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.

125. Chapter 125 - Choice

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 125 is finished! Sorry for the slight delay, I had other stuff to take care off. Now, just one quick note.

1. All information relating to wandlore within this chapter comes directly from the Pottermore website, and is therefore, completely canon.

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.

There's also another Ron story out that's really good so far! It's called 'There and Back Again', and it's written by Chuchi Otaku. Please, go check it out! I've certainly enjoyed reading it!

---

Fate

Chapter 125 - Choice

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 11th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Past Midnight)

"Tell me everything, Marty," Ron said, gesturing Marty to take the chair.

Marty nodded, climbing onto the chair and looking up at Ron.

"Marty reached out to many other House Elves, just as Master wanted," Marty began excitedly, and Ron listened with rapt attention. "Marty pretended to be desperate for another job, and eventually, Zolly, an old acquaintance of Marty's, made Marty an offer."

"You got a job offer from them?" Ron asked with wide eyes, Marty had outdone himself. "Bloody brilliant, mate! You can easily get into their manor, then?!"

"Does Master want Marty to accept?" Marty asked. Wait a second…

"If you do accept, then what happens to our bond?" Ron asked.

"Marty is being hired just as Master hired Chivvy, as a free agent," Marty replied. "Marty will serve only Master, never the Carrows." Oh, I see.

"And by serve, you mean that we're mates, right?" Ron asked, and Marty nodded fervently. Does he even understand what I'm talking about? Or, is he just nodding to make me happy? "Let's keep going with the Carrows, eh? Tell me about this job offer. What do you have to do?"

"The Carrow Twins are throwing one of their infamous parties, Master," Marty replied, looking a little bothered. "It is to be held on the Friday after tomorrow, and already, there many dark rumours amongst the Elves." Dark rumours?

"Why are these parties infamous?" Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"The Carrow Twins are vile and sadistic, even the Old Families frown upon them," Marty grimaced. "Marty has heard many stories, Master… Torture, orgies, dark rituals, rape, murder… The Carrow Twins provide these 'forbidden pleasures' to their friends at these parties." What in the fuck?!

"They just get together and torture people?" Ron asked slowly. Why? What's the fucking point?!

"Muggles," Marty nodded grimly. "The Carrow Twins take Muggles from nearby villages, treating the captured Muggles as animals for sport. If a Pure Lady wants to feel a dagger sliding in-between a Muggle's ribs, then the Carrow Twins provide the Pure Lady with a bound Muggle and a sharp blade. Many Lords and Ladies owe the Carrow Twins favours for their services, which is why Marty believes that the Carrow Twins are tolerated by the Old Families."

Ron just sat in silence, his mind mulling over the dark meaning behind Marty's words. There was quite a lot to unpack here, and the more Ron thought about it, the more uncomfortable he became. So if some Lord wants to stick his prick in some Muggle girl, the Carrow Twins just abduct some poor lass off of the streets? Merlin… The disturbing possibilities are endless. How many people have they killed this way?!

Ron let out a long breath, digging his fingers into his forehead. I can't send Marty to these people. They will abuse him… They might even kill him.

"Don't accept the offer," Ron sighed out. "If what you're saying is true, then I don't want you anywhere near those bastards."

"Marty is an expert of disguise, Master," Marty assured him. "Has Marty not proven so already? Marty has even infiltrated Hogwarts itself, Master!"

"I know you can do it, Marty," Ron shushed his Elf. "But I don't feel right sending you into so much danger. These Carrow Twins definitely abuse their House Elves, and I don't want you getting hurt."

"Does Master not trust Marty?" Marty asked hesitantly.

"I trust you with my life," Ron replied immediately. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm the one who's sending you to the Carrows. I can't ask that of you, Marty, this isn't even your fight."

"Master's fights are Marty's fights!" Marty shot up, standing on the chair in order to look taller. Woah… He just raised his voice at me.

"Don't be so loud, Marty, you'll wake someone up," Ron shushed again. I should just silence the room. "You're not getting what I'm saying… I don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

"Marty swore an oath to Master, and a House-Elf's oath means everything to the House-Elf," Marty explained, giving Ron a pleading look. "Marty is Master's friend… Is that not what Master said?"

Ron nodded resignedly, feeling a pit in his stomach. I can't believe he's using that against me. Of course we're friends, Marty, which is why I don't want you to get hurt.

"Then Marty would like to help Master as any good friend should," Marty smiled hopefully, trying to tug at Ron's heartstrings.

"You sneaky bugger…" Ron exhaled, still unsure about what to do next. "Tell me more about this job, first, and then we'll come to a decision."

"Marty simply needs to clean up after the 'animals'," Marty replied, and Ron began feeling a pit in his stomach again.

"Where?" Ron asked tensely.

"Marty does not know yet," Marty replied. "Zolly is forbidden from telling Marty. Zolly will escort Marty there with a blindfold." He won't even know where he'll be working?

"We're not doing this," Ron shook his head. "If you don't even know where you are, how are you supposed to help me get in? It's too risky, Marty-"

"Marty will discover where he is, Master," Marty promised. "Have faith in Marty."

"I don't believe in faith," Ron said. "I can't ask you to do this-"

"What of the Muggles, Master?" Marty asked. Shit, I need to find some way to save them. If the Carrow Twins are planning a party, then their dungeons will be brimming with kidnapped folk.

"Just give me a second, please," Ron began pacing back and forth, struggling to come to a decision. If I send Marty in to infiltrate the Carrow Twins' party, then I'll be able to destroy a good portion of the Dark Lord's allies and I'll be able to save all the Muggles being held for slaughter. However, if I do this, I'll be putting Marty in a lot of danger. He could lose his bloody life at the hands of the Carrow Twins.

"Marty wishes to be better, Master," Marty spoke up, pulling Ron back into the conversation.

"Pardon?" Ron asked slowly, momentarily jarred by Marty's bizarre words.

"Marty has done many terrible things," Marty confessed, averting his gaze. "Marty had to lie, steal, betray, and even kill while serving Lord Greengrass-"

"Really?" Ron blurted out. "I mean I knew that you had a shady past, but did you really have to do all of that?"

"Lord Greengrass was trapped beneath the Dark Lord's heel," Marty remembered. "Many horrible acts were committed to secure the safety of Lady Greengrass, who was being held captive within Malfoy Manor at the time." Marty then looked back into Ron's eyes. "Marty has done many terrible things, Master…"

Ron put his hand on Marty's skinny shoulder, giving him a sorry smile. I had no idea that Marty had to go through so much during the Great War. And Lord Greengrass just gave him to me? Like he was just another toy? Did Lord Greengrass really not care about Marty's loyalty?

Ron silently vowed to never act in such a manner, not for any reason. Loyalty should be rewarded. If it weren't for Kreacher's loyalty to his Master, Regulus Black, we wouldn't have found Slytherin's Locket with such ease. And I'm sure that if it weren't for Marty's loyalty, Lord Greengrass would not be here today.

"However, Marty has a new Master now," Marty said brightly. "A very kind and selfless Master. This is Marty's chance for redemption."

"Redemption…?" Ron was close to giving in.

"Marty wishes to save the Muggles," Marty smiled, puffing up his tiny chest. "Just like Master. The Carrow Twins will never stop, and many more Muggles will die, but if Master lets Marty go, then Master can stop the Carrow Twins forever. Marty wants to fight against the Death-Eaters and Marty wants to save the Muggles. Marty wishes to help Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Fuck… You just had to say my name, didn't you…?" Ron muttered under his breath, letting go of Marty's shoulder. "Are you sure about this, mate?" Am I fucking sure about this?

"Marty is sure," Marty gave a firm nod. Please, Merlin, let this work out for us.

"Then, let's discuss a plan," Ron said, giving Marty a weak smile. Lord Greengrass doesn't know what he threw away. Marty is one of a kind.

---

Thursday 11th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Near Midday)

Ron made his way into Mary's largest greenhouse, immediately noticing the high humidity within the large domelike structure. This is a bloody big greenhouse! What does Mary keep in here?!

Ron passed by dozens of vibrant plants, his curious eyes trying to name every plant he crossed on his way towards the centre of the greenhouse. Venomous Tentacula, Wormwood, Mandrakes, Fluxweed, Leaping Toadstools, Puffapods, Valerian… Sweet Circe, Mary takes care of all of these? There are so many plants in here that I can't even recognize. I reckon Mary has her House-Elves watch over her greenhouses and gardens when she's not around. This seems more like a hobby than a job to me, as if she's just passing the time by collecting and caring for these rare plants.

As he neared the centre of the greenhouse, Ron spotted Mary using her wand to carefully mend the arm of a tiny Bowtruckle. The small Magical Beast was sitting in the palm of her left hand, whistling a tune to Mary as she went about her work. Mary's certainly dressed for Herbology related work; it's so weird seeing her out of a dress.

"Hello," Ron greeted Mary and Bowtruckle, stopping the Bowtruckle's tune.

"Ron, you're here," Mary smiled warmly at him, noticing that he was wearing his training outfit. "Did my Elf interrupt your exercise?"

"Not really," Ron aired out his sweaty top, shooting Mary his lopsided grin. "I've been at it for two hours now, and so I figured a small break couldn't hurt." Ron then focused on the Bowtruckle in Mary's palm. "I bought Neville Longbottom a potted Wiggentree for his twelfth birthday. I bet its nearly mature enough now to spawn its own Bowtruckles."

"What a wonderful gift," Mary's smiled widened. "My mother's gardens were filled with these friendly, little creatures, I used to spend hours listening to their songs." You used to spend hours alone listening to whistles?

"Sounds like you were trying to escape," Ron noted, and Mary's smile faltered. "Sorry… I was just making an observation. I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's all right," Mary regained her composure, looking like nothing had happened. "You're not wrong. My mother and father were very overbearing, and as a result, I was quite the rebel. I often skirted my duties, ignored their lectures, stole from their wine cellar, and hid within my mother's gardens." She's joking, right? I can't even picture Mary doing any of those things. She's so… Ladylike.

"Are you pulling my leg?" Ron asked, while Mary helped the mended Bowtruckle back to his mature Wiggentree.

"My ultimate act of rebellion was marrying Sebastian," Mary said, shooting a look back at Ron. She did tell Daphne and I that her parents weren't fond of Lord Greengrass.

"Is that why I've never seen them around? Your parents, that is?" Ron asked.

"My father already had a husband in mind for me, but I was deeply in love with Sebastian," Mary walked back over to Ron. "I begged them to meet with my beloved, but they refused to associate with the son of Lord Atticus Greengrass."

"Lord Greengrass' father was the problem?" Ron cut in.

"He was a disgusting man," Mary replied indifferently. "My parents did not wish to sully the Family's reputation by marrying their only daughter into Atticus Greengrass' Family. I tried over and over again to get their approval, but in the end, I had to make peace with the fact that my mother and father would not attend my wedding."

"Did they end up attending, though?" Ron offered Mary a comforting smile. She doesn't sound like she's bothered by this anymore, but I reckon she still is.

"No, they didn't," Mary replied tranquilly. "I didn't hear a word from them again until the end of the Great War. They reached out to me after I was released from the dungeons of the Death-Eaters, but just three days into their visit, they had insulted Sebastian enough times that I couldn't stand them living within my manor. I sent them away, and we haven't spoken since."

"I'm really sorry about everything, Mary," Ron said, scratching the back of his neck. "You didn't deserve any of that."

"It made me who I am today, Ron," Mary smiled at him. "I do not regret any of it. If I had obeyed my parents, I would not have my daughters today. If I weren't imprisoned within those dungeons, I would not have met James and Susana." Mary then patted Ron's cheek. "Sometimes, our darkest experiences lead us to our brightest dreams."

"Ah, so there was a lesson hidden in there for me," Ron smirked, making Mary chuckle. "I'm onto you, Lady Greengrass." I hope she's right. I really do.

"And I am onto you, Ronald," Mary took his arm, leading him back towards the exit. "You do not spend any time with me."

"Sure, I do," Ron said defensively. "We spoke last night-"

"Dinner doesn't count," Mary stopped him. "Why do you never pay me a visit? It's always either Sebastian or Daphne."

Ron couldn't tell if she was joking anymore, which made him rather nervous. It's my second day without any Calming Draught; I just have to power through this. I can't risk having any more.

"Ron, I am only teasing," Mary laughed, enjoying how nervous she had made him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I don't really have an excuse," Ron admitted, he couldn't remember the last time he had spent time with Mary alone. "I don't know why we haven't spent any time together."

"Let's just blame it on Sebastian," Mary smiled mischievously. "Tell me, what are you doing today? I'll accompany you once we both clean up." Why? Is she trying to keep her eyes on me? Did someone put her up to it? "Ron?"

"Sure, I'd like that," Ron couldn't really refuse her. I'm living in her house for free; the least I can do is spend some time with her. I'll just do my shadier work in the night.

"So, where are we-?" Mary started, but an Elf suddenly Apparated in front of them.

"Master Weasley, Lord Greengrass wishes to see you in his study," the Elf said, bowing deeply at the sight of Mary.

"Uh-oh," Ron muttered, shooting Mary a sorry look.

"How boring," Mary sighed out, mimicking his sorry look. "I suppose you should go on, my husband does not like to be kept waiting."

"I'm really sorry, Mary," Ron felt rather terrible. At least I don't have to worry about being watched.

Mary gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then she untangled her arm from his in order to return to her greenhouse. Ron felt another strong pang of guilt, he had just now realized how little he about Mary Greengrass. She all but treats me like her son, whereas I don't even know anything about her. That's hardly fair to her. I should do the right thing here.

"Mary, what about tomorrow?" Ron called after her, and she turned around with a smile. Was she waiting for me to ask her? Am I that predictable?

"Tomorrow, then," Mary chuckled, leaving with a bright smile on her face. I guess I am.

"Do you mind taking to Lord Greengrass?" Ron looked to the Elf.

"Of course not, Master Weasley," the Elf smiled and extended his hand.

As soon as Ron took the Elf's hand, the world began turning in on itself. He felt his body contort and realign, his feet suddenly finding solid ground. Woah, that one was harsh. Ron shook his head clear, managing to keep his balance. He brought me to the study's entrance instead of Apparating me inside? He probably didn't want to intrude on Lord Greengrass.

"Thanks, mate," Ron shot the Elf a quick smile, which was returned in kind before the Elf cracked away.

Ron then knocked on the door, awaiting a response from his mentor.

"Come in, Ron," came Lord Greengrass' voice.

Ron entered the study and closed the door, spotting Lord Greengrass standing by the fireplace.

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" Ron asked.

"I have set up a meeting with a Private Magical Force from Germany," Lord Greengrass told him. "We leave within the hour. Make sure to bring your wand with you." I can finally add security to Prosperity Farm. I should take Emilia's advice and get myself as many wands as I can hire. I've still got over thirty thousand Galleons left after I gave each of my siblings a thousand. I'm going to make this Private Magical Force's day.

"Thank you for doing this, my Lord," Ron said, and Lord Greengrass waved a dismissive hand.

"Go and take a shower, please," Lord Greengrass said. "I can smell you from here."

"You should come join me sometime," Ron offered. "We can start exercising together, I'm sure that you haven't trained your body and Magical Core in a while. It'll be good for you."

"Never suggest that again, especially near my wife," Lord Greengrass grimaced. "Understand?" I'll get him to join me, there's no doubt about that. All the adults should be training every day as well. They're going to be doing most of the fighting, aren't they?

"I understand."

---

Thursday 11th February, 1994 (Muggle Berlin – Afternoon)

"Let me do the talking, Ron," Lord Greengrass finally broke his silence. "These are dangerous and secretive people, and even one step out of line can lead to dire consequences."

Lord Greengrass' warning fell on deaf ears because Ron couldn't stop admiring Kurfürstendamm; he had never seen such a bustling hub of people before. Muggles must love spending their money. I mean, look at this place! There hundreds of shops here! It's even grander than that 'shopping centre' we visited in Muggle Paris!

"Ron? Are you listening to me?" Lord Greengrass asked, and Ron finally tore his eyes away from the busy street.

"Is this entire street just filled with shops?" Ron asked, and Lord Greengrass cocked an eyebrow. "I've never seen anything like this. Muggles must love shopping; it's the only explanation."

"Mary once told me that this boulevard contains so many boutiques that even the witches from Germany's Old Blood shop here," Lord Greengrass replied. Germany's Old Blood? Does he mean Germany's Old Families? "Though, they make sure that they are disguised. Magical Germany is strictly against Muggle-Wizard relationships."

"It is?" Ron blinked. That's news to me.

"It's an unspoken rule amongst Magical Germany's Wizarding Population to never associate with Muggles," Lord Greengrass explained. "Around 1940, the Muggles launched a 'World War'-"

"A WorldWar?" Ron asked. "So, like the Global Wizarding War?"

"Much worse, actually… The entire Muggle World fought for dominance," Lord Greengrass said. "I'm not too sure on the details, given that I don't care much for Muggles, but apparently, over fifty million Muggles died in this war." Bloody hell! That can't be fucking true! That many?! Why would they do this to each other?!

Ron felt his head spin at the sheer number of dead Muggles, and he couldn't help but feel a little wary of what the Muggles were capable of. If they can kill over fifty million of their own, then what the fuck would they do to us?

"And Muggle Germany started this war?" Ron asked slowly. Guess we really aren't that different from the Muggles, huh? Right now, we wizards are in the process of starting our own 'World War'.

"From what Mary has told me, yes," Lord Greengrass replied. "The younger generation of Magical Germany is fighting against the German Ministry's stand on Muggle-Wizard relationships, though, it is not a fight that they will win easily. The Old Blood of Germany has not forgotten what the Muggles are capable of."

"You mean they're scared of the Muggles," Ron said, and Lord Greengrass gave Ron an approving nod.

"They are, and as a result, they constantly seek to hide Magical Germany from the Muggles," Lord Greengrass said. "However, I must tell you that this fear isn't the only reason why the Old Blood of Germany hates Muggle-Kind. You see, Ron, Germany's Pure Families are dying out. The women are becoming barren and the men are becoming impotent."

"Why?" Ron asked out of curiosity.

"Inbreeding," Lord Greengrass replied bluntly, making Ron a little uncomfortable. Someone let the Carrow Twins know that I found their natural habitat. "If you thought the Old Families of Magical Britain were xenophobic, then you'll be shocked at how territorial the Old Blood of Germany is. They hate foreigners even more than they hate the Muggles and Muggle-Borns, I'd wager."

"Is that why Mary's parents didn't approve of you?" Ron asked, and Lord Greengrass frowned immediately.

"My father's poor reputation also played a large part in their distaste of me," Lord Greengrass replied. "But, yes, you are partly correct. I was not 'one of their people', and therefore, I was not fit to marry their daughter."

"Eh, they sound like cunts," Ron shrugged, offering his mentor a comforting smile. "Fuck them."

"Indeed," Lord Greengrass smirked a little. He's not telling me off for being vulgar? Odd… Actually, now that I think about it, he's been very straightforward with me. I mean, look at where we are! He's helping me hire a bunch of mercenaries! "Ron? What's the matter? You are staring."

"Our dynamic has changed a little…" Ron pointed out, becoming a lot more serious. "You are not stepping on eggshells around me anymore."

"Well, after what you showed me, I can safely assume that you are a lot more 'mature' than we gave you credit for," Lord Greengrass said calmly. "I don't feel the need to wear a mask around you, Ron. Not anymore."

"Right…" Ron said slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on his mentor.

"You think I'm trying to trick you?" Lord Greengrass asked. You're smarter than me, so I have to be cautious. "I've always been upfront with you… You are a talented young wizard, and from what I've seen, you're going to change a lot of things. I want the Greengrass Family to be on the right side this time around. Through your parents, I've already become a part of the Order, but that isn't enough for me. I wish to surround myself with a motivated group of powerful allies, like your Great-Aunt, because I'll need their assistance if I'm to secure the future of the Greengrass Family."

"What if someone makes you a better deal?" Ron asked.

"You mean the Dark Lord?" Lord Greengrass asked in response, and Ron gave a nod. "He branded me, tormented my wife, killed my mother, and threatened to kill my heir if I didn't serve him. You think I'm going to go back to this monster? Especially after I've become the very public mentor of a Blood-Traitor child?" Oi, that's uncalled for.

"I get it…" Ron whispered under his breath. "Technically, you're a Blood-Traitor too now…"

"What was that?" Lord Greengrass couldn't quite hear Ron.

"Nothing," Ron cleared his throat. "Merlin… Where is your contact, my Lord? We've been standing out here for nearly thirty minutes now."

"Be patient," Lord Greengrass instructed. "They're probably watching us right now, making sure that we aren't trying to trick them."

"I'm guessing the Aurors of Germany don't like this mercenary band," Ron figured.

"No, they don't," Lord Greengrass replied. "But if you want the best, then you have to take the risks as they come. Until we make a deal with the Death's Hand, we are in immense danger here."

"The Death's Hand?" Ron asked. "What kind of name is that?"

"If you ever see their handiwork, you'll have your answer," Lord Greengrass said. Wait… Is this the same mercenary company Lord Greengrass hired to attack Fenrir Greyback's Werewolves?

"You've worked with these people before, right?" Ron asked, and Lord Greengrass simply gave a nod. Now he's being tight-lipped. I shouldn't prod further; he doesn't need to know that I know about the Order's movements.

---

Thursday 11th February, 1994 (Muggle Berlin – Nearly Evening)

Lord Greengrass was sipping his coffee, looking completely unbothered by the fact that they had been waiting for the Death's Hand for hours. My whole day has been wasted… Where the fuck are these cunts?

"Don't glower, Ron," Lord Greengrass said. "We are being watched."

"Why are they making us wait this long?" Ron asked, frowning at his glass of apple juice. "It's been fucking hours…"

"They're most likely doing background checks on you," Lord Greengrass shrugged, his pale eyes lingering on the happy crowds outside the cafe. Background checks? "Like I said, these people are dangerous and secretive. They don't take any risks, nor do they tolerate potential set-ups."

"Can you tell me a little more about them?" Ron asked. "Like their history?"

"Why?" Lord Greengrass asked. Because I hate not knowing everything.

"It'll pass the time," Ron replied.

"I don't know much," Lord Greengrass admitted. "All I know is that they are an extremely capable group of war veterans, and that they have powerful friends all over Europe."

"Powerful friends?" Ron asked.

"The wealthy who hire them on a regular basis," Lord Greengrass replied. "The Death's Hand takes two types of payment, Ron. Usually, they will ask for gold, but sometimes, when they feel particularly exploitative, they will ask for favours."

"And you mentioned that they're war veterans," Ron pointed out. "Does that mean that they were once Aurors?"

"I'm sure some of them were," Lord Greengrass finished his coffee. "Most of them, however, started out as victims of the Great War. People who lost family members and other cherished ones in the mayhem. They all got together and forged a militia, much like the Order of the Phoenix."

"But they never disbanded," Ron said, and Lord Greengrass gave a nod.

"After the horrors we all witnessed, they couldn't just walk away," Lord Greengrass said a little distantly. "None of us could fully walk away."

"Lord Greengrass," a man dressed in a large, black trench coat suddenly stopped next to their table. "Mr. Weasley." Wait; is he from the Death's Hand? Finally!

The man placed a handkerchief on the table before walking over to the counter, seemingly ordering himself something to eat. What the…? He just dropped a handkerchief and walked off. Ron stared at the plain piece of cloth, noticing that something small and pointy was hidden inside it. Lord Greengrass swiped the handkerchief off of the table, hiding it away within his coat.

"Come, Ron," Lord Greengrass got out of his chair, and Ron quickly followed suit.

"Did that tall bloke just hand us a Portkey?" Ron asked, following his mentor out of the Muggle café.

"Let's find a quite place to use it," Lord Greengrass led Ron towards a smaller street on the side.

"What if it's a trap?" Ron had to ask.

"We take the risks as they come, remember?" Lord Greengrass said coolly. "Do you want the best, Ron?"

"Of course," Ron replied.

"Then, we're taking the Portkey."

After nearly ten minutes of searching, Ron and Lord Greengrass stumbled onto an empty back alley. It was the perfect spot to use the Portkey; they could even use the large bins as cover. Lord Greengrass once again led the way forward, pulling out the handkerchief once they were both standing behind a dumpster.

"Are you ready?" Lord Greengrass asked, carefully revealing the wooden dice hidden within the handkerchief.

"Hold on a second," Ron pulled out his wand.

"Smart thinking," Lord Greengrass commended, following Ron's example.

"If this is a trap," Ron started, coming up with an escape strategy. "I need you to guard us both. I have a Portkey with me that'll take us far away from wherever we end up, but it's wrapped up for safekeeping. I'll need a second to pull it out and unwrap it."

"You walk around with a Portkey in your pocket?" Lord Greengrass asked. Emilia mentioned that I could use it infinitely, so why shouldn't I carry it around. It's the perfect tool for a quick escape.

"I was nearly beheaded in Hogsmeade," Ron explained himself. "No place is safe anymore."

Lord Greengrass said nothing, but he did give Ron an understanding nod.

"Are you ready?" Lord Greengrass asked again.

"I'm ready," Ron hovered his left hand above the Portkey.

"On the count of three," Lord Greengrass said, preparing his thumb to tap the side of the dice. "One, two, three."

They both made contact with the Portkey at the same time, and within a heartbeat, they were both pulled into a vortex of bright lights. Despite his immediate feelings of nausea and dizziness, Ron tried his best to regain some control over his bombarded senses.

Sadly, solid ground found him a little too early.

While Lord Greengrass managed to land on his feet, Ron felt the wind leave his lungs as his back slammed onto the ground. Fuck me… Why did I get so sick and dizzy just then? I completely lost control over my landing.

"Ron?" Lord Greengrass offered his apprentice his hand, and Ron quickly took it.

"Where are we?" Ron asked, aiming his wand down the decorated hallway. Are we in a house?

"I don't know," Lord Greengrass replied. "They didn't bring me here the last time I hired them."

Lord Greengrass then cocked an eyebrow, focusing his attention on the windows.

"It's daytime again," Lord Greengrass noted. "Judging by the angle of the light, I'd say that it's around midday."

"Are we even in Europe?" Ron asked, peering out of the closest window. Nothing but trees and hills… Are we in a fucking forest?

"Guten Morgen, meine Herren," a woman's voice suddenly echoed around them. "Please, make your way down the corridor, and enter the last door on the right. Thank you." Where is she? Why can I hear her like she's standing right next to me?

"What the fuck?" Ron muttered under his breath, his gut tensing up. "Lord Greengrass?"

"Keep your Portkey ready," Lord Greengrass whispered, leading the way forward.

Ron reached into his left pocket and tightened his hand around the handkerchief containing Emilia's Portkey; he was ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

The hallway was decorated with display cases housing wild trophies, ranging from a Giant's skull to the preserved Dragon tail of a Chimera. Behind each display case was an intimidating, black flag, which flaunted two red, sickle-shaped wands. They're like hunting enthusiasts… Wait… Is that a human skull? When did my life get so fucked up?

They stopped in front of the indicated door, exchanging quick looks before Lord Greengrass pushed the door open. No Spells came to claim their lives, which put them both at ease.

"Please, come into my office," came a man's voice.

"Stay on alert," Lord Greengrass whispered, stepping into the office.

Ron quietly trailed behind his mentor, immediately fixing his gaze upon a middle-aged man pouring himself some coffee. Is he the person we're meant to deal with? Ron looked the man over, noting that he was dressed as fashionably as both Lord Greengrass and Ron himself. The short man wore a chocolate three-piece suit, a large diamond stud gleaming from the centre of his crimson tie. His greying black hair was neatly combed and his face was freshly shaved, revealing his strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. This bloke definitely doesn't look like a mercenary to me. He looks more like a Lord, or, a very successful businessman.

"Lord Greengrass," the man smiled politely, he had a weak German accent. "Please, come in, come in. Nehmen Sie Platz."

"Ronald," Lord Greengrass sheathed his wand, gesturing Ron to do the same. Fine, but if he tries anything, I'm going to Lumos Solem him through the wall.

Ron sheathed his wand, carefully studying the man in front of him.

"Your apprentice stares," the man chuckled nonchalantly.

"Who are you?" Lord Greengrass asked calmly. "I dealt with someone else the last time."

"You may call me… let's say… Alger," the man replied, causing Ron and Lord Greengrass to exchange looks. "Please, take a seat. Vould you like some coffee? Or, perhaps, some tea?"

"Please, there is no need," Lord Greengrass said, walking over and taking a seat in front of Alger's desk.

Ron did the same, using his Occlumency training to calm down his nerves. Just stay focused, and don't panic if we get jumped. Get the Portkey, grab Lord Greengrass, and then get the fuck out of here before someone throws the Killing Curse.

"May you and I converse freely?" Alger asked Lord Greengrass, taking his seat behind the polished, ebony desk.

"My apprentice and I keep no secrets," Lord Greengrass replied, and Alger's smile widened.

"How vonderful," Alger looked Ron over before turning his attention back to Lord Greengrass. "Forgive us for the poor velcome, Lord Greengrass. I vished to meet you in person in order to apologize for our continued failure to complete your bounty. Fenrir Greyback has proven himself to be more intelligent than ve anticipated. He has eluded us for months, and even now, he remains hidden from us. Ve shall return your gold to you as a gift for your silence. Is that fair?"

"Quite," Lord Greengrass said. "However, I still want his head."

"Naturally," Alger gave a nod. "Keep our lack of results to yourself, and ve shall hunt this dog down for free. Again, ve are terribly sorry." He doesn't sound sorry…

"You have my word," Lord Greengrass accepted. "Now, my apprentice and I are in need of trained men, and none are more qualified than your organization."

"Vat is the job?" Alger asked pleasantly.

Lord Greengrass looked to Ron, prompting him to speak up.

"I need security for a large homestead," Ron said, gaining Alger's attention. "Enough men to cover over two thousand acres worth of land."

"Vat else?" Alger asked.

"I might need them for some… dirty work…" Ron added.

"That vill cost more, I'm afraid," Alger didn't seem bothered by Ron's age.

"How many men can you offer?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"Ve have two teams on standby," Alger told them. "The first squad has seventy five men, and the second team has twenty five."

"The price of each?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"That depends on who is buying, Lord Greengrass," Alger looked to Ron, his smile becoming friendlier.

"How much for both?" Ron asked, and Lord Greengrass shot him a quick glance. He probably wants one of the teams for himself, but I need both.

"The Veasleys can fund a hundred men, now?" Alger asked. "Vich one of you is really paying, Mr. Veasley?" Does he think that Lord Greengrass is paying for me?

"I'm paying from my personal vault," Ron replied. "I'll be using the gold I got by raiding a treasury within Hogwarts. Much of what I stole hasn't been sold of yet, but I'm looking at a fortune higher than one hundred and fifty thousand Galleons."

Lord Greengrass was openly staring at him now, while Alger was just staring into his eyes. This bloke is really fucking creepy. He's had that smile fixed on his face from the moment we entered his windowless 'office'. I mean, why are there no windows in here? What the fuck?

"I believe you," Alger said suddenly.

"Do you?" Ron asked.

"Ve tried to get a hold of your bank records, Mr. Veasley," Alger said politely, jarring Ron a little. What?! "The Goblins, however, refused to let us see any information about you. You must have quite the horde to varrant such loyalty from those beasts." Gringotts didn't give me up? I guess that bribe I gave Gornuk came through for me. Shit… Gornuk is going to ask for another bribe the next time I see him, isn't he?

"So, how much for both teams?" Ron asked.

"You can only have one," Alger replied. What?

"Why?" Ron asked with a furrowed brow.

"Because your mentor vishes to hire one as vell," Alger turned his gaze towards Lord Greengrass. "Mr. Veasly shall pay in gold, vile you, Lord Greengrass, shall owe us a favour. Is that fair?" What the fuck? Are we the customers? Or, is he?

"Will this favour pass onto my wife and daughters if I fail to meet it?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"No, ve already have something ve need," Alger replied. "You vill open a vault vithin Gringotts under one of your many shell companies, and then, you vill give us complete and total access to this vault." What sort of favour is that? They want a vault under Lord Greengrass' name?

"And what happens if this vault gets investigated by the Aurors?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"Then, ve shall pray that your shell company is difficult to track back to you, Lord Greengrass," Alger's smile widened. "If that is not the case, then you shall say nothing to the authorities. If you do, I vill have your vife and daughters slaughtered. Is that fair?" Really? You're going there?

Ron barely managed to keep his expression in control, but before he could even hope to react to Alger's threat, Lord Greengrass stopped him by kicking him under the table. Ow! Fine, I get it… I need to relax. We can't afford to piss this man off. Ron drew in a deep breath, slightly clenching his jaw to let out some of his irritation.

"I will take the second squad, then," Lord Greengrass agreed. Damn, I'll just have to settle for one. It's probably for the best; Lord Greengrass no doubt plans to turn his home into a fortress. The safety of his family is just as important as my cause.

"The captain of the second squad, Jürgen, vill bring you the contract tomorrow," Alger said. "Meet him at The Leaky Cauldron, midday."

"I understand," Lord Greengrass said, and Alger turned his attention back to Ron. Stop smiling; you're giving me anxiety.

"Let's negotiate, Mr. Veasley," Alger said, and Ron gave him a nod. "I'm villing to start at thirty thousand Galleons upfront, and two thousand four hundred and seventy-five Galleons a month for upkeep." Sweet dancing Dumbledore, is he fucking with me right now?! That's a lot of money!

"Isn't that a little too expensive?" Ron asked, and Alger chuckled lightly.

"Shall ve break down the numbers?" Alger asked.

"Sure…" Ron agreed. What am I going to do?

"The upfront payment goes directly to the Death's Hand, four hundred Galleons for each man," Alger explained. "The upkeep payment goes directly to our men, thirty three Galleons a month per man. Thirty three multiplied by tvelve is three hundred and ninety six, just short of four hundred Galleons a year, vich is the average annual pay of Magical Britain's vorkforce." Alger then leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. "You vish to ask my men to risk their lives, but you still don't have to pay them as much as an Auror vould make. The offer I have made is already very generous." I'm fucked.

"Are there any other squads?" Ron asked. "Say, fifty men?"

"No," Alger replied. "Ve only have one squad to spare." Horseshit! He's trying to swindle me! Should I just take the hit? I mean, I can afford it, and if Gornuk manages to sell the other goods in time, I'll be able to keep the men for a while. Add my salary from The Quibbler on top of that, and I might just pull this off.

Ron drew in a deep breath; he had to make a really difficult choice. If I can't afford to pay this bloke, something tells me that I'll end up gutted in some shallow ditch. Is it worth the risk?

"I would like to negotiate on my apprentice's behalf," Lord Greengrass spoke up, and Alger immediately looked towards him. "I suggest that twenty five men remain on reserve, they will be allowed to complete other jobs for the Death's Hand. The remaining fifty will be directly under Ron's command, and they will not be allowed to accept any other contracts. Ron will pay twenty thousand Galleons upfront, four hundred Galleons each for the fifty men that he is taking from you, and he will pay one thousand six hundred and fifty Galleons a month for the upkeep, which gives the fifty men under his command thirty three Galleons a month each." Fucking hell! They did all of that multiplication and division in their heads?! I'm way out of my league here… Thank Merlin that Lord Greengrass is here to help me.

"You are forcing me to create a squad of fifty men," Alger stated calmly. "This is not dealing in good faith, Lord Greengrass."

"Please, let me finish," Lord Greengrass said coolly. "Should any of Ron's men get taken out of commission, a reserve will replace the injured or dead man. However, since most of them will be guarding a homestead, you won't need to worry too much about this. You can instead focus on using the twenty-five extra men in your possession to accept more contracts. All parties benefit."

"But the Death's Hand gets paid a lot less," Alger said, his pleasant smile still in place. "This deal is heavily in your apprentice's favour."

"You strike me as a businessman, Alger, much like myself," Lord Greengrass said, keeping Alger's gaze. "Therefore, you and I both know that something is better than nothing. If you don't accept the renewed deal, then Ron cannot afford your services. You get nothing from him. However, if you do accept, not only do you secure a large deal, but you also get to keep twenty five men for other contracts."

Alger silently stared at Lord Greengrass, and after what felt like an eternity, he looked at Ron and gave him a nod. I can afford this! I might kiss Lord Greengrass when we get home!

"Twenty thousand Galleons upfront, and one thousand six hundred and fifty Galleons a month for upkeep," Alger said. "Vat say you, Mr. Veasley?"

"I accept," Ron agreed.

"Then, tomorrow, you are to meet Artyom at The Leaky Cauldron, five 'o'clock," Alger said. "He vill bring your contract with him."

"How will I recognize him?" Ron asked.

"Do not vorry, he vill recognize you," Alger replied. "Now, meine Herren, is there any other business that you vish to discuss vith me?"

"No, that is all," Lord Greengrass seized the opportunity to leave. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."

"Thank you for bringing us your business," Alger said in response. "Vere vould you like to go from here? Diagon Alley?"

"That would be perfect," Lord Greengrass replied.

Alger waved his hand, and the cabinet to Ron's left swung open. It was filled with tiny drawers, each of them labelled with the name of a different location. Blimey, there's over a hundred drawers in this cabinet. The drawer labelled as 'Diagon Alley' popped open, and a shiny Galleon floated out towards Ron and Lord Greengrass.

"Take the Portkey ven you are ready," Alger said. "You vill be sent to the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron." This bloke has hundreds of Portkeys just sitting in his cabinet? So, technically, he can be anywhere in the world at any given moment? Who the fuck are we dealing with here?

Ron and Lord Greengrass looked to paperclip floating between them, each of them giving the other a nod.

"One the count of three," Lord Greengrass said. "One, two… three."

---

Friday 12th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Midday)

"Mary, you look like you're in pain," Ron couldn't help but point out, but Mary just shot him a reassuring smile. Look at her… She's sweating and panting like she just ran across the country.

"Hardly, I'm just… trying to catch… my breath…" Mary panted, making Ron feel even more confused. Why is she trying to join me during my training time? Not that I mind, but she is slowing me down considerably. She doesn't even know how to do any of my exercises. I've spent the last thirty minutes just explaining things to her!

Ron drew in a deep breath; he couldn't get frustrated with her lack of athleticism. The mere fact that she was here and trying her best had to count for something, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make her efforts look pointless. The adults need training too, and Mary all but walked up and volunteered to try. When have I ever gotten that lucky? I should relax and encourage her, not get frustrated and raise my voice. Plus, this is Mary we're talking about… Unlike Pansy or Daphne, she'll slap me across the face if I raise my voice at her.

Ron studied the Matriarch of the Greengrass Family; his eyes lingering on her newly bought running gear. It was rather similar in fashion to Daphne's running gear, Muggle and form fitting, which meant that Ron had to constantly make sure not to stare too much at Mary. Or rather, not get caught whilst staring. She really is in good shape, though… I guess Lord Greengrass truly lucked out, eh?

"Maybe we should take a break?" Mary suggested, and Ron blinked at her.

"We've done one set…" Ron reminded her. "There are four more to go-"

"Four more?" Mary's eyes widened a little, but she quickly regained herself. "Four more seems a little too much, doesn't it, Ron?" It's not enough, actually. I'm starting to get too used to my Circuit Training. I should add some more exercises to my routine.

"Mary, if there's no challenge, then how do you expect to improve?" Ron asked gently. "Five sets, and then we go running around the gardens. After that, we Duel the P-12 Auror Trainer for a couple of hours, which means that we'll be done by four 'o'clock. This will give me an hour to get ready for my meeting at The Leaky Cauldron, and after I come home, we can practise some Wandless and Non-Verbal Magic too. It'll be great."

"Sweet Circe…" Mary muttered under her breath, rethinking her life-choices. "You do this every day, Ron?"

"Pretty much," Ron shrugged. "Sometimes, I'm too busy for it, but I always try to make time for training." I'm not dying to Death-Eater scum. I'm the only person who gets to kill me.

Mary didn't know whether to be impressed by Ron's dedication, or to question his sanity. Either way, she knew that she was done for the day; she wasn't exactly her young, competitive self anymore.

"I'm a little too old for this, I think," Mary said, a hint of resignation in her voice. "Maybe I should just keep you company, and not embarrass myself any further." What? But you need to train. What happens if the enemy ambushes you? You're just going to hope for the best?

"I don't think you're too old," Ron blurted out, hoping to change her mind. I can't just let her give up so quickly! "You're in really great shape, Mary. You powered through that set on your first go, you didn't try to cheat by miscounting, you have a healthy body, you have long, toned legs, and you've got a bit of muscle on your back and shoulders from all of that Herbology work! I know it can feel daunting when you first start, but pretty soon, you'll be keeping up with me!"

"Long, toned legs, Ron?" Mary questioned, unable to hide the amusement in her voice. Did I say that? No… I didn't say that. Did I? "Go on, Ron, I'd like you to elaborate on that."

Ron just kept staring at her face, embarrassment slowly creeping up on him. I think I just gave away the fact that I've been trying my best not to ogle her. You know what I should do? I should just leave… Yeah, what is she going to do about that? Nothing.

Ron turned around and began heading towards the gardens, content to leave the awkward situation behind. I'm sure she'll follow me eventually, and we can get back to training.

"You can't just walk away," Mary laughed. "Ron, I was only teasing you! Please, don't be like that!"

Ron stopped, feeling his face heat up even more. I wasn't eyeballing my ex's mother! I'm not a degenerate! Ron slowly walked back over to Mary, trying his best to keep his expression controlled and his eyes in check.

"I was just making an observation," Ron said nonchalantly, but one teasing smile from Mary brought back all of his embarrassment. "I just didn't want you to leave, all right? Stop smiling at me like that…"

"Your ears turn red when you're embarrassed," Mary giggled, pinching his cheek. "Why didn't you want me to leave? Aren't I slowing you down? I know I am."

"This is good for you," Ron replied, his voice barely audible. Amazing legs? Really, Ron? You're that fucking stupid? Think, and then speak. "Plus, you were the one who wanted to spend her day with me, but one set in, and you started thinking of leaving."

"Leaving?" Mary asked. "No, I don't plan to go anywhere. I'll just cheer you on from the side-"

"You should join me, Mary," Ron said a little more firmly.

"Do you really need a training partner? You seem to be doing very well on your own," Mary said, slightly confused by his insistence.

"This isn't about me," Ron told her. "You should think about training your body and Magical Core, Mary, but not for my sake. What if the Dark Lord attacks us here? If you can't even run for more than five minutes, your chances of surviving are practically nil."

Mary was quite taken aback by Ron's casual mention of the Dark Lord ending her life, but she couldn't really disagree with him. If the Death-Eaters did attack her manor, then she would have no choice but to run. Still, what kind of teenager thought about such grim topics?

"Ron, why would you think of something like this?" Mary asked softly.

"Because it could happen," Ron replied, deciding to negotiate. If I keep insisting, then she'll get completely turned off of exercise. I made that mistake with Pansy and Daphne, and now, they both hate the notion of physical exertion. "Please, Mary… Two more sets, and then, you can finish for the day. It would really make me feel better."

Mary's features softened at that, her right palm finding his left cheekbone. Ron tensed because of the physical contact, feeling the urge to shove Mary away from him, but in the end, he did nothing but stand perfectly still. Just relax; she's not going to do anything to hurt you. Relax.

"Two more sets," Mary agreed, and Ron's lips quirked upwards. "But after that, we're taking a small tea break." You can take the tea break; I'll just keep going.

"Thank you."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Let me call the Elves," Ron whispered, helping Mary towards the large gazebo that overlooked a portion of the gardens. "Mary, I'm getting really worried here. Let me just call them, they'll take good care of you."

Mary had managed to complete one more set before she had started feeling faint, prompting Ron to fly into action.

"No, they'll tell my husband, and I don't want him to worry over me while he's trying to secure our home…" Mary said weakly, putting more of her weight onto his side. "I just feel lightheaded, that's all…" You've become paler than me, you liar.

"Stop, let me carry you instead," Ron stopped walking, moving his left arm to the back of her knees whilst lowering his right arm to her back. Cutis Terra!

The Spell immediately took effect, and he felt so powerful that he was afraid of hurting her by being careless. Easy does it, Ron. Just don't make her more miserable.

"Ron, you're very healthy for your age, but I'm a grown woman-" Mary started, but with little effort, Ron lifted her off of her feet.

Mary let out a startled yelp, her left arm tightening around his neck. Ron couldn't help but laugh at the odd sound she had made; he had never heard her make such an unladylike sound before. It's good to see that she can be surprised as well.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, and Mary weakened her hold around his neck.

"Show off…" Mary smirked, resting her eyes.

"Are you tired? I can take you into the manor instead," Ron said, but Mary shook her head.

"No, I just need to sit down," Mary said, she had fully relaxed. "How are you doing this, Ron?"

"Pardon?" Ron asked. "Doing what?"

"Carrying me as if I don't weigh anything," Mary clarified. Don't give away your advantages, old boy.

"I'm just really strong for my age," Ron smirked smugly. "I reckon I could overpower every lad in my year. Easily."

"Good," Mary sounded pleased, though Ron was sure that she was aware of his act. "You should always strive to leave others in the dust, Ron. Success doesn't come by itself." I agree.

"Is that you, Lord Greengrass?" Ron asked, climbing the steps of the gazebo. "Are you taking the piss out of me on some Polyjuice Potion?"

"Don't be so vulgar, Ron," Mary tutted tiredly. "It shows others that you're from weak stock."

"I thought being a Blood-Traitor already gave that impression," Ron joked, but Mary didn't laugh. Uh-oh. "Please don't strangle me, I was only taking the piss."

"Ron," Mary clicked her tongue.

"Sorry," Ron chuckled; carefully helping Mary onto the luxurious, white cushions. "There you go. Is that better? Do you want to want me to conjure you some water?"

Ron felt the effects of Cutis Terra wear off, leaving him a little sore all over. I definitely held that for longer than thirty seconds. This is good. I'm starting to get back on track.

"I feel so much better already," Mary relaxed back against the cushions, taking in long and slow breaths. "Have the Elves bring us some refreshments, please."

Ron barely heard her request; his hormone-addled mind was too busy appreciating Mary's heaving chest. By all the fucking Gods… How did she get those knockers into that top?! Look away before she catches you, or, you won't be able to do it again!

"Ahem," Mary cleared her throat. Fuck! "It is rude to stare, Ron."

"I was just wondering why you chose to wear Muggle clothing," Ron looked up, keeping his face perfectly calm. I have made a terrible mistake. I can see that now. "And I'm don't want to speak out of line, but these Muggle clothes aren't exactly… appropriate…" Her skin might be covered, but it doesn't leave much to the imagination. Not that I'm complaining, of course.

"It is the latest fashion according to Witch Weekly," Mary explained, not buying his act for a second. "A Lady can't be left behind in the world of fashion, it would mean the end of her reputation."

"You read Witch Weekly?" Ron couldn't help but ask. Does every witch read that magazine?

"It doesn't exactly cater to my tastes, but when it comes to fashion fads, Witch Weekly is rarely ever wrong," Mary replied. "Now, please call for the Elves. I'd like a cold glass of sweetened water."

"I'll let them know," Ron turned to leave. Best to leave before this gets truly awkward.

"You're leaving?" Mary asked quickly.

"Um… I figured that I'd go back to training while you rested," Ron turned back around.

"Why don't you sit with me for a bit?" Mary asked. "You can have a drink, and then go back to training." Why is she trying so hard to stay near me?

"Um… Sure…" Ron couldn't help himself. "But, Mary, do you mind telling me what's going on here? Why are you so adamant about spending time with me?"

Mary gave him a hesitant look, but then she quickly regained herself and sat up.

"I only gave birth to daughters," Mary met his gaze. "And because of that, I've never experienced the pride only a son can bring. I love my daughters, of course, but to have a son… Every Pure-Blood witch wishes for a strong son." Um… That was unexpected. I thought she was trying to spy on me… Fuck me; I've become so jaded…

"I didn't know you felt that way…" Ron scratched the back of his neck; he had no clue on what to say to her.

"Just sit with me for a few minutes? Please?" Mary requested. "It would mean the world to me." I definitely can't refuse her after what she just said; I would die from the guilt.

Ron quietly walked over to the nearest cushion, planting himself down and shooting Mary an awkward smile.

"I'm sorry that I was in such a hurry to leave…" Ron apologized, and Mary smiled warmly. "I have trouble sitting down in one place these days…" It grates my nerves to be doing nothing.

"I've noticed," Mary said. "Even at the dinner table, you're constantly on alert."

"Yeah… Sorry about that as well," Ron sighed out. "I'll call the Elves now, if that's all right with you."

"Go ahead," Mary said, her warm smile still in place.

"Spinny!" Ron called, summoning Mary's favoured Elf.

Spinny cracked into the gazebo, her head already bowed towards Mary.

"Mistress and Master Weasley summoned Spinny?" Spinny looked up with a bright smile.

"Can we please have some refreshments?" Ron asked. "Cold sweetened water would be brilliant."

"Certainly, Spinny shall also bring out a small platter on the side," Spinny turned her smile towards Ron. "Master Weasley must be feeling hungry after all that exercise." Well, I don't mind eating a little more.

"Thank you, Spinny," Ron said gratefully.

"Spinny will have everything sent immediately," Spinny promised.

She then gave Mary another respectful bow before Apparating to the kitchens. There was a short silence after Spinny's departure, and Ron found himself questioning where to even start. Luckily, Mary already had a topic in mind.

"My husband tells me that you will have your own small army soon," Mary said, and Ron shifted on his cushion a little. It was bound to become public knowledge eventually. "May I ask what you plan to do with these mercenaries, Ron?"

"They'll keep Prosperity Farm safe," Ron replied. "The Dark Lord will definitely try to invade the Werewolf Sanctuary, and I want a coordinated and skilled group of fighters waiting for him."

"Please, be careful with these people," Mary advised, her concern more than evident. "They are extremely dangerous, and if your deal with them turns sour, they will not hesitate to cut all ties with you."

"And make me disappear?" Ron asked, and Mary gave a grave nod. "I'll be careful, I promise."

A pitcher of ice-cold sweetened water, two large glasses, and a platter filled with various cheeses, fruits, and meats suddenly appeared on the table in-between the cushions. Ron wasted no time in pouring Mary a glass of sweetened water, offering it to her with a smile. I should offer her some food as well; it might restore her colour.

"Thank you, love," Mary accepted the glass, taking a long sip from it. "I know sweetened water is terrible for my waistline, but I've always made an exception for it."

"I didn't know that you liked sweetened water so much," Ron admitted, moving the platter closer to Mary.

"I don't usually enjoy sweet things, but when I was a little Lady in training, my father used to have his Elves sneak me sweetened water whenever my mother berated me about my 'ever-increasing' weight," Mary replied, not sounding bothered at all.

"Your mother really berated you over your weight?" Ron asked, feeling a hint of annoyance. "Weren't you a growing girl?"

"I was," Mary chuckled, much to Ron's bemusement. "My mother didn't seem to understand that, or rather, she didn't seem to care. I decided early that if I ever had children, I'd never lecture them about their weight."

"That's good," Ron smiled a little more.

"I never kept that promise, of course," Mary admitted, surprising Ron. "Being a parent… It changes you. Changes your priorities. In my youth, I didn't understand that my mother was worried about my health and wellbeing; I only saw her words as personal attacks." Mary then smiled distantly. "I was a terrible daughter to them…"

"They don't sound exactly like good parents either," Ron said, pushing the platter further towards Mary. "Here, eat some of this. You'll feel loads better."

"Aren't you going to have anything?" Mary asked, noticing that Ron hadn't even had a drink yet.

"I will," Ron replied, nudging the platter even further. "You look like you need it more than me."

"Thank you," Mary reached forward and grabbed herself a cube of Gouda. "Now, my point was that when I thought my mother was attacking me, I was very much mistaken. Children can't understand how a parent's mind works, and because of that, they don't always see eye to eye."

"You're bringing this back to my parents, aren't you?" Ron figured, popping a grape into his mouth. I should've known this was coming.

"They just want to know if you're safe," Mary told him. "They're scared that you might never come home."

"I'll go back, but not yet," Ron said, drawing in a deep breath. Use that Occlumency of yours, Ron. Stay in control of your emotions. "I just need some time away from people. In The Burrow, there's no such thing as privacy, whereas here, I can have an entire wing to myself. Once I have my work in order, I'll go back home. You can tell them this, of course. It'll put their minds at ease." And it'll buy me time.

"Good," Mary gave him a proud look. "Don't make my mistakes, Ron, there are few things that hurt more than losing one's parents. It's a pain that never really goes away." I doubt that I'll outlive my parents.

Ron went back to picking at the platter, filling up on food so he could train extra for slacking off. Mary went back to enjoying her sweetened water, occasionally shooting Ron a loving smile for fulfilling one of her wishes.

---

Friday 12th February, 1994 (The Leaky Cauldron – Five 'o'clock)

"Thank you for being here, my Lord," Ron said, shooting his mentor a quick smile. "I don't know much about contracts, and I don't want to get cheated."

"I'll give you a few lessons at dinner," Lord Greengrass said, and Ron quickly accepted with a nod. "How was your day with Mary?"

"It was really nice," Ron replied honestly. "She promised to teach me some of her tricks in Potion Making once we get home." Those tricks will come in handy one day, I'm sure.

"That's good to hear," Lord Greengrass gave a half-smile. "You might not know this, but spending time with you holds a lot of value to my wife."

"She told me," Ron said, he was glad that he had spent his day with her. "Lord Greengrass… May I ask something private?"

"We decided not to have anymore children after Astoria," Lord Greengrass said, he already knew what Ron was thinking. Oh… Why?

"But didn't you both want a son?" Ron asked slowly.

Lord Greengrass looked hesitant for the very first time, his pale eyes growing dim. Bloody hell, I overstepped. I should apologize and back off-

"It wouldn't have been fair on the child…" Lord Greengrass suddenly whispered, looking towards the stairs.

Ron didn't quite understand Lord Greengrass' answer at first, so he decided to try and connect the dots in his mind. They stopped after Astoria because they didn't want to burden their next child? Why would the child be burdened? Clearly, this had something to do with Astoria Greengrass; a girl that Ron knew was 'sickly'. Is there some sort of sickness within the Greengrass Family? Or does it come from Mary's side of the Family? If this is the case, is Daphne also sick?

Ron quickly began feeling stressed; he didn't like the idea of the Greengrass sisters being sickly. Honestly, Daphne hasn't shown any signs of being sick. As for Astoria-

"Ron, I think he's here," Lord Greengrass broke Ron out of his thoughts.

Ron turned his attention towards the stairs, seeing a tall man in a brown trench coat walking over to their table. Bloody hell, that's one tall bloke! The man was well-over six feet tall, his long, black hair and thick, styled beard gave him the likeness of a dark-maned lion. As he neared the table, Ron began to realize that, despite being covered by a trench coat, the man was also a mountain of muscle. He's as built as Charlie and even taller than dad… No one will think about attacking the Werewolf Sanctuary with this behemoth at the front gates.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Artyom spoke in a thick, unknown accent. He sounds nothing like that 'Alger' bloke.

"You must be Artyom," Ron said, while Lord Greengrass silently sized the mercenary with his eyes. "Please, take a seat."

"Spasibo," Artyom pulled back a seat and sat down.

"You're Russian," Lord Greengrass noted.

"I am mercenary," Artyom spared Lord Greengrass a swift glance. "I have no nationality."

Artyom then slowly reached into his trench coat, pulling out a lengthy piece of parchment. Ron kept his wand aimed at Artyom's manly bits under the table, using his left hand to accept the contract. Stay calm, Ron. Keep your eyes fixed on him, but don't do anything to provoke him. This deal has to work out.

"Lord Greengrass," Ron said, passing the contract onto his mentor without breaking his line of sight.

Lord Greengrass wasted no time in starting his work, reading through each sentence with the most meticulous kind of scrutiny.

"My men will come down after contract is signed and payment is given," Artyom said. "If you have questions, speak now." Why does he speak like he's giving out orders? It's a little intimidating, given his unnatural size.

"If I asked you to risk your life, and the lives of your men, for my goals, would you do it?" Ron asked. "That's my only question."

"If contract is signed and payments are given, yes," Artyom replied, his voice was deep enough to make Ron feel a little insecure. "Break contract, however, and I will break you." I imagine that wouldn't be very hard for a man like you, but saying that, I doubt you'll just walk away unscathed.

"And if your men break their contracts?" Ron asked.

"Then, I will kill them," Artyom replied like it was nothing. Of course… The Death's Hand or the Death-Eaters… I don't know which one is worse. Am I sure about working with people like this?

Ron thought about the Werewolves and the never-ending struggles that they had all endured. This Sanctuary is their only hope, which is why they're all marching down here. They've given up their camps for this, on the promise of a safe haven. I made them that promise, so I need to be the one that makes sure to keep it. The Werewolf Sanctuary will definitely be frowned upon, and knowing the Dark Lord, he'll definitely want to destroy it. I need the best. I need to fight fire with fire. I need the Death's Hand protecting the Werewolves from the Death-Eaters.

"I'll honour my end of the deal, but only if you honour yours," Ron said, and Artyom gave him a nod.

"I will be like your shadow," Artyom promised. "Always at your side."

"Pardon?" Ron blinked. That's not the job I had in mind, mate.

"I will remain at your side," Artyom said, trying to subdue his accent. "Protect you from danger. Keep contract going."

"I need you to protect a farm instead-" Ron started.

"No, my men will protect farm," Artyom interrupted; there was a certain finality to his voice. "I will protect client. You were nearly beheaded in street. You have dangerous enemies. You die, contract ends. I will watch your back. Keep you alive."

"Who will lead your men, then?" Ron asked.

"They are well-trained," Artyom replied, not a hint of any expression on his face. "They do not need handholding. They will protect farm from all threats." It's like I'm speaking to a brick wall. A brick wall that could potentially fall on me and crush me to death, I might add.

"I have to attend school," Ron reminded the man. "Are you going to sit in my classes with me? I don't think my Potions Professor will take too kindly to your attendance."

"When you are at school, I will be at farm," Artyom told him. "When you are not at school, I will be with you. These are dangerous times, you must have bodyguard."

"Ron, he's right," Lord Greengrass suddenly interjected. "Jürgen, the new Head of my guard, will be doing the same with me. These are dangerous times, and kidnappings were a common occurrence during the Great War." I did get attacked in the street, and I can't be on constant alert in a public place… Artyom looks like a professional, I'm sure he'll keep my shadier actions to himself. Fuck it; let's just give it a go.

"I understand," Ron said, giving Artyom a nod. "How long will it take your men to get to the farm?"

"You tell me where farm is, and I will bring my men there tomorrow morning," Artyom replied. "Payment first." Yes, I get it.

"Lord Greengrass?" Ron looked to his mentor.

"You can sign it," Lord Greengrass handed the contract back to Ron. "They've made it crystal clear that they want to keep your business." So they're not trying to cheat me? Brilliant.

Ron put the contract on the table, deciding to have a read through it himself. From the corner of his vision, he noticed Lord Greengrass shooting him a smirk, seemingly pleased with Ron's thoroughness. Starting tomorrow, I'll have fifty trained mercenaries under my command. Every day, I'm balancing the scales more in our favour. With the Dark Lord's most powerful on the loose; the Order needs to start getting its act together as well. Come back, old man, or my efforts here won't mean a damn thing.

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Friday 12th February, 1994 (The Library – After Classes)

The word was out; Ron's study group was running once again. Every student from third year and under had turned up, Hermione included. Some had come looking for more gossip about Ron or Davis, while others wanted to renew their inter-House friendships. The first years were being especially friendly with each other; they were studying under a seventh year Slytherin, Clara Martyris.

And yet, despite the blissful and busy atmosphere, something didn't feel right to Hermione. The three Slytherin girls who had reconvened the study group seemed reserved, like they were on edge. The other Slytherin students were also acting odd, going tight-lipped whenever Ron was mentioned. They didn't seem upset, but rather, were behaving as if they knew a secret that no one else could know.

Something had changed within Slytherin, and Hermione was certain that Ron was the cause. As usual… He really does get around, doesn't he? Hermione herself wasn't too sure about what to make of the redhead; his random and short visit had left Hermione, and most of the school, baffled.

If he was well enough to walk around the school, then why wasn't he attending his classes? All the hard assignments and tests run at this time of the year. Ron might even get held back if he doesn't come-

"You should be studying," Harry whispered, suddenly sitting down to her left.

"God, Harry…" Hermione sighed out; he had spooked her with his sudden appearance.

"Sorry," Harry chuckled. "I just saw you staring into space, so I figured that I'd come wake you up."

Hermione felt a hint of embarrassment, mostly because she was used to being the one who usually woke Harry up from his daydreams.

"Where's Neville?" Hermione asked, noticing that Harry didn't have his books with him.

"Oh, he's with Ginny," Harry replied. "Apparently, she has some Herbology homework due soon, and she hasn't even started yet. Neville is probably doing her homework for her, given how much he loves plants."

"Herbology," Hermione corrected.

"Nev calls them plants too," Harry shrugged, suddenly looking over her work. "What are you studying?"

"Harry, where are your books?" Hermione asked inquisitively.

"Oh… I'm not actually here to study…" Harry ruffled his hair, making it even messier. "We've got Quidditch practise coming up-"

"Again?" Hermione asked. "Wood is working you lot to the bone, Harry. You should tell him that your studies come first."

"Hermione, we can win the Quidditch Cup this year," Harry whispered, his almond-shaped, startling, green eyes blazing with purpose. "It's Wood's final year, and honestly, he deserves to win it this year. He's the hardest working Captain on any team!"

"Shhh," Hermione shushed, shooting sorry looks at the disturbed study group members.

"Sorry," Harry apologized sheepishly. "It's just that we're so close this year, Hermione. Slytherin is out of the race already; no one expects them to come back. Ravenclaw is now behind us, and if we beat Hufflepuff in our next game, we'll come out on top."

"And your grades?" Hermione huffed. "What about them?"

"I've already finished most of my homework," Harry replied, making Hermione blink in confusion. Oh… Professor Lupin… Wait, then why is Harry even here?

"If that's the case, then why did you even come here?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued enough to ebb any feelings of competitive jealousy.

"Well…" Harry shot a subtle look towards Ron's friends. "I thought they were acting different at breakfast and lunch… They weren't as withdrawn as usual. Didn't you notice that?" Not really.

Hermione looked towards Ron's friends, they were all working with students from different Houses. Most of them are smiling… Harry's right, they're being far more social now. Are they starting to recover from what happened to Davis? Hermione's eyes suddenly met Greengrass', who had caught Hermione staring. Oh… Oh, no. Greengrass held Hermione's gaze, and her ice-cold expression never once wavered.

It didn't feel hostile, but it certainly didn't feel friendly either.

"I think Ron did something," Harry whispered, pulling Hermione's attention away from Greengrass.

"Did what?" Hermione asked.

"No clue," Harry replied. "But whatever it was, it changed all of Slytherin. Rumour is that Flint and his lot are no longer hassling the younger years. Not even the Muggle-Borns."

"Really?" Hermione asked; this was certainly a welcome change. I can't believe that Cassius Warrington, a boy who I didn't even know existed until a week ago, called me a 'Magic-Thief'. Those rude boys were really getting out of hand. I wonder, though, what Ron could've done to stop them? Did he report them to Professor Snape? No… He wouldn't randomly return to Hogwarts just to report some bullies. He came for another reason, and I really want to know what it is.

"We should wait a couple more days, but over the last three days, I haven't once been called 'Scarhead' by some Slytherin," Harry said, moving out of his chair. "I should probably be off, Wood will start looking for me if I'm not ready in ten minutes."

"Oh… Bye, then," Hermione said, feeling a little down about being left alone. Neville is studying with Ginny, and Harry already has his homework finished… Guess I'll be studying alone again.

"Do you want any help?" Harry quickly asked, an oblivious smile on his face. "I already gave my Charms and Defence homework to Neville, but you can have the other subjects."

Hermione felt slightly tempted to accept the easy way out, she was already drowning in stress and parchment. It would make my life so much easier, but it would prove those Pure-Blood boys right… I'd be a thief, nothing more. I'll show them all that I deserve to be here. I deserve to be a witch.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine," Hermione stayed true to her beliefs. "Enjoy Quidditch practise, Harry, and wear your helmet."

"It blocks my vision," Harry chuckled, turning to leave.

"It could save your life, Harry," Hermione tried, but he was already gone. "Never mind…"

Hermione looked around herself once again, noticing that everyone was either paired off or was in a group. She wanted to stand up and find herself a study partner, but given her track record with other people, Hermione knew that it was best to just study by herself. It's okay… I get more done when I'm alone, anyway.

Her eyes fell back onto her books, and she felt hollowness in her chest. So much work left to do-

"Hermione," came Neville's voice, followed by a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"Neville?" Hermione felt a smile overtake her face, turning her head to face the growing Gryffindor.

"Happy to see me?" Neville laughed in his usual polite manner. Yes!

Hermione tried to regain control over her face, but her traitorous cheeks were quickly becoming flushed.

"Are you here to study with me?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, Ginny wanted to talk to you, but she didn't want to make a scene here, so I've come to escort you," Neville smiled at her.

"Ginny wants to talk to me?" Hermione was quite surprised. Why now? She's given me nothing but the cold shoulder since Christmas.

"Come on," Neville gestured her to follow him, and she did so without a second thought. "She's in the Herbology Section, no one ever really goes there so you two should have your privacy."

"Aren't you going to be there?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a lot more nervous.

"She wants to talk to you," Neville replied, giving her an encouraging smile. "Everything will be fine, Hermione, there's nothing to worry about. Ginny's been working hard on herself, you'll see." She's been helping him deal with Bellatrix Lestrange's breakout, that's for certain. He's finally returned to his old self.

"Working hard on herself?" Hermione asked, not entirely sure of what Neville meant.

"She's been through a lot," Neville whispered. "And then, Ron comes forward about his brain damage…"

"The poor Weasleys," Hermione heard herself mutter.

"She's spent a lot of time thinking about how she got here," Neville went on. "Ron and her were fighting like cats and dogs, her relationships with her brothers were getting worse, she even lost Luna's friendship. She's finally realized that she put herself in those situations by blaming everyone but herself."

"Should you really be telling me all of this?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I don't think Ginny would mind, she's quite resilient," Neville said. He sounds very fond of her…

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy, though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe she was feeling threatened again? The last time Ginny had become friends with them, Hermione had harboured the fear losing her only friends to a prettier girl. I was wrong, though. Ginny wanted to be friends with me, not just Neville and Harry. So, why do I feel… uncomfortable… about Ginny and Neville's close friendship? I already know that Ginny prefers spending time with me-

"Hermione, are you there?" Neville asked, his concern written all over his face. "I promise, nothing bad will come of this. You don't need to be so worried."

"I'm not worried," Hermione defended herself quickly. "I'm just…" Wait, I can't tell him that, he'll think I'm mental! "I'm just preparing myself, that's all."

"Well, we're here," Neville suddenly stopped. "Just go down the aisle, she's reading a book I recommended for her essay."

Hermione drew in a long breath, swatting her cheeks to bring some colour to her face. I can do this. All I have to do is apologize. Oh, and not blurt out my conflicting opinions. Hermione shot one last look at Neville, and after receiving another encouraging smile from him; she began making her way down the Herbology Section's third aisle.

It took her little time to find Ginny; the redhead was sitting on the floor with a large book open in her lap. She didn't hear Hermione approach, not until Hermione was casting a shadow over the book's pages.

"Hi, Ginny," Hermione greeted with a nervous smile.

"Hi," Ginny greeted back, getting back on her feet. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course I came," Hermione felt a smile tug at her lips; Ginny didn't sound cold or angry. "So… Um… What did you want to talk about?"

"Wait," Ginny pulled out her wand, doing controlled flicks around them. "Muffliato." What?

"Did you just cast a Spell?" Hermione asked, looking around them for any changes. "I've never heard of this one, what does it do?" Everything is still the same. Did the Spell not work?

"It'll give us privacy, no one will be able to eavesdrop on us now," Ginny replied, tucking her wand away.

"Really?!" Hermione's eyes widened a little, she could already imagine all the possibilities for its application. Muffliato… I need to remember that. "Ginny, where did you learn this Spell? I haven't come across it in any of our textbooks."

"Ron taught it to me," Ginny replied. Oh… Yeah, he knows all kinds of Magic, doesn't he…?

There was an awkward silence between them, and Hermione couldn't help but blame herself for it. She had come here to settle things with Ginny, but instead, she had wound up feeling jealous of her classmate again. I need to say something before it's too late. C'mon, Hermione, focus! What would Harry and Neville do in my place? They'd take action, right? I should just go for it.

"I'm sorry about everything," Hermione apologized, pushing the words out of her throat. "I should never have gotten myself involved in Ron's personal affairs, and I definitely shouldn't have hidden about what I knew about him from you. I put my friendship with Ron above my friendship with you, and that wasn't a very fair thing to do."

Ginny nodded slowly, looking down at her feet. Hermione decided to wait for the shorter witch to say something, and eventually, Ginny looked back up with a resolute glint in her eyes.

"I'm sorry for being so bitter and cruel," Ginny apologized as well, though her voice was far stronger than Hermione's. "I was just so angry all the time, and I know now that I was turning my anger towards everyone around me. I'm the one who started telling you and Harry that Ron wasn't a good person, and before I knew it, your friendship with him got ruined. I wasn't a very good friend, and I was definitely a dreadful sister, but I'm going to do better. I'm going to get my life back."

Hermione found herself lost for words for a change, she hadn't expected Ginny to be so critical of herself. What's been going on in her life for the last two months? Should I ask-

"I'll tell Ron that I was the one who made you and Harry doubt his character," Ginny promised, tucking the large book into her side. "I'll do my best to fix your friendship with him."

With that, Ginny moved past Hermione, leaving Hermione a little jarred. Wait… Where does that leave us? The bushy-haired witch quickly broke out of her daze, turning around and catching up with Ginny.

"Wait," Hermione said, moving in front of Ginny. "Is… Is that it…?" Just say it, Hermione! Aren't you a Gryffindor? "I'd like to be friends again, Ginny…"

The shorter witch averted her gaze, her hold on the Herbology book becoming harsher as her body tensed up a little. Hermione waited for Ginny to say something, especially because Hermione couldn't understand why Ginny wouldn't want to be friends now that they had both apologized.

"Did you really help Luna?" Ginny suddenly asked, meeting Hermione's gaze. Pardon?

"Um… Yes," Hermione replied, remembering giving Luna her own spare, school-appropriate shoes. "Actually, I didn't really do anything… Harry did most of the work, he gets really worked up when his friends are in trouble." Even in first year, he used to stand up for Neville. Harry was so short back then, the Dursleys barely fed him at home, and yet, he was even willing to stand up to Professor Snape. "It was his idea to bring Luna to me after…" Hermione trailed off.

"Does Gertrude Swans have some problem with her?" Ginny asked, her jaw clenching.

"I… don't really know," Hermione replied. "Luna didn't say much… Well, she didn't say much that made sense." I wonder if Luna behaves mental on purpose… Or, she might have some sort of mental disability-

"That sounds about right," Ginny muttered under breath, she knew how cryptic her own best friend was. "Thank you, Hermione, for helping her like that. Luna would walk off of a cliff if someone doesn't remind her that it's dangerous."

"Um… It was nothing," Hermione shuffled in her spot awkwardly. "So…? Can we go back to how we were…? Please?"

"Why?" Ginny asked, causing Hermione's stomach to drop. "I mean… Why would you still want to be friends with me? All I've done since the end of my first year is burden everyone around me…"

"That's not true!" Hermione spoke before thinking. "Ginny, you're the only girl that I've ever been friends with! We had so much fun together! Didn't… Didn't we?" I really thought we did… I thought I finally had a 'girlfriend', someone who I could talk to about anything and everything.

Hermione realized too late that she had brought up one of her own biggest insecurities, her inability to get along with those who shared her gender. Growing up, Hermione had quickly become an outcast when she refused to play with the dolls at her day-care, opting instead to read up on mathematics and history.

She thought that things would be different at Hogwarts, that she would meet young girls like herself, all of them striving to prove themselves to the world. Sadly, however, she had quickly learned that Hogwarts was a lot like her old school, a place where hard work and a love of academics was rewarded with scorn and exclusion. Just like the Muggle school she had attended before Hogwarts, good looks and charming personalities trumped any other form of accomplishment.

But Ginny had been different.

Ginny had never judged Hermione poorly for her intelligence, nor did Ginny feel threatened by it. Ginny even praised her intelligence, often going as far as to say that Hermione was much more intelligent than Ron. Sure, Ginny had been fighting with her brother at the time, but it still felt good to know that at least there was one girl in Hermione's corner.

"Ginny, I miss being your friend," Hermione said, fighting her own embarrassment and awkwardness.

Ginny looked rather taken aback, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she tried to smile, giving Hermione a quick nod.

"Really?!" Hermione felt her face split into a smile. "You mean it?!"

"Shhh," Ginny shushed quickly. "We're not standing inside the Charmed area anymore, Hermione."

"Oh…" Hermione muttered, still smiling widely.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Ginny asked slowly. "Around the Black Lake, that is. We could catch up, or whatever." What about my homework? You know what? I'll just stay awake late again; I won't get another chance like this.

"I'll go get my books," Hermione agreed, and Ginny smiled a little more genuinely. "Just wait here, okay?! I'll be right back!"

Hermione turned around and made her way back to her books, she hadn't felt this energetic since before Christmas. I just have to listen and be mindful of what I say! I can do this! As she neared her books, she spotted a familiar head of hair looking through her Herbology homework.

"Neville?" Hermione stopped at his side, and he looked up with an eager smile.

"Well? How did it go?" Neville asked.

"Oh, it was brilliant," Hermione whispered excitedly, shooting quick looks around her. "Ginny and I are going to spend some time together."

"Right now?" Neville asked immediately. "Really?"

"Yes," Hermione started gathering her parchments in a hurry. I shouldn't keep Ginny waiting!

"That's great, Hermione," Neville gave her a relieved smile, relaxing in her former seat. "I've been trying for over a month to get Ginny to talk to you." Huh?

"You talked her into this?" Hermione asked slowly, and Neville just stared at her.

He clearly hadn't meant to mention that, but in his excitement, his tongue had gotten the better of him.

"Well… She sort of came to me asking after Luna," Neville explained. "I told her what Harry told me and she went really quiet, like she was trying to decide something important. I figured that that was a good time to get her to come back."

"And she listened?" Hermione asked; she was starting to feel quite grateful for Neville Longbottom.

"After a bit of back and forth, yes," Neville replied. "I hope this doesn't change anything for you, Hermione, I just figured that it was time for us all to start talking again."

"No, this doesn't change anything," Hermione smiled at him, much to his relief.

If they were somewhere private, Hermione would've given Neville a tight hug for bringing Ginny around, but since they were in the Library, Hermione settled for patting Neville's arm. She noticed that his biceps were a little tougher than they were from earlier on in the school year, and to test her theory, she gave his biceps a weak pinch. His smile turned slightly bewildered, while Hermione awkwardly went back to collecting her books. That was oddly enjoyable…

"Um… Can you help me?" Hermione suddenly felt a little off. Why did I do that? I can't just go around pinching other people like that.

"Oh… Of course," Neville began rounding up her thickest textbooks.

Hermione shot him a subtle look, pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he carried her heaviest books. He's taller than me as well, even though I'm nearly a year older than him.

"Ready to go?" Neville asked, his usual friendly smile in place. And he's really polite too, easily the kindest boy in our year. "C'mon, you shouldn't keep Ginny waiting, she's got a temper." Right…

"Yes, you're right," Hermione nodded to herself, trying to gather her thoughts. "Can you take these back to-"

"Already on it," he swung the parchment bag over his shoulder. "You can go off with Ginny, I'll take your books up to the Tower and ask one of the girls to leave them in your room."

Hermione felt her face heat up a little, and she had no idea why.

"Thanks, Nev… That's really sweet of you," Hermione muttered, and Neville gave her a parting nod.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. There was a fluttering feeling in her stomach, one that she had become familiar with in the past. Don't tell me… Oh, no…

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 13th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm – Morning)

"Your man has arrived earlier than expected," Lord Greengrass said as they entered the finished mess hall.

Artyom was having a conversation with a slightly bewildered Lord Fawley at the centre of the mess hall, and as Ron and Lord Greengrass approached, Artyom turned to face Ron.

"Mr. Weasley," Artyom greeted, cutting his conversation with Lord Fawley short. "My men are waiting outside property, but they are barred from entry. Why?"

"I do not know who you are," Lord Fawley repeated, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Ron? Who is this man? Why is he demanding to be allowed onto the property?"

"His name is Artyom," Ron smiled at Lord Fawley. "And he is the Head of Security for this place."

"Pardon?" Lord Fawley blinked.

"I hired a sizable force to defend this place," Ron clarified. "These are highly trained professionals, my Lord, and under their watch, the Werewolves will be safe from the outside world."

"The Ministry, and many others, will not be too pleased by the fact that Werewolves are being harboured here," Lord Greengrass added. "Sooner or later, there will be trouble."

Lord Fawley looked back to Artyom, scanning the goliath of a man from head to toe. Lord Fawley then looked to Ron, his brow slightly furrowed. Brilliant… Here it comes.

"You hired these men?" Lord Fawley asked, and Ron gave a nod. "Out of only your pocket, I assume?"

"Yes," Ron replied. He's onto me, I think. He knows that these mercenaries will only listen to me.

"Shouldn't you have discussed this with us?" Lord Fawley asked, keeping his voice even.

"I didn't see the need to," Ron said, feigning bemusement and innocence. "Um… Artyom's men will be protecting our investments and plans, Lord Fawley, I thought that you'd be thrilled." Bloody hell, I almost just convinced myself.

Artyom cocked an eyebrow, but he didn't say a single word.

"Lord Fawley, may I speak to you in private for a moment?" Lord Greengrass suddenly asked. What is he doing? What does he need to discuss with Lord Fawley in private?

"Of course…" Lord Fawley said, shooting one last look at Artyom before moving out of earshot with Lord Greengrass.

The two wizards began speaking in hushed whispers, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if they were discussing him. What are you up to, Lord Greengrass?

"You do not tell your allies of your plans," Artyom said, and Ron turned to face him. "You do not trust them."

"Every time I've put my faith in others, it's backfired on me," Ron shrugged. "I can only trust myself, no one else."

"That is wise of you," Artyom said. "Trust is the death of vigilance." Oh, I like that.

"Did you bring all of your men?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Artyom replied. "We have established perimeter around farm, though wards here are pathetic. We will use our own."

"Nothing dangerous," Ron ordered. "I don't want some poor sod getting cooked alive because he stumbled into an invisible ward."

"Do not worry," Artyom said coolly. "We know our business well." Right.

"You may bring your men in," Lord Fawley said, returning with Lord Greengrass. He's letting them in?

"Spasibo," Artyom said, leaving for the exit without hesitation.

"Thank you, my Lord," Ron said, giving Lord Fawley a grateful smile. "They'll keep this place safe, I promise."

"I'm sure, Ron," Lord Fawley said, giving Ron a somewhat sorry smile. What the…? "I need to ask Jadpey to bring the wards down."

With that, Lord Fawley gave Ron a pat on the arm before heading off to find Jadpey. What just happened?

"Lord Greengrass?" Ron looked to his mentor.

"I told him that you've been struggling with a lot of anxiety in public due to your near beheading," Lord Greengrass started. "I also convinced him that you hired the mercenaries because it helps you cope with said anxiety."

"So, he's not suspicious of me?" Ron asked.

"For the time being, he will let this slide," Lord Greengrass replied. "I hope."

"Right… Thank you, Lord Greengrass," Ron said, feeling a little less suspicious himself.

"Why did you want to hire both squads, Ron?" Lord Greengrass finally asked. Shit.

"I wanted all the mercenaries," Ron replied, using his Occlumency to remain in control.

"Why?" Lord Greengrass wore no expression, which meant that Ron couldn't tell what the man was thinking.

"Because I don't plan to get backstabbed again," Ron admitted. "You wanted to show me why the Pure-Bloods deserve to be compensated by the Ministry, right? That's why you showed me your ledger and told me that you weren't making a profit due to your large, charitable expenses."

"I wasn't sharing an opinion with you, Ron," Lord Greengrass said. "I was sharing a fact."

"Well, you failed to mention that you Lords and Ladies actually want to pay for everything," Ron countered. "Yeah, it costs you a lot in the short term, but in the long term, you get to have everyone under your thumbs."

Lord Greengrass said nothing; he still wore a mask of indifference. Fine, I'll just keep going, then.

"I'm not some child anymore, Lord Greengrass," Ron said. "I no longer just believe everything I see without question, I like to think everything through. You lot can whine all you want about being forced to pay for all of the country's major works, but I know that 'Lords' like Corban Yaxley, and even you, want to keep paying for everything. You already have all the wealth in the world, so it's not like any of you are left wanting. You literally get to have your cake and eat it too, and yet, you still try to justify your unnecessary privileges… Privileges that you didn't even earn, most of you were just born into wealth and power."

Ron then shook his head, deciding to stop his rant before he got genuinely riled up. It won't change anything. Men like Lord Greengrass are set in their ways, and as much as I love him, I can't ignore the fact that he'll always try to put his Family ahead.

"Don't try to manipulate me, my Lord," Ron said, giving Lord Greengrass a meaningful look. "You and I are not the same person, and we don't have to agree on everything. I'll make sure that this alliance doesn't burden any of you, whilst also making sure that we don't become what we're trying to fight against. Let's just leave it at that, all right?"

Lord Greengrass gave a nod, saying nothing in response as he turned to head for the fireplaces.

"I will see you at home, Ron," Lord Greengrass said before leaving. I really hope he understands that I'm not out to hurt every Pure-Blood, I only take issue with the bastards who murder and subjugate the innocent.

---

One Hour Later

Artyom's men were a shady-looking lot, not even Ron could deny that. However, their efficiency was something to be praised. They had already started Warding the farm, even going as far as to erect makeshift watchtowers at the edges of the property.

Lord Fawley was impressed as well; Ron could see it in his eyes, however, Ron had also caught Lord Fawley shooting him suspicious looks every now and then. The man wasn't entirely convinced of Ron's 'anxiety issues', and he no doubt planned to balance the scales by hiring some wands of his own. As long as he doesn't cause problems for me, he can hire all the wands he likes. I'd actually prefer it if the Fawleys were being watched over by competent witches and wizards.

"We will create barracks in middle of farm," Artyom was telling him. "It is central position, we will see whole farm from our towers."

"Does Lord Fawley know about this?" Ron asked.

"I told him," Artyom replied. "He understands importance of central position."

"Good, I don't want you, or your men, hassling Lord Fawley," Ron said, looking around the mess hall one more time. "Do your men still need you here?"

"No," Artyom replied. A one-word answer… Brilliant. I have a statue that bleeds following me around now. At least my past self cracks the occasional funny joke. Where is that demented fuck? I might try to 'summon' him tonight.

"Well, since you're not needed here, let's be on our way," Ron began heading for the fireplaces, and Artyom followed. "I have a couple of errands to run before I can go home. Have you had breakfast?" He did get here pretty early in the morning.

"No," Artyom replied.

"Would you like to get some before we start?" Ron asked. "I've still got some time to spare, I don't mind waiting for twenty minutes."

"Do not worry about me," Artyom said, there was a certain finality to his tone that shut the conversation down. "Do your business, pretend I am not with you."

"Shouldn't we talk a little?" Ron asked. "You know… Get to know each other?"

"No."

"Right…" Ron sighed out. I guess I'll just act like he doesn't exist, then. This won't be awkward at all…

---

Saturday 13th February, 1994 (The Upper District – Near Midday)

"Um… Boss?" came Marietta's voice, and Ron looked to his left.

The nervous Muggle-Born was slowly approaching him, her ever-widening eyes fixed on the intimidating man standing a metre behind Ron. She got my letter. Brilliant, now, we just need to wait for Greta. I reckon it's time to publish Marietta's article, and then, next week, I'll give Fudge a proper cuff behind the ears using Greta's article.

"Marietta," Ron greeted, looking between her and Artyom. "This is my bodyguard, Artyom. His job is to make sure that I don't lose my head."

"Oh…" Marietta muttered under her breath, looking back to Artyom. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…"

"Artyom," the bulky wizard replied.

"That's your surname, then?" Marietta asked nervously.

"No," Artyom replied, keeping his eyes on the move.

Ron just grinned at Marietta, who looked even more intimidated than before. I shouldn't take the piss out of my own employees… But, Merlin, the look on her face is hilarious!

"Don't worry, his only goal is to keep me safe," Ron regained some control over his face. "How have you been? Did you enjoy your visit to the Werewolf Sanctuary?"

"Oh, definitely!" Marietta beamed, forgetting all about Artyom. "Boss, that place is going to change so many lives!"

"Shhh," Ron shushed, letting out a little laugh. "It's supposed to be a secret for now." I'm glad someone else is as excited as me. It feels nice.

"Sorry," Marietta kept her pearly-white smile. "I just can't believe it, you know? I never thought that something like this would happen, not after I saw how the Werewolves were forced to live… I know you're my boss, but I really want to hug you into pieces-"

"Do not touch," Artyom cut in, shooting Marietta a warning look.

The witch immediately became dead silent; her smile wavering a little as she stared up at Artyom's expressionless, bearded face.

"I won't…" Marietta swallowed thickly. "Promise…"

"Stop scaring my employee," Ron clicked his tongue, slightly annoyed with his stalker. "What happened to no talking, eh?"

Artyom gave a nod, deciding to go back to being silent. Fuck me… Why couldn't I get someone like Jürgen, Lord Greengrass' bodyguard? At least Jürgen acts like a human being. Artyom suddenly looked to his left, his black eyes becoming fixed on a pale witch within the crowd.

"A woman is watching us," Artyom told Ron, who quickly followed Artyom's gaze. Is that… Greta?

Ron relaxed immediately, waving at her and beckoning her to come over.

"She's one of mine," Ron told Artyom, who still kept his eyes locked onto the raven-haired witch.

"Why is a Russian mercenary following you around?" Greta asked as she stopped a few steps away from Ron. What?!

"How did you…?" Ron muttered, slightly taken aback.

"I have an eye for such things," Greta looked Artyom over. "I take it that you're Mr. Weasley's bodyguard."

Artyom gave a nod, opting to keep his silence.

"Just his bodyguard?" Greta asked for clarification. "No… I doubt that. Your line of work involves real danger; I can see it. You have calloused hands, and scars on your knuckles… You're a fighter-"

"Are you done?" Ron asked, while Artyom gave Greta a disinterested look. "You ask some really intrusive questions, Greta…"

"Force of habit," Greta said coolly, looking towards Marietta.

The Muggle-Born witch gave Greta a pleasant smile, some of her nervousness coming through.

"I'm Marietta Angel," Marietta introduced herself.

"I know, I read some of your work," Greta responded. "Mr. Weasley sent me an unpublished article of yours, the one on Werewolf living standards."

"Oh, really?" Marietta shot Ron a quick glance. "Well? What did you think?"

"Too much bias, not enough facts," Greta replied bluntly. Ouch. Ease up on her; she's the gentle sort.

"Oh…" Marietta muttered under her breath, fidgeting with her hands. "I see…"

"You have talent, but you shouldn't report with your emotions," Greta advised. "Report the truth, not your truth." Greta then looked back to Ron. "Why did you want to meet in The Upper District, Mr. Weasley?"

"Look over there," Ron pointed to the freshly painted, white, three-story building behind the witches. "That building belongs to me, it was a gift from my Great-Aunt. She wanted to make money off of some tenants, but now, this place will act as our headquarters."

"Really?" Marietta asked, looking the building over with interest. "We're going to be working out of The Upper District?"

"It's not quite finished yet," Ron said. "But yes, everything will be set up before March starts. I was thinking that we could all work on the third floor, which will allow me to lease the first floor out to a merchant." I might as well make a profit from this place, I'll ask Gornuk to look for some interested parties the next time I see him.

"And the second floor?" Marietta asked.

"Depends on the first floor," Ron replied. "If I make a sizable profit from the rent, I might lease the second floor out as well. For now, we can just use the second floor as a storage space."

"If we can't go inside, then why are we meeting here?" Greta asked.

"Well, I wanted to show you two this place," Ron shrugged. "And I wanted to see your progress for myself. How are those articles coming along? Marietta?"

"I've finished mine…" Marietta replied slowly, glancing shyly towards Greta. "But it could be considered… biased…" This woman has no spine; I can't fully trust her.

"Greta, do you mind reading through her work?" Ron asked. "I want nothing but the truth, the public needs to decide on where they stand." I know they'll be shocked into action, just like I was. The Daily Prophet has blinded people for too long.

"What about my article?" Greta asked. "Should we not publish them together?"

"No, I want to catch everyone's attention first," Ron replied. "We'll wait a week after Marietta's article is published before publishing yours."

"I appreciate the extension," Greta said, and then she looked to Marietta. "Send me the draft, and I'll send it back with some notes."

"Thanks," Marietta gave a slight smile. "It's always good to keep learning, right?"

"Indeed," Greta said.

"How is your article coming along?" Ron asked Greta. "Have you got everything you need?"

"An interview with Amelia Bones would be nice," Greta replied wistfully.

"I'll see what I can do," Ron said, earning a curious look from Greta.

"You two are friends? Acquaintances?" Greta asked.

"You ask far too many questions," Ron stated, not letting his guard down for a second. "We're not doing an interview here, you realize that, right?"

"Apologies," Greta cleared her throat. "I've always been… inquisitive."

"I'll see what I can do about that interview," Ron said, looking past Greta's prying questions. "Marietta, get that article finished. I want to publish it next Saturday."

"Got it, boss," Marietta gave a nod.

"Sort out what you two need to sort out," Ron said, looking back to his building. "Have a pleasant day, ladies."

Marietta and Greta said their goodbyes, leaving together in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron.

"Where do we go now?" Artyom asked. "You are exposed here." Now that my legitimate business is done, let's see what you're worth, mate.

"I agree," Ron turned to face Artyom. I'm going to hurt my neck talking to this bloke. "I actually need your help for my next two errands."

"Is that so?" Artyom asked. "Very well." I need to keep my promise to Blaise, and now that I have some soldiers of my own, I can do it.

"First, I need one of your men to track down an Italian Lord," Ron started. "He goes by Lord De Luca, and he recently married Clementine Zabini. They live in Italy, but I'm not sure where because they own a lot of properties scattered throughout the countryside."

"If he is 'Lord', he will be easy to find," Artyom said. "I have man for this job, he will find this Lord De Luca."

"Brilliant, time is of the essence on this one," Ron said, and Artyom gave an understanding nod. "Now, the second thing… Is your wand untraceable?"

"Yes," Artyom replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Where did you get it?" Ron asked.

"Russia," Artyom replied. Fuck! "Do you want untraceable wand?" I might as well go to Solomon, then.

"I'd like one of my own, yes," Ron replied.

"I know someone nearby," Artyom said. "I will take you."

"Really?" hope flashed behind Ron's eyes. "Brilliant! Lead the way!"

Artyom offered Ron his arm, causing Ron to lose some of his enthusiasm. Apparition… Let's just hope I don't pass out this time.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"I thought you said he was nearby," Ron grumbled, Artyom had brought them to some remote village in the middle of an open field.

They had then spent the next thirty minutes walking down a long dirt road, which had all but ruined Ron's finely polished loafers.

"I have not visited him in some time," Artyom said. "I forget where he lives. Keep walking if you want untraceable wand. Use legs, not mouth." I might kill this cunt out here, no one would even know. At this range, I could shower him with lightning before he even pulls his wand out.

Ron drew in a deep breath, keeping himself from getting angry. It's fine, Ron. It's just a nice stroll out in the day. There's no one around, and the weather is perfect. Focus on the good things. You're completely alone out here, with no one to pester you about anything. Ron felt his mind settle down, and a feeling of peace washed over him.

"There," Artyom suddenly pointed towards some smoke in the sky. "That must be his house."

"Lead the way, please," Ron said, his tone a lot more pleasant.

Artyom did as he was told, and Ron quietly followed after him. They made their way off the trail, pushing themselves past some bushes before coming out into an opening. A small, green cabin stood in the middle of a round clearing, its windows were tinted black for privacy.

"Raise your hands," Artyom instructed. "Or he will attack." Really?

Ron and Artyom both raised their hands, slowly moving closer to the cabin. Both wizards had their eyes on alert, and eventually, Ron spotted a short man moving out from behind the cabin.

"Is that your friend?" Ron whispered, jerking his head towards the short man. "He hasn't seen us yet."

"I've seen you," the man called. "And I can hear you." Oh…

The short man then turned to face Ron and Artyom, a bored look on his sunburnt face. He seemed to recognize Ron, giving him another lookover. Uh-oh.

"Aren't you that prodigy from Hogwarts?" the man asked crudely. Fucking brilliant…

"He is your client, Marco," Artyom replied for Ron. "Nothing else matters. Understand?"

"Calm down, big guy," Marco walked over to them. "I was only curious, nothing more."

"You moved your house," Artyom frowned a little. "Why?"

"Got more business, which brought more attention from those Aurors," Marco shrugged. "Figured I'd move further away from the village. Don't want those poor folk to get caught up in my mess, it wouldn't be right."

"How neighbourly of you," Ron put on a smile. Just be polite, get what you need, and then leave.

"He gets it," Marco chuckled, looking Ron over again. He definitely knows who I am. "So, what can I help you with, good sir?"

"I need a wand," Ron replied. "An untraceable one."

"Oh, those'll cost you extra," Marco's puffy eyes gleamed.

"You cheat him, I break you," Artyom warned, towering over Marco. Really? Never mind what I thought before, Artyom's a decent lad.

"Of course…" Marco muttered under his breath. "Well, follow me, please. I'll take you to my workshop."

Artyom and Ron followed Marco towards the green cabin, and once they were inside, Ron was a little surprised to see how large the house actually was compared to how it looked from the outside. The Extension Charm, I really need to start practising that Spell again.

The interior was remarkably lavish; it was filled with leather sofas and eye-catching artwork. Whoever Marco was, he was clearly a very wealthy wizard. I'm going to guess that Artyom isn't the only mercenary who comes to Marco for untraceable wands.

"My workshop is in the basement," Marco said, pushing a sofa out of place.

He then reached down and opened the revealed hatch at his feet, wasting no time in descending down the ladder. Artyom took the lead and went down first, calling out to Ron once he was safely at the bottom. At least I won't get jumped with him around, though this will take some getting used to. Ron made his way into the basement, and then proceeded to follow Marco and Artyom down a thin, rocky passage.

Eventually, all three of them entered a large, dimly lit, oval room filled with metallic instruments and display cases. It was quite the sight, and as soon as Marco lit the lamps, Ron realized that each display case was housing different materials. Those are Unicorn Tail Hairs right there. Oh, and those are Troll Whiskers. I wonder what kind of wand I'll be getting. Ron found himself feeling rather excited, despite doing his best to keep his composure.

"So?" Marco smirked at Ron. "What'll it be, lad? You want something reliable? Or, perhaps, something unpredictable? Follow me, I'll show you around."

"I was hoping for something dangerous," Ron followed Marco around the room, his pale blue eyes gleaming with childlike excitement as he looked through the many materials at his disposal. "Wait… Those gold and white feathers right there… What Magical Creature are those from?" They're so beautiful.

"Ah, the Thunderbird Tail Feathers caught your eye," Marco laughed, opening the display case and carefully extracting one feather. "Here, feel it with your left hand. Tell me if it calls out to you."

"Calls out to me?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"You'll know when you feel it," Marco replied.

Ron took a step closer to the short Wand-Maker, and with his left hand, Ron carefully stroked the tail feather. It felt alive, and as Ron continued to caress it, he felt his fingertips crackle with electricity. Ron quickly pulled his hand back, eyes widening as the gold on the feather turned purple. That was wicked!

"It changed colours," Ron pointed out.

"That it did," Marco chuckled. "The Thunderbird is a close relative of the Phoenix, in case you didn't know, which means that it's a very powerful Magical Creature."

"I felt electricity running through my fingertips when I touched it," Ron said. "Is that a sign?"

"Thunderbirds cause storms wherever they go, and as such, their feather's are filled with the power of lightning," Marco said, it was like he was making a sales-pitch. He probably is. "The Tail Feather of a Thunderbird makes for a very powerful wand core, and although it's quite difficult to earn its loyalty, there is no wand core more suited for Transfiguration. In the hands of a Master of Transfiguration, this wand core can do just about everything. It's even known to alert its wizard, or witch, of Magical threats around them."

"Really?" Ron blinked. "This wand core will just alert me if I'm in danger? That's possible?" That would be very handy, I reckon.

"Wands are alive, lad," Marco shot Ron a wink, and then he planted the feather back inside the display case. "This wand core isn't for you, I think. Let's keep looking around, shall we?"

They began moving around the workshop again, with Marco pointing out different wand cores and their known characteristics.

"Ah, Dragon Heartstring," Marco pointed, not breaking his stride. "Powerful, but fickle. It likes talent, so much so that it will change its allegiance without hesitation."

"Wands can change allegiances?" Ron asked.

"Of course," Marco replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If the wand no longer thinks you worthy of it, why should it continue to serve you? Would you work for an employer who pisses you off? Hardly fair, right?"

"So… Technically, my wand could betray me?" Ron asked. "Just out of the blue?"

"It doesn't work like that, lad," Marco sighed out. "What's your wand's core?"

"Phoenix Feather," Ron replied, and Marco shot an excited look back.

"Very versatile, but also very picky," Marco said, speaking more to himself than to Ron. "Though in your case, I can see why it choose you."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

"You're famous," Marco explained. "Phoenix Feather wands like a bit of attention, they almost always chose those with a glorious future. They can sense it, you know? If I were you, I wouldn't worry about your wand's loyalty. You're exactly the type of wizard who the Phoenix Feather would be attracted to." Attracted to? Does my wand have a crush on me? He's talking about materials like they're people… Maybe I should do some research into Wandlore? I mean, considering that I carry one around all the fucking time, I should at least posses a little knowledge on wands.

Marco suddenly stopped in front of a display case filled with tufts of shiny, black hair.

"What is it?" Ron asked, stopping right behind Marco.

"Give these a feel, would you?" Marco said, popping the display case open.

Ron did as he was told, but the moment his left hand touched the hair, he felt his skin crawl. Without hesitation, Ron pulled back with a disgusted hiss, an ill feeling settling into his stomach. What the fuck was that? I feel… wretched…

"I'll be taking that as a resounding 'no'," Marco muttered, giving Ron an odd look.

"What are those?" Ron demanded, feeling oddly upset about nothing in particular.

"Rougarou Hair," Marco replied. "It likes cruelty and bloodshed, and because of that, it has a very powerful affinity for the Dark Arts. Rougarou Hair is instinctively attracted to sadistic and malicious wizards… I figured that it'd work for you, considering your request." Marco then tapped his chin, looking a little puzzled. "You had a strong reaction to it, so you clearly have an affinity for the Dark Arts… This is odd."

"I'm not using this vile shit," Ron sneered at the Rougarou Hair. My skin is still crawling… That was a fucking ghastly experience!

"What do you actually need an untraceable wand for?" Marco asked for clarification. "You want to use the Unforgivables, right?"

"If I need to, yes," Ron replied.

"If you need to…?" Marco was left slightly confused. "You don't want to put some witch you fancy under the Imperius? Or, let's say, use Crucio against some prick you don't like at Hogwarts?"

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Ron asked in response, looking equally baffled. "I just want a wand that I can use without any restrictions, that's all. You never know when you might need the Unforgivables, and I need to be prepared for every situation."

"This is going to take a while," Marco sighed out, gesturing Ron to follow him. "Let's keep looking, we'll find the perfect core for you yet."

"Can't you just make me another wand with a Phoenix Feather core?" Ron asked.

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't say that," Marco shot him a dull look. "You can't just stick a bunch of materials together and expect that wand to work, lad… This craft requires skill, patience, understanding, and love in equal measure." Love?

"Are you trying to build a wand for me? Or, are you trying to build yourself a girlfriend?" Ron remarked, and Marco let out a throaty laugh.

"That's fair enough, that is," Marco said, coming down from his laughter. "The wand has to be custom-made for the wizard, is what I meant. Just like that suit you're wearing. Get it?"

"Yes," Ron replied, eyeballing every display case in his path. "What Magical Beast is that thin, yellow hair from? It looks like it's almost… glowing…" And it looks very familiar, but I don't know why.

"That's Veela Hair," Marco replied. Shit.

"Let's move on," Ron immediately grimaced.

"Oh, that's right, you have a past with those birds, don't you?" Marco sounded amused.

"A painful one," Ron said curtly, and Marco nodded along.

"Veela Hair doesn't make for good wands anyway," Marco shrugged. "Too damn temperamental and far too picky, you'll struggle to use it if you're not Veela yourself."

As they neared Marco's workbench, which was located in the centre of the workshop, something truly beautiful caught Ron's eye. He stopped moving immediately, his eyes narrowing on the display case next to the workbench. It was filled with pearly-white shavings from some unknown creature, and the more Ron gazed at them, the more enamoured he became. They're so… perfect… Look at that remarkable sheen…

As if in a trance, Ron made his way over to the display case, opening it without permission. A low musical tone suddenly enveloped him, blocking out all unnecessary noise around him. The song had a melancholy feel to it, and yet, it also filled Ron with a certain calmness that he only ever experienced whilst on the Calming Draught.

"This is it," Ron heard himself speak, his left hand feeling the shavings.

He felt raw power coursing throughout the shavings, an unlimited amount of potential just waiting to be used.

"Lad?" Marco patted Ron on the shoulder, but Ron chose to ignore the man in favour of listening to the melody.

Sadly, however, the melancholy melody suddenly ceased, jarring Ron terribly. Where did it go? Where is it?! I want to keep listening!

"This isn't for you," Marco had closed the display case. "I'm not sure the shavings of a Horned-Serpent's Horn will be all that beneficial to you."

"Why not?" Ron asked; his eyes fixed on the pearly-white shavings. "I felt something just then, Marco. Like they were calling out to me."

"Really?" Marco chuckled, not believing Ron for some unknown reason. "You're a Parselmouth, are you?" What?!

"What makes you say that?" Ron looked to Marco, keeping his features calm.

"Well, the Horn of a Horned-Serpent is sensitive to Parselmouths," Marco started. "It vibrates when Parseltongue is spoken near it, and if the wand's Master is a Parselmouth himself, then it can even emit a low musical tune to warn its Master of any danger. However, if someone who isn't a Parselmouth owns the wand, then the Horn of a Horned-Serpent is rendered a subpar wand core. It can get the job done, but you're better off not using it." Um… I'm a Parselmouth… Shit! What do I do? I want this wand core, but I don't want to out myself. Should I just insist?

"I'd like this one, please," Ron said, and Marco gave him a puzzled look.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Marco asked. "This won't do you any good, lad… Plus, your gorilla over there will break my spine if I cheat you. Let's keep looking, yeah?"

"Artyom won't touch you," Ron promised. "I'd like this one, my mind is made up."

"Look… That's not how it works in my business," Marco drew in a sharp breath, getting a little annoyed. "I use these shavings to build your wand, then the next sod who truly needs them will miss out. This material is rare, we drove the Horned-Serpents into extinction within Europe, and now, they only exist in North America. I can't readily get my hands on this. Does that make sense? I can't give it to you, because I guarantee you, the wand won't be worth shit in your hands." Fuck me dead. Now what?

Ron shot a look back at Artyom; the large wizard had his eyes fixed on Ron and Marco. Brilliant… Ron looked back to Marco, patting the man's arm until they were both huddled in front of the display case. I'll just whisper some Parseltongue to him, and then quickly tell him to keep his mouth shut.

"I want this as my wand's core," Ron whispered, and the shavings within the display case began to vibrate. Wicked! It fucking worked!

Marco just stared at Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"Can I please have this as my wand's core?" Ron asked, speaking English once again. "Oh, and don't mention this to anyone. If you do, I'll have Artyom's men eat your liver."

After a few silent seconds, Marco gave a slow nod before stepping back. He looked more puzzled than subdued, but at least he wasn't making a scene.

"Fucking hell," Marco suddenly shook his head clear. "Right, so we've got your wand core, let's find the right wood, shall we?"

Marco then gestured Ron to follow him towards the workbench, and with a flick of his wand, Marco summoned several rectangular blocks of varying wand woods.

"This step is much easier," Marco started. "Think of why you want your untraceable wand, all right? Don't tell me; just think about it in your head. Once you have your answer, touch each block until you feel a connection."

Ron gave an understanding nod, and Marco began muttering some incantations under his breath. Marco then waved his wand over each block of wood, causing them to tremble a little before settling down.

"Right, go ahead," Marco took a step back. "Take your time, lad, this is important."

Ron hovered his left hand over the block of wood furthest to the left, closing his eyes and focusing his mind. I need an untraceable wand, one that will place me on an even playing field with the Death-Eaters. A wand created solely for the purpose of Duelling the Dark Arts. A wand that will stay loyal to me, and aid me in saving the innocent.

Ron felt nothing as he touched the first block, or the second, or the third, or the fourth. He kept going, his wishful thoughts stuck on a loop, guiding him towards the proper wand wood. As he neared the end of the selection, he felt a slight tremor as his left hand neared an ivory-like wood. Ron immediately drew in a sharp breath; the tremors between his palm and the wood were becoming stronger the closer he got.

"This one," Ron said, grabbing the block of wood. "It feels warm in my hand, just like my wand does. It's perfect."

"Aspen," Marco nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "A tough wood to work with, real fucking stubborn."

"Can you tell me a little about its characteristics?" Ron asked.

"A wand made with Aspen will almost always choose a fighter," Marco started. "It's chosen Master would need to be an accomplished Duelist, or someone bound to become one. You see, the wood itself is very hardy, it's got a bone-like texture to it, and because of its hardiness; it makes for a damn strong conduit. You can pull off some real outstanding Charmwork with an Aspen wand, if you've got the talent for it." Fuck… My only talent is playing chess…

"Here's a fun fact for you," Marco droned on. "An infamous eighteenth-century Duelling Club, which called itself the Silver Spears, was believed to only allow those who owned Aspen wands to join their ranks. Very elitist, that lot, but every single one of them was considered to be a Legendary Duellist. They were from all over the Wizarding World, but they established themselves in Magical Britain."

Marco then rubbed his chin, giving the wand wood a good lookover.

"Aspen wands are tough, it'll take me a couple of days to get this order ready," Marco said.

"Do you need anything else from me?" Ron asked.

"Yes, actually," Marco replied. "Do you have your wand on you?"

Ron pulled out his wand, and after Marco asked for it, Ron handed it over reluctantly.

"Cypress," Marco muttered under his breath. "Fourteen inches. What's the flexibility? Do you know?"

"Unyielding," Ron replied, and Marco smirked a little.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Marco said, handing the wand back. What's that supposed to mean?

"How much do I owe you?" Ron asked.

"One hundred and seventy-five Galleons," Marco replied. Why don't you just bend me over right here? Eh? Cunt.

"Wands cost seven Galleons at Ollivanders," Ron frowned. "You're trying to swindle me here, aren't you?"

Marco let out a tired breath, looking towards Artyom.

"Oi, lamppost, come over here," Marco called, and Artyom walked over with a bored look. "His wand is going to cost him one hundred and seventy-five Galleons, am I cheating him?"

"Mine cost one hundred and twenty-five," Artyom reminded Marco.

"His wand core is harder to get one's hands on," Marco replied. "Hunting Horned-Serpents is strictly forbidden within the States."

Artyom gave Ron a nod, but Ron wasn't convinced yet.

"Fine, the material is rare, but does it really cost that much?" Ron asked.

"Do you know how Ollivander makes his wands, lad?" Marco asked, going on before Ron could answer. "He just creates them randomly, puts the Ministry's Trace on each one, and then he stores them away until some snot-nosed brat enters his shop. There's no love there, lad, no love at all. Me? I'm making this wand solely for you, not encumbered with any restrictions. I'm giving you a third limb here, not just a flashy wooden stick."

Ron gave Marco a dull look, slightly vexed by the man's long sales-pitches. Just take the deal, Ron… This man might come in handy later; it would serve you better if he didn't hate you.

"One hundred and seventy-five Galleons," Ron agreed, putting his gloved hand forward for a handshake.

Marco quickly took it, giving it a firm squeeze and shake.

"I'll send Artyom over to collect my order in three days, take your time." That's one more thing taken care of; I can't wait for this new wand!

---

Theodore Nott's POV

Saturday 13th February, 1994 (Slytherin Common Room – Afternoon)

Theo was living in a very strange world these days.

Wherever he went, his fellow Slytherins respected him. They acknowledged his presence, and even better, they sometimes shifted out of his way. It was so bizarre, and yet, so intoxicating. He felt like a king, and in Ron's absence, he might as well be one.

After all, who knew his brother's thoughts better than Theo?

Certainly not the girls, all of who were being oddly distant since Ron's last visit, and certainly not Blaise and Malfoy, both of whom were too self-absorbed to seize the opportunity before them. Theo was the only one who knew the layers of Ron's thoughts. He made himself king, and a majority of this House voted him in. Brilliant move, even I can't deny that. I guess a little fear goes a long way. With Ron and me at the helm of this ship, we'll never be brought low again. If only Tracey were-

"Why are you looking so smug?" a harsh voice interrupted his bliss.

Theo turned his head lazily, eyeballing Millie with a bored expression. She narrowed her eyes on him; her terrible mood had become a constant in Theo's life.

"I'm enjoying the peace," Theo said calmly.

"Of your kingdom?" Millie rolled her eyes. "It's just a House, Theo… None of this will matter in a few years."

"I still don't see why I can't enjoy it," Theo countered. "The rest of the gang certainly is. I've seen them for myself. Daphne walks and talks like she's a queen, I've seen her prideful smirks when she thinks that no one is watching. Or what about Pansy? She's flirting with all the fourth year boys, and no one has dared to start any rumours."

"Not all of us are like that," Millie grimaced. She's so fucking glum all the time. Should I pry?

"You're like that," Theo goaded. "I've seen you too, Millie. You walk around with a menacing, bull-like demeanour, huffing and grunting at anyone who doesn't step out of your way."

"You're mental," Millie said sharply. "I don't behave like that."

"What's happened, Millie?" Theo asked, putting some effort into his voice. "What's got you girls so upset?"

"Nothing," Millie replied, turning her attention back to her book. "Mind your own business, Theo." What is their problem? They're being such bitches.

"You know what isn't my business?" Theo started."Being treated like I've done something wrong. You're constantly biting my head off, and you've even stopped coming for the morning runs. Do you know what it's like to have a tiny redhead chase you around the Black Lake, Millie? She's becoming more and more chatty by the day, and if this keeps going, I might have to make a move on Ron's sister-"

"Ugh, Theo…" Millie scowled, and Theo immediately smirked his usual smirk. "You're a degenerate."

"Wow, that's a big word," Theo remarked. "Did Daphne teach you that? Or, did you look it up yourself? Tell the truth, I won't judge you."

"Fuck you," Millie shot out of her seat, slamming her book shut. "You're a terrible friend, Nott!" That's not an overreaction at all… Ron, what did you do? Did you kill someone?

Millie marched away with a furrowed brow, her jaw clenched and her eyes gleaming with anger. She's going to kill someone. Theo let out a long breath, dragging himself out of his couch. I better go talk to her before she gets herself into trouble.

---

Ten Minutes Later

"I'm not going to stop pushing, Millie," Theo panted, trying to barge into the girls' room. "You can't hold this door forever." My fucking back… I wish I could just blast the door open with a Knockback Jinx.

"You're still there?" came Millie's cold, snobbish voice. Damn her freakish strength! I need a change of tactics!

"Millie, I'm just worried about you," Theo said, trying his most sincere tone. "Do you think I would go this far for anyone else? I thought we were finally getting along. We stopped fighting, and best of all; we worked together to keep this group in one piece. Just tell me what's happened, and we can work through it together, just like before." She has to let me in now; I never once spoke to my own mother with such compassion.

Theo waited, but there was no response from Millie. You know what? I tried my best, and that's what matters. If she wants to keep sulking, that's hardly my problem. Finally reaching the end of his patience, Theo turned to leave the girls' dorms.

He managed two steps before he heard the door swing open, followed by Millie's footsteps. Theo turned to face the upset girl, who immediately punched him on the arm. Ow! My skin bruises easily! Fucking hell!

"Why?" Theo hissed, massaging the undeserved wound. "That fucking hurt, you…" he trailed off. You fucking cow!

"I'm not stupid," Millie huffed, looking more hurt than angry. "Why do you always try to paint me as some moronic thug? Every time I say anything, you have to make some witty remark about it… What's your problem with me?" What shit have I mired myself in? I should've just ignored her.

"That's just our dynamic," Theo bit back his irritation, his arm was still throbbing. "Don't pretend like you don't take the piss out of me in return, all right? You even take it a step further and lash out physically."

Guilt overtook her expression, and she returned to being eerily quiet. And she's too stubborn to even apologize-

"Theo?" came Daphne's voice. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"You tell me," Theo turned to face the blonde, noticing that Pansy was clinging to Daphne's arm. They came back from their gossiping session rather quickly. I hope they learned something useful, but for now, I should focus on Millie's issues. "Millicent is acting like a brute, and I've had enough. Ron left us a job to do, and if we don't work together, he'll return to a divided House. I'm not letting that happen, so it's time we all had an open chat."

"Now is not a good time, Theo," Daphne started.

"She just punched me," Theo pointed at Millie, ignoring that she shrunk a little.

"Millie…" Daphne sighed out.

"Are you okay?" Pansy asked.

"No, I bruise easily," Theo said petulantly. "And I can already feel my arm swelling."

"We all know how to heal bruises," Daphne said. "Come inside, Theo, I'll heal your welt."

"And you'll talk," Theo added, marching past Millie and entering the girls' room first.

They followed him inside, closing the door and joining him at the centre of the tidy room.

"Just sit on my study chair," Daphne instructed, and Theo used his wand to Non-Verbally summon it.

The chair slid to a stop in front of him, and as he sat down, he noticed the girls' visible astonishment. That's right, I've been practising. I've learnt my lesson… Ron was right, nowhere is safe anymore. Not even Hogwarts.

"Oh, that was nice!" Pansy suddenly giggled, making Theo feel rather validated. It isn't as easy as it looks, that's for sure. My Spells are considerably weaker when I don't say the incantation. I'll ask Ron for some helpful tips when he comes back.

"You've been practising?" Millie asked, her voice barely audible.

"What else can I do?" Theo asked, feeling a little bitter about everything due to his sore arm. "I'm clearly on my own, as father seems to have forgotten that he has a son. Perhaps his old age has finally caught up with him?"

Daphne and Pansy gave him sorry looks, while Millie shifted nervously in her spot. I need to forget about father for now; he's clearly ignoring me, and I can't be distracted right now.

"Well?" Theo asked. "Aren't you going to heal me?"

"Take off your shirt, then," Pansy said a little too eagerly, and Theo gave her a baffled look in response.

"She punched me on the arm, Pansy," Theo told her, pointing towards the sore spot.

Theo then rolled his left sleeve all the way up to his shoulder, revealing an angry, red welt. Pansy winced at the sight of it, whereas Millie looked guiltier than ever.

"You're going to be okay," Daphne said soothingly, giving the back of his head a little scratch before brandishing her wand. "Hold still, please. Episkey."

If the very hot, but then very cold, feeling in his arm wasn't enough to make him feel better, then Daphne's bedside manner definitely was. I forgot for a second that we're not in public anymore. I still don't understand why she's persisting with that 'Ice-Queen' nonsense; we're running things now. We can do whatever the fuck we want, and we can act like ourselves for a change. I doubt anyone would have the balls to start something now that Ron's coming back for certain.

"So?" Theo asked, keeping his body still for Daphne. "Which one of you wants to tell me what's going on? What did Ron say to Millicent?"

Daphne kept concentrating on her work, while Pansy shot Millie a hesitant look.

"Just tell him, Millie," Pansy whispered. "Theo's really smart, he'll figure something out for us. Go on…" Figure something out? Are they in trouble?

Theo's brow immediately became furrowed, partly vexed and partly concerned. If they're in trouble, then why haven't they said anything about it? This could potentially affect the rest of us too.

"If you girls are in trouble, then you need to tell me," Theo got serious. "Millicent? What's happened?"

Millie shot a quick look towards Daphne, why was she being so hesitant? And why does she keep looking to Daphne for support?

"Ron happened…" Millie finally replied, and Daphne gave Millie a subtle, approving nod.

"What does that mean?" Theo asked. "What did Ron say to you?"

"He… I think he's going after my parents…"

---

One Hour Later

The girls had finally clued him in on what was going on, and quite honestly, Theo didn't know what to make of it.

On the one hand, he understood why Millie was so concerned, because if Ron did have proof of the Bulstrode Family taking part in the outlawed act of slavery, then the Bulstrode Family was neck-deep in shit. On the other hand, Theo also found himself feeling slightly disgusted with Robert and Anne Bulstrode… Not for enslaving Werewolves, of course, but for pretending to be better than his father at all of those parties. My father always warned me not to fall for their act, but I did anyway because of how they treated Millie and the rest of us. So… This is what they really look like, huh?

Theo couldn't help but wonder if his own father was complicit in similar wrongdoings, and whether or not Ron was looking into him as well. Why should I care about father's problems? He clearly doesn't care about mine…

"Well?" Pansy spoke up. "Do you have a plan yet?"

"Give me a few minutes," Theo clicked his tongue, his right hand resting under his chin. What should I do? I don't want to get in Ron's way; he'll kick my arse all over this school. Plus, why should I help Robert and Anne Bulstrode? They were caught doing something truly horrendous, and as far as I'm concerned, getting caught means that you deserve to pay the price. "How substantial is the evidence, Millie?"

"He has everything he needs to ruin my Family's reputation…" Millie replied, looking thoroughly spent. "Letters, dates, descriptions, number of Werewolves sold, the tax reductions… Everything…"

"Gringotts will never confirm those documents as genuine," Theo started. "It would get them into all sorts of trouble with the International Confederation of Wizards, after all-"

"Ron has his own personal magazine, Theo," Millie sighed out. "It's already over… He can destroy my Family's reputation on a whim, and knowing him, he's going to do it sooner rather than later. He's so… He's just so self-righteous! I've never fully noticed it until now, but he always has to have the last say about everything! Who does he think he is?!" Easy there, I love him a lot more than I love you three. If push comes to shove, I'm on Ron's side. That's where all the benefits are, benefits that we're all enjoying thanks to him.

"Well, in this particular case, he's not completely in the wrong," Theo said neutrally, making sure not to pick a side just yet. "What actually interests me is how Ron managed to get such evidence in the first place…" He definitely broke Magical Law to get his hands on this information.

"It is Ron…" Pansy muttered under his breath. "You know how dogmatic he can be."

"He has no right to do this to my parents," Millie said quickly, shooting Pansy a fretful look. "He's going out of his way to ruin them-"

"He stumbled onto this, Millie," Daphne finally broke her long silence. "I get that you're upset, but Ron's not the one who committed the crime. He's just the person who found out about it."

"Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?" Millie grit out, pacing once again.

Theo realized now why Daphne had been keeping her silence, she would always be considered biased in favour of Ron due to their romantic feelings for each other.

"Daphne's not wrong," Theo started. "Millie, I'd be worried and angry in your shoes as well, but lashing out at us isn't going to help you."

Millie stopped pacing, rubbing her face harshly out of frustration. I've never seen her so worked up before. I'm getting a dreadful feeling about all this.

"Daphne, go on," Theo requested. "Tell me what you think about all of this."

Daphne drew in a deep breath, giving Theo a short nod.

"Ron is… not in a good place… right now," Daphne started, being very careful about what she shared with them. "All of us, not counting Malfoy, know that Ron tried to kill himself, and truth be told, I'm genuinely worried that he might try again-"

"We can't let that happen," Pansy cut in, while Theo nodded his agreement. Knowing him, he definitely blames himself for Tracey… Merlin, everything went to the dogs after Hogsmeade, didn't it?

"Now, I'm not excusing his behaviour," Daphne went on. "He shouldn't have told you something so horrible out of the blue, it was an awfully insensitive thing to do." Pansy swiftly nodded her agreement. "But saying that, he's given you all the facts, Millie… I know that you're smart enough to understand that you don't necessarily know everything about your parents, just like they don't know everything about you. What you do with this information will be your choice-"

"What choice?" Millie asked, becoming upset once again. "If I don't tell my parents about this, then Ron will blindside them down the road. I know how important it is to be prepared, I was raised as an Heir as well, Daphne. If I don't warn my parents, then I will be helping Ron ruin my Family's reputation!"

"Let's just convince Ron not to use this against Lord and Lady Bulstrode," Pansy suggested. Ha, good luck with that. You'll have an easier time convincing him that he doesn't need to breathe.

"Ron will do whatever it takes to win," Theo spoke up. "We all know what he's like, don't we? He won't let this slide, nor will he hand over his trump card."

"See?!" Millie's voice cracked as she dropped onto her bed. "I've got no choice whatsoever… I…" she trailed off. What?

"What are you going to do?" Theo asked, while Daphne and Pansy exchanged looks.

Millie didn't respond for a while, she was no doubt trying to regain some of her composure. They all waited patiently, and just as Theo began to repeat his question, Millie moved off of her bed and walked over to her study desk.

"I have to warn them…" Millie muttered, but they all heard her clear as day. Shit! She can't seriously be contemplating betraying Ron, could she?! This will ruin their friendship forever!

"Millie, wait!" Daphne tried, shooting Theo a meaningful look. What do you want me to do? Wrestle her to the ground? She'll beat me up! "You know about Ron trying to help the Werewolves, don't you?! If you warn your parents, then it won't be long before they find out about Ron's project! They'll alert the Old Families, and Ron will be-!"

"I don't care about the Werewolves!" Millie turned around with a teary-eyed glare. "I care about my parents! They've always been good to me, even when my own 'friends' were calling me names and humiliating me for laughs! Do you know who used to cheer me up after you lot were done making fun of my weight, Daphne?! My mum and dad! My very first best friends!"

Theo felt his ears ring, while his mouth refused to open. He didn't really know what to say, he already knew that, when they were younger, he was guilty of demeaning Millie on a frequent basis. Maybe I still take it too far? I mean; I did piss her off a lot today…

Millie suddenly grabbed some parchment from the study desk before marching out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Oh, fuck me… This is not good. Daphne made to go after Millie, but she was quickly stopped by Pansy.

"Now is not the time, Daph," Pansy pleaded, gripping Daphne's left forearm. "You'll only make her more upset."

"I can't let her hurt Ron's plans for the Werewolves," Daphne said, sounding a little panicked. "It'll destroy him, Pansy! I know that we're angry with him right now because of what he did to Millie, but he's already struggling with so much! He doesn't need-!"

"What are you going to do?" Pansy cut in, raising her voice a little. "Are you going to lock Millie away inside a broom closet until she agrees not to send the warning?"

Daphne looked to Theo for support, but he just shook his head. If Millie wants to send that letter, then we can't really stop her. Not unless we're willing to resort to restraining her.

"We have to talk her out of this!" Daphne told them.

"Daph, she never listens to anyone when she's this riled up," Pansy said, letting go of Daphne's forearm. This has gotten out of hand; I need to warn Ron about this before he ends up being the one who gets blindsided.

"I'm getting the lads involved," Theo's mind was made up.

"Wait, you can't tell them!" Pansy moved to stop him as well. "Millie only told you because we asked her to-"

"I don't care, you two have had your chance," Theo said bluntly. "You didn't calm her down in time, and now, she's going to hurt Ron in order to protect her parents. We're past the stage of secrecy, got it? I'm telling the lads, and we'll take it from here." Blaise told me that Ron is now hidden because of the Fidelius Charm, which is why Ron and Blaise are exchanging letters using Helios, who knows where Ron is. I need to get my hands on that barmy bird as soon as possible!

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Past Midnight)

Ron kept pacing back and forth, his eyes fixed on a box of French Chocolates.

Daphne's favourite…

Just looking at that lavish box was doing his head in, making everything so much worse than it already was. You stupid fuck…

Marty wasn't responding… Ron had called him repeatedly, they were supposed to meet up tonight and exchange Intel. He's probably dead… Oh, Merlin… Please don't fucking do this to me…

Something had gone wrong; Ron could feel it in his bones. He cursed himself for sending Marty to work for the Carrow Twins; he should have followed his gut. When am I going to learn my lesson? I'm such a stupid fuck…

The pink gleam emanating from the box of chocolates was stirring him into a fury; he had gone out of his way to buy Daphne's favourite chocolates just in time for Valentine's Day. Marty was probably being tortured while I was indulging myself. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Marty, please…" Ron pleaded, running his hands through his hair and tugging a little. "Don't be fucking dead, please… C'mon, you cunt!"

Nothing.

Ron began chewing the inside of his cheeks, teething his teeth in deep in order to distract himself.

It didn't work.

"Marty! You better fucking show up!" Ron barked out, the room had been Silenced at the start of his panic attack. Don't take the Calming Draught, Ron… It'll fuck you up for good; everyone has already said so…

The next ten minutes were the most silent of his life, he had sat cross-legged on the floor; his vacant eyes fixed on his soft-as-a-cloud bed. I might just off myself, then… After I murder the Carrow Twins, that is. He immediately felt guiltier at the thought; he couldn't bring himself to repeat his mistakes. I'll have to go on, won't I? While Marty's… gone…

---

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Crack of Dawn)

A sudden pop brought life into Ron's world; he could suddenly feel his spiritual bond with Marty again. As he recovered his senses, he sat up and realized that he had fell asleep on the floor. My sides are killing me… Ow…

"Master…" came an all-too-familiar voice, triggering Ron's memories of last night.

He was on his feet within a heartbeat, turning around to see a slightly bloodied Marty.

"Master…" Marty croaked, giving a strained smile. What happened to his right hand?!

Ron bolted over to Marty's side, dropping onto his knees in front of the Elf. Marty's fingers looked broken; the skin was split open and still bleeding. There were dirty, poorly wrapped bandages on Marty's wounds, the sight of them made Ron cringe. Those motherfuckers!

"What did they do to you?!" Ron fretted, putting his hands on Marty's cheeks.

Before Marty could answer, Ron pulled him into a tight hug. He's not going back there ever again!

"Master… Please…" Marty rasped. "Marty is in pain…"

"Sorry," Ron quickly pulled back, however, he made sure to keep his right hand on Marty's tiny shoulder. Just don't go anywhere, mate. Just stay right here.

"Marty… has failed Master…" Marty suddenly whispered, his already puffy eyes welling up. What?

"No, no, I'm just glad that you're alive," Ron said, he couldn't care less about the Carrow Twins right now. "Let me look at that hand, I'll have you fixed up proper within a few seconds."

Marty struggled to raise his right hand, which was trembling and twitching in a manner that made Ron's stomach tighten. There was a hand shaped bruise on Marty's wrist, as if someone had held onto him very tightly. Ron was creative enough to form a picture in his head, something that he deeply regretted. They held him down and broke his fingers… Why?

"Come with me," Ron stood up, leading Marty into his bathroom. "Hold on a second…"

Ron picked Marty up as if he were a toddler, planting him on the marble vanity. Marty moved his injured hand over the sink, allowing Ron to carefully remove the bandages.

"Talk to me, please," Ron said, removing the last of the bandages. I can heal this. I've been practising at the camp.

Ron aimed the tip of his wand over Marty's bloodied hand, casting 'Irrigandum' in order to wash Marty's hand with disinfectant. Marty let out a sharp hiss as the sparkling, green water washed over his hand. Fuck! I messed up, didn't I?

"Sorry, Marty, I fucked the order because I'm nervous," Ron apologized, keeping his wand aimed at Marty's hand. "Torpor."

Marty's injured hand immediately went limp, which forced out a long sigh of relief from Marty.

"You're going to be all right," Ron promised, using his left hand to inspect Marty's wounds better. No large open cuts, and no signs of Magic-Burns. I can just use Episkey for this. "Episkey!"

Marty's bones cracked and realigned, the sickening sound echoed within the bathroom, causing Ron's stress to increase. He had to remind himself that Marty was safe over and over again; otherwise, he was going to fly into another panic attack.

After a couple of minutes, Ron had fully healed Marty's hand. His injuries weren't inflicted with Magic, which would have been harder to heal. Did they beat him? Fucking cunts…

"Marty?" Ron spoke gently. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No, Master…" Marty replied, his voice heavy with shame.

"Marty, I'm not upset with you," Ron promised. "I'm just really fucking glad that you're alive… I couldn't feel our bond, mate. What happened?"

Marty tensed up, averting his big, teary eyes from Ron. What did they do to him?! Why won't he say anything?!

"Marty cannot answer that, Master," Marty suddenly whimpered. "Marty was forced to sign a contract upon entry, Marty can never share anything that could incriminate the Carrow Twins… Marty's heart will cease if Marty breaks the contract…" Really…? Sweet Merlin…

"Okay…" Ron breathed out, feeling a knot in his stomach. "Don't tell me anything about the Carrows, then."

Marty gave a pitiful nod, looking even more ashamed than before. C'mon, mate, don't do that.

"Marty, it's all right," Ron tried, giving Marty's thin shoulder a consoling squeeze. "The only thing that really matters is that you're alive, that's what I really care about."

"Marty's arrogance undid everything," the Elf muttered, keeping his gaze lowered. Damn… Did he become careless because he was too sure of himself?

"I've been there," Ron smiled in sympathy. "You know I have, Marty. And do you know what I've learned? There's no point in crying over spilled pumpkin juice. Let's figure out how to clean up the mess instead." Stop looking so sorry; you're giving me endless anxiety.

"Master should punish Marty," Marty looked up. "Failure must be met with punishment."

"I'm not going to do that, mate," Ron sighed out, feeling jarred by the odd request. "Let's just start by getting you cleaned up, eh? Go on, hop into the shower and wash up. I'll take care of the mess." If Lord and Lady Greengrass walk in on this, I'll be in deep shit without a shovel.

---

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Afternoon)

"Just stay still, Helios," Ron whispered, tying a wrapped package to Helios' leg. "And stop trying to bite me, it fucking hurts."

Helios tilted his head and let out a hoot, clearly confused by the package.

"These are chocolates for Daphne," Ron whispered. "Just get them to her as fast as possible, please. I've already wasted too much time by not making a decision." I hope she doesn't take this the wrong way; I'm just keeping my promise. Yeah, that's all. If she reads too much into it, that's on her.

Ron then began tying a letter to Helios' other leg, which earned him an outraged hoot.

"I know, I know…" Ron muttered under his breath. "I'm pushing you too hard, and for what it's worth, I'm really sorry. Only owls that have seen the manor can find it now, which means that I can only rely on you. Please, Helios, just bear with it."

Helios' bright yellow eyes narrowed on Ron, which meant that he wanted something.

"I'll give you extra treats when you come back," Ron promised, scratching Helios' fine feathers. "Deal?"

Helios gave a hoot, quickly hopping in front of the window. Good lad.

"The chocolates are for Daphne, and the letter is for Blaise," Ron instructed. "The letter is more important than the chocolates, Helios, it has to reach Blaise."

With that, Ron opened the window, allowing Helios to dive out and fly off towards the grey-clouded sky. Bloody hell, it looks like there's a storm coming.

Ron promptly closed the window, turning around to face the bed.

Marty was still asleep, large covers completely covering his tiny body. The sight made Ron feel queasy; he couldn't stop worrying about what the Carrow Twins had done to Marty. All I know is that they held him down, and then broke his hand with a blunt object. Something heavy enough to break fingers.

Ron began pacing once again, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. Nothing about this made any sense, how was Marty still alive? If the Carrow Twins had attacked him, it had to have been for some reason, right? If he had been caught spying on them, then why would they spare him? If they had just attacked him for no reason whatsoever, then why was he fired? What had happened at the Carrow Twins' Estate? I can't even find out because Marty can never share what he saw whilst working for those two cunts.

Ron suddenly stopped, looking back over to Marty. I've tended him, fed him, clothed him, and now he's finally resting. He won't be waking up anytime soon considering what he's been through. I reckon it's safe for me to head out to the Werewolf Sanctuary for a bit. Artyom wanted to show me something.

After a few minutes of debating with himself, Ron decided that some fresh air would do him good. It might even help him find a way to get revenge on the Carrows. After what they did to Marty, I'll never stop hunting them. They're fucking dead; they just don't know it yet.

---

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm – Late Afternoon)

"Your men have been busy," Ron noted, his eyes scanning the property.

The Death's Hand had created their barracks right in the centre of the property, just a few hundred metres away from the mess hall itself. And if that wasn't enough, they had also erected sturdy watchtowers all over the property, each one manned by two sentries.

"Property is secure," Artyom reported. "Just as promised."

"Your men haven't been fighting with the staff, have they?" Ron asked. "I've noticed some tension amongst the workers, which is never a good sign." Ron then looked up at Artyom's stoic face. "This place needs to work, Artyom, a lot of lives depend on it."

"There have been… disagreements…" Artyom admitted. "My men will take better care in future."

"Keep them in line, please," Ron instructed. "I'm paying you a lot of-"

"Ron?!" someone called his name, and Ron quickly turned to face the person who had interrupted him. Remus? What's he doing here?

Remus was walking over from the mess hall, his usual friendly smile in place. However, that smile slowly began to fade away as Remus' eyes finally noticed Artyom standing beside Ron.

"Good afternoon," Remus stopped in front of them, his eyes fixed on Artyom's. "You must be Artyom, Oscar told me about you." Lord Fawley is here? Did they come together?

"You have… peculiar… scars," Artyom said, looking utterly disinterested. "Step back from my client, I will not ask again."

"Artyom, Remus is a family friend," Ron spoke up. "He's not going to hurt me, so you can relax a little."

Artyom gave a nod, though he kept his dark eyes fixed on Remus.

"Ron, can I talk to you?" Remus asked. "In private?"

"Of course," Ron replied, giving Artyom a quick glance.

"I will be close," Artyom told Remus warningly before moving just out of earshot. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.

"Sorry about him, Remus," Ron started, shooting Remus a stressed smile. "It's really good to see you again." Does he know about my suicide attempt? No… I don't think he does. The Headmaster and the Heads of Houses must have kept it to themselves.

"How have you been?" Remus asked, placing his right hand on Ron's shoulder.

Ron tensed immediately, something that Remus quickly picked up on. That's bloody unpleasant, I can't stand it.

"Sorry…" Remus pulled his hand back, giving Ron a curious look. "You all right, Ron? You look… on edge…" It's been a long day, that's all.

"I'm fine," Ron rolled his shoulders. "What are you doing here, Remus? And is Lord Fawley also here?"

"He invited me," Remus replied. "He wants me to have another look at the safe rooms. May I ask why you're here? Shouldn't you be recovering at The Burrow?" He's in the dark about my life? That works for me.

"Artyom wanted to show me the defences," Ron replied.

"Yes… Oscar mentioned that you had hired mercenaries," Remus said reluctantly, not looking too comfortable.

"You disapprove?" Ron asked.

"I understand why you would want to, but at the same time, I'm not sure that the Werewolves will appreciate this," Remus explained. "They've given up everything to come here, Ron, they don't want to keep living in fear."

"My men are here to keep the Werewolves safe," Ron stood his ground. "We both know who is out there, Remus, we can't take any chances. My men are staying, there is no discussion to be had on the matter."

"I understand," Remus said calmingly. "I'm just trying to warn you, nothing more."

"Consider me warned, then," Ron said, deciding to change the subject. "Do you know where they are? I thought that they'd be here by now."

"Thaddeus sent me an owl last night," Remus started. "Unfortunately, with the Dementors and the Azkaban prisoners on the loose, they've all been forced to lay low. I'm actually heading off to join them after this, so I'm really glad that I ran into you."

"You're leaving? What about Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"Well, the Ranked Tournaments have been delayed until March," Remus started. "And Professor Sinistra has agreed to fill in for me. I might be gone for a couple of weeks-"

"That long?" Ron interrupted. "Remus, I'm hoping to publicize this place by Saturday. I figured that the Werewolves would be by now. Isn't that why we rushed this project?"

"It's dangerous out there, Ron," Remus said. "Most of them don't have wands to defend themselves with, and the Aurors are stretched too thin to cover all of Magical Britain. I know that you can understand that."

Ron drew in a deep breath; he did understand just how unsafe Magical Britain was right now. The Aurors were struggling to keep the peace, most of the Dementors were still on the loose, there were no leads on the Loyalists, the public was becoming restless, and the escapees were causing havoc wherever they went. Now, as terrible as this was, Ron was quite content with the country's situation. He needed this fear and panic to blow up in Fudge's face, which would allow Amelia Bones to take the Office of the Minister without a pesky vote.

"I wish you luck, Remus," Ron said, putting his gloved hand forward. "Please, be careful."

"I'll bring them here, I promise," Remus shook Ron's hand, giving him a paternal smile. "You're a proper lad, Ron. I'm really proud of you."

Ron's lips moved without consent, forming a modest smile.

"I didn't do much," Ron shrugged, shaking his head. "Lord Fawley did all the heavy lifting, you should be complimenting him."

"I've given him plenty already," Remus smiled back. "You earned that one, there's no arguing it."

"Thanks," Ron pulled his hand back, he didn't know what else to say. "I'll go public with this place, as planned. Just try to hurry back, all right?"

"I'll do my best," Remus promised, turning to leave. "I'd better go check those safe rooms, I'm in a bit of a rush."

"Safe travels, Professor."

---

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – After Dinner)

A new strategy was forming in Ron's head, however, he felt rather uncomfortable with how ruthless he would need to be to pull it off.

Marty had been sworn to secrecy by the Carrow Twins, which led Ron to believe that the other House-Elves were also sworn to secrecy. Unfortunately, House-Elves were still Ron's best chance of interrupting the party. He had to capture one of them, put them under the Imperius Curse, and then force them to Apparate Ron and Emilia into the party. This would, of course, lead to the Elf's death, as they would have helped incriminate the Carrow Twins. I can't think of any other way. I have to interrupt that party before they start killing Muggles for sport.

"Master…" came a raspy voice from his bed.

"Marty!" Ron shot out of his seat, grabbing the tray of food and making his way over to the bed. "You're finally awake, mate. C'mon, sit up, I've prepared you some food."

"Master? Where is Marty?" Marty croaked, struggling to sit up.

"You're in my room," Ron replied.

Ron then sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully placing the tray in-between them. Wait… Can Marty even eat roast lamb?

"Mate, you can eat this, right?" Ron asked, just to be sure.

"Yes, Master," Marty stared at the food; his gaze had become distant once again. He's probably feeling sorry for himself again. How do I convince him that mistakes happen? Maybe some tough love is in order?

"Look, mate," Ron started, using his finger to raise Marty's chin. "We've hit another wall, that's all. You can either help me climb over it, or, you can keep feeling sorry for yourself. Either way, I need to do something about those Muggles before it's too late. So? What will it be? Are you with me?"

"Of course, Master," Marty managed, though his voice suggested otherwise. "But Marty cannot tell Master anything… It would result in Marty's death…" At least he's starting to respond again. He still looks tired, so I'll let him go back to sleep once he's eaten.

"Eat," Ron nudged the tray further towards Marty. "I think I'm onto something, I've spent the whole day thinking about this." Ron suddenly noticed that Marty still hadn't touched his food. "Marty, why aren't you eating?"

Marty looked back down at the tray, embarrassment flashing across his face. What now?

"Master is serving Marty…" Marty muttered after a few seconds. "It is not right-"

"Just eat the fucking food," Ron felt his patience begin to thin. "You were banged up proper, all right? I healed your hand, but you haven't eaten anything since you got here. You'll fall sick if you keep this up, which would create another headache for me. You want to help me, Marty? Start by eating the food I smuggled in here for you."

Marty began picking at his food immediately, looking an awful lot like a scolded child. Fuck… Brilliant work, Ron… Silver-tongued as always.

"Right…" Ron decided to move on. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think I've got another plan in mind. You obviously can't even talk about the Carrow Twins anymore; it'll get you killed. So, what do we need?"

Marty looked up with a mouthful of vegetables, he was clearly starving.

"We need another House-Elf," Ron said, and Marty's eyes widened a little. "You can't talk about the Carrow Twins, but you could answer some vague questions about Zolly, couldn't you?"

Marty adorned a thoughtful look, and after a few silent seconds, he gave a nod.

"I only have three questions," Ron drew in a deep breath; he had to be very careful right now. "What colour are Zolly's eyes?"

Marty quickly swallowed his bite, his gaze becoming focused. Fucking hell, please, don't die in front of me. Marty drew in a deep breath, straightening his back before answering.

"Green," Marty answered.

They both went silent, waiting for something to happen. Did it work? It fucking worked!

"Thank you, Merlin…" Ron let out a long breath, while Marty shuddered. "All right, she's got green eyes… Next question, then. Which shops does she frequent?"

"Every Wednesday, Zolly shops at the Upper District," Marty replied slowly. "Zolly only provides the best for the Carrow Family." Wednesdays, eh?

"Last question," Ron said, nudging the tray again in order to remind Marty of it. "Do you still work for the Carrow Twins?"

"No," Marty replied after a moment. So they fired him after attacking him? How is he still alive?

"Okay, then…" Ron said, not keen to push his luck any further. One wrong word from Marty, and he'll drop dead on the spot. He can't be a part of this anymore; I can't risk it. "Eat as much as you can, then go back to sleep. You still look really knackered."

"Marty cannot sleep on Master's bed," Marty shook his head.

"I've already asked the Greengrass Elves to stay out of my room," Ron said. "You need to rest, and I'm not letting you sleep on the floor. This is a big bed, we can each take a side."

"Master, Marty is not worthy-" Marty tried.

"Please, don't start that tripe again," Ron cut in. "One of our moves got interrupted, that's all. We can still take the enemy's king." Ron then stood up. "Now, I'm going to be practising my Occlumency right over there. Eat your food and go back to sleep, that's an order."

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (Yaxley Manor – After Dinner)

"With Lord Nott's contribution, we have surpassed five million Galleons," Felix addressed the Lords, keeping his eyes on his ledger. He's doing remarkably well. Even Lucius is surprised by Felix's confidence.

Corban had invited his male allies to dinner, and together, they had begun rebuilding the Dark Lord's Empire. Large donations of gold, multiple villas all throughout the Wizarding World, and promises of loyal service; these were just some of the gifts that Corban planned to give his Master.

"Robert?" Corban looked to the plump wizard. "What do you propose we do with the excess?"

"I could always hire more mercenaries," Robert replied. "I've already done my duty to the Dark Lord, my home is filled with mercenaries from all over the world. However, given what has happened to our Vampire forces, we might very well need more wands."

"More is always better," Arcturus Carrow advised, and Corban nodded in agreement.

"Felix, move the excess gold to one of Robert's vaults," Corban instructed.

Felix quickly jotted down a reminder, after which he finally raised his gaze.

"I believe this concludes our business, my Lords," Felix said, closing the ledger and walking back to Corban's side. He did well addressing all of us. I still remember how daunting it was when my father asked me to address my seniors.

"You did well, Felix," Corban whispered just as the younger wizard sat down. Just say the words, Corban; the boy has earned them. "I'm very proud of you, son."

Felix was visibly taken aback by Corban's words, but quickly enough, he was smiling in his usual, timid manner.

"Thank you, fa-" Felix stopped abruptly. "Thank you, my Lord…" He corrected himself?

As bizarre as it was for him to feel this way, Corban couldn't help but feel disappointed. Felix had only ever called Corban 'father' once, it was at the end of his Graduation Ceremony, but instead of embracing the boy, Corban had dutifully reminded him that he was the last of the Rosier Family, and as such, he couldn't call Corban his father. He's learned his lesson… After all, I was his teacher, wasn't I?

Corban gave his ward a paternal pat on the back, regaining his composure. Now is not the time for this. I will meditate on it later.

"Here, have a drink," Corban passed Felix a glass of Firewhiskey. "It'll help your nerves."

"A superb performance, my boy," George Selwyn cut into their conversation, smiling widely at Felix. "You spoke as if you were Corban himself!"

"Thank you, my Lord," Felix gave a practised smile. "Not only for your kind words, but also for your contribution to our cause. The Dark Lord will surely shower us all with his favour." Now that he's had time to collect himself, he's finally starting to conquer his weakness. One day, this young man will lead our great nation.

"I'm sure he will," George said, looking to Corban. "Corban, might I have a word with you?"

"Go on," Corban replied, ignoring George's glances towards Felix. "Felix is an extension of myself, George. You may speak freely in his presence."

"Of course," George gave a nervous chuckle. "The Carrow Twins-"

"This again," Corban cocked an eyebrow. I know that his wife will be attending the twins' upcoming party, and I truly doubt that she wishes to attend with her husband.

"Corban, they are putting us all at risk," George repeated like a broken record. "The Aurors are still searching our homes-"

"The twins will not be using any home that is on public record," Felix cut in. "I have been assured that the twins have never been caught."

"They have become more arrogant than ever," George argued. "I've heard that they are bringing in dozens of Centaurs for 'entertainment'. An entire tribe of Centaurs, Corban… The Ministry is bound to investigate the disappearance of an entire Centaur tribe, which will lead them directly to the twins." The Ministry? You mean the fools who live only to beg for our favour? No one is going to give those Centaurs a second thought.

"They have bigger problems," Corban reminded the older wizard. "I cannot ask the twins to stop this party, I'm sorry. Arcturus has finally consented to a partnership with me, and I will not offend him by stepping on his siblings' parade. If they wish to slaughter a few beasts, then so be it."

"There are other reasons to stop this gathering," George tried, leaning forward to whisper. "Many within this room plan to attend, and I know that you don't want that, Corban. We need to be more cautious than ever, given what's happening, but the twins only care about indulging their depravity." People in this room are attending the party?

Corban exchanged a quick glance with Felix, who quickly sat up to attention.

"I'm still in the process of convincing some of the Lords," Felix told them.

"Which ones?" Corban looked around the living room, watching his fellow Lords socialize and scheme. I can already name a few myself, actually.

"Avery, Crabbe, Flint, Goyle, Macnair, and Parkinson," Felix listed. "The Carrow Twins haven't put on a show in a long time, they are eager to… enjoy… themselves."

"Surely, we must stop this," George spoke up. "We should drive the twins out of England-"

"Lower your voice," Corban warned, becoming suspicious of the older wizard. "What do they have on you? Why are you so driven to see them gone?"

George puffed up a little, adorning an offended look.

"They have nothing on me, for I do not debase myself at their 'gatherings'," George preached. "Unlike many in this room-"

"Can the same be said of your wife, my Lord?" Felix interrupted, his tone polite as ever. "Does she not enjoy these gatherings immensely? I've heard that she is good friends with Lady Alecto."

George's eye gave away the truth, even if he managed to keep his composure. He ought to just divorce her; she's been making a fool out of him for years.

"I'm not going to stop the twins," Corban put an end to the conversation. "Your real problem isn't with them, it's with your wife. Either divorce her, or, start having your own affairs."

"My own affairs…?" George muttered in disbelief.

"You were invited to their party, were you not?" Corban asked. "If your wife is attending to sate her lust, then why don't you do the same?" Corban then leaned forward, adorning a more deadly expression. "Or, better yet, why don't you just lock her in some tower? You're the Lord, aren't you? What is she going to do about it? You have every right over her, as is our custom."

"I could never hurt her…" George sighed out. "This party, however… Perhaps I could approach her on her terms?" Lucius was right; George Selwyn truly is a pathetic rodent. He's willing to throw away his principles for a whore.

"I'm sure that will bring you two together," Corban said, losing all interest. "Now, go-"

The sound of a door banging open interrupted the Lords, all of their scrutinizing glares aimed at Anne Bulstrode. What is she doing here? And why did she barge into my home?

"Explain yourself," Corban stood up, frowning deeply.

"Robert!" Anne called out to her husband, she sounded panicked for once.

"Love?" Robert made his way over, and Corban quickly followed. "What's happened? Is it Millicent? She's not hurt, is she?"

"No…" Anne panted, shooting a quick glance at Corban.

"I will do what I can to help," Corban promised.

"Speak, woman," Robert urged. "What's riled you up like this?"

"Millicent sent a letter," Anne began, pulling out a letter from her handbag. "It just came in, and as soon as I read it, I knew that we were ruined…" Ruined?

"Go on," Robert spoke slowly, his eyes widening from shock.

"That Blood-Traitor, Ronald Weasley, he knows about the Werewolves," Anne whispered hysterically. Werewolves? Ronald Weasley? What's that boy up to now?

Robert just stared at his wife, a look of utter disbelief plastered on his face.

"Robert, what is she talking about?" Corban asked. "Are you embroiled in some scandal?"

"What do you mean by 'he knows about the Werewolves'?" Robert asked. "What does he know?"

"He knows everything," Anne handed the letter to Robert, who quickly began reading his daughter's writing. "He has letters with our seals, dates, tax reductions, everything… We're done for, Robert… That little bastard owns a magazine now, he's going to destroy the Bulstrode Family…"

Corban was lost for words, but he had heard enough to fly into action. Ronald… Why did he have to rear his head right now? I have to stop him from ruining Robert, but the Dark Lord has forbidden us all from interfering with Ronald's life. Shit! There's only one option left, then.

"We must speak to the Dark Lord," Corban said, causing both Bulstrodes to go pale.

"Why?" Anne managed, swallowing thickly.

"It is the only way, my friends," Corban explained. "Whatever Ronald has on you, it must be brought to the Dark Lord's attention. He has an interest in the boy, believe me."

"You're meeting with the Dark Lord?" came Lucius' voice, followed by his footsteps. "I will accompany you, then. In support, of course."

"Were you eavesdropping?" Robert snarled.

"We were all eavesdropping," Lucius smirked coldly. "That Weasley boy has you, I see. What a pity. The Bulstrode Family cowering in the shadow of a Blood-Traitor brat-"

"Enough, Lucius," Corban intervened, losing his patience. "Do not forget that he has your son under his Spell as well." And my own fucking daughter! I will discipline Lysandra when she returns from Hogwarts, I swear it!

Corban then looked to the other Lords, they were definitely listening in.

"Gather your cloaks, gentlemen," Corban raised his voice. "We will be presenting our gifts to the Dark Lord tonight!" I hope he doesn't mind the intrusion.

---

Sunday 14th February, 1994 (The Dark Lord's Manor – Near Midnight)

"Why is the Dark Lord keeping us in here?" Robert suddenly whispered; he hadn't stopped tapping his foot for the last hour.

"I don't know," Corban whispered back, looking around the dreadful room.

The walls were rotting, weeds were sticking out of the cracked wooden floors, the smell of moss was heavy in the air, and it was as cold as the centre of a blizzard. Why was the Dark Lord forcing himself to live in these conditions?

Corban's eyes suddenly clashed against Natalia's; the slender Vampire was standing guard at the door. She and her father make my skin crawl-

"Corban…" came a cold hiss from the front of the room.

Everyone in the room went silent as thick, black smoke began to pour into the room from the rotten ceiling. As soon as the smoke settled on the ground, an invisible force at the head of the room sucked it in. Disturbingly, the swirling smoke began to take a humanoid form, until finally; two bright, red, serpentine eyes began to scan the room.

They all quickly kneeled, their foreheads touching the wet, rotten flooring.

"Stand," the Dark Lord hissed, and none of them wasted a second. "Why have you brought them all here, Corban? This location was to be kept a secret."

Corban stepped forward, keeping his gaze humble.

"My Lord, we have come with gifts," Corban started. "I have united all these great Lords in your name, and together, we are ready to serve you faithfully-"

"Faithfully?" the Dark Lord interrupted. "How… ironic."

With reptilian grace, the Dark Lord's lanky body glided across the room, stopping right in front of Corban. Avert your gaze, you fool.

"My faithful are not within this room, Corban," the Dark Lord whispered coldly, sending a chill up Corban's spine. "Speak plainly, you have interrupted important work."

"We understand your mistrust of us," Corban said, keeping his composure. "However, we only wish serve, I swear it. Our gifts will show our sincerity-"

"Keep your gifts," the Dark Lord said, scrutinizing each and every Lord. "After all, everything you own already belongs to me, does it not? To our shared cause? Without it, how will we create our Pure World?"

Corban felt his gut tighten; he couldn't even dare to speak out against the Dark Lord's harsh treatment of his subjects.

"Natalia, Obliviate them all, and then send them on their way," the Dark Lord turned to leave, seemingly losing interest in the conversation.

"There is also a matter concerning Ronald Weasley, my Lord," Corban spoke up.

The Dark Lord stopped, slowly turning around with an interested gleam in his terrifying eyes.

"Come forth," the Dark Lord beckoned, and Corban quickly did as he was told. "What matter concerns Ronald?"

"I believe it best that Robert and Anne explain the situation to you, my Lord."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Corban, Felix, Robert, Anne, Arcturus, Lucius, and Cornelius were all that remained; the rest had been Obliviated and sent home. The Dark Lord was being awfully paranoid, which didn't bode well for Corban's new alliance. The last thing Corban needed was the Loyalists calling the shots; those mad dogs didn't fight for the Pure World.

"So… You have been bested by a child?" the Dark Lord taunted, sounding far too pleased. "Ronald outdoes himself again. He is very resourceful, is he not?"

"He has declared war against my Family, my Lord," Robert repeated. "And there's more… Millicent also took the time to explain how Weasley got his hands on all of this information."

"How?" the Dark Lord asked.

"He's building a Sanctuary of some sort for the Werewolves of Magical Britain," Robert answered. "That's how he stumbled onto this… Once those accursed Werewolves reach this Sanctuary of his, he'll also have eyewitnesses against me. Those dogs have seen me, my Lord."

His words were met with confusion from everyone, including the Dark Lord. Why would he do something so pointless? It can't be for the sake of besmirching Robert, that's too much work for too little gain. I truly can't see him gaining anything from this. Also, how could he afford to build such a large Sanctuary? He's not wealthy, nor does his Family own any properties besides their pigsty. And I doubt that Greengrass pays for his whims.

"Why would Ronald do this?" the Dark Lord asked, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. "He's not a wolf, I'm certain of it. If he were trying to build an army, then wouldn't it be wiser to reach out to an educated species?"

"Whatever his reasoning, my Lord," Corban started. "He has placed one of us in a dangerous situation. I humbly request that I be allowed to intervene before this escalates."

"Intervene how?" the Dark Lord asked, a deadly smile playing on his lipless face. Careful, Corban…

Corban felt his heart beat faster and faster.

"We just need to get the incriminating documents off of him, and then, we can swear him to secrecy," Corban said. "Cornelius and Lucius can help me, they are experienced in the art of blackmail." There, I've upheld my promise to the both of them. If they help me succeed, the Dark Lord might reconsider sharing his plans with them.

"What of this Sanctuary, my Lord?" Arcturus asked.

The Dark Lord's intent gaze landed on the thin wizard, his left eye twitching in amusement.

"How good of you to finally join us, Arcturus," the Dark Lord hissed. "Your constant trips to the States won't affect your loyalty this time around, I hope. We cannot afford any weak links, not when we're so close to retaking the Wizarding World."

"I am your humble servant, my Lord," Arcturus bowed, somewhat appeasing the Dark Lord. "However, my question remains… What are we going to do about this Sanctuary?"

"Let him build it," the Dark Lord instructed.

"May I ask why, my Lord?" Corban asked immediately.

"It will make Fenrir's job much easier down the line," the Dark Lord explained. "Let Ronald do all the work, we will reap the rewards." He still wants the Werewolves, then.

"What business does Weasley have with the Werewolves, though?" Anne asked. "Why is he doing this?"

"A good question," Lucius spoke up. "Does Weasley have a soft spot for Half-Breeds? Or, is he planning some stunt to further his fame?"

"It could be both," Cornelius said. "Given his background-"

"Ronald is misguided," the Dark Lord interrupted, his voice had turned ice-cold. "In time, however, Lord Voldemort shall correct him. He will stand amongst you as one of my Death-Eaters, and you will all call him brother." The Dark Lord's form then began to distort, breaking apart into thick, black smoke. "Protect Robert and Anne's reputation, you have my permission to do whatever you must."

The smoke shot up into the ceiling, escaping through the cracks. This left all the Lords, and Anne, behind by themselves. I should address them.

"We need to start by finding this Sanctuary," Corban turned to face his comrades. "I want to know everything about it. How can Ronald afford a property that is capable of housing hundreds of Werewolves? What inspired him to do this? We need to know everything before we move against him. He is, as the Dark Lord described, very resourceful. We must proceed with caution."

Corban then looked to Robert and Anne.

"Your daughter has done her people proud," Corban said comfortingly. "We will not let her efforts go to waste." If only my own daughter were so loyal. Perhaps Millicent will be willing to share more about Ronald's movements in the future? I'll ask Robert once I've schooled Ronald again.

---

Millicent Bulstrode's POV

Monday 15th February, 1994 (The Great Hall – Breakfast)

The school was still coming down from Valentine's Day, an annual event in which Millie had never truly participated. She had, of course, received a couple of anonymous letters, not that they did anything to elevate Millie's mood, but mostly, it was her friends who were at the centre of attention.

Ron, as usual, had received the highest number of Valentines, but since he wasn't here to collect his letters and chocolates, Theo had taken it upon himself to accept everything in Ron's name. It was no doubt another attempt by Theo to stand out, but in all honesty, it had come across as rather pathetic, and even Malfoy didn't look particularly impressed.

Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne had also netted a lot of letters and chocolates, especially Blaise, who was so handsome that even Millie was jealous of his prominent cheekbones and zit-free skin. The day had somewhat raised the group's morale, but not enough for them to look past what Millie had done. I think I've ruined all of my friendships… This group will never treat me the same way ever again.

Millie had betrayed one of her closest friends in order to save her Family's honour. Throughout her childhood, her father had lectured her on the importance of putting one's Family first, even at the cost of friendships and love. A Pure-Blood witch's Family was everything, it was her very identity, and for as long as Millie could remember, she had always vowed to protect the Bulstrode name.

It was what she was born to do, and, just a couple of days ago, Millie had been given the chance to live up to her vow.

Ron had found incriminating evidence against her parents, and although the crimes committed had terrified and sickened Millie, she still couldn't bring herself to move against her parents. Her mother, the kindest and most protective woman that Millie knew, was actually throwing other people into slavery just to avoid taxes. Her father, the strongest and funniest man that Millie knew, was actually a ruthless businessman who didn't care about getting his hands dirty with blood if it pushed his Family further ahead.

A small part of her had always known that her parents weren't under the Imperius Curse during the Great War; she had often heard the disgust in their voices whenever 'Half-Breeds' and 'Abominations' were brought up. Their hatred and brutality was always there, Millie simply hadn't looked hard enough until now. Until Ron put all of it on my lap…

Millie's entire world had come apart at the seams, and the only person she could blame was herself. She had panicked after witnessing the power of the evidence within Ron's possession, and knowing the fact that Ron wasn't one to pull his punches, Millie had been forced to act.

She had told her parents everything about Ron's interest in Werewolves, she had to be as thorough as her father had taught her. She knew that they were going to go after Ron, and most likely, they were going to corner him and hinder his endeavours. Millie had cried her eyes out while she had written the letter, torn between her duty to her Family and her loyalty to her friend.

"Is that Helios?!" came Pansy's voice, interrupting everyone's breakfast.

The grey Eagle-Owl descended with alarming speed, landing directly in front of Daphne's plate. The blonde witch went wide-eyed, staring at the package attached to Helios' leg.

"He wouldn't…" Daphne muttered under her breath, a sudden gleam in her eyes.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked; his eyebrow cocked in interest.

"Did he send something for me?" Blaise asked speedily. "A letter?"

Helios let out a hoot, impatiently flapping his wings at Daphne.

"Oh, of course," Daphne began untying the package from Helios' leg. "I'm sorry, Helios."

Helios let out an indignant hoot, flapping away from the package the moment his leg was free. Blaise reached over and took Helios in his hands, hurriedly untying the letter attached to Helios' other leg. The Eagle-Owl protested his rude handling by biting at Blaise's fingers, but Blaise wasn't deterred in the slightest. He's really nervous about Lord De Luca… I've never seen Blaise so on edge before. It's a good thing Ron's trying to help-

A feeling of heavy guilt suddenly weighed down Millie's soul; she had betrayed the one person who had never once humiliated her. If it weren't for Ron's constant encouragement, Millie wouldn't have found her ambition to self-improve. Her parents hadn't given her the confidence that she now possessed; they had always mollycoddled her and kept her safe. He was just trying to help me… He gave me the facts as they were. Did I make a mistake? Gods, what did I do?!

A surprised giggle from Daphne interrupted Millie's thoughts; the packaging was hiding an extravagant box of chocolates. He didn't forget his promise to Daphne.

"Keeping my promise," Pansy read the small, pink card attached to the box.

"Pansy, don't be nosy," Daphne huffed, not losing her smile for a second.

"See? I told you that he wouldn't forget," Pansy nudged Daphne, a bright smile on her face. "He was just being indecisive, like all boys."

"I just figured that since we're not…" Daphne started, but then she quickly stopped herself. "It doesn't matter. Despite everything, he still kept his promise."

"He's adorable," Pansy giggled, while the boys rolled their eyes.

Millie quietly watched her friends; Helios had certainly brought some life to the group with his surprise visit. From the moment Millie had sent a Hogwarts Owl to warn her parents, a cloud of misery had begun to follow her around. Every time she entered the room, her friends would lose all joy within their bodies. They'd stop talking to each other, something she found worse than exclusion itself, and the longer she stayed, the worse everyone's mood turned.

Daphne was the most upset of the lot, but this was hardly surprising given her closeness with Ron. Pansy was doing what she always did whenever the girls were at odds; she played nice with all parties involved in order to avoid trouble. As for the boys, they were already being distant enough that hardly anything felt different. Except for Theo… Everything feels different with him.

Millie subtly glanced towards the weedy boy; he had stopped acknowledging her presence completely. She had thought that Theo, of all of her friends, would understand her actions, but thanks to Lord Nott's negligence, Theo had turned bitter towards everything his father stood for. This, of course, included the Bulstrode Family, who were long-time friends of the Nott Family. He was right, I thought that we were finally starting to become close… I guess I've ruined that as well, then.

"I need to send Ron… a letter," Theo stood up, his eyes darting towards Millie. Oh, no…

She immediately shrunk, fearing what the future held for her. Merlin, I still remember what he did to Potter for going behind his back… As Theo left the Great Hall with Helios on his shoulder, Millie found herself trembling from fear.

She was doomed…

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 16th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor - Midday)

"I am back," Artyom said as he walked into the gazebo, interrupting Ron's tea break.

"Fancy a cuppa?" Ron asked, placing his cup on the coffee table. "This pot of Oolong is spicy in a good way, you should try a cup."

"No," Artyom refused, pulling out a black, rectangular box from his trench coat. "Your wand is finished, Marco sends his regards."

"Finally," Ron grinned, shooting out of the cushion.

With childish glee, Ron snatched the box out of Artyom's hand, opening it and grinning at the contents. A long, polished, ivory wand was tucked snugly inside the box, accompanied by an elegant note.

Aspen, Horn of a Horned-Serpent, Fourteen Inches, Unyielding.

Have fun, lad.

M.

Ron smirked as he pocketed the card, and then, very carefully, he took the wand with his left hand. Warmth immediately filled his chest, and for a brief moment, Ron felt the wand become searing hot within his hold. Bloody hell! That was definitely a powerful connection, even better than my Cypress wand.

"How does your new wand feel?" Artyom asked.

Ron tossed the box away, moving his new wand into his dominant hand.

"It's the same length and weight as my Cypress wand," Ron replied, he personally liked this very much. "I'm going to try out a Spell, so step back." What should I go with?

Artyom did as he was told, watching quietly as Ron practised some wand movements. Right, I know which Spell to use. This one always gives me trouble, and it'll be the perfect test.

"Avis," Ron chanted, immediately sensing the difference between his two wands.

Although the Cypress wand was familiar, and therefore, easier to handle, it lacked the intensity that Ron had just felt. The Aspen wand burned hotter than the Cypress wand, and the moment Ron pictured a small, avian creature within his mind, four varying birds suddenly popped into existence. The gazebo was filled with the chirping of the startled birds, all of them shooting off in different directions. I managed four?! I've only ever managed two on the Cypress! Is the wood quality providing the difference? Or, is it the core? Maybe me being a Parselmouth will finally pay off?

"Well?" Artyom asked.

"It's fucking perfect, mate," Ron smiled widely, he couldn't wait to test this wand out on the P-12 Auror Trainer. "Thanks for taking me to Marco, I really appreciate it."

"Thank me by being honest," Artyom said, taking Ron by surprise. Where did that come from?

"Pardon? I've been dishonest?" Ron asked.

"Who is inside your room?" Artyom demanded. Oh, fuck. "Jürgen has warded manor from cellar to attic, he knows that some Elf is here. He told Lord Greengrass, who advised us not to interfere." They've known about Marty this entire time? Wait; does that mean that Jürgen will know if I leave the manor? For fuck's sake…

"Brilliant," Ron sighed out. "Right, you've caught me… My Elf is currently staying within my room, and don't worry, he's the most loyal person I know."

"You must be truthful," Artyom said, his voice stern. "I cannot do my job if you lie. Understand?"

"Understood, but fair warning, lying is sort of my go-to instinct-" Ron started.

"I can fix lying problem with strong slap," Artyom all but promised. "Understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Ron smiled pleasantly, earning an eye-roll from Artyom. He's got an entire broom up his arse in place of a stick. "Actually, now that we're discussing Elves…" Should I ask him to go searching for Zolly? If he finds her, and she takes us to the Carrow Twins' hideout, she'll die due to breaking her contract.

"What?" Artyom asked. "You suddenly stopped." It's too far… Zolly has clearly served them her entire life, she doesn't know any better. I can't just murder her; it doesn't feel right.

"Never mind…" Ron scratched the back of his neck, still unsure of what to do. Or, maybe, Zolly is a sick fuck just like her Masters. For all I know, Zolly is the one who broke Marty's hand. Plus, I have no other way to find them. At this rate, those Muggles will definitely die… That's it; I'm reaching out to Professor Snape-

Artyom suddenly winced, making Ron flinch from fright. What was that? Is he having a spasm? The tall wizard swiftly pulled out a glowing coin from his trouser pocket, the word 'Trouble' was etched onto it.

"Mind explaining that coin?" Ron asked; his eyes glued to it.

"There is trouble at farm," Artyom frowned as he pocketed the coin.

"Really?" Ron was suddenly alert. "What sort of trouble?"

"I do not know," Artyom turned to leave. "Come, we go find out."

Ron followed after Artyom, his curiosity about the coin growing tenfold.

"What was that coin?" Ron asked. "It alerted you somehow… I've never seen anything like it."

"It is coin with Protean Charm," Artyom stated. "Nothing special." The Protean Charm?

"It allows you to contact anyone instantly?" Ron asked.

"Yes, but it is difficult to cast," Artyom replied.

"You're definitely teaching me the Protean Charm once we come home," Ron said. What a useful Spell… I have to learn it. It'll help me and my friends stay in contact at all times. Fuck it, even the Order should be using this Spell. Imagine how coordinated they would be.

"Did you tell anyone about farm?" Artyom suddenly asked. "Anyone you don't trust?"

"No," Ron replied. "I'm sure it's just a fight between your men and the staff."

---

Ten Minutes Later

This was unbelievable… Dolores Umbridge, accompanied by two Ministry Officials, was standing right outside the mess hall, her bulging eyes scanning the vast property. Lord Fawley was trying to hold a conversation with her, but she seemed to be enjoying dismissing him for some reason. What are these cunts doing here?! How did they even find this place?!

"What is the meaning of this?" Ron demanded, capturing everyone's attention. "This is private property-"

"Mr. Weasley," Umbridge greeted sweetly, turning on her heels to face him.

She smiled like a hungry cat, ogling at Ron as if he were a cornered rat.

"Ah, we finally meet," the black haired Official smiled, his voice was smooth and polite. "A pleasure, Mr. Weasley, I have read so much about you."

"And who are you?" Ron asked, ignoring the man's extended hand. "Why are you here?"

"This is Pius Thicknesse," Lord Fawley answered, a dark expression marring his features. "He is the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures… He is also in charge of the Werewolf Registration Act." Werewolf Registration Act?! Fuck! How did they find this place?!

"What are you doing here?" Ron looked back to Umbridge, frowning as her smile turned more predatory.

"We are doing our jobs, of course, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge started, locking her eyes with Ron's. "Imagine the Minister's shock when he learned, this very morning, that you and your allies were trying to undermine him-"

"Undermine the Minister?" Lord Fawley cut in. "I grow tired of your insolence, woman. You have insulted me, and now, you are insulting-"

"We have not come here to cause offence," Umbridge cut Lord Fawley off, keeping her eyes on Ron. "We have come here to do our jobs."

"You already said that," Ron said coldly. "But you haven't explained what your job is." Their job is to destroy this place… Fuck! How did they find out? Did a member of my alliance talk? Did I just get stabbed in the back? Again?!

"How very forgetful of me," Umbridge giggled sweetly. "We are here to arrest every single Werewolf that shows it's face near this property." It's?

"On what charges?" Ron took a step forward, glaring down at a smiling Umbridge.

"They have not complied with the Werewolf Registration Act," Thicknesse replied, stroking the white streak that ran through his beard. "Every Werewolf within Magical Britain was instructed, by the Wizengamot itself, to register themselves for the safety of the public. However, far too many Werewolves did not heed the Wizengamot's decree, and are therefore, lawbreakers."

"The Werewolf Registration Act…" Ron let out a mirthless laugh, noticing Umbridge puff up due to his icy tone. "That legislation was designed to ruin the lives of Werewolves all over the country, so why are you so surprised that no one wanted to register? The Wizengamot all but asked the Werewolves to hand over their rights, so is it any wonder that they all fled?"

"Whatever their reasoning, they have broken Magical Law," Umbridge tutted, wagging her chubby finger in Ron's face. I'll break that finger and ram it up your arse, cunt. Keep wagging it-

"This is a lovely property," the third Ministry Official finally spoke, his bright, green eyes still scanning the farm.

Ron eyed the tall and lean man, slightly taken aback by the wizard's flamboyant purple tailcoat and white gauntlet-gloves. There was something different about this Ministry Official; he wasn't even trying to corner Ron like his peers. He seems more interested in the land… Odd.

"Cecil Lee," the wizard introduced himself; he had a thick, brown moustache that caught Ron's eye. "I run the Werewolf Capture Unit." Shit… "I'm going to need your security to cooperate with me, Mr. Weasley. I'd rather do this without anyone getting hurt."

Umbridge rolled her eyes, while Thicknesse shot Lee a pleasant smile.

"See?" Thicknesse looked back to Ron. "This doesn't have to be ugly-"

"You have barged onto my property, and now, you are threatening to undo our good work," Lord Fawley stated, his eyes moving towards Umbridge. "I assure you, this has already turned quite ugly."

Umbridge lost her fake smile immediately, her hands clenching into white-knuckled fists.

"Enough of this," Umbridge's voice shook with anger and disgust. "Your schemes are out in the open now, and I promise you both, the Ministry will be questioning you, and your associates, for any signs of treason-"

"Treason?!" Lord Fawley's voice boomed, while Ron just went dead silent. I'm going to be investigated for treason? Fuck, I really don't need this sort of attention right now. Wait… They know about my alliance as well?! What the fuck?!

"For all we know, you are planning to shelter these Werewolves in exchange for their services," Umbridge explained. "You have clearly hired mercenaries to defend this place, which only points to my theory being correct."

"We're trying to help these people," Ron was quickly reaching the end of his patience. "The Ministry doesn't even have to pay a Knut for this place, so why are you trying so hard to undo our work? Don't bother answering, I'll tell you why. It's because you lot need a scapegoat, right? I mean, after your colossal fuck-ups over the last few weeks, you just want to turn the public's attention away from yourselves."

"How preposterous!" Umbridge let out a particularly demeaning chuckle. "Pius, do you hear this boy?" You will regret coming here, you tart. We'll make damn sure of it.

"I do, Dolores," Thicknesse chuckled softly, while Lee shook his head at the pair. "The Ministry is here to protect the people of Wizarding Britain, young man. You are gathering hundreds of dangerous Werewolves in one location, which can only spell disaster for the surrounding Muggles and wizards."

"We have taken every precaution-" Lord Fawley started.

"We will see," Umbridge cut him off again. "After all, this 'farm', like other Magical Properties, is subject to investigation from the Ministry of Magic. We will turn this place upside-down in our thorough search, not one cranny will be left unchecked. Furthermore, we will also be alerting the public of the dangers this farm poses to them." Marietta is still writing her article… The Ministry is going to announce, and discredit, this place before it's even finished… I can't hope to publish faster than the Daily Prophet, they'll no doubt be reporting on this by the end of the day… I'm fucked…

Ron felt his head spin, how could this happen again? How had he reached the final stages of his plan, only to be blindsided by his enemies once more? Had he really learned nothing all year long? He felt his confidence tremble from the repeated abuse it had taken over the last year, why couldn't he do a single thing right? Maybe, I'm just not cut out for it… Maybe, the Cycles were always meant to fail, and I'm just wasting my time.

"There is, however, an alternative," Umbridge suddenly smiled.

"An alternative?" Lord Fawley quickly asked.

"Mr. Weasley has a certain folder in his possession, one that is filled with lies, and will, no doubt, ruin the life of an honourable member of our society," Umbridge's smile turned more vicious. "Does this folder ring any bells for you, boy?"

Ron felt his heart cease to beat, everything had suddenly become clear to him in a single moment. Millie told her parents everything, didn't she? She warned them about me, and they brought the Ministry in to defend them. Ron felt himself become very much like The Stone Gargoyle of Hogwarts, standing perfectly still and not even breathing. He honestly didn't know what to say, or how to react, to Millie's choice; all he knew was that his winning strategy had been ousted by one of his closest friends. She chose her parents over me…

Oddly enough, Ron didn't feel any rage or hurt… He just felt numb and alone.

"Mr. Weasley?" Umbridge giggled. "Are you there? I asked you a question."

"Ron, what is she talking about?" Lord Fawley asked with a furrowed brow. "What folder?"

"I don't know what she's on about…" Ron managed; his throat had closed up. Millie chose her parents in the end? Why? Was it just to spite me for hurting her feelings? Or, was it because of Family loyalty?

None of the people present believed his words, especially not Umbridge.

"Bring the folder to Lord Yaxley tonight, at The Pond," Umbridge instructed. Yaxley? Why is he involved in this? Wait… Did I lose to Corban Yaxley again…? "The Ministry will continue on with it's investigation, however, we will be more… lenient… if you do as you are told." You corrupt bastards…

"Lenient…?" Ron repeated. Mills, how could you do this? You just destroyed the only hope the Werewolves had at a normal life… I love my Family too, but I wouldn't ruin the lives of others just to put us ahead… How could you do something so cruel, Mills?

"We will not outright arrest the lawbreakers when they get here," Umbridge explained, her voice becoming high-and-mighty. "Instead, we will only ask that they register themselves-"

"Not one of them will stand for this," Lord Fawley bit out. "You are being anything but lenient!" They chose to live in the wilderness rather than sign the Werewolf Registration, and they'll do the exact same thing again. All of our work has been spoiled, hasn't it?

"It's either a signature, or, Azkaban," Umbridge giggled. "Pick one, my Lord." You fucking cocksuckers… Why are you doing this to them? They're just trying to survive in this shitty world, and you're making everything harder for them! What's wrong with all of you?!

Umbridge then turned to face Thicknesse.

"Bring your people here, Pius, the Minister has no doubt signed the warrant by now," Umbridge said, while Ron could only stand and watch as his plans went up in flames. "Be as thorough as possible, I want the names of everyone who helped build this place right under our noses."

"What about me, Ma'am?" Lee asked.

"There are no Werewolves here, but I want you to station your men right at the front gates," Umbridge replied. "Not one Werewolf will enter this… paradise… until the Ministry say so." No…

"You can't do this…" Ron heard himself say, and Umbridge let out another demeaning chuckle. "These people… They just want a place to call home, nothing more-"

"Then they shouldn't go around infecting others with their disease," Umbridge said dismissively, and Ron noticed Lee's gaze harden at Umbridge in disapproval. "Be at The Pond by seven, Mr. Weasley, and come alone. Be a good boy and do as your elders say. Hand over the documents, and you may still get to keep this place."

With that, Umbridge all but skipped towards the mess hall, a proud smile plastered on her delighted, chubby face. She looked so fucking happy with herself that Ron felt bile rise at the back of his throat, was she really enjoying ruining hundreds of lives this much? How does someone like her end up with so much power? What the fuck is wrong with us wizards? Why do we reward this type of behaviour?

One by one, the Ministry Officials dispersed, leaving only Ron and Lord Fawley standing out in the open. The lanky wizard immediately turned to face Ron; he looked rather pissed off.

"What did you do?" Lord Fawley asked, his tone anything but friendly. "What's this folder that she wants? Who did you go after, Ronald?"

"I found out that the Bulstrodes were selling Werewolf slaves to the Goblins," Ron admitted, watching Lord Fawley's mouth hang open. "I… I'm a friend of Millicent Bulstrode… I showed her everything…"

"What?" Lord Fawley blinked. "You had incriminating evidence against the Bulstrodes, and your first move was to tell their daughter about it? Why didn't you come to us?"

Ron flinched at Lord Fawley's tone; he had never felt more stupid in his entire life. I might be the dumbest cunt who ever walked this Earth…

"I… I um…" Ron found it hard to even think. "She's my friend… I just wanted to warn her of her parents' true nature… I didn't want her getting hurt because of them…"

"You damn fool…" Lord Fawley shook his head, looking visibly disappointed in Ron. "I can't believe that I need to teach Sebastian Greengrass' apprentice that he needs to cast aside sentiment whenever dealing with such a delicate matter." Lord Fawley then looked towards the shimmering lake, a lifeless chuckle escaping his mouth. "Thousands of Galleons wasted… All on the words of a naïve boy…"

Ron wanted to speak out on his defence, maybe even shut down Lord Fawley's attitude, but he couldn't even bring himself to start opening his mouth. This was his fault, period. He had told Millie everything, and deep down, he had genuinely believed that she would be moved into questioning her parents due to the severity of their crimes, instead, however, Millie had done the complete opposite.

She had wilfully ruined hundreds of lives instead of daring to question her parents.

"I must go warn the others," Lord Fawley suddenly said. "Whatever you have on the Bulstrodes, just hand it over. It won't be long before Lord Yaxley singles us all out, and we are in no position to fight back right now. We are all about to become victims of scandal, after all."

"Scandal…?" Ron was pulled out of his mind. Of course… I was just thinking that they would discredit this place…

"You heard that wretched beast, didn't you?" Lord Fawley frowned deeply. "She thinks that we're trying to undermine the Minister for Magic! Fudge is currently drowning in bad press, so he'll do everything in his power to shift the public's eye onto us!"

"I'll come with you-" Ron started.

"Ronald, I think it best that you go home," Lord Fawley cut him off, much to Ron's surprise. "We will create a strategy to save our reputations, and once we come up with a suitable option, we will let you know. For now, all you need to worry about is your meeting with Lord Yaxley. Give him whatever you have against the Bulstrodes." He's giving me orders?

Without hesitation, Lord Fawley marched off towards the mess hall, no doubt planning to call a meeting without Ron. One mistake, and he's sending me to my room without dinner? Is that it?

"Do you understand why your alliance is a problem, now?" Emilia's voice rang in his ears. "They might be willing to indulge you today, but when they don't need you, they'll get rid of you." Is that what they're really up to? Using me because I'm a famous, rising wizard?

Ron felt nausea creep up on him, making his head spin and his body sway. Not only twenty minutes ago, he had been having a good day. He was no longer feeling the urge to drink Calming Draughts, his new wand had come in, his alliance was gaining strength by the day, and he was about to take the Wizarding World by the bollocks.

But, now, he was on the verge of losing everything once again.

"What happened?" came Artyom's monotone voice, causing Ron's head to ache. Maybe, I deserve this… I mean, why else do these things keep happening to me? It's me. I'm the reason why I keep losing. I'm incapable of learning my lessons.

Ron let out a cold chuckle, suddenly striking himself over the head. Cunt! Artyom immediately cocked an eyebrow, looking surprised for a change. Ron belted himself again, and then again. Stupid fucking cunt!

"Stop," Artyom suddenly growled, grabbing Ron's fist just before it clashed against his skull.

Ron blinked at Artyom; his brain had been rattled by his punches. He was seeing black spots, and judging by the Russian wizard's tight grip, Ron was on the cusp of falling over.

It took him a full minute to recover, though his body refused to stop shaking.

"What happened?" Artyom repeated.

"I made a mistake…" Ron mumbled, feeling submerged in cold water. "I told my friend something I shouldn't have, and she… Um… She made her choice…" Why would she choose you, Ron? The only things that you're good for are perks and homework, that's why they all latched onto you early. It's their parents that they're truly loyal to. Their parents, and their inheritances… That's all they give a fuck about.

"I see," Artyom hesitantly let go of Ron. "Clearly, she was not good friend. You are better off without this traitor."

"Traitor…" Ron still couldn't associate that word with Millie, despite evidence to the contrary. "I hurt her feelings… Maybe, that's why she did this…"

"It looks as if she has returned favour," Artyom pointed out.

Ron nodded dumbly to himself, feeling the urge to just fall over and go to sleep. I'm ruined, aren't I? All those hours spent worrying over my plans, and it only took ten minutes for everything to fall apart. What the fuck am I going to do now? Do I just give up? No… No, the Werewolves are still coming. They gave up everything because I promised them something better. I need to act before it's too late!

"Artyom… I need you to take me back home," Ron said, pinching his eyes to stop any tears from escaping. "I need something to help me think."

---

Sirius Black's POV

Tuesday 16th February, 1994 (Fawley Manor – Afternoon)

Oscar had called an emergency meeting at his manor; his Elves had collected all the prominent members of their alliance.

Well, not quite all of them.

Sebastian and Ron were missing, and since Sirius knew that Sebastian was on a business trip today, Ron's absence was a lot more interesting. Oscar had explained what was going on, and from what Sirius had heard, Oscar had somewhat banished Ron from his own alliance. Sirius understood the gravity of the situation, and so, he also understood why Oscar would do such a thing. It was most likely out of anger, and the fact that Ron was only around fourteen years old. Oscar did what any adult would do to a child who's made a massive blunder, he sent Ron to his room to think on it. I'm not sure how I feel about that; I'm only here because the pup asked me to be here. If Oscar is trying anything underhanded, I'm packing my things and-

"Sirius, do you have suggestions?" Oscar asked, taking Sirius by surprise. Shit! What were they talking about? I zoned them out.

Sirius looked around the table, reading the room. For fuck's sake, I can't read any of them. They're all wearing masks of indifference. Mary, Augusta, Muriel, Enid, and Oscar; all of them were just waiting for him to say something. Think fast, Sirius.

"Before I give my thoughts, I'd like to ask a question," Sirius started. "Why is Ron not here?"

Everyone looked to Oscar, who adorned a slightly troubled expression.

"I… I spoke in anger and sent him away," Oscar admitted. "I will apologize to him when I see him next-"

Oscar's voice was drowned out by the sound of the entrance door being blasted open, eliciting yells and screams of panic from the living room's occupants. Sirius had his wand out within a heartbeat, his eyes quickly noticing that one of the doors had been ripped from its hinges.

Nearly a dozen Elves cracked into the room, ready to defend the Fawleys from whoever was brazen enough to attack them within their own manor.

"Get behind me!" Sirius moved into action, grabbing Mary by the arm and moving her behind him. "All of you! Get behind me, now!"

"How do you expect us to fight from behind you?" Muriel frowned at him like he was an idiot, she and Augusta already had their wands brandished. Oh… Mind if I hide behind you, then? No, don't say that, they'll tear you apart, Sirius. Focus!

Thick smoke suddenly began to seep inside the room from the entrance, and soon enough, Sirius couldn't even see the doors anymore. One of the Elves stepped forward to clear the smoke, but just as she was about to snap her fingers, a sea of ethereal serpents viciously burst out of the smoke. What the fuck?!

Mary let out a startled scream as the Elves failed to stop the ghostly serpents; the overwhelming number of serpents flanked even the ones who had put up shields in time. Sirius fired a Non-Verbal Reductor Curse at the serpents, blowing two of them apart. Shit, there's too many! I can't throw something stronger; I'll kill the fucking Elves!

With bloodcurdling screams, the Elves were yanked out of the room, all of them vanishing within the smoke. Sirius felt his heart climb into his throat when the screams suddenly died out, he didn't even realize that he was holding his breath. Hold on a second… I've seen that Spell, haven't I?

Footsteps, slow and methodical, came from behind the smoke, until finally, Sirius vaguely spotted two burning coals obscured by the smoke. They looked an awful lot like… eyes.

His stomach dropped, his hands began to tremble, and he clutched onto Mary's hand out of instinct. If it's really him, then we need to fucking run!

"Gods…" Mary whimpered from behind him. "Oh, Gods… Oh, no… Not again, please…"

Sirius' grip tightened on her hand, they were all just frozen from fear. Why is he here?!

The burning coals suddenly vanished, leaving behind nothing but black smoke. What the…? The sound of footsteps filled the room again, and Ron stepped out of the smoke with a twisted smile on his pale face.

"Hello," Ron greeted, jarring every single person in the room. Was I just seeing things? Maybe it was a Spell I saw? What is happening?!

"Adam?!" Lady Fawley suddenly screeched, and Sirius finally noticed that Ron was dragging the young wizard's limp form around by his collar. Merlin's fucking beard! Is that Oscar's eldest lad?!

"He tried to stop me from entering," Ron casually tossed the unconscious Fawley aside. "Don't worry, he's only stunned. As are your Elves." I should've figured as much, Ron's no murderer.

Sirius felt himself relax a little, but he still refused to lower his wand.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Oscar's voice boomed. "You would dare attack my-"

"You should hire some mercenaries," Ron cut in, 'smiling' at Oscar and Enid. "Or, at least, get more House-Elves. Any cunt could just walk in and murder your Family."

"Murder…?" Sirius muttered, his heart beating in his ears.

"Not me, Sirius," Ron said calmly, fixing his navy suit into place as he began walking towards Oscar. "Lord Fawley, you've hurt my feelings terribly."

"What…?" Enid muttered, looking to the others for help.

None of them said anything; they were too busy keeping their wands on Ron.

"I have never once spoken down to either of you," Ron reminded them. "I told you the truth about the Dark Lord, invited you into my alliance, protected your son out of the goodness of my heart, and I've always been respectful." Ron stopped in front of Oscar, his pale eyes fixed on Oscar's widened ones. "But you, Lord Fawley, were extremely dismissive of me today. Sure, I made a rather stupid mistake, and it's going to cause us all a headache, but to bar me from my own alliance? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You do that again, and I'll actually get angry. Trust me, you don't want that."

Ron then smiled again, patting Oscar on the arm.

"It's all right, though, I forgive you," Ron chuckled icily. "Sometimes, when I'm upset, I also end up crossing some lines. It's only natural, eh?"

"This is nothing natural about this…" Muriel sat back down, shooting Ron an annoyed glare. "Some of us can't take any more surprises of that sort, boy."

"Ah, fair enough," Ron turned on his heel. "Sorry about that, auntie. I was… emotionally distressed…" You look anything but emotionally distressed.

Sirius lowered his wand, shooting an equally baffled Mary a quick glance. I was about to drag her out of a window.

"Sorry," Sirius let go of her hand. "I probably crushed your hand…"

"I'm okay…" Mary whispered, still staring at Ron.

"Ronald, we all saw something… red… within the smoke," Augusta spoke her mind. "What was that?"

"Red?" Ron looked genuinely puzzled. "What did you see?"

"Two red orbs," Sirius spoke up, noticing that Ron's eyes were still blue. "Never mind… Must been something else…" Something doesn't feel right to me; my gut's still feeling tight. Padfoot is scared to death of Ron…

"Right," Ron moved on. "Well, I just wanted to speak my mind, and since I've done that, I'll be on my way."

"Wait, Ron," Mary said. "Explain yourself right now-"

Mild annoyance danced on Ron's face, causing Mary to fall silent because of what she had just witnessed.

"Kid… You okay there?" Sirius felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"I'm fine," Ron 'smiled'. "I'm going to go meet Yaxley tonight, and I'll hand over the documents. Let them think that they've won-"

"They have won, boy," Muriel grimaced, and Augusta nodded her agreement.

"They have?" Ron asked. "Are we dead? Have we been buried? No? Then, they haven't won a damn thing, have they?"

"That's a very inspiring thing to say, Ronald," Augusta started. "But those are just words, nothing more. You've done a lot of damage to us by trusting that little friend of yours, I hope you understand that."

Ron gave a nod, adorning a more respectful demeanour.

"I will take full responsibility for this, Lady Longbottom," Ron said. "And I promise you, this will not stop us from saving this country from Lords and Ladies like Robert and Anne Bulstrode." Ron then shot a quick look back at the Fawleys. "I will hand over everything I have on the Bulstrodes, which will buy us some time."

"Time for what?" Sirius asked, his eyes darting back towards the destroyed entrance. "Fucking hell, kid…" Am I sure that it was Emilia who found Ron? And not the other way around? The kid is a fucking lunatic, sometimes!

"Time for me to publish Marietta's work," Ron replied. "My man has already found her by now, and my advertisement firm will have the article and my instructions within the hour. The Daily Prophet will get the jump on us, unfortunately, but we can still save the situation by showing the public the truth."

"The masses are fickle," Muriel said thoughtfully. "And this idea certainly sounds more appealing than 'going on a vacation'." Wait? That was the plan they were discussing? They wanted to run and hide?

"You all planned to run away?" Ron asked, suddenly breaking down in laughter.

It was a cold and malicious laugh, and even though Sirius was a grown man, he felt rather hurt by how little Ron thought of them. The teenager's voice echoed within the living room, piercing everyone's ears and making them feel small.

"Well, now that I'm back, we won't be running away like a bunch of ponces," Ron began heading towards the exit, his head shaking in disbelief. "Going on a vacation… That has to be the stupidest thing I've heard in a while."

Just as he reached the now-visible door, he turned back around and eyed each of his allies.

"Most of you owe me a great deal, so just remember that the next time you decide to toss me out into the cold," Ron stated, his previous mirth gone. "Have a pleasant day."

And just like that, Ron disappeared from sight.

The Fawley quickly rushed over to their eldest son, turning the young wizard around and fretting over him.

"He's… not hurt…" Enid slowly realized, noticing that Adam was simply stunned.

"Thank the Gods…" Oscar sighed out, holding his son's face in his hands. Bloody hell… My heart won't stop pounding.

Sirius' legs carried him towards the entrance; he had been hoping to catch up with Ron, but instead, Sirius had found himself stilled by a most chilling sight. Unconscious Elves littered the hallway, their little bodies bruised and battered from the force of Ron's Curse. Perhaps I should rethink my plan to look into Ron and Emilia's partnership… Fuck me sideways, I can understand why Harry was suspicious of Ron, the kid's a fucking maniac!

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Tuesday 16th February, 1994 (The Pond – Late Evening)

Ronald stepped into the rented-out restaurant, and Corban's eyes quickly scanned him for any documents. Good, he brought the folder. Now, I can focus on making him submit to me. The tall teenager walked over with an indifferent gaze, not caring about the fact that the restaurant was empty, stopping right behind his allocated chair. He must've looked inside from the windows; he doesn't strike me as the careless sort.

"Lord Yaxley," Ronald greeted. "I've brought the folder."

"Please, take a seat, Ronald," Corban gestured, but the boy didn't move a muscle.

"I don't plan to stay," Ronald said, offering Corban the folder. We'll see about that, my young friend.

Corban took it calmly, opening it and perusing its content at a leisurely pace. Robert, you fool. Right when we were about to make our move, you throw this into my lap. Oh, well… Thanks to Millicent, we've at least managed to learn of Ronald's schemes.

"Is it all here?" Corban asked, looking back up. "And is this the only copy?"

"Yes," Ronald replied.

"And how am I to believe you?" Corban asked, standing up and offering Ronald his arm. "Take my hand, and give me a Magical Oath."

Ronald did as he was told, sneering a little in disgust as soon as their hands clasped around each other's wrists.

"Go on, cast the Spell," Ronald said impatiently. I'd rather get this over with as well.

Corban waved his wand, encircling their joined hands in a brilliant, but thin, flame. They both felt the searing heat of the Magic, indicating that the Spell had worked.

"Do you have any other copies of these documents?" Corban asked.

"No," Ronald replied.

"Are you lying to me right now?" Corban asked.

"No," Ronald replied.

"Have you given anyone else a copy of these documents?" Corban asked.

"No," Ronald replied.

"Will you use what you have learned from these documents to damage the Bulstrode Family's name?" Corban asked. "Will you ever act to make this information public?"

"No," Ronald replied, still keeping his composure. "Are we done?"

"Swear that you will uphold your words to me," Corban instructed. "Swear that you are telling me the truth. If you are lying, may you drop dead right here and now."

"I swear that I will uphold my words to you," Ronald promised, looking slightly annoyed. "I swear to you that I have not lied to you since we joined our hands."

"Very well," Corban let go of Ronald's hand, undoing the Magical Oath. Everything seems to be in order.

Corban sat back down and tucked the folder into his robes; glad that the Bulstrode name had been saved. I might not appreciate the timing, but it's good to know that I've done right by them.

"I'm a little surprised that you're willing to part with such leverage so quickly," Corban admitted. "You must truly want the best for those Werewolves."

"I handed over my leverage because this doesn't change anything," Ronald replied. What does that mean?

"I don't understand," Corban said.

"Everything in that folder, it's nothing," Ronald explained, something was off about his voice. "I stumbled onto it by mistake, I wasn't even trying to find any dirt on Bulstrode." Ronald then leaned forward. "Imagine when I actively start looking into all of you… I'll probably find all sorts of filth, won't I?"

"And what would we find, I wonder, if we look into you," Corban countered. "Perhaps we may even learn the truth behind Victor Burke's sudden disappearance?" Let's see how he reacts to that.

"Who's Victor Burke?" Ronald asked, his tone giving away nothing. "Oh, wait… Yes, I do know him. He was in seventh year when I was in my first, though he only ever spoke to me once or twice." Damn, was Gaspard mistaken? I mean; we didn't really have anything to go on-

Ronald suddenly swayed, his eyes dimming slightly. What was that? The younger wizards looked somewhat dazed, as if he were struggling to concentrate, but quickly enough, he had recovered like nothing had happened. Strange… He looked quite ill just then.

"Are you unwell?" Corban asked, while Ronald fixed his posture.

"Was it Millicent?" Ronald asked instead, ignoring Corban's question. So much for using her as a spy… "It was, wasn't it?"

"Don't blame her, you hardly left her any choice," Corban said, gesturing Ronald to sit down again.

"No… I gave her a choice," Ronald said, taking a step back. Is he leaving? "And she made the wrong one."

"I have a proposition for you," Corban started.

"Save it," Ronald turned to leave. "I have no interest in becoming your lackey-"

"What about Tracey Davis?" Corban asked, stopping Ronald. Hook, line, and sinker. That was a little too easy.

Suddenly, Ronald marched back over to the table, glaring murder at Corban.

"Don't ever say her name again," Ronald warned. "I'll rip your fucking tongue out of your head." So emotional… That's disappointing.

"I can help her," Corban said, gesturing Ronald to sit down again. The Dark Lord is all but bringing the Loyalists back to life; I've seen what he is capable off. He even created his own body with nothing but Magic and Potions. Conquering a coma would be nothing for him.

"You think I'm going to fall for that?" Ronald asked, taking a seat. Third time's the charm. He might be easier to manipulate than I thought.

"I swear it by my Blood, Ronald," Corban said, meaning every word. "I can help you bring her back. Do you not miss your friend? You two must've been close, given how much she sacrificed for you."

Ronald remained quiet, though Corban could see the thoughts raging behind his eyes. I have him. Just a little more, and I'll have another promising young wizard under my wing. The Dark Lord will surely reward me above all others-

"I do miss her…" Ronald suddenly spoke, something dangerous flashing behind his eyes. "But I would sooner choke the life out of her body with my own hands before I exchange friendly words with your ilk." What? What did he just say?!

Corban was visibly taken aback; he hadn't expected such a response in the slightest. Is he serious about this? Why? Why would a fourteen year old harbour such strong opinions about 'my ilk'?

"You're not as clever as you think you are, you fucking cunt," Ronald hissed, there was an all-consuming hatred behind each and every word. "I'll be seeing you soon, count on it."

Ronald then stood up, leaving without another word. Corban could do little but remain glued to his chair, still struggling to understand what had just happened. I need to speak to the Dark Lord about this… Ronald might become one of our biggest problems in the near future.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you all enjoyed it!

My midterms are approaching, so expect some delays on the next chapter. Sorry, but not sorry.

Check out the discord, it's on my profile. (Remove the spaces)

See you all soon.