The Guile of the Traveller

by Kingmaker'sUmbreon

After being hit by the Killing Curse, Harry finds herself in a limbo that looks a lot like Kings Cross station. Deciding that the remnant of Voldemort's soul does deserve a chance at redemption, Harry finds herself in London, 1944. However, Harry soon makes a name for herself, and discovers that adventure and drama followed her everywhere, including into the past.

46. Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Harry was the first one awake Yule morning at around nine o'clock in the morning, and for once it was not due to nightmares or visions of the dying or soon-to-be-dead. She wasted no time in sending the Peverell ravens off with the presents for her friends – and putting the ones for her family under the tree – before deciding to already make a start on breakfast since it would not be long for the residents of the Evren Estates to awaken from the Realm of Hypnos. It gave her a moment to process everything that had happened after the commotion caused by the discovery of Vida and Queenie.

Yesterday, Malum had wasted no time to write an extensive letter about the events that had occurred after the Peverells, Rowles and Notts left, including the arrival of Hecuba and Alphard with some of their fellow Aurors to report to the Malfoys about what actions they had undertaken in an effort to catch the imposters. Apparently, the Aurors had conducted raids on the homes of both Isobel Runcorn and Helena Urquhart and found no sign of the imposters but did find the real women kept at the bottom of a very deep trunk that in theory could have held around twenty people in it. Both Minor Nobles were tired, thirsty and a little hungry but other than that, they were completely unharmed.

This at least made Harry smile in relief when she had read that. It gave her some level of reassurance that the women had not been needlessly killed, which alleviated that concern, leaving only the liability of the Generals pursuing what Mr. Lament had blabbed in the back of her mind. The Slytherin part of her could not help but be a little disappointed that the Laments had not had their memories wiped or something.

What had removed Harry's smile from reading Malum's letter, was a call from Altair not too long after he and his mother returned home, stating that his father was refusing to stay with his legitimate family for Yule and that "he would not be returning home until the New Year" despite Lady Nott's desperate pleas for him to stay. After Harry and Tom were talked down from trying to hunt Lord Nott down and hex him into oblivion by Thanatos and Melinoë, the Traveller had insisted Altair and his mother spend Yule at the Evren Estates, especially since their servants were already with their families so that meant the pair would be all alone save for house elves.

Since no one argued with Harry's decision, Altair and Lady Nott had packed a trunk and a bag and were picked up by Melinoë at around two in the morning. Not long after the pair had arrived, everyone had headed to bed, utterly exhausted by the mayhem of the Yule Ball and the fact it was two in the morning.

As Harry finished the first stack of pancakes, putting them under a Warming Charm, and beginning the second lot, she could not help but dread what the Prophet was going to say. The fact that two of Grindelwald's Generals had somehow managed to slip into the country, despite there being rigorous restrictions on international Portkey travel, and then being able to kidnap Isobel and Helena without anyone so much as noticing that there was something different about the two women, was frankly worrying and slightly embarrassing.

Harry knew that the two Generals would be well versed in acting, but not so good that they would be able to pass so quickly as the authentic witches. She had thought something would have slipped, but apparently nothing did.

The Lady Regnant wondered how this could affect Minister Spencer-Moon's public image because, naturally, anyone who didn't like him would use this as a tool to say that his government was ill equipped to deal with the Grindelwald threat, which Harry doubted was very much the case. She didn't remember much about Minister Spencer-Moon and his time in office from Binns' History lessons in her original timeline but what Harry did remember from Hermione's extra revision sessions, was that Spencer-Moon had been the right man for the job, much like Winston Churchill for the Muggles.

As usual, the Traveller soon found herself rather antsy working in silence so she decided to put the radio on – not too loudly – and sang softly to the music, especially I Saw Three Ships, The Fairies of Mistletoe, The Holly and The Ivy and The Weeping Pine Tree. After finishing the second stack, Harry laid the table, barely noticing that the house around her was coming alive again. The Lady Regnant was starting on the third stack of pancakes when Athenaïs and Andras, Altair's familiar who was happy he could come along for a small holiday too, came ambling down the stairs and made themselves at home on the sofas and looking curiously at the pile of presents already under the Yule tree. Soon after the familiars came Tom, with Frey coiled around his arm, Altair and Lady Nott. All three of them were rather surprised to see Harry hard at work in the kitchen, having a lot of fun flipping her pancakes.

Lady Nott was shaking her head despondently. "A Lady Regnant working in the kitchen. I must be dreaming."

Altair couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Yep … she continues to surprise you."

Tom descended the stairs first, allowing Frey down onto the nearest sofa so she could join her friends. "Blessed Yule, Harry. Can I help with something?" he asked jovially as he approached, planting a kiss on her temple as soon as he reached her.

"Morning, Tom," Harry grinned. "Could you go and get the syrups and toppings from the pantry? Oh and get the Yule cookies please!"

As Tom sprang into action, she saw Altair and his mother and beamed at them. "Blessed Yule! How did you sleep?"

"Better than I did in a long while," Lady Nott felt she could admit, albeit smally.

"Ditto," Altair beamed back as he too approached Harry and embraced his future Consort close, planting a kiss on her head as well. "Can I also help with anything?"

Harry smiled. "Well, you can get the drinks and the breakfast tarts Perrie made? They should be on a silver tray in the pantry. Pantry is behind that slightly hidden door there."

It was as Altair headed to the pantry and Tom was coming back levitating syrup bottles and a jar of honey and a few jars of different jams and chocolate spreads and a plate covered by a covering that Nicholas, Perenelle and Melinoë came down the stairs. Harry could not help but laugh at the cute but comical jumper the Immortal Alchemist was wearing with present and Yule tree patterns woven into it.

"Blessed Yule everyone!" Nicholas stated happily. He lit up when he saw Harry in the kitchen and the breakfast table filling up rather quickly. "Oh, Harry, you already started, you angel."

"I will get going on the granola jars then," Perrie decided, immediately coming to join Harry in the kitchen.

"I'll get started on the coffee and tea," Melinoë added.

Lady Nott watched the Peverell family work in utter shock and fascination. She had noticed the easiness and the warmth between the Lady Regnant, her family's friends and her guardians almost immediately the first time she saw them and had felt privileged to see it again while sitting in the living room with a cup of hot chocolate. But this was somehow different – the Peverells and the Flamels were a team. They seemed to know instinctively how to handle each other and Lady Nott could see that Tom and Altair were very quickly becoming part of that, judging by the ease they showed.

It was unlike anything that Amaris Nott had seen in her life. She had been used to a life of privilege; she had never seen her mother so much as touch a kitchen utensil, never mind bake or cook! Amaris herself didn't even know where one would have to begin to make a decent pancake. All of the food that she ever had was prepared by house elves or the elves at Hogwarts. Now, Amaris could not help but feel a little ashamed that she was so useless in comparison to the Lady Hera, Perenelle Flamel and Melanie Rollins.

"Everything all right, Lady Nott?" the disguised goddess, who had noticed Altair's mother visibly deflate slightly, asked kindly as she set a cup of coffee and a cup of tea down in front of Amaris.

"What? Oh, yes, everything is fine, Miss Rollins. Thank you," Lady Nott answered quickly, a small smile appearing on her countenance momentarily as Tom and Altair joined her at the breakfast table. "I was just lost in my thoughts."

"I can imagine. I hope you don't mind me saying, my Lady, but your husband is a disgrace," Perenelle Flamel sniffed. "Leaving his family for Yule! Had Nicholas tried to do to me what your husband does to you, he would have found himself in a pit of Nathair Sídhe."

"If I was lucky that day," Nicholas Flamel added, eyes shining with amusement as though the prospect of being theoretically murdered by his wife was a joke to him. "If I would not be so lucky, Perrie would likely hand me over to a Sphinx friend of ours, hoping that I will meet my untimely demise due to boredom."

Lady Nott flushed. "I … I know … Mattheo has always been a complicated person… His business keeps him very occupied …"

"But to leave his wife and child alone for Yule while he goes away on business? I understand that the tide of politics waits for no one but Yule is the one Sabbath in the year that everyone makes time in order to be with loved ones," Perenelle huffed. "It's shameful."

"I agree," Lady Nott managed to agree. "But there is nothing that I can say or do that will ever change his mind. We … are barely even friends and Mattheo has never taken my opinion seriously. We just don't talk unless we have to."

"That does not sound like a very healthy way to live," Melinoë commented as she added fruit to the granola jars Perrie had finished.

"I know," Lady Nott whispered.

Fortunately the air lightened up a little with the arrival of Thanatos and Hypnos, and a raven carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet and The Court of Britain; Melinoë had apparently insisted that the latter also be bought to make sure everything was in order.

Harry took the paper from the raven almost immediately. The front page was almost entirely what Harry had expected it to be.

IMPOSTERS AT MALFOY YULE BALL; SUSPECTED GRINDELWALD INFILTRATION?

Yesterday at five minutes past midnight, Aurors were summoned out of their beds to conduct a raid on the houses of Isobel Runcorn and Helena Urquhart. The reason for the raid was extra ordinary: the Aurors were in pursuit of apparent imposters who had masqueraded as the two women for the entirety of the Malfoy Yule Ball. Led by Auror Hecuba Potter and Auror Alphard Black, they discovered no sign of the imposters but made the discovery that the two heiresses were being kept in an enchanted trunk, relatively unharmed. Currently, both are being kept under observation at St. Mungo's Hospital.

The discovery that the two women had been imposters had resulted in the counterfeit Isobel attacking security guards and Lady Praxilla Malfoy, all of whom are relatively unharmed. The woman had been chased off by a familiar of one of the guests, disguised as a Hound for the Wild Hunt. The question we now have to ask ourselves is, how could this have happened? Was it a lack of security on the part of the Malfoys? Who were these women to begin with? Were they agents of Grindelwald? If so, how did they get into the country undetected?

Our sources indicate that Minister Spencer-Moon's office are already working harder on stricter Portkey travel legislation. We will have to wait and see if it has any true impact, or if another of Grindelwald's followers are able to find their way onto our great Isle.

"Well, I expected worse, to be honest," Harry commented candidly, putting the paper aside with a sigh as the family began to tuck into breakfast. "This could in theory be a disaster for the Minister if he does not handle it correctly."

"I am sure Minister Spencer-Moon will come up with something," Altair replied. "Everyone knows that he is a shrewd operator; this likely won't do much to his reputation as a whole."

Melinoë was still reading The Court of Britain to find out what the gossip journal had to say on the matter. "So far I am seeing … dresses … more dresses … gossip and speculation about people dancing … snide comments about a few of the families present, including Fleamont Potter – let's face it, the man bloody deserves it. Stuff about Diantha Underwood, Cassiopeia Black, Lycoris Black, Ignatius and Lucretia's first outing as a couple … ah, here! 'Isobel Runcorn and Helena Urquhart pulled off their respective looks with style and grace, which is even more shockingly impressive given the fact that these two women were apparently not the real heiresses. According to eye witnesses, they were imposters but as for their true identity, there is only rumour and speculation'."

"So no one has admitted to the press that they were Queenie Goldstein and Vida Rosier," Tom summed up simply.

"It would appear not," Melinoë confirmed as she read on. "It seems people didn't know, or there was a pre-emptive decisions to cover that fact up."

"That is very likely," Harry stated dryly. "Because to admit to the public that two of Grindelwald's most powerful Generals found their way onto the Isle would cause a mass panic that no one can afford right now."

"Wait, won't Runcorn and Urquhart be able to identify them?" Altair frowned.

"I doubt their families have allowed them to talk to the press, or vice versa," Hypnos pointed out. "But I think it is only a matter of time before there is a headline in the papers that the imposters were Goldstein and Rosier."

"That is definitely going to cause a kerfuffle," Harry exhaled sharply.

"I think it is safe to say a kerfuffle has already been caused," Perrie sighed.

"Where was Goldstein? I didn't see her for a long time," Tom asked, his brow furrowed.

Harry stirred her tea and pursed her lips momentarily. "That's because she was outside. With Ophelia and me."

"What?" Lady Nott could barely keep her countenance; neither could Tom or Altair for that matter.

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "Ophelia wanted to talk to me about something, but Goldstein interrupted. She … wanted to talk to me and – unbelievably enough – offer me some advice."

"You're joking," Altair paled. "Advice about what?"

"Believe it or not, about how to keep a Dark Lord entertained but also to make sure to keep him at arm's length," Harry could not help but snorting at the absurdity of it. "It is like I have a creepy secret admirer."

"In some ways you do!" Thanatos snorted derisively.

"But she didn't try to hurt you?" Tom wanted to know, just recovering from his shock.

"No," Harry reassured. She considered her next answer for a moment. "She was more interested in finding out more about me as a person than anything else. But she did … recognise me. Slightly."

"Slightly?" Altair repeated, eyes very wide at this point.

"Goldstein noted that I look like my mother," Harry clarified. "She knew I was not her because I have raven hair and Goldstein … killed her."

"Oh my …" the Immortal Alchemist exhaled sharply, a sentiment that was shared by everyone around the table.

"Yeah," Harry whispered.

I have a question: how the hell does Queenie know or recognise you in the first place? Harry's Slytherin voice piped up. And what in the name of Sam heck is Operation Sparta?

Athenaïs and Andras both felt the rising tensions and decided that they would not allow Yule to begin with stress so the Gargouille had decided to turn the music up on the radio, and then she and the Northern Inuit dog started to dance and 'sing' along to the songs. It was a bid to distract their family and it worked because the subject of Queenie, Vida and Grindelwald was dropped in favour of watching the familiars have fun and discuss plans for the day.

Other than another trip to the Yule market at one of the local hamlets, it was decided the day would mostly be a lazy one but first, they would all dress and do the presents first. Athenaïs and Andras had to be taken upstairs too in order to stop them from trying to get into the pile prematurely.

After everyone had washed and dressed, the family went downstairs for the gift exchange. Harry preferred to keep herself at a distance, helping Perrie in the kitchen with eggnog and mulled wine for the evening, while she watched her loved ones' delight with their gifts and Nicholas using her Hansa Canon to capture the Yule festivities. The Lady Regnant giggled at Thanatos and Hypnos' embarrassment at receiving presents at all while Melinoë lit up at her new cloak and gloves from Altair. Nicholas himself loved the tea set Tom bought him and the painting Harry had made for him of a chapel of Gargouilles living on the Notre Dame. Athenaïs loved the painting too, chirping mystically with excitement, pointing at the individual members depicted in the painting. Apparently she knew the chapel who had lived on the Notre Dame very well since they were her mother's old chapel before she mated with Athenaïs' father and Harry had unwittingly captured the members accurately.

Harry translated for everyone in the room. 'There is Cousin Heloise, and Aunt Ottilie. Manon looks funny; Harry, how did you know that Quincy was a clumsy hunter? Oooo there are Marcel, Amaury, Arielle and Zellie. Is that Uncle Aramis?'

Lady Nott' eyes shone at the sight. "Did you really paint this yourself, my Lady?"

"Please, Lady Nott, call me Harry," the Traveller flushed slightly. "And yes I did. I didn't really buy gifts this year."

"You may call me Amaris, Harry," Lady Nott smiled at her future daughter-in-law. Altair had informed her what Harry had said to Mattheo and the Trollop when the triad had confronted the pair yesterday, and it had only made Amaris approve even more of Altair's match.

"Well I absolutely cannot wait to hang it up!" Nicholas stated happily, admiring the painting more closely. "Oooo you even painted a Gargouille who succeeded in hunting a pigeon in the background. Thank you so much, Harry."

"You're welcome, Nick," Harry smiled smally. "I am relieved you like it."

"Why would I not like it? It is very well done, the Gargouilles each have their own character and it is amusing as well as beautiful," the Immortal Alchemist praised. "You, my dear, need a little more confidence in your own abilities."

"Nicholas," Perrie shot her husband a pointed look the moment she saw Harry look down a little in shame.

Nicholas knew better than to push the matter. Athenaïs and Frey exchanged gifts too; Frey loved the mini castle that could go over her warming stone and Atty was very happy with her own warming stone. Both familiars were also very happy with the knitted blankets and jumpers made by Altair; Athenaïs loved the Gothic familiar bed Tom had bought for her and especially adored the musical cathedral statue Harry had made for her. Andras was very happy with his new squeaky toys from Altair.

Then it was Tom and Altair's turn and Harry could not help but feel extremely nervous again. She watched them open fancy sweets from Orion and Arcturus, proper wand holsters from Heron, expensive looking trinkets from Malum, Caius, Felix and Abraxas and a set of specialised ritual implements from Loreley for Tom. To Altair, Loreley had given him a book on Healing magic. These were very well received; the boys also loved the presents they had gotten for each other. Altair loved the books Tom had bought from Thanatos' shop and Tom loved the snake notebook Altair had made. Perrie had made the boys their own Yule jumpers, much to everyone's amusement. Melinoë had gotten the boys some beautiful pocket watches while Thanatos and Hypnos gave Tom a Pensieve and Altair some elegant new quills.

Soon only Harry's presents to her family remained; the Lady Regnant almost spilled some of the mulled wine in her anxiety. Not even making the Courting Boxes was as stressful or as nerve wrecking as this because at least Harry knew the etiquette that had to go into a gift. Harry watched Tom pick up the box that held his daggers and refused to so much as blink until that box was open.

As for Tom, he stared at the elegant blades for a long moment, taking in every detail from the blades to the sleek black handles to the snakes atop some and the amphiteres above others, not aware that his lack of reaction was giving Harry heart palpitations. Her ability to breathe only returned when she saw him smile at them and those burgundy eyes shining.

"Daggers," Amaris Nott looked and sounded a little surprised. "Why daggers? Aren't they a little bit dangerous?"

"Harry is going to train us to use them properly," Altair answered reassuringly.

"With our help," Thanatos added, which made Lady Nott breathe out a sigh of relief and consider something for a moment.

"Well, I think knowing how to defend oneself without a wand is a good idea," Amaris stated. "One can never be too careful with Muggle opponents."

Tom and Altair then unwrapped the rapiers, eyes shining as they studied their weapons more closely. Amaris gulped a little at these, though. "My Lady, where did you get these weapons?" she asked curiously.

The Lady Regnant suddenly looked a little embarrassed.

"I forged them," was the answer Amaris was not expecting.

Lady Nott gaped, eyes wide with awe. "You know how to forge? With your magic?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Yes. Henry trained me."

"She took to it like a fish to water," Hypnos wasted no time in praising his semi-immortal friend.

Altair turned and beamed at Harry at this point. "It's perfect! Thank you so much."

The Lady Regnant flushed. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

Next were the noncombative gifts. While Tom unwrapped the small miniature of Altair, their other future Consort unwrapped one of her more experimental gifts. It was a metal aspis shield with a sparrow hawk and golden jackal on it, as well as several different runes and sigils etched into it, with a colour scheme of black, gold and silver.

Amaris frowned a little. "That shield does not look very practical."

"True. An aspis shield is an Ancient shield that was used in large armies," Harry agreed. "But in this case the shield is not meant to be brought into battle. It's supposed to go on the wall. You see those runes and sigils? Once activated, they ensure that no one can eavesdrop into your room. You have total and complete privacy; you could cast a Bombarda and no one outside the room would hear it."

"Awesome!" Altair's eyes were shining again.

Tom then showed Altair the miniature Harry made of him, causing the Nott heir to turn redder than strawberries in about five seconds flat. The portrait was an adapted version of the sketch Harry had once done of Altair and Athenaïs, only this time Altair was looking up at the viewer of the portrait with Athenaïs snoozing on his lap and a book in one hand.

"I think she has captured you perfectly, my dear," Tom stated.

"Perhaps too perfectly," Altair replied with a short laugh.

"Nonsense. It's a true likeness," Tom countered.

Athenaïs, who had come over to see the miniature, chirped in agreement. Frey and Andras were also in complete agreement. The Gargouille then nudged at the tiny present on Altair's pile that was very likely a miniature too, insisting Altair open it sooner rather than later. Curiosity did kill the cat, so the Nott heir complied.

The miniature of Tom was slightly different to how Altair had thought Harry would have done it. Tom was sitting in a library with around five different books in front of him, with Frey reading one of the books while Tom looked towards the viewer, sunlight hitting him directly from the stained glass window that he sat next to. Altair felt tears pricking in his eyes but he blinked them away rapidly. The miniature was almost as ethereal and beautiful as the boy who somehow came to love both Altair and Harry. Tom himself looked over Altair's shoulder at the miniature, a pleased smile forming on his face; as he had expected, Harry had done him more than justice.

The familiars came to look at it too.

*Wow, she even has captured my scale patterns perfectly,* Frey praised.

Athenaïs huffed at that.

*Capturing scale patterns is very important, Atty! No one snake's scales are completely the same you know.*

"Should I be jealous of my miniature?" Tom teased in a lowered tone so that Altair was the only one who could hear him.

Altair blushed further at that. "No," he responded quickly. "Nothing beats the real thing."

"Good," Tom planted a kiss on the side of Altair's head.

The last Gaunt then unwrapped his own Privacy Shield, which was in the shape of a shield of a Viking-era round shield with snakes painted on it in white paint on a blue background. His last present was not something he expected. It was a crystal astrolabe that looked very similar to his musical dragon statue, except the magic he sensed from it was different.

"It's my version of a night light," Harry explained. "It's supposed to conjure a night sky with stars and galaxies, planets and some other little hidden gems I put in but I won't say what they are because that will ruin the surprise."

Tom's eyes shone. "I love it already."

"Considering how many of us have sleeping issues, I thought it was best to make one for everyone," Harry admitted as Altair opened his, looking ecstatic.

"You're the best," Altair stated candidly as he studied his own crystal astrolabe. He then nodded to the giant pile of presents that was left over for Harry. "I think it is your turn to open your gifts, though."

"Indeed," Perrie agreed readily. "I can take over from here."

The Lady Regnant visibly tensed up for a moment. "I think I will open mine later, when we're back from the Yule market," she replied as she put the pastries into the oven.

"Are you sure?" Altair frowned.

"Yes," Harry smiled quickly. "I need a break from presents for a bit."

Thanatos, Hypnos and Melinoë shot her sympathetic and knowing looks. Athenaïs as well, knowing instinctively what was wrong. Though they were a little concerned, Tom and Altair knew it was best not to try and push her.

Amaris Nott was the only one to voice her concern. "Is everything all right, Harry?"

The Traveller nodded. "Yes, everything's fine. I just … have an overload of Yule spirit at present."

"Oh," Altair's mother turned sympathetic very quickly. "May I ask if it has something to do with your last Yule?"

Harry froze for a moment. She really had not expected someone to hit the nail on the head that quickly. The Lady Regnant raised her head to make eye contact with someone for the longest period of time.

"Last Yule did not really exist for me," Harry admitted. "Last Yule I was on a mission and on the run. Before he died, the leader of our branch of the Resistance had given my friends and me one last assignment. We were hunting important weapons that the Dark Lord had hidden away; I was tasked with finding them. Ron and Hermione came with me …"

Those damn Horcruxes. I can't wait until they are destroyed.

Harry forced herself to continue. "We were on the run for months, trying to figure out the locations. At one point the stress got too much for Ron, which resulted in a fight between me and him and he … left. Disappeared." Harry stopped for a moment to stop the threat of tears pricking in her eyes. "Hermione and I continued and when we came to a village that had not been destroyed or touched by the war we realised it was Yule Eve because people in the church were singing Christmas hymns." She swallowed heavily at the memory. "It was the first time in a long while that Yule was forgotten and away from loved ones." The Lady Regnant laughed coldly. "It also didn't help that we ran into one of Grindelwald's agents disguised as the person who we thought was our next lead – running for your life and battling kind of kills the Yule spirit. So I suppose this is my first proper Yule in two years."

"Morgana," Amaris Nott had one hand over her mouth in shock. "So it is true what Altair told me? You were a child soldier."

"Yes," Harry answered crisply. "This is my first Yule where my life wasn't in complete danger."

Perrie gave her arm a reassuring squeeze at this point.

Amaris Nott's expression then darkened. "What kind of a person allows a child to do an adult's job? It is sickening!"

"To be honest, I have been asking myself that same question for some time," the young Cursebreaker sighed. "I think it was because it is easier to have a scapegoat to use so that one's hands stay free of all responsibility." She shrugged. "But that is … all in the past. My friends and family are dead and Nick and Perrie are safe here. I have no reason to go back to the war or adhere to someone else's will unless I want to."

"And if someone tries to force you back in, they will live to regret it," Tom added, a menacing aura to the promise.

"Agreed," Altair concurred immediately.

Harry then forced herself to smile. "So, shall we go to the Yule market soon? I am starting to feel a little caged again."

"Yes, good idea!" Nicholas stated jovially. "I hear there will be sleigh rides too!"

With that, the family prepared for an afternoon out.

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Yule at St. Mungo's was horrendous; there was a reason that Healers were practically paid triple to work on that Sabbath. Twice as many Healers worked that day and for much longer than normal. A normal shift was around eight to nine hours; on Yule, shifts often were ten or fifteen hours long. Interns and apprentices had it slightly easier; theirs was still nine hours.

It wasn't just the magical accidents that added to the disgruntled mood at the magical hospital during that time of year. The magical accidents as a result of drunken bouts and arguments increased threefold around Yule, as did the cases of magical bites due to familiars not taking to a certain witch or wizard and thus showing their displeasure, and it was no different during 1944 despite the wars that were raging. Every Healer at the hospital sometimes wish they could take a sneaky drink of Firewhiskey in order to try and drink away some of their irritation. In the case of department heads, they actually did do that on their half an hour breaks, but only after a certain amount of cases of stupid accidents. The canteen was almost permanently full of Healers on break, trying not to have full on mental breakdowns at the genuine stupidity of some people.

It was not all doom and gloom, though. There were also Healers who tried to remain as festive as possible and raise the morale of their colleagues, wearing funny hats and tinsel in addition to their uniforms. They also tried to keep their patients as entertained as possible, which is why, for the first time in a long while, the Janus Thickney Ward was the most quiet part of the hospital. The residents were behaving themselves, including Patricia, who was too busy admiring her new plushie elephant that was gifted to her by Ambrose, who had been using the Knitting Charm a lot to make little gifts for his wardmates and the Healers, to attack anyone. Hourglass was not doodling or scribbling, and was instead focusing on the letters and cookies sent by his wife and children, who recently found out where he was.

Initially, both Philip and Emma had been very surprised when they found out Hourglass had a wife and children. The Healer and the intern could hardly believe that his family had not at least visited him in the time that the strange man had been with them, but they also had a funny feeling that the wife and children were somehow being forbidden from visiting Hourglass earlier. By whom they didn't know but they were likely people with a great deal of influence.

Ambrose and Bradley were having fun, and were the ones who infected the rest with Yule spirit. In addition to woolly presents, they had helped to make a figgy pudding for their fellow wardmates and the Healers since they were feeling well enough to spend a good number of hours out of bed. After that, the two Hit Wizards had then led a small Yule quiz for the patients that could have been given to a group of seven-year-olds but the magically mentally damaged patients loved it. Much to the relief of Philip, Emma, Hightower and Carstairs, Ambrose and Bradley had only one episode each but that was about it and the two of them were sort of back to normal after taking a long nap.

Once the two gentlemen were awake and able to speak coherently again, Emma sat with them to discuss what the 'shadows' had said to them this time.

"The shadows have no Yule spirit," Bradley sniffed before sipping his eggnog that Healer Hightower had brought over to them once she noticed that they were awake again.

"Which is ironic, considering Grindelwald is known for having some at least," Ambrose snorted.

"What happened?" Emma asked gently, opening her notebook and readying her quill.

"Too much," was Bradley's blunt and vague answer.

"Our little Cursebreaker; she came face to face with Queenie," Ambrose clarified quietly. "Apparently those two harpies found a way into England. Harry … Goldstein recognised her … don't know how … doesn't make any sense … she was part of Operation Sparta … her mother …"

"Operation Sparta," Bradley repeated in little more than a whisper. "Dangerous … too dangerous … repeatedly told …"

Emma frowned in complete bewilderment as she saw Bradley begin to shake and turn even paler than he already was. "Bradley, Ambrose, calm down. I don't understand. You are not being clear. Was Queenie Goldstein part of this Operation Sparta?"

"No, no, no, no, no," Bradley shook his head rather vigorously, Ambrose following suit close behind. "Evans, possibly. Evans – that is all we knew her as. Don't even know if that was even her name. The shadows are not clear on it though. But we don't need them to know about Operation Sparta."

The young Healer apprentice's frown deepened and, probably against her better judgement, put up privacy charms around the three of them and leant forwards in her chair conspiratorially. "What is Operation Sparta?"

The two Hit Wizards exchanged a terrified look and then leant forwards in the same conspiratorial manner.

"Ghosts; people who officially to not exist on the record. Because no one acknowledges whether or not it exists, we don't know if it is real or a rumour," Ambrose admitted. "Our branch tried to find evidence at one point. However, it seems that once we get enough evidence it exists, we then get sent into a completely different direction that makes us doubt everything that we think we know. Eventually, we just thought we were being mad and we dropped the matter entirely."

"But, from what we heard, it was a multi-year plan that was devised decades ago," Bradley continued, a dark frown on his face and a look of disgust swimming in his bright blue eyes. "It was a training programme until … it wasn't."

"For soldiers?" Emma pushed a little further.

"Not just soldiers," Ambrose swallowed heavily. "Child soldiers focused on taking down Grindelwald, Goldstein, Rosier and Barebone. They were allegedly trained and drilled from a young age, and given names of dead children or aliases of some other kind in order to hide who they were. But … we don't know if it is true or not. Like we said, they are ghosts. No one knows who is part of it."

Emma paled at hearing this. Children trained to take down one of the most dangerous Dark Lords of all time? Who in their right mind would come up with something like that?

"You … but … you are not sure?" the apprentice asked, her tone little more than a whisper.

"The Resistance have some covert ops that we were never allowed to know about. Above our paygrade so to speak," Bradley scowled at this. "But people talk and some of the things that come out of their mouth, genuinely made my stomach turn. Still does. Almost as bad as the shit we hear that the Nazi Muggles have been doing."

Before she could press Bradley on that, Ambrose fixed Emma with a serious look. "You can't tell anyone else about this, not even Philip. If people find out … you could be seen as a potential liability and well … our people do not take kindly to liabilities. We don't want to see you get hurt."

This made Emma gulp audibly. "I won't," she promised. She forced a smile onto her face as she took down the privacy spells. "Would you like some more figgy pudding?"

"Yes please!" the two Hit Wizards lit up, looking quite child-like in their enthusiasm, almost making Emma coo. But it also made her wonder if these two young men also grew up too fast and too early and never really got a chance to be children when they were younger.

It made Emma wonder once more who their families were and what kind of life Ambrose and Bradley had led before all of this madness.

##################################################

Albus Dumbledore had expected to have a quiet Yule. Apart from making sure there were enough games for the children who had decided to stay at Hogwarts over Yule and that the elves had more than enough ingredients to make a proper Yule feast from the rations, the Transfigurations professor knew that most of his day would once again consist of spending the day in his favourite slippers, reading a good book with a nice cup of tea and some chocolate chip cookies and then perhaps taking a nice stroll at some point and checking on his Lions to make sure that they were all OK.

What he had not expected, was the front line of the Daily Prophet that day. Imposters were at the Yule Ball and there were rumours that the trespassers who passed themselves off as Isobel Runcorn and Helena Urquhart were agents belonging to Gellert. Despite it only being a rumour, Albus didn't doubt for a single moment that the likelihood to there being some truth to the matter, was very high indeed.

Sending disguised agents into a ball – likely using Polyjuice Potion – sounded something exactly like Gellert would do, especially if it meant getting closer to something, or someone, that he wanted. After all, Gellert once told Albus that he had apparently done that trick himself once or twice in the past. Gellert had managed to escape incarceration nearly twenty years ago by disguising himself as one of the guards supposedly guarding him, after all! It was an old trick in the Dark Lord's repertoire, and one that Albus knew all too well. The only question remained, who did Gellert send?

Queenie Goldstein was very likely to have been one of them, considering her natural abilities as a Legilimens. That only left Vida Rosier and Megaera Carrow. Either way, Albus could only thank Merlin and Morgana that no one, especially none of his students, was harmed in the altercation that had ensued.

Albus found himself staring pensively out of the window of his private chambers. He knew that Goldstein and her partner were very likely sent to also try and get closer to Harry Evans, considering Gellert's interest in her Cursebreaking work. Her courtship to Altair Nott and Tom Riddle no doubt heightened that interest in him. But Albus also knew that Gellert was not only interested in the strange orphan girl; he no doubt had at least one or two sleeper agents who could have been in attendance with some pertinent information regarding the families Gellert was interested in.

The mission of Goldstein and her partner was very likely to gather said information these agents might have on the Flamels and the Peverells. It was a slim chance, but a chance, nonetheless. But how likely was that?

The Transfigurations professor found himself beginning to pace up and down his office. He knew Goldstein and co. left England with something useful because Gellert would not have allowed them to leave the island with something substantial. Albus feared what the two women knew. The Head of Gryffindor had one of his funny feelings again – they had sounded when he met Tom Riddle and Harry Evans for the first time. It meant he needed to be on his guard, and with good reason.

Albus knew he needed to prepare for anything and in order to do that, he needed some information. Reginald – commonly known by his section of the Resistance as Wisp – was on a mission so Albus knew he was out of the question. Perhaps a few members of the old group could help him in getting him some pertinent information on the activity of Gellert's forces?

Or perhaps, Albus found himself thinking fondly, they are all not permitted to go on missions until tomorrow. Gellert always loved Yule.

It was at this point, the Head of Gryffindor turned his attention back to his collection of presents. Albus could not help but smile sadly as he looked at the five pairs of colourful socks with funny ghosts, Thestrals, dragons, kelpies and phoenixes that he had been gifted anonymously amongst the mountain of books everyone else had decided to gift him.

##################################################

Meg threw the copy of the Daily Prophet that she managed to pilfer from downstairs away from her after reading it for what felt like it was the hundredth time. She could barely believe how close they had been to taking out Rosier and Goldstein once and for all. But of course, everything just had to go wrong at that damn Yule Ball.

The Hit Witch growled to herself at this. Meg always hated Yule, with Samhain being a close second for the place of Most Hated Sabbath. Both were Sabbaths that reminded Meg every year that she was essentially all alone in the world with no family to speak of, save for Wisp, Lorcan, Victor, Ambrose and Bradley. None of them had a place to call home – not that many of them cared since they were too restless to stay in one place for too long. Unlike the others, Meg longed for a place to call her own and to actually try and settle in one place for a bit.

But now, Ambrose and Bradley were stuck in St. Mungo's Hospital, Wisp was on a mission in Eastern Europe and Lorcan and Victor still had not woken up from being knocked out with a jinx that Meg could not trace. The fact that their room was decorated with boughs of holly, tinsel and festive candles, and that there were groups of carol singers passing under their window at regular intervals just soured Meg's mood even more.

# Ding Dong Merrily on High,
In Heaven bells are ringing,
Ding Merrily the Sky,
It's riven with angels singing

Glo-o-o-oria, Hosannah in excelsis! #

Meg was severely tempted to throw her pillow out the window at the poor singers below at this point. The Seeress could not wait to escape England and get back into the fray. Grindelwald's power and influence was waning, just as Nazi Germany was getting closer and closer to losing their war and the world discovering their heinous crimes. Meg still could not forgive the Resistance High Command for the explicit order to not interfere in what were clearly death camps.

"They are not our priority," were the exact words that still rang in her head. Boy had they made her want to vomit.

Meg dreaded to think how many witches and wizards had been caught up alongside the Muggles and could only pray to Merlin and Morgana that they would forgive her for following orders.

Then again, the people who are running those things are also following orders, the snide voice of her conscience sneered.

Meg was almost thankful when there was a knock on her door.

"Room service!" one of Tom the barkeep's young maids called out.

"Just a minute!" Meg called as she tucked Lorcan and Victor into their beds to make sure they looked like they were asleep instead of knocked out.

Once the Hit Witch was certain nothing looked too suspicious, she opened the door and admittedly breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the maid levitating three trays with plates on them. Turkey, potatoes, beef, gravy – the sight already made Meg's stomach rumble like an angry boar.

"Sorry to bother you, but Mister Tom thought you three might be hungry," the maid informed with a small smile.

"He is correct. Come in," Meg smiled kindly, stepping aside to allow the maid in.

The maid carefully set the plates down on the table and then looked towards the 'sleeping' Hit Wizards. "Oh sorry, I had no idea that they were asleep," she looked a little sheepish.

"Don't fret, they sleep like the dead," Meg reassured quickly.

The maid nodded. "Is there something else I can get you? Some more firewood? I see your fire has gone out."

"If that isn't too much trouble," Meg wanted to make sure. "I don't know how long your shift is and I don't wish to keep you from your family."

"Not at all! I have to start the fireplace rounds soon anyway before I am allowed to go home," the maid's bright smile soothed the Hit Witch's nerves instantly.

"Do you work long on Yule?" Meg didn't even try to hide her surprise.

"Yes, ma'am. We get paid double on Sabbaths," the maid explained. "Given the times we need all the money we can get."

"Indeed," Meg agreed smally. "What is your name?"

The maid looked momentarily surprised. "Frances, ma'am."

Meg then said something she had not said in a long while. "Blessed Yule, Frances."

Frances smiled brightly. "And you too, ma'am."

As soon as Frances was off to get the firewood, Meg began tucking into her Yule dinner. The food at the Leaky Cauldron was top quality, she could not deny that. Meg was half way done with her dinner when Lorcan and Victor finally returned to the Land of the Living, breathing heavily like they had just been running a marathon.

Meg was on her feet in an instant and came over to check them. "Lorcan, Victor, thank Merlin! How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a Muggle tank," Victor stated candidly, clutching his head as he began to sit up, plumping his pillows.

"Same," Lorcan grumbled, slowly doing the same.

"Do you remember what happened?" Meg pressed instantly. "I couldn't find you and when I got back, I found you on your beds."

"We were going to deal with Macnair," Lorcan replied groggily, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to remember the events from the day before. "But Henry Burke and Melanie Rollins were still tending to his wound and told us to leave. I remember apologising and drawing my wand and then … darkness."

Meg's eyes widened. "So one of them used a Stunner on you?"

"Apparently," Victor growled, looking extremely embarrassed. "Must have been one heck of a Stunner. I feel like I was hit over the head with a pan or something."

Lorcan regarded Meg. "Did you manage to get to Goldstein or Rosier?"

Meg scowled. "I practically had Rosier in my hands but she slipped through. Goldstein disappeared before I could even get a line of sight on her."

"Damn it!" Victor seethed. "That means the two of them are long back in Nurmengard by now."

"Where's Wisp? Have you gotten into contact with him?" Lorcan demanded.

"I have but I talked to Bear because Wisp is apparently on assignment," Meg informed. "Bear says we have to wait until Wisp gets back for further instructions."

"Great, that means we are likely stuck on this stupid island for another two weeks at least," Victor complained.

Lorcan then noticed the plates of food. "Well it seems we woke up in time for dinner at least!"

"The only good thing about Yule is the food," Victor agreed as the two of them carefully got out of bed. "Hopefully we can get some figgy pudding afterwards."

Meg smirked. "OK, at least we know we don't have to go to St. Mungo's. Your appetite is intact; you're all right!"

The three of them chuckled at that.

####################################################

Harry had hoped that spending most of the early afternoon at the Yule market would ensure that her family forgot that she had not opened her gifts yet. However, Harry found that could not escape the Mount St. Yule Presents that awaited her back home, despite trying to desperately avoid them again. However, Perrie had made some more hot chocolate and essentially had emotionally blackmailed Harry into opening her gifts because the Immortal Sorceress wanted to know if the Lady Regnant liked the presents Perrie had made for her. It also didn't help that Athenaïs also put on the Puppy Dragon Eyes and Altair had donned the Pout of Doom.

So, the Traveller soon found herself in one of the armchairs, being pressed one bundle after the other. The first gift had been new boots from Melinoë, which Harry had to admit were right up her alley. Her second gifts were books on forging from Hypnos; again, Harry had once more to restrain herself from squashing the God of Sleep with a bone-crushing hug. She was rather surprised that Thanatos had gifted her bracelets, until her Mistress of Death powers told her that there was some serious magic attached on them.

Extra protection never hurts, she had heard Tosti state through their Link, smirking with satisfaction.

How do they work?

They can help absorb certain magical attacks with Dark intent, Thanatos added. They can't block a Killing Curse though.

Harry had to stop herself from laughing at that. I think I have that one covered on my own!

I think so too, Thanatos was forced to agree.

The next gifts Harry opened were the knitted jumpers from Nicholas and Perenelle: one with snowy owl patterns, another with cutesy Yule dragons, one with cute ravens wearing holly crowns on their heads and a dark emerald green one with a golden 'H' on it. Apparently someone had told the Flamels about the jumpers Molly used to knit for Harry, which once more threatened to make Harry start crying with happiness. She immediately put the latter jumper on, which was essentially the catalyst for Altair and Tom to also wear theirs, much to Perrie's delight. Even Amaris couldn't resist cooing at the sight.

Fittingly perhaps, the next present Harry opened was from both Billy Prewett and Arcturus Rosier, which surprised her until she read the note that came with the present.

Dear Harry,

Blessed Yule! I have been looking for a decent magical camera to go alongside with your Muggle one. Billy has been a great help, I will admit so I think it is safe to say this present is from both of us. I hope you continue to capture awesome photos.

Arcturus

The camera that Harry unpacked did not look too dissimilar from Colin Creevey's own camera in her original timeline, but this one looked a little more expensive with custom detailing. Considering she was dealing with Arcturus Rosier, Harry should have not been surprised that he would have forked an arm and a leg for the camera. But she couldn't help but be taken aback that Arc likely had spent the equivalent to someone's rent on a camera for her.

The next presents too made her aghast at the money that likely went into them. From Walburga and Ophelia, Harry had gotten some statement pieces that were meant to be worn at banquets – per the instructions that came with the three boxes from Wally, which made even Tom and Altair roll their eyes – and the custom circlets that were a combined present from Druella and Ygraine.

We know that you have your Peverell inherited jewellery, but we thought perhaps you would want some to call your very own, Druella and Ygraine had written.

Harry couldn't help but smile at this.

Felix had gifted her a professional wand holster, not dissimilar to the ones Tom and Altair had been given by Heron. Amaris had blanched slightly at the thought of a lady walking around with something one usually saw with Aurors and Unspeakables, but then remembered that Harry Peverell was a Cursebreaker and a former soldier. Harry had been most taken aback by the fact Caius had also given her a present, despite only recently reconciling each other's differences.

The Russian wizard had aptly given Harry magical nesting dolls from his homeland, ones that had once apparently belonged to the Dolohov family but were gathering dust up in the attic and Caius thought that Harry might like them. The nesting dolls had funny dragons that sung in Russian at each level, and she hated to admit it but she fell in love with them instantly.

Abraxas and Loreley had tag-teamed as well in gift buying: the Malfoy twins had bought her a black leather jacket, made of Hebridean Black hide, with the Patronuses of all of Harry's friends – old ones included – embroidered in silver on the back, which seemed to move whenever the light caught the silver thread. Athenaïs wasn't too happy that the jacket was made of dragon leather but she kept her displeasure to herself because she saw how happy Harry was with it.

Orion's gifts also took Harry by surprise. Her brother-in-all-but-name-since-Ron had sent her not only some Muggle classics – ranging from Austen to Tolstoy to Dumas to Agatha Christie, which made Amaris Nott gape in utter complete shock that Orion even knew where to find them – but he had also gifted Harry something she had never expected.

A pair of binoculars.

The shock had made Harry laugh out loud, which was only increased when she read the note Orion had written with them.

My dear Harry,

I don't know if you even had the Classics while you were in hiding but I thought it was time that you had your own again. Also, I hope you don't mind the second gift. I have an idea for our routine for the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff rematch and these will feature quite prominently. I will tell you what face to face and in private some other time!

Orion

"Oh boy," Harry had muttered to herself as she put the note to one side.

Altair had picked it up and read it too, without asking permission, much to his mother's dismay. He had snorted too. "Merlin, what is Black planning with a pair of binoculars?"

"Mischief, no doubt," Tom chuckled, shaking his head.

Heron and Artemis had also teamed up to send Harry a shared gift, which the Lady Regnant had secretly suspected they would do. What she hadn't expected, was that they had sent her more books. Children and young adult novels to be exact, written for children born into the magical world. Some looked old and worn – no doubt many of them were the wizarding Classics. There were so many stories: some centred around two young witches becoming allies of the Fae and going on adventures in the Otherworld, others centred around rival vampire clans having to team up against the humans; the friendship between dragons and wizards and fighting against angry Muggles together was another theme of a series that looked pretty good.

Dear Harry,

We don't know what kind of stories you were told as a child but we thought perhaps it would interest you to read about the kind of stories we grew up with and what kind of fiction books that have been written. A few of them we owned but kind of outgrew – a lot of them are new. Nymera helped to pick out the best ones; she really wanted us to tell you that. Blessed Yule, our dearest friend and sister.

Heron and Artemis

"Well, you have enough reading material!" Hypnos had quipped teasingly.

"Good! I love reading," Harry grinned, beaming down at her growing book collection from her Yule gifts alone.

Altair had quickly scanned through the pile, looking happier with each title. "Ooooo, yeah – Heron and Artemis really did send you some good ones. I used to binge a lot of these series when I was younger."

"Really?" Tom had picked up one or two as well as he looked at Harry. "May I borrow one or two?" he asked eagerly.

Harry had brightened at his question. "Of course!"

The present from Malum and Oizys Avery had made Harry roll her eyes: afternoon and evening gloves – a few made of lace and others made of satin. Typical purebloods! Septimus and Octavius were also rather predictable: they had sent her another pack of pranking supplies, which made Tom and Altair pale a little. Minerva had sent her three new brooches for her arisaid. Harry was so happy she had sent one of the tickets to Persephone to Minerva at this point as part of her friend's Yule gift or she would have been kicking herself for not thinking up a good third present for Minerva.

As for Athenaïs, she looked very pleased when Harry cuddled her over the mini magical water fount that conjured images of magical water fairies and creatures at different time of day. It had taken the Gargouille and Perrie ages to find the perfect one in Rowena's Hollow.

Harry had left the presents from her uncles, Tom and Altair for last. From Altair, she had gotten a cane with an awesome head shaped like a roaring dragon made of silver with golden eyes and horns. Tom had gotten her an advanced potion making and alchemy set, which also made Nicholas' eyes sparkle. The Immortal Alchemist contained his excitement when his wife shot him a warning look.

As for her uncles' present, Harry had suspected Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus were compiling a photo album of some kind but she didn't expected to see what she did when she unwrapped it. It was a beautiful red tome with the official Peverell coat of arms etched into the front. There were photos of all three of her properties, old photos of the Peverell ancestors born after 1826 – all of them named – and of course the photos that Harry and Billy had taken, which were all labelled as well with the dates. It was almost like having a piece of home back; the Traveller missed her old album immensely.

Altair and Tom both felt very flattered when they saw that the photos that had them in view had them labelled as 'future Consorts of House Peverell even though Harry is in denial'. Apparently the Three Brothers had already suspected something that had taken their other third a while to admit to herself.

While almost everyone was distracted by the photo album and Nicholas' funny dancing to the Yule music on the radio, Thanatos got to his feet. "Harry, might I have a word about something? Peverell business wise."

The God of Death had his Mistress's full attention at that point. "Of course," she stated, jumping to her feet instantly. "Let's go to my study to talk."

"Don't you dare take too long!" Melinoë warned them. "It is Yule, so that means family time!"

Both Harry and Thanatos rolled their eyes and escaped upstairs. Almost as soon as they had set foot in the study, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus were on them.

"Do you like the photo album, Niece? It isn't too much, is it? Melinoë helped us make it-"

"It is perfect," Harry reassured with a beaming smile. "Thank you so much, Uncles. It means the world to me."

The Three Brothers beamed at this but quickly sobered when they saw the serious glint in the eyes of their descendant and their oldest friend. The Mistress of Death closed the door firmly and put up her privacy wards as she looked at her surrogate father figure since her godfather and Remus.

"What is the matter, Tosti?" she asked.

"I thought I might enlighten you on the ritual that one of your beloved future Consorts is going to do," Thanatos responded, getting straight to the point. "It is the Rite of Paean, also known as "The Healing". It has many names, but that is the one that one of my earlier priestesses called it."

Harry nodded along. "The Rite of Paean," she repeated it to herself, searing it into her memory.

"It is mentioned in many of our Peverell tomes," Cadmus informed her. "Igny and I used components of the Rite now and again in some of our experiments and spells. I mostly used it for Necromantic work but Ignotus dissected the spell in order to see which element was the one responsible for the actual soul fixing part."

Harry lit up at this. "Really?"

"Yes," Ignotus grinned. "It is in one of my journals …"

All eyes turned forebodingly onto the giant bookcases in the study and Harry huffed. "Well," she exhaled sharply. "There is no time like the present."

"Let's get looking," Thanatos agreed, "before Melinoë comes knocking."

####################################################

Tom retreated for a while to his room before he would once again be surrounded by warmth and fuzziness during dinner, and hid himself in the book that held the ritual he would be doing within it. He needed to have a moment once again to himself away from the loving Peverell family in order to gather some of his thoughts, and to contemplate something that has been nagging him ever since Harry had begged him to open up and tell her the truth about what was bothering him.

Tom would be lying if he had said that he had not been tempted, even momentarily, to come clean to Harry about what he had done but the fear of her reaction and the possible loss of her affections had stopped him from doing so. But knowing how blasé Harry had been when she first found out he murdered his Muggle family and seeing what she had done to her own enemies, had begun to erode Tom's resolve.

The issue was, Harry was very likely to understand why he had done what he did. Altair, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Tom had no idea how Altair would react and given their turbulent history, the Heir of Slytherin was dreading losing his other Consort – the Nott heir had a vindictive streak but he was also compassionate and held life dear to him.

There was no way that Altair would condone what Tom had done, and even thinking about seeing rejection and hate in those beautiful hazel eyes made the Dark inclined wizard want to curse and hex something in complete anger and self-loathing. His heart would break completely if he lost either Harry or Altair because of his own stupidity.

Tom would find another way to elongate his life – without killing anyone.

*You look like you ate a lemon,* Frey's sassy comment knocked Tom out of his thoughts.

Tom looked at his familiar and raised an eyebrow. *You would be as well if you did something foolish and might lose your mates because of it.*

Frey hissed as though she were laughing. She likely was. *Lose your mates? You are not going to lose your mates, silly sausage. Why do you think you would lose them? You already hurt them in the past.*

Tom's eyes swam with a sorrowful look. *You know what I did, Frey. What I did to try and become immortal.*

*And you're going to undo it,* Frey pointed out. *I don't see why you are so concerned.*

*I … I think I might need to tell them the truth,* Tom confessed in a quiet tone. *I won't be able to do this ritual in complete secret and … I think I might need their help. I don't know why but I just feel it. The issue is – I don't think they will ever look at me in the same way again.*

Frey snorted. *Now you are being a drama queen.*

Tom scowled. *No I am not. I murdered people, Frey. I killed them to split my soul! That is not something many humans can forgive completely.*

*Harry is a killer!* Frey reminded him, now sitting up completely. *She has had to do some unspeakable things as well. She knows you killed your family and still loves you.*

*I know that, but a Horcrux is the Darkest of Dark Magic. I can't imagine her forgiving that easily,* Tom continued.

*She isn't exactly a Light Witch, Tom,* Frey did a snake version of an eye roll.

*What about Altair?* Tom tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. *He is not a killer, and he may be Dark or Grey, but I can almost guarantee that he will not forgive what I have done as easily as Harry might.*

*I think you don't give your mates enough credit, Tom,* Frey huffed.

*How can you be so certain I will not be all alone again if I tell them?* Tom demanded.

*Because my best friend is Atty,* Frey sounded a little too smug for Tom's liking at this point. *If you really doubt that Harry and Altair will not leave you in the dust, you should talk to Atty.*

Fortunately for the Heir of Slytherin, it seemed that the young Gargouille had sensed that something had been wrong when he decided to go to his room because it wasn't too long that Tom heard light scratching at the door and then a mystical, ethereal chirp that was clearly the sound of Athenaïs calling to make sure he was OK.

Tom got off his bed, ignoring Frey's chuckling and opened the door to let Athenaïs in.

Athenaïs cocked her head at him as Tom closed the door. Kkkyyyyuoo?

Tom instinctively knew what she was asking. "I needed a moment alone. I am just battling with some stuff, Athenaïs."

The Gargouille frowned in confusion.

*Tom did something bad that he bitterly regrets and thinks Harry and Altair will leave him for it,* Frey happily clarified for her friend.

Athenaïs blinked at this in disbelief and then shook her head at Tom before hunting down some parchment, quill and ink from Tom's desk and wrote something onto the parchment and held it up.

IDIOT!

That was what the Familiar of the Mistress of Death had written. Tom could not help spluttering. Since when did Athenaïs know how to write, and write in English at that? Quietly, Tom guessed it was perhaps Harry or Loreley – both seemed to be the types and have enough patience to teach the young dragon.

Tom folded his arms in slight indignation. "I am not an idiot!"

*Yes you are,* Frey stated simply.

Athenaïs continued to write and Tom quietly braced himself for yet another ad hominem insult being flung at him. The Gargouille finished and lifted up the parchment.

HARRY

ALTAIR

LOVE YOU

NOT GOING TO LEAVE

Tom's expression softened instantly. "I know they love me, but even love has its limits, especially if it starts to conflict with morals, Athenaïs. What I have done … anyone in their right mind would never forgive me and call the Aurors to take me to Azkaban."

Athenaïs scowled at this and howled ethereally in indignation. She clearly did not agree with that. She started writing again.

NO AKZABAN. Tom tried not to laugh at that misspelling.

THEY FORGIVE

YOU NEED TO TELL

BE HONEST

Those last two words hit Tom harder than he thought they would; perhaps it was because those words were coming from the Gargouille who has proved herself to be a brave, loyal and honest creature. It was one thing hearing it from Frey – she always thought she was right anyway, just like most snakes. But Athenaïs wasn't as arrogant and she genuinely held Harry's, and thus Tom and Altair's, best interests at heart.

Besides, Athenaïs knew Harry better than Tom did, in a way. She likely also knew Altair pretty well, considering the fact Rosier and Black had requested Athenaïs to come and help convince Altair that Harry had issues with her own emotions.

Harry asked you to be honest with her. You know some of her most darkest secrets; I bet she would even help you, Tom's sane voice added. Athenaïs and Frey are right – you need to tell them, and tell them soon.

Tom found himself pacing, his head in his hands momentarily as he considered the different sides of the argument. Eventually, he came to a halt and looked to Frey and Atty, who had both been watching him with a look of apprehension and anticipation.

"OK," he finally stated out loud. "I will tell them soon. I will … see when is the opportune moment."

Athenaïs lit up and nodded her head eagerly. Frey huffed. *You are just buying yourself a day or two, you numpty.*

Tom scowled at her. *Shut up or you won't get your favourite snack today.*

*You can't do that! It's Yule!* Frey protested.

*I can do that, and I will. Yule or not,* Tom stated smugly.

While Frey and Tom bickered back and forth, Athenaïs reclined on Tom's bed, watching the two happily. Secretly, she could not wait for Tom to stop smelling so funny, and Athenaïs was determined to help. Especially if Harry or Altair decided to be stupid about getting rid of Tom's funny smell.

###############################################

At Rowle Manor, Yule was as lively as ever. The family had just finished their annual gaming rounds and Ophelia was glad that she managed to escape her chatty family, who were thankfully distracted by a programme on the radio that they had been waiting for the whole day, with relative ease. Rollo had managed to sneak away earlier as well to get some more sleep – Merlin knows he needed it after yesterday – and so that gave Ophelia the perfect excuse to go to her own chambers for a bit.

She also needed some time to herself, frankly, but not to catch up on extra sleep like her poor cousin-who-was-more-like-a-brother. The Rowle heiress hated to admit it, but she was still reeling from the fact she had come face to face with Queenie Goldstein and that she had been a first-hand witness to the strange but menacing interaction between the Natural Legilimens and the Lady Regnant of House Peverell. Ophelia was ashamed that she had been the one cowering, instead of being the one to protect her friend and the beautiful weapons, the musical statue, the "spy kit" – secret inks, quills with inks that had concealment charms already in them, and a guide on how to make good hiding places for sensitive material – and the privacy shield that Harry had gifted her just added to Ophelia's guilt.

She already resolved never to allow that to happen again.

There was something else nagging on Ophelia's mind; the suspicions that she harboured for some time now. She had been joining up the dots in her head – the clues that Harry left and the memory she had seen in Loreley Malfoy's head – and the pieces that fit together frankly scared the heebies-jeebies out of Ophelia.

Harry hunted ever since her birth.

The last Peverell – a scar on her forehead by a Killing Curse.

Marked by Death …

Harry knowing where the Hallows are.

Harry feeling out of place … something not right …

Ability to use Soul Magic, seeing the deaths of people before they happen …

There was only one answer that Ophelia kept coming back to and she was doing all she could to try and deny it. It was just too mad! But at the same time, the Rowle heiress knew that madness was at the heart of Harry Evans-Peverell's existence. Ophelia had wanted to talk to Harry about her crazy suspicions, until Queenie burst in and not getting rid of those suspicions had only made Ophelia more antsy than before.

Perhaps it was a good thing you were interrupted, was a thought that crossed her mind at this. You were about to ask some insane questions that could have caused a whole lot of trouble had they been overheard.

The Rowle heiress was practically vibrating on the bed as she fretted, Sigyn watched her most carefully. Not that Ophelia seemed to notice.

"The issue is, how do I ask Harry without being overheard or sounding completely insane?" Ophelia mused to herself as she got up and begun to pace up and down her grand bedroom, Sigyn looking at her Witch as though she was losing her marbles. Ophelia laughed to herself. "Perhaps that ship has already sailed, considering what I suspect my friend of being?"

Perhaps you should do the normal thing and simply ask Harry for a time and place to meet up? Ophelia was pretty sure that her subconscious was thinking more clearly than she was at this point. You are friends after all. It would not be wholly untoward. Just pick a date that you know she isn't busy with her family.

Not wanting to descend completely into madness, Ophelia turned to Sigyn. "What do you say, my friend? Should I talk to Harry about my … worries sooner or later?"

The Russian blue looked surprised momentarily but recovered quickly. "Meow, meeeowww!"

"Yes, you are right," Ophelia conceded. "Earlier gets it over and done with. That is indeed the best way."

"Mrrrroooww!"

Ophelia was tempted to roll her eyes. "I will don't worry."

The Rowle heiress considered for a moment but very soon felt her legs carry her to her desk and she sat down to quill a letter to Harry. Before she could fully stop herself, Ophelia went down to the mini Owlery on the grounds and sent one of the family owls off with the letter, hoping to any deity that would listen that Harry would agree to a meeting soon.

As it turned out, Ophelia was not the only one writing to Harry at this time: at their respective homes, the Knights of Walpurgis, Artemis and Arcturus were all quilling letters to the Lady Regnant, asking for a good date for their training session. In the case of Loreley, she wrote only a short note.

Harry had been the middle of further research after lunch when the parliament of owls from her friends arrived, each hooting enthusiastically and fighting to be the first to have their deliveries untied. It seemed that House rivalries extended to the mail owls as well!

The letters from Arc and the Knights were predictable. Loreley's note had a message that was clear enough to Harry when she read it.

Regarding what you saw, tread carefully.

When the Lady Regnant had read Loreley's note, she almost wanted to write back to Loreley, telling the Malfoy Seeress to have a little bit more faith in Harry's abilities to keep her mouth shut when necessary. Harry knew that the discovery that Lord Nott's mistress had been responsible for Nymera's illness was something that needed to be dealt with, with the utmost caution. Especially since the only evidence Harry had was the fact she had gone into Anne Underwood's head without her consent.

Something that most courts likely would not take too kindly to. To make sure that the Lestranges had a case, Harry needed to find out the finer details of the law to make the memory admittable in court, which meant getting in touch with the goblins, a lawyer and perhaps an Auror who was willing to be discreet.

Harry did not expect a letter from Ophelia though.

Dear Harry,

I hope everything is going well and that you are having a very pleasant Yule. My family are driving me bonkers but that is to be expected and I wouldn't have it any other way. We all are still a little on edge after yesterday and well, so am I but not entirely for the same reasons as they are. I was wondering if we could meet up soon – I know Boxing Day and Tom's birthday and New Year are off limits but I really need to talk to you about something. It is quite important, mostly for my own sanity.

Awaiting your reply,

Ophelia

It was perhaps fortunate that Harry still had a ticket to Persephone left that she didn't know what to do with and that the premier of the movie was on the 27th. Harry immediately wrote a reply with the ticket in the envelope with the letter. This made it easy for her to suggest the 28th for the training lesson to everyone concerned. It seemed for once the Moirai had handed her the answer on a plate.

The 28th was accepted readily by all concerned. As for Ophelia, she had not expected a reply from Harry so soon, nor the third ticket to Persephone. The Rowle heiress had no idea if she was more excited about the movie, or that she was going to have the opportunity to get some answers.

It was perhaps this anticipation that both Harry and Ophelia felt that made Boxing Day fly by too quickly. That and of course their family's shenanigans. The Rowles had another day of games and gossip while the Peverells and their guests did the same and then later went to visit the Tower Ghosts, Soul Cakes in tow. The Tower Guardians at first had not expected to be brought anything and had been rather sceptical at first when they were told Soul Cakes were a special kind of cake that ghosts could also eat. After all it had been centuries since they all had the ability to eat but once they got over their initial apprehension, the Tower Guardians could not get enough of them, even to the point Edward and Richard tried to sneak one from Lady Jane.

The Nine Days Queen was not having any of it and had put the children in time out – spending time with Old King Henry, reading in silence. Which was something the young King and his brother despised, apparently, but caused a lot of amusement for the Peverell family, Tom, Altair and Amaris, who still could not get her head around that she was talking and eating with some of the most famous Muggle Royals in history. Eventually the boys were permitted to come back; Tom and Altair kept the Princes entertained with some of the games Altair brought along to show them.

Harry was rather relieved that Jane and Catherine had kept the bickering to a minimum. The Tower Ghosts had also pretended very well not to know who Thanatos, Hypnos and Melinoë really were, thus keeping their secret a little while longer. Queen Anne and the White Lady enjoyed giving Amaris Nott all the gossip they could that they gathered from the centuries that they had been doing their duty.

As a result, the morning of the movie premier Harry and Ophelia needed to ply themselves with coffee in order to pep themselves up and prepare for an afternoon of having to once again be surrounded by strangers. In Harry's case, she hoped desperately to avoid anyone with a camera or anyone who looked remotely like a journalist. Hopefully they would be too preoccupied with Cassiopeia Black and Diantha Underwood – the two women would be a source of drama enough, because apparently they really don't like each other. Considering what she learned during her time in the 40s, the Lady Regnant suspected it had to do with the difference in rank between the two women, but it also could be petty jealousy. Celebrities in the 40s were probably as petty as those in the 90s.

The issue that Harry faced that day was that she really could not be bothered to dress in the manner 40s society deemed appropriate for a Lady Regnant or the orthodox dress for a movie premier. She really did not want to wear a dress, which resulted in Perenelle Flamel, Melinoë and Amaris Nott having to team up in order to convince Harry to at least wear her dress with yew tree patterns.

Unfortunately, that meant everyone in the house being obliged to listen to the four women argue for thirty five minutes and the Immortal Sorceress, the Goddess of Ghosts and Lady Nott actually chasing Harry around the house, portraits of Peverell ancestors in hot pursuit. Athenaïs, Frey and Andras were all rolling around, laughing, while Thanatos, Hypnos, Nicholas, Tom and Altair listened and watched in entertained silence, also chuckling to themselves.

"If I don't want to wear a dress, I don't want to wear one! Society can stuff itself."

"Harry, you have been doing amazing so far. You need to make sure the harpies can't attack you over something so stupid," Melinoë had tried to reason with her.

"The yew tree dress isn't as stuffy," Perenelle had added. "It also doesn't make you look old, before you use that excuse, my dear."

"Women wear trousers more often – I don't see the bloody fuss if I wear the same thing I wore to see the Lestranges!"

"My Lady, it is simply not done to wear trousers as a lady for official occasions!" Poor Amaris Nott really did not expect the Lady Regnant to be so obstinate. Lady Nott was almost thankful she never had a headstrong daughter of her own; it would have only exacerbated her nerves further.

Harry's next remark sent a good few portraits back to their frames, somehow dying of laughter. "Holding prejudiced views is not done either, and yet members of 'polite society' do it anyway."

"You know what she means, you petty little harpy!" Melinoë scoffed in amusement.

"I am only going to a film. The three of you are acting like we are attending a damn Coronation!" Harry had not run out of indignation just yet.

"Well I hope for everyone's sake that if you are ever invited to attend a Coronation, you will actually oblige to wear a dress without making too much of a fuss," Perenelle shot back.

"Oh Harry," Hypnos sighed, voicing the sentiment that was running around in their heads.

Eventually, Harry relented – only because Tom and Altair had decided to step in and persuaded her to wear the dress just to keep the peace and not give too many people unnecessary heart attacks. Altair had also deployed the Pout of Doom, which had broken through the Mistress of Death's last bit of obstinance.

Alas, they could not dissuade her from wearing boots and her Edwardian hat. At least neither Ophelia nor Minerva made a comment about her outfit or her unorthodox accessorising when the three of them met up in front of the entrance to Diagon Alley and then set off to the cinema down one of the other alleys. As for her friends, Ophelia looked more like she was attending another ball, looking stunning in silver. Minerva wore a dress made entirely of tartan in colours that Harry guessed represented Clan McGonagall. The cinema in question was one of the only magical cinemas left in the heart of London – an art deco building called Aspasia. Fortunately they were being largely ignored by the other cinema goers and the photographers that were stationed outside as Harry and Minerva stopped to admire the outside of the building.

Minerva had noticed Harry's disgruntled look the moment she arrived but only decided it was now a prudent moment to inquire what had happened. "You look like you just came out of a verbal battle, my friend."

"I did," Harry admitted in a huff, wrapping her winter cloak a little closer to herself. "Perrie, Melanie and Amaris practically didn't let me out of the house unless I put on a damn dress."

"Amaris?" Ophelia repeated, her eyes widening. "Harry … are you referring to Amaris Nott?!"

"Sssshh," Harry hushed sharply as a group of well-dressed cinema goers passed them. "Yes," she continued in a low voice. "Lady Nott and Altair are spending their holidays with us until Lord Nott returns in the New Year."

"You mean, he left them? Despite it being Yule?" Minerva could hardly believe her ears.

"Wow," Ophelia shook her head despondently. "Just … wow."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, anger in her verdant eyes. "He's a no-good piece of garbage."

"Harry!" Minerva looked scandalised. Ophelia didn't say anything.

"Are you ladies going to stand in this chill all day?"

Harry, Ophelia and Minerva turned around to see Septimus, Cederella, Octavius, Ignatius, Lucretia, Tessa and Billy grinning at them, looking very excited and rather pleased with themselves that they managed to catch the three of them unawares.

"Of course you pop up at this moment, Octavius," Minerva huffed, shaking her head fondly at them.

"Miss McGonagall, I would not a be a gentleman if I do not make sure the three of you don't have Jack Frost nipping at your nose," Octavius responded dramatically, causing his friends and family to shake their heads at him.

Harry had snorted. "Gentleman! Funny," she quipped easily.

"Plus, I don't think she would mind a certain Jack Frost to nip her nose," Billy added with a smirk.

Harry flushed instantly while the others either gaped or snorted with laughter. "Why you cheeky bugger! And here I was set to thank you for my new camera."

"I did not expect that comment, I have to say," Ophelia was just as red as Harry was.

"But it is a good idea to go in and get our tickets checked and take our seats before the vultures realise they have missed their targets," Lucretia saved the situation. She smirked a little. "Cassie used a secret entrance and Miss Underwood was smuggled in as a maid apparently."

OK, so little has changed in the celebrity madness in that regard, Harry's Gryffindor voice huffed.

"Yes, let's," Cederella agreed. "I would love to avoid getting my picture taken unnecessarily."

The groups went inside together. The art deco style of the cinema extended to the inside of it as well; inside of the lobby Harry could not help but feel like she was stepping into some kind of illusion. It was imposing, sombre, plush and lit by big yellow art deco lamps. The walls were covered by carvings in dark wood, glazed tiles and bronze elements. It was possibly the most extravagant cinema Harry ever stepped into.

Minerva quickly took it upon herself to get some confectionaries – she clearly did not care if it was the done thing or not – which gave Ophelia and Harry the perfect moment to talk alone. Septimus, Octavius the Prewetts and their party had split off too, half off to find their seats and half joining Minerva in the confectionaries line, chatting amongst themselves excitedly.

The Rowle heiress knew that she had been handed her opportunity. But it seemed that Ophelia had a slight case of the jitters. She swallowed as she fumbled a little with her scarab ring. "I … really want to thank you for my gifts as well, Harry. They are beautiful."

"Thank you, my friend. I loved mine too," Harry reassured. She cocked her head a little, frowning slightly. "Ophelia, we both know that you don't simply want to talk about presents. What is it? There is something the matter."

Ophelia nodded despondently and she quickly looked about her to make sure that there was no one in earshot before turning back to Harry. "The question I am going to ask is possibly one of the most crazy and impertinent questions I have ever asked but I must know for my own sanity."

Harry frowned but stayed silent, in order to let Ophelia answer.

The Rowle heiress gathered her courage and looked her friend dead in the eyes. "Are … Merlin." She laughed shortly. "Are … are you the Mistress of Death?"

The question was so quiet Harry almost thought she had misheard Ophelia but she knew that she hadn't. The Traveller swallowed and thought for a moment about denying it, but knew that it was no good at this point. Ophelia had the same clues as Tom and Altair, and they figured it out. Harry could only nod her head.

Her thoughts immediately turned to the rest of her friends. How many of the others had sussed her out as well? Apparently the total seemed to be at five, with two knowing because of Gifts given to them by literal gods.

For a moment, Ophelia thought Harry was nodding thoughtfully but soon realised that it had been in affirmation, especially when she saw the serious and frightened look in the Lady Regnant's verdant eyes. Once she did make the connection, the Rowle heiress's breath hitched and her heart began racing.

"How long?" was all Ophelia could ask.

There was another short moment of silence.

"A while," Harry answered smally, barely daring to look her friend in the eyes.

Ophelia exhaled sharply, closing her eyes. A part of her had hoped Harry would get angry and call her mad, but now there was no denying it since the Lady Regnant of House Peverell had looked and sounded more resigned than anything else. The Rowle heiress reopened her eyes. "How did it happen?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Harry smiled wryly. "I am Marked by Death; it's part of my birth right. I know only some of the details but the rest … it seems I am the most recent Mistress of Death to inherit the powers instead of 'earning' it."

Ophelia pursed her lips momentarily. "Do … the Burkes know? Riddle and Nott?"

Harry could not help but chuckle lightly. "Yes, they all know. Tom and Altair figured it out for themselves. The Burkes already knew; comes with being close to the Peverells apparently."

"I somehow didn't expect anything less," Ophelia smiled smally.

It was then the Traveller's turn to ask a question. "Do you know if any of the others have figured it out as well?"

Ophelia frowned. "Not that I know of. I didn't tell anyone of my suspicions, and I am pretty sure that the others are following a similar policy of not discussing their theories about you with each other."

"I see," Harry said ponderingly in a quiet tone. "I don't know whether that is a good thing or bad thing."

The Rowle heiress now smiled at her friend fully. "Thank you, though. For being honest with me."

The Mistress of Death half-smiled. You only know a quarter of it, my friend, was the thought that entered her mind at this point. "You're welcome," she forced herself to answer.

It was perhaps fortunate that Minerva came back with drinks and snacks at this point. "Merlin, that took longer than necessary," she stated, huffing with irritation. "I mean, how long does it take to make a choice about drinks or food? I already had an idea. Fortunately we have some decent seats; nowhere near the front."

"Oh thank Merlin for that," Harry sighed with relief. "I didn't even check which seats we have!"

"Oh Harry," Ophelia laughed fondly.

"Typical," Minerva rolled her eyes. "Come on."

The three girls followed a crowd of people into the cinema theatre, which had an allure of an opera auditorium, quickly finding their seats in the slightly raised middle section of the room. Much to the surprise of Harry and Minerva, and the quiet delight and anxiety of Ophelia, they were sitting behind Malum, Oizys, Mr. and Mrs. Avery, Heron, Lady Lestrange and Nymera, who was looking very excited that she had been allowed to go to a movie for the first time.

It was a good thing indeed that the movie would not start for another fifteen minutes because Nymera lit up when she saw Harry. "Lady Hera! You are here too. Did you like your Yule gifts? Did Heron and Artemis tell you that I helped put it together for you?"

"They did," Harry smiled brightly at the young girl. "I absolutely love it. Thank you so much."

Nymera and Heron beamed at hearing this. The young Lestrange heiress continued. "Rava sent me some magic medicine yesterday that ensured I could come today. They found something in my blood that they could use to make a potion that gives me some extra energy for a few hours. I have not been to see a film in forever but I have all Cassiopeia Black's movies! My favourite role she ever did was Morgana-"

"Nymera, darling, settle down before you give me bruises," Lady Lestrange cajoled gently, looking more amused than annoyed.

"Sorry, Mama," Nymera deflated a little.

Oizys was next. "Did you also like your gloves?" she wanted to know. "Mother took Malum and me on an extensive shopping trip for them, you know."

"No, you two dragged me out Yule gift shopping and shoe shopping and we just happened to find some that would suit Harry," Malum corrected as everyone else chuckled at Oizys' pout. "My feet are still killing me."

"Your feet are always killing you, Mr. I Would Love to Be Stuck To My Broom," Oizys shot back.

Malum was about to make a comeback when Mrs. Avery cut across, "Malum, Oizys, I think that is enough of that."

While everyone else was distracted by Mrs. Avery and Oizys bickering about who-started-it-first, Ophelia was desperately trying to make sure she avoided Malum Avery's not-so-subtle glances in her direction, which made her flush bright red. She really did not need any awkward questions, despite feeling very happy that Malum was looking in her direction. Fortunately the cinema was getting rather crowded so if need be, Ophelia could just make the excuse she was feeling really warm.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Harry and Minerva caught the small interact – or lack thereof – between Ophelia and Malum, with the latter looking very put out that the Rowle heiress was not looking at him at all. They didn't get much time to contemplate it though, since the begin credits of the movie started.

#######################################################

"Well, that was better than I expected!" Harry stated as the girls stepped out of the cinema at the end of the film, skies opening and dropping another load of snowflakes onto the Earth below, and headed back towards Diagon Alley. "I actually could be tricked into thinking that Cassiopeia and Miss Underwood are friends in real life; the comradery between Persephone and Hekate was so heart-warming. And those Three Furies were almost adorable in the way they made sure that Persephone was OK every day."

Ophelia huffed indignantly. "Seriously? Did you think Cassiopeia Black and Diantha Underwood are well-known for no good reason?"

"No, but this is the first time I have ever been to see a film in a cinema," Harry responded with ease, looking very happy indeed. Ophelia and Minerva's expressions saddened a little. "I am rather glad it was a talkie though. I don't think I would have had the patience to sit through a silent movie."

"I like talkies, but I still think silent movies are the best; one gets the emotion from the actors' faces, body language and actions," Minerva answered. "I don't always need to be told what a character is thinking or feeling."

"Oooo you must love Charlie Chaplin movies then," Harry grinned.

"I do actually," Minerva grinned. "Buster Keaton's movies are also worth watching, though my mother can barely watch them because she knows nothing has been done with illusion magic."

"Not using magic to do stunts is just insanity," Ophelia shook her head.

"Well, Muggles don't really have that luxury," Harry reminded her. "And the Statute of Secrecy does not allow us to help in that department."

It was at this precise moment that all three girls' stomachs started to protest, almost in perfect unison, which caused the friends to laugh in shared embarrassment. "You ladies want to get a bite to eat? I know a good place down in Knockturn Alley we can try," Ophelia suggested.

"Knockturn Alley?" Minerva repeated, suddenly looking very nervous.

Harry wasn't keen either, until her Slytherin voice suddenly reminded her of something. Wait, wait, wait, it is almost Tom's birthday soon and we all know that Slytherin's locket is at Borgin and Burke's. Shall we see if we can get Slytherin's locket for Tom's birthday? It wasn't clear when Hepzibah Smith bought the thing. It is worth a try, right?

Slytherin's locket was at Borgin and Burke's; Harry had almost forgotten that, which meant taking a trip down the dark, dingy alley that was full of dodgy people who looked like they were up to no good. The Lady Regnant swallowed her pride and smiled brightly. "I wouldn't mind going to the place. I trust your judgement, Ophelia."

"What kind of place is it?" Minerva wanted to know the moment she knew she was out voted.

"Oh it is a family owned restaurant – The Dancing Mummy," Ophelia answered happily. "It is amazing. It is run by the Higgs family. I had a cottage pie there once and it was to die for! I went there for lunch with Rollo during the summer holidays."

Harry noted that the entrance to Knockturn Alley was as gloomy in the 40s and it had been in the 90s. It didn't look as dodgy or gloomy as it had on the two occasions she had been there, but that was perhaps because every single business and house in the alley was decorated for Yule. There were no creepy looking witches, wizards and Dark creatures lurking around outside; most of them were likely in The White Wyvern pub, out for celebratory drinks. There were still shops and street vendors that sold poisonous candles, shrunken heads, bones and other body pieces, and strange lotions and potions but they seemed a whole lot less intimidating and sinister due to being decorated rather festively. Even the unusual shop and stall owners were dressed in more Yule-appropriate colours.

It was a little bit of a culture shock to Harry, who had expected to feel as intimidated and on her guard as she had when she was twelve and last year. But while she was still on her toes, the Traveller didn't feel like she needed to have her hand near her wand.

Surprisingly, The Dancing Mummy was actually quite close to Borgin and Burke's, about five doors down from the strange antique shop. Harry's feet could not help but stop in front of building 13B that was the shop. The lights were on, which meant Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke were in business, which was good news for her. Ophelia and Minerva noticed Harry stop and both their eyes widened.

"Erm … Harry," Minerva gulped. "This is not a place you should go into unless you are going to do business with the people who run this shop. Mr. Borgin and Mr. Herbert Burke are not … particularly friendly people."

"Agreed," Ophelia concurred. "Just because you made a good impression with Belvinda Burke's maiden family, that doesn't mean that he will treat you with any more respect than he does any other costumer, which is barely any."

"Thank you for the warning, ladies," Harry answered with a small smile. "I will be right back."

Before Minerva or Ophelia could say anything to dissuade her, or do anything to stop her from entering the shop, Harry pushed on the dark green painted door, the bell's ring echoing around the room. The shop was still as large as she had remembered it and she could see a glass cabinet already with a Hand of Glory, a cursed pack of playing cards – not covered in blood this time, thank Merlin – and there were several glass eyes this time. As in 1992, there were sinister looking masks looking down at her as though they recognised her, which made Harry a little antsy. Rusty, spiked instruments still hung from the walls and there was a clear indication of a Vanishing Cabinet in the back corner of the shop.

"Young lady, I think you have the wrong shop. The shoe shops are a little further down."

The smarmy voice drew Harry's attention to the counter. Behind it stood two men, one who was stooped in stature and had greasy looking dark hair and eyes that reminded Harry of the greedy orbs of Mr. Borgin of her own timeline, and the other had a proud stature, well-groomed brown curls and a cunning glint in those blue eyes that reminded Harry of a fox.

Harry smirked a little as she approached. "No, I think not, sir. I have no interest in shoes; I got a nice pair of boots for Yule, but thank you for your concern," she quipped easily, keeping her posture as straight and confident as she could manage. "I was told that a Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke could assist me in a rather important matter, but apparently I was mistaken."

As Harry got closer to them, thus making her appearance clearer for them in the dingy room, Mr. Borgin and Mr. Herbert Burke exchanged a quick look before their demeanour seemed to change in an instant.

"Lady Hera," Mr. Burke stated crisply. Clearly someone had been enlightened by his wife. "I must say this is the last place I would expect to finally make your acquaintance. How may we be able to help?"

It was finally time to put some more acting skills to good use.

Harry smiled. "I have no idea what you have heard about me, sir, but I am sure you were told what kind of job I do. This is not a social call. I work as a Cursebreaker as you know, a freelancer, and I recently got an assignment – anonymously – asking me to track down a locket. Now this locket was quite important, apparently, and it was taken around seventeen-eighteen years ago and sold to you by a rather ragged woman who was with child and in a desperate state, as my sources tell me. Does any of this ring a bell?"

It clearly did because Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke immediately looked at each other in disbelief.

Mr. Borgin narrowed those grey eyes of his. "What does your client want with that locket?"

"All I was told was that it was of paramount importance that I get a hold of it and study it," Harry responded crisply. "I am afraid I have no other information and if I did, I would not divulge anything else due to client-Cursebreaker confidentiality."

Mr. Burke cocked his head slightly at her, narrowing his eyes. "Why has someone only come looking for it now?" he asked suspiciously. "Our understanding was that the woman had no family left."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Harry responded smoothly, making sure to maintain eye contact. "They left no name, as I said; that is not for me to question. My business with Orion will not be a good one if we make a habit of questioning the motives of our clients when it isn't necessary. I would like to be able to do my job – I am sure you can appreciate that, sir."

Mr. Borgin scoffed. "A working Lady Regnant! How standards have fallen," he sneered.

Mr. Burke pinched the bridge of his nose while Harry turned her steely gaze onto the shop owner. "I do hope for your sake, Mr. Borgin, that you do not treat all your customers in this manner, because otherwise I must say it is a miracle that anyone is willing to contemplate doing business with you. I assure you, my money is as good as those of Lord Malfoy or Lord Nott, or any other male client you serve."

Both shop owners could not help but notice that the Lady Regnant's verdant eyes had turned a bright silver at this point. The scare tactic seemed to work because Mr. Borgin swallowed and dipped a small bow. "As it happens," he stated through gritted teeth, "we have the locket in question. But I warn you, the price will be steep."

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow momentarily. "We will see if it is worth the price first and not a counterfeit."

Both Borgin and Burke looked a little insulted at the insinuation that their Dark artefacts were fake but they had quickly learned that this young Noble witch was not one to suffer fools lightly so they held their tongue and Borgin went to the back of the shop while Burke stayed behind the counter.

Borgin returned with an elegant looking, rectangular box, one that looked almost reminiscent of a wand box and put it down on the counter and opened it. There, nestled within elegant emerald green velvet, was the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Harry recognised it anywhere: it was large and oval-shaped with heavy gold with a serpentine 'S' in green jewels. Oh yes, the Traveller recognised it instantly. It meant that Hepzibah Smith had not gotten to it yet!

The Lady Peverell smirked to herself in satisfaction as she drew her wand. Neither owner was very happy about what she was about to do but they let her begin casting her Authentication Charms, which she had picked up from the books Thanatos had sent her. Harry was also tempted to use her History Revelation Charm just for good measure but she decided it was best not to show Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke the extent of her abilities too early.

That would just take the fun away!

But each Charm that Harry cast confirmed what she knew already: that this was the real locket that used to belong to Salazar Slytherin. Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke looked very pleased with each result, insufferably so Harry thought.

"So, now that we have established that we are not trying to swindle you," Mr. Burke stated, looking at Harry, "let's discuss price."

"Indeed," Harry agreed smoothly.

Mr. Borgin grinned toothily. "I think 600 Galleons should do it."

Harry raised an eyebrow sassily. "Only 600?" she teased. "I was hoping the starting price would be a little bit more fun, like 1000 Galleons."

The two men gaped at her unabashedly.

The Lady Regnant chuckled in amusement. "I am sorry, is that too much for a priceless historical artefact?"

Once more, the two wizards exchanged a look that Harry could not read and seemed to consider for a moment before they turned back to her.

"1600," Borgin raised the price experimentally.

Harry almost rolled her eyes. "1700."

"1800 Galleons and you have yourself a deal," Mr. Burke stated.

"Sure," Harry shrugged. "Do you want cash or cheque?"

Still a little shellshocked about how flippant this Lady Regnant was and utterly blasé at willingly spending more than 1000 Galleons, Mr. Borgin got their chequebook from under the counter and pointed where Harry needed to put the amount, her name and her signature.

Hmmm, I was hoping for a bit more of a battle, Harry thought to herself, feeling just ever so slightly disappointed as she put her signature down on cheque. Oh well. At least this battle was easily won. I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth when it comes to the Fates.

About a minute later, Harry walked out of Borgin and Burke's, now the proud owner of the locket of Salazar Slytherin, which she made sure was inside her cloak pocket, guarded by protection ward after protection ward.

Ophelia and Minerva, who had been pacing outside, immediately joined her side.

"And? What did you buy?" Ophelia asked curiously.

Harry smiled mischievously. "You would not believe me if I told you, my friend."

"Indeed?" the Rowle heiress raised a challenging eyebrow as they set off towards the restaurant again. "Try me."

The Mistress of Death chuckled. "The locket of Salazar Slytherin," she answered flippantly.

It was safe to say that both Ophelia and Minerva's hearts stopped beating for a good few seconds when they heard that. By the time they had recovered from that titbit, they were left wondering how the hell Harry knew Borgin and Burke had the damn thing, how much Harry had paid for it and what the Lady Regnant intended to do with it. They were half tempted to ask these questions but for some reason, both Ophelia and Minerva found it far more fun to keep that a mystery for themselves for now.

It was just another typical Harry thing.

As for Harry, she ignored her friends' shock and simply stated as they entered the restaurant, "remember to bring your weapons, ladies. Tomorrow is training day and I am sorry to inform you that I will not be going easy on you."

"We won't forget," Minerva rolled her eyes. "By the way, how did you know how to balance those weapons so well?"

"Oh I simply took into account your arm length, height, weight and whether or not you looked muscular," Harry answered truthfully as a half-Veela waitress showed them to one of the fancier looking tables to the back of the restaurant.

"Which weapons did Harry make for you?" Ophelia asked Minerva with interest.

"Somehow she managed to make a sgian dubh, a Scottish dirk and something between a rapier and a Scottish Claymore," Minerva replied, eyes shining.

Ophelia frowned. "Sorry, what was the first one?"

"Sgian dubh. It translates to 'black or hidden knife', which is apt because it usually was concealed in a shoe or sock," Minerva explained.

"Speaking of hidden things," Harry grinned, turning her attention onto Ophelia with a smirk, "what was that between you and Malum in the cinema?"

Ophelia looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You were blatantly trying not to look at him," the Mistress of Death laughed, peridot eyes shining like the jewels they resembled. "Do you like him and since when?"

Minerva looked on with interest.

Ophelia's cheeks were now flame red with embarrassment. "I … didn't even think that I liked him at all! I danced with him a total of five times and after the fifth, we just got a drink and we took a turn about one of the entertainment rooms that was practically deserted. We were just talking about the Yule Ball and our parents' plot to try and marry us off, and then the next thing I know, we're …"

"Kissing?" Harry clarified while trying not to laugh. Minerva too was biting the inside of her cheeks.

Ophelia looked ashamed. "Yes."

The Lady Peverell smirked. "So your parents can stop worrying about matching you with Caius then?"

The Rowle heiress spluttered. "Harry!"

Harry held up her hands in mock surrender. "What? They are trying to match you guys and you guys kissed. I don't see the problem here!"

Minerva chuckled as their drinks arrived. "I think the problem is the fact that Ophelia let Avery kiss her in the first place."

"Exactly," Ophelia moaned, putting her head in her hands. "I was like one of those stupid heroines in those awful romance books Orion loves so much! It was embarrassing."

"I am pretty certain Elizabeth Bennett did not let Darcy kiss her until he shaped up!" Harry joked, Minerva chuckling away.

"You get my point though!" Ophelia protested through laughter. "I kissed someone who I am not officially courting. If Mama finds out she is going to likely have a fainting spell."

"Oh please! I met the woman, she is tough as nails; it is your father I worry about," Harry quipped easily. "He definitely looks like a fainter."

Ophelia gaped, shaking her head at her friend in disbelief. "You take that back!"

Harry made a small show of considering before grinning evilly. "Fine, but only because it is Yule."

The food arrived soon after, allowing the girls to switch to more safer topics for a while. Ophelia and Minerva talked about Minerva's home town and love life – or lack thereof – while Harry listened in here and there. Her mind was mostly on what she was going to put inside the locket.

Perhaps her Peverell family portraits had a good idea? Either way, Harry was already giddy at the prospect of seeing Tom's face the moment he sees the locket.

#######################################################

"So how is it over there? Are Harry's guardians as mad as she is?"

"They're actually relatively normal in comparison to her, somehow! They bicker and banter a lot with each other. It's … easy here. There is no awkward tensions between any of them or us. I mean, Tom and Harry sometimes get overwhelmed but then they are back within five to ten minutes."

Altair was in his room, on a mirror call with Arcturus, who was apparently hiding from one of his aunts, who was once again trying to set him up with yet another eligible pureblood heiress. Lord and Lady Rosier had apparently not turned their attention to their son yet on the matter of marriage, but Lady Rosier's sister did, much to Arc's chagrin. Naturally, the conversation had drifted to Harry's current Peverell seat, Yule with Harry's family and how different the family was to what the boys were used to.

The answer: very.

Arcturus cocked his head slightly. "So what do they do all day?"

"Everything and nothing," Altair smiled. "Perrie loves to cook and make things. Nicholas does a lot of the entertaining. Thomas, Henry and Melanie are all rather laid back. We have taken trips out and spent the rest of the time when we're back doing very little. It just feels … normal? I don't know if that is even the right word."

"Well I suppose I will see for myself tomorrow," Arc grinned. He then sobered quickly because he saw something in his best-friend-who-was-practically-a-brother's eyes that made him frown. "Altair, what is it? Is something bothering you?"

Altair smiled weakly. "It is nothing you need to worry about, Arc," he tried to reassure.

Little did Arcturus know that before he had called Altair, the Nott heir had retreated to his room in order to try and fortify his Occlumency shields and get rid of some of his growing suspicions that Tom was bothered by something but wasn't confiding in either Harry or Altair what it was.

Naturally, Arcturus saw right through the nonsense. "Altair, out with it."

Altair was rather thankful he had activated the magic on the privacy shield on his wall already at this point. "This is going to sound stupid but … I think Tom is hiding something and I am a little peeved that he isn't telling us what the matter is. It is bad enough that I think all three of us are struggling to maintain control over our emotions around each other; I don't think we need the added stress of unnecessary secrets."

"Is something bothering him?" Arcturus wanted to know.

"I think so but he isn't saying what it is," Altair huffed. "I haven't asked him about it and I am kind of afraid to, but I really want to. I know Tom hates people sticking their noses into his business but-"

"Altair, you can always ask," Arcturus pointed out, cutting across carefully. "If Tom doesn't want to tell you yet, make sure he knows he can just come out with it later. Perhaps he just doesn't want to burden you with it?"

"But I want to be burdened with his problems, and Harry's," Altair deflated a little. "I think Harry is hiding stuff again too."

Arcturus chuckled. "Altair, she is Lady Peverell and a former General. I think she will always be hiding something. That is not something that is going to change any time soon. Just … I know this going to sound really stupid, but you need to be a little bit more patient than usual with your future Consorts."

"Yeah, I have two future Consorts who have issues with emotions," Altair half laughed. "Just my luck, right?"

The Rosier Heir snorted. "Trust me, I know a lot of people who would kill to have what you three have already. I mean, Sacrum Vinculum is special for a reason. I know that I would give an arm and a leg to be able to have something similar."

Altair knew immediately why Arc had said this. "I know you would."

"Yeah, well. I have already made peace with the fact I can never truly have both," Arcturus sighed. "Unless I am somehow blessed with a wife who is … understanding, at least. But those women are about as rare as the four leaf clover or a Leprechaun who isn't drunk."

"Wow! You actually made a funny joke, Arc!" Altair laughed.

"Oh shut up!"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Altair, we are going to play Dragon Land. Do you want to join in?" Tom called from the other side of the door.

"Sounds like my cue to go," Arcturus grinned.

"Yeah," Altair smiled smally. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Yes you will! I can't wait."

With that, the Rosier Heir hung up and Altair plucked up the courage to get up from his bed and open his door. Tom was leaning casually against the door frame, a charming half smile on his countenance.

"Am I disturbing you, my dear?" he asked teasingly.

Altair flushed at the implied meaning. "No. Just called Arc, that's all."

"How is he?" Tom asked curiously.

"Fine. Hiding from his aunt who is trying to get him to start consider courting," Altair admitted with a quick laugh.

"Ah, that common problem," Tom's burgundy orbs shone with amusement. "Prompted by the Yule Ball no doubt."

"Possibly," Altair conceded.

Tom nodded. "So … do you want to join in the game or shall I leave you alone?"

"No, I will join," Altair reassured with a quick smile that quickly grew. "I always love seeing just how much I can steal from and vex my opponents."

Tom mock-scowled at him. "You're a villain."

"You'd hate me if I went easy on you," Altair pointed out easily.

Tom's burgundy eyes darkened. "I can't hate you, but I always love a challenge."

"Let's see if that is true," Altair smirked. "You ready to lose again, my darling Moon?"

Tom's eyes were now completely black, which both scared and excited Altair in equal measure. "You will find that I will be the victor this time, my love."

Altair stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him before taking the risk of capturing Tom's lips in a quick but passionate kiss. "We shall see," he whispered into Tom's ear as he stepped past his future Consort and headed towards the main corridor and towards the stairs. Altair smirked with satisfaction when he heard a growl from behind him.

"Challenge accepted, Altair," Tom stated, his voice slightly menacing, sending pleasant shivers down the Nott Heir's spine.

######################################################

Queenie had managed to escape back to her chambers after the Boxing Day dinner and sending some more photos of proof to Rollo that his fifteen team members were still alive and were also enjoying some of the Yule log.

"Everyone must have Yule spirit, even the prisoners!" Gellert had once again insisted, as he did every year.

The General immediately started running her bath. She needed to warm up a little – Austrian Yules were always so bitterly cold and even Warming Charms sometimes didn't help – and also wanted to make sure that she would not be disturbed while she thought back to her official meeting with the Lady Hera Evans.

To Queenie, Hera had met every single one of her expectations, but the Natural Legilimens could not help but feel very uneasy. The young Lady Regnant – in the way she looked and the way she acted – reminded Queenie strongly of several Operation Sparta people. The General hated them with a passion, because they not only trained adults to fight, but, as Queenie had actually witnessed first-hand, children as well.

General Evans had been a thorn in Queenie's side and a verruca at the bottom of her foot and the moment when the Natural Legilimens was finally rid of that accursed woman, she had actually treated herself to one of Gellert's precious chocolate chip biscuits the moment she got back to Nurmengard. However, it would appear that the General had family; Queenie was surprised that Evans managed to keep a daughter secret under those flimsy Occlumency shields of hers. She had also not seen the presence of Hera in the heads of some of the other Operation Sparta members.

So who was this girl? Was Hera a daughter, or perhaps a niece? The family resemblance was too uncanny to say otherwise.

It would be rather ironic, Queenie thought to herself as she disrobed and stepped into her nice warm bath. I gave advice to Evans' daughter or niece about how not to get kidnapped or targeted!

The girl's possible parentage aside, the conflict Queenie had was that she actually really liked Hera and didn't want Gellert to have an excuse to try and bring her for a 'dinner date' at Nurmengard. For some odd reason, Queenie suspected that what Norton Lament had to say about Hera would give Gellert precisely that excuse.

The General knew it was treason to think it, but she couldn't help hope that something unfortunate would befall the gentleman in question before Gellert could send his agents to talk to him. She was even contemplating trying to contact Rollo with a mission to find out what Norton Lament knows and to deal with him if necessary.

But then again, Rollo Rowle was a spy, not an assassin. Passing information was one thing; cold blooded murder was another. It was very likely that Rollo would simply blab to Gellert what she had asked him to do by refusing the order and sending a message that translated as such, which in turn would lead to Gellert trying to hunt down the person who sent orders on their own accord.

Perhaps she could find a way to lay a trap for Lament?

Why do you care? her conscience, which sounded eerily like Tina, sneered. You never countenanced helping a member of Operation Sparta before.

We don't know if she was or wasn't for certain, Queenie reasoned to herself. Even if she was, she clearly escaped. She is neutral in this fight now; I won't have yet another child dragged into adult dirty business.

I hope you know what you're doing, her conscience responded. Because the last time someone questioned Gellert they ended up dying in blue flames and right now, the Elder Wand is refusing to listen to him so he's even more temperamental. Do not get yourself killed.

I'll bear that in mind,

Queenie answered dryly.

Perhaps she could take a leaf out of the Elder Wand's book and try and stall Gellert with a prank or two?

#############################################

Conflict all around it seems. How will Queenie proceed? How many others suspect Harry's true identity? Will Tom keep his promise to Frey and Athenaïs and come clean about what he has done in time for the ritual? The training session should be very interesting! How will Tom react to Harry finding Slytherin's locket? Stay tuned to find out!

Oh my gods, I am so sorry that it has taken ages. I have had a hectic week – I have been working eight hour shifts and the job I was coming to love wasn't all that I thought it be so now I am looking for work again so I am back to balancing job hunting and writing again … I hope the rest of you are well.

Gellert: Queenie had better not start turning my clothes pink!

Orion: Personally I would just lock you in the closet.

Harry: With a picture of Dumbledore to keep him company.

Gellert: You two are pure evil!

Orion and Harry: CORRECT!

We will see you in the next chapter everyone!

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