CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

"So, given that we are all sitting around like we are plotting the next prank on Dumbledore, I take it that you boys managed to find something else yesterday?"

"We found more than just 'something else'!" Orion's eyes shone. "Hali and Otis were possibly secretly engaged or married to each other – the orb hid rings at its centre, and probably why Hector and Kayanna go by different names. There is something else as well: the pair really threw themselves into researching about how to deal with this empousa at the Temple. They created a specialised Containment Spell!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Orion grinned. "No, that is my grandfather. I am Orion, you know this!"

"Oh bloody hell!" Caius groaned while eyerolls commenced and a few people pinched the bridge of their noses. "It's too early in the morning for your awful jokes."

Harry and her friends were in the common room and seated in their usual spots in order to discuss with Altair, Orion and Heron about what they had discovered the evening before. All three had been rather excited, and as it turned out it was for good reason. However, all of them had gotten up rather early to make sure that they could discuss the matter before breakfast, but it also meant that the tolerance for Orion's punny mood.

Altair quickly distracted everyone from their cringing by laying out his notes and drawings of the Containment Spell. "Apparently the composition of the Containment Spell is tied to the phases of the Moon. The fuller the Moon, the more powerful the spell is supposed to be," he explained as Harry picked up the parchment and began to study it. "The main components are the element of Earth, the element of water, an iron rod apparently and something called the Blood of Hekate."

"Blood of Hekate?" Harry repeated with a frown. "I assume that it doesn't literally mean bloodletting a goddess."

"Well, if it does, I think one or both of those priests either were drinking too much or they had nerves of bloody steel," Felix answered, shaking his head.

"No, it doesn't involve the ichor from Hekate herself," Altair reassured, eyes dancing with mirth. "It is a flowery term for both the priests of the goddess but also those Gifted with magic. The issue is, in terms of ritual symbolism, it isn't entirely clear if it literally means the blood from one of these people or if a specific caster is needed."

"Does that really matter?" Caius could not help but question with a tone of snark.

"Yes, unfortunately with Ancient Greek spells like this, absolutely," Altair replied coolly. "The wrong interpretation could lead to … dire consequences."

"Not good," Arcturus put in with a pensive look.

"But it should be good enough to send back to Rollo," Harry stated with a sigh of relief and a grin. "Thank you again, boys!"

"It was our pleasure!" Heron reassured with a flush in his cheeks and a lopsided grin.

"Indeed! It was really fun," Orion agreed. "We also took liberties of making copies for ourselves – just in case we need to give difficult clients a portfolio of Scythe and Raven's semi-early work."

"Nice thinking, Black!" Malum grinned as Heron and Altair handed over all the original notes and diagrams to Harry to put into her folder of evidence. Orion, who had been studying the automatons and the orb in his dorm after lights out, returned the artefacts to their Cursebreaker, who promptly put them back into their boxes.

"I wonder how Hali and Otis managed to get the empousa into the Containment Circle," Arcturus frowned. "Because an empousa is immune to most magic – being children of Hekate I suppose that shouldn't be too surprising – and is only vulnerable to divine metals and powers."

"Not always," Druella spoke up. "For whatever reason, empousai are not the most mentally strong of Undead. They give in rather quickly when one wages a mental war upon them. Why else do you think they prefer sleeping victims? Sleeping victims often don't wage mental wars while asleep!"

"They're classified as Undead?" Ygraine frowned.

"Yes, because they either fall under the moniker of vampire or ghost or phantasm," Druella explained. "Depends on the interpretation mostly, though, but the general classification for them is Undead."

"Well, I think we should just be glad that we don't have one to deal with," Felix commented. He cast a quick Tempus. "All right, everyone, breakfast starts in ten minutes! I think we should start to get going."

"Got somewhere to be, Mulci?" Ophelia teased.

"Another breakfast date with War by any chance?" Harry added with a smirk.

Felix flushed. "None of your business," he tried to sound dismissive, but didn't really succeed.

"That's a yes," Abraxas stated with a small smirk as the group got to their feet, gathered their things and headed out of the Slytherin common room. Felix glowered at him but didn't say anything.

"You told your parents yet?" Druella wanted to know.

"I doubt that they need to me to. I know Mother would have gotten the news from one of her nosey friends," Felix answered darkly. "And I haven't gotten a Howler from Father yet so I am assuming he either doesn't know, doesn't care or he approves well enough of War."

"Your father approving of anyone? Yeah, he's very likely ill at that point," Malum stated as they came up into the main entrance hall of Hogwarts.

Felix didn't answer, but the dark look in his eyes was answer enough. It was at this point Harry decided it was best to accuse herself and head to the Owlery.

"See you in a minute," she stated as she did so.

"I'll come with you," Druella suddenly piped up. "I am not hungry just yet. Maybe a small walk will help."

Harry could already see from her friend's eyes that it wasn't entirely the case, but that Druella clearly wanted to discuss something in private with her. The Traveller shrugged. "Sure."

"I'll save you girls some food!" Orion promised.

"Thanks Orion!" Harry called as and Druella went up the stairs.

"I think this is officially one of the longest projects you have completed," Druella commented as they dodged Gryffindor first and second years heading to breakfast. "You're not going to get into trouble with the goblins, are you?"

"They didn't exactly give me a fixed deadline, so I should be fine," Harry reassured. Her expression darkened a little. "My concern is the other project they sent me."

"The cursed artefact," Druella stated.

"I have a funny feeling there is a little more to it than that," Harry felt she could admit grimly. "No matter what it is, I have to deal with it."

"We both know that you overprotective knights and Orion will try to offer their help," Druella pointed out.

"Yes, which is why when I start work on it, I am not going to tell them when and where I have started," Harry confessed rather easily. "I will not have anyone be put into needless danger. Not with this thing."

"You already have an inkling about what that thing is, don't you?"

"Not exactly. I simply suspect where the goblins got it from."

As the number of Gryffindors they passed increased, the subject matter of Harry's other Cursebreaking project was dropped momentarily to ensure that no eavesdroppers could take what they heard back to the Lions' table and thus accidentally impart on the Slytherins sitting with Artemis, Minerva, the Weasley twins and the Prewetts. Once she was sure that they were out of earshot of potential spies, Druella spoke again.

"Harry, you know when the girls and I tried to get you to naming the person interested in Arc?"

"You mean when you tried to tickle-torture it out of me? Yes, I definitely know that!" Harry teased as they began climbing up the West Tower towards the Owlery.

Druella rolled her eyes before sobering a little. "This person that is interested in him – it doesn't happen to be Caius Dolohov?"

The Lady Regnant of House Peverell very nearly tripped over her own feet in shock. Druella was viper fast in helping her friend maintain her balance and had to bite into her cheek to stop herself from laughing at the startled expression on Harry's face.

"How … how did you find out?" Harry questioned.

Druella smirked a little. "Little birds talked about him and my brother going to the Astronomy Tower to study. I don't know if you know this already, but the Astronomy Tower has a bit of a … reputation around Hogwarts."

"Ah," Harry caught on immediately.

"Arc came to talk to me during my study session in the library and I confronted him about it," Druella continued. "He promised me that nothing was going on between them and that they were just simply studying – I believe him on that at least. But I didn't believe him that there was nothing between them and fearing that he was leading Dolohov on like he did with so many, I questioned Arc about what his intentions are to Mr. Grumpy Russian."

"And what did he say?" Harry asked eagerly as she pushed the door to the Owlery open.

"That he has no idea what he is feeling towards Dolohov," Druella replied simply. "I definitely believe that, but Arc has the unfortunate habit of making some very poor errors in judgement when he has no idea how to handle his own feelings. Especially if they threaten to make him vulnerable."

"Well, I hope that Arc is sensible enough not to pull the same shit with Caius," Harry stated with a sigh as she began to unpack everything that needed to be sent to Gringotts, trying to ignore the bitter cold and all the curious hooting around her. "I honestly don't think the poor bloke's heart could take it."

Druella's eyes widened. "It's that bad?"

"Caius is besotted by your brother," Harry admittedly candidly. "I know for certain the only thing stopping him from going after what he wants, is the fact his father is an abusive, bigoted Grindylow."

Druella snorted at that but quickly her expression turned to one that was rather sad. "I never thought I would see the day that I would pity Caius Dolohov," she scoffed with a short mirthless laugh. "I mean, everyone knows Ivan Dolohov is not the most pleasant person to be around most of the time – it shouldn't be surprising that he is a butthole to his own son, but …"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, knowing what her friend was inferring.

The conversation was momentarily put on hold as Endor glided down from his perch, eyes shining as he regarded the letter, the documents and the packages that needed to be delivered. He chirped at Harry curiously. The Cursebreaker chuckled. "Yes, indeed, they need to be delivered to Gringotts."

Endor looked even more excited at that prospect. Druella chuckled. "Endor, my friend, I don't think you can carry all this by yourself! You are not a phoenix, you know."

Harry chuckled at Endor's put-out expression just as Clytemnestra flew down and stood to attention like a soldier, causing both Harry and Druella to start laughing.

"Well, someone is eager!" Druella commented. "We will need to tell Artemis that her familiar is on an important delivery though. We don't want her to come here with a letter to discover Clytemnestra gone."

"Was already planning on it," Harry reassured as she tied the letter and the document package to Endor and then the automatons and the orb to Clytemnestra. Both birds were soon gone with their precious cargo and the Cursebreaker turned back to her friend. "You won't say a word about … you know …"

Druella rolled her eyes. "Of course not!" her countenance then turned quite serious again. "I … I didn't tell you the reason Arc came to speak with me. He – I can't believe I am about to say this – was concerned that you and your future Consorts had … consummated your bond prematurely."

Harry blinked a few times quite rapidly. "Excuse me? Why would he think that?!"

"Because, apparently, both Riddle and Altair have Marks on their stomachs," Druella answered as they began to make their way back to the Great Hall. "Strange Marks that definitely were not there before the Yule holidays."

Well, shit, both the Slytherin and Gryffindor voices in Harry's head grumbled.

The Mistress of Death kept her own countenance suitably composed. "And what did you tell him?" she wanted to know.

"That the three of you have unbelievable self-control so it is highly unlikely that you did," Druella answered candidly. She frowned a little. "You three haven't been misbehaving, have you?"

"No," Harry reassured easily. She swallowed a little. "For whatever reason, my magic decided to … transfer some of my own powers onto them. That is all I will say on the matter."

Druella's eyes widened. "Your magic … transferred some of itself … onto them? Bloody hell, Harry!"

"I know," Harry sighed. "Nothing can apparently be normal around me."

"I'll say, because that is bloody unheard of!" Druella was paler than snow. "And given who you are, that could have gone either way – so, yes, I am no longer surprised that those two are apparently Marked! Morgana's worn-out leather boots!"

Harry smiled softly. "Coffee?"

"Oh yes, please, I need at least three cuppas! And perhaps an Anti-Headache Draught."

"Fair enough."

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

Armando Dippet headed to the staff room with a sense of determination and trepidation about the announcement he was going to make to them. He knew that they all had expected him to make the announcement about who the new groundskeeper was going to be at breakfast, but under the advice of Dilys, Dippet decided it was best to not deal with potentially irate adults and children at the same time. Phineas, Elizabeth and a few of the other portraits had called him a coward for it, but the other Headmasters and Headmistresses agreed it was the better option.

When Dippet got to the staff room, the two gargoyles regarded him with knowing smirks.

"Made up your mind at last, Headmaster?" the left teased.

"I do hope you did, because Cuthbert has not been able to sleep because of the squabbles," the right added immediately afterwards, looking close to chuckling. "Oh, and the third years have been delivering some abysmal work to Galatea apparently so she is also in a bad mood."

"Good to know," Dippet stated grimly before pushing the door to the staff room open, preparing himself for a whole lot of shouting.

Inside, Galatea was despairing – as the gargoyles had said – whilst Aneurin and Kara tried to cheer her up by reading the Defence professor excerpts from their own essays. Horace, Albus and several other members of staff were arguing, getting annoyed looks from Cuthbert, who was floating in his usual chair.

"-he is not going to be that short-minded!"

"The boy needs to be guided-"

"Yes, guided! Not handed a job that has been done by one family for centuries with no training, especially when he caused such a scandal!"

Merlin's smelly socks, Dippet huffed internally. He already knew that people were very likely going to leave the room unhappy once he was finished. Gathering up his courage, Dippet cleared his throat.

"May I have your attention, please, everyone?" he asked carefully, all eyes turning on him quite quickly. "I have an announcement to make."

"Finally!" Galatea exclaimed in relief. "I take it that Patrick had some good advice to give."

"He did, which made the decision much easier," Dippet admitted readily. He steeled himself. "I have decided to employ Gerald Alsop as the new groundskeeper with Rubeus Hagrid as his apprentice."

Kara and Aneurin deflated with relief, as did Galatea, but everyone else was gaping in complete disbelief. Albus especially could not believe his ears. "Armando, I am sure that young Mr. Hagrid could learn-"

"Albus, be quiet! You should be grateful that Armando even listened to your babbling and your advocacy of Mr. Hagrid to begin with," Horace scowled at him. He sighed. "I still think Isla has the most talent."

"I am aware, but my decision stands," the Headmaster stated firmly. "Gerald Alsop would need less training and already has had a career to speak of. Isla is still in the middle of her research, which is not compatible to the heavy duties that are required of the groundskeeper."

"Armando, may I talk to you privately?" Albus apparently was not going to let this go easily.

Frankly, the matter was giving Dippet an almighty migraine. The Headmaster's countenance darkened quite a bit. "No, Albus, not on this matter. Mr. Alsop will be groundskeeper and Mr. Hagrid will work as his apprentice. Both will be housed on the grounds and earn a wage, and both will be required to sign a contract. One that will limit the level of danger of any magical creature they wish to bring onto Hogwarts grounds."

"Oh thank every favourite of Lady Magick," came the comment of relief from Aneurin. The rest of his colleagues also had breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that.

"Armando, don't you think that goes a little far?" Albus frowned.

"No, I do not," came the Headmaster's candid reply. "I think it is completely fair and right, given that we can not ever afford a similar scandal to happen ever again!"

Whilst the Head of Gryffindor did not look happy, he could also see that his boss was not going to be dissuaded from his decision. Albus, for once, decided it was best to hold his tongue on the matter.

"Have you sent the offers yet, Armando?" Kara inquired.

"I have," Dippet confirmed crisply. "I hope to hear from Mr. Alsop and Mr. Hagrid soon."

"I think you will hear from the Board of Governors and the parents before you hear from them," Cuthbert commented grimly. "I take it you will announcing your decision tonight to the children?"

"Indeed," Dippet answered, his tone betraying his sense of foreboding. "I just hope we do not end up having food being thrown around in anger."

"It's the letters from parents you should worry about," Galatea agreed her colleague. "Even as an apprentice, Mr. Hagrid is still a very sore subject. Especially for the Warren family. They have another child who starts next year!"

"I am aware," Dippet sighed. "I have already prepared myself for that inevitability."

"I will make you some more Anti-Headache Draughts," Horace stated sympathetically.

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

Rollo found himself working through lunch in order to get rid of the last of his paperwork, mostly on the account of the music playing on the radio and the sound of the rain outside. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his guards had left him alone in his office during their own break. Rollo had hardly noticed their departure.

The thing that knocked the Head Cursebreaker back down onto planet Earth, was the first knock on the door of the day. It made Rollo look up rather sharply. Most of his Cursebreakers were either working from home, had not come out of their offices or had called in sick that day. He also had heard nothing from Mr. Weird-Eyes, so it could not be Goldheart. Perhaps it was one of the Accountants? But they would have made an appointment.

Rollo's brow furrowed, especially when there was yet another knock on his door. "Come in!"

To his surprise, the door opened and then closed again. Realisation quickly hit him when the air rippled in front of his desk and Meg became visible again, with a small grin. "It seems both of our guards have laxed in their duties," she commented.

"Meg," Rollo chuckled, leaning back against his chair, laughing shortly. "You have escaped your rooms again?"

"For a good reason, I assure you." The Hit Witch held out one of the three brown bags that she carried to him. "Victor and I snuck some lunch from the canteen. I heard some of the goblins say you were working through lunch and I thought I would bring you some."

It was at this precise moment that Rollo's stomach decided to make its displeasure at his not eating known. The Head Cursebreaker flushed as the sound of an angry bear started to fill the room. Meg bit into her cheek, trying not to start laughing.

"Yes, I think it is a good idea to eat something," Rollo stated wryly as he took the paper bag and peered in to see what the Hit Witch had brought him. "An apple and … is that cheese?"

"Yes. Apparently the goblins managed to get their hands on some good Dutch cheese because Oscar was in a bit of a mood but apparently your friend is not in today, so your employers were a little miffed," Meg informed, grinning. She cleared her throat. "Well, I had best let you eat and get on with your business."

As Meg turned away, Rollo found himself saying, "why don't you stay and keep this socially awkward Cursebreaker company?"

Meg took a moment to consider, the gears in her head turning, before she took the seat that she stood next to. "Is there a reason you want some company? Mine, to be exact?"

"Well, it is a rather quiet Thursday, I have just finished my paperwork – I could go home in about an hour if I want to. It would appear that everything is rather calm at the moment, and the last time we spoke, we had a rather good conversation," Rollo answered easily after finishing his mouthful of cheese sandwich. "At least, that is what I feel."

"I do as well," Meg reassured. "I didn't expect you to be so open and candid, if I have to be honest."

"I took myself by surprise," Rollo confessed with a short laugh. "Though Kat and Oscar always say that the truth and talking keep a person sane. I see their point now."

Meg bit into her apple and thought for a moment. "Kat is Bulgarian; I remembered that correctly, yes?"

"Indeed," Rollo confirmed.

"What about Oscar?" Meg asked curiously. "What is his story?"

"A bit more of a mundane one. His family has lived in England for at least three generations now. Oscar's grandfather was offered a diplomatic role at the Ministry of Magic in his time and the family never left," Rollo answered. He grinned. "Because of his dual heritage, Oscar actually had his name at both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. Initially he did not want to go to the 'freezing Scottish highlands', so opted to go to Beauxbatons until his fourth year."

Meg frowned in confusion. "What made him change his mind?"

"Apart from hating the Pyrenees, hating to have to speak French and code-switch in almost every single bit of coursework and exam he had to take, Oscar didn't like his fellow Housemates in Ombrelune all too much," Rollo smirked a little. "His Dutch bluntness got him into trouble a lot of the time. Plus, the teaching methods did not work on him all too well."

"And Hogwarts accepted his transfer?" Meg could not help but ask.

"Yes. Doesn't mean they didn't have their hands full, though!" Rollo laughed, biting into his own apple. "Apparently the Sorting Hat wanted to put Oscar into Slytherin, but Oscar told the Hat that he already had enough of cunning people who think they are clever when they're not, and requested to be put anywhere else. He was placed into Hufflepuff. One hell of a way to start!"

Meg chuckled, finishing her last morsel of one of her sandwiches. "I was put into Atticus House in my time," she found herself confessing. "Mostly on the account of my impulsivity, though. I clashed a lot with my more politically minded and underhanded Housemates a bunch, especially those who realised I was basically being trained for combat rather than a normal job."

"What did Wisp have to say about that?" Rollo wanted to know.

"About my Sorting or my squabbles?"

"Both."

"Wisp didn't really care about the Sorting – it would not matter in the long run," Meg answered candidly, a pensive look coming over her face. "As long as we were ready to take on the Alliance, that is all that mattered to him. Childish indulgences and squabbles were a non-issue. It's why most of us got away with the fights we picked: Wisp saw our combat prowess, and not the problems we were causing for the school." She laughed mirthlessly, eyes swimming with unshed tears. "He adopted us, but he was never a true father to us like most adopted fathers try to be."

"You said he got all of you from orphanages?" Rollo frowned.

"Yes," Meg confirmed with a soft, sad smile. "None of us know our true heritage. Our orphanages would either tell us we're bastards or were abandoned on their steps by a family member who fled into the night. Later, Wisp told us how he managed to track us down. Apparently, all of us are either the children or grandchildren of Squibs."

Rollo's eyes widened at hearing this. Meg laughed coldly. "Wisp followed trails left by pureblood families who had expelled their Squib children from their ranks and somehow traced their lines to each of us."

"He collected you?" Rollo could hardly believe his ears.

"Like stamps," Meg confirmed. "Especially if we had displayed some kind of magical talent."

Rollo and Meg both bit into their apples at the exact same time at this point. The Head Cursebreaker was the first to finish his mouthful and he looked to the strange Hit Witch sitting opposite him. "Did he … ever tell you your parents' or grandparents' names?"

Meg snorted. "No. It was the past; Wisp considers it irrelevant. He said it would do us no good since it will only make us emotional, which is not helpful."

Rollo scoffed at hearing that. "You're a bunch of orphans who have no idea who your families are. I think it is bloody helpful to know where you come from!"

"You're welcome to take it up with Wisp the next time you see him," Meg smiled wryly.

"I might just do that," Rollo responded rather seriously, even for his doing, which did take him by surprise.

The Hit Witch regarded him with an assessing look before she decided to move the topic on. "How is Mr. Burke?" she inquired.

"Doing well as one can be when teaching during a world war," Rollo answered with a scoffing laugh. "He is also tutoring some students on the side – wizards this time, who need a little extra help to maintain control of certain areas of their magic."

Before Meg could answer or ask another question, there was the sound of excited knocking on the door. Both of them sat up straight like startled meerkats and exchanged a quick look between them. Quick as a wink, Meg put a Disillusionment Charm on herself and moved to sit in a corner of the room while Rollo quickly cleaned up their lunch.

"Who is it?" Rollo called.

"Get your nose out of your paperwork, Rollo! The Lady Hera has been in contact once more and she has quite outdone herself, if I do say so myself!" came the excited babbling from Griphook.

Talk about timing! Rollo grumbled to himself.

"Come in, Griphook!"

The Accountant of the Peverell Vaults came practically skipping into the room, carrying folders, a letter, the orb and the two automaton grimoires, who were currently snoozing away. Rollo found it an absolute miracle that nothing had fallen out of Griphook's arms but did help the goblin put everything up on his desk.

"Read!" the latest letter from Lady Hera was shoved under his nose.

Rollo huffed a little in exasperation but very quickly complied.

Dear Mr. Rowle,

I feel I must first apologise for taking rather long with the investigation into the orb, but it seems there was so much to discover that it was very difficult for me, and for my friends as well, to say, "enough is enough" and leave some of the discovery work over to you and the other Cursebreakers. I do hope we have not been the cause for discontentment amongst your ranks.

Anyway, it seemed that my funny feeling was correct regarding Cymede and Jason – they were paramount to unlocking the secrets of the orb! You see, this orb is a multifunctional magical artefact that was used as a map, a compendium of spells, as a record keeper on people's daily lives and used perhaps to hide a secret marriage between Hector and Kayanna, also known as Hali and Otis. Thanks to the diligent work of Altair, Orion and Heron, we know the pair were the primary investigators of an empousa attack at the Temple.

I probably have said too much and taken some of the fun of going through all our research and evidence away, but I am sure you can understand the excitement! This was honestly one of my favourite projects up to now.

May your enemies always fall at your feet,

Lady Hera

P.S. You haven't by any chance heard of three Hit Wizards disappearing after visiting Gringotts, have you?

Rollo's eyes widened at reading the P.S. True, his eyes were already bugging because of the information contained in the letter but the slightly blunt question from his freelancer did make his eyes bug almost out of their sockets.

Griphook, all the while, had not lost his enthusiasm. "Isn't it fantastic? A multi-faceted orb with so many more secrets that need to be explored and uncovered-"

"Griphook, did you happen to read the P.S.?" Rollo questioned lightly.

The goblin's excitement was dulled a little by a furrowed brow. "No, I did not. Why?" he asked curiously.

Rollo suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as he handed the letter back and pointed to the very bottom of the parchment. Griphook took the letter, scanned the last question and quite quickly his eyes widened considerably.

"By Mazak the Punisher, how does she know?!" Griphook paled.

"She is the Lady Peverell," Rollo reminded him. "There isn't a secret that is safe from a nosy Peverell."

"No, I suppose not," Griphook was forced to agree, looking none too happy. "I fear I will have to postpone the fun research in favour of having a word with Goldheart about extra security and informing the Lady Peverell of the situation."

The goblin left without saying anything else or looking over his shoulder, closing the door to Rollo's office behind him. As soon as the coast was clear, Meg reappeared, looking utterly flabbergasted for a moment before she looked to Rollo. They both stared at each other for a few seconds before simultaneously beginning to laugh.

"Poor Griphook!" Meg commented through chuckles.

"Oh, he'll live," Rollo grinned. "Which means I can already get a head start on Lady Hera's files."

"Don't think Griphook will be too happy about that," Meg smirked.

"Probably not," Rollo agreed. "Little he can do about it, though."

The Hit Witch regarded him for a moment longer before clearing her throat. "Well, I had best get back to my rooms before someone figures out I slipped out again."

"OK," Rollo answered softly. "Just … don't be afraid to pop in again when you feel like it."

Meg nodded curtly, flashed him a quick smile, cast a Disillusionment Charm again and slipped out of his office, leaving the Head Cursebreaker to mull over his disappointment at being left completely alone with his freelancer's research.

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

The last thing Minerva expected during her study period in the library was a visit from Athenaïs, Sigyn, Seraphina and Frey. Minerva had been busy with her Arithmancy homework, concentrating on a sum to predict the outcome of a duelling competition, when her ears pricked up to pick up the sound of quiet padding of feet, silent hissing and even the almost-not-noticeable wing beats. Unfortunately for the familiars, the Cat Animagus had hearing on par with theirs.

"I assume you guys are being quiet because you do not want to incur the wrath of Madam Ellis rather than to give me a fright," she commented lowly, but loudly enough for the familiars to hear.

*She sensed us,* Frey commented bluntly.

"We shouldn't be too surprised. She has an inner cat after all," Seraphina pointed out primly.

Minerva raised her head from her homework just as Athenaïs, Sigyn and Seraphina elegantly jump and glide onto the seats around Minerva's table. Frey slithered off Athenaïs' back and onto the table; the ball python and the Gargouille regarded her work curiously.

"Oh, Arithmancy! What kind of prediction are you working on?" Athenaïs asked curiously.

"Predicting the outcome of a duelling competition," Minerva answered with a soft smile as the young dragon carefully pulled the book a little closer to her to see the question. "The factors of character of both the people involved are making the sum a little difficult."

Seraphina gave her friends a pointed look. "Atty, don't get distracted. You wanted to talk to Minerva about something else, not Arithmancy!"

"Atty getting distracted is just a given," Sigyn meowed, licking her paws.

"Ssssh," Minerva whispered to them. "We don't want Madam Ellis to see you here!"

"Don't fret. We got in without being seen; we can get out just as quick and easy," Sigyn reassured nonchalantly.

Minerva's brow furrowed as she turned to Harry's dragon. "What did you want to talk to me about, Athenaïs?"

"Hmmm? Oh! I wanted to ask if Harry has told you about why Grindelwood is after her, and if you wanted to help us try and get Arcturus to ask Caius Dolohov to the Imbolc Festival," Athenaïs replied with a grin.

Minerva's eyebrows raised. "You know about the Imbolc Festival?"

"Our Witches have been continuing Harry's pureblood education," Sigyn explained simply. "Atty pays attention."

*I am more surprised that you aren't curious about the secret of the Lady Peverell,* Frey added.

"I am," Minerva assured. "I just do not see how it is any of my business. Even if I do have … suspicions."

Almost involuntarily, Minerva exhaled sharply.

"Well, what do you suspect?" Seraphina wanted to know.

"That a fairy tale told to wizard children may not be as mad as it sounds," Minerva answered in an incredibly low tone. "The one about the Three Brothers. I mean, on the face of it the story seems exaggerated … but I keep noticing Harry and her Snakes sometimes whispering in a corner or they have an expression on their face, like they know something other people don't. Loreley Malfoy is the worst offender."

*She isn't a Snake,* Frey commented.

"Not the point, Frey!" Sigyn huffed.

"So, you know internally but you just haven't talked to Harry about it?" Athenaïs summed up.

Minerva nodded. "I don't think I even want to. I mean, it doesn't really matter who she is – Harry is my friend, and that's all I really care about."

"You are also not one for simply talking about yourself, are you?" Seraphina observed sagely.

"No," Minerva agreed. "Mostly because I don't see the need to talk about myself needlessly."

"Oh. Will you tell us a little bit about yourself?" Athenaïs asked curiously.

Minerva blinked in surprise. "Errrr … if you want," she swallowed a little. "Well, I have two brothers. My mother is a witch, my father isn't … it causes a bit of friction between them because of the fact my mother lied to him for so long …" Minerva paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "I have a good friend in the town we live in." She felt herself smile. "His name is Dougal McGregor."

The familiars caught onto something that Minerva probably had not meant for them to notice.

*Is he your mate?* Frey questioned.

The Cat Animagus blanched and then her cheeks turned redder than her Gryffindor blazer. "What? No! No, no, no absolutely not. No, no, not at all," she blabbered, shaking her head vehemently.

None of the familiars looked convinced whatsoever.

"You are almost as in denial as Arcturus Rosier is," Athenaïs stated bluntly.

"You don't understand!" Minerva hissed urgently. "He is a Muggle."

"So? Is he a vagabond who flies one of those flying contraptions that drops the 'bombs' all over the place?" Seraphina asked.

"No! He is a farmer's son."

"A peasant is not an ideal mate."

"Shut up, Sera!" Athenaïs, Frey and Sigyn huffed.

"Look, it has nothing to do with his socio-economic status! It is because I … don't want to do to him what my mother did to my father," Minerva deflated. "My father was unwillingly and unwittingly roped into the magical world – he was given no choice but to live under the Statute of Secrecy. I can't do that to Dougal!"

"Then there is a simple solution," Athenaïs stated simply. "Tell. Him. The. TRUTH!"

Minerva paled. "Are you mad?!"

*She's Harry's familiar. The answer is yes,* Frey answered seriously, ignoring Athenaïs' mock-scowling at her.

"If you really like him, then you owe it to him to allow him to know you – all of you," Athenaïs told Minerva firmly. "And if your current lair is your concern, you should consider moving to Rowena's Sanctuary. Wizards and Muggles live together there and the Muggles know their neighbours' secrets and keep them until death. If a Muggle moves, they have their memory wiped. It's how they protect everyone there."

Minerva could hardly believe her ears. This was almost too good to be true! It couldn't be true. Could it? Athenaïs was rather frightfully blunt by nature; lying wasn't really in the Gargouille's nature.

"But on the subject of Arcturus Rosier, can we count on your help?" Sigyn wanted to know.

Minerva was still recovering from the shock of hearing that there was a town full of wizards and Muggles who managed to co-exist with one another without much issue. She knocked herself out of her stupor and before she could come up with a logical reason to say no, Minerva nodded.

*Oh merciful Python,* Frey huffed while Athenaïs lit up.

"The more allies the better!" Athenaïs stated happily. "Now, Minerva, would you like some help with your homework?"

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

I must look like a right weirdo up here, Harry's Gryffindor voice grumbled.

On the bright side, we do have a reputation for being strange so no one will bat an eyelid, Harry's Slytherin voice quickly pointed out.

For once, Harry had decided to forgo going to her Revision Club lesson in order to finish the preliminary sketch for Ophelia's miniature, begin on a concept for the visual novel inside her friend's box and to just now and again sketch the architecture around her. She had chosen Look Out Tower, mainly because she was sure she would get some peace and quiet. The Traveller was seated on some nice comfy pillows that she had conjured, not at all bothered by the steady falling of the rain or the rumbling of thunder overhead. Mostly because she had warded her work against the rain and had Warming Charms on her pillows.

As she added the finishing touches to the background of Ophelia's sketch, Harry sensed someone coming up the stairs of Look Out Tower. Her magic hummed happily; it wasn't a hostile presence, so she didn't feel the need to look up from her work just yet.

"Harry! There you are!"

The Traveller looked up and looked over her shoulder. She grinned. "Hey, Heron! Were you looking for me?"

"I was," the Lestrange Heir admitted sheepishly as he approached. He gestured to some pillows with his head. "May I sit?"

"Of course," Harry answered jovially. "Everything OK?"

"Yes," Heron reassured. "I just wanted to talk to you about something but as usual you are rather difficult to track down."

"I was planning my lesson for tomorrow, and then I decided to continue working on something for Ophelia," Harry replied candidly, holding up her sketch book with a grin. "So yeah I wasn't staying still for most of the time."

Heron smiled knowingly. "I take it those drawings are not something I should be telling Malum about?"

"Absolutely not!" Harry had no issue confirming.

"Thought as much," Heron chuckled.

"So, what can I do for you?" Harry inquired as she put her sketch book back into her bag for a bit and turned her full attention onto her friend.

Heron chuckled nervously and ran one hand through his hair. "Erm … I have no idea if Artemis told you, but not too long ago I may have confronted her about some odd – at least in my eyes – behaviour. I knew she was hiding something from me and given everything she knows about me, I was … a little hurt."

Harry's brow furrowed. "No … no she didn't tell me about any kind of confrontation with you. But I can understand why you would feel hurt about Artemis keeping a secret from you. Did she tell you … anything?"

"Not in so many words," Heron confessed uneasily. "She said it wasn't her secret to tell."

Oh Merlin's neck scarf collection, Harry's Slytherin voice sighed. I think I know exactly where this is going!

The Mistress of Death found herself smiling softly. "It's mine, isn't it?"

Heron's eyes widened for a moment but then he chuckled. "Almost a Ravenclaw – everyone forgets that," he scoffed lightly. "But yes."

"And slowly each domino falls," Harry commented to herself with a short laugh.

"What?" Heron frowned.

"Nothing," Harry dismissed with a blush. "Just me being my usual self." She took a fortifying breath. "I take it that means Artemis told you nothing and you have decided to try and figure out the secret for yourself."

"Yes," Heron admitted readily. He looked a little ashamed of himself. "I mean, if it is too personal, I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me if it makes you feel uncomfortable. You are amongst my closest friends-"

"Heron. Breathe," Harry chuckled, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I do feel like I should warn you that it may sound a little mad."

"I already expected that," Heron reassured, also chuckling only nervously. "I just … don't want to be left in the dark. Not when it involves you, and Artemis knows about it. It sound stupid, but it feels like you don't trust me with it."

"I do trust you," Harry reassured firmly, giving his shoulder a squeeze before removing her hand. She exhaled quite sharply, and quickly cast a privacy ward around them before deciding to continue. "You know the reason why Mr. Weird-Eyes is after me?"

"Because of the Deathly Hallows," Heron answered immediately. "You know where they are."

"I do," Harry confirmed easily. "Do you know why Mr. Weird-Eyes wants the Hallows?"

"Because together the Hallows make one the Master of Death," Heron replied, his brow furrowed a little. "That's what the fairy tale says anyway."

"Well, like most fairy tales, it is based on a truth," Harry answered wryly. "Unfortunately, it is a little more complicated than simply owning the Hallows. The Hallows have to accept you, and you have to be Marked by Death."

"Marked by Death?" Heron repeated, clearly feeling a little embarrassed at having to repeat that for himself. He took a moment to process the information and then a small look of realisation spread onto his face. "You mean, survive death?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed simply. "And accept that one day Death will actually take you."

"Like you," Heron immediately stated. "You survived the Killing Curse … and you don't fear Death at all …"

The Mistress of Death watched as her friend's eyes began to bug out of his sockets and he blinked a few times at her, as though he were afraid that she would suddenly disappear into thin air. It was almost at this precise moment that lightning struck somewhere in the distance.

"Mordred's unwashed Druid cloak," Heron whispered. "No way …"

Harry smiled sadly. Heron got to his feet and started pacing. "You are telling me … the concept of Master or Mistress of Death is real."

"Unfortunately," Harry confirmed.

"How long have you …"

"A while."

"Bloody hell," came the blunt answer from the Lestrange Heir. He stopped pacing for a moment as once more his eyes widened. "Did … did you know that Mr. Ogden …"

Harry's expression saddened. "Not until it was almost too late. Normally I get visions of deaths – it's what I based by Fainting Sickness on. The day visions I stop with my Occlumency shields but sometimes they leak through. The night ones I can never stop."

"Shit! No wonder you were running like mad," Heron shook his head in disbelief. His countenance turned fearful. "Did you … did you ever see a vision … of Nymera …?"

More thunder rumbled and another bolt of lightning was sent flying in the distance.

"No," Harry stated firmly. "I haven't. If you don't believe me, you are welcome to look through my visions."

Heron's eyes widened considerably at this offer. "I am not sure that is a good idea … I don't know Legilimency …"

"The offer stands," Harry smiled.

"Thank you," Heron whispered. "I know I have no right-"

"You fear for your sister. It is perfectly rational to want to confirm she will not die any time soon," Harry reassured. She scoffed. "I would prefer not to see anyone's death at all, but I do not really have a choice in that matter."

"None?"

"None."

Heron regarded Harry without blinking for a moment, clearly processing everything. After almost a minute, he exhaled sharply and lowered himself back down on the ground next to her. "I take it that Tom and Altair know?"

"They do. Most of our friends do, save for the Prewetts, the Weasleys, Caius, Felix, Malum and Minerva, as far as I know," Harry replied candidly.

"Only they don't know?!" Heron blanched. "Buggering Thestrals!"

Harry chuckled. "I am pretty certain they will catch up soon enough."

Heron shook his head in disbelief. "Wait, Orion knows your secret too? How the hell has Orion Black kept his mouth shut about something like that?"

"Orion is capable of keeping secrets when he wants!" Harry countered.

"Which is a miracle in and of itself."

"Don't be so mean!"

Heron smirked. "Hey, we both know that the Black and Macmillan genes have magnified his inability to keep his mouth shut by threefold."

"That doesn't mean you have to point it out!" Harry laughed.

"Hey, you're hiding the fact you are helping Ophelia propose to Malum for a reason," Heron could not help pointing out.

"Yes, because our House is full of people incapable of minding their own business or unable of not saying anything to Malum," Harry countered easily.

"Fair point."

There was a moment of rather easy and comfortable silence between them as they listened to the raging weather around them. Suddenly, an errant thought started to make Harry chuckle. Heron frowned. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

"I still can't believe the Averys named their son Apple," came the rather blunt reply from the Mistress of Death.

Heron snorted. "Hey, my parents named me after the bird that accidentally interrupted Grandfather Radolphus' proposal to Grandma Constance."

"Awwww, that's so cute!"

"Shush!"

Harry smirked. She was rather pleased that the easiness between her and Heron continued for the rest of the day; try as she might, Harry was still very weary being regarded as a freak by her friends quite a bit. But it seemed that no matter what was thrown at them – whether it was her Peverell problem, her Traveller secret or Old Magic – there was very little that scared them off.

When it was dinner time, though, the Traveller could not help but feel there was a sense of absolute trepidation – this aura radiated directly from the direction of the staff table. It made Harry frown to herself and wonder what on Gaia's green face it could be. She accidentally caught the eyes of Loreley, who had a look in her eyes that told Harry only one message: brace yourself.

The others hardly noticed. Indeed, her friends were all plating up their first courses and chatting away, clearly not noticing what Harry and Loreley did. That was until Headmaster Dippet got up from his throne and approached the dais, looking like he was about to deliver some very bad news.

Oh boy, what has happened now? Harry wondered to herself. Then she remembered something. Wait … Dippet has made up his mind about Mr. Ogden's successor!

The Traveller did not get much time to ponder this realisation further because the Headmaster cleared his throat quite loudly. "May I have your attention, please, students – it's just for a few quick minutes."

Whilst some of the younger years looked disappointed at having to put their cutlery down, the older years obediently paused their conversations and turned their eyes to look at the Headmaster. Dippet smiled softly. "Thank you. Now, as you are aware, I have been mulling over whom should be chosen to take over the duties of groundskeeper, now that the Ogden line has no obvious heirs. I must admit their were many worthy candidates, but I at last have managed to come to a decision."

Dippet swallowed as excited murmuring started to rise amongst the student body. "I want to have it known," the attention of the students was soon back onto their Headmaster, "that there will be rule alterations, regarding the level of danger of a magical creature that is permitted to enter Hogwarts grounds."

A lot of people started to frown in confusion at this, while Harry's eyes widened involuntarily.

Dippet continued. "The reason for this, as you are probably wondering, is partly because of the decision I have decided to make. I have decided to offer the job of groundskeeper to a Mr. Gerald Alsop, with his apprentice being Mr. Rubeus Hagrid."

Holy. Buggering. Griffins, were the only three words that were in Harry's head at this point.

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Dippet had listened to her! However, Harry's quiet jubilation was quickly killed by the level of tension that had suddenly spiked all around her. Indeed, in the silence, one could have heard a feather drop. Loreley already had her eyes closed as though a bomb was about to go off.

In some ways, Loreley was absolutely correct.

"HAVE YOU GONE BARMY?!" the Weasley twins exclaimed.

It was in that moment that all hell broke loose.

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

Friday morning, Lord Nott paid the uproar that had gripped most of his fellow purebloods no mind what so ever. It mattered very little to him who the crackpot old fool Dippet had decided to replace an irrelevant man from a rather irrelevant family – he had much more important matters on his mind than that.

At noon, Lord Nott had his hood up as he went down one of Diagon Alley's many sister branches; he marched through the torrential rain that had carried on from yesterday with determination in his step. He eventually stopped in front of the address Diantha had sent to him, and Mattheo could almost have scoffed to himself when he looked up at the building. It was an old Victorian building with Art Deco windows and doors. On the front of the building was the word Prestige in calligraphical style.

Arcturus Black the Elder's exclusive club. It would appear that the blackmailer was not an idiot. Or perhaps it was one of Black's foolish employees who wanted to meet during their work shift. Mattheo's jaw clenched. He swore never to set foot in this place – he was no ally of the House of Black. But it seemed someone enjoyed toying with him.

Whoever is doing this is going to regret their miscalculation, Lord Nott promised himself as he forced to step towards the sumptuous doors of the club. The hired muscle – quite literally, judging by the size of both of the men at the door – gave him an assessing look before opening the doors to let him in.

The entrance hall exuded money; it almost made Mattheo wanted to roll his eyes. Typical Blacks! There were a few groups of people mingling and the sound of distant jazz music could be heard. Mattheo thought he could simply walk on in, but in a blink of an eye there were two young wand and cloak checkers in front of him.

"Just a quick search before you can enter, sir," one of them stated crisply in a tone full of authority.

Well at least Arcturus has got some form of security, Mattheo sneered to himself as he allowed the two men to search his cloak, wand and pockets. Naturally his wand was quickly handed back to him and the two security guards stepped aside.

"Nothing to declare. Enjoy your visit, sir," one of them stated civilly.

"Thank you," Lord Nott drawled as he brushed past them towards the sound of the music.

The Art Deco doors opened up almost automatically once they sensed someone approach. Mattheo stepped into a room that was superbly furnished, with a very extensive bar, a band composed of all manner of folk – the singers alone were a human, a banshee and an elf. Mattheo pulled a face to himself but then focused on surveying the people who were already there to spot anyone who looked remotely like a probable target.

A group of young men playing cards, three young women sitting at the bar reading, there were an extensive group of gentlemen listening to an American Abraxan race – clearly betting. There were also a few people out on the dance floor already. Mattheo cursed internally. None of them appeared to be close to anyone he was looking for.

That is, until he was approached by a man, possibly in his thirties, dressed in black and wore a trench coat. His hair was jet black and his eyes such a piercing blue they were almost impossible to look away from. The man had a facial expression that appeared as though he was in a permanent state of irritation. He regarded Mattheo coldly, not in the least bit intimidated by the Nobleman in front of him. "You are not Mistress Underwood," he commented, a slight Irish lilt on his English. "And you are late."

Mattheo glowered at this impertinent man. "You should be glad anyone deigned to show at all," he growled. "Why are you sticking your nose in affairs that does not concern you?"

The man raised an eyebrow and then started chuckling, much to Lord Nott's irritation. "I think you had best follow me, sir," the man stated silkily.

"And why would I do that?" Mattheo demanded.

"My brother has been expecting you," came the answer.

Mattheo considered for a moment what his options were. When he came to the conclusion he really did have little choice in the matter, he nodded curtly and gestured for the man to lead on, all the while internally cursing the vagabond. The ruffian led Mattheo to a grand staircase at the back of the room, that Mattheo had not noticed, which led up to a more exclusive elevated floor above the rest of the club. Mattheo noticed one or two groups at the back tables but did not have time to pay them much mind. The man in the trench coat led him to a booth with red leather chairs where there was a lone man seated.

This man looked up as soon as he heard footsteps approach, eyes going straight for Mattheo. He was large in stature, dressed in a leather jacket, a red shirt, black trousers and combat boots. The man had dark hair, very nearly black, and a beard. His eyes were the same piercing blue as the man leading Mattheo. But unlike the man who was Mattheo's guide, this man Lord Nott knew was not to be trifled with easily.

"I think your eyes are going, Valerion," the man stated with a sneer. "This is not Diantha Underwood."

Valerion smirked. "I would have thought delivering Lord Nott on a silver platter would have made you happy, Farkas."

"He will have to do, won't he?" the man, Farkas, stated dismissively as he lit up a cigar. "Give us some privacy, would you, brother?"

The man in the trench coat smirked, gave Mattheo a look he did not want to describe, and then left to head towards one of the tables in the back. Farkas cleared his throat. "Don't fret about being overheard. Black has had privacy wards placed all over. No one downstairs can hear what we will be discussing. You had best take a seat, my Lord. This will be quite a long conversation, I wager."

Mattheo glowered at him. "Give me one good reason why I should not report you to the Aurors and Hit Wizards for blackmail and extortion," he hissed.

"Because by the time your beloved Aurors and Hit Wizards get here, we will be long gone and you will never get your hand on the copies of all the photographs we made," Farkas replied nonchalantly, puffing away. "Plus, I have at least three people who have you in their sights to Stun your arse before you can even make the call. So, let's not be stupid and just take a seat. What do you say?"

Lord Nott gritted his teeth but did as he was told, taking one of the seats opposite Farkas. He watched in pure irritation as the man continued to puff on his cigar, as though the pair were simply catching up. "Why are you doing this?" he could not help demanding. "What do you get out of it?"

"Money," came the very simple answer. "That is what I get out of it. As for why … well," Farkas started chuckling coldly, "there are two reasons. One, I really fucking can't stand cheaters. Two, well … let's just say I owed a friend a favour."

"A friend?" Mattheo repeated incredulously. "A wizard?"

"Well, it sure as isn't no fucking Muggle," Farkas snorted.

"Don't try and be smart with me!" Mattheo growled.

"You really can't take a joke, can ya?" Farkas chuckled mirthlessly. "All right. I will try and keep the jokes to a minimum then."

Mattheo felt his hands curl into fists for a moment, his blood boiling. "What are your demands?" he inquired through gritted teeth.

"We'll get onto that in a minute," Farkas reassured with a purr as he lit yet another cigar and put the lighter on the table. "You smoke?"

"No," Mattheo answered coldly. "Tell me what you want!"

"Well for starters, I want you to tell me why you were sniffing around another woman, who is unmarried, while you have a very pretty wife of your own," Farkas sneered, regarding him with a look of pure malice. "Amaris, right? That poor lass … I wonder what she must be thinking and feeling about you."

"My marriage is none of your concern, peasant!" Mattheo hissed.

"Not very friendly," Farkas smirked coldly. "I wonder, does she know that she is married to a philandering toerag, or do you keep the wool pulled over her eyes?"

Mattheo's lips curled into a sneer but he did not deign to give that an answer. Farkas hummed. "I see. Your own wife matters that little to you. The mother of your heir … if I treated my own wife like this, she would have left me and taken my son a long time ago."

"Well, people such as myself do not have that luxury," Mattheo growled. "We simply have to keep silent and endure."

"You mean, your wives have to keep silent and endure when you misbehave?" Farkas corrected with a look of irritating smugness.

"Yes, because that is the way of things," Mattheo responded coldly. "We men at times have to put up with being forced to marry someone for the sake of the family, rather than ourselves. Especially when we are the eldest sons."

"Is that why you dishonour your wife? A petty temper tantrum?" Farkas snorted, puffing the last of his cigar.

"Amaris is my wife by law alone," Mattheo sneered. "The woman I want is Anne."

"For now," Farkas could not help but jibbing.

"I think we are done talking now," Mattheo stated sharply, the urge to punch the man on his nose rather than wasting his magic on the insufferable vagabond growing. "How much are you demanding for the rest of the photos of my family?"

"How much are you willing to pay to protect them?" was Farkas' very easy answer.

"Anything," Mattheo answered through gritted teeth.

"Hmmm … interesting … that is definitely an amount worth considering a little more carefully."

Mattheo could not believe his ears. "Do you think you are being funny?" he hissed.

"No, I am being practical," Farkas answered with the same insufferable ease, and smirked. "We will be in touch once we decide the amount."

It was at this point that Lord Nott was severely tempted to reach for his wand and give this cretin what was coming to him. However, he noticed out of the corner of his eye Valerion and several other people in the back with their eyes fixed on him unblinkingly. As though they had sensed what he was going to do. Mattheo sneered at him as he shot up onto his feet. Without another word, Lord Nott marched angrily down the stairs, utterly unaware of the quiet jubilation of the people with Valerion and oblivious to the fact Ava had been amongst the women at the bar.

Farkas, chuckling to himself, took out a two way mirror out of his pocket. "Did you catch all that, Potter?"

"Every word, Greyback," Electra reassured with a grin. "He fell for it hook line and sinker."

"You got something admissible in court, Avery?" Farkas Greyback asked with a smirk.

"Thanks to your brother's masterful performance. And yours," answered Alex Avery gleefully. "You may need to testify in court if we have a particularly difficult judge, however."

"Just give me a call if you do," Farkas replied with a wolfish grin. "This is the most fun I have had in years."

"You just like the easy money!" Electra accused in mock-annoyance.

"You know it!" Farkas agreed unabashedly.

Ava, who had inadvertently managed to eavesdrop on Electra Potter and Alexander Avery, who had been sitting a few metres away from her at a rather secluded table, quickly paid for her drink and left the club. She was pretty sure that Amaris was not going to believe this but Ava knew her Mistress would want to know that an investigative journalist and one of magical Britain's best lawyers were after her husband.

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

Orion: HOLY HEKATE! Lord Nott fell into a trap, Hagrid is coming back, Heron knows the truth and the familiars are going to meddle in Rosier and Dolohov's love life! What is going to happen next?!

Harry: Orion …

Tom: You didn't even let Umbreon do the outro yet!

Gellert: Queenie! Have you made some more popcorn yet?!

Harry: Go and do it yourself!

Gellert: Harry, my dear, we Dark Lords have lackies for a reason.

Queenie: I ain't no lackey, thank you, darlin'! Or I will turn your salt popcorn into sweet.

May I do my outro now?

Orion *frowning at Gellert*: So you love your cookies sweet but your favourite popcorn is salt? That makes no logical sense!

Gellert: I do not have to explain myself to you!

You know what, I think I only have time for a disclaimer: I do not own anything here! Everything I have used belongs to their respective fandoms.

We will see you in the next chapter!

Kingmaker'sUmbreon