Agatha sat on top of the steps leading up into her townhouse, and continued to work her way through the bag of glass and ceramic shards that Minny had given her. She was sorting the broken pieces into small piles that she hoped accurately reflected their original, not-broken selves. It would make the transfigurations she was about to do easier. Her friend had brought her the pieces from the brewery; broken flasks and casks and everything else fragile that, even with magic, couldn't be trusted after a mending charm to stand up to the harsh conditions and requirements of warfare supplies.

It had taken a lot of begging and reminders of past favours, but eventually the woman agreed to sneak them out so Agatha could fix them herself. Even if the containers weren't good enough for official potions work anymore, that didn't mean there weren't plenty of mothers out there who could use the extra storage containers. Her own fancy, expensive china sets had all been sold a while back to help out her friends and neighbours wherever she could, Howard be damned.

As the piles continued to grow and as she continued to hum her lonely song, Agatha kept an eye on Adeline's boy. Her old schoolmate had died on the front lines, and her parents had moved into her old home to try and give the boy back some normality after he'd initially moved in with them following her draft. He was sitting on the steps leading up to his own door not too far away, carefully drawing in the dirt with a stick.

She was worried about him. Agatha's own mother had died in childbirth, and she and her father had never been close because of it, so she had no idea what he was going through. It hadn't been a particularly long grieving period for her when her father's wergild was passed along to her by Hepzibah. He'd died as a senior officer, and the forty galleons that left her with had been spent within a week on various things the few remaining people in her neighbourhood needed.

Her neighbourhood was practically a ghost town these days. Nothing but the widows and children, the old and infirm. At first she'd been grateful that somehow, some way she'd not gotten any notice in the mail, but when the last flock of draft owls came through and cleaned out the remaining women, it had done nothing but leave her as the target of everyone else's scrutiny.

To make up for it, and because it broke her heart to see boys like Adeline's suffering, she'd been doing everything she could to help. Whether it was making food for those who couldn't, laundering, or fixing up bottles for people to keep water and milk in, she'd done it with a smile and a promise that the war would be over soon.

Even now when the war was raging harder than ever, even now that the daily update had gotten cagier and become the 'weekly' update, even as she stopped believing it herself, she kept telling them that.

The war would be over soon.

She had to say it.

If she didn't believe, if the least burdened and most blessed citizen in all of magical London didn't believe, then what hope could all the others have left?

A loud buzzing sound caught her attention, and Agatha looked up into the sky. For a moment she thought it was a V of low-flying birds, but when she realised how far ahead from the buzzing the things were, she realised they must have been very large and very far away. What on earth were they? The muggle flying machines never flew so close together, and they were never this loud. What was it that was falling from beneath them?

One of the oblong objects landed just pas the next row of townhouses, so fast her eyes couldn't keep track, and the explosion sent her flying. She did a complete flip, with her lower back slamming into her front door and doing very little to soften her head's blow which followed soon after. The world went white and then settled into a foggy, spinning blur as she landed with a thump. Agatha got to her feet but collapsed over her hand rail, legs wobbling.

Where was Adeline's boy? Was he alright?

She tried half-trudging and half-sliding down her stairs, but the last two were missing and she collapsed onto the cobblestones. Without even considering the impropriety, she became sick all over them. Her ears were ringing. What had happened? What were those things? Where was Adeline's boy?!

"Agatha!" Suddenly she was lifted up onto her feet. "Forgive the rudeness, ma'am, but you need to come with me!"

"No!" Agatha screamed. "No, Adeline's boy, he was, he was right—"

"He's dead, everyone's dead, come on!"

She couldn't stop the strange man from half-carrying, half-dragging her away. They didn't go far, just into… Into the other side of her own townhome. She'd never met her neighbours. She'd not thought she had neighbours there. In truth, Agatha suspected Howard had planned to keep a mistress in the connected home, but he'd been sent off to war before he could either rent it out or find one. She and a few of the other tough ladies left behind, like Doris and her one leg, had tried breaking the door down so they could put someone up, but it had been impossible.

"Come on," the man said. "We gotta get to the basement."

"Who… Where…"

Her vision was finally becoming clearer, and she realised the man was wearing a type of Ministry robes she'd never seen before. They were a dull, mottled shade of grey that almost made them look like they were covered in stains, but it all flowed together into a perfectly rolling colour that she found very hard to describe. Still doing all the hard-work of moving her forward, the stranger lifted her off the ground entirely and began carrying her down the stairs.

She hadn't even known they'd had a basement.

When they got to the bottom of the stairwell, he sat her back down on her feet, and gave her once over. "Are you alright?"

"Adeline's boy…" Agatha said. "I need to go get him."

"He's dead, ma'am," the stranger gently repeated. "I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure if it was her eternal optimism, or a freshly-birthed nihilism, that brought on the thought, 'He's with his parents now. Addy will take care of him.'

"Ma'am, we'll take care of your arm once we're done, but I need to know if you're hurt anywhere else," the man said. "Where all are you—"

"My arm…?"

Agatha glanced down and saw that she indeed had a wound on her arm. One of the jagged pieces of glass she'd been sorting was rammed right through the limb, halfway between her wrist and elbow. Just a little tip of it was sticking out the back side. It was like she was staring at someone else's arm though, because she hardly even felt it.

"When did that happen?" she wondered. "What happened? Where are we?"

"Merlin's…" The man sighed. "Come on, ma'am, this is going to be a little rough."

"What is? Where are we go—, oof!"

The man had gently pushed her down onto her bottom in front of an odd looking fireplace, then scooted up behind her. She turned to slap at him for the improperness, but gasped when a shock of pain hit her. The wound on her arm. How had she forgotten about…

"Sorry, ma'am," the man apologised. "We need to go."

Before she could respond, they were sliding forward. Just like the brick wall hiding Platform 9 ¾, the back of the fireplace didn't stop them, and the next thing she knew they were rushing forward down even deeper into the earth. Agatha screamed as the momentum picked up, and tried not to squirm and cringe at having a man touch her like this. A light began to grow at the end of the tunnel, but before she could worry about the impact, they gently slowed until they were stopped with just her legs protruding out into the light.

"Would you like assistance, ma'am?"

"No!" she snapped. "I mean, no, sir, thank you though."

She hated being touched.

With only a few more stabs of pain from her arm, she managed to wiggle out of the tube slide and found herself staring at two nervous looking men in robes that matched the stranger's. They were now in a plain, concrete room who's only features were the slide she just slid out of, and a metallic door that the two new men were standing guard in front of.

There was a polite throat clearing behind her, and she squeaked and stepped out of her mysterious escort's way. The man straightened up, brushing off his robes and offering her an apologetic nod, before turning to the other two… Whoever-they-weres.

"Black. White." Both men looked rather white to Agatha… "The muggles did it. I've got Penelope."

"I'm not—"

"Codenames, ma'am."

"Codenames…?" The two men standing on either side of the door nodded and the one on the right began rapping his knuckles against it in a peculiar rhythm. "Why do I have a codename? Who are you people?"

"I don't ask questions, ma'am. Come along." The door opened and once more she was forced to cringe as he took her uninjured arm and began guiding her deeper into wherever the heck they— "This is the Department of Mysteries. You are a priority negative one protection target. The only people in the entire country with more security around them are those who can have guards out in the open."

"What?" she demanded as they continued heading down a square, concrete tunnel. They passed by countless doors with strange labels on them like 'Room of Delirium', 'Hall of Voodoo', or 'The Creep Pit'. "Why? I have no business with…"

The Department of Mysteries. The department that she'd gotten that wergild from. The department that… That her Greggy might've been a part of and died in.

Before Agatha could question the man about that, she was gently pulled into an office. It was rather bare, just a desk and a trio of chairs sitting around it. A stern-looking, grey-haired woman sat behind it and when she glanced up at them, it revealed one brown eye and one that was a milky-white.

"Pusher." The woman stood. "This is?"

"Penelope, ma'am." Pusher, it must've been his codename, said. "Her neighbourhood was struck in the bombings just now and you had said to—"

"I remember what I said!" The woman barked. "Get back out there and do whatever you can, kill anyone who won't listen to reason."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Kill…" Agatha shook her head in shock, sending a stab of pain through her mind. "Madam, I don't know who you—"

"And send a mediwitch!" The woman settled back down in her chair and looked Agatha up and down. "Take a seat." Agatha did so, tenderly and wincing. "Who are you?"

"I am Agatha Crabbe!" Agatha said, sitting up tall despite the fact that more and more of her whole body was beginning to ache. "Who the bloody…" She hated swearing. "Who are you?"

"I'm Elizabeth Crouch," the woman grabbed a pipe from a drawer in her desk and popped it between her teeth, lighting it with her wand and a muttered word. A few charcoal-black rings floated from its end. "Head of the Department of Mysteries, and right now you're just about the biggest mystery I got."

"I have absolutely no idea what on earth you mean," Agatha said, starting to feel tired. "One moment I'm sitting on my stoop, the next I'm, I'm…"

"You're disoriented and injured, it'll pass," Elizabeth said. "While we wait for the mediwitch to get here, you need to tell me. Who are you?"

"I just said—"

"Why do you have a priority negative one security detail?"

"I don't know!" Agatha gasped as her outburst shifted something in the glass, and she whimpered. "I don't know. I hadn't even heard of this place until you sent me that wergild—"

"Whose wergild?" Elizabeth demanded, clearly uninterested in her pain. "How much was it?"

"I… I don't know. It said redacted." She did know. It had to be him. There was no one else. "It was ten galleons."

"You do know, I can tell you're lying." The stern woman stood once more and Agatha froze as she stepped around the desk and closed the distance between them. Thankfully, Elizabeth just knelt down in front of her so that her head was lower than Agatha's bowed over face. "Agatha, please. Whoever it is, they're still alive."

"What?!" Her eyes shot open and her jaw was no different. "How do you—"

"The DoM doesn't give out wergilds in even amounts, always prime numbers," Elizabeth said, a new gentility to her voice that hadn't been there before. "Tell me, whose wergild was it?"

"I… It said… It said redacted," Agatha started. "But… But I think it belonged to… To Gregory Herschel."

"Did he go by any other names?" the woman pressed. "A nickname, or a middle name, or—"

"I called him Greggy?" she offered. "I don't know, no one ever remembered his name. Please, is Gregory alive?"

Elizabeth made to respond, but the door opened, and a woman stepped in and practically doubled the smell of tobacco already in the room with the grungy looking fag in her mouth. She had a large purse slung over one arm, and she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and put it out against her palm before tossing it to the side.

"What do ya want, Crouch?" the surly stranger said. "Somebody better be… Oh. Right, fair enough."

"Uh, hello," Agatha said as the brutish looking woman squatted down beside her, meaning there were now two people practically kneeling before her. "Sorry to bother— Fuck!"

She hoped her mother hadn't been looking down on her when she swore, but she really hadn't expected the mediwitch to yank the glass right out. Before she could say anything and before too much blood came gushing out, the woman had cast a few spells and sealed the wound up. From her massive satchel she drew two elixirs, both of which she practically shoved into Agatha's mouth and forced her to drink.

"Anything else?" the mediwitch demanded. "Don't come haunting me if you didn't tell me about something else."

"I…" Agatha shook her head, still foggy and trying to think straight. "I don't know. Everything hurts."

The woman cast another spell, and all the pain inside of her faded away.

"How about now?" she asked. "Anything feel awkward? You wet anywhere? And I don't mean in a fun way."

Agatha's nose wrinkled. "Madam!"

"I ain't no madam, you bleeding or not?"

"I… No." She shook her head, still a touch stunned. "I don't think so."

"Good." The mediwitch straightened up, pulled another cigarette from somewhere on her person, and began to leave. "See ya 'round, Crouch."

The door slammed shut behind her and the head of the DoM sighed. "My apologies, Mrs. Crabbe. I promise though, she is the absolute best in the entire world at what she does. The last of a dying breed of mediwitches."

Agatha glanced down at her arm. There wasn't any sort of mark left behind despite the previous gore, so she could probably forgive some rudeness.

"I understand," she said. "What has happened to Gregory? Why would you send a wergild if he hasn't died?"

Elizabeth sighed and stood, looking down at her with the pity that Agatha herself was normally giving out. She didn't even have it within her to protest it. She just wanted answers.

"We send out even-numbered wergilds to cover for agents we only want records to believe are dead," the department head said as she returned to her seat. "Whoever this Gregory Herschel is, he's on an undercover mission."

"What?" Agatha shook her head. "That's impossible. My Greggy isn't a man for 'missions' and… and spywork." That was all she could assume this was. "He has a decent wand, but the only thing he was particularly good at was divination."

Elizabeth began to drum her fingers along the desk, and Agatha could almost imagine the coal plumes puffing out of her ears as she thought. Plumes… Smoke… A flash of imagery passed across her mind from the explosions, of all of Gossamer Street destroyed but her own home. Of… Of Adeline's boy...

"You said people never remembered his name?"

"Yes." Agatha wasn't even thinking anymore. Just mechanically answering. "Everyone from our teachers to the other students forgot about him. Even the orphanage he grew up in, everyone there forgot him too. I was…" She blinked away some moisture in her eyes. "I was the only one who ever remembered him."

"Incredible," Elizabeth breathed. "I… I vaguely recall Albus mentioning such a student to me. Of course, there's no way I would've let him go to the front lines. But what the hell did I have him do…"

Gregory was alive. But everyone else she loved was dead. Everyone besides Hepzibah, and that was more of a familial duty than genuine. And Howard, the bastard she was supposed to love, was still alive too. She'd actually read his name in one of the updates recently, he'd been on the list of senior officer promotions.

The only reason she bothered to remember that was it meant his wergild had gone up.

"Tell me," Elizabeth said. "Besides divination, did…" The woman shook her head, obviously nearly-forgetting his name already. "Did Gregory excel—"

A sudden shaking of the earth knocked them both from their chairs. Panic set in as she recalled the object that had… That had killed and destroyed everything. More images returned to Agatha of her destroyed neighbourhood. It hadn't just been her blood. She'd been watching Adeline's son. She had seen him, seen him—

"Protego!"

The shout disturbed Agatha from her hysteria, and she looked up to see boulders sliding off the top of a magical shield. Elizabeth had gotten up to her feet and was holding her wand up.

"Take hold of me!" the woman demanded. "I have a portkey!"

Moving more on instinct than anything else, she grabbed hold of the woman's ankle, and with a pop they vanished away. They were… Agatha didn't know where they were. With shaking, jello-like legs, she got up to her feet and looked around. It looked like they were in front of some sort of mansion, surrounded by tall fields of grass.

"We'll be safe here," Elizabeth said. "Pusher is never going to let me hear the end of this. Should've listened to him about my office's wardings..."

Agatha pulled her robes tight. "Where are we?"

"It's my family home." The stern woman clamped her hand down on Agatha's shoulder and began to pull her forward. "Come on. I… We, have work to do."


"Expelliarmus!" Draco's wand went snapping into Hydrus's hand. "Stupefy!" Blaise dropped as Hydrus flicked his wrist to deflect the teen's last attack. "Protego!" He pulled back his elbow as soon as he heard Tamina's spell bounce off of the shield, then smashed it with a silent and overpowered limb-locker that paralyzed his future 'wife'. "Per—!"

He stopped. That was the last of them. Hydrus lowered his wand and nodded at the pack of fourth through sixth years who'd accepted his 'test' for House Slytherin. There had to be at least three-dozen students all collapsed or disarmed just standing around him, and his mental clock told him it had taken nearly two whole minutes to win the 'battle'.

"Well done!" He called. "If you're up, get your wands and help the ones who aren't. If you're down and conscious, you'll be up soon, and you'll join them. If you're down and unconscious, don't tell those who aren't, but you're my real favourites."

A grumbling round of chuckles was all his joke earned him. The other Slytherins were growing more and more tired or angry depending on how their failures landed on the confusing scale of teenage pride. This was their third round of 'sparring' against him, nearly fifty against one, and they'd yet to land a scratch against him. He began to pace back and forth as more of his students rose.

"I'm extremely pleased to see none of you are rusty," he called. "You haven't been slacking this summer."

He hadn't the faintest idea if that was true or not, but if anyone had been slacking, their shortcomings weren't enough to mark them easier targets by now. His pacing continued until they were all on their feet and watching him.

"Tomorrow the Study Club will begin in earnest," he said. "We'll be doing almost this same game, all against one."

This was a two part scheme, and based on the hungry looks he was getting, the first part was working phenomenally. These kids wanted to win. They needed to win. That meant all sorts of norms could be broken down.

"That being said, you're the luckiest so-and-so's imaginable, because there isn't one of you that didn't have the opportunity to practise this summer. Do you think the muggle-borns were able to keep up while you were away?" He hated talking like this, but it wasn't inaccurate, and it was what an audience like this liked to hear. "You very well might get dragged down tomorrow by them, but I'm giving you this opportunity to gamble."

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked. Hydrus frowned. He'd told Draco to ask this question, and he'd said it in private. "Why couldn't they practise?"

"Because they don't have enough magical people around them to fool the Trace," he answered, still following the script. "Tomorrow I expect each and every one of you to surpass any muggle-borns in the other houses, and if you don't, then I certainly better not hear about you being dismissive of them. That includes!" he emphasised. "My adopted sister, Hermione Granger, of the Slytherin family. I won't punish incompetence, but I certainly will destroy anyone who thinks themselves above those they've failed beside. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes!"

He nodded at the chorused response. The two parts of the plan were simple. Humble the prideful and cocky Slytherins, and also get them to quit being dicks to muggle-borns.

Tonight had been the beginning of the first part. His gaze still hungrily swept across their swollen and sullen faces, practically begging one of them to ask for another round like Blaise had after the first. He'd reminded them of just how massive the gap between them was, just how much room they had to grow, just how weak they still were. He'd also left them wanting for more numbers.

That was what would lead them into the next point. If they wanted to succeed tomorrow, that meant they'd need to rely on the other houses, none of whom would take kindly to the discrimination. Well, a lot of Ravenclaw wouldn't care about the theory behind it, but they got along well enough with the so-called 'lessers' that it would cause too much disruption to single any of them out. Hydrus knew too that Hermione would do well for herself, and since she was his sister, that would force an unbreakable rod right through the blood-purity theory in most of the teens' hearts.

Hopefully, anyways.

It was so much more difficult to puppeteer the hearts of people when there wasn't the or-else of a genocidal dark lord hanging over their head.

"Alright, get to bed," he said. "Daphne, Draco, escort 'em back so the teachers don't get a bug up their ass."

He moved over towards one of the dummy-lanes set up along a wall of the study hall, and once the students were gone, began to work out properly. The spells he cast were much more lethal now, and his pacing resumed as he walked up and down the row of dummies, destroying one, skipping one, then destroying one. On his return path, he would repair one, destroy one, repair one. On and on the pattern repeated.

The lesson the portrait of Dumbledore had taught him hadn't faded. Hydrus had to refine his new found visualisation until he could accurately cast each and every spell he had. The biggest differences came out in the small spells, things like a simple 'Alohomora' or 'Wingardium Leviosa', so he was starting out with the big spells. The ones who couldn't be overpowered with his troll-like grace in regards to measuring out the amount of magic needed for them. He paused to take a breath when he got to an end for what felt like the thirtieth time, and someone cleared their throat behind him.

"Draco." He couldn't believe he somehow recognized the kid's coughs now. "What's up?"

"Just… Just wanted to hang out," the Malfoy heir said. "See how things were going with the thestrals."

Hydrus turned and cocked an eyebrow. Draco was pale, paler than normal anyways, and had his hands folded behind his back like… Like how Hydrus sometimes did. He really was a bad influence on him.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a… Well, maybe not a ghost, but certainly something scary."

"I did see something scary: you." Draco shook his head. "You are scary. You do realise that, don't you?"

Hydrus spared a glance at the various destroyed, demolished, and disintegrated dummies he'd left behind.

He snorted. "Just be glad you're on my side, then."

"You don't expect us to win tomorrow, do you?" the blonde asked. "Why are we even bothering?"

He almost said 'Don't worry about it'. Nearly put the thought of danger far, far away from Draco's mind. But… But maybe that wasn't right. Technically, as of now, the kid was his relative, and he was supposed to be all about family these days. He was supposed to be protecting them from Death.

"If I asked you to," Hydrus asked. "Would you swear a wizard's oath to secrecy?"

"Yes." A roar of proud flames rose up in Hydrus's chest at the immediacy of the answer. Now that was a soldier. "Just… Never done one before, so you'll have to tell me what to say."

Hydrus faced the dummies when his arm began to sting, and as he contemplated whether or not to say anything, swung his wand with violence in mind.

It was similar to getting tested for wand compatibility. 'Just give it a flick!' Ollivander would say with a gleeful wink. Kids would swing the wand through the air, all-but-subconsciously willing their magic out, and random workings would happen. This time he did it with destruction as the lone subject of his mind's eye. Unlike when he was Harry Potter, when doing such things would summon up a storm of wind that could topple forests; a putrid, sludge-like magic poured out of his wand and dissolved everything it covered.

"What do you want, Draco?" he reiterated. "Really? Why are you bugging me?"

His arm was beginning to ache more and more.

"I swear a wizard's oath to keep whatever craziness Hydrus says to myself," Draco said. "Quit dodging questions. What's going on?"

Hydrus sighed, defeated. "Come on. I'll swear you into loyalty."

Despite all they'd been through, he still couldn't trust the teen. Not implicitly. He had to know his former enemy was loyal. Once Draco had sworn himself to secrecy, following along with all the privacy requirements Hydrus demanded, the time traveller began to explain.

"I'm not who I say I am. Won't say more. Sirius is still my dad, Bellatrix still my love, but there's more to it than that." He wasn't about to go telling everyone everything. Fate was the last person he wanted to annoy by making her clean up whatever messes doing that caused. "And, beyond that, there's a lot going on. A lot between me and… me and you. You're in danger."

Draco tensed. "Why me?"

"Cus you're family, and not just that, I actually like you." Hydrus shook his head. "You might be on the chopping block."

He began to explain that, for some reason or another, he'd gotten into a feud with Death himself. He told Draco about how Sirius had made a deal with the deity. A deal that had left the god feeling short changed. He talked about how he'd already crushed Herpo the Foul into a thin paste. He talked about how he wasn't at all worried for his own safety but that people like Draco were very much in danger because of what he'd done.

"So…" Draco started. "You're fighting against a god."

"Maybe," Hydrus answered. "That's the best case scenario."

Magic hadn't responded to any of his tentative prayers, but she hadn't before they'd fallen out either. From what he'd heard from the centaurs originally, she rarely spoke in much besides portents like the shifting of stars. The handful of interactions they'd had was unheard of in terms of facetime with the deity, or any deity really. Hopefully whoever she picked out to be her next chosen would be amenable negotiations that weren't quite as murderous as Death's chosen's had been.

"And now you're, what, training us?" Draco asked. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Defend yourselves, and each other." Hydrus answered. "I alone am enough to carry our offence, I could just use some help taking the defence off my mind."

"Speaking of offence and defence," the blonde said, shaking his head. "Guess I should be glad I'm quitting quidditch this year."

"You are? That's too bad." He turned and frowned at the still bubbling pile of ooze he'd left behind with his unconscious attack. "I learned my god-brother didn't put much work into his own duelling skills this summer, and instead focused on the sport. I was hoping to use it to keep you humble."

How the hell was he gonna clean up this mess. Draco had begun a diatribe about what he'd been practising over the summer, how he'd improved, what he'd learned, but Hydrus's thoughts were back on Death. The god could pull… Hydrus didn't even know, Merlin? Out of his ass and sick him on anyone in the Black family to take his revenge. Hydrus could hold off anyone he threw at him directly, but unless he wanted to somehow nurse and raise another dozen or so Apophis's, he couldn't possibly protect the rest of the House.

What the hell was going on with his familiar, anyways. The basilisk was around less and less these days, and whenever Hydrus asked where he'd been, Apophis gave some cryptic quote about armies and conquests. The only thing that kept him from being too paranoid about what sort of demented nonsense the reptile was getting up to was Francis. The hydrus had assured him he wouldn't let the younger snake get up to anything nonsensical, or at least, not without Hydrus getting an advanced warning.

Perhaps he could—

"What do you think?" Draco asked.

"Your skills are above and beyond where your peers' are," Hydrus answered. "But you need to make a choice. Are you a leader, or a shadow?"

Blonde eyebrows furrowed into wrinkles. "Pardon?"

"You wait to attack until others have my attention," he said. "You only ever protect yourself, and the way you manoeuvre in battle does nothing to support anyone besides yourself."

It was how Fleur and Snape fought, and it was something battles needed. They, as well several others, served as 'spears' to stab deep into enemy lines and strike critical targets without forcing others to protect them. They killed and retreated, killed and retreated. Spears were dangerous, but they weren't exactly… Inspiring.

"But you also try to tell others how to fight, expect them to listen to you," he continued. "You try to direct them, steer them, with plans that, again, benefit no one but yourself. The way you fight, you haven't earned the right to ask them to 'die' for you. They'd break if they didn't know I was holding back and they faced no real danger."

Draco wasn't like Ron or Hermione, who fought from the backlines and served as very literal shields. The less formidable, more intelligent fighters in the rebellion would hang back and focus on casting protective charms on their forces. They also directed communications from one end of the battle to the other, helped retrieve the injured, and occasionally sent 'distractions' into the enemy lines. Anyone would die for them. Many did.

"And you aren't powerful enough to just do whatever you want." It was time to round off his point. "You aren't me. You can't just waltz in, tell everyone else to fuck off, and win the game all on your own. If you were that strong, I'd be the one asking you for advice."

There was no one like him. Except Neville. The old Neville. The mediaeval armament metaphor broke down a bit when the two of them got involved, as they were more akin to modern bombs being dropped on a battlefield than individual spears or shields.

"So pick a lane, and stick to it," he said. "Be a leader, or be a shadow."

"…How do you do that?" Draco asked.

"You need to fight for your—"

"Not that," Draco cut in. "You weren't listening to a word I said, but you still managed to answer me."

Hydrus laughed. Blaise had teased him before that he treated Draco like a girlfriend, and now he was beginning to see the connection. The teen read him nearly as well as Fleur used to.

"I was listening, I just wasn't giving you my attention." Definitely couldn't have said something like that to the quarter-veela. "You were talking about things I had already read in the way your wand arm twitched, the way your eyes shifted around the fight. I might not've known that…" He had to pause and remember what the boy had been saying. "You nearly blew up Lucius, but I did know you'd begun to master a form of spell-mutation that is far too advanced for you.

"And so when you asked me what I thought, I just spoke the first thing that popped into my mind, something I'd already been marinating on." He shrugged. "If you'd asked me my thoughts on… I don't know, anthropology, I might've had a more difficult time coming up with something clever to say."

He'd actually been studying anthropology as of late, looking for connections between people's beliefs and the power it gave to the deities. It made it a safe subject to pick in case the teen really did ask him anything about it out of spite.

"Oh." Draco shook his head. "Right."

"Come on," Hydrus said, a teasing lilt to his smile. "You can't be upset since you know what has my attention on lockdown lately, are you?"

Maybe the kid had more in common with Fleur than he thought…

"No, no," the teen shook his head again. "You're just insane, mate."

"Careful." Hydrus jabbed an accusatory finger into Draco's chest, earning a wince. "Maybe you inherited more of your mother's side than you realise."

"Please, if I'd inherited the Black Madness, believe me when I say I'd know by now."

"Could just be a late bloomer."

"I'm not."

"Maybe I could drive you insane."

"You already do."


Hydrus ran his hand along the thestral's flank, slowly circling around the animal. Vernon had once boxed his ears and ordered him to never stand behind a horse after a mounted policeman had given his uncle a dirty look for letting a young Harry wander too close. The thestrals had nearly proven him a fool for purposefully defying the abusive lesson, but they knew better now. Once the residual magic had faded away from his battle with Herpo, the skeletal horses had become much, much friendlier to the lone source of deathly power around them.

"She's a beaut'," Hagrid said. The half giant was running a fine-bristled brush through the thestral's gossamer mane. "Don't know if you know this, but thestrals are a bit like squonks."

Hydrus snorted at the odd-sounding name. "That right?"

"We ain't covered 'em in class yet, but squonks are these small, wrinkly, 'airy looking things." Hagrid glanced about, as if anyone else would be up at twilight and sneaking up on them in the thestral pen. "They look a bit like bollocks, iffin I'm be 'onest." Hydrus snorted and Hagrid gave a chortle. "And just like thestrals, people get the wrong idea when they see 'em.

"Most people who see a squonk take one look at 'em and go off about 'ow awful they look." The half-giant shook his head. "And, truth be told, they ain't exactly the most pleasant to be around. But if you get to know 'em, change the way you approach 'em?" Proving his heritage for the millionth time, Hagrid lifted the front half of the thestral off the ground in a hug. "Just as sweet, loyal, and precious as anything else."

"I can see that now," Hydrus agreed. The thestral 'punched' Hagrid in the nose by slapping out her wings, but the giant just chortled and gently put her back down. "About the thestrals. I don't think it'd be good for my image if I walked around with something that looks like 'bollocks'."

The half-giant laughed. "Yeh, prolly not. Plus they cry a lot. And scream."

"Lovely." Hydrus shook his head. "So what do you think, Professor Hagrid. Should I buy the herd?"

"Buy them? Are you mad?" Hagrid had resumed his brushing. "Even if the school was willing to sell them, which it wouldn't be, a past-her-prime mare like Sally 'ere would go for well over two-hundred galleons, let alone the rest of the herd. It'd cost at least five-thousand to buy them all."

"Hagrid…" Hydrus looked the man up and down. It took a long time to make the full trip. "You don't have a good sense of economics, do you?"

The Black family was economics. If he had Sirius announce tomorrow the family was moving to Wales, entire markets would crash. He was pretty sure it was illegal for them to move outside of the British isles entirely.

The half-giant frowned. "Yer right… six-thousand."

"I meant regarding my family. The board could put a price tag of ten-thousand on them, and I'd still buy them." His friend's eyes widened. "Of course, at a price point like that, they'd have to continue allowing them to graze in the Forbidden Forest. They'd also have to throw in the stableman."

Hagrid burped out a laugh. "There ain't no stableman. I'm the one who takes care of 'em."

"I know."

Hagrid stopped his brushing, and looked down at Hydrus. Unlike most familiar faces he knew in this timeline, having to look up to meet the half-giant's gaze wasn't unusual to him. The man was squinting at him as if trying to work out some elaborate riddle.

"What're you on about then?"

"Ten-thousand galleons," Hydrus said. "For that price, I want to put my name on the thestrals, my family gets to take them out on rides now and then, and you accept the offer I'm about to give you."

There were few people who loved Hogwarts as much as Hydrus did. Ironically enough it was one of the few things he had in common with Tom. The school had been left all but untouched in the dark lord's initial blitzing warpath. But, much more importantly, it was a trait he shared with Hagrid. And ten-thousand galleons was a lot for the school.

"Offer? Hydrus, I'm not about to—"

"Allow me to adopt you into House Slytherin, the cadet branch of the Black family," Hydrus continued, unimpeded. "You'll retain your position here at Hogwarts, but shall also serve as the primary caretaker of magical creatures for both of my families.

"I won't give you the same sales pitch I gave my 'sister', Hermione. I told her that if she wanted people in the wider magical world to give her the respect she deserves, she'd needed a name to back her up." He began to pop his knuckles, worried this might not work. "You don't need that. You didn't need that. Despite the world being set up against you, you lifted yourself up until you were a professor at the most prestigious school of magic in the entire world. I'm the one who needs you. I need you to help set an example for the others whom I hope to have join my house."

"Hydrus—"

"The heir to the family, my heir, is a boy named Giannis. He's the only person I've met in the entire world that loves animals as much as you do." There was a stab of pain in his arm as he spoke, but he banished it away. "The kid has got my father and fiancee running circles around each other trying to keep up with all the strays he takes in, the most recent of which is a literal Grim. I don't just want you to meet him, I need you to, before he gets himself killed trying to hug a skrewt or befriend a boggart or ride a—"

A hand the size of his head clapped down on Hydrus's shoulder, and the time traveller wasn't entirely sure his spine hadn't just shrunk an inch. Hagrid's smile was hard to see behind his massive beard, but Hydrus had never had trouble finding it.

"You got yerself a deal, Hydrus," Hagrid said. "I only got one condition for ya."

"Done." He didn't care what it was, it would be done. "I'm surprised you're already saying yes, though."

The half-giant gave his shoulder a squeeze, and Hydrus couldn't stop his wince. "Professor Dumbledore. He came around here a few months ago and said I should probably expect you to make me an offer one o' these days. Also said I should probably take it."

'A few months ago…' Hydrus thought, awed for the thousandth time by his teacher's foresight. 'Clever old bastard.'

"Truth be told," Hagrid said. "I was a bit worried; thought you might expect me to quit me job 'ere. But since ya don't, and since I'd love to meet a grim, I don't see any reason not to say yes. Especially if you really will take care of my one condition."

"Name it," Hydrus said. "Believe me, I'll take care of it."

"It's about me half-brother, Grawp…"


Dahlia Potter sat Regina Lestrange's charms essay back down in front of her. They were in the Slytherin common room, fireplaces lit like always down there in the dungeons. Students were milling all around them, but there was an air of excitement to them all. Tonight was going to be the first meeting of the year for the Study Club, and the older years were all looking like caged… Well, not lions, that wouldn't be appropriate. But definitely they looked like some sort of vicious animals all cooped up together and waiting for a chance to kill something.

"Here you go," she said. "I cleaned off the mistakes you'd made, so you just need to fill out the sections again with the right information."

Regina looked up at her, not quite as wide-eyed as she was when they'd first met, but still clearly unsure why Dahlia was practically acting like her big sister. "Okay. What should I fill in?"

"Figure it out on your own," Dahlia said. "Hydrus wouldn't want me to just give you the answers, he'd want you to learn."

"Right…" Regina swallowed. "Do you know why he's, you know… Taken such an interest in me?"

She hadn't the faintest idea. "He'll tell you when he's ready for you to know."

"Dahlia!" She turned to see who called her. It was Astoria Greengrass. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Coming!" Regina was looking up at her again. "Come on, we're leaving."

As they joined the wave of Slytherins pouring out of their common room, something suddenly occurred to her. Astoria was in the year above her. She'd always helped her with her essays and assignments. For a reason that was never quite made clear to her, the girl had always looked out for her. Just like she was currently doing for Regina…

"Astoria, did Hydrus tell you to watch out for me?"

"Well, technically my sister did," the girl answered. "But we all know what that means."

"Why?"

Astoria looked at her for a moment. "He'll tell you—"

"Oh, nevermind." Dahlia didn't want to hear her own lines parroted back at her. "I'll just ask him myself."

She began to push her way through the throngs of people, putting more of her Potter side forward than any Slytherin grace, but when she got to the front of it all Hydrus wasn't there.

"Draco," she said, catching the blonde's attention. "Where's Hydrus?"

"Setting up the Study Hall," he answered. "Why?"

Hydrus's second-in-command would probably know the answer too. "Why does Hydrus have people looking out for me?"

"You really are related to Potter," another voice said. She turned to glare at Blaise Zabini for the 'insult'. "He's Hydrus. Of course he looks after you. You're family to him."

"And what about Regina?" she asked. "She family too?"

"Her he has plans for," Draco said. "You just have the misfortune of being the daughter of James Potter, Sirius Black's best friend."

"Maybe she's right, and it isn't the family angle," Blaise said. "Maybe he just pities her for that misfortune."

"Hey!" she snapped at the older boy. "I love my family."

"Truly pitiable."

Before she could tear into him properly, they merged with groups of other houses entering the Study Hall, and nearly got run over as they came to a stop.

The usually two-sided, gargantuan room had been transformed. The desks and posts and lanes and shelves had all been replaced with bleachers that took up the outermost third of the once-more-expanded area. What had previously been the Study Hall's entirety now only took up the centre, in the middle of which, on a small stage, stood Hydrus. Before they could take in too much more of the scene, they were practically shoved inside.

"Come on, you lot." Dahlia screamed when she realised someone had lifted her up into the air by her armpits. "You know better than this!"

"Put me down, Harry!" she demanded as her older brother laughed. "I swear I'll kick you."

"Fine, fine." He did as she'd requested then destroyed her hair with a 'friendly' ruffling. "Malfoy, you have my most sincere apologies for having to deal with this one."

"I just said the same to her about you," Draco replied coolly. "Said it's a shame she wasn't an only child."

Dahlia expected Harry to bristle at the insult like she had, but instead he placed a hand over his chest and leaned back, as if shot. "You wound me, sir. Be grateful I am a forgiving and genial soul, and do not demand a duel for your challenge against my honour."

Draco sneered at him. "I liked you better when we didn't speak."

"I like you now more than ever." Harry winked at her. "Hydrus has been a good influence on him."

He strolled away whistling before Draco could come up with retort, and for once Dahlia actually appreciated her big brother.

She and the rest of the Slytherins split away and found seats. Dahlia still wanted a real answer from her 'god-brother' towards why he was looking out for her, but with practically… No, she realised, the entire school slowly filling into the Study Hall, including the professors, now probably wasn't the time to go down there and confront him. Before too long everyone was settled, and Hydrus began to speak.

"Good evening, everyone," he said, voice echoing around them. "And thank you all so much for coming. Bigger turnout for this year's opening, eh?"

A rumble of polite chuckles was his response.

"Well, to kick things off, we've got some holes to fill in leadership. They've all gone on to do bigger, though certainly not better, things, so let's give a round of applause to our now-graduated tutors." The clapping came and went. "To start with, perhaps the biggest loss and greatest gain, our new club advisor: Remus Lupin!"

Dahlia's awkward but lovable uncle speed-walked up to and onto stage, and she knew him well enough to recognize the whispered reprimand he was giving Hydrus. He must not've been expecting to get called down. The teen just smiled throughout it all. When her uncle stood up straight, Hydrus returned his attention to the crowd.

"As you all know, Professor Lupin will be taking over for Bellatrix Black, and I look forward to getting a new guiding hand on my shoulder," he said. "Next, for Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

He went on to hand out seven new pins, the only person who wasn't a sixth or seventh year to get one was Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor, who was to become their new Herbology tutor. Dahlia had only spoken to him a few times, which was a few more than most Gryffindors she wasn't related to, and she wasn't sure how well he'd do. At least as he stood there now besides the other tutors, he looked a lot more confident.

"Lastly, you know them, you love them, our returning tutors!" Hydrus called. "To start with, recently promoted to the president of the Creatures Club…"

A handful of seventh years joined him up on the stage as he announced the returning tutors. Once they were all gathered together there, Hydrus paused and just stared at them all, his back to Dahlia and the other Slytherins. Again she wanted to laugh with the way, out of all the people there, Remus looked the most nervous. Her father's best friend looked like he was about to squirm right out of his skin by the time Hydrus turned around.

"Unfortunately for all of you, I've been given much more time to plan for festivities this year, and I am a cruel, insidious little boy." Dahlia caught the way Draco's hands clenched into fists. "So! It's time for all of you to show me what you got. Everyone who wants a shot against the Triwizard Champion, come on down!"

"Ooph!"

Dahlia was pressed deeper into her seat as nearly the whole house rose up around her. More students had gotten up than remained sitting like her, and before too long she was one of just a small handful of students remaining in the Slytherin section. To her surprise, they all began to crowd around her.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" Regina asked, watching as the last few not-quite-sures either sat down or made their way forward. "Morganna, there has to be at least a thousand students down there."

"I had an inkling," Dahlia said, not committing either way. Even the few third and fourth years remaining were just watching her; everyone older had gone down. "Who do you think is going to win, Regina?"

"What do you mean?" the first year asked. "Is this going to be like a tournament?"

"You don't know Hydrus well enough." Their house's informal head raised his hand to silence the crowd. "He's a bit of a nut."


'Friends, Romans, countrymen…' Hydrus thought. "Right, listen up! Here's the rules."

He snapped his fingers. Protective shields rose up along the front edge of the stands. Purple, satin bands appeared on all the students' arms who'd come down to try and test their mettle. The stage he stood on grew smaller in width but taller in height until he stood just an inch or so above the tallest head below, with just half a step in any direction to move to.

"The bits around your arm will disappear if you are hit with a spell, any spell, and you are out if that happens. If you hit one of your peers with a spell, you are also out. We have teachers posted around the edge there to keep things safe, and that should hopefully keep you all acting careful." Dumbledore was the only one of the professors not in the stands, and that was because he was beneath an invisibility charm of his own devising in the participating crowd as a more extreme line of defence. "If you step past, or get pushed past, the barrier, you're out. If you try to conjure up a new arm band cus you think no one is looking, believe me I am, and you're out. Any questions?"

"What are we playing?"

Hydrus almost grinned, not at all surprised to hear Hermione was participating.

"Isn't it obvious?" He took that half step he had forward, took away the rest of the space behind him by conjuring up his throne, and sat down. "It's king of the hill. Knock me off my lofty perch, or suffer the embarrassment of losing to me despite the odds."

He almost waited for them to ask something else, but it seemed someone in the crowd had learned from the snowman incident regarding wasting time, and he had to throw up a shield behind his head to stop the blasting hex from striking him.

"Let the games begin!"

During all of Hydrus's reading about deities and such things, there was one concept that had intrigued him. Well, there were lots of things that were intriguing, but only one that really stuck in his teeth on a personal level. Nirvana. It was from Buddhism, and although he hadn't been able to understand much of what he'd read about the religion, he did enjoy the fact that the 'end goal' was peace. A complete and total release from all the worries and fears and angers and stress and everything else that bogged him down like mud in a swamp.

He suspected times like these were the closest he could ever get to such a thing.

Attacks were coming at him from all angles, a hellish chorus of shouted spells and barked orders were deafening him, and his own magic was forming an effervescent aura around him as his shields rose, shattered, regrew, and faded like a never ending shuffle of playing cards. He closed his eyes and strengthened the visualisation of a phoenix in his mind, imagining the bird spreading its wings in preparation to take off. His wand was still holstered in his sleeve as his lone hand curved and curled through the air like he was petting a rather nightmarish creature that couldn't quite settle down. Even if this was all just a game, he was in a battle, and that brought him peace.

Still though, the students were beginning to coordinate their attacks and more and more layers of his shields were being destroyed with each volley, so he should probably get to work.

His eyes opened, his wand dropped into his palm, and he allowed the next wave of attacks to just break the shields in front of him. "Igni Vulpus!"

Just like when he'd first received his wand, the wand which had once belonged to Tom Riddle, a stream of green foxfire poured out of its tip. Unlike back then, he didn't relent, and instead intensified the spell using his phoenix visualisation so that the harmless trick-flames rained down on the students like ticklish napalm. Purple banners vanished away as nearly a hundred students were disqualified in just his first attack. He grinned at the mock devastation.

"Come on, people!" They almost all jumped since he'd kept up with his voice amplification. "You gonna let a smug… Well, can't really say what I am with all these teachers listening, but are you really gonna let me win this easy?"

His taunt earned him the loss of nearly all the shields guarding his rear. Hydrus threw up some more in front of him, then twisted around in his throne to see who was knocking. He dropped the last few shields standing and saw his younger self with a curse finishing its trip across his tongue. The bolt of aquamarine energy just narrowly missed the side of his ear as it careened past him.

"Igni Vulpus."

If it wasn't broken—

"Ventus!"

The Potter family spell that had been the basis for his fiendfyre controlling spell sent the harmless flames fluttering away. He almost smiled until Harry began silently firing off a barrage of disarming spells. The little shit had lied about not practising his duelling.

"Expelliarmus!"

His own bolt of red energy cut through the weaker versions, shattered through the protego shield his younger self had put up, and ripped his wand out of his hand so quickly it nearly dislocated the teen's shoulder. Hydrus caught it as his younger self's armband faded away, and nearly passed it into his missing hand.

'Right, just the one.' He hadn't done that in forever. 'Can still use it to taunt him though.'

He slipped his own wand into its holster and cast his next wave of foxfire with his old one. It was incredible how familiar yet alien the tool was to him now. His younger self had actually given him a good idea.

"Ventus!"

The wind magic, something that should've been all but impossible for a Black to pull off, came like a breeze of smoke and swirled around the students who were too slow to get away. This time nearly two hundred armbands were casualties of his harmless attack. He 'closed' the gap in the shields behind his throne and turned back to face the front, bringing those down with another flick of his wrist.

He was immediately blinded with a flash of light so bright it was like he'd been leaning in to kiss the sun.

'Not bad, kiddos,' he thought. Something popped in his arm as he carelessly put the shields up again and began rubbing at his eyes, his wand pinched between his pinky and ring fingers as his right arm nearly tore itself apart. 'Oh… Really not bad.'

He was pulsing healing magic in his eyes, casting counter curses and counter jinxes, nothing was working. What the hell had they cast on him? He hadn't heard of a blinding spell like this since…

"Oh you little shit." He winced as his voice echoed about the hall. He still hadn't turned the sonorous charm off. "Sorry, professors. Just realised Draco's blinded me."

It was a bit of Malfoy family magic. There were two ways to deal with the family's working, one was a slow and piss-tasting potions regiment, and the other was…

He destroyed his own eyes with a bit of magic, vanished away the remnants, and got to work regrowing them. The recent practice made it just a touch easier, but it still wasn't fun. To try and keep the students on their toes, he raised his wand into the air and cast a firework charm. Streamers of stinging, but mostly harmless, cracklings shot up into the air then began to droop down like vines from the ceiling. He assumed. Couldn't rightly see at the moment. Normally a spell like that was meant to rise high into the air and create a visual display, now it would serve as an effective crowd controlling measure while he sorted himself out.

The shield on his right shattered and in a moment of controlled panic he let the Black family magic flare up, creating a wall of darkness that disintegrated all the spells that came in. It also served to stop anyone from seeing his bleeding, gaping eye sockets as he fixed up a new eye to pop in.

After a few more minutes of healing and shielding, he vanished away the blood and stood. He didn't hold it against his cousin that the little blonde twat had managed to get one in on him, but he was just about done with this game. He also might've gone a touch mad.

All at once Hydrus dropped the shields. He twirled his wand up into the air, pulled it down, then stabbed it back up.

"Fumosorte!"

Mist exploded out of his wand, thick and grey as the British sky. Students began yelping and trying to cast anything they could think of to keep it away from them, but he was making what Remus had done with the werewolves look like a fart on a cold morning. Less then ten seconds had passed before there couldn't possibly be an inch of the space left uncovered by the mist.

With a snap of his fingers, the illusory spell faded away, leaving Hydrus standing above a crowd of stunned onlookers. Mostly stunned onlookers. A small portion of students were all crowded together under a protegigante shield that one of his sixth years had conjured, and he gave a proud smirk and nodded in the direction of the boy who'd cast it.

He'd taught him that spell, Rodger or Robert or whatever his name was.

Still hadn't mastered it though.

"Diffindo!" The cutting charm split the shield like an egg. "One, two, three, four…"

Rather than verbalising his spells, he counted the students as he destroyed their armbands. Again his other hand's absence reared its ugly head when all he could do to stop one of Draco's new exploding pustule attacks was throw up a shield instead of curving it back around to take out the teen with his own attack. What he wouldn't give to have the limb back. Definitely a foot at the very least. A very even trade. Maybe he could saw off his foot and...

Right, definitely gone mad.

"Twenty-seven!" Hydrus called as Blaise and Daphne trudged to the outside of the barrier. "Saved you for last, Malfoy. I owe you for the eyes."

"My father's going to be furious when he hears you know a counter-curse!" Draco called up to him, his own voice unamplified by magic. "He said it was unbreakable without a special potion!"

"Oh, I think he'll be just fine." Hydrus pointed his wand at Draco, and he wasn't sure if it was the new eyes or if Draco really was trembling as he pointed his back at him. "Expelliarmus."

Draco had cast the same spell, but just like with Hydrus's younger self's, the Malfoy heir's workings faded away as the much more powerful spell made its way forward. Draco fell back on his old habits and threw up a protego, using the well-paired spells just like he had in his duel against his rival, but the shield didn't stand a chance against Hydrus's overpowered working. When it hit Draco, it not only ripped the wand from his hand, it sent the blonde flying past the outer boundaries.

"Anyone else?" Hydrus asked, mostly for formality's sake. "Then in that case—"

"I-, I'm still here!" Hydrus glanced down at his feet with a frown, then watched as someone stepped out from underneath his little platform. "I was… Wanting to wait till everyone else was gone."

Neville Longbottom was staring up at him now, not unlike Draco had done, and his purple armband stood as an insult to everything Hydrus had just spent a half-way decent effort into doing. He couldn't be prouder of the boy. Little shit.

"Is that right?" Hydrus snapped his fingers, and his stage 'crumbled' slowly back down onto ground level, till he was just standing an inch or so above the rest of the floor. "One little summer camp got you feeling that confident?"

"Oh, god no." Neville's head snapped back and forth so quick it reminded him of Dobby. "But I did… I do want to show you that it wasn't wasted."

"Alright then." He held out his arms. "Knock me down then, Longbottom."

His lips hadn't finished unpursing from making the M sound in Longbottom before three stunners came shooting towards him like bullets. He diverted all three with a single wave of his wand hand, and by the time they hit the wall-shields seven more were headed his way. Hydrus couldn't help it, a smile broke out across his face.

Who the hell was this?

The Neville he'd fought with, the Neville he'd lost, his brother in arms and the second or third most powerful wizard in the entire world, hadn't fought like this. His Neville had been a tank, an unstoppable and immovable force, a juggernaut. He'd been the second coming of the Boy Who Lived himself, his fighting style a more simple and sturdy version of Hydrus's own. What the Longbottom legend lacked in wind-based spells, he more than made up for with 'universal' magic that he'd honed into specialties just by being the best damn wand in the world with them.

This Neville? Hydrus threw up a protego as nearly a dozen more stunning jinxes, disarmament charms, and a few spells he couldn't recognize in time came flying at him. He returned to his deflections as his opponent circled around his shield to keep up his onslaught. This Neville was… Was Jasiel's masterpiece.

The Caribbean duelist had been a speed demon on the circuit until his forced retirement, and during the war that could no longer come he'd been one of only two half-blood commanders in Tom's army. Before he'd gotten the dream catcher from Bella, the man had been a frequent subject of Hydrus's nightmares. In his dreams he decimated the Spanish-speaking forces Jasiel commanded, but in real life things hadn't gone that smoothly.

In the much more waking nightmare, he hadn't been alone when he and Jasiel met face to face the first time. He'd been surrounded by children. Fresh-faced ones, ones going into their first battle. He always led first timers into battle when Tom was dead and he knew the dark lord wouldn't be there to confront him. By his side was always the safest place to be on the battlefield.

Always, except that day.

That day they'd all died but one. A Mongolian boy he hardly remembered now. The rest he didn't remember at all. Jasiel and his troops had killed them all, and Harry had been too slow to stop it. He'd still won in the end, of course. He'd killed every last one of the death eaters and, just like what cost those children their lives, he did it slow. Slow and painfully.

"Damn it, Nev," Hydrus called as the teen doubled over. He made an obvious show of wiping the unrelated tear from his eye. "You make me so proud."

"Shut up," Neville wheezed, exhaustion bringing out a side to him that Hydrus rarely saw these days. "You… Jerk."

"I mean it." He stepped down from his small platform. "Ladies and gentleman! Your winner, Neville Longbottom!"

The tidal wave of people that crashed down on the poor boy almost made his smile real. Using skills he'd long since mastered he dipped around and dodged between the students until he was out of the Study Hall entirely. He half-ran half-stomped down the corridor until he got to a bathroom, then he kicked open the door, and tore off his robes. Next came his shirt, he ripped the buttons off to get it done sooner, and he stared down at his arm. His 'good' arm. His fucking good arm.

The limb looked like something out of a horror movie. He knew damn well that fucking pissant Maloy's pustules curse hadn't hit him, but his skin was bubbling like a cauldron as his healing magic did it's damnedest to keep his body in one piece. He was not that damned proud of Neville. Why the fuck was his magic revolting against him. God between this and the madness and everything he just...

"Stop it you fucking—" One of the boils popped and Hydrus's rage boiled over alongside it. "Fuck!"

He punched the closest mirror, shattering it. He grabbed one of the shards of glass hard enough to split his hand open, then began to paint on the wall of the bathroom with his blood. A circle. A triangle. A line. Blood was still pouring from his hand as he clenched it into a fist and punched the sigil of Death that had started his latest and perhaps greatest mess.

"Magic! Get your fucking ass down here!" he demanded. "Get out of that fucking void before me, or Apophis, or whomever finds a way to break in and I destroy you for ignoring me!

He punched the wall again.

"You owe me too much for what you've done, and I demand you at least have the decency to say 'no' to my face." Another punch, this time breaking something, and it definitely wasn't the wall. "I'm sick, and tired, of you just—!"

"I'm here, Hydrus."

He spun around and nearly took a step back. Magic was nose to nose with him. Before he could say anything, the goddess tapped him on the forehead, and all the pain he'd been ignoring vanished. He looked down at his arm and saw everything was fine now. When he looked back up at her, Magic didn't step back or flinch.

"Don't threaten me, Hydrus," she said. "My sister might be protecting you, but if you even try to touch me, it will not end well." She turned to the side. "And you. Quit hiding."

Hydrus turned with a frown, then rolled his eyes. A glimmering light faded away as Dumbledore came into sight. He should've known his teacher would realise something was wrong.

"Forgive me, Madam Morgana." The goddess froze and Hydrus could've sworn he saw a hint of angry indigo flow through her shimmering skin. "I came to check on how young Hydrus was doing."

"Do not call me that." Power was rumbling off the goddess that made Hydrus's new eyes water. "He is under Fate's protection. Not you."

"My apologies, Madam," Dumbledore said. "But I am far too old to be scared of your elder brother's inevitability."

If Hydrus had been impressed with the headmaster's prediction regarding his recruitment of Hagrid this morning, then he was down right stunned with his bravado. Even now when the time traveller wanted to rip the goddess's throat out, he still respected and feared her. If Dumbledore felt either such thing, he certainly didn't show it with the way he unflinchingly met her glare.

"Magic," Hydrus said. "If you kill him now, that means he wins."

Dumbledore nodded. "I like winning."

"Ignore him," Hydrus said through gritted teeth. "And listen to me. You want whatever power comes from owning my love for my child, I want my fucking arm to stop popping. You don't want me going full preacher man on your sister's behalf, I don't want you interfering with what's become too late to stop between me and Death." He held out his hand. "Reforge my third bargain. Make it stronger, make it unbreakable. I don't care how much I lose or how much it hurts, make it happen."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Hydrus, I don't think—"

"Stay out of this," Hydrus snapped. "Magic, this is a one time offer, say yes, or prepare for the consequences. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes."

Before Hydrus could prepare himself, the goddess took hold of his wrist, and he had no choice but to grab onto hers as pain overrode every neuron in his brain. He could feel the runes in his body shifting, changing. His bones were…

'Magic preserve me,' he thought on instinct. 'Not just the bones.'

His throat was burning, which meant the rest of his insides probably were too. Even the roof of his mouth felt like there were a million little knives scraping across it and carving sigils of power into the flesh. He fell to his knees and began to whine in pain, something he hadn't done since he was in the dungeons of Castle Lestrange. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and, damn him to hell, hours felt like days.

"There." Magic released him, and it was only pride and vitriol that kept him from collapsing. "Your physical form shall remain intact now, no matter what."

"I don't suppose," Hydrus said, trembling. "That you'd be willing to take the past couple hours out of my memory along with the rest?"

"No." Magic rested her palm on top of Hydrus's head. "Suffer."

Hydrus closed his eyes, and waited for that old sensation to wash over him. Of memories fading. Of a different kind of pain vanishing away. Of a coldness washing over him like a bucket of ice water.

It didn't come.

"What are you doing?" Hydrus asked, almost afraid to open his eyes. "Get it over with."

"She can't."

He looked over just in time to see Fate step out of nothingness. At least, he assumed it was Fate. Either that or an old, five-foot tall Chinese woman had somehow appeared in the second-floor boy's lavatory. The goddess stepped towards them and Hydrus looked up at Magic and found her frozen in place, eyes watching Fate, even as the rest of her didn't or couldn't move.

"I was a touch offended at my siblings for saying that it was easy to 'pause the game'," Fate said. "So I decided to remind them both that it is, in fact, a rather complex matter that I take some pride in."

"I'm sure it is," Hydrus said. He grabbed hold of Magic's arm once more, and used it to pull himself onto his feet with a heaving groan. "It'd be nice if your sister had been as accessible as you apparently are. Had to have a bout of madness to get her to show up."

"They're ashamed of what they once were, want to avoid you all as much as possible," Fate said. "I, on the other hand, am incredibly jealous of it. You humans are such marvellous little creatures, with such fantastic stories."

"I'll take your word for it," Hydrus said. "Forgive me for being short, but I just got my insides rearranged. What are you doing here?"

"Picking up your tab." Just as Magic had done to him, Fate tapped her sister on the forehead, and even Hydrus felt the wave of power that rolled between them. "Back to the box, dear."

Magic vanished. Hydrus gave an impressed frown, then decided to look the gift horse in the mouth.

"What do I owe you?"

"Try not to worry about debts with me, Hydrus," Fate said. "I never take what won't be paid back in time."

He cocked a brow at her. "So I won't get the chance to say no?"

"Well, technically you will," Fate said. "But I wouldn't do this now if you do that then."

"What is it, then?" Hydrus asked. "I don't like 'stories' like you do. Spoil it for me."

Fate's form shifted slightly. For a moment she began to grow into someone he almost recognised, but couldn't quite put his finger on. It settled quickly though. She returned to looking like a rather fragile old woman and Hydrus questioned if he'd even seen her change at all.

"You'll need to kill someone." Fate offered him a sad smile. "Someone Gregory couldn't kill, no matter how much I asked."

He frowned. "The man's well over a hundred years old and trapped in a wheelchair, who on earth could he kill?"

"Oh, no, not right now," the goddess said. "Several decades ago for him, several decades from now for you."

"Why?"

"That's the next time your schedule frees up," Fate said. The goddess paused, smiled, then raised her tiny shoulders up. Apparently she hadn't quite mastered shrugging. "I haven't, thank you for being patient. But yes, several decades from now, after an important meeting, you will be doing absolutely nothing for several hours, and all the others I like to watch won't be doing anything either, and I'll ask you to kill someone."

"Yeah, alright," Hydrus said with a much more natural shrug. "I'm in."

"See?" Fate patted him on the side. "Told you you'd say yes."

"It's confusing talking to you."

"Really?" Dumbledore said, making Hydrus jump. "I thought I was being rather obvious today."

"Not you," the time traveller said, rolling his eyes. "Fate. She just left."

"Drat." The headmaster snapped his fingers. "I'd been hoping to meet her. She seems a great deal more interesting than Morgana."

"Are you trying to get smited?"

"It'd be an interesting experience."


BBaRtS


Chapter 62, just for you. Yes you.

Hydrus's body is now 100% solid, but at what cost? Besides the one Fate paid, of course. We also got to see Draco, Neville, and Harry all impressing him in different ways. Little bit of Dahlia, little bit of Hagrid. No Bellatrix this chapter, but next chapter opens up with some good Bella time.

Agatha is reeling from another consequence to the time she lives in, and we'll see the full consequences to that next chapter. I had fun writing her section, it flew by like lightning. I hope I did a good job of showing her character and spirit throughout, signs of what she's been through, and made it clear that for all the hype Gregory's gotten compared to her, she's still deserving of her part in things.

I also hope I'm doing a fine enough job of showing how Hydrus's madness is getting worse. He's concerned about his arm which, for the most part, really didn't cause him any issues. He freaked out 'because' of it, but compared to what he's been through before it really wasn't that bad. It's the madness driving him up a wall.

Anyways, on to reviews!

"It's a shame, if Death could just take the L and move on they could probably coexist peacefully." - That's the thing about Death. In the end, he always picks up the dub. He isn't about to break that streak now.

"I'm very interested in [Gregory Herschel] and cant wait to learn more especially how dumblore,crouch and some characters can remember him" - As we saw this chapter, there's only one person who can't forget him. Next week we'll see what the others have done to deal with it.

[On Chapter 45] "I think he's overlooking the fact that there might be heavy hitter in this world that he doesn't know about" - Although he's definitely underestimating some people, he really is the be all end all when it comes to violence. Unfortunately, the gap between him and everyone else leaves more wiggle room than he might realise.

[On Chapter 45] "Some people shouldn't have been born since her parents probably had other choices in marriage." - For the record, this is an ace I'm keeping up my sleeve in case I've forgotten any characters. We'll just say they weren't born. Might come up in an actual story thread, but it's something I've intentionally left open for myself lololol

"Poor Draco. Everyone must think this is a form of punishment for him to be raising Doppsy." - I will say, the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Good for him, very healthy. And glad to see you back lessthanthree

"Hydrus seemed very Dark Lord at the meeting." - The only difference between a dark lord and the leader of a rebellion fighting against one, is which side you're on.

"Hydrus was actually acting like a responsible, sensible family member. Sure families fight, but nobody actually wants them to. Hydrus trying to break up their drama is exactly what I'd do in that position. " - It's a complicated matter for the group. In a perfect world, yeah you'd try and stop the fighting. But when a buildings on fire, if you're trying to make sure all the lights are turned out before evacuating, that ain't the right move either. Neither Hydrus nor Sirius are the best at dealing with family drama, and that roughness reared its ugly head there. I don't think either one of them was fully in the right, but they got through it, and that's what matters.

"More Quinn, please?" - I'll be honest, there's really only one more big moment I have planned for him, but who knows. More might come up. I definitely don't have a 'moratorium' on him like I do with some characters, like Peter's wife or Lily and Petunia's mom.

"I love these little reminders that Yes, Remus Was A Marauder!" - He's the most logical, no-nonsense one of the bunch. But he does have his moments, subtle tho they may be.

"...fricken Draco fricken Malfoy made me tear up? " - I really do love his journey that he's going on. And he hasn't even had his peak yet.

" "if I don't want to embarrass myself in potions or astrology." Astronomy mebe? " - Hydrus is unsure of the difference.

"I have to commend you on highlighting Harry's very-much-not-canon-attitude! It's wonderful to see him so unburdened." - I try to make him more like his father, and much more confident now that he doesn't have the Dursley's yoke around his neck.

[Referencing Apophis's mood] "Indigestion? He did consume Herpo "the FOUL" 😆" - There's SOMETHING going on with that lil so-and-so, something we'll see next chapter. And it was good to have you back too lessthanthree

That's all! Thank you all, love you all, and I'll see you next weekend. Lessthanthree!