's your job, isn't it?" Narcissa sneered. "You are turning a son against his own mother!"

"A mother who would offer him up as a sacrificial lamb to a monster," Albus said. "I do not enjoy putting Draco in this position, but we both know that the alternative is far worse. Unlike me, Lord Voldemort has very little patience for children."

"And what happens when your Order is destroyed?" Narcissa hissed. "He'll kill my son because of you!"

"This is what comes of war, Narcissa," Albus said. "You, and those who think like you, have been clamoring for this sort of war since the Middle-Ages… Well, here we are. In war, sons lose their mothers and fathers. Mothers lose their children and their husbands. Death becomes a routine, rather than a new journey. Can you even imagine how many other mothers will lose their sons because of your actions? Do you even care?"

Narcissa said nothing, but the look on her face proved that she could not match his wisdom. Either that, or she is too far gone to even understand me.

"We had peace, but people like you burnt it to the ground," Albus turned to leave. "Reap what you have sown, girl."

"Let me at least get him something," Narcissa blurted out, and Albus stopped walking. "Just an hour in the Kitchens… I've always baked for him. Ever since he was little… Please." Don't agree to this, Albus.

"Sirius will come and collect you before Christmas," Albus said. "You will do your baking, and then return here without a fuss."

Narcissa said nothing to that, and Albus left before she could. Forgive me, Ronald, but I do not have it in me to say no to such a request.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 10th December, 1993 (The Leaky Cauldron – Lunchtime)

"Are you sure that this is alright?" Ron whispered to Gornuk.

"Mr. Weasley, we do not have Offices just yet," Gornuk replied, he had taken lunch off to be here for the interview. "Miss. Angel was given clear instructions to meet us here, and any minute now, she will step through that door."

"Right," Ron gave a nod, they were both sitting behind a table in a room that they had rented for the day.

"Do you remember our plan?" Gornuk asked.

"Of course," Ron replied. "I came up with said plan, Gornuk…"

"Just making sure, Sir," Gornuk smirked.

Ron was about to say something, but a sudden knock at the door stopped him. She's here.

"Enter," Ron stood up, and Marietta Angel slowly opened the door and stuck her head through. "Miss. Angel, right on time."

"Mr. Weasley," she smiled at seeing him, she looked just like her picture from the dossier. A bit plain, but by no means unattractive. No wonder Cuffe found his way into her bed. "Thank you for setting this up… Sir." Yes, I'm a thirteen year old in a suit, but don't call me 'Sir'. It makes me uncomfortable.

"Please, take a seat," Ron gestured to the chair across the table.

Marietta quickly made her way inside, and once she had sat down, her eyes lingered on Gornuk.

"This is Gornuk," Ron said as he sat back down. "He is the one who sent you the owl."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gornuk," Marietta smiled at the Goblin, who just cocked his eyebrow.

"Miss. Angel-" Ron started, but she quickly cut him off.

"Please, just call me Marietta," she blurted out, and then, she looked worried for a second. "Sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt you… It's just that I'm a bit… nervous…"

"It's alright," Ron smiled, he didn't mind her nerves getting the better of her. "Just relax, Marietta."

"Alright," she nodded weakly, and then she planted her articles in front of herself.

"Have you been to many interviews, Miss. Angel?" Gornuk asked.

"Several, actually," she gave a nervous chuckle. "Though I… Um…"

"Was never hired?" Ron provided, and she gave another weak nod. "Why is that?"

"Um… Well, the Daily Prophet didn't really like my form of journalism," she replied slowly. Someone get this woman a damn Calming Draught… She's making me nervous as well.

"That is not a good sign," Gornuk said coldly, and she swallowed thickly. Ease up, Gornuk. The plan is to find out more about Cuffe, not scare this woman to death.

"Why did the Daily Prophet reject you?" Ron asked. "I want specifics."

"My article on Werewolves was seen as… controversial…" she quickly looked through her articles. "Here it is."

Ron reached forward and took the article, and while he began reading through it, Gornuk pressed forward.

"If it's not too much to ask," Marietta started. "Could I perhaps ask how you found me? I didn't really apply for this job, not that I'm unhappy about this… It's just a bit unexpected." Wait, she went and lived with a Werewolf tribe for a month?!

Ron turned his focus on the article completely, this was definitely better writing than Xeno's. She wanted to experience their lives firsthand… That's quite commendable. Bloody hell, she even stayed behind to witness their 'horrifically painful transformations'. Wait… They really tie smaller children to thick trees? Merlin…

"Is this for real?" Ron looked to her, and she stopped talking with Gornuk. I zoned them out.

"The article?" she blinked at his slightly confused, and awed, expression.

"Did you really write this?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I did," she replied, and Ron handed the article to Gornuk.

"You really lived with Werewolves for a month?" Ron just stared at her.

"She did what?" Gornuk looked down at the article, was she insane?

"I wanted to capture their lives… Their desperation to be heard," she told Ron, though her nervous demeanor took away from how inspiring her words were. She's fucking mental, and in a good way. "I spent more than a month with them, actually. They didn't have much, but they were very kind to me. They even saw me as a hero who was going to shed some light on their predicaments… But…" She looked down at her other articles. "Guess they put their hopes on the wrong person…" Seriously, be a little confident at least… But never mind that, she's perfect for this job.

"Let me see the other articles," Ron put his gloved hand forward, and she quickly handed him the lot.

Gornuk and Ron spent the next ten minutes going through her works, and Ron had to admit, this witch definitely knew more about the World than he did. Even Gornuk seemed impressed with her article on Goblin Hierarchies, and the struggles faced by the newer Goblin Lines. I had no idea that Merpeople are extremely scared of us Wizards because we've always culled their numbers for sport. They fear us, and because of that, they resent us. How did she communicate with Merpeople?

"How did you communicate with Merpeople?" Ron asked her.

"Oh…" she suddenly jolted back to attention. Oops, we've been ignoring her. "They're actually quite intelligent, and their elders understand us."

"Elders?"

"They believe in Elders, or kings," she told him. "Each colony has one Elder, and he dictates everything in their colony's culture."

"Each colony has different cultures?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I actually listed some cultures further down the article," she pointed to the article in Ron's hands. "Only a few Elders spoke to me, though. They can be very violent people." People? You mean fish, right? Are they fish? No… She clearly proved that they're more than just fish in this article.

Ron put the article down, his eyes fixed on hers. Be smart, Ron. Find out if she's genuine.

"Tell me… about your interview at the Daily Prophet," Ron leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

"I…" she seemed to shrink. "They laughed me out…" What was that? Don't whisper, please.

"Pardon?"

"They laughed me out," she said a little more strongly. Wow. "They didn't want to look like 'sympathizers'… I actually walked out myself once they said that." She then seemed to remember something. "There was only one person who didn't laugh at me." Let me guess…

"Barnabas Cuffe?" Ron asked, and she blinked at him.

"Um… How did… you know that?" she shot a look at Gornuk. Who approached who?

Ron drew in a deep breath, and he used his weak Occlumency to gain some control over himself. She is a gold mine, Ron, but you need to be very careful.

"You asked us how we found you, right?" Ron asked. "We found you through Barnabas Cuffe."

"You did?" she just stared at Ron with a bewildered look.

"He gave me a dossier on you," Ron replied. She didn't know?

"What? A dossier?"

"It was filled with information on you," Ron explained. "It told me that you were Muggle-Born, that you were from the States, and that you were working as a barmaid in some Muggle bar."

"You can't… A dossier, really?" her mouth hung open a little.

"I looked into you, and I know everything," Ron stated bluntly. "Everything, Marietta."

"You looked into me?" she all but whispered, her face paling a little.

"You are a Journalist, are you not?" Gornuk asked. "Surely you can understand our need to research you."

"Barnabas Cuffe and I are not on good terms, so when he recommended you, I was extremely suspicious about his motives," Ron explained. "But reading these… Meeting you… I am at a loss." Could he just want his girlfriend to work in her chosen field? She clearly has the talent, but was rejected because of politics. "I'll be blunt with you here, Marietta, I want you to work for me, but Barnabas Cuffe's relationship with you puts a black mark on your record."

"A black mark?" she asked.

"I don't trust him, and therefore, I can't trust you," Ron stated coldly. "You cannot work for me, and still sleep in his bed."

"You want me to end things with Barnabas?" she asked, and then much to Ron's surprise, she frowned at him. "I'll be leaving, then." She stood up, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. "Please, hand me my articles." I didn't see that coming… Damn, I need her to calm down.

"Please, sit back down," Ron said calmingly, but she just glared at him. Sit down, or I'll shatter your legs. "Please."

"Barnabas paid for my trips so I could learn to be a better Journalist," she huffed as she sat down. "He saw that I was better than his workers, and when I was laughed out of the room, he came and found me. He is not this shady person that you describe him as, and I won't let you slander him."

"He gave me a dossier on you," Ron said. That's creepy, considering that you're sleeping with him.

"That… Look, I didn't know about that, but I assure you, I would've applied for a job had you put an ad in the papers," Marietta flushed a bit. "He shouldn't have given you a dossier on me… That is a little disturbing…" And there goes her confidence.

"Miss. Angel, relax," Gornuk said. "From what we've read, you're worthy of working for our company. We want to hire you." Is he making a sales pitch? "We know that with people like you on our workforce, we'll be genuine competition for the Daily Prophet."

"I… Thanks…"

"Let's reach a compromise instead," Gornuk looked to Ron.

"I agree," Ron looked to Marietta. "Would you be willing to sign some documents? Magically Binding Contracts, that is."

"Like the ones that you had Barnabas sign?" she asked slowly.

"He told you about that?" Ron asked, and she averted her gaze. Fucking tosser.

Ron stood up, and he walked over to her side. She stared up at his looming figure, while Ron leaned down to stare into her soul with an almost dead-stare. I need her to work for me, but I can't afford to let her betray me either. I have to hammer this message into her skull.

"I want you to agree to work for me, and only me," Ron said. "That's all, Marietta. If you can agree to that, and sign the necessary papers, I will hire you. Your articles are brilliant, and I want to publish them all. Especially the Werewolf one."

"Tha… Thanks… Sir," she looked forward. She hates eye contact, doesn't she?

"But your lover has designs over my business, which means that he could use you to get to me," Ron told her.

"I… I understand that," Marietta stared ahead at Gornuk. "I never asked him to give my dossier to you, so I'll definitely demand some answers from him, but I'm not just going to leave him for a job. That's not me…" Ugh… Fine.

"Gornuk," Ron looked to his Logistics Officer.

"I will get the contracts ready," Gornuk gave Ron a nod, and then he looked to Marietta. "We are willing to offer three-hundred and fifty Galleons a year as your salary, plus benefits like Healthcare and Dental."

"That's lower than the average-"

"This is your first Magical Job, is it not?" Gornuk asked, and she gave a nod. "Then you will start with a lower paycheck, and work your way up. Our business is still very small compared to the Daily Prophet, so we must all compromise."

"But unlike the Prophet, we will respect you for your work… Not your political beliefs," Ron stood up straight again. "What do you say?"

"I… I'll sign," she nodded, she was quite intimidated by this tall thirteen year old.

"Welcome to The Quibbler, Miss. Angel," Ron smiled down at her. "Tell Mr. Cuffe that I'd like to meet him soon. He and I need to exchange words." I'm done guessing what his angle is. I'm going to tell him to fuck right off, and if he keeps bothering me after that, then I'll fuck him up proper.

---

Thursday 10th December, 1993 (Slytherin Common Room – After Lunch)

By the time Ron had returned to Hogwarts, the Headmaster had left to teach Potions for afternoon classes. Ron had made his way straight down to the Dungeons, hoping to at least see Daphne for a few moments before she left for Divinations. Sadly, however, she had already left with Tracey and Pansy. Real shame, because things have been going great with Daphne lately. I definitely plan to finish that dating book today, it's actually helped me open up a little more. Hmmm, maybe I ought to tell Daphne about Priscilla. Just in case something happens to me and Dumbledore, I need to have a backup for that.

"Hello," Ron greeted Theo and Blaise, both of whom were sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. Where are Millie and Malfoy? Probably in the Training Area.

"You're back," Theo shot him a smirk. "How was the interview?"

"Turns out that Marietta Angel is… Well, an Angel," Ron smirked back. "Her articles were damn good, and she didn't seem to know about Cuffe's recent behavior. I've decided to give her a chance."

"Just watch your back with her, Ron," Blaise looked up from his book. "She might be lying to you."

"He'll have her sign some papers," Theo said, and then he looked back to Ron. "Right?"

"I will," Ron sat down on a chair. "Don't worry, Blaise, I'll be responsible."

"Here, this came for you during Lunch," Blaise tossed him a letter. "It's got the Ministry's Seal on it." Ministry?

Ron eyed the letter, and it indeed had the Ministry's golden Seal on it. Which Department is it from? Ron began to open the letter, while his mates waited patiently.

Mr. Weasley,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am sending this letter to inform you that the French Citizens who have elected to remain in Britain are throwing a Christmas Party on the Twenty-fifth of December. It is compulsory for you to attend as you are our Diplomat to the French from henceforth.

You may bring one additional guest as your dancing partner for the day, and no more. This letter will serve as your invitation. Be at Monty's Hall in the Upper District by 12:30 pm, the party will conclude at 7:00 pm.

Do not embarrass the British Ministry.

The Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation,

Bartemius Crouch Senior.

"Well, who is it from?" Theo asked, and Ron handed Theo the letter. A Christmas Party? Tsk, what do I do? I have invited people to be at the Burrow during Christmas. "Barty Crouch Snr… Wait… You have to attend. Don't tell me that you plan to ditch me with your Family on Christmas day, Ron." Fuck.

"This… was unexpected," Ron rubbed his face, while Theo handed Blaise the letter. "And I'm not ditching you, Theo… Tracey will be there." Mum invited the Davis Family.

"Really?" Theo looked quite surprised.

"Oh, I haven't told you yet," Ron realized. "Well, my mum invited the Davis Family to Christmas as well. And the Greengrass Family."

"Why haven't you mentioned that yet?" Theo seemed to relax a little.

"It slipped my mind," Ron admitted. "I don't think that even Tracey and Daphne know that they'll be at my house for Christmas this year."

"You'll be taking Daphne as your guest, right?" Blaise looked to Ron, who nodded immediately. Who else would I take? "Theo, it's your lucky day, then… You get to spend your day alone with Tracey." Oh, ha!

"Sod off," Theo frowned at Blaise, who just smirked at him.

"Here you go," Blaise handed the letter back to Ron. "How's your French going?"

"Not well…" Ron admitted. I'm not very good at Languages. "Je m'appelle Ronald Weasley…"

"Wow… That was not smooth at all," Theo grimaced. "It's 'Je m'appelle'… Repeat after me." Damn, he sounds like a genuine Frenchman.

"Je m'appelle," Ron copied Theo, who clicked his tongue.

"Don't force it out, just be smooth," Theo advised. "Anyway… I'm just glad that I won't be stuck with Gryffindors for the entire day."

"I hope you're ready to sleep on the floor," Ron sniggered, and Theo blinked at him. "I only have one bed, Theo…"

"Are you… Are you serious?" Theo asked slowly.

"We can share, if you want," Ron grinned.

"And let you molest me in my sleep? Fuck that," Theo sighed out. "Can't I stay at Greengrass Manor? I mean, Daphne will be over at your house every day, I imagine." I bloody hope so.

"C'mon, don't be a bitch," Ron said in an amused manner. "It'll be fun."

"Whatever," Theo shook his head. "I'm sleeping with one eye open, that's for certain." You will not be safe, hehe.

Ron stood up and stretched his back, it was time to finish that dating book.

"I'm going to go take a nap," Ron lied. "I'll see you in a bit, I guess."

---

Thursday 10th December, 1993 (The Girls' Room – Evening)

"That feels nice," Daphne hummed from on top of him, while Ron ran his left fingers over her spine.

The moment she had returned from Divinations, Ron had ambushed her like the needy boyfriend he was. She, of course, didn't mind the extra attention, and so they had sent the girls on their way in order to snog in peace. Once they had tired themselves out, Daphne had asked for cuddles, which Ron was all too happy to give. Should I run my fingers a little lower? C'mon, be confident, Ron. Remember Master Clara's teachings!

"Is this fine?" Ron asked as his fingers slowly brushed her lower back.

"Yes, that's fine," Daphne kissed the bottom of his jaw. "I don't know where all this attention to detail is coming from, but please never stop." Don't giggle like a little girl, Ron.

"So… Do you want to tell me about your letter now?" Ron asked her.

"Oh, it was from Lady Heroux," Daphne beamed. "She likes the idea of importing supplies for her business from Britain. Turns out, Britain sells tools for a much cheaper price, so if I buy them and send them over, she'll save quite a lot of money."

"Which she will share with you?" Ron asked. She's really turning into a businesswoman, isn't she? Or at least, she's doing her best to become her own person. I can respect that.

"I'll definitely turn a profit, if that's what you're wondering," Daphne replied happily.

"Don't forget your poor boyfriend," Ron chuckled.

"Never," Daphne giggled. "I'll save up and buy you pretty things, Ron."

"And I'll model them for you," Ron hugged her more tightly. All jokes aside, don't buy me things.

"Too tight…" she wheezed, and Ron eased up a little.

"Oops."

"It's okay," Daphne nuzzled her face into his neck. "Thanks for being so… casual… about this. I tried talking to Tracey and Pansy, but they just stressed me out with their never ending scenarios of things going wrong." She's scared of failing.

"Things always go wrong, but you'll learn to adapt," Ron spoke from experience. "Just don't let the failures dictate your future actions. Learn from your mistakes, Daph, but never let them run the show."

"It's good that I have a boyfriend who is so well-versed in failure," Daphne smirked against his neck.

"That's just mean," Ron smiled up at the ceiling.

"You love it," Daphne said. "Honestly, before I can do anything with Lady Heroux, I need to have her sign some papers. I've seen people try and cheat father out of business deals, so I need to be careful with her."

"I don't think anyone will try to cheat Lord Greengrass' daughter," Ron said, and she pulled her head back in order to stare at him. "What?"

"I don't want my father interfering with my business ventures," Daphne reminded him. "If I let him in, Ron, he'll just take over. You know how he is."

"Lord Greengrass knows best," Ron nodded slowly.

"He thinks he does," Daphne planted her head down on his shoulder. "I'd rather get cheated, and learn from it, than to let my father dictate my every move. You can understand that, right?"

"You know I can," Ron began rubbing her back again, while his right hand rested on her hip bone. Don't be afraid of contact, Ron, but if she tenses or says no, get out of there. "Speaking of adults dictating our lives… I have something to tell you. Something that only one other person in the World knows." She has to know about Priscilla. If something happens to me, I know Daphne will take care of them.

"What is it?" she raised her head again, Ron had sounded quite serious just then.

"Do you remember that homeless girl I told you about?" Ron asked.

"Prisca?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Priscilla," Ron corrected, and she nodded slowly. "Well, I ran into her again recently."

"How recently?" Daphne asked.

"About a couple of weeks ago," Ron replied, and Daphne leaned further away.

"Really? And you didn't tell me?" Daphne asked with a furrowed brow. Uh-oh… This isn't going well at all.

"I'm going to be honest here… I've been in contact with her over the last two weeks," Ron admitted, deciding to adhere to the book's teachings. "And no, we're not even friends, I think. The moment I ran into her, I remembered why I had bought The Quibbler in the first place. I… I offered her my help, Daphne."

"Help?" Daphne sat up, and Ron quickly followed suit. I guess cuddling time is over. "Look, it's not my business to tell you what you can, or can't do, but you should tell me if you're sneaking off to see other girls."

"Sneaking off to see other girls?" Ron blinked, while Daphne just looked bothered with her own words. The jealousy returns… I need to tread carefully. "Daphne, there is no 'sneaking'… When I ran into Priscilla, she and her friends were being kicked out of the Leaky Cauldron because of their Squib status. I approached her, and after we talked, she told me that she had run away from Knockturn Alley in order to avoid being killed."

"Killed?" Daphne seemed to pause at that.

"Apparently, people in Knockturn Alley have gone mental," Ron said. "Crime is going up every day, and without the Aurors here to enforce peace, Knockturn Alley is no place for homeless children. Priscilla got her hands on some money, and she used it to take the younger ones away from that place. She planned to keep moving around until she found a decent job, but I could tell that she was never going to find it. So… I offered to help her."

"Wait… You mentioned younger ones?" Daphne asked slowly. "Ron… Tell me everything."

For the next ten minutes, Ron told her of his efforts to help Priscilla. Explaining his desire to do the right thing was easy enough, mostly because Daphne understood that Ron was soft-hearted when it came to the needy, but when Ron began to approach the story about his solution to Priscilla's problems, he knew that he had to be careful with what he said. I can't let her think that I'm Dumbledore's right hand, or some nonsense like that.

"So…" Daphne said, her eyes fixed on his. "You decided that you wanted to build them a house?"

"It was the only solution that made sense," Ron replied. "They want to stay together, Daph… They're a Family."

"Ron, you have no money to spend," Daphne reminded him. "Your business is about to take off very soon, so you can't afford to throw money away like this."

"I'm not throwing it away," Ron frowned a little. "I am offering it to people who need it far more than I do."

"That's really noble of you," she said. "But it's also not good for The Quibbler. Please tell me that you haven't started looking into houses yet." Um… How do I proceed?

"It's already done," Ron said, and Daphne blinked at him.

"Ron… What's done?" she asked slowly. "What did you do?"

"I found them a home, and they've all moved in," Ron replied, and Daphne gaped at him. "All thirty, or so, of them."

"Merlin!" Daphne looked utterly blown away. "Ron, how is that even possible?! You said you only ran into her a couple of weeks ago!" Here I go.

"I had help," Ron told her.

"Help? From who?" she asked, and then she suddenly frowned. "Did you go to my father before you came to me? If you did, I swear-"

"I went to the Headmaster," Ron told her, and she stopped mid-sentence. "No offence, Daph, but I know that your father is disgusted by Squibs. As are all of you…"

"You went to Albus Dumbledore," she mumbled, completely ignoring his comment. "And he agreed to help you, his student, in finding a house for the homeless Squibs of Knockturn Alley?"

"When you put it like that… It sounds a little weird," Ron said.

"A little?" she asked, and then she rubbed her temples. "Ron, I don't even know what to say to you… How can you do all of this, and never once mention it? To anyone!"

"I want them to be safe, Daph," Ron explained. "If people know about them, then they won't be safe."

"Safe from what?" she asked, and then she remembered his insane beliefs about an upcoming war. "Wait… Not this again…"

"Not what again?" Ron frowned.

"Ron, there is no war," Daphne told him firmly. "You honestly let your insane beliefs trick you into paying a ludicrous amount of money to these Squibs…? What about your business, Ron?"

"Insane beliefs?" Ron repeated, and then his expression turned cold. "I am not insane."

"Wait… Look, I'm not calling you insane, but I would be remiss in not telling you that you are making a mistake here," Daphne held her ground. "Ron, people like Mr. Lovegood are relying on you, and you just spent what little money you did have on people you don't even know. You should be saving your money for a rainy day, not buying houses for the poor."

"Dumbledore paid for the Estate, and he hired the caretaker Elves," Ron told her, and she blinked at him.

"Why would he do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ron said rather harshly. "Maybe because he has a soul? Maybe because he cares more about people than 'businesses'." Ron hopped out of the bed at that. "Priscilla and her friends are children! Just like us! But they have to steal, sell themselves, and sleep on the streets! Can you even imagine how terrible their lives have been?!"

"Don't yell at me," she jumped off of the bed as well. "I'm on your side here!"

"Are you?" Ron asked. "Because I just told you that I've saved thirty children from dying in the streets, but all you care about is The Quibbler. What's wrong with you people?! Why are all of you so cold to the lives of people different from you?!"

"Careful, Ron," Daphne hissed. "Don't say things that you'll regret later."

"You know what I regret… I regret telling you about this," Ron told her bluntly. "I figured that I'd come clean to you, and only you, but now we're fighting."

"We're fighting because you can't seem to grasp the consequences of your own actions," Daphne argued. "How much money are you giving them, Ron?"

"A hundred Galleons," he told her. "Once they run out, I'll fill their account again."

"You don't have that sort of money," she reminded him. "You mentioned thirty children, didn't you? Do you have any idea how quickly that money will run out? You know what, I'm putting a pin in the money debacle. I want to know how you convinced the Headmaster of Hogwarts to pay for a damn Estate."

"Easily," Ron all but boasted. "One sentence from me, and he was on board." Daphne blinked at him. "He understood why I was doing this, and he agreed to help me without any questions asked."

"Why?" What do you mean by 'why'? Is it that hard to understand that we want to help others?

"Because, like me, he understands that these children have no one!" Ron replied angrily. "They have no one, Daphne! No parents, no siblings, no guardians… Nothing. If I hadn't offered them my help, they'd end up back in Knockturn Alley. The little girls would end up becoming prostitutes, while the boys would become murderers and thieves."

Daphne seemed to be a little shaken by how blunt Ron was about this, but she didn't show it. In a way, Ron was right… She couldn't understand their lives whatsoever, but she did understand that Ron was only hurting his own health by stressing about random people that he didn't even know.

"Ron, take a deep breath," she said slowly, but Ron just glared at her. "I know that you want to do the right thing, and I'm not speaking out against that. I just can't agree with how you're going about this."

"I got results," Ron said coldly.

"You didn't tell a single soul, besides the Headmaster, and you've already given these children an Estate," Daphne said. "Ron… This is not normal behavior for a thirteen year old."

"Well, I'm not normal," Ron laughed scathingly.

"Can you stop getting offended at everything I say," Daphne frowned deeply. "You can't sustain this plan of yours, not with your current income. It's just going to stress you to no end, and you can't afford to do that to yourself."

"I don't care about myself," Ron blurted out, why was she being so uncaring towards Priscilla and her friends? She's never had to work a day in her life, that's why. Spoilt rotten, just like Ginny.

Ron felt a pang of pain travel up his skull, and he shook his head clear. They're all filth… Every single person who disagrees with Us is filth!

"No, that's not true…" Ron muttered to himself, while Daphne just stared at her boyfriend.

"Ron?" Daphne whispered as she took a step forward.

Ron turned his attention back to Daphne, and he quickly fixed his expression.

"I'll help them, even if it stresses me to no end," Ron told her. "I don't care, Daphne… I can't walk away from them, not after seeing just how terrible their lives were." Ron then rubbed his forehead, he could feel a headache coming on. "They were carrying bags on their backs, which served as their homes… The younger ones are so malnourished that they look like five year olds… I don't give a damn about myself… I'm helping them, and that's final."

"Ron, sit down," Daphne gently pulled him back down on the bed, and Ron begrudgingly did as she asked. "Let me be clear here… I don't disagree with you helping others, it's one of your best qualities. But… You always take on too much, and then you fall apart. I hate seeing that, and I know for a fact that you can't sustain thirty children with your current income. It's not probable, Ron, you have to see that."

"I'll figure things out," Ron stared down at the floor. "I just wanted to tell you because I don't like keeping things from you. I thought that…" Ron drew in a deep breath. "I was hoping for support… Not an argument."

"You should've told me before you went to Dumbledore of all people," Daphne said, but she quickly reigned in her own jealous tendencies. "Ron, you met a homeless girl in a tavern, and you bought her, and her friends, an Estate…"

"It makes sense to me," Ron whispered. "I want to help her, and I'm not letting social norms stop me. I know it's weird, unnatural even, but I don't care. The little ones were so happy in that house, Daphne…" Daphne's expression softened at his weaker tone. "They've never had rooms before… Seeing them showed me that my problems are nothing compared to theirs. And… I want you to meet them as well."

"You do?" Daphne asked.

"I could've easily kept this to myself," Ron looked to her. "But I want you to meet them as well. And should anything happen to me-"

"Don't say it," she jumped in. "Ron, don't talk like that, please. It'll only make me scared and angry."

"Be realistic here," Ron urged her. "My health is failing, and we both know it." She began shaking her head, clearly trying to block his words from entering her ears. "Daphne… Stop doing that. Listen to me, alright? I could be gone soon…"

"Stop," Daphne shot up. "Stop it!" Damn it all to hell, why are people so sentimental?! I'm trying to implement safe-guards here! "What's the matter with you all of a sudden?!"

"I want someone to watch over them," Ron told her. "It's not fair to ask you, but I have no one else that I trust as much. Just meet them, please? I'll take you with me the next time I go to the Estate, and you can see for yourself."

"What am I even supposed to say to that?" she asked, her voice cracking a little. "Don't talk like this… You're starting to scare me."

"I don't like doing it, but it's necessary," Ron stood up as well, and then he put his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me." Daphne slowly looked up at him, and Ron did his best to look calm and collected. "Just meet them… Once you see them for yourself, I know you'll understand why I'm doing this."

Daphne went to say something, but a loud knock at the door cut her off.

"Daphne! Ron! Are you two decent?!" came Tracey's voice, and both Ron and Daphne looked towards the door. That timing… Damn you, Tracey Davis.

"We'll talk about this later," Ron whispered, but the look on her face suggested that it wouldn't be soon.

Ron then walked over to the door, and he unlocked it. As soon as he opened it, Tracey jumped into the room with a happy smile. However, the moment she saw Daphne looking distant in the background, Tracey lost her smile.

"Um… Is now a bad time?" she asked Ron, who simply shrugged.

"What is it, Trace?" Ron asked.

"The Headmaster wants to see you," Tracey replied, and while Ron looked a little taken aback, Daphne dropped down onto her bed. "Daphne? Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Daphne replied coldly. It's like the Universe picks specific moments to fuck with me.

"Thanks for the message," Ron said to Tracey, and after shooting a quick look at his girlfriend, he left the room. What does Dumbledore want with me right now? He never summons me outright.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

This was bloody unbelievable.

"She launched an assault on the Dark Lord's forces, and she told no one?" Ron asked once again, and Dumbledore gave him a nod. Fucking hell, Emilia… Why didn't you at least come to me?

"From all accounts, her ambush has served us well," Dumbledore said. "But the Order is not pleased with her, Ronald."

"Of course," Ron rolled his eyes. "Bunch of old twats who are better at running their fucking mouths than getting results."

Dumbledore blinked because of the venom in Ron's voice.

"My boy… Is something bothering you?" Dumbledore asked, and Ron quickly felt ashamed of himself for being so disrespectful. My own parents are in the Order… I need to get a hold of myself.

"I… I told Daphne about Priscilla," Ron swallowed thickly.

"I see," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I take it that it did not go well."

"It was a cluster fuck," Ron shook his head. "First, she was jealous that I was sneaking around with a stranger… And then, we started arguing about my lack of funds. It then devolved into me asking her to watch over them should something happen to me…"

"Ronald…" Dumbledore sighed out.

"I know, alright," Ron met the old wizard's gaze. "It wasn't my smartest move, but I need to implement safe-guards. She… She got really spooked, I think."

"She is only thirteen," Dumbledore reminded Ron.

"So am I."

"Yes, but you've lived a life that most people could never believe, or understand," Dumbledore said. "Ronald, you can't expect people your age to have your maturity. They don't think like you do, so expecting her to take over an orphanage should you die is far too much to ask. Miss. Greengrass clearly loves and adores you, and you just told her that you could be dead soon… Think of how that made her feel."

"I was trying to be open, and honest," Ron mumbled.

"And I commend you on that, but you must understand that you are not like other children," Dumbledore said softly. "What's done is done, but I would advise caution in the Future."

"She thinks that I'm insane for believing in an upcoming war," Ron told Dumbledore.

"Her parents intend to speak to her during the Break," Dumbledore said. "All of your parents intend to talk to you, actually."

"Yay…" Ron feigned excitement. "That'll be a nice way to end Christmas. 'Here are your presents, kids, oh, and the Dark Lord is back. Have fun!'…" Dumbledore's lips twitched upwards, but he quickly composed himself. "What do I do now, Headmaster? I think I've scared my own girlfriend."

"I'm not really suited to give you advice on girlfriends," Dumbledore admitted, and Ron blinked at him. Why? "All I can say is that you shouldn't expect people to act like you, especially young girls who have never thought about social problems faced by our society." Right…

"What are you going to do about Emilia Travers?" Ron decided to change the subject.

"What can I do?" Dumbledore asked in response. "She has helped us greatly, and on some level, I find myself agreeing with her actions. I simply wish that she had alerted us."

"She doesn't seem like a team player, that's for certain," Ron stated. I need to speak to her in private. Now that she's agreed to work with me, she needs to understand that she can't just run off to do as she pleases. If she had come to me, I could've procured that weapon from Victor for her. "Where is she now?"

"At Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore replied. "Her injuries are being tended to by Pandora, though Emilia doesn't seem to care about gaining scars."

"She probably wears them like trophies," Ron said, and Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Did you see Professor Snape as well? If so, how is he?"

"He is regaining his strength," Dumbledore replied. Good. "He wanted me to remind you of some promise you made to him." Malfoy? Right, I understand.

"Tell him that I'm onto it," Ron slowly stood up. "Dinner will start soon, so I'll be on my way. Is there anything else that you want to discuss?"

"Yes, actually," Dumbledore also stood up. "Some of the French have asked to attend our Dueling Tournament on Sunday, and I agreed to let them watch."

"They're coming to see me?" Ron asked. First the Chess Tournament, and now this? What the fuck are they up to?

"I believe that they wish to gauge your power," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Some of them no doubt wish to sink their hooks into you."

"Ugh…" Ron groaned. "Everyone has schemes these days…"

"It is the way of the World," Dumbledore said, and then they began to head for the exit. "I know I shouldn't play favorites, but I need you to demonstrate your prowess."

"Why?" Ron was quite surprised to hear that.

"I will not lie to you, my boy," Dumbledore started. "I do not trust some of the French Families. They are very much like our own Pure-Blood Families, and as such, they have their own agendas. I am convinced that Lady Abadie wishes to make you her puppet, and in doing so, usurp Madame Maxime's standing within the French Community."

"She wants to control Lefléau de Vélane?" Ron asked. "Merlin, I hate that nickname… It's almost as bad as 'Stormbringer'…"

"Only the Ghosts and Elves of Hogwarts call you that," Dumbledore chuckled, while Ron pulled a face. "Madame Maxime is far wiser than Lady Abadie, and others like her, so we cannot let her be usurped. When the time comes, we will need Madame Maxime at the head of the French forces."

"I understand," Ron said. "I'll put on a show, one that will frighten the French into backing off of me." I just have to make sure that I don't hurt my fellow students in said show.

---

Friday 11th December, 1993 (The Training Area – After Classes)

Ron had cancelled the study group for today, and only the first years seemed bothered by that. With the Dueling Tournament approaching far too quickly, students were sneaking around the castle in an effort to sharpen their skills away from prying eyes. The Slytherins, however, under Ron and the Triumvirate's commands, were practicing as a team within the Slytherin Training Area.

Ron was currently working on those who were placed in Rank-D, while the Triumvirate had split up to help the other three Ranks. The first years had been told to stay out of everyone's way, which hadn't exactly sat well with them, but when Ron had asked them to leave, they had done so without argument. Right now, Ron was sparring with Daphne, who had yet to recover from their argument. She's just become closed off… I'm an idiot for dropping all of that information on her so suddenly.

"Expelliarmus," Daphne chanted, and Ron easily stepped aside.

"Faster," Ron ordered. "Don't wait to see if the Spell has connected, keep sending them out."

"Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Stupefy!" Daphne fired Spell after Spell, a cross look on her face.

Once again, Ron easily dodged her Spells. Her aim is decent, but she's getting tired. I can see the sweat on her brow from here. She really should come to our morning runs. Even Tracey has come to a couple this week.

"C'mon, Daph," Ron said, making sure to stay in his formation. "Send the first one at me, and then send the next one where you think I'll move to. Keep me running."

"I'm trying!" Daphne huffed out. Don't berate her, just be patient.

"You've got this, Daphne!" Pansy cheered, while the second years just watched quietly.

"Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Impedimenta!" Daphne chanted loudly, and Ron had to admit, he hadn't expected her to use the Slowing Jinx.

"Very nice," Ron said as he rolled out of the way. "Nice mix-up!" Once Ron was on his feet, he put his hand up to stop her. "That's enough for now, Daph. Catch your breath, yeah?"

Daphne said nothing, instead, she quietly left to go stand next to Pansy, who handed her a clean towel. I need to talk to her.

"Mathias and Boris, you're up," Ron said as he left to speak to Daphne. "Don't hurt each other, understand? Just spar, and practice your dodges."

"You did well, Daphne," Pansy was telling Daphne as Ron approached, and once she saw him, she quickly smiled. "Hello, handsome."

"Pansy," Ron smiled a little. "Can I have a moment with Daphne, please?"

Daphne seemed to tense a little, while Pansy looked between them before sauntering off to the second years and Tracey. Should I just be casual?

"Hello," Ron said lamely, and she shifted in her spot a little. "We haven't really spoken since yesterday… How are you doing?"

"How do you think I'm doing?" Daphne frowned a little. "My boyfriend tells me that he's going to die, and then he runs off to have another meeting with the Headmaster, who, by the way, bought an Estate for homeless children because my boyfriend asked him to." Yeesh. "I feel like my brain has been fried…"

"Sorry," Ron said weakly. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No…" she admitted.

"What do you need me to do?" Ron asked. "I don't like this tension between us."

"Me neither," Daphne finally looked at him properly. "I wish you hadn't told me…"

"About Priscilla?"

"About your lack of self-preservation," Daphne swallowed thickly, and judging by her tone, he knew she was about to get teary-eyed. "You scared me…"

Her face twisted a little, and Ron quickly moved between her and the other students. Don't let them see anything, Ron!

"I'm so sorry about that," Ron apologized again. "Daphne, I'm really fucking sorry… I didn't think it through, and that was really stupid of me."

"You can't think these things…" she all but whispered. I can't help it.

"Let's step outside for a bit, yeah?" Ron asked gently, and she nodded meekly. "Tracey, you're in charge while I'm gone!"

"Pardon?" Tracey looked towards him.

"Keep them sparring, and if any of you slack off, I'll put my boot in your arse," Ron ordered, and just like that, he took Daphne's hand and began making his way out.

"You shouldn't threaten them…" Daphne mumbled from behind him.

"I can't afford not to," Ron countered. "We've put too much on this Dueling Tournament, Daph… We need to win, or I'll be turned into a joke."

As soon as they stepped out of the Training Area, Ron spotted his first years lazing about the common room. They should be studying… Whatever. Daphne pulled him towards the girls' dorms, and Ron followed after her. They made the trip to her room in silence, and Ron made sure to squeeze her hand with just the right amount of strength. Once they were inside, Daphne closed and locked the door, while Ron stepped into the middle of the room.

"Sorry about the mess, but Tracey can be a pig sometimes," Daphne said as she walked up to Ron, who was eyeing the discarded clothes all around Tracey's bed. She has a lot of yellow panties…

"So…" Ron turned to face his girlfriend.

"How is your health right now?" Daphne asked outright. "Tell me the truth, Ron…"

"There's been no real changes," Ron replied truthfully. "Occasionally, I get lightheaded, and once in a while, I have migraines, but you already knew that."

"Do you really think that you're dying?" Daphne whispered, and Ron found himself tongue-tied. "Ron? Say something." Just tell her the truth, Ron… Stop being such a selfish coward.

"Yes," Ron shrank a little, but not half as much as Daphne. Her first boyfriend is a fucking mess… She doesn't deserve this. "You know… We've never really discussed my health fully before…" Fuck, I've got a bad feeling about this.

"What do you mean?" Daphne croaked.

"What if my Brain-Damage becomes terminal?" Ron asked her, and something died behind her eyes. "Daphne, some of these questions need to be asked… For your sake."

"My sake?" Daphne sniffled.

"I could be gone soon-"

"Stop it," Daphne stepped away from him, she looked like she had been slapped. "Don't do this again!"

"I'm doing it because I want you to be happy!" Ron decided to push forward. "You're trying to become a businesswoman, aren't you? So you clearly understand that there are undesirable variables in life… Well, I come with a lot of issues."

"You're trying to ruin what we have!" Daphne accused childishly, and Ron was genuinely baffled by her reaction. This 'honesty' tripe is fucking killing me. "All of a sudden, you start bringing up these morbid things! Why are you doing this?! Has something changed?! Are you trying to hide something?!"

"Honestly, I'm just trying to be as open as possible," Ron admitted. "I love being with you, you know that… But it's not fair on you. Not when I really think about it. And lately… I've been thinking about it." Clara's book made me think about it.

"I don't care about what's fair," Daphne told him.

"Well, I do," Ron said. "I care… Look, I don't want to…" Ron shifted in his spot a little. "I don't want to break up…" Selfish fuck!

"And neither do I," Daphne said immediately after.

"I just want you to know that I'll understand if you do," Ron rubbed his face, his brain was starting to ache again. "It's not right for me to enjoy our relationship, and then to check out by twenty… I don't even want to think about what you'll go through…"

"Then stop doing this," she begged.

"If you were in my shoes, would you think differently?" Ron asked, and she just stared at him. "Tell me honestly, Daph… Would you not think about these things?"

Daphne said nothing, but Ron had his answer.

"Do you want me to break up with you?" she asked in a pained voice.

"No… But if you ever feel the need to, I'll understand," Ron replied.

"Don't hold your breath, then," Daphne's expression was a mix of anger and hurt. "I know that you're sick, and I know that you could…" she trailed off. "I don't know how to show you how much you mean to me… To all of us."

"You can show me by thinking about what we just discussed," Ron said softly. "Let's stop pretending to have all the answers, yeah? Let's just talk about these sorts of things without falling back on our emotions. I don't want you to look back one day, and regret what we have. Especially if it ends badly…" Let's face it, Ron… You're not getting a happily ever after, but she still might.

Daphne was clearly holding back her tears, and just as Ron finished speaking, she began bawling like a toddler. Fuck…

"I… don't want to talk… about this… anymore…" Daphne coughed out, her face hiding behind her hands.

Ron pulled her into hug, his hands rubbing her back in a comforting manner, but that only served to make her cry even louder. Before Ron knew it, she was clinging to his clothes, her face buried in his robes. I really am the worst person that ever lived…

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Saturday 12th December, 1993 (Behind the Owlery - Afternoon)

"Ginny, are you just going to sit there?" Hermione shot a look back at Ginny, who was lounging on some comfy looking grass.

"It's cold…" Ginny whined, she was clearly in the mood to tease Hermione. Ever since we had that talk, she's been sticking with me. We study together, we eat together, and we practice together. I can't deny that it feels nice to have a girlfriend, but she can be really distracting.

"Then you should go inside," Hermione smirked.

"And miss the view?" Ginny wagged her eyebrows, and Hermione lost her smirk. The view? Wait… She means…

"Ginny…" Hermione frowned a little, making the redhead snort.

"I'm only teasing," Ginny told her.

"You should be practicing," Hermione said haughtily. "You've barely put in any effort."

"Don't need to," Ginny shrugged. "Have you seen my competition?"

"That's not arrogant at all," Hermione said, though Ginny had a point. "Well, I need to practice, and you're distracting me."

"Fair enough," Ginny chuckled, and Hermione turned back to face the wall. Right, here I go.

Hermione took one step forward before Ginny's voice emanated from behind her.

"Are you scared about Dueling Ron?" Ginny asked, and Hermione stopped with a loud groan.

"No," she lied. He's going to beat me, I just know it. Five-seconds…

"Really?" Ginny asked. "That's probably not wise. Say what you will, but Ron's pretty strong. I mean, he's in Rank-A for a reason."

"What do you want, Ginny?" Hermione turned to face the cheeky witch.

"Conversation," Ginny replied. "You're too serious, Hermione. I want to teach you to relax sometimes."

"I'm relaxed when I'm working," Hermione took on a defiant stance.

"Um… Are you sure?" Ginny smirked. "I've studied with you all week, and you look downright constipated while you study." What?!

"No, I don't!" Hermione denied, making Ginny laugh. She's teasing me again, isn't she? "Ugh… Shoo! Go away!"

"I'm not an owl," Ginny sniggered. "Speaking of which, do you want to go see Helios?"

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Helios, Ron's owl," Ginny stood up and dusted her skirt. Ron's owl? The grey Eagle-Owl? "I usually sneak him treats when he's around."

"You do?" Hermione asked, and Ginny produced a bag of owl treats from her robes.

"Don't tell Ron about it," Ginny grinned, and then she began making her way towards the Owlery's entrance.

Hermione shot quick looks around them, and then she followed after Ginny.

"Ginny!" Hermione whispered frantically as she caught up to her friend. "Why do you feed his owl?"

"Because I love Helios," Ginny shrugged. "He actually helped me get through the whole Heir business…" Really?

"He did? How?"

"He stayed around the Burrow, and he let me play with him," Ginny smiled genuinely. "He also made me laugh by attacking dad!" That sounds… nice? "Helios is usually on the fifth level."

The girls entered the Owlery at that, and the loud hoots made Hermione's ears ring. Are they always so loud? I don't usually come here. Ginny led the way up, and Hermione stuck right behind her. There are droppings on the stairs! Ew!

"It smells," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, I forgot that you don't have an owl," Ginny shot a smile back.

"My parents prefer… modern… methods of communication," Hermione said a little defensively. Why do wizards still use owls? Wouldn't the Protean Charm be handier? I mean, we could create Charmed tablets that pass messages around-

"Earth to Hermione," Ginny waved in her face, and Hermione broke out of her thoughts. "We're here, silly."

"Sorry," Hermione gave a sheepish smile. I nearly walked through her. "Is that him?"

"It is," Ginny cooed at the owl, who woke up at the sound of her voice.

Helios hooted loudly, and his wings opened up as if he were trying to embrace her. Guess they're friends… Weird that she loves Helios, but dislikes Ron. I mean, Ron is the one who sent Helios in the first place, right? Ginny quickly gave Helios a treat, and the owl devoured it just as fast.

"You really like him, don't you?" Hermione couldn't help but smile a little. He's a hungry owl, isn't he?

"I do," Ginny ruffed his feathers. "Like I said… He was there for me during the worst time of my life."

"Isn't Ron the one who sent him to watch over you?" Hermione asked, and Ginny stopped ruffling Helios' feathers. "I mean, it sounds like your brother was there for you too."

"Hermione," Ginny looked back with a slight frown.

"I don't understand why you treat him so poorly," Hermione prodded some more. I need to know why. Maybe I can help them reconcile. "I think you two just need to talk and sort stuff out-"

"So you can tell him that you're behind our reconciliation?" Ginny asked, and Hermione stopped talking. "Ron has made it quite clear that he's not the brother we all grew up with… The one that we actually love. Right now, he's on some ego-trip, and none of us can stand to be near him. He barks out orders at us, and now, he does it to even mum and dad. I mean, he told me that I'm at the end of my free pass… How arrogant is that? Who is he to hand out 'passes' to me? He thinks the whole bloody World revolves around him, and it's annoying. Not to mention that he's either always lying to people, or controlling them outright! He even tried to convince me that I was the reason why the twins were still pranking the Slytherins, and he did it to manipulate me!"

Hermione went to say something, but Helios began hooting loudly. And then, the Eagle-Owl flew forward, and tore the bag of treats open with his claws. Ginny and Hermione both shrieked at the bird's sudden actions, and then they all but bolted towards the other side of the level. What was that?! Helios was still hooting angrily, while Hermione and Ginny just stared at him.

"Did he just try to attack us?" Hermione asked, and Ginny paled a little.

"He is Ron's owl… See what you did?" Ginny shot an annoyed look at Hermione.

"Me?"

"You had to get me started on Ron, and now Helios is upset with me," Ginny blamed, and Hermione couldn't help the scoff that escaped her mouth.

"You're the one who's insulting Helios' owner," Hermione shot back, and Ginny moved to go back down. This isn't my fault! "All I did was point out a fact, Ginny! Ron is the one who sent Helios to comfort you, and there's no changing that!"

"Don't you get it?!" Ginny suddenly turned around with a furious look, and Hermione stopped in her tracks. "It doesn't matter what you do for him! He's never going to treat you with decency and respect! He's not capable of it anymore!"

"You're the one being nasty," Hermione stood her ground. "Both of you!"

"You know what, Hermione?! You're too nosy!" Ginny snapped, and then she stormed down the stairs.

"And you're both too stubborn!" Hermione yelled back, but she didn't follow after Ginny. Ugh… What am I doing by involving myself in this?! It's not even my problem! Whatever! I wanted to practice alone anyway!

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 12th December, 1993 (Moving Staircase - Evening)

His mind was scattered in too many directions, and Ron was starting to get annoyed because of it.

He needed to contact Emilia Travers, and soon, judging by her recent actions. He needed to make sure that Priscilla and the others were settling into their new home well. He had to be certain that the Slytherins were ready for tomorrow. He himself needed to win no matter what. He had to deal with The Quibbler, and all the work that came with it. He needed to show the French that he would not be controlled by them. He had to watch over Malfoy in order to keep his promise to Snape. And on, and on. And then there's Daphne… I made her cry for nearly an hour last night… She even skipped dinner.

As Ron neared the Dungeons, he spotted Theo and Tracey waiting for him by the bottom of the stairs. Odd. How long have they been sitting there? I've been at work all day. They had their back to him, and they were listening to Tracey's Walkman.

"Hello," Ron greeted them, and they both up to their feet.

"You're here," Tracey looked him over, while Theo just looked dead-serious. What is going on here? "What happened between you and Daphne?"

"Pardon?" Ron blinked.

"She was crying in her bed last night," Tracey frowned deeply, and Ron felt like he had been kicked in the gut. The Universe is just pelting me over the last two days. "I know you two argued a couple of days ago, and she's been acting off ever since then. Did you break up with her?"

"What?! No," Ron replied immediately.

"Then why has she been murdering dummies all day, mate?" Theo asked, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. She's probably trying to distract herself by practicing, and in the process, letting off some steam. At least something good came out of our fight.

"Since when do you get involved in this sort of stuff?" Ron asked Theo.

"Tracey came to me," Theo shrugged.

"Ron, what happened?" Tracey asked with a furrowed brow.

"That's between Daphne and me, Tracey," Ron moved past them, but they just followed after him.

"When my best friend is crying herself to sleep, I make it my business," Tracey grabbed Ron's arm, making him stop immediately.

Ron looked to her hand, and then he looked to her face. Careful, Tracey. She noticed that his expression turned a little cold due to her forcefulness, and she quickly pulled her hand back.

"Ron, mate, we just want to help," Theo slid into the conversation.

"Can heal my Brain-Damage?" Ron looked to Theo, who just blinked at him. "No? Well, there you go…"

"You fought about your Brain-Damage?" Tracey asked, her tone much weaker now. Yeah, it's awkward now, isn't it? That's what you get for prying.

"We discussed what my Brain-Damage means in the long-run," Ron told them bluntly, his mood even more soured. "I brought up the fact that I might not be around for long, and she didn't take it well."

"Not around for long," Theo repeated, his eyes darting towards Tracey, who had gone dead-silent.

"Yes, Theo, I need to think about my ever shrinking life-span," Ron told his mate. "I never bring it up, mostly to avoid these sorts of conversations, but with Daphne, things are very different. Now… Are you sated? Can I go about my day without being haggled?"

"Um…"

"Fuck it," Ron frowned deeply. "I'm going to the Sanctuary. I need to be alone right now… Tell the others to leave me be as well."

With that, Ron began heading back up to the seventh floor. What I need to do is to meditate, and then come up with plans to deal with my never-ending problems. And most of all, I need to make sure that Daphne understands the simple truth about my illness. I'm too weak to break up with her, but the least I can do is to make sure that she comes to terms with the reality of my situation.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And it's done! I can't believe we made it! When I first started out, I honestly didn't expect to do this for long. I just wanted to write about Characters that I love, and now, we've got a big thing going. Sincerely, thank you to all of you!

Next Chapter should be out around the 10th, I hope. I've got some interviews coming up, so I need to split my focus a little.

Two Million words down, people!