July 31st, 2012, Little Hangleton, England, 8:00 PM BST

Side along apparition, as it turns out, is pretty much just as terrible as portkeys. Dumbledore came to pick me up at six, but stayed for the extra two hours for Harry's birthday party. After a fourth slice of cake and a brandy, he finally dragged himself away from the festivities, and we were swept away to rural Albania, where his sources had pointed him for this search.

So, the wraith was here, and Quirrel was last seen in Albania before he came back to Hogwarts." I clarified with Dumbledore. "Do you know why Voldemort cares about this place. Because…um…it's not exactly a five star resort."

I was being diplomatic. Little Hangleton was a fucking shithole. The houses were old and falling apart, the people were sullen and unfriendly (the ones who were out anyway) and the atmosphere just had this oppressive 'abandon hope all ye who enter here' vibe. Ten out of ten, would not visit again.
Dumbledore chuckled, wand up and lit as we strolled down an overgrown dirt path up to one of the creepiest looking haunted mansions I'd ever seen. Or I assumed it was haunted. It certainly LOOKED like ghost bait.

"This is the Riddle House." He said patiently. "It's the former dwelling place of the Riddle Family. I'm sure you recognize the name."
I shrugged. "I do. Are we here to see Grandpa Voldemort? You think he left a Horcrux with his family members? I'll be honest, that doesn't seem like his bag. Voldemort struck me as a kind of a sociopath, even when he was younger. Seriously, how the hell did you miss that walking red flag?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom was always skilled at presenting an affable front. He was an expert manipulator and a consummate liar. Only when he achieved his goals and began to expand his power did he drop all pretenses and show his true self. I admit, there were some signs of Tom's inner demons even at the young age at which I first met him. He learned quickly to disguise such tendencies, however."

Pushing open a creaky iron gate in a broken down stone wall, we pushed through the overgrown yard. "I don't think anyone lives here." I said bluntly. "We might be wasting our time."

He just shook his head. "Tom's family is long gone. The Riddle's died mysteriously not long after he graduated from Hogwarts. However, someone DOES live here, and it is for them that we've come. Someone who was around when everything took place, and who may shed some light on our quest." Putting out his wand, he raised a hand and knocked firmly on the rickety door.

There was a long pause, and then I heard a thump from some distance away. Then another. And another. Footsteps. I turned to Dumbledore. "Kind of sounds like some kind of huge monster is lumbering toward us. You think we should bounce?"

"Nonsense." He said with a smile. "That's simply our host making his way down the stairs. I assure you, we are quite safe. Safe as houses, one might say."
I rolled my eyes. "Grandad jokes." I said dryly. "Wonderful. I don't suppose you'll tell me who this host is. You know, something to pass the time as we wait for them to slowly stomp across the house to us like a t-rex in a bad movie?"

"Ah, but that would ruin the surprise." He beamed. "Adventure is the spice of youth, and I wouldn't dream of depriving you of the exploration of this wondrous world."
I didn't bother responding to that. He would just find some way to wave it off anyway. Talking to Dumbledore was deeply irritating at times. I'd forgotten how willfully obtuse he could be, especially when he was trying to sound mysterious. It made me almost miss the training sessions where he just beat the shit out of me magically for hours on end. Almost.

Finally, the noise stopped, and the door swung open to reveal…a seriously old guy. Not like Dumbledore old. Dumbledore was spry for his age, and refined, what with the big bushy Gandalf beard. This guy looked more like a salty sea dog, minus the sea.

He had grizzled, wrinkled features, a big nose, a scraggly beard, wide ears that stuck out the sides of his head, and a pair of sunken blue eyes that nevertheless remained alert. He was wearing a kangol hat and a pair of overalls atop a turtleneck sweater. "What." He spat in what sounded like perfect american english.
Which meant it was probably Albanian, or he would've had an accent. Dumbledore beamed at him. "Are you perchance Mr. Frank Bryce?"
The man snorted, a ragged sound that almost seemed to deflate him slightly, as if he'd let out some of the air propping him. "Ain't a Mr. nobody, old man. But aye, my name is Frank. What do you want with me?"

"We're here to ask about the former occupants of this place." Said Dumbledore cheerfully. "The Rid-" He was cut off by the door slamming in our faces. "Oh dear." He said blithely. "I daresay he doesn't wish to discuss it."

I banged on the door again, pushing him out of the way. Frank opened the door, glaring at us. "Go away, I-" I cut him off, grabbing his hand, I dumped a couple of galleons into his palm. He froze. "Is that…is that gold?" He raised the coins to his face, squinting at them in the low light of the moon. He bit down on the metal suspiciously, but then glanced up at me, eyes narrowed. "You just want to talk?"

"Scout's honor." I said, holding up two fingers. I'd never been a scout, but people liked that kind of shit. "And there's three more coins in it for you when we're done."
He stared at the galleons, then sighed, moving to one side. "Fine then. Come in. I'll put the kettle on." We stepped through the door, and he slammed and locked it behind us, leading us through the barely lit house (candles in sconces) to an old and drafty looking room. Stumping over to the sink, he pulled out an old kettle, washed it out thoroughly, then filled it and dropped it on a gas stove, which he lit with a match from a drawer.

Gesturing us to the table, he flopped into a chair, staring guardedly at us. "Don't know what you expect to hear." He said defensively. "I told the cops this all years ago. Ain't nothin' more to say."

"Then say the same thing." I shrugged. "We need all the information you can give us."

He sighed. "Fine. I suppose I should start at the beginning. Not the day of the murders mind you, and they WERE murders, I told the police as much. No, way back in the day when all of it started."

Staring off into space, he pulled out a pipe, packing it and lighting it with the box of matches I hadn't noticed him carrying over. "The Riddles used to be royalty around here." He said wistfully. "Thomas senior inherited the manor from his daddy, married a wealthy lady from Upper Hangleton. Mary was the prettiest thing I ever did see, and she was over the moon for him."

"Thomas?" I asked. "His name was Tom Riddle?"

"Oh, aye." He said with a nod. "Same as his son, and his father before him. It's a family name, is Tom. And they were both rather proud of it. Thomas jr was a good looking boy, took after his daddy. All the local girls were a twitter about the young master. He had his fun with it, the miller's daughter was happy to entertain him once in a while, when he chose to call."

His face turned dark. "But he ain't never had time for the one who wanted him most. Old Marvolo's daughter, the Gaunt girl. Unfortunate little lady, that one. Lazy eye, dull hair. Not the most hideous lady I ever saw, mind, but none of us had no interest in her, specially not on account of her crazy family.

"Which is why we was all so confused when the young master took up with her. One day to the next brought her back to the manor and married her." He shook his head in disbelief. "They seemed happy for a while. Blissfully so. But things fell apart right quick around the time she got pregnant. Vanished into the night and took the baby with her."
I raised an eyebrow. "Seems like this was years before the mess with the Riddle's. Why do you think she was involved."

"Not her." He said sharply. "The baby. It had to be. I saw him here, the day they all passed. I didn't realize it until later, but it couldn't have been anyone else. After Merope left, the young master didn't pursue his fun with any of the village girls anymore. He stayed in and avoided contact with everyone. Broke something inside him, it did. I saw a boy outside the house that day. Spitting image of his daddy. All except the eyes. Cold and flat. Like a snake. Terrible eyes."

Voldemort. I sat up. "Did he do anything else? Did anyone else see him?" I asked eagerly. "We're trying to find him, or at least where he went."

He shook his head. "I never saw him again. Ain't never wanted to neither. If I never look into those eyes again it'll be too soon." He paused. "But maybe…maybe I might know a thing. I didn't find out until years later, but old Marvolo died in his sleep that same day as the Riddles. He was mean as a viper and not in good health, not to mention no one went near him, so it wasn't discovered until later. Police couldn't find a link."

"Between the mysterious and unexplainable deaths of several people they had no explanation for and another mysterious death the same day?" I said dryly. "How shocking."
It wasn't fair. Cops weren't equipped for tracking down magic murderers. But it was still a stupid thing to write off. Sighing, I stood up, reached into my pocket, and dropped three coins on the table. "Alright. I think that's all we need. Sorry we can't stay for the tea, but we have some things to look into. Before we go, think you could draw us a map to the Gaunt place? If its still there."

"Oh it is." He said darkly. "Ain't nobody wants to try to tear it down. A few have tried over the years. Never ended well. Now we stay well clear of it." Standing with a grunt, he walked over to the drawer he got the matches from and pulled out some paper and an old style fountain pen.

He stumped back over to the table, sat down again, and started to draw out a surprisingly detailed map. His handwriting was shockingly good, lines smooth and straight. He saw my surprise and gave me a toothy grin. "Cartography adjutant for the first Albanian infantry company. I've still got a few tricks in me yet, boy."

He passed me the map and I stowed it. Thinking about it for a minute, I dug out five more coins, dropping them on the table. "You might want to get out of here, Frank. That creepy kid you saw is still around, and he's likely to come back at some point. Best if you aren't here."

Staring at the coins, he sighed, sweeping them up. "Don't very well have a place to go. My grandkids live over in Upper. I suppose I could take these over to them. Maybe set them up somewhere nice and live out my days in peace. You're a good boy." He said decisively. "Glad I could help."

Part of me wanted to tell him I wasn't really either of those things, not really. But he didn't need to know he'd made a deal with the devil. So I just smiled and said my goodbyes. We didn't end up getting out of there right away. Frank convinced us to wait for the tea. It wasn't bad.

July 31st, 2012, Little Hangleton, England, 8:00 PM BST

The Gaunt house was…not really a house. More of a shack really, set way off the beaten path. "So…what are we hoping to accomplish here?" I asked as we hiked through the very poorly maintained path. "Because I feel like there has to be a reason we're headed there. Do you have some magic that can let you look into the past? If not I might have some ideas."

"We're going to investigate the scene of Marvolo Gaunt's murder." Dumbledore said as he hopped spryly over a bush. "What Mr. Bryce didn't know, and what I didn't bring up so as not to influence his retelling, is that the Riddle's murders were not, in fact, treated as an accident. The Muggle police had no context for the killings, but the Wizarding authorities were well aware of the use of the killing curse. They DID arrest a suspect, and Morfin Gaunt, Merope's brother, subsequently spent the rest of his life in Azkaban."
I frowned at him. "If you knew about that, why come out here at all?"

"On re examining the case, I had reason to believe Morfin was framed." His tone was solemn. "His mind was tampered with after the fact. However, while Morfin's story remained consistent until the day he died in Azkaban, he never mentioned his father's death at all. I believe that his memories were altered to cover for the real killer, however, because of the relative obscurity of the House of Gaunt, or perhaps for more vindictive reasons, Marvolo's death was more personal."
"Voldemort killed his grandpa himself." I caught on. "And the wizarding cops never realized it even happened."

He nodded. "Precisely. Because this place is so out of the way, chances are good that the magical traces of the act have been preserved. Murder leaves a stain, not just on a person, but on a place. Enough people moving through a location can wear away at those traces, but this place is abandoned."

"So we want to see the details of him killing the old man?" I asked as we got close enough to the shack.

"Not quite." He said as we came to a stop. "How much do you know about the requirements to create a Horcrux?"
I shrugged. "Not much. Didn't look into it much. I'm sure Val could tell you, she's our resident necromantic researcher. I figure it's some big fancy ritual, lots of blood and bones and maybe a sacrifice?"

"Not quite." He said. "The creation act itself does indeed require such an action. But the requirements for that act are much less stringent. In order to make a Horcrux, one must commit an act of absolute evil. More specifically, a murder."

I frowned, turning to him. "That's…kind of dumb. Killing people for no reason isn't a good thing, but death isn't in inherently evil act. What if you kill a mass murderer before he claims a victim? Or kill someone in self defense? You're telling me that every person in history who's killed anyone just had a piece of their soul floating around inside them?"

"You misunderstand." He said with a shake of his head. "While I dislike the necessity of killing in combat, I am aware of the reality. Just as I am more than understanding of the defense of the self or others. Neither of these acts, however, is MURDER. That word has a very specific connotation. The taking of a life for no valid reason, and more often than not, an innocent."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Marvolo Gaunt was an innocent? Because based on his daughter being a long term date rapist and his son being the kind of person that believably claims to be a mass murderer, I feel like he was probably a bad dude."

That got a chuckle from the old man. "I never had the displeasure of meeting him, but based on secondhand testimony, I suspect he was quite an unpleasant man. As I said, more often than not innocent. In this particular case I believe the more likely adjective was 'helpless'. Marvolo, from what I can surmise, deteriorated heavily in his old age. I suspect by the time his grandson came to kill him he was quite incapable of defending himself.

"Because of this, and because of the close familial nature of their relationship, I believe that Marvolo Gaunt's death was one of the ones Tom used to create one of his Horcruxes." He grimaced at the run down shack. "As mentioned, murder leaves a stain, and a murder like this, possibly even moreso. If we can harvest traces of an actual Horcrux being made, we can give it to young Valkyrie to aid in her detection magic."

That made sense. Being able to pick up their locations easier would definitely help. "Ok, so we harvest traces. You…know that this place is probably booby trapped right? Like every location connected to Voldemort that I've been to had some kind of defensive curse or spell on it."

"Quite right." He agreed. "One of many reasons I chose to make this trip with a companion. As you aren't well versed in harvesting magical traces, I'd be much obliged if you would act as a deterrent to the defenses here as I do so. Not that your spectacular company wasn't reason enough to bring you along."

I rolled my eyes. "Great, so I get to be bait. You know, asking nicely and being polite about using someone as a meat shield doesn't make it ok."

His eyes twinkled. "Does it not? My mistake. Now, if I'm not incorrect, your target will be over there." He gestured to the entrance to an old cellar. "If you might be so kind as to trigger the defenses and begin your work. I shall need perhaps five minutes."

I rolled my eyes, stepping away from him and making my way toward the cellar. I did not, however, get too close. I stopped about fifty feet from the doorway, cracking my neck as I drew my wand. I frowned, taking a step forward, then back. I adjusted my position a few times, trying to listen to my instincts about where it was safe to stand. When I finally felt myself settle down a bit, I stopped, took stock of the distance between myself and my target, and attacked.

A single large serpent of darkness and heavy water (twenty five feet now) shot forward like a black blur, smashing through the cellar doors in a single strike. There was an unearthly wail, and the ground beneath me began to tremble. As I watched, skeletal hands shot up from the dirt, grasping and clawing.
Sure enough, I was standing just out of reach of the nearest hand. I flicked my wand, bringing my asclepius back to start eroding the hands. From the cellar, the wailing redoubled as a series of green spectral huntsmen erupted from the opening, charging right at me.

Rolling my eyes, I flicked my wand, dismissing asclepius as I conjured a shield. I was so low on necromancy that I could only really keep one necromantic spell active at a time.

The huntsmen slammed into the black and silver dome, bouncing off it hard and hurtling backward as their spectral selves were repelled. I grinned as I took stock of my new piece of magic, proud as hell of what I'd accomplished on the fly.

After learning the black burn, I'd realized that necromancy was mostly just the other side of the magical coin. If fiendfyre could be inverted, why not other spells? This little barrier was a shield spell woven together from both a normal protego and the necromantic equivalent of it, specifically geared towards repelling spirits and hostile magic like curses, which could normally destroy or bypass shields.

In fact, I was fairly certain that the killing curse wouldn't punch through this shield. I hadn't tested it, but given it detached the soul, I suspected the killing curse was at least partially either composed of or based on necromancy.

The spectral hunters wailed, gnashing their ghostly teeth, but said nothing. These weren't ghosts like we had at Hogwarts with thoughts and emotions, just congealed resentment shaped by a curse on this land. Voldemort hadn't been fucking around. They screamed and rushed me again, too stupid to recognize the threat my shield posed.
I really wished I had the necromancy left to use the black burn, it would have solved the problem instantly, but I had to save my minimal remaining power to use as a base for gathering more. Actually constructing a vessel burned a not insignificant amount of necromantic energy, and if I let it fail it might damage my wand, so keeping at least a bit in the tank was important.

Despite my advantage though, feeling them smash against the shield wasn't pleasant. My teeth clenched as my head rung from the impact, and I roared to Dumbledore. "You start yet? Because I won't be able to do this forever!"

"Indeed I have." He called back cheerfully. "You're doing a splendid job. Only a few more minutes!"

Dropping the shield for a split second, I sent a necromantic variation of a stunning spell at one of them. The jet of eerie blue light smashed into one of the spirits, causing it to shudder, but didn't actually stun it. Based on the reaction, I was PRETTY sure these weren't real entities, just extensions of the curse.

Which was…suboptimal. Because it meant nothing I did to them offensively would matter. It would be like snapping a tree branch. It wouldn't do shit to the actual tree. I groaned, getting my shield back up just in time, forced to wait for the old man. I made a mental note to learn some way to damage things like this for the future.
It was a long five minutes, but I made it. My head was pounding, but I was thrilled when I saw a blurry silver form smash into the nearest specter, dissolving it on impact. The ghostly phoenix (some kind of spell Dumbledore cast) swept through all the huntsmen, then dove into the basement itself.

There was another, more urgent scream, and I felt something crack. The ground shuddered again, and then the grim atmosphere I'd barely even noticed just sort of…collapsed. A feeling of warmth and good cheer erupted from the basement, sweeping away the darkness of the shack and somehow making everything seem more cheerful.
Rather than a creepy old run down house, the place seemed like a secret clubhouse for us to explore, a lens of nostalgia and warmth covering the inherent creepiness of the place with a thick patina of good vibes.

I turned to Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow. "You couldn't have led with that?"

As I watched, the silver phoenix flapped back over and landed on his arm. He scratched it under the chin before it dissolved. "It would have cleansed the very taint we sought to harvest."

"Heh." I said with a juvenile smirk. "You said taint." He looked at me in confusion, but I just smirked, gesturing to the now vanished bird. "What was that, by the way?"
"A patronus." He said with a smile. "A magical construct made with a happy memory. An advanced charm you will no doubt learn in the coming years. It's mostly used to drive off Dementors, the monstrous guards of Azkaban."

I nodded thoughtfully, looking over the clearing. "It's definitely useful in some cases." I'd just been promising myself to learn a way to defend myself against odd attacks like that, and this seemed like as good a time as any. "I want to learn it." I said decisively. "Call it a summer project." He chuckled at my tone, but nodded affably as we began to discuss the lessons on the charm and how I would be using the diadem. It was going to be a very productive summer, I could already tell.

August 31st, 2012, Grimmauld Place, London, England 8:00 PM BST

"So that's the new project, huh?:" Asked my uncle as we stood in the basement of Grimmauld Place. "You sure it's safe? It looks stable enough, but enchanting is a bitch to get right. If you fucked it up the whole thing will collapse on you, and that's…bad. I've seen people stuck inside a collapsing pocket space before. It's not pretty."
I shrugged. "It's structurally sound." I said casually. "I've done plenty of tests on it. I went over it with the diadem, had Dumbledore go over it. It's solid. Though I appreciate the concern."

He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm not the best at the mushy stuff, but you're my nephew. You're the spitting image of my brother, and you're my girlfriend's…boss. I've got nothing BUT reasons to worry about you, kid, and that's ignoring the fact that you saved my arse from Azkaban, and gave me the elixir that counteracted what I'm pretty sure was permanent soul damage from being there."

"Girlfriend huh?" I said teasingly. "You sure the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble house should be dating a girl who's only just entered her twenties?"

My own birthday had been a month or two ago, and Val was around the same age as I was, give or take. It still boggled my mind that I'd been a devil for two whole years already. I'd be old enough to drink by the end of next summer. At least in the US. I could drink anything I wanted in the UK, nevermind the Wizarding World, not that I did it much.

He just snorted. "You're clearly blessedly ignorant of wizarding marriage practices. Suffice to say, no one will care. Not that I'd give a shite if they did. I just…she's fun. Headstrong, doesn't take any guff, sexy as hell."

"Plus you're emotionally in your mid twenties." I pointed out wryly.

"Plus there's that." He grimaced. Hell, with the elixir I'm physically closer to that than my actual age. More than that though…I feel like Azkaban froze me in place for so long. I didn't grow, or change, or really live. I just…stayed."

I nodded sympathetically. "I'm not surprised. I imagine twenty four hour daily soul torture will do that to you. I'm just messing with you, man. Be happy, with whoever you want to. Val's a big girl, she can make her own choices. Plus if you break her heart she'll butcher you like a fattened pig all on her own."
He burst out laughing. "That she would. You're right though. I like spending time with her. How about you. How are things with your girls? I can't imagine trying to balance four birds at the same time."

"Only one of them is a bird." I said blithely. "But they're good. Fleur visited plenty, and Seras went there. Speaking of which she's been opening up to me way more since Fleur joined our little…group. They're very close, and having that dynamic helps balance her. She was never really close to Daphne or Suzie. Not the same way she is with Fleur. I'm just bummed she won't transfer to Hogwarts. She misses us like crazy but doesn't want to leave Gabi."

He grinned. "I'm not sure that would be a problem, considering how much time the little Veela spent at my house this last month."

Fleur had made the mistake of bringing Gabi for one of her visits (via Portkey of course) and the younger Delacour had developed a not so secret crush on my cousin (the adopted one, not the one whose father we still had in captivity). Harry hadn't even noticed, so weirdly insecure he couldn't even fathom a woman being interested in him.
Stori, however, HAD noticed, and had taken it as her best friend/mama hen duty to grill the delicate blonde like a CIA interrogator.

Gabrielle had passed with flying colors, and the two became fast friends, frequently owling each other about the latest fashion trends and the horrors of overprotective big sisters and surrogate big brothers who are powerful devils.

I'd gotten closer to Gabi myself, given my relationship with Fleur, and her presence at the house made getting to know her much easier. We talked whenever I visited, and I was honestly rooting for her and Harry. They were a sweet couple. The last month had been busy as hell, and I'd done a ton of socializing between turns with the diadem and working on this chest in front of us.

The chest had been a project to take care of the possibility of getting caught teleporting. My old chest had rooms, but they weren't stable enough to open circles out of without damaging it. I'd needed Amelie's help as well as the diadem and plenty of trial and error to perfect this new chest, one that I could use as an exit and entrance point so no one would catch me opening my circles.

It also gave me a stable place to practice more of the Spells of Astaroth, which I had been experimenting with to try to learn more about my demonic magic. There were quite a few interesting tricks in the half of the book I had access to, and I'd had Val contact China to try to acquire the other half, though it was still in process.

I had plenty of reasons to be happy, but despite how well things were going, something was eating at me. It wasn't Voldemort, we hadn't heard from him in a while (though Dumbledore and Val had improved the tracking efficiency of the her device tremendously, and we'd managed to narrow down one of the Horcruxes to somewhere in Diagon Alley) and it wasn't the thirteen ghosts.

Something was just…off. Possibly my instincts rearing their heads again, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what about…which was why I had officially decided to bite the bullet and take the dumbest elective of all time when I went back to Hogwarts. Divination.

Whatever my ability was, it was based on that art, and having more potential ways to tap into the power couldn't hurt. Not to say I would definitely be able to predict the future with tea leaves, but having some kind of mechanism might help me sharpen the instincts that were so frequently poking at me.

"Are you two done down there?" Demanded my Queen from the top of the steps. "Bad enough you left that thing down there all summer, but now you're dragging Sirius down to stare at it? It's literally a box. Come eat dinner."

"This is your life now." I told my uncle dryly. "You regretting it yet?"

He grinned. "Hey I'll be dead in a few decades. You're stuck with her for ten thousand years. Which one of us is worse off?"
A shadow lifted from the floor, forming a whiplike tendril and smacking him on the ass, causing him to yelp. I just laughed, heading to the steps. "Rookie mistake. You know what they say. Happy wife happy life."

"Wife?" Squeaked Val. "Whose a wife? You're the fucking wife. I'm not a wife."

Sirius gave me a flat look. "Thank you for that, really. My next two months of time are going to be spent assuaging her fears that we're going too fast. Please try to remember that Val was raised muggle, and marriage talk at twenty freaks her out."

Despite the teasing, I didn't think either of them was really bothered. When we got to the kitchen, everyone was already waiting at the table.
Harry, Stori, Ron, Hermione, the twins, and all the other Weasleys were using Grimmauld as a launching platform of sorts because it was so close to the station, and Sirius had the room. Blaise was scowling as we entered. "What sort of time do you call this?" My best friend demanded. "Some of us are hungry."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch." I taunted. "I have no idea how Stori puts up with you."

"He's very pretty." She said cheerfully. "But I'm starving too. Who eats dinner at eight PM? It's absurd."

Dropping into my seat, I waved my hand vaguely, and everyone else fell on their food like ravenous animals. Huh, maybe I had delayed too long. I cut into the prime rib, enjoying the well cooked meal (Daisy was here with us again, Kreacher was great but just didn't do food as well).
Before we could get into any actual dinner conversation though, I heard a rush of hot air from the other room, a telltale indication of a floo call. Sirius frowned, standing up in annoyance. "Who the hell is calling so late?"

Val and I both frowned at each other, heading into the living room with him just in case. When we got there, I recognized the face of Amelia Bones sitting in the flames. "Amy?" Said Sirius in confusion. "What's going on?" He gestured for her to come through, and she stumbled out of the flames, looking spooked.

'"Sirius, is Albus here? There's been…something's happened. I want to tell you all at once." He nodded, bringing her into the dining room where Dumbledore was eating with the rest of the family and the other guests. "Albus, Sylvie, Andromeda." She nodded to most of the older members of our dinner party. "I'm sorry to burst in like this."
My mother raised a brow. "Amy? You look terrible, what's going on?"

"There was an attack at the ministry." She said breathlessly. "Cornelius Fudge is dead. Peter Pettigrew assassinated him less than an hour ago, along with several key members of the Wizengamot. They're calling an emergency session of the House of Lords to select an interim minister until a special election can be held."
We all froze, staring at her in shock. That was…insane. Pettigrew had been missing for years, no one had seen him since he framed Sirius.

He'd been outed when Sirius was freed, and there had been a lot of scrutiny toward rats in the Wizarding World for a while. Ron's had suspiciously gone missing before the trial, though none of us really believed his conspiracy theory that it had been Pettigrew all along. Now he'd shown up in the MINISTRY and killed Fudge?

I didn't like Fudge, he was an incompetent prick, but Pettigrew was Voldemort's lackey. I didn't buy that he had no reason for killing off the minister. They had to have someone in a position to benefit from that, which was bad. I looked at Sirius. "You guys need to go." I said bluntly. "Get a handle on this. Don't let them use this chance to push through someone terrible."

He nodded, grabbing a set of robes off a rack. "Andi, Sylvie, you're welcome as guests. Molly, you still have regency over House Prewett, right?"

The Weasley matriarch nodded. "I do. And Arthur should be working, we can pick him up on the way." The older members of our party made their way to the living room floo, saying their goodbyes to their children and wishing us luck at school. Dumbledore promised to fill us in on the details tomorrow, and then they were gone.

Once they vanished, the rest of us were unusually quiet. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was back in force, and I couldn't help but assume this was just the beginning. Things were moving again in the shadows, and I had no idea how far this would go. But I had a feeling this wasn't going to settle down anytime soon.

Suzie pulled on my hand, hugging me as she stared after her aunt with worry. I put an arm around her, reassuring her silently that everything was going to be ok, even if I wasn't so sure. We ate in silence after that, and then retired to our respective rooms. We could talk on the train, but no one much felt like dinner conversation right now. We all had too much to think about.

September 1st, 2012, Hogwarts, Scotland, 7:00 PM BST

Entering the castle after a few months away was a breath of fresh air. Literally. "Oh gods its nice to be back in this draft old shitheap!" I moaned as I inhaled deeply. Something about the air here, being so far from civilization, was just…better. It wasn't like anything I'd ever smelled before. Like pine and dirt and growing things.

"Be nice." Scolded Suzie, squeezing the arm she was holding.

I raised a brow at her. "That WAS nice. I said I missed it here. That's nice. And this place is super drafty/. It's a fucking castle."

"I'd correct your language, but I suspect it's more accurate for you than I might wish to inquire about." Said a dry voice to our left. I spun to see Dumbledore smiling mischievously at us. On his left, to my absolute shock, was a familiar gorgeous platinum blonde.

"Fleur!" Squealed Seras happily as she blurred forward and scooped my Veela up in a hug. "What are you doing here? Oh it's so good to see you."
I chuckled wryly, since they'd been together not long ago, but I had no explanation for that. Instead I focused on Fleur. "That's a good question. Not that I don't love having you around, but what's with the visit? Rethinking that transfer?"

"Non." She said, her accent clear in her voice. "I am simply the advance party for the visit."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "If we might adjourn to my office. I'd like to have a discussion with you before the sorting runs its course."
That sounded ominous. But that made taking the meeting even more important. I waved the others off, giving Daphne, Seras, Suzie, and Fleur each a quick kiss and ignoring the smirk from my friends as the goodbyes took way longer than was reasonable given the number of my girls in attendance.

While they escorted Fleur to the great hall to watch the sorting, Dumbledore and I headed for his office. Once he was there, he tapped a few of the weird devices on the shelves behind his desk, and they all spun up. I was pretty sure it was some kind of countersurveillance, but that in itself was worrying.

"So…" I said leadingly. "You guys had that Fudge meeting yesterday, then Fleur shows up as an 'advance scout'. How did we get there and why do I feel like it's not a good thing?"

He sighed. "The decapitation strike on our ministry was…well timed." He admitted. "Fudge has spent the last several months viciously squashing what he considered 'resistance' at the expense of most of, if not all of our international relations. Your uncle's trial and the events that followed deeply shook his grasp on power. We always assumed that Lucius Malfoy was a nefarious influence, but it seems he may actually have been curbing some of the minister's worst excesses."

"Irony." I said dryly. "Always slaps in you the face at the most obnoxious times."

The old man chuckled tiredly. "Quite. Regardless, given the constant barrage of political suspicion and his somewhat…extreme attempts to hold onto power, Fudge managed to simultaneously cripple our political infrastructure and demolish most of the good will we had with the international wizarding community."
"What?" I said incredulously. "Didn't I like…save France six months ago?"

"And that's the crux of the matter." He said with a nod. "Or rather, the task for which I sent you there in the first place. The Triwizard Tournament. A dangerous and extremely complicated event for which we originally planned to take an entire years planning. Unfortunately, when the minister died, it left a power vacuum. Bartemius Crouch, the current head of the department of international magical co-operation, has decided to throw his hat into the ring for the upcoming special election."
I groaned. "He moved up a massive international tournament just to buy himself some political capital?"

"Indeed." The headmaster said tiredly. "And not a few other officials and functionaries seconded the decision for similar reasons. Now, as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, I cannot weigh in on matters of state, however-"

I rolled my eyes. "Bones. Obviously. I'm sure Sirius and all the other older members of our contingent are already onboard. Val is going to LOVE this. She sees Amelia as competition because she and Sirius were together as teens. Drama in my house aside, what the hell do you expect me to do about this?"

"Simple." He said bluntly. "I want you to enter, and I want you to win. With Sirius backing Amelia's candidacy financially, Andromeda acting as advisor, and your own relationship with Miss Bones the younger, the House of Black has firmly picked a side. The prestige of the Triwizard tournament is nothing to scoff at, not to mention the French will be thrilled to see their savior come out on top, even if it means their own candidate will fail to take home the gold."

I smirked at him. "And making Amelia the political hero associated with generating the good will from the tournament doesn't hurt either. Who exactly is she running against, by the way? I don't follow british politics."

"Rufus Scrimgeour of the DMLE." He recited tiredly. "Bartimeus Crouch of the DIMC, Pius Thicknesse of the Department of Internal Memoranda-" I raised a hand, cutting him off.

"There's a ministry department entirely dedicated to sending fucking MEMOS?" I gaped at him.

It was his turn to smirk. "I daresday it's one of the most well staffed departments in the whole ministry. No bureaucracy can function without memos, dear boy."

"Fine, you can stop listing, I don't care anymore. What's up with this tournament, what am I going to have to do?" I shot him a droll look. "Because if this is going to be a repeat of that dueling club…well, I'll still do it, but I'll need to be bribed."

He shook his head. "I can't get into specifics. Not won't, can't. I'm stretching the bounds of a magical contract even mentioning it to you. But since you were already informed of the existence of the tournament when I sent you on your mission to Beauxbatons, it's technically not a violation."

I opened my mouth to respond, but his head jerked up, eyes going a bit vague. "Unfortunately our time is short. The sorting has ended and I am needed in the great hall. Come along, Mr. Black, I shall show you a secret passage I daresay not even your redheaded friends are aware of."

Standing up, he turned and strode away, leaving me behind for a second before I hopped up and jogged after him. Stopping at a small alcove with a pedestal in it, he tapped his wand against the fishbowl sitting on the column. He whispered 'Descendium' and the pillar shifted, a grinding sound heralding the opening of the back of the alcove.
Stepping into a thin spiral staircase, we descended a surprisingly short distance, emerging into a tunnel. Dumbledore set off in a seemingly random direction, and I followed, only to emerge from behind a column in the corner of the great hall as a new freshman took his seat at the Griffyndor table to raucous applause.

I blinked at the headmaster. "Wait…how many of those tunnels are there?" I reached back and laid my hand on the stone of the wall, not really surprised it was solid, despite having stepped straight through it without trouble moments ago., "Is this how you always show up randomly in the halls without warning?"

"The muggles have a charming sentiment I sometimes find appropriate in situations such as this." he said with a mysterious (read smug) smile. "A magician, dear boy, never reveals his secrets."

"That never doesn't annoy anyone you say it to." I said flatly. "Same for magicians. Everyone thinks they're dicks."

He shrugged. "I shall soldier on, I daresay. Difficult as that may be. Now, why don't you return to your table while I take my place. The information i can convey regarding the tournament will be shared with the teeming masses."

Rolling my eyes, I stepped out into the hall, sticking to the wall and not surprised that no one saw me. I slipped in between Daphne and Suzie when I reached the table, and they both shot me a concerned look. I waved them off, gesturing to a Dumbledore who was even now taking center stagte.

"Welcome." Said the old man cheerfully. "To another wonderful year at Hogwarts. To our newest fellows in this business we call an education, welcome for the first time, and to all our returning comrades, a hearty welcome back. I do hope you've enjoyed our hospitality so far, though if have not, you may of course write your complaints down on a piece of parchment and toss them into the house fireplaces. They will not reach me, but I believe the exercise will relieve frustration."

The was a wave of laughter, which caused his smile to brighten, but once it calmed, his expression became somber. "Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, we had some rather tragic news not too long ago. The loss of our beloved minister of magic. Cornelius Fudge will be missed, and his passing has left us all in dire spirits. In order to raise our morale, we have reached out to friends in the international community, and have decided to hold a grand event!"

It was good spin, his shift from sad to triumphant was subtle and understated, and it dragged the whole room along behind him. Say what you wanted about Dumbledore, but the man had presence.

"The Triwizard Tournamet." He announced boldly. "Is an ancient wizard sporting event involving the faculties of three chosen wizarding academies. Hogwarts will be hosting it this year, and the event will be attended by our French and Eastern European counterparts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons." There was an outcry. "To answer the questions I can hear repeated most loudly, yes the Durmstrang that formerly played host to the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and the Beauxbatons from which Belinda Montague, Witch Weekly's Swimsuit Goddess of the century, emerged respectively."

The reaction was mixed, mostly because I think people were confused about which to react to. Dumbledore had caught them off guard, and he bulled on, steamrolling the confused crowd. "For those concerned about Durmstrang's reputation, please remember that bad influences can emerge from even the brightest box of jewels, our own beloved school spawned a Dark Lord of some renown. For those more interested in the latter, Madame Montague will not be attending this event, I'm sorry to say."
Plenty of murmurs rang out (a surprising amount for the latter comment) and he waited for them to finish. "Now, for the truly unfortunate news. I'm afraid quidditch will be canceled this year, as we will have no time to hold matches while handling the details of the tournament.

"On the bright side, any student may enter the tournament as they wish, given that you are all of age." He said confidently. "I trust whoever is chosen by the judge, who is entirely impartial, will represent our fair school bravely and with dignity, as we do our best to further diplomatic relations with our friends from overseas."

I was going to comment on that last bit, but then I remembered England was an island, as was, I was pretty sure, Scotland. I guessed that counted as overseas. Dumbledore waxed on, explaining the rules as he could reveal them, three tasks, formal ball, prize money, I saw plenty of people perk up at the mention of the gold.

Finally he bid us all good evening and let us dig into the food, and I turned to smile at my friends. "In case you were wondering, the meeting was about that. I'm entering apparently." They all went quiet, staring at me for a minute, before they burst into rapid chattering, talking over each other as they tried to ask me questions. I just sat and smiled, relishing the overlapping babble. It was good to be back.

September 2nd, 2012, Hogwarts, Scotland, 7:00 AM BST

"Ugh." Groaned the blonde bombshell snuggled into my side. "I do not want to get out of bed to eat. Your english food is so heavy. No wonder Daphne developed this indulgent rear." She reached across me to slap an exposed cheek on my bottom heavy Slytherin.

Daphne raised her head, from where she had buried it in Susan's chest. "You know it's my devil shapeshifting." She pouted. "You just like to play with it."
Fleur giggled. "I fed our hungry vampire last night. I need to eat sweets to recover. It's only natural that I would be interested in, as Ryan would say 'all this cake'." She grinned lecherously at the other blonde.

"No dirty talk in the morning." I said firmly. "We have things to do today, and if you get saucy we'll be fucking until sundown. If you're really faint from Seras's feeding we can eat breakfast. We can pick what we get, so you can have some pastries to recover your blood sugar. Besides, she didn't take that much."

Seras's head poked out of the blanket on the other side of her. "I didn't." She confirmed. "Just a pint from the thigh, though I stopped for a sweeter snack after."

I rolled my eyes, pulling myself out of the tangle of bodies. "All four of you are incorrigible."

Suzie giggled. "You sound so English now. Only here for two years and you're already using our words."

"They're all your words." I smirked as I got dressed. "It's your language. But I get your point. Anyway, I need to go and submit my name to the judge for this tournament. It's how we get your aunt elected. Fleur, you're submitting your name too right? What about the rest of you girls? Interested in competing?"

Snorting, Daphne rolled over, ignoring the mou of disappointment as Fleur's hand was yanked from its perch on one doughy cheek. "And compete with you? Hardly, and I have no desire to earn recognition for my family. My father can't do much with it. If I were to win it wouldn't do anything for Amelia."

"Can we talk about that by the way?" Seras asked delightedly. "Val was going spare. She already feels threatened by Amelia. If she wins this election I'm afraid she might pull her hair out."

Suzie looked sad. "Auntie is just so lonely. She and Sirius were involved when they were younger, and he makes her think of happier times. It's not real flirting."

Me , Seras, and even Fleur gaped at her. "Susan." I said carefully. "She asked him to get her pregnant."

"Because she doesn't have an heir!" My friend protested. "The Black bloodline is well respected, and Auntie needs someone to focus her time on at home now that I'm out of the house. She's always wanted children."

Daphne waved a hand. "This is one of those pureblood things you wouldn't get. Breeding contracts aren't as common as marriage contracts, but they do happen. Valkyrie is muggleborn, though, and I can see why she got so upset about that incident." She paused. "Admittedly waiting in his bedroom in nothing but a pair of crotchless panties might have been coming on a bit strong."

"I'm sure she has other options." I said with an exasperated sigh.

Suzie nodded. "Of course. My Aunt has a healthy rotation of lovers. It's an open secret that older witches from good stock enjoy plenty of dalliances. But there's bloodlines to be considered when speaking of the future of a house."

I glanced at my vampire, who looked as out of her depth as I felt. Fucking purebloods, man.

After I finished dressing, I shrugged and headed for the door. "Anyway, I'm going to register. Fleur make sure you do it sometime today, since you have no classes there's no rush."

Seras rolled out of bed, breasts bouncing and walked showily over to snag her clothes, dressing quickly. "I'll come with. I'm feeling a bit peckish meself. I'll send some food back for our pillow princesses the usual way."

None of the three still in bed objected to the term, and I laughed as we made our way out through a quick circle, emerging into the hidden chamber in the back corner of the great hall I'd just discovered. It gave an out of the way location to hop to, which made entering the great hall unnoticed possible.

Before I could walk out though, Seras caught my sleeve. I stopped, turning to shoot her a concerned look. "Everything ok?"

She looked unsure, then sighed. "Look, just…take care of her? In this tournament?"

It took me a second to recognize what she meant, and then my eyes widened. "You're worried about Fleur? She's a rook. Who can conjure fire. Which means she has Hellfire abilities too. I wouldn't want to fight her."

"That's not…there's more too it." She said, biting her lip. "It doesn't bother me much, but being the odd one out here can be rough. They're not exactly the picture of tolerance." At my growl, she put her hands up. "Nothing overt. Not for a while. But…she's french, and she's an obvious nonhuman. Even without being outed as a vampire, I had more than a few snide looks for being 'muggleborn'. Fleur likes to play the seductress, but she's one of the kindest people I know. The kind of disdain she might face here would hurt her. Deeply."

"I'll make damned sure everyone knows she's mine." I said bluntly. "I can't stop shitty muttering, but if anyone says anything to her face I'll fucking break theirs. But go back, people were bullying you for being muggleborn?"

She shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle. And nothing too in my face. I've been your servant since I got here. It was mostly just snide looks and muttering. Shit I couldn't prove. And also NOT the point. I want to know you'll take care of my best friend. Competition or not, this tournament is going to be dangerous, and that means plenty of room for 'accidents'."

"On the off chance something genuinely threatening happens to Fleur despite her immense personal power, the threat will be neutralized." I assured her in a hard voice. "As will the person who presented it. I don't give a shit about optics or elections. If someone tries to take out a member of my peerage, and one of my girls no less, I'll scatter the miniscule fucking shreds of them across the grounds as fertilizer."

She stared at me for a minute, then smiled warmly. "I know." She said in relief. "I knew you would feel like that. I just needed to say it. She never would have. She tries so hard not to be a burden."

"I know." I said with a frown. "I've tried to explain she doesn't need to be the life of the party or a sex doll. I'm not going to ditch her if she becomes inconvenient. But I think being seen as a commodity for years has warped her sense of self. I mean, I know she ENJOYS sex, and I certainly don't mind, but she's still having trouble sharing more of herself with the rest of us. I'm glad you two are so close."

"I think Daphne is making some progress." She admitted. "Letting Fleur take control of that relationship and go at her own pace is helping. Unfortunately, Suzie's natural exuberance makes her a little uncomfortable. Not that she'd ever say it, but she's not up for that level of emotional honestly."

Snorting, I shook my head. "Sometimes I'M not up for that level of emotional honesty. That's Suzie's superpower. She gives you what you need whether you want it or not. But it's not like we're short on time. We just let her do what she's comfortable with until she's ready for more."
Rolling her eyes, she snorted at me. "And the constant hardcore fucking probably doesn't hurt."

"Yes, I'm a man. Thanks for noticing." I said dryly. "Don't worry about Fleur. I'll take care of her, I promise. And so will you. You might not be entering the tournament, but you'll be around to watch both our backs."

Seras blew out a long breath. "I know. But I need some help. Keeping you from acting like an idiot is a full time job. Keeping my best friend from getting her heart broken by racist pureblood swots might be more than I can handle."

Smiling at each other in understanding, I held out an arm, and she took it. With that settled, we emerged from the passage, stepping out from behind the column. Seras headed for the Hufflepuff table after a quick cheek kiss, and I headed toward the most obvious gathering of people, which I assumed was the judge.
When I arrived though, I became immediately confused. I stepped up next to a familiar pair of redheads, raising a brow. "Wow." I said dryly. "It's a cup full of fire. What a creative and not at all useless item."

George snorted. "Right? It's ridiculous. But it's a magical object apparently. Some kind of contract making device. Drop your name in and it submits you as a possibility for the tournament. If it picks you, you're magically compelled to compete. They call it the Goblet of Fire."

"Somebody really strained themself with that one." I snorted. But fine, what are the rules? Just drop in a piece of paper with your name?"

"Pretty much." Said Fred. "Some kind of basic magical test when you submit. A few people have been rejected. No one with any decent amount of power though, and you're obviously going to be fine. There've been quite a few upperclassmen submitting. The societies are heavily represented. Carey Ductu, Clara Martyris, that pretty boy puff, Diggory. And of course, yours truly."

I raised a brow at that. "I'm curious, what will you do if one of you wins? You can't both compete if its a magical binding right?"

They paused. "We…hadn't considered that." Said George in an unsettled voice. I suppose only one of us can be chosen." They looked genuinely disturbed, turning and wandering away without another word.

It was an amusing byplay, but I'd gotten the info I needed. I reached through a circle in a pocket, pulled out a piece of paper (an old charms assignment I had lying around at home) and then tore off a section with my name on it, tossing it casually into the green flames of the goblet as they guttered away.

There was a flare of light and heat, and I felt a kind of…examination. Like I was being looked at in a non physical way. After a moment, the fire died down, and I assumed I'd been accepted. Given what the twins had said, rejection should be much more overt.

Heading over to the table, I dropped down next to Blaise and Stori, who were already at breakfast. "Sup nerds." I said as I picked up a plate and requested some country fried steak and eggs. "You sign up for this nonsense?"

Stori pouted. "No. Blaise won't let me. He says I'm still catching up after being sick for so long and it isn't safe."

"Yes to both of those." I nodded. "Also I'm signing up, so none of you losers have a chance."

I winked to show I was teasing, and she rolled her eyes fondly. Then we just kind of…slipped into conversation. Being back with my friends at my second home was oddly comfortable. It was morning at Hogwarts, and I felt good.

Behind that contentment though, I could feel a kernel of excitement bubbling away. This tournament was going to be big news, an international stage. Maybe I could spin it into some contracts to help myself improve. I needed more energy for necromancy anyway. Since I was supposed to win and look good doing it, I would make as big an impression as I could. First step to that was to do some training. Time to hit the books.

As usual pat-reon has the advance chapters at that site /malcolmtent hope everyone enjoys.