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.

157. Chapter 157 - Revolution

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry for the delay, I have exams!

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 few more Ron fics out there that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, 'Stay Standing' by Windschild8178, 'Scala ad Caelum' by GRND (criminally underated story, so go give it some love), 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 157 – Revolution

Amelia Bones' POV

Thursday 6th May, 1994 (The Ministry of Magic - Morning)

"We must denounce them, Minister," Pius Thicknesse continued, she had never known him to be so passionately against vigilantism. "These 'Butchers'… These killers. The most powerful Ministries across Magical Europe plan to do the same, so we must beat them to it. After all, this happened on our soil, and if we're the last to condemn such barbarity, many will begin to question our Ministry and what it stands for."

"As if they don't do that already," Amelia drawled, beginning to lose her patience. "Pius, we have a thousand other problems to tackle right now. I don't have time to address the press today, but I assure you, I plan to condemn them wholeheartedly-"

"You must make time, now, Minister," he urged, vexing her greatly. "You, our leader, must stand before our people and brand these murderers a threat to the public! For that is what they are… A threat. Already, many view their numerous crimes as just and righteous, and it won't be long before they look to these villains for protection!" He's not exactly wrong… The Butchers are seen as saviours of the weak by many, and with the Ministry failing to live up to expectations, it won't be long before denouncing them will become political suicide.

Amelia removed her monocle and pinched her eyes, exhaling tiredly. "…Very well, Pius. There is wisdom in your advice, I won't refute that. We must be the first to condemn them, and we will be. I will make a statement to the press this very evening."

"A wise decision, Minister," Pius smiled, giving her an approving nod. "It will go a long way in fixing our relations with our neighbouring countries." Yes, our neighbouring countries, who refuse to lift a finger to help us in our greatest hour of need… No, what you truly mean is that it will appease the Purebloods, because, for once, they've been given a taste of their own medicine, and they can't stand it.

"…I'm sure," Amelia said simply, gesturing towards the door. "If there's nothing else, Pius, I have a lot of work to get through."

"Of course, Minister," Pius rose out of his seat, giving her a parting nod before leaving her office. Merlin's Beard, who knew that being Minister is no different than being a janitor? Constantly mopping up one mess after another?

Shaking her head to herself, Amelia turned her attention to the papers on her desk, but before she could bring quill to said papers, there was a knock at the door. Now, what?!

"Yes?" Amelia called out, and Abigail opened the door and stuck her head through the crack.

"Alastor Moody is here, Minister, and he's demanding an audience with you," the young witch reported nervously, her face paler than usual. "Um… Should I let him in?"

"…Yes, send him in," Amelia sighed out, not surprised that the Head-Auror had escaped St. Mungo's already.

"There's one more thing, actually… I got a letter from the Department of Mysteries…" Really?

"A letter? From the Unspeakables?" Amelia raised an eyebrow, instantly curious. "About what?"

"It didn't go into any details," Abigail replied. "It just said that you need to come down to the Department of Mysteries when you get the chance." They are inviting me down there? Since when do the Unspeakables invite others into their lair?

"Show me the letter, please-"

"It caught fire as soon I finished reading it," Abigail muttered, adorning a pathetic, apologetic smile. "I um… I didn't know it would do that… I'm sorry, Minister…"

"Next time you get a letter with their seal on it, you hand it over to me," Amelia frowned at her, and she quickly nodded. "Did it sound urgent? This letter?"

"Not really… It just said that they wanted to show you something, nothing more." Right…

"Well, if it were truly urgent, one of the Unspeakables would come up to fetch me," Amelia waved a dismissive hand, she already had too much on her plate to sate her curiosity. "If I get the chance, I'll pop down there. Now, send Alastor in, will you?"

"Right away, Minister."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, pondering about the Department of Mysteries and the role it served in the Ministry. She had never liked the idea of 'Unspeakables', believing that they had too much leeway for a group directly funded by a government. They hired wizards and witches as they saw fit, often poaching talent from other Departments without any debate. They kept secrets, even from the Minister for Magic, and Magical Law protected them from any form of inquiry. The details of their work eluded her to this day, and she knew for a fact that none above the Department of Mysteries could shed light on the matter. They were simply an unknown, and they held no allegiance to the very government that allowed them to pursue the 'Mysteries of the Universe', and this lack of loyalty rubbed her the wrong way. What do we even need them for? What exactly do they do for this country? The money we're wasting on them could be better spent elsewhere-…

The door suddenly swung open, and Alastor limped in with a foul sneer plastered on his face. "Bones."

"Alastor," she gestured him to take a seat, and he did so with a grunt. "I expected you to escape St. Mungo's sooner."

"I've had a lot on my mind," Alastor grumbled under his breath. "I'm here, now, and I've heard that you've made a deal with the Weasley boy. Is that true?"

Amelia couldn't help but groan at the mere mention of that arrogant little brat, before giving a short nod. "Yes, we came to an arrangement." Another unknown with too much power.

"He got to you, you mean," Alastor hit the nail on the head. Yes… He was right about everything… Damn him, but he was right…

"My Ministership is not secure yet, not even close," Amelia countered, feeling her temper spike. "And, if I get ousted, then who exactly will take my place, Alastor? I'll tell you who… Some other Pureblood bootlicker. Is that what you want? To serve under someone who serves the Dark Lord and his degenerate horde?" Alastor said nothing in response, but his silence spoke volumes. "…We are taking the deal he offered, and that is the end of this conversation. Now, what brings you here?"

"…The Order is having another meeting on Sunday," Alastor replied after a short silence. "We've been asked to attend, you and I. Gawain too, if he's free."

"Dumbledore paid you a visit in St. Mungo's, did he?" Why am I not surprised?

"He did, but his Phoenix brought me a letter last night about the meeting," the Head-Auror answered, producing said letter from his unkempt robes. "So, are we attending?"

Amelia blinked, was he saying what she thought he was saying? "We? Have you finally made a decision about which side you're on?"

"We're all on the same side, Bones, but…" Alastor paused, his eye becoming distant. "I made Rufus a promise, and I plan to keep it. I fought the last war as an Auror, and I'm going to fight this one as an Auror as well." What exactly made him come to that decision, in the end, I wonder.

"Good," Amelia gave a nod, deciding not to look a gift Hippogriff in the mouth. "And, it's not 'Bones', Alastor… I'm your Minister, and you will show me the respect I am due."

The Head-Auror frowned to himself. "…Fine, Minister." That's better.

"Now, about this meeting… Yes, we will attend, and we'll be bringing Crouch with us," Amelia started. "He's now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he's bound by duty to help us in the war." He's the only reason why the Ministry didn't fall during the Great War, and we need him now more than ever.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, studying her. "If he refuses, his career will end in shame. People will say that he fled like a coward before the Dark Lord. Is that why you forced him into that role behind his back? Before telling him what he was up against?"

"At first, I was too busy putting out fires to approach him, but once I became Minister, I had to be certain that he would be in no position to refuse taking part in another war," Amelia admitted, burying whatever ill feelings she had over her deception. "Soon enough, the news of the Dark Lord's return will reach every corner of the Wizarding World, and when that happens, the Ministries need to be strong. Ours, especially. The people have no love for Crouch, but in times of war, love is easily sacrificed for safety."

"The politicking… The schemes…" Alastor grumbled, shaking his head to himself. "Just don't make me regret my decision. I won't be treated as a pawn in your games. Be straight with me, and I'll be straight with you." I understand.

"I'll talk to him tonight, then," Amelia decided. "He won't be happy about working with Dumbledore, but he'll have to make his peace with it. For now, at least."

"For now?"

"The Order are vigilantes, Alastor," Amelia said plainly, as if it were obvious. "They have no right to take Magical Law into their own hands, but they've done so repeatedly. The Ministry and its Aurors must save Magical Britain, not a group of fanatics loyal to an old man with too much power in his decrepit hands. The Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore… Neither of them must be allowed to undermine this government, not for any reason." Without us, there will only be chaos. Without Magical Law, the powerful will crush the weak without a moment's hesitation. "We were too lenient with both parties after the last war, but we won't make that mistake, again. Do you understand?"

Alastor just stared at her, uncertain. "…You won't throw them in Azkaban, not on my watch."

"No, I won't, but I won't allow them to be hailed as heroes, either," Amelia told him. "They will be forced to disband, and their wands will be confiscated. I will not allow this country to be turned into a circus where anyone with a grudge can go out and mete out their own twisted form of justice onto others. The Order… The Butchers of Birmingham… The Death-Eaters… This country is not their playground, nor are its people their toys, and as long as I am Minister, those who break Magical Law will be met with true justice." They will all have their day in court, but first, I need to get my house in order. The press Pius is no doubt already gathering… They will help me spread my message across the Wizarding World. It is time for Magical Britain to leave the dark ages behind, and be reborn as a beacon of valour, hope, prosperity, and justice!

---

Thursday 6th May, 1994 (The Ministry of Magic – Evening)

Pius had done his duty, and now, it was time for the Minister to do hers. The press had been gathered in the Atrium, along with a sizable crowd of Ministry Officials, and as Amelia looked down upon them all from her podium, she felt a sense of duty course through her like never before. Today, I will set the Ministry down a path that will lead to true governorship. No more favours, no more pandering, no more corruption. The Ministry-… This Ministry… It will do what it was always meant to do. It will protect and serve the people of Magical Britain, no matter their creed or species, and those that threaten its people, this Ministry will persecute and destroy.

"Many of you here believe me ill-suited for the position of Minister," Amelia began strongly, surprising the journalists at the front. "I know this, and I do not fault you for it. This Ministry… It has been struggling to do its duty for a long time, and as a result, the people we are meant to serve have suffered. In the months before my appointment, Cornelius Fudge abused the Ministership like never before, and people died… Good, hard-working, innocent people. And, now, even more are displaced and forced to live in the streets. And what has the Ministry done to rectify this tragedy? This grand failure? Nothing… Not out of malice, or even negligence, but rather, because it is impossible. This government is corrupt, broken, and tailored to pander to a privileged few rather than the many-"

"Minister, what are you-?!" Pius hissed from behind her, but she silenced him with a stern look.

The crowd murmured and stared at her in disbelief, as if they were watching someone commit suicide right before their eyes. Show them your heart, Amelia, and they will follow. That is the best any of us can do.

"For too long, we have been the puppets of those who truly run this country," Amelia continued, ignoring the flashing cameras. "The Purebloods. The Ancient and Noble Houses. The ludicrously rich. The shadowy businessmen. The Wizengamot. The Chief Warlocks. For too long, we have served them, and not you… Our people. And what I am saying right now, it is no secret. It is the truth that we all know and understand, but do not question, because we have been taught not to question it. We have been taught to obey, to do as the powerful command, even at the cost of our freedoms. Well…" Amelia paused, removing her monocle and giving the reporters a fierce look of determination. "NO. MORE." She paused, again, waiting for her ultimatum to sink into every person in the Atrium. "I am no puppet, and neither are my people. I will not stand idly by as Minister for Magic while these heralds of corruption continue to weaken this country and divide its people. I will make a stand against them, and all those who threaten this great nation!"

The murmuring got louder, and she could sense the mood shifting from doubt and disbelief to rising curiosity and credence. "We, the Ministry, are here to serve you! We, the Ministry, are here to protect your interests! We, the Ministry,will rebuild Knockturn Alley, without its shortcomings and lawlessness! We, the Ministry, will provide jobs and security to our people! And, we, the Ministry, will hold those responsible for this nation's decline accountable! This Ministry will become the will of its people! It will become their sword! It will become their shield! It will become their armour! And it will bring justice to those who wish the people harm!"

A barrage of flashes, and a sea of raised hands, met her promises, but she was not done yet. "This Ministry condemns the likes of the Butchers of Birmingham, men and women who support chaos and anarchy, but it also condemns the deranged such as the Carrow Twins and their acquaintances! Inquiries will be made into any and all who have no regard for Magical Law, trials will be held, and sentences will be delivered! This great nation, and its strong people, will endure! We will overcome the forces that seek to divide and destroy us! We will stand united against corruption and nepotism! We will usher in a new future for Wizarding Britain! Your Ministry will serve you, and it will eradicate any threat against you! That is my solemn vow to you! This Ministry, and those it serves, will prevail!"

---

Thursday 6th May, 1994 (The Ministry of Magic – Late Evening)

"This… This is unprecedented, Minister…" Pius continued, visibly trying to control his outrage. "To call out the Wizengamot itself… To label them as enemies of the State?! This is-… It will not stand… It will not be tolerated-!"

"Calm yourself, Thicknesse," Crouch spoke up, impatient. "Raving like some fool won't undo what's been done." He then looked to Amelia; his expression strict. "He's not wrong, however… What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what this will do to your career? What it will do to ours?"

"I put my career above all else in the past, and others paid the price for it," Amelia replied, calm and collected. "Now, I'm finally in a position to change how this government works, and I won't back down. Those who pull the strings from the shadows… I will drag them into the light. The Wizengamot-"

"…will sack you for this," Pius interrupted, shaking his head to himself. "I thought you wiser than this, Minister… I thought you a realist, not an idealist. Did you learn nothing during your time with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Oh, I learnt plenty," she assured him, every horror she'd ever witnessed was still fresh in her mind. "And the Wizengamot… It will do nothing, because if they try to sack me, I will have them thrown in Azkaban."

"…What?" Crouch blinked, whereas Pius' mouth hung open.

"You heard me," she put her foot down. "I will not be ousted for putting the many before the few, and if they try to take my power from me, I will have them dragged out of their little courtroom in chains."

"With what authority?!" Pius demanded, shooting out of his chair. "You are talking about fomenting a tyranny!"

"A tyranny?" Amelia questioned, frowning. "Putting the people first is tyrannical to you? Putting an end to widespread corruption and blatant nepotism is against Magical Law? No, Pius… This is not tyranny. This is justice. Those who have rigged the game for centuries will no longer be allowed to play. Instead, the power will be shared by the people, and this Ministry will be a beacon of that power. Any who stand against that… They will be branded as Undesirables, and they will find themselves in Azkaban in short order." She then leaned forward, staring him down. "You think on that, my friend. You think long and hard about where your loyalties truly lie."

Pius looked to Crouch for support, but the older wizard remained silent. The long-haired, thin man muttered something under his breath, before turning on his heel and storming out of the office, leaving Amelia and Crouch alone. He seems awfully upset about this, which is odd, given that he has no ties to the Wizengamot and the Purebloods. Ties that I know about, anyway.

"What's going through your head, Amelia?" Crouch suddenly asked, studying her closely. "What is this really about? Surely, you can't believe that you'll win against the Wizengamot itself?"

"I've sent Alastor to America," the Minister informed her Head of the D. M. L. E. "When he returns, we'll have fresh Aurors and gold enough to start rebuilding what Fudge destroyed."

"You plan to use the Americans to subdue the Wizengamot?" Crouch questioned, exhaling. "You think the people will support a foreign power overthrowing the system they've always known?"

"It won't be easy, no, but it has to be done, Crouch," Amelia started. "You were with me at that gala, remember? You saw for the umpteenth time just how much power the rich wield across the Wizarding World… The Wizengamot consists mostly of the wealthiest wizards and witches in Magical Britain, and unlike us, they have not earned those positions through hard-work and dedication. They don't deserve to rule over people that they don't care about… The very people they have exploited time and time again." She then gave him a meaningful look. "Have you forgotten what they did to you after the Great War? How they forced you to back down from running for Minister? How they undermined and punished you for the crimes of your son? How they overruled your verdicts and set the likes of Corban Yaxley free? How easily they were bought by those who spent a decade waging a bloody war on the people of this country? Even now, those very murderers and rapists have eyes and ears within the Wizengamot. Nothing has changed since then, and nothing will change as long as we allow those fools to dictate the very laws we must all abide by."

"Whatever their faults, we still need them if we're to run this country," Crouch reminded her, while she got up and poured them both a drink. "Who will hold the trials? Who will pass legislation? And what about the Council of Magical Law? Many Wizengamot members sit on that Council, and without them, we can't even hold lesser trials. You have not thought this through-"

"I have, as a matter of fact," Amelia interrupted, offering him a glass of Ogden's Finest. "The Magical Congress of the United States employs judges, who hold lesser trials at a far more efficient rate than our Council of Magical Law. These judges are learned men and women, those who have dedicated their lives to the study of Magical Law and its application. We will adapt this system into our own Ministry. Judges will be elected by our citizens from the current Council of Magical Law, as well as the Wizengamot and beyond. We don't need an entire body of witches and wizards to prosecute one lawbreaker… Just one judge, and a jury made up of randomly selected citizens. I am not throwing the entire system out, Crouch… Of course not. That would foolish and counterproductive. No, my goal is to get rid of the parasites leeching the life out of Magical Britain."

"And the Wizengamot? Who do we replace them with?" Crouch asked, even a man such as him was surprised by the extent of her ambitions.

"With new members selected by myself," Amelia answered, taking a seat. "The Wizengamot, as a group, has become a symbol of order within this nation, and uprooting it entirely will bring only chaos. So, it will stay, but many of its members won't be so fortunate. I mean, honestly… What right does someone like Muriel Prewett have to determine which legislations are passed? She has never worked a day in her life for anyone beyond herself, and yet, she gets to play a key role in determining this country's future? Her, and all the rest of them? The Fawleys? The Longbottoms? The Macmillans? Tiberius Ogden?"

"I can't help but notice a pattern here… These are all Weasley's allies," Crouch pointed out. They are the most vocal ones undermining me, and they'll be the first to go.

"The current state of affairs is why a boy like him can hold such power and sway within this country," Amelia explained, putting her glass down. "He cosied up to the rich and powerful, pulled them in with his silver-tongue, and now, there isn't a single person in Magical Britain who doesn't know his name. But you know what's truly amusing in all of this?"

"What?"

"I have a strong feeling that he's going to support what I'm doing," Amelia smirked. "He has no love for them, nor any respect for their warped, entitled beliefs. They are just tools to him, and he wants to be rid of them as much as I want to be rid of them. Weasley, regardless of his views on the Ministry, understands just how much damage these people have done over generations, and unlike them, he actually wants to help people. In him, we will find an ally on the other side-"

"An ally?" Crouch hissed, looking downright angry, now. "Him?! After what he did to Alastor?! After all the humiliation he's caused us?!" I don't like him, either, but it's hard not to respect his accomplishments and wisdom. We'll need someone with his positive image on our side, even if it's a reluctant partnership.

"Yes, an ally. He controls a large piece of the media, Crouch, and it's growing in size by the day. His Quibbler is not a mouthpiece of the wealthy, something that can't be said about the Daily Prophet. We will needhim if we're to stop this Ministry from being tarnished in the papers by those we're going to throw out on their arses. This battle… It will be long… Very long… But we will triumph. We have to."

"This is all too sudden, Amelia," Crouch muttered, looking vexed by her. "You haven't even elected an Undersecretary yet, but you're planning to change how this government has operated for centuries?"

"I have no choice but to act," Amelia took a sip from her glass. "The Wizengamot must be dealt with before they can further damage my Ministership. Before now, they were only pressuring me and placing Fudge's mistakes on my shoulders, but after tonight, they will be coming for my head." Crouch grunted in response, agreeing without saying it. "They want the circus to keep going, for the clowns to keep dancing to their tunes, but I won't let that happen. There must be a revolution, Crouch, one that starts from the highest Office of this government. Rufus and I… We often discussed this revolution, you know? We were going to change the Ministry together, but he died alone in that filthy, bloody street because Lucius Malfoy, a war-criminal who should've been rotting in Azkaban, goaded Fudge into crippling this country further. The greatest man I knew died for a cockroach's pride and vanity…" She sneered at her glass, feeling righteous anger well up inside her. "I'll turn this Ministry into an institution that he would've been proud to serve, even if I have to do so with an iron fist."

"I understand where you're coming from, but is now the best time for this 'revolution'?" Crouch asked, still not convinced. "Think this through, Amelia… It's not too late, yet."

"It is too late, my friend," Amelia sighed out, deciding to inform him of the coming war. "We either do this now, or we lose everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You might want to finish your drink, first," Amelia advised, making him raise an eyebrow. "Very well, then… There is no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. The Dark Lord… He's back, Crouch. He's alive, and he's coming for all of us."

The man's toothbrush moustache twitched, his sunken eyes widening a little. "…Is this some sick joke, Bones? Or, have you completely lost your mind?" Going mad would be preferable to the truth, in this case.

"Neither, unfortunately," Amelia sighed out, downing her drink before clearing her throat. "Dumbledore was right all along… The Dark Lord never died. He went into hiding, and now, he is gathering his strength once more. St. Mungo's… The fire in Albania… Knockturn Alley… Azkaban… He was behind it all. With each of these incidents, he has cemented more of-"

"Stop," Crouch ordered, his voice strained. "I will not hear any more of this drivel-"

"The Order has been reconvened by Dumbledore," Amelia continued, she could see the rising fear behind his usually cold eyes. "War is coming for Magical Britain once again, Crouch, and we must prepare for it. I am not targeting the Wizengamot solely for my Ministership, but also because that nest of vipers can't be trusted. They must be watched, controlled, and-"

Crouch raised his hand, stopping her short. He looked down at the drink in his other hand, swallowing thickly before gulping it down. Amelia couldn't help but give him a sorry look, the last war had cost this man his entire family. His own son was seduced by the Dark Lord, and after being sentenced to Azkaban for life, both he and his mother passed away within the year. Just another family completely torn apart by the Dark Lord's malice and contempt…

He looked deep into her eyes, as if searching for any hint that might prove that she was lying to him, but when he found none, he let out a shaky breath. "…Who else knows about this? How did you find out?"

"Dumbledore has faced him, as have the Order," Amelia replied. "The old man informed me, Alastor, Gawain, Kingsley, and Nymphadora, so that we could prepare the Ministry for another war-"

"When? When did you find out?"

"He approached me the day after Christmas."

"Four fucking months?!" Crouch hissed, his outrage overtaking his fear. "You've known for four months, and you didn't say a word to me about it in all that time?!"

"You were not the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, yet," Amelia returned, sitting up straighter. "And we had other pressing matters to attend to."

"Nothing compares to this!" he snarled, hurling the glass in his hand against the wall and shattering it.

Amelia, despite knowing of the man's losses and grudges, was slightly taken aback by his utter lack of control. "…You need to calm down, Crouch. We can talk about this without you destroying my office." Merlin, I've never seen him lose control so quickly. Does he truly despise the Dark Lord that much?

Crouch muttered something under his breath, before a strange glint flashed behind his eyes. "…I have to go home… I need to-…" he stopped abruptly.

"What? What do you mean you have to go home?"

He didn't respond, shooting out of his chair and marching out of her office without hesitation. What the fuck was that?! Amelia stared at her swaying door, both confused and jarred by his bizarre reaction to the grave news. Did-… Did I put a coward in charge of my Aurors…? What just happened?

---

Bartemius Crouch Snr's POV

Thursday 6th May, 1994 (Crouch Abode – Late Evening)

He rushed inside and slammed the door shut behind him, placing several Charms upon it in a rush to ensure that no one could get inside or get out. Only after securing the door could he let out the breath that he didn't realize he was holding, leaning against the door and placing his sweaty forehead against its cold surface. This can't be happening… How could he still be alive?! After all this time?! Barty was right all along… That accursed boy… He was right, and I was a fool! Oh, Saskia… What have we done? What have I done-?

"Master!" a high-pitched voice interrupted his growing dread, forcing him to hurriedly turn with his wand aimed at the now spooked Elf. "…Master…?"

Bartemius stared at Winky, his vile son's caretaker, and as he did so, a torrent of regret and guilt began to wage war inside his aching chest. "Where. Is. He?"

Winky blinked, her tomato-sized nose and bat-like ears twitching. "…Young Master is in the cellar, as always…"

Bartemius stormed past her, his grip on his wand tightening as he prepared himself to do what needed to be done. Winky, sensing his rage, chased after him, begging him to tell her what was wrong. He ignored her cries, forcing the cellar door open and rushing down the stairs, breathing manically as he spotted his wayward son having his supper at the table in the corner of the dimly lit room. You… You evil, twisted boy… I'm putting an end to this madness, tonight!

"Master?!" Winky shrieked, attaching herself to his leg in a pointless effort to stop Bartemius from storming over to his spiteful son. "Master, please! Tell Winky what's wrong!"

Stirred by the commotion, Barty looked up to his father just as the man came to a stop before him, aiming a wand in his face. "Welcome home, father. How was your day?"

Bartemius froze because of his Imperiused son's pleasant greeting, staring into his milky-white eyes. Time had frozen alongside him, and memories he was deeply ashamed of to this day flooded his mind. Memories of his dying wife's final wish to him, and him being too weak to refuse her. Memories of disguising his murderous, cruel-hearted son and spiriting him away from Azkaban, leaving his own wife behind to be a victim of the Dementors until her final moments. Memories of a decade of grief and guilt propelling him to keep a Death-Eater in his cellar, as if doing so would honour the only woman he had ever loved. What do I do, now, Saskia…? What am I supposed to do…? He was never the son we wanted, nor is he capable of-…

"Are we going to eat together, tonight?" Barty suddenly asked with a content smile, breaking Bartemius out of his stupor. "I would like that very much, father. I do so cherish our conversations, scarce as they are."

Bartemius swallowed thickly, why couldn't he just say the incantation needed to end this once and for all. "…Why aren't you wearing your Invisibility Cloak?" …This would be so much easier if I couldn't see your face… Your face, which so closely resembles your dear mother's…

"I don't want to dirty it," Barty replied obediently. "Winky has enough work, already, don't you think? I asked her for permission, first, I promise. Once I've eaten, I'll put it on, again." He made a decision like that on his own? Despite my Imperius Curse limiting his free will?

More dread flooded his mind, his wilful son was still trying to break free from his control, and sooner rather than later, Barty would succeed. …I have to end him, now, before he can re-join his Master… Before he can kill and maim more innocent people… Before he can repeat what he did to the Longbottoms… Drawing in a sharp breath, Bartemius pushed the wand against Barty's throat, trying his hardest to ignore Winky's sobs and protests. I have to do this! I don't have any choice, now! Saskia, forgive me! I have to kill our boy! I have to!

"Have I done something wrong, father?" Barty asked innocently, still smiling contently despite his father's manic, terrified expression. "I've been behaving myself; you can just ask Winky. I've been doing my readings, writing my poetry, and honouring mother's memory." Saskia… "Actually, about that… Can I have a picture of her in my room? To remember her by? I don't want to forget what she looked like."

Bartemius stumbled backwards, as if he'd been stabbed in his heart, his wand arm growing heavy and falling to his side. He couldn't do it; he couldn't kill the only part of his beloved wife that was still breathing. He wanted to, he had to, and yet, he simply couldn't. He was still too weak, still too easily swayed by her memory, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never let her go. What am I going to do with him? What a fucking mess I've made of everything… Bartemius turned on his heel and began to walk away, his eyes lifeless, whereas Winky ran over to Barty and hugged his leg lovingly.

"Shhh, young Master… It's okay," Winky could be heard comforting the imprisoned Death-Eater in soft whispers. "Winky is here, and Winky will find a picture of Mistress. Everything will be all right, now."

"I want him chained," Bartemius managed to croak out, stopping just before ascending the stairs. "He will never leave this room, not for any reason."

"Father, what has happened?" Barty asked curiously, perhaps even worriedly. "You are not being yourself." …I haven't been myself since the day you tore out my heart and humiliated me before the entire Wizarding World… I wish you'd never been born… You are a most foul thing, born from the most beautiful of flowers…

"He doesn't leave this room, Winky," Bartemius commanded, walking away. "Cover him and chain him once he's finished with his dinner."

---

Amelia Bones' POV

Friday 7th May, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Morning)

"Whatever you need, Minister, we'll sort it out for you," Chief Bellator promised, reaching across the table and giving her a firm handshake. "The President has put me under your command, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm your 'Head-Auror', now." The bronze-skinned witch then looked to Alastor, smiling. "Not that anyone could replace you, Sir."

Amelia studied the suited witch, her eyes lingering on the American's exposed cleavage. They let her dress so provocatively, despite the position she holds? "You will not dress like this in my Ministry, Chief Bellator. You will respect your Office, and not degrade it so brazenly."

"…I understand," Bellator agreed, adorning a more serious expression. "It won't happen, again, Minister." I need to be careful around her. She's not just here to help me, she's also here to spy on me for Harper.

Amelia looked to Alastor, before drawing in a sharp breath. "I have been summoned by the Wizengamot. There are rumours amongst the workforce of my imminent sacking. Are you ready for what needs to be done?"

"I'm not the one who's about to be labelled a dictator," Alastor responded. "The more appropriate question is… Are you ready?"

"I am." If only you were here, Rufus… Our dream of a stronger, more just Ministry is beginning to take form, at last.

"Shouldn't the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement be here? Given the coup we're about to undergo using the Aurors?" Bellator suddenly asked, and Amelia fought the urge to frown. That man… Where the fuck is he?! Why did he react to the truth in such a bizarre way? I don't understand… If he had quit, I'd understand, but to just run away like that? What have I missed? "Minister? Is everythin' all right?"

"Alastor, have one of the recruits track him down," Amelia ordered, and Alastor gave a nod before limping out of the office. "Now, Chief Bellator… You said that President Harper's sending thirty Aurors, including yourself, to help us secure this country."

"Yes, Minister. The others will be here once they're all processed and approved for travel."

"Good, good… What does he mean by 'secure this country', exactly?" Amelia prodded, her gaze hardening.

"You still have around ten Azkaban escapees on the loose, and that's not countin' the 'Loyalists'," Bellator replied, keeping a straight face. "And, now, there is talk of a killer prowlin' the streets, causin' even more… disorder. I recommend that you let us American Aurors handle the escapees, while the British Aurors focus on this killer and maintainin' order amongst the masses."

"I agree. The British people won't appreciate being policed by foreigners."

"We'll stay as far from the public eye as possible. We'll track down the escapees, as well as the Dementors who are still unaccounted for. Once the public starts trustin' us, then we can help with the patrols and policin'."

"You will not employ the same methods here as you do in your own country," Amelia warned, she knew all too well how brutal and callous the American Aurors had become from a severe lack in oversight. "Your duty is to de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, and to uphold Magical Law. Am I understood? If I learn that you're brutalising my people, or putting Undesirables down without express permission from this Ministry, I'll have you all sent back to the States within the day."

"With all due respect, Minister, don't let rumours dictate how you treat me and my Aurors," Bellator countered, and Amelia raised an eyebrow. "We don't 'brutalise' our people, nor do we go around killin' whoever we damn well please. Your Auror forces are law-keepers, whereas our Auror forces are an army. Our methods won't always go hand-in-hand, but we all want the same thin'. We want peace, and we want order. That's why we're here. That's why you called us here. And, as I said before, we're here to follow your lead. I just ask that you form your own opinion about us, rather than lettin' rumours spread by… yellow-bellied cowards, who pretend to be men of peace, influence how you view us. You, and anyone who has spent a day out in the field, know that it takes a certain degree of violence to maintain order in a world where people can literally bend the laws of reality on a whim."

Amelia couldn't agree more with that final statement, remembering the carnage that had been unleashed upon her country in recent months. The Butchers… Those bloody Vampires… The Dark Lord… They all only understand one language, and that language is violence. They can't be bargained with, or reasoned with, they can only be subdued, or put down. There is no in-between. If we tolerate them, they will degrade the morality of this country. If we give them an inch, they will take everything.

"In the coming months, we'll be the targets of great ridicule and wretched accusations," Amelia leaned back in her chair, once again studying the Chief-Auror. "Are you prepared to weather that storm with me?"

"Peace is a privilege that can only be bought with blood," Bellator replied. "People… Ordinary people, I mean… They don't understand the price of peace, nor do they want to. It's just easier for them to criticize and complain, rather than do anythin' about the shit that surrounds them. So, yes, Minister, I'm prepared to weather the storm, because if we don't do it, then who will?" Well said, Chief Bellator. Well said. I think, we'll work together just fine.

---

Friday 7th May, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Midday)

"Minister," Crouch came to a stop just behind her, both of them facing the door that led into the Wizengamot's courtroom.

Amelia looked back with a deep frown, contemplating firing him. "…How good of you to finally join us, Crouch…" He said nothing in response, merely awaiting her instructions. "Well? Aren't you going to explain what happened last night?"

"It was a moment of weakness, and it won't happen, again," Crouch replied, there was something particularly cold about his demeanour, now. More than usual, that is. "I don't appreciate you keeping such a secret from me before handing me the responsibility of safeguarding this country, but in your shoes, I would have done the same." I know. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop him, Minister, and this time, I'll put him and his mad dogs down for good." There's the man who stopped the Dark Lord's advance, the same man I want leading our Aurors. Welcome back.

Amelia gave a short nod, before looking ahead. "Alastor has informed you of my plan?"

"He has. I just came from the our offices."

"And the Aurors? They are with us?"

"Most of them, but Kingsley and the recruits don't seem convinced." Kingsley… He's a brilliant Auror, but Dumbledore has his claws in him. He'll have to make a choice between loyalty to the Order and loyalty to his Ministry, just like Alastor. Nymphadora too. She is the one spreading doubt amongst the other recruits, I just know it.

"And the Americans? They're here?"

"Alastor has managed to keep their presence hidden from most of the Ministry. The Wizengamot won't know about them until it's too late." Then, it's checkmate. They're all in there right now, waiting to reprimand and discipline me, but they don't know that I still have some tricks up my sleeve. Their ever-tightening grip on this country breaks, today.

"When I call for you, barge in with all of them. Not all of the Wizengamot members will go peacefully."

"I'll get the dungeons ready, then."

Crouch left without another word, leaving Amelia alone for the time being. She drew in several long breaths, burying her doubts and reservations. She had to remind herself that she wasn't simply doing this for herself, but for all those who needed a better government. The poor, the underrepresented, the powerless… For this revolution to work, she needed the people on her side, and although her speech had garnered a mostly positive reception from the masses, it was only a matter of time before the Daily Prophet drowned that goodwill with their constant criticisms. Worry about bringing Weasley on-board later, Amelia. For now, just focus on throwing these parasites out on their arses.

Amelia marched into the courtroom, her head held high, and any discussions going on inside came to an abrupt end upon her entry. The members of the Wizengamot stared at her, most of them indifferent, but a key few were already looking sour. The richest ones are the most upset, which is to be expected, as they're the ones I called out in my speech. She then looked up to the Chief Warlock's seat, locking eyes with Albus Dumbledore. He's actually here, for a change. Colour me surprised.

"Are all members of the Wizengamot in attendance?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

"All of them save for Bartemius Crouch Snr, Chief Warlock," Griselda Marchbanks answered, the one-hundred and thirty-two-year-old Governor of Wizarding Examinations Authority was one of the very few members Amelia genuinely respected. "With your permission, this hearing can proceed."

"Very well, then," Dumbledore started. "Minister Bones, you have made many of your fellow Wizengamot members upset with your recent accusations. You have labelled them as 'heralds of corruption', and accused them of dividing and weakening Magical Britain for self-gain. As such, many have called for this hearing so that you can explain yourself to them-"

"Explain myself?" Amelia interrupted, scoffing. "I have simply stated the truth, Chief Warlock, that many within this courtroom have benefited from stepping on the throats of their fellow witches and wizards. I know this, because I too am a part of this 'noble' body. I know this, because I was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so investigating corruption and bribery fell under my long list of responsibilities. I know this, because I was elected Minister for Magic without the people's say simply because it was convenient to oust the previous, disgraced Minister. This Wizengamot not only bends the laws it wishes to enforce on others, but whenever it must, it also breaks said laws. At the end of the day, this room is full of unqualified men and women who don't care about this country, but rather, care only about how they can exploit it."

"I said it, didn't I?" Muriel Prewett seethed, and many others promptly matched her outrage. "Her new appointment has fattened her head!"

"No, Lady Prewett, my new appointment has given me the luxury of pursuing my ideals, rather than my next promotion," Amelia countered, a statement that was met with outright ridicule. "When you elected me Minister, you gave me power over the Ministry of Magic, and it is my belief that the Minister for Magic shouldn't answer to those who draft legislation, but rather, they should answer to the Minister."

"That, Minister Bones, is the foundation of a dictatorship," Amos Diggory spoke up, not looking pleased. "I agree with you that many members of the Wizengamot are-" An uproar interrupted him, so he stood up and shouted over his jeering peers. "…Many here have traded in their integrity for power! However, that does not give you the right to abuse yours! It is my belief-!"

"Sit down, Diggory, you fool!"

"She wants to become a bloody tyrant!"

"Lady Prewett speaks the truth!"

"It is my belief that even a Minister for Magic must answer to an authority greater than themselves! Despite its flaws, the system works, and to go against it so brazenly harms not only this Ministry, but also the people it serves!" Amos finished, sitting back down with a huff. A noble man, but a naïve one.

"That statement would hold weight if the previous Ministers weren't taking bribes and doing favours for half of you," Amelia countered, while Dumbledore went about silencing the courtroom. "The corrupt here want me to toe the line, it's that simple. The mere idea of being questioned, of being held accountable, frightens them-"

"And who are you to hold anyone here 'accountable', Bones?" Augusta Longbottom demanded, rising out of her seat. "Why didn't you question us when you were just another member of the Wizengamot? If integrity is an ideal you wish to pursue, then why didn't you pursue it earlier?"

"Because the system does not tolerate those who question it," Amelia replied bluntly, choosing not to hide from her past. "If I had been an outspoken member against you all from the start, you would be in no rush to elect me Minister. You would have elected someone else, someone you figured you could control. Don't ask me foolish questions to undermine my stance, Lady Longbottom, because it will not work. I know you… I know all of you. I know which of you have worked your entire lives to attain such a lofty position, and which of you are simply here because of the accident of birth. You, Lady Longbottom, and your friends, are not fit to pass laws and legislations, because you only ever give your votes when it suits your personal goals. This country has been brought to ruin because of people like you, people who treat this sacred responsibility as a game!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore raised his hand, before letting out a tired sigh. "This court will not devolve into petty insults and insinuations. We are here to set aside our differences and come to a peaceful resolution. Minister Bones, I implore you to reconsider what you are trying to accomplish. Magical Britain cannot survive any more discourse within its government."

"I will not reconsider, Chief Warlock," Amelia stood firm, ignoring the growing ire all around her. "And, as far as I'm concerned, you too are a cancer that must be cut out for this Ministry to thrive." Even the most outspoken against her went completely silent, whereas Dumbledore just stared at her curiously. "You are a great wizard, probably the greatest wizard to ever live, but that does not qualify you to hold such political power. Political power that you actively ignore, until you decide not to whenever it suits you. You do not take your responsibility as the Head of the Wizengamot seriously, nor is it a priority for you. Under your tenure, corruption has spread further than ever before. Under your tenure, those who wish harm upon the people of this country have secured incredible influence over Magical Law. Under your tenure, far too many legislations that have soured our relations with neighbouring countries have been put into effect. Your lack of commitment to such a vital, such an essential, duty cannot be overlooked any further. I hereby strip you of your authority as Chief Warlock, and I banish you from this Ministry."

More silence followed her declaration, and Dumbledore continued to stare at her, appearing more serious than curious, now. My respect for you as a wizard won't stop me from putting an end to your games, Dumbledore. You too don't deserve to be here, because you don't serve this Ministry. You only serve your own agenda, and I won't tolerate lawlessness even from a man like you.

"You don't have the authority to do that, Minister Bones," Oscar Fawley was the first to break the prolonged silence, he looked aghast at the idea of Dumbledore being run out of the Ministry. "The Wizengamot nominates its Chief Warlock, and only they can strip the Chief Warlock of his position. I did not believe the others, but they were right… You have gone mad under the pressure of your new Office-"

"No, Lord Fawley, I have not gone mad," Amelia looked to the man, stern. "Those who act outside of Magical Law are simply not fit to enforce Magical Law. That is not madness, it is common sense. The Wizarding World owes Albus Dumbledore a great debt for stopping Gellert Grindelwald, and for lending us his might in the fight against the forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, however, that debt does not place him above Magical Law itself. There has to be a standard to which we all answer to, and this man… This man answers to no one but himself, and therefore, he is not fit to be here."

"And what of you, Minister? Who will you answer to, if not us?" Edith Campbell, Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, questioned. "This is treason, and for it to be committed by the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… This is a scandal that will mar your good reputation forever! I beg of you, as a friend, to think of your legacy!"

"My legacy will be determined by my own actions, not by yours," Amelia looked to Edith, raising her head higher. "And, I will answer to the people of Magical Britain. I will answer to my Heads of Departments. I will answer to Magical Law. It is not unquestionable power I seek… No… What I truly want is for the Ministry to reach its highest potential, for it to become more than just a tool used to exploit its people. And so, today, I will relieve many of you from your positions, but I will also retain those that are deserving. New members will be chosen by myself, and those still remaining, to replace those I plan to oust, and the Wizengamot will continue with their good work, unencumbered by the ambitions and greed of the corrupt-"

"Enough of this farce!" Muriel Prewett roared, surprising Amelia a little with her sudden zeal. "Esteemed members of the Wizengamot, this girl has no respect for her elders! For tradition! For centuries, my noble blood has served within this council, and I will not tolerate her insolence for another moment! It was this Wizengamot that elected her, and now, it must be this Wizengamot that charges her with treason!"

"Lady Prewett, please, calm yourself," Dumbledore tried, but his civil, pleasant voice was quickly drowned by the shouting of all those who wanted her sacked and thrown out of their sight. "Silence, please! I demand silence! Are we children?! The fate of an entire country rests upon our-!"

He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening a little as he looked to her, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people within this room who knew what was coming. The Aurors must've gathered outside by now, and he's sensed them! I must act, now!

"Aurors!" Amelia called, Wandlessly pulling the doors open.

Crouch and Alastor were the first through the door, followed by every Auror now under the British Ministry's command. They moved swift and efficiently, cornering the horrified Wizengamot members before any of them could make sense of what was happening; however, it wasn't long before many were shouting for Dumbledore to intervene, but the old wizard did nothing of the sort. Instead, he just sat there silently, staring down at Amelia with a furrowed brow.

"Quiet!" Crouch commanded, and Alastor promptly slammed his staff on the ground, causing an ear-splitting bang.

"Your feast has come to an end, ladies and gentlemen," Amelia stepped forward, staring down every person she laid eyes on. "You have gorged yourselves on the blood of the British people for centuries, and made yourselves monstrously fat, but no more. It is over, now. Be grateful that I'm allowing you to walk out of here with your freedoms, instead of being dragged out in chains."

"Chief Warlock, neuter this would-be tyrant at once!" Augusta Longbottom turned to Dumbledore, but once again, the old man remained silent and unmoving. "Albus! Do your duty, and put an end to this, now!"

"You lift your wand against my Aurors, Dumbledore, and I will label you Undesirable No. 1," Amelia promised, locking eyes with the man. "They will be ordered to bring you in alive, or dead." Not that this threat matters, of course, because you're not going to help these people. You and I have a bigger problem to worry about, and you don't want us to be at odds when he returns, do you? "Walk away, Dumbledore. You are no longer the Chief Warlock, and as I said before, you are banished from this Ministry. You will not be welcome back here until you learn that you are not above Magical Law."

"Minister, is this wise?" Kingsley whispered from behind her, and she shot a deadly glare back.

"Shut your mouth, and fall to command," Amelia hissed, and the man blinked in response, before doing as he was told. "Walk away, Dumbledore. Now."

Much to her surprise, Dumbledore smiled at her, but it was clearly out of disappointment and pity. He then slowly rose from his chair, and as he did so, Amelia felt the temperature of the room turn unbearably hot, as well as feeling as though some unseen force was looming above her head, simply waiting to crush her like an ant. The Aurors quickly brandished their wands, with even Alastor swallowing thickly as he prepared himself to face the man who had defeated Gellert Grindelwald singlehandedly. No… He wouldn't… Dumbledore doesn't use force to get his way…

"His rage has poisoned even you, hasn't it?" Dumbledore suddenly whispered, shaking his head tiredly. What? Is he talking about the Dark Lord?

"Speak plainly, or leave," Amelia drew upon all of her courage, not giving an inch.

"Setting a bird free from its cage by destroying the cage breeds nothing but fear within the bird," Dumbledore told her, his smile turning even more sorry. What are you saying, you madman? "And fear, my dear Minister… Fear kills everything in its path, even the desire for liberation." He then looked to Alastor. "Tyranny hiding behind the face of justice and law is still tyranny, my friend. I thought you understood that, but clearly, I was wrong."

"Step. Down. Albus." Alastor warned, looking more tense than she'd ever seen him. "Don't make me do this."

"Even I'm not capable of making you do anything you don't want to do, Alastor, nor do I desire to," Dumbledore returned, and the temperature began to return to normal. "Fawkes, come to me."

There was a blinding flash of orange, causing many, including Amelia, to shield their eyes, and by the time they looked back, Dumbledore was already gone. The Minister released a shaky breath, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face. For moment there, I thought-… Circe have mercy, he didn't even raise his voice, and I felt as though I couldn't breathe… I felt as though he was going to crush with just his gaze alone-…

The fearful murmuring of the Wizengamot broke Amelia out of her thoughts, and she quickly composed herself as best she could. "Now, with him gone, we can get on with this… When I call your name, you will remove your Wizengamot attire and leave this Ministry. If any of you resist, you'll be in Azkaban within the hour."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

The Wizengamot Courtroom was now more than half-empty, with only twenty members retaining their seats, not counting herself. It had been a bothersome affair, casting out the undeserving, Muriel Prewett had to be carried out shouting and raving by three American Aurors after she had bitten two of them for daring to disarm her. Word of what had transpired here was, undoubtedly, already spreading, which gave Amelia a limited window of time to fill the empty seats in order to assure the public that the Ministry would not be hindered in its duties in any way. But, for now, I should address those still left and stop them from resigning in protest.

"I know that many of you here see what I've done as treason," Amelia broke the eerie silence, most of them held nothing but contempt in their eyes. "The Wizengamot is the very heart of our Ministry, and by extension, our country, and to attack it as I have… Even a few months ago, I would be just as outraged as you are."

"Then, why have you done this?!" Amos demanded, shooting out of his seat. "A Minister might have power over the Ministry of Magic, but within the Wizengamot, they are just another member! You have trampled upon our rights, and I demand to know why!"

"Because Magical Britain needs to move out of the dark ages, and it isn't capable of doing that when it's being strangled by 'tradition'," Amelia answered, almost pleading. "You, as the Head of the Being Division within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, must surely understand where I'm coming from, Amos. You oversee the Goblin Liaison Office, the Office for House-Elf Relocation, and the untimely-dissolved Werewolf Support Services… The members I just ousted despised you for trying to represent the interests of those they deemed beneath them. How many times did they shut you down? How many legislations did you bring to the table that would start to heal the damage they've done to our relations with Goblin-Kind, only for them to band together and outvote you? I fought beside you to keep the Werewolf Support Services open, but I'm you remember how decisively we lost that battle…" A bloody child managed to do what you and I couldn't, because we were tied down in pointless bickering and 'tradition'.

"What of Oscar Fawley, then?" Amos grumbled, pointing towards the man's empty seat. "He did more for the Werewolves than either of us ever could, and you just had him thrown out like rotten leftovers!"

"He is a good man, from all accounts, but he is not a part of this Ministry," Amelia countered. "Look around you, Amos… Look at who's still left. Every person here has served within the Ministry for over a decade. Every person here has dedicated their lives to the Departments, and Offices, they serve in. Out of fifty seats, only twenty-one of them were held by Ministry Officials. Out of fifty seats, only twenty-one were held by the Heads of Departments and the Heads of the largest, most vital Offices within those Departments. Just think about that for a moment, my friend… Out of fifty seats, twenty-nine belonged to wealthy business owners, as well as those considered 'Sacred' because of a family name. Out of fifty seats, twenty-nine belonged to those who, time and again, proved that this Wizengamot was just another tool to increase their own wealth and popularity."

Amos muttered something under his breath, looking around with a lot less fury and a lot more thoughtfulness. "…But to have Aurors, foreign Aurors, march in here the way you did… To oust Albus Dumbledore himself… Minister, I cannot, and will not, support you… This isn't only treason, this is madness…"

"You don't have to support me, Amos, you just have to do your job," Amelia said plainly. "Many of your rejected legislations are sorely needed, and if you walk away now, then nothing will change. This Wizengamot needs the Head of the Being Division, otherwise, a very large portion of our population will be left voiceless. The Goblins, the Centaurs, the Merpeople, the Vampires, the Giants, the House-Elves… Are you willing to punish them all out of principle?"

Amos sank into his seat, rubbing his forehead. "I can't believe it's come to this…"

"We need honest men like you, Amos," Crouch broke his silence, choosing to linger in the background for some odd reason. "You are amongst the best of us, and the Minister understands that more keenly than you realize."

"All of you, listen to me, now," Amelia looked to the others, addressing each of them with the respect they were due. "Without the Wizengamot, the Ministry cannot function. Without the Ministry, there will be chaos across Magical Britain. Thousands, maybe more, could lose their lives in this chaos, and so, I beg you all… Do not forsake this country, not after years of dedicating your lives to bettering it. It needs you now more than ever. Byran Williamson?"

"…Yes, Minister?" the Head of the Wizengamot Administration Services looked up, appearing spooked due to being called out by 'the tyrant'.

"You and I will be working together very closely in the coming week," Amelia said, making the man go pale. Ignore it. He has every right to be worried, especially after what he just witnessed. "We need to elect twenty-nine new members to make up for those we've lost, and I have a strict criterion that we will abide by."

"Um… With all due respect, Minister…" Byran started, swallowing thickly. "Only the Chief Warlock has… had… the authority to nominate Wizengamot members…"

"And, in the Chief Warlock's absence, as was often the case with Albus Dumbledore, Wizengamot members themselves can nominate others, yes?" Amelia asked, and after a small pause, Byran gave a weak nod. "And, as Minister for Magic, I am part of the Wizengamot, am I not?"

"…Yes…"

"Then, I am well within my rights to nominate members."

"…Of course…"

"And I expect you all to help me," Amelia looked to the others. "Edith? Will you help me? You and I have worked together on countless cases, protecting both Muggle-Kind and Wizarding-Kind… Did I ever strike you as unfair? As unjust? As power-hungry?"

"No, but after today, I'm not so sure, anymore," she replied, always one to speak her mind. "Minister, this is not the way you do things in this country… You were not elected by the people, nor do you have the right to use Aurors as your own personal army. And these foreigners… You brought them in without our knowledge, because you knew we'd be against it… You might not see yourself as a tyrant in the making, but that is exactly what you are."

Amelia thought of the woman's words carefully, and she had to admit it to herself, she did see the validity of the harsh criticism. "Then, keep me honest, Edith."

"…Keep you honest?" Edith repeated, a little taken aback by the humble response.

"I love this country," Amelia started, speaking directly from the heart. "I love this Ministry. It is my home. It is my life. The day I was elected Minister, that was the most important day of my life, and I can't even begin to explain to you all how much it meant to me… Not because of the power I could suddenly exercise, but because I could finally devote myself to making this a government we could all be proud of. I spent my entire career working under those who abused their power and made a mockery of the people's needs… All that red-tape, all that hatred and bigotry… It was killing our Ministry, and today, for the very first time since I stepped foot within this building, I can say that we're going to be loyal to those who deserve our loyalty. I can finally say that we will represent the public, and not just a select few. But… I can't do this alone… I'm just one woman, and without all of you, things will just return to as they were. As a matter of fact, they will be worse than ever, because I've shown that the Ministry doesn't need those vultures, and they will never forget that insult."

"Without their money, this country will suffer, Minister," Heather Garcia, the Head of the Department of Magical Education, told her. "Who's going to pay for these new Wizengamot members? Every Department is fighting for funding like never before… Are we going to ask the Goblins for help?" I'd rather cut off my arms, honestly. It's time to share the truth with them all.

"We will begin taxing the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and all the rest of them, but until those taxes are finalised, we will need help from the Magical Congress of the United States of America," Amelia shared, surprising many of them. "President Harper has already promised me five million Galleons in funding-"

"Five million?!" Mohammed Hoxha, the Head of the International Magical Trading Standards Office, went wide-eyed, while the others were just as taken aback.

"Yes," Amelia nodded with a straight face, masking her ill-feelings and suspicions towards the American President. "We will have more than enough gold to restructure this entire Ministry, to give funding to the starving Offices, and to start rebuilding this country. The next few months… I plan to work us all like mules… There is so much that needs to be done, but none of it can happen without the Wizengamot."

"President Harper is…" Maeve Dahl, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, started, but quickly trailed off. "Um… Isn't he mad, Minister? That's what they all say, at least…"

"He's not mad, my friends," Amelia replied decisively. "Don't let his act fool any of you… That man is up to something, but like it or not, we need him for the time being."

"I've heard that he has a grudge against the Purebloods and their customs," Ernest Hawkworth, the Head of the Ministerial Support Staff, spoke up, looking around for confirmation. "Under his presidency, the American Purebloods have all but become irrelevant." In that endeavour, I hope to be just like him.

"When our numbers are replenished, we will all discuss this further," Amelia said, checking Rufus' old, but stylish, pocket watch. "For now, I must go speak with Pius Thicknesse. He was recently made the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and as such, he will need a seat within the Wizengamot. Mr. Williamson, you should join me."

"If you think it best, Minister, I will do just that." That's better. You have nothing to fear from me.

"And all of you?" Amelia's eyes scanned the courtroom. "Will you join me? Will you help me propel this Ministry, and this country, into the next age?"

---

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Friday 7th May, 1994 (Headmaster's Office – After Classes)

"So, we removed a puppet, and installed a tyrant in his place? Is that what you're saying, Albus?" Severus asked icily, whereas Ronald smirked to himself. He's not even hiding how pleased he is about this catastrophe… "What are you smirking about, boy? Did you not hear the old man? We just lost all control over the Ministry!"

"He is smirking because he got what he wanted," Albus stated, shaking his head to himself. "What did you say to her, Ronald? How did you get inside her head?"

"I didn't do a damn thing, Headmaster," Ronald sniggered, earning a dark frown from Severus. "I mean, you make it sound like I'm planting thoughts and ideas in her head, but that's simply not true. No… Those thoughts and ideas were already there, and all it took was a bit of goading at the right time, and a reminder of how fragile her Ministership truly is, to force her to act. I didn't expect she'd go this far, though, but it's rather refreshing to see." Merlin's Beard… What am I going to do with you, Ronald? "It's not my fault she kicked you out of the Wizengamot, it's your own. If you had taken that responsibility a little more seriously, like I asked you to many times, we wouldn't be in this mess, would we?"

"…You are not wrong about that, my boy," Albus admitted, trying to think of their next move. What now, you damn fool? What now? "Strangely enough, part of me is relieved at having been ousted, even if it limits what moves we can make." I was never a very good Chief Warlock, nor did I have any desire to be one. That kind of power… It should be kept away from men like me.

"Her moving against you like this… Is she mad?" Severus asked, focusing back on Albus. "Surely, she must understand what an unpopular decision she's made? The people all but worship-" The Potion Master's eye suddenly shot towards Ronald, and he frowned even more deeply. "She'll come to you for support, because of your Quibbler, which means we can still salvage this situation. Without her own message being spread through your magazine, she can't hope to contend against the Daily Prophet and those who own it. She's going to need a way to reach the people, and you're the only game in town that won't outright reject her."

"So, you're out, and I'm in?" Ronald asked Albus, grinning. "Ah, the young replacing the old… It's only natural, init?"

"Will you take this seriously?" Severus hissed, raising his cane in a menacing manner.

"Oh, shit, he's trying to hit me, Sir!"

"Severus, put that thing down, please," Albus clicked his tongue, giving them both a scolding look. "Honestly, you two… Today is not the day for this sort of behaviour."

"He started it, the wretch…" Severus grumbled, shooting Ronald a hateful glare.

"So angry, and so greasy," Ronald teased, shifting just out of the man's reach. "But, you're right. She'll come to me, and when she does, I'll be forced to help her. I mean, I fucking slapped the Head-Auror, didn't I? A big part of my defence was hiding behind the Headmaster's skirt, but now, she's proven that she's willing to tear that skirt off." And me with my legs unshaved… "If I don't help her, she'll fuck me up for certain. Bloody hell… What a woman… Here we were, thinking we could control her and use her, but in a single move, she's kicked us, and all those snobby cunts, right in our mouths. I know who I'll be wanking off to, tonight!"

Severus sneered at him in disgust, whereas Albus fought the urge to belly-laugh. "…Ronald, some thoughts are meant to remain in our heads… They are not for sharing, not even amongst the closest of friends."

"Fair enough," the redhead raised his hands in surrender, chuckling to himself. "Still, we need to find a way to keep tabs on her, and I can do that if I'm helping her maintain her image. I'll just have to be very careful around her, especially because she already doesn't like me very much."

"I will ask Kingsley and Nymphadora to do the same," Albus agreed, thinking of Alastor. I fear that the truth about Ronald has pushed him away from the Order, for now. "The Order will be her next target, I believe."

"What makes you think that?" Severus asked, whereas Ronald raised an eyebrow.

"Her reasoning for casting me out wasn't just my many absences," Albus started. "She, very passionately, spoke of my lack of regard for Magical Law. Amelia, I fear, is an authoritarian at her core, which, in hindsight, makes sense given her long and illustrious career within the D. M. L. E. The Order… Well, the Order represents everything she stands against. In her eyes, the only people who can pursue justice are those who are affiliated with the Ministry, with the D. M. L. E. She will not tolerate the Order's 'vigilantism', and it's only a matter of time before she comes to see us as her enemy, if she doesn't already."

"That's inconvenient," Severus said, unbothered. "What is your plan, then?"

"Ronald, what would you do in my stead?" Albus asked the young Slytherin in response.

"I'd agree to affiliate the Order with the Ministry," Ronald replied swiftly, and Albus raised an eyebrow. "I mean, she won't just disregard the Order's experience, will she? You're all veterans of the last war, after all. You didn't survive out of dumb-luck. You survived because you know how to fight."

"Yes, we certainly do," Albus smiled, the gears in his head already turning.

"So, give her what she wants," Ronald shrugged. "The Order is filled with people of… sanctimonious… levels of morality, and it's not like she'll be asking them to go around executing Death-Eaters, right? Give her what she wants, because, at the end of the day, you're all on the same side. It will take her by surprise, your willingness to work with her, and you can keep Professor Snape, Emilia, Artyom, and I as your dirty little secret on the side."

"There's one major problem with that logic of yours, boy," Severus drew in a sharp breath, absentmindedly massaging his aching leg. "The Ministry's decision to start killing without question in the last war is what drove the Order away from their ranks. If Albus agrees to join forces with the Ministry, it will split the Order."

"Ah, yes… Can't kill people in a fucking war, apparently…" Ronald rolled his eyes, visibly vexed.

"It takes greater strength to show mercy than it does to give into revenge, my boy," Albus said, his tone soft and encouraging. "You understand that. I know you do."

"…I know, Sir, I know…" Ronald sighed out. "Still, you can't win a war by being nice, and if the Order can't understand that, then maybe it's best they walk away before they get themselves killed. We'll leave it up to you, Headmaster. The Order is, after all, yours to command."

Albus gave a nod, already a plan was taking form in his head. "We underestimated her, but we won't make that mistake, again. For now, we stay out of her way, and whenever possible, we ingratiate ourselves to her. And, Ronald… Be careful with her, especially now that the Americans are here."

"Oh, I have nothing to fear from them," Ronald smiled darkly, rising out of his chair. "They serve two great friends of mine, after all." Reyes and Wilkinson, both men that he has already corrupted with that accursed memory… "I need to get on with my homework, you two. I'll see you at dinner."

"Nothing less than an Outstanding, boy," Severus said warningly as Ronald departed, and once the Slytherin was gone, the Potions Master looked to Albus rather critically. Am I in trouble? Oh, dear…

"Yes, Severus?"

"Are we just going to let him keep doing this, now?" Severus asked, scowling at him. "He is making more and more decisions without consulting us, decisions like pushing important people over the edge just so they can destroy each other for his amusement."

"Yes… I know…" Albus sighed out, leaning back in his chair. "Ronald's ambitions have grown past simply stopping Lord Voldemort, I fear. He wishes to rule, I think, and as he is now, his rule would be a terrifying thing to behold." He thinks that I don't see his ambitions, but they are written all over his recent actions. He is setting up all the most powerful pieces to collide into each other, something Gellert himself did with great success. Order shaped from chaos… There is nothing deadlier than that.

"That monster in his head… Fate… Those damn Horned Serpents… They've all driven him mad, at last," Severus said, a hint of regret seeping into his voice. "Occlumency lessons aren't going to cut it, anymore. That desire in his heart to hurt people, to spread the pain that's been inflicted upon him… All the Occlumency in the world won't stop it from growing. Trust me on this, I know."

"How did you stop that desire from growing, then?" Albus asked, smiling apologetically as he already knew the answer.

"I didn't… It destroyed everyone I cared about," Severus whispered detachedly.

"Well, seeing as he cares about us, I don't want to see him repeat your mistakes," Albus chuckled, earning himself a deadly glare. "Severus, be patient, please. I am working on him, and I won't stop until I see him smile and laugh, and mean it. Keep teaching him, and let your walls down every once in a while… Show him that even you are human, and in doing so, remind him that he too is human. The goodness in him is still there, it just needs more time to find its way back to the surface."

"I don't know if you're wise, or just as insane as he is," Severus growled to himself, grunting as he stood up. "A pair of lunatics, and me stuck in the middle… The Gods are cruel, indeed."

"We will save him, Severus, even from himself," Albus promised, remembering his vow. "Fear is fleeting, but love is everlasting. Love, Severus, is what Ronald requires. It is what we all require, and it is going to save this world. It's the only power that can."

"Well, when you find this ever-elusive power, you know where to find me," Severus limped away, no doubt rolling his remaining eye.

Albus simply smiled at the man's receding back, knowing that even Severus had found it once upon a time, and if he simply opened his heart once again, he would find it without fail a second time. As will Ronald, because to be human is to love, and love most fiercely.

---

Blaise Zabini's POV

Friday 7th May, 1994 (The Boys' Dorm – Night)

"Where are you going, Ron?" Theo questioned, putting down his book on exotic flowers. "It's past curfew, mate."

Blaise looked up from his Charms homework at that, noticing that Ron was wearing a fresh suit. "Sneaking off in the night, are we?"

"I have… business… to attend to," Ron said mysteriously, shooting Theo a wink. "Don't wait up on me, love."

"What sort of business?" Malfoy asked, trying to be subtle about it.

"The sort that might end with an arrow piercing my eye," Ron answered, and they all just waited for him to elaborate on the strange response. Why an arrow? "It doesn't matter, lads. It's important work, and that's all you need to know. Goodnight."

And just like that, he left the room, leaving them behind to wonder what he was up to, now. He's even more secretive than before, somehow. I suppose, he doesn't trust us as he used to… He hid it well, but the idea of his own best mate not trusting him stung horribly. Whatever… It's not my place to know his secrets… He's his own man, and I have to become mine-…

"There's something not right with him," Malfoy suddenly broke the silence, and both Theo and Blaise looked to him. "More than usual, I mean. Just a feeling I get whenever he's around, that's all. It kind of… makes my skin crawl…"

"…Me too," Theo agreed, but didn't look happy about it. "Blaise? What do you reckon?"

"I reckon, he's trying very hard to be who he thinks we want him to be, but he's just not that person, anymore," Blaise replied, putting away his quill. "And, occasionally, we see the cracks in his act."

"What happened with Tracey really fucked him up, huh?" Theo sighed out, his eyes becoming distant. "All of us… It feels like we're more ghosts than people, sometimes." That's… exactly how I feel… Like I'm just floating aimlessly through my own life… "But she'll be back soon, and maybe then, things can go back to normal?"

"Millicent will still be gone, mate," Blaise pointed out. Durmstrang… Fucking Durmstrang… Damn it, Millie… Just be safe, please…

"Yeah… I miss that brute, despite her constant bullying of me…"

"You mean, you pushing her buttons until she rightfully smacked you straight?" Malfoy drawled, and Theo flipped him off. "Charming, Nott."

"Is it just me, or are the girls out to drive him insane? Ron, I mean?" Blaise asked, and immediately, they both nodded their agreement. "Yeah, I thought so…"

"You threatening to hit Daphne was still going too far, though," Theo tutted, making him avert his gaze. Yes, not my finest moment. I just-… The way she-… No matter what he does, she somehow finds a way to start argueing with him, and then, we all have to deal with the fallout. "You need to apologize to her, mate. And, you better pray that Ron doesn't find out about it, because he'll beat the piss out of you."

"She won't accept my apology, and you know it," Blaise muttered, disappointed in his ongoing lack of control over his emotions. It would make me feel much better, though, and it's what she deserves.

"Are you sorry?" Theo asked, and he gave a nod. "Then, just apologize. If she doesn't forgive you, then so be it. That's her decision to make, not yours."

"You're right…" Blaise sighed out, moving off of his bed. "Wish me luck."

He made his way out of the room, and after a bit of walking, and a lot of hesitation, he eventually found himself standing in front of the girls' closed door. Just knock, apologize when the door opens, and then, walk away. Simple, right? Fuck… Blaise drew in a long breath, easing his posture before gently knocking on the door. After a few seconds, the door opened and revealed Daphne herself, who immediately sneered at the sight of him.

"I'll get Pansy," she said icily, already turning to leave.

"I came to talk to you, actually," Blaise said, and she turned around with an even more menacing sneer. "I am sorry…" There, it's done.

"For what?" she asked, staring through him. Ugh… Merlin… She doesn't want to make it easy for me, which is fair…

"For letting a moment of anger blind me to honour," Blaise elaborated, deflating a little. "I am sorry for threatening you, it was low of me."

"Low of you? Even Malfoy never stooped to such threats, Zabini," Daphne huffed in indignation, not hiding her disgust. "What sort of man threatens a woman like that, exactly?" The sort that has seen just how vile and vindictive women can be… How poisonous… "Did it make you feel powerful? To frighten me? To threaten my safety?"

"…It's more complicated than that," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "It felt good, at the time, to let my anger out, but quickly enough, it filled me with remorse. I am sorry, Daphne. I won't ever say something like that, again. I swear it."

"Remorse, he says," she scoffed, shaking her head. "Go away, Zabini. I don't want to talk to you."

She shut the door in his face, and he nodded knowingly to himself. "…At least, she didn't Hex me…"

Letting out a defeated sigh, Blaise turned and began to walk away. Honestly, this is what I deserve for acting on my emotions. Instead of just blurting out my worst thoughts, I should've thought them through, first. I used to be able to do that so easily, but now… Now, it's just so much easier to simply lash out… Maybe, I should start seeing Pomfrey like Ron and Malfoy? No… I don't want to do that… She's a stranger, and I don't want to discuss my problems with someone I've barely ever spoken to-…

"She didn't accept, I take it?" came Pansy's voice from behind him, making him stop and turn around.

"No, she didn't," Blaise answered blandly. "She doesn't forgive easily, and what I said… Well, I wouldn't forgive me easily, either."

"At least, you know that you went too far," Pansy offered him a weak smile. "I was worried that you were going start acting more and more like Ron, but I'm glad that you're better than that." Pardon?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaise frowned, there was definitely an insult towards Ron in her words.

Pansy chuckled nervously, gesturing him to calm down. "…I don't mean what you think I mean, I promise. Ron is-… I love him, and I always will, but everyone knows just how angry and sad he is. I just don't want that for you, Blaise. That's all." …Right… "Give Daphne a few more days, all right? What you said… It made her cry…" It did? "Don't tell her I told you that, okay? She thought I was asleep, but I wasn't."

The guilt rose quickly out of his stomach, weighing him down and forcing him to slouch. "…Okay… I'll um… I'll keep my distance… When she's ready to start looking in my direction, again, I'll give her a much more sincere apology…" Pansy smiled and gave an approving nod. "Thank you, Pans."

"Just returning the favour," Pansy shrugged, turning to leave.

"Wait…" Blaise stopped her, drawing in a sharp breath. "You still haven't told them, have you? Like we discussed?" Why am I phrasing that as a question? I know for a fact that she hasn't.

Immediately, he saw her demeanour change, guilt flashing across her face. "…No… Not yet…"

"Can I ask why not?" Blaise enquired, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. I mean, I know why you haven't, but still… You told me that you would.

"I just-…" Pansy started, but stopped, looking terribly nervous. "Daphne can really hold a grudge, Blaise, and right now, she's not being her herself… She's angry, and she thinks that we're choosing Ron over her, and-… And as for Ron… I really missed him, and he's being so sweet to me, and I don't want him to stop, but I know that he will hate me and never talk to me, again-"

"Slow down, Pans," Blaise intervened, she was starting to sound hysterical. "It's okay, I get it." I didn't fully before, but I do, now. It felt good in the moment, right? But, now, it just makes you feel like shit.

"…I'm such an idiot…"

"Don't say that, you just… did a stupid thing… That doesn't make you an idiot, and I never should've…" he trailed off, scratching his chin. "What a pair we make, huh?"

"…A right pair of morons…" she smiled pathetically, before letting out a shaky breath. "…I'm so scared about how they'll take it… Daphne will never want to be my friend, again, and Ron… I'm scared that he'll… hit me… Like mother used to, only much harder…"

Blaise shifted in his spot, feeling uncomfortable at the mere thought of it. "…He won't do that, but… Merlin, it's become quite hard to predict his behaviour, hasn't it?" He's unstable, though I'll never say that aloud. "He might shout, or he might start ignoring you, as he did Millicent, but I don't think he'll put his hands on you. He's always been gentle with you girls, more lenient."

"Do you really believe that?" Pansy asked, not convinced. No… I want to believe it, but I know that he's not the Ron who walked into Hogsmeade with us all those months ago. "I'm done for, just admit it."

Blaise shook his head to himself, deciding to do something incredibly stupid once again. "…I'll go with you, if you're really that scared…"

"What?"

"I said, I'll go with you," Blaise repeated more confidently, giving her a meaningful look. "When you come clean to Ron, I mean. I'll try to… I don't know… Explain why you did what you did… Or, something like that…" I'll probably end up catching his fist with my face, but that's still a better outcome than her getting hurt.

"You… would do that for me?" Pansy muttered, visibly taken aback. "Really?"

"Well, I am a moron, aren't I?" Blaise joked, despite already dreading the moment of truth.

"I… Blaise…" Pansy stammered, looking like a sad puppy. "You don't have to-"

"I know, but I'll still do it."

Pansy shot forward and hugged him, much to his chagrin. OI! Get off! "Thank you, thank you!"

"Pansy, stop that-"

"You're the best!"

"Get off me, will you?" Blaise freed himself from her grasp, quickly fixing up his robes. "Don't latch onto me like I'm Ron, all right? I don't like it." Pansy just beamed in response, as if his words had flown right over her head. "And stop smiling at me like that. You look creepy."

"Sorry, I'm just… really relieved, that's all," Pansy composed herself, but still looked thankful. "I'll um… I'll let you know when I decide to approach him, all right?"

"All right."

"I just need some time to show him that I'm taking things more seriously, now."

"Just don't take too long, because if he finds out from someone else-"

"I know."

"Good," Blaise sighed out. "Keep me in the loop about Daphne, will you?"

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight, Blaise."

"Goodnight."

With a cute little wave, Pansy left him to return to her room, leaving Blaise alone to ponder if she had played on his guilt to secure his help with Ron. If she did, then, honestly, I'm kind of proud of her… She really is taking things more seriously, now. That's… admirable… of her. Admirable, and so very Slytherin. As for me, I'm acting more and more like a bloody Gryffindor, and that's bound to blow up in my face.

---

Draco Malfoy's POV

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (The Boys' Dorm – Dead of Night)

Weasley still hadn't returned well past midnight, and Draco was, for lack of a better term, worried. He had told himself that Weasley was probably sleeping in his 'Sanctuary' on the seventh floor tonight, and yet, in the back of his mind, a growing itch was telling him that something was wrong. The redhead had left too abruptly, too secretively, and that remark about an arrow piercing his eye was too specific for Draco's liking. Whoever he was meeting tonight, they were not friends of his, and he was definitely not supposed to be meeting with them. Perhaps, he didn't tell us what he was up to because knowing about it could get us into trouble? That… is an alarming thought…

Draco sat up with a dark frown, reaching across to his side-table for his pocket watch and wand. "Lumos." Ten past two?! Merlin's Beard, Weasley… We're supposed to go running in less than four hours… Where are you?

Undoing his Wand-Lighting Charm, Draco plopped back down and stared up at his canopy. Zabini and Nott are already asleep, so why aren't I? What purpose does me being awake serve, exactly? I'm just being an idiot… Weasley will be just fine, as always… I'll wake up, and he'll already be dressed in his running gear, ready to annoy me with that stupid, smug grin on his face… Yeah… I should just close my eyes-…

Someone opened the door, and Draco immediately shot up, staring at his drawn curtains. He's back! Merlin's Beard, who was he meeting so late into the night?! Letting out a sigh of relief, Draco listened attentively as he heard feet shuffling past his curtains, and soon enough, a strange, and unpleasant, smell attacked his nostrils. Ugh… What is that?! It smells like… wet fur? Gods be good, Weasley, were you rolling around in the filth with pigs?

"…pay for this…" Weasley growled, much to Draco's surprise. Pay for this? Who? "…I know, I know… I can do it whenever I damn well please… It would be easy, but damn stupid…" Is he… talking to himself? I only hear one pair of footsteps.

Draco shifted onto his hands and knees, slowly crawling towards the edge of his bed.

"…I've set dad to task, haven't I? A couple of kind words, a polite apology, a concerned warning, and the man took the bait just as I predicted," Weasley was whispering, now. "He'll be the piece that takes that Death-Eater cunt, not me. I have to be more careful than ever, especially with Bones suddenly finding her bollocks. She did the impossible, and she did it right under their fucking noses. I won't underestimate her like they did. That woman has proper iron in her soul." There was a short pause, and Draco realized that he was holding his breath. This is mental… "No, that would be… reckless. Too reckless. The old man isn't an idiot. He'll catch on soon enough, if he hasn't already. We have to wait for them to weaken each other, first. I've already told you all this… Do I really have to repeat myself with you too?" Who the fuck is he talking to?! "Why are you so fucking viscous?" Who's viscous?!

There was more shuffling, and it sounded as though Weasley was removing his clothes. Draco waited patiently, and after a long pause, the whispering continued.

"Don't underestimate the goodness in her," Weasley whispered warningly, sounding offended. "One look at what I saw tonight, and she'll realize that I was right. I know her… I know her, and like me, she won't be able to ignore what he's done to them. She'll finally understand why I'm so angry, because she'll feel the same way. She'll understand… She has to… And, when she does, I'll be waiting for her." What the fuck? Who's 'she'? "I want them both completely alone, completely abandoned. I want to take everything from them, you hear me? Their girls, their money, their friends, their joy, their futures… I'll punish them like no one on Earth has been punished before. They'll fucking regret crossing paths with Us until their final breaths." Draco swallowed thickly, paling. "I just-… I am calm, you prick… I am in control… I just had to get that out before it burned a hole through my gut… I-… Those poor bastards… What he did to them, I will make him pay for it. He's a monster, and all monsters have to go. Every. Single. One."

Draco heard Weasley unlock his trunk, shifting through his clothes as he grumbled to himself. Eventually, he heard the trunk slam shut, followed by a hiss from Weasley.

"I need a shower, and I need a fucking Calming Draught," Weasley continued, his voice much weaker, now. "…I'm going mad, mate… All I could think about was drowning myself in more potions throughout that meeting… They didn't deserve such suffering… How can Wizarding-Kind act as though we're so civilised, when we've brutalised so many bloody people? And all for what? Our civilisation is built upon the bones of their infants." Who is he talking about? Merlin, he really is insane, isn't he? He's completely lost it-… "I have a long day tomorrow, and I have to be up in three hours. All that bloody homework, the party that still needs planning, training Ginny, Luna, and Hermione…" Another pause, followed by footsteps leading towards the bathroom. "…need her, so stop whining about it. You're not the one who has to hear her drone on and on about her favourite textbooks, but how else am I supposed to get to Harry?" Potter?! "That broom-riding, head-in-the-clouds, four-eyed imbecile… Have to find some way to pull his arse out of the fire, don't I?" The bathroom door creaked open. "…use him towards our mutual benefit-"

The bathroom door closed, cutting off Weasley's voice abruptly. Draco sat back on his arse, staring ahead blankly. That was… so damn weird… He was having a full-on conversation with himself, or rather, some imaginary friend… In the back of his mind, Draco's instincts were already compelling him to forget about everything he'd just overheard, as crossing Weasley was the very last thing he needed to be doing. Not to mention that he's actually insane… That, or the Weasley we know isn't the Weasley I just eavesdropped on. I… don't know which of those two scenarios is more terrifying, to be honest…

Thoroughly shaken, Draco crawled back to his pillow and cocooned himself within his covers. Just go to sleep, you fool, and don't ever mention any of this to anyone. Self-preservation always comes first, especially when you're living with a lunatic. It's no wonder Madam Pomfrey couldn't help him, he's already mad!

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (Abandoned Classroom – Afternoon)

"This one, and this one, and this one as well!" Hermione searched through her bag, pulling out the books she'd been reading on Wandless Magic. "Oh! And this one too! I love this one!"

Ron chuckled lightly as he picked up 'Mastering the Mind and Body: A Return to our Roots', sifting through its pages nonchalantly. "You probably know more about Wandless Magic than I do, Hermione. When it comes to its history and theories, I mean."

"I just like to be thorough," Hermione said proudly.

"Don't you get bored by all this reading?" Ginny asked, pulling a face at the books.

"How could anyone be bored by this?" Hermione asked, somewhat baffled. "Ginny, books are the only way we can keep track of everything we've learned and discovered! Instead of going out there and spending a lifetime studying Wandless Magic, I can just read the works of someone who's already done that! That's brilliant, isn't it?!"

"…I suppose," Ginny muttered, not looking convinced.

"What about the things we haven't learned and discovered?" Luna questioned, and Hermione blinked at her. "If everyone relies only on books, then our knowledge will remain the same as those before us. Nothing new will ever be uncovered. I think, books can diminish our creativity and imagination, so we should be careful with them. They're not always good for us." That's not true! How can you say that as a Ravenclaw?!

The Gryffindor stared at the Ravenclaw; Ron's other sister was a little too 'creative' and 'imaginative' for Hermione's personal liking. "What we learn from books can always be expanded on, Luna. We can always do more research to add more to what we've already discovered. Books don't diminish intelligence, they enhance it."

"But what about what we haven't discovered?" Luna smiled wistfully, tilting her head a little. "You have to put the books down if you want to see what's out there in the world, still waiting to be seen."

"And what exactly is waiting to be seen, Luna?" Hermione challenged, barely stopping herself from glowering.

"…Oh, no…" Ginny groaned.

"…Here it comes," Ron sighed out.

"The Nargles, for one!" Luna beamed, exceedingly glad that Hermione had asked her. "They're everywhere, Hermione, but they're also very clever! They hide from us, and whenever we're not paying attention, which is always, they get up to the worst sort of mischief!"

Hermione stared at her in response, genuinely confused as to why this strange girl was placed into Ravenclaw of all Houses. "…Nargles aren't real, Luna… There's no such thing…"

"My father says they are," Luna continued to smile, much to Hermione's chagrin. That's not proof of anything!

"My parents used to tell me that Father Christmas was real, but that didn't make it true," Hermione countered, while Ginny and Ron exchanged bored looks.

"How do you know?" Luna asked, sounding very curious, now. "Until you see him with your own eyes, you can't simply ignore the possibility of his existence. That isn't very fair to him, I think." Are you mental?! That doesn't even make any sense! By your logic, nothing could ever be disproven!

"You're both right about books, so let's leave it at that," Ron intervened before Hermione could retort. No, I'm right, while she's-… I don't even know what she's on about, honestly! "Luna, you shouldn't be so quick to undervalue the work of others. And, Hermione, I can promise you that there's still a lot out there that Wizarding-Kind hasn't put to parchment-"

"I'm not saying that we've discovered everything, Ron," Hermione interrupted, frowning. "I'm saying that-"

"Don't bloody argue with me," Ron ordered, something deadly flashing behind his eyes. "I mean…" he paused, before his entire demeanour instantly changed, and he offered them a pleasant smile. "We're here to practise Magic, aren't we? Let's leave this debate for another day." …Right… The girls exchanged looks, and Hermione noticed that Luna had shrunk in size. "Ginny and Luna, let's start with you, eh? I want to show you how to cast more powerful shields. Come with me. Hermione, you can start warming up, all right? I'll be right back."

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"I see you got started without me," Ron chuckled, stopping just behind her. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to levitate that book, obviously," Hermione huffed, failing to hide her frustration. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The propped-up book shook a little, but despite her intense focus, it didn't float up as she wanted it to. Damn it! Why isn't this working?! I'm doing everything right! Hermione groaned and dropped her hand, fighting the urge to walk over and smack the book off the table. This is so annoying! Ron just waves his hand, and all his books do as he commands! Whereas I can't even do that with a single one!

"Tell me what you're thinking, Hermione," Ron planted himself atop a desk behind her. "I'm not a Legilimens."

"I'm thinking that I'm not cut out for Wandless Magic," Hermione turned around, crossing her arms. "That I'm only good at reading books and writing essays."

"Very few people in this world are born good at everything," Ron said, was he trying to sound wise? "Most of us have to work for it, and you already know that. So, don't just give up on yourself so quickly, all right? Keep trying, please."

"But it's not working…" Hermione deflated, shaking her head. "I've been trying, Ron… I've been trying since Easter, and I've made no progress. I've read four books, already! Four! And still, I've achieved nothing, despite following their instructions to the letter…"

"The thing about Magic is… It doesn't work the same for everyone," Ron started, catching her attention. "At least, that's my experience with it. Everyone's connection to Magic is unique, and you have to figure out what works for you. The people who wrote the books you've read, they simply recorded what worked for them, so their words shouldn't be taken as instructions, but rather, as advice."

"You agree with Luna, then?" Hermione was surprised, and quite displeased. "That books are bad for you?"

"…What? You're still stuck on that?" Ron sniggered, much to her ire. "Hermione, that's not what Luna was saying. She said that they can sometimes hinder rather than help, and right now, they're hindering you. That's why you're not making any progress, because what you've read doesn't seem to apply to you." He then raised his hands to his sides, and much to her shock and envy, two tables floated up into the air. …Woah… He did that so effortlessly… "This right here? I didn't learn that from a book. Sure, I learnt the Spell, but the rest comes from me. Do you understand?"

"I… think so…" I don't.

Ron's smile grew a little, and he lowered the tables onto the ground before hopping onto his feet. "Do you remember that time I blew a hole in Hogwarts?"

"Everyone remembers that, Ron," Hermione said blandly. "It was incredibly irresponsible of you, and someone could've died!"

"Including me," he grinned, as if he was proud of his recklessness. "But that's irrelevant right now. What is relevant is how that happened. I was trying this Spell, and despite following the instructions, it just wasn't working. I tried, and tried, and tried… But nothing came out, and that started to piss me off. I got angry, and then, it suddenly worked. My anger made it work."

"So, I should get angry?" Hermione blinked, that didn't sound right at all.

"No, like I said before, it's different for everyone," Ron said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her towards the book. "For me, I just summon this desire for… control… from deep within me. When I cast Wandless Magic, I expect nothing less from my Magic than for it to follow my commands. It serves me, and if it thinks otherwise, then there's no point of it even existing. For you, though? It could something completely different! And, trust me, you won't find the answer to that question in a book. It'll come from within you, and when it does, you'll make things fly."

"…I see," Hermione nodded slowly, struggling to keep up for the first time in a long time. "So, I just have to… use my imagination… Right… I can do that…"

"Then, do it," Ron took a step back, observing her keenly.

Hermione aimed her palm at the propped-up book, drawing in a deep breath and focusing her mind. I want this book to fly! I demand that it does as I command! "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Once again, the book began to shake, and Hermione grit her teeth. Fly! Do it! You stupid thing! FLY! The book trembled and flopped forward, creating a dull thud. Damn it… Why did it do that?

"That was a bit better," Ron gave her a pat on the back, but she couldn't bring herself to agree with him.

"…My arm is starting to get sore," Hermione muttered, deciding to take a break.

"That means it's working," Ron beamed. "So, keep at it. Your body is not used to acting as the Conduit of your Magic, as it's come to rely solely on your wand."

"I know, I read all about that," Hermione sighed out, not that her reading seemed to be doing anything for her. "I need a small rest, I think-"

"No," Ron refused, losing his smile. "You'll rest when I decide you've earned it." …What?

"Excuse me?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, offended. "That's a bit rude, don't you think?"

"You want my help?" he asked in response, and she gave a short nod. "This is what my help looks like. Prop up that book, and try again. My arms were always hurting, but they got used to it, eventually. Yours will too. Go on. Prop it up, and let's keep going."

Still unhappy with his blunt, and rude, methods, Hermione walked over to the book and propped it up, before returning to his side. "Okay… Let's try this, again. Wingardium Leviosa!"

The book trembled, and Hermione suddenly felt her palm cramp up. She stopped immediately, hissing in pain as she tucked her hand into her stomach. Ow! Ow! Ow! I hate when this happens! Damn my hand cramps!

"Show me," Ron tapped her on the shoulder, but she shot him an angry frown.

"I told you I needed a break, Ron," she hissed accusingly.

"You need to toughen up and stop your whinging, nothing more," he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand towards himself in order to inspect it. "It's just a cramp, right? Here, this should fix it."

His left hand glowed golden, making her go wide-eyed, and when he pressed his palm against hers, she felt pins and needles crawl up her entire forearm. The pain vanished within a second, having been replaced by the pleasant, and ticklish, feeling. What sort of Magic is that? He can heal people by touching them? That's… amazing… I didn't even know that was possible! Ron pulled his glowing hand away, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze with his gloved one.

"Back to it, Hermione," he let her go, before pointing at the book.

"Wait… What was that, Ron?" she had to ask, unable to hide her awe.

"A Healing Spell that comes from China," Ron replied, smirking. "I'm still working on it, but it's already quite 'handy' in a pinch." Did he just make a pun?

She fought the urge to smile, not wanting to make it easy for him to get a reaction out of her. "Will you teach it to me? Eventually, I mean."

"Focus on what's in front of you," Ron advised, looking amused. "I respect your drive, Hermione, I really do, but these things take time. Time, and a lot of patience. If you go too quickly, you'll hurt yourself like I do. And, I don't mean that you'll get a cramp… I mean that you'll cook half your body, or end up with permanent scars that no Magic can remove. Wandless Magic is damn dangerous, especially if you're careless." I don't like it, but he's right. I don't want to hurt myself, and others, by being reckless. Not after I nearly killed Malfoy… "Now, the book… I have an idea, if you'll indulge me."

"…Sure," Hermione agreed, what did she have to lose? "What is it?"

"Try and levitate the book, and I'll tell you."

Hermione gave a nod, once again focusing on the book. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

And, once again, the result was the same, though Hermione was determined to change it. C'mon! My Magic is mine to control! I'll make this book fly-!

"Everyone is laughing at you, Hermione," Ron suddenly whispered, leaning closer. …What? "They're doubting you, and watching you fail. The Purebloods, the Slytherins, the Gryffindors… Everyone. Are you really going to let them do that to you?" No… "Are you really going to let them judge you?" No. "Are you really going to let them decide that you don't belong in the Wizarding World?" No! I belong here! I'm a witch, and a damn sight better one than most of the witches at this school! I've already proven them wrong!

The book began to tremble more violently than ever, and as Hermione pictured proving herself to all her peers, all of whom were standing in this very room and staring at her, it shot up for a brief moment, before dropping back down with a thud. It flew! I did it! I finally did it! I made it fly!

"Ron, did you see that?!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping for joy. "It flew! It definitely flew! Did you see it?!"

"I saw it," Ron smiled down at her, looking both happy for her and proud of her. "That was brilliant, Hermione. Good work."

She let out a victorious squeal, turning to hug him, but stopping herself just in time. Don't be weird, now, Hermione! You can't just hug a boy without his permission! She drew in a shaky breath, a massive smile still on her face. I can't believe that worked, though! I just… did it! Out of nowhere!

"How did you know that that would work, Ron?" she asked, eager to have another go.

"I didn't, but what I do know is that Magic responds when you're… honest… with it," Ron replied, his smile growing slightly. "You've told me about your feelings before, and I figured it was worth a shot." My feelings… So, it really didn't matter what I read in those books… What mattered, in the end, was how I felt at the time. I don't like that, honestly, but who cares? I did it! "Now, there's two reasons why I think you've been struggling. One is that you're focusing too much on what works for other people, and not enough on figuring out what works for you. The second is that you're not fit enough. Wandless Magic requires a strong body, Hermione, or your own Magic will end up hurting you. That's why I exercise so much, because it strengthens both my body and my Magic. So, if you're up for it, you should start joining me for my runs, again."

"Really?" she blinked; she would be lying if she claimed that she enjoyed herself on those runs. "…I don't want to intrude on you and your friends-"

"You wouldn't be intruding, Hermione, because I'm inviting you," Ron reassured her. "As for my friends… Well, I don't um… They're welcome to join me if they want, but I'm not chasing after them, anymore. It's all voluntary. And the same goes for you, actually. It's just an offer. You can take it, or you can leave it. It's up to you."

"But I need it, right?" Hermione asked.

"Power has to earned, and in this case, that's truer than ever," he gave a nod.

"Then, I accept," she smiled gratefully. "I better get my trainers ready, huh?"

"Every morning, at first light," Ron's lips quirked upwards, something shifting behind his eyes. "Extend the invitation to Harry and Neville, too. They'll both need to be ready for You-Know-Who, especially Harry. A bit of stamina can go a long way, and it could end up saving their lives." He's right… I mean, sooner or later, Harry will have to-…

She paled a little, she hated that Harry had such a terrible burden on his shoulders. He told us that he's going to be a part of the Order, and we both decided to join him. Ron's right. Anything to help us better prepare ourselves can't be ignored.

"I'll convince them," she promised, feeling even more grateful towards the redhaired Slytherin. "Thank you, Ron… It um… I'm really glad that we're on better terms, again…"

"Me too," Ron smiled more fully, his pale eyes holding hers hostage. "And we're all on the same side, right? We should look out for one another."

"I agree," she beamed, nodding fervently.

"Good," Ron turned to leave, but not before patting her on the arm. "Keep working on that book, all right? And don't keep focusing on the scenario I made up… Try to mix things up, and see what works best for you. I need to check in with Ginny and Luna, but I'll be back."

"Okay, Ron, and thanks," Hermione waved him off, before focusing on the book, again. All right, Hermione, feel your feelings! "Wingardium Leviosa!"

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

?

"They're here, my Lord," Aidan stepped into the tent, and Sebastian promptly packed away his ledger. I'm almost there. I've almost undone the damage that fool did to my fortune.

"They?" Sebastian questioned, staring through the head of his security detail. "Oreron hasn't arrived alone?" Why am I not surprised? No Half-Breed can be trusted to keep its word.

"The Chief's brought his son with him," Aiden replied, and Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Boy's just a colt, my Lord. He won't be a problem."

"We'll see about that," Sebastian waved a dismissive hand. "Bring them to me."

"At once, my Lord," Aiden bowed his head, departing swiftly after. So, Oreron has brought his boy to me? Does he think a child will aid him in our negotiations? Does he think I will be so easily swayed? Foolish thing… What I have set out to achieve, it is clearly beyond his intelligence. Hm… Perhaps, his boy can be used to my own advantage? After all, all parents are weak to their children's pleas.

Sebastian smiled softly to himself, waiting patiently for Aiden's return. I'm almost there, Mary. If what my workers have discovered about this land is true, then the Greengrass name will once again be feared throughout the Wizarding World. Feared, and respected.

"My Lord, I present to you Chief Oreron, and his heir, Zotair the Black," Aiden announced as he entered the tent, and from behind him, the four-legged abomination and its spawn entered, looking about the luxurious surroundings with an absolute lack of understanding of anything civilised.

"Zotair is not my heir, young man, he is merely my son," Oreron said, the friendly nature of his tone irked Sebastian immensely. "Sebastian Greengrass, we meet once again, as the stars gaze down upon us." What a hideous creature, and its son… Even more ugly than the father.

Sebastian studied the young Centaur, easily recognizing that this was the boy's first time in the presence of wizards. Look at it… So enamoured by a simple Extension Charm. How they've survived this long is beyond even me. The colt was much shorter and leaner than his father, with a coat as black as midnight, and despite his youth, even Sebastian could see that he was a warrior in the making.

"Chief Oreron," Sebastian greeted, his expression blank. "Come in, please. We have much to discuss, you and I."

"I am afraid that we do not," Chief Oreron responded, remaining in his spot. "I have not come here to accept your offer, just as the last time. I merely thought it appropriate, and respectful, to refuse you in person, as a man of your means is due. These negotiations must come to an end, and you must leave this land. My people demand it." You piece of filth! Just get out of my way! Take the gold I'm offering you, and find some other hill to die on!

"This land is mine, Oreron," Sebastian rose up slowly, keeping his tone civil despite his flaring temper. "The Ministry bestowed it upon my family during its founding-"

"Why should we care about your Ministry, two-legs?" Zotair demanded, breaking out of his stupor. What did you just call me, you abomination?! "We are free, and we do not bow to-"

"Zotair, you will be silent," Oreron commanded, and the boy scowled at Sebastian in response. "Forgive my son, Sebastian Greengrass, but as is the nature of the young, his blood runs hot." I can change that, I assure you. "However, there is truth in his words, as crass as they are. This Tribe does not recognize the Ministry as its overlord. We have vowed upon the sacrifices of our ancestors to not bend to its will. We are free, and always will be. The stars will guide our steps, not man."

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to kill them both on the spot. "Gentlemen, let's have a drink, shall we? Have you tasted brandy before, Oreron? I have recently acquired a taste for a certain brand of it-"

"We do not drink with wizards, two-legs," Zotair broke his silence, again. "Each of your kind speaks with venom enough to kill a thousand Centaurs, and I doubt your grog is any different." Poison?

"Your son governs his tongue no better than you govern your people, Oreron," Sebastian said icily, staring at the foolish Chief. "I know your people are hungry. I know they are cold. The Great War has affected us all. Let me help you. Don't let them suffer any longer for your pride."

Oreron stared back at him, and something akin to pity flashed across his face. "Our pride, Sebastian Greengrass." What? "My people and I are one. When they hunger, I hunger. When they are cold, I am cold. We share everything, including pride in our history and heritage. I pity you wizards your lack of community. You live in a far hungrier and colder world than I do." I hate speaking to this thing… This pathetic, would-be wiseman. "It is my people who do not wish to give up this land… This land that has been our home for over five hundred years. My father galloped across these hills, as his father before him, and his father before him. Our mothers are buried here, and to abandon them, so you can disturb and desecrate their bones, would be a sin beyond forgiveness." Enough of this foolishness! I do not care for your dead fathers and mothers! You are a farm animal, nothing more!

"I am willing to give you a ten percent share of the plunder, Oreron," Sebastian hissed, his patience coming to an end. "Ten percent! Do you even understand how much gold that entails?! Your people will never struggle, again! They will want for nothing! You're all lurking above a treasure trove, and you're squandering it!"

"What is within these hills is not ours to take," Oreron said sagely, looking upon his superior with even more pity. "Nor is it yours, Sebastian Greengrass. It will not bring you the peace you seek." Peace?! I don't want peace! I want to undo my foolish father's mistakes! I want everything that should've been mine to begin with!

"This isn't your world, anymore, Centaur," Sebastian sneered in contempt, sitting back down. "You are standing in the way of progress, of civilisation. You refuse to deal with the Ministry, and now, you refuse to deal with me. I have been nothing but generous, nothing but patient, and still, you defy me. You even brought your brat with you to hurl insults at me. You don't know who I am, what I am, so you can't even begin to comprehend the mercy I've shown you."

"I know what you are, Sebastian Greengrass, and I know what your Ministry is, and neither of you are civilisation," Oreron returned, while his son glared daggers at the Greengrass patriarch. "You are man in love with greed, and so, you have forgotten yourselves and found only appetites." The muscled chief then shook his head, gesturing his son to depart. "Goodbye, Sebastian Greengrass. May the stars illuminate your path towards what you truly need, rather than what you desperately desire."

"Damn you!" Sebastian slammed his fist on the table, shaking out of sheer outrage. "Damn you, I'm done with you! Get out of my sight! I will make you rue this day, you wretch! Who are you to defy me?! I am a Greengrass! I am a Lord! You are nothing before me!"

Oreron and his son departed silently, but not before the boy shot Sebastian a deadly, warning look. His terms rejected once again, the Greengrass patriarch roared out of fury and frustration, swiping the contents atop his desk to the ground. Fucking animals! Willing to live in poverty and filth, and trying to force the rest of us to do the same! I'll kill them all! I will burn their homes and slaughter their children! Gritting his teeth, Sebastian slouched in his chair, a million thoughts firing through his mind. Aiden stood motionless across the tent, simply awaiting the command to pack up the camp and return to civilisation.

"I want what's under those hills, Aiden," Sebastian suddenly hissed, sneering at the young man. "I will have what's under those hills, and nothing is going to stop me." Especially not some savage that walks on four legs!

"If you are suggesting what I think you're suggesting, my Lord, I would caution you against it," Aiden advised, already looking sceptical. "Like it or not, but the Ministry recognizes you both as owners of this land-"

"…The Ministry…" Sebastian interrupted, disgust flashing across his thin face. "The only thing they care about is restoring their image, which is why they refuse to step in and send these savages away. Instead, they leave the task to me, and no doubt, they expect hefty bribes to hide the fact that I've chased away more Centaurs on their behalf. They have no love for these creatures, none. They just want to protect themselves from any form of scrutiny." Sebastian leaned back, mulling over his next move. "They won't leave without force; of that I've become certain." And, unfortunately, the last thing I need is another trial.

"They will fight to the last man to defend their home, my Lord," Aiden stated the obvious. "Wouldn't you?"

"You give these animals too much credit," Sebastian scoffed, the former Snatcher was beginning to get on his nerves. What sort of hired killer avoids the idea of killing? I should have let him be shipped off to Azkaban, instead of bribing the Wizengamot to set him free. A foolish investment on my part.

"Perhaps, we can try and bring the offer to Chief Oreron's people directly?" Aiden suggested.

"You think they will accept it?" Sebastian hissed. "You think they can even understand it? No… I am done trying to negotiate with these insolent Half-Breeds! They live in the Wizarding World, and they have no right to any property, especially not those that were rightfully bestowed upon my family! They need to be driven away, and it has to be done in a way that breaks them completely!"

Aiden let out a reluctant sigh, before standing up straighter. "What would you have me do, my Lord?"

"That boy… I will teach him just how venomous I can be," Sebastian smiled darkly. "What destroys a man's spirit, Aiden? Do you know?" The former Snatcher waited for him to share his thoughts. "To see his legacy destroyed. There is no greater injury for a man than that. Even the stoutest of warriors are brought to their knees by such a loss."

"…My Lord…" Aiden muttered, not hiding his shock and revulsion. "I-… I've left such deeds behind me… I vowed never to resort to such-"

"Do you want to be sent to Azkaban, Aiden?" Sebastian asked coldly, his gaze piercing through the younger wizard. "What of your young wife, hm? Hasn't she recently come to be with child? You'd abandon her, and your unborn child, for these four-legged mistakes?" A foolish investment, indeed. I'll need to get rid of him after this. A killer with a growing conscience is useless to me.

Aiden's gaze fell to the ground, doubt flickering across his face. "…They need me, my Lord… Without me, they'll have nothing…"

"I saved you from Azkaban, but if it suits me, I can send you there by the end of the week," Sebastian promised, staring the fool down. "You will do as I command, do you understand? Your life belongs to me."

"…Yes, my Lord…" That's much better.

"My wife has spoken to me of a deadly poison that comes from Africa, one created through a Nundu's toxins," Sebastian shared his plan, the Dark Mark on his left forearm itching fiercely. "It is impossible to detect, and its effects are a terrible sight to behold. Even a small dose is enough to rot a grown man from the inside, but if applied to water and crops with careful consideration, it can breed pestilence and sickness, mimicking a plague. I will secure a vial of this poison, and you, Aiden, will administer it. Within a few weeks, we'll be rid of these foul things, and the work can finally begin." Once he's done what needs to be done, I will kill him as well. He knows too much, and after this, I believe he will try to find a way to be free of me, but I'll make the first move. With this mine up and running, and the lake I've also purchased to rid the waste in, my father's mistakes will finally be fixed. My name will finally be restored, and my family will never be put under threat, again.

---

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Evening)

Sebastian yanked himself out of the Pensieve, a cold shudder making him tremble. To share his younger self's callousness and misplaced pride for even a single memory had nearly overwhelmed him, and now more than ever, he was questioning the man he used to be. What I did to those Centaurs, what I did to Aiden… None of it was for my family, was it? It was all for me… It was all for my own gain… It was… to feel something other than fear and powerlessness… I can lie to the entire world, but I can't lie to myself, anymore. What I felt in that memory, the man I was, I would kill him if he ever dared to approach my girls.

He swallowed thickly, a terrible concoction of shame and guilt washing over him. How could he share this memory with Daphne? How could he make her understand that he was not that man, anymore? How could he prove to her that she, and her sister, had shown him what truly mattered in this life? Is that true, though? Have I changed? Or, have I simply been tamed by time and comfort? I never gave Oreron and his people any thought, and as for Aiden… I forgot that poor boy completely… I took from him what I treasure above all else, and I never lost any sleep over it. Perhaps, Ron is right to hate me as he does… Perhaps, Daphne and Astoria should hate me too…

Returning the accursed memory to his mind, Sebastian hid the Pensieve before pouring himself a drink. When he brought it to his lips, he found that he couldn't appreciate its fine, subtle flavours. It just burned his throat, causing him to discard the drink in his fireplace out of disgust. I am the savage, aren't I? I am the man who invades the home of others, and murders their loved ones just to prove a point. I am a Death-Eater… The Dark Lord would be proud of me-…

A knock at the door disturbed his grim thoughts, and Sebastian felt his throat close up. Daphne? "My Lord, your daughter is here. Lady Mary is with her, so I thought I'd warn you." Jürgen… It's time, then.

Not breaking his silence, Sebastian adorned his black, silver-embroidered cloak and made his way out of the study. With a gesture, he ordered Jürgen to follow him, both of them making their way to the Greeting Room. As the head of his security detail had warned, Mary was with Daphne, the pair of them frantically speaking in hushed whispers. Sebastian hesitated, doubting himself due to Mary's many warnings, and now, the shame festering within him. Maybe, she's right? Maybe, Daphne isn't ready, nor deserves, to face my mistakes? To be burdened by them? Am I being a good father to her by destroying her innocence? As my own father destroyed mine with his mistakes?

"My Lord?" Jürgen whispered, studying him like a shark studies its prey. "Lost your nerve, have you?"

Sebastian shot him a dark glare, but the German mercenary was unfazed by it, even grinning and displaying his filed teeth. We are both monsters, aren't we? Unlike me, however, he is honest enough to show the world what he is, whereas I hide behind any shield that is convenient at the moment.

"Come," Sebastian ordered, moving towards his wife and daughter. "Welcome home, daughter. Snape didn't give you too much trouble, I hope." It's not too late, Sebastian. You can still send her back to Hogwarts.

"Sebastian, take a look at this," Mary spoke up before Daphne could, offering him a letter.

The Greengrass patriarch looked between his wife and daughter, noticing the bottomless concern in their eyes. What has happened? He took the letter and read through it, raising an eyebrow as he finished. So, Elias has turned drunk and abusive, has he? Pathetic old fool.

"Tragic," Sebastian said icily, finding it difficult to care about Anna's, and her ward's, problems, especially not when he had so many of his own.

"We must help them, father," Daphne urged, the resolve in her voice surprising him as she knew neither of them in the slightest. "If this is true, then grandmother's life is in danger!"

"And this boy's, as well," Mary added, her brow furrowed. "Whatever my differences with her, she is still my mother, Sebastian. And my father… To think that he fell so low because of my choices-"

"His choices," Sebastian corrected, frowning a little. "You didn't force a drink into his hand, Mary, he picked it up himself. And your mother… She chose to remain by his side, even as he cast you out. This is not our problem, it's theirs. Forcing ourselves into this feud does nothing but set the eyes of an unhinged man on us."

"She's my mother, and I will help her with or without you, 'husband'," Mary snatched the letter from his hand, while Daphne was left visibly shocked by her harsh tone. "Daphne… Thank you for bringing this to me. Please, consider my words before you go through with this. You are still too young, and those who rush into breaking free from their innocence often come to live with regrets. I don't want that for you, my love. No loving parent ever could."

Sebastian's features softened a little, his wife was still adamantly against his decision, but that no longer angered him… It only made him regret that it had come to this in the first place. Mary departed without another word, clutching the letter tightly in her hand, but not before shooting Jürgen a threatening look. The monstrous mercenary raised his hands and gave a raspy chuckle, she had no doubt threatened to geld him if any harm befell her eldest daughter.

"Father, is mother angry with you?" Daphne asked, concerned.

"Yes, quite so," Sebastian admitted.

"She asked me not to go with you," Daphne told him, and he merely gave a nod in response. "Are you two fighting because of me?"

"No," Sebastian replied, before looking back to Jürgen. "Do you have the Portkey ready?"

"It's in my pocket," Jürgen gave a nod.

"Father, can we speak, first?" Daphne asked, turning her gaze towards the mercenary. "Leave us."

Jürgen quirked an eyebrow, whereas Sebastian couldn't help but appreciate the calmness, and control, with which she had issued the command. He gestured Jürgen to leave without looking back, his eyes studying the distress behind his daughter's eyes. Something is bothering her, I see. Something that has nothing to do with what we're doing, today.

"What is wrong, daughter?" Sebastian asked once they were alone, his gaze unblinking. "Daphne?"

"Has Astoria written to you? Recently, I mean," Daphne spoke up. She did, but you didn't. Why is that?

"…Yes," Sebastian replied, fighting the urge to frown. "Ron called me a 'weak, tiny, greedy rodent' in front of you two, and has since ostracised Astoria from her peers. That is what her letter said, at least."

"It's… sort of true, but not really," Daphne sighed out. I figured as much. "He did insult you right in front of us, but Astoria is not the victim she's pretending to be. She was disrespectful, cruel, and, worst of all, foolish. He didn't give her delegate status, instead he chose those he deemed more worthy. So, she threw a tantrum as she always does whenever she doesn't get her way, screaming at him and demanding that he change his mind, and when that didn't work, she resorted to using you as a means to exploit him."

"Using me?" Sebastian frowned, now. That girl…

"She said that Ron owed her because you're the only reason why he's even famous," Daphne reported, much to Sebastian's ire. Foolish, indeed. He made the right call, but still… Delegates amongst first years? How predictable of you, Ron. "Father, she called him a Blood-Traitor, after which she kicked him and ran off." I knew she was hiding something, but this?

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, deciding to discipline her himself during the upcoming holidays. "Your sister has been coddled for too long, Daphne. Mary and I are to blame for this, but I assure you, I will rectify my mistakes. All of them. You've done well to bring this to my attention. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Her friends are the ones ostracising her, not Ron," Daphne answered, and Sebastian gave an understanding nod. Power like his makes lackeys of the weak-willed. I would know, I have the same effect on them. "His influence, father… It's taken on an entirely new form, now. He doesn't even have to punish those who speak out against him, anymore, their own friends-…" she stopped abruptly, averting her gaze. "…Their own friends turn on them… Threaten them… Silence them… It's as though he's put the majority of Slytherin House under the Imperius Curse."

Sebastian realized quickly enough that Daphne was referring to herself, a realization that vexed him greatly. "Then, they are his friends, not yours. You have no need of them. In time, you will find more loyal allies, and they won't be so quick to turn their backs on you." Such disloyalty must never be tolerated-…

"Are you saying that I should walk away from them, father?" Daphne asked hesitantly, and he gave a nod. "…I can't do that. I-… We love each other, and that's a bond worth fighting for, I believe, even when it hurts. I'm upset with them, sure, but I don't want this to be the reason why we stop being friends. Not after everything that we've been through together." Oh… I see… She's just trying to share her feelings with me, and what do I do? I tell her to walk away from those she holds close to her heart… Oh, Mary, where are you when I need you? "Astoria and I fight all the time, but I'd never walk away from her, nor would you suggest that I do so." That's different, and you should know that already.

"…She is blood. They are not."

"If you can truly only love your blood, then why do you love Ron so much? Why did you cast me aside the day he became your apprentice?" Daphne questioned, catching him off-guard. "Was it simply because he's a boy? Because both you and mother always wanted a son?" Did she just back me into a corner by turning my own words against me? That… was clever of her.

This time, Sebastian averted his gaze. "…It's more complicated than that, Daphne…" Despite our differences, his brilliance was evident to me from the very first time I met him. He was strong, both in mind and body. And his will… Merlin, I'd never met a child with such potent resolve. He came to me from nothing, and now, even I fear his power. Fear it, and respect it. How could I not love that boy? No father could ask for a stronger heir… "I love you both, but for different reasons. That is all I can say."

"…Right," Daphne muttered, before shaking her head. "Mother is much better at this than you are, father. Listening to what I have to say and giving guidance, I mean."

"Mind your father, girl," Sebastian sighed out, though he couldn't really disagree. "I… didn't have friends at Hogwarts. Your mother, on the other hand, had many. You should definitely go to her for matters such as this. Yes, that is for the best." It would save me both time and dignity, and more importantly, stop you from making my mistakes.

"Really? You didn't have any friends at Hogwarts?"

"I didn't attend Hogwarts to make friends, daughter," Sebastian clarified. "And, I have always found other people… irksome. Your mother was the first true friend I made, one that didn't approach me because of my name and impending fortune. Everyone else… They were nothing more than acquaintances, and potential business partners, to me. I treated them as such, and they responded in kind."

"…That sounds dreadful, father," Daphne told him plainly. "I always thought that I had to be like that, and I did try to imitate you, but the last three years… They've been the best years of my life, and they made me realize that I'm stronger for letting people into my heart, not weaker. I found strength within myself that I didn't even know I had, and it's all thanks to them… To him…" She then drew in a steadying breath, looking more certain of herself. "…We should get going before it turns dark. I just wanted you to know the truth behind Astoria's situation."

"There is still time to reconsider joining me, daughter," Sebastian offered. "Your mother is not wrong to try and veer you off this path. What I did to this Tribe-"

"I am doing this for myself as much as I am doing it for you, father," Daphne interrupted, raising her head high. "I've spent my entire life trying to prove myself to you, but now, I need to prove myself to Daphne Greengrass as well. I am coming with you, and nothing will veer me off this path. Not even you."

Sebastian stared into her eyes, and in them he saw a fire that he had never seen before. It both comforted him and alarmed him, reminding him of the first time he'd seen her walk without his help. They grow up so quickly, and if you so much as blink, you can miss an entire chapter in their lives. I won't blink ever again, Daphne. I'll watch it all, for as long as I can.

"Lead the way, then," Sebastian said softly, masking his pride. "Call Jürgen, and give him his orders."

"You want me to do it?" Daphne asked, her lips twitching upwards.

"You are my heir, aren't you?" Sebastian asked in response. "Go on. I know you want to." And, there's a good chance that only you two will be coming home after this meeting, which means he'll be working for you going forward.

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (Hafren Forest – Evening)

Daphne slipped with a yelp, landing on her side in a patch of wet leaves. Blast this rain! Everything is so slippery!

"Daphne?" her father looked back, and she raised her hand to assure him that she was unharmed.

He rushed over and took her by the hand, helping her up onto her feet. "…Thank you, father. I'll be more mindful of where I step." I thought the Portkey would take us directly to the Centaurs… Where even are we?

"How much further, Jürgen?" Sebastian demanded, looking her over for any cuts.

"The River Severn is south of us-" Jürgen started.

"River Severn? That's the longest river in Britain!" Daphne gaped; she was not dressed to go strolling through a forest as dense as this one. "Where exactly have you brought us, mercenary?"

"We're in Hafren Forest, little Lady," Jürgen shot a dark look back, his shark-like eyes looking her up and down. "And we don't have to worry about the River Severn. We just need to follow it for a bit, and we'll find their camp. They've hidden themselves well, but like all life, they are dependent on a fresh water supply. It's how I found them in the first place." He then looked to Sebastian, who was still inspecting his daughter for injuries. "We'd best keep moving, my Lord. It's already getting quite dark, and we don't want to get ambushed, do we?"

"Ambushed?" Sebastian looked to him, frowning.

"These woods are dangerous," Jürgen grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. "Can't you smell the blood in the air?" Merlin's Beard… "There is something out here, my Lord. Something hungry… Something cruel… Come, let's be on our way before it finds us."

Daphne and Sebastian exchanged looks, before swiftly doing as they were bid. Jürgen led them further into the forest, and after quite the hike, they came upon a strand of the River Severn. As the menacing man accompanying them inspected the riverbank, Daphne found herself shivering from the cold. The rain had soaked through her fur-lined, wool cloak, and her leather boots were caked in so much mud that each step caused her legs to burn. She felt miserable, out of place, and entirely at the mercy of Mother Nature. I can't believe the Centaurs father chased away made a home here of all places… They must've been desperate beyond description to find safety in this creepy forest.

Subtly, she inspected her father, noticing that he was once again lost in his thoughts. It was rather unlike him to be so distracted, as she had always admired how focused, confident, and powerful he always appeared, but today was different, wasn't it? Today, much like her, he was out of his element, and as a result, he seemed so much more human. For as long as she could remember, she had harboured doubts about living up to his expectations, his example, but not today. Today, she felt as though they were equals. They were working together to right the wrongs of the past, and despite her anxieties regarding the Centaurs, she felt oddly relieved, and even happy, to be here with him. Today, she was his firstborn and heir, and no matter what came next, she wouldn't let him, nor herself, down.

"A couple of them passed through here recently," Jürgen returned to them, pointing east. "Their camp is close. I followed the river down from here, I remember now. Keep your guards up from here on out."

"Why would they set up camp so close to the river?" Sebastian asked, looking wary and thoughtful. "If their intent is to hide from the Wizarding World and the Muggle World, then surely it would be wiser to set up camp somewhere deeper in the forest. Jürgen, you've seen this camp for yourself, haven't you?"

"I saw it from a distance, yes," Jürgen replied promptly. "There is a clearing surrounded by tall, thick trees where they've set up. It's impossible to get close to their camp without getting spotted."

"We shouldn't sneak up on them, father," Daphne suggested, and he nodded in agreement. "We're here to help them, not rob them."

"And if they attack us on sight?" Jürgen asked her, staring through her. "Are you going to protect us, little Lady?" Stop calling me that!

"Show my daughter the respect she is due, Jürgen," Sebastian said warningly, before looking to Daphne. "I will go in first, Daphne. You're to stay by Jürgen's side until I send for you." What? No!

"Father, if they recognise you, which they definitely will, they'll attack you," Daphne argued, she had given this quite a bit of thought. "But if I'm with you, a young girl, they'll feel less threatened-"

"Have you ever seen a Centaur before, little Lady?" Jürgen cut in, looking annoyed, now.

"Well, no… But I've read about them-"

"Oh, she's read about them," Jürgen scoffed, shaking his head. "Did your books tell you how brutal and bloodthirsty they can be? Did your books tell you that they stomp their enemies into a fine paste, which they then consume during their Shamanistic Rituals?" They don't do that, do they? He's making that up, surely… "I don't think you've realized yet that you might be fatherless by the end of the night, little Lady." …What?

Daphne looked to her father, who was simply staring down at her with an unreadable expression. Circe… It's true, isn't it? "Father? You didn't come here knowing that they might-?"

"I did," Sebastian interjected, giving a short nod. "Do as I ask, Daphne. This is not a game. I don't plan to die just yet, but if something goes wrong, I want you to be safe." He then looked back to Jürgen. "You will protect her with your life, do you understand?"

"If you die, then who pays me?" Jürgen asked in response.

"Mary will see to it, mercenary," Sebastian promised, while Daphne just looked between the two with ever-mounting dread. "But if something happens to our daughter, she won't rest until you're in the dirt. No matter where you go, no matter how well you hide yourself, she will have you discovered and put down."

Jürgen stared at Sebastian for a few silent moments, and then, he took Daphne by the arm and roughly pulled her to his side. Ow! "I'll keep her safe, my Lord."

"Why didn't we bring more mercenaries with us, father?" Daphne had to ask, dumbfounded. "If your life is in so much danger here, then why didn't you bring every single-?"

"If there is to be violence, tonight, then it won't come from me," Sebastian interjected, stopping her short. "…When we last met, they were at my mercy. It's only fitting now that I be at theirs."

"Fitting?" Daphne blinked; this was unbelievable. "I don't care about what's fitting! I don't want you to die! Father, we still have the Portkey-!"

"You will compose yourself, now," her father commanded, his sudden harsh tone making her go rigid. "If they see me approach with over a dozen men, there will be pandemonium. I have come here to exchange words with Chief Oreron, their leader, and that won't happen if I have hired killers at my back. Don't think with your heart, Daphne… Think with what's in your head. Sometimes, you have to negotiate from a position of weakness, and this is one of those times-"

"Quiet," Jürgen suddenly hissed, stopping the lecture before it could truly begin. "Fuck… We've made a mistake… Damn you both for distracting me with your constant talking!" What's wrong? "Don't you sense that?! We're not alone!"

Daphne looked to Jürgen to elaborate, while both he and Sebastian began looking around with widening eyes. "Daphne, get behind Jürgen, now!"

"What's going on?" Daphne asked, quickly doing as she was told. "Father?"

"Took you long enough, you ugly bastard," came a cheery voice from behind a nearby tree, before a dark-skinned woman with a green mohawk stepped out from behind it. "Well, well, well… What do we have here? The Three Stooges?"

"London?" Jürgen sneered, drawing his wand. London? I've seen this witch somewhere before, haven't I? "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Around two dozen more wizards and witches revealed themselves, and with the river right behind them, the trio were cornered with no chance of escape. What's going on here?! Who are these people?! Were they waiting to ambush us?!

"…Ron…" Sebastian muttered in disbelief, also drawing his wand. Ron? Oh, no… Are these his mercenaries? From the Werewolf Sanctuary? What the hell are they doing here? "What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves!"

The mercenaries creeped closer and closer, and much to Daphne's horror, each of them looked ready to execute the trio in cold blood. A million questions were firing through her head, but the most prominent one was how Ron's mercenaries had gotten here before them. The letter… Father sent me a letter on Wednesday, and Ron saw the seal on it. He must've figured out what it was about. This is all my fault!

"Answer me, woman!" Sebastian suddenly roared, but 'London' just laughed at him.

"You shout at me again, you fucking Death-Eater, and I'll drown you in the river," London warned, her voice full of mirth despite her threat. "I'll make your precious daughter watch, even."

Daphne felt her gut tighten into a knot; Ron wouldn't allow this witch to harm them, would he? Does he truly hate my father so much? No… He's angry, I know, but this is too much… This is going too far, even for him…

"The boss thought you'd come here with more men, but you really came here with just your daughter and the cannibal, didn't you?" London suddenly laughed, as did some of those following her lead. Cannibal? "You stupid, arrogant fucker… You really think you're untouchable, don't you? I ought to prove you wrong right here and now."

"Enough of this," Jürgen pushed himself past Sebastian, growling like an animal. "Look around you, London. What do you see?"

London shrugged, smirking. "Trees?"

"Rain, you dumb bitch," Jürgen snarled through his filed teeth, wiping the smug smiles off many faces. "Oh, and there's an overflowing river right behind me. Of all the places you could've ambushed us, you picked this one? Have you not heard of me? Has that Troll captain of yours never mentioned what I'm capable of?"

Jürgen snapped his fingers with his spare hand, and the rain droplets around them became perfectly still mid-air, forming a bubble around them in which all water was seemingly now under his command. Daphne, and everyone else, went wide-eyed, save for London. How did he do that?!

"Hydromancy," London's smirk grew, she didn't appear all that impressed. "I know what you're capable of, cannibal. We've all heard of your… exploits."

"Then, you know that right now, in this place, I can kill all of you without breaking a sweat," Jürgen rolled his shoulders, as if preparing himself for a fight. This is getting out of hand! There's no way that Ron would order these people to kill father! He's not a murderer!

"Let's test that claim, then," London challenged. "It only takes one Curse, cannibal… Just one. You reckon you can protect those two and fight us all at the same time?"

"Stop it!" Daphne finally found her voice, rushing to her father's side.

"Daphne, get back-!"

"I know Ron! He wouldn't put you up to this!" Daphne exclaimed, focusing on keeping her voice strong and commanding. "You're not here to fight us! You're just here to intimidate us! You're here to force us away from the Centaur Tribe!" London said nothing in response, merely quirking an eyebrow at her. "Well, it's not going to work! My father and I are here to undo the mistakes of our family, and we won't be chased away by the likes of you!"

"Undo the mistakes of your family?" London repeated, losing all her mirth. "Some mistakes can't be undone, girl. They can only be avenged." She then took a step forward, adorning a rather menacing glare. "You might know the boss, but you don't know me. I don't always follow orders, and I hate spoiled little tarts like you with a passion." Spoiled little tarts? "So, maybe, I'll just kill you for the fun of it. Or, maybe, I'll give a scar like mine to show off to your friends." London raised her head, revealing a grotesque scar that ran along her entire neck. "A man like your father gave me this, girl, after he raped and murdered my big sister. He took her right in front of me, and then, he cut my throat because I wouldn't stop screaming." Daphne paled, swallowing thickly as the older witch's gaze alone made her shrink. "You're in the wilderness, now, and there are monsters out here. So, I suggest you shut the fuck up and let the adults do the talking, yeah?" …Okay…

"This has gone far enough," Sebastian hissed, pulling the jarred Daphne behind himself and shielding her with his body. "What is your purpose here? If you wanted to attack us, you would've done that before we discovered you. If you wanted us to leave this place, you wouldn't have let us get this close to the Centaurs. What is it that you're after? What has your master ordered you to do, exactly?"

"We…" she paused, gesturing her company to lower their wands, "…are here to escort you." Escort us? Then, why threaten us to begin with?! Did Ron tell her to do that?! What's he playing at?!

"We can find our own-" Sebastian started, but stopped when she shushed him.

"You either come with us, or you leave and never return," London stated with a finality that left no room for negotiation. "Make no mistake, Death-Eater, we're the only way you're getting into that camp without being shot full of arrows."

"Jürgen?" Sebastian whispered, shooting the 'cannibal' a quick glance.

"If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead," Jürgen whispered back. "I can still take them, but it's your call." We can't take them! There's over twenty of them!

"Father, we should take her offer," Daphne whispered, pulling at his cloak. "Ron didn't leave them here to fight us, I think. He believes that you plan to finish off the Centaurs, so he's left them here to protect the Tribe. And… Well, going with them is still a better option than you going in alone." I still can't believe he's done this… When did he come to this forest, exactly? He's been at Hogwarts this entire time, hasn't he?

"…That accursed boy…" Sebastian grumbled, sheathing his wand. "Jürgen, put down your wand. We'll go with them, but be ready to grab Daphne and use the Portkey."

"Stay with me, little Lady," Jürgen whispered, sheathing his wand. "And do exactly as I say at all times. No arguments."

"…I understand," Daphne muttered, what had she gotten herself into? None of this is going as I thought it would, and now, we're at the mercy of a bunch of brigands. Ron… I really do hate you, sometimes… Why couldn't you just leave this to us? Why do you have to get involved in everything? And why do you refuse to see that my father isn't who he used to be? After all he did for you, after he put you before his own blood, you cut all ties with him over a mistake he made a decade ago? I was right… You really are heartless…

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"There it is," London pointed towards a parting within the trees, while Daphne took the chance to stop and rest her sore legs. Thank Merlin… I hope I never have to come back here, again. I'm not built for hikes like this.

"They know we're coming, I assume," Sebastian said, and London gave a nod.

"The boss made sure of it, yeah," London responded, a hint of disgust still evident in her tone. "The cannibal stays out here with my men. Only you, the girl, and I go inside."

"Why?" Daphne questioned, studying the scowling faces of Ron's mercenaries. They want to hurt us… I can see it in their eyes. Will Jürgen really be safe out here by himself? "If they know we're coming, then why do we need to split up?"

"Who told you that you could speak, huh?" London shot a cruel look back, sneering. "You're only here because this coward wants to hide behind your skirt, that's it." That's not true! My father is no coward! He's come here willingly, despite knowing that he might lose his life! If that's not brave, then I don't know what is! "You have one minute to make your decision, Greengrass. You either do as you're told, or we send you packing to your palace."

With that, London walked away towards the parting, leaving the trio to whisper amongst each other while Ron's killers-for-hire loomed over them.

"Jürgen, wait out here for Daphne and I," Sebastian started, his eyes subtly scanning those around them. "If anything goes wrong, I'll fire a red spark into the sky. Break away from these fools and come find us."

"She's going to take your wand from you," Jürgen pointed out. "If anything goes wrong, you two will need to scream." Scream? "Even then, I doubt I'll reach you in time to stop a camp full of angry Centaurs from ripping you two to pieces. You go in there, my Lord, and you'll be at their mercy. There's no question about it. The boy's cornered you, but there's still time to leave with your life, and I suggest you take that into consideration." If we leave now, it'll just prove Ron right. If we stay, we'll be powerless to stop the Centaurs from executing father. Is that Ron's plan? Does he really wish death upon my father, now? Is he… capable of something like that? He's not the most stable person, sure, but I can't believe he'd go that far-…

"…Damn him for interfering…" Sebastian suddenly hissed, something dangerous flashing behind his eyes. "Still, he's given us an opening that we might not have had otherwise. We must press on, and in due time, turn this to our advantage."

"Turn this to our advantage?" Daphne blinked, before adorning a sterner expression. "Father, we're here to help the Centaurs, nothing more. This isn't about you and Ron trying to best each other… It's about us doing the right thing. I'm not happy about this, either, but we can't let Ron distract us from our purpose." I am going to give him a piece of my mind when I get back, though. Does he really believe that he's the only person alive who's allowed to do good for others? Is he really that fucking arrogant, now?

Sebastian stared at her, and then, he gave a soft nod. "…You are right, daughter. This isn't about him, and I would do well to remember that. Thank you."

Daphne smiled a little, giving an approving nod. "Then, we're doing this?"

"Yes, we're doing this. Jürgen, keep your eyes and ears open. If this turns ugly, you are to-"

"Get her out of here," Jürgen interjected. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything."

"That'll have to do, I suppose," Sebastian said, turning and heading towards London. "Come, Daphne."

The pair of them walked over to London, who met them halfway. "Give me your wands, both of you."

"Daphne, do as she asks," Sebastian ordered, and they both handed their wands to London, who pocketed them without delay.

"All right, then… Time to go meet the Chief, Death-Eater," London said coolly, before her eyes moved onto Daphne. "You're to stick with me at all times, girl. If they decide to bring your father to justice, which they really fucking should, the boss wants me to get you out of here." Why does she keep calling him 'the boss'? And who is he to decide what happens to me and my father?! If he wants nothing to do with our family, as he so claimed, then why is he sticking his massive nose in our affairs?

"I don't care about what he wants," Daphne straightened her back, mustering all of her courage. "I will not abandon my father. We're not leaving until we reach an agreement with this Chief."

"Daphne, don't argue with her," Sebastian said strictly, shooting her a meaningful look. "Your commitment to our task makes me proud, but don't be rash." I'm not being rash; I'm being a loyal daughter. "Mercenary, I leave her in your care. Don't punish her for her father's mistakes."

"Mistakes, he says," London scoffed, disgust dancing across her face. "You've no understanding of what you've done to these people, what you've taken from them, but you're about to learn. I wonder if your daughter will ever look you in the eyes after tonight…" What's that supposed to mean? "If you were my father, I certainly wouldn't."

With that, London led them towards the parting, and as they got closer and closer, a strange odour slowly began to overpower the smells of the wet forest. By the time they reached the parting, Daphne had to fight the urge to pinch her nose, for the smell had now become overwhelmingly foul. Ugh… What is that?! It smells horrible! She shot a subtle glance at her father, noticing that she wasn't alone in her displeasure, as the Greengrass patriarch looked as though he'd sucked a lemon.

As they stepped past the parting, the Centaur camp came into full view. Aged, tattered yurts were dispersed throughout the clearing, as if the Centaurs preferred to be distant from one another, and amidst the yurts, Daphne could see the Centaurs going about their day in a rather lethargic manner. They moved slowly, many of them even limping, and when she squinted her eyes, she quickly realized that they were sick and suffering from malnutrition.

"Cover your nose and mouth with this, Daphne," her father suddenly whispered, offering her his handkerchief.

"Father, they could see that as disrespectful-"

"Just do it," Sebastian ordered. "There is pestilence here, daughter, and I will not risk your health over simple gestures. Take it, now."

"…Yes, father," Daphne did as she was bid, holding the handkerchief to her nose.

Despite its pleasant fragrance, the handkerchief failed to hold off the terrible odour surrounding them, though it did make things slightly more bearable. They followed London towards the camp, and Daphne found herself feeling more and more anxious with each step. What if the Centaurs attacked them? What if this vile witch was leading them towards their deaths? What if all of this was Ron's plan to 'avenge' those who her father had wronged so long ago? Why had he gone out of his way to visit this tribe before they could? Why had he left so many mercenaries behind to patrol the forest for them? I feel like we've missed a piece of the puzzle, and that's going to cost us dearly.

Perhaps, they never should've come here in the first place…

Daphne continued to follow after London and her father, keenly studying her surroundings in the hopes of spotting any danger before it could reach them. However, all she saw was sickness and fear… There wasn't a single Centaur, young or old, that didn't have deformities of varying sorts. Most of them had boils and blemishes on both their upper bodies and lower bodies, some had discoloured, wilting coats which left them at the mercy of the unfortunate weather, and a few too many of them had deformed, misshapen limbs. They all hurried out of the way of the trio, as if trying to hide themselves, but Daphne could not stop staring at them. This didn't make any sense to her. Why were they all so sickly and frail? Why were so many of them covered in pus-filled boils? Why were some of them supporting limbs that hadn't grown with the rest of their bodies? Father said he used poison on their crops, but no poison could do this to so many, could it?

Daphne felt her feet come to a stop when she spotted a pair of boys staring back at her from behind their alarmed mother, they appeared to be somewhat enamoured by her fine clothing, as wet and muddy as it was, but it was her beautiful, golden hair that had enthralled them so completely. I can see their ribs… Both sets of them, actually… And-… Merlin, they have boils growing on their hindlegs… They're sick as well, aren't they? Why…? They're little more than toddlers by the looks of it, so they couldn't possibly have been there when father did what he did… Is there a plague here? Is that what's happening?

"Keep up, girl," London ordered, also coming to a stop. "Oi, are you listening to me?"

Daphne remained rooted to her spot, her eyes traveling towards more and more fearful faces amongst the older Centaurs, and when she followed their gazes with her own, she found herself staring at her father. It's him… They're terrified of him… Not London and I, just him… Sebastian also stood motionless, but unlike her, his expression was that of stone, a fact that made her deeply uncomfortable in a way that she couldn't describe. He was just watching them, without any form of pity behind his eyes, as if he were staring at statues rather than living, breathing people. Emotions are a weakness to him, Daphne… He's hiding how he feels, that's all… What kind of person would see this and not be disturbed? Especially when he's seemingly the cause of it all?

"Are you two done staring at the poor blighters?" London walked over to them, yanking Daphne forward. "C'mon! Move it! I don't have all day!"

Daphne stumbled, but quickly found her balance, before moving ahead alongside her eerily silent father. She removed the handkerchief from her face, keeping her gaze ahead in order to avoid looking at another Centaur for fear of her heart breaking into a million pieces. How could anyone live like this? Surrounded by filth, disease, and an odour so foul that it could only be described as Death's own breath? And, worst of all, how could it be her own father, a man she had always revered and looked up to, that was behind all of this suffering? How could he spend a decade living in comfort while these poor people were dying of disease and hunger? …He didn't know… That's the only explanation… He didn't know, nor did he care enough to find out… Once he had sent them on their way, they were no longer his concern… He just forgot about them… Like they were nothing…

"While he's been living in comfort, sipping his fucking Apple Brandy, that tribe has been out in the cold this entire time," Ron's voice snarled in her head, making her stomach churn. "Never once did he give them a passing thought, not until he lied to me about them and got caught!"

Daphne lowered her head, feeling openly ashamed of being her father's daughter, as if she too was guilty merely through association. Was Ron right all along? Am I just some sheltered, privileged girl trying to play at grownup? I-… How am I supposed to do this, then? Who am I supposed to be? I spent my whole life trying to be the perfect heiress, but then, I got replaced by own boyfriend, who now hates me and my entire family, and walking through this horrible place, I can't blame him… Even mother… She knew about this… That's why she was trying to warn me against coming. Didn't she always tell me to care for others, even those who aren't human? Isn't she the one who gave the displaced Fae a home out of compassion? Then, how can she ignore this? How can she be so hypocritical? Who exactly are my parents? Who am I? What part do I play in-?

"Stop right there," London suddenly grabbed the back of her cloak, making her jump from fright. "…Easy there, girl. We're at the Chief's place."

Daphne looked up, staring at a large yurt that looked as though it had seen better days a century ago, and she couldn't help but think of Greengrass Manor. Is this really where their Chieftain lives? I wonder what they would think of my home… It would be like stepping into a different world-…

"Let me do the talking, daughter," Sebastian whispered to her, while London entered the yurt. "Daphne?"

"…I heard you…" Daphne muttered back, forcing her head to remain facing forward. …I don't want to look at him right now… These people don't need our help, they need so much more than that… They need Healers… They need the Ministry… They need-…

London suddenly exited the yurt, and from behind her, a lanky, boil-ridden Centaur limped out. Daphne immediately felt intimidated due to his strange appearance, gawking at the poorly-crafted iron mask he wore to hide his face. What little of his black coat she could see was rough and unclean, and when she lowered her gaze, she realized that he was limping because his left fore-leg was significantly shorter than the rest, forcing him to hop with each step. Daphne drew in a shaky breath as he came to a stop before them, fearing the terrible judgement he was going to pass on her father. If I were him, I don't think I'd be capable of showing any mercy. Merlin, we should have stayed far away from this place-…

"Sebastian Greengrass," the Chief whispered, his soft, soothing voice taking Daphne by surprise. "We meet again, in spite of what the stars foretold. These are strange times, indeed."

"…Zotair…?" Sebastian muttered, taken by surprise himself.

"You remember my name?" Chief Zotair asked gently, studying the Greengrass patriarch from head-to-toe.

"…I do…" her father replied, before clearing his throat. "Your father has passed, then?"

"He runs free through the Eternal Woods, yes," Chief Zotair answered, sounding oddly relieved about it. "I will join him soon, I believe. A comforting thought that gives me much strength these days."

Silence fell between the two, prompting Daphne to look between them, and as she did so, she saw an expression on her father's face that she had never seen before. He just stood there, as if frozen in time, his brow furrowed and his lips parted, even as no words left them.

He was speechless, which only served to heighten her anxieties. Who is this Chief? How does father know him by name?

"Is this your child, Sebastian Greengrass?" Chief Zotair broke the silence, turning his iron face towards her.

"…Y-Yes, Chief Zotair…" Daphne managed, her throat tightening up. Did I say his name right?

"She must get her beauty from her mother," Chief Zotair joked, chuckling a little to himself before coughing roughly. "…Forgive me, child, if my mask frightens you. What lies underneath is far more terrible, and we have children of our own who need their sleep."

"…It doesn't frighten me, Chief Zotair…" Daphne lied, and when he kept staring at her, she averted her gaze. "…Sorry…"

"What happened to you all, Zotair?" Sebastian spoke up, 'subtly' pulling Daphne a little closer to his side. "I gave your father gold… More than enough to meet your needs… How have you come to live like this?"

"Gold forged by Goblin-Kind for Wizarding-Kind, not for us," Chief Zotair looked back to her father. "Gold that tore our people apart even further when it was discovered. Argenope, my father's oldest, and greatest, rival, accused him of playing a part in your treachery. She led a revolt that ended my father's life, after which she adopted me as her own son. To appear merciful and wise, of course, for she bore no love for me, nor for our Tribe. Unlike my father, she saw peace between our peoples as nothing more than subservience on our part, and when she grew weary of leading a Tribe of sick, crippled Centaurs, she took our healthiest warriors and left us for the crows. I seized what was left of our once proud Tribe, and I brought them here so they could live out their final years away from man."

"…The seven children who died… They were just the first?" Sebastian asked, and Daphne felt the urge to kick him as hard as she could. …Monster…

"Do not act the fool, Sebastian Greengrass, for you insult us both by doing so," Chief Zotair said softly, his calmness was infinitely more frightening than the rage Daphne had been expecting. "You wanted us destroyed, and so, you destroyed us. At first, it was only seven of our youngest, our most vulnerable, but we had all eaten from the same crops, drunk from the same well, and in time, their sickness became our sickness. By the time my father realized exactly what you had done, our end was already written in the stars. Death became our closest companion, stealing away our young and old at every opportunity, and when they weren't enough to sate its hunger, it left its mark on the rest of us. We are all spirits here, Sebastian Greengrass, waiting for the Eternal Woods to reveal themselves to us."

Sebastian lowered his head, letting out a shaky breath. "…I… am sorry, Zotair… I did not expect to find you all in such dire circumstances…"

"Are you sorry for us? Or, are you sorry for yourself?" Chief Zotair questioned, and Sebastian looked back up. "The veil has been lifted from your eyes, I see that, but not completely. This is good." It is?

"…Good? What do you mean by that?"

"A man with your means, with your power, he could ensure that this never happens to anyone else while he draws breath," Chief Zotair elaborated, surprising both Daphne and Sebastian. "Once the veil falls completely, it is my belief that this world will become a kinder place. And that is good, is it not?" …What?

"…You don't wish vengeance upon me?" her father asked, and Daphne had to admit, she was asking the same question internally. "…Zotair, I don't understand…"

"You wish me to repay death with more death?" Chief Zotair asked, before shaking his head weakly. "No. I have seen enough of it, already. You may go, Sebastian Greengrass. Be with your family, but never forget us. Remember us, and when your eyes are finally freed, remember my words. That is all I have to say to you." It can't end like this! We can't just leave them to die! This is so wrong!

"We can help you all!" Daphne blurted out, taking a step forward. "We can bring Healers, food, blankets-!"

"That has been taken care of, child," Chief Zotair stopped her, raising his frail, scabbed hand. "He came to us last night, unseen even by the stars themselves. A phantom wearing a crown of fire." Ron? That's who he's talking about, right? "And with him came killers bearing nourishment and compassion. I tried to turn them away, turn him away, but I couldn't."

"…Couldn't?" Daphne blinked. "He… forced his help onto you?"

Chief Zotair stared at her, again, and she waited for his response with baited breath. "There was water in his eyes, child." Water in his eyes? "No veil shrouded his vision, and in all my life, I had never seen a wizard weep for Centaurs. I could not turn him away, not after witnessing such a miracle." …Ron… "Our pain became his pain, and I saw it unfold before my very eyes. He will make our passing more bearable, and that is enough. It is more than enough. Your father and you need not suffer on our account. We will not be here for much longer." He then looked back to Sebastian, who was once again speechless. "I forgive you, so that you can forgive others when the time comes."

"…I don't… understand…" her father repeated, blinking rapidly.

"You will, Sebastian Greengrass, but not today," Chief Zotair turned around with great struggle, limping back towards his yurt past London. "Leave our woods, owl witch. You and the others have scared away all the good game."

"We'll be back next week with another shipment," London said, and Chief Zotair stopped by the entrance. "We'll leave it at the edge of the camp, Sir. You won't even see us, I promise."

"Bring the phantom with you, if you are able," Chief Zotair requested. "I wish to know how he eludes the sight of the stars. I will share my knowledge for his. A fair trade, as the Goblins like to say." What does he mean by the 'sight of the stars'? This… is not how this was supposed to go…

"I'll let him know, Sir," London promised, and Chief Zotair limped back inside his yurt. "All right, you two… Let's go. We've disturbed these people enough." Daphne continued to stare at the Chief's yurt, until London turned her around forcibly and pushed her forward. "Move! You're done here!"

"Leave her be, damn you," Sebastian warned, taking Daphne's hand in his. Don't touch me!

Out of sheer revulsion, she yanked her hand away from the man, surprising both him and London. You and mother… You're both sick in the head! Whatever happened to you two in the Great War, it turned you into monsters! And I don't want anything to do with either of you! Daphne then began walking away in silence, feeling as though she was floating through her own life with no control over it. The sickly Centaurs looked on in silence, and she made sure to memorise each of their faces so they could haunt her in her dreams, just so that she would never make her parents' horrendous, selfish choices.

---

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Nearly Dinner)

"Daphne? You're leaving without saying goodbye?" her mother approached in a hurry, no doubt hoping to question Daphne about her trip. I shouldn't have taken so long in the bath… I wanted to leave before she came back from the gardens.

"…Goodbye, mother," Daphne said half-heartedly, reaching for the floo powder.

"At least, look at me, dearest," Mary moved to her side, taking Daphne's reaching hand into her own. "Please, let me see you. It wasn't too dreadful, was it?" Dreadful? Oh, please… Dreadful is too gentle a word for what I saw…

Daphne turned to face her mother, letting the older witch inspect her for any cuts and bruises. She wanted to scream and shout, to demand that her mother feel just as wretched as she did, but she just couldn't muster up the energy. Her mind, and body, felt lethargic, as if it were swimming in molasses, and so, she stood quietly as her mother examined her. I'm going straight to bed when I get back. I'll put up Silencing Charms around my curtains, snuggle up with Ezekiel, and just sleep… I need this day to end, already.

"…He never should've taken you with him," Mary sighed out, despite looking relieved due to the lack of physical harm. "Oh, Daphne… I never wanted you to see you lose your innocence so young… I'm so sorry." What innocence? It died in Hogsmeade months ago.

"Sorry? For me?" Daphne asked, staring through the Greengrass matriarch. "Pity you're not sorry for those Centaurs. They need your sorry a lot more than I do." Can you just go away? I don't want to talk to you.

Mary blinked, letting go of Daphne's hand. "How can you say that to me? I am sorry for them. Of course, I am. When I found out what your father did to them, I forced him go back there and give them the means to find a new home-"

"You threw gold in their face, you mean, as if that would bring back their children," Daphne stated bluntly, her voice low and drawn out. "Mother… Leave me alone, will you? I just want to go home and sleep so I can put this day behind me."

Mary stared at her, visibly hurt. "…This is your home, Daphne… All of this, everything we have… It's yours, and your sister's…" The young blonde looked around the excessively gaudy Greeting Room, wondering why she ever found this Manor beautiful to begin with. I never questioned how it got built, that's why. Well, now, I know… For better or worse, I know… "Daphne, speak to me, please? You're starting to scare me."

"…I don't care," was all Daphne could muster up, turning towards the fireplace. "I hope it was worth it, mother, to ignore such cruelty and evil for love. You two really are made for each other." I should've just stayed with the Weasleys. They're honest, and they live honestly. That's worth more than all the gold in the world, I think. No, I know! I know it's worth more!

"I realize that it's hard to understand right now, given your youth and kind heart, but the world isn't so black and white, Daphne," Mary urged, not stopping her daughter from preparing the floo. "I was your age once, and I too found it impossible to forgive those that-"

"Just shut up, already," Daphne interjected venomously, reaching her limit. "I don't want to hear any more of your excuses. I want to go home. Leave me alone." Go spend your Death-Eater husband's blood-money, or something… Let him buy you pretty dresses and shiny jewels, so you can forget that he destroys hundreds of lives without losing a second of sleep over it.

Not even sparing Mary another glance, Daphne stepped through the fire, leaving Greengrass Manor behind and walking into Professor Snape's office. So occupied was she with her inner turmoil that she missed the Potions Master completely, until he cleared his throat loudly and made her jump. Ugh! This creep! Always lurking in the shadows!

"You're late," Professor Snape hissed icily, and Daphne let out a tired breath. Sod off, you ugly, vindictive cretin.

"…Give me a detention, then…" she said detachedly, before walking away.

She passed through the office, the lab, and then even the Dungeons, floating through the castle's lowest floors as if in a trance. She even whispered the password to reveal the common room without realizing it, descending the stairs and finding herself suddenly surrounded by deafening laughter and overwhelming joy. The Slytherins were excitedly preparing for tonight's party, with the older students already having drinks while the younger students ran about wildly from decoration to decoration. Daphne's eyes glazed over them all, before locking onto a head of red hair standing before the portrait of Carrington Rowle.

"Don't you cover me up, Blood-Traitor! Don't you do it!" the portrait yelled indignantly, while Ron and the first years laughed at it. "You filthy dog! I'm warning you… I'm warning you! DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!"

"Go on, Derek! Do it, already!" John Fawley encouraged. "He's starting to annoy me!"

"Blind the tattle-tale!" Lysandra giggled, pointing an accusing finger at the portrait.

"It's easy, mate," Ron patted the nervous, chubby boy on the back. "Wingardium Leviosa. Say it clearly, now."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Derek chanted, his voice cracking a little.

A green and silver cover floated up slowly, much to the portrait's dismay. "NO! You little monsters! I'll remember this! I WILL REMEMBER THIS!"

With a bit of struggle, Derek managed to fully cover the large portrait, after which Ron used the Sticking Charm to keep said cover in place. The first years wasted no time in cheering for their friend, who had turned as red as a tomato. All of them are together, save for Tori… She must be in her room all by herself… Damn, I'm going to have to do something about her, because she's not going to back down until she ends up friendless and alone.

"Now, the Silencing Charm," Ron continued, looking to Sebastian Cunningham. "You're up, handsome. Go on. Do it just like I taught you."

"Silencing Charm?!" a voice shouted from behind the cover. "You disrespectful demons! Your mothers are all concubines of the Devil! Their genitals are a gateway to the Nine Hells! Damn all of-!"

The shouting came to an abrupt end, followed by loud cheers from the first years. Ron laughed alongside them, patting Sebastian on the arm so hard that the small boy nearly fell over.

"Now, who wants to help me silence Alexia Walkin Black?!" Ron grinned from ear-to-ear.

"Hestia and I will do it!" Flora volunteered, much to her quieter sister's displeasure. "C'mon, Hestia! This way!"

The first years hurried to the other side of the common room, while Ron followed at a far more leisurely pace. How is he so calm right now? How can he smile so easily after having seen what I just saw? Where does he find the strength to go on like nothing's wrong? She couldn't help but properly regret their fight in his room, now. He had been an arse, yes, but she had been naïve and far too eager to forgive her father's crimes. Loyalty is a good thing, but it can also blind you. I get it, now. After learning the truth about Astoria, I just wanted us all to stay together. Ron, included. But that's never going to happen, and I'm okay with that, because I finally understand… Some mistakes can't be undone, and it falls to good people to avenge them. If they don't do it, then who will? The Ministry doesn't care, the Purebloods don't care, no one in this country cares… We just don't think about how it feels to step into the shoes of those less fortunate than ourselves. As a matter of fact, we go out of our way not to-…

"What's wrong, Daphne?" Theo approached her from the side, a cool smirk on his face. "Why are you just standing there like the most gorgeous of statues?" I'm not in the mood for your games, Theo. Go away. Daphne shrugged pathetically, before walking away towards the girls' dorms. "Rejected, again… I'll just go have another drink, then, won't I?"

Glad to have left the noise behind, Daphne entered her room and locked the door behind herself, before leaning against it. "…What am I going to do about all this? I don't want to leave it like this, but-… But they deserve better than the daughter of the man who destroyed them… What am I supposed-?"

"You're back!" Pansy suddenly rushed around the corner of her bed in nothing but her underwear, only half of her make-up done. "Merlin's Beard, Daph… I was starting to get really worried! I'll finish up my make-up, and then do yours! There'll be plenty of time if we skip dinner-"

"…I'm not in the mood to party, Pansy," Daphne said tiredly, already heading for her bed. "You lot have fun, all right? I'm just… going to sleep…"

"What? No, you have join us!" Pansy urged, following after her. "This is going to be the best one yet, Daph! Ron's going all out-!"

"Pansy, just-…" Daphne started harshly, but promptly forced herself to stop. "…Please… Leave me alone…"

The raven-haired witch blinked repeatedly, before adorning a look of genuine concern. "Daphne, what happened? And why are you wearing different clothes than the ones you left in? Where did you go?"

Daphne felt her nose twitch, the horrid smell of the Centaur camp still lingering in her memories. "…Try not to get too drunk, all right? I've noticed that some of the fourth-year and fifth-year boys have been eyeballing you ever since you wore that bizarre 'goth' dress."

"I have a boyfriend, remember?" Pansy waved a dismissive hand, but Daphne knew that she liked the attention nonetheless. "Do you want me to stay with you, tonight? You look like you need a friend to talk to-"

"No, it's okay," Daphne stopped her, even managing a rather sorry smile for her friend's sake. "You should go have fun with the others. I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Are you sure?" Pansy asked. "It's just a party, Daph. There will be others."

"I'm sure," Daphne slipped out of her shoes, before moving onto her bed. "…Goodnight, Pansy."

With that, she drew the curtains before Pansy could further insist. Now utterly alone, Daphne finally did the one thing she had wanted to do for the last two hours. She curled up into a ball beside Ezekiel, her overly large teddy-bear, and she silently sobbed for the poor souls waiting for death to claim them as well, just so they could be reunited with their loved ones. Father, how could you…?

---

Saturday 8th May, 1994 (Hogwarts – Near Midnight)

The doors to Ron's sanctuary revealed itself, and Daphne drew in a shaky breath. She couldn't sleep, not with those two Centaur boys staring at her every time she closed her eyes, not with the knowledge that she couldn't help all those people her family had destroyed, and so, here she was… Standing at the doorstep of the one person in Hogwarts who could understand how she felt right now, and the one person who could help her be rid of the murderous guilt threatening to strangle her if she dared fell asleep.

And yet, her feet wouldn't move, even as she begged them to. We're barely even friends, anymore… All we ever do now is bicker and fight… He'll tell me to 'fuck off', or worse… I know it… And I would deserve it, honestly… I've been on his case about everything, never fully realizing that this is how he must feel all the time… Ugh… Why can't I just go back in time and fix everything? That would make my life so much more convenient! Daphne straightened up her hair, before drawing in a series of calming breaths. Just walk through those doors, Daphne. Just barge in there, and demand that he let you help the Centaurs alongside him. Ron respects strength, not snivelling or whining. Walk in there, grab his face, and tell him that you and he are going to work together on this. And, if he says no, kick him in the bollocks! Yes! I can do this! I will do this! I won't let my parents limit the person I can be! The person I want to be! I'm going to help those Centaurs, even if I have to fall on all fours and beg them! I have a moral duty to fix some of the damage my father has caused! And I have to have the decency to not ignore atrocities out of a sense of love like mother! I have to be better than them both! And I will be, just as soon as I go through these damn doors!

Daphne threw herself forward, and the doors gave way, revealing the sanctuary. I did it! Her feelings of pride for conquering her fears was short-lived, however, as she promptly spotted Ron sitting by the fireplace, the table before him covered with all manner of food. Is… he having a feast? By himself? His face turned in her direction, his pale eyes looking through her. Um… Hello…

"M-Mind if I join you, Ron?" Daphne asked, but he continued to stare in silence, making her even more nervous. What happened to your gusto, woman?!

She closed the doors, before slowly making her way over to him. His unblinking eyes followed her at every step, his unnerving silence trying to chip away at her resolve. Daphne, however, managed to hold his gaze, her conviction about the matter at hand giving her the strength she needed to press on. She stopped opposite of him, looking down at the feast he was enjoying, and much to her surprise, there was a second set of utensils and a plate already waiting for her. …What? Was he… expecting company? From who?

"Am I still heartless in your eyes?" Ron asked suddenly, contempt lacing his voice. "Am I still unforgiving? Am I still bitter?" He'll never let those words go, will he?

"There was water in his eyes, child," Chief Zotair's voice reminded her, and she straightened her back before opening her mouth.

"You're not heartless, Ron," Daphne answered, looking into his eyes. "As for unforgiving and bitter… Yes, you most definitely are, but I'm glad for it, now. Someone has to be, and if it's you, then-… Then, people like those Squibs, people like those Centaurs… They're very fortunate, indeed. They need someone like you, because everyone else has either failed them or forgotten them."

Ron leaned back ever-so-slowly, and then; his eyes lit up as he began to grin. Oh, please don't-… "What a beautiful apology-…"

"Don't be a prat, okay?" Daphne cut in hoarsely, her throat was still hurting from trying to control her silent sobs. "Not tonight, Ron. Be kind to me, please."

Ron raised his hands, before gesturing her to sit down. "You're later than I anticipated, I have to admit, but you still made it."

"You were expecting me?" Daphne blinked, shooting the empty plate another glance. Does he know me that well? Of course… He's always been good at knowing me, and that used to make me the happiest girl in Hogwarts. "I didn't come here to eat, Ron."

"Oh, I know why you're here," Ron said knowingly, waving his hand and sending a juicy steak floating onto her plate. "And, my answer is yes."

"…It is?" Just like that?!

"Daphne, who the fuck am I to tell youthat you can't help someone in need?" he asked in response. "At least, if you're with me, I can keep my eyes on you. I've picked up a bit of knowledge in my time, you know? And I'm willing to share it with you, if you'll finally stop stepping on my bollocks." Daphne sat down across from him, unable to stop staring at him. It was that easy? Why? Why aren't you shouting at me? After all the terrible things I've said to you… About Millie… About you as a person… How can you just give me what I want most without a fuss? "Stop giving me that sorry look, Daphne. You're not some lost puppy, and I'm not doing this out of charity. I got a letter from Bones, today, and I'm neck-deep in shit here."

"Bones? The Minister, Ron?!" Daphne went wide-eyed, before frowning deeply. "What did you do this time?! Did you attack another Auror?!" What's wrong with you?!

"I didn't do shit, all right?" Ron denied, but when she kept glaring at him, he let out a long sigh. "That bitch is on a warpath, and-… Well, I'm a bit of a cunt, aren't I? It doesn't matter… It's my problem, but it will distract me from focusing on that Tribe. That's where you come in. You, who now understands exactly what they're going through, and most importantly, who is responsible for it all. You'll do right by them, because this means more to you than just a bit of charity."

"It does, and I will," Daphne promised, feeling a little more like a human being, again. "Thank you, Ron! I won't let them down, I swear it!"

"I have one condition, however," Ron leaned forward, his expression becoming deadly serious all of a sudden. "If you involve your parents in this, then we're done. I will cut you out of my life, no matter how much it hurts, just as I've cut them out. The mere idea of them swooping in to save the very people they've-…" he stopped, sneering. "I will not allow it, and if you can't respect that, then we're-"

"I agree with you," Daphne cut in, and he raised an eyebrow. "Chief Zotair refused aid from father and I, but I'm sure you already knew that. You probably made sure of it, even."

"Even the weakest have pride, Daphne, something that your father can't understand," Ron said plainly. "But, for now, let's just eat, eh? You look like shit." Oi! That's so rude!

"…I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Daphne muttered to herself, despite fighting the urge to smile. "Ron?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"I don't care for your gratitude, just do right by them." I will. I'll give everything I have to make this work. Everything mother and father taught me, everything Ron's going to teach me, I'll use it to make this world a better place. That's who I want to be, and that's who I'm going to become.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: Third year is slowly coming to a close, which I'm sure many of you are grateful for! I know I am lmao!