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.

158. Chapter 158 - Reunion

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Um... Hello, there! Long time no chapter, am I right?! Sorry...

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 158 - Reunion

Harry Potter's POV

Sunday 9th May, 1994 (Headmaster's Office – Afternoon)

"Come in, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice from the other side of the door, and the Boy-Who-Lived swiftly made his way inside. Today's finally the day!

"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry greeted, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

"You're early, dear boy," Dumbledore chuckled, fixing his half-moon spectacles into place. I am? "No matter, as your eagerness affords us the opportunity to talk."

"Talk, Professor?" Harry asked hesitantly, before walking over to the clawed desk and taking a seat. He hasn't changed his mind about me joining the Order, has he? "What did you want to talk about? Is it about the Order?"

"Fret not, Harry, for I have not changed my mind about you joining our ranks," Dumbledore smiled knowingly, much to his relief. That's brilliant! "I just wanted us to 'catch-up', as you younger wizards like to say. Nothing more."

"Catch-up on what, exactly?" Harry asked, feeling far more at ease, now.

"You, for starters," Dumbledore beamed, his twinkling eyes fixed on Harry. "How are your lessons with Remus progressing?"

"I'm enjoying them," Harry replied, he was so close to figuring out the Patronus Charm, now. "We were just practising the Patronus Charm at first, but now, Remus has me improving my shields and accuracy with stunners. I'm taking his lessons even more seriously, now, if that's what you were wondering. He says that I'm a natural at Defence Against the Dark Arts! Even more talented than my father!"

"I'm glad to hear it, my boy," Dumbledore commended. "In battle, it only takes one error, one split-second of doubt, and even a man such as myself can be brought low. Listen to Remus, Harry, for there are very few men in the Wizarding World who have lived as rough as he has."

"I will, Professor."

"And your run with Ronald and his friends this morning? How was that?" Dumbledore continued, surprising Harry a little.

"You know about that, Professor?" I didn't think anyone would be barmy enough to be awake so early, except for us.

"The walls like to whisper to me, and sadly, I've always been a bit of a gossip," Dumbledore laughed, while Harry was left to wonder if there was any truth to his strange statement. "Well, my boy? How was it? He didn't push you too hard, I hope." He didn't even talk to me, actually.

"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I just did my own thing, sort of. Neville and Hermione kept taking breaks, so I decided to keep going by myself. I ran with Ginny for a bit, but then she decided to spend time with Luna. So, I just ran about alone. I don't think I'll be going back, honestly. I've got pretty good stamina, already, and I doubt Voldemort is going to chase me around the Black Lake."

Dumbledore laughed, again. "Wouldn't that be a sight? I don't think You-Know-Who is much of a runner, personally, as he is overly dependent on his Magic."

"We ought to make Ron his personal trainer, then," Harry joked, much to the old wizard's delight.

"Ronald would make him regret his 'immortality' within the day, I imagine," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, smirking to himself. "I am curious, however, as to why you joined him this morning. Ronald, I mean. As you just said, you are already in top form." Um… Should I not have done that? If so, why?

"Hermione convinced me," Harry answered honestly. "At Ron's request, I imagine, but still… She raised some good points." Ron being so interested in my fitness is weird, though. There has to be more to it than him just being worried about me. I mean, I get the feeling that he still hates me after-…

"Would you say that your instincts led you to the Black Lake, then?" My instincts? I suppose…

"Well, yeah… And Hermione."

Dumbledore nodded to himself, stroking his long beard. "It is important to trust your friends, but it is even more important to trust yourself." Okay… Where's he going with this? "You went to the Black Lake because saw the wisdom in Miss. Granger's words, so continue to trust yourself, Harry. You can never be too prepared."

"I should keep going on those runs, you mean?"

"For as long as Ronald hosts them, yes," Dumbledore gave a nod, before leaning forward to whisper. "And, let's be frank with each other, don't you want to keep an eye on him?" What? No, of course not… I just think he's acting strange-… "It's quite alright, Harry. Ronald is an interesting fellow, and in your shoes, I too would be curious as to what's going on inside his head." Harry gave a slow nod, suddenly curious about what was going on inside Dumbledore's head. "All jokes aside, my boy, I do recommend that you spend more time with him. You two can learn a great deal from each other, I believe."

"Professor… I don't think he likes me very much," Harry confessed awkwardly. "I doubt he wants to learn anything from me. And what would I teach him, exactly? What could I teach him?" He defeated everyone in A-Rank without breaking a sweat.

"Plenty, my boy," Dumbledore smiled sagely. "You are wiser than you realize." I am? "Let him share his wisdom with you, and then, share yours with him in return. I have no doubt that you will both benefit immensely from this exchange." …Right… "Come on in, you three." You three?

Harry looked back just in time to see three older Slytherin girls enter the office, each of their gazes lingering on him before they made their way over to the desk. Why are they here? That blonde one… Ductu, right? She won the B-Rank Tournament, didn't she?

"I hope we're not too late, Headmaster," Ductu spoke up, while the shapely brunette shot him a wink. Are… they also a part of the Order? Why?

"You're right on time, actually," Dumbledore rose out of his chair. "Come along, now. We'd best get to it. It's going to be a very interesting meeting, after all."

Harry and the girls followed the old wizard to the fireplace, which he promptly prepared for Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry noticed from the corner of his eyes that the girls seemed to be waiting on someone else, each of them occasionally looking towards the door in… anticipation? No… They look like they're in a hurry to leave. That's weird, isn't it? The fireplace roared as the fire turned green, and it suddenly dawned on Harry that these three Slytherins would now know where he lived. Is that safe? I know Dumbledore, and Sirius himself, are the Secret-Keepers, but still… Can we trust them? I don't even know who they are.

Choosing to trust Dumbledore's judgement, Harry remained silent as he followed them through the floo. Immediately, he heard loud chatter coming from the adjoining kitchen, where the Order had already gathered, but it was Sirius, who had been eagerly awaiting his arrival, that truly caught his attention.

"Harry!" Sirius grinned from ear-to-ear, opening up his arms. "Come here, mate! I've missed you!" The Boy-Who-Lived felt his face heat up out of embarrassment, and a guilty sense of belonging, as he dragged his feet over to Sirius, who swiftly embraced him. "You've gotten a bit taller! I suppose, you're at that age, aren't you?!"

"…It's only been a month since Easter, Sirius…" Harry groaned, but Sirius just laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Don't they give haircuts at Hogwarts?" Sirius asked Dumbledore, who just chuckled in response. "I'll have to talk to Remus about this! He told me he was looking out for you, and here you are looking like a street urchin-"

"Sirius, stop it," Harry pulled away, frowning as he heard the Slytherin girls sniggering to themselves. "…I'm not a street urchin…" You're embarrassing me!

"I said you look like one, Harry, not that you are one," Sirius stated, smirking. "Oh, come here and give me another hug, you broody-"

"Is everyone here, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked, stopping the man before he could continue teasing Harry.

"Everyone except for the Minister," Sirius reported, his right hand resting atop Harry's head of unruly, jet-black hair. "What's going on with her, Dumbledore? Do you know? I mean, throwing out the Purebloods and their toadies from the Wizengamot… Has she decided that life's not worth living, anymore?" Sirius then looked to the Slytherin girls, raising an eyebrow. "Selwyn? You're joining this exclusive club too?"

"Lord Black," the raven-haired witch of the trio bowed her head, before offering him a pleasant smile. "It's an honour to stand within the ancestral home of the Black Family. Truly. I am eager to learn more about the rich, and noble, history these walls have witnessed over the centuries." They don't even talk like normal people. It's kind of annoying.

Harry and Sirius exchanged looks, before Sirius burst into laughter. "My family's history is anything but noble, lass. Kitchen's that way, you can't miss it. Oh, and welcome to the Order. Try not to die before you're twenty. That's the goal we strived for back in the day."

The girls gawked at him, while Dumbledore nodded to himself in agreement as he stroked his beard. "Sirius, why don't you show them the way? There are words I need to share with Harry before we get started." There are? Why didn't you share them before?

"This way, ladies," Sirius gestured the Slytherins to follow him, the four of them departing. "I'll save you a seat between me and Remus, Harry." Thanks.

"What is it, Professor?" Harry asked once they were alone.

"Today, Harry, I simply want you to observe," Dumbledore started. "Observe the Order members, observe what they talk about, observe how they talk, and observe what riles their passions. Many in that room will be surprised by your arrival, awed even, but don't let that distract you. The Order is filled with powerful witches and wizards from varying backgrounds, and I want you to understand them all." Why? "Can you do that, my boy?"

"Of course, Professor," Harry promised, though he wasn't quite sure about what Dumbledore was playing at.

"Good," the old wizard smiled, putting an arm over his shoulders. "Come, let's not keep them waiting."

They made their way towards the kitchen side-by-side, stopping as soon as they entered. The loud chatter swiftly gave way to reverential silence, all heads turning in their direction… In his direction. They were all staring at him, with both lofty expectations and brimming optimism, though a handful did seem thoroughly unimpressed, but regardless of what was going through their heads, Harry found himself feeling a little awkward under the spotlight, as if he were some prized pig at a ranch. Hagrid, the Heads of the Houses, Sirius and Remus, Sturgis, Tonks and her parents, Neville's gran, the Weasleys and Kirsten, the Lovegoods, Hestia, Kurt, that Auror I met at Neville's parents' funeral… Kingsley, right? And-… Hold on, is that Mrs. Figg?! What's she doing here?!

Harry stared dumbly at her, and she gave him a pathetic smile in return. Is she a witch? I had no idea… She must've been keeping her eyes on me for Dumbledore all those year-…

"We are all here," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, giving Harry's shoulders a squeeze. "You all know this young man, and from today onwards, he will be a part of our merry band."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley blinked; her surprise shared by some of the other parents in the room. "He's not even fourteen, yet! You can't be serious! He's supposed to be at Hogwarts! Getting an education! Living a normal life! N-Not… here! Discussing war and death! Discussing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" His name is Voldemort, it's really not that hard to say.

"Harry is old enough to decide for himself, Molly," Sirius countered, shooting his godson a proud smile. "And, as his guardian, I support his decision. He wants to honour his mum and dad, and seeing as the Dark Lord is after him personally, this is the safest place for him. C'mon, Harry. Sit with us."

"Go on," Dumbledore whispered encouragingly, and Harry made his way through the Magically enlarged kitchen, taking a seat between Remus and Sirius.

"This is where you belong, Harry," Sirius whispered, putting an arm around him. "With us."

"James and Lily would be proud of you, as are we," Remus added, beaming.

That guilty sense of belonging returned once again; all those nights spent in that damn broom closet, all alone in the dark… Never had it occurred to him that one day he'd have a family of his own, one that valued and loved him as much as Sirius and Remus did. He'd always dreamed of it, of course, but he had never allowed himself to believe that it would happen. No, he had figured that he'd be stuck with the Dursleys until he was old enough to move out, and after that, he'd be alone. But, then, one night, Sirius and Ron had broken into the Dursley's to 'abduct' him, and just like that, Harry's dream had come true. He suddenly had the family he'd always wanted, and he had done absolutely nothing to earn it. I can change that, now, though. I can fight beside them. I can keep them safe. I will keep them safe. And, I'll help them destroy Voldemort once and for all.

"It gladdens me to see that all of you have answered my call," Dumbledore started, standing at the head of the massive table. "Even at the height of its power during the Great War, the Order never boasted such numbers. Each of us has walked a different path in life, and yet, here we all are… United under a common goal by our not-so-common enemy." Dumbledore then sat down, smiling proudly. "Let us not waste time on ceremony, however. There is much to discuss, much to plan, and oaths to make." Oaths to make?

"Before we make any 'oaths' with you, Dumbledore…" Neville's gran stood up, as did the old witch beside her. "We want answers from you." The Order members exchanged wary looks, but Harry remained focused on 'observing' the two witches. "What is to be done about Amelia Bones? And why did you abandon your post as Chief Warlock without putting up a fight?"

"You have asked us to risk our lives against the Dark Lord, and yet, you allow a would-be tyrant to stage a coup without raising your wand?" the other witch demanded, looking murderous. "Are you a coward?!"

Harry frowned at her, she looked like a bad-tempered flamingo in her feathery pink cap. She's Ginny's Great-Aunt, isn't she? Muriel, right? I saw her eyeballing me during Christmas at the Weasleys.

"Albus Dumbledore? A coward?" one of the Order members spoke up, removing his purple top hat. Hold on… I know this man! I met him when I was a boy! In that shop with Aunt Petunia! He bowed to me, which made Aunt Petunia furious! Oh, and I met him with Hagrid when I first visited the Leaky Cauldron too! "You are speaking to the man who stood against not one Dark Lord, but two!"

"Dedalus, please," Dumbledore said softly, his eyes never leaving Muriel. "I assure you, Lady Prewett, that raising my wand against the Minister would have done nothing to help you. It would, instead, have served to make her even more desperate. I abandoned my post because it was for the best."

"For the best?!" Augusta seethed, looking towards a lanky man with brown hair. "Hear that, Fawley? He believes that us being humiliated and shamed is for the best." That's not what he said-…

"The 'Minister' must be dealt with, Dumbledore," the man named Fawley said plainly, and the woman beside him gave a strong nod. "If you will not help us set things right, then we will leave, and take our considerable resources with us."

"Lord Fawley, please reconsider your words," Sturgis spoke up in a polite tone, even as the other members looked outraged. "The Order was not convened to play politics. It's true purpose, it's only purpose, is to oppose the Dark Lord. We need the Ministry on our side in order to do that, just as much as we need you."

"Oscar, you can't be serious about this!" Sirius joined in, frowning deeply. "You-Know-Who doesn't give a damn about who's running the Ministry! He's out to kill us all! You, and your family, have a better chance of surviving with us than on your own! Don't be a daft, all right?! Enid! Talk some sense into him!"

"Our family helped build this country, Sirius," Enid Fawley sighed out, putting her hand on her husband's. "They dragged Oscar out by his collar, as if he were nothing more than a dog. I'm sorry, but I can't forgive that power-mad woman for treating my husband with such disregard."

"And what will You-Know-Who do to him?" Andromeda asked casually. "Look at all of you… You are willing to turn your backs on what is right simply because someone fired you. Perhaps, the Minister isn't entirely wrong in her thinking? That you only care for the power you've hoarded for yourselves over centuries-?"

"I will not be questioned by a Blood-Traitor who birthed an abomination," Muriel hissed, shooting the offended Tonks a look of utter disgust, before turning her attention back to Andromeda. "Be silent, girl, and look to your own failures before you think of pointing out mine." Ginny was right! You're foul!

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Sirius roared, shooting up to his feet as Harry glared at the old witch.

"Sirius, calm down, please," Andromeda tried, while Remus let out a long sigh.

"You go too far, Lady Prewett," Oscar Fawley sounded, and appeared, thoroughly displeased.

"You want to leave, you old Harpy?! Sod off, then!" Sirius barked, and chaos broke out within the room immediately.

Some demanded that Muriel apologize for her cruel words, others demanded that everyone remain calm and cordial, and some simply watched those who were shouting with ever-growing displeasure. Harry, although silent, found himself agreeing with Sirius. Did the Order really need people like Neville's gran and Muriel Prewett? No, we'd be better off without them. They clearly don't want to be here, so just let them go.

A loud bang suddenly went off, silencing the room and causing everyone to look towards the kitchen entrance. Three newcomers had arrived; Amelia Bones, Alastor Moody, and Bartemius Crouch Sr. That's him… That's the man who sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial! Harry grit his teeth, glaring at the tall man with the grey, neatly parted hair. What's he doing here?!

"Do you idiots want You-Know-Who to win, is that it?!" Moody demanded, slamming his staff on the ground and causing another bang.

"You dare show your face here, Bones?!" one of the men snarled, slamming his fist on the table.

"…The gall…" his wife sneered.

"I was invited, Lord Abbot," the Minister stepped further into the room, looking towards Dumbledore. "Should I come back another time, Dumbledore? Maybe when you have your pets under control?"

"PETS?!" Muriel barked, while Dumbledore massaged his temple. "You insult powers beyond your comprehension, Bones! We made you Minister! We put you at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Without us, you'd just be another secretary!"

"You will stop this foolishness, girl," Augusta added, mimicking Muriel's dark expression. "It has gone far enough!"

"What gives you the right to bring foreign Aurors into our country?" Mr. Abbot demanded, before looking to Dumbledore. "Why is she here?! You did not mention her in your letter!"

"She is not our enemy, Henry," Dumbledore said sagely, giving the angry man a soothing look.

"She is our enemy!" Mr. Abbot barked, looking back to Bones. "My family has served on the Wizengamot since it's inception! We built the Ministry-!"

"I don't care about your family's history, Lord Abbot," Bones cut him off, her tone cold and callous. "As far as I'm concerned, you are just another citizen of Magical Britain. Your ancestors' accomplishments are not your accomplishments. If you want a position on the Wizengamot, then join the Ministry and work your way up like the rest of us."

"Or, we just get rid of you… Permanently," Muriel threatened, silencing the room completely. Did she just threaten to kill the Minister?

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who, much like everyone else, was now staring at Muriel. Is this how all Order meetings go? Because this is mental! After what felt like an eternity, Bones took a step forward and leaned on the table, her eyes fixed on Muriel Prewett.

"Collectively, you hold enough wealth to end the majority of the issues facing our country," the Minister started, sounding eerily calm despite the threat against her life. "And yet, you do nothing unless it directly benefits you. Now, I don't think that's unfair of you… It is your wealth, after all, but to believe that your wealth gives you the right to rule those you can't even begin to understand? Those you couldn't care less about? Well, that is most certainly unfair. Do not threaten me, again, Lady Prewett. You are just another citizen, now, and you will be held accountable for your words."

"By your American Aurors?" Muriel didn't back down, glaring at Bones. "You don't fool me, you brat. You want absolute power, plain and simple." Sort of like you lot?

"If that is what you wish to believe, then so be it," Bones shrugged, standing up straight, again. "You have the right to form your own opinions, but you don't have the right to threaten me. Or, anyone else. Your advanced age won't mean a thing to the Dementor that kisses you." Bones then looked around the table, her icy expression was rather intimidating. "The Ministry will now be run by those who know how to govern, not you fine 'Lords and Ladies'. Your privileges have come to an end, and once our new taxing policies are finalised, you will do your part for the peace and order we will bring. The Old Ways are done… They have served us ill for too long, and those who cling to them have no place in Magical Britain."

"If you want a war, Bones, then that's what you'll get," Augusta warned, looking to the other Purebloods in the room. "When we shut down our businesses, when we stop paying for your salaries, then we'll see who the people want in charge."

"And this is exactly why we need change," Bones said, looking to Dumbledore. "Too much power for too long has left them corrupt and entitled to our very freedoms." She then looked to Augusta, matching the older witch's gaze. "Hire your mercenaries. Close your businesses. Pay people to riot. Publish your propaganda. Send your assassins. It will not change my mind, and I will have each and every one of you dragged to Azkaban. You will never see daylight, again. The thirty American Aurors were just the beginning, Lady Longbottom. You clearly have not heard much about the States, because if you had, then you would know exactly what happened to your counterparts there. In one night, the American Aurors wiped out over forty Pure families. In one night, they forced the Goblins to empty the vaults of every suspected supporter of the Dark Lord. In one night, they hanged over a hundred children where all could see their little bodies." What…? Bloody hell… Harry, and the other Order members, exchanged worried glances, while Dumbledore frowned deeply. "You want to challenge the Ministry? Go ahead, but do your research first. I'm willing to fight you to the last man if I have to. And the Americans? Why do you think they're here? To see the sights? Their top brass has a grudge against people like you, and I'm willing to let them have their way with you, even if it means oppressing the British people for a time. The choice is yours, so make it. Peace? Or, war?"

"This is madness, all of you!" Dumbledore rose out of his chair, looking sterner than Harry had ever seen him. "Nothing is gained by this division! The only one who will benefit from this disastrous conflict is Lord Voldemort! Magical Russia is already in his clutches!" All eyes travelled to him at that, many of them widening from shock. "It's true… Minister Ivanov was his apprentice in her youth, and now, he has taken her son hostage. She will do his bidding as long as he holds her heart in his vile hands. And the Lords and Ladies of Magical Russia… How long do you think they will hold out against his will? How long will they be able to resist his seductive, but false, promises? Even as we fight amongst each other, he consolidates his power!" Dumbledore then drew in a long breath, while many around the table lowered their gazes like scolded children. "All of us here have stood against him, defied him, and he will never forget that. He will never forgive that. So, please, I beg you… Put aside your petty differences before it is too late. Come together under this common cause, and once the true threat has passed, settle your differences without putting innocent lives at risk."

"Albus speaks true, and you would all do well to listen to him," an overly large woman chimed in, and Harry noticed Hagrid sit up straighter from the corner of his eyes. Who's she? She's even bigger than Hagrid! "While we bicker amongst ourselves, our enemy summons his minions to his side! None here will survive his wrath, no matter their personal struggles!" She then pointed right at Harry, catching him by surprise. "There sits the only wizard who is known to have survived the Dark One's cruelty! A child… A young boy! Did he lose his mother and father just to watch you fools throw away his future?! All of our futures?! And the futures of our children?!"

"What say you, Harry Potter?" the Minister asked, and every eye in the room landed on him. "Where do you stand in all of this?" Um… Honestly, I don't really care about the Ministry and the Purebloods. This fight has nothing to do with me. It all sounds really stupid.

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who simply stared back at him without so much as blinking. Right… I'm on my own, then. "Stopping Voldemort should be our priority. Yeah… That's what matters, in my opinion. Stopping Voldemort."

Silence followed his words, with many staring at him as if they were expecting him to continue, but Harry had said everything he felt he needed to say. After a few more moments of silence, the Minister gave a strong nod before taking a seat at the table. The moment she sat down, however, six individuals rose up to join Muriel and Augusta in staring down at her. The Abbots, the Fawleys, and the Macmillans, who Harry had first met at Fudge's gala, all looked ready to storm out of the room, and yet, they lingered nonetheless, as if waiting for Bones to give in to their demands. Moody and Crouch walked over and stood behind their Minister, who remained silent and unfazed.

"We will not forget this, Dumbledore," Augusta looked to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, sneering repulsively. "My son and daughter-in-law lost their lives because they chose to be a part of the Order. Where was this usurper during the Great War? Sitting comfortable behind a desk, pushing papers…"

"Your son and daughter-in-law lost their lives because they defied Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore countered without missing a beat. "You are choosing to ignore him." What would Neville think about this? He'd be really disappointed in his gran, I reckon.

"Greengrass? What about you?" Muriel asked, and the pale man stared right through her. "Will you and your wife join us?"

"No," he refused icily, surprising Harry a little. Greengrass' dad is actually loyal to Dumbledore? No, probably not. He's most likely just hoping to hide behind the Order for his own good.

"Mum… Dad… Sit back down, please," the young man sitting beside the Fawleys spoke up, his brow furrowed. "Think of John. Is a seat on the Wizengamot more important than him? More important than our family?"

"This is more complicated than that, young Adam," Mr. Macmillan said, but Adam Fawley ignored him entirely. "For centuries, we have maintained and steered this country, and what is our reward? Humiliation? Blame? Exile? Without us, there would be no Magical Britain. Without us, there would be no Ministry. Without us, there can be no peace. This usurper cares only for her own ambitions, for her own power. Don't let her fool you so easily. She has just now admitted that she is willing to oppress any who dare question her, and that makes her no different than the Dark Lord."

"Sit back down, please," Adam repeated, and after many moments of silent contemplation, they did as their son asked.

"…Cowards," Mrs. Abbot hissed accusingly, while Adam took his mother's hand in his and smiled gratefully.

"If you walk out of this room, then you prove me right," the Minister broke her silence, much to the standing Purebloods' chagrin. "The Ministry is in charge, now, and there are only six of you, unless you plan to join forces with those who, once again, plan to fight alongside the Dark Lord."

"This is not over, girl," Augusta promised, marching away before anyone could stop her.

Harry frowned deeply, watching in disgust as the Abbots, the Macmillans, and Muriel followed Augusta out. I need to tell Neville about this. I never did like his gran much, but this is a new low for her.

"This is for the best, Albus," McGonagall said, and some of the others nodded their agreement, including Harry. "They only answered the call to demand your aid in their cause."

"He only called upon them to demand theirs," Mr. Fawley countered, shooting a resentful sneer at the Grand Sorcerer. "You can have my gold, Dumbledore, but you will never have my wand. I am here for my sons, not you."

"I understand," Dumbledore gave a nod, before looking around the table. "…The oaths I mentioned in your letters. Are you all prepared?" Oaths? What oaths? I didn't get a letter to begin with.

"We are, Headmaster," Ted Tonks answered for them all, his eyes travelling to Harry. "But what about young Harry here? He is only thirteen. No boy his age should be making Unbreakable Vows."

"The choice is his, and his guardians'," Dumbledore said, turning his attention to Bones. "Unless the Minister wishes to overrule their decision?"

"He is underage," Bones said simply. "And Unbreakable Vows are extremely dangerous-"

"I don't care," Harry spoke up, and she raised an eyebrow in response. "I want to fight Voldemort, so I'll make whatever oath I have to. You don't get to decide what I do with my life."

"The mere fact that you so brazenly speak his name proves that you should be back at Hogwarts, boy," Crouch glared at him. "Be quiet." Or, what? You'll send me to Azkaban? Why is Dumbledore even allowing this git to join the Order?

"You don't speak to him that way, Crouch," Sirius snarled, while Remus glared back at the man. "Not in his own fucking house." My house? "Who told you about this meeting, anyway? None of us want to work with a man who had a Death-Eater living right under his bloody nose."

"I remember that one of your closest friends from Hogwarts too was serving the Dark Lord," Crouch pointed out, making Sirius growl under his breath. "Didn't he pin the blame of several murders on you? Perhaps, we should both leave-"

"Enough, Crouch," Bones raised her hand, her eyes never leaving Harry. "Usually, I would not allow this, but this is Harry Potter himself. The circumstances are… different. If this is his wish, then I will not stand in the way." Even if you did, you wouldn't be able to stop me.

"Then, without further interruptions, let us begin," Dumbledore raised his hands to his sides, before drawing in a deep breath. "Will you all join hands, please? Severus, stop lurking in the shadows and take a seat. Alastor, Crouch… You as well."

Harry stared at Snape as the Potions Master took a seat between Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall, joining hands with the two witches. He frowned slightly when he noticed Harry staring at him, before looking back to Dumbledore. "…Let's get this over with, already."

"Before we start, I have one final question," Bones spoke up just as Dumbledore opened his mouth. "Where is Ronald Weasley?" Ron? Everyone around the table exchanged looks, whereas Dumbledore continued to stare at Bones. "The woman who defended him before the Wizengamot is here. His mentor, a previous servant of the Dark Lord, is here. His parents, and siblings, are here. His alliance, or what's left of it, is here. Three Slytherin girls, whom I've never heard of, are here. The majority of the people in this room have had direct dealings with that boy, and yet, I don't see him. Where is he, Dumbledore? Where is your protégé?" Protégé? Hm… She's not far off, actually… Ron and Dumbledore are up to something together, and Snape too-…

"My son is too young to be a part of the Order," Mrs. Weasley frowned deeply, her eyes darting in Harry's direction. "Arthur, tell her how ridiculous she's-"

"I can only assume that you are wilfully ignorant of his influence to even suggest that he's not in this room simply because we can't see him," Bones said bluntly, keeping her gaze fixed on Dumbledore. "Where is he, old man? Why is he not here? Are you trying to bind us all with Unbreakable Vows, while your protégé gets to escape them? What scheme are you employing this time?"

"Scheme?!" Hagrid bellowed, outraged. "This time?!"

"We are friends here, Minister," Shacklebolt urged, giving her a meaningful look. "There is no need for such mistrust between us."

"Answer her, Albus," a thin man with long, stringy, grey hair and beard ordered, he looked like Dumbledore if the man had chosen to live in the wild instead of Hogwarts.

"Paranoia does not suit you, Minister," Dumbledore finally chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Madame Maxime is here because I reached out to her as an old friend. Sebastian is here because he has become a close friend of the Weasleys, and because we need his resources to combat Lord Voldemort's. Molly and Arthur are here to fight for their children's futures. William, Charlie, and Kirsten are here because they accepted my personal invitation. The Fawleys, and those who have left us, share our common enemy, and so, I thought it wise to extend an invitation to them as well. And, as for these three young women from Slytherin… Well, the Order will always need young blood, and I was a very foolish man indeed for ignoring Slytherin during the last war." Bones frowned a little, Crouch maintained a mask of indifference, and Moody rolled both his eyes. "Shall we proceed? Or, should I start questioning why Gawain is not here?"

The Order members looked to the Minister, who now appeared as though she'd sucked a lemon.

"…Proceed."

"Thank you, Minister. Now, once the flame has travelled around the table, joining all of us, we will need to speak our names. Once the Spell begins to take hold, I will speak the vows, and the rest of you need only agree if it suits you. Are you all prepared?"

"Yes," they said collectively.

"Join hands, then."

Harry took Sirius' and Remus' hands in his, feeling a pit form at the base of his stomach. This was it, wasn't it? He was about to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He would fight beside his new-found family against the man who had murdered his parents in cold blood, and together, they'd bring Voldemort to justice. I'm ready. I've never been more ready for anything in my entire life. This is where I belong, same as mum and dad.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame snaked its way out of Dumbledore's right sleeve, wrapping itself around McGonagall's left arm like a red-hot wire. The Transfiguration Professor drew in a sharp breath as it took hold, and immediately after, another thin, red-hot tongue of flame snaked out of her right sleeve, wrapping itself around Snape's left arm. The flame eventually reached Harry through Remus, and surprisingly, in spite of its appearance, it was quite cold. Do I pass it on, somehow? Do I need to say an incanta-? He felt his right arm ache for a heartbeat, before the flame crawled out of his sleeve and moved onto Sirius. Woah… Dumbledore must be powering it himself, I reckon. I didn't even have to do anything.

Once they were all connected by the flame, Dumbledore proceeded. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" Is that really his name? Why is it so long?!

"Minerva McGonagall."

"…Severus Snape."

"Pomona Sprout!"

"Filius Flitwick."

"Rubeus Hagrid!"

"Aberforth Dumbledore." Dumbledore?! Are they brothers?

"…Um… Arabella Figg…" It's so weird that she's here… I should, at the very least, say hello to her after the meeting. It'd be rude not to.

"Dedalus Diggele, at your services!"

"Emmeline Vance."

"Sturgis Podmore."

"Nymphadora Tonks."

"Andromeda Tonks."

"Edward Tonks."

"Hestia Jones."

"…K-Kurt Varga…"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Alastor Moody."

"Amelia Bones."

"Bartemius Crouch… Senior."

"Xenophilius Lovegood!"

"Pandora Lovegood."

"Arthur Weasley."

"Molly Weasley," her worried eyes once again darting towards Harry.

"William Weasley."

"Charles Weasley."

"Kirsten Domitor."

"Susana Davis."

"James Davis."

"Sebastian Greengrass."

"Mary Greengrass."

"Adam Fawley."

"Enid Fawley."

"Oscar Fawley."

"Jack Westenberg."

"Remus Lupin."

"Harry James Potter," he spoke loud and clear, feeling even more confident when Remus gave his hand a paternal squeeze.

"Sirius Black, the third!" the mischievous wizard grinned, earning multiple frowns.

"Samantha Selwyn."

"Carey Ductu."

"Clara Martyris."

"Madame Olympe Maxime."

Harry felt the Spell tighten uncomfortably around his arms, though he showed no signs of it. Now, the vow, right?

"We here will now be bound by our names and our words," Dumbledore started. "Never shall I share the names of those at this table with Lord Voldemort, nor his agents."

"Never!" they all chanted, save for Harry.

"Never," he blurted out, cringing slightly due to being late.

"Never shall I compromise the safety of those at this table to secure my own."

"Never!"

"Never shall I betray the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix to Lord Voldemort, nor his agents."

"Never!"

"Then, I bind us all by our names and our words," Dumbledore said sternly, and Harry felt the flames around his arms heat up. "Let any who betray these vows fall silent forever."

The flames blazed brighter than ever, before suddenly vanishing with a sizzle. Remus and Sirius let go of Harry's hands, and just that, he was now an official member of the Order of the Phoenix. He looked around the table with a renewed sense of excitement and purpose, his startingly green eyes lingering on a smiling Dumbledore before they eventually landed on Snape, who was already staring back at him. What? You have a problem with me joining the Order, do you? Snape lowered his gaze, before rising out of his chair and skulking back to the corner without uttering another word. What was that?

"Let us begin, then," Dumbledore beamed, his twinkling eyes traveling the room. "Emmeline? You mentioned in your letter that you've caught wind of Fenrir Greyback."

"Fenrir Greyback?" Crouch frowned deeply, while Remus shifted in his seat. "He's back with his old Master, is he?"

"Not with him, precisely," the stately-looking witch started, fixing up her emerald green shawl as she stood up. "We've been struggling to locate him after Travers attacked him back in December, but after a bit of snooping around, I think I've tracked him down to France."

"France?" Sturgis asked, visibly surprised. "Why would he travel there?"

"I got in touch with some local Werewolves, and they described a man matching his description traveling from pack to pack," Vance started, appearing concerned. "It's no secret that the current French administration treats its Werewolf population with very little regard, and he's probably trying to capitalise on that. From what I was told, he convinced some of the younger ones to join him, before disappearing once again."

"He must've promised them a new life, and they were desperate enough to ignore his reputation and accept his offer," Arthur sighed out, shaking his head.

"Dreadful…" Pandora added, while her husband nodded along.

"There are a lot of packs littered about Magical France, Headmaster," Vance continued. "But I believe I can cover them with some help. He's not done recruiting just yet, and if we can catch him off-guard, we can land a powerful blow against You-Know-Who." That's brilliant!

"Dedalus, Sturgis, and Hestia will join you," Dumbledore said, and the named individuals nodded their agreement.

"No, they won't," Bones spoke up, her expression stern. "They are British citizens, not Aurors, and should things get out of hand, the French Ministry will not be pleased. Instead, Crouch will speak with the French Head-Auror, Paul Durand, and he will take up this investigation. Greyback is wanted in Magical France for multiple charges, and if the British Ministry helps in his capture, our relationship with the French will be strengthened."

"Respectfully, Minister, we don't take order from you," Diggle chuckled jovially.

"You do now," Bones told him bluntly, and many, including Harry, frowned at her. "The days of you lot running around without direct supervision from the Ministry are over. You will not cause an international incident by acting like fools. Paul Durand has an entire department of Aurors at his command. He will handle this. You may continue gathering information, but nothing more."

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who was just smiling at Bones without a care in the world. Um… Why isn't he telling her to shut up? I thought the Order was above the Ministry's politics?

"Again, respectfully, I don't take order from you," Diggle lost his previous mirth. "The Order was created because the Ministry's bureaucracy did nothing to stop You-Know-Who from coming into power-"

"The Minister is right, Dedalus," Moody grumbled, cutting the man in the purple hat off rather aggressively. "I know Durand, and he can handle the likes of Greyback without you."

"When did you turn into her lackey, Moody?" Diggle asked, quirking an eyebrow. "In case you've forgotten, your exploits with the Order are legendary. 'International incidents' didn't stop you from doing what needed to be done before. So, what's changed?"

"The Ministry wasn't taking the threat of the Dark Lord seriously enough the last time, not until it was too late," Moody answered, sneering. "You're just trying to play at 'hero', whereas the Minister is trying to establish good relations with our neighbouring Ministries. Aurors win wars, not a handful of witches and wizards lurking about in the shadows."

"You, of all people, know that's not true, Alastor," McGonagall pointed out, and the scarred Auror grunted in response.

"And we know how you 'Aurors' win wars," Sprout scoffed, narrowing her eyes on Crouch. "This man has more blood on his hands than most Death-Eaters, and that's not something I'm willing to ignore."

"Are you questioning your Ministry, Professor Sprout?" Bones asked, her gaze becoming rather intense.

"I am," Sprout answered without hesitation, pleasantly surprising Harry with her courage. She's always so sweet and soft-spoken, but right now, I'd think she was a Gryffindor if I didn't know any better.

"It was war, woman," Crouch said icily. "The blood my Aurors shed pales in comparison to the blood the Dark Lord would have shed if he had won. You should be thanking me, not questioning me." And what about Sirius? Should he thank you too?

"Is this what the Order is, Dumbledore?" Bones asked the Headmaster directly, and still, the old wizard remained silent. "A power that follows no laws? A power that serves its own agenda, even at the cost of lives?"

"And what is your agenda, Minister?" Susana Davis questioned. "Why come here if you are so against the Order's methods?"

"My agenda is to secure safety for the British people, Mrs. Davis, and to accomplish that, the British Ministry needs allies. I am here to make sure that the Order no longer acts as vigilantes with a grudge against the Dark Lord and his Death-Eaters. I am here to make sure that you, and everyone at this table, including Albus Dumbledore himself, follow Magical Law." He is the most powerful wizard of all time! He doesn't have to do anything you say!

"We are here to make a difference in our own way, Minister, and you've no right to dictate how we do so," Vance said, sitting back down. "I saved lives during the last war, and I'm going to save lives in this one. And even someone with your authority won't stop me."

"Then, join me, instead," Bones offered, surprising Vance. "The experience of many at this table cannot be questioned, and it will be vital in defeating the Dark Lord. Join the Ministry. Provide my Aurors with your wisdom. Help us in an official capacity. There is no need for this lawlessness-"

"I'll be damned before I join the bastards who threw me into Azkaban without so much as a trial," Sirius laughed scathingly. "Keep your stupid fucking 'laws', Bones. We don't need them-"

"Sirius, don't play into their hands," Remus stopped him, shooting him a calming look. What?! He's right! "Minister, you joined us despite understanding how the Order operates… Was it just so you could enforce the Ministry's will on us? We do what we can for those who need help, and because we don't work for a government, we can ignore the red tape. We can ignore borders, we can ignore the politics, and so forth. Thisis what allowed us to save many lives in the war, lives that would've been lost if we had followed the Ministry's methods. We all want the same thing here, and just because we don't agree on which methods are best, we shouldn't turn on each other. The Dark Lord would love nothing more than for the Ministry to start targeting Dumbledore and the Order. So, just like Sirius… Please, don't let your personal feelings get in the way of what we're trying to do here. We want to save lives, all of us, and that should be enough for us to trust each other."

"Here, here!" Flitwick exclaimed, smiling proudly at Remus.

"Well said, Remus," Tonks added with a half-smile. "Really well said."

"Remus is right," Hagrid nodded fervently. "Saving lives is what matters." Exactly!

"Pretty words that are forged from ignorance won't sway me," Bones stared through the man, and Harry had to fight the urge to Hex her in the face. "You set a dangerous precedent by ignoring laws, borders, and politics. It doesn't make you right, it makes you criminals. Criminals who are no different from these Butchers of Birmingham-"

"You can't be serious, Minister!" Arthur looked appalled, and most at the table shared his feelings. "You would compare the Order to those-…? Those murderers?!"

"They followed your example, old man, not the Ministry's," Bones continued, looking back to Dumbledore. "You see… In my line of work, we see the same patterns repeat themselves over and over again, and the only difference every single time is the magnitude of the crime committed. They took the law into their own hands, rather than rely on the authorities, which is exactly what you do. They didn't care about the 'red tape', or borders, or politics, same as you. They saved lives, yes, but they also massacred scores of people at the same time. Tell me, Dumbledore… Who do you think inspired them? Speak to me honestly, please. Who inspired them?" Dumbledore's smile wavered for a moment, but it was enough for Bones. "Everyone in this room has a responsibility to the British Ministry, and if you wilfully ignore that responsibility, then you are traitors to your country. I want to work with you, I truly do, but our work must be done on the right side of the law. So, I will leave for now, and let you all decide where you stand. Are you going to do the right thing? Or, are you going to do what's right for you?" Bones then stood up, and both Moody and Crouch followed suit. "If you choose to operate outside of Magical Law, then be warned… Once the war is over, you will, each of you, see your day in court. I will have your wands confiscated and destroyed. What you do next will decide what role the Order plays in the war, so choose very carefully."

With that, Bones turned around and left, as did her bootlickers. Sirius scoffed in disgust, and when Harry looked to him, the man let out a long sigh and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Is this how Order meetings usually go? Why would Dumbledore even invite that woman here? She's an idiot!

"What's gotten into Moody?" Charlie asked Tonks, who just shrugged tiredly. "Why's he turned into her bloody pet?!"

"She's gone mad with power, she has," Hestia said, and many nodded their agreement. "She feels threatened by the Headmaster, so she's trying to put us under her thumb!"

"Threatened by him?" Aberforth stared at Hestia as if she were an idiot. "Maybe, she should be. It's not like he's always plotting something behind everyone's back, or anything."

"Don't you start that tripe, Aberforth," Diggle warned, looking just as vexed as Harry. "Not now."

"Show some respect, yeh old goat," Hagrid added, grumbling under his breath.

"Never shall I compromise the safety of those at this table to secure my own," the giant woman, Olympe Maxime, said blandly. "You are misjudging her, all of you. She does not wish the Order any harm, especially not for her own benefit. And, she most certainly does not feel threatened by Dumbledore, which is why she is willing to place limits on him so openly in front of his closest allies." Maxime then looked to Dumbledore, smiling knowingly. "You and your tests, my friend… Why can you never do things in a straightforward way?" Um… What's she on about?

"Albus?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow, while the rest of them stared at the man. "What are you thinking? Tell us."

"I am thinking that Amelia Bones is, perhaps, too honest for her own good," Dumbledore suddenly chuckled, before nodding to himself. …What? "She made three Unbreakable Vows, same as the rest of us. She will not betray our names. She will not betray our secrets. She will not betray our safety. And, most importantly, she will not betray her principles. That, my friends, is to be respected, is it not?"

"She wants control, nothing more," Greengrass said, frowning when Dumbledore smiled directly at him.

"Sebastian is correct," Oscar Fawley huffed. "You give her far too much credit."

"Kingsley, you've worked with her longer than all of us," Dumbledore said, and the man gave a slow nod. "Is she unjust? Is she cruel? Is she mad for power?"

Shacklebolt looked around the table, and then, he exhaled loudly. "…None of those, Headmaster. However, she is stubborn, and far too literal in her interpretation of Magical Law. She cares very little for circumstance, and she does not tolerate disobedience. She is fair, certainly, but that isn't always a good thing. If the Order takes her offer, it will simply become another extremity of the Ministry… Bogged down by its bureaucracy and shortcomings."

"Then, we ought to reject her offer," Vance said with absolute certainty, and Harry couldn't have agreed more. "She won't take our wands from us, not without a fight!"

"So, we're fighting the Ministry, then, are we?" Aberforth sneered, and Harry decided that he didn't like this particular Dumbledore very much. "How quickly we're devolving from 'saviours' to rebels."

"Are you daft, Aberforth?!" Sirius asked angrily, his fist landing on the table. "She's the one who came in here and started making threats! We need to tell her to shove her Magical Laws up her-!"

"Stop shouting like an infant, Black," Snape cut in, glaring at him with a disturbing level of hatred. "Making an enemy out of her is needless and foolish, but you couldn't possibly understand that. They don't teach critical thinking in Gryffindor, do they?" Snape then looked to Dumbledore. "She is right about Greyback. She is right about the Ministry needing allies. She is, however, wrong to believe that the Dark Lord won't find a way to infiltrate her ranks. He will, and it's only a matter of time. We should work with her, but keep some secrets from her. If losing our wands is the price we have to pay, then so be it. Stopping the Dark Lord is what matters. It's the only thing that matters."

Harry blinked, visibly surprised by the conviction in Snape's voice. He'd really give up his wand if it meant stopping Voldemort?

"I must confess that I agree with Severus on this…" Flitwick began hesitantly. "…Losing my wand would destroy me, but stopping the Dark Lord is more important than any one of us. And, as Kingsley just pointed out, the Minister might be as blunt as a hammer, but she's not our enemy. Not unless we turn her into one."

"I still don't feel right about working with a man like Crouch," Sprout shook her head. "There's ice in his veins, not blood."

"What are we going to do, then, Headmaster?" Pandora asked, studying the man keenly. "Will the Order become a part of the Ministry? Or, will it retain its independence?"

"The choice is no longer ours to make, I'm afraid," Dumbledore shrugged, his candidness rubbing even Harry the wrong way. "We will be forced to make increasingly ambiguous choices in the days to come, choices that will not sit well with the Minister unless we give her what she wants. If we reject her, then it is only a matter of time before the Order comes into direct conflict with the Ministry, which will serve no one but Lord Voldemort. The Minister understands this, which is why she didn't waste any time in making her intentions clear. We either prevail together, or we fall as separate organisations."

"I'm not serving the bleeding Ministry," Sirius said adamantly. "Not even for you."

"I will not force any of you to follow me," Dumbledore said simply, even offering Sirius a kind smile. "Your choices are yours to make, Sirius, and I will respect them. However, you must understand that your choices have consequences, and not just for you. You are a father now, and I don't believe Harry plans to sit on the sidelines in the battles to come." No, I don't. "Don't fight for me. Fight for him."

"…You old prick…" Sirius muttered under his breath, frowning darkly. "…This 'partnership' is going to get us all killed! Mark my bloody words!"

With that, Sirius got up and stormed out of the room, leaving Harry and Remus behind. The Boy-Who-Lived shared an awkward glance with his remaining guardian, who simply shook his head in disappointment.

"Dedalus, Hestia, Sturgis, and Emmeline will gather information on Fenrir's whereabouts, which they will then pass onto the Minister," Dumbledore continued onwards. "Nymphadora, Arthur, and Kingsley will serve as our bridge to the Minister, and they will keep their eyes and ears open. Her threat of flooding Magical Britain with American Aurors is deeply concerning, and we must do everything in our power to steer her away from such a reckless decision."

"I will contact the French Ministry, Albus," Maxime volunteered, and the old wizard gave her a grateful smile. "If I can ease the tensions between our Ministries, then the Minister's plan will come together easier."

"Hagrid, will you travel to the mountains and seek out the Giants there?" Albus asked. The Giants? Will we really be fighting with Giants on our side?

"'Course, Headmaster!" Hagrid agreed within a heartbeat. "Should be no problem at all!"

"Despite their size, they won't be so easy to find," Dumbledore told him. "Search for them, but don't miss your classes. The exams are just around the corner, after all." Ugh… Exams… "Once you've located them, come to me and we will proceed together."

"Aye."

"Sebastian, you can coordinate with Jack in order to secure more safehouses for us," Dumbledore went on. "His family have been in the housing market for three generations, now, and his father was a good friend of mine."

"We know each other, already, Headmaster," Westenberg gave Greengrass a nod. "He's bought quite a few houses from me as it is, so what's a few more?"

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "There is one last thing to discuss, and then, you may all return to what's left of your weekend. Luka Yahontov set out to secure Minister Ivanov's son in order to free her from Lord Voldemort's control, but I have not received word from him since. If he has fallen, then I must send one of you to report on the political climate of Magical Russia-"

"I will go, Headmaster," Xenophilius cut in. Um… Don't you have a baby to take care of?

"You just had a child, Xeno," Molly reminded him. "It's not really a good time for you to pack your trunk and run off."

"I know, but I've travelled there before, and I have contacts in quite a few Wizarding settlements," Xenophilius said, before he looked to his wife for approval. "I can go, can't I?"

"Only if you pack warm clothes, love," Pandora smiled softly. "I can't nurse you back to health like last time, not with Lysander attached to me."

"It's spring there, now," Xeno beamed. "Perfect weather for the Pogrebins to come out of their hibernation to hunt lost hikers and campers." Why does he sound so chipper about that?!

"We will wait for Luka to send word, but be prepared nonetheless," Dumbledore said, his eyes lingering on Xenophilius for a little too long. "If there is nothing else, then we are adjourned. Olympe, a word, please? It has been too long since we shared a meal together."

---

One Hour Later

"I just… didn't expect it to be like that," Harry told Remus, the two of them sitting across from each other. "There was so much arguing, so much doubt… And the Minister… It felt like she was the one running the show, not Dumbledore. I don't know… I guess, I just expected it to be more… grand…"

"I've found that the stories rarely live up to the truth," Remus said, scratching his scruffy chin. "But, you're not wrong. Something felt different, today. I mean, Dumbledore asking us to make Unbreakable Vows? That was… strange…"

"Strange?" Harry asked. "You didn't make them the last time?"

"Not a single one, no," Remus answered. "We probably should have, but an Unbreakable Vow is a dangerous thing, Harry. Very dangerous. One slip of the tongue, and your heart all but explodes." What?! That's mental! "And Dumbledore letting the Minister take over the room like that? That was also strange."

"I don't like her," Harry stated plainly. "What was that tripe about oppressing people just to stick it to the Purebloods? What's the matter with her?" Is Susan really her niece? Because they're nothing alike whatsoever!

"I've always heard good things about her, but as I just said, stories rarely live up to the truth," Remus leaned back in his chair, appearing rather concerned. "Power, Harry… It changes people, and not always for the best."

"I feel like Sirius was right, that we shouldn't be working with the Ministry. I don't trust them, and I especially don't trust her."

"Sirius has a way of being both right and wrong at the same time," Remus sighed out. "He never learnt to temper his emotions, and despite my best efforts, he's still so… angry. He's not wrong to doubt this new direction the Order is turning towards, but to run off like a child who didn't get his way? Such behaviour will rarely endear you to others, even if you're the only one speaking sense." He wasn't even there to say goodbye when Remus and I left…

"You agree with Sirius, then? That we shouldn't work with the Ministry?"

"The Ministry and I haven't exactly gotten along in the past, Harry," Remus smiled pathetically. "But I trust in Dumbledore. He's the only man that You-Know-Who fears, and if it weren't for him, I'd still be lurking about in the wilderness. Hungry, cold, and alone."

"Him, and Ron," Harry pointed out. "Ron got Sirius out, which convinced you to come back."

Remus nodded, slowly losing his smile. "The Minister… She wasn't wrong about the people in that room, was she?"

"That a lot of them are connected to Ron? No, she wasn't," Harry shifted in his seat, his mind racing once again.

"What is it? You've got that look on your face, again."

"What look?" Harry blinked.

"That you're thinking about something you shouldn't," Remus smirked. "Tell me, Harry. You can share whatever is on your mind with me." Can I? You're not going to call me paranoid, are you?

Harry sat up straighter, furrowing his brow. "…Dumbledore, Ron, and Snape are up to something. I have this hunch that they're working together in secret."

"Working together?" Remus asked. "In secret?"

"I don't exactly know what they're up to, but all three of them were in America together," Harry started. "Ron mentioned that he was trying to save lives there, and when he fell sick before the Chess Tournament, Dumbledore and Snape went all the way across the world to tend to him. Isn't that odd? He was with his mentor, and they have Healers in America, don't they? And yet, those two took it upon themselves to look after him? Why? And why were they in America for so long? Oh, and Fawkes… Ron controls Fawkes. That's weird, isn't it? I thought Fawkes only listened to Dumbledore? There's just so much about them that doesn't make any sense… So, they're up to something, and they're being secretive about it, which means that it's something important. What do you reckon? Neville and Hermione refuse to see what's right in their faces, but what about you? I'm not being 'paranoid', am I?"

Remus just stared at him; the barrage of words had left him reeling. "You're not being paranoid, Harry. Something strange is afoot." Yes! I knew it! Finally, someone understands! "But you, of all people, need to be careful when it comes to Ron. What you did to him, invading his privacy as you did… Abusing the trust of Molly and Arthur to snoop on their son… I'm still disappointed in you for that." …Me too… "But you're not wrong about this, I think. Snape is not a man who is fond of helping people, so for him to travel across the world for Ron… And with his injuries to boot? Strange, indeed. And Dumbledore letting Ron get away with his appalling behaviour during the Ranked Tournaments? That still doesn't sit right with me."

"Should we tell Sirius about this?" Harry asked, eager to get some answers.

"Not yet," Remus shook his head. Oh… "Let him cool off a bit, first. In the meantime, I'll try to get some answers from Dumbledore."

"I can go to Ron, then," Harry suggested. "He's invited me to his morning runs, and guess what? When I told Dumbledore, he told me that I should both learn from him and 'teach' him."

"What did he mean by that?" Remus asked, taken aback.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "He was being rather vague about it."

Remus scratched his chin, again, his expression turning mistrustful. "…Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Harry. We'll figure this out, you and me."

"Brilliant!" Harry couldn't hide his excitement, and relief.

"I don't like questioning Dumbledore, but you're my…" Remus trailed off. "You know, right?"

"…I know," Harry gave a nod, adorning a sheepish grin.

"Be subtle, and don't push too hard," Remus advised, before rising out of his chair. "Now, let's start the lesson, shall we? You've almost got the Patronus perfected, and it's a vital Spell for every Order member."

"Order member… I still can't believe it," Harry admitted. I feel closer to mum and dad, already. It's weird, but it feels right.

"You'd better believe it," Remus chuckled. "Seriously, though, Harry… I'm really proud of you, and I know Lily and James would be too."

"…Thanks, Remus. I won't let you, or them, down. I promise."

---

Amelia Bones' POV

Sunday 9th May, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Late Afternoon)

"Threatening them with the Americans was stupid," Crouch admonished, pacing.

"We need a deterrent," Amelia countered, barely masking her frustration.

"We need to find a compromise!" Crouch stopped, his jaw clenching menacingly. "You're going to tear this country apart! Do you really think they need a seat on the Wizengamot to exercise their power?!"

"Which is why we need a deterrent," Amelia grit out, she was getting tired of this pointless argument. "Do you really think I don't know they can cripple the country? That I don't know they dominate all the vital markets out there? Food production, the infrastructure, the labour… Collectively, they own the entirety of the Upper District, and a sizable chunk of Diagon Alley! They don't have to hire a single assassin to bring down this Ministry! All they have to do is to stop production for a half a year, and just like that, we'll all be done for! We need a threat against them that actually works, and the Americans are the only card we can play right now!" Amelia drew in a sharp breath, pulling in her emotions. "Crouch, I don't want to keep arguing with you. I want you to go find Durand, and get the ball rolling on Greyback's capture and containment. Then, I need you to head to the States… We'll need, at the very least, a dozen more Aurors from them."

"A dozen?!" Crouch seethed. "Why don't we just hand them the keys to the building, instead?!"

"I have a plan, but I can't pull it off myself. The Americans are up to something, no doubts about that, but that doesn't mean that we can't use them for our own gain. They'll keep the peace, and when the Purebloods eventually decide to fight back using the economy, we'll have Weasley's Quibbler to point the finger right at them. There is no time to lose, not a single bloody second. If we keep arguing, and delaying, we'll lose-" A knock at the door interrupted her, and Amelia let out a sigh of pure relief. Finally, something else to stress me into an early grave. "Come in."

Abigail opened the door and popped her head through the crack. "Ronald Weasley is here, Minister." He's early.

"Let him in, please," Amelia ordered, exchanging a tense glance with Crouch. "United front-"

"I know," Crouch hissed, before drawing in a sharp breath.

Amelia sat up straighter, adorning her most stern expression as the young redhead was escorted into the office by Abigail, a large bouquet of roses resting against his arm. Ugh… I despise flowers… Herbology was never my strongest subject.

"Good afternoon, Minister," Weasley greeted pleasantly, even giving Crouch a cordial nod.

"Good afternoon," Amelia returned, raising an eyebrow. "The flowers are a bit much, don't you think?"

"Really? I think they're lovely," Weasley beamed, before turning to face Abigail and presenting the bouquet to her. "You were very polite to me the last time I was here, Miss. Gibbon. Thank you." Huh?

Amelia blinked, while the younger witch lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really?! Oh, you're the sweetest thing! Thank you!" She accepted the bouquet and smelled it, her smile growing to a comical degree. "I love roses!"

Amelia fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Abigail, you may leave us, now."

"I'll go find a vase for these," Abigail giggled, leaving the office with a bright smile.

"Why not just give them to her outside?" Amelia asked, trying to figure out what his game was. "Why the theatrics?"

"Oh… Did you want a bouquet too?" Weasley asked, smirking. Smug brat. "I didn't want to step out of line with you, Minister, but what do you think about sunflowers? Bright and yellow! Like my favourite House-"

"I don't want flowers from you, Mr. Weasley," Amelia interrupted, noticing his heavy eyelids and the dark rings underneath them. He looks exhausted.

"Right, you want my Quibbler," Weasley tapped his temple, before looking to the scowling Crouch. "That's no way to look at a man whose help you so desperately need, mate."

"You can help us, or you can go to Azkaban," Crouch warned, but Weasley remained unfazed. Was that necessary? We need him, you fool.

"I used to be intimidated by this man," Weasley sniggered, turning his attention back to Amelia. "He even brought me close to tears, once, when I was working under him as a 'diplomat', and making a right fucking mess of it. Now, though…" Weasley lost all his mirth. "Now, I know I can tear his stupid moustache clean off his face, and ram it right up his arsehole. Should I show you?"

"Just give the word, Minister," Crouch growled, looking murderous, now. Men… The Gods shared the sense of one bloody goat amongst them all. So much for the 'united front'.

"Leave us," Amelia ordered Crouch, much to his chagrin. "You have your orders, Crouch. There is no time to lose." If you're not going to be useful here, then go be useful somewhere else.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement grit his teeth as he made his way out, shooting one last look of contempt at Weasley before slamming the door shut behind him.

"I'm not going to help you if he keeps behaving this way," Weasley shrugged, putting on another smirk. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Take a seat, Mr. Weasley."

"Thank you," the young wizard unbuttoned his coat as he lowered himself into a chair. "These are nice chairs. Very comfortable."

"When was the last time you slept?" Amelia asked, wondering what he'd been up to.

"Is it that obvious?" Weasley scratched the back of his neck, his smirk morphing into a sheepish grin. "…Bad dreams… The shit I see whenever I close my eyes, Minister… You wouldn't believe it even if I told you."

"Try me."

"Oh, you'll have to do better than that if you want my secrets." It was worth a shot.

"Right now, I'm willing to settle for your magazine."

"Settle? Don't make it sound like you have a choice," Weasley sniggered. "It's either my magazine, or the people start buying the garbage the Daily Prophet is peddling. Have you read what they're printing about you?" Yes… "Downright rude, honestly. Shouldn't there be laws against spreading misinformation with the intent to cause harm?"

"I believe so, but the Daily Prophet has always been a mouthpiece of the powerful, and that comes with many… privileges."

"The powerful, and the Ministry," Weasley reminded her, and she gave a nod.

"I want to change that, as you already know."

"The Quibbler won't become your new mouthpiece, Minister. As always, it will report the facts, nothing more. No propaganda. No lies. If you fuck up, the Quibbler will print that too."

"That's fair," she agreed. "I need a way to show the people the changes I'm bringing to their Ministry. New laws. New positions. New opportunities. That's all I want from you, Mr. Weasley. Honest journalism, and a fair chance."

Weasley smiled genuinely for the first time since he'd entered the office, his shoulders easing up. "I will hold you to those words, Minister."

"How do we proceed, then?" Amelia asked, preparing a parchment and her quill.

"Greta Thornburg will get in touch with your people. You remember her, don't you?"

"I do." She's not one to shy away from asking difficult questions, nor does she leave any stone unturned. A good choice.

"How much access she's granted will depend on you, of course, but if you try to impede her work, she'll make your life hell. So, I suggest that you be honest with her, because she'll get to the truth one way or another. Oh, and my Logistics Officer, Gornuk, will also be in touch." Gornuk? A Goblin?

"Why hire a Goblin within your company, Mr. Weasley?" Amelia asked suddenly, and Weasley raised an eyebrow.

"Because he's clever," Weasley answered. "Do you have a problem with Goblins, Minister?"

"No, but they are notorious for being untrustworthy. Most wizards wouldn't trust a Goblin with such a vital position in their operation, so I was simply curious."

"He hasn't broken my trust yet, so I don't see him as untrustworthy. Without him, the Quibbler wouldn't even exist, actually. As far as I'm concerned, he's more than earned his 'vital position' in my operation." He's fair to those who are fair to him. That's good. It already makes him a better option than the Daily Prophet. "Speaking of Goblins… What will be your policy on other Magical species? The Goblins? The Elves? The Centaurs?"

"As of yet, we are still trying to establish order and stability to the Ministry. However, I intend to begin the work of mending bridges with them, eventually. Many will disagree, of course, but the Ministry must represent more than just wizards and witches." The sooner I get started, the better. I won't have the Dark Lord grow his army with their numbers.

"I'm glad to hear that," Weasley gave an approving nod. "Just one last bit of business, then… The fine and the public apology…" Is he going to try and weasel out of his punishment? "I can pay the fine, today. Have you settled on a number?"

Amelia felt her lips twitch upwards, but she retained her composure. "Five hundred Galleons will do nicely, I believe." It's harsh, but fair, He put his hands on the Head-Auror, after all. By all rights, he should lose his wand for that.

"Ah, you like to bend them right over, don't you?" Weasley sighed out, before giving a nod. "Five hundred, then… Gornuk is going to bloody murder me…"

"As for the apology, it can wait," Amelia continued. "It would look awfully suspicious if you gave a public apology, and then started reporting for the Ministry-"

"On the Ministry," the young wizard corrected.

"Yes, on the Ministry. People would say that you're under our thumb, and that would hurt us both."

"Fair enough," Weasley rose out of his chair, fixing up his navy suit. "You'll have the gold within the hour."

"And Miss. Thornburg?"

"She'll be here tomorrow morning." Excellent.

"What happens to you when your alliance learns that you'll be contradicting the Daily Prophet going forward? Lady Prewett and Lady Longbottom have been very outspoken against me, Mr. Weasley. They will not be pleased with you."

"I don't need them, anymore," Weasley shrugged. "The alliance I built… It has served its purpose. There was a time when I would have been sad to see it fall apart, but now, I couldn't care less. Everyone there is just a means to an end." As am I, I'm sure. I have to be more careful with him than they were. "Have a pleasant evening, Minister."

"You as well, Mr. Weasley."

Weasley departed without delay, leaving Amelia alone in her office at long last. Finally… Some peace and quiet. I'll fix myself a drink, and then, I'll continue picking out the candidates for the vacant Wizengamot seats. I wonder how the boy would have reacted if I told him that I plan to give his father a seat? We need someone willing to draft laws that protect Muggle-Kind, and I can think of no one better for that thankless job than Arthur Weasley.

---

Lord Voldemort's POV

Sunday 9th May, 1994 (Mount Tsakhvoa – Night)

The constant giggling was starting to vex him, Bellatrix had been bouncing Alexie on her lap for well over an hour, now. She was besotted with the boy her husband had brought back from Volkov's palace, and had taken to caring for him as if she were his actual mother. She alone would feed him, bathe him, and she had even forced Rodolphus to carve toys for him to play with. It was unnerving to see her so… tamed by a mere child, but for now, Lord Voldemort was willing to leave her to her fantasies. Her loyalty, in the end, must lie only with me, and no one else. Not even her husband.

"Oh, look, Alexie!" Bellatrix suddenly squeeled, hugging the boy tightly. "It's uncle Rabastan!" At last, he returns.

The Dark Lord eyed the younger Lestrange silently as he made his way over, kneeling beside his Lord and Master. "I have returned, my Master." Yes, I have eyes.

"How was your journey, Rabastan?" Lord Voldemort asked smoothly, signalling him to rise to his feet.

"Fruitful," Rabastan answered, standing up to his full height.

"Come with me, then," Voldemort moved off of his temporary throne. "Bellatrix, it is almost time for the young one to be put to bed, is it not? Join us outside once you've tucked him in."

Together with Rabastan, Lord Voldemort moved silently through the network of caves hidden within Mount Tsakhvoa, until finally, they both crossed the threshold separating the damp caves from the cold, cloudless night. We must move on from here, eventually, and into more suitable accommodations. Lord Voldemort, the most powerful being to ever walk this fragile world, deserves better than wet rocks and endless darkness.

"What was Sokolov's response?" the Dark Lord asked, removing his hood and revealing his serpentine face.

"He was eager to join, my Lord," Rabastan answered promptly. "And, as a gesture of goodwill, he showed me the scope of his enterprise. It is… vast. For someone so young, he is certainly accomplished." And arrogant because of it, no doubt.

"Well done, Rabastan," Lord Voldemort smiled a lipless smile, his eyes gleaming red. "Dolohov, Volkov, and now, Sokolov as well. This leaves only Morozov and Agapov."

"Any word from Lord Travers?"

"None," Lord Voldemort hissed, losing his smile. "He is either courting Agapov, or he has murdered her and is trying to find a way to please me before he returns."

"Perhaps, you should have sent Lord Rookwood with him? As you sent Ian with me?"

"Augustus is no caretaker, and I cannot afford to lose him to Philip's madness. No, I need Augustus elsewhere, and before you ask, he has already been dispatched. He will keep the Russian Ministry in line, while the rest of you will keep the Russian nobility focused on our war." The Dark Lord then looked to his subject, who quickly bowed his head. "Where is Ian, now?"

"With Sokolov, my Lord. I do not trust the man just yet, so I left Ian behind as insurance." A wise decision.

"Well done, Rabastan. You have proven yourself useful."

"Thank you, my Lord," Rabastan's voice brimmed with pride.

"With three of 'the Five' serving me, as well as the Russian Ministry, Morozov will be compelled to join as well. He is not a brave man, but his connections within the Russian Ministry, and others, will prove most valuable to me."

"And, once you have them all, my Lord?"

"Then, I will turn my attention to the lesser families. They all serve the Five in one form or another, and as such, they will be far easier to court. I want this country under my heel as quickly as possible, Rabastan, so that we can move onto its neighbours. When I return to Magical Britain, I will not be denied my destiny! Potter… Dumbledore… The Order… Lord Voldemort will crush them like the ants they are!" He drew in a sharp breath, feeling his blood boil at the mere thought of Potter squatting inside his castle. I will peel the flesh from his bones as Dumbledore watches helplessly! There will be no mercy for what they've done to me! "Find your brother, Rabastan, and then, bring Samara to me. Make sure she comes here without her wand, and as afraid as possible. She must feel disposable, that is essential."

"The Minister? You want her here, my Lord?"

"I will return her son to her, and promise her his safety from this day on," Lord Voldemort revealed, eager to be rid of the irritating youth. "Sometimes, compassion can be a far deadlier weapon than terror. Remember that, Rabastan, as it will serve you well."

"I will, my Lord."

"Go and rest, now. Tomorrow, you set out, again."

Rabastan bowed his head one last time before heading back inside, ready to serve his Master's will. Lord Voldemort, alone at last, stared up at the starry sky, thinking back to the very first day he had walked into the warm, candle-lit Great Hall of Hogwarts. I will take back everything they've stolen from me.

---

Monday 10th May, 1994 (Mount Tsakhvoa – Evening)

"Can't we keep him, my Lord?" Bellatrix pleaded; her expression crestfallen.

"He is not a pet, my dear," the Dark Lord said softly. "He is the key to securing his mother's loyalty."

"…His 'mother' allowed him to be captured…" Bellatrix muttered under her breath. "…She doesn't deserve him…"

"That is not for you to decide," Lord Voldemort whispered, reaching forward and stroking her thick, shining dark hair. "No more of this, Bella. Do as you are told."

"Yes, my Lord," she sighed, leaning into his touch. "I will go and prepare him, then."

The Dark Lord gave a short nod, pulling his hand away and gesturing her to leave. With slumped shoulders, Bellatrix dragged her feet as she departed from the chamber. They should be here any minute, now. I must show Samara that I am to be feared above all others, but also that I am more than generous when served well. Knowing Dumbledore, that old fool, he's already approached her and promised to protect her son from me. Pitiful man… He never was all that intelligent, or cunning.

Soon, the Dark Lord sensed the arrival of Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Samara outside the cave network, and after a few more minutes, the three of them stepped into the chamber. Lord Voldemort watched them silently as they approached him, and when they kneeled by his stony throne, he finally broke his silence.

"Welcome to my humble home, Samara," the Dark Lord greeted, his voice cold and sibilant. "Look upon what your Lord and Master has been reduced to, lurking under this pile of rocks like a wounded snake." Her slender form became tense, much to his amusement. "Does it please you to see me, the greatest of our kind, brought so low?"

"No, my Master," Samara answered immediately, keeping her head bowed.

"Then, should you not offer me your home?"

"It is yours, already." As quick on her feet as always. How fortunate for her.

"Rise," the Dark Lord commanded, and they did as they were bid. "Rodolphus, Rabastan… Leave us." The brothers bowed their heads, before leaving Samara alone with her mentor. "Sit, Samara."

"Thank you, my Lord," she took a seat to his left, and when he removed his hood, she even managed to keep her composure.

His scarlet eyes studied her face, before he smiled a lipless smile. I can taste her fear. "You appear stressed, Minister, despite your recent successes. Tell me, what is the matter? What is distracting you from serving my will?"

Samara hesitated for a moment, before swiftly recollecting herself. "Lord Volkov has taken my son, my Lord. I fear that he will hurt the boy, unless I serve his will in place of yours." Volkov is dangerous, yes, but he bowed before me just like all the rest. You belong to me, Samara Ivanov, and no one else.

"Has he made any demands of you?" Lord Voldemort continued the ruse.

"None so far, but it is only a matter of time."

"Poor Alexie… To be separated from one's mother is a painful burden to bear."

"My Lord, I do not wish to ask more from you, but…" she trailed off.

"You want me to return your son to you?" Lord Voldemort asked, and she gave a weak nod. "Is that what Dumbledore promised you? When you spoke to him at your gala?"

Her expression remained fixed, but once again, her body became tense. "Yes."

"And did you consider his offer? Did you consider betraying me for a new Master?"

"I did not, my Lord."

"Good," the Dark Lord praised, leaning back on his throne. "After all I've done for you, after I taught you my Magics as if you were my own daughter, the only thing I've ever asked for in return is your loyalty."

"And you have it, my Lord."

"Do I?" he lost his false smile, his eyes gleaming brightly. "Where were you when I needed you? Where were you when I was alone and in agony? Where were you when the world celebrated my downfall?" She averted her gaze, knowing that no answer would ever be good enough. "You are just like the rest of them, Samara. Disloyal. Disobedient. Disgraceful. You care only for what I can give you, whilst never thinking of what you can give me."

He drew in a sharp breath, before reaching into his dark robes and drawing his wand. The fear within her revealed itself upon her face as she stared at it, the torchlight dancing across its bone-white length, and eventually, that fear morphed into resignation. Slowly, she turned her dread-filled gaze back to his face, mustering what little courage she could find.

"…Don't hurt my son…" she managed, her lips trembling. "…Don't punish him for my failings…" Even at the end, she cares only for him?

Something akin to envy sparked deep within him, as he remembered his own selfish, weak-willed mother, and for a moment, he considered ending the witch before him despite his plans for her. Another day, perhaps, but for now, I need her.

"You will never disappoint me, again," Lord Voldemort hissed, placing his wand on the stone table before covering his head with his dark hood.

Samara blinked, a shaky breath escaping her lips. "…My Lord?"

"Bellatrix, come," he summoned, and promptly, his deadliest enforcer stepped into the chamber, a small child holding her hand and following after her.

"Mama?" Alexie stopped as soon as he spotted Samara, a ludicrously large smile breaking out on his small face. "Mama!"

"A-Alexie?!" Samara shot out of her seat, the pair of them rushing to embrace each other. "Alexie! My son!"

Samara scooped up the boy and hugged him tightly, sobbing in relief as the boy bombarded her with tales of his grand adventure. How touching… Mother and son reunited once more. Let none ever claim that Lord Voldemort does not show mercy, for it is through his mercy that all in the Wizarding World still draw breath.

---

One Hour Later

"Ah, she returns, at last," Lord Voldemort whispered coldly, just as all three Lestranges looked to Samara. "You were gone for quite some time, Samara. Did Alexie have trouble falling asleep in his own bed?" I am glad to be rid of him. Children… Disgusting creatures…

"Forgive me, but I lost track of time," Samara answered truthfully, walking further into the chamber and bowing her head. "Words cannot express my gratitude to you, my Master."

"Then, your actions will have to suffice, Minister," Rabastan told her, smirking. "However, you should thank my brother. After all, he is the one who risked his very life to secure Alexie's."

Samara looked to Rodolphus, a man who was entirely uninterested in words of any kind. "Thank you, Lord Lestrange. You have made an Eternal Friend, tonight."

"Your son is strong, Minister," Rodolphus said, while Bellatrix glowered and shifted in her seat. "When he comes of age, send him to me."

She bowed her head, again, and when the Dark Lord gestured her to take a seat, she did so immediately. Now, to find out why she lost control over Luka Yahontov.

"Volkov's manor was besieged by Luka Yahontov, Samara," the Dark Lord started, surprising her. "He was there to steal away Alexie for Dumbledore, I imagine."

"Yahontov, and his Mrakogubci, have not been seen for well over a week," Samara told them, frowning deeply. "I was having them watched, so I assumed that they had caught on and gone into hiding… But this? To attack one of the Five? That man has traded away what little intelligence he had for his addiction."

"And yet, he outmanoeuvred you," Lord Voldemort sneered. "Not only did he catch your spies, he even managed to escape them along with his entire team. The most dangerous Aurors in Magical Russia now serve that old fool, and I doubt we'll find them before they strike, again. Why did you not have them killed sooner?"

"Yahontov… is a hero, my Lord," Samara answered. "He is a brute, certainly, but the people of Magical Russia adore him." Yes… He was the face of the Russian resistance against me during the Great War. "To have him, and his Mrakogubci, assassinated without arousing suspicion… That would be no easy feat. However, I was preparing for it. They were to be sent on a mission where they would have been ambushed from all sides-"

"We don't care about what you were planning, Ivanov," Bellatrix snarled, one of her fingers twirling about in her hair. "He threw a fucking axe at my husband! Tell her, Rodolphus! Tell her how you almost lost your life to that madman!"

"He is a problem, Minister," Rodolphus simply said, much to Bellatrix's chagrin.

"And, now, he is in the wind, because of you," Lord Voldemort accused. "Because you have grown far too dependent on the 'love of the people'." What's the point of having power if you don't use it, you worm? Did you learn nothing from me?

"I will find them, my Lord, and destroy them," Samara promised. "That is my solemn vow to you. I will never disappoint you, again. I owe my son's life to your mercy, and that is a debt that I will repay every day."

"Make sure that you do, for even my mercy and patience have limits." I have her, now. She belongs to me, Dumbledore. "And, speaking of mercy, you must forgive Volkov for overstepping his bounds. He has given me his allegiance, and I have need for men such as him."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Starting from tomorrow, you will begin to turn the public against Yahontov and his dogs, while Rabastan searches for them using Sokolov's resources," Lord Voldemort commanded. "Once they are found, you will have your Aurors put an end to them." She gave strong nod in response. "Dumbledore will soon know that Rodolphus managed to save Alexie from his clutches, however, he will not know that Alexie is safe with you. He will approach you, again, making his false promises, and we will use that to our advantage. You will tell him that I have Alexie with me, and that I am using the boy to threaten you into serving me. You will earn the old fool's trust, while I prepare a trap for him."

"Will he fall for such a ruse, my Lord?" Rabastan questioned.

"He will," the Dark Lord assured them all. "He cannot help himself, the ingrate. He sees himself as a great saviour, a beacon of love and hope. When Samara spins him the tale of my 'evil' act, he will believe it and act accordingly. If we are fortunate, we can finally be rid of him. And, if we are not, then, at the very least, we can put down some of his closest allies." He then looked directly at Samara, who raised her head high. "When you were small and alone, I gave you the love your father refused you. And, tonight, I have saved your son and returned him to you, for I have a great fondness for you both. I am not the monster Dumbledore paints me as, and unlike him, my words are not empty. Those who serve me loyally know this…" he gestured to the Lestranges, "…and if you serve me loyally, Samara, then I will make Alexie a king. I will watch over him his entire life, as if he were my own blood." Fail me, however, and I will hand you both over to Bellatrix.

"I was wrong to doubt you, my Lord. I will not make that mistake, again."

"Then, we are done for the night," Lord Voldemort said, rising from his throne. "My research requires my attention, and you have your orders. Keep Alexie hidden, and when Dumbledore contacts you, return to me. It is time I repaid him for what he did to my last vessel." He then looked to Bellatrix. "Find Lucius, and send him to me. I have need for a… volunteer." This current body shall serve me well in the coming months, but eventually, I will need one that can touch Potter without disintegrating. I will not be defeated by that cretin ever again.

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Monday 10th May, 1994 (Yaxley Manor – Night)

"She has to go, my Lords," Pius told them. "It is only a matter of time before the Aurors start targeting your estates and assets. The longer we wait, the bolder she will become." He's right. She should never have been allowed to take that office.

"Damn that woman," Robert growled, shaking his head. "Under her Ministership, we'll be lucky if we manage to stay out of Azkaban, let alone prepare for the Dark Lord's return."

"Any word from him, Corban?" Thorfinn asked, sounding rather hostile.

"None," Corban answered. "Despite his silence, however, we must do whatever we can to aid him. With the way things are going, my friends, it is only a matter of time before we are made obsolete. The people have forgotten who they owe this country's very existence to, and the likes of Amelia Bones is just the start. Others will be 'inspired' by her example, and then, there will be no place left for us."

"We kill her, then," Nott suggested, sneering. "We show everyone what happens when you move against the Pure." Your constant drinking has rotted your brain, old man.

"That would be ill-advised, my Lord," Felix spoke up. "Assassinating her now would only martyr her. It would be more prudent to wait until her popularity has diminished."

"Even now, the Daily Prophet is dragging her name through the mud," Corban gave an approving nod. "She will no doubt reach out to Weasley as a means to fight back against the Daily Prophet." Once again, that boy finds himself in a secure position of power. Where did we go wrong with our children? Why couldn't they turn out half as competent as him? "Attacking her now will only give that boy more ammunition against us."

"Weasley…" Robert whispered dangerously, his upper lip curling in disgust. "That fucking brat… He's become a plague upon us, and yet, we must continue to endure him? Why? Why does the Dark Lord wish to keep him as a pet? This is not right… He has become too powerful for a Blood-Traitor-"

"Then, have him killed, Robert," Corban cut in, frowning deeply. "Defy the Dark Lord, and watch your entire family burn." Robert grumbled under his breath, before downing his Firewhiskey in one swig. "No? Good… Enough of this pointless moaning. We can outfox a fourteen-year-old, surely." I say that, and yet, even I'm not so sure, anymore. He almost killed Mad-Eye himself in a fit of rage… He's more dangerous than any of us realized.

"Under normal circumstances, yes," Thorfinn said dully. "But we are not under normal circumstances. Our friends are dead. A self-righteous whore sits in the Minister's office. Our people in the Wizengamot have been ousted. And, now, we are forced to rely on foreigners for aid. Never have we been so weak, Corban… Not for centuries!"

Corban let out a tired sigh, he couldn't really argue against the man. "Pius… Have you anything else to share with us?"

"I do, my Lord," Pius answered. "There is to be a Triwizard Tournament, at Hogwarts." Triwizard Tournament? They're bringing it back? "It will take place starting September, and Igor Karkaroff will be attending. He is an old friend of yours, is he not?" Karkaroff…

"That worm is no friend to us," Robert scoffed. "He was at Ivanov's gala, lurking about in the shadows in the hopes of avoiding us."

"Bloody turncoat," Thorfinn added with equal revulsion.

"As the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, I will be at Hogwarts to oversee the tournament," Pius said, looking directly at his Master. "I will have access to Harry Potter, and can deliver him to you as a gift for the Dark Lord."

The room went silent, with Corban feeling a rush of excitement course throughout his body. "What of Dumbledore? The old man must not be underestimated. He will be watching Potter most keenly." But if we can take the boy and hand him over to our Master, we will win back his favour a thousandfold!

"Then, we must ensure that Mr. Potter leaves the Headmaster's sight," Pius said, his blank expression doing little to dull the brilliant news. "The Goblet of Fire can do that for us, I believe."

"How?" Thorfinn asked, leaning forward.

"This time, only those who are seventeen years of age will be allowed to compete," Pius started. "Dumbledore plans to place Charms around the Goblet to prevent underage students from depositing their names into it. I, however, will be able to pass through these Charms without trouble."

"Potter is not seventeen, however," Nott pointed out. "Dumbledore won't let him compete, even if he is selected as Hogwarts' champion."

"He will have no choice in the matter," Pius stated. "The Goblet is… alive, much like the Sorting Hat. Once it has chosen you, it binds you with a Magical Contract. Breaking this contract will result in your Magic being forfeit, and even Dumbledore cannot move against the Goblet's will. I will use a Confundus Charm to confuse the Goblet into believing me to be Harry Potter, and to be certain that Mr. Potter is selected, I will convince the Goblet that he is from a fourth school. Once his name flies out of the Goblet, Dumbledore's hands will be tied." Merlin's Beard…

Corban and the other exchanged startled looks, this mad scheme could actually work.

"You thought of this, Pius?" Corban asked, and the Imperiused man gave a nod.

"Your instructions were for me to aid you, my Lord. I think of very little beyond this noble endeavour."

Thorfinn and Nott laughed, while Robert and Felix just stared at Pius in awe.

"Your skill with the Imperius is a thing to behold, Corban," Robert suddenly commended, nodding to himself. "And you have chosen your man well, I'd say."

"If Potter dies in the tournament, the Dark Lord will reward us," Corban started. "If we capture him during the tournament and deliver him as a gift, the Dark Lord will make us kings! Yes… This is it… This is how we get back everything we've lost! While Pius puts his plan into action, we will create an alliance with those like us across Magical Europe! Not only will we deliver Potter to our Master, but also an army!" And, once again, he will know who to place his faith in. Not the mad dogs at his side, now, but us! The Pure! The people who actually care about Magical Britain and its future! "Return home, Pius, and know that I am pleased with your service. Stay close to the Minister, and under no circumstance are you to make an enemy out of her. You must remain in your position until Potter is taken care of."

"Yes, my Lord," Pius bowed his head, before turning on his heel and leaving the study.

"As promising as Thicknesse's plan is, what happens if Bones throws us in Azkaban before it can bear fruit?" Nott asked, and they all looked to Corban for the answer.

"Unlike those who she cast out of the Wizengamot, our pasts will guarantee that any resistance is seen as… an act of war," Corban began, he already knew what had to be done, even if it turned his stomach. "I don't know about you gentlemen, but I don't fancy a stint in Azkaban. Agreed?" They all nodded. "Then, to limit the damage Bones can do to us, we must… leave Magical Britain…"

"Leave Magical Britain?" Robert blinked, before looking murderous. "Are you mad?! This is our home! Our land! Would you have us flee from our enemies like cowards?!" Sending his daughter away has made him irrational! Why must he argue with me at every turn?!

"This is not a battlefield, Robert," Corban countered, clenching his jaw. "You think I want to leave my country? You think I want Bones, and her foreign dogs, threatening this nation's future? We have no other choice, not if Pius is to be believed. If they can't reach us, then they can't fabricate lies to come after us. And they will come after us… Even Arcturus has warned me of the coming threat, and I'm not going to ignore sage advice to protect my pride."

"This is for the best, my Lord," Felix urged Robert. "If we move against the Minister, we'll only serve to make her more desperate, which means more American Aurors. Until the people begin to turn on her, any action we take against her will only bring further harm upon us."

"…I still don't like it," Robert glowered, his large hands clenching into meaty fists.

"We can use this opportunity to further our relations with our new friends," Corban continued. "Lady Grueva was quite taken with us, was she not? We will go to her, first. I have a hidden manor in Magical Hungary, where we can all stay while this storm passes." Being closer to Magical Russia will also have its benefits. I can visit Valeriya whenever it suits me. That girl has been on my mind from the moment I first laid eyes on her.

"When do we leave, then?" Nott asked, looking quite displeased.

"As soon as possible," Corban answered. "Us, and our families… None of the Pure are safe here, anymore."

---

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 12th May, 1994 (Common Room – Late Evening)

"What's that?" Pansy asked, pointing to her list of 'camp improvements'.

"Just some ideas to help some people," Daphne answered vaguely, she really didn't want her friends to know what she was up to. What will they think of me when they find out what my father is capable of? It's going to be so humiliating…

"Which people?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um… Ron and I are just… working together on one of his projects," Daphne replied, mentally berating herself for bringing her work outside of her room.

"One of his projects?" Pansy repeated, surprised. "Who's he helping, now? The Merpeople? No, wait… It's the Vampires, isn't it?" They can't be far down his list, honestly.

"Not quite, no…"

"I thought you two were still at odds with each other." At odds? You mean fighting like cats and dogs, don't you? "What's going on, Daphne? You've been acting really weird over the last few days… You barely talk, you've had your nose buried in that diary of yours, even during class, and you've been ignoring your homework. Did something happen? Is it related to Millie? Or, this Schwarz boy she mentioned in her letter? What aren't you telling us?"

"What's with all the questions, Pans?" Daphne asked, feeling cornered. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. Ron and I made up, simple. Nothing is out of the ordinary."

Pansy blinked at her, before looking towards Ron, who was getting help on his Herbology assignments from Theo. "You two just… made up, did you? Just like that? He didn't tear you a new one for bickering with him?"

"No, he didn't, and yes, we've made up." At least, I think we have. It was so strange of him to just forgive me without us having another spat… Actually, when I think about it, he's been strange ever since he came back. Like he can't be bothered with anyone, so he just smiles and acts happy in order to avoid conflict. I mean, Astoria called him a Blood-Traitor to his face, and he just ignored it. When I tried to argue over what to do about Millie, he just ran off without fighting back. He didn't even punish anyone from C-Rank for losing to Gryffindor… Instead, he's been rewarding everyone-…

"Hello? Daphne? Merlin's Beard… Now, I'm getting really worried about you," Pansy gave her a light shove, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"I'm fine, Pansy, I promise," Daphne sighed out, closing her diary and rising out of her chair. "I'm just… busy. I'm going back to our room, it's too noisy out here."

"Right… Well, if you are going that way, can you check on Blaise for me, please?" Blaise?

Daphne looked around, noticing that he was the only one who wasn't here. "Um… Where is he?"

"In the training area," Pansy replied. "He's always there, now. Losing to Potter really got under his skin." Well, Potter had no business winning that tournament, so it's only natural. It's so obvious that Dumbledore just wanted to throw that half-wit a bone.

"Why can't you check on him?" Daphne asked. "He and I aren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye these days, and I'm not in the mood to get into an argument with him."

"You made up with Ron, didn't you? Now, go make up with him," Pansy grinned, shooting her a wink. "Oh, go on… He's given you enough space, and we both know that he regrets what he said. What's the point of holding onto this anger, Daphne? You're only hurting yourself, now." She's not wrong… He apologized sincerely, but I refused to acknowledge that. And, unlike my father, he genuinely has remorse over his actions. I should remember Chief Zotair in moments like this… After all the suffering he and his people have endured, he still chose to forgive and forget. That was one of the most noble acts I've ever seen.

Daphne drew in a deep breath, giving Pansy a half-smile. "I'll go talk to him, then."

"Really?! Wow, that was easy!" Pansy laughed, sounding rather smug. "Good on you, though! I'll be cheering for you both!"

Daphne made her way towards the training area, noticing along the way that Flint's gang was now in pieces, which cheered her up quite a bit. No one wants to be near Flint now that Ron's back. If only the other Houses knew that he's the reason why the worst of Slytherin have stopped being bullies overnight.

As she descended the steps leading into the training area, she spotted Blaise on the other end. He was practising with a dummy that had wheels for legs, his focus absolute as, each time, he dodged the dummy's Spells at the very last moment before being struck down by them. He's not firing any Spells back? Oh, he must be working on his dodging skills. Should I really disturb him right now? I don't want to break his concentration. Blaise suddenly fired a Disarming Charm at the dummy, knocking its curved wand out of its hand. Never mind, then.

"That was well done, Blaise," Daphne commended as she approached, and he swiftly turned on his heel. He looks surprised to see me, which is fair given our last conversation.

"…Thanks," Blaise said, wiping his brow. "Wait, did you just call me Blaise? Not Zabini?"

They stared at each other awkwardly, but just as he went to apologize for a second time, Daphne spoke up. "I forgive you, Blaise. You said something stupid out of anger, and I know what that's like. So… I forgive you, as long as you promise never to do it, again."

The handsome teenager blinked; his stumped expression entirely foreign to her. "…I won't do it, again. You have my promise."

"Good, then," Daphne said under her breath. "Let's not bring this up going forward. Let's just move on."

"I'm fine with that, but…" he trailed off.

"But?"

"What changed your mind? You were furious with me." I can't tell him the truth…

"I… saw something truly repulsive… Something horrible… And then, I saw someone who was above it, who was… brave and wise and…" she trailed off, raising her head high. "I don't know… I just want to be more like that person, I think. Holding a grudge against you, even when I know how hard things have been for you lately… It feels cruel and unnecessary. So, I forgive you, for both our sakes."

"…Um… Thanks, Daphne," Blaise gave a slow nod, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Wait… What did you see? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"I'm not in trouble, but I am helping some people who are," Daphne said reassuringly. "I'd rather not say much on the matter, but don't worry about me. I'm with Ron, so I'm perfectly safe."

"I understand," Blaise gave a stronger nod. See, Pansy? It's that easy not to be so nosey. "Just be careful, all right? And look out for Ron."

"I will," Daphne said, turning to leave. "Don't forget to take a break. Madam Pomfrey won't be happy if you take Ron's spot in the Hospital Wing."

Already feeling lighter for having let go of her anger, Daphne began the journey to her room, opening up her diary and reading her notes as she went along. Proper latrines, a place to bathe, a fresh supply of water, removing all the waste throughout the camp… Hopefully, all of this will be enough to get rid of that horrible stench, which is probably making the Centaurs even sicker. How am I going to convince Ron's people to do all of this, though? I don't want him to ask them for me, because, honestly, that'd be pathetic on my part, but I might have to swallow my pride on this. It's vital that we make that camp more habitable, and the Centaurs are too weak to do it themselves, so it falls on us to do it for them.

She entered her room and closed the door behind herself, still staring at her diary as she made her way towards her bed. When she withdrew the curtains, and saw that someone was already sitting on her bed, her skin almost jumped off of her bones. Tori?! Fucking hell… What's wrong with you?!

"Merlin's Beard, Astoria…" Daphne let out a shaky breath, while her little sister sniggered mischievously. "How long have you been waiting to jump me?"

"About twenty minutes," Astoria grinned, throwing herself back and cuddling with Ezekiel. "I didn't know you had this giant teddy bear, Daphne. It's so cute!"

"What are you doing here?" Daphne frowned, still upset with her sister. And stop clinging to him like that. That's meant to be Ron… Sort of… Ugh… Why am I such a freak?

"I'm bored," Astoria shrugged, losing her mirth. "My stupid 'friends' are ignoring me, and everyone in Slytherin gives me funny looks wherever I go."

"I wonder why," Daphne said icily. I know why she's here. She wants me to go fix her mess, as usual.

"I made a mistake, all right!" Astoria groaned, looking petulant. "I got angry, and I… I didn't mean it, Daphne! It just… came out of me…" It just came out of you? That's your excuse?

"That doesn't matter, because you still hurt him," Daphne scolded, shaking her head in disappointment. "And, you hurt yourself… Ron runs this House, now, and that means that you have to show him the respect he is due. What did you think was going to happen when you confronted him like that? When you started screaming and acting like a spoilt brat?"

Astoria averted her gaze, her expression falling. "…Can't you help me? I hate this…" There it is!

"Help you?" Daphne asked. "Astoria, take some responsibility for yourself, will you? Go and apologize to him. Tell him that you accept his decision, and that you won't ever say something so wretched to him, again. That's all you have to do. He has a soft spot for you, he always has. He'll forgive you, and then, soon enough, your friends will too. It's really that easy."

"But it's not!" Astoria whined, much to Daphne's annoyance. "It's embarrassing, and you're supposed to be my big sister-"

"Stop that," Daphne put her foot down, giving her sister a warning glare. "I'm not going to fix this for you, and neither is anyone else. This is your mess. You clean it up."

"Thanks for nothing, Daphne!" Astoria shoved Ezekiel away, before sliding off the bed. "You're the worst sister in the world!" Circe give me strength! She is incapable of taking on any form of responsibility!

"I'm trying to look out for you!" Daphne snapped. "Are you going to come running to me every time you make a mistake?! Grow up, Astoria!"

"Who else am I supposed to go to, then?!"

"How about you start by actually trying to fix your mess?!"

"I am, aren't I?"

"By coming to me?!"

"Yes! Sisters are supposed to help each other!"

"What do you think I've been doing my whole life?!" Daphne hissed, fighting the urge to rip out her own hair. "I've always looked out for you! I have a scar on my foot to prove it! All you do is fool around, Astoria! You don't take anything seriously, and for the first time in your life, that attitude has had consequences! If I were in Ron's shoes, I wouldn't pick you to be a delegate, either!"

Astoria clenched her jaw, her small hands curling into fists. "You've always hated me! You wish I'd never been born! Just admit it!" Where did that come from?! When have I ever made you feel-? "You wanted to throw me in a dungeon because you want to get rid of me!"

Daphne blinked, feeling the fire in her belly be doused by guilt. "…Astoria…"

"If I weren't around, you could have mother and father all to yourself! I'm not stupid! I know exactly how you feel! So, just admit it! You're glad that Ron hates me, now, because you don't want me to have any friends! That's why you won't help me! Admit it!"

Daphne just stared at her little sister, feeling mortified that Astoria had picked up on her jealousy. "I don't hate you, Tori… You're my sister. And that business with the dungeon… I should never have said that, and I'm so sorry. It was cruel and pathetic of me to even think of it." She tossed the diary onto the bed, before sitting on the edge. "Sit down, please."

"No…" Astoria refused, sticking her nose up.

"Don't be like that, little sister," Daphne sighed out, taking Astoria's hand in hers and gently tugging the smaller witch to her side. "Tori, I'm not glad about what happened between you and Ron, not one bit, and neither are your friends. They love Ron too, which is why they're so angry with you. That word… It's a terrible thing to call someone. Ron's uncles were murdered because evil people thought of them as 'Blood-Traitors'. They were beheaded, and don't forget that, just a few months ago, someone tried to do the same to Ron." Astoria deflated a little, swallowing thickly. "You can't say something so vile, Astoria, and not expect there to be consequences. I know you didn't mean it, I know you were angry, but that doesn't give you the right to hurt others. I need you to understand that, okay? That's why it has to be you who fixes this, not me." I'm not going to spoil you like mother and father have. If you truly love someone, then you have to hold them accountable. You have to steer them onto the right path whenever they lose their way.

"…What if he tells me to go away?" Astoria muttered, shrinking further. "He always does whatever you say, Daphne. That's why I thought-"

"Are you sorry for what you said?" Daphne cut in, and Astoria gave a weak nod. "Then, tell him that, and if he refuses to accept your apology, then learn from this, so you can be better in the future." He'll accept, though. I know he will.

"Ugh… You sound just like father…" Astoria grumbled, making Daphne tense up. Don't compare me to that man. My whole life I wanted to be just like him, but thank the Gods I'm not.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Daphne whispered, disgust bubbling up from her core.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"…It doesn't matter," Daphne drew in a deep breath, forcing any thoughts of her parents out of her head. "What matters is you doing the right thing, now."

"…He's scary when he's angry…" Astoria mumbled under her breath, but Daphne heard her clear as day. Scary is an understatement, truth be told, but he's not really angry with you. Disappointed, certainly, but not angry. He said so himself.

"You can't be brave if you're not scared, right?" Daphne smiled encouragingly, giving Astoria's shoulders a squeeze. "Come on, then. I'll go with you, but you'll do the apologizing on your own."

"This is not how this was supposed to go," Astoria whined as Daphne helped her to her feet.

"You'll be fine," Daphne promised, tugging her sister along. "He's doing his homework with Theo right now, which means he's in a good mood. The timing couldn't be-"

"A good mood? Because of homework?" Astoria gagged. "He's such a freak."

"Don't be rude," Daphne admonished, the pair of them leaving the room. "And it's not the homework that's got him all jolly. It's Theo. He… has a way of making Ron laugh." They're both vulgar pigs, but I shouldn't say that. "Just come along, and stop pouting. Be sincere, and be honest. You've always been good at talking your way out of trouble, so use that gift against him-"

"Are you really going to hold my hand all the way there?" Astoria interjected. "Your palms are sweaty, Daphne."

"They are not!" Daphne pulled her hand away, shooting her palm a glance just to make sure. Liar.

"Made you look," Astoria smiled weakly. "…Don't leave, okay? I'll do the 'apologizing', but don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as they were crossing the common room, Daphne noticed the 'funny looks' Astoria had mentioned earlier. They were eerily similar to the looks Flint and his lot had been receiving, even from her, ever since Ron's return; an observation that made her feel a little uncomfortable about her spite towards the repeating-seventh-year. We Slytherins, for all our talk of fraternity, can be so bloody eager to torment our own. Maybe, I should've done more for Tori, instead of losing my temper with her? Is that why Ron didn't tell her off? He already knew that she'd be punished? Not by him, but rather, by those around her? By her own friends?

"I will teach her to be better, just as I taught you," Ron's voice echoed in her head, and she let out a long sigh. I'm not sure that's the best way to teach people, Ron, but I can't rightfully say that you don't know what you're doing. You changed us, after all. Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Millie, Tracey, me… Even Draco Malfoy. I should spend less time questioning you, and more time listening to you.

Daphne and Astoria came to a stop as they neared Ron and Theo, both of whom were sniggering to each other like a pair of thieves. What filthy joke have they come up with now? I'll probably hear it at the dinner table, tonight.

"Go on," Daphne looked to her sister, who was now steadily growing red in the face. "Tori, step forward and apologize. There's no turning back, now. People are watching us."

Ron and Theo had now noticed the two girls, as had Pansy and Malfoy, though they were a lot more subtle, and mindful, than the two hyenas.

"Well?" Ron broke the silence after a few seconds, exchanging a glance with Theo. "What is it? Why do you both look like you need to shit, but can't." Thank for saying that when the worst gossip in Slytherin, Pansy 'the pervert' Parkinson, is sitting right there. Thank you so much, Ron.

Daphne nudged Astoria forward, giving Ron a meaningful look right after. Don't be a prat, okay? Be serious. This is important to me.

"Ron… I'm sorry for what I said to you," Astoria started, was she always this tiny? "It was… cruel and pathetic of me to even think it." Did she just steal my apology? Merlin's Beard… Is she even sorry? Or, did I get tricked by her, again? "Will you forgive me?" T-That was it? Really? Oh, Tori…

Theo bit his bottom lip, as if trying his best to not start laughing, whereas Ron just stared at Astoria like she was an ant. "Are you? You don't sound very sorry to me. Theo? What about you?"

"Sounds forced, mate," Theo smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Come on, little Daphne. You can do better than that, surely."

"I'm not little, you-!" Astoria started, but swiftly stopped herself from taking the bait. "Ron, I really am sorry. I was angry, and stupid, and I won't ever say that word, again."

Ron nodded slowly, shooting a quick glance at Daphne. "That was better, but you're not sorry just yet, but you will be when you write me an essay on that word's history." An essay? Oh, that's just… brilliant!

"An essay?!" Astoria gaped, whereas Daphne forced herself to keep a straight face. "I don't want to write an essay-!"

"You can either write two parchments worth of words, or you can wash Professor Snape's cauldrons until the end of the year," Ron interjected, his gaze becoming rather intense. "Those are your two options, Astoria. So, which one will it be?"

Astoria looked back to Daphne for help, who simply nudged her forward, again. Clean. Your. Mess. Tori. And be grateful that he's being so lenient with you.

"I'll… write the essay…" Astoria's shoulders slumped, a miserable pout on her face.

"All the information you will need is in the library," Ron's lips twitched upwards, while Theo wheezed like a donkey. "Your topic will be… Hm… Ah! The topic will be; 'Is it acceptable to use the term 'Blood-Traitor' to refer to someone who's been nothing but supportive of you?' You have two weeks to bring it to me, all right? I want the origin of the word, its long and bloody history summarised, and I want you to answer the topic faithfully. If you try to cheat me by writing in big letters, or by plagiarising the books, you'll be dealing with Professor Snape instead of me. Complete the task, and I will accept your apology."

"Thank you, Ron," Daphne stepped forward, pulling her sister away before she could ruin this opportunity by running her mouth.

"Aren't I magnanimous?" Ron asked Theo, grinning.

"Beyond compare," Theo laughed, while Malfoy rolled his eyes in the background.

"He didn't have to be so smug about it," Astoria grumbled as the sisters walked away.

"Smug, or angry? Which one would you have preferred?" Daphne asked in response.

"…Smug…"

"Then, don't complain. Just write the essay, and take it seriously. Ron's trying to teach you a valuable lesson here, as am I." Daphne then smiled softly, taking Astoria's hand in hers. "Still, I'm very proud of you, little sister. Doesn't it feel good to take responsibility for your actions?"

"No." Oh… One step at a time, Daphne… One step at a time.

---

Wednesday 12th May, 1994 (The Sanctuary – After Dinner)

"I figured you'd be up here all by yourself," Daphne said as she approached, and he lethargically looked up from the mysterious letter he'd received this morning. "That letter, again? You looked upset when you first got it, and you look upset, now. Who's it from?"

"I wasn't upset," Ron looked back to the letter, his expression stern.

"I know when you're upset, Ron," Daphne smiled, taking a seat across from him. "I can tell just by looking at you." That crease in your brow, pressing your lips until they lose colour, the storm behind your eyes… I know.

"Do you want something?" he looked up, again, his nostrils flaring. "Or, are you just here to annoy me?"

"See? That's you being upset."

"For the love of…" Ron trailed off, drawing in a sharp breath. "…Fine. You win. I was a little upset. The letter is from… a friend. Her name is Met, and she needs my help. Now, leave it." Met, huh? When did he meet this one? "What are you doing up here?"

"Just checking up on you," she shrugged, studying his pale, weary face. "You know, when you're not pretending to be cheery and 'magnanimous'."

"Pretending?" Ron put the letter down. "I don't always have to pretend, Daphne. Sometimes, when I'm in Slytherin, I… get distracted. I can stop thinking and just have a laugh with my mates, but when I'm up here by myself…" he tapped his temple. "You wouldn't understand. You're too small to step into my shoes." …Right… "But, one day, you'll fit, and then, you'll understand."

"I look forward to it," Daphne said, crossing her legs and smirking.

Ron just stared right through her, before turning his attention towards the fire. "Good work with your sister. I assume she wanted you to talk to me, but you made her apologize, instead."

"You assume right," Daphne gave a nod. "Tori is… Well, she's Tori, but I can handle her. That punishment you came up with was quite clever. She's going to hate every second of it."

"It wasn't a punishment," Ron said curtly, making her blink. "I don't punish people with essays and words. I have my fists for that. I'm teaching her humility, empathy, and compassion." Oh… I see. "I'm teaching her how important it is to not hurt others when she inevitably gets her inheritance. Gold changes people, Daphne. It makes them their worst selves, and considering how much gold she'll have one day, it's important that she turns out decent." I can't argue with that.

"You're doing more to discipline her than mother and father ever did," Daphne pointed out, following his gaze towards the fireplace. What does he see in the flames? I always catch him staring into-…

"What are your plans for the holidays?" Ron suddenly asked. "Are you going back to Greengrass Manor?"

Daphne tensed a little, that question had been tying her stomach into knots ever since last Saturday. "…I don't know. I'm not ready to face them, again. Not yet. But what choice do I have?"

"There is always a choice, but you need to look for it," Ron said coolly. "Go to the Burrow. Stay in my room. Mum and dad will look after you, and your parents trust them. It will buy you some time to think of something more permanent." That's not a bad idea, actually, but does that mean he doesn't plan to go home? I shouldn't ask. It's a touchy subject, and he's already in a mood.

"What if they demand that I come home?" Daphne asked, instead.

"Do you remember when my parents wanted to re-sort me?" Ron asked in response.

"I do."

"What did I do when that happened?"

"You stood your ground," Daphne answered. "With the help of your friends, of course."

"And you have the same friends," Ron reminded her, shooting her a withering glance. "Grow a spine, or go home."

Daphne nodded to herself; he was right, but what about her sister? "I'll be leaving Tori with them, and that doesn't feel right to me. She'll start asking questions, Ron, and she won't like the answers. I… don't want her to get stressed." I should tell him about the Curse, so he doesn't push her too far during training. "She's always been sickly, I've told you that, right? Well, it's more complicated than that-"

"She's Cursed, and so are you," Ron cut in, and her jaw dropped open. "I already know, Daphne. Your parents told me." WHAT?! They told you?! Before me?! What the fuck?! "Actually, it was your father who told me, but still… I know."

Daphne stared at him, anger and feelings of betrayal welling up inside her. "How. Long. Ron? How long have you known?" I can't believe this!

"A while," he replied nonchalantly, turning his head in her direction. "What? Are you angry with me?"

"Why did you not tell me?" Daphne demanded, frowning darkly. "And how could they tell you before me?!" Was I that easy to replace, father?! Damn you!

"I didn't tell you because I don't go around breaking people's trust, unlike your father," Ron shrugged without a care, though there was a hint of grief in his voice. "And, as for why they didn't tell you… They didn't want to burden you. It was an act of love, not malice."

"What?! You're defending them, now?!"

"I'm just telling you the truth, nothing more," Ron replied, studying her. "Being angry with me will change nothing, Daphne. Astoria will still remain Cursed, and you'll piss off the one person who can help your sister." Help her?

Daphne let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to scream in the face of his coldness. "…You should have told me… As my friend, as my boyfriend… I had a right to know…" Ron said nothing, merely looking back to the fireplace. What else is he keeping from me? How can he know something like that, and keep it hidden so well for so long? Does he really love his secrets that much? Whatever… What's the point in trying to change his mind about this? He's as stubborn as they come. "There is no helping her, by the way. Father's tried since she was born. My ancestors all tried as well, and they all failed. The Curse is… unbreakable." My sister is doomed to die young because of my ancestor's foolishness… My ancestor, and that evil, vicious Hag. I hope they're both rotting in Hell.

"Your father, your ancestors… They're not me," Ron simply said, before snapping his fingers.

Marty cracked into the room, surprising Daphne. "Master called Marty?" He summoned Marty with a snap of his fingers? Their bond must be stronger than ever.

"Sorry for disturbing you, mate, but I need you to bring me the box," Ron smiled softly at his Elf, who grinned back at him. The box?

"That box, Master?" Marty tilted his head, his large eyes gleaming.

"Yes. Bring it to me."

"At once, Master," Marty bowed reverently, before cracking out of the room.

"What is this, Ron?" Daphne asked, her brow furrowed.

"I'm going to destroy this Curse before it claims Astoria," Ron said strongly, meeting her gaze. "I'm going to destroy it so no Greengrass child ever loses their life to it, again."

Daphne blinked, the conviction with which he spoke gave her goosebumps. "…How?"

"I'll figure something out, but in the meantime…" he paused, and after a few silent moments, Marty cracked back into the room. "Give it to her, mate. Let her have a look at what's inside."

Marty gave a nod, before presenting her with a wooden box. "Here, Mistress."

Daphne took it hesitantly, looking between the excited Elf and his exhausted Master. Slowly, she opened the box and peered inside, her eyes immediately going wide at the splendour within. That's a Silver Leaf! Like the one that brought Tracey back from the brink of death! How did he get another one?!

"This is…" she trailed off, staring at the shimmering leaf in disbelief. "How, Ron? How is this possible?"

"The Headmaster of Ilvermorny gave it to me," Ron told her, and her eyes travelled back to him. "For my… illnesses. I plan to give it to Astoria, though."

"…You what?" Daphne muttered, dumbfounded.

"It won't break the Curse, but it will give her the strength she needs to fight back," Ron continued. "It'll add years to her lifespan, maybe even decades. In that time, I will find a way to undo the Curse altogether. I'll set you both free."

Daphne was left speechless, a tornado of emotions exploding inside her chest. He'd really do that for her? Why? Wasn't this meant for him? He needs it even more than she does, and yet, he sounds so certain about his plan. I-… I don't understand… He's done amazing things before, but this is-… Merlin, I don't even know what to think of this. I never realized how much he cared for her. Whereas she-… Oh, Astoria, you have no idea how cruel you can be. And, Ron… You can't be human-…

"Does Mistress doubt Master?" Marty asked, confused by her lack of words.

"Ron… I-… You can't…" Daphne stammered, ignoring Marty. "I'm sorry, but this is too much. You-… You need this too, don't you? It was meant for you-"

"I don't deserve it," Ron lowered his gaze to the box in her lap, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Don't deserve it? What do you mean by that? "I have made my decision, and it is not up to you to decide otherwise. I will brew a Wiggenweld Potion, which I will enhance with the leaf, and you, Daphne, will mix it into Astoria's pumpkin juice."

"Ron, just stop and think for a-"

"I have thought about it, and that leaf deserves to go to someone better than me. It deserves to heal someone who-" he stopped, looking back to the fire. "Knowing that she will be safe will give me plenty of strength, Daphne. Please, just let me do a good thing for someone I care about. Stop fighting me-"

"Madam Pomfrey says that you only have a couple of years left, though!" she handed the box to Marty, before stepping between Ron and the fireplace. "Look at me, Ron! We need to talk about this!"

"Don't shout at me, please," Ron said tiredly, staring up at her. "I'm literally a foot away from you."

"I'm not-!" she stopped, moving forward and kneeling in front of him. "Ron… I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, because I-… This is-…" she put her hand on his knee, gazing into his heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm worried about you. I love Tori, but I love you too. You're not thinking clearly about this. If you give the leaf to Tori, then you'll die long before you break our Curse. Two years, Ron… Two years. That's all you have left, if you're lucky… You have to take it for yourself… You have to!" Daphne then looked to Marty. "Say something to him, please! Why are you so quiet?!"

"Marty knows better than to doubt Master," the Elf answered. "Whereas Mistress seems to have forgotten this valuable lesson." They're both mad!

Ron suddenly took the hand on his knee into his gloved one, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I need you to trust me, Daphne. I'm not an idiot, and you know that. Just do as I ask, and all will be well."

"I do trust you, Ron, more than anyone in the world," she felt her throat tighten, her eyes beginning to sting. "Have half of the potion for yourself, at least. Please. I'm begging you-"

"I. Don't. Deserve. It."

"What does that mean?! Who could possibly deserve this more than you?! You're not making any sense! With the leaf, you can keep helping people! With the leaf, you can stay with us for longer! You can stay with me! Please, just think about it-!"

"Daphne, stop this," Ron sighed out, letting go of her hand. "Stop shouting, and stop trying to take this away from me. I've made my decision, and it's final." No! I'm not going to let you do this to yourself! Never again!

"Why are you so eager to kill yourself?!" Daphne shot up to her feet, screaming. "What is wrong with you, Ron?! Why are you being like this?!" He flinched, averting his gaze and sinking into the sofa. "Is this what Octavia would want?! She's the Guardian of the Sacred Tree, isn't she?! And you helped her! Is this what she would-?!"

"She's dead, Daphne, so whatever she may have wanted doesn't matter," Ron muttered, stopping her dead in her tracks. …What? What did he just say? "I didn't help her. I wasn't strong enough, or smart enough, or capable enough… And she died. She saved Tracey, but I couldn't save her." Daphne felt as though the wind had been kicked out of her, and she could do little but stare at his pale, drained face. She's really dead? How? What happened? I… never got to thank her… What exactly happened in the States-? "Get out."

"…Ron-"

"I shouldn't have shown you the leaf. It was foolish of me to think that you'd finally come to your senses, that you'd stop finding reasons to fight with me, but no… As always, I have to do everything myself." Ron then looked to Marty, waving a dismissive hand. "You leave as well. I want to be alone."

"At once, Master," Marty bowed, promptly cracking away with the box.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Greengrass. Get out of my sight."

Daphne remained rooted to her spot, however, lamenting how far they had drifted apart that she hadn't even noticed that he was in mourning. Octavia, my father's lies, the Centaurs… Just how much stress has he been under? "…What happened to her? How did she die? Talk to me, please-"

"We're not doing this," he frowned darkly, the manic glint in his eyes turning her blood to ice. "I don't want to talk about her. I don't want to discuss my 'feelings' with you. I don't want to be questioned every fucking step of the way. She's dead, and I'm not letting Astoria follow her into the grave. That leaf was given to me, and I can do whatever I want with it." He then drew in a deep breath, before exhaling loudly. "…Get out, and don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone. Not Astoria. Not the Professors. Not my family. No one. If you make me regret trusting you, I'll make you regret being born. I swear it."

---

Hermione Granger's POV

Thursday 13th May, 1994 (Potions Lab – After Classes)

She wiped the sweat from her brow with her spare hand, while the other stirred the potion meticulously. "It's turning yellow, Ron. Get the honey water ready, will you?"

"Already sorted," Ron walked over, holding the pitcher over the cauldron.

"Gently, now. If you do it too fast-"

"I know, I know," Ron assured her, tipping the pitcher slightly.

Hermione continued to stir as the honey water trickled into the bubbling cauldron, a smile growing on her face as the potion began to turn turquoise. "Brilliant! Now, some more Boom Berry juice, please!"

Ron put the pitcher down, before pouring a vial of the thick juice into the mixture. Hermione kept stirring, the sweet aroma of the potion making her mouth water. It's working!

"You can stop, now," Ron said, and she pulled the ladle out of the cauldron. "Perfect, as always, Hermione."

"You weren't too shabby yourself, Ron," Hermione giggled, leaving the potion to simmer. "Now, can you explain why you need a Wiggenweld Potion? And why did you come to me for help? You're perfectly capable of brewing it yourself."

"It doesn't hurt to occasionally have some help," Ron shrugged, smirking. "And, to be honest with you, you're better at this than I am." I wasn't going to say it. "I need this to be perfect, Hermione, and you always get the measurements spot on."

"Well, thanks," Hermione leaned against the bench. "I needed a break from my studies, and I enjoy working with you. This was fun! We make a good team!"

"Harry and Neville aren't up to the standard, eh?" Ron teased. Harry is, but Neville gets super nervous and starts making silly mistakes.

"They are, but they get bored quickly," Hermione replied, not wanting to badmouth her best friends. "So, who is it for?"

"A couple of friends," Ron replied, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Has anyone ever told you that you never answer questions in a straightforward manner?"

"It's been mentioned before, yeah," Ron grinned, making her snort. "Look, if this was about me, I'd tell you, but I need to respect other people's privacy. This has to stay between us, all right?"

"As long as you're helping someone, sure," Hermione agreed, though she still couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. "Does Professor Snape really know about this? It's strange for him to let people use his lab when he's away from Hogwarts."

"Oh, he has no idea," Ron admitted, and Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. "I looked you dead in the eyes and lied to your face." You have got to be joking with me!

"Ronald?! Are you serious?!"

"Yeah… If he finds out, we're both fucked," Ron laughed mischievously. "But I needed your help, so… Whoops!"

"You utter arse!" Hermione smacked his arm, struggling to keep her own laughter within. "That's the most Slytherin thing anyone's ever done to me!"

"You Gryffindors are too easy," Ron continued laughing, rubbing his arm. "Don't worry, though. We'll clean up, and he won't even know that we've been here."

"He counts his ingredients, Ronald! He'll know!"

"Yeah, but anyone could've stolen from him," the redhead smirked. "I've thought this through, trust me. And, if he finds red hair and comes to me, I'll tell him the twins did it. He hates them, so he'll want to believe me."

"You are unbelievable," Hermione scolded, despite her lips twitching upwards. "I can't afford to be in detention so close to the exams, and neither can you."

"This is all for a good cause," Ron said reassuringly. "Now, let's start cleaning up, eh? The potion just needs to simmer, so we might as well get started on covering our tracks." What a bloody maniac…

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Woah! What's that, Ron?!" Hermione went wide-eyed, staring at the shimmering, silver leaf in Ron's hand.

"A potent healing herb from America," Ron answered, carefully setting it on the workbench. "Two bottles, quickly. Time is running out."

"The potion hasn't cooled off, yet," Hermione told him, baffled. "It's not ready for consumption-"

"It'll cool in the bottles, Hermione, and I need to add this ingredient while the mixture is still hot. It needs to dissolve fully."

"Then, add it to the cauldron-"

"No, there's too much in there, and it will dilute the leaf's power," Ron tutted, shooting her a frown. "Just get the bottles, will you? I know what I'm doing. I got this information out of Professor Snape himself, so it's solid."

"…If you say so," Hermione sighed out, grabbing a pair of potion bottles and getting to work. "Here they are… Be careful, please. They're getting hot, already."

Ron took them and put them beside the Magical leaf, before carefully tearing the leaf in half down the middle. Hermione leaned over his shoulder, studying the leaf carefully so she could memorise its shape and distinct colour. I'll read about it later, when I have some spare time. I've never seen anything like it. Ron put one half of the leaf into a mortar, quickly using the pestle to crush it into a fine powder, which he then deposited into the bottle on the left.

"Now, the other one," Ron whispered to himself, repeating the same steps with the other half of the leaf. "…Merlin's Beard… That had my hole puckered up tighter than a-"

"Ew, Ron," she frowned in disgust, making him snigger. "Don't be so vulgar."

"Sorry," Ron apologized, shooting her a wink. "It's done, though. Bloody hell, that was stressful. You've no idea how rare, and invaluable, that leaf was. If I had wasted it, I'd have never forgiven myself."

"I'm glad it worked out, then," Hermione nodded to herself, while Ron sealed the bottles up. "Your friends will be healed if they drink those?" He's always helping people, isn't he? I hope he knows just how special that makes him.

"That's the plan," Ron replied, looking to her rather sincerely. "Thank you, Hermione. Thank you so much."

"W-What for?" Hermione blinked, feeling her face flush a little. I was just helping a friend… It's nothing special-…

"For helping me without asking too many questions. It means a lot to me." He then put his hand on her shoulder, smiling fondly. "You and I, Hermione… We're people of action, unlike the vast majority who just whine and doubt. I knew you were the right witch to come to for this."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione couldn't think of what else to say. "You'd do the same in my shoes, right?"

"I would," he answered, as if promising her. "Now, let's get rid of the excess, and get out of here. Professor Snape is bound to be back any minute, now."

"After we clean up, can we go and practice some more Wandless Magic?" Hermione asked, hopeful. "If you have the time, that is."

"I owe you a very long lesson, so yeah. We'll go find an abandoned classroom right after this." Great! I'm finally making progress, and I don't want to stop!

---

Pansy Parkinson's POV

Thursday 13th May, 1994 (The Training Area – Evening)

"This is pretty twisted, Ron, even for you," Pansy sighed out, watching the first years run about like headless chickens as the Monster Book of Monsters chased after them. "What if one of them gets mauled?!"

"I'm standing right here," Ron shrugged, smiling darkly. "I won't let them get hurt."

"Derek looks like he's going to die from exhaustion," Pansy pointed at the chubby boy. "Look at him! I've never seen a pinker first year in my life!"

"Better pink than blue," Ron shrugged, again. "Dead people turn blueish, in case you didn't-"

"Ron, did your mother drop you on your head a lot as a baby?" Pansy had to ask, making him snicker. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"What is going on in here?!" came Daphne's voice, and Ron swiftly lost his amusement. "Ron?! Pansy?!"

"I walked in and found Ron torturing the first years for a laugh," Pansy tattled, turning to see Daphne, Blaise, and Theo approach.

"Ha!" Theo threw his head back and cackled, clutching his stomach. "Merlin, that is pure genius!" It's not! It's mental! Ugh! Boys! "Look at them go, Blaise! I had no idea that Derek had such speed in him!"

Blaise pressed his lips together tightly, struggling to keep himself from joining Theo, whereas Daphne drew her wand and marched past Ron and Pansy. "Immobulus!"

The hungry book came to a sudden stop, surprising the first years. Thank you!

"What?! Are we finished, already?!" Sebastian asked, panting. "I was winning!"

"I… I need to sit… down…" Derek dropped onto his arse, wheezing.

"My hair's all sweaty…" Lysandra pulled a face, tugging at her blonde locks. "Ew! There's sand everywhere!"

"What's the matter with you?" Daphne shot an angry glare at Ron, before running towards the hunched over Astoria. "Tori? Are you okay? It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"No, but I was winning, Daphne," Tori whined, surprising her older sister. "Why'd you do that?"

"You weren't winning!" Sebastian frowned deeply. "I was! Even Mathew was doing better than you!"

"Nu-uh!" Astoria shot back, sticking her tongue out. "He tripped four times! I counted!"

"Five," Mathew corrected. "And you tripped three times! So, Sebastian was winning!"

"Can we all agree that John lost?" Flora chimed in. "He's very uncoordinated for a boy."

"It's those long legs of his that are attached to his disproportionate torso," Hestia said blandly. "No balance."

"Oi! My torso isn't disproportionate!" John looked properly offended. "Mum says that I still have loads of growing to do!"

"Hold on, all of you!" Daphne raised her voice over their squabbling. "What is going on here?!" Yeah… What's going on here? Was it all a game?

"A bonding exercise," Ron stepped forward, pinching Pansy's side and making her jump. "Come here, all of you!" The first years dragged themselves over, whereas Daphne followed after slowly. "Sebastian tripped the least, there is no arguing it."

"YES!" the short boy punched the air.

"He also helped no one but himself," Ron continued, and the others stared the now embarrassed boy down. "Derek helped the most people, even though he was scared witless. What have I told you lot about being Slytherins?"

"We have to stick together," they repeated, Lysandra and Astoria rolling their eyes as they did so.

"You're not just friends, you're teammates," Ron lectured, smiling softly. "And, sometimes, our teammates can let us down… Sometimes, they make mistakes, and when that happens, you should all be a bit more like Derek." The plump boy blushed, shifting in his spot as John patted him on the back. "Astoria made a mistake, she embarrassed herself and all of you, because she gave into her anger and entitlement." Where is this going? "She tripped, and all of you washed your hands of her. Now, I can't blame you for being upset with her, but I do blame you for not trying to help her be better." The first years shot her sorry looks, while she went as red as a tomato. "She picked herself up, though, so I want you all to make up. You're going to be spending six more years together, and believe it or not, but that's a very, very long time. Go on, Mathew, you start." Wow… This turned out to be a rather wholesome affair. I thought he'd lost his mind. More so than usual, I mean.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you, Astoria," Mathew apologized, sounding rather matter-of-factly. "Especially when you needed my help on the Astronomy homework. I knew you were struggling, but I ignored you. That was wrong. Sorry."

"I-It's okay… Derek helped me," Astoria blushed, and they all looked to him with raised eyebrows.

"What…? …I felt bad for her…" Derek mumbled pathetically.

"Keep going, you lot," Ron ordered, turning to leave. "I'm going to get you some refreshments."

"Refreshments?" Daphne asked, going wide-eyed as Ron rushed off. Um… What's with that reaction? They look thirsty, don't they?

"Pansy," Blaise whispered, tugging at her sleeve and pulling her between Theo and himself.

"What is it?" Pansy whispered back, looking between the two boys.

"Theo can't keep buttering him up forever," Blaise told her, making her blink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy asked, giving Theo a wary look. "Who are you buttering up?"

"Beautiful, but dumb as a rock," Theo sighed out. Oi! I'm not-!

"Don't be a prat, Theo," Blaise warned, looking sterner than McGonagall. "She's not dumb, so don't ever say that again."

Pansy couldn't help but shoot Blaise a smile upon hearing that, whereas Theo pulled a face. "…It was a joke. Relax, will you? No need to bite my head off." He then looked back to Pansy. "We're talking about Ron, of course. I've been working my arse off to keep him in a jolly state of mind, but I'm fast running out of material." Okay… "Merlin's Beard, Pansy, I thought you and Blaise came to an understanding."

"You told him?" Pansy hissed, losing her smile. "Blaise, what the fuck?"

"He offered to help, so I took it," Blaise whispered, shooting the first years, who were all sharing their feelings, a side-glance. "That whole speech Ron just gave… Now's the right time." What? I'm not ready, yet… "Stop avoiding this, Pansy. Ron told me this morning that he's noticed Mathias' new Gobstone set." Shit! Really?! Merlin help me! "I had to lie to him when he asked me how I think that little shit got such an expensive toy." Is Ron a fucking Bloodhound?! Seriously?! He just notices everything?! His bloody paranoia will be the death of me!

"Who even cares at this point? Slytherin got all the points, didn't it?" Pansy whined, feeling her stomach turn.

"Yes, use that as your defence," Theo gave her a deadpan look. "After Daphne claws your eyes out, Ron can smash your mangled face through a table. It'll be perfect."

"Thank you for the colourful commentary, Nott," Blaise rubbed his face, before giving Pansy a firm look. "We're trying to help you, but we can only do so much. Don't go back on your word, now. You've got to come clean, before Ron-"

"What are you three whispering about?" came Ron's voice from behind them, and they all jumped in fright.

"We were just talking about you, actually," Theo turned on his heel, a grin already in place. "I was just saying how… inspiring you are. Honestly, mate, if I were a girl, I'd have scooped you up before Daphne, and I'd have gone all the way." Blaise and Pansy gave the weedy boy disturbed looks, whereas Ron grinned like a madman. "That was a strange thing to admit to, wasn't it? Where'd that come from?"

"You tell me, you fiend," Ron laughed, holding on more tightly to the platter of drinks in his hands. "I think I'll go give these out before you start sucking me off. Excuse me." Ron made his way past the trio, who let out breaths that they had no idea they were holding. "Well? Have you lot made up, now?"

"We have! Give us the juice!" Lysandra rushed forward, taking a glass and chugging it down. "Oh, thank Circe… Can I have another?"

"One at a time," Ron clicked his tongue, before rushing over to Astoria. "Here, have this one. It's for you."

"For me?" Astoria asked, and Pansy noticed Daphne tense up behind her sister.

"Go on," Ron put the tray down, before lifting a glass and handing it to Astoria.

"Why are you being weird?" Astoria asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's in this? Are you trying to poison me?"

"Sister, just… take it, please," Daphne broke her silence, swallowing thickly. What's wrong with her all of a sudden? "You know you can't run around like that. Drink up, it's good for you."

"…I am thirsty," Astoria said slowly, taking the glass and sniffing it. "Thanks, Ron."

Astoria took a sip, but just as she went to lower the glass, Ron used his gloved finger to tilt it further. The little blonde's eyes widened as she chugged down the juice, coughing when she finished. That was weird!

"Why did you do that?" Astoria cleared her throat, frowning. "That was mean! And why did that juice taste so sugary?"

Ron simply beamed in response, ruffling her messy hair. "I love you, Tori, even if you are a brat most of the time."

The other first years sniggered as Astoria blushed crimson, but Pansy ignored them all in favour of observing Daphne, whose eyes had begun to water. What is going on here? Why is Daphne so upset? What was in that glass?

"Now, the rest of you," Ron picked up the tray, handing out a glass to everyone still without one. "After you've rested a bit, wash up before dinner. I won't have you stinking up the Slytherin table."

The first years made their way out of the training area, whereas Ron went to collect the Monster Book of Monsters. When he returned, he shot a passing glance at Daphne before looking right at Pansy.

"Muriel's called a meeting on Sunday," Ron told her, being quite serious all of a sudden. "She didn't owl you, I noticed." Of course, she didn't. "Let Selwyn know, and be ready. It's not going to go well for me."

"What do you mean?" Pansy was surprised to hear that.

"I've made a deal with Bones," Ron replied. Oh… "Muriel, Lady Longbottom, the Macmillans… Anyone who has a problem with Bones is going to have a problem with me."

"So, what's our plan?" Pansy asked. "How do we put a stop to it?"

"We don't," Ron shrugged. Why not? "I brought them together to help others, but they truly only care about themselves. They were useful, sure, but now they're just in my way. Let them throw a tantrum and fuck off, you and I will be fine."

"Is it smart to upset these people, Ron?" Blaise asked, his brow furrowed. "You shouldn't have gotten involved with Bones at all. She's nothing but trouble."

"The Purebloods are eventually going to band together to stop her… You know that, right?" Theo added. "Yesterday's enemies will become tomorrow's friends. It's happened before, and this time will be no different."

"Believe me, her joining up with a degenerate like your father would make my life much easier," Ron 'smiled', and Pansy felt a cold chill run up her spine. "Anyway, I think I'll go watch the sunset! It's a lovely evening out there, and it'd be a shame to waste it! After I kidnap Draco from our room, of course! He needs more sunlight in his life!"

With that, Ron sauntered off with an alarming grin plastered across his face, leaving the four third-years confused and anxious. What did he mean by 'make my life much easier'? And what was with the creepy smile? I have no love for Lady Prewett, that old vulture, but I don't want Ron to hurt her. She's an old woman, frail and weak, and they share blood. He wouldn't go that far, would he?

"Watch his back, Pansy," Daphne suddenly said, approaching them. "He is underestimating how far they will go to keep their power, and unlike him, they've killed people who get in their way. Promise me that you'll take this seriously."

Pansy blinked, giving a slow nod. "Of course, Daphne-"

"Promise me," Daphne said intensely. Merlin, what's got her acting up like this?

"…I promise."

Daphne pinched the sides of her eyes, sniffling. "…I'm going to go lie down for a bit."

"Are you all right?" Blaise asked, looking her over.

"…I'm fine," Daphne muttered, moving past them. "I'll see you at dinner."

Pansy, Blaise, and Theo exchanged looks, something was definitely out of the ordinary, and it had happened when Ron had come back with the 'refreshments'. Since when does Ron do that, anyway? He would make us use Aguamenti whenever we wanted a drink, but he brings the first-years cold pumpkin juice? He and Daphne are keeping things from us, it's so obvious, now. But, then again, it's not like we're any better.

---

Severus Snape's POV

Friday 14th May, 1994 (Snape's Office – Night)

"We should have a drink," Ron suddenly suggested, and Snape quirked an eyebrow. "To celebrate my amazing progress on mastering my emotions."

"Your amazing progress?" Snape drawled. "I've heard that you pushed the first years pretty hard yesterday. Made them run around until they were panting like dogs."

"I made sure they were hydrated," Ron grinned, and Snape rolled his eye. "Pumpkin juice fixes all maladies, you know? Its healing properties are beyond compare." What is he on about? "So? A glass of wine? C'mon, Sir… I've earned it."

"You don't like wine," Snape pointed out, the boy was acting odd, again.

"I just want us to share something beyond the stress of the war, Sir… It's fine, though… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed-"

"That's enough," Snape raised his hand. "If a glass of wine will shut you up, then so be it." With a wave of his hand, Snape Conjured a vintage and two glasses, but just as he went to pour, Ron cleared his throat. "What now, Weasley?"

"Can I tell you something private, Sir? Before we indulge as friends and colleagues." Friends and colleagues? "As equals. As two people who shine just as brightly as one another. Soulmates, even-"

"Can you just get on with it?" Snape hissed, it still surprised him how often he had to rely on his Occlumency in order to stop himself from strangling this boy. "You're being particularly irritating, tonight."

"I've been struggling to… defecate, lately," Ron started, and Snape's lips curled in disgust. "I spread my cheeks, and I push, and I push, and I push-"

"Shut up," Snape interjected, rising out of his chair. "I'll give you something from my personal stores if you promise never to bring such issues to me, again." Disgusting!

"Oh, thank Merlin," Ron sighed in relief. "I didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey with this, but I knew I could trust you, Sir." Still avoiding her, are you?

"Lucky me…" Snape grumbled, limping to the back of his office and entering his pantry. What has my life come to? He'll be asking me to wipe his arse, next, the damn degenerate.

Sifting through the many potions and ingredients he had stored away for his personal experiments, and cursing the blasted student who had recently robbed him, Snape picked out a brown vial containing a blend of ginger oil and rose oil. This will do. A couple drops of this, and his issue will be resolved. I think I'll tell him to have five, however, just to make sure he never comes to me with such problems, again. Smirking to himself, he made his way back into the office, where he found Ron pouring the wine into the glasses. What the…? What is he up to?!

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded, limping over to the redhead and peering over his shoulder.

"…Making your life easier…" Ron answered, grinning sheepishly. "I can pour a drink, Sir. I'm not that incompetent." I regret sharing a drink with him before… He's going to make a habit of this, isn't he? "Here you are! Nice and… red… Like blood!" Uncultured idiot.

Snape frowned deeply, taking the glass and handing Ron the brown vial in return. "Five drops, no more."

"Ah! Perfect!" Ron beamed, grabbing his own glass and swaggering back to his chair. "I'll have whatever this is later-"

"No, mix it into the wine, now," Snape ordered, taking his own seat. "It's an infusion of ginger oil and rose oil. Very potent. Five drops."

"Right now?"

"The wine will mask its taste just fine," Snape advised, taking a sip from his glass. Hm? It's sweeter than I thought it would be. "You're supposed to let wine breathe, by the way."

"Breathe? It doesn't have lungs, Sir, it's a liquid," Ron chuckled, and Snape let out a tired breath. "C'mon, that was funny."

"No."

"It was a little funny," the boy nodded to himself, before looking to the brown vial. "You know, I'd rather have this in private-"

"I'm going to hit you," Snape warned, and with a nervous chuckle, Ron carefully poured five drops into his wine. This is for throwing a chair at me, you little monster. Enjoy spending your night pushing your organs out.

"B-Bottoms up…" the boy swallowed thickly, before chugging the wine down. Merlin's Beard! What a waste of good wine! "Oh, lord… There it goes… Nice… Doesn't taste like piss at all…"

"What are you doing?!" Snape grit out, clenching his teeth so hard that he feared they'd crack. "That wine is a vintage! You're meant to savour it!"

"I… don't actually know what vintage means when it comes to wine…" Ron scratched the back of his neck, giving Snape his most innocent smile. "It was tasty, though. Thanks." Tasty? Tasty?! Y-You little-… Oh, I'm going to kill him, tonight… They're going to ship me to Azkaban for life!

Snape chugged his own glass down, hoping that it would numb him to Ron's stupid antics. "Has anyone told you what an annoying simpleton you are?"

"…Perhaps…" Ron stroked his hairless chin, mimicking the old man. "Cheers for the wine, Sir. We should do this, again! What do you reckon?" Gods, no…

"Keep teaching him, and let your walls down every once in a while," Albus' voice rang through his head, making him cringe. "Show him that even you are human, and in doing so, remind him that he too is human."

"…Certainly," Snape mumbled, pouring himself another glass. "I'll see you back here tomorrow-"

A brilliant flash of orange interrupted him, ending with Fawkes perched proudly on his shoulder. What have I told him about sending the Phoenix down here like that?! I have flammable items all over this room!

"Fawkes!" Ron grinned widely, and the Phoenix shrieked in response. My ear! Damn bird! Get off me! "Did the Headmaster send you? Is everything all right?"

Fawkes flapped his wings, before nipping at Snape's ear. "He wants to see me?"

"Ohhhh, you're in trouble," Ron provoked, and Snape shot him a bland look.

"He knows you're here this time of day, you moron. He wants us both to go with Fawkes."

"…Oh… Brilliant…" Ron sighed out, losing all his mirth. "What's gone wrong, now, I wonder?"

"Maybe, he's finally heard back from Yahontov?" Snape suggested, rising up.

"Right… Time to find out if Emilia and Artyom are dead," Ron followed suit, rolling his shoulders. Most likely, they are, which does not bode well for us.

Joining hands, they let Fawkes transport them to the Headmaster's office, and once the flames had dissipated, they were met with the sight of Emilia Travers and Artyom sitting across from Albus. They're alive? Where have they been this whole time, then?

"Emilia! Artyom!" Ron rushed forward, his glee that of a child unwrapping his Christmas presents. "You're alive! I've been worried sick about you!"

"Yes, we're alive-" Travers started, but stopped abruptly when Ron hugged her from behind, pressing his cheek against hers.

The bloodthirsty Ronin went as rigid as her sword, while Albus laughed in her jarred face. Snape let out a disapproving grunt as he made his way over, he was starting to miss 'the Champion', already. Ron let go of Travers and turned his attention to Artyom, who raised a meaty finger in the boy's face.

"Don't," the Russian growled warningly, but Ron just grinned at him.

"I'll get you later," the redhead promised, mischief dancing behind his eyes. "When you least expect it."

"Ronald, our friends have had a very long journey," Albus chuckled, stroking his beard. "Why don't you pour them a cup of tea? It will improve their mood."

"How many sugars?" Ron asked them, making his way towards the gilded tea-set.

"None," they both answered.

"Where have you been?" Snape asked, deciding to end the touching reunion for some answers. "Why did neither of you report back sooner?"

"We were on the run, alongside Yahontov and his Aurors," Travers replied, and when Snape looked her over properly, she appeared to be telling the truth. "Our mission was a failure, Dumbledore. We couldn't recover the boy, and now, Yahontov has been branded a traitor." Damn it…

"Vladamir Volkov had boy in his possession," Artyom added. "But Rodolphus Lestrange is why we failed."

"Rodolphus?" Albus blinked, whereas Snape sneered hatefully. Damn it! "He couldn't possibly have recovered from his time in Azkaban so soon!"

"He has more than recovered, I assure you," Travers frowned darkly. "The Dark Lord has done something unnatural to him. I cut his throat, and he healed within seconds without the use of his Magic. And he was powerful enough to push back myself, Artyom, and a highly skilled Auror singlehandedly."

Snape and Albus exchanged looks, the Dark Lord had, yet again, proven himself to be a most resilient and cunning foe. We can't keep up with him, no matter what we try. How has he done this? What new Dark Magic has he mastered?

"Here's your tea," Ron placed a cut in front of both Travers and Artyom, though he was no longer smiling. "Yahontov a traitor, little Alexie in the wind, the Loyalists returned to their previous might… You two need more than tea, I reckon."

"This is hardly the time for witticisms, Ronald," Albus whispered tiredly, removing his spectacles and pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. "…This is a disaster…"

"A disaster of your making, Headmaster," Ron pointed out with a smile that never reached his eyes. "This is what mercy buys you in war. Every person those bastards now murder… All that blood will be on your hands, because you refused to listen to reason when you still had the chance." Albus said nothing in response, but Snape knew him well enough to know that Ron's words had made an impact. "So, what's the plan, now? Yahontov has proven every bit as useless as I imagined. Do we just give up on Magical Russia?"

"No, we must redouble our efforts," Albus answered, looking troubled. "I… need some time to think of a new plan of attack. With Luka grounded, we will have to be more careful than ever."

"He needs more wands," Travers suggested. "Send him some from the Order." That's not going to happen, not with Bones breathing down our necks.

"Normally, I would, but our new Minister will have those wands arrested for interfering in Magical Russia's affairs," Albus sighed out. "I must give her your report, and then convince her to let us aid Luka."

"Convince her? You're Albus Dumbledore," Artyom frowned deeply. "Tell her to mind her place, and if she tries to arrest you, destroy her."

"Destroy her?" Ron chuckled. "For what? Having a wand up her arse? That's going a bit far, isn't it?"

"Bones is not our enemy, despite her ever-growing ego," Snape added. "We will need her in the days to come." If the Ministry falls, we will soon follow.

"You two should go and rest for now," Albus advised, stroking his beard. "We will call upon you soon, so remain ready. Your work in Russia is not done yet."

"They didn't even touch their tea, though," Ron pointed out. "After all the effort I went through…"

"Before we go, here," Travers pulled out a cloth-wrapped Galleon from her muddied gauntlet, placing it on Albus' desk. "This will take you to Yahontov's current camp. He'll be moving on soon, so you'd best arrange a method of contacting him in the future."

"Thank you, and fear not, we will save Alexie yet," Albus smiled, leaning back in his chair. "And, in doing so, liberate Magical Russia from Lord Voldemort's clutches."

---

Corban Yaxley's POV

Friday 14th May, 1994 (Yaxley Manor – Night)

"You found him, at last?" Corban asked, marching ahead of Robert. "Where is he, then?"

"Muggle Thessaloniki, Greece," Robert replied, not hiding his frustration with the errant assassin. "He has his nephew enrolled in a Muggle school for 'gifted' children, while he works in a Muggle cafe. To learn that a man of his talent is content with serving coffees and sandwiches is beyond disappointing." What made him flee from his previous vocation? A man such as him can make a lot of gold serving men like us.

"How did you find him?"

"His old associates were more than happy to track him down for me," Robert answered. "There is no honour among thieves and murderers."

"Then, once we are settled in Hungary, we will set him to task," Corban decided. "He will test Weasley's prowess for us, determine whether the boy is capable of cold-blooded murder-"

"He is," Robert interrupted. "Did you not see what he did to Alastor Moody?"

"…I did," Corban nodded, was it shameful to admit that he was now intimidated by a mere boy? "That was different, Robert. He was… upset… over that Elf's death. It was a tantrum, nothing like what was described to have happened at the twins' festivities."

"…And if it wasn't?"

"Then, the Dark Lord will decide what we do next. Don't let your personal vendetta cloud your judgement. We serve him before we serve ourselves. That is how we will prosper. That is how we will survive."

The pair made their way towards the dining hall, and the moment they stepped foot inside, Corban's blood turned to ice in his veins. At the far end of the grand table stood his wife, teary-eyed with a bruise upon her porcelain cheek, attending a long-haired man that Corban could've spent the rest of his life without seeing, again.

Antonin Dolohov.

"…H-Husband…" Anastasia whimpered, but was swiftly gestured to remain silent.

Corban felt his hands curl into white-knuckled fists, the sight of her trembling form made him want to tear Dolohov's heart out with his bare hands. Bastard! What have you done to my wife?!

"…Join me," Dolohov called to them, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Corban and Robert exchanged wary glances, before moving further into the dining hall. Remain calm, Corban. Don't give him another reason to hurt Anastasia. Just remain calm.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Antonin?" Corban greeted as he sat down to Dolohov's right, his eyes darting towards his wife of their own accord. Forgive me, Anastasia. I should've been here. "It pleases me to see that Gaspard has nursed you back to health-"

"Are you hungry?" Dolohov asked, his unblinking eyes scanning Robert and Corban. …What? "Your servants prepared you a feast before I arrived. They… were not welcoming towards me."

Anastasia sobbed meekly at that, looking ready to collapse. Where are they? Now that I think about it, why wasn't I attended to when I arrived?

"I will have them punished for slighting you, my friend," Corban said, managing to keep his voice calm, at the very least.

'I punished them enough," Dolohov smiled, his long, twisted face turning towards Robert. "You've gotten fat." The Bulstrode patriarch shifted in his seat, giving a short nod in response. "Must be all those feasts you've enjoyed, while I was forced to drink maggoty soup."

"Antonin, what was done to you was a terrible crime," Corban tried, the only thing he could focus on was his need to remove his wife from the room. "But it was not our doing, and it was certainly not Anastasia's. The Ministry locked you away-"

"But not you," Dolohov interjected, losing his smile. "Because you abandoned me, your friend, and you abandoned our Master. You chose to turn your back on your own so that you could continue to live in opulence with a beautiful wife." He then looked to Anastasia, who shrunk under his gaze. "And she is… beautiful." I'll kill you for hurting her. I swear it upon my ancestors, Dolohov… I'll fucking kill you for this!

"Perhaps, it is best we men catch up in Corban's study?" Robert suggested, his wand drawn under the table. "Lady Yaxley is unwell, Antonin, and she requires ample rest to remain healthy."

"Unwell?" Dolohov asked Corban. "Do you want me to fix her for you?" No! "My knowledge of human anatomy has not been lost in my exile, I assure you."

"She has the best Healers gold can buy," Corban told the Russian madman. "There is no need to trouble yourself. Come, let me offer you my finest-"

"I have not eaten yet, and neither have you two. You must be hungry, surely, from your travels. Magical Hungary is so very far away, isn't it?"

"…I-I'm sorry, Corban…" Anastasia snivelled, her hand grazing the bruise upon her cheek.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, love," Corban said soothingly, his heart beating in his throat. "Antonin is our friend; he will not cause us any trouble."

"Listen to your husband, my dear," Dolohov chuckled coldly. "I saved his life on more than one occasion during the war. His plans are my plans. His home is my home. His wife is my wife." Corban tensed at that, whereas Anastasia paled even more so. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"…Of course," Robert muttered under his breath, while Corban stared in silence. "Shall we eat, then? So that we may retire to the study for a strong drink amongst old friends?"

"Very well," Dolohov agreed, drawing his wand and, with a flick of his wrist, Conjuring the prepared feast from the kitchen. "I have missed sharing meals with my friends. You would not believe how poor the service is in Azkaban, so I prepared you a small tasting myself."

Corban looked down at his plate, which now housed a bowl of grey water with small maggots writhing within. His stomach turned at the sight, and when he looked to Robert, he saw that the large man also had the same problem. He means to humiliate us?

"Drink up," Dolohov smiled at them, whilst reaching forward and plucking a roasted quail to put onto his own plate.

"…Antonin-" Robert started, his lips curling in disgust.

"Drink. It." Dolohov lost his mirth, and the temperature in the room dropped drastically. "Drink it, now, or I'll feed you Lady Yaxley's pretty, fair skin."

Anastasia sobbed in fear, and Corban wasted no time in lifting the bowl to his lips, drinking the contents, and the humiliation, with all his resolve. The maggots danced inside his mouth, wriggling and crawling down his throat as he forced himself to swallow the foulness for his wife's sake. Halfway through, he gagged from sheer disgust, spilling some of the grey water onto his fine robes, but he soldiered on as if nothing had happened. When he finally finished his 'supper', there were tears in his eyes, and his stomach churned angrily in the hopes of expelling the filth now residing within. …Gods… I'm going to be sick…

Drawing in a shaky breath, Corban looked to Robert pleadingly, who closed his eyes in resignation before following after Corban's example. …Thank you, my friend…

"Imagine going through that every day for over a decade, Corban," Dolohov whispered dangerously, ignoring Robert's heaving and gagging. "Leave us, dearest Anastasia. Your husband has a lot to catch me up on, tonight."

Anastasia lingered, however, terrified for Corban's safety, but using his eyes alone, he begged her to leave before Dolohov could hurt her any further. Just go! Go to our room, and lock the doors! Hurry, please! This is only the surface of his cruelty!

"Lady Anastasia, please," Robert spoke up, his voice strained. "It is not proper for a Lady to remain where she is not welcome. Go and rest, your husband will join you later tonight."

"Or, something resembling him, at least," Dolohov added darkly, waving her off.

Anastasia swallowed thickly, before giving Corban a shaky nod. She then left the dining hall in a hurry, shooting one last look back at her husband before fleeing for their bedchambers. …She is out of his reach, at last… Thank the Gods…

"Finally, we men can converse openly," Dolohov looked between Corban and Robert, his eyes devoid of all compassion. "Where is the Dark Lord? Why are you not at his side? And, pray tell, why are you running away to Magical Hungary? What have I missed?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Antonin used 'Maggoty Soup', it was super effective!