Author's Note: Greetings sample subjects of Earth! I have returned bearing gifts of fanfiction!

Author's Note Pt. II(Disclaimer): I don't own sheeit.

Author's Note Pt. III(Summary): In which Harry Potter has a semi-insane globe-travelling dark witch for a Great Aunt. Heavily-AU

Author's Note Pt. IV(Expanded Summary): Let's face it, well I'll face it. But in my opinion, I'm shite at summaries…So instead I shall explain the main idea behind this story; essentially the titular Aunt Hatty is your general extremely-powerful OC character, the sort one would find in a trashy bashing fic; wherein Harry either gets a harem or is relegated to playing second-fiddle in his own adventures. Only this isn't a bashing fic, and Aunt Hatty barely helps anyone but herself…well she helps in her own special bull-headed way, but mainly she instead just makes things quite a bit more complicated for Harry and everyone else she influences. She's a character sorta-kinda based off something I have neither finished nor posted. *Cough* *Cough* Bored Outer God *Cough* *Cough* Universe 1-A Tales *Cough* *Cough*...Well that and pulp-style adventure heroes like Indiana Jones.

Author's Note Pt. V(Just One More): I originally devised this fic as a BOG installment. Essentially an alternate version of ASCN that would have Nyarlathotep, as Harry Potter from the 2070s, being summoned to this universe. As you all fine humans can see, I scrapped that idea. With this originally being a BOG fic, and with the titular character originally being male…and an avatar of the firstborn Outer God, Aunt Hatty naturally shares some traits with 2070s 'Harry' (i.e. Tendency Towards Intimidation, Nigh-Amorality, Enormous Magical Power). Only she, in my opinion, is a much more human character, not held down by the fact Nyarlathotep is behind the wheel.

Main Theme: Stray Cat Strut by The Stray Cats

Beginning Theme: Swing, Swing, Swing by John Williams

Secondary Theme: (There'll Be Bluebirds Over)The White Cliffs of Dover by Vera Lynn

Ending Theme: We'll Meet Again Performed by Vera Lynn

Location: Veggente Cieco Bar, Gela, Southeastern Sicily, Magical Italian Empire

Date: November 29th, 1942 AD

Henrietta Potter casually took a drag from her burning Senior Service, soothing tobacco smoke filled her lungs as she tilted her rustic wooden chair back with a creak. The witch ignored the odd looks she had been getting ever since she stepped foot in the ratty bar; muggles, they would never understand true fashion.

She swept her long white wimple off her shoulder with a lazy brush of her hand. Henrietta exhaled a gust of smoke from her nostrils, merely adding to the haze of tobacco smoke already present in the bar, and reached over to ash her cigarette into a hand-made clay tray on the wooden table beside her. All the while, the bar's thin front door remained unflinchingly closed under Henrietta's gaze.

If there was one thing she learned whilst in Sicily the past two months. It was that these damn Sicilian mobsters liked to take their time when it came to meeting associates. Henrietta frowned; or maybe they just did this to people they didn't trust. She took another drag from her cigarette, either way, they were running late.

She shot a look to the left and towards the squat, balding man cleaning a glass behind the bar, and waved to get his attention, "A glass of red wine, if you would." Henrietta ordered in Italian, wisps of smoke rising from her mouth.

The man nodded, and quickly pulled a bottle down from the wine rack on the wall behind the bar. As he grabbed a cup up with a short clink of glass-against-glass, and began to hurry over, Henrietta turned her attention back towards the front door, still nothing.

Henrietta exhaled a gust of smoke through her mouth, and glanced over as the barman placed the cup beside her. Quickly uncorking the bottle, the man poured vibrant deep red wine into the cup, "Grazie." Henrietta said, once again in Italian, as she withdrew a fifty-Lire banknote from her leather messenger's satchel, and held it out towards the man.

With a nod and a smile, the barman took the note and bustled back to the bar. Henrietta took yet another drag from her Senior Service, and directed her attention back to the door. One would imagine that her employers would care more about arriving on time, given she had been doing nothing but their dirty work for the previous two months.

Exhaling a short gust of smoke, Henrietta grabbed up the cup of wine with a black-gloved hand, gave the liquid a quick sniff, then took a sip. She swished the wine around in her mouth, savouring the fruity acidic alcohol, then swallowed as the front door slowly creaked open. The bar's soft, warm lighting flooded out and illuminated a group of feet, standing outside. With another, longer exhale of smoke, Henrietta smirked and quickly set the cup down before dipping her hand below the tabletop.

Through the nighttime darkness outside the door appeared a group of men, consisting of three central figures surrounded by a squad of what were evidently armed bodyguards; Ludovico Bianchi, Paolo Santini, and Callisto Bianchi. The Bloody Hand, the Dead Man, and the Kid. Henrietta took one final drag from her cigarette, before snuffing it out in the ashtray beside her as the three most powerful criminal figures in Gela, Sicily, alongside their six bodyguards approached.

Barking out orders in terse Italian, the three mobsters' bodyguards quickly ushered all but the barman out of the Veggente Cieco. It took a mere five minutes for everyone to vacate their seats, and once done, the bodyguards took positions on either side of Henrietta, both near the rear wall and by the front door.

Henrietta folded one leg over the other under her big white skirt, "Glad you've finally decided to join me." She greeted sweetly, "I was beginning to fear you had gotten yourself stuck in a doorway somewhere."

Ludovico Bianchi smiled cruelly under his big salt and pepper moustache, and pulled out of the other three chairs situated around the table. It gave a creak as the plump mob boss sat down and reached into his brown leather jacket, "Disrespectful as usual, Miss Potter." He responded, as he withdrew a brown Toscano cigar and stuck it between his teeth.

Henrietta merely smirked in response. A sense of satisfaction filled her as the mob boss's eye twitched slightly, irritation evidently breaking through the amiable mask he had plastered on.

The second man; Paolo Santini, who had taken a seat in the chair next to the mob boss's, quickly whipped out a silver cigarette lighter, ignited it, then held it towards Bianchi.

Ludovico still smiled, though his small brown eyes were somewhat-narrowed. He leaned over and lit the end of his cigar using Santini's outstretched flame. Once the end was sufficiently burning, Bianchi leaned back in his chair and took a short puff, "My picciotti, they werevery impressed with your handling of our latest problem."

Henrietta gave a short giggle, and leaned back in her seat, "Grazie, Bianchi. Such approval truly means a great deal."

Callisto Bianchi gave a quiet snort. Henrietta looked at him with softened eyes unseen through a pair of circular rose gold-framed sunglasses; he was barely seventeen at the least, with a striking resemblance to his much-plumper father.

"You believe this disrespect will get you the ring any faster, Potter?" Ludovico questioned, and took a puff from his cigar.

She looked over and smiled in response, "I believe two months of hard, dirty work should." Her smile turned into a fierce grin, "Now where is it?"

Ludovico raised his chin slightly, taking another smoky puff from his cigar, and a second later smacked Santini lightly on the upper arm, "Show her the ring." He grunted.

Santini reached into his dark brown waistcoat, and withdrew a bright golden yellow box, square in shape. Henrietta's eyes followed his hands as he placed the box on the table, before carefully opening it up.

Within, set in a bed of plush red silk, was a ring. Crafted intricately from a blend of brass and iron, it was a signet ring, one that sported an elaborate gold-inlaid hexagram symbol akin to the Jewish Star of David. Henrietta's grin widened on its own, stretching across her pale cheeks; she could feel the magic, the pure power wafting off the small lump of brass and iron as if it were steam. This was it, this was most-definitely it.

Henrietta tore her eyes away from the ring, "I assume this means it's mine?" She asked sweetly and looked towards the elder Bianchi. Unbeknownst to him, behind her sunglasses, Henrietta stared directly into the mob boss's eyes.

Like with any muggle, it was easy-peasy to break down the metaphorical walls behind Ludovico's eyes and pry into his mind. Within less than a second, Henrietta sifted through a thousand memories, each and every one draining away at her trust in these mobsters until none remained. So betrayal was the name of the game…Why did she expect anything different?

", signorina," Ludovico lied. Bless his naive little soul.

There was a clacking metallic snap from behind her, Henrietta licked her lips as Ludovico's smile widened shortly afterwards. A metallic click sounded from the same direction, followed by another, then another, and another, before a final one rang out.

Henrietta gave a half-smile, and looked towards Santini, "Might you be a dear and pass that ring a little closer?"

Santini shot a glance at Ludovico, who nodded once and no more. A second passed, then the mobster reached forward and began to push the box closer, inch by inch.

"Grazie," Henrietta spoke, as her engraved sycamore wand silently slid into her right hand, still dipped below the table.

A moment passed as Santini slid the box to her side of the table, then retracted his arm, and returned to his seat beside Ludovico. This was quickly followed by a second, a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth.

A nod from the mob boss, a single nod sent towards but very-obviously not directed at her, sent Henrietta springing to her feet. Ludovico's eyes widened slightly as she swiftly slashed her wand upwards, raising a glowing bluish shield charm just as an explosion of gunfire erupted from behind her.

Bullets and buckshot were booming off the shield in an instant. Henrietta quickly sent a dark exploding curse over her left shoulder, summoned the ring, box and all into her hand, and apparated away. She disappeared, then reappeared across the room in twin explosions of reddish smoke and burning orange flame.

The three sitting mobsters barely had time to react before a terrific black-orange explosion consumed the bodyguards they had stationed behind Henrietta. With a deafening boom that nigh-instantly shattered all the bar's windows, and a flash of almost ultraviolet-looking light, the three and their remaining bodyguards were blasted to the ground.

Henrietta quickly slipped the ring onto her right pointer finger and carelessly discarded the box. A wide, hungry smile made its way onto her face as the ring gave a flash of golden light, signalling it had synced with her magic.

She held her hand out, running her eyes over, admiring the ancient ring now sitting around her finger, "The Seal of Solomon." She murmured in English and with a voice that contained a slight but noticeable lisp. The ring's gold inlay glinted in the dim lighting, "Simply beautiful."

Ludovico, looking quite akin to an oddly-shaped beach ball, rolled onto his rear end and jabbed a pudgy finger in Henrietta's direction, "Kill her! She has the ring!" He snarled, and quickly thrust a hand into his jacket to withdraw an old Bodeo M1889 revolver.

Henrietta lazily flicked her wand towards him, "Pellurus."

Near-instantaneously, Ludovico was launched backwards with the force of a raging bull. He soared, whirling like a baseball, directly into one of the bar's brick walls. With a gruesome crack, Ludovico Bianchi hit the stone and mortar and slumped to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Once more, Henrietta disappeared in an explosion of reddish smoke and orange flame as the remaining bodyguards began to rise from the floor. She reappeared by the front door and sent a great gust of hellish red flames spraying from the tip of her wand.

Screams rang out as a group of three men were immediately consumed by the roaring flames. Henrietta quickly cancelled the spell as the air became tinged with the acrid scent of charred flesh, and quickly slashed her wand upwards to raise a shield charm.

Santini, who had risen to his feet, swiftly grabbed up a fallen Beretta M1918 and brought it to bear on the shielded Henrietta. The mobster's face was twisted in anger as a series of rapid-fire shots emerged from the submachine gun's barrel. Streaking outwards, they impacted the witch's shield with identical echoing sounds.

Henrietta counted down the seconds as Santini steadily depleted his magazine fruitlessly attempting to break through her shield. Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, click, click, click. She swiftly brought the shield charm crashing down and slashed her wand in Santini's direction.

A jet of sickly yellow lanced outwards with a hissed, "Collucaro." Henrietta smirked as the jet struck Santini, and his eyes immediately widened as three deep gashes opened themselves across his throat. A distinct expression of pure unadulterated terror flitted across his face while his legs began to come out from under him.

The mobster slowly crumpled to the floor while blood sprayed from his neck, gushing down, staining the front of his white shirt. His Beretta clattered to the floor as he finally dropped fully to the ground, his face frozen in a horrified expression.

"Desurio," Henrietta drawled, flicking her wand towards the remaining two bodyguards.

A black-orange inferno consumed them with a terrific eardrum-splitting boom, its explosion blasted Henrietta's dress and wimple back as a blinding flash of blackish-purple light illuminated the bar.

Henrietta whirled on Callisto, who had taken position under the table she once sat at. His orangish-red shirt and blue-gray bandana were splattered with what was most likely Santini's blood, whereas his brown eyes were wide and alight with terror, staring up at the witch. She calmly strode forward and flicked her wand, sending the table flying up, off and into the wall, where it shattered with a terrific crash.

She came to a stop merely a foot from the dead mob boss's son, and looked into his wide brown eyes. Henrietta reached through and compelled the young man to stand, and he did so in a stilted, near-robotic fashion. Pressing her wand into his cheek, "You will tell your padre's successor what you've seen here today." She lisped.

Callisto nodded shakily in response, and a quick peek back at his mind showed he was being genuine.

"Good!" Henrietta spoke in English, she made a small gesture towards the door, "Now run back to your clan's hidey-hole." He did nothing, she snapped her fingers in front of his face and added in Italian, "Quick-Quick, like a bunny!"

This time, the former-mob boss's son dashed away, out the bar's front door and into the night. Henrietta smiled; good for him, she hadn't wanted to kill someone with so many years ahead of them.

She flicked her wand towards the cowering barman, "Obliviate." A jet of greenish light emptied the man's eyes of fear, terror, and confusion, leaving behind only a calm sort of dullness that transferred to his facial expression.

Henrietta waved her wand in a great arc around the room, "Reparo Maxima." In a swirl of magic and with a multitude of clinking cracking sounds, the bar, the table, the destroyed corner, the wine rack, the shattered glasses and cups all sprung back together as if attached to stretched rubber bands.

With a soft sound, her wand slid back into its holster, and Henrietta whirled towards the front door. As she strode forward, her tall laced leather boots thunking against the wood flooring, she found her eyes drawn back to the ring now sitting proudly on her gloved finger. Henrietta held her hand up whilst she walked, the ring, the brass, its intricate golden inlaid symbol glinting in the dim light.

Those ignorant muggles had no clue what they had been sitting on all these years. The legendary Seal of Solomon, signet ring of the great Sorcerer-King of Israel and Judah, said to grant the ability to control demons, conjure illusions, and speak to animals. And it was hers, all hers.

Her head snapped up as a duo of soft pops sounded from somewhere outside the bar. Apparition! Henrietta only had enough time to draw her wand before the front door exploded inwards with a terrific crashing boom. Her clothing was blasted backwards, fluttering furiously as the explosion sent a cloud of dust pouring into the bar.

She slashed her wand upwards, raising a shield as a duo of figures appeared out of the clearing dust and darkness. The shorter of the two, a man with greasy gray-streaked black hair hanging down to his shoulders and an equally-greasy goatee raised a gnarled wand towards her, "MOVRA, hands on your head!" He spat in a heavy Northern Italian accent.

Damned political police. Henrietta jabbed her wand towards the man, hissing, "Depulso!" Sending a jet of white light soaring towards the greasy-haired MOVRA auror.

With a gong-like sound, the greasy-haired MOVRA auror deflected Henrietta's banishing charm, and quickly retaliated. He flicked his wand, casting what looked like a dark cutting curse rocketing towards her.

Henrietta practically danced out of the curse's path, she slashed her wand towards the second man, the taller of the two, sending a bright red knockback curse hurtling towards the wizard. Both wizards wore similar black leather coats, one waist-length the other a full-on greatcoat. But that didn't protect the taller man as the curse impacted and sent him crashing into the door frame with a sickening crack.

She disappeared in an explosion of fire and smoke, only to reappear a mere second later on the far left side of the bar. An orb of hellish red flames gathered on the tip of her wand and she slashed it towards the greasy-haired wizard. With a great whoosh, a bolt of red flame rocketed outwards.

Slashing his wand upwards, the greasy-haired wizard raised a shield charm just as the bolt of fire neared. With a whooshing splatting sound, the hellish red bolt impacted the shield and spread outwards. It mushroomed across the bluish magic and sent droplets of fire spraying every which way, as if the hellish red flames were a thick sticky liquid.

Henrietta disappeared, then reappeared on the room's far right end, "Desurio! Collucaro!" She hissed, jabbing her wand towards the greasy-haired MOVRA auror.

With an ear-splitting bang that utterly destroyed his shield, the wand fell from the greasy-haired MOVRA auror's grip while its owner unceremoniously crumpled to the ground.

A horrid splattering sounded as the liquid magical fire fell and flooded over the MOVRA auror's bleeding corpse.

The second, taller MOVRA auror finally managed to get to his feet, albeit in a hunched hobbling manner. He spat a glob of red-streaked goo onto the floor, then whipped his wand towards her, "Correndio!"

Henrietta jerked her wand up and back, a small action which pulled up a section of the wood floor with a terrific cracking crashing creak, bending it up and back as if it were made of sheet metal. The taller wizard's piercing curse sliced through the wood, but flew off-course and careened towards the once more cowering muggle barman.

Eyes widening behind her sunglasses, Henrietta quickly disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flame. She reappeared just as the dark curse struck the barman, opening instantly-necrotizing wounds across his torso, akin to those made by repeated stabs of a broadsword. He slumped to the ground as blood began to gush from the wounds, pooling beneath him.

Henrietta, keeping half her attention directed towards the groaning hobbling MOVRA auror, and half towards the dying muggle below her. She waved her wand over him, murmuring out the spell's counter-curse as his breathing became laboured and the pool of blood flooded under the soles of her boots.

"Confringo!" The wizard gritted out. And a second later, the section of floor Henrietta had pulled up exploded in a burst of fiery orange light. Broken bits of wood rained down across her end of the bar, "Confringo! Confringo!" He snarled.

On instinct, Henrietta jerked her wand away from the bleeding muggle and slashed it upwards. She raised a shield charm as the two fiery orange blasting curses sailed towards her, impacting seconds later with a great echoing sound.

She brought the shield down with a terrific sound, and slashed her wand towards the MOVRA auror, then the wall behind him and lisped, "Flipendo! Desurio Maxima!" A multicoloured streak of vibrant blue, black and deep fiery orange light emerged from the tip of her wand and lanced towards the man.

In an instant, the twin spells impacted, immediately sending him flying as a massive explosion consumed the area. The entire front end of the bar disappeared in a massive cloud of dust, magic and flying rubble as the exploding curse blasted the brick walls apart utterly and with a terrific ear-splitting boom.

Henrietta lowered her wand as the dust settled and let out a shaky breath, her heart was fluttering in her ears as she quickly turned back to the muggle barman. He was unmoving, the blood seemingly having stopped flowing. She shook her head; what a waste of life.

She snapped towards the bar's destroyed front end, and raised her wand slightly as she strode away from the corpse. The MOVRA auror's crumpled form was still moving slightly, barely able to be seen beneath the pile of broken bricks, wood, and mortar that remained after Henrietta's spell.

The witch waved her left hand as she strode towards the blown-out entrance, wandlessly moving the rubble off the Italian auror. Henrietta's boots clicked and clacked against the bits and pieces of broken brick as she approached the bloodied, softly-groaning man.

"Figlio di puttana," The MOVRA agent groaned as Henrietta wandlessly swept the last few bits of rubble from his form.

"I'm a Lady, thank you very much," Henrietta responded in Italian, and without skipping a beat. She swiftly jabbed her wand towards his chest, "Correndio."

Henrietta didn't even give the now-bleeding auror a second glance before she strode onwards, out into the darkened town. As she grew further and further from the dying man, his panting groans became fainter and fainter, until they stopped abruptly.

Her boots clicked against the cobblestone street when she finally cleared the rubble.

She had to get out quickly, there was no telling when the muggles would come to investigate. Henrietta highly doubted bars exploding for no visible reason was a common aspect of non-magical life.

Merely a second later, Henrietta Potter disapparated with an explosion of reddish smoke and searing flame.

/ / / / / / / /

Location: RAF-MoM Niton, Isle of Wight, England, United Kingdom of Magical Britain

Date: June 6th, 1944 AD

"I still can't believe they forced us into these disgusting muggle rags."

Henrietta Potter accidentally shot a poorly-aimed shingles hex towards the great prat who had spoken; Pollux Black, member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

He quickly deflected it with an upwards slash of his wand, and gave her a sneer that twisted his great black moustache.

"My wand slipped, boshtadi," Henrietta said and returned his sneer with a smile. It was always so much fun toying with these pompous pseudo-noble prats…especially since most knew only two languages; English and Latin.

"How the bloody hell does your wand slip?" Ignatius Prewett, who sat atop his floating Cleansweep Four nearby, questioned.

Regulus Black, Pollux's first cousin and one of the four members of the Black family who couldn't manage to escape conscription, shot a dark look in Henrietta's direction, "It can't."

"Mine did, Black," Henrietta retorted quickly and in a sing-song tone, she allowed her wand to slide back into its holster.

Ignatius leaned back on his broom in a careless fashion, "Black does have a good point though, why are we wearing muggle clothes?"

Prewett tugged at the lapel of his ugly woollen khaki trench coat. It was akin to the ones each and every one of them wore, all khaki, all hanging low, down to their ankles, all woollen, all marked by a trio of patches attached with permanent sticking charms to their right sleeves. A Union Jack, a circular black patch containing two crossed wands and the text '2nd Airborne,' and a rank insignia.

"Because they want us to look like muggles, of course," Lycoris Black drawled in a venomous tone. She scoffed and gestured lazily out the window, towards the shadowed duo of great black aeroplanes sitting on the runway outside their little nissen hut, "So we won't be out of place when those damned muggle contraptions fall out of the bloody sky."

"Not too sure about that, Black. I think they're both just fascinating!" Septimus Weasley gushed, bouncing up on the balls of his feet, "Muggle ingenuity at its finest in my opinion!"

"Why don't you go marry one then, you blood-traitor," Pollux sneered in response.

"Semcynio," Henrietta muttered, merely a second before her wand slipped into her palm. A jet of bluish light, a lice hex shot out, soaring towards the prat-er-Pollux.

With a sound almost like a gong, Pollux deflected the hex, "Stop trying to hex me, you slag!" He thundered.

"My wand slipped again," Henrietta smirked, and allowed her wand to slide back into its holster. She suddenly disappeared in an explosion of smoke and flame as Pollux slashed his wand in her direction, she reappeared several yards away, near her little brother, Charlus Potter.

"Taunting the dragon again, Hatty?" Charlus questioned fondly from his spot sitting atop an old crate marked 'RFC.'

Henrietta, Hatty glanced at him, and smiled, "It's really quite fun, you should try it sometime, Char." Her smile widened at his laugh; the mere sound of it had always warmed her heart.

"Does anyone here know where the bloody hell Crouch is?" Pollux snarled.

"Quit your whinging, Black." Yawned Harfang Longbottom, "No one is impressed with it." He shook his head tiredly, and yawned again, "And besides, everyone knows you're just tilted 'cause Malfoy weaselled his way outta service and you didn't."

"Crouch, Malfoy both abandoned us, Longbottom!" Pollux hissed in reply, "Abandoned us to this rusting muggle hulk the Minister calls-!"

"Shut up, Black!" Charlus and Harfang said in near-sync.

Hatty gave a giggle as Pollux fell into a disgruntled silence, "I'd heard paranoia and insanity ran in your family, Pollux. I just never thought I would bear witness to it first hand." She smiled and tapped her chin, "Dearest Camilla's been gone only…what is it, thirty minutes?"

Arcturus Black sneered in her direction, "And the pot calls the cauldron black."

"Oh heavens, a barb about my sanity," Hatty lisped, and feigned lightheadedness, "My one and only weakness!" She leaned dramatically towards Charlus, "Catch me palla, before I fall to pieces in the presence of such rapier wit!"

Charlus gave a snort of laughter.

"Don't you want to wait for Crouch to come back before such a thing happens?" Arcturus retorted with a cruel light in his icy gray eyes.

Henrietta chose to ignore him.

It was just then that the nissen hut's ratty metal door slammed open, and a familiar thin-faced woman marched in. Henrietta let out a breath, and willed her wand back into its dragonskin holster.

Every single thing about Camilla Crouch was prim and proper. From the straight, meticulously-styled and straw-coloured hair atop her head, done up in an effortlessly-muggle fashion. To the tips of her black booted feet, both with leather so shiny that they reflected a warped version of Pollux and Harfang when she came to an abrupt halt in the midst of the group.

"I just had a chat with the Air Marshal," Camilla announced, "He says our muggle escort is confirmed to be airborne and on its way." She cast her gaze around at the gathering of duellists, "We have twenty minutes to get in the air before they reach this base; the Black Knight and the American aeroplane are prepared, our Captains are in their cockpits, all that's left is for the strike group to board."

Camilla pulled seven thin parchment files out from under her arm, and slapped them onto a small, rusty fold-out table in the hut's centre, "I expect you lot to study these closely during our trip." She tapped the stack, "Everything you need to know about the mission is in each."

Henrietta strode forward, across the floor and up to the table, and quickly snatched one of the files up. With a soft sound, she flipped it open to reveal an extensive document titled; 'Operation Dark Lord.' The file also stated what she and everyone else at the airfield already knew, the main mission objective; capturing, by utter and complete surprise, a place that had been under the Dark Lord Grindelwald's thumb since July of nineteen-forty.

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

She skimmed through the rest; something about deposing Arnaud Dolohov; the headmaster Grindelwald had installed after his forces took the school. Hatty looked up at Camilla, "It's daring, dangerous, I love it. I assume you came up with this all yourself, Cammy?"

"Don't call me Cammy," Camilla snapped, even as a pinkish hue invaded her cheeks. Henrietta smirked; the big bad ministry official always went to pieces under praise for her intelligence.

"Alright then," Hatty responded, then quickly re-phrased, "Who came up with this lovely plan, dearest Cammy?"

Camilla's face twitched, though her blush deepened to an apple sort of red, "Head Auror Rookwood, the American MWD delegation, and I drew it up with help from the muggles."

"Muggles?" Regulus blustered.

"Muggles?!" Hatty immediately mimicked in a high-pitched, nasally voice.

"Yes, muggles," Camilla fixed the pseudo-noble with her patented 'firm' glare, "You do know they happen to be fighting a global war of their own, right Black?"

"Why must we accept help from muggles?" Regulus sneered, "This is our war Crouch. Ours, not theirs."

Camilla fixed the two with a firm glare, "Entente Command believes differently. You don't seem to understand, Black, Grindelwald's Reich, his and Lombardi's muggle puppet-states, they are a threat to both worlds." She cocked her head, "The muggle world leaders understand it, the Minister understands it, the bloody President of the United Magical States of North America understands it. All of my bosses understand it; why don't you, Black?"

"The Black madness, dearest Cammy," Hatty replied quickly, as she tucked the file into her black messenger's satchel, "It rot's away at one's mind until nothing remains…nothing but a seething hatred of muggles and the muggleborn."

Ignatius gave a snicker, "Well, sounds likely to me." He turned to Septimus, "What do you think, Weasley?"

Said red-head was struggling to keep a smile off his face, "Agreed." He spoke simply.

"By all means, keep speaking," Lycoris Black sniffed haughtily, "Not as if I would ever care for your opinions, blood-traitor."

Henrietta closed up her messenger bag with a soft series of sounds, she looked at Camilla, "Are we ever going to leave? Or shall we stand here bickering until those four," She gestured towards Lycoris, Pollux, Arcturus, and Regulus, "Decide to run off and join Grindelwald like their relatives the Lestranges and Rosiers did?"

Camilla gave an instant smile and nodded, an apple-red blush still staining her cheeks, "Yes." She looked towards the group, "Gather up those files you lot, and follow me to the Knight!"

Striding a few feet forwards, Henrietta leaned toward Camilla and said in a low tone, "You're positively enthralling when you order people about, dearest." Before striding away, in the direction of the front door.

The apple-red blush coating Camilla's cheeks deepened in colour, and steadily spread to her ears. She stared after Hatty as she walked away, her mouth hanging open just slightly.

Hatty drew in a breath of the salty seaside air as she strode out of the nissen hut and down the overgrown remnants of a staircase once built into a small grassy hill. She crossed onto cracked tarmac, and her boots immediately began clunking loudly against the material.

As the moments passed and Hatty slowly made her way towards the duo of aeroplanes, a second pair of clunks began steadily creeping up from behind her. Footsteps, and quick ones.

Seconds later, Camilla came sidling up beside her, looking pensive. She was silent for a very long moment as they walked, Hatty glanced at her, and she finally managed to get out, "I…I'm not sure about this…openness, Hatty."

Hatty shot her a glance, "You have reservations about us, komli?"

"No," Camilla replied immediately, and shook her head, "It's just…people, people close to the Minister. Well, they've been talking. Behind my back, behind my Father's back…and mostly about you."

Henrietta looked over at Camilla, "It's not illegal for two women to love each other." She gave a small, reassuring smile, "Our brand of love isn't persecuted here as it is in the muggle world."

"It's not accepted without comment either," Camilla muttered and looked away.

Without skipping a beat, Henrietta reached down and intertwined her left hand with Camilla's right, "I was under the impression you knew what you were getting into with this…with me."

"I knew," Camilla sighed and squeezed her hand, "I still know. But that doesn't make braving the gossip and rumour any easier." She slowly looked up at Henrietta, "Our…relationship, it raises eyebrows across the Ministry."

Henrietta shot her a warm smile and squeezed her hand back, "I say let them talk." She turned her gaze towards the plane, steadily growing larger with each step they took, "What's the worst that could happen? Us becoming this century's Ladies of Llangollen?"

Camilla released a short chuckle at that, and a small smile curled at her lips, "The Ladies of Birmingham."

"'Of Birmingham?'" Henrietta responded, shooting Camilla a questioning glance.

"We certainly won't be living at Crouch Manor," Camilla chuckled with a rare, mischievous glint in her pale gray eyes, "Did I ever tell you how much I adore your room at Potter House?"

Henrietta smiled widely, and slowly brought Camilla's hand to her lips, giving it a kiss, "You've thought this through, dearest." Her smile took on a teasing sort of air, "Already planning our wedding also, I assume?"

The sudden darkening of Camilla's blush, which had lightened to a pink in the time they had been walking, was the only answer Henrietta needed.

"Which one of us will wear white?" Henrietta asked teasingly, "Or have you not planned that bit out yet?"

"Shut up," Camilla said quietly, her blush finally returning to that deep apple red.

Hatty gave a laugh, "I would quite like to wear the black dress robes." She glanced at Camilla, "Never was a big fan of those big gowns – too restrictive."

Camilla snorted, "Is that why you dress like someone who walked out of the middle ages?"

"For your information, komli," Hatty retorted, "My wimples are the only item of clothing from that era I own."

"You're going to wear one to the wedding, aren't you?" Camilla groaned…in a fond manner.

Henrietta shook her head, and shot her a smirk, "No, I actually thought I'd wear one of my turbans."

Camilla paused for a second, then laughed melodiously in response.

The Ministry of Magic Black Knight steadily began to loom above them; a great black Handley Page Halifax bomber, it was painted a grayish coal black and decorated with the elaborate figure of a knight in pitch black armour. As with its American B-24 Liberator companion, it had been enchanted to hell and back, its inside magically-expanded, its engines made to propel it faster than any muggle bomber.

Camilla and Henrietta finally reached the Black Knight's front end, where a door had been added right below and behind the former-bomber's cockpit. There was a shadowed figure visible within, through the darkened cockpit windows, who seemed to snap up as the two women arrived.

The figure leaned forward, and a second later, the insides of the Black Knight were bathed in warm light. It seemingly stemmed from a network of string lights visible through every one of the plane's windows, and illuminated the Black Knight's mysterious pilot.

A pair of owlish green eyes stared out from a little round face marked by a thin pencil moustache, "Ahoy, Major Crouch!" Called the Captain of the Black Knight from the cockpit window, as he gave a short outward-facing salute.

"Ahoy, Captain Prang!" Camilla responded, and returned his salute, "Would you mind opening the door for us?"

"Right away, Major!" Prang spoke, leaning forward once again. Within a few seconds, the door built into the fuselage burst open with a whooshing popping sound.

Henrietta gestured towards the open door, "After you, dearest."

"Why thank you, Hatty," Camilla replied, giving her a smile before stepping up and into the Black Knight.

Before getting in, Henrietta shot one last look back at the nissen hut. The other duellists were steadily making their way across the runway and towards the former-bomber. A smile crossed her face as she made out Charlus, walking in the distant darkness beside a sombre-looking Harfang Longbottom. Both just barely visible under the old, flickering runway lights.

Henrietta turned her attention back towards the door, she drew in a short breath of salty air, and a second later, she followed Camilla into the Black Knight.

To Be Continued

Extra Clarification-

MOVRA: Magical Organisation for Vigilance and Repression of Anti-Magism(Secret Police of the Magical Italian Empire)

Lombardi: Carlo Guerino Lombardi(Duce-della-Magia of the Magical Italian Empire 1922 - 1944)

Grindelwald: Gellert Ulrich Grindelwald(Magischer-Führer of the Second Magical Reich 1921 - 1945)

MWD: United States Magical War Department

Author's Note Pt. VI(Final): There we go gentlemen, gentleladies, gentlepeople, we are at the end of the first installment of the My Aunt Hatty saga. As for the next installment, well; 'I shall return.' I truly hope all you folks out there enjoyed it; and if you did please follow, favourite, bookmark, leave kudos, comment, any of those!...But comment especially…well go on, comment. Come on comment, comment, what are you chicken?