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.

126. Chapter 126 - Dead Man Walking

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Chapter 126 is finally here! I'm back, people! Sorry for the long wait, but I've been busy with Mid-Terms, and then, other life stuff!

Now, there is some slash in here, and later, many disturbing scenes. Please, be warned, and skip accordingly if you must.

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.

---

'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds' - Robert Oppenheimer

---

Fate

Chapter 126 – Dead Man Walking

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 16th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – After Dinner)

Ron knocked on Mary's bedroom door, Theo's letter clutched tightly in his left hand.

"Come in," came Mary's voice, and Ron entered without wasting a second.

Mary was currently sitting in front of the vanity, a wooden comb working itself through her long, golden hair. Her dark blue eyes saw him approach from the reflection, and for a brief moment, Ron saw the comb waver in its task. I broke her concentration? I wasn't seeing things, then. I scared the life out of her today.

"Mary, can I speak with you?" Ron asked, stopping right behind her.

"Of course, my love," Mary replied, her eyes fixed on his reflection.

"I'm sorry for what happened at the Fawley's," Ron apologized, though his voice was emotionless thanks to the Calming Draught. "Scaring you wasn't my intention."

"You could've fooled me, Ron," Mary said, keeping her regal demeanour. It's really quite obvious that Daphne tries to mimic Mary's presence, but she's not quite there yet. Mary doesn't just act like a queen; she actually has Fairies that consider her their Hive Queen.

"Lord Fawley was dismissive of me," Ron stated matter-of-factly. "What would Lord Greengrass do in my shoes?"

Something flashed behind Mary's eyes, and slowly, she adorned a more understanding look. Ron had spent enough time around the Old Families to somewhat understand their thinking, he knew that if he allowed any one of them to disrespect him, then the others would be inspired to do the same. Looking weak is the same as being weak to these people, I can't give them an inch.

"My husband would not stand for such disrespect," Mary said, and Ron nodded his agreement. "The Fawleys aren't going anywhere, in case you were wondering."

"I know they're not," Ron said. "Aunt Muriel is my Family, Sirius owes me his life, Lady Longbottom is my Eternal Friend and she owes me for saving her grandson's life, and the Greengrass Family only joined this alliance because I asked them to. The Fawleys are the outsiders, and I don't believe that they've got the bollocks to handle this mess on their own."

"You're on the Calming Draught, aren't you?" Mary asked, not a hint of judgement in her voice.

"It's helping me stay in control," Ron admitted. "It's been a rather rough day." But I'm used to rough days, and if I've learned anything over the last few years, it's that tides change. Let Yaxley and Bulstrode enjoy their little victory tonight, I'll be the one pissing on their graves soon enough.

Mary gave him a sorry smile in the reflection.

"Millicent," Mary all but whispered. "Ron, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know what's it like to feel… betrayed… by one's friends. If you need anything, just know that you can always come to me." She knows what it's like?

Honestly, Ron didn't really know how to respond to Mary's words. Millicent's choice had gutted him, and yet, something felt different with this particular betrayal. Ron didn't feel angry and vengeful as he had originally anticipated; instead, he just felt… hollow. Same shit, different day. I don't even care anymore. It'll all be over eventually, so why should I let this hurt me? Just keep moving forward, old boy. Just keep at it, and one day, all of your efforts will pay off-

"Ron, are you listening?" Mary asked, concern marring her beauty.

"Theo sent me a letter," Ron broke out of his thoughts. "Here, read it."

Mary turned slightly, and Ron handed her the creased letter.

"Millicent told her parents everything, mate," Mary read aloud. "I'm sorry to admit that we couldn't stop her in time. What do you want to do about her? Regards, T."

Mary looked up from the letter, she finally understood why Ron had come to her room for the very first time. He was clearly in need of advice, and perhaps, maybe even some support. She's giving me another sorry look.

"If I push her away from the group, she'll become an easier target for the scum of Slytherin," Ron explained his dilemma. "If I lose my temper, which I might if I'm not on the Calming Draught, I know I'll cross a line that I can't uncross. I know I'll hurt her, in every way possible."

"Do you want to hurt her?" Mary asked, her tone unreadable. She's being completely neutral in this? I'm not used to that, I'm more used to being lectured by the people in my life.

"I don't know," Ron replied. "Truth be told, I don't even need to do anything. Once The Quibbler publishes Marietta's article, the Wizarding World will finally see what the Werewolves have endured in the darker parts of the world. She is a good-hearted girl; I know that for a fact. Once she's read Marietta's article, she'll realize the gravity of her decision. She'll realize that she hasn't hurt me as much as she's hurt the countless people that I'm trying to help. She's created her own personal hell, and she doesn't even know it yet."

"You really are quite deranged on that concoction," Mary noted. That was rude.

"I need your help, Mary," Ron came clean. "I don't want to keep drinking Calming Draughts, but if I don't come up with a strategy right now, then I'll be forced to take one every day going forward. If I don't, I'll end up doing something that I'll later regret."

"You're right, I shouldn't tease you given what's happened," Mary adorned a more motherly expression. "Come sit with me, love. We can figure this out together."

Ron gave a nod and stepped back, allowing Mary to move over to the bed. She patted the silk sheets on her right, inviting him over with a warm smile. I wonder if she's being kind because she's frightened of me. I should've bided my time, and gone in only after Mary was back at the manor.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Ron sat down to her right. "I figured that, since Lord Greengrass is away, you and I could spend some time together."

Once again, something flashed behind Mary's eyes.

"That sounds lovely," Mary's smile widened. "Actually, why don't we go down to the deck?" What?

"Mary, it's dark out," Ron reminded her.

"We have lamps that illuminate the entire deck," Mary chuckled. "Come, this will be fun." If that's what it takes to get her help, then so be it.

---

Twenty Minutes Later

"Mary, can you take this seriously?" Ron asked, not doing anything to stop her from playing around with his hair.

"You really do need a haircut, Ronald," Mary said, smiling down at him. "I will admit that this is another personal wish of mine, I've always wanted to give my children a haircut."

"Daphne's told me that you used to cut her hair," Ron quickly caught her. Hold on, I've seen this clingy behaviour before. "Oh, you've always wanted to give a haircut to a boy." The boy you never got to have… I can see why Daphne feels insecure about being Lord Greengrass' Heir now, Mary and Lord Greengrass clearly wanted sons, not daughters.

"It's an embarrassing thing to admit," Mary said, not sounding very embarrassed. "If it bothers you, I won't push the subject any further, but it would mean very much to me if you let me cut your hair." Well, she is helping me, so it's only fair that I return the favour. It's just hair, I can always regrow it with Magic

"Pandora and mum used to give me haircuts, before Pansy came along and completely took over my look," Ron said. "Go on, just don't scalp me."

"I'll try my best," Mary laughed.

The excitement in her voice soothed him for some reason, he didn't feel as empty as before due to how isolated they were. There was no one on this deck who would cause Ron further misery. Don't become sloppy. Keep your guard up, and only share the bare minimum with her. Trust is the death of vigilance. No one can be trusted, not anymore.

"Have you given my dilemma any thought?" Ron asked, staying still as Mary Conjured a sheet to cover his clothes.

"How do you feel about what happened, Ron?" Mary asked. "You haven't given me much to work with." She's not shy to pry, much like her daughter.

"I don't feel angry, if that's what you're worried about," Ron said. "I learned my lesson with Harry, losing myself in anger is not going to help me here. However, saying that, I can't trust her anymore." I can't trust any of them. Of all of my friends, she was the one that I believed was too good and kind to side with her parents, but I was dead wrong. We've never even argued before, not really, and yet, she didn't fucking hesitate to stab me in the back. No one can be trusted; I have to learn my lesson this time around. It's me against… everything!

"No, you cannot," Mary agreed, beginning her work. "You have very thick hair, Ron. I never really noticed until now." Focus, please.

"I am perfection, aren't I?" Ron said blandly. "So? What should I do with her? I can't trust her, and I'm not sure if I even want to see her again. Pushing her out of the group seems like the only available option, but I'll essentially be throwing her to the wolves if I cast her out." She'll be snatched away by the Dark Lord, which will not only get her killed, but it'll be disastrous for me as well. She knows far too much about me.

"Ron, perhaps this decision should be made with more… honesty?" Mary suggested. "Face down, please."

"Honesty?" Ron repeated, facing his own lap.

"You say that the Calming Draught is helping you stay in control," Mary started. "But potions don't exactly work like that, because if they did, everyone would be using them. Under the Calming Draught's influence, your decisions don't hold any weight. The moment you stop taking it, your decision will definitely change due to your repressed feelings." I can't make this decision without the Calming Draught; I'll fuck it up!

"Mary, I don't have time-" Ron began.

"You asked for my help, and this is what my help looks like," Mary cut in. "I know you want to stay numb, but that's no way to live. A wizard's emotions can often grant him the strength he needs to persevere; you must find a balance between your emotions and your reasoning, Ron."

"That is not my forte," Ron reminded her.

"To quote my husband," Mary said, clearing her throat. "Don't be sorry, be better."

"Lord Greengrass isn't exactly in touch with his emotions," Ron said. "You chose a poor example."

"You only say that because you don't know him like I do," Mary countered. "Turn your head a little to the side for me, Ron."

Ron did as he was told, noticing that Pansy was slightly more skilled at this than Mary, despite the gaps in their age and experience. I wonder if Pansy has trained even once since Hogsmeade. Probably not, most of them are too lazy to try without me egging them on.

"I think I know him well enough," Ron said. "We're very open with each other."

"Never think that you know enough about someone, my love," Mary schooled him. "People are a lot more complicated than they appear, and very often, their decisions make little sense to those who are not in the know. Not to be rub salt in an open wound, but did you not presume too much with Millicent? Why else would you reveal your trump card to her?"

Ron remained quiet, mulling Mary's words over with complete focus. My trump card? I was never going to use those documents, why would I? If I had made them public, Robert and Anne Bulstrode could have potentially become spooked enough to go into hiding. They're too wealthy to be destroyed by this; they're bloody Death-Eaters, and to this day, no one has punished them for it. The rules aren't the same for those bastards, it's why they always come out on top.

"I told her because I panicked," Ron admitted, not feeling embarrassed. "When I went to Slytherin, I didn't expect to become overwhelmed, but there were so many people around me, and I couldn't keep my eyes on everyone. I was very close to a panic attack when I told her, it just all came out of me at the worst time."

"Why?" Mary asked. "What pushed you over the edge?"

"She told me that she genuinely believed her parents' lies," Ron replied. "She told me that they were under the Imperius Curse, just as they had told the Wizengamot at the end of the Great War. I felt terrified in that moment, I didn't want her to fall into their trap, and so, I told her everything."

"You were just trying to be a good friend," Mary said comfortingly.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore," Ron said. "Daphne certainly doesn't think so, she's quite upset with me."

"Did you want to hurt Millicent when you told her?" Mary asked.

"Of course not," Ron replied. I knew it would hurt her, though, and I still did it.

"Then I will stand by my assessment," Mary said. "As for my daughter, witches feel the urge to always stick up for one another. This is especially true for young Ladies within Slytherin. Don't worry too much about Daphne, I'm certain that her feelings for you have changed given what's happened."

"I guess some good came out of this, then," Ron said mirthlessly. "Though, I'm sure that I'll ruin everything for myself down the line once again."

"Ron…" Mary didn't sound pleased.

"I was joking," Ron lied. "Are you really not going to help me with my problem?"

"You keep referring to Millicent as 'She', 'Her', and sometimes, 'my problem'," Mary pointed out. "Why aren't you using her name, Ron?"

Ron said nothing, momentarily feeling drained of all vigour and happiness. What am I going to do about her? She's made her choice, and I should just leave her to sleep in the bed she's made. But the Dark Lord; he will try to prey on the weak and the isolated, that's exactly what he did to the Slytherins in the last war. Professor Snape, Lord Greengrass, Regulus Black, and Merlin knows how many others, they all wound up trapped in the Dark Lord's madness because no one powerful enough offered them a hand. How can I justify my coup as a means to save the younger Slytherins, but then turn around and leave her behind? It's not like she won't suffer for her choice, I know she'll be tortured by this once she gains some perspective.

"I've come to a decision," Ron said suddenly. I will do my duty, that's all I have left now. I have to keep moving forward, I have to end the Cycles.

"You have?" Mary stopped cutting his hair. "I thought we were going to leave this until tomorrow."

"It won't change anything," Ron promised. "I can't undermine everything I've worked for, especially not after everything I've been through. She made her choice; she can live with the consequences." And if she still chooses her parents in the end, then she's fair game. I'll know that I tried to do right by her.

"What about you?" Mary asked, a hint of pride in her voice. "How will you feel being around her?"

"It doesn't matter how I'll feel," Ron shrugged. I don't matter, the mission matters. I'll just be handing the Dark Lord a fucking Death-Eater who knows too much about me, my friends, my Family, and even the Order; that's a risk that I can't take.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary asked, her brow furrowing. "Of course, your feelings matter, Ron. Are you not human?" Fuck if I know.

"Can we please finish up?" Ron asked in response. "It's cold out here." I'll send Helios back to Theo with my instructions. After that, I can focus on more important matters. There's still no word on Lord De Luca's whereabouts, I have to defend the Werewolf Sanctuary from Umbridge, and those Muggles are still in terrible danger from the Carrow Twins. If I can just keep pushing on, I'll be able to turn this whole thing around. I just need to buy time.

---

Tuesday 16th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Night)

Ron watched Helios fly off into the night, carrying with him Ron's instructions on how to deal with Millicent. The girls will move past her betrayal sooner than the lads, casting her out now will only hurt me down the line. I'll just have to man up and keep moving forward, whilst making sure to keep my plans to myself from now on. No one can be trusted; I'm surrounded by weak-willed scum.

"Master?" Marty tugged at Ron's sleeve. "What message does Helios carry?"

"I asked them not to shun her, but also to remain alert around her," Ron replied, and Marty visibly relaxed.

"Master is kind not to punish Lady Bulstrode," Marty smiled a little.

"Trust me, I won't need to," Ron said. "She's made her bed, and she will sleep in it. However, despite what she has done, I don't want to see her die in it." I'll tolerate her like I tolerated Malfoy, but nothing more-

A sudden knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Marty will hide," Marty ran over to the bed.

"It's fine, Marty, they all know you're here," Ron said, taking Marty by surprise. "Come in!"

The door swung open, and Artyom entered the room, lowing his head in order to not walk into the frame. Marty sized the large wizard with wide-eyes, while Artyom didn't even spare the Elf a glance.

"I took frightened bunny to twins," Artyom reported. Frightened bunny? Does he mean Marietta? Actually, that's quite accurate.

"Did the Brodeur Twins tell you how long it will take them to follow my instructions?" Ron asked. I want every wizard and witch in Europe to get a copy. I can easily afford it, and it'll buy me a lot more support.

"Two days," Artyom replied. "Printing will start tomorrow." The Daily Prophet will reveal the Werewolf Sanctuary first, after all. Since I no longer have the element of surprise thanks to my own stupidity, I'll just have to slug it out with the Daily Prophet until I can lead the Aurors to the Carrow Twins' party. If it's really as bad as Marty hinted at, then the Aurors will have no choice but to bring it to light, and something tells me that Madam Bones won't hesitate to do just that. I can ruin the credibility of the Old Families if I play my cards right, and if a lot of these cunts attend, I'll also cripple the Dark Lord's future endeavours.

"Artyom, I have another job for you," Ron started. "I need you to find an Elf for me, her name is Zolly and she frequents The Upper District every Wednesday. I want you to kidnap her, and then bring her to me without being seen. Can you do that?"

"My men brought several Invisibility Cloaks for tactical reasons, I will find this 'Zolly'," Artyom agreed immediately. I'm starting to like this bloke. I need to make sure that I can keep paying him.

"She has green eyes, and she works for the Carrow Twins," Ron said, looking towards Marty. "Marty, can you add anything?"

Marty looked between Ron and Artyom, no doubt trying to figure out their dynamic.

"Zolly is very loyal," Marty started slowly, carefully picking his words. "Zolly would sooner die than betray the Carrow Family." Fuck.

"Brilliant, Imperius Curse it is, then," Ron said, losing all reservations about implementing his strategy. "I really need you to succeed tomorrow, Artyom, otherwise, I'm fucked." It's my turn to take a swing, and Merlin help me, I'm going to knock the Dark Lord's teeth out.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (The Great Hall – Breakfast)

A Sanctuary for the Downtrodden?

Or, a Threat to the Wizarding World?!

Yes, my dear reader, it is once again time to discuss the rising Wonder-Boy himself!

Ronald Bilius Weasley!

Now, I know that many of you think that he's just some prodigy from a faraway school, but what if I told you that he's already made a name for himself as a naïve troublemaker within the Ministry? What if I told you that this boy, who has no experience in Politics, constantly attempts to meddle in Ministry affairs in order to further his name, even at the cost of nearly starting a war? What if I told you that Ronald Weasley, an unnoticed danger to our country's security, was actively putting all of your lives, and the lives of your children, in grave danger?

What would you say to that?

I already know; you, my reader, would ask for proof of my claims. You're no fool, and as such, you expect evidence for such outrageous claims!

Very well, then, allow me to educate you on what type of wizard Ronald Bilius Weasley truly is.

Ronald has caused a lot of headaches for the Minister and his staff over the last year. According to my insider, Ronald has not only nearly started a war between Magical France and Magical Britain due to his neglectful attitude in regards to his duties as the British Diplomat to the French, but now, he has taken it a step further and plans to cause further disruptions in our already-suffering community.

It was Ronald who brought the French to Magical Britain in order to help rekindle old alliances, a very touching story at the time, but after what I have learned, there seems to be something more sinister at play. My insider has informed me that the French Families, comprising mostly of Veela, who came to aid the reconstruction of St. Mungo's also had another goal in mind.

Insurrection!

According to my insider, the Veela quickly established 'friendships' with wizards in places of power, using their Dark Allures to seduce these men into obeying their every command. If not for the efforts of the Old Families, Ronald would have handed the Veela our Ministry of Magic on a silver platter.

Now, many will defend Ronald due to his age, but I myself am no longer convinced that this prodigy from a faraway school is simply the victim of inexperience. No, I would argue that Ronald is a reckless young wizard who hides dangerous ambitions behind his charming comments and adorable smiles.

Take his latest stunt, for example:

Ronald has brought together several entrepreneurs such as Lady Augusta Longbottom, Lord Sebastian Greengrass, Lady Muriel Prewett, Lord Oscar Fawley, and even the infamous Lord Sirius Black, for a very peculiar reason… Ronald wishes to create a 'Sanctuary' for the Werewolves of Magical Britain.

That's right, my loyal reader… Ronald Weasley is now gathering every Werewolf, one of the most dangerous Magical Creatures known to Wizarding Kind, in one central location, right in the heart of Kent, no less!

How he convinced these seasoned Lords and Ladies into aiding his scheme is beyond me, however, this particular question matters very little now. What truly matters is that Ronald has put the entire Wizarding Population of Kent, and the surrounding regions, in terrible danger.

And he has done this away from the public's attention.

Why?

I will tell you why.

Ronald is trying to challenge the Ministry itself!

He clearly has his eyes set on expanding his fame, and he will not be stopped by trivial obstacles such as your safety!

Every sensible witch and wizard in the room can tell you just how dangerous Werewolves are, they live to infect others with their Curse. Over a hundred reports of infection are brought into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures every year, and this number doesn't even account for Muggle infections. The Werewolf Registration Act, spearheaded by Madam Dolores Jane Umbridge, was enacted to not only keep Wizarding Kind safe, but also Muggle Kind as well.

Now, the Werewolf Registration Act didn't exactly work, we all know that, but let us remember that it was the Werewolves who refused to register themselves to the Ministry. They do not care about you, my dear reader, they only care about their animalistic urges.

They live to infect, maim, and kill!

Ronald Bilius Weasley has crossed a line, and although it pains me to say this, as I was an adamant groupie of his until recently; he must be investigated for his perilous, reckless, and downright criminal actions.

Let us not forget that this is the same young wizard who put himself in a coma because he was experimenting with the Dark Arts. His young age is the only reason why he wasn't investigated for conducting illegal experiments within Hogwarts, but given his latest actions, perhaps our Ministry was far too lenient with him.

No one is above Magical Law, not even the Wonder-Boy!

Yours truly,

Rita Skeeter

Daphne slowly lowered her copy of the Daily Prophet; she had completely lost her appetite. It had physically pained her to read Rita Skeeter's bile, and a small part of her wanted to invest some gold into causing Skeeter a lot of trouble.

"Are you finished?" Blaise asked. "Hand me the copy, please."

Daphne passed the newspaper over without question, she didn't want to read it again.

"Everyone is passing around copies, Daphne," Pansy whispered, she wasn't lying. "People are looking at us differently."

"They want to know if this is all true," Theo sighed out. "Fuck… Skeeter really didn't paint him in the best light, did she?" They've made him look like some attention-seeking brat, one who only cares about becoming more famous. Ron is nothing like that whatsoever!

"This is not going to end well for him," Daphne heard herself admit.

Her eyes darted towards Millie; she was sitting at the end of the table by herself. She had a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of her, and her meagre plate of food was untouched. You destroyed him, Millie… He'll never forgive you for this.

"What's going to happen to her?" Pansy suddenly nudged Daphne, getting her attention.

Before Daphne could answer, Theo cut in.

"I say that Ron gets to decide what we do about Millicent," Theo said. "He's the injured party-"

"He put her in an impossible situation," Pansy quickly countered. "What was she supposed to do?"

"Not this," Blaise piped in, still reading the article.

"Weasley isn't the forgiving sort," Malfoy added. "It's best that we stay away from her, otherwise, he might find a reason to take his anger out on us as well."

"You have no right to dictate who gets left behind in this group, Malfoy," Daphne said, staring Malfoy down. "I agree with Theo, Ron should get to decide how we move forward." I have to go see him; I already know how wretched he must be feeling. Loyalty means everything to him.

"I expect that he'll be dropping by soon," Theo said, scratching the back of his neck. "We better shape up, I reckon. I don't want to give him any reason to get angry with us as well." I don't know about the others, but I get the feeling that Ron won't be returning any time soon. This has definitely cut him deeply, and when Ron gets genuinely upset, he goes into hiding. If I don't go see him for myself, then I won't be seeing him at all. At least, not for a while.

"Daphne, what do you think?" Pansy asked.

"About what?" Daphne returned to the conversation.

"Is Ron going to be… rough… with Millie?" Pansy whispered, her expression turning anxious.

"He would never go as far as to physically attack her," Daphne replied immediately, her brow creased in annoyance. "Don't talk like that, Pansy, Ron isn't a savage. He would never hurt Millie. Despite his poor judgement lately, I know that he didn't intend to hurt Millie by telling her the truth about her parents. He's scared for her, just like we are. You, of all people, know how overprotective he is, don't you?"

"I was just asking…" Pansy muttered, exchanging a glance with Theo and Blaise. "She still fancies him…"

"Pansy…" Daphne growled, feeling vexed and embarrassed. Maybe I overdid it a bit… Whatever. I need to go ask Professor Snape about visiting my home. I wish father had decided to let me in on the Fidelius Charm, but since he didn't do that, this might take a while.

Daphne stood up, deciding to ask Snape before he entered a sourer mood due to the day's classes.

"Where are you going?" Pansy asked.

"I need to talk to Professor Snape about visiting Ron," Daphne replied.

"Why?" Theo asked. "Daphne, Ron is probably coming down today, after classes." No, he'll hide away in his room until he starts getting angry, which will then lead to disaster. We've seen this pattern far too many times.

Daphne shot another glance at Millie, noticing that Millie still hadn't stopped staring at her copy of the Daily Prophet. There was guilt written all over Millie's bloodless face, and her usually-alert eyes were now dull and unfocused. Tracey wouldn't turn her back on Millie, we all might've made the same choice in her shoes. The needs of one's Family must always be the priority; every single one of us was taught this lesson since before we could even understand concepts such as loyalty and duty.

"I don't think Ron will coming back any time soon," Daphne sighed out. "I'm going to go see him-"

"And where do you live, exactly?" Blaise asked, there was certainty behind his eyes. He's picked up on the Fidelius Charm. Not surprising, really.

"I'm going to go figure that out," Daphne said, already heading towards the staff table. Please, Professor Snape, be in a charitable mood.

Unfortunately, as she began to near the staff table, she spotted Professor Snape reading his own copy of the Daily Prophet, a slight sneer plastered on his gaunt, scarred face. Oh, no… This might not go so well for me. For Ron's sake, Daphne kept her stride, she couldn't let a few harsh words stop her from checking up on her best friend.

"Professor Snape, may I please talk to you?" Daphne asked as she stopped in front of the Potions Master.

Professor Snape lowered the newspaper, his dark eye locking onto Daphne. She immediately felt her heart beat a little faster, the accident had somehow made Professor Snape even more intimidating than before.

"You wish to go see Ron?" Professor Snape asked, his voice cold and barely more than a whisper. He's quick, which shouldn't really surprise me given that he's the Head of Slytherin.

"I just want to make sure that he's not doing anything to… hurt… himself," Daphne whispered, hoping that Professor Snape understood the gravity of the situation. "He's going through a lot, Professor, as you already know, and this is only going go to add more stress to his plate. Can I please have permission to go back to my home today?"

Professor Snape said nothing, his dark eye studying her very soul. Merlin, the fact that he only has one eye is so unnerving. Don't stare, Daphne, and for the love of Circe, don't say anything rude. Hold his gaze as an equal, and just keep perfectly still-

"I will try and get in touch with your parents," Professor Snape suddenly said. "Give me some time." Wait, does he know about the Fidelius Charm?

"Sir, I feel the need to point out that my home-" Daphne started.

"I already know, Miss. Greengrass," Professor Snape cut in, stopping Daphne short. "Return to your breakfast, I will find you the moment everything is arranged. Be ready." Wow, he's being very helpful… I didn't really expect that. He's being… too… helpful… Is it because Ron is involved? Also, I couldn't help but notice that Professor Snape didn't look too pleased with his copy of the Daily Prophet-

"Why are you still here?" Professor Snape asked, ripping her out of her thoughts. "Leave."

"Yes, Sir," Daphne gave a respectful nod. "Thank you for your help."

Professor Snape waved a dismissive hand, clearly done listening to her voice. Just hold on, Ron, we'll figure something out together.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (The Quibbler Headquarters – Midday)

Ron paced back and forth; a copy of the Daily Prophet crinkled in his ever-tightening grip.

Why didn't he drink the Calming Draught today? Why did he have to act like he was some stable, stoic tactician who was actually capable of turning this mess around?

Why was he such a fucking loser?! And why was he so fucking arrogant about it?! Sure, he had Slytherin under his heel, but that was hardly an accomplishment considering that his House was filled with spineless bootlickers. Ron had never once proven himself against an actual threat like the Death-Eaters, and any time he tried to move against them, he was left battered and bruised.

They were out of his league, and every time Ron reread the article that put his greatest failures in the limelight, he felt more uncertain of himself and his mission.

He was nothing more than a speck of dust trapped within the sandstorm that was the uncaring Universe, just as the Entity had always said.

How was he going to defeat the Dark Lord when he couldn't even keep the loyalty of his closest friends? He couldn't, and he was finally starting to realize it.

He was a fucking loser through and through, and once again, Lord Corban Yaxley had spanked him for stepping out of line.

"Oh, you fucking…" Ron grit out, his frantic eyes darting back down to the paper. A threat to the Wizarding World?! FUCK YOU! You bastards are the real threat to the Wizarding World! None of you care about anything except for wealth and status!

Why couldn't he just admit that he was weak and pathetic? Why couldn't he just live under the influence of the Calming Draught?

It always got results, didn't it?

It kept him sane, didn't it?

Ron steadied himself against the recently painted wall, his head felt like it was submerged under the icy waters of the Black Lake. He was drowning, that's what this really felt like. All of his mistakes, all of his losses, and his utter lack of any tangible results were killing him, filling his hollow chest with rage and self-loathing.

"Let us not forget that this is the same young wizard who put himselfin a coma because he was experimenting with the Dark Arts…" Ron reread Skeeter's lies, feeling his gut tighten painfully. "I didn't… I didn't do this… It was Dumbledore, he brought the fucking Stone into Hogwarts in order to bait the Dark Lord… You fucking liars!"

He hurled the paper across the room, sinking his trembling hands in his freshly-cut hair. I'm the victim here! I'm not some loon who turned himself into a carved-up turkey!

"You fucking cunts…" Ron let out a choked laugh. "You fucking lairs…"

The Werewolves were never going to register themselves; it would result in the Ministry hunting them down and punishing them for the crime of being infected against their wills.

"Why can't any of you see that?" Ron demanded, looking around the empty room. "They were just like you before they were infected, none of them want to live like this… Some of us never got a fucking choice! We just got thrown into a shit life, while the rest of you were born with platinum spoons up your fucking arses!"

Yelling helped a little, it let him get some of the poison out before it started to fester…

He knew himself well enough to know that Millicent was in danger from him, he couldn't even trust himself to keep his own word, which is why he had sent Helios away whilst the Calming Draught was still keeping him in control.

"How could you do this?" Ron whimpered, squatting down and pulling at his hair. "You fucking bitch, you just killed hundreds of people for your 'Family Honour'… What fucking honour?!"

And just like that, he was pacing again. Where is Artyom?! Why is he taking so long to find one pathetic, little Elf?! Useless, bearded cunt! I'll break his fucking hands when he gets here!

Ron stopped again, feeling his eyes tear up.

"Fuck…" Ron whimpered, rubbing his face harshly. "Relax… Just fucking relax… Artyom's been nothing but loyal and helpful…"

His eyes darted back towards the discarded Daily Prophet, and a mirthless laugh tore out of his throat.

"I though the same fucking thing about Millicent fucking Bulstrode," Ron reminded himself, once again realizing how fucking thick he was. "She was always going to stab me in the back, always… She's exactly like her cunt parents-"

"Who are you speaking to, Sir?" came a woman's voice, and Ron immediately turned around to see a dark-skinned witch with a flashy, green mohawk eyeballing him. Who the fuck is this?! How did she get into my building?! "Oh, name's London, Sir. Artyom sent me down to make sure that you were safe." Artyom? She's one of mine?

"Where is he?" Ron asked, not caring about his current state.

"We got the Elf, Sir," London started, walking further into the room. "Problem is, we don't know if she was alone. So, we're just trying to make sure that no one comes looking her, you get me?" They really got her? Good… This is good, I just have to build on this, and if I'm smart, I can hurt the Dark Lord like he's never been hurt before. He'll fucking bleed, and from then on, he'll know that he's not the only monster in the shadows. He'll know that not everyone fears him.

Ron studied the witch, noticing that nothing about her was… simple. Her hair was colourful and eye-catching, her robes were covered in ornaments and small trophies, and she had a long scar across her neck, as if someone had slit her throat but she had just walked it off. She looks powerful, but then again, they all do. I doubt they just stumbled into this life, most of them went looking for a fight and just never stopped. Kind of like me…

"Ah, the Daily Prophet," London suddenly said, leaning down and grabbing the newspaper. "Fucking diabolical, these politicians… They'll go to work on a kid just to save face, huh?"

Ron felt his head spin, she wasn't wrong in her assessment. They don't play by our rules, they're too wealthy and in control of everything to be hurt by ordinary means. It's why they act like they're untouchable, the Wizarding World has always protected them and rewarded them for their cruelty.

"They're all nothing…" Ron said, hatred lacing his voice. "Nothing."

London cocked an eyebrow, but she didn't dare ask the question on her mind. Was she working for another lunatic? They will all burn, everything they stand for will come crashing down upon them. Our will cannot be defied, not even by the wealthiest wizards on this planet.

"Go find Artyom, we are tired of waiting," Ron began pacing again, trying his best to keep a lid on his stress and weariness. You have to be stronger than this, Ron. If you're not, then these Cycles of death and misery will just continue. People will never stop dying, not until you change the fate of this world. It's all on you, you useless cunt, so get your act together right the fuck now!

"We?" London muttered under her breath, watching Ron's quickened pace with a wary look. "Right… I'll go grab him, Sir. Don't go anywhere."

---

Twenty Minutes Later

Ron eyeballed the unconscious Elf, Artyom had bound her and Silenced her for good measure. This was it; this was Ron's chance to infiltrate the Carrow Twins' infamous party. However, this victory couldn't be achieved without sacrifice. Zolly's sacrifice… I have to kill this Elf, because if I don't, then the Carrow Twins will kill all the Muggles they're holding for 'entertainment'.

"You look… sorry… for Elf," Artyom pointed out.

"Do I?" Ron asked, scolding himself for letting his emotions show. How can I not? I'm about to murder her in cold blood…

"You think she is helpless," Artyom said, sneering a little. "You are wrong. She is loyal soldier, and will kill you if you threaten her Masters. Do not be fooled so easily. It is pathetic." Well, fuck you too, cunt.

"You think she was ever given a choice to be who she is now?" Ron asked. "Because I guarantee you, she was bred for the sole purpose of being a slave to the Carrow Family's whims."

"I have met Elves that chose rebellion over slavery," Artyom said. "She did not. She chose to serve, and now, she has to die. Simple." Simple, my freckled arse!

"Nothing in this world is simple," Ron looked back to Zolly. "I thought it was, but I was quickly schooled otherwise by the Universe itself." Even the Gods enjoy fucking me over, that's how unlucky I am.

London and Artyom exchanged looks.

"So… What do you plan to do with this Elf, Sir?" London asked. Why's she still here? Is she trying to spy on me?!

"Artyom, send her away," Ron said, not sparing London another glance. "She doesn't need to be here for this."

"Go back to farm," Artyom ordered London, and she quickly gave a nod before Apparating away.

"Wow, she didn't waste a bloody second," Ron said, looking Artyom over. I suppose he runs a tight ship.

"If she had, I would have broken her jaw," Artyom stated. Okay, then… That seems like a completely reasonable response… "Now, what of Elf? Torture?" Wow… He's so fucking nonchalant about it, like he's doing the goddamn dishes instead of maiming a living creature.

Ron drew in a deep breath, hiding his trembling hands away in his pockets. Just give the order, Ron. Artyom's not wrong, Zolly will never betray her Masters for you. She'd sooner kill you.

"No torture," Ron started by shutting down the idea of torturing Zolly. "If we make her talk about her Masters, she'll drop dead immediately."

Artyom narrowed his eyes on the Elf, frowning slightly.

"She is under Magical Oath," Artyom realized. "Clever."

"And terribly inconvenient for us," Ron added. "We need to put her under the Imperius Curse, give her some orders, and then send her on her way. Hopefully, she won't break through the Imperius Curse and fuck my plans over, but given my record, that'll probably happen."

"I will cast Curse," Artyom offered. "I am stronger wizard."

"Why do you think you're here in the first place?" Ron asked. "You will Imperius her, and I'll give her the instructions she needs to follow."

Artyom gave a nod before walking over to Zolly's tiny form, sitting her up with a little more force than was needed.

"Easy, you dumb cunt," Ron hissed. "You damage her, and her fucking Masters will be onto me."

"Sorry," Artyom gave an understanding nod, and then he tapped his wand on her forehead.

Zolly immediately stirred, her head swaying for side-to-side as her massive eyes slowly blinked open. She let out a timid whimper, feeling sore from the stunner she had taken in the back.

"Where is Zolly…?" the Elf whined, slowly looking up at Ron.

"Hello, Zolly," Ron kneeled down, meeting her gaze as an equal. "Are you hurt?"

Zolly just stared at him, her eyes widening as she realized to whom she was speaking with.

"Blood-Traitor!" Zolly hissed, her face twisting in disgust and anger. Everyone just loves proving me wrong, eh?

"Fair enough," Ron rolled his eyes, ignoring her struggles to break free.

"Be careful, she has killed many in her service," Artyom said, while Ron kept his eyes on Zolly. Given that she was around during the Great War, I don't doubt it.

The look on her face alone was enough to prove Artyom's words, even Marty had mentioned that Zolly was the most loyal House-Elf the Carrows had under their service.

"Where is Zolly?!" Zolly demanded, trying to Apparate away. "Why can Zolly not use Magic?!"

"That would be due to the wards that my man put up before we woke you," Ron stood back up to his full height, staring down at Zolly. "It's over, Zolly, your life is finished."

The Elf's eyes widened even more, the disgust and anger she was feeling seemed to evaporate the moment she realized the truth behind Ron's words.

"Zolly will never betray the Masters-" Zolly started.

"Imperio," Artyom whispered, aiming his wand right underneath Zolly's nose.

A pale, yellow mist poured out the tip of Artyom's wand, invading Zolly's beaklike nose as if it were alive. Zolly twitched in her binds, her bright green eyes slowly becoming milky. She was clearly trying to fight back against the Curse; her little face was pinched from concentration and pain.

"Do not resist," Artyom growled, backhanding the Elf out of nowhere.

"Oi," Ron frowned. "There's no need for that-"

"Quiet," Artyom said, keeping his eyes on Zolly. "See? She has given in."

Ron looked back to the Elf, who was now sitting upright with a dumb smile on her face. Ron felt horribly disgusted at the sight, he had taken her freedom from her just as the Elders had taken his freedom from him.

Mostly, however, he simply felt disgusted with himself for resorting to such tactics. Once I've ended the Cycles, I'll make damn sure to give myself a long and painful death. I won't escape my sins, just like the Death-Eaters won't escape theirs. We'll all burn in Hell together.

"Obey his commands," Artyom told Zolly, who nodded along with an ever-widening smile. "All of them."

Artyom then looked to Ron, gesturing him to get a move on.

"Zolly, on the night of the upcoming party hosted by the Carrow Twins, you will seal all the windows of the house shut and come here before the celebrations start," Ron ordered. "That is all."

Artyom gave him a quizzical look, but Ron ignored the large wizard in favour of concentrating on Zolly. He walked over to her, and being as gentle as he could, he undid her bindings. Without saying a word, Ron began to heal her rope burns, eventually making his way to her face and healing the cut on her cheek. Once she looked as good as new, Ron gave her a sorry smile and patted her head. Forgive me, but there is no other way. You made your choice, and now, I've made mine.

"Zolly, do you know what you must do?" Ron asked. "When will you drop by again?"

"Friday," Zolly hummed, giving Ron a heartfelt smile. "Zolly will come before the celebrations, promise." Friday? Only two days left? Fuck me, I'm cutting it really close here.

"I understand," Ron gave a nod. "Now, go on. Go back to shopping."

Zolly nodded before hopping onto her feet, ready to make her way towards the exit.

"Wait…" Ron stopped her, putting his gloved hand on her thin shoulder. "Artyom, her eyes are still white… What the fuck?"

"Fulgor," Artyom chanted, tapping Zolly on the forehead with his wand.

She let out a childish giggle, rubbing her forehead as her milky-white eyes returned to their green splendour. What in the fuck was that Spell? Fulgor? Never heard of it.

"Go, Elf," Artyom ordered. "Do not disobey your orders."

Zolly nodded fervently once again, waving at Ron with a carefree smile before walking off like nothing had happened. All Ron could do was watch the Elf leave, his heart clenching from shame and guilt. Imperio… Gods, I can see why it's an Unforgivable.

"What did you do to her eyes?" Ron asked Artyom once Zolly was gone.

"Untraceable Glamour Charm," Artyom replied. "Not very difficult to learn." I should learn it, it might come in handy someday…

"You mind teaching it to me?" Ron asked, feeling hollowed out. I don't deserve to live… I've become just as terrible as my enemies.

"You are client," Artyom replied. "Your will, my hands."

---

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (Travers Manor – Late Afternoon)

Emilia stepped into the living room, and Ron quickly rose up from the sofa to greet her.

"Hello, Emilia," Ron said, waiting for her to walk over to him.

She did so without delay, her eyes quickly darting towards Artyom for a moment.

"I read the Daily Prophet," Emilia said, gesturing Ron to sit back down.

"So, you already know that I'm drowning in piss," Ron sat down, while Emilia took the sofa to his right. "Oh, this is Artyom, by the way… He doesn't like to talk."

"Given his profession, I'd say that that's a good thing," Emilia said, keeping her eyes fixed on Ron. She's as quick as usual, but then again, I did tell her that I was getting myself some mercenaries.

"Do you mind giving us some privacy?" Ron asked Artyom.

"I will be outside," Artyom said, his eyes darting towards Emilia's sword.

"I will not harm him," Emilia promised.

"For your sake, I hope not," Artyom said warningly before leaving the room.

"Sorry about him," Ron apologized after Artyom was gone. "He's a bit intense, but it's for my safety."

"Ron, what happened?" Emilia asked, not really offended by Artyom's threat. "The Daily Prophet has always praised you until now."

"They'll praise the Dark Lord's arsehole if it gets them more readers," Ron shrugged, while Emilia grimaced at the imagery. "Fuck them, I don't have time to deal with their tripe right now. You and I need to get ready; the Carrow Twins are hosting a party at one of their hidden villas-"

"You were right about some of the Death-Eaters wanting to celebrate," Emilia noted, nodding to herself. "Very clever, Ron." Me? Clever? What? You wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.

"I got lucky," Ron said. "I made a guess, and it-"

"No, not 'lucky'," Emilia immediately cut in. "Do not sell yourself short, my friend. You have a mind for this sort of business, I have seen it for myself. You outmanoeuvred the Order and found Violet Parkinson, didn't you? Not to mention that you are somehow manipulating the Order without ever revealing yourself. That takes skill, not luck." It takes lies upon lies, not skill. She's painting me as something that I'm not.

"Are you flirting with me?" Ron asked, hoping to change the topic.

"No, but I have seen far too many talented wizards throw away their gifts due to insecurities," Emilia replied bluntly, not amused by his joke. "A warrior must know his strengths and weaknesses, and he mustn't let himself become distracted by such childish thoughts."

"Did you come up with that yourself?" Ron asked.

"No, it was beaten into me by my Sensei," Emilia replied. Her what?

"What's a Sensei?" Ron asked out of curiosity.

"A teacher," Emilia replied. "Tell me more of this party."

"Well, where do I even start?" Ron sighed out. "It's some sort of Death-Eater gathering hosted by the Carrow Twins, they even have Muggles stored away in their dungeons for 'entertainment'. Deranged fucks…"

Emilia became very still at the mention of that, her dark eyes becoming glazed over. Um… Hello? Did she just fall asleep?

"I know what this is," Emilia suddenly said, and Ron waited for her to go on. "The Carrow Twins want to gift their Master with the loyalties of their own friends. This is exactly how the Dark Lord's cause gained traction before the Great War, behind closed doors and within great banquets. They'll all get together and discuss the future of the Wizarding World, or rather, begin dividing up the Wizarding World amongst themselves. This isn't a party, Ron, this is a declaration of war."

"Shame that we'll be crashing this declaration of war," Ron said coldly, the mere mention of Death-Eaters was enough for his rage to take hold. "Do you have what I asked of you? The Sleeping Agent?"

"I do," Emilia replied. "A mixture of liquified sloth brain and powdered root of asphodel. One whiff, and it'll knock out a grown man. I tested it myself."

"On who?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

"Some of my men," Emilia replied casually. Right, that definitely fits. She's bloody mental.

"Remind me to never work for you," Ron stated blandly. "Anyway, I'm keen to see it work on our enemies. I already have an agent on the inside, and she will Apparate us right to this party. We set up the poison-dispersing artifact, and we fill the house with the sleeping gas. Once our enemies fall asleep, we'll collect them all and execute them."

"You work fast," Emilia smirked.

"We need to be ready by Friday," Ron said. "Only you and me, Emilia, no one else."

"What?" Emilia lost her smirk. "We need back-up, Ron-"

"I can't afford to show my face to your men," Ron said. "I can't trust them." I can't trust anyone, not even you.

"Then wear that mask of yours," Emilia said. "I will not walk myself into a slaughter just because you have trust issues."

"Then, just give me the device," Ron said, feeling slightly irked.

"That's not how this works," Emilia stood her ground. "Ron, don't become brash, it will lead to your death." Fuck that mask, I'll be using Fulgor to disguise myself from now on. I just need Artyom to help me learn it first.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Late Evening)

"Thank you, Sir," Daphne said gratefully as soon as they entered the greeting room. Finally, I can remember growing up in my childhood home again. The Fidelius Charm is an unnerving Spell, that's for certain.

"I didn't know you were so inclined to help your students, Snape," Lord Black smirked at Professor Snape, he had helped them reach Greengrass Manor.

Professor Snape gave Lord Black a cold glare, sneering at the man as if he were less than dirt.

"Your help is appreciated," Professor Snape started icily. "Now, go back to being the most useless member of our society, after all, your only use has come to an end." Woah…

Daphne went dead silent, while Lord Black just stared at Professor Snape in utter disbelief. That was really harsh, even by my standards. He meant every single word; I could feel it.

"You know, most people would just say 'thank you'," Lord Black suddenly frowned. "Fucking prick…"

"Convict," Professor Snape said dismissively, looking towards Daphne. "Why are you still standing there like some slack-jawed idiot? Go! I don't have all day to waste on your errands!"

"Yes, Sir," Daphne gave a firm nod, leaving the two wizards behind before Professor Snape truly got annoyed with her. I don't care what anyone says, he's definitely as terrifying as the Dark Lord.

Daphne found herself all but running through her home, remembering fond memories around every corner. She had never really realized until now just how happy her childhood was, she had always felt like a queen within this manor. All she had to ever do was speak, and all of her wishes were immediately granted by her parents and Elves. Maybe Millie chose what was familiar to her instead of choosing an uncertain path? What would I have done in her shoes?

She shook her head clear; she could never choose between her Family and her friends, because as far as she was concerned, they were the same thing. The last two years have been the best of my life, despite where we are now. I never thought that I'd have friends who I would do anything for, never. Not until Ron came along and changed everything for the better. He's even inspired Theo to put others before himself occasionally, which I personally thought was impossible.

"I'm know it's difficult to believe me, Molly, but they're going to be all right," Daphne heard her mother's voice as she neared the exit that led onto the marble veranda overlooking the gardens. Did mother just say 'Molly'? Mrs. Weasley is here?

Without thinking, Daphne lingered by the slightly ajar door, listening in on her mother's conversation with Mrs. Weasley. I know this is wrong, but given Ron's situation with his parents, I might learn something that he could find useful.

"I know… I'm just terrified for them," Molly said, her voice was barely audible. Terrified for who?

"They're stronger than we give them credit for," Mary said. "And they have us, don't they?" Are they talking about me and my friends?

"But the Dark Lord…" Molly said, causing Daphne to become very still. The Dark Lord?! "How long before he makes his move on Slytherin, Mary? We know that he's going to do it eventually, and because of that, I lie awake at night worrying about those poor children… Ron, Theodore, Daphne, Draco… All of them. They don't understand what's coming, what's about to happen to Hogwarts. Do you remember what it was like before the Great War started? How cold and divided the school felt?" I… had no idea that Mrs. Weasley was so worried about us… I'm touched.

"Of course, I do," Mary replied. "But it will be different this time."

"What makes you say that?" Molly asked desperately. "Please, tell me."

"Ron's in Slytherin," Mary replied, and Daphne's breath hitched. "He'll protect the others; you know he will." What about Millie? Will he still want to protect her after what she did?

"How is he?" Molly quickly asked, her voice even more desperate than before. "Is he eating enough? Does he get enough rest? Has… Has he said anything about me? Or, Arthur?"

"I won't lie to you, he's struggling," Mary started, causing Daphne to feel heartbroken. After what Millie's done, he's probably going insane from hurt and stress. I have to see him! "He barely talks, he flinches whenever I try to touch him, he's becoming increasingly depressed, and sometimes…" Mary trailed off.

"Sometimes?" Molly asked with bated breath, while Daphne leaned against the door. Sometimes what, mother? Keep going, please.

"Sometimes… He scares me terribly…" Mary said, she sounded ashamed to admit that. "I saw him Duelling against that dummy of his on Monday… He tore it apart like some wild beast, Molly… I was watching him from the window in my room, and I've never seen something like it. His fingers ripped through the wood as if it were made of paper, and to this moment, I can't figure out how he did it. I can't stop thinking about the hateful look on his face… Gods, I felt like my body couldn't move. I was scared that he would see me, which might sound foolish to you, but in that moment, I didn't want him to notice me whatsoever."

Daphne swallowed thickly; she had seen what Ron was capable of when he was enraged. It's no wonder that there's an unspoken rule in Slytherin now; don't piss off Ronald Weasley-

"What are you doing?" someone whispered from behind Daphne.

Daphne shot into the air, letting out a startled scream before turning around to face the person who had caught her snooping. Ron immediately took a step back, looking rather spooked himself because of Daphne's strong reaction. Before Daphne could recover, the door swung open, smacking her on the back of the head. Ow! Why does this door open inwards?! Who designed it?!

"Oh, shit," Ron fretted, pulling Daphne towards his side. "Are you okay, Daph? Did that hurt? Let me have a look."

"Daphne? Ron?" Mary came through the door first, followed quickly by Molly.

"Mum?" Ron was visibly surprised to see his mother.

"Ron?" Molly blinked, and then she looked to Daphne. "Oh, dear! Are you all right?!" No… My head hurts…

"I'm okay…" Daphne rubbed the back of her head, feeling the urge to pout miserably.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, rubbing her arm with his spare hand.

"Why are you carrying around a bouquet of tulips, Ron?" Daphne heard herself ask; she had just noticed the bouquet in his gloved hand.

For some childish reason, Daphne felt her heart beat a little faster. Relax, Daphne, how could they be for you? He didn't even know that you were coming-

"I think the better question is how you got here, Daphne," Mary said, shooting a curious glance at the flowers nonetheless.

"Professor Snape took me to Lord Black, who then brought us here," Daphne explained. "I think they're still in the greeting room-"

"They are," Ron sighed out. "They were having a go at each other when I came in."

"You didn't speak to them?" Molly asked.

"They looked busy," Ron shrugged, and then he gave Mary a somewhat bashful look. Why is he looking at my mother like that?

"Is something wrong, Ron?" Mary asked.

"Um… Actually, these are for you," Ron said a little awkwardly, pushing the bouquet in front of Mary. What?! Why are you giving my mother flowers?!

Daphne felt her blood boil, and she nearly swatted the flowers out of Ron's hand. She had to force herself not to look jealous, she knew that she had no right, nor reason, to be upset about this, but it still hurt to know that Ron would never buy her flowers again.

"You got these for me?" Mary asked, a small smile gracing her face. Really, mother…?

"I still feel guilty about yesterday," Ron said, his ears turning red. No! Your ears are supposed to turn red for me! Not my mother! "I saw a vendor selling them in Diagon Alley, they reminded me of you… You know, because you love gardening and so forth… Please, accept them."

Mary gave Ron a motherly smile, taking the bouquet and smelling the fresh flowers.

"These are beautiful, Ron," Mary's smile widened, but when she went to pat Ron's cheek, he immediately dodged her hand. Wow… Mother wasn't lying…

There was an awkward silence between the four of them, one that was interrupted by a thick, bone-rattling voice.

"Your room is secure," a large man approached them, his steel-tipped boots making no sound whatsoever.

"Gods…" Molly muttered with an awed expression, while Daphne shrunk closer into Ron's side. Who is this? Why is he in my house? And why is he so large?

"This is Artyom," Ron introduced. "He's my bodyguard, and he was just making sure that no one was hiding under my bed, because apparently, that's a normal thing in Artyom's world."

Artyom gave Ron a bored look, while Daphne looked between them with growing confusion. Seems like this Artyom is already being tested by Ron's never-ending dry wit.

"Bodyguard?" Daphne whispered.

"I hired some mercenaries," Ron explained, jarring both Daphne and Molly. "For the Werewolf Sanctuary, that is. They'll act as the protectors and peace-keepers of the Werewolves."

"Ron, will there even be a Sanctuary?" Molly asked slowly, clearly stepping on eggshells.

"I take it that you've all read the article…" Ron's eyes became dim, and whatever semblance of peace he had on his face all but vanished.

He looked a decade older, and only now did Daphne realize that he was paler than a ghost with dark bags under his eyes. When was the last time he slept? Merlin, Daphne, don't hug him to pieces! No matter how much you want to!

"Molly wished to check up on you," Mary said, subtly gesturing Molly to speak up. I should back away, give Ron and his mother some space.

Daphne took a step back, letting Molly take her spot next to Ron.

"How have you been, Ron?" Molly asked hesitantly.

"I'm not going to bite your head off, mum," Ron sighed out, looking into Molly's eyes. "I'm too… tired… I don't want to fight with anyone…"

Molly's features softened immediately, but she stopped herself from reaching out to touch him.

"Why don't you come have tea with us outside?" Mary offered, shooting Daphne a familiar look. She wants me to convince him?

"I think I'd like some tea," Daphne said, shooting Ron a weak smile. "Maybe we could walk around the gardens too?"

Ron looked towards Daphne; she could see the reluctance behind his eyes. Knowing him, he wants to drown himself in his work in order to keep distracting himself. Well, that's not happening today. I know what happens when Ron stews for too long, he becomes lonely and depressed.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Professor Snape had left her in her mother's care, ordering Daphne to return to Hogwarts before dinner. Oddly enough, Daphne was certain that Professor Snape's tone and demeanour had softened around Ron, the Potions Master had even asked Ron if he needed anything to help him sleep. Ron, being who he was, had told the Professor that he was 'fine', but even a toddler could tell that Ron was breaking apart at the seams.

Once Professor Snape had left for Hogwarts, Lord Black had promptly followed as he had 'plans of his own' for the night. This had left Daphne, Ron, Mary, and Molly to enjoy a tea party, surrounded by her father's new mercenaries who were roaming the grounds with dark expressions.

The tea party itself hadn't exactly been successful… Ron had spent the majority of his time stuffing himself full of crumpets and tea, he hadn't eaten a thing all day long. This, of course, had left the witches to socialize amongst each other, which wasn't exactly fun for Daphne as Molly and Mary had very different tastes in conversation from the thirteen-year-old witch.

"Daphne, do you want to go for that walk now?" Ron suddenly asked, finishing his tea. Gods, yes! If I have to hear about knitting for another second, I'll jam knitting needles into my own brain!

"That'd be lovely, Ron," Daphne smiled, feeling very pleased when Ron offered her a weak smile in return. He's got some colour back from the tea and crumpets, but he still needs to sleep.

"Don't go too far, the sun is going down," Mary said, though her focus was still on Molly. "Now, how do I go about doing a rib stitch, Molly? I was thinking of making something for my husband once he returns from his trip."

"Oh, that's one of my favourites!" Molly started. Please, no more!

Daphne got out of her seat, and alongside Ron, she made her way towards the steps leading into the gardens. She could still hear the older witches in the background, but by the time they were following the path towards the ever-changing maze, a comfortable silence had enveloped the pair. I guess I should start, then.

"How are you?" Daphne asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Tired," Ron replied, moving his hands into his pockets. "How are you? How's everything in Slytherin? Flint giving you any trouble?"

"No, Professor Snape is keeping his eyes… eye… on Flint's lot," Daphne replied. "Some of the older students are still unhappy about being pushed around by a third year, but they're all talk at this point. You won fair and square, no one can refute that."

"And it's not too much responsibility on you, is it?" Ron asked, giving her a genuinely concerned look. "It's just that… I figured you'd love it, but lately, I've been making one poor decision after another…" Merlin, he even sounds as tired as he looks.

Daphne slowly moved closer to his side, praying that he wouldn't flinch away from her.

He didn't.

"I do love it," Daphne admitted, and Ron relaxed a little. "I guess you know me pretty well, Ron."

"Finally, I did something right," Ron chuckled, but there was no joy in his voice.

"You're being too hard on yourself again-" Daphne tried.

"They're going to destroy the Werewolf Sanctuary," Ron said suddenly, jarring her a little.

"What?" Daphne blinked.

"The Ministry, they're sending people over to 'investigate' the property," Ron clarified, his head hanging low. "They're trying to paint me as some… traitor… They're going to use me as a distraction, it's Fudge's only hope of avoiding his own mistakes."

"I'm sorry…" Daphne didn't know what else to say.

"Not your fault," Ron shrugged resignedly. Does he mean to say its Millie's fault?

"Then, who's fault is it?" Daphne asked slowly, dreading his response.

"Mine…" Ron muttered, somehow looking even more wretched.

Daphne stopped walking, her widening eyes fixed on Ron. The redhead stopped once he noticed that Daphne wasn't at his side anymore, turning around to face her with a confused expression. Does he not know that Millie played a big part in all of this?

"Millie told her parents…" Daphne said, not knowing where she was going with this. "You know that, don't you?"

"I got Theo's letter," Ron looked back down at his feet.

"And?" Daphne whispered, taking a step closer to him.

"And what?" Ron asked, kicking a pebble off of the path.

"Aren't you… angry?" Daphne asked. "Hurt? Shocked?"

Ron let out another weary chuckle, shaking his head. Really? Why? This… This doesn't make any sense…

"I don't know anymore…" Ron said, finally looking back up. "When I read the article today, I lost it… I thought about some truly horrendous things, things I wanted to do to her for betraying me…"

Daphne's gut tightened; she couldn't let Ron hurt Millie. He'll immediately regret it, and it'll be the end of any chance of us moving forward from this.

"But, in the end, I can only really blame myself…" Ron added, turning back around and continuing on the path. Is this really Ronald Weasley? Where's the rage? Where's the vulgar language? Where are the death threats?!

Daphne quickly followed after him, opting to listen to him instead of talking. Unfortunately, Ron had returned to being silent, which meant that Daphne had to get him to open up. If we were still together, this would be so much easier. Daphne felt a strong pang of regret, but she didn't let it show. Ron was a lot more perceptive than most people realized, so Daphne was certain that he'd pick up on her conflicted feelings.

"I don't really understand what you mean by that, Ron," Daphne said. "Can you tell me a little more? Why can you only blame yourself?"

"Am I just an unlikable person?" Ron suddenly stopped, looking to Daphne for an answer. "Is that why…?" he trailed off. Is that why Millie made the choice she made? Is that what he was trying to say?

"No, Ron," Daphne spoke from her heart. "You can be rough, even harsh sometimes, but you are also kind, protective, and nurturing. I've seen it with my own eyes, we all have. It's why we love you so much."

Ron said nothing, looking back ahead with a thoughtful expression. They kept their steady pace, and before long, the entrance of the ever-changing maze was looming over them.

"Want to go inside?" Daphne asked, trying to lighten the mood. "We can even race, if you like."

"Why aren't you at Hogwarts?" Ron asked her, ignoring her offer.

"I wanted to check up on you," Daphne replied. "I wanted to make sure that you weren't isolating yourself."

"You don't have to do that, Daph," Ron shot her a sorry smile. "Not anymore…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daphne asked, feeling rather irked by his statement. "We're still friends, Ron, and I doubt anyone else understands your habits like I do. Just because we broke up doesn't mean that I'm just going to walk away from my responsibilities, that's not how I was raised. I came all the way here just to see you, so don't tell me that I 'don't have to do that anymore'. If I don't, then, who will?"

Ron averted his gaze, looking a bit ashamed of himself for being dismissive of her concern for him. Daphne… What's wrong with you? Don't speak to him like that, not right now. He needs comfort, not a scolding. Daphne awkwardly took a step closer to Ron, taking his left hand in her right, but before she could try to make him feel better, he ripped his hand out of hers, stunning Daphne into silence.

"Sorry…" Daphne eventually muttered, feeling terribly embarrassed and hurt by his visceral reaction. He's never jerked away from me like that…

"No, I'm sorry," Ron groaned, rubbing his face harshly. "You… You startled me, that's all…" Oh.

Ron then offered her his hand, giving her a pleading look. Daphne pushed past her own hurt, taking Ron's hand and giving it a squeeze. His hands are always calloused, I love how they feel so much rougher than mine.

"Please, just tell me how you're feeling, Ron," Daphne said. "Don't make me guess, I honestly can't tell because I've never seen such a reaction from you. I expected…" she trailed off.

"A tantrum?" Ron provided. Not quite a tantrum, but rather, something more akin to murderous rage.

"Something of the sort," Daphne gave his hand another squeeze. "Well?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with his gloved hand, while his left hand played around with her fingers.

"Did Helios reach you before you came here?" Ron suddenly asked, and Daphne shook her head. "Right… I sent some instructions with him for you and Theo."

"What instructions?" Daphne asked.

"I want you lot to keep her around," Ron said, causing Daphne's eyes to widen from disbelief.

"Really…?" Daphne managed; she couldn't believe her ears.

"The last time we split up, we lost Tracey," Ron started, causing Daphne's heart to clench painfully. "It's not a game anymore, Daphne. The world is going to shit all around us, and if we throw her out, she'll have no choice but to return to her parents' side."

Daphne suddenly realized what her mother had meant by Ron protecting Slytherin House, and quite honestly, it took everything in her power not to snog him right away. He's not going to toss her out! He's still going to try and protect her! Pansy will be so overjoyed to hear this!

"We obviously can't trust her," Ron went on. "However, we can't abandon her either, it would only hurt us down the line. She knows too much about us, Daph, she knows too much about me. I can't go up against the Old Families if she is on their side, she's got too much information about my personal life."

"You really mean this?" Daphne had to asked, tightening her hold on his hand. "You won't punish her? You won't throw her out into the cold once you return?"

"My duty is more important than my feelings, I've come to peace with that," Ron said before drawing in a deep breath. Duty? Does he mean protecting Slytherin from the Dark Lord's influence? "I promised myself that I'd protect my House-mates; I have to live up to my own words… Otherwise, I'm no different from the bastards I can't stand. Do you understand?"

"I do," Daphne smiled, her eyes stinging a little. "Thank you, Ron."

"Just don't let your guard down around her," Ron said. "Promise me that much, Daph. Don't share anything important with her, not until I decide otherwise."

"I promise, Ron," Daphne pulled his hand up and kissed his knuckles. Wait… Oh, no…

Ron's cheeks flushed a little, while Daphne continued to struggle with what she had just done. I just kissed my ex's hand! As if we were still dating!

"Sorry," Daphne let go of his hand. "I… Old habits… Sorry…"

"It's okay," Ron cleared his throat, both of his hands moving into his pockets. "Um… Let's go back, eh?"

"Sure…" Daphne mumbled, averting her gaze. I'm so stupid! This is so awkward!

Ron led the way, his ears as red as Daphne's face. Say something, Daphne… Tell him that you're starting to regret breaking up. Tell him that you miss him-

"How is she acting, by the way?" Ron suddenly asked, catching Daphne off-guard.

"Millie?" Daphne asked, and Ron nodded. "She left before anyone asked her to leave. I think she regrets her decision, but at the same time, she's trying to convince herself that she made the right call."

"Did she?" Ron asked, his pale eyes searching hers.

"That's not up to me to decide, Ron," Daphne replied. "All I can decide is who I'm loyal to, and you already know that I'll always stand by you, even when I disagree with you." I would choose you above everyone, even my own parents, I think.

"Oh… I would do the same for you," Ron said nervously, causing Daphne's heart to flutter. "You know that, right?"

"I do," she managed to smile.

"Good," Ron gave a nod, looking back ahead. "Make sure that she returns to the group, and then keep your eyes on her."

"What if she refuses?" Daphne asked.

"Don't give her a choice, then," Ron replied. "Tell her that she either comes back, or, I'll be dropping by on the weekend."

"I understand," Daphne nodded along. "You won't actually hurt her, though, will you?"

"That depends entirely on her," Ron said. "If she behaves, I'll tolerate her presence. If she gives me another reason to doubt her… Well, after that, not even her parents' absurd wealth will keep her safe from me."

Daphne stopped walking, something icy had settled into her stomach because of Ron's certain tone. I thought he wasn't angry with her…

"Ron-" Daphne started.

"It's time to grow up, Daph," Ron turned to face her. "You want our other friends ending up like Tracey? Is that it? Because if she goes and tells her Family about us, we'll all be in terrible danger." Daphne flinched at his tone, but Ron's features didn't soften. "She is a liability, and I'm keeping her close so she doesn't fuck me over down the line. I'm keeping my word, but if she hurts me like this again, then I'll…" Ron trailed off, disgust marring his features. "Then, I'll destroy her just as I plan to destroy her cunt parents."

With that, Ron turned around and walked away, leaving Daphne behind to gape at his back. He's not angry with her… He's just done with her. How could I forget that Ron doesn't forgive people? He either hurts them worse than they've hurt him, or, he simply washes his hands of them. He's only sheltering Millie to keep his word, nothing more.

---

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (Slytherin Common Room – Before Dinner)

The moment Daphne stepped into the common room, Theo and Blaise cornered her.

"Finally!" Theo exclaimed, pulling her aside. "What took you so long, Daphne?"

"I was with Ron," Daphne replied. "He's-"

"Did he say anything about Lord De Luca?" Blaise cut in. "Has Ron found him yet?" Wow…

"He's got his own problems right now, Blaise," Daphne said, frowning at the dark-skinned wizard. "When he finds something on Lord De Luca, he'll get in touch with you."

Blaise clicked his tongue, turning around and storming off. He can be really selfish, sometimes.

"He's just worried about his old man, Daphne," Theo said, though he too was frowning at Blaise's back. He spent a handful of days with the man, whereas Ron is meant to be his 'best mate'.

"He's taking Ron for granted," Daphne corrected Theo. "If he wants to find Lord De Luca so badly, then why isn't he putting his own trust account to good use? I'll tell you why, he'd rather let Ron tangle with his mother instead of facing her himself."

"I can't really argue that," Theo shrugged, deciding to move on. "Well? How is he? Is he pissed? If so, how pissed is he?"

"Helios hasn't arrived yet?" Daphne asked.

"No," Theo replied. "Did Ron send instructions with Helios?"

"He did, but, since I'm already here, I can just tell you what he wants," Daphne started. "He wants Millie to stay with the group-"

"Pardon?" Theo blinked, just as surprised as she was.

"It's not out forgiveness…" Daphne sighed out. "He made a promise to himself that he'd protect his friends from the Dark Lord's influence, which is the only reason why he hasn't already shown up here in order to…" she trailed off.

"Right…" Theo nodded slowly, looking slightly troubled.

"What is it?" Daphne asked.

"This is not a smart move," Theo said thoughtfully, tapping his chin as his brain went into overdrive. "What could we possibly gain from keeping Millicent around? He's all but inviting a potential spy to follow us around all day-"

"This is still Millie we're talking about, Theo," Daphne cut in. "A potential spy? Have you really cast her out so easily?"

"She made her choice, Daphne," Theo said. Oh, really?

"I remember you and Blaise turning your backs on Ron as well," Daphne reminded Theo, who quickly went silent. "And you did it for the same reasons as Millie; you chose your parents and trust accounts over him. Should he have thrown you away as well?"

"It's still not a smart move," Theo said defensively.

"Ron's reasoning is sound," Daphne countered, and Theo cocked an eyebrow. "He thinks that if we cast her out, she'll have no choice but to return to her parents' side. Considering how much she knows about us all, I think Ron's right about this. At least, this way, we might one day move past all of this. Isn't that worth a shot?"

Theo rubbed his chin, nodding slowly.

"Well, if that's what Ron wants, I'll follow his lead," Theo said. "What are best mates for, huh?"

"Thank you, Theo," Daphne felt a little surer of herself. "I'll need your help on this, of course. We all need to keep our eyes on Millie, make sure that she's not supplying more information about Ron to her parents. I can watch her when we're in our room together, but it's impossible for me to keep track of her at all times."

"That's where I come in, I suppose," Theo said. "All right, let's go talk to her right now. Get this business sorted before people start asking too many questions."

"People were asking questions?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, a lot of the other Slytherins have already picked up on Millicent's absence from the group," Theo started. "Your little sister asked after her, as did some of the second years. Oh, and Ron's brother, Percy, came down earlier, he was hoping that I knew why the Ministry would go after Ron in such a vicious manner."

"And what did you tell him?" Daphne asked.

"I gave him my honest theory, and even though he didn't seem to like it, he ended up agreeing with me in the end," Theo replied. "The Minister is in the spotlight right now, and not for the right reasons. He needs a scandal to distract the Wizarding World, and Ron's love for the Werewolves is a prime example of a good scandal. People are already gossiping, Daphne, some are even calling Ron a 'power-hungry psychopath'."

Daphne clenched her jaw; those pricks had no idea about who Ron truly was. He just wants to help those poor souls; he didn't even want any recognition for it. Same as the Squib Orphanage. Ron cares, unlike most of the pricks calling him a psychopath.

"Let's just go find Millie, Pansy and I will do something about these rumours tomorrow," Daphne said, making her way towards the girls' dorms.

"Pansy will be glad to hear of Ron's decision, she's been eating my ears off all day about this," Theo said, walking side-by-side with Daphne.

"You know how much she loves Millie, don't you?" Daphne asked.

"She didn't used to," Theo said.

"Yes, we were all very different growing up," Daphne nodded, feeling a little ashamed of how rude and snobbish she used to be. I even treated Tracey as my lesser, and I never once stood up for her when Malfoy cornered her.

"But, then, Hurricane Ronald blew into our lives," Theo smirked, nudging Daphne.

"Yes," Daphne shot Theo a quick smile. "I can actually stand you, now, Theo. Can you believe that?"

"Oh, please," Theo scoffed. "You've always had a thing for me, and I know it."

"Oh, really?" Daphne couldn't help but laugh.

"Really," Theo sniggered. "Can't say I blame you, of course, I am the finest specimen of our kind." You haven't seen Ron without a shirt.

"You can say that when you have abs like Ron," Daphne smirked back at him.

"They're starting to show, actually," Theo said, and Daphne cocked an eyebrow at him.

"As if," Daphne snorted, there was no one around in the corridor to hear her.

"I can show you," Theo stopped, pulling up his shirt and revealing his abdomen.

Daphne's eyes instinctively looked towards Theo's abdomen, and much to her surprise, Theo wasn't lying whatsoever. She could see a very clear outline of his abs on his pale, spotless skin, and although he only had four, Daphne still found herself staring at him with a mixture of awe and excitement. Those look really attractive, actually. Wow… He's not as skinny as he looks.

"I might not exercise for hours on end every day," Theo's smirk became smugger than ever. "But I've been running and training with Ron for quite a while now."

Daphne reached forward to touch them, but Theo quickly brought his shirt down. Aw…

"Sorry, touching will cost you," Theo grinned.

"Cost me what?" Daphne asked, looking back up at his face.

"I get to grope you as well," Theo suggested, and Daphne rolled her eyes. And there's the Theo that I love and hate in equal measure.

"That's never going to happen, Theo," Daphne started walking again, drawing in a deep breath to regain her composure. I still prefer Ron's abs; they look way more… taut.

"Never is such a strong word," Theo followed after her, his trademark smirk back in place.

"You know what else is strong?" Daphne asked, stopping in front of her room. "Ron's fists."

"Noted," Theo lost his smirk.

"Glad we're on the same page," Daphne shot him a wink, unlocking the door. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

"After you," Theo gestured, following her inside.

"Daphne?" Pansy called, she was reading a copy of Witch Weekly on her bed. "You're back!"

Pansy all but shot out of her bed, cornering Theo and Daphne with a manic glint in her eyes.

"What did Ron say?" Pansy asked quickly.

Daphne looked towards Millie, who was doing her homework on her study desk, and unsurprisingly, Millie's body shrunk at the mere mention of Ron's name. She's scared, that's for certain.

"Well?" Pansy pressed. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Relax, Pans," Theo said, shooting a quick look at Millie's back. "Millicent, come here for a second."

Millie didn't respond, obviously trying to ignore everyone else in the room.

"Millie," Daphne walked past Pansy, stopping by the larger girl's side.

Daphne's breath got lodged in her throat as soon as she saw Millie's face, she was crying and whimpering like a scared infant. Oh… Mills…

"Millie, Ron wants you to stay with us," Daphne said gently, putting her hand on top of Millie's.

"Really?!" Pansy exclaimed, while Millie was shocked into silence. "He really said that?!

"He… What?" Millie croaked, looking up at Daphne with a trembling bottom lip. "He's… He's not angry with me?" I can't tell her the truth, she'll be devastated. Plus, we can't keep our eyes on her if she's onto us.

"He's hurt, really hurt," Daphne started, feeling dreadful when Millie's face twisted from guilt. "However, he asked me to make sure that you don't leave the group."

"Why…?" Millie coughed out, hiding her face behind her hands and letting out a gut-wrenching sob. "I ruined everything… They're calling him a traitor… And it's all my fault!"

"Oh, no, Millie," Pansy couldn't stop herself, running up and wrapping her arms around Millie's torso from behind. "You did what we were all raised to do, you protected your Family. Ron understands that, he knows that he put you in an impossible situation-"

"Pansy," Daphne cut in, catching Pansy's attention. "Don't." Don't just let her off the hook completely, she still gutted Ron and his reputation.

"Don't what?" Pansy frowned. "Comfort my friend?"

"Ron's your friend as well," Theo broke his silence.

"I know that!" Pansy let go of Millie, turning around to face Theo with teary eyes. "I just don't want us to fight! Please, we're supposed to be the best of friends! Tracey would be heartbroken if she could see us right now!"

Daphne drew in a sharp breath; she couldn't even hear Tracey's name without feeling the urge to visit St. Mungo's. Pansy's not wrong, Tracey would lose it if she were here.

"I can't come back…" Millie sniffled, eliciting a panicked look from Pansy. "I'm sorry, Pansy, but after what I've done, I can't show my face to Ron ever again… He's always been there for me, and not once has he put me down, or, made me feel… ugly and stupid… Never… And… And I know that he wasn't trying to hurt me… He just wanted me to be safe…"

"You have to come back," Daphne said, doing her best to keep her voice even. Be strong, Daphne, be a leader until Ron comes back. "You don't get a choice in this, Millie."

"What…?" Millie hiccupped, confusion overtaking her hysteria for a moment.

"You have to come back, because if you don't, then Ron will come down here and drag you back," Daphne said, ignoring the pit in her stomach as fear flashed across Millie's face. "Whether you like it or not, the Dark Lord will come for the Slytherins, just like he did in the past. I know you, Millie, you don't want to be in the same room as You-Know-Who, none of us want that. Not even Malfoy. As much as I hate to say this, you have to decide where you stand." Ron's approach was wrong, clearly done because he was close to having a panic attack, however, what he told her was the truth. He gave her the facts, something that her parents have never done.

Daphne then took a step back, looking towards Theo for support. I just need a second to get my composure back, I hate speaking to her like this.

"What's done is done," Theo started, his voice completely without sympathy. "Your absence will cause the rest of us problems, and so, you have to come back. We need to look united, now more than ever. You don't have to say a word to us, nor do you have to face Ron. Just don't run off after causing everyone such a headache."

"You're a piece of shit, Theo!" Pansy snapped, glaring murder at him.

"Undoubtedly," Theo said calmly. "Nevertheless, everything I've just said is true. I mean, look around us, Pansy. We're only in third year, and yet, we're running Slytherin itself! Did you ever think that was possible when we first got here? I didn't, I thought that I'd be at the bottom of the food-chain until fifth year, like most of the Slytherins-"

"There are more important things than being-" Pansy started.

"No, you don't get to act like you don't enjoy the power and freedom Ron has handed you," Theo cut her off. "I might be a piece of shit, but I know when to be grateful to someone. Even when Blaise and I walked away in first year, we made sure not to cause Ron any trouble. Millicent, on the other hand, has destroyed his reputation, and if I'm right about the Minister for Magic, then Ron's problems have only just begun. They're investigating him for treason, for fuck's sake! You want to talk about an impossible situation? Then, let's talk about how Ron's wand could be snapped in half if he's found guilty. They can't put him in Azkaban because he is not of age, however, they can take away his right to use Magic."

The room went dead silent, even Millie stopped her repressed sobs. They wouldn't do that, would they? This is just a stunt for good press, right? Daphne drew in a deep breath; she knew that she was being hopelessly naïve. The Minister for Magic didn't care about Ron, he only really cared about his Office. Remember what father taught you, Daphne; those who reach the furthest heights often get there by stepping on the throats of those around them.

"You're coming back to the group, there will be no debate in the matter," Theo turned around to leave. "Or, I'll let Ron know that you're causing us all further problems, and personally, I don't think he'll be as lenient a second time around."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – After Dinner)

Ron hadn't expected to run into his mother today, nor had he expected her to behave warmly towards him. Maybe it was the fact that the Ministry was trying to roll his name through the mud, or, maybe she just genuinely missed him, but either way, Ron couldn't bring himself to care all that much.

He was fucking exhausted, and now that the Calming Draught wasn't forcing him to think rationally, Ron was struggling to keep his anger from taking over. He wanted to hurt someone, he wanted to hurt Millicent and her heartless parents for daring to get in his way. Save your rage for your true enemies, Ron. Save it until you have them cornered, and then, tear them all apart.

"Ron, before I go…" Molly stopped just before walking through the floo, turning around to face him with a pleading look. "When are you going to come home, love? Charlie sent an owl; he and Kirsten are planning to move to Magical Britain on the weekend. Your brother wants to see you." They're leaving Romania behind? Is it so they can work more closely with the Order?

"They are?" Ron asked, and Molly gave a nod. "Will you be putting up the Fidelius Charm once they're at The Burrow?" It's well past time that The Burrow was secured.

"Your father wants to put it up as soon as possible," Molly replied. Good, he finally does something useful. "We were hoping that you'd be home for it…"

"And why would I want to come back?" Ron asked plainly, causing Molly to blink in confusion. "You think I've forgotten why I left? Is that it?" Nothing is forgiven, go back to loving the children that you and dad actually wanted… "Go home, mum, I don't have it in me to keep repeating these pointless arguments. I am done with them." You don't need any of them, Ron, they're all just scumming off of you. The moment it suits them, they either betray you, or, they start treating you like you're their enemy. You're completely alone in this world, and you can only trust yourself.

Ron turned around and walked away, his mind already focused on the coming conflicts. I have to prepare myself for the Carrow Twins' party, that place is going to be crawling with Death-Eaters. The Dark Lord has no idea what's coming for him. No idea at all!

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Wednesday 17th February, 1994 (Riddle Manor – Late Night)

Lord Voldemort's blazing red eyes were fixed solely on Corban, while his long, slender finger crushed the paper in his hands.

"You were to protect Robert's reputation, Corban," the Dark Lord suddenly hissed, causing Corban, Felix, and Robert to sit up straighter. "Not butcher Ronald's. Explain this at once, while you still have a tongue."

"My Lord, our hands are not behind this," Corban began. "I swear it."

"We have spoken with the Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe, and even he wasn't aware that the Daily Prophet would be publishing this article, my Lord," Felix added. "This was done on the Minister's orders, Rita Skeeter visited his office yesterday, and according to his secretary, they had a very lengthy meeting. We believe that the Minister is trying to divert the spotlight towards a more controversial subject in order to distract the public."

The Dark Lord locked eyes with Felix, entering the boy's mind without hesitation. Felix was telling the truth; he had spent the entire day investigating the article's origin. As the Dark Lord dug deeper, he came upon a memory that Felix was trying to hide behind a rather impressive shield. A dark secret? You cannot hide the truth from Lord Voldemort, child. Nothing escapes me!

---

Without much effort, the Dark Lord broke through the shield and found himself standing within a poorly lit apartment. Is this where he lives? How… disgustingly Muggle.

"Victor, I think you should leave your uncle's shop," came Felix's voice.

The Dark Lord turned to face the couch, finding two young men entangled upon it. Neither were wearing any clothes, and Felix, the smaller of the two, had his face nuzzled into his lover's neck. The Dark Lord sneered at the sight, mostly because he had expected something of more significance. Instead, it's just a memory of that missing boy.

"I can't do that, Felix," Victor whispered, absentmindedly playing with Felix's hair. "You know I can't."

"Why not?" Felix pulled his face back, locking eyes with Victor.

"We've already had this conversation-" Victor started.

"I don't want you working down there," Felix said firmly. "Knockturn Alley might as well be a sewer, working there is beneath you, Vic!"

"Here we go…" Victor drawled, pushing Felix off of his chest and sitting up.

"Come work with me," Felix also sat up, taking Victor's hand.

"For you, you mean," Victor said, bitterness lacing his voice.

"We'll be partners!" Felix promised.

"We both know that's not going to happen," Victor said, looking towards the dying embers within the fireplace. "You're a Rosier, while I'm just a Burke-"

"You're a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, just like I am," Felix tried.

"No, I'm not," Victor said, his jaw clenching. "I don't have wealth and power like you do, so how could we ever be equal partners? No matter what I do, I'll always be beneath you-"

"I don't believe that," Felix said, turning Victor's head. "You know I don't, Vic."

"The rest of the world believes it," Victor said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You've seen how your fellow Lords treat me, haven't you? They think of me as nothing more than just another criminal-"

Felix leaned forward and captured Victor's lips, stopping his lover with a passionate kiss. Victor tried to pull back, but Felix pushed himself forward and pinned Victor down on the couch. Soon enough, Victor was returning the kiss with equal passion, his hands kneading Felix's pale rear. Eventually, Felix broke the kiss, leaving both wizards panting for air.

"Vic, I want us to be together," Felix murmured, brushing his lips against Victor's.

Victor's face flushed, and he continued to stare into Felix's eyes with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"We are together…" Victor suddenly whispered.

"Not like this, I want us to be out in the open," Felix whispered, his eyes heavy with lust. "Just like you've always wanted, I'm ready now."

"What?" Victor blinked. "But I thought-"

"I love you, only you," Felix said, trying to sound strong. "I'm done with this charade; you were always right. I am who I am, and if I can't accept that, then, who will?

"What about the other Lords?" Victor asked. "You know they will cast you aside the moment we-"

"If they do cast me out, we can just move to my manor within the States," Felix said. "The Pure Families there aren't living in the past like everyone here, we can start a new life." He planned to leave Magical Britain? I wonder if Corban knows about this.

The Dark Lord smiled a lipless smile, he could use this to control the Rosier Heir. Perhaps this wasn't such a waste of Lord Voldemort's time, after all.

"Vic?" Felix whispered, nervousness dancing on his face. "What do you think?"

Victor continued to stare at Felix, who, as the silence persisted, began to visibly lose his resolve.

"One more deal…" Victor suddenly muttered.

"Pardon?" Felix blinked.

"I'm working on an important deal right now," Victor started, wetting his lips. "But after it's done, I…" he trailed off.

"After it's done?" Felix asked with bated breath.

Victor slowly began to smile, leaning up and pecking Felix's lips.

"Are you sure about this, love?" Victor asked, his smile becoming more heartfelt. "There'll be no coming back once we cross this line."

"I want this," Felix put his forehead against Victor's, his hand slowly snaking down and wrapping itself around Victor's cock. "I want you…"

Victor groaned, grinding against Felix as the slightly shorter wizard peppered Victor's neck with kisses. Suddenly, Victor took Felix by the shoulders and swapped their positions, grabbing Felix's wrists and holding them above the surprised wizard's head.

"Vic…" Felix whimpered, but Victor didn't ease his grip.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Victor growled, causing Felix to blush.

Instinctively, Felix parted his legs, allowing Victor to grind against him with an ever-increasing need. Victor then wrapped his right hand around their cocks, pumping vigorously as their moans and grunts filled the room.

The Dark Lord sneered in disgust, why did mortals feel the need to debase themselves like common animals? I already have my Heir, and for that, I am truly grateful. Ronald has spared me this indignity, and he shall be rewarded for it.

"Fuck… Oh, fuck…" Victor suddenly stopped, eliciting a needy whine out of Felix. "Not yet, I… I want to make you feel good, tonight…"

"I was feeling good," Felix let out soft chuckle. "Vic, please don't stop…"

"You'll like this, my Lord, I promise," Victor purred, taking Felix by surprise. "I've never used my mouth on you, have I?"

Felix's face burned even hotter, and he barely managed to shake his head. Victor began to smile, planting a tender kiss of Felix's lips as his hands began to explore Felix's body.

"I love you, Felix," Victor whispered lovingly. "You're the only good thing that's ever happened to me."

"Vic…" Felix swallowed thickly; Victor had never been so gentle with him.

"You're always taking care of me, but I've never taken care of you," Victor said.

"That's our dynamic, isn't it?" Felix asked, smiling back. "You've always taken what you want."

"If we're going to start new lives, then, maybe we should find a new dynamic?" Victor suggested, slowly moving down Felix's body and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Felix inhaled sharply as Victor wrapped his slender fingers around the submissive wizard's twitching cock. Felix's eyes widened as Victor suddenly took him into his mouth, sucking on the tip until Felix let out a loud moan. Enough of this, I won't be getting any more information out of this memory.

---

The Dark Lord pulled out of the boy's mind, only seconds had passed in the outside world.

"Felix? Are you unwell?" Robert asked, rubbing the boy's back.

Felix said nothing, his face paler than ever and his lips trembling. He knows what I've seen. The Dark Lord held the boy's gaze, he could see the fear behind Felix's eyes. He thinks I'll judge him harshly for his base appetites, as all these other 'Lords' do. Well, I won't, I already consider him to be less than dirt, just like the rest of them. Nothing more than tools to be used for my noble quest to conquer Death itself. Still, I can use his fears against him. He wants acceptance, and I want his sharp mind.

"Corban, find out who this 'insider' is," the Dark Lord looked to Corban, who was looking between Felix and his Master. "I want to see how Ronald handles this situation; it will prove to be a worthy test of his cunning." He is an extension of Lord Voldemort; he must prove himself worthy of my name.

"Yes, my Lord," Corban bowed his head. "Speaking of Ronald, may I offer a suggestion?"

"Speak freely, my friend," the Dark Lord said, knowing full-well how glad Corban was to hear this. Gullible fool. I'll think I'll use poor, lonely Felix to keep his 'father' in line.

"Thank you, my Lord," Corban bowed his head, a humble smile gracing his face. "Ronald seems to be quite fond of his friends, and as it happens, one of them is in dire need of assistance."

"Tracey Davis," Lord Voldemort's eyes flashed brighter. Perhaps Corban is onto something. Until I remove Ronald's weaknesses, I can use them to turn him against that old fool Dumbledore.

"I spoke to Ronald about this during our dinner-" Corban started.

"Did you?" the Dark Lord whispered dangerously, causing Corban to become very still.

"I did not mention you, my Lord," Corban promised. "I simply presented Ronald with an incentive to join us."

"And what did he say?" the Dark Lord asked, leaning forward in interest.

"He told me that he would sooner murder her in her coma before becoming friendly with my 'ilk'," Corban replied, something that took even the Dark Lord by surprise. It appears that Ronald is not so easily swayed… Good! I need a Basilisk at my side, not a toothless worm!

"He really said that?" Robert asked slowly.

"Let him finish," Lord Voldemort ordered.

"Ronald clearly does not think me capable of such a powerful feat," Corban went on. "He is not wrong, of course, I never took to the Healing Arts. You, however, my Lord, have achieved the impossible time and time again."

"That is true," Lord Voldemort's eyes gleamed once again. "My power has no limit."

"Perhaps if Ronald is shown that he is wrong to doubt our side, he will question why Dumbledore did nothing for his friend," Corban explained his plan. "He strikes me as a very ambitious young man, and like all ambitious young men, power is his true mistress. If we can show him your power, my Lord, Ronald might begin to rethink his beliefs." He is not wrong in his thinking. After all, my legend brought me the keenest of students from across the Wizarding World. And, as it happens, I can easily restore Ronald's friend with a dose of my Basilisk Potion.

"I shall think on this, Corban," the Dark Lord said, not willing to waste his greatest asset without meditating on it. "You continue to show me your worth, my friend. I did well to make you my right hand."

"We all live to serve you, my Lord," Corban bowed his head, and the other two quickly followed. Yes, you do live to serve me. It's the only reason why any of you were even born. Ah, that reminds me.

"The Carrow Twins have invited me to their festivities," the Dark Lord began. "Disappointingly, I am unable to attend, as I must heal my most loyal…" the Dark Lord paused, giving them a reason to fear becoming redundant. "You will go in my place, and inspire those who attend to join our cause."

"You wish to reveal yourself to these outsiders so soon, my Lord?" Corban asked.

"I do," the Dark Lord said, his tone all too confident. "My most powerful are at my side once again, Dumbledore is on his death-bed, my well-fed Dementors have been hidden away by Natalia and Fenrir, and with Gaspard leading my army, I will conquer the British Ministry before long."

"Gaspard is to lead the men?" Robert asked, his mask cracking a little. "A Half-Breed?"

"He has proven himself invaluable to me," Lord Voldemort hissed dangerously. "Do not forget that your Lord rewards merit, not failure. You all abandoned Lord Voldemort in his hour of need, such a sin cannot be forgiven so easily." You are fortunate that I haven't decided to wipe out your Bloodlines.

"We will prove ourselves, starting by carrying out your will, my Lord," Corban said, stopping Robert from creating a scene. "I will secure the loyalties of these Families; you have my word."

"Do not fail me, Corban," the Dark Lord warned. "Our cause relies upon your success. Now is the time to expand our foothold, we cannot waste such an opportunity." The Dark Lord then decided to take advantage of their belief. "Our Pure-World needs these Families, we must eradicate all the unclean, not just the ones tainting Magical Britain. We are in a war for our very Magic, my friends… If left unchecked, these disgusting cretins will render us all powerless."

"We will play our part to stop such a calamity, my Lord," Corban promised, and Robert gave curt nod.

"I expect success from you, Corban," the Dark Lord said. "Do not disappoint me again."

With that, the Dark Lord looked back to Felix, who quickly lowered his gaze. I believe it's time for Felix to give me his undying loyalty.

"You two are dismissed, I wish to speak with Felix alone," the Dark Lord said, noticing the young wizard tensing up immediately.

Corban looked between them again, but he didn't dare question his Master's intentions. Instead, he and Robert rose up from their seats, and after giving a respectful bow, both men left the room without another word.

Felix kept his gaze lowered; the Dark Lord could smell the boy's fear. Now, how should I proceed?

"My Lord… I can explain what you saw…" Felix suddenly started, unable to hide his nervousness.

"There is nothing to explain, Felix," the Dark Lord said, not a hint of judgement in his voice. I find you all equally revolting, homosexual or not.

Felix looked up with a startled expression, not only did the Dark Lord's words take him by surprise, but his gentler tone all but rendered Felix speechless.

"As I said, your Lord rewards merit," Lord Voldemort said, keeping his eyes locked onto Felix's. "You are an intelligent young man, and without your eye for detail, we would never have found Violet Parkinson's hidden estate. I know I can rely on you now, Felix, which is why I will protect you from anyone who dares to move against you. You have my word."

Silence filled the room…

"Continue to serve me as loyally as your father does, and I will give you the world," the Dark Lord continued. "I will accept you with all of my heart, and treat you as if you were my own son, just as I treated your brother, Evan. What say you to that, Felix? Will you accept Lord Voldemort, just as he will accept you?"

"I… Yes, my Lord," Felix bowed his head, not knowing what else to say. He's shaken… Good. I've planted the idea firmly in his mind.

"Then, there is nothing else to be said," the Dark Lord finished, gesturing Felix to rise. If Corban ever dares to move against me, I'll tear out his son's heart and feed it to him.

---

Harry Potter's POV

Thursday 18th February, 1994 (The Great Hall – Breakfast)

Once again, the entire school was whispering about Ron, and from what Harry could make out, Ron's popularity had taken a nose-dive thanks to the Ministry's article. Those who already disliked Ron were being more vocal than ever, calling Ron a 'greedy snake', and far worse, out in the open.

Personally, Harry wasn't sure about what to think… He didn't really agree with the Ministry's article, mostly because he knew quite a bit about Ron, including the fact that Ron had only called the French over to help St. Mungo's, not to betray Magical Britain to Magical France.

As such, Harry had taken everything he had read with a grain of salt. He couldn't deny that his own guilt played a major part in his stance on Ron, Harry felt like he owed Ron the benefit of the doubt, especially given his history of accusing Ron without any proof. However, despite his personal feelings on the matter, Harry had decided to forego giving his opinion to anyone; the entire student-body had suddenly become experts on Werewolves and Politics.

This, of course, included Hermione Granger, Harry's very own best friend.

Despite Harry and Neville's wishes, Hermione was arguing with anyone who would listen as to why Ron wasn't the 'ambitious fool' the Ministry was trying to paint him as, but most of her arguments were ignored simply due to her lack of popularity. The students of Hogwarts didn't want to debate about Ron's character, it was simply more enjoyable to spread rumours and fabricate lies that painted Ron in an even worse light. I wonder who started the rumour about Ron being a Werewolf himself… This is getting out of hand-

"Do you think the study group will be running tomorrow?" Neville suddenly asked, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

"I doubt it," Hermione huffed, shaking her head with disappointment. "People are so thick!"

"Hermione, don't say that so loudly," Neville advised. "You know that Professor McGonagall asked you not to fight with the other students."

"I'm not fighting, I'm arguing," Hermione said haughtily, shooting a dark glare in Lavender's direction. "Did you hear her last night? 'Oh, I always suspected Ron to be a Werewolf, he just has this dangerous aura about him.' Ugh… Stupid bimbo… She'll say anything to get attention."

Harry and Neville exchanged looks, they needed to find some way to distract Hermione before she ended up becoming everyone's favourite punching bag.

"I do agree with you, Hermione," Harry started. "But calling someone a 'stupid bimbo' to their face isn't going to earn you any favours. Even Ron's best friends are staying clear of the rumour mill-"

"Actually, that's not entirely true," Neville cut in, shooting Harry a sorry look. "I've heard that Greengrass and Parkinson are explaining quite a lot about Ron's motivation to help the Werewolves."

"Really?" Hermione perked up, shooting a glance towards the Slytherin table. "What are they saying? And how do you know about this?"

"Parvati told me about it before we came down for breakfast," Neville replied, earning a curious look from Hermione.

"Since when did you become friends with Patil?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Neville's always been friendly with everyone, we all know that.

"I wouldn't call us friends, really," Neville started slowly, shooting Harry a quick look. Don't look at me, I don't know why she's suddenly annoyed with you. "The point is, Greengrass and Parkinson are trying to explain Ron's actions in order to stop these absurd rumours, but no one is taking them seriously because they're Ron's closest friends."

"Then, we should offer to help," Hermione looked to Harry. What are you looking at me for? "Well, Harry?"

"I don't know about that, Hermione," Harry replied slowly. "We have a sordid history with Ron, remember? They might not even want our help." They definitely won't want mine.

"We won't know unless we talk to them-" Hermione tried, but she was interrupted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings.

Every eye in the Great Hall looked to the ceiling, an army of owls had burst into Hogwarts at the same time. More Daily Prophets?

"What's going on?" Neville asked, staring up with a furrowed brow. "Is it the Daily Prophet again?"

Before Harry could give his thoughts, the owls bombarded every student and staff member with rolled up copies of the latest news. Harry easily caught his, even moving fast enough to catch Hermione's before it landed on her head.

"Here," Harry handed Hermione her copy.

"I don't have a subscription to the Daily Prophet," Hermione took the newspaper.

"Neither do I," Harry said, looking down at the unfamiliar design. "Wait…" This isn't-

"This isn't the Daily Prophet," Neville's eyes widened. "It's The Quibbler! This is Ron's magazine!"

"Really?!" Hermione immediately looked down at her copy, her eyes already reading through the front page.

Harry followed her lead, immediately noticing the differences between the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler's design. The Quibbler looked more… modern, it had a slightly larger font and everything was organized more neatly. Instead of bombarding the front page with all the topics covered in the issue, the entire front page of The Quibbler was dedicated to a single article.

The True Curse of the Werewolves

The word 'Werewolf' has filled the hearts of wizards and witches all over the Wizarding World with fear and hysteria for well over a thousand years. To this day, we have not been able to discover the origins of this malicious Curse, nor have we discovered a way to cure its victims.

Once infected, whether by bite or scratch, the victim's life is forever changed for the worst. Those who are revealed to be infected with Lycanthropy are quickly pushed out of society due to the dangers they pose to their families, friends, and neighbours; for on every full-moon, the infected transform into wild beasts obsessed with spreading their Curse to as many people as possible.

This alone is reason enough to fear them.

However, the truth is that the Werewolf Community is a lot more frightened of you than you are of it. Becoming infected is a death-sentence for many, as public lynching of Werewolves was only banned in late 1887. This was, of course, not done to protect the Werewolf Community, but rather, to protect the Statute of Secrecy.

Ministries all over the Wizarding World have always taken a firm stance against Werewolves, so much so that entire legislations are drafted with the sole purpose of oppressing these poor souls. In the last decade alone, three legislations have been passed by the Wizengamot of Magical Britain, all of them crippling any chance of Werewolves having a 'normal' life.

We at The Quibbler did a survey, with three-hundred wizards and witches of varying backgrounds, and out of the three-hundred, only four knew that there were three legislations instead of just the 'Big One'.

The first legislation, the Safe Schooling Act, passed in 1985 by Pius Thicknesse, forces all Wandmakers to turn away anyone suspected of being a Werewolf. This, of course, means that any child with symptoms of Lycanthropy is unable to attend Wizarding Schools. This lack of education leads to a wide array of problems, including a lifetime of unemployment and illiteracy.

We spoke with Garrick Ollivander, who has repeatedly spoken out against this legislation, and he had this to say: "A Werewolf is still a witch, or, wizard, and denying them the companionship of their very own wand is nothing short of cruelty. I have been forced to turn away excited children due to this unjust law that does nothing to protect Wizarding Schools. The only thing this legislation manages to accomplish is to ostracise a group of people for being different. In my eyes, this is no different from the legislations that the Dark Lord's allies wished to pass during the Great War; legislations that would stop Wandmakers like myself from offering our services to Muggle-Borns. Did we not push back against the Dark Lord? Did we not think him cruel and barbaric? How is this any different?! I am tired of adhering to this law that only serves to further divide the Wizarding World and fan the flames of hatred. My craft is meant to bring joy and unity, not destroy hopes and dreams…"

The second legislation, the Anti-Squatter Initiative, passed in 1989 by Dolores Jane Umbridge, dictates that no Werewolf Camp is allowed to have more than fifteen members at a time, including children, as this 'raises the chances of the Statute of Secrecy being broken'. Although this legislation seems practical at first, it is downright malevolent in its design.

Werewolves are already isolated due to their conditions, and many seek companionship with fellow Werewolves in order to combat the loneliness that comes with such an affliction. This legislation forces Werewolves to remain apart, with dozens of Werewolves being thrown out of their camps, or, being refused entry outright for fear of the Ministry cracking down upon said camp. This has directly impacted the suicide rates of Werewolves all over Magical Britain, with over thirty percent of newly infected Werewolves committing suicide within the first twelve months.

The third legislation, the Jobs for Werewolves Act, passed in 1993 by Dolores Jane Umbridge, has quickly earned another name; The Anti-Werewolf Legislation. It is so insidious, so tactless, that most Ministries have condemned it a resounding failure on the British Ministry's part.

As the name suggests, it was initially brough to the Wizengamot as a method to get more Werewolves into the workforce, with Madam Umbridge promising a steady decrease in unemployment rates. However, this was false advertisement at best, and outright deceitful at worst, as the unemployment rate has only gone up since this legislation was passed.

As worded by Madam Umbridge herself; "All Werewolves, regardless of age, must register themselves to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in order to help combat the Werewolf Curse. Those who register themselves will be aided by the Ministry in finding employment. Furthermore, all business owners who hire a Werewolf must also provide said Werewolf with the Wolfsbane Potion every full-moon in order to ensure the safety of the public."

On paper, this legislation looks beautiful, but it completely ignores one simple fact: the Wolfsbane Potion is extremely expensive due to the rarity of its ingredients and the time it takes to brew. Madam Umbridge, either through sheer incompetence, or, just malicious intent, worded this legislation to put the responsibility solely on the shoulders of business owners. The Ministry provides no funding to any business which hires Werewolves, and as such, it is entirely up to the business owner to secure the Wolfsbane Potion.

As you can predict, no business owner is going to take such a large hit to their finances, especially when the employee is most likely uneducated and incapable of harnessing their Magic. The 'Jobs for Werewolves Act' is a sick joke, orchestrated for the singular purpose of oppressing a community that has already suffered countless indignities.

The success of this legislation depended sorely on all Werewolves within Magical Britain coming forward and registering themselves, giving out details such as names, addresses, employment history, and rather offensively, demanding to know how many others have been infected by the Werewolf in question.

In a display of ignorance and arrogance, the Ministry expected the Werewolves to submit themselves to further prejudice simply to find employment. As many within the Wizengamot rightfully predicted, just a handful of Werewolves, desperate for work and food, registered themselves, only to be arrested for spreading the Werewolf Curse.

This lack of ethics was not reported by the Daily Prophet, nor was Madam Umbridge questioned for her underhanded tactics by the Wizengamot. Furthermore, her actions all but doomed her own legislation, which is widely considered to be her greatest failure, and yet, Madam Umbridge is steadfast in her belief that the Werewolves are to blame for her failures.

I ask you, the reader, a very simple question.

Why would the Werewolves register themselves?

As seen by Madam Umbridge's actions, the Registration of Werewolves is an elaborate trap to prey upon the desperate. As seen by the Wizengamot's silence, there are no ramifications for Ministry Officials who have greased the right palms. The mere fact that this legislation was passed with a majority vote, despite many Wizengamot members being sceptical of its success from the get-go, all but proves that the Ministry has no intention of doing right by its own Werewolf population.

(Read Maya's story on the next page, and for a more in-depth look at these legislations, please refer to the last page.)

Harry quickly turned the page; he was honestly lost due to how little he knew about Wizarding Politics. However, one thing was becoming increasingly clear; the Ministry was actively ruining the lives of Werewolves for some unknown purpose. Maybe it's because of people like Lucius Malfoy? Don't they hate all 'Half-Breeds'? Sirius did mention that the Old Families control most of the goings-on within Magical Britain…

Harry eyed the coloured photo at the top of the second page, it showed a group made up of shabby, scarred, and worn-out individuals, most of them giving weary smiles to the camera. Maya Milgrom, third from the left, and the Werewolves who took her in. Harry looked towards the young girl, immediately noticing that she looked anything but happy. Her skinny arms and legs were barely hidden by her tattered dress, and when Harry focused on her limbs, he was shocked to find scars and rope burns all over her skin. What happened to her…? She's even skinnier than I was before Sirius and Remus took me in!

Maya Milgrom, born July 3rd, 1981, was the Half-Blood daughter of a Pure-Blood father and a Muggle-Born mother. She was infected in 1985, just shy of five years old, and from that moment on, she lived a life so filled with misery and struggles that most people would have difficulty comprehending such tragedy.

Her mother and father were killed in the attack, and due to the severity of the case, the Daily Prophet reported on it (refer to page four), even going as far as to promise Maya financial aid. Unfortunately, the Daily Prophet was more interested in looking benevolent rather than being benevolent, and as such, Maya was sent to live with her uncle without any of the promised aid.

Her uncle, a man left crippled after the Great War, was unable to care for Maya, and within just two months, he abandoned her in Knockturn Alley due to his personal hatred of Werewolves. At the tender age of five, Maya was exposed to the criminal underbelly of Magical Britain.

Maya survived on her own, eating out of bins and begging for scraps. The many scars on her body told a blood-curdling story of her treatment at the hands of Magical Britain's worst. Her troubles, however, did not stop there. When the full-moon revealed itself, Maya transformed and attacked those around her.

The Ministry found Maya, but by then, she had already infected over a dozen people. This heartbreaking catastrophe, just like the deaths of Maya's parents, was also reported on by the Daily Prophet, who had all but forgotten the little girl they had offered to help just a few months ago. The Daily Prophet used Maya as a scapegoat, further indulging the Ministry's habit of persecuting the weak and helpless for political gain.

Maya, too young to be locked away, was shipped off to a Magical Orphanage, where she was bullied and beaten regularly for her affliction. As a direct result of her mistreatment, Maya eventually fled from the orphanage for fear of her life, the other children had promised to 'hang her until she was cured'. From what she told me herself, not a single adult came to her defence.

Once again on her own, and only seven years old, Maya was eventually caught stealing a loaf of bread from a passing camp of Werewolves. These strangers were the first to show Maya an ounce of human decency, and without question, they took her in and began to raise her as one of their own.

Maya's time with the camp was filled with hunger and desperation, and although they all did their best to provide for her, Maya became increasingly depressed about her lot in life.

Years passed, and eventually, in July of 1993, I found myself in the company of this very Werewolf camp. I was working to hone my craft in order bring such stories to the limelight, and meeting Maya was the turning point of my career. It took weeks for her to open up to me, and when she finally did, I decided that there was no other calling for me in this life.

On my last night with the camp, Maya came to me and told me of her dream to see Hogwarts, her dream to visit her parents' graves just to feel a little closer to them, and her dream to finally be freed from her Curse…

I am ashamed to admit that, due to my inexperience, I failed to understand the real meaning behind her words. She was only twelve years old when I left the camp in order to return to my own life, I was so certain that I would see her again.

Tragically, I only recently learned that Maya drowned herself in a lake close to where her group was camping-

Harry pulled back from the article, he had been jarred so terribly that he had lost his focus. She drowned herself… She was only twelve… Deciding to gauge the reactions of his best friends, Harry looked up from the article.

Hermione was reading with an intense focus; she was all but finished with her copy. Neville, on the other hand, was still reading through Maya's story with a disheartened expression. I don't know the first thing about Werewolves, but if this is how they're treated by everyone, then Ron is doing the right thing.

Harry silently looked around the Great Hall, immediately noticing that his fellow students were just as shocked as he was. Of course, there were a few who had already tossed aside their articles in favour of finishing breakfast, but the majority were reading with rapt attention.

"Maya was supposed to be in Hogwarts with us," came Colin's voice, he looked particularly upset as he addressed his friends. "She was supposed to be in our year…"

"Did you know that Werewolves aren't allowed to buy wands?" came Lavender's voice. "They can still do Magic, right?"

"I think so," Parvati replied. "Though, without a wand… I don't get it. Why would the Ministry do this?" I'm wondering the same thing. I need to talk to Sirius and Remus about this, did they know that Werewolves are being treated like this? I thought that I had it bad growing up with the Dursleys, but Maya-

"She drowned herself?!" came a yell from the Hufflepuff table. "She was just twelve!"

"Gods… This is horrible!"

"I don't see why they can't stay in camps," came another voice. "If they're not hurting anyone, then what's the big deal?"

"Shouldn't the Ministry provide them with the Wolfsbane Potion? They're still counted as citizens, right?"

"Weasley's probably lying to make the Ministry look bad."

"He does seem the sort, doesn't he?"

"Did you even read the article? This Angel woman gave hard evidence against the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, including the Daily Prophet's own articles about Maya! They just abandoned her!"

"Why even offer to help someone if you're just going to go back on your word?!"

"Is Weasley really helping all these people? Why hasn't he mentioned it before?"

"Why aren't they allowed to study? How are they supposed to get jobs if they can't even read?"

"We can't let them into Hogwarts, they're monsters!"

"Shut your gob! Maya was just five when she got infected, did you even read the fucking article?! How is any of this her fault?!"

Within seconds, the entire Great Hall was engulfed in loud chatter, which earned an annoyed huff out of Hermione.

"Why is everyone yelling?" Hermione frowned deeply, shooting dark glares around her. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Without another word, Hermione shot out of her seat, and with her copy in tow, she made a beeline for the exit. Where is she going?

"Nev, Hermione is leaving," Harry got out of his seat as well, quickly followed by Neville.

The boys followed after her, and while Neville continued to read The Quibbler, Harry shot a quick glance at the Weasleys, who were all eating breakfast together this morning. Ginny and Percy were reading their copies with rapt attention, while the twins were discussing something in hushed whispers. I don't think they had any idea about this. Or, about Ron's reasons for helping the Werewolves. The Quibbler's side of the story just makes more sense, and unlike the Prophet, they actually gave evidence.

"Hermione, wait up," Harry finally caught up with Hermione in the Entrance Hall.

She turned around sharply, her watery eyes narrowing on him.

"What?" Hermione bit out. Brilliant… She's upset, and whenever Hermione gets upset, she makes sure that everyone around her knows it.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"Somewhere quiet," Hermione replied. "It's too loud in there, I can't concentrate on what I'm reading."

"This is unbelievable…" Neville muttered from behind Harry. "For as long as I can remember, everyone's always warned me to stay away from Werewolves. Even my Gran hates them…"

"Well, clearly, your Gran is as heartless as the Ministry," Hermione turned back around and stormed off, her eyes once again fixed on The Quibbler. Oi, that's not helping anyone!

This left Harry and Neville behind, both of them staring at Hermione's back until she disappeared around the corner.

"She didn't mean that, Nev," Harry said awkwardly. "I think she's just upset because of the article…"

"Yeah…" Neville muttered, clutching the paper tightly in his hands.

"If this is really true, then we should be helping Ron, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, I don't know any Werewolves, but I know that there's a lot of them. I doubt Maya is the only Werewolf who's lived such a wretched life." Sirius is helping with this Sanctuary, isn't he? I'll ask him to let me join him.

"I'm going to go owl my Gran," Neville said, sounding a little unsure. "She's always encouraged me to distance myself from 'Half-Breeds'… If she knew about this all along, then…" he trailed off.

"Then, what?" Harry asked.

"Then, my Gran is just as heartless as Hermione said," Neville all but whispered.

"She's helping fund the Werewolf Sanctuary, though," Harry pointed out. "C'mon, Nev, you can't think like that about your own Family." Though, I have to admit that she's not exactly… likable.

"She's only doing it for Ron," Neville sighed out, rubbing his forehead. "Trust me, Harry; her only concern is following the Old Ways, nothing more… Let's go, I want to send an owl before classes start." I'll send Hedwig to Sirius as well, then. I don't know about Neville and Hermione, but I've got a lot of gold in my vault that could help give these people a better life. I just hope that Ron won't turn me away because of what I did to him.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 18th February, 1994 (Prosperity Farm – Midday)

Ron, Lord Fawley, and Artyom quietly watched as Umbridge and her lackeys 'inspected' the safe rooms. The toad in pink was acting more vindictive than usual, most likely due to Marietta's article finding its way into the lives of every Wizarding Family in Magical Europe. Judging by how cold her demeanour is, and the fact that her workers are being oddly quiet, I can safely assume that I've done some real damage to the Ministry and the Daily Prophet's credibility. I just need to keep this fight up until I can out the Old Families after the Carrow Twins' party. No one will think twice about this place when the truth-

"Tear apart the padding, we need to inspect the walls," Umbridge suddenly said.

"Tear apart the padding?" Lord Fawley blinked. "And who's going to pay for it? That padding is enchanted with the Cushioning Charm, we can't just use Reparo to fix it-"

"That is not my concern, my Lord," Umbridge cut him off. This bitch… She's being such a fucking cunt.

"I will pay for it, Lord Fawley," Ron said, earning everyone's attention. "Let the Ministry do their 'jobs', I'm sure it's a welcome change for them."

Umbridge didn't even spare him a glance, she had been pretending that he wasn't even in the room. She thinks that that will get to me, but unlike her, I don't want any attention on me. I'm happiest when I'm being ignored, as mental as that is to admit.

He was feeling a little more like himself today, mostly thanks to Marietta's fine work, he really needed to commend her in person, but also because he knew that he was going to hurt the Death-Eaters very soon. I hope all of them are there, I wonder how the Dark Lord will react when he finds out that someone has taken away most of his support within Magical Britain.

"Let's test out these bindings as well while we're at it," Umbridge said, using her wand to yank one of the padded bindings right out of the wall. Fuck me… "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. This won't do at all; no Werewolf would stay bound for long with bindings this weak."

"You used Magic," Lord Fawley frowned deeply. "Werewolves can't use Magic in their-"

"Are you insinuating that I'm not doing my job properly, my Lord?" Umbridge asked, quickly jotting down more lies in her evaluation notes. "This lack of cooperation on your parts has been recorded, and now, I must ask you all to leave. You are disturbing our good work."

"You would dismiss me? From my own-" Lord Fawley started, but Ron suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Leave them to it, my Lord," Ron whispered. They'll pay soon enough, I promise.

Lord Fawley looked between Umbridge and Ron, and then, he pulled his arm out of Ron's grip and stormed out of the room. He's unhappy with me, that much is clear. Oh, well… As long as he doesn't fuck with me, I couldn't care less about his feelings. Umbridge smirked immediately, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Before I leave, let me ask you one thing," Ron said, giving Umbridge a calm look. "Do we get a copy of this evaluation for our records?" I want to see what she wrote down.

"Are you a Ministry Official?" Umbridge asked all too sweetly. "Oh, forgive me… I forgot that Crouch fired you for being incompetent and untrustworthy."

Ron drew in a deep breath, picturing Stoatshead Hill in his mind. It helped keep him in check, but his anger was bubbling just below the surface. Calm and collected, Ron, that's how you need to be right now. One mistake, and everything you've built will crumble.

"Artyom, let's go," Ron turned around and walked out of the room, followed quickly by Artyom.

"She will lie," Artyom whispered as they began heading for the exit.

"There's no doubt about that," Ron said, pushing the exit open and stepping out into the sunlight. "I imagine that by the time she's done, this place will be condemned by the Ministry." Wait… Did Lord Fawley go home? Where is he?

"You sound very calm about this," Artyom noted.

"I'm not, but I can't really do anything to her," Ron sighed out, massaging his sore neck.

As a matter of fact, his entire body felt sore. I'm so fucking tired… I can't sleep properly because of how stressed I am. I really need to get my hands on some Sleeping Draught.

"I could make her… disappear," Artyom offered, keeping his voice low. "There would be no evidence."

"The Ministry doesn't give two shits about evidence, though," Ron said. "She goes missing, and they'll be knocking my door down by the end of the week."

"Then, what is plan?" Artyom asked. "Have you given up already?"

"I don't give up," Ron frowned a bit. "And I've dealt with far worse than Dolores fucking Umbridge. I just need to bide my time for now, that's all."

"Until tomorrow night?" Artyom asked, suddenly pulling Ron aside. "What is your intention with Carrow Twins?"

"I want to bake them a cake," Ron drawled, earning a bored look from Artyom. "Figure it out, mate… It's not that hard."

Artyom adorned a more understanding look, giving Ron a subtle nod.

"You will stay home," Artyom said, and Ron immediately cocked an eyebrow. "I will go in your place. Safer that way." He's getting too used to bossing me around.

"You don't even know what the plan is," Ron reminded the large wizard. "And as for me staying home, piss on that. You don't really know me, Artyom, and I'm getting quite sick of your bossy attitude. I pay for you, not the other way around. Learn your place, or, I'll fucking teach you."

The duo locked eyes, neither of them backing down.

"Captain!" came a familiar voice, and both Ron and Artyom looked to see London approaching them. "Oh, Sir, you're here as well. Good afternoon." What's she doing here? Shouldn't she be at the gates as Artyom mentioned?

"Good afternoon, London," Ron said, shooting Artyom another cold look before focusing solely on London. "Aren't you supposed to be at the gates? Keeping an eye on that Cecil Lee bloke?"

"I have eyes on him, Sir," London reported. "He isn't quite like the rest of his fellow stooges; he's trying to keep this whole thing peaceful." Ah, let's give him a free pass, then…

"Or, he wants us to lower our guards," Ron countered. "Don't trust any of them, I want them watched constantly while they're here."

"Understood," London gave a nod. "I was actually looking for you, Sir; there is an Auror at the gates. She asked if you were here, and I told her that I'd find you for her. It sounded important." An Auror is here to see me?

"Did she give her name?" Ron asked curiously.

"Madam Jane Roberts, Sir."

---

Five Minutes Later

He had rushed to see Madam Roberts; he couldn't even begin to deny that. Not only had he missed his mentor and friend, but right now, he desperately needed her advice on how to handle the Ministry.

"Open the gate!" London ordered. "The boss wants to step outside!"

The large iron gate, which was protected by all manner of Charms, slid open without making a sound, revealing Madam Roberts and Cecil Lee having a heated conversation. Have I interrupted something?

"Madam Roberts," Ron walked over, unable to help the nostalgic smile on his face. Finally, a friendly face from the Ministry.

"I finally found you," Madam Roberts broke off her conversation with Lee, giving Ron her usual once over.

Concern immediately marred her features, though Ron couldn't really blame her because he knew that he looked like shit rolled over. His skin was becoming paler by the day, and the bags under his eyes actually felt heavy.

"Pardon me," Lee gave Madam Roberts a parting nod, leaving to join his Werewolf Capture Unit. Cunts are literally camping right outside the farm, they'll never let anyone in without forcing them to register. I need them gone as soon as possible!

"Why were you looking for me?" Ron asked. "I'm not in any trouble, am I?"

Madam Roberts drew in a calming breath, not answering Ron's inquiry with words. Wait, I'm actually in trouble? I haven't done anything… Yet.

"What is it?" Ron asked, guiding Madam Roberts away from prying ears.

"The Minister pulled me off of guard duty at St. Mungo's," Madam Roberts started, pulling out a crisp envelope. "He figured that I'd know where to find you, given our history." He knows that she trained me? He's clearly having people look into me. Shit!

"What is that?" Ron asked, his gut feeling anxious.

"It's a Wizengamot Summons," Madam Roberts shook her head, suddenly sounding fed up.

"A Wizengamot Summons? What the fuck is that?" Ron asked, all of his prior excitement gone. "Are they putting me on trial, or, something?"

"For treason, yes…" Madam Roberts sighed out, causing Ron's heart to stop pumping. TREASON?! What. The. Fuck?!

"What do you mean by 'Treason'?!" Ron demanded. "What the fuck, Madam Roberts?!"

"Lower your voice," Madam Roberts whispered, taking him by the arm and dragging him further away from the gate. Fuck me, more fucking problems! Just take in a deep breath, Ron… Just fucking relax, and start asking the right questions.

"What treason have I committed?" Ron asked, frowning deeply. I can't believe this. They've gone mental!

"Everyone has read the article, Ron," Madam Roberts said. "And I mean everyone." That was the damn point, though!

"There was no treason in there!" Ron reminded her. "We fact-checked every fucking detail, nor did we insinuate-"

"People are demanding answers from the Ministry," Madam Roberts cut in. "The Minister is already on the ropes due to his incompetence, and now, even more people are looking to him for answers. We have concerned citizens demanding a statement from the Minister, the Wizengamot, and Umbridge, with more people piling in by the hour-"

"Really?" Ron asked, feeling an ounce of relief. I knew it! One taste of the truth, and the morally upright want more. I can't believe my plan worked!

"Ron, you've just kicked the hornet's nest," Madam Roberts said. Yeah, and I plan to burn it down next. "The Minister is… I'll be honest with you; he's becoming increasingly unstable. His puppeteers have cut their ties with him, the public is quickly turning against him, and he knows that certain Ministry Officials are coming after his job. A cornered animal is often the deadliest, Ron, and whether you like it or not, you're one of the people who have cornered him."

"He cornered himself by being a cunt," Ron stated.

"You will find no argument here," Madam Roberts said, handing Ron the envelope. "Look, my time is short, I need to go join my Hit-Wizards for a…" she trailed off.

"A what?" Ron asked. "Have you found the escapees?" I hope so, the Loyalists are too dangerous to be left alive.

"I can't tell you that," Madam Roberts replied, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Ron, you are too young to be sent to Azkaban, however, if you are found guilty, they will break your wand and place a powerful Trace on you. Something much stronger than the one they placed on you when you were born. If you even take a step out of line, a team of Aurors will track you down."

"Are you joking?" Ron blinked. "Are they really going to take away my Magic because I pointed out the truth?"

"I know you, Ron," Madam Roberts looked into his eyes. "I know that you're not just after the truth, you have a habit of stirring the pot-"

"I'm not stirring any pot," Ron defended himself. "The Ministry has committed the crimes; I just found the evidence." Ron then waved the envelope around. "I mean, look at this shit! This is taking it too far-"

"These people don't have limits, Ron," Madam Roberts tightened her hold on his shoulder. "Stubborn boy, you have angered the wrong people by doing this, and now, they're going to try to destroy you." No… I have come too far to lose now. I have to win, or, it will all have been for nothing.

"You and I both know that I don't go down easy," Ron moved her hand off of his shoulder. Stop touching me, you'll give me a fucking panic attack.

"This isn't a Duel," Madam Roberts whispered, shooting a quick look towards Lee and his team. "The Minister is serious about this, which is why your trial is set for Monday-"

"Monday?" Ron was taken by surprise. "That soon?! Have they already made up their minds?"

"I imagine they have," Madam Roberts said. "I've seen this before; they will do their best to discredit you before taking away your right to use Magic."

"What am I supposed to do?" Ron asked. "I don't know anything about appearing before the Wizengamot. Would you mind sharing some advice?"

"You're not going to like my advice," Madam Roberts replied.

"It can't be worse than this," Ron said, jerking the envelope.

"For you, I imagine that it will be," Madam Roberts started. "The Minister and his bootlickers will do everything in their power to shift the focus of the public, even if that means spreading lies about you. Now, in my experience, the best defence against lies is the truth."

"The truth?" Ron asked, slightly confused. "Are you referring to the Werewolves?"

"No, Ron, I'm referring to you," Madam Roberts replied, tapping her index finger on his forehead. What?

"Wait… You can't possibly mean…" Ron muttered. "Are you serious?" I'm not outing myself as some cripple!

"If the truth about your conditions, your scars, everything… If all of that comes out, no one will dare take away your wand," Madam Roberts whispered. "The Minister wholeheartedly believes that you're trying to cause civil unrest, but if you prove to the Wizarding World that you have nothing to gain from such actions, then not even the Minister can justify going after someone with your… burdens."

"You mean everyone will pity me," Ron took a step back, sneering at her. "I'm not going to out myself-"

"It was just advice, Ron," Madam Roberts said bluntly. "These politicians, they only really care about their image. If you want to put an end to this, then you have the means to do so. Now, I suggest that you go tell your mentor about this, he is a lot more cunning than the fools behind this. He'll find a way to protect you." But he's still on his business trip… He was supposed to be back two days ago.

Madam Roberts then took a step back, preparing herself for Apparition.

"I'm not going to be around for a few days, but I promise that I will attend your hearing," Madam Roberts said. "And if you want, I will even testify on your behalf."

"I… I need some time to think about this," Ron pocketed the envelope, feeling even more exhausted than before. At this rate, I'm going to die from stress well before Monday.

---

Thursday 18th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Afternoon)

Ron entered the dining room with a particularly sour look, Umbridge had declared the Werewolf Sanctuary as 'unsafe' and 'impractical' in her report, a fact that she was more than happy to share with Ron. Her sweet, yet arrogant, smile had all but proven that she also knew about Ron being accused of treason. That bitch probably came up with the idea. Now, I finally understand why I killed her in my vision. She's a Death-Eater in everything but name!

"Ron, welcome home," Mary greeted, and when Ron focused on her, he immediately noticed that Lord Greengrass was sitting at the head of the table. He's back! Just in time! "Look who finally came back from his trip."

"Ron," Lord Greengrass said, gesturing Ron to sit down.

"Good afternoon," Ron greeted the couple, taking his usual seat. "Welcome back, Lord Greengrass. I was beginning to worry about you."

"Were you?" Lord Greengrass smiled a little, he looked just as exhausted as Ron himself. I was going to ask Artyom to go looking for you.

"When did you come back?" Ron asked, deciding to ask after Lord Greengrass before dumping his problems on the man's shoulders. "And how was the trip?"

"Just now," Lord Greengrass replied. "And as for my trip, it was… not successful…"

"Oh? What happened?" Ron asked. Actually, I don't even know what this trip was about. He just said that it was 'important', and then ran off without even saying goodbye.

"It appears that not everything in this world is for sale," Lord Greengrass said, his right hand stroking his stubble.

"What were you trying to buy?" Ron asked out of curiosity. "Or, should I ask, who were you trying to buy?"

"Husband, you should tell him," Mary whispered, giving Lord Greengrass a meaningful look. "He might be able to help James and Susana-"

"Tracey's parents?" Ron sat up straighter, forgetting his own problems. "Is it Tracey? Has something gone wrong? Why haven't you said anything until now?"

Lord Greengrass drew in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. His reaction forced Ron to stop, were Tracey's parents thinking of taking her off of her potions? That is not going to happen. I'll fucking kidnap her and move her to a safe location before I let them kill her!

"James and I went to Ilvermorny, Ron," Lord Greengrass started. Ilvermorny? What? "I'm sure you don't know much about the school, neither do I as a matter of fact, but what I do know is that there is a 'Sacred' Snakewood Tree that exists on the grounds."

"A sacred tree?" Ron blinked; he had not expected this at all. I thought they were trying to end Tracey's life… Thank Merlin, I was wrong.

"It has powerful Magical Properties, and has stood strong since Ilvermorny's conception," Lord Greengrass explained. "To be more specific, it's leaves are known to cure a great many ailments. I offered Ilvermorny a king's ransom for just two leaves, however, they refused my offers repeatedly…"

"Why?" Ron asked, leaning forward. "This is for Tracey, right?"

"It is for Tracey, but I was also hoping to buy one for you," Lord Greengrass replied.

"Why did they refuse you?" Ron asked. "I mean, if you're willing to pay for it-"

"I have a past with Headmaster of Ilvermorny," Lord Greengrass said. "I made a similar offer to him when Astoria…" he trailed off. When Astoria what? Merlin, what are they not telling people about Astoria? Is she really sick like I am?

"When Astoria got sick?" Ron asked, hoping not to cross any boundaries.

Mary looked quite uncomfortable, while Lord Greengrass' expression turned even more fatigued. The couple looked decades older than they were, which all but confirmed Ron's suspicions. Tori really is sick, then… Damn, I need to find some way to help her before I die. She's a sweet girl, she doesn't deserve to die young.

"Is it terminal, like my brain damage?" Ron asked hesitantly. Please, say no.

"No, it can be managed," Mary replied immediately, almost sounding like she was trying to convince herself. "Tori's life isn't in any danger as long as she doesn't-"

"Mary, enough," Lord Greengrass stopped his wife.

"Sebastian, he's Family-" Mary started.

"Do not make me repeat myself," Lord Greengrass commanded, silencing her with an almost deadly glare. Woah… What the fuck…? "Ron already has enough to worry about, he doesn't need our burdens on his shoulders as well." Lord Greengrass then looked to Ron. "I will speak plainly; James and I need your help. During the Great War, the Dark Lord moved on Ilvermorny in the hopes of stealing the Snakewood tree's power. While the staff secured the castle and the students, the Dark Lord managed to reach the tree. He did something… dark… to it, and ever since then, the tree has stopped producing fresh leaves."

"How did the Dark Lord invade a Wizarding School?" Ron asked. "Aren't all Wizarding Schools protected by countless wards?" I know for a fact that he's going to burn Hogwarts down eventually, so why am I even surprised? He is such a fucking cunt!

"They are, but the Dark Lord had followers in every corner of the Wizarding World at the height of the Great War," Lord Greengrass replied. "By the time the British and American Aurors arrived, the Dark Lord had fled the scene. No one knows what he did to the tree, countless wizards and witches of renown have tried to undo his Dark Magic, and none of them have succeeded. Because of this, Ilvermorny no longer allows anyone to pluck the Snakewood tree's leaves, especially not former Death-Eaters."

"But it's for a good cause, isn't it?" Ron asked. "Surely, they'll understand… We can even just ask for one leaf, just for Tracey." I don't even want mine; I should be the one on death's door, not Trace.

"If they open that door, then everyone will start making demands," Lord Greengrass said. "At least, that's what they told me."

"If they're really this adamant about not giving anyone a leaf, then what makes you think that they'll give one to me?" Ron asked. "I don't have your wealth, nor do I have your name."

"You have something better," Mary said. "You have The Quibbler."

"Pardon?" Ron blinked. "And how does that help?"

"James and I came up with a strategy while we were in the States," Lord Greengrass started. "This year, the International League of Wizard's Chess Club are hosting their tournaments at Ilvermorny Castle. James and I need you to enter the Junior League Tournament, and then, make it very clear that you're only competing for two leaves from the Snakewood tree. Once this story gains traction, we will use The Quibbler to spread the word of your 'quest to save your friend'-"

"You want me to pressure them into giving me a leaf?" Ron asked. "My Lord, this could backfire on me and my staff-"

"This is James and Susana's final hope of getting their daughter back, Ron," Mary all but pleaded, causing Ron's stomach to twist into a knot. "Susana cannot bear to see Tracey rot away in St. Mungo's, this is their final attempt to save their daughter's life. I know we're asking a lot from you, especially given what's happening… However, we have no choice." Why am I even thinking about this? This is Tracey, of course, I need to help her.

"Then, let's go sign up right now," Ron said, noticing the relief in their expressions. "If this can help Tracey, then I'll do whatever it takes." I won't come back until I have a leaf from this Sacred Snakewood Tree.

"I will send the letter, then," Lord Greengrass smiled a little, while Mary reached across and patted Ron's cheek. "There's no need for us to sign up in person. After your repeated victories, such a thing is beneath you. I will get in touch with the Heads of the Junior League Tournament, and they'll sort everything out." Talking to people is beneath me? Oh, I keep forgetting that Lord Greengrass is an arrogant little shit who thinks he's better than everyone because he got lucky with his birth. Say nothing, Ron, it's not worth it. Just focus on helping Tracey.

"I'll tell James and Susana," Mary said as she stood up. "Thank you, Ron! You don't know how much this will mean to them!"

---

Thursday 18th February, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Night)

Ron moved his knight, taking Lord Greengrass' bishop and calling out check. Lord Greengrass pulled his king back one tile, smirking a little to himself. Wait… Why is he smirking? Did I fuck up? Ron studied the board carefully, but try as he might, he couldn't find any opening that Lord Greengrass could potentially exploit. Is he just trying to throw me off?

"Are you going to make a move?" Lord Greengrass asked. "Or, is your strategy to stall until I die of old age?"

"Just give me a second," Ron clicked his tongue, moving his white-tile bishop and lining up Lord Greengrass' last knight. I need to weaken his presence on the map, which means that his knight needs to go.

"Your playstyle has changed," Lord Greengrass noted. "You could've killed my rook next with that knight of yours, and in the past, you wouldn't have hesitated." I'm not losing a knight for a rook, that'd be mental. Look at how chaotic this board is, I need pieces that can navigate this mess more easily.

"You taught me not to sacrifice my pieces needlessly," Ron shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll kill that rook eventually."

"You are welcome to try," Lord Greengrass said, moving his knight and killing one of Ron's pawns. "While we're at this, do you want to tell me what you're hiding from me?"

"Pardon?" Ron looked up.

"You've been quiet, more so than usual," Lord Greengrass pointed out. "And I've noticed that there's an envelope in your pocket, you keep checking to make sure that it's there." I guess he's onto me, then…

"It's not good news," Ron leaned back in his chair, losing all interest in the game.

"Does it have something to do with the Ministry?" Lord Greengrass asked. "Are they giving you more trouble?"

"They're putting me on trial in front of the Wizengamot," Ron replied, and Lord Greengrass immediately looked up with a furrowed brow.

"What did you just say?" Lord Greengrass demanded. "Ron, this is the sort of information that you need to share! How could you be so foolish as to keep this to yourself?!" Foolish?

"You consider me a fool, do you?" Ron asked coldly, his eyes flashing red. You're literally within reaching distance, and you want to use that tone with me? Who's really the fool here?

Lord Greengrass drew in a sharp breath as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes locked onto Ron's.

"What is the accusation?" Lord Greengrass asked eventually.

"They are claiming that I'm trying to cause civil unrest within Magical Britain," Ron pulled out the envelope, handing it over to Lord Greengrass. "They're not wrong, I want to out the rampant corruption within the Ministry. The whole system is fucked as far as I can tell, with only a handful of people doing their jobs properly."

"It's on Monday?" Lord Greengrass read the letter. "They're trying to rush this in order to give you less time to prepare."

"Don't worry, I have my own strategy in play," Ron said, deciding to come clean. Jürgen is going to tell Lord Greengrass about my disappearance tomorrow night anyway, so I might as well do it now.

"What strategy?" Lord Greengrass asked.

"The Carrow Twins are hosting a gathering tomorrow night," Ron started, earning an interest look from his mentor. "It's one of their infamous parties… Have you heard of them before?"

"I… Yes, I have," Lord Greengrass replied, tensing up a little. Really? Why am I not surprised?

"You have?" Ron cocked an eyebrow, his tone turning cold as ice. "Have you ever attended one of these parties?"

"I have attended one," Lord Greengrass replied, causing Ron's eyes to flash red again. "But before you come to any conclusions, know that Mary and I left early, promising to never return." Mary attended them as well?!

"Is that so?" Ron asked, not believing the man. "Did you two leave out of disgust? I've heard some truly dreadful things about the Carrow Twins, and if you've taken part in their fucked-up 'hobbies', then you need to come clean right now."

"Mary and I attended one of their rallies during the Great War," Lord Greengrass started, choosing his words carefully. "We both deemed it too dangerous to associate with the Carrow Twins, as I was working very hard to recreate the Greengrass Family's image at the time. They have invited us multiple times since then, but we have always refused given what the Dark Lord did to my wife." Hold on a second… Something doesn't add up here.

"So… You only disapprove because it would be too dangerous to associate with them?" Ron asked. "You don't think that what they do to other human beings is wrong?"

"What do you want me to say, Ron?" Lord Greengrass asked, causing Ron's stomach to twist from anger and revulsion. He's just as bad as people like Corban Yaxley, and yet, I treat him with respect and admiration… Why do I do that? Why do I justify his actions, while punishing the actions of others like him?

"These people, the Death-Eaters, held your wife in a dungeon," Ron reminded the man. "They murdered your mother, and then, they threatened to murder my Daphne…" Lord Greengrass looked quite taken aback by Ron claiming Daphne as his own. "And yet, you still protect them? Why?" You know why, Ron, he hates everyone who isn't like him. And the only reason why he even associates with a Blood-Traitor like you is because you bring him opportunity and prestige.

"What will happen to my Family if I move against the Carrow Twins?" Lord Greengrass asked. "They have powerful friends all over-"

"Don't pretend like you're not smart enough to oust them without getting caught," Ron bit out, feeling his temper flare. "Don't fucking sit there in front of me and lie to my face! Why haven't you moved against them?!"

"It is not my fight," Lord Greengrass said, keeping his voice even.

"Not your fight…" Ron couldn't believe this. "Are you fucking joking? They went after your Family, and it's not your fight? Where's your self-respect?! Where's your rage?! Where's your common decency?!"

Ron suddenly stood up, unable to stomach the sight of Lord Greengrass for another moment. I'm done excusing this man's vileness… He is scum, just like the Death-Eaters. In the end, he only cares about himself and his own. I'm done throwing my values in the dirt for his sake. Daphne and Astoria are the only Greengrasses who I need to be protecting, Mary and Sebastian made their choices a long time ago.

"You and your wife… You should be ashamed of yourselves," Ron sneered in disgust. "You care more about your image than you do about the lives of others. That, to me, is just as bad as the crimes of the Carrow Twins."

"Ron-"

"Shut your fucking mouth," Ron hissed, his eyes blazing red.

The chessboard cracked down the middle, and the pieces all but exploded as Ron's errant Magic filled the room. Sebastian froze in his spot, while Ron felt his heart clench painfully. It genuinely hurt to lose all respect and admiration for his mentor in a single conversation. I've excused him for far too long, I can't just ignore injustice whenever it suits me. I must be better than that, I must be better than all of them! Their inaction and lack of moralities is what caused this mess in the first place!

"I ought to kill you right here and now," Ron said, feeling the urge to pull out his Aspen Wand and blast Sebastian Greengrass' face off. "You know what? I'm done… I'm fucking done with you… I'll be going to Ilvermorny alone-"

"Where is this anger coming from?" Sebastian asked, half-shocked and half-hurt. "Ronald… We have treated you as one of our own-"

"That doesn't excuse you in my eyes," Ron shut him down. "You would let the world burn if you could be king of the ashes, and I finally see it now. No… I've always seen it, but I've been so desperate for acceptance that I lowered myself into the shit and piss that is the Greengrass Family." Ron then leaned forward, towering over Sebastian with a hateful sneer. "You're lucky that I love your daughters… If I didn't, I would have killed you and your wife tonight."

"Tomorrow, I'm going to cripple the Dark Lord," Ron went on. "After that, I'll hunt him down like the wild dog he is, and I'll kill every cunt who gets in-between me and my prey. From now on, Daphne will represent the Greengrass Family in my alliance, while you and your wife can fuck off."

Ron then marched towards the exit; he knew that he was going to do something that he would later regret if he continued to breathe the same air as Sebastian.

"I will keep up appearances, but not for you," Ron said before leaving. "Don't ever mention this conversation to anyone, because if you do, I'll find out. Do you understand?"

Sebastian just continued to stare at Ron in disbelief, which only pissed Ron off even more. He doesn't even understand why I'm angry! In his twisted mind, he has done absolutely no wrong by always putting himself first! This is what I've been worshiping?! I'm the real cunt here, not this coward! Even Mary, despite being tortured and imprisoned by the Death-Eaters, is more concerned with her image than doing the right thing. All of these adults are fucked in the head, and they've gone and fucked this planet into a coma!

"Do you understand?" Ron repeated, and Sebastian eventually gave a short nod.

Ron yanked the door open, leaving without sparing Sebastian another glance.

---

Friday 19th February, 1994 (St. Mungo's – Afternoon)

Ron had left Greengrass Manor before the sun had even risen, his conversation with Sebastian was playing in his head over and over again. A small part of Ron didn't even understand where all of his anger had suddenly come from, though he was clever enough to wager that being cornered by everyone was driving him over the edge.

It was as if everyone was taking turns at chipping away his sanity, all of them playing a part in some Celestial scheme to drive him mad.

Millicent's choice was still plaguing him, constantly making him feel worthless and wretched for not being good enough to get his point across properly, and now with the Ministry hot on his heels because of the avalanche Millicent had started by going to her parents; Ron was truly hating himself now more than ever.

Now, when it came to Millicent's choice, he could at least understand why she had chosen her parents over doing the right thing. He hadn't exactly put his best foot forward, and although his Chronic Stress had played a big part in his blunder; Ron wasn't one to ignore his own mistakes. He had made an illogical decision by telling Millicent about her parents' true nature only days before the opening of the Werewolf Sanctuary, and at this point, all he could really do was to learn from his mistake.

He needed to put logic and strategy over his emotions and attachments to his loved ones; something that he had planned to do but failed horribly at. After his parents' constant judgement, Pandora's abandonment, his siblings' flimsy loyalties, Harry's repeated invasions of his privacy, Dumbledore's constant lack of responsibility, the manipulative behaviour of the Veela Community, the Ministry's vile corruption, his own friends' lack of effort in anything important, and Sebastian's missing morality; Ron had finally come to realize that his only weakness was having expectations of other people.

He trusted these fucks to do the right thing, and time and time again, they spat in his face. No matter how much good he did for them, no matter how many times he forgave them, they kept showing him that they only cared about themselves and their own self-interests. At this point, he was the reason why things weren't getting better. He kept repeating the same mistakes, and he only did so because he was desperate for just a little affection and understanding.

It was so fucking pathetic that Ron honestly wanted to end his life… Successfully, that is. Someone as weak as him didn't deserve to live, even his own code condemned him. Maybe the only way to live is to not expect anything from anyone? To just do the right thing, and hope that, in the end, you did more good than bad? Maybe wanting happiness for yourself is the ultimate pitfall?

"Why are we sitting in hospital?" Artyom suddenly asked, breaking Ron out of his thoughts. I wanted to see Tracey, but now that I'm here, I can't bring myself to enter her room.

"I like the smell of this place, and watching sick people is a hobby of mine," Ron replied.

Artyom rolled his eyes, not amused in the slightest.

"What? They don't have jokes in Russia?" Ron asked. "Is that why you're such a grim bastard all the time?"

"Your sarcasm bores me," Artyom said, looking around the waiting room. "Do you have problem with speaking normally?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ron shrugged. "And you, of all people, can't talk about speaking normally."

Artyom frowned at Ron.

"English is fourth language for me," Artyom stated.

"I wasn't referring to your broken English, don't be so rude, Artyom," Ron said. "I was referring to your bone-rattling voice. Seriously, did you hit puberty twice? No judgement, of course-"

Artyom drew in a sharp breath, looking all too ready to slap Ron in the face. Touchy, touchy… I had no idea that I bought myself the services of a little bitch.

"Why are we here?" Artyom asked again. "It is waste of time; we should be preparing."

"Emilia has everything we need," Ron reminded Artyom. "There's not much we can do but wait."

"By why wait in hospital-" Artyom stopped abruptly, narrowing his eyes on Ron.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Ron asked. "I'm underage, cunt-"

"You wish to see your friend," Artyom said, causing Ron to tense a little. "Tracey Davis." Figures that he knows about her.

"I don't know what you're on about," Ron looked back ahead.

"Really?" Artyom cocked an eyebrow. "You are afraid of sleeping girl?"

"Sleeping girl?" Ron frowned at Artyom. "She's in a coma, you prick."

"You feel guilty," Artyom noted. "I know guilt when I see it."

"Are you done?" Ron asked. "I can check you into one of these rooms, if you like. There are easier ways to get a boot lodged into your arsehole."

"And now, you are being defensive," Artyom said, not looking very threatened. "You blame yourself for her coma."

"Shut it," Ron growled, his hands tightening around the chair's armrests.

"Did you cast Curse that hurt her?" Artyom pressed on.

"Obviously not-"

"Then, you are being coward," Artyom said immediately. "She was hurt by assassin, not you."

"Said assassin was after me," Ron reminded Artyom. "Tracey got hurt because of me-"

"Your friend got hurt because she was brave for you," Artyom said. "And what are you doing? Sitting down here like some coward." Stop calling me that!

"I'm not a coward," Ron grit out.

"That is what all cowards say," Artyom said. "If you don't want to see her, then let's go. I don't like smell of this place, it turns stomach."

"You're more than welcome to fuck off," Ron said. Believe me, you'd be doing me a favour.

"You owe her Life-Debt," Artyom said. "Least you can do is see her. Show some honour. Are you not man?"

"Fine," Ron hissed, shooting out of his chair. "If it gets me a minute away from you, I'll gladly go visit her."

"Go, then," Artyom jerked his head towards the exit. "Unless, you are nothing but talk."

"I know you're trying to bait me," Ron said. "You're not that clever." It's still fucking working, though. He's not entirely wrong about me being a coward…

Artyom kept staring at Ron, judgement swirling behind his dark eyes. I hate this man so much.

"You're a cunt," Ron said, heading towards the exit. "An absolute cunt."

---

Twenty Minutes Later

He was just standing in front of the door like some creep, frozen in place thanks to an overwhelming sense of guilt and anxiety. He hadn't seen Tracey since she had been admitted to this place, and by now, it just felt wrong to visit her after he had ignored her for so long. C'mon, Ron, don't be such a bitch! Just turn the handle, and enter the fucking room! It's not that hard!

Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened and revealed Tracey's mother; Susana Davis. The pair went wide-eyed at the sight of each other, and Ron quickly noticed just how weak she looked. Merlin, has she eaten anything since Tracey got hurt?!

"Ronald?" Susana croaked, narrowing her eyes on him. "Is that really you?"

"Um… Good afternoon, Mrs. Davis," Ron murmured, clearing his throat.

"You finally came to visit Trace?" Susana smiled tiredly, though the smile didn't reach her baggy eyes. She looks more exhausted than I do.

"Yes…" Ron swallowed thickly. "I… I'm very sorry for not coming sooner…"

"You're here now, aren't you?" she said, moving back in order to let him step inside.

Ron drew in a deep breath, taking reluctant steps into the room. His eyes darted towards Tracey's bed, relief filling him when he saw that her bed was hidden by white curtains.

"I was just going to step out for something to eat," Susana said, while Ron eyed the sleeping bag and trunk by the visitor's sofa. She's living in here? Gods… "I'll give you your privacy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Davis," Ron felt absolutely gutted, he had destroyed this family. Worthless cunt, you deserve to be dead!

Susana looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she quietly ducked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, Ron felt his entire body slouch over, a mind-numbing sense of guilt coursing throughout his body. Why wasn't I paying attention…? All of this could've been avoided if I had just paid attention…

After a minute of contemplating his own idiocy, Ron began making his way over to Tracey's bed. With another deep breath, and thoughts of Stoatshead Hill comforting him, Ron pulled the curtains aside.

The sight behind the curtains winded him, and he immediately turned around in order to not look at the husk that was Tracey Davis. Fuck… Fucking fuck me… His heart clenched painfully, and when he shot another look back, a high-pitched whine escaped his throat.

Tracey had always been slender in build, but now, she was nothing more than skin and bones. Her cheeks had sunk in, her closed eyes were protruding out due to her gaunt face, a jagged and very visible scar marred the right side of her throat, and she was so pale that Ron was afraid that she had passed away the night before without anyone realizing.

Out of some insane need to make sure that she was still 'alive', Ron crept closer to the bed until he was standing by her side. Her breathing was short and laboured, and the tube that was invading her mouth in order to administer the potions made a strange gurgling noise every time she breathed out.

Ron had seen so many horrors in his short life, but none of them had prepared him for this.

"Oh, Trace…" Ron whimpered, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so fucking sorry…"

---

One Hour Later

"Ronald?" came Susana's voice, stirring Ron from his sleep.

"Trace?" Ron raised his head, both of his hands still wrapped around Tracey's.

His inflamed eyes ached from crying, and his nose was completely blocked. Fucking hell, I feel like shit… Ron looked around the room groggily, stopping when he saw a blurry Susana giving him a sorry smile. Oh, that's right… Tracey's in a coma, they just sound alike…

"I brought you a sandwich," Susana whispered, offering it to him.

"You didn't need to trouble yourself for me, Mrs. Davis," Ron said, accepting the plate nonetheless.

"You look dreadful, Ronald," Susana sat down in the chair to his left. "When was the last time you slept properly?" I don't really remember, actually…

"Probably before Tracey…" he trailed off. "Um… What about you?"

"The same," she replied, her voice was barely audible.

An overbearing silence filled the room, with the only sound in the room being Tracey's ragged breaths.

"Mary came by yesterday," Susana suddenly broke the silence. "She told me that you've agreed to go to Ilvermorny for us. Thank you, Ronald."

"Tracey saved my life," Ron started, feeling his throat tighten. "I won't be coming back until I get a leaf from that tree." I'll beg them like a dog if I have to, because if there's even a slim chance that it might bring Tracey back, then I have to give it my all.

"From what James has told me about his visit to Ilvermorny, you might need to change schools, then," Susana tried to smile, failing horribly. She's scared that I'll fail, I can see it.

"Your husband came up with a good strategy," Ron said. "I can pressure them with The Quibbler, Tracey's injury was met with universal sympathy, after all."

"And if that doesn't work?" Susana asked anxiously.

"Then, I will do what I must," Ron replied vaguely. My reputation and name mean nothing, not where my friends are concerned.

"Just… Just don't get yourself into any trouble, okay?" Susana requested, much to Ron's surprise.

"But, Trace-"

"She always talked about you," Susana said, giving her daughter a longing look. "To her, you were some hero out of a fairy-tale…" What? "Every time she came home from Hogwarts, it would be 'Ron this' and 'Ron that'… I thought she had feelings for you, that is until I met Theodore, of course. Still, she loved you very much, and I know that she wouldn't want you to get hurt for her sake. Your health is also important, Ronald, just try to remember that. I would hate to see Molly and Arthur go through… this…"

Susana then sniffled, failing to clear her eyes with her shaking hands.

"It feels like someone's ripped my heart out of my chest…" Susana suddenly sobbed, causing Ron's eyes to well up. "My poor baby girl…" All my fault, I'm so sorry…

Ron put the plate on the side table before shifting closer to Susana, hesitantly putting an arm around her shoulders despite his own discomfort from physical contact. He couldn't think of anything comforting to say, her words had honestly left him shaken to his core. Even though her daughter is so close to death, she's still worried about my health? Is… How is she so good? She has to be the reason why Tracey was… Tracey.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this…" Susana coughed out, but Ron just held her more tightly.

"I miss her too," Ron tried his hardest to sound strong, cursing his eyes for being unable to hold back his tears. "I miss her so fucking much…" And I won't rest until I have that leaf, until I've tried everything in my power to bring her back. Unlike me, she's good through and through… She should be the one who's alive and well, not something twisted like me.

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Thank you for visiting her," Susana croaked, and Ron quickly pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her. "Oh, thank you, kind boy…"

She dabbed her eyes and sniffled, shooting Ron a pained smile.

"I promise, Mrs. Davis, I'll bring back a leaf from the Sacred Snakewood Tree," Ron swore, still feeling heartbroken. "Tracey is… She is one of the kindest people that I've ever met. The world is an infinitely better place with her in it, always smiling and telling jokes…"

Susana's lips trembled, and her puffy eyes welled up again.

"I will find some way to bring her back," Ron said. "Please, just give me some time, I will never abandon her. I know that she would do the same for me."

"Okay…" Susana nodded, her voice cracking.

"I'll visit tomorrow as well," Ron promised. "Maybe you and I could leave this place for a bit, eat something other than stale sandwiches?" And maybe you can get some actual rest, you look even more exhausted than I do.

"I… I can't-" Susana whimpered.

"When Tracey wakes up, she'll need you at your strongest," Ron spoke from experience. "After my coma, I was so dependent on others… It's really hard to get back into your life after missing so much of it. Please? Just lunch, nothing more."

Susana gave a weak nod, shooting a guilty look towards Tracey's bed.

"All right," Ron drew in a deep breath. "I'll see you tomorrow, then, Mrs. Davis."

"You can call me Susana, Ronald," she said.

"Then, you should call me Ron," he returned, offering her a sympathetic smile. "Goodbye for now, Susana."

"Please, get some rest," Susana said just as he turned to leave. "She'll need you as well, Ron." She's far better off without a monster like me.

"Of course," Ron said, not wanting to give her a reason to pull out of their deal.

Ron shot one last look at Tracey, and although it hurt him to see her like this, it also sparked his resolve. He wasn't going to fail her, never again. With his mind made up, Ron exited the room, only to run into Artyom.

"Shit… I forgot you were waiting for me," Ron realized. "Sorry about that, I fell asleep for a bit."

"You need it," Artyom said, not sounding bothered. "Where to next?"

"I need you to go to The Quibbler's Headquarters," Ron said. "Wait for Zolly, while I return to Greengrass Manor and 'call in an early night'."

"And what of Lady Travers?" Artyom asked.

"Don't worry about her, she'll come," Ron said. "Just wait for me, yeah?"

"Understood," Artyom gave a nod. "I will escort you back to manor first, though."

"Let's get going, then," Ron began walking. "We have Death-Eaters to hunt down." I'm coming for you, Voldemort. Not everyone fears you, and I promise you, you'll learn to fear me by the time I'm done with your followers!

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Friday 19th February, 1994 (Outskirts of Birmingham – Late Evening)

As Corban, Felix, and Robert stepped out of the Carrow Twins' grand estate, they spotted their fellow party-goers gathered around a large bonfire.

"They've started earlier than they said they would," Felix noted.

"No, my boy, this night is only just beginning," Robert explained as they made their way over to the large group. "First, there will be speeches and mingling, followed by an extravagant dinner. Once everyone has had their fill of food and wine, that's when the Carrow Twins will bring out the entertainment."

"We are only here to give a speech, nothing more," Corban said. "This entire affair is foolish; we cannot afford the Aurors catching onto us this early." The Carrow Twins' obsession with hedonism will be their undoing, and if we're not careful, they'll drag us down with them.

"The Dark Lord seems to think that this is a good idea," Robert said. "Personally, I'm with you, Corban, but it would be poor form for the twins to uninvite so many honoured guests. Let us do what must be done, and then, we can be on our way. I do not wish to keep Anne waiting tonight." Is that so?

"Do you have plans, my Lord?" Felix asked.

"Always looking for more information," Robert chuckled, patting Felix's back. "Corban, you've raised this one right."

Corban said nothing, but he did give Felix a subtle nod, earning a shy smile from his ward. I didn't need to raise him; he's always been brilliant. I just hope he realizes that one day soon. Once they had reached the bonfire, Corban realized that within the roaring flames was a scorched body. A Centaur? Must be one of the farm animals the Carrows abducted.

"Lord Yaxley!" Amycus suddenly walked over to them, earning everyone's attention. "My dear friends! Look who has finally decided to grace us!"

There was some applause, but mostly, the foreign Lords and Ladies eagerly looked upon the famed Lord. Corban did his part, giving nods and shaking hands with anyone who was bold enough to step forward.

"So good of you to join us, my Lord," Alecto finally made her way over, planting kisses on his cheeks. Fantastic… Now, I need a shower and a check-up at St. Mungo's. "My brother and I were worried that you wouldn't come to our festival." I don't see Arcturus anywhere. I suppose he's too clever to be caught anywhere near something this incriminating.

"I have been sent by our Lord," Corban whispered, making Amycus' eyes grow wide.

"He listened to Amycus' idea?" Alecto's lips twitched upwards. "You are going to help us recruit these fine Lords and Ladies?"

"You won't regret this," Amycus grinned, revealing his yellow and cracked teeth. "With all of them on our side, our Lord's reach will grow far beyond Magical Britain. There are Lords here from as far as Russia!"

"How many Lords and Ladies in total?" Felix asked, pulling out his notepad and pen.

"What is that in your hand, boy?" Alecto asked. Boy? You would dare… Calm, Corban. Do not forget your duty.

"This?" Felix showed his pen, and Alecto nodded. "It's a fountain pen, more efficient than using a quill."

"A fountain pen?" Amycus looked rather confused. "It looks… Muggle…"

Corban fought the urge to roll his eyes, he couldn't deny that some of his peers were a little too fanatical at times.

"Just answer him," Robert said, reaching the end of his patience first.

"Twenty-one Lords, and eighteen Ladies," Alecto said. That many?! Is this why the Dark Lord sent me here? Amycus must've told him how many would be in attendance. "As you can see, this will be the turning point of the war for us!"

"Indeed," Robert said, exchanging a quick glance with Corban.

"Well done, you two," Corban put on a smile. "You have both done exceptionally well tonight."

"Thank you, my Lord," Amycus grinned again, while Alecto smirked arrogantly. "Come, let me introduce you to everyone! Alecto and I have a surprise in store for you!"

---

Thirty Minutes Later

He had to admit that he was impressed, some of the most prominent members of the Pure-Blood Families were here tonight, including a fair few Lords and Ladies that Corban himself was friends with. Even some of Corban's closest allies were in attendance, such as Herbert Crabbe, Bartholomew Goyle, the Flints, the Selwyns, Walden Macnair, Avery Jnr, and Egbert Parkinson.

"My friends!" Corban called, his voice booming over the chatter and filling the night.

The Lords and Ladies stopped mingling, all of them looking towards Corban with expecting expressions. It's time I gave my speech, I think. Dinner will be starting soon, and I have other matters to attend to tonight.

"I cannot describe the joy I feel at having so many of our own gathered here tonight," Corban said, earning a few whistles and applause. "As many of you are aware, we have all become outnumbered by those who have stolen Magic from us!"

"Damn thieves!" Lady May from Australia yelled, earning shouts of agreement. They've all been drinking; I should add more passion into my words.

"In each of our respective countries, we continue to lose our rights to these Magic-Stealers and Half-Breeds!" Corban continued. "They come into our world, and instead of admiring what we, the Pure-Bloods, have built, they bring their warped ideas with them! They expect us to change, all the while enjoying the luxuries of the Wizarding World! Luxuries that we provide them with! Which of them can claim to have forged entire empires?! Which of them can claim that they know better than us?! How could they?! They are outsiders, stealing from us and expecting us to thank them for it!"

"Fucking Mud-Bloods!" Walden spat out.

"Exactly, my friend!" Corban pointed to Walden, which earned the man pats of encouragement and respect. "Mud-Bloods… They all carry the taint of the Muggle World within their veins, and yet, they consider themselves our equals?! How is such a thing possible?! How did we all fall so low as to feel threatened by such vermin?!"

Everyone went quiet, no doubt thinking about his words.

"Do not worry, my friends, for I will tell you how we have found ourselves so cornered!" Corban said, drawing in a deep breath. "We have no one who stands for us! The vermin have fools such as Albus Dumbledore-"

"Not for long, from what I've heard!" Lord Lebedev of Russia laughed, causing others to join him. The old man isn't so easy to put down, he'll be back at Hogwarts before we all know it.

"It does not matter if he lives or dies!" Corban spoke over the laughter, silencing everyone. "You see, my friends, another fool will simply take his place! Times have changed, and the Wizarding World has fallen under the assumption that we are no longer needed! However, without us, there is no Wizarding World! For hundreds of years, we, the Pure, have put our sweat and blood into every crevice of the Wizarding World! We created the Ministries, the Wizarding Hubs, the Wizarding Villages, the Wizarding Schools, and even projects that help those who wish to dispose of us! If not for us, the Mud-Bloods would still be hunted down by their own ilk!"

"It is fools such as Albus Dumbledore who have put us in such mortal peril!" Corban said, noticing that everyone was listening with rapt attention. "The vermin have found a champion for their voices, whereas we have continued to serve the Wizarding World in silence! Now, many of you will take offence to this, but I shall say it nonetheless… Our sorry position within the world we have built is our own fault!"

Many exchanged looks, some even frowning at the insinuation that they were to blame for their own problems.

"We have forgotten the power we wield, and because of that, all the scum of the Wizarding World has become emboldened!" Corban went on. "While men like Albus Dumbledore may preach 'morality' and 'tolerance', they have no problems with casting us out without any consideration! So, what is the only logical step forward for us all?!"

Before anyone could reply, Corban answered for them.

"We must find our own voice!" Corban told them. "We must find someone who understands our struggles and our sacrifices! We must find someone who is even more powerful than Albus Dumbledore!"

"And where would we even start searching for such a messiah?" Lady Baldwin from the States asked.

Corban put on a smile, looking at each and every person one by one.

"We don't need to search for this messiah, for he has already found us," Corban replied, spotting the superior smirks adorned by those who were in the know. "The Dark Lord has returned; I have seen it with my own eyes!"

Loud gasps emanated from all around him, with quite a few Lords and Ladies going pale in the face. It was astounding how quickly the mood had changed at the mere mention of the Dark Lord, many were no doubt realizing that death really had no power over the mightiest wizard to ever walk the Earth.

"Lord Yaxley speaks the truth, my friends!" Amycus all but yelled, his excitement overtaking his senses. "Many of us have been in his presence over the last few weeks!"

"Death has no hold over our Lord!" Herbert roared, which only extended the silence amongst the foreign Lords and Ladies. They are frightened. Good, I can use that.

"Have no fear, my friends!" Corban started. "Our Lord has sent me here to remind you of your oaths, and to ask you all to stand by him as he helps us retake our world from the rats that have infested it! Make no mistake, we are under attack! Our way of life, our Magic, our beliefs, our children, our hopes for a Pure World… Everything we hold dear is going to be taken from us if we do not act! We have all seen how much power we have lost over the years, so much so that we are condemned for simply existing!"

"No more!" Alecto yelled, riling up the crowd even further. "No more Mud-Bloods! No more Blood-Traitors!"

"Come!" Corban beckoned. "Step forward, and renew your oaths to the Dark Lord! Those who serve will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams!" And those who refuse will be put down here and now.

---

Many Oaths Later

Corban wasn't surprised by the response of his fellow Pure-Bloods, those who were here were already looking for a way to re-establish their power within their respective countries. One by one, they had all taken Magical Oaths, promising to aid the Dark Lord in bringing about the Pure World.

"We are all brothers and sisters in arms, now!" Corban announced after hearing the last Magical Oath, which elicited a rather excited response from the crowd. "Your choice tonight will not be forgotten, each of us will be given exactly what we deserve! With the Dark Lord leading us once again, we will bring the Wizarding World to heel, and remind them that they are nothing without us!"

Loud cheers echoed into the night, followed by thunderous applause. The fear they had all felt had now been replaced with a sense of comradery, they were more united than ever, just as the Dark Lord had predicted. None of them can resist him, he truly is the only way forward for us.

Corban felt a wave of self-assurance wash over him, he would surely be rewarded for this above all others.

"My Lords and Ladies, we must celebrate our new union!" came Amycus' voice, catching everyone's attention.

Amycus and Alecto were strutting over from the stables, and behind them was a large Centaur that was bound in chains. It's wearing a golden wreath… The twins captured a Chieftain? The Centaur was battered and bruised, its long, white mane caked with blood and dirt. It tried to stop being dragged along, but the Magical Chains burned its flesh whenever it lost its momentum.

"We have secured quite the surprise for you all!" Alecto cackled, yanking at the chains in order to cause more pain to the Centaur.

It fell over with a loud thud, gasping and wheezing for air. Laughter broke out as the Centaur Chieftain failed to regain its footing, choking and grunting as Amycus tried to force it onto its feet.

"Get up!" Amycus hissed, pulling at the chains. "Damn beast, walk!"

Corban walked over to the twins and the Chieftain; he could see that the beast no longer had any strength left in it. The others followed after Corban, quickly making a circle around the spectacle.

"Lord Yaxley, this here is 'Chief' Ruven, I'm sure you've heard of this beast!" Alecto spoke with a raised voice, making sure that everyone heard her. Chief Ruven? The Centaur that is demanding more land for its herd?

Whispers broke out all around them, while Corban looked the Chieftain over with a keen eye. There's clotted blood all around its mouth, the twins must've cut its tongue out with a hot blade.

"This beast has spoken out against us repeatedly," Amycus told everyone. "It believes that it should have the same rights as us! For nearly two years, it has been hounding our Ministry for more land than it deserves, and finally, we have found it and its herd!"

"Disgusting monster!" someone yelled, spitting on the defeated Centaur.

"Mule!"

"Did the stars not warn you about this?" Walden laughed.

"Come, my Lord," Alecto betokened Corban. "This is the surprise we had for you! Behead this beast, as is our custom!"

Every eye travelled to Corban, and as he looked around, he noticed the bloodlust within the eyes of his fellow Pure-Bloods. This could prove to be a powerful symbol of our new alliance. I should dedicate this to the Dark Lord, it will inspire the others to act in a similar fashion.

Corban pulled out his, and cheers immediately broke out all around him. Many patted his back and touched his arms, encouraging him to do what had to be done.

"Move aside," Corban ordered the twins, walking over to the beast's side. "I have indeed heard of this beast, and I must admit, I have been looking forward to this!"

"Kill them all!"

"Disgusting, four-legged monstrosities!"

"Abominations!"

Corban raised his left hand to silence the enthusiastic crowd, he didn't want anyone to miss this. As the mob began to tone it down, Corban turned his attention to Chief Ruven. The Centaur met his gaze, and much to Corban's surprise, it found the strength to raise its head in defiance. The crowd wasn't pleased, as they began throwing more insults and even spitting on the creature, but Corban wasn't like them. He didn't see a beast being too foolish to realize that its end was near, Corban saw a worthy foe that would never bow its head to anyone. Not even its betters.

Corban aimed his wand at the beast's nape, drawing in a deep breath in order to find his centre. It has to be clean, as is our way.

"I sentence this arrogant beast to death, in the name of the Dark Lord!" Corban's voice boomed. "Separata!"

There was a bright pink light as Corban slashed his wand, followed by the sound of Chief Ruven's head and body collapsing. There was an uproar of laughter and applause, with a few people calling out for more blood. Corban sheathed his wand as he stared at the twitching body at his feet, a torrent of blood was spurting out of the stump where Chief Ruven's head once sat. Another Centaur Chieftain slain by my hand. It is only a matter of time before we eradicate this filth from our world.

"Now, we don't want anyone to claim that we play favourites!" Amycus suddenly yelled over the cheers and applause. "Which is why we have secured a stable full of these wretched creatures! Come! Let us wet our appetites before dinner! Let Alecto and I give you a taste of the forbidden wonders we have in store for you all tonight!" It's time for Robert, Felix, and I to leave.

"Alecto," Corban pulled the hyperactive witch aside, making sure to keep his voice free from all emotions.

"My Lord?" Alecto blinked, confused by his sudden seriousness.

"Make sure that you don't do anything to harm the Statute of Secrecy," Corban warned. "We are at a critical point, and if we play our cards right, we'll finally be able to create our Pure World. There can be no more mistakes, understand? Kill all the Muggles and Mud-Bloods within your dungeons, don't leave a single witness alive. As for your guests, keep them here for the night. I don't want to hear about any raids in the morning, because if I do, there will be consequences."

"I… Yes, my Lord," Alecto gave a nod. "We already have everything we need; you can trust Amycus and I to secure their hearts and allegiances."

"Good," Corban said, turning around and heading towards Robert and Felix. "Let's go, our work here is done." With all of these Pure Families by our side, we'll infiltrate every Ministry within the Wizarding World. Our time has finally come!

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Friday 19th February, 1994 (The Quibbler's Headquarters – Dinnertime)

"All right, this is it, Marty," Ron whispered. "I have to go, now."

"Master will be careful?" Marty asked, tugging at Ron's sleeve. "Master promises to be safe?"

"I can't promise that," Ron put on his mask, he had failed to learn the Glamour Charm in time for the attack. Artyom said it was easy, but it's anything but. I can't afford to show my face to Emilia's men, the less people who are in the know the better.

"Marty should go with Master," Marty tried again.

"You can't do that," Ron kneeled down, putting his hand on Marty's shoulder. "Listen to me, mate, I don't fully understand how the Magical Oath you took works, which means that you can't come with me. It could get you killed, and if that happened because of me, I'd just…" I'd fucking fire the Killing Curse into my own chest. "It's time you returned to Hogwarts; we need to act like nothing has happened in order to avoid suspicion."

Marty let out a whine, not looking particularly pleased about Ron's command.

"There will be other battles, Marty," Ron tried. "C'mon, don't be like this, I don't need this right now. I have to be focused on the task at hand."

"Marty understands…" Marty said, looking down at his feet.

"Good lad," Ron pulled Marty into a quick hug, patting his back encouragingly. "Now, go. Return to Hogwarts, and pretend like nothing is amiss."

Marty gave a nod before stepping back, looking Ron over one last time.

"Marty shall wait for Master's call," Marty said, and when Ron gave him a parting nod, Marty cracked out of the stairwell. All right, let's do this!

Ron opened the door and entered the third floor, immediately spotting Artyom and Emilia having a conversation in the middle of the room. Wait… Where are her men?

"Emilia!" Ron called, walking over to his allies.

Both Emilia and Artyom looked to Ron, eyeballing his mask.

"What is that?" Artyom frowned, while Emilia just gave Ron a deadpan look.

"It's a disguise," Ron said defensively, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Only you and Emilia know about my involvement in this, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Why is your hair black?" Artyom asked.

"Because everyone knows that Weasleys have red hair," Ron replied. "Just… Can you not? This is the smart choice, who cares if I'm wearing a mask?"

"I was only asking," Artyom said, looking back to Emilia. "Can your men be trusted?"

"I could ask the same of you," Emilia countered.

"I only care about my client," Artyom said warningly. "If you are planning treachery, I will kill you." Oi, calm down! We're on the same side here!

"You are welcome to try," Emilia growled, her right hand moving to the hilt of her Oni-Blade.

"Stop it, you two," Ron bit out. "Emilia, you can trust Artyom, and Artyom, you can trust Emilia. We all want the same thing here, fighting amongst each other only helps the Death-Eaters." Ron then focused on Emilia. "Emilia, where are your men?"

"They are on standby in a safe house not far from here," Emilia reported. "Once we're inside the estate, we'll need to open a floo connection for them to come through. I doubt this Elf we're waiting on will be able to Apparate us and ten of my most trusted into the party. You mentioned that she's under Magical Oath, right?"

"I did," Ron nodded.

"Then, she will die as soon as she takes us to her Masters' hidden estate," Emilia said, and Ron once again felt a strong pang of guilt. It has to be done, Ron. Otherwise, these bastards will keep murdering people until they die of old age. Zolly made her choice a long time ago, and now, she has to suffer the consequences.

"Is the device ready?" Ron asked, looking at the black box by Emilia's feet.

"It is," Emilia replied.

"What is this device?" Artyom asked. "I have seen nothing like it."

"It's an Artefact created by the Wizards of Old," Ron explained. "All you need to know is that it can disperse poison into the air, or in tonight's case, a powerful sleeping agent."

"A sleeping agent?" Artyom asked.

"The Carrow Twins have innocent people in captivity, remember?" Ron explained. "We can't use poison because it'll kill everyone, including the people we need to save. Instead, we'll be knocking everyone out, and then, we can just execute our enemies. After our work is finished, we help the prisoners before calling the Aurors."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Emilia cut in.

"Of course," Ron said, giving her a curious look.

"I say that we leave the prisoners untouched-" Emilia started.

"What?" Ron and Artyom demanded together. See?! Even Artyom is with me on this! What do you mean we just leave them?!

"Listen, and don't interrupt me," Emilia said calmly. "We leave them untouched, but only so the British Aurors can find them, as you yourself planned."

"We can at least heal them before we call in-" Ron tried.

"That will only serve to weaken the impact on the Aurors," Emilia told them. "And, it will give away our motives. Think about it, if we go and heal these people, then the Aurors will know that we have an agenda. They will know that our actions were driven by something other than savagery. But, if we leave them untouched, then the Aurors will believe that we're only interested in hunting down the Pure-Bloods."

"That would make us fugitives," Artyom pointed out.

"Yes, but it will also take suspicion off of us, as our allegiances are already known," Emilia said. "Furthermore, the Aurors will be forced to tend to the injured, which means that they can't just hide this from the Wizarding World."

"The Aurors won't hide anything," Ron said. "From what I know, the Order has approached Madam Bones in order to work with her, and given her ongoing battle with Cornelius Fudge, she won't waste this opportunity. She'll make sure to pin the whole thing on the Death-Eaters, it's in her best interest to do so."

"They won't go to the Daily Prophet, will they?" Emilia asked, and Ron shook his head.

"Everyone of note knows who the Daily Prophet favours," Ron started. "However, they're not the only source of news anymore. I believe that she'll be forced to come to me, and once she does, I get to control the narrative. I'll do my best to make sure that none of us are suspected of anything."

"Then, we are all in agreement?" Emilia asked, and Artyom looked to Ron. He'll only do this if I agree? I know that he's a mercenary, but he takes his job very seriously. I mean, most of my allies aren't even this loyal to me.

"I agree," Ron said. "However, if anyone is in dire need of help, then we're going to heal them. I don't care about your arguments on this, Emilia, I'm not doing this simply because I want to hurt the Death-Eaters. There are innocent lives on the line, and they will come first. Am I understood?"

"Very well," Emilia gave a nod.

"Okay… Now, we just need to wait for Zolly," Ron sat down, closing his eyes in order to meditate. I need to find my calm, there can be no mistakes tonight.

---

Friday 19th February, 1994 (The Quibbler's Headquarters – After Dinner)

Zolly suddenly cracked into the room, breaking them all out of their thoughts.

"She's here," Artyom said, while Zolly smiled up at the large wizard. She's still under the effects of the Curse. This is… good… I think. Fuck, she's going to die in five minutes, and she doesn't even know it.

"Zolly has come, as promised," Zolly beamed at Artyom. "All windows are sealed and all exits are closed."

"Take us to unoccupied room," Artyom ordered, and Zolly looked around the room. "There is no time to waste, hurry."

"All three?" Zolly asked, while Ron and Emilia made their way over to Zolly and Artyom.

"All three," Artyom ordered, and Zolly put her hand forward.

One by one, they all took a hold of her, with Ron being the last. It has to be done, she's just as vile as her Masters. The only reason why you even care about her is because she's an Elf.

The room suddenly twisted in on itself, and all of them were dragged through a thin pipe before landing within a dimly lit room. Ron immediately felt his head ache painfully, and just as he began to tumble, Emilia caught him and pulled him into her side.

"Ron?" Emilia whispered, her right hand finding the side of his face. "Are you okay? Talk to me, my friend."

"What the fuck…?" Ron muttered, seeing bright spots as his head swam. This again? What is going on up there?

In the distance, he could hear someone letting out pained mewls. Zolly? Ron slowly turned his head, his eyes finding a blurry Elf on the floor, her body twisting and jerking as she clawed at her throat. Merlin…

Artyom suddenly moved over, grabbed Zolly by the neck, and with one strong twist, snapped her neck. Ron felt his stomach turn, but he didn't say anything. She was making too much noise, and now, she's not in any pain.

"Emilia, you can let go," Ron whispered, and she did so reluctantly. "I'm okay…"

"Can you stand?" Emilia asked, looking concerned for once.

"I can…" Ron nodded weakly, massaging the back of his neck. "Are we in an attic?"

"It would appear so," Emilia looked around the small, wooden room. "The fireplaces should be on the first floor, which means that we're going to have to sneak down there."

"Or, we will have to fight," Artyom pulled out his wand.

"No, we'll get outnumbered within seconds," Ron said, quickly coming up with a new strategy. "I'm actually very proficient with the Disillusionment Charm, and if we use the Bubble-Head Charm as well, we could gas the entire house on our way down."

"That… could work," Emilia nodded, a smirk gracing her face.

"Isn't he so smart?" came a familiar voice, causing Ron's eyes to widen behind his mask. You?!

Ron turned around and came face to face with Ravenclaw Ron, who was grinning at Zolly's corpse.

"My… My… How cold-blooded, Ronnie," Ravenclaw Ron sniggered. "I'm so proud of you!" Where the fuck have you been?! Why are you here now?!

"Ron? What are you staring at?" Emilia asked, following his gaze.

"Nothing…" Ron said, looking away from his counterpart. I'll deal with him later; I need to focus on the mission.

"Ouch," Ravenclaw Ron laughed. "Oh, well, I'm only interested in the massacre. By all means, ignore me."

"Artyom, cast the Bubble-Head Charm on yourself," Ron said, pulling out his Aspen Wand. "I'll do it for Emilia and myself, and then, I'll cast the Disillusionment Charm on us."

"Nice new wand," Ravenclaw Ron commented, while Ron prepared Emilia and himself. "I've been sorting through your memories, just to secure the important stuff, and I have to admit, I really enjoyed you getting a new wand. This one easily trumps the one Pandora got you." I'm trying to focus here; can you stop talking?

Once Ron was done with the Disillusionment Charm, he reached out and patted Emilia on the shoulder.

"So, what do you think?" Ron asked. "I can't even see the box myself."

"You've done well, Ron," Emilia commended. "Artyom, are you ready?"

"Let's go," Artyom said, and all three of them moved towards the exit.

It was difficult to move together since they were nearly invisible, so Ron took a hold of Emilia's shoulder in order to stick right behind her.

"Is the device on?" Ron whispered, while Artyom carefully opened the door in order to inspect their surroundings.

"Not yet, you'll hear a buzzing sound when I turn it on," Emilia replied. "Artyom can lead the way, while you watch my back."

"Got it," Ron whispered, drawing in a deep breath.

"If you want, I can scout ahead for you," Ravenclaw Ron offered, and Ron shoot him a puzzled look. "What? I can't go too far, since I'm bound to you, but I can stick my head through walls and let you know what's on the other side. It pays to have an extra soul attached to you." Really?! Bloody hell, that's brilliant!

"Do it," Ron whispered.

"Do what?" Emilia whispered back, while Ravenclaw Ron sunk through the floor with a massive grin.

"Nothing, let's just move," Ron said. "Artyom?"

"It is clear," Artyom reported. "Come, we must hurry."

They moved out of the attic, moving very slowly until they reached a long corridor. There were dozens of closed doors that ran along the decorated corridor, and for all they knew, there were Death-Eaters behind all of them.

"I'm turning it on now," Emilia whispered. "Is everyone's Bubble-Head Charm still intact?"

"Yes," Artyom and Ron replied.

"Okay, here we go," Emilia whispered.

Ron couldn't really see what she was doing, but after nearly a minute of silence, a low buzzing sound began to emanate from Emilia's hands. It's working!

"It's on," Emilia whispered, while Ron gazed at the pale blue mist pouring out of an invisible box. "I have two more vials with me, but we should still hurry."

"Stay behind me," Artyom instructed, and very slowly, they began moving again.

"Open the doors slightly so the mist goes inside," Emilia said. "Be careful, and don't get spotted."

The next five minutes were the most nerve-wracking that Ron had ever gone through, one misstep would result in the whole mission going down the toilet. By the time Ron managed to open the very last door, Ravenclaw Ron's head suddenly popped out of the ground. FUCK!

"You… fuck…" Ron grit out, and Ravenclaw Ron started laughing. "Take this seriously, cunt."

"You shouldn't talk to yourself; people will think that you're a loon," Ravenclaw Ron said, floating out of the ground and leaning against the wall. "This floor is clear, by the way, most of them are stuffing themselves in the dining hall."

"You saw them?" Ron whispered, slowly making his way back towards the middle.

"There are some really fucked up things happening downstairs," Ravenclaw Ron said, his expression suddenly turning serious. "I just saw some fat Lord fucking a little boy on the second floor. Poor kid was no older than ten."

Ron stopped moving, his blood turning to ice.

"What?" Ron looked to his past-self. "What… the fuck…?" Is he serious?!

"Yeah, he has the chap tied down and is just tearing into him," Ravenclaw Ron said. "You should kill that bastard yourself, eh? I'll teach you something for him."

"What else did you see?" Ron asked, not sure if he wanted the answer.

"Well, apart from the dining hall, a fair few of them are in the ballroom," Ravenclaw Ron grimaced. "They're messing around with Necromancy, the dumb fucks-"

"Necromancy?" Ron gaped. That's as forbidden as it gets! What in the fuck?!

"They've actually brought back a headless Centaur, it's dancing around for them," Ravenclaw Ron said, nearly making Ron feel sick. "These people… Even I'm disgusted, and I was trying to end all of existence."

"Wha… Why? Why are they…?" Ron felt his head throb again, he had never felt so jarred and confused. How could anyone do this? I mean, I hate the Death-Eaters above all else, but I would never go this far… Why are they like this? I don't understand-

"Too much power on their hands, and no one to hold them accountable," Ravenclaw Ron shrugged. "You need to hurry the fuck up, because once they're done eating, that's when the 'fun' will really start. They have over fifty people in the dungeons, and from what I can tell, they've been down there for quite a while. Some of them are actually dead, but no one has noticed yet. That, or, nobody cared enough to get rid of the bodies."

"I… Right…" Ron began moving again, noticing that the blue mist was moving through the corridor as if it were alive. "Emilia? Are you there?"

"I'm here," her voice came from near the stairs, and Ron quickly shuffled over. "Artyom is using his wand to move the gas around-"

"I know where everyone is," Ron whispered.

"Pardon?" Emilia asked.

"How?" came Artyom's voice.

"He has a guardian devil on his shoulders," Ravenclaw Ron grinned, shooting Ron a wink. "I'm going to keep scouting; the greeting room has all fireplaces but it's on the ground floor. Meet me at the bottom of the stairs."

"Ron, are you listening?" Emilia tapped his shoulder. "How do you know where everyone is?"

"I'm powerful, that's how," Ron lied. I'm also full of shit… "Follow my lead from here on, the greeting room is our next stop. The majority of them are in the dining hall and the ballroom. I can also sense Necromancy at play-"

"Necromancy?" Emilia hissed. "They wouldn't dare-"

"They have, let's go," Ron hushed her. "Artyom, follow after us and get that gas moving."

Artyom said nothing, no doubt wondering about how Ron could even 'sense' Necromancy.

They moved together down the stairs, with Ron leading the way with his wand brandished. It was surprisingly easy to get to the bottom, where Ravenclaw Ron was loitering about with a dark look on his face. He seems pissed, which is jarring in of itself. What else did he see?

"Ron, I need to replace the vial, there's no more gas coming out of the device," Emilia suddenly said, grabbing onto his suit. "Stop moving."

"Okay, but make it fast," Ron whispered. "Artyom, are you still with us?"

"I am," Artyom replied. "How do you know where they are? How can you sense Necromancy?"

"Now is not the time for this," Ron whispered, he needed to think of an excuse for later.

Artyom let out a grunt, letting go of his curiosity for now.

"Done," Emilia said, followed by a clicking noise and then a soft buzzing. "It's on, let's keep moving."

"Take the left from here, avoid the dining hall for now," Ravenclaw Ron began leading the way. "This way is clear, but it will take longer to get there."

"Follow me," Ron whispered, nudging an invisible Emilia in the right direction.

Emilia and Artyom didn't question him, for different reasons, and they all moved methodically through the eerily quiet estate. Ron wanted to ask his counterpart more questions, but since he wasn't alone, he just had to trust Ravenclaw Ron not to make a mistake.

"Stop!" Ravenclaw suddenly stopped in front of a closed door, causing Ron to do the same. "Did you hear that? Wait here, I'll be right back."

Ravenclaw Ron then jumped through the door, leaving Ron and the others on their own. Get back here. What happened to reaching the greeting room first?

"Ron?" Emilia suddenly bumped into his back. "Why did you stop?"

"I'm… trying to sense if anyone is around…" Ron replied. Fuck, that was bad…

"You and I will have long conversation after this," Artyom promised. Shit, those are the worst kind.

"I found Alecto Carrow," Ravenclaw Ron popped back out of the door, a look of disgust marring his features. "And I found Bartholomew Goyle… You might want to look inside for yourself, but I promise you, it's going to make you sick." What are they doing?

"Alecto Carrow and Bartholomew Goyle are behind that door," Ron told his companions.

"What? Goyle is behind that door?" Emilia demanded. "How could you know that without even looking?"

Ron ignored her question, slowly moving towards the door and opening it slightly in order to peek inside the spacious broom closet. He immediately heard loud grunts and moans, spotting a large man thrusting into Alecto Carrow from behind. Ugh… Goyle's father's bare arse… Ron nearly gagged, closing the door and taking a step back.

"I was right, they're having… sex…" Ron felt oddly embarrassed to say it.

"What the fuck…?" Artyom muttered under his breath, but they all heard him. "This is… How are you doing this?"

"Just open the door and get the gas in there," Ron ordered.

Emilia and Artyom quickly did as they were told, and luckily, the two Death-Eaters were a little too busy with each other to notice anything was off. Once Emilia and Artyom were done, they slowly shut the door.

"Give it a few seconds," Emilia whispered, still waiting by the door. "Okay, open and check again."

Artyom opened the door and peeked inside, watching quietly for a few more seconds. Eventually, Ron heard some odd mumbling come from inside the broom closet, followed by the sounds of the Death-Eaters collapsing.

"It worked," Artyom reported, shutting the door.

"Goyle… He's mine, Ron," Emilia hissed. "He helped murder my father."

"Everyone on your list is yours, I promise," Ron sought out her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "But for now, we need to get your men in here. We can't keep doing this for long."

"The greeting room isn't far, come on," Ravenclaw Ron beckoned.

"Follow me," Ron tugged at Emilia's uniform.

"Lead the way…" Emilia said distantly. Bartholomew Goyle is so fucking dead. Wait… I'm about to orphan a lot of my House-mates…

Oddly enough, Ron found himself feeling guilty, despite the fact that he was going after Death-Eaters. Just focus, Ron. Think about this after you've got all of them in your clutches. The journey to the greeting room was mostly uneventful, but Ron still found himself sweating by the end of it.

"Emilia, get your men in here," Ron started. "Give me the box; Artyom will put a Bubble-Head Charm on them as soon as they get through."

"Artyom, let's go," Emilia whispered, while Ron took the active box out of Emilia's hands.

He could barely see them as they snuck off towards the closest fireplace, which was a testament to his skill with the Disillusionment Charm.

"You should move to the dungeons once her men are here," Ravenclaw Ron advised. "All the captives are there, and you'll be safe if any fighting breaks out."

"Do I look like some-?" Ron started.

"I want to talk to you, in private," Ravenclaw Ron cut in. "Don't be a fucking idiot, this isn't a game. Your life is far more valuable than theirs. Plus, this way, you can make sure that no one hurts the poor, little Muggles. I know you can't resist that." Fuck, would the Death-Eaters really move towards the dungeons if everything goes to shit?

"Why do you need to talk to me right now?" Ron whispered. "Can't this wait?"

"I want to show you something," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "You need to see this and understand the reason behind it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, but his counterpart simply vanished without replying. You prick! Come back!

Ron drew in a deep breath, calming himself down a little as he looked towards the fireplaces. Emilia's men were pouring in rather quickly, and Artyom, who was now visible, was working to shut down the other fireplaces.

Just as the last of Emilia's men stepped into the estate, Ron spotted a door to the far left begin to open. OH, FUCK!

"Emilia!" Ron yelled. "Behind you!"

Emilia turned around just in time for the party-goers within the dining hall to step into the greeting room, causing all parties to freeze in their spots. Fuck me dead!

"What the fuck?!" a voice boomed from the Death-Eaters, while Emilia and her men brandished their weapons.

"By the Gods, we're under attack!" a woman screamed, and before Ron knew it, Spells began going off between the two groups.

"Use lethal force!" Emilia ordered, slashing a Curse in half as she ducked behind a fireplace. "Fight!"

Ron, who was watching from the side-lines, quickly dropped the box and pulled out his Aspen Wand. None of them had really noticed him thanks to the Disillusionment Charm, but the mere fact that they had been caught mid-invasion had forced Ron's heartbeat to increase rapidly.

The Spells cast by Emilia's men were mostly stopped by the shields that the Death-Eaters had put up, and while the men pulled the women back in order to defend them, Emilia's mercenaries moved for cover and better angles. They haven't noticed me yet, I need to do something before Emilia gets hit by a stray Killing Curse! We're completely outnumbered here! Cutis Terra! Ron felt raw power course throughout his body, and without wasting a second, he did short run-up before unleashing his strongest Spell.

"Baubillious!" Ron yelled at the top of his lungs, hurling a Wandless, blindingly-bright lightning bolt into the grouped-up and panicking Death-Eaters.

The deafening sound of thunder scared the life out of everyone, while the lightning bolt tore through the unsuspecting Death-Eaters, blowing a hole through the side of the estate. Ron undid the Bubble-Head Charm and yanked off his mask immediately, not planning to give anyone a chance to recover. Lumos Solem!

Ignoring the screams and yells of panic, Ron fired a golden beam of light upon the Death-Eaters from his eyes and mouth, shattering the wood and bodies within his line of sight. Drop the ceiling on them, Ron! Bury them alive! Ron pushed himself even harder, intensifying the Spell to the point where it easily levelled everything it smashed into. The walls and the ceiling suddenly collapsed, crushing anyone unlucky enough to survive the lightning.

By the time Ron was done, the only sounds within the greeting room were coming from the flames left behind by his wrath. Death-Eater cunts! Burn, you fucking animals!

Ron put his mask back on, feeling it stick to his face due to the Sticking Charm. Pain shot throughout his body, but it was nothing that he wasn't used to.

"Lower your wands, he's with me!" came Emilia's voice, and when Ron looked to her, he noticed that her mercenaries, all of them wide-eyed and dazed, were aiming their wands at him. I guess the Disillusionment Charm broke when I lost my concentration… Well, it's not like I need it anymore. "Lower your fucking wands right now!"

Emilia's mercenaries did as they were told, though Ron could easily see just how wary they were of him.

"They know we're here now," Emilia said. "Keep the fireplaces closed, and don't let them bring down the estate's Anti-Apparition Wards. Joseph, make sure that the Elves can't Apparate either. Do it, now!"

"Yes, Ma'am," the man named Joseph quickly flew into action, muttering incantations under his breath and waving his wand around.

While Emilia sorted out her mercenaries, Ron picked up the inactive device and walked over to the others. People quickly stepped out of his way, eyeballing him but not daring to speak up. Some of them are still covering their ears… Sorry about that.

"Are you hurt?" Artyom suddenly stepped into Ron's path, checking him over.

"No," Ron replied, noticing that even Artyom looked wary. "What is it?"

"You just…" Artyom started, going quiet as he looked at the smouldering and broken corpses near the doorway. "Who are you…?"

"Someone who you clearly underestimate," Ron said, handing Artyom the device. "You need to get to the ballroom right now, that's where the others will be holed up."

"What about you?" Artyom asked.

"I'm going towards the dungeons," Ron replied. "I can't let these bastards hurt anyone else. Stick with Emilia, protect her with your life. That's an order."

Ron half-expected Artyom to refuse, as he usually did, but this time, Artyom gave a firm nod. Good, he's finally showing me a hint of respect. I only had to kill a dozen people in one go for that to happen.

"Emilia," Ron called, and she quickly walked over. "I'm heading to the dungeons to guard the prisoners, Artyom and you need to capture every bastard that you run into. The top floors are filled with the gas, so have your men check up there after the ground floor is secure."

"You're going alone?" Emilia asked. "At least take some of my-"

"I can handle myself," Ron assured her. "We need every body searching for anyone trying to flee. We can't let them escape."

"I understand," Emilia said, but just as Ron turned to leave, she grabbed his left arm. "Be careful, my friend, and do not let your guard down."

"You too," Ron gave her a nod.

Artyom and Emilia wasted no time in joining her mercenaries, most of whom were now checking the rubble for anyone left alive. Ron shot one last look at the destruction he had caused, feeling nauseatingly proud of his own power. I've spent so long preparing for this moment, and now that it's here, it wasn't as… honourable… as I had imagined. Bloody hell, I just killed so many people.

His head throbbed once again, and the ache in his muscles grew stronger. Just keep walking, Ron, protect the poor souls within the dungeons. Do your duty first, you can lament your actions after.

"The Champion of Fate," came Ravenclaw Ron's voice, it was filled with childish mirth. "The Destroyer of Death-Eaters! I'm so fucking proud right now; you can't even fathom it!"

Ron looked around, noticing the lanky redhead leaning against a large metallic door at the end of the hallway to his right. The grin on his counterpart's face sickened Ron, and he himself had no idea why he was feeling so conflicted all of a sudden. There were women there… The fucking screams…

"Oh, c'mon," Ravenclaw Ron rolled his eyes, noticing Ron's wariness from his body language. "Don't tell me that you feel sorry for them, that would be incredibly pathetic. Even by your standards."

"Shut up," Ron hissed as he walked over, feeling his temper flare.

Ravenclaw Ron just grinned more widely, not bothered by Ron's anger.

"It was either them, or your allies," Ravenclaw Ron said, walking over to Ron and circling him. "Now, before you go into the dungeons, I feel like I should warn you."

"Warn me of what?" Ron asked, eyeing the large door.

"Amycus Carrow is inside," Ravenclaw Ron replied. "It's why I wanted you to come down here."

"What? He's actually in there? Why?" Ron asked, breaking out of his guilt.

"He was enjoying his wares, and if I'm right, preparing them for his guests," Ravenclaw Ron lost his grin, sneering at the door. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's men who take advantage of little girls. I want you to hurt this man for me, Ronald. This is the perfect time for me to teach you the Cruciatus Curse." Really? Wait… Did he say little girls?

"Wait… He's not…" Ron started, drawing in a sharp breath. "He's not raping some-"

"Worse, he simply enjoys causing them pain," Ravenclaw Ron cut in. "Children, that is. He likes to hurt them; it gets him off. It's why he runs that little camp of his, the sick fuck."

"What the fuck?!" Ron felt his blood boil. "Why?!"

"Because he can, and because, no one has ever held him accountable," Ravenclaw Ron hissed. "This is what you're fighting against, Ronald. Monsters! Deranged elitists who don't even consider their victims human. I want you to see what these bastards are capable of. I want you to see exactly why you were chosen to fight them."

Ron walked over to the door, attempting to open it. Shit! It's locked!

"The hinges," Ravenclaw Ron pointed at the walls surrounding the door. "Blast a hole through them, and the door will fall."

Ron quickly took a step back, aiming his Aspen Wand at the spot indicated by Ravenclaw Ron. One Non-Verbal Reductor Curse after another, Ron destroyed the door's hinges, however, due to its weigh, the metallic door stood rooted in its spot.

"I'll go in and check where he is," Ravenclaw Ron said, phasing through the door while Ron waited.

After a few moments, Ravenclaw Ron stuck his head through the metallic door.

"He's hiding at around the corner at the bottom of the stairs," Ravenclaw Ron reported. "He's literally shaking like a leaf, the coward."

"Good, let him fear for his life for a change," Ron grit out, aiming his wand at the door. "Bombarda Maxima!"

A bright white light fired out of Ron's wand, slamming into the door with such force that it was ripped right out of the wall. The door slid down the stairs leading into the dungeons, eventually coming to a stop with a loud clank.

"He's on the right, bottom of the stairs," Ravenclaw Ron grinned, vanishing from sight.

"Brachium Colubrum!" Ron hissed, sending a dozen ghostly serpents into the darkness to seek out Amycus Carrow.

"What the fu-" Ron heard the start of a scream, but it was quickly replaced by the sounds of Spells and pained shouting. Got you, cunt!

Ron began turning his arms as he felt his serpents wrap themselves around something, which was quickly followed up by more shouts. I think I'm going to enjoy having my own personal ghost!

"STOP!" a man yelled from beneath the stairs. "I surrender! PLEASE! It hurts!" Surrender? No, you don't get to surrender, you vile piece of shit!

Ron kept turning his arms, until eventually, he heard a sickening crunch followed up by ear-splitting screams. Pull him out, now! The serpents began to yank the body out of the dungeons, and although it was flailing around, Ron's Curse easily overpowered it.

"HAH!" Ron yelled, yanking as hard as he could.

Amycus' twisted body flew out of the shadows, flying over Ron's head and smashing into the ceiling. From what Ron could tell, the man was still alive, which meant that he could still fight back. Ron dragged his left arm to the side, slamming Amycus into a wall. Ron then began smashing the body all over the place, from the walls to the ceiling and then to the ground, ignoring the pleas of mercy and the screams. You like hurting children, cunt?! Let me show you how it feels to be at the mercy of a monster!

"Stop, you'll kill him at this rate," Ravenclaw Ron intervened. "He might know where the Dark Lord is hiding, you fool! Don't let your rage blind you in this pivotal moment! You can tear him to pieces afterwards!" The Dark Lord?

Ron stopped suddenly, his ghostly serpents vanishing; leaving behind a bloodied and broken Amycus Carrow. Somehow, the man was still alive, but from the looks of it, it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to his injuries. I don't have any time to waste.

Ron marched over and kicked Amycus in his ribs, eliciting a pained yelp.

"Get up, cunt!" Ron hissed, grabbing Amycus by the throat. "Cutis Terra!"

As soon as the Spell strengthened him, Ron yanked the Death-Eater off of the ground, slamming him into a wall and choking him until his eyes began to bulge out. Amycus tried to fail around, even throwing weak punches at Ron, to little effect.

"I… I have… money…" Amycus begged. "Please… Don't kill me…"

"Fuck your money!" Ron barked, hurling Amycus towards the dungeon entrance.

"Why…? Why are… you doing this…?" Amycus whimpered, trying to crawl away from Ron. There is no escape for scum like you, you wretch!

Ron marched over and stomped on Amycus' left leg, shattering his shin in two. Ravenclaw Ron pulled a face as Amycus howled in agony, his body thrashing about like a fish out of water.

"Please! Alecto! Help me-" Amycus tried, but Ron wasted no time in crushing his other leg.

"How does that feel?!" Ron yelled, grabbing Amycus by the hair and holding him in place. "How does it feel to be the powerless one?! You fucking cunt!"

Fat tears rolled down Amycus' face as he spluttered nonsense, mostly just begging for his life.

"Ron, don't kill him yet," Ravenclaw Ron said. "Remember that there is a bigger fish to hunt. This useless bastard could help us teach Lord Voldemort a lesson in humility."

"Where is the Dark Lord hiding?!" Ron demanded, his mask hovering right above Amycus' bloodied face.

Amycus kept whimpering and whining, crying like a little bitch instead of answering Ron's question.

"Speak, while you still have a fucking tongue!" Ron shrieked, slapping Amycus across the face.

A few loose teeth shot out Amycus' mouth, and much to Ron's annoyance, the man stopped moving all together. Wait… Fuck! Did I break his neck?!

"Did you kill him?!" Ravenclaw Ron asked, while Ron checked to see if Amycus was breathing. Shallow breaths, he's still alive.

"He's still alive, I just knocked him out," Ron frowned deeply, undoing Cutis Terra.

Pain shot throughout his body, and Ron felt his legs wobble. Fuck… I must've held it for too long…

"Are you okay?" Ravenclaw Ron asked.

"No…" Ron grit out, forcing himself to stand upright. "But I don't give a fuck! Right now, I just want to tear this bastard open!"

"Sweet Merlin," Ravenclaw Ron 'swallowed thickly'. "You are one scary son of a bitch, you know that, right? I mean, I've seen rage, but you? Bloody hell… I'm not even alive, and I'm still terrified of you. It's… It's beautiful, is what it is. Enough to make a man hard, that's for sure."

"Do you ever shut up?" Ron hissed, glaring at his past-self.

"What? You didn't miss me while I was gone?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "C'mon, I thought we were mates now! We beat the shit out a God together, that at least makes us allies, right?" Ravenclaw Ron then grinned from ear to ear. "Plus, I've been working tirelessly to keep your gourd in one piece. The least you can do is thank me."

"Why show up now?" Ron asked, limping away from Amycus and leaning against a wall. "You have a lot of explaining to do…"

"And I will, but only after our work here is done," Ravenclaw Ron turned around. "Come into the dungeons, there's something that you need to see. Oh, and bring the bitch as well. We don't want him crawling away, do we?"

Ron cast a Non-Verbal Locomotor Charm on Amycus Carrow before following his counterpart down the stairs, stepping over the dented door and entering the dark dungeons. I can't see shit in here.

"Over here," Ravenclaw Ron called, while Ron cast Lumos in order to see what was around him.

His breath got lodged in his throat as he saw dozens upon dozens of people locked behind metal cages, all of them barely alive. Gods… Ron felt the urge to turn off his Spell, but he forced himself to look at each and every person. There were so many of them, and as Ron continued to look around, he realized that something wasn't right. Why are they all just staring into thin air? What the fuck is going on here?

"They've been sedated," Ravenclaw Ron said. "It's easier to rape and murder when the victim doesn't fight back." I'm going to vomit… This place smells so fucking bad…

Ron's stomach twisted as he saw a young boy who was chained up in the middle of the dungeon, there was a hot poker discarded by his feet. He's not moving! Ron quickly ran over to the boy's side, fretting over him in order to find any injuries. As soon as Ron tilted the boy's head back to inspect his face, his blood turned to ice. There was an angry, red scar on his right cheek in the shape of an 'M', but what really got to Ron were the hollow eyes and the lifeless expression on the boy's face. He looks… dead… But he's still breathing…

"What is this?" Ron asked, pointing to the scar.

"Mud-Blood," Ravenclaw Ron said, shaking his head. "Carrow was clearly branding all of them, putting them in categories for later."

"What the fuck is wrong with these people?!" Ron heard himself yell, but no one in the dungeon even acknowledged his presence. "Why do they do these horrible things to other people?!"

"I already told you why," Ravenclaw Ron replied, shooting a dark glare at the floating body of Amycus Carrow. "They have too much power, and since no one punishes them, they think they're above everyone else. To them, this boy right here… He's nothing more than meat to be used and discarded. This, Ronald, is what you are facing. Men and women who have no morals, who have no mercy for anyone who isn't one of their own."

"I have to heal him," Ron aimed his wand at the boy's face. "You're going to be okay; I promise. I'll get you all out of here, I swear it."

"Stop," Ravenclaw Ron advised. "Look at him, he's already gone."

"No!" Ron snapped. "He's going to live!" I'm not going to just leave him here like this!

"Even if he does, what life will he have?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "Even if he is Obliviated, he's never going to recover from this. Trauma like this… You can't just make it disappear. It always resurfaces-"

"So, I just give up?" Ron hissed, glaring at his past-self. "I'll never fucking give up! His life matters, why can't you see that?!"

"Your need to help people is… admirable…" Ravenclaw Ron started. "But you can't keep doing this forever, Ronald. You are just one man, that's it."

"I'm not alone," Ron said, looking back to the boy.

"Really? And who is on your side?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "A woman consumed by vengeance? A bodyguard who will abandon you the moment you stop paying him? Your allies, most of whom don't give two shits about anyone but themselves? Your parents, who have constantly reminded you that you aren't good enough? Who do you really have?"

"Shut up," Ron turned to face Ravenclaw Ron, his eyes stinging. "Shut! Up!"

"You're so fucking naïve," Ravenclaw Ron let out a sad chuckle. "You know, I thought I'd hate you, but the truth is, I like you, Ronald. You're braver than most, definitely braver than me, and you genuinely care about other people. Maybe it's because you've suffered more than most, but whatever the reason, I can't help but admire the distances you'll go just to help one person."

"Sadly, however, this is exactly why you'll come short in the end," Ravenclaw Ron went on. "You're fighting far too many wars at once, and eventually, that's going to catch up to you-"

"You're supposed to be on my side!" Ron roared, his eyes flashing red from behind his mask.

"I am on your side, you simple fuck!" Ravenclaw Ron suddenly yelled back, jarring Ron a little. "I am the only one on your side! Have I ever lied to you?! Every time you've had questions, I've offered answers! I even threw myself in-between you and a God! Who else has gone that far for you?! Snape, that bitter, crippled cunt?! Or, Dumbledore, the stupid motherfucker responsible for all of this?!"

"How is this his fault?!" Ron demanded. "Why do you constantly-"

"You think he doesn't know what these bastards do in their spare time?!" Ravenclaw Ron asked, making Ron freeze in his spot. "He fought them for over a decade, he knows exactly what they get up to!"

"You don't know that…" Ron refuted, but deep down, he knew the truth already.

"You and I both know that he does," Ravenclaw Ron said coldly. "He's the most powerful man in the world, Ronald. He has more titles than you have years under your belt. He's the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Supreme Mugwump, the Grand Sorcerer, the Headmaster of Hogwarts… He knows everything that happens within the Wizarding World, and yet, he sits in his ivory tower and does nothing!"

Ron could do little but stare, sniffling a little as his eyes burned even more. Why am I stuck here…? I just want it to stop… I hate it here! Everything is so horrible!

"Think about this, if you're still not convinced," Ravenclaw Ron said, giving Ron a sorry look. "Where was Dumbledore when those legislations against the Werewolves were being passed? He could have vetoed them; he has that power as the Chief Warlock. Where was he, Ronald? Why hasn't he done anything for those poor bastards?"

"He… He gave Remus a chance-" Ron's voice cracked.

"One fucking person?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "You think that's good enough?"

"He has… He has other…" Ron tried to think of an excuse, but he just couldn't do it. How could he ignore this? How can everyone just ignore all of this injustice?! Why doesn't anyone care?!

Ron pulled at his hair, struggling to even breathe properly.

"And it's not just the Werewolves," Ravenclaw Ron continued. "This man spent years hiding away from his ex-lover, while thousands died because of a war that he all but helped start. This is the same man who sat around on his wrinkly arse while my little sister died in some disgusting fucking cave! This is the same man who didn't give a fuck about the Squib problem within Knockturn Alley until you came begging for help! Even after he promised to take his duties more seriously, he has yet to go to a single Wizengamot meeting. Why?! Why does he do these things?! Go on, make an excuse for him like I know you want to! Keep defending him because he showed an ounce of kindness!"

"Stop it…" Ron let out a sob, his legs finally giving out. "Leave me alone…" Why hasn't he stopped these people…? Why is this my responsibility?!

"You are alone," Ravenclaw Ron kneeled down in front of him. "You are completely and utterly alone, Ronald. The people you love, the people you admire, they can't stand you. They think that you're some freak. Just look at that fat tart, Millicent Bulstrode… She would happily let thousands die just so she can keep her privileges. I mean, you've given everything to this girl without ever asking for a goddamn thing in return, and yet, she betrays you without a second thought."

"It's… It's not like that…" Ron coughed out.

"Just stop it already," Ravenclaw Ron whispered. "You shine with the golden light of providence, the Gods themselves chose you to save this world. Why should you answer to anyone? Why should you even care about them? What do they offer you? Betrayal? Burdens?" Ravenclaw Ron then gestured around them. "Look at where you are, Ronald… You're not even fourteen yet, but here you are… Fighting to save people who have been condemned by everyone else."

"I don't have… any choice…" Ron sobbed, curling in on himself. "If I don't, then… Then, who will?"

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't," Ravenclaw Ron said gently. "But what I am saying is that you don't have to answer to the likes of Dumbledore. He should be answering to you. They should all answer to you."

"I'm not a God…" Ron tried.

"You're the closest thing to a God on this planet," Ravenclaw Ron said. "How many people have to turn a blind eye for something this horrible to take place? How many people have simply ignored the Carrow Twins because it would be too dangerous to move against them? Your 'mentor' certainly ignored them; he probably even enjoyed his time with them. Even Mary, beautiful and kind Mary, is willing to ignore the people who imprisoned her because her privileges matter more than doing the right thing. I mean, she knows what it's like to be locked away, and yet, she ignores these people? Either she was Obliviated, or, she simply doesn't care enough. None of them seem to care enough, and since you do, they treat you like you're sick in the head."

Ravenclaw Ron then stood up.

"I don't think you're sick, Ronald," Ravenclaw Ron said, and when Ron slowly looked up, he saw his past-self giving him a sorry smile. "I think you're a good person surrounded by selfish bastards who control everything and act like they have some Gods-given right on what morality should be. We both know that there is no good and evil, these are man-made concepts used by the strong to keep the weak on their knees. Look at you right now… Look at what they've all reduced you to."

Amycus Carrow suddenly stirred, letting out a pathetic moan.

"Alecto…?" Amycus coughed out, blood spilling out of his mouth. "Arcturus…"

"You see this animal?" Ravenclaw Ron pointed at Amycus. "He rapes children, slaughters the innocent, sacrifices his enemies, and serves a madman. Albus Dumbledore would condemn you for killing this vile scum, despite the countless lives your actions would save. You see, Dumbledore cares more about looking good than being good, which is why he 'benevolently' doesn't get involved in the affairs of mortals. He thinks himself above it, and because he thinks like this, monsters like the Carrow Twins continue to thrive. So much suffering in this world happens because men and women in power simply don't care."

Ron slowly rose to his feet, shaking terribly as he cleared his eyes harshly.

"You know what has to be done, don't you?" Ravenclaw Ron asked. "Even if you defeat the Dark Lord, these monsters will just find another Dark Lord to serve. To them, you, and that lad behind you, are nothing more than meat, and they will not stop until your throat is under their heel."

Rage began to bubble in Ron's veins, and as he stopped trembling, his face twisted into a hateful sneer as his eyes became crimson and toad-like. They hurt Tracey… They'll kill everyone if We don't stop them!

"He's already a dead man," Ravenclaw Ron said. "But he can still serve our needs. Aim your wand at him."

Ron did as he was instructed, growling monstrously. Cunts! We'll kill you all, every single one!

"Avada Kedavra," Ravenclaw Ron whispered, moving over to Ron's side. "Two words, and he'll never hurt another soul again. His sister can tell us where the Dark Lord is, this one is only good for one thing now."

"Help… me…" Amycus kept crying, trying his hardest to crawl away.

"Wave your wand like this," Ravenclaw Ron instructed, tracing his finger in the air and painting a lightning bolt similar to Harry's scar. "Say the words as you finish waving the wand, and if there is enough rage within you, you will put an end to this repulsive creature."

Ron kept his wand fixed on Amycus; his wand hand was beginning to shake again.

"You don't get to choose, Ronald," Ravenclaw Ron pressed. "It's either them, or, the people that you're fighting to protect. If you spare these Death-Eaters, they will continue to do what they've been doing for years. Finish him. Accept your place as the apex predator of this world, and then, annihilate your enemies without an ounce of mercy!" Die, Death-Eater!

"Avada Kedavra!"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There it is, the longest chapter to date! I hope you guys enjoyed that, I certainly enjoyed writing it!

As usual, discord link is on my profile and I highly recommend checking it out! It's litty lit!

I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks!