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.

152. Chapter 152 - The Ivory Court

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm back, ya'll! Sorry for the long delay, but I've moved States, returned to Uni, and gotten a new house in order! Oh, and I've been secretly playing Mass Effect, again... The Reapers did nothing wrong!

Enjoy!

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

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

There's also a couple more Ron fics out that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, and 'Cooking Like a Bachelor' by Avatar Vader. Please, go check 'em out! You won't regret it, spread the Ron love, people!

P.S: Starway Man is a chad! (I'm never removing this)

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Fate

Chapter 152 – The Ivory Court

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 17th April, 1994 (Travers Manor – Morning)

"Another visitor for the Mistress," Godrey smiled a crooked smile, bowing as the redhead approached. "It gladdens Godrey's heart to see Ron once again" He remembered to call me by my name? I like that!

"And seeing your sour face gladdens mine," Ron chuckled, shooting the old Elf a friendly wink. "How are you, old man? And how is my precious Emilia? She still shitting her guts out?"

Godrey let out an annoyed sigh, shaking his head in disapproval. "Godrey would caution Ron to avoid this topic when conversing with the Mistress, as Godrey does not desire to wash Ron's blood off the walls." Duly noted. "The answer to Ron's crude question, however, is a resounding no. Mistress has recovered completely and returned to training with the mercenaries, despite Godrey's many objections." A woman after my own heart! Nothing can stop her, not even a close encounter with the Reaper!

"And you?" Ron asked, now following Godrey towards the dining room. "How are you holding up?"

"Godrey is determined not to repeat the mistakes of the past," Godrey answered, his voice strong and proud. "Mistress will not forgive Godrey and the others a second time."

"Tough, but fair," Ron agreed with the sentiment, as he had learned the hard way that giving people second chances was a gateway to further disappointment. "You mentioned that there was another visitor? Who is it?"

"The young Lady Audrey," Godrey replied, his voice full of relief as he smiled to himself. Audrey?! Her parents allowed her to come back here? So soon? "Mistress bowed before Lady Audrey's father, her last remaining uncle, as a gesture of goodwill and repentance. Godrey was most surprised by Mistress'… maturity. Surprised, but also pleased. The Travers Family can ill afford to remain separated in these dangerous times." He sounds like a proud father right now. And good on Emilia for not letting ego stop her from keeping her family together.

"How is Audrey?" Ron asked, curious. "Does she remember anything?" I bloody hope not.

"No, Lady Audrey remembers nothing," Godrey replied promptly, stopping by the entrance. "And Mistress would prefer to keep it that way." You don't need to tell me twice.

"I understand," Ron gave a nod, before fixing up his black tie and burgundy suit jacket. "Can't disappoint the Ladies, now, can I?"

"Certainly not," Godrey chortled, amused by the Slytherin's smirk. "Take care, Ron, and be assured that Godrey has not forgotten the debt owed to-"

"There is no debt, mate," Ron interrupted the old Elf, raising his gloved hand. "She's my friend, and if we were put in the same situation again, I'm make the same choices. Now, off you pop, eh? I'm sure you've duties to attend to, so don't let me keep you." I'm not leaving any room for debate here. I don't want her, or, Godrey to feel indebted to me. I made my choice to stand between her and Abadie, and I didn't do it for a reward.

"Mistress has found an honourable friend in Ron," Godrey bowed deeply, even though his old legs struggled to bend. "And Godrey hopes that Ron has found an honourable friend in Mistress."

"I have," Ron assured him, moving to the doors. "I'll see you around, mate."

Godrey gave a respectful nod before Apparating away to his duties, and so, Ron turned his attention to the doors as he drew in a deep breath. I'm glad Audrey is back with Emilia, but this does present a peculiar problem for me. I need Emilia to leave for Russia as soon as possible, but she may be less inclined to agree to my needs given what she's been through. That's very annoying, if I'm being honest. Downright inconvenient!

The Champion turned his head and cracked his neck, he had not come here to be denied. She'll go, whether she likes it or not.

Ron pushed the doors open and made his way into the dining room, spotting Emilia and Audrey sitting on the far-end of the dining table. They were both dressed as though they had just woken up, with Emilia wearing a white, satin robe and Audrey wearing a set of bright-blue pyjamas. The Ronin wasted no time in noticing his sudden presence, her soft smile widening as he approached. I seem to have interrupted a lovely breakfast-…

"Toi!" Audrey's eyes blazed with fury; her tiny finger pointing at him accusingly. Uh-oh!

The little girl blasted out of her chair, charging at him even though Emilia ordered her to stop. Does she want a rematch? What a little monster! Ron stopped and smirked at the would-be warrior, amused by how violent she was at such a young age. Audrey 'roared' as she kicked him in the shin, looking very satisfied with herself as he feigned injury.

"Oh, no, not my leg!" Ron grunted, falling on his knee. "My weak spot!"

Audrey smiled smugly, promptly taking a swing at his face in order to put an end to her nemesis. Oh, shit! Ron moved his head back just in time, grinning widely as he lunged forward and lifted the tiny girl up over his shoulder. Audrey squealed and began thrashing about, and when that didn't work, she took a handful of Ron's hair and began yanking at it. OW! No hair-pulling! Where's the honour in that?! Deciding to teach her a lesson, Ron shot up to his feet and began spinning in circles, sniggering as Audrey shrieked and laughed alongside him.

"That's enough, you two," Emilia spoke up, visibly trying to hide her amusement. "Ron, put her down, please. I'm certain she's learned her lesson."

Ron stopped, shaking his head clear before planting Audrey down onto her feet. The little girl was giggling, even as she struggled to keep her balance.

"You'll get there someday," Ron ruffled her untidy hair, before looking to Emilia. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, you are always welcome here, my friend," Emilia smiled, gesturing him to sit beside her. "Come, break bread with us." Break bread with us? She's so proper.

"Don't mind if I do," Ron grinned, nudging Audrey back towards her seat. "We'll fight after, okay?"

"Encore!" Audrey grabbed and tugged at his sleeve. "Encore!"

"Audrey, finis ton petit-déjeuner," Emilia said sternly, causing the little girl to pout.

Both Ron and Audrey took their seats beside Emilia, who sat at the head of the table. The would-be warrior stuck her tongue out at Ron, as if trying to goad him into spinning her around again, but Emilia was swift to scold her and make her focus on her fruit salad.

"Forgive her lack of manners, Ron," Emilia turned her attention back to him. "She has spirit, but no discipline." You mean, she's a child? Who could've guessed?

"I don't mind," Ron chuckled, deciding to keep his snarky commentary to himself. "Godrey told me what you did to get her back. I'm proud of you, Emilia. I know it couldn't have been easy, but you did the right thing."

Emilia smiled softly again, giving him a grateful nod. "I am in her parents' debt, for they were far more merciful than they had any reason to be."

"Her father…" Ron started, shooting Audrey a wink on the side. "He's your uncle?" I'm a bit confused about her family tree… If she has an uncle, then why isn't he the Head of the Travers Family?

"Yes," Emilia replied. "Logan Travers. He is my father's younger brother, and I know what you're thinking… Why am I in charge of the Travers Family and not him?"

"It's just a bit strange," Ron shrugged. "You didn't threaten to kill him, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Emilia lost her smile, rolling her eyes. "After my eldest uncle, Phillip, murdered my father, his own younger brother, Logan fled the country with his newly-wed wife. He greatly feared his brother's madness, and so, he even relinquished his inheritance in a bid to keep himself and his wife safe. Thus, after the war ended, my mother became the Head of the Travers Family, until she was… overthrown… by my Great Aunt."

"I see," Ron nodded along. "And he hasn't tried to take your position from you?"

"No, he is an honourable man, one that stays true to his decisions," Emilia answered, putting Ron at ease. "He discovered that life away from such grandeur and responsibility suited him better, although he has offered to help me in managing our milling businesses. I refused his offer, of course, as I can manage just fine on my own."

"Maybe, I'll get to meet him one day, eh?" Ron smiled, glad that, at the very least, one of his close friends wasn't afraid of responsibility and hard work. "How are you, Emilia? I'm sorry for not checking up on you sooner, but I was incredibly busy."

"I am well," she replied a little too quickly, and Ron cocked an eyebrow. "…Do not worry for me, please. I have endured worse." She doesn't like admitting weakness, does she? I can't blame her for that. I'm the same.

"I know you have, but you were alone back then," Ron said, deciding not to prod. "Remember what I told you when you woke up from the Crucible's effects? You're not alone anymore, because now, you have me. If you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

Emilia said nothing in response, mostly because she didn't know what to say. So, instead, she merely smiled weakly and gave him another grateful nod, looking a little awkward all of a sudden. I should change the subject before Audrey notices that something is off.

"I have to confess that I didn't come here just to check up on you," Ron started, leaning back in his chair. "I have a use for you, Emilia."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes," Ron smiled slyly, using his left hand to Wandlessly levitate a blackberry out of Audrey's bowl, much to the little girl's shock and awe. "I need you to come with me to Hogwarts, where we will speak with Professor Snape about our next move against Volde-…" he stopped, looking to Audrey. "…Against You-Know-Who. He has fled to Russia, and we would be fools to ignore him now." Emilia looked to Audrey, and for a moment, Ron saw hesitation behind her eyes. "This is important. I don't need to remind you of what's at stake, do I?" Because I fucking will, right here and now.

"No, there will be no need for that," Emilia said firmly, adorning a more serious expression. Good. "What you showed me in the Pensieve… It haunts my days and nights. I will come with you, my friend. Godrey can watch over Audrey in my absence."

"I think it's best you send her home, instead," Ron said, and Emilia blinked. "You won't be in France for much longer, after all. We need you to find someone very important in Magical Russia."

"Russia?" Emilia repeated, looking intrigued. "Who?"

"The son of Minister Samara Ivanov," Ron replied with a grin. "You'll know more at our meeting with Professor Snape. Until then, let's hold off on the details, eh?" I'd rather not say much more near a child. What if someone reads her mind and fucks up our plans?

"Why are we meeting with Snape, a former Death-Eater, and not the Headmaster himself?" Emilia asked with hints of bitterness in her tone, and Ron lost his grin. "I know you said that we'll be working under his supervision, but I don't like it. I didn't train my body into becoming a weapon just to serve under the likes of him."

"He was a Death-Eater, yes, but he is also one of the bravest men I know," Ron started, leaning forward as something dangerous flashed behind his eyes. "You. Will. Respect. Him." Emilia hesitated, before giving a subtle nod. "Good! We're all on the same side here, and it only benefits our enemies if we fight amongst ourselves! Professor Snape has devoted his life to putting an end to the Death-Eater scourge, and truth be told, I am only alive because of him. He has looked after me many times, even when I didn't deserve such compassion. He is a good man; I know that in my heart."

"You speak very highly of him," Emilia noted, looking a bit more convinced. "Very well, I will trust him because I trust you. I meant no offence, Ron-"

"I know," Ron interjected, smiling again. "I find your distaste of Death-Eaters most pleasing, but let's keep that distaste aimed at our enemies and not our friends." Ron then stood up, fixing his tie into place. "I've got another matter to tend to, but when I return, we'll go to Professor Snape together."

"Another matter?" Emilia asked. "What other matter?" Oh, she's not going to like this, is she?

"I'm going to go see Johan Abadie," Ron confessed, and Emilia immediately frowned at him. There it is…

"You come to me and speak of friendship, and then, you tell me you wish to go see that Veela scum?" Emilia glowered, and Ron simply shrugged.

"You told me that you understand why I need him, remember?" Ron reminded her. "I am playing a very dangerous game, Emilia, and I need dangerous pieces to win it. Abadie, and the High Mother, are too powerful to simply ignore. You have to make your peace with this, all right?" I thought you already had, but fuck me for expecting people to look past personal vendettas for the common good, eh?

"When our work is finally done, I will have his head," Emilia simply said, before looking to Audrey and stroking her hair. "I will follow your lead, my friend, but Abadie must someday pay for his crimes against my Blood." …Right… Whatever… This is a problem for another day. "Be careful around him, won't you?"

"I will do my best."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

He had to admit that being here again, walking the glittering halls of L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur, made him feel sick to his stomach. The giggling Veela, the lust-filled wizards and witches, the overindulgence of comfort and pleasure… All of it made him feel sick, so much so that he had half a mind to draw his wands and commence a massacre so brutal and vile that it would never be forgotten as long as Veela had tongues to spread the word of his wrath. Why shouldn't I just do it, huh? Why not show these cunts what the world outside their pleasure-houses looks like?

The Champion drew in a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists as he continued down the path towards Abadie's office. Control. These vermin are not worth the effort. Control.

"Monsieur Weasley?" a familiar voice called out to him, and he abruptly stopped and turned around. I know that voice…

"Valarie, right?" the Champion eyed the Veela, who was exiting from a patient's room in a short, silk, beige robe. I wonder who she was 'Healing' in there… Fucking tart!

"You remember me?" she smiled widely as she approached him, and he fought the urge to shove his hands into her perfect mouth and split open her skull. "Monsieur Weasley? Are you… unwell?"

The Champion drew in another deep breath, adorning a friendly smile in place of his dark glare. "I am perfectly well, I assure you. I'm just here to see Johan Abadie. I have… business… with him." Control yourself, old boy… Don't let these degenerates get the better of you. Just do what you came here to do, and then be on your way.

Using his Occlumency, Ron smothered his ill intentions and disgust into the back of his mind, his entire body relaxing as a result. Valarie stopped and eyed him warily, as if her primal instincts had warned her to keep her distance from him.

"…I will leave you to it, then…" she all but whispered, taking a step back. "I'm sorry for disturbing you-"

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Ron apologized, closing his eyes and drawing in several more breaths. "…I… I don't like places like this… I'm sorry." Ron then reopened his eyes, reminding himself that Valarie had helped him the last time he was here. "It's good to see you again, nevertheless. How are you?"

"I'm well…" she answered slowly, relaxing a little herself. "Though, I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here after what happened last time." Does she know what Abadie put me through? I should question her, I reckon. Learn more about what's been going on with that mad fuck whilst I was in the States.

"You mean after I was cornered and nearly murdered by your old Mistress?" Ron asked, and when she averted her gaze, he knew that she knew. "It's okay, I don't blame you for that. You just work here, nothing more."

"Still, it was a terrible thing to put a child through," Valarie admitted, giving him a sorry smile. "A small part of me is glad that the High Mother had Madam Richelieu burned at the stake." What?! Burned at the fucking stake?!

"Really? Is that what happened to her?" Ron couldn't help but grin, wishing he'd been there to see it. "Good… That's very good!" Valarie's smile wavered, and she merely nodded weakly in response. "Come, walk me to Abadie's office, won't you? There's more I'd like to ask you."

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, please," Ron interjected, gesturing her to follow.

"Certainly, Monsieur…" Valarie muttered, following his lead. "What did you want to ask me? I know nothing of Lord Abadie's business-"

"How does he treat you all?" Ron asked, slowing down a bit so that he could walk by her side. "Better than Richelieu, I hope?"

"Oh, most definitely," she replied swiftly, even smiling a little. "He does not demean us, nor does he allow our clientele to abuse us. Things here have changed very quickly and very dramatically, for which we're all thankful. I had heard rumours of Lord Abadie, none of them good, but it appears that they were all lies." She sounds quite genuine, I must admit. Is he really such a benevolent pimp?

"What sort of rumours?" Ron asked nonchalantly.

"I… should not repeat them," Valarie replied slowly. "Please, you must understand why I'm hesitant to do so… I need this job, now more than ever…" she trailed off.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked before thinking, she had sounded rather distressed.

"No…" Valarie lied poorly, putting on a practised smile. "I simply have… responsibilities… I need the gold, and this job pays extremely well. Lord Abadie is also more generous than Madam Richelieu ever was."

"Right," Ron decided to let it go, looking ahead. "Well, I'm glad he doesn't abuse you lot, though I will never understand why you'd lower yourself to work in such a place."

"You are still very young, Monsieur Weasley," Valarie started a little defensively, straightening her posture. "I'm certain that it hasn't occurred to you that many of us work here not because we must, but also because we enjoy it." …the fuck?

"Enjoy it?"

"Veela do not hide from their desires, and here, all of our deepest desires are met," Valarie answered, making him terribly uncomfortable in the process. "Gifts, kindness, pleasure, love, devotion… This is a temple where we are worshipped, Monsieur Weasley. The most powerful men and women in the Wizarding World kiss my feet here, and I enjoy it. I know you English see us Veela as nothing more than whores, but that is not how we see ourselves." I touched a nerve, didn't I? "Our cultures are different, and I would ask you to respect ours just as I respect yours."

The Champion stopped, shooting her such a dark look that it sealed her mouth shut. Easy… Easy. "I didn't mean to offend you. And you are right, I'm perhaps too young to understand your… culture. However, I'm not one of those wizards who give into lust and kiss the feet of others, so mind your tone. Talking down to me only ends one way, and you won't 'enjoy' it very much, I promise you." The Champion then drew in a sharp breath, gesturing her to leave. "I'll find my own way from here. Thank you for sharing Madam Richelieu's fate with me."

Valarie gave him a parting nod, before walking away in a haughty manner. Culture, she says… They are a hedonistic and base people, and yet, they sound so proud of themselves. Fucking disgusting. I should murder them all once Voldemort weakens them in the war-… No, no… What the fuck am I thinking about? Don't think like that, Ron… Forget about this exchange and just move on. Don't give into your worst instincts. Rise above them, instead. It's better for everyone that way. Be more like Dumbledore, and less like Voldemort. Be like Dumbledore. Be like Dumbledore. Be like Dumbledore.

Continuing down the hallway, Ron eventually found himself standing before an ornate door made of solid gold, its handle being a large, engraved diamond. He rolled his eyes at the unnecessary extravagance, before knocking on the door. After a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the short, skeletal form of Cromwell.

"Mr. Weasley?" the man cocked an eyebrow, before turning his head back. "Johan, your 'friend' is here to see you."

"Truly?" came Abadie's voice, sounding almost excited. "Let him in, please."

Cromwell moved out of Ron's way, who wasted no time in stepping into the office. Much like the rest of the 'hospital', Abadie's office was a shrine to luxury and comfort, one decorated with grand effigies and exquisite art. Ron studied his extensive surroundings with a bored expression, noting that the Undetectable Extension Charm was surely in effect here. Kings would be jealous of such a room, I reckon.

"Welcome, Ronald," Abadie called out to him, he was sitting on a golden throne on the other side of the room. "I did not expect to see you today, but I am certainly glad for it. Come. Sit with me."

Ron made his way across the office, taking a seat across from Abadie in complete silence. Even the table is made of gold… They certainly do cater to the most wealthy and powerful, don't they? Hm… I wonder how I can exploit this for my own benefit?

"You certainly have gained a lot from Richelieu's downfall, haven't you?" Ron broke his silence, studying Abadie with a blank expression. "The contents of this room alone would set one up for life, I imagine." And their children's children too.

"I don't care much for it," Abadie admitted, smiling softly at him. "To me, the meaning behind this post is more valuable than its comforts."

"The meaning?" Ron asked, curious.

"The one who controls L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur commands great respect and admiration within the Veela World," Abadie explained, gesturing Cromwell to pour Ron a cup of tea. "And thus, they are allowed a place within the Ivory Court of the High Mother. And, as she told you herself, Ronald, the High Mother has a taste for secrets… Secrets that satisfied customers often whisper to my staff."

"Which you then whisper to her," Ron figured, and Abadie gave a nod. "Quite the scheme you lot have going here." I know how I can benefit from this place, then. I need him to whisper those secrets to me as well.

"Our people are always under threat, and the secrets of the powerful are one way to keep these threats at bay," Abadie said, while Cromwell placed a hot cup in front of Ron. "Are you hungry? I can have whatever you desire brought to you."

"No, tea is enough for now," Ron took a sip, giving Cromwell a nod. "Thank you, this is lovely."

"Hm," Cromwell grunted, moving to Abadie's side. "You did not come here for the tea, I imagine. What is it you want, Mr. Weasley?"

"Mr. Cromwell," Abadie said warningly, his empty eyes and cool smile not letting up. "Ronald is my friend, and he can visit me whenever it pleases him."

"His like don't have friends, Johan, only lackeys," Cromwell stated simply, studying Ron.

"You've never seen my like before, mate," Ron chuckled, amused. "Trust me on that."

"We do," Abadie assured him, sounding a little too fond for Ron's liking. "Still, I would like to know the reason behind your sudden visit. I know you are not the sort of man who does anything without reason."

"I don't," Ron admitted, putting the cup down. "I want a meeting with the High Mother. Today."

Abadie blinked, whereas Cromwell scoffed and shook his head. What? Did I stutter?

"I cannot grant your wish, Ronald," Abadie started, offering him a 'sorry' smile. "Not so abruptly, at least. The High Mother is not so easily reached, I'm afraid-"

"I don't care about that," Ron shrugged, losing all pretence of civility. "Take me to her, Abadie. I want to see her."

"The bollocks on this one…" Cromwell chuckled, rubbing his forehead. "Listen closely, boy, she is not someone you want to make demands of." Demands? She's living on Our fucking planet! We'll see her whenever We damn well please!

The Champion's eyes flashed red, jarring both Abadie and Cromwell. "Take me to her. I will not ask you, again." The Champion then rose up, ignoring Cromwell even as the man drew his wand. "Abadie, I need you to do this for me. It is important. I don't want to have kill and eat everyone in this place, but I will."

"…Eat…?" Abadie withdrew into his golden throne, looking shaken. Yes! Eat!

"You've heard the stories, haven't you?" the Champion asked, the claw inside his left index finger emerging and scratching the table's spotless surface. "The stories of Le fléau de Vélane?" Might as well use Our ill reputation to Our advantage.

"Fuck…" Cromwell muttered, aiming at the Champion's head. "Back off, now! Johan, just say the word!"

"Say it," the Champion ordered the handsome Veela, his unblinking eyes fixed on Abadie's. "Say the word and doom everyone here. Go on."

Abadie drew in a shaky breath, his entire body looking rigid, now. "Mr. Cromwell, put down your wand."

"What?" Cromwell frowned, but did as he was told when Abadie grabbed his hand and forcibly lowered it. "…I knew there was something off about this bastard… What are you? A monster? A demon?"

"Far worse than either," the Champion assured them, turning his head and cracking his neck. "Now, take me to her. I want to see this Ivory Court of hers with my own eyes."

"Why?" Abadie asked, slowly fixing up his expression. "Do you intend to harm her?"

"Harm her?" the Champion repeated, chuckling icily. "Oh, no… No, nothing of that sort. I just really want to take her out for dinner."

"…Dinner?"

"Yes, a candle-lit dinner under the moonlight," the Champion grinned, greatly pleased with the fear he could instil in others on a whim. "I want to give her a night that she'll never forget!"

---

Saturday 17th April, 1994 (The Northern Mountains – Near Midday)

The Portkey brought both Abadie and Ron to a glittering cave filled with luminous crystals, and as his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings, he saw that his presence had already been noticed by Veela guards dressed in silver, shimmering robes. Thank Merlin that Portkey didn't make me sick! I've used Portkeys twice today, and I'm still on my feet somehow… What luck!

"Arrête-toi là," one of the guards ordered, a dozen of them encircling Ron and Abadie within seconds. Yeesh, even the guards are dressed in a seductive manner… How impractical.

Abadie and the guard began exchanging words, whereas Ron grinned like a lunatic and studied the magnificent cave. Beautiful! This must be where all the visitors using Portkeys arrive! Smart! There's only one passage out of here, and it's constantly guarded! I should keep my eyes open for any weaknesses in their defences! Who knows? Maybe, one day, I'll come here with an army at my back?

The guard suddenly barked 'Le fléau de Vélane' at Abadie, pointing her finger at Ron's grinning face. "Oi, no need for that! I'm just here to see your High Mother! She invited me, as a matter of fact!"

"Do not speak of her, foul thing," the Veela sneered at him, drawing her wand on him. "I should kill you here and now! Scourge of our people!" My, my… What the fuck did I do to you, eh?

"You will not touch a hair on his head," Abadie put himself between the guard and Ron. "You will have to kill me first, Inès."

Ron raised an eyebrow, surprised by Abadie's willingness to protect him despite their earlier interaction. He's so strange… Still, I can't let them hurt him. I still have plans for him.

"Is this how Veela treat their guests?!" Ron asked, loudly and boldly so all could hear him. "I come here by the invitation of your Queen, and you threaten to kill me for it?! Is this how Veela-Kind treat their friends?!" Ron shook his head, feigning hurt. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. This wounds me deeply… Very deeply. I have nothing but love for the High Mother, but if you wish to turn me away, then so be it… You can answer to her directly when she demands why I was treated so wretchedly upon my arrival…" Ron then looked into Inès alluring eyes, staring into her very soul. "She'll be so disappointed in you."

Inès stared at him for a few moments, and then, she slowly sheathed her wand. "Follow me… We'll see if you're telling the truth."

With that, she turned and began marching towards the exit. Ron and Abadie followed her at a distance, both of them exchanging subtle looks. I know, I'm brilliant!

"Stay close to me," Abadie whispered. "There are many here who fear and despise you."

"Because I can resist their allures?" Ron smirked, shooting a look back and noticing that he was still being watched by the guards. "It must hurt knowing there's a man out there that they can't ensnare."

"Perhaps, but it is probably because many here have not forgotten of Le fléau de Vélane," Abadie said, giving him a meaningful look. "I know you are not it, Ronald, for that monster existed long before our time." Wait… Is he suggesting that that fairy-tale is real? "Whatever you may be, you are not it. I know this."

"So, that monster was truly real?" Ron was honestly taken aback, and very curious. "And they labelled me as it? Fucking hell…" That's just rude, that is!

"Were they wrong to?" Abadie asked in response, studying him. "Your eyes before… What manner of Magic was that? Now that my fear has left me, I am most curious to know more about you. Who are you, Ronald Weasley?"

Ron shrugged, looking to Abadie. "I'm consequences."

"Consequences?" Abadie blinked.

"Yes…" Ron whispered, looking back ahead. "This world needs a good spanking, and I'm the instrument that's going to do it. That's all you need to know for now."

From the corner of his vision, Ron spotted a familiar head of red hair, and when he turned to face it, he saw his ghostly counterpart floating about. Ah, my extra pair of eyes appear just in time. Ravenclaw Ron winked at him, before flying on ahead with alarming speed. Have fun, you mad bastard.

"You are an enigma," Abadie suddenly said, gaining Ron's attention again. "Are we friends, now, Ronald?" Again, too straightforward! It's just unnerving!

"We'll get there, I'm sure," Ron replied simply. "I have, however, convinced Emilia to leave your head on your shoulders, since we'll all be working together before long."

"Truly? That is all I could have hoped for," Abadie 'smiled', his empty eyes fixed on Ron. "A chance to prove myself to you, and to her. Thank you. This means more to me than you can possibly imagine." So weird…

"Keep up!" Inès shot a frown back, she had reached the thin passage leading out of the crystal cave. "We have a long way to go yet!"

Ron simply smiled at her, which irked her beyond words. Hahaha! I love being a cunt! Following her through the dark passageway, Ron and Abadie were eventually led to an awe-inspiring sight. The passageway opened up to a subterranean realm of incredible beauty, one held up by massive, marble columns decorated with golden statues and glowing gems. Fuck me dead… Woah! Hundreds upon hundreds of people buzzed about inside the underground city, it's large, open streets filled with loud merchants trying desperately to entice the Veela denizens to browse their wares.

Ron stopped and looked around, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sheer awe-inspiring scenery. Did the Veela truly build this?! A secret city of their own?! This is fucking amazing! I've never seen anything like this before! His gleeful eyes followed a nearby marble column all the way up to the roof of the mountain, where he saw that the entire area was covered with luminous crystals, all of them working together to light the city beneath. Bloody hell… Mum and dad would never believe this… Nor my siblings and friends, actually…

"Welcome to the birthplace of Veela-Kind, Ronald," Abadie said, and when Ron looked to him, he saw that Abadie was smiling fondly at him. "Most spend their entire life hoping to glimpse this city for just a moment, but here you are… A treasured guest of the High Mother herself."

For a brief moment, Ron couldn't help but feel flattered, before swiftly remembering why he was here in the first place. Don't get distracted! You're here for a reason, and it's not to have a tour. You're here to bend their Queen to your will!

"It's very impressive," Ron said, fixing up his expression. "I take it that most here are Veela?"

"Yes, with a few exceptions," Abadie replied, gesturing towards the bustling crowds. "Traders of the highest quality from across the Wizarding World, husbands and wives of Veela given permission to live inside these walls, and the guests such as yourself. The total population is just over three thousand, though it was much larger in the past."

"Much larger?" Ron asked, noticing that Inès was glaring at Abadie with utter disdain. "Did they move away to the outside world?"

"Yes, many of our people left the mountain behind to mingle with Wizarding-Kind," Abadie nodded, before adorning a sombre look. "And many fled from the terror brought about by the very monster you were named after." I see… I still can't believe that this monster was real… What the hell was it, exactly? And where did it come from? "Many parts of the city are now abandoned due to the smaller population, but the centre and the palace are still maintained to perfection, as you can see for yourself-"

"Enough!" Inès suddenly barked, charging over to Abadie and grabbing him by the collar. "You tell this foreigner too much! Keep your tongue in check, or, I will cut it out!"

"What is your problem, lady?" Ron asked, feeling oddly protective of Abadie. "Let him go right now, or, I swear to Merlin, I'll fuck you up nice and proper."

"There is no need for that," Abadie shot Ron a smile, before looking to Inès. "Unhand me, now. Do you know who I am?"

"I know exactly who you are," Inès growled in a bestial manner, shoving Abadie back. "Another 'Lord' seeking power at the expense of our great, kind Mother… All of you outsiders are the same! You bring nothing but shame to our people with your unsatiable ambitions!" Outsiders? Do the Veela from inside the mountain look down on the Veela from the outside? "You are your mother's son, and that is all the reason I need to put you down!"

"Are you done?" Abadie asked calmly, gently fixing up his collar. "Lead on, please." How is he so polite even after being shoved around? If I were him, there'd be one less Veela down here.

Inès glared at Abadie and Ron, before spitting at their feet. "Come, then."

"What a cunt…" Ron muttered under his breath, before drawing in a deep breath. If I do come here with an army someday, she's the first Veela I'm going to rip apart.

Abadie and Ron followed the angered guard through the busy streets, passing by Veela dressed in soft, colourful robes, all of whom were going about their shopping with happy smiles and lively conversations. Some took notice of him, of course, gasping in shock due to his sudden presence amidst them, and as expected, Ron felt quite a few allures trying to dig their way into his mind. Before long, his head was throbbing painfully, but he silently endured in order to keep things civil. It wasn't often that he missed the Entity safeguarding his mind, but regardless, he was still glad that his 'change' had equipped him with the gift to resist assaults on his mind without that monster's aid. Where is my other half, I wonder? He must be feeling this too, I imagine. Fucking Veela… I hate that they can't control themselves… I don't care if it's in their nature, it's just annoying and wrong!

As they exited the marketplace, Inès led them past the marble houses and towards the far end of the city, where a grand palace of shiny, white stone was carved into the very wall of the mountain. The path leading to the palace was lit by white-flamed braziers sat atop shiny, white pillars, giving the entire area an air of mystery and opulence in equal measure. So, this is where the High Mother lives, eh? Not too shabby-…

"There's a lot more Veela ahead," Ravenclaw Ron suddenly whispered into his ear from behind, making him jump a little. Fuck you, you motherfucker… Don't do that!

Ron shot a look back, noticing that Ravenclaw Ron appeared strained. You all right? Must be the allures that did this to him.

"Don't worry about me, just keep your shields up," Ravenclaw Ron said, as if reading his mind. "We can do this as long as you keep your focus."

"Ronald?" Abadie called, he had walked on. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Ron looked back ahead, catching up to Abadie. "Just preparing myself for the allures to come."

"You did well to cross the marketplace without incident," Abadie said, another off smile gracing his perfect face. "I'm proud of you." Okay, then… "That's not too strange a thing to say, is it?"

"Oh, it most definitely is," Ron answered honestly, and Abadie's smile faltered a little. "Don't worry about it, though. You'll figure out social interactions in due time, I'm sure."

"With your help, I will," Abadie agreed, and Ron genuinely wondered how this Veela had survived during his exile. Cromwell. Definitely Cromwell.

They crossed the path in complete silence, climbing the steep steps towards the palace doors, which were larger by far than the doors of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, made of solid, white stone and hosting an intricate mural of an army of golden Veela facing off against an obsidian Dragon. Ron studied the mural with genuine curiosity, wondering if there was a story about this underground city that Abadie hadn't mentioned yet. Shame I don't have the time, nor the patience, to learn more of this place. I imagine it's full of secrets lost to time, simply waiting to be uncovered once again.

Inès placed her hands against the mural, which came to life before their very eyes. The golden army of Veela took flight, whilst the obsidian Dragon breathed fire where they had stood. As the fire reached the centre of the doors, it sunk into the gap between the doors, filling the gap with an orange glow before the doors hissed and began to open inwards. Woah… Can only Veela open this door? Or, perhaps, only select Veela? Hm, this door will prove troublesome to get past if that's the case.

"Come," Inès ordered, leading them into the palace's entrance hall.

Much to Ron's surprise, the entrance hall was utterly devoid of any furniture, statues, and decorations. It was simply a spacious, hollow, white space, as if he had stepped into the afterlife itself upon crossing the threshold. Eerie… I don't like it. Along the wall on the far end of the room stood golden armoured guards, each of their armours unique in their own ways, with some adorned in thick furs and exotic leathers while others adorned in decorative trinkets and hard-won trophies. However, all of their golden helmets were the exact same, resembling the beaked, vicious faces of vultures. They all stood so motionless that Ron wasn't sure if they were statues, or, flesh and blood. It appears that I've severely underestimated the strength of Veela-Kind, and I'm not the only wizard who's made this error. They've gone to great lengths to hide their true strength from the Wizarding World, no doubt to avoid being declared war upon. The Ministries would never stand for another species possessing such power and wealth, not at all.

"Wait here," Inès told them, before marching up to the pair of golden guards who were blocking the doors leading further into the palace.

"Who are they, Abadie?" Ron asked, gesturing towards the guards. "And why are they dressed for battle?"

"Le Marteau D'or," Abadie whispered, before putting a finger to his lips. "I recommend silence from here on out, Ronald. These are dangerous Veela, bred for the singular purpose of war. They kill without conscience and consequence, for they obey only the commands of the High Mother. They live, and die, for only her glory." So, they're her personal guard? Again, not too shabby.

"Kill without conscience and consequence?" Ravenclaw Ron giggled maniacally. "You'd get along with them, I reckon."

Ron smirked a little, he was certain he would. Moving against the High Mother would mean moving against them, then. This is good. I need to share all of this with Professor Snape and the Headmaster, though I'm certain the Headmaster is already aware of them.

Inès returned after a few minutes, sneering at Ron. "This is where I leave you two, but before I go… If you try anything, boy, if you even make a sudden movement, you'll be dead before you hit the ground."

"Flirt," Ron grinned, relishing the utter contempt and revulsion that danced across Inès' face.

"English swine…" she hissed, shoving Abadie aside as she stormed away. Merlin, please give me the opportunity to butcher her someday!

"What a wretched woman," Abadie fixed up his fine robes, smiling softly to himself. "…One day soon, Inès… One day soon."

"We'll do her in together, eh? What do you say?" Ron whispered and winked, and Abadie's smile grew in response. "Now, shall we?"

"We shall," Abadie led the way forward, both of the approaching the golden guards ahead. "Do as I do, and do not speak out of turn." Speak out of turn? I would never! "I'm serious, Ronald. Do not give them any reason to doubt our intentions." You don't know my intentions, mate.

"Noted," Ron simply said, putting on his friendliest smile. This'll be fun!

"We have come seeking the High Mother's presence," Abadie stopped before the guards shielding the door, bowing his head in respect. "Do we have your blessing, staunch defenders of our Mother and Veela-Kind?"

Neither of the guards said anything in response, both of them merely putting forth a palm each. Um… They want payment? Cheap bitches… I'm not handing anything over. What the fuck? Abadie reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful pocket watch, handing it over without hesitation.

"Acceptable," the guard who had been 'gifted' the watch hissed from behind her helmet, before hanging it off of her showy baldric.

"Ronald," Abadie whispered, gesturing towards the guard who still had her hand outstretched in his direction. Are you fucking serious? I didn't bring any gifts, nor should I have to. Seriously, what sort of tradition is this?

After thinking about what to offer the guard for a few seconds, Ron's eyes flashed dangerously. Here is your gift, Veela. He brandished his Cypress wand and slashed the tip across his left palm, leaving behind a bloody cut. Ow… Just as drops of blood spattered upon the white floor beneath him, Ron held his injured hand over the guard's palm, letting the blood drip down onto her golden gauntlet. Today, I spill mine, but perhaps, someday, I'll spill yours. You owe me blood, now, and I won't forget that.

"My blood is the most valuable possession I can offer you," Ron 'smiled' at the guard, who looked down at her palm as she tilted her head. "The blood of Le fléau de Vélane! How many of your sisters can claim to possess such a prize, eh?"

"Acceptable," the guard hissed, staining the beak of her helmet with his blood.

They both stepped aside in unison, while Ron's hand glowed golden as he commanded his Magic to Heal him, after which he wiped the blood off with a black handkerchief. At last, the High Mother! I must impress her, and her Ivory Court, because I have a strong feeling that I won't get another chance.

Following after Abadie, Ron made his way into the throne-room, which was teeming with people, mostly Veela women, dressed in some of the finest, and most colourful, robes he had ever seen. It was an open, heavily-decorated, egg-shaped hall, almost resembling a ballroom, made purely of the white stone that he couldn't quite place, and above everyone's heads hung the skeleton of a great Dragon, its humongous skull facing towards the entrance in a foreboding manner. So, this is the Ivory Court, then. Hm, not enough colour, in my opinion. This place could do with a little more red. Good thing I'm here, now!

"I hope you understand what a great honour this is, Ronald," Abadie said, stopping just behind the crowd, all of whom were facing the front of the hall. "Only a handful of wizards have ever been granted entrance into the Ivory Court itself."

"It's nothing special, honestly," Ron shrugged, this was nothing compared to some of the locations he had already visited. I've been on different worlds, mate. Trust me, it's you lot who should feel honoured, not me. "And you know what? I don't think you believe this to be a great honour, either. No, like you mentioned before, you don't care for lavish ballrooms and luxurious comforts. They're just perks brought about by your real ambitions. Am I wrong?"

Abadie stared at him for a few seconds, and then, he smiled lightly. "No, you are not wrong." Then, we have something in common. For us, power is its own reward. "Now, I suggest we remain silent until our turn to approach the High Mother comes. It appears that we've arrived during legal proceedings."

"Legal proceedings?" Ron asked, ignoring Abadie's advice.

"The High Mother's word is the law of this land, and as such, she oversees cases brought forth by her people on a daily basis," Abadie whispered, looking around them with meticulous eyes. "Land disputes, theft of either partners, or, property, custody over children, and sometimes, even murder charges. I myself was brought here by my mother when she exiled me, and the High Mother gave her the blessing to do so." What? Really? "I know what you're thinking… Why would I offer her my services when she took part in my exile? It's because she is the most powerful Veela in the world, and only fools hold grudges when there is progress to be made. Just as she gave my mother her blessing to send me away, she also gave me her blessing to return when my mother and father were found dead in their cells. Life moves on, and we must move on with it."

"Life moves on, eh?" Ron muttered under his breath, looking on ahead. The High Mother seemed to have no issues burning her 'old friend', Richelieu, alive in order to place a younger, and more intelligent, Veela in charge of L'Hôpital du Sacré-Cœur. And I still remember what the Headmaster told me, that she had those with opposing views poisoned during the old man's show, when they were all too distracted to notice her motives. It appears that life isn't the one that moves on… She does, and if you don't want to end up dead, you do your best to keep up with her.

Ron smiled a little out of excitement, eager to place her on his board. Let the games begin! My will and wit against hers! Let's see which monarch remains standing by the end!

"I'm not in the mood to wait," Ron decided, pushing himself forward before Abadie could stop him. "Excuse me! Coming through! Pardon me, Ma'am! Sorry, Sir! Please, out of the way! Coming through!"

"Ronald, stop!" Abadie hissed, following after the redhead as he cut through the increasingly shocked crowd. "You'll get us both thrown in a cell!"

With his particular sense of fashion and iconic red hair, no one could mistake who he was, and so, rather than being outraged by him barging through them, the Veela were instead quick to start giving voices to their disbelief at his presence. Ron, however, ignored them for the most part, mostly because he couldn't understand what they were saying save for the term 'Le fléau de Vélane'. By the time he made through the crowd, the entire court was aware of his attendance, including the striking Queen who sat upon a throne carved out of ivory and embellished with long, blue feathers.

The High Mother was once again adorned in a glamorous, ivory ball gown, however, this specific one left her right breast bare for all to see. Ron was swiftly jarred by the sight, his stride coming to a startling halt. Her tit is out! In a room full of people, no less! Merlin's Beard, it's… perfect… An amused smile graced her moon-bright face, her deep-blue eyes all-knowing. Quick, recover! Recover, you imbecile! Shit, what do I even say, though?! Okay, first, look away from her chest-…!

"What an unexpected, and most welcome, sight you make, dearest Ronald," the High Mother hummed, her voice less paternal and more teasing this time around. "I had a feeling that today was going to be interesting, but up until now, that feeling had yet to prove itself true." Her eyes then moved to Abadie, who was lingering just behind Ron. "Ah, and Johan too! How delightful! Two handsome young men have come to visit me on the same day? What a lucky woman I am."

"High Mother," Abadie moved to Ron's side, before kneeling down onto one knee and bowing his head. "Forgive our intrusion-"

"Forgive?" the High Mother interjected, laughing lightly. "There is nothing to forgive, Johan. You have arrived just in time to save me from hearing another one of these dreadful proceedings."

"Kneel, Ronald," Abadie whispered urgently, and Ron looked between him and the High Mother. Enough! Snap out of it! Fucking useless cunt! You're here to impress her, not the other way around!

Ron drew in a sharp breath, a lopsided grin materialising onto his face. "Forgive me, High Mother… I would kneel, but my knees have been acting up lately. Too much exercise, I suppose, and not enough rest." The Veela behind him gasped as if they'd heard something truly scandalous, however, the High Mother's smile only grew fonder. "I must say, though, you're even more stunning than last we met! I didn't think it was possible, but thank you for proving me wrong!" Seriously, thank you! I'm never going to forget this!

"Ill-mannered cur!" a voice from beside the High Mother rang out, and Ron finally noticed that another golden guard was standing next to the Feathered Throne. Damn, didn't even notice her because of how beautiful the High Mother is. I need to wake the fuck up!

This guard's armour was even more decorated than the ones outside, with golden wings protruding out of her armoured back. Her helmet was also different, resembling the noble face of an eagle rather than that of a vulture.

"Kneel before the Queen!" the guard commanded, drawing her ceremonial sword from its jewelled sheath. Brilliant. A sycophant.

"Again, my knees are acting up," Ron maintained his shit-eating grin, turning his attention to the guard. "Why don't you come down here and kneel for me?"

The guard rushed forward, as if planning to run Ron through with her sleek blade. C'mon, then! Cutis Terra! The crowd squeeled and shrieked in fright, Abadie swiftly brandished his wand to defend Ron, and the High Mother lost her smile.

"Eda!" the High Mother spoke up, and the golden guard froze mid-step. "Ronald does not have to kneel to me, as he is not my subject. Sheath your blade. Now."

The eagle-faced guard stared long and hard at Ron, before slowly doing as she was told. Ron let out a soft chuckle, feeling the effects of Cutis Terra wash off of him. Shame. Utterly demolishing the High Mother's personal bodyguard would've definitely impressed this lot.

"Court is adjourned for today," the High Mother addressed her people, all of whom bowed their heads. "I will hear your cases on the morrow, I swear it. For now, however, I wish to tend to my guests."

With hushed whispers and murmurs, the Ivory Court's occupants began to shuffle out, and as Ron turned to watch them go, he saw a familiar girl standing motionless amidst the crowd, her deep-blue eyes and suggestive smile fixed solely on him. Shit… It's the High Mother's great-granddaughter! What was her name, again?

"Charmine, you may join us," the High Mother summoned the girl, who wasted no time in approaching them, putting a little too much sway into her hips for Ron's liking. Bloody hell… I want to speak to the High Mother, not this horny brat. I need to figure out a way to make her fuck off.

"Bonjour," Charmine stopped before him, offering him her hand. Why are your robes so thin? I can practically see everything if I try hard enough!

Ron put on his best smile, taking her hand in his gloved one and planting a tender kiss on her knuckles. Ugh… I really want to punch her in the face right now…

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Charmine," Ron held her hand in his, whilst his eyes scanned her from head-to-toe. "You are a vision, you are!"

"Merci," Charmine giggled as she gave a curtsy, her moon-bright face turning a little red. "I was sorry to miss you at the Junior League Chess Tournament, beau garçon. I attended the very first day, but you were nowhere to be found. I later learned that you had fallen sick, and I was quite sorry for it. You deserved to win that tournament. I believe that with all my heart." Damn, she talks fast! "Perhaps, you and I shall play a game before you leave? I could ask for no better… tutor." Yes, yes, you're very seductive. I get it. Yeesh…

"My lessons will cost you," Ron flirted back, knowing that he had to appease this one for her great-grandmother's favour.

"I'm certain I'll figure out a way to pay you for your troubles," she winked, and Ron felt a light pain creep into the back of his skull. Really? You have to use the allure too?

"Charmine," the High Mother tutted, breaking up their conversation. "We do not use our allures on our guests. Not in this room, at least."

"Oh, I wasn't-" Charmine started, but abruptly stopped with a strong blush across her face. "Ronald, I didn't mean-… I mean, I was just excited-" she stopped again, looking even more embarrassed, and as a result, far more endearing. Ah, so that whole seductive Veela personality was just an act? That's actually kind of funny.

"It's all right," Ron chuckled, feeling a little more at ease, now. "It's only natural for you, isn't it? I understand. There's nothing to be sorry for." Just act normal with me, please. I'd rather have a conversation than constantly try and come up with pick-up lines.

"Eda, isn't it almost time for lunch?" the High Mother asked, and her bodyguarded gave a deep nod. "Excellent! Let's give Johan and Ronald a proper welcome!"

---

Thirty Minutes Later

Ron stared up at the hanging gardens, which were suspended in air on earthy platforms by golden chains, wondering how the flowers and trees managed to survive without being able to dig into the Earth for resources. Must be because of the Site of Power beneath the mountain, just like Mount Greylock. I can feel it in these gardens, all that Errant Magic, far more so than I could within the Ivory Court.

"Beautiful, don't you think?" the High Mother asked him, and Ron looked across the table and smiled.

"I do," he admitted, feeling oddly at peace in this place. "They're mesmerising, and I feel… relaxed… just by staring at them. Thank you for showing me these, High Mother."

She smiled maternally in response, her unblinking eyes studying his face. "You are welcome to spend the night here, in my gardens, if you wish. I can tell that you'd enjoy a good night's rest for a change." She can tell that I have nightmares almost every night? I don't like that very much. I feel as though she can read me like a book, which just makes me feel… naked.

"That's a kind offer, but I don't want to make my own mother nervous about my whereabouts," Ron responded, despite not looking forward to going home. "She frets constantly, you see, especially when it comes to me."

"All good mothers do," the High Mother said simply, she hadn't touched a single piece of food on the table. "Charmine, pour Ronald some more stew, please. He is trying very hard to hide his appetite from us, even though he doesn't have to." Again, stop doing that! Stay out of my head, please. It's really not a pleasant place. "A growing boy needs all the nutrition he can get, after all."

Charmine did as she was bid, her constant smile fixed solely on him. "A healthy appetite is very attractive to us Veela, beau garçon! It helps prove to us that our chosen mate is strong, and will produce even stronger heirs!" Chosen mate? Heirs? Fucking hell… She's at it again with the needless advances.

"How exactly do Veela choose their mates?" Ron asked, hoping to divert some attention away from himself. "I'm sorry for being ignorant, but I'd like to learn more about your people."

"Johan?" the High Mother looked to Abadie, who seemed to tense up a little in response. "Perhaps, you can enlighten Ronald here?"

"You know that I can't, Mother," Abadie recovered, a graceful smile already on his lips. "I feel neither sexual attraction nor desires, and thus, I do not understand the urges that plague our people." Wait… What? He doesn't feel sexual attraction to anyone? How's that even possible?

"Plague, he says," the High Mother chuckled, looking ready to pinch Abadie's cheeks. "I will find you a partner yet, dearest Johan!"

"Please, don't…"

"As Johan refuses to answer, I believe I should take up the responsibility," the High Mother looked back to Ron, her eyes darting between Charmine and the redhead. "As with all romantic affairs, Veela or not, attraction is the very first ingredient. Inexperienced Veela often mistake attraction with love, but with age, we come to understand the difference between the two. A Veela may be attracted to several men and women, but she will only ever love one. It is our nature to find a mate for life, though that doesn't stop us from seeking multiple sexual partners, even after marriage." Um… So, you're cheaters? "I know what you are thinking, Ronald… In your culture, monogamy is sacred, but for us Veela, it is too difficult to maintain indefinitely. Some manage, of course, but they are the rare few that we must all look up to, as it takes great determination to do so."

"Accompanying attraction are our allures," the High Mother continued, her smile growing when Charmine blushed deeply. "Contrary to popular belief, we do not always control our allures. Instead, they tend to control us more often than not. A Veela's allure can present itself without the Veela even realizing, as my great-granddaughter keeps demonstrating-"

"High Mother!" Charmine squeeled, looking scandalized.

"It takes discipline and training to master our allures," the High Mother went on, ignoring Charmine's outburst. "This is difficult for younger Veela, of course, as they are constantly seeking excitement and a way to satisfy their growing urges-"

"Gods…" Charmine groaned, hiding her face from Ron.

"…but a matured Veela will move past this stage of her life. No, what she will now seek is a lot more… permanent."

"A mate," Ron figured, and the High Mother gave a nod.

"Even we Veela don't fully understand how it works… The love we possess for our mates, I mean," the High Mother said, her generally intense gaze becoming a little distant. "One day, out of the blue, we meet someone who we know we can't live without. They become our sole reason to keep living, our entire world, and if we're ever parted from them, the only thing that can comfort us is the thought of being reunited with them. Without them, the sun is a little less bright, the rain a little colder, and laughter pointless." Ron, Abadie, and Charmine exchanged looks, they could all tell that the High Mother was speaking from experience. "Many healthy, powerful Veela die of a broken heart the day their mates pass away, almost as if they can't wait to be reunited in the world beyond ours." Really? That's… sort of beautiful, but also really sad. I had no idea that even the love they feel is far more intense than that of humans. Is it the same with all emotions, I wonder? Anger? Hate? Sadness? Desire? Love? Joy? Fascinating…

"How does a Veela know if she's met her mate, High Mother?" Charmine asked, leaning forward.

"Oh, she'll know," the High Mother suddenly chuckled, her melancholy gone as quickly as it had arrived. "She'll feel like she's drowning every second her mate remains unclaimed by her. It is an awful feeling, truly awful. I would not wish it upon my worst enemy."

"Oh…" Charmine muttered, her eyes darting in Ron's direction. I'm guessing you don't feel that way about me? Good. Keep it that way, for your own sake. You deserve better. A lot better.

"Don't be discouraged, my dearest," the High Mother said sagely. "Your time will come, but until then, enjoy everything and everyone! What is the point of living if there's no fun involved?" Fun? What a load of rubbish. The point is to carve your name so deep into the world that not even the Gods can remove it. How else can you prove that you were really alive, eh? "Don't you agree with me, Ronald?"

"I don't," Ron shrugged, which earned him a shocked look from Charmine. "I don't live for fun. I don't have that luxury."

"Then, what do you live for?" the High Mother asked, looking refreshed by his honesty. She wants the truth, I can see that, and she won't respect anything less. So be it, then.

"To win," Ron answered, leaning back in his chair. "To be the last man standing on the hill, no matter what it takes."

"Now, that was a good response!" the High Mother threw her head back and laughed, clapping her hands. "Did you hear him, Charmine?!" The girl in question let out a nervous laugh, not exactly sure what to make of it. "The mere fact that you'd openly disagree with me is entertaining enough, but to be so honest as well? I'm so glad I found you, Ronald! I was growing ever so bored of the 'agreeableness' of my subjects!" The High Mother then gradually stopped laughing, leaning back in her chair as well. "Tell me, however… If I were on that very same hill, would you throw me off?"

"In a heartbeat," Ron admitted, for he could afford no challengers to his will. "I'd snap you in two, and throw you away like last week's garbage."

Charmine went wide-eyed, whereas Abadie shot him a disapproving frown, but Ron ignored them both in favour of staring into the High Mother's eyes. He could tell that she was slightly insulted by his bluntness, but he could also see that she was excited at the prospect of being challenged for a change. She really is bored, isn't she? I mean, I don't blame her. What's life without any obstacles to conquer, after all?

"Charmine, why don't you show Johan around the gardens?" the High Mother eventually broke the silence, her eyes never leaving Ron's. "I want Ronald all to myself for the time being."

"Mother, forgive his boorish-" Abadie started, but stopped when she raised her hand.

"Charmine, you know I don't like to repeat myself," the High Mother warned icily, and the girl promptly shot out of her seat. There's the dictator!

"Follow me, Lord Abadie," Charmine said as she left the table behind, shooting Ron a worried glance along the way. Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?

Once they were alone, the High Mother grabbed the crystal pitcher of wine before her and rose from her seat, walking around the table and pouring wine into Ron's empty glass. Her bare breast lingered a little too close to his face, but he managed to keep his eyes fixed on hers, despite growing increasingly uncomfortable. It'll take more than that to get under my skin, lady.

Smirking, she sat down beside him, pouring herself a glass as well. "Why have you come here, Ronald? And what makes you think you can threaten me in front of my own great-granddaughter?"

"Well, firstly… I wasn't threatening you, I was just being honest with you," Ron started, ignoring his glass of wine. "As for why I've come here… Well, I wanted to thank you in person for the information you shared with me regarding the Sacred Tree. It helped me uncover a truly terrible calamity taking place right under Ilvermorny."

"A truly terrible calamity?" she raised an eyebrow, her hunger for secrets betraying her.

"Oh, yes, more terrible than you can possibly imagine," Ron smiled pleasantly. "Wouldn't you love to finally learn the secret behind the mysterious Sacred Tree? How about the Headmasters and Headmistresses too? I even know why their fingers were all severed, now."

The High Mother took a sip from her glass, waiting for him to go on. "Well, dearest? Aren't you going to tell me?" Oh, I'm 'dearest', again?

"Not here, no," Ron refused, grinning when she pouted. "I'd like to take you to dinner, first-"

The High Mother laughed abruptly, jarring him. "Dinner? Oh, Ronald, I'm nearly two centuries too old for you!" Could've just said no… Didn't have to laugh in my bloody face…

"I didn't mean it that way, I assure you," Ron recovered, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. "I want us to talk in private without the possibility of interruptions. You told me that you've spent your life exploring the secrets of our world, right? Well, I know secrets that would change your very soul… And, I'm willing to share some of them over dinner, including the nature of the power behind the Sacred Tree."

"And how do I know that you can deliver on such a promise?" the High Mother asked, sounding more and more amused. "How do I know that this isn't just a ploy to have dinner with a beautiful woman?" Hm… How do I prove that I'm telling the truth without giving anything away?

"This is no ploy, you have my word," Ron hissed in Parseltongue, his eyes gleaming red for a heartbeat.

The High Mother lost her amused smile and demeanour, something akin to fear flashing across her face. Oh, shit! Was that too much?! She stared at him in disbelief, and although Ron managed to maintain his carefree mask, he was already regretting his decision to speak that foul tongue in her presence. I definitely miscalculated there, didn't I? Fuck! I fucked it up! Gods be damned-…!

"Who are you?" she suddenly asked, placing her glass on the table and eyeing him suspiciously. "I know of only one man who could speak that evil tongue, and he has been dead for over a decade. Speak quickly, before I have you buried within the stone walls of my palace."

"You mean Voldemort, don't you?" Ron asked, and she drew in a sharp breath. "He's not as dead as you think he is-"

"What?" she blinked, visibly tensing. Bloody hell, even his mere name can make someone this old and powerful fill up with terror. I hate his guts, but I can't help but respect the fear he invokes.

"He's still alive, High Mother," Ron decided to capitalize on her fears, hoping to salvage the situation. "As a matter of fact, I ran into him during my first year of Hogwarts." Ron pulled back his sleeve, showing her his horrid scars. "This is what our encounter led to. He broke my body and left me for dead, but I survived, a fact that he will dearly regret when we inevitably meet again." Ron then fixed up his sleeve, rising out of his chair. "That's all I'm willing to share for now. If you want to know more, you'll have that dinner with me, but be warned, if you do go through with it, your life will never be the same again. I'll show you secrets that will haunt you for as long as you live, just as they haunt me." With that, Ron began leaving the gardens and the High Mother behind. "Please, send Abadie to the front of the palace with your response. I'll give you some time to think about it, but the offer is not indefinite." I think, I have her. A few minutes alone with only her curiosity to pester her is exactly what she needs.

---

Saturday 17th April, 1994 (Snape's Office – Late Afternoon)

"So, you got her to agree to meet you for dinner this upcoming Friday, you say?" Snape whispered icily, smirking a little. "Impressive. Your ability to get your way is almost endearing, if not a little annoying."

"I just do what I do," Ron grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I plan to show her the future in store for us all. It'll make her more… agreeable, I reckon."

"If you think it wise, I can't stop you," Snape commented, clearly not approving of his plan.

"No, you most certainly can't," Ron chuckled, already eager to utilize the High Mother's great resources for his own ends.

"The news of this Half-Breed having so much power is disturbing, is it not?" Emilia spoke up, she was sitting on his left. Half-Breed? "It is even more clear to me now that Veela-Kind cannot, and should not, be trusted. We have to do something about this, before she can threaten our kind with her mind-controlling horde."

"Wow…" Ron muttered under his breath, losing his grin. "Aren't Ronin supposed to be above petty concepts such as discrimination? Isn't a person's character more important than their birth?"

"Perhaps," Emilia shrugged, her uncaring expression giving nothing away. "But even you must admit that it would be unwise to place complete faith in an unknown entity. She is where she is in life because of her ambitions and love of power, so what's to stop her from trying to take advantage of the oncoming chaos?" She's not wrong about that… I can't allow such a powerful individual to exist after the war. The American Aurors, the High Mother, most of the world's Ministers… They all need to be taken care of so I can establish control over the Wizarding World without being challenged too much. I'm tired of playing by the rules of others. Utterly fucking tired.

"The war will weaken her forces and drain her resources, and I certainly plan to take advantage of that," Ron stated offhandedly, not going into any real details about his plans. "We'll just have to see where the wind blows by the end, I suppose." It'll blow in my favour, if it knows what's good for it.

Snape and Emilia exchanged looks, but said nothing.

"Just keep your wits about you near her, boy, she didn't reach such an age by luck alone," Snape said eventually, before looking to Emilia. "As for you… It's time I explained why you're here. The Order cannot stand for violence and brutality, which is why its other members will never fully accept you. You represent everything they loathe, and so, we have decided to utilize you in a manner that will better suit your talents. You must travel to Magical Russia, in secret, and give assistance to Head-Auror Luka Yahontov in his search for Minister Ivanov's young son. We have reason to believe that she is acting as the Dark Lord's puppet to protect the boy from his wrath, and if we can secure his safety, Albus may be able to convince her to join us." Unlikely, but the old man is adamant about it. Still, I'll go with this plan because the boy is an innocent, and so, his life matters. It has to be protected, especially from the likes of Voldemort.

"So, I do the dirty work, now, is that it?" Emilia looked to Ron, frowning. "I am disrespected and shunned by those old fools, but I do what's necessary for our mutual victory? They reap the fruits of my labour?" Welcome to the club, Ronin.

"It's not fair, but you should be used to that by now," Ron shrugged, offering her a sorry smile. "What do you want me to say, Emilia? All I can tell you is that this is important. That boy still needs protecting, regardless of your circumstances. Are you really going to ignore an innocent life being in danger because the Order doesn't respect you?"

"…No," Emilia replied simply, giving Snape a nod. "I will go."

"Send Artyom with her," Snape suggested, and Ron nodded in agreement. "The Russian is very capable, and his insight will no doubt come into play. And remember, if you get caught, you have no affiliation with the Order and its leader."

"If I get caught with Artyom, won't you be endangered by association?" Emilia asked Ron.

"Don't get caught, then," Ron smiled, shooting her a wink.

"Ugh…"

"Take this seriously, boy," Snape frowned, and Ron raised his hands in mock surrender.

"I am," Ron assured them. "I just have faith in Emilia and Artyom, that's all. I know they will succeed, and even if they don't, they won't be stupid enough to get caught. I mean, if they did get caught, I'd be so fucking pissed…" Ron stared into Emilia's eyes, his smile turning into a malicious grin. "You wouldn't want to piss me off, now, would you?"

"Then, it's settled," Snape said, gesturing Emilia to be on her way. "You have a few days to prepare yourself. Ron will send Artyom to your manor when it is time to leave."

"Why wait?" Emilia asked.

"Yahontov still needs time to set up," Snape answered. "He is being watched and must be careful."

"Very well, then," Emilia rose from her chair, giving them a parting nod. "I will meditate on our conversation, and sharpen both my blade and my mind until the time arrives."

"Actually, before you go, there is more I need from you," Ron started, and Emilia cocked an eyebrow. "While you're there, try and gather information on both the Purebloods and Yahontov himself. Weaknesses and whatnot. Chinks in their armour that we can exploit."

"Yahontov as well?" Emilia asked, while Snape stared at him. "Isn't he on our side?"

"He is, but that could change," Ron replied, and Snape gave an approving nod. "Plus, I don't like the sound of this bloke. He had to be convinced to save an innocent child's life, and any man that needs to be convinced of such a thing is a problem. I hope, for his sake, he doesn't become a headache, but if he does, I want to be rid of him with as much ease as possible."

"I'll do what I can," Emilia agreed, taking a few steps back and producing her Portkey. "Until we meet again, Ron."

"Take care of yourself, and be careful," Ron smiled fondly, he was going to miss her. "Don't get killed, please."

"I won't," she promised, before vanishing back to her manor.

"Everything is in order, then," Snape said, visibly relaxing. "The Ronin has become quite the useful asset, hasn't she?" You're welcome!

"She's definitely more useful than the Order," Ron said snidely, frowning a little. "Bunch of nonces, the lot of them."

"They have their uses as well," Snape said simply, not disagreeing nor agreeing. "The Order was formed to inspire those who needed inspiring, and without the hope it brought, the Great War would've been lost. Not all have the stomach needed to understand what winning a war truly entails, but they can still play a part in its resolution. Hope, as contrived as this sounds, can make mediocre men do great things." I already know that. I'm the prime example of it!

"Are you quoting the old man?" Ron smirked, and Snape just stared at him in haunting silence. "Merlin, you are, aren't you?!"

"Shut up," Snape hissed, pulling out a stack of papers that he needed to mark. Ha! Caught you red-handed! "I have work to do, so be on your way. I don't want you nor your irritating grin distracting me." Ouch! How mean!

"All right, I'll go," Ron rose out of his chair, fixing up his suit. "But before I do, I want to know how things are going in Slytherin. Are we still dominating in every field except Quidditch?"

Snape suddenly smirked, but in a way that Ron didn't like whatsoever. "Oh, they've moved on from you, boy." What? "The Triumvirate are trying to re-establish themselves, while Flint is under the misconception that he can do whatever he wants to whomever he wants. Your first and second years have also dropped the ball, and they refuse to pick it back up." WHAT?! Those little cunts! "All your efforts, and this is what you have to show for it? How pathetic." Fuck you! You don't have to sound so pleased about this!

"If things really are that bad, then why haven't you done anything about it?" Ron had to ask, sneering. "I thought you had my back on this!"

"So, you get to run away, and I have to fix the mess you left behind?" Snape asked in response, his smirk growing evermore cruel. "When you rule by fear, boy, people are always quick to forget you. And, much like yourself, I am more feared than loved. My interventions would act as nothing more than bandages on a bleeding wound. They would not change the culture that has gestated within Slytherin for a thousand years, and so, I would rather focus my efforts on matters that interest me, such as that Cursed Wand we recovered."

Ron drew in a sharp breath, turning his head and cracking his neck. "Rule by fear, you say? Oh, I haven't shown them true fear yet… But now, I fucking will!" I'm going to kick Carey in her cunt so hard that her ovaries will shoot out of her nose! Ungrateful bitch! I have secured her future, and the futures of her damn friends, but she can't look past her obsession with a made-up position of power?!

The Champion turned on his heels and stormed towards the exit, his hands clenching into fists. And where were Our 'friends' when all this was happening?! Why didn't they tell Us about this?! Fucking idiots! We're going to fucking strangle one of them today!

"Stop," Snape called, and the Champion looked back with a murderous glare. "Do not threaten their safety, and do not harm any of them. If you do, you will answer to me. Understand?"

"Oh, so you do care?" the Champion hissed, his eyes flashing red.

"They are just children, Ron," Snape said simply, not looking fazed by him in the slightest. "Do not punish them for not thinking the way you do. And, yes, as they are my charges, their safety does fall upon me. So far, nothing has happened that requires my immediate attention, but should any of them cross a line, then I will intervene myself. You are the only real danger to them I see right now."

Ron drew in a deep, shaky breath, feeling as though there was as sun burning away inside his chest. Calm down, Ron. Calm the fuck down. Breathe. Just keep breathing until your anger passes. You're trying to be better, remember? Save the wrath for those who truly deserve it, not for a bunch of imbeciles like your House-mates!

After nearly a minute of controlled breathing, Ron finally spoke. "I get that Slytherin's politics bore you, because they bore me too, but you knew that this was important to me. How could you let things get out of hand like this?"

"If it was so important to you, then why did you leave?" Snape asked in response. "You can't just quit halfway through a task and expect people to clean up after you. I'm not your servant, nor am I your parent. Grow up and take responsibility for your actions. You're not stupid, you knew all too well that your absence would bring about change within Slytherin, and yet, you still left." Snape then looked back to his work, shaking his head slightly. "Now, go clean up the mess you've made, and leave me to my work." Prick… He's right, but what a prick…

Leaving the office, Ron couldn't help but chastise himself for leaving Slytherin to its own devices. He knew exactly what his House-mates were, pathetic and self-serving, and he also knew just how dethatched his Head of House was, and yet, he had ignored all of these warning signs just so that he could have some peace and quiet. And then, there's my 'friends'… Weak, incompetent leeches. They can't do anything right unless I'm there holding their fucking hands. When I eventually come back and take over properly, again, I'm going to ostracize them. I'm going to throw them out into the cold. They will either rise up to the challenge and start proving useful to me, or, they will be treated like the pieces of shit that they are. And Daphne… I know it was her idea to keep Slytherin's current state hidden from me… I just know it! She thinks she's so fucking clever, doesn't she? She thinks she knows what's best for me? I'm going to sort her out, once and for all!

Stopping before the secret entrance, Ron drew in another deep breath before casting the Disillusionment Charm upon himself. "Open."

The entrance revealed itself, and Ron promptly made his way down into the common room. Like any other Saturday before he had initially taken over, the common room was filled with chatty Slytherins, all of them wasting their day away. Some were playing childish games, some were gossiping in the darker corners of the room, and some were outright sleeping on the comfy couches and spacious sofas. Look at them… Doing absolutely nothing! I bet if I go down to the training arena, it'll be fucking empty! A week before the Duelling Tournaments resume, no less!

His temper was already rising just by watching his lazy, unmotivated House-mates, and Ron had to constantly remind himself that lashing out would do little but get him in trouble. More trouble than any of them are bloody worth… Now, where are those first years, huh? Where are you, you little shits?! Turn lazy, will you? I'm going to make you sorely regret it! After much searching, Ron realized that both the first years and his friends were strangely missing from the common room, but more importantly, he also realized that Flint and his goons had taken over his favourite spot in front of the fireplace, as if trying to insult his very memory. He thinks he's the new King of Slytherin, now, eh? What a fucking idiot… I should go over there and shove his head into the fire! Show him that I don't need a special sofa to fuck him up!

Dragging himself away from Flint before he did anything stupid, Ron found himself being drawn towards the training arena, curious to see if his theory of it being empty would be proven true. However, once he reached the entryway, the familiar sounds of Spells being cast caught his attention, making his curiosity even more intense. There must be a few students in there by the sounds of it… Could it really be Daphne and the others? Is that too much to ask for?

Upon entering the training arena, Ron was stunned to see his friends and the first years training together, and doing so with genuine excitement and enthusiasm, no less. What the…? No fucking way… Theo and Blaise were sparring against each other, Pansy was attempting a Non-Verbal Levitation Charm on a half-eaten apple, and further away, Draco and Daphne were lecturing the first years on the basics of Duelling and safety. They're… not wasting time… They're actually training…

Ron blinked repeatedly, feeling as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown in his face, abruptly dousing both his anger and his resentful thoughts. He had been so certain of himself, so certain of his friends' shortcomings, but now, all he could do was stand there, his mouth hanging open, and watch them. Draco and Daphne working together? Pansy trying her hand at Non-Verbal Magic without getting distracted every two seconds? Blaise trying his best to keep his feet moving? Theo focusing on accuracy over showing off? They're actually training properly… And I'm not even here to force any of them to do this. They're just doing it by themselves. Why would they-…? Hold on… I know why… Of course! I'm not here! That's why! I'm not here to solve all of their problems, and so, they have to take care of themselves! I didn't think they would actually make that choice, but… I guess, I was wrong… I guess, I don't know them as well as I thought I did… Or, maybe, I've just come to underestimate them…

The thought that, in his growing bitterness and resentment towards the world, he had also come to look down on his closest friends, and, in doing so, had stopped believing in them, made him deeply uncomfortable… Deeply uncomfortable, and deeply ashamed. I wanted to ostracise them… Punish them… I was so bloody angry that I didn't even stop to think about what could be going on with them, especially with the House undergoing more upheaval. Flint took that spot from them, and I doubt they gave it up without a fight. A fight that they must've lost… And the Triumvirate must be targeting them too because of what I did to Carey… Professor Snape was right, I did leave behind a mess, and they're the ones who are being forced to deal with it.

Lowering his head, Ron slowly sat down on the steps, feeling as though he had been drained of all of his strength. I'll go to Madam Pomfrey before I return home, I think. My judgement is compromised, I'm even more sure of it now. I'm so angry all the time, and if I don't get that sorted out, I'm going to end up hurting the wrong people. People like my friends… Daphne, even… Just this morning, when I was at that damn 'hospital', I was ready to kill people who had done nothing to me, and all because, deep down, I was jealous of the fact that they were living an enjoyable life… That they were happy and content, unlike me…

"'You 'normal' people…" his own voice snarled inside his mind. "'I fucking hate you so much! I despise you cunts from the bottom of my heart! And yet, I still want nothing more than to be like you!" Fuck me… I'm pathetic…

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Saturday 17th April, 1994 (Slytherin Training Arena – Late Afternoon)

"Can we take a break, now?" Tori whined, panting. "Daphne, I'm tired! My arm hurts, and my feet are sore!" We've only been practising simple Spellwork, but even that's too much for her. The others aren't even sweating yet, but she looks ready to fall over. She's always been sickly, but only now do I really see the extent of it. I wish mother had never told me, if I'm being honest… I can't lose her too.

"Of course, Tori, you've earned it," Daphne smiled a sorry smile, and her little sister looked taken aback by her request being granted without her needing to throw a tantrum. "Take fifteen minutes, all of you. You're doing really well, and as a reward, I'm going to get you cold orange slices. How does that sound?"

"Orange slices?" Malfoy frowned at her, while the first years celebrated excitedly. "Greengrass… Spoiling them isn't going to teach them anything. This is not how Weasley does things-"

"I'm not him," Daphne interjected, meeting Malfoy's gaze. "I want them to enjoy this, to go at their own pace, and that's final. If you don't like it, then you can go join Pansy. Or, Theo and Blaise. Just don't undermine me in front of them."

"Weasley put me in charge of them, so I think I'll stay," Malfoy's frown deepened. "When he eventually comes back, I don't want him to think I abandoned my post. He'll rip my bloody head off."

"Then, work with me, and not against me," Daphne sighed out, deciding not to argue in front of the first years. "Look, when he does come back, I'll tell him that you carried your own weight. We've all noticed it, Malfoy, so you don't need to be so standoffish with us, anymore. We're all in the same boat, now, so we might as well get along."

With that, Daphne moved away from the group, shooting one last look back just to see Tori breathing heavily and wiping her sweaty brow. Damn… I don't want to exclude her from the others, but she's clearly struggling a lot just to keep up with them. At this rate, she could get hurt!

"Marty," Daphne whispered once she was far from the others, and almost instantaneously, the ever-vigilant Elf popped into the room.

"Mistress!" Marty beamed, bowing his head deeply. "It has been too long since Marty was summoned!" Really? Ron doesn't summon you as much, anymore? "What can Marty do for the kind Mistress?"

"It's good to see you, again," Daphne started, smiling fondly at him. "How have you been, Marty?"

"Marty is doing exceptionally well!" the Elf looked up, his toothy smile growing wider and wider. "Marty has been promoted to deputy chef! Now, Marty can hold and read the House-Elf Recipe Book without being punished!"

"Congratulations," Daphne giggled, his excitement was infectious. "I'm very proud of you, Marty, and I'm sure Ron is too."

Marty's smile wavered, and he slowly lowered his gaze. "Master does not know… Master does not summon Marty very often for some reason… Marty must have disappointed him, but Marty does not know what he's done to be ignored…" He's ignoring you as well?! Doesn't he know how much that hurts House-Elves?! Of course, he does… He's not stupid, he's just an arsehole!

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Marty," Daphne offered her condolences, feeling evermore frustrated by her ex-boyfriend's new attitude. "I know it's not the same, but if you want, I can summon you… We can talk, and you can join us whenever we play Wizard's Poker."

"Truly?!" Marty looked back up, his large eyes gleaming with hope. "Mistress would do this for Marty?!"

"Of course, we've been through a lot together, haven't we?" Daphne asked in response. "We'll be playing a few games after dinner tonight, actually. I'll summon you."

"Marty is already looking forward to it!" the Elf looked beyond ecstatic, even bowing once again. "Now, what does Mistress require of Marty?" Should I ask him for a favour right now? It doesn't feel right, anymore… But if I don't, he'll just feel like he did something wrong…

"Could you bring me some orange slices, please?" Daphne asked, and Marty looked past her and towards the first years.

"Marty can and will, Mistress," Marty gave a nod, before popping out of the room. You're ignoring Marty, now, Ron? Is it just because you're busy? Or, are you out to torment him as well over some imagined slight?

Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if the rumours of Ron getting help were even true. I should just go ask Madam Pomfrey when I get the chance. She won't tell me the details, but I'm sure she'll put my mind at ease-…

"What are you up to, beautiful?" Pansy giggled from behind her, pinching her sides and making her jump.

"Merlin, Pans…" Daphne frowned a bit, spooked. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," Pansy snorted, not looking sorry in the slightest. "I just saw you standing here by yourself, so I got curious. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I just asked Marty to bring us refreshments," Daphne answered, and Pansy's eyes lit up.

"Refreshments, you say?"

"Just some orange slices, nothing special," Daphne shrugged, and Pansy pouted. "What? Were you expecting cocktails and cheese?"

"Maybe… It's just that orange slices are for kids," Pansy rolled her eyes, smirking right after. "How is Marty, by the way? Has he been in touch with Ron?"

"No, actually," Daphne sighed out. "He thinks Ron is ignoring him…"

"Oh…" Pansy lost her smirk. "That's a shame…"

"It is, so I invited him to join us tonight," Daphne said, feeling even more sure of her decision. "Are you still planning to leave half-way to meet up with Longbottom?"

"I am," Pansy replied, grinning. "We're definitely going to have our first kiss, tonight!" Does he know about that? "We're going to sneak into the Choir Room! The Singing Frogs will serenade us, and I'll make sure the setting is just romantic enough that he finally makes a move on me! Oh, I'm so excited! I can barely contain myself!" Looks like Longbottom is on trial, tonight. Poor boy.

On the one hand, Daphne was pleased to see her friend so happy, but on the other, she wasn't sure if Pansy and Longbottom were a good fit. Pansy was adventurous, outgoing, and far too eager to get handsy with a boy, whereas Longbottom was her polar opposite. He's just too shy and soft-spoken for her, I think. I hope I'm wrong, but I get the feeling that their relationship isn't going to end well.

"That sounds like a wonderful date, Pans," Daphne smiled, remembering some of her own with Ron very fondly. "And, if he doesn't make the first move, then maybe you should."

"Me? Shouldn't the girl wait for the boy to make a move first? I mean, I'm already the one who asked him out, aren't I?" Pansy questioned, before smiling in a teasing manner. "Did you make the first move on Ron, Daph? Is that what you're trying to tell me, hm?"

"What? No, of course not," Daphne laughed, though she was mortified internally. "He asked me out, remember?"

"Uh-huh," Pansy narrowed her eyes, her smile turning even more sleazy. "You're a proper dog, aren't you, Daphne?"

"No, I'm not," Daphne huffed in indignation. I am… Poor Ron went as red as a tomato when I just planted one on him out of the blue, and I loved it… "Where is Marty with those orange slices?"

"You're so fun to tease," Pansy laughed, while Daphne rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay… I'll stop. I actually came over to tell you that I've convinced the second years to join us tomorrow."

"Really? Is that why you were late?" Daphne blinked, and Pansy gave a nod. "Pansy, that's brilliant! Thank you!"

"It wasn't easy," Pansy started. "They had no problems with ignoring their quota, but now that we've agreed to the Triumvirate's demands to get things back on track, they're not exactly pleased with us."

"What do they want?" Daphne asked, frowning a little. Bloody second years…

"They want the window that the mermaids are rumoured to swim past for themselves," Pansy replied, and Daphne all but groaned. "Sorry, but I didn't have any leverage. I did the best I could-"

"I know…" Daphne drew in a deep breath; she knew better than all of them just how little they had to offer. "I'm happy you convinced them, Pans, it's just-… How are we going to get them that window? The Triumvirate are in no rush to do us any favours, and I'm certain the older students won't like the idea of second years making demands of them. That window is a favourite spot for many, especially the fifth years." If Ron had gone to them, they'd be dancing to his tune without making so much as a peep. How do I get to that point? How do I earn that kind of respect?

"Our best bet would be to convince the twins, and then, as part of our reward for helping rid the House of their constant pranks, we get the second years that window," Pansy advised, and Daphne nodded along. "I mean, we can just ignore their request, but I don't think that'd be fair of us."

"No, it wouldn't be," Daphne agreed. "Still, I have no idea on how to approach the twins… They only know us by association with Ron, and quite frankly, I don't think they'll be eager to help us. We've nothing to offer them, nor do we-"

"It's going to be all right, Daph," Pansy stopped her, reaching forward and squeezing her hand. "We're going to be all right. Stressing about every small detail isn't going to solve anything. We'll figure it out, in the end, I'm sure." Right…

Daphne nodded weakly and smiled, feeling less tense thanks to Pansy's small gesture. "We'll throw more ideas around, tonight. The sooner we approach them, the better. We can't keep playing the Triumvirate indefinitely, not with Flint throwing his weight around wherever he goes-"

Marty suddenly popped in behind Daphne, holding a silver tray packed with fresh orange slices. "Forgive Marty's delay, Mistress. Marty wanted to use only the best oranges Hogwarts has to offer."

"Marty!" Pansy squeeled, moving around Daphne and pinching the Elf's cheeks. "Oh, I've missed you!"

"Marty has missed Lady Parkinson too," the Elf beamed, his large ears twitching from the attention.

"I hear you'll be joining us, tonight," Pansy giggled, while Daphne accepted the tray from Marty. "Remember to bring loads of sweets! That's what we play for!"

"Can Marty bring fruits, instead?" Marty looked to Daphne, who gave a nod. "Fruits are better than sweets for young wizards and witches."

"Thank you for this, Marty," Daphne said gratefully. "I'll call you after dinner, okay? You can tell us all about your promotion." Marty bowed deeply, before Apparating back to the Hogwarts Kitchens. "C'mon, Pans, I think I've kept my sister waiting long enough."

"Is she all right?" Pansy asked as they began walking back to the group, but Daphne chose to remain silent. "She seems quite tuckered out, that's all. You and Malfoy haven't even gotten started with them yet."

Daphne tensed a little, but was quick to recover. "She's fine… Just not used to exerting herself, I guess. She'll be fine, though. Don't worry about it."

"You realize you said 'fine' twice, right?" Pansy cocked an eyebrow. "Daphne? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No… I promise, Pansy, everything is just fine…"

---

Millicent Bulstrode's POV

Saturday 17th April, 1994 (?)

Millie woke up startled, the last thing she had seen before everything had gone dark were Kemppainen's haunting eyes. Where am I?! Her head jerked left and right, and much to her surprise, she was sitting on a hospital bed, and she wasn't alone. Professor Vulchanova…

"You are awake," the dark-haired witch looked up from her book, not looking particularly pleased with her observation. "He went easy on you today, I see." Easy?

"What… happened?" Millie groaned, feeling as though her brain was floating around in water.

"You disturbed Professor Kemppainen's Dark Arts class, again," Vulchanova reminded her, frowning a little. "He hit you with a Knockback Jinx, and you landed on your head. No major damage, of course, just a mild concussion." Right… He wanted us to use the Strangling Curse on captured Mooncalves, today… What a bastard… What an evil, despicable bastard! "You seem to be inspiring others to join in on your rebellious streak, Miss. Bulstrode. This is not good. Not good at all."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," Millie groaned, sitting up straighter.

"After you were sent here, Miss. Gorski decided to follow your example," Vulchanova explained, gesturing towards the bed on Millie's left. "He was not so gentle with her, I'm afraid." What?! Ruta?!

Millie all but jumped out of her bed, rushing over to Ruta's bed despite stumbling a little. No! The small witch was unconscious and deathly pale, which filled Millie's heart with a horrible cocktail of fear, resentment, and disbelief. She… followed my example…? She didn't go through with torturing those poor animals this time around… And this was her reward? What did he fucking do to her?! I'll kill him-!

"Miss. Gorski isn't exactly what I'd call brave," Vulchanova commented, and Millie looked back with a hateful glare. "However, it appears as though you've awakened something in her." She didn't want things to be awkward between her and her only friend… Not again… Fuck, this is all my fault… I treated her so poorly after our last Dark Arts class-… "I expect you to stop this, now, Miss. Bulstrode, before it's too late. Professor Kemppainen is trying to teach you what it means to be strong -"

"He's teaching us how to commit murder," Millie accused, having reached well past her limit. "You're all fucking sick in the head! You have no right to call yourselves Professors-!"

She suddenly found herself silenced, as if the words were now unable to get past her throat. Vulchanova sheathed her wand with a dark frown, gesturing her to return to her bed. Millie refused to budge, instead sitting down on the edge of Ruta's bed, taking the smaller girl's hand in hers. It's cold… Why is it so cold?!

"The Wizarding World is a dangerous place, Miss. Bulstrode," Vulchanova started, her dark eyes becoming even more intense. "Has Miss. Gorski told you of how Durmstrang was founded? Why it was founded?" Millie frowned deeply, then shook her head. Something tells me that you're about to lecture me on it. "It was founded by my great ancestor, Nerida Vulchanova, as a response to the growing violence committed against Wizarding-Kind by the rest of the world. Her prosperous hamlet was annihilated by Goblins and Giants, greedy for food and blood, and those who survived the raid found themselves lost and scattered. Nerida was the only one with the strength and determination to find all of her remaining people, but without a home to return to, they were forced to become nomads. Travellers. Outsiders. Life was not kind to them, and Nerida watched helplessly as her people succumbed to hunger and disease… And worse." Worse than hunger and disease? "But she refused to give into despair. No, she was a proud witch, and she dearly loved her people, but more than that, she didn't want to die before claiming vengeance upon those who had uprooted her life. And so, she made a vow before departing for the sea, her last chance to save her people, that one day, her children would return and destroy any who would dare move against Wizarding-Kind."

"She purchased an old boat from a Muggle man, and after some repairs, she and her people left their old lives behind forever. The journey was difficult, and full of danger, but Nerida pushed on regardless, until finally, she discovered this land. This isolated, cold land, and that is when she lost all hope… Nothing could grow here, for the night was never-ending, and the Dark Creatures that called this forsaken island home were even more dangerous than the harsh climate. She had doomed her people to freeze and starve in the darkness, to be hunted like sheep, and it completely broke her. She was finally convinced that life had no plans for her, that it did not want her, so she chose to end it. She slipped away from her camp, leaving her wand behind, and walked into a blizzard." She tried to kill herself? Merlin… What about her people? She just abandoned them?

"The blizzard tore away at her body, like a hungry beast, devouring her fingers, her nose, her lips, her ears, even her very soul, but she kept moving forward. Her spite had grown too strong, you see, and, if the legends are to be believed, something in the darkness saw her hatred, her pain, and it called out to her. A great and terrible voice lured her further into the blizzard, getting louder and louder, until eventually, she found herself at the heart of the blizzard. What she discovered there is revered to this very day, Miss. Bulstrode…" What was it? What did she discover? "The Undying Fire."

Millie's eyes widened, her curiosity about the strange, Magical fire was now higher than ever before. The Undying Fire called out to Nerida? It spoke to her? Is that what she's saying? If that true, then… It's alive?! That's genuinely disturbing… I really hope that this is just a story-…

"She slept by the Undying Fire, for its warmth was too comforting for even Nerida to ignore," Vulchanova continued, her voice barely more than a whisper. "And, when she woke up, she found that her body had been Healed. Her fingers, her nose, her lips, her ears, every single part of her… She was reborn, as were her dreams for her people. When she returned to them unharmed, they called it a miracle and hailed her as a Prophet, but she knew better. She was no prophet, nor was she special in any way. It was the Undying Fire that was special. It was the voice within the Undying Fire that was the Prophet. And, it would be the Undying Fire that would nurture them until they were strong enough to claim their vengeance, not her. She was just a mortal witch… She was just its instrument." Vulchanova then looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the stone walls and the great banners of Durmstrang. "This fortress was her shrine, Miss. Bulstrode. Her shrine, and her offering, to something bigger than herself."

Vulchanova brandished her wand, and with a flick, she returned Millie's voice back to her. "…Why are you telling me all of this… history? What's the point? I don't understand…"

"I'm educating you because you are under the delusion that Durmstrang is just another Wizarding School," Vulchanova answered, almost sounding sorry for her. "It is not, and it has never been so. Durmstrang is the answer to a dangerous world, a world that preys upon the weak. A world that is constantly changing in its appearance, but never in its intent. You, Miss. Bulstrode, and Miss. Gorski, are a part of something bigger than yourselves, now." Vulchanova then rose up, striking an intimidating figure. "Here, you will learn not only to defend yourselves, but to destroy any who would wish harm upon you. Here, you are children of the Undying Fire, and if you allow it, it will make you stronger than you could possibly imagine." Children of the Undying Fire? Like Nerida?

The dark-robed Professor turned to leave, but stopped when Millie called out to her. "What happened to Nerida, in the end? Did she get her vengeance? Did her people survive?" Is any of this even true?

"She was slain by her greatest pupil, Harfang Munter," Vulchanova answered without looking back. Oh… "Don't be disheartened, Miss. Bulstrode. Nerida couldn't have been more proud in her final moments, for she had produced wizards and witches more powerful than herself. She had repaid the Undying Fire by shaping even mightier instruments for her saviour… Instruments that brought Goblins and Giants to their knees throughout Wizarding Europe. Her legacy of strength continues to this day, as a matter of fact, through a man that you continue to disrespect… Not understanding that everything he does; he does to prepare you for the horrors that lie beyond these walls." …Kemppainen? He's an 'instrument' of the Undying Fire? Merlin, none of this makes any sense! Because he-… He's a monster-! "Do not disturb his class, again. If you do, the Headmaster will have no choice but to write to your parents. I imagine, their punishment would be far more severe and lasting than anything Professor Kemppainen can think of."

Vulchanova walked away at that, leaving Millie behind to ponder her words in complete silence. She didn't want her parents to get involved in her life any more than necessary, not after all the damage they had already done, but she also didn't want Kemppainen to corrupt her soul. Him, or, the Undying Fire… Merlin, I really hope that story was make-believe, because if it's not, then this really is the most horrible place on the planet!

Millie let out a shaky breath before looking back to Ruta, her eyes welling up from feelings of hopelessness and powerlessness. "I'm sorry… You were right, he'd just hurt you if you refused him… But you still did it for me… I'm so sorry, Ruta…" She harshly wiped at her eyes, coming to a decision that would change her life going forward. "I'm not going to leave you here by yourself, okay? I'm not going to leave you to deal with Waldvogel yourself… Or, Rask… Or, even Kemppainen… I'm not going to leave you. We'll survive this place together by watching each other's backs, and one day, this place will just be a horrible memory."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 19th April, 1994 (The Burrow – Early Morning)

Ron sat on the edge of his bed, his running gear covered in sweat and dirt. His thoughts were still preoccupied by what he had seen and heard in the Slytherin training arena, and try as he might, he couldn't forgive himself for ignoring Marty of all people. I know how busy I've been, but that's hardly an excuse… He's my most loyal friend, and I haven't given him a single thought aside from my laundry, which he still does without fail… I have to make it up to him, somehow. I have to do right by him, no matter what. He's more than just my friend… He's a part of me.

Ron closed his eyes and placed his gloved hand on his chest, he could still feel the bond between him and Marty whenever he focused on it. It felt warm, nurturing, and essential to his very being. I've been letting my friends down, haven't I? Not just Tracey and Marty, but all of them… Even Millicent. Madam Pomfrey is right, when you only want to focus on your own goals, you start to forget that other people exist. You forget that you wouldn't be here if it weren't for the connections you made along the way. This is a piece of me that's worth picking back up, as Madam Pomfrey would say. This is a piece of me that's worth holding onto, no matter how bad things get. So… Might as well get started, eh?

"Marty, I need to see you," Ron whispered, and immediately, he heard a soft pop from the centre of his room.

"Master!" Marty ran over, stopping just in front of him. "Master has summoned Marty!"

"Hello, my friend," Ron opened his eyes, smiling lovingly. "I've missed you."

"Marty has missed Master too," Marty beamed, while Ron moved off the bed and kneeled in front of him. "Has Master just returned from another run?"

"I have," Ron chuckled, realizing that he must smell terrible. "Sorry about the sweat, but do you mind giving me a hug?"

"A hug?!" Marty's smile widened to a disturbing degree. "Marty would never mind hugging Master!" Master… I really don't like that…

"Come here, then," Ron opened his arms, and the Elf promptly wrapped his frail arms around his neck. "It's good to see you, again, mate. Congratulations on your promotion. I'm proud of you."

"Master knows about Marty's promotion?" Marty pulled back, looking surprised. "How?"

"You know me, right? I hear and see things that others don't," Ron simply shrugged, smiling widely. "We need to celebrate your hard work, I reckon! That's why I've called you here!"

"Celebrate?" Marty blinked, suddenly fiddling with his hands. "Oh, Master mustn't go through the trouble-"

"I insist," Ron stood up, before lifting Marty up like a baby and planting him on the bed. "Now, we're going to spend some time figuring out a reward for you, and you're not going to say no. You deserve it, and you're going to get it."

"But Marty has everything already-" Marty tried, but Ron tutted him into silence.

"Surely, there's something out there that's caught your eye," Ron grinned, and when Marty averted his gaze, Ron knew that he was onto something. "Well? What is it? Tell me, Marty, I want to know."

"Marty couldn't… It would be too much…" the Elf muttered, shaking his head. "No, far too much…" Too much? What is it he wants, exactly?

"Let me be the judge of that, mate," Ron sat down beside the Elf, nudging him playfully. "Oh, go on! Tell me! I know you want to!" Marty shifted awkwardly in his spot, then mumbled something incoherent. "Pardon? I didn't quite catch that-"

"…A Puffskein…" Marty repeated, not meeting his gaze. "…Marty has been thinking of caring for a pet of his own, but Elves are not allowed to keep pets…" What…? That's it? He just wants a bloody Puffskein? By the way he was acting, I thought he wanted something… grander. "No, no… Forget what Marty has just said, Master… Elves cannot keep pets…"

"Who says Elves can't keep pets?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"…The Ministry of Magic…" Marty replied solemnly, and Ron immediately regained his composure. Oh…

"What? Are you serious?"

"It is an old law, but it still stands to this day," Marty explained, his scrawny legs rocking back and forth. "Elves may maintain the properties of their Masters, but that is the extent of it. Elves are not seen as responsible Beings, Master, nor are Elves seen as important enough to change laws for. It would cost too much time and money for Wizarding-Kind."

Ron nodded slowly, realizing that the Ministry probably thought it had better things to do than to change laws concerning Elves, even when those laws were written centuries ago. They really can't own pets? Or, can they not own property in general? What kind of law is that?! Elves are infinitely kinder and gentler than Wizarding-Kind! This is some proper horse-shit, this is! It's just another way to treat them as slaves and playthings to be used! Well, not on my fucking watch!

"A Puffskein, eh?" Ron drew in a deep breath, smiling for Marty's sake. "If that's what you want, mate, then that's what you'll get. We'll go to the Magical Menagerie today, if you're up for it. You can pick out whichever Puffskein you want-"

"No, Master," Marty shook his head, surprising him. "Marty is being selfish, and Master must not entertain such notions! Master could get in trouble with the Ministry, again!"

"You let me worry about those cunts, all right?" Ron put his arm around Marty's tiny shoulders, grinning. "If my friend wants a Puffskein, then he gets a Puffskein! If anyone tries to stop us, I'll clock them in their whore mouth! Knock their fucking teeth out!"

Marty smiled nervously, shrinking. "Master is vulgar as ever… And most violent…"

"It's all a part of my charm, init? Come back after breakfast is served at Hogwarts, I'll take a shower and get ready in the meantime!"

"Master, please-"

"We're doing this, Marty! You're getting your own Puffskein today!"

---

Monday 19th April, 1994 (Magical Menagerie – Midday)

"Master, this is not-"

"Stop having second thoughts, we're doing this," Ron all but dragged Marty towards the Puffskeins. "Aw! Look at them! They're so fluffy!"

Marty eyed the various Puffskeins behind the glass, all of them squeaking excitedly and rolling about, his large eyes gleaming with adoration and love. "There are so many… Marty couldn't possibly choose between them, Master…"

"You want the whole lot?" Ron sniggered, happy to see Marty pressing his face against the glass. "Let's just start with one, eh? If you take good care of it, I'll get you as many as you like. Oh, what about the black one with the fangs? I hear they're very rare!"

"That one looks mean, Master," Marty muttered, and Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "Marty is not surprised that Master would choose it above the others…"

"Just a suggestion, mate," Ron decided to back off, chuckling at how seriously Marty was taking this. It must mean a lot to him, though… To be able to own something beyond his Hogwarts shirt… Why do we treat them so poorly? Why doesn't anyone stand up for them? What the fuck is wrong with us wizards?

"Excuse me, young man, may I help you?" an older witch approached them, and Ron quickly turned to face her. "Ah, I see that you're interested in our Puffskeins! We only breed the best! You'll be well satisfied, I assure you!"

"Oh, I'm not getting one," Ron smiled from ear-to-ear, feeling mischievous. "He is! I'm just paying!"

The saleswoman looked to Marty, who smiled nervously up at her. "Oh… I see… I'm sorry, young man, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow an Elf to purchase an animal. He would not know how to take care of it, and the poor creature would only suffer." Hit her! Hit her in her dusty cunt!

Ron drew in a deep breath, maintaining his smile. "Forgive me, but you don't know what you're on about, Ma'am."

"Pardon me?!"

"I said you don't know what you're on about," Ron repeated, stepping between her and Marty. "This House-Elf is an employee of Hogwarts, where he looks after both the students and the staff. But more than that, he is my friend, and I know exactly what he is capable of. He has a kind heart, and without him, I wouldn't be where I am today."

"Where you are today…?" the saleswoman narrowed her eyes on him, fixing up her glasses. "You… Oh, my… You're-"

"Ronald Weasley, at your service," Ron's smile turned into a lopsided grin, and he bowed his head while she took a step back. "I don't want to make a scene here, Ma'am, but if you discriminate against my friend, then I absolutely will! I think that's fair, don't you?" I'll feed you to your own pets, lady. Go back to that counter and do your fucking job.

The saleswoman drew in a sharp breath, shaking her head in disbelief. "It is against Magical Law, young man… I must insist that you leave my shop-"

"We're not going anywhere," Ron interjected, standing up to his full height and taking a step forward. Stay calm, old boy. Teaching through fear doesn't change perspectives, remember that. Be patient, even with old crones like her. "And, technically, we're not breaking the law. I'm purchasing the Puffskein, not him. And, if that isn't enough to convince you, then how about this? You know of my magazine, don't you? How about I run an ad for you lot? Free of charge?"

"An ad?" she blinked, visibly surprised. Got you!

"My friend will take good care of his Puffskein, and I reckon, deep down, you know he will, but you're afraid of a law so ancient that it has no place in the modern world," Ron started, trying his hardest to remain pleasant. "Elves are good, kind-hearted beings, and there's not a witch, or, wizard alive who can dispute that. But, again, I know you're just refusing him because you are scared of the repercussions. You strike me as a reasonable, intelligent witch, Ma'am. Am I wrong?"

"…No… I suppose, you aren't…" she answered slowly, looking suspicious.

"Then, you know I'm right about my friend as well," Ron continued. "He will look after the Puffskein of his choosing with the utmost care. Won't you, Marty?"

"Marty promises…" the Elf spoke up, sounding even more nervous.

"See?" Ron moved aside, letting her see Marty for herself. "Can't you see how important this is to him? How taken he is with your Puffskeins?"

The saleswoman studied Marty and his nervous smile, and then, she let out a long breath. "…I know Elves are kind creatures, Mr. Weasley…" Creatures? "But the Ministry is very clear about them owning property, living or otherwise…"

"The same Ministry that has stigmatized Werewolves for centuries, despite the fact that they're people just like you and I?" Ron asked, this was so much harder than just grabbing her by the throat and forcing her to do his bidding. "The same Ministry that killed dozens of people, and displaced hundreds, just a couple of months ago? Are you telling me that they better than all of us just because they have power?"

"No, that is not what I'm saying-"

"You have the chance to do right by someone who's been looked down upon his whole life by Wizarding-Kind," Ron pushed on, and the saleswoman averted her gaze. "And not only that, but you get an ad placement in the fastest selling magazine in the Wizarding World! Free of charge, I might add!"

The saleswoman looked between Ron and Marty, eventually giving a weak nod. "…Very well, then… But, please, I don't want this to come back to haunt me." Finally!

"It won't, I promise," Ron smiled widely, before looking to Marty. "Go on, mate, I'll be at the counter."

Following the saleswoman, Ron made his way to the counter. She still looked unsure of herself, which only served to annoy Ron at this point. I should praise her for her understanding, I reckon. Make her believe that she's doing the right thing.

"Thank you for this, Ma'am," Ron started, catching her off-guard. "He really will take good care of it, and you've done the right thing today. Everyone deserves the right to take care of a pet should they wish to, even Elves."

"I know that, young man," she sighed out. "But I don't make the laws, I just follow them. One Puffskein, was it? That'll be ten Sickles." Ten Sickles?! For a fucking Puffskein?! Why don't you just stab me in the throat, instead, if you're so keen to bleed me?!

"Here you are," Ron paid with a pleasant smile, despite knowing that she was charging him extra for her 'troubles'. "Keep an eye out for that ad, eh? We'll be sure to paint you as the greatest pet shop in Magical Britain."

"My husband will surely appreciate that," she managed a weak smile, reaching under the counter and pulling out a glass cage. "Here, your friend will need this, and I'll even throw in some petrified spiders. They sure love those." AHHHHH!

"…Thank you…" Ron muttered as she placed a bag full of unmoving spiders in his gloved hand. No, no, no, no, nooooo! "…Thank you so much…"

Drawing in a deep breath, Ron made his way back to Marty, who was now cuddling a light-yellow coloured Puffskein close to his face. I'm glad one of us is enjoying himself. Fucking bag full of spiders in my hand… This place is a nightmare! I'm never coming back here!

"Seems you found the right one," Ron couldn't help but smile, putting the bag of spiders on the ground. "Here, she gave you a cage and some food for it."

"Forgive Marty, Master," the Elf started, losing some of his excitement. "Marty has caused Master much trouble-"

"Knock that off, will you?" Ron rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "When are you going to let me do nice things for you without feeling guilty? It's getting old, mate."

"A thousand apologies-"

"Is it a boy, or, a girl?" Ron asked, stopping Marty short. "Well?"

"A girl," Marty beamed at the Puffskein, holding her as gently as he could. "Marty will take the very best care of Custard." Custard? That's a little on the nose, isn't it?

"That's… her name?" Ron asked, cocking an eyebrow, and Marty nodded fervently. "That's lovely, mate." Custard … Just-… Wow… Fuck it, Custard, it is. "Let's get her in her cage, why don't we? You can take her back to Hogwarts with you."

"Marty will never forget this kindness, Master," the Elf looked back to him, his large eyes full of happy tears. "Never!"

"Mate, it's…" Ron started, but stopped because of how sincere Marty looked. It's just a Puffskein… It's such a small thing, and he's so touched by it… I don't know if I should be happy for him, or, heartbroken by how poorly we treat House-Elves. That wretched law needs to fucking go. I'm going to do everything in my power to have it destroyed. "I'm glad you love her so much already, Marty. She's beyond lucky to have you looking after her. C'mon, let's be off, eh? Are you hungry? We can get some food before you return to Hogwarts. It's been a while since we ate together, and I miss your company." Werewolves, Centaurs, Merfolk, Elves, and so many others who have been brought low by Wizarding-Kind… I'm going to build a better world for all of them. No matter how long it takes, I will do right by them all.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: No one reads these =(