Back, Black, and Ready to Snack

by Beauly

A war-torn and weary Harry Potter manages to find his way back in time. Unlike what he's expecting, he finds a world without the war-monger Voldemort and no real place for him to fit in. Stuck where he is, he decides to make the best of it and carve out a life for himself with the preparations he'd made, no matter what he has to carve through to get that.

67. Chapter 65

Some years ago.

Agatha tried not to let her smile get too smug as she sat the cup of tea down in front of General Black. The head of the Black Family was shooting looks at her fiance sitting in the corner of the room, and it was obvious how uncomfortable the Unspeakable was making him. To her Greggy's credit, he did look rather imposing with his uniform on.

Unlike the mottled grey ones his colleagues wore, his was a solid silver. Its cuffs and collar were both lined in obsidian black fur, and there was a singular black pin on his chest in the shape of an empty circle. He had one leg tucked under his chair while the other jutted out and showed off his mirror-polished boots.

More than just his clothes, her man himself had gotten a lot sharper as well. His hair was a few shades lighter than it was in their youth, something she'd first attributed to stressful greys, but it turned out to just be a different shade of blonde. His eyes too had become a deeper and darker shade of blue, though he claimed she must've just forgotten what specific colour they were.

That was ridiculous though.

She never forgot anything about her Greggy.

They were in the war tent with all six of Britain's major generals sitting around a table. The walls were covered in various maps, and on the table itself was a topographical model of western France. The floor beneath their feet was transfigured tile, turned from dirt and grass into more solid footing. The air smelled of sweat and spit, of a general musk from hours upon hours spent inside pouring over plans and formations.

"Hmph, it's about time," Black grumbled as he snatched up the tea she'd given him, not bothering with any gratitude. "As I was saying, we need to batten down the hatches and prepare for a siege."

Agatha returned to her fiance's side as General Mathias Shacklebolt rolled his eyes. "Prepare what? You got a team of rune carvers tucked up your ass, Black?"

"Don't make me shove my foot up yours." The Black Lord levelled the other man with a glare so dark it sent a shiver down Agatha's spine. "There's still work we can do, expectations we can set in the men, stocks we can begin preserving."

"If it comes down to a true siege," General Prewett said. "We're all gonna die. We can't afford for it to come down to that."

"Grow a spine," Black snapped. "We can handle a bunch of mudbloods."

The other two officers glared at him, but they were outnumbered in a room like this.

"He's right," General Carrow said. "It won't be easy, but even in the worst case scenario we do have curse breakers to take care of any anti-apparition wards they set up."

General Greengass scowled. "We need to prepare ourselves for any outcome. It's been too quiet."

Agatha was certain no one with half a brain could agree with that phrasing. There was no such thing as 'too quiet' these days. Even now when the lack of offensive movement from Grindelwald had the soldiers paranoid, there were still horror stories coming in regarding small-scale raids the dark lord's forces were conducting. Families being dragged out of their homes and pressed into servitude or death. Since it didn't affect them, though, they didn't care.

She spared a glance at Greggy, and once more found herself smitten with the stoic, almost bored expression he wore. She knew him well enough to realise he was probably more paranoid and nervous than the rest of the room combined, but he was hiding it so well.

He was being so brave.

Finally the quietest of all six generals spoke. "We need to, at the very least, come to a decision regarding the Americans."

It was General Flint. The man was, according to Elizabeth Crouch at least, the only thing that kept the six-headed hydra leading their army functioning. He was firmly on the pureblood side of politics, but unlike Black's cronies, he had the fortitude to stand up to his more powerful counterpart. He didn't do it often, but when he did, Black usually had the good sense to take him seriously.

"And just what decision did you have in mind?" Black asked, eye twitching. "I already said—"

"We need food. We need numbers. We need help." Flint didn't flinch at all in the face of Black's growing ire. "All of which they can provide."

"At what cost?" Black half-snarled. "If we let those barbarians have their way, there's no telling when it'll end."

Agatha once more observed her husband-to-be, and saw him clench his fist as he worked up the nerve to speak.

"Guaranteed death, or potential cultural ramifications," Greggy finally said, catching everyone in the room's attention. "It shouldn't be that hard of a decision to make, General Black."

The pureblood lord sneered at the other man. "So the spook can speak."

Agatha rolled her eyes. Lizzy hadn't given her any missions about maintaining appearance, so the snob could take offence at the gesture if he wanted. Her Greggy had spoken in every last one of these meetings since returning home; it wasn't his fault these pillocks didn't remember.

"I can, and I am." Greggy's tone was as stony as his expression. "Pull your head out of your ass and tell your wife to quit putting up walls. It's time to let the Americans in."

Now there was her man. She could just kiss him.

"I don't think we need to put it to a vote," Flint said, trying to move things along. "Four to three, Lord Arcturus."

Technically Greggy's vote didn't count, he wasn't a general, but even the Lord of House Black knew better than to start a feud with the DoM over political concerns. Or, at least, he didn't want to pick that fight without actually knowing what all the department was capable of. Agatha doubted any of them recognized that her betrothed was the department's heir apparent, its second-in-command, but they did understand he was Lizzy's eyes and ears on the front lines.

"Hmph." General Black scowled but settled down, a glint of madness fading from his eye. "Very well. Just don't say I didn't warn you fools."

Agatha let loose the breath she'd accidentally been holding. Greggy's one job today was getting that particular bit of wartime politics done, and he had. Anything else he got done today would just be the cherry on top of the sundae.

Prewett cleared his throat. "Let's not bother waiting for the Wizengamot to actually clear it. If we're gonna do the thing, we'll do it right. Agreed?"

He gave a sharp look to Black who gave an almost-sullen nod back. "Agreed. Send a runner to Spain."

If Agatha remembered the political web that Lizzy explained correctly, Spain had already signed off on letting the Yanks in, and their forces were just waiting for the go-ahead. Her eyes drifted towards the Pyrenees mountains on the topographical model in the middle of the room that separated the country from their current location. France had fallen in all but name which meant Britain was running the war on their behalf. Albus Dumbledore had negotiated agreements with both the Scandinavian Union and Switzerland to allow Britain to 'run the show', as it were, but Spain hadn't been so agreeable. Especially since, thanks in large part to the Blacks, up until now they hadn't allowed any non-European powers onto the field.

It seemed the fifties were going to finally be the age of global cooperation, though.

"We'll lay a trap," Black continued. "Put the rest of the frogs and some less valuable members of our own forces to a task in the south. Make it obvious that it's a trap, and that the rest of our forces will attack from the north once Grindelwald moves in. "

The general waved his wand while muttering a spell, and a blue circle appeared on the map they were seated around. Next came a grey triangle to represent Grindelwald's forces moving from the east to attack the marker, and a smaller red arrow moving from the north to represent themselves.

"He doesn't know that we know how many troops he has," Black said. "He'll think we're underestimating him, and that he'll be able to eat the bait and the hunter alike."

He cast another spell, and the grey triangle split in two, swallowing up both the blue circle and the red triangle.

"Instead." Another wave of his wand, and now a green triangle bigger than any other symbol appeared to the south of the mountains. "He'll get caught in the teeth of the dragon."

Agatha had to give the man credit. Arcturus Black might've been able to buy his spot at this table, but he hadn't needed to. If the rumours she'd picked up while working with Greggy out here were true, the man was a monster on the battlefield, and a genius behind it. If it weren't for the fact that it made him self-destructively arrogant, she might actually respect him.

"Putting a lot of trust on the Americans and the Spaniards," Flint said. "Surprised to hear it coming from you."

"Hmph. I wouldn't trust them not to point their own damn wands in the wrong direction." Black turned and spat on the ground. "We send the runner to see how ready they are, and if they're as spring-loaded as we've heard, we don't tell them until the last second to move. We'll let them think the same hogwash Grindelwald does, that we didn't realise how many troops he has, and we let them 'save' us."

"You'd let them think that?"

"The truth always comes out in the end." He gave a smirk. "And when that truth comes home to roost, I'll proudly admit to fooling the imbeciles."

'Pompous cock,' Agatha thought, rolling her eyes once more. 'It's always got to suit your tastes, doesn't it?'

"I'll go see for myself how ready they are."

Even Agatha jumped at the sound of Greggy's voice this time. She stared down at her beau with furrowed brows.

"I actually already have a portkey to take me there," he continued. "I can have an answer for us before this meeting is over."

"It's about time one of you was useful," Black snipped. "Every day one of you unspeakables comes around and—"

"I'll be back," Greggy interrupted, earning a threatening growl from the general. "Colina."

That must've been the passphrase for his portkey. The real question was, why was he still here. Greggy frowned and pulled a ribbon out of his pocket, staring at it in confusion.

"Colina!"

"What?" Black snapped. "Can't afford a proper portkey?"

Agatha tensed as the worst case scenario occurred to her. "Or it's being blocked."

It took all of a single second for the six generals to leap to their feet and storm out of the tent. Greggy's hand had begun to shake, and he slowly stood, still just staring at the ribbon.

"If it's blocked…" he started. "That would mean…"

"Or, or maybe it really is just a dud!" Agatha tried to reassure him. "It's alright, sugar, it's alright."

Now that they were alone, her fiance's true nerves were showing. She loved Greggy to death but the man… Well, there was definitely a reason he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. His face was pale, the trembling had spread to the rest of his body, and he had begun to gasp out his breaths. It broke her heart.

"We need to get out of here," he said. "I need to…" Greggy stopped, and she smiled as he finally managed to bury away his fear. "I need to keep you safe. Come on."

Now there was her knight in shining armour. "Okay, let's go."

She followed him out of the tent, but they both froze as soon as they stepped past the threshold. Screams that had been deafened by the tent's wards, flashes of spells and explosions that had been dimmed, and the smell of blood and death that had been blocked all began to assault their senses. Just a few steps ahead of them, piled on the ground and bisected at the waist, was General Greengrass.

"Oh god," Gregory breathed. "Oh no."

This wasn't a siege. It was a full blown assault. Witches and wizards were casting spells all around them and their results ranged from futile to horrifying, and it was hard to even comprehend what was happening beyond just one fact.

It was too late for anyone to save them.

---

Hydrus sat, legs crossed, glaring at the ceiling.

He'd been waiting forever.

Bartemius Crouch Junior or Alistair Shacklebolt or Tony Montana or whatever the scar-faced secretary wanted to call himself these days sat across from him in the Minister's lobby. The other man was pointedly ignoring him, as he had been ever since Hydrus first 'asked' him to pass on the message to Shacklebolt that he wanted to see him. He'd done it, but not without enough growling and grumbling to tell Hydrus that the man was holding a grudge against him for what his father had done.

The lobby looked exactly the same as it had when he visited with Hermione. Pristine. Formal. Daunting. It all made Hydrus wonder just how much money had gone into making this place as picturesque as possible, compared to how safe it could be. How safe it should be.

"Send another message," Hydrus said. "Tell him if he doesn't let me in soon, I'm gonna heal your face then fuck it up even worse than it is now."

Crouch made to respond with a snarl, but Hydrus pulsed his magic through the office. His power had been growing thanks to countless hours spent practising trying to control it, and it meant even just that small gesture had caused the experienced hit wizard to cringe and recoil.

Hydrus had been testing the limits of what his latest 'bargain' with Magic had done. The new runes carved into more than just his bones seemed to act in two ways. Some reinforced his body, stopped it from immolating his flesh whenever he lost control of his phoenix visualisation or got too caught up in paternal revelry. The others acted as a sort of overflow for his colossal magical strength. Not quite a battery, the power would fade faster than steam in a gale, but it was giving his magic space to expand to when it would have previously had no choice but to escape anywhere it could.

It had another side effect though. Magic still wasn't half the runes mistress she pretended to be with her deific nature; this wasn't some catch-all solution.

It was just those two factors.

A new sturdiness to his physical form.

A new limit to his magic's boundaries.

That meant his exercising had also had the side effect of his magic growing. It was frustrating the hell out of him. He was trying to learn how to tame a beast who just kept growing stronger every time he took it for a walk.

Still.

It was useful for making an indomitable man, a man who bore the scars of torture like a badge of honor, quiver in fear.

"Get it done," Hydrus ordered. "Now."

The secretary flipped some switch, and the door to the Minister's office opened. It was thicker than Hydrus remembered. Maybe they weren't being as frivolous with safety as he thought. He peered inside the room and saw it was empty, a bitter feeling welling up in his gut.

"Are you kidding me?" Hydrus asked. "Crouch, I swear I will—"

"I'm here, I'm here." Shacklebolt stepped out of the lobby floo, brushing himself off. "Get in!"

Hydrus's eye twitched at the man's order, but he was here uninvited, so he followed the man into his office.

"Now's not a good time, Black," Shacklebolt said. "What do you want?"

Hydrus gave the man a once-over. The Minister of Magic looked more out of sorts than he'd ever seen him in this timeline, though he was still a good ways away from looking as harrowed as he had been during the war. He wasn't wearing his gold hoop earring for once, and he had ever so slight bags under his eyes. A quick glance around the office told a different story though, the room was tidy and didn't show any signs of an overworked politician. The only thing on his desk at all was some kind of strange artefact that looked like a dozen different circles of glass swirling around each other.

"What's going on?" Hydrus asked.

"No business of yours," Shacklebolt said, voice hard. "Again, what do you want?"

Hydrus's nose curled up, but he took a breath to steady himself. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a good man, a man who'd mentored his best friend into a general capable of outsmarting Tom, a man Hydrus genuinely respected. Even in this timeline he was as close to a perfect choice for Minister as Hydrus could've asked for. There was no reason to lose his temper on him.

The Black madness whispered otherwise in his soul, reminding him that he could fold the man to his knees as quickly as anyone else, but he squashed it down.

"I'll make this quick and clean then," Hydrus said. "I want that permit to hatch a basilisk."

Shacklebolt snorted. "Oh, that. I was wondering how long it would take you to come see me about it."

Hydrus doubted that. Or at least he doubted the tone he said it with. More likely he had been expecting this any day now, but wasn't ready for him to show up today specifically.

"You could've sent an invitation."

"You're the one asking me for a favour, Black." The minister folded his fingers together and rested his elbows on the desk. "I hardly see the logic of being the one to invite you over to do so."

Again the madness reared up inside of him. A part of Hydrus genuinely wanted to attack the man just because he was being a bit domineering and not just bowing to his whims. It was like the madness was… He closed his eyes and snorted as he pictured a miniature, black version of Apophis coiled around his soul. It made ignoring that insane part of his mind that much easier when he reopened his eyes.

"Right. Of course," Hydrus said. "Well, either way, I do need that permit. I hope we can, as I said, keep it quick and clean. Are you just going to give it to me, or are we going to need to haggle?"

Shacklebolt leaned forward. "You're asking for a permit to raise a creature that could kill anyone with a glance, whose venom could destroy anything it touches, that you're only assuming you'll be able to control."

"I can already kill anyone or destroy anything with a similar ease," Hydrus argued. "And of course he'll listen to me; I'm his father."

He'd never thought he'd be rehashing the argument he'd long ago shared with his familiar beneath a continental lake. Certainly didn't think he'd be on the opposite side now. Briefly he worried that he was pushing things too far for his reforged bargain, calling himself Apophis's father, but the spike in his magic was easily swallowed up by the runes. He thought he could see the faintest hint of them glowing on his hand but it faded away.

"Excuse me?" The Minister narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying—"

"I am." Hydrus leaned forward too now. "And given my success, I'm ready for the world to know about it." He looked deep into Shacklebolt's eyes. "His scales are tougher than dragons', an elixir made using his venom has saved my life from numerous assassination attempts, his feathers…" He trailed off for a second. "Well, I'm not quite sure what they could be used for, but at the very least they'd make a smart looking quill on your desk, Minister Shacklebolt."

He leaned back in his chair as the wheels in Shacklebolt's head turned.

"I won't live forever," Hydrus added. "And I have no idea if my children will inherit my gift. We must take advantage of what I can do now if we want to turn the beast into a boon for society."

"And so you can make a load of money," Shacklebolt muttered. "Don't act like you're doing this out of altruism."

"Oh I'm definitely not," Hydrus agreed. "But it's not money I'm after. In truth I'd rather keep all the benefits to myself like I have been." He snorted. "I'm just sick of my familiar emotionally blackmailing me and pretending like he thinks I'm ashamed of him."

Shacklebolt didn't so much as give a twitch of a smile. He just kept staring Hydrus down like he was trying to unravel some riddle the Black heir had put in front of him. Honestly it made Hydrus wish everyone could understand the immature basilisk, it wouldn't take long for people to stop lumping so many assumptions onto his plate on the reptile's behalf. They'd understand just how annoying his pestering familiar was…

Still, it wasn't like he was lying, so he'd let the Minister tie himself up in as many knots as he needed to try and 'figure out' why Hydrus was doing what he was doing. The Black heir just kept reclining in his chair, rocking it slightly, and waited for the other man to come to whatever conclusion he wanted.

"Has your basilisk ever killed someone?" Shacklebolt finally asked. "And I mean anyone."

Hydrus thought for a moment. "Depends on how well you'd get along with my great-grandfather, may he rest. He's killed dozens if not hundreds of goblins, I'm sure you can assume when.

"He's also killed a vampire that tried to kill my Uncle Regulus," he continued. "Bit through its throat so as not to risk my uncle catching a glimpse at his eyes. He tried to kill another basilisk he found, but—"

"Another basilisk?" Shacklebolt snapped. "Where? When?"

"A gift left behind by my ancestor," Hydrus said. "Deep in the bowels of Hogwarts, the school's nigh-immortal guardian."

"That's impossible," The minister argued. "There's no way the beast could live so long."

"I could introduce you, if you like." He gave a sly grin. "She's a bit of a diva, but no more so than other ancient creatures I've met."

"That's—"

The door to the office slammed open and a nervous looking woman rushed in as Hydrus jumped out of his seat in a brief panic. "Sir, another one's gone missing."

'Another what?' he wondered as the minister snatched up the scroll the woman offered him.

He watched mutely as Shacklebolt unfurled and read the missive, trying to stand out as little as possible so that he might catch an interesting tidbit. His former soldier's eyes were snapping back and forth across the paper faster than a snitch. The woman who'd delivered it looked ill with worry, and a magic he hadn't felt in years was beginning to smother the room.

Shacklebolt wasn't quite the same wand he was back in the war, but it seemed like there was a reason Arcturus had respected him.

"Son of a bitch," the man said, rubbing his forehead and tossing the parchment onto his desk. "Send… Actually, don't bother. We already have a Black here."

Hydrus cocked his brow. "Should I be worried?"

Shacklebolt dismissed the woman who bowed and left. Hydrus more fell than sat back down in his chair, and the intense look Shacklebolt gave him might've worked to scare him had he been a few decades younger.

"I don't know," the minister finally answered. "There's recently been a string of grave robberies."

Hydrus blinked. "And some ancestor of mine is the latest pilfering? Please tell me it wasn't Arcturus; I just buried the bastard."

"No." Shacklebolt shook his head. "It was your great, great-grandfather: Sirius Black the Second."

"Hmm…" Hydrus hummed. "Who else has been taken?"

"That doesn't—"

Hydrus flared his magic, really flared it this time, and was pleased to see that he'd been right. He could indeed have folded the man earlier. The secretary outside was probably down too. Merlin it felt good to be so powerful.

"It very much does concern me, now," Hydrus said slowly. "And you shall graciously accept the aid of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black in apprehending the one who desecrated the resting place of our former patriarch."

He'd really tried being polite, but between his curiosity, the madness inside him, and the potential for this to be related to Death, the gloves were off. He reeled his magic back in, and just a short second later the door to the office slammed open and Crouch Jr stormed in.

"You!" The man roared. "Get down on your—!"

"Stop!" Shacklebolt thundered. The former hit-wizard froze as the minister straightened up and brushed off his robes. "I appreciate your concern, son, but I'm fine."

"But, sir—"

"I said I'm fine." Shacklebolt gave the man a hard stare and he wilted. "Thank you."

After shooting Hydrus another dark look, Crouch Jr retreated, closing the door just soft enough to not be called a slam.

"I hope you'll forgive him," Shacklebolt said. "He's a good man, just… On edge."

"His loyalty is admirable," Hydrus said. "Though I'm surprised to see you be so casual about what just transpired."

"Boy, I've been dealing with your batshit family every day of my career since before you were born," Shacklebolt said. "You might be stronger than the rest of them combined, but you're definitely on the saner side of the bunch."

A politician through and through. Hydrus gave yet another measure of respect to the Minister. He was handling the crisis of Hydrus's presence as well as could be hoped for, and doing so with a steady enough hand to be applauded. If it weren't the fact that the time-traveller wanted information from him, he could probably move past this whole event.

"Thank you," Hydrus said, still surprised that the words actually flattered him. "And, my apologies. I lost my temper."

He hadn't; he just wanted to move things along and that had seemed like the fastest way to remind the Minister of what he was capable of.

"No you didn't," Shacklebolt accurately accused. "If you had done that with bad intentions, that device there would've lit up like a firework."

He gestured at the glass artefact Hydrus had noticed on his desk, and he gave it a closer look now. After a few seconds of staring at the circles of glass, he realised what they must've been.

"Foe-glass?" he asked.

"Foe-glass, sneakoscopes, and a few other tricks the boys downstairs have cooked up to keep me safe," the minister said. "Trust me, if that puppy had so much as twitched we'd be having a very different conversation right now."

Hydrus nearly said the Minister shouldn't trust such things, but he stopped himself. There wasn't any point in destroying a vulnerability in someone who wasn't loyal's camp. Maybe there'd come a day when he could use the man's reliance on such a device to his advantage. Or maybe there wouldn't. Either way, no point in wasting it.

"Still, I do appreciate your patience," Hydrus said. "To get back to the matter at hand though, I want that basilisk permit. If you need a thesis paper on what all a basilisk could be used for, then I'll get you one."

That's what Dumbledore had said would be needed, and he'd stopped by Snape's office just this morning to pick the documents up. The man hadn't been happy about Hydrus waking him up at four AM on a Saturday, but he still wasn't as put out as he would've been in the past timeline. It truly was strange how much more conforming the potions master was this go around.

"Just tell me honestly," Shacklebolt said. Hydrus winced at the man's blunt tone. Coming from a politician like him, it meant whatever he was about to say was pivotal. "Are you one-hundred percent confident that your basilisk won't be a problem?"

"Apophis is as sweet as sugar and as gentle as a spring breeze," Hydrus lied, almost surprising himself with how easily it came to him. "It was all I could do to stop him from coming with me today; he loves meeting new friends."

That wasn't true in the least. Apophis had been distant as of late. All he wanted to do was explore whatever 'mysteries' Salazar's basilisk had left for him to discover, and he left no doubts as to how 'important' it was for him. If Hydrus were to take his familiar at face value then the little serpent was saving the entire world just by existing.

Somehow he doubted that.

"I'll send something over to Creatures, get it sorted," Shacklebolt said. "Then we'll call the slate clear between us."

"Sweeten the pot for me, just a little," Hydrus said. "Severus Snape is being investigated over a missing bit of veritaserum. Make that go away, and it won't just be a clean slate: I'll make sure to be…" What was a non-committing assurance he could give? "I'll at least be open to any more meetings you request in the future, both of myself and my father."

"I'll take care of it." Shacklebolt stood and held out his hand. "I'm glad to see you're so much more reasonable than Arcturus Black was."

"Like saying I'm less prickly than a cactus." Hydrus took the hand with a grin. "And I would like to again insist on you providing as much information about the grave robberies as possible. You might've fired my father, but the Black Sheep's history speaks for itself. He can help. Not to mention the other actors at our disposal."

---

"You're too kind to him," Fenrir's daughter barked. "He does not deserve it."

"He doesn't even acknowledge you," another of his children added. "There's no reason to call him our brother!"

"Quit your bitching," Fenrir finally growled back. "If you don't like it, then fend for yourselves."

He and some of his progeny were in the stretch of land that they were to build a city out of, and the first step was to clean it up. Tonight would be a full moon, but for now the sun was still high in the sky. Various dead, dying, or opportunistic lesser beasts had flocked to their territory, so if they wanted to bring in the builders Remus had promised, they were going to need to handle them. After and during that process, they'd be marking out their borders, carving up the earth and leaving their scent everywhere they could. That should stop further encroachment.

Thankfully, his children remained silent. He'd raised them on the law of give and take. Whatever you took from the pack, you had to give an equal amount back. Remus had, through his connections with the Black Saint, given them a home. In return, Fenrir would allow him to take his independence, his disrespectful attitude, his arrogance.

His son might have done his best to shed the wolven nature of their people, pranced about with humans like he belonged, but in reality he had simply done what wolves do. He didn't like the pack he was born to, so he moved out and found a new one. There he found himself a place to belong. It would be foolish to expect him to still pay tribute to Fenrir when he had a new leader to follow, and one who had the strength to… To…

Fenrir shook his head. Thinking about the Black Saint was bad.

"Go on," he said. "Get to work."

His pups gave a resounding chorus of agreement and started. While they were busy hunting and marking, Fenrir had his own job to begin. He grabbed hold of the shovel he'd brought, and started digging. A few spells could've gotten the job done too, but he wanted to make sure he was warmed up in case something went wrong. He'd only brought the heavy hitters from amongst his eldest children, but there was no telling what all could be waiting for them in a place like this.

After nearly an hour had passed, he'd managed to dig a decent sized pit. He could bury at least a few of whatever beings his children brought back, though he'd have to hold off on actually doing so until he'd dug deep enough to hold them all. After nearly an hour had passed, a voice called out.

"Dad!"

Fenrir's ears perked up and he leapt the ten feet or so he needed to escape the hole. He landed on one leg, and pushed off of it to begin sprinting towards where the shout had come from. When he arrived, he slowed down, looking around for something amiss. He lifted his nose into the air, but all he smelled was…

"Someone is here," Fenrir said. "Where?"

There was a human-ish spell in the air, everywhere, but he couldn't pin point where it was coming from.

"I don't know," his son said. The younger man was glancing about, wand drawn, nose twitching. "I smell them too, but there's nothing here."

Fenrir jumped up onto a round outcrop of rock to try and get a better view, but still there was nothing. The smell only got stronger, so he tried to focus his magic on his eyes, tried to let a bit more of the wolf out. With a sharp inhale, he howled to summon up the rest of his children.

Before any of them could respond with howls of their own, a loud screech cut him off. Immediately he let go of any humanity he could, restrained by the fact that the sun was still up, and stabbed his wand in the direction of where that awful sound had come from.

"Confringo!"

The spell tore through the air towards the rapidly approaching beast. It was some sort of lion-like being, though it was nearly three times as large as any of the big cats he'd seen in a zoo. The spell caught its shoulder and did nothing to slow it down, let alone injure it. The thing just kept barreling towards him.

"Come on then, ya fuck!"

He leapt from the boulders he'd been standing on towards the incoming creature. Whatever it was, he couldn't lose to it in front of his kids. With a growl rumbling in his throat he dashed forward; his mind dulling to only the most base instincts.

Fenrir clenched his hands together around his wand, then swung a double hammer-fist into the approaching feline's jaw. The blow diverted the beast's momentum, but it had brought up one of its paws and tore several long, bloody gashes across Fenrir's chest. He howled in pain. With his free hand he swung a haymaker at the lion creature, but without the other being's own momentum to turn the strike into a counter, it did next to nothing.

'Fuck.' He stabbed his wand forward. "Confringo!"

The blasting jinx caught his foe directly in the eye and it roared. Fenrir tried dodging back as its next swipe aimed for his head, but all he succeeded in doing was stop more than just his nose from getting hacked off. A practical geyser of blood shot from his face as he stumbled back, and the only thing that saved him from the beast's maw was one of his children ramming their shoulder into its flank and sending it stumbling to the side.

"Attack!" Fenrir roared through a mouthful of blood. "Attack, ya shits!"

The battle turned into a humiliating game. One of his kids would jump forward and strike at the beast, then duck back to avoid its retaliatory blow. The rest would sling spells that did nothing besides distract and annoy the lion. Fenrir himself felt like he was half-blind with his nose missing. His brain was going haywire trying to process everything without the usually ever-present domination of scent. As he tried to gain his bearing, however, his other heightened sense was nearly destroyed as well.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…" The deafening yawn stunned him. "Ruhh…"

He looked back and saw the outcrop of 'boulders' he had been standing on was now standing up itself. A matte-grey blanket fell away from what was rapidly becoming a giant, and his already adrenaline-fuelled heart began to slam even harder against his chest. His kids could handle whatever this cat was, but a giant…

It began stomping towards them, shaking the earth as it moved. Fenrir growled and stepped back in time with his children who'd been circled around the feline. The lion-creature apparently agreed that this newcomer was the larger threat, and had hunched back. Its fur was rising as it hissed a rumbling growl, realising it was no longer the biggest beast in the barnyard.

"Mmm…" The giant grumbled. "Hagrid say… Doggies good." Fenrir blinked. He'd never met a giant who could speak English. Wait, were they the 'dogg—' "Not-doggies bad."

The giant had stepped past him towards the lion-creature, and it jumped at the behemoth. The cat's roar was silenced in a massive palm that smashed it against the ground in an explosion of gore that sent blood splattering in every direction.

"Bad kitty."

The giant turned back around and took one step before pausing to stared down at Fenrir. The alpha werewolf glared up at the gargantuan being, but couldn't run away fast enough to stop its hand from clapping down on his shoulders as he ducked his head.

"Good doggy."

The giant strolled away. Fenrir climbed back to his feet with the aid of his children, swearing up a storm.

"Mother fucker I will fucking—!" He stopped as the giant did, for a brief second fearing it would turn around. Instead it just yawned then kept on going. "Fuck."

"Pops," one of his kids said. "You alright?"

"No I'm not fucking—!" Fenrir stopped himself, took a deep breath, and sighed. "I'm fine."

"What the hell was that?"

"That…" Fenrir started. "That was a load of bullshit. Pick up whatever you can from the cat and dump it in the hole, then get back to work."

---

Hydrus lifted up the Hufflepuff girl's hand. "Higher. Your hand should feel heavy. The weight will influence the spell."

The seventh year was trying to cast a stilling charm, a spell that could bring things that were moving to a relative halt. Harry himself had never used it before, but the concept had been easy enough to understand when he had read through it in the text book she'd shown him. It had a few uses that he could think of, on a large scale it could settle a patch of sea if things got too choppy, but it wasn't too hard to figure out why Dumbledore hadn't bothered to teach it to him.

"At this point I think it's just a matter of strength," he continued. "This is a NEWT level charm for a reason. You can keep practising the spell itself, or you can talk to one the Slytherins in my year and they can share some exercises I've taught them."

"Got it," the girl said, puffing out breaths. "Thanks, Hydrus."

"Of course."

He left her to her work and returned to his seat. The Study Hall was as busy as ever, though far less crowded than it had been at the end of last year thanks to the expansion. Merlin, what he wouldn't have given for a room like this back during the war. A place to properly train soldiers instead of just having to mind them and hope they didn't launch a spell too out of line and too out of nowhere to stop before it hit an unintended target. He very well might've been able to win the war if they'd been—

"Hydrus?"

He shook his head to get out of his stupor. "Yes?"

Ron had approached him, almost bringing him right back to the memories. The lanky redhead wasn't half the size he'd been at his biggest, nor quite as thin as at his weakest. He was also missing the trademark smell of tobacco that…

'Did I used to smoke?' Hydrus suddenly thought. 'I think I did…'

He wondered how he'd managed to forget that, but chalked it up to his third bargain. A cigarette definitely didn't sound bad to him, now that he thought about it. He must've quit due to his kid and somehow it got caught up in the memories he'd sold off in his third bargain.

"Wanted to talk to you about the match," Ron said. "You wanna take a walk to the field?"

"Sure."

Hydrus waved over a passing first year and told him to tell Remus where he was going, then followed his one-time best friend out of the Study Hall. It was funny how deserted the halls were on weekends these days, everyone was a member of the Study Club now it seemed. As they finally made their way out of the school itself, a fear came to him.

"This better not be a trick to lure me away from your brothers' sign," Hydrus said, thinking of the WWW logo that hung above his chair. "Trust me, all you'll be doing is extending their punishment by however long it takes me to get back there."

His favourite Weasley laughed. "Nah. I don't know what they have planned for that thing, but believe me when I say they're keeping it close to their vest."

Hydrus narrowed his eyes at the teen, but it didn't seem like he was lying. There was a touch of nervousness to him, in the way he kept glancing around and the way he was walking so stiff, but that could all be explained away by reminding both himself and the Black madness that they weren't exactly friends yet. The part of him that was insane was too paranoid to be mollified by that explanation entirely, but it was much easier to keep it calm since he'd let it go for a bit earlier with Shacklebolt.

"So what's on your mind?" Hydrus asked.

"I don't know what to do." It was almost touching how open the usually prideful and insecure ginger was being. "Neville and I talked, he doesn't think he can beat Harry in a duel, and…"

Ron trailed off, but Hydrus thought he could guess why. "And you don't think so either, cus my godbrother's a lying little-shit who definitely has been practising his duelling, am I right?"

"Uh…" Ron gave a bashful grin. "Maybe?"

"You're stressing over this too much," Hydrus said. "You have a much bigger advantage than they do."

They were finally coming up to the span of land they'd been given to modify, and Hydrus gave an impressed frown when he saw one side had almost entirely been turned from a field of grass into a veritable extension of the nearby Forbidden Forest. It seemed that for whatever Neville was lacking in confidence regarding duelling, he more than made up for with his herbology. His younger self's side wasn't looking too fun either, with rocky outcroppings that no doubt hid numerous traps, but it was easy to decide which side he'd rather try and get across.

"You can't leave the flag," Ron argued. "Which means we don't have a way to get their flag."

"That's the wrong way to think about it." As Hydrus approached the forest, he could almost feel the plants turning to give him their attention. He wondered if that was real, or if it was the effect of some hex runes. "You're playing a version of chess where the other side literally can't capture your king. There's no possible way for you to lose."

"Except this isn't chess," Ron said, mimicking the emphasis he'd put on his words. "There's still plenty of ways they could win, what if—"

"Then use those ways to beat them," Hydrus interrupted. "And act as though there's no possible way for them to win. Trust me, they're out of their league."

"But…"

"Ron." Hydrus stopped and grabbed the other teen's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "I didn't pick you to mess with Harry. I picked you because I knew you could win. I trusted you. So give me back some of that trust, and plan as though I will never, ever lose."

Hydrus refused to break eye contact with his suddenly frozen friend. It was another of Dumbledore's countless techniques, and one that worked way too well with way too many people for how simple it was. He just kept staring. Kept looking into Ron's eyes. Kept making things as uncomfortable as possible until—

"Alright." Ron looked away, then nodded. "We can't lose. Worst case scenario is a draw."

"Damn right that's the worst case scenario," Hydrus said. "I'll make your life a living hell if that happens."

"Wait, what?"

Before his friend could panic about that, something caught Hydrus's eyes in the tree bows high above them. He called, "Nev?"

The vague shape that was definitely turning out to be the Longbottom teen looked down at him. He was nearly forty feet above them and swaying precariously back and forth as he held onto the top of a tree that didn't seem nearly strong enough to hold his weight. Hydrus let out a bit of his madness as he giggled at the sight of his old mate scrambling down the branches like a particularly clumsy monkey, but he reigned it in just in time to help him get down the last few feet. Once Neville was settled, the messy-haired, sap-covered teen grinned at him.

"Hey, Hydrus." He held out his hand and the Black heir gave it a firm shake. "Not too bad, right?"

The doe-like eyes he gave when he asked nearly made Hydrus laugh once again. "Yeah, mate, it's amazing. I'm proud of you."

Neville's smile grew even wider and he even gave a silent 'Yes!' along with a shake of his fist. Hydrus couldn't help but laugh now, it was honestly adorable. Compared to the old Neville, the scarred and solemn juggernaut who could single-handedly hold off Voldemort until Harry arrived, the disparity was just too much. Add on the fact that he was having to convince Ron to believe in his plans instead of the other way around? He gave up on looking normal and allowed the Black madness full reign as he gave a belly laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Uh, Hydrus?" Ron said. He came to a wheezing stop, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're glowing."

The mirth vanished, and Hydrus glanced down at his hand. True to the teen's words, he was indeed glowing. It looked almost like there were polka dots standing out every inch or so down his skin, each roughly the same size. He could guess what they were though. The runes that were holding back his breaking of the third bargain were working over time to stop his magic from running rampant.

Hydrus shook his head.

How arrogant was he that he was thinking of himself as these kids' parent?

"Don't worry about it," he said, settling himself down and watching as the glow slowly faded away. "Just the side effect of a project I'm working on."

"Does it have something to do with the Black madness?" Ron asked. Hydrus frowned at the question, and the teen blushed. "My grandma was a Black."

"Oh, right. Uh…" Hydrus scratched at his chin, wondering when the hell he'd be able to grow at least a few beard hairs. "Yeah, sure, let's go with that. Close enough to the truth."

The two boys he'd once trusted more than any others in the entire world both looked at him like he must've been entirely lying, and it almost made him laugh again. Merlin, he really needed to get this madness thing under control.

"Anyways. Ron, I'm sure you've got plans you need to work out. Neville, keep on doing what you're doing." Hydrus turned on his heel and began strolling back to the Study Hall, paranoid that this really had all been a ruse to get him away from his sign. "Don't let me down!

---

Albus watched with bated breath as his apprentice sipped his tea, then gave a false frown when the time-traveller grimaced.

"That's…" Hydrus cleared his throat. "Um, it's certainly something."

"Do you not like it?" Albus asked, widening his eyes slightly. "I received the herbs from one of your seniors, a student who graduated just a decade or so ago."

"I mean, I'll definitely be finishing it," Hydrus said, licking his lips like he was trying to banish away the taste. "It's just… Not what I was expecting."

They were settled in for a cozy evening in Albus's office. Fawkes was relatively young, and constantly shifting from Harry's lap to his own to back to just flying around above them. They were seated in front of his fireplace which was doing its best to fight off the cold being let in from the open window. As always when the two met, all the portraits in the room were dimmed thanks to the ingenious spell his apprentice had invented. They were just relaxing. Relaxing, and sipping absolutely awful tea.

Albus had been trying for the past month to slowly make his way through the supply of leaves his former student had sent him. Supposedly the tea it created was so good for one's liver it was being tested in St. Mungo's for late-stage alcoholism, and was the 'crowning jewel' of the young woman's career thus far. Unfortunately, it tasted like something between a bell pepper and thrice-steeped coffee beans. Very fortunately, he had an apprentice who was too kind to say no to his elderly mentor.

"The young lady who sent it to me is always writing to say how wonderful it is," Albus mused. "It's apparently very restorative to one's liver, so I figured with the way you like to drink you might learn to appreciate its taste. I know it's… An interesting experience, but I'm willing to join you in acquiring the palette."

To prove his point, he took a long drink of the tea, and gave a smack of his lips to finish it off. The colour drained from the closest thing he had to a grandson's face, and a mischievous joy nearly broke Albus's facade when he saw the teen resign himself to his fate.

"I'll do anything to get you to quit nagging me," Hydrus said, clearly trying to save face in the face of such blatant manipulation. "Just don't expect me to ask for seconds."

Albus finally allowed his grin to show. "Of course."

Despite the fact that a part of him felt he should be actually teaching his apprentice something, helping him learn how to control his power, it seemed Hydrus was content to just spend time together. They rarely ever spoke of his mental health these days now that Remus was around to help with that, and instead they just chatted about everything from how the students were doing to what the political landscape was like.

Sometimes they would delve into theories on spellcraft and wand movements that Albus often found himself stunned with. He might've held a certain loathing for his other self for how he'd raised Harry, but clearly it hadn't been done with an unskilled hand. Hydrus had an esoteric understanding of concepts that scholars often spent decades trying to understand, but it was more of an instinctual knowledge than an intellectual one. He knew how things worked, he could come up with answers to problems that should take days on end to solve in mere minutes, but he rarely understood the underlying theory behind them all. It was exceptionally frustrating when he gave answers to problems that had been nagging Albus for months as if they were nothing, all without being able to explain why they worked as well as they did.

On the other hand, it was richly rewarding to just be able to sit and drone on and on about various tales from his youth. He got to just sit and tell his apprentice about the sorts of quests he and Gellert had gone through in their youth without any judgement. He awed the younger man with tales of studying under Nicholas Flamel, and just what all that entailed. To top it all off, in what was perhaps the greatest reward any senior citizen such as himself could ask for, the young wizard listened just as enthralled to the less exciting stories too. He laughed along at the misfortunes of simple romantic woes, he commiserated over lost wagers on what eggs would hatch first, and he seemed to enjoy being in the older man's presence as much as Albus himself enjoyed having him around.

He truly couldn't have asked for a better grandson in the entire world.

As the fire they sat in front of dimmed, he wrapped up his story about the time he and Perenelle convinced Nicolas to finally stop trying to make a potion that could allow a person to fly. The legendary alchemist had been convinced he could put an end to quidditch, a sport he considered to be barbaric, if he could just show the wizarding world that they didn't need brooms. Albus laughed as he explained that it was only years later that he realised the old man just didn't want people being able to do what Hydrus himself had done: fly right up to the Flamel's cloudy home.

"What's that geezer's problem anyways?" Hydrus asked. He was stroking a now sleeping Fawkes, and the glow emanating from the bird was keeping the room warm despite the dying fire. "He's always so… grumpy, for lack of a word that won't offend you."

Albus chuckled. "You of all people should understand. The longer one lives, the more opportunities to witness horrors they have, and the more jaded they become."

"I guess," Hydrus said, not sounding in the least bit convinced. "I'd still bet I've seen more death and destruction than he has, and you don't see me grumbling everywhere I go."

"Our tempers all expose themselves in different ways," Albus half-chided. "The last war was hard on him. It's only in the past few years that France has been able to recover to where it once was."

"Did France even exist when he was born?" Hydrus asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Like, France France, not Gaul or whatever."

Albus chuckled. It was genuinely amusing the sorts of gaps there were in Hydrus's education. The man was one of only a handful of wizards in the entire world whose transfiguration acumen was within a spitting distance of his own and Nicholas's, perhaps he could even make a claim for the bronze medal, yet he didn't even know basic European history.

"It did indeed," Albus said. "And my mentor is and was quite the patriot. If it weren't for the total extermination that Grindelwald's forces went through, I'm not sure he'd even be able to still smile today after what they did."

"Right, 'total extermination'." Hydrus shook his head. "One of the bastards took Hagrid's finger in my time, some old vet from his side of the war."

Albus frowned.

"Truly?" he asked. "That's… Odd."

"You saw my memories. The Malfoys were hosting a whole horde of 'em," Hydrus said, apparently not realising that this was a disparity, not a misrememberance. Well, Albus might've been forgetting his trip through Hydrus's memories, but he certainly knew his own history. "I took care of them all in the end."

Albus's frown deepened as he contemplated how and why this difference had come about.

---

Some years ago.

Fate watched as her chosen locked up. The man was such a coward, and it was such an endearing trait to find in humans. The species was usually such a brave bunch, and when they weren't, it usually meant nothing good. That's what made the instances of bravery that her little 'Gregory' showed all the more precious. For him, bravery wasn't an easy choice, and the fact that he ever managed to reach it at all always made her existence flutter.

When a spell came hurtling towards him and the woman who'd been such a thorn in Fate's side, it brought forth a splay of potential results.

If 'Gregory' ducked, he would survive another day but his love would die. If he tried to throw up a shield, the attack would shatter the working and kill them both. If he tried to dive on top of 'Agatha', they would both get killed by the next volley that the enemy forces sent their way. If he stood in front of the spell, Fate would have to intervene.

She forced out a laugh to express her joy when instead of choosing any of those options, the extremely poor duelist somehow managed to deflect the spell back at their attacker.

It truly was incredible how unpredictable these creatures were.

She spared a glance as another figure killed the one that had attacked her chosen after his redirected spell was shielded with ease. It was that rude fellow who would someday be one of her followers' father-in-law, the Arctic Black or whatever his name was.

As she observed him, she supposed he too was worthy of her admiration. If her chosen was an example of how beautiful courage was, then the Arctic Black was an example of how resolute determination could be. By all rights the human should probably have given up on life with the hole in his side. He must've taken something or cast some magic spell or made some bargain because the wound wasn't bleeding as much as it should've considering it was the size of a human fist and had taken a portion of his liver and an entire kidney. Even as the life-ending wound tried and failed to kill him though, the wizard was roaring in anger.

"Rot you fucking bastards!" he shouted, blood spraying from his lips and madness pouring from his eyes. "Rot!"

As the man raved, she returned her attention to her favoured subject. 'Gregory' hadn't moved since deflecting that spell, still trying and failing to come up with some way to escape the onslaught. His lover was doing a much better job of maintaining her composure, she was trying to take in the whole battlefield to find a way to get her 'Greggy' to safety. Fate might've been annoyed with the woman and the way she'd caused such a headache in this thread's first go around, but still, there was beauty there too.

'Agatha Crabbe' was a strong woman. She didn't have an ounce of her future husband's cowardice, which diminished the beauty of her bravery, but she did have something else that made her glimmer in her own right. Annoying as she was. It was a trait that, in Fate's least humble moments, she liked to think she herself had.

The woman saw the best in everyone, and always put that at the forefront of her thoughts towards them. She appreciated her mate's bravery just as much as Fate did. She was able to see that same determination in the Arctic Black's savagery, and even more besides. In the future that could no longer come, she had ignored the even less desirable aspects of 'Gregory' that others constantly noted, and still fell in love with him. Even when everything was taken from her and everyone else's memory of the man, the fame and fortune, she still fell in love with what was left for those jagged and jarring aspects that Fate herself found so gorgeous. 'Gregory' might've been Fate's chosen, and Harry might've been her favourite, but if there was just one particular actor she herself related to the most, it was her.

"Oooohhh…." 'Gregory' moaned. "What do I do, what do I do?!"

After a moment to consider which gesture would be most appropriate, Fate gave a particularly pouting frown at her chosen's whining.

"God, please help me," he said. "I'll do anything."

"And that's my queue!"

---

Hydrus sipped his coffee and watched water rise and fall from a fountain in the food court of a muggle mall a distance away from where he sat. People were milling around him as they shopped, paying no mind to the bored 'teen' at all, and he hoped it stayed that way. He probably just looked like any other angsty youth in his all-black get-up and sunglasses, if a bit better dressed than was fashionable. With a sigh he once more turned to the watch on his wrist, and wanted to groan when he saw only a few minutes had passed since his last glance.

Cygnus had arranged a 'play date' between Bella and the granddaughter of Ilvermorny's headmaster, a way to get some hooks into the powerful, state-side figure. Apparently the nineteen year-old was a big fan of Bella's from her time on the duelling circuit, so now the pair were shopping for bras while Harry contemplated whether or not he could drown himself in the fountain.

It didn't seem too likely, but he just might manage.

He couldn't believe Bella had even agreed to go along with the American witch's idea to shop here. Seemed even rotten cultural prejudices couldn't stop the woman from her love for shopping. His only saving grace was the fact that she hadn't insisted Hydrus come with them inside the outlet store, though that could be for any number of reasons from mercy to not wanting him to ruin whatever surprises she purchased to not wanting him to look at all the half-nude posters of women along the walls.

'Who'd have thought there'd come a day where getting a chance to watch a beautiful woman try on lingerie wouldn't be interesting,' he mused, thinking about the fact that he wasn't missing the opportunity at all. 'Swear if they don't hurry up…'

His bluff of a silent threat went unheeded and it took nearly half an hour for his love and the other woman to finish. Hydrus started to stand when Bella approached but she sat her bags on the bench he was at.

"Give me a minute, dear," she said. "I need to powder my nose."

He kept from groaning as he fell back into his chair. Apparently his body language spoke volumes, because the American witch laughed as she took the seat beside him.

"Sorry we kept you waiting," she said. "Hopefully you weren't too bored."

"Don't worry about it," Hydrus replied. "Just glad she's having fun."

The headmaster of Ilvermorny's granddaughter was a sturdy looking woman. She had light, brunette hair that she'd pulled up into a ponytail and was wearing a denim jacket over a plain t-shirt. Her name was Jessica if he remembered right, and she was currently staring at him without any subtlety.

Hydrus cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "Yes?"

"Is it true you're a better duelist than Bellatrix?" She practically spat out the question, and finally he recognised what her intensity was about. "She said she couldn't possibly beat you."

"I don't know about a better duelist," he answered. "But I could beat her in a fight."

If he were to ever compete on the circuit there was a non-insignificant chance he'd pull a Jasiel and kill someone by mistake. The Dominican wizard was still considered one of the biggest 'What If?s' in the sport's history. It usually wasn't too hard for Hydrus to control himself, but he also rarely duelled against someone strong enough to put him on edge and didn't have the wherewithal to protect themselves if he slipped up.

"Beat her in a fight, huh?" Jessica was grinning at him with a smile so predatory it reminded him of his father. "Maybe after this we could head back to my grandfather's place."

He snorted. It'd been quite a while since he met someone who actually enjoyed fighting. Back during the war, even the most bloodthirsty of his soldiers and recruits lost the taste for violence as the years passed and they found themselves drenched in the stuff. Or they got themselves killed over it.

"You've got to get through my fiancee to get to me," he said after coming up with the inoffensive excuse. "If you'd like, she'll be subbing at Hogwarts tomorrow. I could arrange something with the Duelling Club to have them come watch the two of you have an exhibition match in the Study Hall."

He flinched when a pair of hands suddenly clamped down on his shoulders. "That would be fun."

Hydrus craned his neck up, entirely accidentally resting his head below Bellatrix's chest, and gave her a playful glare. "I told you to quit sneaking up on me."

"You did," Bella agreed, looking down at him. "I'm sure you'll tell me next time as well."

"You're a menace." He made to say something further, but something appeared in his pocket. "The hell…"

After pulling out what turned out to be a folded up piece of parchment, he opened it up and read:

Hydrus,

We have an issue. Audit. 1 hour. Missing 30KG. Needs accounting.

Instructions?

Cygnus S. Black II

Hydrus more felt than heard Bellatrix's annoyance as she growled, reading over his shoulder. He crumpled the note up and shoved it back into his pocket before standing.

"I'm afraid it seems I'll need to make an early exit," Hydrus said. "No rest for the wicked."

Bella's fingers dug deep into his shoulders now, and not in a pleasant way. "But—"

"Bella, I trust you can handle things here. Jessica, it was an absolute treat to meet you, and I look forward to seeing you attempt to win a shot against me tomorrow." The American stood with a frown, realising he really was leaving. "I'm going to go powder my own nose."

"Wait," Jessica said. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is," Hydrus said. "Someone has decided to take a shot at the Black family."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. "If there's—"

"We appreciate the offer," Bellatrix said, returning to her part as a diplomat even as he could feel her magic roiling about inside her. "But Hydrus can take care of it."

She took his seat and he leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek, gently and intentionally blowing on her ear as he pulled away.

Hydrus made his way into one of those 'alleys' malls like this had, where they kept a random supply of cleaning products and wet floor signs. There weren't any restrooms, but he lucked out when he stepped into the employee break room at the end of the hall and found it empty. With a silent command to Kreacher, he was apparated away and back into the Black Summer Home.

"Good, you're here."

Cygnus was sitting behind Sirius's desk so Hydrus took the spot opposite of him. The man looked a little out of sorts, his normally well-brushed hair was more like a wild mane and his robes weren't anywhere close to ironed. Hydrus summoned up a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass as Cygnus pushed forward a document.

"I only got word of this because of who we are," he said. "The DMFA is—"

"DMFA?"

Cygnus blinked. "Department of Magical Financial Affairs?"

"Ah." Hydrus nodded. "Continue."

"The DMFA and a certain political bloc, I'm not sure which, have decided to try and catch us after your little stunt with the house elves," his future father-in-law said. "They're moving in on the Malfoys as we speak. We're entirely clean on that front, so are they, but there's a bigger problem."

"Right, you mentioned we're missing thirty-thousand gallons," Hydrus said. "What the hell did we spend it on?"

Cygnus looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. "I don't know, that's why I summoned you. All that's written in the books is 'Hydrus'!"

"I see." Hydrus took a long sip of his whiskey, finished it with a snack of his lips, then made a show unholstering his wand and turning it over in his hands. "I wonder.

"If I hadn't started this sentence, could I have gotten away with killing you?"

'Cygnus' froze. "Pardon?"

"You have till the count of three before I see if I can still get away with it." Hydrus pointed his wand at the stranger. "One, two, thr—"

"Wait!" someone called, cutting off his panic-inducing quick-count. "That won't be necessary, Scion Black."

Hydrus twirled his wand over so that it was no longer pointed at the facsimile of Bella's father and sat it down on his lap. The illusion that had changed the auror's appearance faded so that it was revealed to be none other than Earl Longbottom, Neville's uncle. There were footsteps behind him until another man appeared, one who'd been under an invisibility cloak and now looked like a much older, bodyless version of Cedric Diggory.

"Scion Black," the Diggory man said. "My name is—"

"Unimportant." Hydrus picked up his whiskey and swirled it around in its glass. His madness was fighting desperately to break free. "I want Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour here in the next three minutes, or someone is going to get hurt."

"Scion—"

"One-hundred and eighty," he started. "One-hundred and seventy-nine…"

What he could only assume to be Cedric's own uncle, or perhaps a cousin, apparated away and Hydrus stood.

"Get the fuck out of my chair."

Neville's uncle jumped to his feet and practically sprinted away to the other side of the room. Hydrus took his father's seat and began looking over the papers the auror had. He'd only seen the Black family's accounting records once or twice, never by choice, but these seemed like the genuine article. The only thing that saved his uncle from suspicion was the same thing that had tipped Hydrus off towards the fact that the stranger wasn't actually his relative.

Cygnus could never be brave enough to betray him. Just like he'd never be brave enough to address him without title in his missive, to sit in Sirius's spot in the seat of the family's power, to snap at Hydrus as though he had any sort of power over him. Cygnus might not have had a spine, but he most certainly did have character. Earl just sucked at playing that character.

Hydrus didn't bother keeping track of the time, but he could all but directly read the clock in his 'captive's eyes. He couldn't see any actual sort of reflection, or course, but between the way the sweat on Earl's forehead was growing and the way his eyes darted to the clock behind Hydrus, he was fairly certain they had roughly thirty seconds before the time he'd given was up.

To his mild disappointment, his guests arrived in time.

Amelia and Scrimgeour arrived as a pair, but they didn't come alone. The Diggory man was there too, as well as a brutish, troll-looking fellow and the absolute last auror Hydrus ever wanted to see. His nostrils flared as his original father flashed a smile at him, and he had to restrain himself from reacting further when James even stepped away from the rest of his group to stand beside him.

At least he wasn't the only one who was perturbed.

"Potter!" Scrimgeour barked. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I only said I was coming, never said whose side I was on," James said. He was standing at attention with his hands behind his back. "As far as I can tell, the Ministry has decided to conduct a very illegal sting operation on my fifteen year-old godson, and I won't stand for it."

"Not now, Potter!" Amelia hissed. Hydrus couldn't agree with his future 'step-mother' more. "This is not the time for—"

"I hope you're not about to suggest my support for Sirius's son is a joke, Captain Bones." James's voice was as calm as the moment before a storm. "Because I don't make jokes like that."

"Fuck off, Potter," Hydrus snapped. "Because you're either being honest and ruining any chance you have of actually helping me out, or you're trying to trick me into trusting you. Either way, fuck off."

"Or," James 'whispered' without making any effort to lower his voice. "I'm making sure no one knows whose side I'm on, so I can win no matter what."

Hydrus looked at him with a slack jaw, and James beamed back at him.

"Good talk!"

Trying to put the annoying man-child from his mind, he faced Amelia. "Captain Bo—"

"Scion Black," Scrimgeour interrupted. "This—"

"Captain Bones," Hydrus insisted, pulsing his magic to reinforce his point. "I am about to cast a spell that shall not harm anyone in this room, and is merely meant as a precaution. Do I have your permission to do so, and do the people in this room trust you enough to go along with that decision?*

Amelia glanced about for a moment, caught between her future step-son and her career. Hydrus just had to hope she had enough of Sirius's influence to trust him, otherwise he'd have to cast the spell anyways and people might get hurt afterwards when they attacked him out of fear.

"What does the spell do?"

"It will ensure we get this solved to everyone's satisfaction," he answered. "It will do nothing to hurt anyone in the process. I swear on my father's life."

Amelia tried to probe him for lies. To the woman's credit, she didn't attempt any sort of legilimency on him. All she did was give a good old fashioned cop stair to see if he was lying. To help speed up the process, Hydrus finally remembered to take off his sunglasses and meet her stare.

She sighed. "I believe him."

"Good." Hydrus pointed his wand at the ceiling. "Cage."

Another spell Bella hated. One of Hermione's earlier works, hence the simple verbalization. It did exactly what it said on the tin: it caged the occupants of whatever room it was cast on. The cage didn't look like much of one, visually it just looked like the walls had gone white for a moment, but the effect was as impregnable as he could've asked for.

"Until I say otherwise," Hydrus said. "No one may leave or enter this room."

Amelia's eyes snapped open. "What?"

"You people ambushed me, a literal minor, with accusations of financial misconduct," he began. "Instead of going through normal, standard procedures you chose to try and deceive me, including using methods that have apparently disabled my home's anti-apparition wards as well as who knows how many other protections.

"I don't know if there is a traitor in House Black or if you have gone to extreme measures in order to persuade me into fearing that such a thing might have happened." He slowly turned his wand over in his hand. "And I'll be honest. I don't like playing these sorts of games. I like being upfront and honest in all of my dealings. Since it would seem the Ministry, more than one department in fact, does not share my beliefs toward such conduct, I've ensured that from this point forward there will be no further interference between myself and fair play."

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Scrimgeour growled. "I could have you arrested for kidnapping of a public official."

"And I can kill every last person in this room without any of you being able to do anything about it." Hydrus tilted his chin up at the department head who paled. "Normally I wouldn't be able to say that, but now that I've ensured our absolute security and privacy, I can.

"And the reason I say it is so that we're all very, very clear on who is in charge of this situation." He sat his wand down. "I am, with every moment you remain breathing, extending a mercy to you out of the kindness and generosity and morality of my heart."

Nobody said anything in response to that. Even James's smile had fallen away.

"With my geniality now well established, shall we begin?" Hydrus asked. "What crime do you believe I've committed?"

"Yes." James cleared his throat. "I'd like to know that as well."

One of many benefits to putting all these people in this situation was that it had severely lowered their ability to maintain a poker face. What his original father had said hadn't been a lie. The man really did tag along with no idea what was going on.

"Hydrus Black," Scrimgeour said, trying and failing not to look intimidated. "You're being investigated for the disappearance and possible murder of Nebucha Briarfir."

Hydrus frowned. "Who?"

He tried to figure out who that could be, but nothing at all came to mind.

The Diggory cleared his throat. "Madam Briarfir is the preeminent dealer of house el—"

"Ohh," Hydrus interrupted, finally realising what was happening. "I didn't even know she was missing. All I did was buy some house elves from the woman."

The Diggory man stepped up, apparently finding his bravery. "Are you—"

"Stop, what's your name?" Hydrus asked, finally deciding it was important. "And are you Cedric's uncle?"

"I… Yes? I am Jon Diggory." Hydrus nodded and gestured for him to continue. "Are you confirming that you're the one who took all of the house elves?"

"I didn't take them. I bought them," he answered. "And technically I had my cousin and a friend of my father physically there to make the purchase."

Jon's eye twitched. He'd obviously been trying to catch Hydrus in a lie by having him say he'd been the one to buy them.

"If she went missing after that I'd suggest looking somewhere tropical," Hydrus said. "I'm sure it cost us a fortune, more than enough to retire off of."

Jon glared at him. "Why would the most successful—"

"Don't know, not my business," Hydrus answered. "Now that I know what this is about, allow me to lay out some facts for everyone here.

"I was outside of Hogwarts without school permission. That's a minor offence that I hope we can all agree not even a muggleborn would truly get in trouble for beyond a detention." He held out his hand to the troll-like man who'd yet to say anything. He was wearing a uniform that matched Amelia's and Hydrus now recognized the sigil on his chest. "Correct, Captain Goyle?"

"Aye," the man grunted. "Ain't about that."

"Wonderful. Next, we can all agree that there is nothing out of sorts in my family's books that couldn't be found in anyone else here's, correct, 'Jon Diggory'?"

The man sneered at him. "Besides the thirty-thousand missing gallons, you mean?"

So that part was real then. "Are you saying whatever explanation my grand-uncle gave wasn't satisfactory?"

"I wouldn't call 'ask Hydrus' a satisfactory answer, no."

He blinked. Damn it, Cygnus.

"Alright, back to reminding you all I don't like playing fucking games, does it really just say 'Hydrus' on the books beside a 30k withdrawl?" Honestly he had no idea what he'd spent so much money on. "And if so, when was it?"

Then something occurred to him.

"Wait, that's the fucking connection, isn't it?" Hydrus asked. "Cygnus already told you we spent that money on the house elves, and now you're trying to get me to confess that it was for something else."

Diggory maintained his composure, but a vein had pulsed in his forehead. Scrimgeour's eyes shot to the man, and his composure was great as well, but there was a twitch in his frown. He hadn't been on board with this plan, and now there was a crack in it. Hydrus wondered if there were any tells in his own facade as he realised he was about to win.

"The problem with this scheme of yours, as dear Uncle Cygnus will rant about to you for hours if you left him, is that I don't know shit about our finances." He held out his palm and the stub of his arm innocently. "In truth, I can't even tell you if that thirty-thousand was for the house elves. I literally gave my cousin a blank check and a babysitter, then told him to buy every last house elf he could."

"And why'd you do that?" James asked. "By the way, my parents won't stop raving about how much they love Spangles."

"I did it to teach my cousin a lesson about the treatment of house elves in the wider world," Hydrus said. "And because although I have no immediate plans towards the creatures' future, in the long term I hoped that by making them less of a rarity and more of commonality between magical families, I could extend people's affection towards them.

"I'm a bit frustrated to hear of the woman's disappearance, in truth. I'd hoped to keep cleaning out her stock." He gave a very genuine sounding sigh. "I'll have to find a new supplier."

"What?" Now, if Amelia was acting, she was really putting on a show. Sirius must not've told her anything about this. "Why would you care about house elves?"

"I care about all magical beings," Hydrus said. "From our own species in the muggle borns I've adopted, to the most vile and ill-repute of beasts such as the basilisk I've recently received permission to hatch."

"Wait, what?" James was looking at him now. "I thought—"

"I was at the Minister's office just yesterday morning," Hydrus said. A very sudden shift in the room's atmosphere took place then. "He and I had a little pow-wow, favours were exchanged, secrets shared, yada yada yada…"

"Don't try and intimidate me, kid," Scrimgeour said. "I'm too close to both retirement and Kingsley to be bothered."

"Wasn't intimidating," Hydrus clarified. "Just advising and reminding. I'm already just about done here and I only need one last thing sorted."

He stood, causing everyone in the room to tense. With slow and steady movements he picked up his glass and sapped the rest of his whiskey. He made a show of swishing it about in his mouth before swallowing.

"When I first showed up." He turned his gaze on Earl. "You mentioned a political bloc was responsible for the audit. I want to know every last member of said bloc."

Scrimgeour grumbled. "Black—"

"Settle down, sir," Hydrus said, bowing his head to give some token respect to the man. "I think we can all agree we're long past the point of figuring out whether or not I've committed a crime, and now we need to punish whoever got us all caught up in this mess in the first place."

He was having fun. His stance on politics probably wouldn't change away from just breaking the 'rules' when it suited him, but it was just so much fun knowing the rules well enough to expect where the pieces would fall.

A group of families were mad he'd removed the most prestigious house elf breeder in Europe. They were either the leader of this 'attack', or they were the strength someone else used to back up their own frustrations. Earl being here wasn't lost on him, Augusta Longbottom and her younger son could either be a tag along for this or the ones who spurred it. The Diggory family also wasn't close to him or his connections to the lighter side of things, and they were known to follow their own sense of justice. Even to the point where Cedric and his uncle Jon might have entirely different opinions on the man being here.

The question at the heart of it all, at least for Hydrus, was just who all he now needed to punish.

And who all in this room would assist him.

Goyle was an easy pull over from his 'opponents'. The oaf probably hadn't even known what his auror, Earl, was doing. Scrimgeour had already shown his hand. Amelia would fight if she didn't think Hydrus was in the right, otherwise she was a sure thing.

James…

He didn't like James.

"Potter, Bones, Longbottom," James said. "Flint, Ollivander, Shacklebolt, Slughorn, Steelwand, Applepot. I'm willing to bet my last knut none of them are behind this."

"Don't halfstrate yourself so quickly," Hydrus chided, hating himself for using a testicular pun. "Just cus Frank's smart enough not to get involved, doesn't mean his brother and mother are."

"Hey!"

Hydrus cocked an eyebrow at the Longbottom scion and his foe immediately looked away. The man might've failed to portray Cygnus, but he was just as spineless. His opponents had chosen well and coached poorly.

"I think we've all reached too far here, Scion Black," Scrimgeour said. "And I can appreciate this no-bullshit policy you have. Everything will get dropped here, and you won't have to worry about this anymore."

The man was asking for an out. He was saying a lot in a few words. The message hidden behind it was plain.

'I'm on your side. This has been a waste of my time, and heads are going to roll,' the man had silently said. 'You've got enough shit on the bottom of your shoe to make you stink too, though, so don't make me point it out.'

Unfortunately for Scrimgeour, Hydrus thought he smelled rather pleasant.

"I have done nothing wrong aside from the fact that I was out of school grounds without permission," he said. "My family has been maligned and insulted, and I demand an answer."

Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed at him. Hydrus grinned back. Amelia's mouth opened to speak but she was cut off when something, something incredibly powerful, slammed against their cage.

Hydrus frowned. He wasn't particularly worried, the Cage spell had survived everything from bunker-busting bombs to Voldemort himself, but the fact that he'd felt that was telling. It had taken his two examples to even prove that he could feel outside influences on the cage. What on earth was it now? Ideas rolled through his mind but he silenced them all.

"Right, time to tell all," he said. "Diggory. Who the fuck's behind this?"

"I—"

"And I will be clear, your nephew Cedric is someone whom I respect and admire a great deal." He gave a focused look to the man. "I hope you don't drag everyone else in your family down with you."

'I like Cedric enough to spare the rest of you,' he'd said. 'Dont fuck this up for your nephew.'

"It was Augusta Longbottom and myself, as an agent of the DMFA." Jon said. "As well as the Cheshire, LePointe, and Castle families."

'My brother supported this too thanks to Augusta,' he'd said. 'And these are the absolutely moronic, buffoonish, idiotic, foolish families we got on board with the plan.'

Hydrus might've added some adjectives to that description.

Or at least his madness did.

"Alright then," he said. "If you're still willing to let us all just walk away in peace, Lord Scrimgeour, then I am as well."

"You've been spending too much time with the Greeks," the head of the DMLA said. "I ain't a fucking lord. But yes, let's call it here."

Hydrus nearly undid the spell then, but a fear struck through him. What if whatever had shook the cage struck when he took it down? People he wanted alive might die.

"I'm going to bring down the cage," he said. "When I do, whatever shook the place a moment ago might attack. Be on your guard, everyone."

At least now they couldn't blame him if someone died.

He had his money on Goyle dying. He was the least important person here, and he doubted Fate would let someone fun die.

What the hell was Fate's deal anyways? In his eyes she was some kind of voyeur who got a delight out of getting to witness people's suffering, but what laid beyond that? What did she actually gain from it? According to Dumbledore, Hydrus's ability to love was valuable and that's what Magic got out of their more important bargains. So what was Fate's piece of the pie…

"You're overthinking it."

This time he'd felt Fate's power bringing things to a halt, so he didn't jump. He slowly turned to the goddess, who now looked… She was an exact replica of Jessica, the American witch he and Bella had been courting.

"I don't want or need anything from you humans," Fate said. "I just want a good story. That's all I've ever wanted."

Hydrus sucked his teeth and looked deep into the goddess's eyes. For a brief moment he felt a pang of pain from how much that stretched his being, but he buried that beneath a layer of human annoyance. It never hurt to look at Magic for too long, why did Fate have to be so—

"That's because my sister hasn't existed since the dawn of, well, myself," Fate said. "You'd find a similar issue if you somehow managed to comprehend my twin, Space."

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Is someone about to die?"

"What? How should I know?"

He twitched at the goddess's incredulity. "Maybe because you're the deity of fate? Don't you know everything that ever has and ever will happen?"

"Goodness no." Fate shook her head. "Just the things that involve me or my followers. Plus whatever sneak peaks they give me via prophecies. Otherwise I'd be spoiling things for myself."

"But…" He tried to make sense of that. "You apparently know enough about me to schedule assassinations decades in advance, and I'm not your follower."

"Correct," she agreed, nodding her head. "You are not my follower."

"…But someday I will be?"

She gave such an offensively sarcastic shrug that he would've been insulted if she were anyone else. Anyone else more human, anyways.

"The good news just keeps rolling in," he muttered. "Will it break anything if I bring the spell down while everything's frozen?"

"No, go right ahead," she said. "I was worried you were going to keep thinking I paused everything just because I wanted to chat."

"You say that like you haven't done exactly that before." He dismissed the cage spell and found what should've been the obvious explanation for the disturbance standing in the doorway. Albus Dumbledore. "Would you please say hi to him? He really wants to—"

"No!"

Hydrus blinked. "Why not?"

"Just… No!" Fate repeated. The goddess was emanating discomfort. "It would be a disaster."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hydrus asked. "It's just Dumbledore."

The goddess's impression of Jessica was trembling. Literally it looked like a bootleg of a bootleg VHS tape being rewound. Existence was distorting around her as colours and shapes and gravity twisted. Hydrus purposefully clasped his eyes shut, then slowly opened them back up to find her back to normal.

"Do you realise how much effort it takes to learn how to be a normal person?" Fate asked. "Chatting with the younger gods helps a bit, chatting with you or my chosen helps a lot; but talking with him?" Her head snapped back and forth like she was swinging a sword. "It would ruin any chance I have at normality."

That… Actually made sense. In fact, Dumbledore would probably take it as such a compliment that he'd stop asking to meet her. Hydrus threw up a transparent shield spell in front of the door and gave an appreciative nod to Fate.

"Thank you for making this an easier process," he said. "Is this supposed to be buttering me up to get me to become your follower?"

"Not exactly," Fate said. "I have a special line cooked up for just such an occasion, though."

Hydrus snorted. "Oh yeah?"

"Of course!" Fate cleared her throat, though the cough didn't sound quite right. "Oh, Hydrus, my beloved human, my favourite mortal, don't you see? Don't you see why I deserve to be your goddess?!" She was overenunciating every word like a drunken thespian. "Magic wanted you for what you are, I want you for who you are!"

Her performance wrought a genuine chuckle from him, though that seemed to sour Fate's mood because she began to pout.

"You'll see," she half-whined. "It'll be great."

"Good luck."

If he was being honest, a part of him did miss his faith. He might not've enjoyed bleeding himself for his prayers, but it was nice just dumping his thoughts out into the universe every night and thinking there was someone paying attention to them. It had also made up a pretty big part of his identity back during the war. Most people just thought he was crazy for believing in the goddess, but there were a few who'd at least gotten some comfort from the possibility that he was backed by the divine.

It had certainly done so for him.

Hydrus shook his head. Faith was what had gotten him into this mess. Who knew what sorts of messes it could cause in the future. Maybe Fate was lying to him to get him to sign on.

"I'm not," she said. "But your devotion isn't guaranteed. For example, you could kill everyone in this room. That'll cause a massive deviation in the timeline, a split will form in this thread, you'll go down that strand instead, and you might keep up your agnosticism in that one."

"So you're saying I could just…" He tried to come up with the right words. "Intentionally go out of my way to change the things you know will happen, and they really will change?"

"Or you'll end up guaranteeing whatever I or a prophecy have said will happen," Fate argued. "I know you don't like stories the way I do, but you've got to at least know that trope well enough."

"Right…" He shook his head. "Well, thanks again, I'll take it from here."

When everything unfroze the people in the room jumped, then looked at Hydrus like he'd grown a second head. He recalled Bella saying that after Fate had frozen things at Sirius's coronation, he'd looked like he'd had a lightning-fast seizure; that he'd become a blur for a micro-fraction of a second and changed his posture entirely. A similar effect had probably just happened now.

"There," Hydrus said. "The cage is down." He waved his hand and the shield in front of the door faded as Dumbledore stepped into the room. "Headmaster."

"Hydrus," the ancient warlock greeted. "I was worried when you didn't arrive at our appointment."

"Yes, terribly sorry about that," he said, bowing his head. "I'm sure Scion Diggory and Auror Longbottom over there would be happy to explain just why they lured me here under false pretences."

Hydrus stood. "Captain Goyle, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope your son is still enjoying his new school. Diggory, Longbottom, I would suggest retirement. Potter, jump off a roof."

"Oi!"

"Department Head Scrimgeour or whatever I should call you, I'll have someone send you a gift for your new granddaughter," Hydrus continued. "Amelia, my favourite future step-mother, can you please do that for me? Professor Dumbledore." He gave a long sigh. "Let's go drink more of that awful tea of yours."

---

Regulus sat next to his boyfriend and was wearing a darker shade of black than normal, wishing the sun would give it a bloody rest. Octavius was shaking with genuine tears streaming down his cheeks. The bastards sitting around the couple were glaring at his man like it was his fault they were at this funeral.

Orlandus had been Octavius's favourite sibling, and the fact that he'd died was completely out of anyone's control. The poor thing had contracted cancer, but because he was the thirteenth of his siblings to die and Octavius, the youngest by far still remaining, was still remaining, it painted a dismal picture.

"It's alright," Regulus cooed. "It's alright, love."

"It's not fair," Octavius practically wailed back. "It's not fair! It should've been me, I—"

"Don't say that," Regulus hissed, wrapping his arm around the man and pulling him in tight. The part of him that was insane dared someone to say something. "Don't ever say that, my prince. It's alright."

It wasn't alright, none of this was alright, everything was going to pot. Sure Regulus had killed a few of Octavius's brothers, but it wasn't any of the ones he liked. The whole point of the 'assassinations', if such trivial acts of sabotage could be called that, was to put Orlandus on the throne. Octavius's older brother was a good man, a man that could win over the hold outs across the continent, and one who loved his younger brother nearly as much as Regulus himself did.

If he'd succeeded the throne, they could've lived like kings. They would have been free to hide out on some remote island off the coast of wherever they wanted for the rest of their lives. They could have escaped all the politics that came with being an African prince and British noble. They should have—

"Hey, kiddo."

Regulus looked up, and a cold wash of fear ran through his veins. His own brother, Sirius, was looking down at him with a commiserating frown. The man was wearing relatively fashionable robes, probably something Bones or Bella had picked out, and he didn't stand out any more than Regulus himself did. The only piece of his ensemble that was out of place was that garish sword Hydrus was apparently making him wear.

"What are you doing here?" Regulus snapped. "I didn't—"

"Just wanted to make sure you two were alright." Sirius knelt down in front of Octavius, and Regulus tensed. "You holding up?"

His boyfriend looked up as though only just now noticing Sirius's presence, nodded, then paused and shook his head instead.

"No."

"Yeah, I figured."

To Regulus's utter bafflement, Sirius leaned forward and jammed his arms between Octavius's. His brother lifted the much larger man up onto his feet and turned the gesture into a hug. Even more horrifying, Octavius returned the gesture ten-fold. His boyfriend wrapped Sirius up like he was trying to smother him and squeezed hard enough that the muscles were showing underneath his shirt.

"I loved him so much," Octavius sobbed. "He was, he was, he was—"

"He was your brother," Sirius interrupted. "I understand. I couldn't imagine losing mine."

Well that struck Regulus like a fucking knife. He grumbled out a breath as his brother continued to run his hand up and down Octavius's back. He wanted to be mad at his lover for being so accepting of his brother's consolations, but he knew better than anyone that Sirius's words were genuine. Say what you wanted about the newly crowned Black lord, he didn't put up a false front.

Some small part of him did appreciate that about his brother.

"There y'are," Sirius said. "It's gonna be alright. What are you two doing after this?"

Octavius gave a hard, bubbling sniff. "Nothing. Just gonna crash back at our place and relax."

"Good, take your time to recover," Sirius said. "And if you need anything in the meantime, you just let me know. I'll take care of it."

Regulus hated himself for how much that meant to him. He could probably ask his brother for anything short of a life and he'd give it up without a second thought. That was the worst part about dealing with a man like Sirius. There were no games to go digging through, no facades to try and see through; he just laid everything out before you for better or for worse. In cases like this where he wanted to hate his brother, that only made it all the harder to deal with his righteousness.

"Find out who did this," Octavius snarled. "Find out who killed my brother."

"No one killed him," Sirius chided. "He had cancer. We all know that."

"No!" Octavius roared. Now all eyes in the funeral were on him. "That's not—!"

"It is!" Sirius roared back, and Octavius cringed back. "This wasn't some political bullshit, and you can't write it off like that. It was genuine shittiness, and you need to accept that." Regulus's brother grabbed Octavius's face and pulled it down till their foreheads were touching and Sirius's storm-grey eyes were burrowing into the other man's. "Don't go looking for friends or enemies. This is just the way it is. You know that."

Octavius held firm for a moment, but it broke quickly. He fell apart and collapsed into Sirius's arms, and the former auror caught him like he'd been expecting it. A part of Regulus, a part he'd long since thought dead and buried, came alive when he watched his brother hold Octavius all the tighter. That was his brother.

"It's alright," Sirius said, running his hand up and down the other man's back. "It's alright, it's all alright."

"It's not!" Octavius shouted. His magic flared out like a wildebeest smashing through the crowd. "It's not alright!"

"It will be!" Sirius howled back, his own power flooding the space and crushing Octavius's, along with the rest of the crowd. "It will be! Just settle down, it'll all be alright."

Octavius's magic faded away and soon there was nothing but the overwhelming strength of cold, Black, death in the air. Sirius just kept holding on to Regulus's boyfriend, telling him it would be alright. The crowd, many of whom had been encroaching like they were going to say something, was falling back. Regulus's brother had scared them off. Reminded them of just what sort of demons Octavius had contracted with.

"I already miss him," Octavius whimpered. "I miss him so much."

"I know," Sirius harshly whispered. "I know. It'll be alright. Just know that we're here for you, we'll always be here for you."

Regulus nearly laughed. His nephew or his cousin Bella would've probably been grinning like maniacs with how well Sirius was playing his part. The man was as genuine an article of a hero as you could ask for, and that was because it was exactly what he was. He was the Black Sheep, father of the Black Saint, grandson of the war hero Arcturus Black.

"You're alright, you're alright," Sirius repeated for the thousandth time. "Come on. Don't let them think you're weak, now."

"Too late for that," Octavius said with a snort. "Been bawling like a baby since they brought me here."

"Still alright," Sirius said. "If anyone says anything, I'll gut 'em quick as silver. Promise."

Regulus winced as the crowd pulled even further away. No one here didn't recognize his brother, and no one thought it wise to tempt him into action. Sirius could probably slaughter the entire gathering in less than a minute, and there couldn't possibly be a fool stupid enough to try and test that theor—

"Oi!" a voice called. "Would you two shut up!"

A new coldness settled over the plains the funeral was taking place in. The gentle wind that had been comforting them from the sweltering heat faded away, but the power coursing through the space more than made up for it in terms of climate control. Sirius released Octavius and slowly turned towards the man who'd spoken.

"We all miss my brother," Octavius's eldest brother Ozimandius said. "That doesn't give you the right to—!"

Sirius had carved his wand up like he was splashing water at the African lord, and a miasmic energy went shooting towards him. Ozimandius's eyes widened and he put up a shield thicker than concrete to stop the magic from… From doing something to end his life. Regulus licked his lips as he watched the thorn in Octavius's side quiver in fear and slowly lower his shield.

"Y-, You!"

"Don't fucking interupt me, scum." Sirius said. He took one step towards the prince and everyone, the prince included, took a step back. "I'll rip your fucking heart out. Do I make myself clear?"

"That's—"

"Do I make myself clear?!"

Sirius's roar echoed and more than anyone Regulus cowered. He'd overheard Bella complaining once that an angry Sirius was nearly a mirror to their grandfather, but he'd always thought of his brother as a different kind of scary. There was more passion, more fire, to the Black lord's wroth.

"Y-, Yes!" Ozimandius squealed.

The other prince nearly tripped over his robes as he ran away, and slowly Regulus unfurled from around himself. His brother might've shown up like a ghost in the night, but now all eyes were on him. The entire crowd was watching him as he gave Octavius a once over.

"Sorry to be such a nuisance, Prince Octavius," Sirius said. "I just know how much your brother meant to you, and didn't want anyone to ruin this funeral for you."

"It's alright," Octavius said. His voice was still nasally and it was just a bit hard to take him seriously with how hard he'd been crying, but he was trying to sound formal. "I mean it, Sirius, thank you."

"Thank you," Sirius insisted. "For being a fixture in my brother's life. May our families continue to rise together."

It was like a match to gasoline. Whispers broke out in the crowd and rocketed through the throngs of people. Regulus wondered if his brother knew just how much weight his words held now that he was the head of House Black, and considering he didn't so much as twitch as the chorusing round of hisses grew, he truly considered it. It was more likely that his brother did understand what sort of weight his words carried, and willingly chose to spend it on supporting his boyfriend.

Maybe… Maybe things weren't so hopeless between the two of them.

"Don't say such things." Regulus could've strangled his boyfriend as the man straightened up and composed himself. "I wouldn't—"

"It's too late for that." Regulus's heart dropped as he recognized his cousin Bella's influence on Sirius. "You and Regulus are one. So long as that's the case, you shall always have House Black's full support and weight."

The whispers came to a stop. It didn't take a genius to figure out what those words meant. Those who already supported Octavius, whether because they did from the get go or because they were smart enough to understand his older brother had died of unplanned cancer, now knew that they had the muscle to back up any actions Octavius took. Those who hated him, whether because they had another prince to support or because he was a concubine's son, now knew what sort of devil was backing up his claim to the throne. The politics of the continent were changing with every syllable Sirius spoke, and Regulus suddenly wished he'd really disappeared after the Triwizard cup job like he'd planned to.

"I have no intention of letting your brother go," Octavius said. Now people weren't so much as twitching around them, you could've heard a pin drop in the sand. "And should he ever grow bored of me, I hope he'll do so with enough grace to remember me fondly."

Regulus's cheeks exploded in a fiery heat. "Don't say that!"

He slapped Octavius's arm hard enough to leave his palm stinging, and his heart fluttered when his boyfriend smiled back at him. Morganna, he loved that man.

"I'm just saying," Octavius proclaimed, obviously projecting for the audience, apparently crashing out and unconcerned with anyone's thoughts about their relationship. "I couldn't ask for a better partner to potentially share the throne with."

That certainly soured the mood. It had been quiet before, but now people were rumbling and getting to their feet. If you'd've asked most of them beforehand, they would have probably said that they didn't care about the rumours regarding Octavius's love life. He kept it private, as one 'should'.

It seemed things were changing.

There was a pop and he jumped. Standing beside Sirius now was Amelia Bones. She began whispering something, something angry, in his brother's ear. Sirius's manic excitement faded away. His eyes went cold. Regulus finally understood what Bella really meant when she said he reminded her of Arcturus.

"Reg," Sirius said. "You have the rest of the day. I expect to see you first thing tomorrow morning."

"What's going on?" Regulus asked, stepping in closer so as not to be overheard. "What—"

"Emergency family meeting," his brother interrupted. "Someone's a rat. Someone's going to die."

---

Death watched, invisible to all, as the ritual commenced. His followers were attempting to recreate an impossibility in magic caused by a conflux of divine powers that had never been seen before in this time. If the timing of the echo that should soon come was even the slightest bit off, or if his flighty older 'sibling' wasn't properly distracted by Magic, they would be at a severe disadvantage.

Fate might not claim to be a part of the game, but she definitely was, and so they had to play around her.

His devotees were in a tomb that had once served as the seat of power for an Aztec proto-litch. Even beyond the fact that the deity was here himself, the place was as filled with his power as possible. The stone walls were chiselled with countless depictions of human sacrifice, the massive double-wide sarcophagus that the sorcerer had been entombed and trapped in was serving as the central stage for the ritual, and every one of his servants were undead. Atop the sarcophagus was a dragon-bone brazier filled with mortuary oil burning a noxious green flame, and above that was a cauldron made of troll-blood infused steel. There were countless human bones lined up along the walls, all stolen from powerful and ferocious wizards and witches, except for one set that had been picked up in the grave robbing frenzy without any extra notice in the sea of desecration.

His servants did not need rest or nourishment to survive, so even despite the fact that they had been down here for nearly a month, they did not move except for when new bones were brought in to continue to build up the natural flow of his divinity. As much as they needed Fate's echo to reinforce this ritual, it was important that his own well of power was the strongest force influencing it.

There was a deafening grinding of stone as the door to the tomb was opened, and he felt one of his servants glide into the room. It was a drekavac, and it carried the corpse of a child in its gangly, half-rotted arms. Death's displeasure poured out of him for a moment, but as he looked into the child's soul through its forlorn connection to the body, he was appeased.

The human had been the son of a Slavic witch nearly four-hundred years ago, and if it weren't for the fact that he'd been murdered by his mother for becoming a threat to her throne, he would've gone on to become a legend as reviled as Death's favourite pet. Even though he hadn't lived up to his full potential, the hundreds the child had killed still made him worthy of becoming part of this ritual.

Soon the working would begin. Each of the echoes in Fate's largest working and fluctuation had been more distant than the last, and he doubted there'd be another one for decades to come if he missed this opportunity. His chosen would still be powerful then, but not enough to threaten the upstart human who'd been stupid enough to declare war on him. No, there was only one way to revivify a being strong enough to crush the ingrate under his heel.

Death breathed out a long, chilling gale into the still room, a sign to his followers to prepare.

His revenge would soon be upon the world.

---

Some years ago

Gregory Herschel's world was falling apart.

"Rot!" Arcturus roared. "Rot you fucking bastards!"

People were dying everywhere he looked, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He was going to die. Agatha was going to die. Everyone was going to die. Even Arcturus Black, the second scariest man he'd ever met behind Grindelwald himself, was on death's door as he roared in pain and a hole the size of his fist was punched through his chest. The Black lord just launched another spell though, far braver than Gregory himself could be.

"Oooohhh…." he whined. "What do I do, what do I do?!"

There was a momentary lull in the battle as someone cast some sound charm that sounded like a bomb going off. Everyone had been stunned, so it hadn't helped either side. The first thing he heard after the sound faded was General Black, still roaring, this time ordering for someone to run and retrieve Dumbledore.

It might've been a smart thing to do if there was even the slightest chance the man would actually step up and do something. His former trainer wouldn't though. The warlock was too much of a 'pacifist', too much of a head-burying ostrich to come until it was too late. That thought depressed Gregory's hopes even further. Maybe… Maybe this massacre would finally inspire the man to do something.

"God, please help me, god," he whispered. "I'll do anything."

"And that's my queue!"

Gregory jumped, nearly soiling himself in shock. His head snapped to the side as a woman stepped up from behind him, and he watched her with a slack jaw. She was a rather unique looking woman, with two great big 'balls' of hair on either side of her head. He'd seen black people with hair texture like that before, but never on someone as pale as her, and certainly never worn in such a style. As he tried to figure out where she could possibly have come from, she changed.

'She' became a 'he'. He grew a few inches shorter. The hair style faded into a neatly slicked-back cut that gave a professional look to the otherwise savage looking figure with a beard as bushy as steel wool and a smile that was missing more teeth than it had remaining. Even their clothes changed to become something more like a muggle tuxedo than any wizarding regalia.

"What the…" Gregory started. He glanced over to see if Agatha was seeing this, but there was an even larger oddity there. "Aggy?!"

She was frozen in place. Her eyes were half-lidded like she was in the middle of blinking, and as Gregory's head snapped back and forth, he realised she wasn't the only one. Everything was stopped, even the spells that had been shooting like arrows through the air were hovering in place. It was like time itself had ground to a halt.

"I wouldn't say it ground to a halt," the newcomer said. "It was much more graceful than that."

Gregory slowly turned to look at the being, no longer sure it was even human, and a whole new flavour of fear began to bubble in his stomach.

"What did you do?" he whispered. "What is this?"

The strange man's head cocked to the side, too far to the side, like an owl, and he gave a very purposeful looking frown. "You… Just said what I did? I stopped time."

"H-, how?" Gregory stammered. "Why?"

"You asked me to, silly!" The man's head snapped back straight, and now he was giving a smile. "You asked for a god to help you, and since I'm your god, I'm here to help!"

Had he gone insane? Was he dead, and this was the nonsensical purgatory he'd been sentenced to for living such a mediocre life?

"Nope, and nope," the… the god said. "This is all very real, and you haven't gone insane. In fact, you're a lot more sane than you were… Oh, I don't know, forty or fifty years ago?"

He shook his head. "I've only just turned forty, what on earth are you speaking about?"

"Your body is only forty, but your soul is nearly twice that age," the god said. "You and 'Aggy' wanted a clean slate, so we gave my sister all your old memories, remember? Wait, no, of course you don't. That wouldn't make sense."

The god suddenly seemed to exude the feeling of amusement. Gregory wasn't sure how that was possible, but the being definitely was. Then it vanished.

"Oops, I mean:" The god gave a mechanical chuckle that made him cringe. "Drat. I'm so bad at laughter…"

Gregory's eyes darted back and forth across the stilled battle field, continuing to wonder if he had gone insane.

"If… If this is real…" he started. "How long will it last?"

"As long as you need it to." The god reached up and ruffled Gregory's hair. "You're my chosen, after all."

"Chosen for what?" he asked. "What do you expect of me?"

"Not much, really," the god said. "But all my siblings pick chosen to do their bidding, so I wanted one too. You were always such a treat to watch, and unlike my favourite performer, you were much more amenable. If I did ever need something, you'd probably do it for me."

"Like what, though?" he demanded, his fear continuing to boil up inside him. "I'm not capable of—"

"Relax." His fear faded. His confusion faded. He… He was at peace. "You're alright, 'Gregory'. Now that we've reconnected, you'll be alright."

With his anxiety gone, he was better able to prioritise what to do. He looked around. "I should… I should get started with this, shouldn't I?"

There was an entire battlefield for him to tend to, and nothing ot hurt him while he did so. He could completely turn the tide of this battle. He had to turn the tide. There was no way he would make it out alive otherwise. This was his one opportunity to save the entire world. THe world as he knew it, anyways.

The god opened his mouth, but froze. For a brief moment the deity was the one feeling anxious, once more his emotions were palpable rather observable, but it vanished away quickly.

"Yes, go ahead." The god smiled. "It'll be a bit of a mess, but I can handle the echoes."

Gregory thought he should probably be concerned about that, but he was still feeling relaxed. He put it from his mind and got to work. The god might've said that this would last as long as possible, but who knew if that was true or not.

He started by casting counter spells or simple shields in front of all the attacks that were frozen in place. From there he began to cross into the enemy's formations to disarm and bind each of the wizards and witches. Faces that he'd memorised as larger threats than others to the French-British army were everywhere, and as nearly an hour passed with no end in sight, it was occurring to him what had happened.

This wasn't some small-scale raid to keep up the facade of Grindelwald's forces' size. It was the entirety of the dark lord's army, all gathered in one place for a massive assault on their holding. Britain technically still had some reserves back home, composed mostly of trainees and ancient sergeants, but the rest of their forces had all been gathered together in order to fend off a direct attack like this. They'd thought Grindelwald wouldn't dare risk bringing the whole of his forces down on them because of the Americans and Spaniards who'd been waiting for their turn. It seemed he'd been one step ahead of them though, had expected the plans General Black had only just drawn up, and the manoeuvre became the most viable way of making sure he had enough of an army left to fight off their allies.

Before too long Gregory was panting. It was mid-autumn, but he'd been trudging around the camp-turned-battlefield for an hour and he didn't have nearly enough magic for all the spells he'd been trying to cast. Add on the physical labour of actually tying up and gathering together the enemy forces, and he was just about to keel over.

"Take a break." He jumped, and turned to see a stranger had joined him. It was an old asian woman, doubled over and leaning on a wooden cane. "Like I said, you have all the time you could ever ask for with me around."

"You…" he started. "You changed again."

"Mm, I don't like to stay in any one form too long," the god…dess? Said. "If I do, too much of their personality will settle into me, and that's not what I want. I want to be my own being, thank you very much."

She nodded to herself, and Gregory just shook his head. "What should I even call you?"

"Any number of names have been attributed to me, but I prefer to go by Fate," she said. "You didn't think your divination skills came from nowhere, did you?"

"That… Actually makes a lot of sense." Gregory gave a loud sigh. "I always thought it was weird that I had so much talent in anything. I'm complete hogwash at everything else."

Fate. Divination. He still wasn't sure why he was 'chosen' or whatever, but he definitely had a talent for divination. At any moment he could divine up what they'd be having for lunch back at Hogwarts. He also used it to win a few bets, though no one ever paid up since they'd forgotten they'd made the wagers in the first place. He still did it anyway. He liked the game.

Fate wheezed out a laugh that sounded much more natural than her last attempt. "You humans truly are a marvel. The insecurities you've dealt with throughout your life have always been there, but where once they bred a boisterousness and exuberance unmatched, now there lies undeserved self-loathing. What little riddles you all are…"

Gregory wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd never been 'boisterous' or 'exuberant', and he couldn't imagine it either. Perhaps the goddess had mixed him up with some other guy, and she was the one who had forgotten.

"Oh no, it's definitely you who has forgotten." Fate shook her head. "I could always ask my sister to give your memories back, if you'd like? All my siblings know better than to worry about tabs with me."

"I…" His previous emotions were slowly coming back to him, whatever the deity had done was fading, so he decided to just latch onto the one thing he'd made a decision on since then and just trust in it. "No, thank you, I should just finish this."

Gregory got back to work, taking it more slowly now. He was still barely half-way done by the time he was actually too exhausted to move. The sun was still high in the air despite the hours that had passed, but his body was acting like it was the middle of the night. He sat down on the ground and groaned.

"Good, you're finally taking a proper break." He looked over to see Fate had joined him, except now she was in the form of a man he could only assume was half-giant. He had dark skin and her-, his-, whatever, their voice was as deep as the ocean. "Like I said, 'Gregory', take all the time you need."

He just closed his eyes and nodded. "I'm just gonna rest my eyes for a while. You promise this won't just… Fall apart?"

"Of course, I swear it." He couldn't see, but the goddess had probably changed once more since the voice now was sweet and gentle. "Rest, my chosen."

---

Chapter 65, still alive. Shits going on in my personal life that I ain't told no one, from my sister to my best friend to my mother to etcetera. Longest chapter I ever written, over 20.6 thousand words. Been reading reviews as they trickled in. Wasn't sure if I should upload without 66 fully written. Don't give a shit. Drunk as fuck. Always drunk.

That's not true. I don't drink as many days as I don't these days. Get drunk easier now, and it's left me too hungover as of late and that's why I don't drink as much. Only my homie Joao knows the specificities of this fic so Idgaf. Joao's great. Love Joao. Enjoy this chapter, or don't, Idgaf. That's not true. I do gaf. That's why it took so long to publish.

I literally deleted a whole 6k word section of the chapter and rewrote something to takes it place. The mall scene changed. It went from Hydrus meeting what he thought to be a muggleborn witch, but she wasn't actually a witch, to what we got. He was going to meet a girl who was around Giannis's age and so he introduced her to Stefanos who rejected her. She was Vernon Dursley's daughter. He wanted to just get rid of her, but she was desperate to be special, so he took her to Fenrir to be turned into a werewolf and Fate was going to get involved. I realised her story and the effect it had on Hydrus could just as easily be told by the Lestrange girl, and the ending line that inspired the whole plot thread could be given to a scene for Gregory next chapter, so I cut it. To bring the chapter back up to an over the top length I came up with the scene that brought up the financial repercussions of Hydrus's house elf maneuvers and also made politics more the front and center.

Fuck I ramble.

Anyways, here's a chapter, fuck my life's a mess, love you all, now and always.