Ao3 (and maybe but the phone notifications don't tell me) fucked up the last chapter upload. This was SUPPOSED to go 63, 64, 64.1, 64.2, 65, 66; but the fucking site ruined it. Site turned it to 63, 64, 65, 64.1, 64.2, etc. Fixed it (on AO3, again, FF's review notifications ((Notifications are all I'm brave enough to read)) aren't as detailed) and I'm now uploading this chapter after getting it to a respectable word length. Here we go. Chapter 66. yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Yay.

BBaRtS

Some Years Ago

Gregory's eyes fluttered open, and with a groan he sat up and stretched. Why the hell had he slept on the ground like some kind of…

He immediately came awake as he remembered where he'd been, what he'd been doing. As he glanced around and saw that he was still trapped in a paralysed landscape of unmoving, half-quenched violence, his heart began to race. It hadn't just been a dream. He really was—

"Awake! Finally!" He glanced over to see Fate approaching, now in the form of an albino man who had a long strip of cloth covering one eye. "Finally. I had to step into another thread entirely with everything paused here. You wouldn't believe it, it was such a mess. My poor favourite got himself killed and—"

"How much longer do I have here?" Gregory interrupted. "This can't actually last forever, can it?"

Fate's annoyance rumbled out and the Unspeakable nearly whimpered. Then the sensation of her palpable emotions vanished, and she gave a hard huff of air.

"I told you, it'll last as long as you need," Fate said. "You could take a walk around the entire world, assuming you could figure out how to walk on water, and it would still be frozen for another thousand years after you finished."

"R-, right," he stuttered. "Sorry."

Well then. He should at least be able to take a moment for breakfast.

"Of course you can."

He winced. "Can you read all my thoughts?"

"You're my chosen." Fate's form changed, and he thought he might've recognized the woman she became. It looked like she might've been related to General Black. "Humans in general are easy enough to read, but with a bond like you and I's? We have nothing to hide from one another." She paused, her face contorted into an expression he wasn't really sure what to call, and then continued, "I wouldn't try looking into me too closely, though. My favourite is going to do that someday, and it was all I could do to keep him even remotely sane afterwards."

"I see." Gregory swallowed and looked away from the goddess. "Thank you again, I suppose…"

"You're welcome!"

It took him a few minutes to retrieve some MREs from the stores. At first he'd only grabbed the one, but then it occurred to him just what it was he was doing here. If he really hadn't gone insane, he was going to end the war all by himself. Thousands upon thousands of lives were going to be saved. He was going to become a hero.

And heroes got at least two servings of the packaged foodstuffs.

After he'd consumed his magically-preserved breakfast, he got back to work with a renewed vigor. A part of him still worried this was all some illusion or trick he was suffering through, but as more and more time passed he became more confident. This time he didn't even need Fate to do whatever she'd done to steel his nerves. He whistled as he worked, quickly falling into a repetitive rhythm, and before too long he was fairly certain that he'd captured every last one of Grindelwald's soldiers.

"You have," Fate said. Gregory didn't even twitch at her reading of his mind. "I had to go back and shift some things around to make sure the man didn't come himself. He is far too important a strand in the thread."

He didn't have the faintest idea of what that was supposed to mean, but he was slowly learning it was better to just move past anything the deity said or did that didn't make sense. Like she'd said, it was much better for his sanity.

"Well, that's a little bit different than what I meant, but not too far off," Fate said. "Good job!"

Gregory smiled. He'd had to tear down half of their camp to make room for the thousands of prisoners he'd captured, who were all now lined up like an army at parade in front of Britain's forces. Some of them were probably going to get injured, or even killed, when everything unpaused and his own side continued to fight without realising what had happened. That was fine though. The bastards hadn't given them any consideration when they'd attacked in the first place, so he couldn't find the mercy to worry about a few more casualties on their side now that it was over.

"Are you ready?" Fate asked. "Is there anything left for you to do?"

Gregory thought it over, and shot a glance at where his fiancee was still waiting for him to return. He smiled as he made his way over to her. "Just one."

Fate gave a loud cough, so Gregory turned and furrowed his brows at her. "I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" he asked, just a step or so away from his future wife. "I was just going to—"

"You'll see."

The goddess offered up a tight smile, and for a brief second, Gregory thought she'd put off a… Pitying aura?

Then a sound like a firework as loud as a bomb went off. He whirled around. The meticulously lined up and tied together prisoners he'd gathered were gone.

In their place was a tidal wave of blood and a mushroom cloud of vaporised flesh.

Gregory screamed in terror as the world froze once more. He just kept screaming as he watched the gorey explosion stand still before him, the product of thousands of dead men and women. Thousands that… that somehow he had killed. What had happened? What went wrong? Why did—

Relax.

This time he hadn't heard so much as felt the deity speaking to him. It was like she had willed the word into existence in his mind. Unlike the first time there was no immediate relief, and instead it was like a long, slow brush stroke over his soul.

"You need to settle down," Fate said with a voice like sandpaper. "It's okay—"

"This is anything but okay," Gregory hissed back. He looked over at the god and saw they'd transformed once more into a man, this time one who looked like he could've been the old Asian lady's son. "What happened?!"

"What happened was you moved corporeal, living beings through the time stream while they were still frozen in time." Fate shrugged. "You were the only one who had permission to move freely in my domain. For the others, it was as though they moved faster than the speed of light without any sort of mitigating defence to such pressures."

"Why didn't you warn me?" Gregory demanded. "If I had known that would happen, I would have—!"

"Done the exact same thing." Fate hummed out a confident sound. "All I did was save you hours if not days if not weeks of moral anxiety as you hemmed and hawed over whether or not what you were doing was right."

"This definitely isn't right!"

"Maybe not morally, but it was certainly the right choice for you to make." Fate transformed once again. "You couldn't have gotten 'Agatha' out of here. You'd never leave her behind. There's no way to stop the fighting without stopping the fighters."

"But… They…"

"Uuuugh," Fate emphatically groaned. "I always forget how opposed you are to killing. You're always just… Ugh. This is why Harry's my favourite, you know that, right?"

"I—"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean that." A brief wave of apology wafted over Gregory. "In just a few short years you'll be killing someone for me several decades from now, after all. It'll all be very Oedipal, trust me."

"I… what?"

"Don't worry, dear. Remember what you said?" Fate smiled at him. "Best just not to think about it."

In that moment, that blessedly clear, damningly short, moment, Gregory forgot about what had just transpired. The only thought that ran through his mind was just how insane all this was. Then he once more caught sight of the blood explosion waiting to finish unfurling. Then he was once more reminded of just what an atrocity he'd committed. Then once more his heart broke.

"I'm a monster," he whispered.

"Of course you are, silly," Fate said. Her alien smile was somehow even more terrifying than what he'd done. "Everyone knows villains are the best characters."

Hydrus slowly walked back from Dumbledore's office to the Slytherin dorm. He'd need to send Bella some sort of message through Kreacher to let her know everything was okay. Bones would probably let Sirius know what had happened so she might already be aware, but she'd still want to hear it from him. If it weren't for the fact that he needed some answers, he'd just go see her herself. He definitely wasn't avoiding going in person just because he didn't want to deal with the fact that she might still be shopping with that American witch.

As he made his way, he felt Apophis begin to slither up his leg and onto his shoulders. "Father!"

"Hello, Apophis," he said. That reminded him there was also the grave robbing situation to deal with. "I have good news and bad news."

"And I have greater news!" the basilisk declared. "I have learned just how marvellous the workings of our ancestors are. I have sipped from the well of power that lies in the heart of my castle."

"That's nice," Hydrus said. "Unfortunately, from now on, you aren't to leave my side. Death's next chosen might be coming, and I'll need you to eat them when they do."

Apophis gave an angry hiss. "But father—"

"It's not negotiable." He began climbing down the steps to the dungeon. "The good news is, I'm finally getting the permit we needed so that you will no longer have to hide yourself."

"Glorious!" Hydrus laughed at the snake's mood shift. "Soon the entire world shall know of my grandeur!"

"Yes, so just be patient for a little while longer, and we'll be home free."

He stepped into the common room and was greeted with an odd scene. All of his fifth years and quite a smattering of others were all gathered around with sombre expressions. As soon as they caught sight of him, the room fell quiet. His eyes slowly scanned each of them for some sort of sign of what was happening.

"Hydrus," Draco said, standing up from the chair he'd been in. "What's going on?"

"That's… Exactly what I wanted to ask," Hydrus said, furrowing his brows. "Why's everyone look like they're at a funeral?"

Draco gave an owlish blink. "Because of… Everything?"

"To clarify," Blaise said with a sigh. "You met with the Minister yesterday. Today you got arrested—"

"I did not get arrested," Hydrus said. "I got audited, and came up clean."

"My uncle said his cousin was there," a sixth year piped up. "He's an auror captain."

"Condolences for being related to a Goyle, then," Hydrus said. "Captain Bones was there too, as was Rufus Scrimgeour himself. I told them to get their asses over to explain why it was we were being audited."

"Also," Blaise continued. "The Black Sheep caused a big scene in Africa. Said his brother's…" He cleared his throat. "Friend was going to be some king? People are freaking out."

Hydrus shook his head in confusion. "I have no idea what you're even talking about. My very gay, very beloved uncle's romantic life has nothing to do with me."

A few people looked uncomfortable at him making it very clear what his stance on his uncle was, but a few were smiling like Tamina and Michael.

"Is that all?" he asked. "Honestly, you'd think we're going to war with the way you kids are acting."

"Some of us are older than you, you know," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. "And when someone like Hydrus Black meets with the Minister, disappears, gets a bunch of aurors sicked on him, and has his father make massive political noise in a whole other continent, it does start feeling a bit like war."

"I don't start wars, I end them." He finally took a seat, the one Draco had been sitting in, and he wished he could have another drink. "Listen, I assure you all, nothing is happening that you need to be concerned about. No one except Malfoy anyways." The blonde paled. "Now. I want to know: Who all has recently had a family member's grave dug up?"

There were mostly just confused looks as he glanced about, but eventually one person raised their hand.

It was the Lestrange girl.

"M-, My great-grandfather," she said. "Caldwell Flint. He died in the war."

"Got it. Anyone else?" There was no further response."Damn it. Was hoping for a bigger list of names."

"Actually…" Daphne said after a large sigh. "My… Grandfather's grave was desecrated too." She spoke quickly, like the words burned her lips. "He also died in the war."

Hydrus held out his palm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's embarrassing?"

"Swear to…" He sighed. "Whatever. Anyone else? And if I can come out and say my great-great-grandfather got dug up, then so can all of you."

He let them stew for a whole minute before continuing.

"Alright then. We—"

"Oh!" a voice called. Hydrus twitched. "It's, um, not my relative, but in Study Club last week I heard Susan Bones say someone she was related to got dug up."

He turned to the seventh year. "Did she say how and when he died?"

"Uh, no, or at least I didn't hear anything." The teen shrugged. "I can probably guess though considering those two."

"You'd potentially be wrong." Hydrus shook his head. "My ancestor was killed in a duel before the war."

"So three, maybe four violent deaths," Daphne said. "What the hell's going on?"

"A lot more than that if I had to guess," Hydrus said. "Shacklebolt looked as harangued as I'd ever seen him when we met."

Daphne had a point though. Maybe it was less about when someone died or who they were, and it was about how violent it was. Dumbledore had never been big on magic that needed corpses, so Hydrus wasn't sure how relevant things like that were. Was someone inspired by what they'd found in the desert and was trying to build an inferi army of their own? Maybe a new and improved version that needed violent deaths since Hydrus had so cleanly handled the last bunch?

The thought of a bunch of priests in full uniform digging up wizard bodies made him laugh.

"Uh…" Draco said. "You figure something out?"

"Nah, just had a funny thought." He crushed the madness inside him back down. "I'm hoping Shacklebolt provides me the information of his own volition, otherwise I want all of you to find out who all's been dug up, and any other information on the situation you can find." He gave a dismissing wave of his hand. "Now give me some space and quit being so paranoid."

Most everyone began to disperse, whispering amongst themselves and still shooting Hydrus looks. Draco pulled another chair closer to him and surprisingly the only other one who stayed was Dahlia. Hydrus cocked an eyebrow at the girl.

"I need to ask you something." She leaned down into his ear. "Why do you have me looking out for Regina?"

"Who?"

Dahlia blinked. "Regina Lestrange?"

"Oooh." He hummed. "Draco, how long has it been since the start of the year?"

"Uh…" Draco started. "A month and a half? Closer to five weeks than six?"

"Alright, that'll work." He turned to his sister. "Cut her off. From now on, don't talk to her, don't look at her, treat her like she doesn't exist."

"What?" "Why?"

She and Draco had spoken at the same time and Hydrus just shrugged. "It's time to move forward with my plan."

"What plan?" Dahlia demanded. "What did she do wrong?"

"Nothing at all," he said. "Her family, on the other hand, scammed my cousin Tonks."

He wondered how the lass was doing. Last he'd seen her she'd been a bit of a mess. She also sucked at playing Monopoly, which was perhaps a sign of how she'd fallen for the predatory loan in the first place. Maybe he should ask Cygnus to tutor her.

"And you're punishing the first year over it?" Draco asked, sounding more confused than surprised. "Why?"

"I work with the tools that are given to me," Hydrus answered noncommittally. "If she's miserable, her family will be miserable."

That wasn't the plan at all.

"That's not fair," Dahlia snapped. "You can't just make me—"

"Oh it's not just you," Hydrus interrupted. "Draco, no one's to talk to her. I want her feeling like a leper."

"Alright, I'll pass it on."

"That's insane!" his sister shouted. Heads were turning to look at them now. "I won't do it."

Hydrus shrugged. "Then you get ostracised too."

She paled. Hydrus slowly turned away from her to look into the fireplace, enjoying the flames and thinking back to his earlier conversation with Dumbledore regarding who all might be involved in his audit. The list Diggory had given had been way too short to be all of them, they were probably just the ones he didn't like or who couldn't retaliate against the squealing. Maybe he could…

"So you're going to make a girl who did nothing wrong absolutely miserable for something she had no control over?" Dahlia asked, half-whispering. "That's rotten, Hydrus."

"Being miserable builds character," he chirped back. "Trust me on that one."

"I'm not doing it." His sister spun on her heel, and Hydrus burned with pride at her righteousness. "And I don't care what you do because of it."

Once she was gone, stomping off to Regina to no doubt tell her all about Hydrus's plan, he gave his attention back to Draco. "She's a good kid."

"Not too bright though," Draco muttered. "Seriously though, what's this all about?"

"I've made Lestrange's school life wonderful till now," Hydrus said. "Now I'm showing her that I can make it miserable too. She'll go running to her parents, they'll go running to mine, mine will tell them to fuck off, and we'll see where things go from there."

If they supported their daughter, the least likely of the scenarios, then he'd have to try something entirely different. If they didn't, though, then he'd be able to swoop in and take her for himself. Use her as mole in the family. Destroy them from the inside.

He laughed again.

"More funny daydreaming?" Draco asked.

"Something like that."

Some Years Ago.

Gregory wasn't sure how many hours, or perhaps even days, it had been. He still hadn't come to terms with what he'd done. A part of him didn't want to come to terms with it either. He just wanted to stay here, where everything was frozen, where nothing could hurt him, where he was safe. Here there was no one to hate him for what he had done. No one besides himself at any rate. Things were safe here. He was safe. Everything was alright. Nothing could—

"Gregory." He looked up. "You need to come back."

Fate was staring down at him in the body of yet another person he didn't recognize. He looked away. He had gone insane. God's weren't real. He was safe here. He was—

"You've broken him." That was yet another new voice. Probably just Fate— "I am not my sister."

He looked up. There were two someones standing over him. The newcomer didn't look half as human as 'his' goddess did. She was a pearlescent, near-translucent blue, with shimmering hair that dripped down to her ankles in a glittering rainbow, and she radiated strength and comfort.

"This is my sister, Magic," Fate said. The deity was now in the form of a milky-eyed shepherd if the walking staff she carried was any indication. "She's the one we gave your memories to."

"In exchange for changing his form." Magic was looking down on him, and unlike Fate, she didn't bother to try and hide the palpable emotions she felt. She was feeling petty annoyance and disdain. "If you want them back, I 'm turning him back."

"Oh, don't get all spoiled-brat on me, sister." Fate shot her 'sister' a look and Magic's brief and small panic passed by quickly. "We both know how things have, do, and will stand between us."

The other goddess remained silent, but her petulance emanated from her like an opened bottle of sour milk.

"I don't want my memories back," Gregory muttered. "I want to forget what I've done."

"Well we're not putting that on the table, sweety," Fate said. "It'll just make things worse. Trust me, I checked. I think your previous self's memories will do much more to help you through this."

"I don't—"

"I have places to be, Fate," Magic said. "Unlike you I can't move the hands of time back and forth as I please."

"Those are my hands you're speaking of." Fate folded said hands beneath her armpits, shooting a look at Gregory as if for approval at the gesture. "And if I want you to stay here, you will. We both know that."

Gregory turned and puked. He wasn't sure what that.. Those… these… He didn't know what the fuck the sounds that just destroyed his ears were. It had felt like he was hearing it through his belly button somehow. It had twisted his soul and… And…

"There," Fate said. He blinked. He was fine now. "Better?"

"Yes?" he hesitantly answered. "What—"

"Just hurry up," Magic snapped. "Please."

Fate hummed. "Come on, 'Gregory', it's time."

He didn't even get the opportunity to agree before the memories came rushing back to him.

Hydrus snorted as he felt Apophis's feathers purposefully press against his jaw. Ever since he told his familiar that he wouldn't have to hide for much longer, the little reptile had been as attached to him as ever before. If anything he was even more clingy now. As they made their way to Charms, he wondered how long the affection would last.

'Why am I wondering that?' he thought. 'And why does it seem odd?'

As Draco pushed open the classroom door for them, he banished away the thought. Probably some well-explored concept with kids that he'd long since sacrificed. Dwelling on it would only make him light up like a Christmas tree.

As class began, he opened up his textbook and half-listened to the lecture as he read ahead. There really wasn't anything ground-breaking in the book since he'd read it cover to cover already, but it was best to be prepared for Flitwick's questions. The man seemed to have moved past their earlier tiff regarding Luna, but he still liked to challenge the time-traveller. If he someday managed to succeed, a part of Hydrus told him he shouldn't hold it against the half-goblin.

"Who here!" Flitwick called. Hydrus began paying more attention. "Knows what the first concept one must consider is when coming up with a new charm?"

Hydrus returned to reading his textbook and raised his hand.

"Yes, Hydrus?"

He sighed. Should've known he'd be picked.

"Whether or not it should be a charm in the first place," he answered. "Transfigurations and charms often overlap since their breadth is so similar, and the difference between the two lies primarily in perception and reality. Transfiguration is, typically, turning one real thing into another real thing. Charms are turning nothing into something, an impossibility to a possibility, or a possibility to an impossibility."

The room was silent, and although he couldn't swear one way or the other if they were impressed or confused, he didn't really care. That was the best answer one could ask for.

"Well, it would seem Headmaster Dumbledore's influence is even greater than I thought." Hydrus looked up and gave a nod when he saw Flitwick was smiling pleasantly at him. He'd meant it as a compliment. "It's not the answer I was looking for, but it is still correct. Once you know a spell is meant to be a charm, however, what is the first step then?"

"Firmly defining your goal." Hydrus wasn't half as sure in that answer as he was in his last, but he could defend it if need be. "I've only ever created one charm spell on my own, and the 'true north' I set for myself was always the point I could come back to when I got lost."

"Exactly correct." Flitwick beamed at him. "Twenty points to Slytherin; and I'll double it if you don't mind showing off your working?"

Hydrus glanced about the classroom, but the walls were bare. "I don't mind, but it was a spell to blind, deafen, and dumb portraits. I had a rather nasty one to deal with at one point, and the spell was intended to provide privacy."

"Oh. How interesting…" Flitwick gave a contemplative hum. "Would you be able to perform the spell without a proper target?"

"Sure." Hydrus drew his wand and pointed it at the ceiling before going through the movements. "Absconditus"

The spell shot out of his wand and slammed into stonework above them. He winced slightly as he felt the pointless magic crash against the school and was reminded that he had tied himself to the place. It really was hard to put into words the bond he shared with his home now.

"Well, I won't give you any extra credit for the spell itself, but I certainly wouldn't complain if any of my seventh-years came to me with it." Flitwick smiled at him once again. "Another twenty for Slytherin!"

Hydrus settled back down and returned to his reading. In truth, he didn't much care for his mother's preferred line of magic. He also wasn't entirely devout to his father's specialty in transfigurations, but it was closer. Defence Against the Dark Arts was his only leaning. He didn't care if a spell was a charm, a transfiguration, a hex, a curse, a jinx, a divination, or even something unique and undefined so long as it helped him keep himself and the people he loved safe. If he had to pick just one spellform to master it would probably be curses.

Curses were direct and immediate misfortune upon a subject. Hexes were ongoing and physical but rarely immediate, and jinxes were just as delayed but more nefarious and esoteric. He didn't care much for hexes or jinxes, but curses were right up his alley. The only thing that separated a curse from a charm or transfiguration were people's thoughts on how vile it was, and he found the average witch or wizard to have a weak stomach.

"Hydrus?"

"Hm?" Draco had elbowed him. "What?"

Flitwick grinned at him like he'd finally caught the mouse. "Are you well-versed with this spell?"

Hydrus glanced up to see a crude but effective diagram of the wand movements on the chalkboard, as well as the verbalization and a pronunciation guide. He drew his wand.

"Cardom."

Immediately thorns began to sprout from a stick of chalk resting below the blackboard. The writing utensil fell off the ridge it sat on and continued to expand into a cylinder of spikes until it was nearly as wide as Hagrid. Hydrus holstered his wand and returned to his textbook.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm good with it."

Draco was probably the only other person who heard Apophis hissing in pleasure, though Hydrus doubted his friend understood the glee behind it.

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Gregory appeared in a whirling memory. He'd only had the opportunity to look into a pensieve a handful of times, and those experiences were the closest things he could compare this to. It was like he was somehow both in the scene, and watching it from afar, like it was a dream.

He was in St. Mungo's, and he was just as much laying in a cot as he was watching from above like a puppeteer. He shared the room with another man, a surly one, and the version of himself that was lying in the cot's emotions were practically screaming for his beloved nurse to come and save him from his roommate. He loved that nurse. He loved her. She was as kind and caring a person as anyone could ever hope to love.

The man in the cot, Gregory himself, was blonde and sky-eyed. His teeth practically glowed with the way they reflected the sunlight streaming in through the window. Any magazine in the world would sing the praises of whatever god had delivered him to their doorstep if he were to appear on their cover. The scene was only just beginning, but already he, Gregory, had stolen the show.

As it played out, Gregory realised that he and the blonde, glimmering-smile wielding man were one in the same. He was this… This… This pompous ass.

"Good morning!" a wonderful voice called as a woman entered the room. "And how are we today, Mr. Lockhart?"

That's who he was.

Gregory Herschel was Gilderoy Lockhart.

He was that simpering amnesiac who was head over heels for the nurse who loved him because his books were so fantastic. He couldn't even remember writing them now, or could he? Memories were swirling about in his mind but Gild—, Greg—, … He banished them all away so he could focus on the one he was inside of now.

Gilderoy preened and showed his ass for the nurse who giggled and took it all in with aplomb. Dave, his roommate, rolled his eyes at every joke and flirtation. Madame Strout was gushing over how proud she was of Gilderoy for buttoning his shirt correctly all on his own. Gregory watched and lived through it all without being able to come up with a coherent thought to sum up his feelings.

"Hurry up!" Dave shouted. It was one of his bad days, when his mean-half took over. "I need to shit!"

Dave had been a cursebreaker who stumbled upon an imprisoned and true-petrified dark wizard. The evil warlock had been turned to stone, but maintained his consciousness throughout the centuries he was entombed inside of his own body. The cursebreaker had taken every possible caution to ensure the 'statue' he'd found wasn't cursed before he touched it, and it hadn't been. But that didn't stop the dark wizard inside from trying to take over his body as soon as they made contact.

Unfortunately for them both, the petrification had tried to come along for the ride too.

Now the left side of the man was turned to stone, while the right half remained flesh. The dark wizard and the curse breaker each lived within the body and took day-long turns in control of it. So far no one had found a way to exorcise the evil spirit from the innocent man, and although the cursebreaker was kind and apologetic when he was in control, the rest of the time he was a menace.

All of that information came unbidden into Gregory's mind like a stream of tap water.

Nearly an hour passed. It didn't feel like it, but his brain accepted that was the amount of time that had passed before Madame Strout finished providing care for the half-petrified bastard he was sharing a room with. The poor woman had to help him relieve himself, bathe himself, feed himself. That last part didn't seem like something he should need help with, but the maleficent spirit demanded she do it anyway.

Throughout it all, the magnanimous woman kept her pleasant demeanour and warm smile.

This time there were no memories that came in to prove what Gregory was suspecting, but he was beginning to believe that the woman was none other than Agatha.

His Aggy.

Time slipped forward again, till he and Dave were left alone. As always when that was the case, the evil wizard began to pick on him. He mocked the fact that Lockhart was constantly forgetting everything, including his own name. He mocked him for thinking the nurse actually liked him. He mocked him for being weak. He mocked him for everything he was, and a lot of things he wasn't.

And yet, Gregory didn't care. He didn't care because Gilderoy didn't care either. This facsimile of himself came off like a stumbling idiot whenever he tried to defend against the harsh barbs, but inside he was resolute and absolutely certain of just one thing.

There was no way Dave was correct.

Gil… Guh… Whatever his name was, he couldn't possibly be all those things Dave said.

He was perfect.

The way his hair fell in silken tresses down to his shoulders. The way his baby-blue eyes nearly blended into the sky when he stared at his reflection in the window. The way he sometimes wondered if Merlin himself had sculpted his perfect, rugged jaw.

The way Miriam Strout smiled at him like he was the most amazing man in the world.

Still, it was rather annoying that this rude fellow kept insulting him. It wasn't Gilderoy's fault that someone, some awful villain no doubt, had cursed his handsome self and ruined his ability to retain most memories. The only things he really remembered anymore were the absolute constants, like Madam Strout's kindness or Dave's awfulness. He much preferred the man's good side, the side that ironically enough had a much more fantastical and syllable-stuffed name that a dark wizard like Dave should've had.

What he wouldn't give to have his memories back. Or even to just stop losing new ones. Gilderoy looked away from his annoying roommate and began to tune him out, preferring instead to just gaze at the window where his reflection lie. If he spoke to it out loud again then Dave would probably just throw things at him with his one good arm, so he began silently.

'Will they ever be able to cure us?' he asked. 'Will we ever be free?'

His reflection never responded, but it was handsome enough to be forgiven for that.

'What was I saying?' Gilderoy wondered. 'Ah, right, your eyes. Where on earth have they gone? Have they been swallowed up by the sky once more?'

'No.'

'Huh?'

He blinked. So did his reflection. A second later.

'Look how far you've fallen, my broken angel,' his reflection said, its mouth moving and its words echoing in Gilderoy's mind. 'Would you like me to put you back together again?'

Now it wasn't his reflection, it was someone much uglier. He frowned. 'Who are you?'

'I am Fate.' What had once been his reflection stepped out from the glass, and for the first time, truly spoke. "And I would like for you to become my chosen.

Hydrus knocked on the door to the Herschel's Diner, and waited for Mrs. Herschel to let him in. Technically it was after closing time, but he knew the woman wouldn't begrudge him for the late visit. She might not have any food for him for once, but that was a tragedy he could bear.

"Hydrus?" He grinned at the elderly woman opening the door. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Was hoping to see if your husband still had any contacts with the Department of Mysteries," he said. "Need someone from there to rubber stamp something."

"Well, I'm sure he does, but…" The old woman sighed and stepped aside for him to enter. "He's been in a bit of a mood lately. Said something's coming."

"I don't suppose he said what?" Hydrus asked as he walked in and strolled up to one of the barstools at the counter. "Cus knowing the way Fate works, it'll probably—"

"You're right on time," a voice said. A voice Hydrus barely remembered, but that he'd been wondering about for some time. "It's good to see you again, 'Hydrus'."

Gilderoy Lockhart, just as he remembered if a touch more subtlety dressed, stepped out of the backroom of the diner. Mrs. Herschel gasped, and Hydrus frowned.

What the fuck was going on?

"Why—"

"Fate's rewound me," Lockhart said. "I'm sure it's confusing, but I need you to trust me. I am Gregory Herschel."

"Oh." Hydrus slumped down onto his barstool and took a moment to process that information. "Yeah, yeah that makes sense."

The peacock of a man blinked at him. "It does?"

"You were missing. Gregory was new." More and more connections were becoming clear. "You're a writer. Fate's a story-lover." He turned to Mrs. Herschel who was just staring at her husband with her hands over her mouth. "I'm more curious about who the hell you are?"

"Oh, Greggy, look at you." Mrs. Herschel ignored Hydrus as she crossed the room to Lockhart. "You're as handsome as I remember."

"And you're more beautiful than ever before."

Hydrus winced and looked away as the two began to kiss. He knew he was the absolute last person on earth who could complain about being grossed out by an older woman kissing a much younger man, but she was very old. And it was very gross. As the sound of the action became louder and moister, he considered blocking his ears. Thankfully they pulled away with a smacking of lips before he went ahead and did that.

"Hydrus, this is about Death," Lockhart said. Hydrus's blood went cold. "Magic called in some favour with Fate to keep her from stopping what's about to happen."

It was so strange hearing the nincompoop talk so… competently. It was like he'd actually become the man he'd pretended to be when he taught DADA. As Hydrus thought about the way people talked regarding 'Gregory Herschel', maybe he really had.

"And what exactly is about to happen?"

"Death's chosen is being risen as we speak," Lockhart said. "And they're using Fate's power to make it happen."

Hydrus frowned. "Why does he need Fate's power?" he asked. "Can't he just pop them back to life?"

"My goddess said, and, please." Lockhart was cringing like he expected Hydrus to strike him. "These are her words, not mine, she said: 'Tell Hydrus that he should already know why they're using my power.' Again, her words, not mine."

"Is she talking to you right now or something?" Hydrus asked.

"Ah, no, she just knew you were going to ask that." Lockhart shrugged. "You know how she is."

"Right…"

Hydrus tried to figure out her latest riddle. Fate could stop time, but so could Death and Magic. She could reverse it as well… Were they forcing Fate to rewind someone who wasn't dead? Was Grindelwald getting a makeover or something?

Shit, that actually made a lot of sense.

"I need to—"

"She said that's the wrong answer," Lockhart said. "And although I don't know what it is you're thinking, she said that Grindelwald is apparently missing." He coughed. "And, uh, that you should definitely figure it out by now."

"What the fu—"

"Don't shoot the messenger!" Lockhart yelped. Hydrus furrowed his brows at the man; why was he acting like he was going to eat him? "You know this is what she does. When was the last time you heard a prophecy that just spelled something out."

"First of all, what happened between us happened lifetimes ago, and you're literally the only Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I've ever had that didn't try to personally kill me at some point," Hydrus said. "So relax. Second, this isn't a prophecy, so there's no reason for her to be playing coy."

Lockhart shrugged, and Hydrus sighed. After a moment to make sure his madness was locked down tight, he contemplated the situation he was in.

Gregory Herschel was Gilderoy Lockhart. Fate had de-aged the man. Death's newest chosen was about to be 'risen'. Grindelwald was apparently on the loose. Grindelwald was not Death's chosen, but his disappearance was related. There were also the grave robb—

"Oh son of a bitch."

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Gilderoy sat down the last of his books, and stared up at the ceiling in awe. He'd not yet read any other books, but he couldn't imagine they could be any better than the ones he himself had written. There was just no way such perfect writing could ever be topped. Although he couldn't fully agree with Dave, he at least now understood why the man said Madam Strout only liked him because he was famous.

He would've fallen in love with whoever wrote these too if he wasn't already the writer himself.

"I'm a hero," he whispered. "A real, honest to goodness—"

"Would you shut up," Dave snapped. "You're not a hero, you're a fucking invalid."

Gilderoy just shook his head. Fate, the lamb that she was, had done what none of the healers in St Mungos had been able to. She'd cured him. Well, not cured, he still couldn't remember anything before the day he'd met her, but she did stop him from losing any more memories. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked, she'd tried explaining how she'd 'temporally locked the charm-turned-curse into its current status', but he was pretty sure she made up one of those words. Maybe two of them.

Either way, he didn't need those memories. He'd written down all the important stories he could ever need! Who cared if he didn't remember what he'd had for breakfast a year ago; he now knew he'd personally slain a werewolf with his bare hands.

What a wonderful, marvellous, and, of course, magical life he'd led.

"Dinner time!" the second most wonderful voice in the entire world said. "I hope you two are hungry!"

"Well, I can't speak for my compatriot, but I most certainly am," Gilderoy said, flashing Madam Strout his perfect smile as she entered. "Tell me, my oh so beautiful patron, what is on the menu today?"

"Oh, Gilderoy, you big flirt." The woman sat his tray down over his lap, and she had purposefully let her hand brush against his thigh. "You remember, don't you? Thursdays are…?"

He squinted at the dome-lidded tray. "Chicken fillets, green beans, and mashed potatoes?"

Her eyes widened. "That's right! Great job!"

"Quit patronising the bastard and give me my damned food already," Dave shouted. "Honestly, you'd praise a goldfish for swimming."

"Just like I would praise a certain someone if he would ever remember his manners," Madam Strout said, tutting at Dave as she made her way over to him. "One of these days you're going to have to get tired of being so grumpy all the time."

Gilderoy gave a pitying frown when the mediwitch accidentally touched the surly bastard's leg as she set the next tray down on top of him. Poor thing.

"I am, quite literally, set in stone," Dave said with a scowl. "Now hurry up and feed me."

The world's greatest author rolled his eyes. The man was only half-petrified, so why couldn't he feed himself? He certainly managed to talk all by himself, in that awful half-snarling, half-mumbling voice of his. And now that Gilderoy was able to remember more than a small amount of any given day again, what happened to the nice fellow? It seemed like Dave was the only one who ever got a turn with the body anymore. He missed old… Whatever his name was.

Once Madam Strout had finished feeding the bastard, she finally returned her attention to Gilderoy.

"And how has your day gone so far?" she asked as he finished carving another bite of his chicken just fine and all on his own. "Still reading your books?"

"I finished just shortly before your arrival, actually," he said before taking the morsel and savouring it. "It truly is incredible that such wit and grandiosity could be encapsulated within just a few tricklesome words."

There, that sounded properly authorish.

"You're doing so well these days." She gave his shoulder a squeeze and his heart fluttered. "If you manage to keep remembering things, we might even bring in the specialists to reevaluate your status."

"I think I'm just about done forgetting things." He reached up and grabbed her hand, his smile growing even wider when a red blush rose on her cheeks. "I'd love to make some new memories, though."

"I, well…" She cleared her throat and pulled away. "I certainly hope you do too. I'll see you both tomorrow."

She gathered up his tray and practically scurried out of the room. Gilderoy wiggled about in his bed for a moment, getting comfortable as he replayed that oh so clear, oh so easily remembered memory. He wondered just how many moments like that he'd lost…

"You're an idiot," Dave said. "She doesn't like you, she likes the man in those novels of yours. Do you really think you're half of that anymore?"

Gilderoy nearly argued with him, then froze. Was he half as great as he had once been? Reading about his exploits and adventures was one thing, but without the memories…

"F-, Fate?" Everything froze. "Can I ask you for another favour?"

"Of course, dear," his personal goddess said. She had appeared sitting on the edge of his bed, yet again in the form of someone much less attractive than himself, and was smiling at him. "What do you need?"

He smiled back at her. "Don't you already know?"

Fate laughed. "Of course not, silly. Well, yes, I do. I can see exactly where you're future is going. But, now that you're my chosen, you're as likely to split the thread as not. Your choices and decisions are as infinite as my own, as Harry's, as—"

"Harry?" Gilderoy interrupted. "Harry Potter?"

He'd been hearing the young man's name quite a lot lately. He was apparently one of the students he'd taught before he'd been cursed, and was now putting the tutelage to good use in the Triwizard tournament. According to the radio, the boy had done somewhat well for himself in the second trial.

What an incredible professor he must have been.

"The one and only," she said. "Though he's not quite there yet. Some day though, someday far from now, yet just a short time ago…"

"Well, I'm not sure what that all means," Gilderoy said. "But what I need from you is to get my memories back."

"Hmmm…" Fate hummed, terribly out of pitch. "Hey, I'm trying!"

"Sorry if that hurt your feelings," he said. "I try to keep my words polite, but it's so much more difficult to keep my immense thoughts the same way."

Fate gave him a long look, then laughed. She threw her head back as the pleasure rolled out of her, and Gilderoy laughed along with her. He wasn't sure what they were laughing at, but he always liked a good guffaw. It was the perfect opportunity to show off just how beautiful and dazzling his smile was.

"Oh, you really are such a treat, my chosen," Fate said. Gilderoy nodded in agreement. "Well, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it by myself, but I can get my sister to help."

"I'd love to meet her if she can," Gilderoy said. "I wish to prove that…" He shot an appropriately disparaging glance at the half-statue he was forced to share a room with. "That I deserve Madam Strout's attention and affection."

"Ahh…" Fate said. "I can at least promise you'll get your memories back."

Death watched as his ritual unfolded.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

A sack full of human bones were dumped into the cauldron. A few drops of the potion within splashed out, sending great geysers of flame up around its sides and lighting the tomb in brilliant emerald light. The first of the three ritualistic ingredients were dissolving into the acid-like substance.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master."

The being who'd brought him that child clambered into the pot. He was sacrificing the entirety of himself. It was unnecessary, but Death appreciated it. He gently guided the formerly undead being's soul into its next stage.

"Blood of the enemy," a Norwegian vampire said. "Forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

Gellert Grindelwald screamed in impotent rage. The man was writhing in fury as a zombie drug him forward, and drug a gash down his arm with a knife made from the frozen spinal fluid of nearly a dozen victim's. His blood seeped into the cauldron as the hapless dark lord squirmed but couldn't quite fully defend himself.

And then Fate's echo passed over them. Around the globe coincidences were landing on their least likely outcome. Dice were falling at odd angles. One in a million odds were suddenly absolute certainties, and if Death's deific senses weren't mistaken, a servant of his would be born a thousand years from now and slaughter trillions.

That was in the far flung future though.

For now his chosen was rising.

From the bubbling and steaming pot, a man rose. He was tall, no longer hunched over by the weight of life. Hair was still sprouting up along his pate and jaw into a perfectly manicured cut and beard. He landed hard on the ground but quickly rose back up, his pride refusing to allow even a moment of being subservient to those around him, even just posturaly. When the human had fully recovered, he looked no less the warlord for his nudity and newborn tremors.

"What is this?" the man demanded. "What's going on?"

Death appeared. He arose from the darkness like a spectre from shadow; like a shade from the setting sun. All of his followers immediately fell to their knees in awe at the splendour.

His chosen did not.

"I said—"

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Death said. "You and I have a lot to discuss, 'Lord' Arcturus."

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Gilderoy stared listlessly up at the ceiling. Dave was cackling at what he'd just told him. It should have been obvious that such a dastard wouldn't be honest when he said he wouldn't laugh at him. Why on earth hadn't it been obvious before he told him?

"You, you, you…" Dave wheezed. "You're a fraud! Hahahahahaha!"

"Come on," Gilderoy whined. "I really—"

"Shut up," Dave snapped. "I'm not done laughing."

And he really wasn't. The most handsome, well-written fraud in the world buried his glorious face in his hands as the cackling continued. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He'd thought…

"I actually pitied you!" Dave shouted. "I thought, I thought you were just a—"

"Shut up!" Gilderoy finally snapped, not even caring the smallest bit that maybe potentially someone might overhear. "I am still—!"

"You do not tell me to shut up!" Dave roared back. Gilderoy cringed down half-beneath his covers. "I am the great Dave! Warlock of—!"

The door to their room slammed open and Gilderoy was certain he wouldn't have been the only one to jump if Dave wasn't half a… Half a lawn ornament!

Fate had to be laughing at that one.

He was hilarious.

"Lockhart, DiFuoco—"

"It's Dave!"

"Whatever." The orderly sounded disinterested, to Gilderoy's relief. "Just keep it down, or we'll have to find you both new roommates. You know what that means, Dave."

Gilderoy sure didn't. Before he could ask, the man slammed the door. That hardly seemed fair, that slam was much louder than they must've been.

"He's lucky my wand arm is petrified," Dave growled. "I'd disembowel him. Slamming doors like he's a damn percussionist."

"Right?" Gilderoy said. "Much louder than us."

"Shut up." Dave was staring at him with a wrinkled nose. "And listen to me, you pathetic worm."

"You're a…" Gilderoy started, unsure where he was going. "Worm…"

"From this point forward, you will do everything I say, when I say, no matter what," the half-statue said. Gilderoy blinked. That didn't sound like something he would do. "Because if you don't, I will tell that simpleton of a mediwitch what you are."

His heart nearly stopped and his blood went cold.

"Fate!"

Hydrus, Lockhart, Mrs. Herschel, Bella, Dobby, and Remus were at Castle Nurmengard. They were sitting outside around a table that Dobby had brought and topped with foodstuffs from the diner, and Mrs. Herschel had decided it was her responsibility to carve up Lockhart's steak for him. Dumbledore was inside searching for some hint as to where the dark lord had gone, so Hydrus had decided now was as good a time as any to gather up the knows-what-Hydrus-really-is club.

Bringing along some food was just a excessive luxury.

"So…" Remus started. "This is your former teacher."

"I'd hardly call him a teacher."

Lockhart and Mrs. Herschel both gave a 'hey!' at that.

"But yes." Hydrus popped a tater tot in his mouth. "Back when I was twelve he tried to obliviate me so I wouldn't find out he's a fraud, but it backfired and wiped his memory."

"I got them back," Lockhart said. "Made a deal with Magic through Fate."

"Let me guess," Hydrus said with a snort. "Turned out poorly?"

"Well, yeah, but that's cus…" Lockhart sighed. "Cus I'm a fraud."

"Yes, we've established that." Hydrus rolled his eyes. "Anyways, Remus, why does that matter? I need a plan here, and you're the brains of this operation."

"Wait, what?" Bella spoke up. "I thought I was."

"No, dear," Hydrus said. "You're the looks."

"Wait what?" Lockhart said. "I thought—"

"You shut up." Hydrus glared at the man who immediately began to cower. "Remus. Plan."

"Hydrus I'm not some chess-playing supercomputer." The werewolf hadn't even touched his food for some reason. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the war hero Gregory Herschel is—"

"A fraud?" Hydrus asked. "No wonder I couldn't believe he and Arct… urus…"

Son of a bitch. Grindelwald was missing. Arcturus's father was dug up. Death had any number of servants.

"Oh shit."

"What?" Bella demanded. "What's going on?"

"Deaths going to revive your grandpa." Hydrus began running his hand through his hair. "And Grandpa's coming with enough firepower to actually scare me."

"I just came to the same conclusion." Hydrus looked up to see Dumbledore stepping out of the castle. "Can you…?"

"Beat him?" Hydrus asked. "Yeah, maybe, probably."

Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch. Voldemort's first revival was the scariest, and it hadn't just been because of Hydrus's inexperience. He'd been so much weaker the next time that Hydrus beat him without losing anything more than half of his face. The first time he'd been carried away missing both of his legs and a very, very emasculating amount of his—

"He can do it," Dumbledore said. Hydrus blinked and saw everyone around him had paled. "Arcturus was a fearsome wizard, but he didn't compare to men like Hydrus has killed. We'll all be fine."

Right. Always had to make sure everyone kept their composure. That's what Hydrus should've been doing, but instead he'd gotten lost in his thoughts and—

"Hydrus?" Mrs. Herschel was the one who disturbed his thoughts this time. "You should eat, dear. It's always easier to think with a full stomach."

"We don't have time," Dumbledore said. "At any moment they could be performing the ritual."

That was true. But still, even if the ritual happened—

"Who cares?" Apophis appeared, earning gasps from Remus and Lockhart. "Whoever appears, I, Apophis, son of Hydrus, shall devour them!"

"Not now, kiddo," Hydrus muttered, stroking his feathers. "Daddy's thinking."

Death would definitely know Apophis could eat souls or whatever it was he did to Herpo and apparently Salazar Slytherin. That meant that—

"Mistress Bella?" Dobby said. "Should Dobby feed Master Hydrus?"

"Yes, thank you, dear."

Hydrus tried not to be too annoyed as he opened his mouth to allow the bite in as he tried once more to keep his thoughts on track.

Arcturus was coming back as supercharged as Voldemort. Death was going to do something to stop him from being eaten by Apophis. How long would something like that take? What would it take? The god had said something about trying to make Hydrus into a god, were they gonna do that to Arcturus? No, because then he would be—

"Don't spill!" Bella snapped at Dobby, who began to panic and wipe up Hydrus's chin. "You'll get it on his uniform!"

"Don't yell at Dobby," Hydrus chided. "He's a dear friend."

Dobby beamed as he resumed his feeding.

Where was he? Right. No, because then he would be included in the no-gods-killing-mortals deal. Just half a god then? But even if Death made it so Apophis couldn't eat Arcturus, Hydrus would still be able to beat him in a fight. Dumbledore had said so. There had to be something else. He chewed a particularly gristley bit of meat for a while.

How the hell was Death planning on making Grandpa Arcturus a plausible threat to him?

"Hydrus?"

"Yeah?"

Dumbledore's hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. "You need to settle down."

Hydrus blinked. Everyone besides himself and his teacher were on the ground. All of drinks and food on the table were frozen. What the hell had he been…

His right hand looked like an animal had been using it as a chew toy. The chunk of flesh between his thumb and index finger was practically missing and the exposed bones had bite marks in them. Did… DId he do that?

"You went mad," Dumbledore said. "Are you okay?"

Hydrus began to heal his hand. "I will be. Sorry about that."

Everyone was beginning to groan as they either came to or finally gathered together enough courage to stand back up. Somehow Mrs. Herschel got to her feet before Lockhart did and was helping the shaking man up. Bella wasn't bothering, she was lying on the ground and breathing heavily with her hands digging into her sides like she was in ecstasy. Remus was…

Wait.

What was Remus doing here?

"How the hell are you not covered in fur and doing what I just did?" Hydrus asked the recovering man. "It's a full moon."

"Not full," Remus muttered. "Not full enough for me to have to turn if I don't want to."

"Really?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Right, right. Whatever." Hydrus sighed. "Someone get my uncle to tell his pet vampire I need that list of Death's bitches asap."

"Oh, that reminds me," Bella said as her eyes fluttered open. "Sirius called a family meeting."

"Why?"

"The audit."

"Great," Hydrus grumbled. "He's gonna be pissed we didn't show."

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Gilderoy stared blankly at the window. For once he wasn't looking at his reflection, and was instead staring out at the city landscape. Muggles were milling about below him and he wondered what it would be like to be one of them. To be so innocent, so free of burden, so ingloriously unpurposed.

He would never know.

Fate had once again asked her sister Magic for a favour, and this time it had been to come up with a way to prove that Gilderoy really was loved by Madame Strout.

It had failed miserably.

Fate had turned the temporarily or whatever locked curse he was afflicted with inside out, and now no one could remember him. Dave always freaked out for a moment when they first 'met', before suspiciously settling down and acting like he wasn't nervous at all. Apparently the orderlies had threatened to put him in a coma if he didn't stop scaring off roommates, and he kept thinking that Gilderoy was someone new and his consciousness was about to be stolen. The orderlies didn't act any different at all, they just read his scroll at the end of the bed and gave him his vitamins and whatnot. Madame Strout…

Madame Strout never remembered him, and never treated him any different than any other patient.

It was finally occurring to him that perhaps she never had treated him any differently. Perhaps she'd been just as nice to him as she was to Dave as she was to who knows who else in the hospital. Gilderoy wasn't special. He was just another patient in St. Mungos that she was paid to take care of, and the spark of love that had kept his stay here bearable for so long was nothing more than a twinkle of a dying star in the night sky.

When the door opened he didn't bother to say hello.

"Hello, dears," Madame Strout said. "Oh! Getting a view are we, Mister, um, oh gosh let me just—"

"Lockhart," he filled in. "Gilderoy Lockhart."

Sirius was scowling. He didn't like to scowl, people told him he looked rather scary. Smiles were his more typical fare, even when he wanted to be scary, but on a day like today a scowl was what he needed. His mother and father were both here, after all.

Normally he banned the… What had Arcturus called her? The cow? The sow? Normally he barred the beast from coming to the family meetings, but today it felt necessary. She very well might be the reason the meeting was necessary in the first place. So could his father. Or perhaps his uncle. Or perhaps Bella.

Where the fuck was Bella?

More importantly, where in the name of whatever gods he was beefing with was Hydrus?

"Morganna's tit, Sirius, would you quit looking so grumpy?" Andromeda sniped. "You look like you want to kill someone."

"I do want to kill someone," he snapped. "I called for a family meeting and no one's here!"

Crack.

"Would you quit whining," Andromeda barked. Sirius rubbed the back of his head. "We're only missing two people."

"Amelia!" Sirius whined, turning to his girlfriend. "She hit me1'

The future head of the DMLE stared at him from over the rim of her paperwork glasses. She had only agreed to come to the meeting if she could bring work with her. Scrolls and parchments were splayed out before her on the table and it almost made him sick to be reminded of the old nemesis.

"You deserved it," his supposed ally said before returning her attention to the sheet she was reading. "You were getting hysterical."

Ted, Andromeda's plus one for the meeting, snorted into his stein of beer.

"Shut up, Ted!" Sirius snapped. "Kreacher!"

The house elf appeared. "Yes, Lord Master Sirius?"

"Go—!" He cut himself off. "Wait, Lord Master?"

"You is head of House Black." Kreacher bowed his head. "Kreacher's lord and master."

"I… Whatever." he shook his head. "Go get Hydrus and Bella."

"No."

"You little—!"

"Lord Black?" Lucius chimed in. Sirius turned his glare on the blonde who winced. "Perhaps there is a reason Hydrus and Bellatrix aren't here?"

"Like they're making out?" Regulus suggested before giggling. "Fucking… Perverts."

"Like anyone wants to hear about perversion from you, boy," his father said with a sneer. "You—!"

"Do not take that tone with our boy!" his mother screeched. "He is—!"

"Would you stop shouting?" Cygnus snarled. The man had been particularly grouchy all day. "I'm the one who—!"

"Don't even think—!"

"Oh don't you get started—"

"This isn't about to—"

"Would you all—!"

Sirius smashed his fist into the table. "SIIIIIIIILEEENNCE3!"

Everyone in the room froze. It took a minute for Sirius to reign in his madness. Each second was punctuated with his heaving breaths, and each breath came with another doubt towards Sirius's own reason still being here. He should just… Just run away. Join the circus. Kidnap James and Remus so he wouldn't have to figure out to juggle all by himself.

"Jeez," Andromeda muttered. "Grandfather much?"

"Right?" Regulus said. "He's a spitting image."

"Creeps me out." Narcissa shivered. "Thought we were rid of the bastard."

Sirius buried his face in his hands.

He hated this family.

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Gilderoy stabbed a period down with a flourish, giving a sigh of relief to finally be done with his final, greatest work. He could already see the cover now. It would be an exact match to his first biography's, but with 'Magical Me' smudged away like someone had tried to erase it. Over that, in his own messy handwriting, would be 'Not So Magical Me'.

The story of a fraud.

He wasn't sure why he bothered putting so much thought into the cover. No one would ever be able to read it. He'd asked, with a little bit of black mail to sweeten the pot, Dave to read his books. The man just spent an hour reading the first few pages, turning them back, and starting all over.

He'd lost it all. Gilderoy was no longer the world-famous author. No longer the hero of the unwitting masses. No longer the most… Well, no, he was still the most handsome man in the entire world. It was just that no one could ever remember what he looked like after getting the chance to witness him.

So what was the point?

"And now back to our feature presentation!" the radio called. "Magical Radio London's coverage of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Gilderoy sighed. A part of him, the part that was ashamed of what he'd done, wanted to turn it off. Harry Potter was perhaps his greatest shame, and not just because he'd tried to obliviate the preteen for no reason other than cowardice. That was a large part of it, but still.

No, the reason he was his greatest shame was that Gilderoy had failed him. He'd failed all off his students, but it wasn't like the rest of them mattered. Harry could've been… Could've been his redemption. He could've taken the boy under his wing, raised him into the sort of hero and scholar he'd pretended to be, and gotten to live off the royalties as his just due for bringing up such a marvellous hero. Who cared if he didn't actually know how to seduce a banshee, he still knew the theory behind it. Still could've passed it along.

"Dinner time!"

Gilderoy's heart broke for the thousandth time. If Harry was his greatest shame, then Madame Strout was his biggest regret. He should've just let well enough alone and accepted her misguided love as his lone consolation in the sea of—

"Gilderoy?" His eyes snapped wide open. "Are you going to eat?"

Like a rusty door on its hinges, he slowly turned on his heel to face the mediwitch. Miriam Strout was staring at him with her head turned slightly to the side, smiling a pleasant grin at him, and it was like the heavens themselves had descended upon them.

"You…" he started. "You remember me?"

"Of course I…" She paused. "Oh! I do! I do remember you!"

To his utter bafflement, she left the cart his and Dave's meals were on behind and ran over to him. She wrapped him up in a hug and, unsure of what else to do and very unwilling to do anything else, he returned the gesture with aplomb. He lifted the woman off her feet and began to spin her around in a circle.

"You remember me!"

"I remember you!"

When he finally set her back down on the ground, overcome with emotions, he kissed her.

Their lips pressed together and to his delight her hesitation faded almost as quickly as it came on. She'd tensed a bit when he first kissed her, but now she was kissing him back. Really kissing him back. Oh Merlin, was that her tongue?

"Hey!" Dave shouted. "Hurry up and—!"

"Would you please shut up?!" Miriam shouted.

Gilderoy's jaw fell open. Dave's did the same. Never, in all of his reclaimed memories, had the mediwitch ever shouted at a patient.

"For the first time in my life, I'm getting to kiss a… A… A gorgeous, handsome, devilishly good looking man!" she shouted. "All I ever do is wipe you people's asses and take care of you and treat you twice as nice as you deserve, and I… I deserve this!" Gilderoy and Dave were both frozen in place as the mediwitch shouted. "So I'm gonna keep kissing this handsome son of a bitch, and you're gonnna… Gonna…"

They remained frozen in place while MIriam tried to come up with something to say. The seconds ticked on. Jeez, she was really searching. As nearly a minute passed, it finally occurred to Gilderoy that he was the only one not frozen.

"There you go." He turned to Fate whose anger felt like it was in a tupperware container and bubbling right in front of him. "Took you long enough."

"I… What's going on?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here because you're little 'girlfriend' just strummed the thread," Fate said. "And it's seriously, seriously messed things up."

"What did Miriam do?" Gilderoy asked, aghast. "All she did was finally put that lout in his place."

"Exactly!" Fate's anger rapidly turned to shock, and she gave a gasp to emphasise the point. "You and your dumb handsome face overwhelmed her and she broke character! It's your fault!"

"No it's not!"

"Well, okay, sure I can roll with that." Fate's emotions locked themselves back up. "But then it's definitely her fault."

"Then forgive her!"

"No!"

The two glared at each other but Gilderoy was pretty sure that he could outlast the immortal goddess. Now that the woman he loved remembered his name, there was nothing he couldn't do.

"You can't fly."

"I can too."

"You literally can't."

"I've never tried."

"Yes you have."

"That was several years ago, things have changed."

"They haven't."

"They have."

He squinted his eyes at the goddess. He could fly. He was certain. There was no way he couldn't fly with how his… What had Fate called her? His girlfriend? Now that his girlfriend was awake, there was nothing he couldn't do.

"God I love you," Fate said, finally looking away. "You're so stupid and adorable."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Gilderoy glanced about the hospital room. Merlin, this place was a dump. What on earth were his tax sickles going towards if not making sure that St. Mungos was presentable? Hardly worthy of a goddess to just be lounging around in, let alone himself. Wait, why was Fate here?

"Because the echo your girlfriend just caused is going to cause serious issues," Fate said. "Hold on, I need to take a peak. Oh me. Oh… Oh." She sighed. "Great. Magic's gonna be insufferable. And poor Harry…"

"Wait, poor Harry?" Gilderoy tensed. "What's going to happen to him?"

That boy could've been—

"Oh he's going way dark." Fate's sad sigh was completely at odds with the glee she was giving off. "Oh my. Well, you know, I guess some things can't be helped."

"That poor boy," Gilderoy muttered. "I should've been there for him."

"That would've been hilarious." It would've been easy to dismiss if her apparent mirth at the thought wasn't pouring out of her. "That meek little thing getting turned into a peacock like you? There's got to be a thread like that somewhere around here…"

"Hey!" Gilderoy snapped. "It's all about me right now?"

"Right, right, sorry," Fate pointed at him emphatically. "You need to get out of here."

"What?" he asked. "Why?"

"Cus that Voldetom fellow is coming," Fate said. "And he is piiiiiiissed."

Arcturus Black stood proud. His grave stared back at him, and he wondered if beneath the half-grown grass and loamy soil there was still a body. Perhaps, if he had time, he would hire someone to find out. Some scholar. This ritual that the god had performed was a promising tool that he could use to ensure his family's future.

"It's an amusing sight," Death said. "One's own grave."

"This isn't my grave," Arcturus said. "It's my living relatives'."

He would start anew. If he remembered right, the Greengrass family had a daughter that could have his children. He'd served with her… Grandfather? Great-grandfather? In the war. He was a goodman. His seed would provide good fruit. Then he'd kill her sister, take the family's fortune for himself, and go from there.

Or there was the Parkinson heiress. Or the Tankle. Or even, perhaps, if the others weren't worthy, the snipped branch to consider. Nymphadora was of a more proper age for rearing children, and even if she was half-mud, her other half was the best stock possible. Maybe he could even look into that bastard Potter's descendants…

"It's almost time for dinner," Death said. "I hope you're prepared."

"Yes, yes," Arcturus droned. "Eat the strength of those who were flesh. I understood you the first time you pompous ass."

The god's ire rolled off his back like water along a duck. What did he care what some caveman thought of him? The man had tried bragging to him about his history like the lord of the greatest magical family in history should've been impressed.

Once Arcturus had put the imposter in the ground, and secured a wife and perhaps a concubine or two, things would need to change. Now that he had the recipe for immortality, and knew his descendants couldn't be trusted to keep the ship sailing straight, his plans needed to change. There was no way that things could lie how they had been.

His first order of business would be to take up the mantle of Minister of Magic. From there he would declare war on… He grinned. He'd declare war on France. Put the frogs under his boot once and for all. Then came Spain. Then he'd move east, into Germany and the rest of the fake Roman Empire's holdings. Once Europe was firmly under his, and thus the Black family's, control, he would move on to the lesser rest of the world.

Slowly. Over time. To enjoy the fruits of his labour.

"Mind your tone, mortal," Death said. "I returned you to this world, and I can remove you just as easily."

"Don't get snippy with me, corpse," Arcturus said with a sneer. "You prance about like you have any means of control over the situation, but I can spot a coward a mile away."

Death's power rolled off of him. His face might've been hidden beneath his hood, but Arcturus could all but imagine impotent rage boiling beneath it. The so-called deity thought he could control him.

"If you don't—!"

"Be silent," Arcturus snapped. "I am—"

"You be silent!" Death roared. Arcturus rolled his eyes at the god's lack of self control. "I will end your existence, mortal!"

"Then get on with it!" Arcturus roared back. "Or don't! Because you can't! Because you need me to be the one to fix your fuck ups!"

Death's power began to clamp down on Arcturus, but he didn't care. The first thing he'd done once Death brought him back was snap. The Black madness only grew stronger the more one used it, and he hadn't stopped letting it control him since he first regained sentience. Maybe he'd regret trying to regrow the madness when he finally reached the point at which he'd decided to reign it back in, but that was a long way from now, and for now he was enjoying himself.

"Enough!" a new voice shouted. "Honestly, brother, you're acting like a human."

Arcturus turned to the new figure as Death's power faded. It was a translucent, blue-ish woman who looked like something a poof would draw. He sneered at her in defiance.

"And who the fuck are you?" he asked. "The goddess of rainbows?"

"Magic, actually," she said. "And your inane and insane ramblings don't bother me. I'm here to fix you."

"Ah yes," he droned. "Fix perfection."

"We both know you aren't perfect, chilly boy."

He froze at the name his mother always called him.

"Your grandson is." Magic was approaching him, and he scowled at the movements. "Isn't that right?"

"Don't bring up that ingrate," he snapped. "I will deal with him—"

"How?" Magic interrupted. "When he can just suck your magic away like it was never yours to begin with."

His madness quivered. That was a logical point. His madness hated those. How would he—

"I can fix you," Magic crooned. "I can change you. Give you that same gift he has. The same gift I gave Hydrus…"

Arcturus's nose wrinkled. He wanted it, but she annoyed him. "Don't call him that. He stole that name."

"The same gift I gave Harry then," she corrected. "Don't you want it?"

"Yes."

"Then be a good boy." The goddess's blue turned darker. "And start showing us the respect we deserve."

Some Time From Now, in an Impossibility

Everything was frozen. Everything besides Gilderoy, the goddess he summoned, and his still screaming not-quite-girlfriend.

Dave was dead. The orderlies who'd come to check on them were dead. Even the flowers his roommate had tried to use as a shield were dead. Everyone was dead besides him and Fate and Miriam.

"Oh would you please shut up," Fate said. "Honestly, it's not that big a deal."

"Be nice!" Gilderoy whined. "She doesn't know."

"Oh don't you start with me, young man," Fate chastised. "I told you to get out of here!"

"And I was going to!" he argued. "I just… Couldn't convince Miriam."

The only one frozen and still alive was Voldemort. The dark lord had measured Dave and found him wanting, what with half his body being a statue. Apparently he'd been combing the hospital for recruits and the evil warlock was at the top of his list. Merlin, it was so scary the way Gilderoy could only see the slightest slit of his eye as he was in the midst of turning to face him.

"What is going on?!" Miriam cried. "Gilderoy, who are these people?"

"Miriam, this is Fate, my personal goddess." He gestured at the deity who curtsied in the body of a… Well, he wasn't rightly sure if it was a man or a woman. "Fate, this is the woman I love more than anyone else in the entire world, Miriam Strout."

The mediwitch's head snapped towards him. "You love me?"

"More than anything."

"Aww."

"You two are hilariously adorable," Fate said. "Really, I just can't get enough of you."

Gilderoy grinned at her. He loved his goddess too. They were a match made in…

Wait, was heaven real?

"Who knows," Fate said. "So. What do you want?"

"To get out of here!" Gilderoy said. "Before that madman kills us!"

"Gilly?" Miriam said. "What's going on?"

"Voldetom is on a rampage," Fate said. "He's incredibly powerful thanks to the ripple you caused. Gilderoy Lockhart is my chosen, so I like to do favours for him, and you're kind of a package deal, so I guess you can come along too."

"I…" Miriam started. "What?"

"Don't worry about it, my love," Gilderoy said. "So. Where are we going?"

"Right here?" Fate said. "Just, you know, a few decades before now. I'd send you a century forward but things get reeeaaal messy once Harry leaves."

"Harry?" Miriam asked. "As in, Harry Potter?"

"That's the one."

"I taught him, you know," Gilderoy said, trying to get some points from the beautiful mediwitch. "Probably wouldn't be half the wizard he is if not for me."

"Seriously, just adorable," Fate said. "Anyways, you two ready to go?"

"Wait!" Miriam said. "We're… You're… Please explain this to me."

"Oo, wish I could, but we're nearly out of time," Fate said. "Right. Let's get going, 'Greggy'."

"Huh?"

"Hmmm…" Fate hummed. "Oh. Oh no. Yeah, no, that won't work. Hey!" She turned a predatory smile on Gilderoy and Miriam who both grasped each other in fear. "How would you two like a fresh start?"

BBaRtS

Chapter 66, we're still going. I wanted to save this, but the last chapter upload got fuckedu p, so here we are. Yaaay. Haven't really read teh reviews properly. Shits on the table now. Gilderoy Lockhart = Gregory Herschel. Gregory Herschel massacred thousands. Arcturus Black is Death's newest chosen. What's that guy up to? Here we are.

Here we are.

Love you all, see you all when I see you, thanks for the comments I"ll read them when I have the strength of character once more.

Be well.