CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The last thing that the Averys and Harfang Longbottom expected to receive was a summons to Gringotts late in the evening of the third of January regarding a legal matter that a certain Lady Hera was mulling over. She wanted the three of them to attend a meeting the next day in order to discuss it. While none of the lawyers had any idea what the mysterious Cursebreaker could want to discuss with them, curiosity was killing the cat and each of them had agreed to attend.
Regina and Alexander knew the girl was friends with Malum – and that their son held her in high regard – but they had not said more than ten words to the girl themselves. Harfang, on his side, could not believe that a Lady Regnant he only met once had invited him to a meeting that his lawyer senses were telling him was going to be extremely important.
The surprise that the Averys and Mr. Longbottom had still had not abated the next day, and apparently it was obvious to their families. Callidora, Francis and Lyra had asked Harfang in no certain terms if he already had a new case, to which he answered with the usual.
"I am sorry, my dears, but I cannot tell you."
As for the Averys, Malum had decided to ignore his parents' strange expressions in favour of worrying about his meeting with Ophelia. Oizys did not ignore the expressions. She could see a look in the eyes of her parents she recognised, but had not seen in a while.
"Have you got a new client, Mother?" the young Avery questioned as she sipped her morning pumpkin juice, after finishing her crumpet.
Regina Avery smiled smally. "I would not say that, petal. But your father and I do have a meeting this morning about a potential new case."
"Oh! About what?" Oizys lit up. "Has someone been swindled? Is it a theft? Another murder?"
Alexander Avery shook his head in amusement at his daughter as his wife looked at their daughter in undisguised concern at her excitement for a potential murder case. "Even if we knew, we would not be able to tell you, darling. Client-"
"Confidentiality, yes I know," Oizys sighed, grumbling. She pouted a little. "It isn't fair. You can never tell me the interesting things until everything is resolved."
Regina finished the last of her coffee. "Will you and Malum be all right on your own for a little while before Rhiannon comes to pick you up?"
"Yes, of course," Oizys responded primly. "You go to your meeting and help your new client."
"All right, poppet. Behave yourself at the Lestranges'," Regina told her daughter with a knowing look in her eyes as Oizys rolled her eyes. "And try not to tucker Nymera out too much."
"I won't," Oizys promised. "Just go!"
Regina and Alexander gave her a quick peck on her forehead each before gathering their brief cases, cloaks and gloves, then Apparating away to Gringotts, where they appeared almost at the exact same time as one Harfang Longbottom. The both of them had been acquainted with Harfang for years and despite often being on opposite sides of the court room to each other, the Averys considered the strangely shy lawyer a good friend outside of work.
"Harfang! Good morning. Have you been summoned by the Lady Hera as well?" Regina asked jovially.
As for Harfang, he did like the Averys a lot; he especially respected Alexander for allowing his wife to continue working after their marriage, since that trend was not very commonplace amongst the pureblood elite. Then again, it helped that the Averys were not Nobles, which made the pill a lot easier to swallow for the rest of society.
"Indeed," Harfang confirmed with a small smile. "The two of you don't, by any chance, know what this is about do you?"
"Unfortunately not," Alexander huffed as the three of them made their way into the bank, dodging bustling goblins as they walked towards the front desks. "The goblins were as vague as vague could be. But I wonder what could be so important that the girl would need an opinion from all three of us?"
"Well, Lady Regnant or not, she is rather new to England and her laws," Regina pointed out. "Maybe she just wants some clarification on a sensitive matter before she makes any decisions."
"But then why meet here? Why not simply come to our office or ask to meet at her house?" Harfang inquired with a frown. "Why all this secrecy?"
"That is what doesn't add up about all of this," Alexander agreed readily. "Malum tried to get her divulge what was going on but all that she told him was that this business involves another major family."
"Merlin," Regina gasped. "Why did you not tell me, Alex? Who do you think it is?"
"I do not even want to begin to guess," Harfang sighed. "I have heard from Callie who heard from her aunt Belvinda that the Lady Regnant managed to track down a very important historical artefact that apparently old Borgin and Burke had been in possession of for one of her clients. Who knows what else or who else that girl can find?"
"Do you think we could be helping with one of her cases?" Alexander's eyes widened as they finally halted in front of the front desks.
"I think we may be about to find out," his wife commented as she turned her attention on the goblin sitting behind the desk in question. "Good morning, Mr. Griphook, may your gold be ever flowing."
The Accountant of the Peverell Vaults raised an eyebrow but quickly composed himself, smiling a toothy grin. "May your enemies always fall at your feet, Madam Avery. To you as well, Mr. Avery, Mr. Longbottom. The three of you are right on time. Please follow me."
The three lawyers followed the goblin down to the right, towards some of the more well warded and protected meeting rooms, a slight air of apprehension still present.
"May we already inquire what this is about, Mr. Griphook?" Harfang decided to try his luck.
"All will become clear soon enough, Mr. Longbottom. Be patient a little while longer," the goblin responded crisply. "I assure you, we would not be wasting your valuable time for a minor matter, if that is what concerns you."
"It does not," Alexander was quick to reassure, knowing fully well how easily offended goblins could get. "We are merely surprised that someone who is barely acquainted with us would enlist our help in a legal matter that she is not willing to disclose."
"Lady Hera was given a list of trustworthy lawyers by mutual acquaintances," Griphook informed him. "On that list, was your name, sir, your wife's name and of course, Mr. Longbottom's. There were others on there as well, but given how the Lady Hera has had some trust issues in the past, she thought it was safer to consult the parents of one of her friends and the husband of a Black."
This made the Averys and Harfang Longbottom exchange a look. That already clarified a lot, but who was the one who gave her the list?
That question still hung in their heads when they followed Griphook into the meeting room just outside the lifts. Waiting for them inside, drinking tea or coffee, were the Lady Hera, King Ragnok, Rava the Head Healer of Gringotts, a man who likely was either Thomas or Henry Burke, and – to their surprise – Rosberg, the Accountant of the Lestrange Vaults. They were sitting around the table that, oddly enough, had a crystal ball standing in the middle of the table.
"Ah! The people in question have arrived! Come in, come in, take a seat – would you like some tea or coffee?" the Goblin King asked jovially as Griphook closed the door behind them and activated the privacy wards and spells.
"No thank you, Your Grace," Regina answered politely as she set her briefcase down and removed her cloak.
"Also none for me, thank you, sir," Alexander added.
"Tea, please, Your Grace," Harfang responded, smiling gratefully as he untied his hand-knitted scarf from around his neck.
"Splendid. What kind?"
Harfang blanched. "You pick, sir, I am not fussed."
"Rava, are you already onto it? Of course you are! Now, I think we should not dilly or dally much longer considering the fact that we are all very busy people and that there are people on the other end of the crystal ball are anxious for some good news," the King stated. He turned to the odd young Lady Regnant, who had been regarding the three lawyers with an unreadable, unblinking gaze. "Lady Hera, would you like to inform the Averys and Mr. Longbottom of your little legal query?"
The Cursebreaker bowed her head. "Yes, Your Grace," she answered graciously and turned to the Averys and Harfang. "First of all, I want to make it clear that nothing that gets said in this room, leaves this room. As you may be aware, Mr. and Mrs. Avery, I asked your son if your discretion can be relied upon. He said yes, to an extent. I hope that it is indeed the case."
Regina and Alexander exchanged a knowing look before they turned back to her.
"We promise not to divulge anything you tell us to an outside party unless it requires Auror investigation," Regina responded diplomatically.
"As will I," Harfang added quickly.
The strange young Cursebreaker smiled momentarily. "We shall see," she replied quietly. She took a deep sigh and seemed to be processing something for a moment before continuing. "The business I wish to discuss is on behalf of unofficial clients; the ones listening on the other end of that crystal ball. You see, not too long ago, I was told by one of my dear friends that his sister is gravely ill to the point that she cannot attend Hogwarts."
The Averys already started to pale at hearing this. Harfang kept his countenance composed. The Cursebreaker continued. "Now, I don't wish to toot my own horn but my detective senses started ringing the alarms when I heard that, and it wasn't until another of our mutual friends made a very poor joke about a counterfeit Blood Curse being used during a dispute between Hufflepuffs that I thought that there was a possibility that the girl in question was under the influence of one."
"Which as it turns out," Rava contributed, "she was."
"Rava conducted tests on her," Hera nodded respectfully to the Head Healer, "with the permission of the family and their Accountant," she gestured to Rosberg. "As I told the father, I wished that two plus two equalled seventy and that I was wrong. Alas, I wasn't." The Lady Regnant took another deep sigh. "As with all crimes, there is always motive, means and opportunity – during the Yule Ball, I went through the list of suspects to see if I could hear or spot anything untoward. Then I followed two people out into the garden, one of whom was amongst the suspects."
"And you happened to hear something concerning a counterfeit Blood Curse on an heiress?" Alexander Avery could not help but question.
"No," the Lady Regnant smiled smally. "I cannot disclose the reason why, but I got angry at the two people concerned. I previously overheard one of them say that they 'tried to take matters into their own hands' but failed – because I lost my temper, I did something exceedingly stupid … but I accidentally got the information I was looking for."
It was at this point that the King had placed a Pensieve onto the table. The Lady Hera put her wand to her temple and put the memory in question into the bowl. The water with the memory sculpted itself into something akin to a small movie screen and very soon, the memory in question began playing – this time with audio.
The Averys and Harfang were shellshocked to see Mattheo Nott and Anne Underwood in the memory and could hardly believe the things that they were hearing and seeing – Anne Underwood had not only been Lord Nott's mistress, she had tried to kill his legally begotten heir so that Lord Nott could have had an excuse to divorce Amaris Macmillan and so that any children with him could inherit more power.
But it had gone awry – Altair Nott had not eaten the cake slice; Nymera Lestrange had.
No wonder Rosberg was present! The family that this business centred around was the Lestranges and the mystery of their daughter's illness that had been going on for four long years. Lady Hera Evans had solved a mystery no one else could, albeit using less than orthodox methods.
Regina and Alexander were very thankful to the man next to the Lady Hera, who poured them each a glass of water because they felt a little nauseous to know someone had deliberately tried to kill a child, but ended up cursing the wrong child. It could have so easily been Oizys! As for Harfang, he sipped his tea, but looked like he needed something stronger.
"I think you can see why I need legal assistance," the Lady Hera's voice sounded way too loud in the silence around them. "I got the evidence I needed in a less than orthodox manner, I think we can all agree."
"You can say that again, my Lady," Regina concurred once she managed to recover the ability to speak. "Evidence obtained using Legilimency is not admissible in court, especially when the person whose head was invaded was unaware of it happening at the time. This is because memories are fickle and can so easily be changed. Veritaserum is already dubious enough. Though the evidence you have is damning, it is useless in actually getting an arrest, much less a conviction."
"So, how do we proceed from here?" Lady Hera wanted to know. "What can we do to make sure that Miss Underwood does not get away with this?"
"Well, I think you know the answer to that question yourself, my Lady: we need to find evidence that is admissible in court and has proper grounds for an arrest to be made," Harfang responded easily, sitting straighter than he had been that entire meeting. "We would likely need Diantha Underwood's testimony regarding the cake she made, if she left it unattended, if her sister offered to help with it – that kind of thing. We will also need to try and find the spell that Anne used on the cake or cake slice in question. But ideally, we would need Anne Underwood's confession. One that was given willingly and not without some form of coercion."
"Any medical data on Nymera Lestrange before and after she fell ill would also be needed for a strong case of a counterfeit Blood Curse being used," Regina Avery continued, now completely in her element. "It will help strengthen the case that something very untoward and Dark was used in a first degree murder attempt charge and a grievous bodily harm charge."
"I will go through my files and send them as soon as possible," Lord Lestrange's voice resonated around the room from the orb.
"I will pull a few strings and see if Diantha can be lured into a false sense of security," Lady Lestrange added; Regina almost shuddered at hearing the cold, iron determination in the voice of her friend.
The young Cursebreaker nodded thoughtfully. "Just for clarification: when do we go to the Aurors with everything?" she wanted to know.
"When we are certain we have enough to build a solid case against Miss Underwood," Alexander responded firmly. "No sooner, no later; otherwise, as you probably gauged yourself, we may not even get to trial at all. This has to be something that Miss Underwood's wealthy family cannot simply buy their way out of."
"Indeed," the Lady Hera agreed readily.
"May I ask something, my Lady?" Harfang asked carefully.
"Of course, sir," she answered with a small smile.
"Who else knows about Lord Nott's affair with Mistress Underwood, save yourself and your future Consorts?"
"Lady Amaris, as you probably guessed," the Lady Regnant responded promptly. "Other than that, no clue. I know that there are rumours circulating around Miss Underwood's bastard children, but I cannot say for certain."
"Not your guardians?" Regina eyed Henry Burke at this point.
Henry stared her down unflinchingly. "Madam, I assure you, this was news to me as well. Neither, Harry, Tom, nor Altair informed any of us of Altair's fathers indiscretion. Frankly, I do not think it is any of our concern. My family are concerned with Peverell matters until Harry turns eighteen."
"Lord Nott knows how to cover his tracks well, then," Alexander did not even attempt to disguise his frustration. "It may mean that you yourself, Mr. Riddle, Heir Nott and Lady Nott may be called to court to testify, if this case goes to trial."
Neither the Lady Regnant nor her guardian looked too happy about that.
"It may not even come to that," Regina attempted to reassure quickly, seeing the looks of displeasure. "For now, we focus on getting our hands on evidence that the Aurors cannot simply bat away or be bribed to make it go away."
The strange young witch from Europe nodded in agreement. "Shall we discuss your payment?" she asked crisply.
The three lawyers exchanged a look; they were all thinking the exact same thing.
"Since this concerns Mistress Nymera Lestrange and an attempted murder of an heir, we will do this pro bono," Harfang informed her. "You can worry about our fees if we get this thing to trial."
The Cursebreaker sighed with relief. "Thank you, sirs, ma'am. That is very kind."
"We will not forget this kindness," Lord Lestrange added.
"You owe me a drink for this, Francis!" Alexander told him half-jokingly.
###################################################################
Tom was secretly rather relieved that Harry had an important Gringotts meeting to attend that day and that Henry Burke had been the one to go with her. Melanie and the Flamels had gone out for the day, and Thomas Burke had decided to stay home, which meant Tom could put his plan into action. He really hoped that it would not backfire spectacularly.
Because if his theory was correct, Tom was about to come face to face with the very entity he feared the most.
The Heir of Slytherin, armed with only one of his ancestress's grimoires as something to squeeze his nerves into, forced himself to leave his room and make his way downstairs. The enigmatic bookstore owner was in the living room, music channel on, reading a book of his own on Ancient magical military campaigns with Athenaïs sleeping soundly next to his feet. Tom swallowed a little as he descended the stairs and gingerly took the sofa opposite the man and forced himself to not look in the man's direction.
Tom flipped Tezan's grimoire onto the bookmarked page, but he found that he could not really concentrate on the words in front of him. He then tried to focus on the music coming from the radio, but he found the jazz number rather off-putting than anything else.
"Everything all right, Tom?"
The velvety tone of the dower man sent shivers down Tom's spine. The young Dark wizard forced himself to look up and he met the concerned gaze of the man who was a surrogate father to the woman Tom loved so deeply. Those eyes – they felt like they held the weight of more than a thousand ages. Thomas Burke always seemed so solemn and serious; Tom had thought it was perhaps due the toll of being a friend of the Peverells. So many secrets that needed to be hidden; the concern for Harry's safety.
"Tom?" the man repeated his name kindly, a small smile forming on his countenance. "What is it? I can tell something is bothering you." He exhaled sharply. "Look, I know we are not officially family but you are important to Harry – you can tell me anything and I won't break your confidence."
Tom cleared his throat. "It's nothing to worry about, sir," he replied carefully. "I have just been … mulling something over and I thought I wanted an answer to it, but now I am not so sure."
The book collector raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is it the Mark? I have been doing some more research and-"
"It's not about the Mark, it's about you," Tom found himself blurting out, wincing at how crass he sounded.
For a moment the room was only filled by the sound of aptly melancholic blues music. The bookseller blinked at him a few times, gaping a little. "Me?" he eventually managed to repeat. "What about … me?"
Tom suddenly found the steel in his spine. "I know Harry is the Mistress of Death, as does Altair. I am pretty certain our friends are figuring it out too," he answered with confidence. "We know that is why Grindelwald is after her. You, Henry and Melanie – even the Flamels – you know she is the Mistress of Death too, don't you?"
There was an admittedly pregnant pause before the bookseller closed the book in his lap. "Yes," he admitted in a low tone. "Yes, we know."
Tom could have smirked to himself in triumph but he kept his countenance composed. He was not going to savour a victory too early. "Your real name isn't Thomas Burke, is it?" he dared to ask.
The eyes of the man opposite darkened instantly. "What are you talking about? Yes, it is-"
"No one has heard of you or Henry," Tom continued. "I also know every pureblood name in Great Britain and I know for a fact Rollins is not amongst them – in fact, Rollins is hardly a wizarding name at all."
"We are not purebloods," Thomas retorted. "Tom, what is the meaning of this interrogation?"
"Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable, Tosti?"
Every single eavesdropping portrait upstairs fell silent; a few of the people fell out of their frames into their neighbours', utterly shocked at what they had just heard come out of the last Gaunt's mouth. As for the disguised immortal, he had frozen to his spot like a statute, regarding Tom unblinkingly.
No one dared to even move or breathe for what felt like an eternity before Thomas – Tosti – recovered a little. "What … did you just call me?" the book collector's voice was little more than a whisper but Tom now knew he needed to tread very carefully.
"You heard me, sir," the last Gaunt responded carefully. "Antioch, Cadmus, Ignotus and Harry told Altair and me about how they have this pet name for Death, or Thanatos, as they know him as." He felt his breath quiver with fear at this point but quickly pulled himself together. "I have noticed Harry call you that … to the point it was no longer a coincidence."
The man – being – sitting opposite Tom made no reply, simply gaping a little. Tom smiled awkwardly at him for a moment before allowing his eyes to drop to the carpet below their feet; the young Dark wizard began fiddling with the Gaunt ring, hoping he was not going to be blasted for his impertinence.
"Of all the things that give me away, it's that stupid nickname," was not the answer Tom was expecting at all. Well, a part of him was – and now that part was terrified beyond belief.
With his heartbeats ringing in his ears, Tom forced himself to look up at the man who had been posing as Thomas Burke. He now looked more amused than anything else, his eyes as kind and gentle as ever. The Heir of Slytherin swallowed a little, but forced himself to maintain eye contact.
"You're Thanatos," he stated breathlessly.
"I am," the disguised god confirmed in a calm, collected tone.
Tom continued. "And Henry Burke and Melanie Rollins are not your brother and cousin's real names."
Thanatos nodded. "Indeed. They are Hypnos, my twin, and Melinoë, Goddess of Ghosts."
Tom gathered what was left of his courage, clenching his jaws slightly for a moment. "Show me what you normally look like," he requested, hoping that it didn't sound like an order. "Please?"
Thomas – Thanatos looked like he was about to refuse but then Tom watched as shadows gathered from all corners of the room and enveloped the being. They wrapped themselves around him for no more than ten seconds but once they were gone, Tom was left facing a hooded man who looked roughly the same as the mortal man, only power radiated from him. Thanatos was dressed all in black with an executioner's sword and a lantern strapped to the belt around his waist.
"I can also dress in white if you prefer," Thanatos stated kindly, noticing that Tom's eyes were bugging out. "It makes me look less intimidating."
"No," Tom responded hastily, swallowing a little. "There's no need … sir."
Thanatos' eyes turned sombre. "Please don't call me 'sir', Tom, it is unlike you. I much prefer the defiant young man who tried to escape me. He won half of Harry's heart, after all."
The last Gaunt could hardly believe his ears. "What …? Wait … the Horcruxes – you know what I did even before I wrote to you!" he exclaimed, practically jumping to his feet.
"Of course," Thanatos raised an eyebrow. "You think that I wouldn't know when someone tries to tamper with their Tapestry, with their own death? I would not be doing my job very well if I couldn't sense when someone tries to escape me."
"And you helped me anyway," Tom's eyes flashed red for a moment. "Did you do it because you wanted me mortal? Did you do it because it would mean that you could come for me when you feel like it?"
Thanatos smiled sadly. "No. I did it because no soul should remain torn for eternity, and if anything happened to you, Harry would never forgive herself. I could not and still cannot bear to see her in pain. Harry is important to me, thus you and Altair are important to me."
Tom cooled his ire quickly at this, weirdly touched by that. "Did you … tell her about my Horcruxes before I did?"
The God of Death nodded in affirmation. "I did, because I was concerned for your safety. I knew you would need her help in order to succeed."
"Yet she still tried to get me to tell her," Tom whispered in disbelief, putting his head in his hands. He exhaled sharply. "Oh Harry …"
"Do not be too hard on her," Thanatos stated sombrely.
"No, I am not angry – I am just reminded why I don't deserve her," Tom replied candidly as he began pacing as Athenaïs began waking.
"Yes, you do," the God of Death countered.
Tom barely registered Thanatos' approval as he stopped for a moment and turned to the deity. "What about the Mark? What is it? What does it mean?"
Thanatos smiled sadly. "The Mark is a Mark of Death, but of a different kind to Harry's," he answered solemnly. "Yours was given to your by my Mistress; it means your fates are now more entwined than they were before. Your life and death are now tied to hers."
Tom gaped a little. "So, are you telling me that the only time Altair and I can die, is if Harry dies?"
"Correct," Thanatos confirmed readily. "I should also warn you that she may have inadvertently transferred some of her powers to you, but I am not sure if that is the case. It could take a while for it to form."
The Heir of Slytherin sat back down on the sofa in disbelief; Athenaïs nuzzled his leg in an effort to comfort him, chirping gently. Tom had no idea what the Gargouille was saying but he knew instinctively that she was trying to reassure him that he was still the same to her, except that he now smelled better?
Huh, where did that come from?
"OK," Tom finally managed to say after what felt like an eternity of processing what he had been told. "OK."
"Are you all right? Would you like a cup of tea?" Thanatos sounded more than a little concerned.
"I would love one!" Tom answered readily, practically sighing with relief. He made to move to start making himself a cuppa but quickly sat back down when he saw the deity move to the kettle and begin to boil the water for him.
It was perhaps fortuitous that at this point, Melanie – no, Melinoë – and the Flamels returned, looking very happy with the baked goods they had bought at Dragon's Mound. Tom quickly buried his shock in favour of trying to act like everything had been as it was before; he did notice the knowing look that Thanatos exchanged with the disguised Goddess of Ghosts.
The last Gaunt knew he was going to have a very interesting conversation with Harry and Altair at some point.
#########################################################################
"Is that him? Are you sure?"
"That is him. But, Lorcan, I think we may not get much out of him. He looks like he could start singing ballads under the drink's influence."
"Well, Meg, we have ways to make people talk," Goliath reminded with a smirk.
The three Hit Wizards, who had arrived not too long ago, were seated at a table in the back of The White Wyvern, keeping a firm eye on the person they had tracked to the pub that day. The man in question, was Norton Lament, looking absolutely exhausted and seemingly drinking his sorrows away. He was already on his third Firewhiskey.
Ever since the three of them had paid a visit to Macnair at his home, who eventually told them that apparently this Norton Lament had something important to tell Grindelwald after being 'persuaded' to come clean, they had tried to track Lament down. It took them a while but Meg had managed to keep tabs on him for about a day.
"I think you should leave this one to me," Meg told her friend and colleague crisply. "I will signal if I need your muscle."
"OK," Goliath gave a curt nod. "Remember to throw his arse outside if he tries to do anything."
Meg rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. She didn't need Goliath's big muscles or Ghost's potions and poisons; the Seeress preferred Glamours, disguises and enchantments. On this occasion, Meg had opted for one of her favourites: glamourous covert Grindelwald supporter.
She took a quick swig from her vial of Volubilis Potion, walked up to the bar; the banshee behind the bar turned her attention onto Meg immediately. "Two Dragonbreath Tonics and a Winter Rose's Kiss, please," Meg was rather pleased with her slight Welsh accent on her voice.
The banshee smirked, setting to work immediately. As Meg had hoped, Lament had taken notice of her. "You and your friends have some adventurous tastes," he stated with a small smirk.
"Hmm, do we?" Meg responded innocently. "Never noticed."
"It's a good thing there are Fire-Proof Charms on all the booths," Lament's grin widened. "Your friends are going to put Horntails to shame with every sip of a Dragonbreath Tonic."
Meg raised an eyebrow. "How do you know one of the Dragonbreath Tonics is not for me, sir?"
Lament grinned. "You don't look like a woman who likes to start breathing fire in public."
Urgh, please, Meg recoiled internally. I like Dragonbreath Tonic after I dealt with arrogant sociopaths like yourself.
The Hit Witch kept her composure. "I like to live a little now and again. With the wars, you never know if the next day is your last," she carved her best winning smile onto her countenance as the banshee bartender finished the last drink and served them up on a platter.
At the mention of the wars, Lament's face soured. "Well, I always hope the next day will bring me the news I want to hear, but alas – I have yet to hear anything," Meg was fairly certain that the drink was already loosening Lament's tongue.
"Oh? And what is that, sir? Did a lady break your little heart?" Meg batted her eyelashes for the full effect.
Lament, though, barely seemed to notice as Ghost joined them to fetch the drinks. He snorted. "I have a wife – that isn't what concerns me," he answered darkly. "I made a deal with someone about something very important, and yet … I can't seem to remember what it was about."
This made Meg and Ghost exchange a look before he made himself scarce with the drinks. Meg turned her attention back onto their target quickly. "Awww, why is that? Haven't you been sleeping enough?"
"I have been sleeping just fine!" Lament snorted. "All I remember is coming here a few days ago to meet with someone about something important our friend on the Continent needs to know and I wanted something in return for it. But, I can't seem to remember what it was. All I know is that I had a drink with Rollo Rowle and returning home – after that, nothing."
Lament swigged back the last of his Firewhiskey. "I must be catching what my friend Macnair has," he grumbled as he paid for his drink and got to his feet. "Are you in London for long?"
"Small holiday with friends," Meg answered simply.
"If you are still here for a while, perhaps you would like to have a drink with me sometime?" Lament grinned wryly.
Sleazebag, Meg scowled internally.
"I don't think I should have a drink with a married man," Meg responded as politely as she could. "Especially one I do not know. But thank you for the offer, nonetheless, sir."
"Norton," Lament replied as he gathered his cloak and hat. "My name is Norton."
Meg smiled smally and watched him leave for a moment before returning to her seat. Goliath had a disgusted expression on his countenance. "Can we just hex or jinx him just a little?"
"He is a scumbag but he has just given us something to work with," Meg answered as she took her seat.
"He gave us nothing! He couldn't even remember what his meeting with Rollo Rowle was about-" Ghost fumed.
"Again, just like Macnair," Meg pointed out. "Macnair could not remember what had happened regarding what Lament had talked to him about – this is not a coincidence anymore! Two informants happen to have amnesia about important bits of information? I hate to give Grindelwald credit for anything, but he is pretty good at finding competent traitors and turncoats to use as spies, sleeper agents and informants." She sipped her Winter Rose's Kiss, savouring the biting coldness. "Something is not right here."
"Well, I hate to say it, but we also now know the last person Lament had seen," Ghost added. "The Head Cursebreaker of Gringotts was his last drinking buddy."
"Interesting," Goliath smirked to himself. "Maybe we should pay Mr. Rowle a visit later and ask him about that conversation."
"I highly doubt Mr. Rowle will want to talk to us, given the hostility Gringotts showed us regarding our conduct towards their freelancer," Meg pointed out.
"Then, why don't we just … keep an eye on him some other way?" Ghost's eyes lit up.
"Oh Merlin," Meg huffed while Goliath chuckled. "Well, if Mr. Rowle catches you and strings you up, I will not come and save you."
"Well, perhaps you could keep him busy for a bit?" Ghost suggested. "The goblins can at least stand the sight of you."
"Through your own fault," Meg reminded him, shaking her head at him. "But I will see what I can wheedle out of him while I am at it."
Goliath and Ghost smirked as they took the first sip from their drinks, and promptly began breathing fire much to their own shock and the amusement of everyone else. Meg chuckled to herself; yes, it was a good thing indeed that their booth was fireproof.
#######################################################################
Ophelia almost regretted agreeing to meeting Malum at her house for tea that day. Her mother had spent the majority of the morning trying to get Ophelia to wear a dress Lady Rowle chose or put on a nice necklace or put some more Curl-Enhancing Potion into her hair. Ophelia had come close once or twice to put her mother under a Sleeping Charm until her father seemed to sense the danger and dragged his wife away from their daughter's rooms.
Ophelia wore a royal blue dress with a necklace her mother liked, in order to placate her, and a pair of low heeled boots. She quietly hoped that her parents would stop vibrating with happiness once Malum arrived; Ophelia really did not fancy being talked about like she was a top notch breeding mare.
Fortunately, when Malum arrived at two, Lord and Lady Rowle simmered down a little.
"Ah, Mr. Avery, it is lovely to see you!" Lady Rowle stated jovially as the Head Elf of Rowle Manor, Sansy, let the boy into the parlour. Malum bowed his head to her in greeting. He was dressed in a dark green shirt, clean cut trousers and blazer and perfectly shined shoes; Ophelia did not attempt to hide the fact she was staring.
"Lady Rowle. Thank you for allowing me into your home; I know this is a little untoward," Malum responded politely.
"Nonsense, dear boy," Lord Rowle beamed at him as he sipped his tea. "You are more than welcome here. How are your parents faring?"
Malum smiled smally. "They have a new client, though they are not forthcoming about who or what, as per usual," he answered as Lady Rowle gestured for him to sit and he did as he was instructed. "Mother and Father have locked themselves in their study again; I doubt I will see them until dinner."
"Yes, your parents are the definition of workaholic," Lady Rowle smiled brightly. "But I suppose that is what one expects from lawyers of the calibre that Regina and Alexander have. I do wish Regina would come out more often though. She could put dear old Yolanda in her place."
"My dear, you do a sterling enough job," Lord Rowle reassured fondly, eyes dancing with amusement. He finished his tea and rose to his feet. "I hope you will excuse me, Malum, but I still have to do something on behalf of some tenants of mine."
"Of course, sir," Malum smiled and bowed his head.
Lady Rowle finished her mini sandwich as she turned to the Avery heir. "How is your little sister faring at Hogwarts?"
"Oizys? Well, she was homesick for a bit but that seems to have settled," Malum replied candidly as he poured himself some tea. "Other than that, as far as I know, she is doing quite well in her lessons. She hasn't received a detention yet, not even from Dumbledore. Oizys and the first years did only have trouble with Dumbledore once – it was when he was in a mood because our Revision Club got approved by the Headmaster."
Lady Rowle clicked her tongue. "Unbelievable. Ophelia wrote about that to me, but to know the man also took it out on the younger ones – the sooner Dippet realises his mistake in making the man Deputy Head, the better."
"Indeed," Ophelia concurred readily, focusing on putting jam on her scone.
"Oizys does miss Nymera a lot," Malum continued, picking a sandwich from the afternoon tea tower. "I think that is why it took her a while to get to know some of the other first years, such as Eileen Prince and Heather Bryant."
"Bryant? A half-blood?" Lady Rowle guessed.
"Yes, ma'am, but all Muggle members of the family live under the Statute of Secrecy," Malum answered with a smile. "One of them works in the same office as my parents."
"Poor Nymera," Ophelia sighed, shaking her head. "Imagine falling ill to the point where you can do nothing, and no one can explain how or why you fell ill in the first place. It's … strange."
"Apparently the goblins of Gringotts have been able to help a little," Malum's smile grew. "They did manage to make her some potions that give her some more energy for a few hours."
"I know. She told us before the film, remember?" Ophelia reminded with a smile.
Lady Rowle sighed. "I pity poor Rhiannon. It cannot be easy to be constantly worried about your child; one cannot know if tomorrow may be the last day one has with them. I have no idea how I would be able to handle that."
Neither Ophelia nor Malum had a good answer to that. Lady Rowle finished her tea and then rose to her feet. "I just remembered that I have business to attend to as well. Will the two of you be fine on your own or shall I ask Sansy to keep an eye on you?" she asked, a glint of amusement in her eyes.
Ophelia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "We will be fine, Mother. Do not fret about us."
"Good! Call me if you need anything," Lady Rowle smirked smally and left the parlour, the door click behind her sounding quite ominous in Ophelia's ears.
The Rowle heiress focused on her jam scone, taking a shaky bite from it, keeping her eyes on her plate.
"Ophelia, are you back to ignoring me?" Malum's voice sounded too loud in the room.
Ophelia scoffed softly, finishing her mouthful. "No."
"Then please look at me, so we can talk?" Malum pressed.
Ophelia took a moment to make sure her breathing was in control before she lifted her eyes to meet Malum's. The Avery boy had quietly moved into her mother's seat and his eyes were holding hers in an unblinking gaze. He was close enough for Ophelia to smell his elderflower cologne.
"So, are we going to lay our cards out on the table?" Ophelia congratulated herself at keeping her tone as steady as possible.
"I was hoping we could," Malum agreed. "I don't want there to be secrets between us, or lies. I want to know what you … expect, want from me and I wish to do the same."
Ophelia swallowed a little but she nodded in agreement. "OK. So, who goes first?"
"I was rather hoping you would," Malum admitted with a small, shy smile. "It's polite after all; ladies first."
"Very well," the Rowle heiress answered as she straightened in her seat. "First thing I should say is that I know something about Harry as well that I … simply can't tell you without her permission. It is regarding her and her family, so."
"I understand," Malum answered quietly.
"I think it is too early to say I have any expectations, mainly because I have never had a formal courting before or had feelings for someone. As for what I want from you," Ophelia exhaled sharply, "respect and loyalty are two obvious things that come to mind. I would like to be treated like an equal and not as a china doll. I would like to, perhaps, pursue a profession at some point, if I wish." She looked at him dead in the eyes. "I don't want a husband who is going to come between me and my ambitions."
Malum smirked at this. "It's a good thing that I am used to ambitious women, then." He sobered quickly and leant a little more towards her. "I have no intention of stopping you following a profession you enjoy. My mother would have my hide, for one, and I wouldn't be respecting you if I did that."
Ophelia cocked her head slightly. "What about you?" she asked.
Malum's smile decreased a little. "I want a friend, confidante at the very least. Naturally, I want the same as you: respect and loyalty. As for secrets that I have," he swallowed a little. "I know too many that are not my own as well. As for secrets that are my own … I fell in love with Harry Evans almost within days of meeting her."
Ophelia's eyes widened and her breath hitched. Malum continued. "I knew I loved her, but I convinced myself it was only as a sibling because I could see that I was not the only interested party and I wanted to save myself the pain and heartbreak of Harry potentially not seeing me the same way. I was a coward, I admit it. Even as I betrayed her, I hated myself for it, and when she stopped that Dementor attack …"
"You visited her in secret," Ophelia whispered.
"Yes, I did," Malum readily admitted. "I sat there like an idiot. I wanted to apologise, but no words came out of my mouth. I just transfigured some flowers and left." He exhaled sharply, suddenly getting to his feet. Ophelia watched him run his hands through his hair. "Soon after it became clear to me that Harry and Nott had eyes for each other and I tried to focus on anything but my feelings for her. It became easier and easier over the course of two months, especially since your friends and mine began getting to know each other more."
Malum laughed shortly to himself. "I never thought … I would grow to care for someone my parents initially wanted to set me up with so quickly."
Ophelia found herself smiling. "What … made your heart turn to me?" she asked nervously, subconsciously fiddling with her fingers.
"Honestly? The moment I realised it, was when it was confirmed by Harry that you and Ygraine White had been faking the rat in the common room, getting a bunch of us and Professor Slughorn to spend a ridiculous amount of time crawling under furniture," Malum grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Ophelia could not help but laugh in triumph. "I am still rather pleased with that, I do have to admit."
"You have every right to be," Malum's eyes shone. He cautiously approached her; Ophelia once more started to feel her heart beat begin to race. "So, now you know secrets that not even Tom managed to fish out of my head during our Occlumency sessions. But there is something else I failed to mention that I want."
"And what is that?" Ophelia asked quietly.
"To kiss you again," was the candid reply from her suitor. "And to ask you to forgive me if I don't send romantic poetry as a gift or proposal; there is not one poetic bone in my body."
Ophelia couldn't help but laugh shortly at that. "You're forgiven on that count, Mr. Avery," she answered jovially.
Malum cocked his head at an adorable angle. "And the kiss?" he asked teasingly.
Ophelia's smile did not abate as she got to her feet, ran her left hand into Malum's hair and gently pulled him down so that she could capture his lips into a gentle, loving kiss. Her lover returned it fervently, snaking one arm around her to pull her closer and cupping her cheek with the other hand. Ophelia did not stifle the moan that escaped from her throat; Malum's jasmine and peppermint taste was intoxicating to her. The Avery heir growled as he deepened their kiss; another escaped as he ripped himself away from her lips and instead began laying kisses on her sensitive neck.
Ophelia felt her legs buckling under the pleasure. "Malum …" she moaned.
"Sorry," Malum did not sound all too contrite as he tore himself away from her neck after seven light kisses. "Couldn't resist."
"You are lucky my parents or Sansy did not see that," Ophelia commented breathlessly as she leant against the table to try and regain some ability to think clearly.
"They can go and spend the day feeding hippogriffs for all I care," Malum responded candidly. "All I care about is whether or not you liked it."
Ophelia swallowed and chuckled softly. "You know I did or I would have kneed you in the stomach."
Malum chuckled at that. "Touché, my love."
Ophelia's heart fluttered at that. Then she remembered something that made her sober; her research. She had wanted to do some further reading on Travellers, but didn't know what Malum had planned on doing or how long he had intended to stay.
"So, at what time are you expected to go home?" Ophelia asked tentatively.
"I have to pick Oizys up from Lestrange Manor in about an hour and a bit," Malum replied with a look of amusement as he caressed her cheek, causing Ophelia's eyes to flutter shut. "Why do you ask? Did you gave something in mind?"
Ophelia's flushed bright red at the underlying implication. "Nothing too nefarious, I assure you," she managed to reply.
Malum chuckled and ran his hands through her hair again. "I was just teasing; forgive me, that was perhaps too crass. But what did you have in mind?"
"I actually really just want to go to the library and read for a bit," Ophelia smiled smally. "I have been going through some family grimoires and have found the topic too interesting to simply let lie yet. Would you like to join me?"
To her surprise and delight, Malum's smirk only grew. "I would love to."
Despite the fact it was by no means Malum's first visit to Rowle Manor, the Avery heir had never had a proper excuse to enter the expansive and impressive Rowle family library. Ophelia almost had to smile goofily at how adorable Malum was as he took in the surroundings that were unfamiliar to him and then stared at each bookcase in the library like a child in a candy store.
Malum almost had to laugh at the book-and-paper fortress close to the impressive fireplace. "Studying in front of the fire. I think you're picking up some traits from Harry," he commented as he picked a book from the magical creature section of the library and joined her on the floor.
"I suppose so. I didn't even notice," Ophelia admitted, flushing a little.
Malum looked at some of the titles she was studying with interest. "Huh … your family did studies on Travellers? Really?"
"Mother's Steward family, yes," Ophelia confirmed carefully. "Granny Steward loved folklore, and the Travellers were apparently her favourites. Mother never told me why, but she did always tell bedtime stories that featured Travellers in them."
"Unorthodox," Malum commented lightly, "but that does sound like fun. Beats having to listen to stories by Beedle the Bard for the umpteenth time." He flipped open his own book on familiars to a chapter on the intelligence of familiars. "Which was your favourite story that your mother told you about the Travellers?"
"Ooo that's actually a tough one," Ophelia laughed shortly as she looked up from her books for a moment. "I think it has to be the one about these four Travellers who accidentally went back to 18th century Scotland and got into all heaps of trouble."
"All at the same time, or separately?" Malum asked with interest.
"One was from 1969, another from 1916, a third from 2016 and the last was from 1811," Ophelia laughed at the absurdity of it. "Apparently they all landed at the exact same place and time as each other despite being from completely different times. Two women and two men; a little older than we are now."
Malum laughed in disbelief. "One was from 2016! Merlin! That feels like an eternity …"
"They didn't all get along at first, unsurprisingly," Ophelia continued with a grin. "The woman from 1916 and the man from 1969 could get along better with each other, but I suppose that was because they were from the same century."
"Why was that one your favourite?" Malum wanted to know.
"Because despite the fact that the Travellers were so different and they ended up in a difficult situation, they did support each other – even if some of their more hairbrained ideas ended up getting them accused of being witches once or twice by the Muggles," Ophelia snorted. "The funny thing is that the Scottish clans who came in contact with them, warmed up to them enough to try and get to know them."
Malum's eyes shone. "I would be honoured if you told me the story sometime."
Ophelia considered for a moment. "It's just a silly bedtime story."
"It doesn't sound silly to me," Malum insisted.
She found herself nodding. "OK. I will tell you the story – just not know. I am on this really interesting passage," Ophelia had turned back to her books. Malum had chuckled at her antics but had done the same.
What the pair did not know is that Lord and Lady Rowle had spied on them through the library door and by the time that Malum had to leave to pick his younger sister up from Lestrange Manor, they could not wipe the beaming smiles from their faces for the rest of the evening.
########################################################################
If there was one thing that Harry Peverell hated above anything was being idle while others were doing the work she thought she should be doing. However, the Traveller knew that she was in no position to question Diantha Underwood on shoes, let alone a cake she baked for a party four years ago that her sister cursed in order to try and kill Altair Nott, or try and find the spell Anne Underwood had used.
Harry knew it was her old hero complex kicking in again, but once she returned from Gringotts after the meeting she had taken her frustrations out on her targets, Tosti had sparred with her, soon followed by Tom. Yes, having a duel with Tom absolutely distracted Harry from her inner woes. The long bath Melinoë had drawn for her also didn't hurt.
But very soon, the Lady Regnant felt herself become jumpy again, much to the concern of everyone around her. The day after the Gringotts meeting, Harry spent the majority of her day sequestered in her study with Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus, trying to figure out a plan on how best to start making a counterfeit Elder Wand.
"I used elder wood with a Thestral hair as core for the wand, as you know," Antioch had lectured as Harry had continued to scour the family grimoires. "Elder, or elderberry, is one of the rarest wand woods and reputed to be unlucky. Ridiculous notion, of course! Wandmakers of later ages simply lacked the proficiency to deal with the wood properly. I recommend using a wood that is similar in colour and in temperament; rowan wood is a good option. Or use a wood from the same family as the elderberry. In that case, use wayfaring tree wood, or red elderberry."
Harry looked up from the grimoire she was currently studying. "What about Thestral hair?"
"Well, you could always use fur from a Ci Annwn or a Grim," Cadmus suggested, Antioch scowling at his younger brother for taking his thunder. "The point is to use an animal that is as close to Tosti or the Otherworld as you can. You could even ask a Valkyrie for their hair but I hope you have a strong stomach for that!"
Harry laughed sarcastically. "I am not suicidal, Uncle."
"Could have fooled me, Niece," Ignotus snorted.
"Touché," Harry sighed. She began rubbing her temples.
"I think you should take a break," Cadmus commented. "You have been in here since after breakfast and I am pretty sure I saw Athenaïs deliver your lunch without you noticing. Go and do something else for a while. Why don't you and Tom go somewhere together? You have only a few days before you have to go back to Hogwarts."
Harry smiled sadly. "I know. I just really want to work on this wand. I am feeling rather useless right now."
"Useless?!" Antioch thundered. "You, little lady, are Lady Regnant of our House! You are never useless-"
"I made a promise to a friend to help them and right now, all I can do is sit back while others do the work for me," Harry huffed indignantly, closing the grimoire in her lap rather snappily. "You may find me ridiculous, Uncle, but I am not used to-"
"-not having to do all the work? Having someone who is an adult actually take up some responsibility?" Ignotus guessed gently. Harry opened and closed her mouth, trying to protest but quickly fell back into silence when she realised that she had no good argument against her ancestor's accurate observation. "Yes, I thought as much," Ignotus added when he saw her reaction.
"Apparently the child soldier is not completely gone," Cadmus sighed.
"I don't think she ever will be truly gone," Harry confessed darkly. "She just needs redirection."
"True," Antioch agreed. "But I have to concur with Cadmus. You need to take a break. I will get Tosti to give you some proper wand making implements and I will run you through what you need to do another time. Right now, go and enjoy yourself."
It was almost as though the Moirai were in complete agreement with the Three Brothers because right on cue, there was a knock on the door.
"Yes?" Harry called.
"Harry, are you still busy? May I come in?" Tom asked through the door.
"Yes, of course, sweetheart. I have … actually just finished," Harry answered.
The door opened and Tom stepped into her office, eyes immediately going to the floor to make sure that he didn't step into the minefield of books and journals belonging to the Peverell family.
"Hey, I was thinking maybe you would like to go out to dinner with me? We have both been cooped up again and I have seen Athenaïs get a little too rowdy; we just saved a few antiques from being smashed," Harry doubted that Tom was aware that he was babbling, which made her grin slightly.
"I would love to," she answered readily. "Where did you have in mind?"
"Well, I was going to suggest we go to Rowena's Sanctuary," was the answer Harry had actually least expected.
Did Tom actually want to go back to a Muggle-magical town?
"Perfect," Harry grinned. She then sobered a little. "Should we ask Altair if he wants to join us?"
"I already did, my love," Tom reassured gently. "He is currently at the Rosiers'; he is staying with them for a good few days and is already going out for dinner with them tonight."
"OK," Harry's heart calmed down a lot, knowing Altair was safe with Arcturus and Druella. She rose to her feet and carefully began to pile together her ancestors' books and journals; Tom, though, grinned mischievously and waved his wand.
The books and journals practically danced through the air as they piled themselves alphabetically into neat piles; the ones in Harry's hands jumped out of her arms to join the others. Harry scoffed quietly, though her eyes danced with wonder.
"Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you really are a semi-immortal being," Tom teased her lightly.
"Show off," Harry grumbled.
"You love me for it," Tom responded arrogantly.
"True," the Mistress of Death agreed readily. "Let's go and get our cloaks. To tell you the truth, I am starting to feel a little peckish."
Tom rolled his eyes and smiled at her fondly, but chose to keep his comments to himself. Athenaïs was waiting for them downstairs, wearing a scarf that apparently Perrie insisted the young Gargouille wear, despite the fact the dragon could deal quite easily with the cold. Harry noticed for the first time, as she put on her cloak, that there was a change in the atmosphere between Tom, Tosti, Hypnos and Melinoë.
It wasn't hostile, but there was an uncertainty between them of sorts; Harry was determined to get to the bottom of it. She, Tom and Athenaïs Apparated to Rowena's Sanctuary and headed straight for the local pub, which apparently had some of the best food in the hamlet. The Singing Gargoyle was already quite full when they arrived with Highland music being played and people clapping and singing along to the music. The wife of the owner seated the three of them, apologising for the noise but they were visiting on the weekly music evening.
Harry and Tom had quickly reassured her that it wasn't an issue.
"Well, if it gets too much, you have our permission to use a spell or two around your table to block out or turn down the volume while you talk," the woman continued with a smile. She then turned her attention to Athenaïs. "We also have a special familiar menu. Would you like to see it?"
The young Gargouille lit up and let out an excited, mystic howl. The woman chuckled. "I will fetch the menus."
Once the kind Muggle was out of earshot, Harry turned to Tom, who was regarding her with an unreadable expression. "Is everything all right?" she asked carefully.
"I should be asking you that," Tom smiled wryly. "You came back from a Gringotts meeting that neither you nor Henry were forthcoming about, looking like someone had tried to kick Athenaïs, and today, you barely said a word to any of us. In fact, we hardly saw you." Tom exhaled sharply. "I thought we were past the point where we hid important matters from one another."
Harry smiled weakly. "Tom, it's not something I can just simply tell you, mainly because it is not entirely my secret to tell. I was fortunate to be trusted enough with it; I am not simply going to break that trust."
"Can you at least tell me whose secret you are keeping?" Tom's eyes and tone were soaked with concern.
Harry paused for a moment as the pub owner's wife returned with their menus with a beaming smile. Once the woman attended to a family at another nearby table, she put a privacy ward around their table before answering that question.
"House Lestrange's."
Tom's eyes bugged out and he gaped slightly. "What?"
Harry chuckled quietly and nodded as she ran her hand through her hair, sighing deeply. "Yeah. Heron chose to trust me with the reason why his Boggart is his sister's death," she admitted. "I have been trying to help the family find the cause behind Nymera's illness ever since and … at the moment, there is nothing further I can do to help get closer to a resolution. It's why I spent the entire day trying to do something useful; I hate being useless."
"Useless," Tom repeated in disbelief. Athenaïs could hardly believe her ears either. "You are not useless!"
"I feel it," Harry smiled weakly. "I hate being idle and sitting around while someone else does the dirty work but I know there is nothing I can do in the current matter. I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help it."
Athenaïs nuzzled her Witch reassuringly; Harry hugged the young dragon close. Tom didn't say anything as he gently raised her head to look at him with two fingers under her chin. He lay a quick, deep, burning kiss on her lips before whispering, "Harry, you cannot do everything yourself. It doesn't make you useless."
The Traveller grinned wryly at that. "A little rich coming from you, my darling."
Tom chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so, but I learned my lesson the hard way."
Athenaïs distracted the both of them by making them help her pick something from the familiar menu. Athenaïs settled for chicken pie while the two magicians had opted for a stew. Once the order had been taken, the young Gargouille decided to join some of the other Muggles and witches enjoying the music while Harry turned back to Tom.
"What is going on between you, the Burkes and Melanie?" she wanted to know.
Tom swallowed. "Nothing."
Harry gave him a pointed look. "Something's changed between the four of you."
Tom considered for a moment before he made eye contact with her. "Thomas Burke isn't Thomas Burke; he's Thanatos. Henry is actually Hypnos, God of Sleep and Melanie is Melinoë, Goddess of Ghosts. I figured it out not too long ago and, well … I suppose you could say we are still getting used to the fact I know and they know that I know," Tom chuckled at this last bit.
Harry had felt her heart skip several beats. Oh for goodness sake; there went another secret! "How … how did you figure it out?" she asked breathlessly.
Tom smirked slightly. "You called Thomas Burke Tosti one too many times."
This made the Traveller huff in disbelief, causing Tom to laugh heartily. The pair were soon laughing again, this time at Athenaïs prancing along to the music, chirping and howling to the melody as she did so. The young dragon only calmed down and rejoined her Witch when their food was ready and brought over to the table.
##########################################################################
"I am not doing that again any time soon! Alle machtig, I need a cup of tea and around two days sleep. Stomme, kloote, kut Portkeys."
Rollo watched with amusement as Oscar came barging into his office, bags under his eyes and looking like he had just gotten out of bed. The Head Cursebreaker was very surprised indeed that Oscar had agreed to an evening debrief and had actually managed to show up on time. As Rollo had expected, his colleague and friend was codeswitching much more frequently into Dutch; that only happened when Oscar was either tired, stressed or in a general bad mood.
Rollo began making the tea. "Have you managed to get any sleep at all, my friend?"
"Some," Oscar responded darkly. "Not much. I am Portkey-lagged again; I just hope this little stunt is worth it because I am close to having a full nervous breakdown. If it had not been for Satoshi, I would have already lost it a while back. Those bloody Japanese and their bureaucracy and suspicion of gaijin – evil spirits are potentially being released and all some of those flapdrollen care about is who hands over the reports!" Oscar was positively vibrating in his seat in annoyance. "Ik heb het gehad met die halfgebakte pannenkoeken en hun kutzooi!"
Rollo, who did understand some Dutch, smirked at that outburst. "Now, now, Oscar, deep breaths. We don't need you to end up St. Mungo's with a heart attack," he quipped as he handed over the mug of tea.
Oscar scowled. "A trip to St. Mungo's would be a reprieve, right now," he grumbled. "I hope you're going to deal with Satoshi's reports, or ask Miles or Katerina to do it, because ik ben het zat with this assignment."
"Don't fret, we were already planning on it," Rollo reassured as he took his seat behind his desk again. "But I would like to hear what has been going on from your own words since the last time you reported to us – without using any profanity or calling your former hosts half-baked pancakes this time, if you please."
Oscar pulled a face but didn't say anything.
"Now," Rollo continued as he gathered a fresh assignment report log, quill, and ink, "let's begin."
Oscar huffed but obeyed, starting with the plan that had been concocted, the fact that Oscar returning to England hadn't been a democratic decision but effectively a condition for the Japanese Aurors' full co-operation. Oscar threw out some more creative names in Dutch for the Japanese at this point under his breath, but Rollo quickly put a stop to his friend's new temper tantrum. The Dutch-British Cursebreaker continued his tale, telling Rollo how he had been stuck in South Africa where Oscar had been put into a hotel with other Cursebreakers trying to go home and then having to undergo a kind of questioning before they were allowed to go home.
"It wouldn't surprise me if those-"
"Oscar!" Rollo stated warningly.
"-people decided to become isolationist again," Oscar fumed as he made himself another cup of tea.
Rollo sighed deeply. "We all knew that working with our friends in Japan was not going to be easy, especially with everything going on. But, with any luck, the plan will work."
"It had better," Oscar growled. "I didn't put up with the nonsense that I did for nothing."
Before Rollo could reply, there was a knock, knock, knock on his door. Oscar huffed and Rollo frowned. "Come in!"
The door opened, and Katerina stuck her head around the door with a small smile. It grew slightly when she saw Oscar. "Still alive, I see?" she quipped easily.
Oscar smiled wryly. "Barely. The quicker I get back to my bed the happier I will be."
"It's a good thing His Grace agrees you have earned yourself a small holiday, or I would be asking your help with getting some of our people who are currently stuck in Egypt back. Miles is currently at the Ministry trying to pull some strings," Katerina sighed. "The quicker this war is over, the better."
"Agreed," Oscar chuckled darkly.
Katerina then turned to Rollo. "Are you two still in your debriefing because I have one of those Hit Wizards here to see you?"
Rollo frowned. "Which one?" he wanted to know.
"Meg," Katerina answered easily.
"Well, at least it isn't the one with all the muscles," Rollo mused to himself. He turned to his friend. "Oscar, was this everything?"
"Everything I can say without getting too angry right now," was the candid response.
"Then I think we will conclude this business when you have slept," Rollo decided. "Go home. Thank you for coming."
"Night, boss," Oscar answered curtly before eagerly leaving the room.
Katerina chuckled and shook her head as she watched him leave. She then beckoned to the person down the corridor and left as well. Rollo kept his eyes on the door frame and kept his unblinking gaze on the young woman who stepped through it, closing the door behind her.
"Meg. To what do we owe the honour this time?" the Head Cursebreaker asked silkily.
"Thank you for seeing me, sir. I have some questions I would like to ask you about someone you saw recently," the Hit Witch answered promptly.
Rollo frowned. "Oh? I saw a lot of people recently. You are going to have to be a bit more specific."
"Norton Lament," Meg clarified instantly. Rollo felt his heart skip a few beats but he kept his face suitably composed. The Hit Witch continued. "We have new orders to deal with Mr. Weird-Eye's informants and one of them, we recently learned, was one Norton Lament. However, when we questioned him, he didn't seem to remember the important information that we were told he knew. Mr. Lament remembered that he had a drink with you, that he told you something important."
Rollo swallowed a little. "Why would Mr. Lament tell me anything?" he demanded. "My family is not friends with his family; his son attacked my cousin's familiar, the familiar of two of her friends and the sister of the Averys. I have no reason to go for a drink with him."
"That is interesting, because that is one of the only things Mr. Lament can remember," Meg replied smoothly. "I know there are members of your family who are supportive of the Alliance-"
"I am not, if that is what you're insinuating!" Rollo seethed, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Meg smirked. "Are you sure about that? You Rowles have been known to play both sides until it is clear there is a winning side – and you are frankly the kind of person Grindelwald would want on his side. Handsome, powerful, beyond reproach; the perfect little spy."
Deal with her, NOW! all the voices in Rollo's head were shouting.
Rollo glared at her. "Did you come here to insult me? Yes, I happened to cross Lament and we spoke for a little while, but there was nothing remotely enlightening that came out of that man's mouth! It was hearsay, nothing more. I am a busy man, and I don't like my time wasted by petty nonsense."
"Well, I would like to know what that 'petty nonsense' was," Meg responded, "or I will go to your King, and I will enlighten him on how you met with an Alliance informant. I hear that goblins don't really take too kindly to traitors."
It was Rollo's turn to start smirking. "Are you threatening me, Meg? Because I would like to remind you that you are on Goblin Nation soil and I – effectively – have diplomatic immunity as an employee. You, on the other hand, do not. I assure you, King Ragnok is far more likely to throw you into chains."
Meg suddenly was not so smug. Her jaw clenched. "So, you will not give me what I seek?"
"No," Rollo confirmed readily. "Now, if you please – I am more than a little busy and you are wasting my time before I get to go to bed."
The Hit Witch glared at him but knew that her battle was lost on this occasion. Quietly, she hoped that Ghost had managed to do what he needed at Rollo's apartment. It was the only consolation Meg had for the foreseen failure.
What the Seeress did not get to See was that Rollo, as soon as she had left, had sent his goblin guards to alert Goldheart to what had just happened. Meg did not make it to the front door of the bank before she had been hit by several Stunners and crumpled to the floor.
Goldheart nodded in satisfaction at his security. "Make sure she's comfortable, but keep an eye on her. A very close eye; alert me the moment she's awake."
"Yes, sir!"
###########################################################################
"Have you noticed anything off about Queenie lately?"
"What, that she no longer wants to listen to your incessant complaining about your shoes not going with your outfit?"
Credence and Vida were in the latter's chambers. They had just finished another round of cards and Vida had gone back to reading her new fashion magazines and Credence was reading a book as well. Queenie had not joined them, as seemed to be the trend as of late.
Vida huffed. "Oh please! It is more than that. She mostly spends her evenings in her chambers, reading or staring off into space. She's also going on more and more missions than before."
Credence shrugged. "Look, the pressure is getting to all of us. The Resistance has gained more ground than we would like and Gellert isn't happy."
"Understatement," Vida snorted, turning the page of her magazine. "Carrow and her men had to dodge birds and flames for yet another stupid failure just yesterday. I just hope Queenie has managed to get something interesting from that strange listening device – we need some good news and soon."
"Indeed," Credence agreed. "Perhaps the device broke at some point and she's trying to decipher what was said?"
"Or perhaps that Lament fellow had nothing useful to say and Queenie is petrified that Gellert will take it out on her," Vida threw out another suggestion. "I mean, he is very likely to make her wear some Merlin-awful Muggle get-up the mood he is in."
"I would do the exact same thing!" Credence concurred immediately, laughing coldly. "Nothing is worth the humiliation."
There was a tentative knock at the door. Vida and Credence composed themselves in case it was a lower rank Alliance member.
"Enter!" Vida snapped.
"Shall I come back later, doll?" Queenie's voice called through the door.
Credence lit up. "Queenie! Come in!"
The Natural Legilimens opened the door and stepped in awkwardly, carrying a plate of freshly baked biscuits. "I have brought a peace offerin'," she informed them. "I haven't been myself lately and I wanted to do a spot of bakin' to cheer everybody up. Gellert is doing a puzzle; he's content for now."
"Good," Vida sighed with relief as her friend approached. She lit up when she saw what kind of cookies her friend had baked. "Oooo your famous butter cookies. You are an angel, my dear girl."
Queenie flushed as her friends eagerly took one from the platter. "I am sorry I have been … absent. I just … have a lot on my mind."
"Hey, we get it," Credence reassured after finishing his first mouthful of cookie. "Things are not as well as we want it to go and Muggle technology is a nuisance at best – we are just worried that you are overworking yourself."
"Plus, I miss my girl time," Vida added easily.
"Tomorrow?" Queenie suggested with a smile.
"I will hold you to it," Vida responded primly, but looked very pleased. She set her magazine aside. "So, would you like to play a round with us?"
Queenie beamed and nodded.
Credence had started dealing the cards when Gellert's voice echoed around the castle; "QUEENIE, CAN YOU BAKE THESE COOKIES WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS NEXT TIME PLEASE? THESE ARE SUBLIME – WHY DID YOU TURN IT BLUE, YOU SECONDHAND FLINTWOOD?!"
The three Generals split their sides almost immediately. Yes, it seemed the Elder Wand did not show mercy to Queenie's cookies either.
"HAS QUEENIE FIXED THE BUGGY THINGY YET?!"
Queenie, Vida and Credence decided to leave that issue for the next day.
#########################################################################
Queenie is somehow managing to keep her allies and friends off the scent; will she be able to keep it up? What will Ghost and Goliath do once they realise Meg never returned from seeing Rollo? Did Gringotts make a miscalculation? Will Tom tell Altair the truth to their Marks and the identities of Harry's guardians? Stay tuned to find out!
Oh my gods, writing some of these scenes really made my own heart leap almost out of my own ribcage! I hope you guys continue to read because I am getting really pumped to write the rest. I don't know if you know, but I have a new job at a local history museum, which I am really looking forward to starting!
Orion: Well done, Queenie! The old distract-everyone-with-cookies tactic!
Queenie: It worked a treat, did it not?
Gellert: … Yes …
Harry: Awwwww, Gellert's pouting! You're not as adorable as Tom, though.
Tom: *appears* I heard my name.
Gellert: *scowls* I am more adorable! I am the Dark Lord!
Orion: … You don't outshine Tom in Harry's eyes, so no.
Gellert: You've hurt my feelings!
Orion, Harry, Queenie and Tom: YOU HAVE FEELINGS?!
Oh dear … See you guys in the next chapter.
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