Rachel and Theo sat up on Halloween night, though she suspected that Theo was staying up because she was. Her thoughts strayed frequently to the MLE and her friends there, wondering what they were encountering tonight. There were many 'worst' case scenarios, from the MLE not being alerted to the attacks at all, to the MLE taking casualties, to Fiendfyre running unchecked in a town or village.

She finished the Discworld book she'd been reading, grateful for the brief escape into Terry Pratchett's silly world. The stories themselves were very silly, but there was always a thread of truth to them, one she hadn't really seen when she'd been a young teenager, but as an adult with more experience in the world, she could see the parallels he was drawing. The books were funnier as an adult as well, though the City Watch were still her favorites.

There were a lot of books in their library now, which she had wound up dividing into sections. Theo had packed away most of the books from his father's library into the Nott vault at Gringotts, though he'd kept some of the ones he wanted to reference for spell crafting. The rest of the books they had acquired over the years. They had a good fiction section - with books both from the magical and muggle world. Theo had discovered the thriller genre and had become very enamored of James Bond, while Hermione had introduced them both to Agatha Christie's mysteries. The rest of their books were mostly research material in their respective fields.

At some point she needed another trip to the bookshop. Maybe depending on whether or not she was summoned to the Wizengamot after this morning's news broke, they could take a trip today. She and Hermione had discovered dozens of used bookshops in London and would often take trips together. Maybe she'd send Hermione a Patronus and ask if she wanted to go book shopping with them, and thus could check on her without being obvious.

"The sun is coming up, the newspaper should be here soon," Theo said, stretching and turning to look out the window.

The newspaper wouldn't have the full picture, but it would be enough until she could talk to Draco or Amelia herself. "Do you want breakfast?" she asked.

"I could eat," Theo said.

Rachel wasn't sure she could, at least not until she'd seen the news, but she could at least have a cup of tea. They went into the kitchen and a few moments later plates of eggs and toast appeared along with a tea tray. She fixed herself a cup and sat with it cradled in her hands, as if she was a Seer who might find the future by peering inside. After a moment she decided that she was glad that was a gift she didn't possess. Her life was complicated enough as it was.

"Miss. This just arrived," Tomsi said, appearing next to the table.

"Thank you, Tomsi," she said, accepting the offered newspaper and moving so that she and Theo could read the front page together.

Four attacks, fourteen dead.

"Well, they certainly have a pattern," Theo said as they read.

She nodded. Parents, at least one of them muggleborn, and families with children. "They don't want the muggleborns to have children. That's what the Dark Lord told me; he said that muggleborns shouldn't be allowed to breed."

"Pretty common Death Eater ideology," he agreed. "It's interesting that they're not coming for anyone in the Ministry or the Wizengamot yet. Or former Order members. We should be targets."

"Maybe they're going for easier targets. Maybe they don't have the training to fight against people who can put up a decent resistance?" she suggested.

"At least one of them has to be powerful enough though. If they can deal with Fiendfyre and the wards, then they should have the skills to fight."

Rachel wasn't sure that was always the case. Bringing down wards or casting Fiendfyre were entirely different skill sets from fighting. Being good at one didn't necessarily mean being good at the other. Being powerful didn't necessarily mean being skilled or trained. "Maybe they haven't fought much before. If they were recruited in the last war, or if they were a child of a Death Eater, maybe they never had much opportunity to engage in combat."

"Maybe. The scope tells us something at least. They can't have many Death Eaters if they could only orchestrate four attacks. They would have wanted to make a showing last night," he said.

"Draco suggested they thought less than twenty, which sounds right to me based on other attacks that we've seen. Divide into four groups of five, and this should have been a fairly easy operation."

"Unless they're a smaller band and moved from place to place. This doesn't say what order the attacks were in," Theo said, tapping the article.

"I'll talk with Draco or Amelia on Monday and see if we can learn more." It would be nice to have more information so they could continue to make preparations.

"You were supposed to let Rufus' clerk know we survived the night," he reminded her.

Rachel held out her hand and cast her Patronus. "To Phil Stauton. Please let the Minister know that Rachel Snow and Theo Nott are well and have weathered the night with no difficulty," she said, directing the message toward the Minister's Wizengamot clerk.

She returned to her own place at the table and served herself some eggs. Now that she knew what they were dealing with, she could eat.


Rachel's desk currently looked as bad as Cyril's, with stacks of books and piles of parchment, but at least she was finally accomplishing something. She had a small stack of experimental recipes set to the side, though she wanted a few more to finish trying out possibilities before she started brewing. She was currently making a list of ingredients and equipment that she'd need. Once she had everything, she'd put aside her other work and spend a week brewing, though it might take until January before she actually had the time to do that.

"Rachel?" Mirabel said as she approached.

"Yes?"

"Liesel let me know that Patrick would like to see you at some point today. He should be in his office. Everything going alright?" Mirabel asked.

"Yes, everything is fine," she said, tucking her quill into a book to mark her spot.

"You look like you've found a project. Can I ask?"

"Sure. Still sleeping potions. I'd like a Dreamless Sleep that can be taken more than two nights a week, and that's not going to happen with the sopophorous bean. So I'm looking into substitutes that will prevent people from recalling their dreams, while also preventing their dreams from waking them in the night," she explained.

"Tricky," Mirabel said. "I'm not even sure you can accomplish that with paired substitutions. Are you starting from scratch?"

"Basically. I've been working on and off on this potion for more than a decade now, so I've run through pretty much every set of substitutions I can think of."

"Well, you have the right mindset, at least. Michael on the Polyjuice team has been working on it for over twenty years. He's developed a bunch of related potions, but is still chasing the dream of long term Polyjuice. Sometimes difficult things take decades of work," she said, nodding to herself.

"They do," Rachel agreed, feeling buoyed that other people had similar problems to hers and they were still trying. "Would they even declassify long term Polyjuice if he invented it?"

Mirabel smiled and shook her head. "Probably not within his lifetime, maybe even longer. People can do a lot of bad things with Polyjuice. Having the hour limitation at least makes it more difficult for people to do something complicated."

Rachel couldn't help but think of Barty Crouch Junior and how he'd pretended to be his own father for at least a year. If that wasn't complicated, she didn't know what was. "Do you ever wonder sometimes if some things shouldn't be invented?"

"Not invented. Everything we make is a building block to something new. Every new potion furthers our understanding of the field. I don't think there are limits on what should be invented, but I do think there should be limits on what is made publicly available. Of course, that's a relatively recent understanding. It's only been in the past two hundred years or so that the Ministry has tried to limit what is shared with the public in terms of potions inventing. It used to just be a free-for-all and people publishing whatever they invented. Now the Guild alerts the Ministry if they see something problematic," Mirabel explained.

"What if that person wants to publish, even if the Guild and the Ministry says they can't?"

Mirabel shrugged. "Then things get dicey. I don't know, it's not my department and I don't know exactly how they navigate that. Most potioneers go into this knowing where the line is. Most people can think ahead enough to recognize how a potion they invent might be misused, though sometimes we don't know that until they're tested and we find unexpected effects. In general, people don't want to publish things that can be used to hurt other people. Not just out of a moral sense of what is right and wrong, but they don't want their names associated with that either. If Polyjuice was invented today, it would never leave the Department, and I can think of probably a dozen others off the top of my head with the same problem."

That made sense to her, though she was now both curious and worried about what happened to people outside the Department who invented something dangerous. "How do I go about getting my potions tested once I have something viable?"

"It will go to the internal Department committee and they'll decide if it's safe enough to be tested out in the regular potions testing group, or if we need to arrange tests in a different way, or if it's too dangerous to be tested at all. I don't expect that to be a problem with sleeping potions. Just let me know when you're ready and I'll go through the procedure with you," she said.

"Thank you. Do you know if Patrick is currently in his office?" Rachel asked, wanting to get whatever it was out of the way before she was needed in the Wizengamot.

"Should be. He's usually there unless he gets drafted to fish someone out of the Department. How is that going for you?"

"Pretty good. I still get lost on a regular basis, but I've seen some interesting things." She felt interesting didn't quite describe everything she'd seen, but Mirabel would understand.

"Good. Just let someone know if you're running into problems," Mirabel said, moving toward her own desk.

Rachel went out of the main work area and down to where Patrick's office was situated. The door was open, so she knocked on the frame.

"Ah, yes. That was quick," Patrick said. "Please, come in. Shut the door behind you."

She did so, wondering if she was in trouble for something. Maybe he wanted her to work on a different project, though she'd gladly trade the Morsius Pensieve project for something else.

"Just wanted to check in with you. Your wards are good? Any concerns there?" Patrick asked.

"My wards are good. I'm not concerned."

"Excellent. Stay on your guard. Did you sign up for the MLE recall list for former aurors?"

"I have and I've already spoken with Amelia. Are we being recalled?" she asked, a little surprised since Amelia hadn't said anything about it when she'd spoken to her two days ago.

"Not yet, just be prepared. I've got ten of my Unspeakables signed up for the recall list, so you'll be in good company when it's time. At that point, you'll be under Amelia's purview until the recall is finished. What wards do you know how to cast?" he asked.

"Just the basics, but I can learn if you need me to go help protect muggleborn homes," she offered.

Patrick waved his hand. "No, not at this time. We don't want you running around out there, but if we reach that point I'll have Serephina run an advanced wards class with some of our Unspeakables. Any concerns you have? About the situation or otherwise?"

"A lot of concerns, but nothing we can do anything about from here."

"I understand entirely. I have a team looking for possibilities. We're trying to figure out who is leading them, because obviously someone has rallied them to action. So far we're not seeing any obvious signs of recruiting, but people who think this is a good idea will try to seek them out. The intent is to put some people undercover, so we're making preparations for that."

Rachel wondered how a person went about getting themselves recruited to the Death Eaters. She simply had no idea. Sit in a pub and complain loudly about muggleborns until someone showed up? "I hope they find something," she said, deciding not to ask for specifics.

"We'll find something eventually, and everyone is working on this. Everyone is well aware of the dangers and where this may lead."

"We are," she agreed. "Just let me know if there's something I can do, I want to help."

"For now, just keep your faction in line. We'll let you know if there's more. That's all I needed you for today," Patrick said, surveying the piles of parchment on his desk with a resigned look.

"Thank you," Rachel said, letting herself back out of Patrick's office.

She checked her watch. She had another thirty minutes to get some work done, then she could go see the situation in the Wizengamot.


Rachel finished looking at her tally of things to do, marking off a few, adding a few more, and deciding that if she wanted to continue to make progress on her House Elf legislation then she needed to talk with Amelia and get an idea of where the Ministry faction stood. It was bad timing, but at the rate things were going, it was going to be bad timing for the next couple of months. At the very least they'd managed to convince Francis that his tax proposal was not going to pass, and he had retracted it to revamp it into smaller proposals.

Deciding that she needed a break from her office and that she didn't want to summon Booker to run messages for her, Rachel stood and stretched her right arm, and then gently rolled her left shoulder. She had, very reluctantly, made an appointment to see a Healer on Friday, but there was a small part of her that was hoping for some sort of disaster in the Wizengamot that would keep her from going. These days, that was a bad thing to wish for, but there was probably never a good time to wish for disaster.

She left her office, leaving Monty snoozing in his frame, and then walked through the slightly curving hall of the Wizengamot. She nodded here and there to passing clerks, but things in the Wizengamot were generally quiet this time of day. If Wizengamot members were here, they were in their offices working, and many Wizengamot members were not in their offices every day.

From the Wizengamot entrance, guarded by two members of the MLE patrol, Rachel went down the hallway, passing assorted offices that were all loosely collected under the MLE but generally functioned on their own, and then into the MLE proper. From there it was a short walk to the aurors offices.

"What brings you down here?" Tonks asked, coming over with Shacklebolt at her side. They were both senior aurors, though Tonks' promotion had been more recent than Shacklebolt's.

"Just taking a walk. I thought I'd check in on a few things," Rachel said. "Any news?"

"Someone's posting scrolls of muggleborns' names in Knockturn Alley," Shacklebolt said.

Rachel felt chilled. "How long have we known this? Before the attack on Halloween night? Were any of the people who were attacked on the scrolls?"

"We only found out last night. We're keeping it out of the presses for now. We're trying not to cause a panic," Tonks said. "None of the victims so far were listed on the scrolls we've found. We've put people undercover both in Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley. We're hoping to catch whoever is doing it."

"Obviously not a Death Eater, but still someone trying to get these people killed," Shacklebolt said.

"Am I allowed to see one of the scrolls?" Rachel asked. "Are all of the scrolls the same?"

"They're all copies of the same scroll, and yes, you can look, but I'll tell you now that Hermione's name is listed," Tonks said, patting Rachel's right shoulder.

"We're using the names on the list to cross reference with Ministry records and sending people to everyone who is listed to upgrade their wards and to remind them to floo the aurors at the first sign that something is wrong," Shacklebolt said. "We're hoping that we can use this to actually catch some people. So far we haven't managed to show up at any attack while the Death Eaters were still present."

Rachel nodded. Having a preset list of targets could help with that, but the cost was too high. "Can I see the list?"

"Yes, come with me," Tonks said, leading her over to where her and Shacklebolt's desks were pushed together. "Probably not what you came in here wanting to know."

"No, but I'm glad I know. I'm not sure yet what we can do about this, but knowing is the first step," she said.

The scroll was long, much longer than Rachel would have liked. There were over fifty names on it, and she supposed the only real saving grace was that their addresses weren't listed as well. She exhaled when she saw Dennis Creevey's name. "Has someone gone to Dennis?"

"We had people out to everyone on this list by lunch - they're all aware," Shacklebolt said.

"Any idea where they're getting the names from?" she asked. She didn't recognize most of them, but there were a number of people other than Hermione and Dennis that she'd attended school with.

"We're still looking for commonalities. So far the biggest one is that everyone on this list is under forty years old and is older than eighteen," Tonks said.

Rachel did some quick math. There had been four muggleborns in her year at Hogwarts. If she assumed that was roughly average, then this list accounted for a little over half of the muggleborns who would have attended Hogwarts in the past twenty years who weren't currently attending. If she then subtracted the muggleborns who were killed in the war or left Britain, then this might actually be most of them. "How many muggleborns are still in Britain?"

"As of the last census, a little under twelve hundred muggleborns who were over the age of seventeen. In other words, about half of what there should be, as at the time of Hogwarts attendance, muggleborns are about ten percent of the population," Shacklebolt said, shaking his head.

That was disheartening, but it was still too many people for the MLE to protect directly. Magical Britain was simultaneously too small and too large. "It stands to reason that whoever is writing these scrolls has access to records of some kind," she finally said, letting the scroll roll up and putting it back on Tonks' desk.

"We know. We're discreetly poking around in the records department to see if anyone there looks suspicious. It's weird if they are though, because they should have access to much more than names and blood statuses," Tonks said, shaking her head.

"It is odd," Shacklebolt agreed, frowning as he examined one of the scrolls. "It's a specific call to violence, but it's also fairly useless. If the Death Eaters know muggleborns' addresses, then they should already have a list of muggleborns to target."

"Maybe just someone's fucked up way of showing support," Rachel suggested grimly.

"Maybe. Either way, we have a better chance of getting them into custody than we do of the Death Eaters, and maybe that will lead us somewhere," Tonks said.

"Can they be charged with anything?" she asked.

"Incitement to violence is still on the books, and I think we can make a case for it. If one of the people on this list gets killed in an attack, we can charge the person who posted the list with accessory to murder," Shacklebolt said with a nod.

"Good. Maybe people will get the hint that this is a bad idea," Rachel said. "Anything else I should know?"

"That's all the latest. We're still combing through the attack from Halloween and looking for more connections," Tonks said.

"Thanks," Rachel said, though this was not exactly what she'd come down to the MLE to do.

"Sure, come by for depressing news anytime," Tonks said, managing a wane smile.

Rachel smiled back at her and went over to Stella's desk.

"Should I be afraid that an Unspeakable is here?" Stella asked with a wink.

"No more afraid than usual. Can I get an appointment with Amelia sometime in the next few weeks? It's not urgent at all, just when she gets a chance to hear some unrelated Wizengamot matters," Rachel asked.

"Let me look," Stella said, flipping through a schedule. "She's slated for her Wizengamot office next Thursday. Barring no new catastrophes, I can fit you in during the afternoon."

"That would be great, thank you," Rachel said.

"Running your own errands today? Is Booker off?" she asked as she wrote Rachel's name into the book.

"No, he's here. I just felt like stretching my legs."

"They don't have you doing enough running in the Department of Mysteries?" Stella asked, looking both amused and curious.

"Surprisingly I have not had to run at all in the Department. It's a fairly calm place," Rachel said.

"That's not what I hear, but I suppose nothing fazes you." Stella winked again.

Rachel shrugged, making sure not to move her left shoulder. "In general I guess I'm hard to faze, but you never know." Stella was correct that Rachel had seen enough things in her life that not too much took her by surprise, though Rachel certainly still struggled with some things.

"Leaving some room for the unknown, smart," she said. "Anything else for today?"

"Nope. I hope your afternoon goes as well as possible with all this," Rachel said, motioning out to the aurors.

"You know it," Stella said. "See you around."

"See you." Rachel retreated, her mind turning over the scroll that Tonks and Shacklebolt had shown her. It did not escape her notice that all of the people on that list were the right age to have children, and that's who the Death Eaters were targeting as well.

She made it back into her office, went into her private office, and then closed the door. "To Hermione Granger. I just wanted to check in with you and see if you're alright. Do you want me to come over?" she said to her Patronus.

Rachel sat down while she waited for a response. She did not like at all that Hermione and Dennis had been targeted like this. Dennis had rejoined the magical world when he'd come of age, and Rachel had spent some time making sure he had the resources he needed to get tutoring in the essential subjects and pass the OWLs and NEWTs that he needed. Last she heard, he was working as a clerk in the Artifacting Guild. Maybe she needed to go check on him too, though he was probably at work right now.

Hermione's otter Patronus swam into Rachel's office. "I'm alright. I'm in the middle of a research project at the moment, so I'm quite busy. I will catch up with you later tonight. Thank you for checking on me."

It sounded like Hermione was okay - or at least okay enough that she was busy with something that she didn't want to be distracted from.

Rachel turned back to her own work, intent on getting through the rest of the day while trying not to let her mind spiral down into worrying about things she couldn't control.


She sent her Patronus to Dennis shortly after she arrived at home, knowing that the Guilds usually closed up by five in the evening. From there she changed into casual robes, checked on the owls, the House Elves, the cats, her cauldrons, and did a short walk around the house while probing at the wards. Everything seemed as it was in the morning and Rachel went back to the sitting room and let the cats crawl onto her.

A few minutes later Dennis' bear Patronus ambled into the sitting room. "Thanks for checking on me. I'm okay. They just put up new wards around my flat this morning, so I think things should be good," came Dennis' voice

Rachel decided that new wards were probably about the best that could be offered to him, and he hadn't sounded panicked or afraid. They were all used to making the best of a bad situation.

When Theo arrived, she had Ring-A-Ding half curled up on her chest, her head tucked just under Rachel's chin, and Feverfew down by her knees.

"That kind of day?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yeah. We should talk when you get a moment," she said.

"I'll be right back then."

She listened as Theo's footsteps went into his office to put away any work he'd brought home with him, and then up the stairs. A few minutes later she heard his unshod footsteps coming back down. He came back into the sitting room, in casual open robes, and sat down next to her. "What happened this time?"

"They're keeping this out of the news, because they're trying to catch the person doing it. Someone was posting lists of muggleborns' names in Knockturn Alley. Hermione, Dennis, and a few other people we knew at Hogwarts were on the list," she explained. "I've already talked with Hermione and Dennis. I think Hermione is going to drop by tonight."

"If she's not coming by here, we should go by her flat," he said, looking alarmed. "Whoever is posting those lists isn't a Death Eater, but who knows what the people who saw those lists might take in their minds to do. What is the MLE planning to do about it?"

"They're posting undercover aurors in Knockturn Alley, trying to catch whoever is doing it in the act. They've already gone out to everyone on the list to offer new wards," she said, her mouth twisting in sympathy at Theo's worried frown.

"I'm not sure wards are enough, but I don't know what else to do."

"I don't either. They told me there's about twelve hundred muggleborns in Britain. We have about forty five active aurors and nearly eighty people on the MLE patrol. Unless we know in advance who the Death Eaters are targeting, I'm not sure what else can be done."

"Married muggleborns with children has to be a much smaller list than that," Theo said.

"We're not the only ones who have made that connection. Everyone on the list that was posted was of childbearing age," she said, absently stroking Dingbat when she made a noise of complaint that she'd stopped petting her.

They fell into an uneasy quiet, Theo bringing his hand up to his mouth as he seemed to consider everything. "I suppose the only real thing we can do is wait. I know that people are taking precautions, we've had the Curse Breaking and Warding Guild borrow everyone from us who is trained in wards. During the war, especially at the beginning, I blamed the Ministry a lot for not acting, but maybe it was more complicated than that."

Rachel nodded. "The Ministry definitely could have done more in the early days of the war. I firmly believe that if they'd taken action against the Death Eaters that first year, the death toll wouldn't have been nearly as high. But I think the MLE was stuck in the same situation as they are now - too many people to protect and no idea where the Death Eaters are going to show up next."

The flames in the fireplace grew. "Hello? Rachel? Theo?" came Hermione's voice.

"Come on through, Hermione," Theo called, standing up.

Rachel shifted both cats off her and stood as Hermione stepped into their sitting room.

Theo and Hermione immediately hugged, and then Hermione came to Rachel and they hugged as well, Hermione neatly avoiding Rachel's left shoulder.

"How is your shoulder? Still sore?" Hermione asked when she released her.

"A bit. I made an appointment with a Healer for Friday," Rachel said, having already communicated that to Severus so he would get off her case about it.

"Good. Do you want me to take a look at it while I'm here?" she asked.

"That's alright. It's settled and it's tolerable. How are you?" Rachel asked. "Come, sit down."

They all sat, Hermione winding up on the sofa with Rachel while Theo took one of the armchairs. "Well, I have to say, having aurors show up first thing in the morning to tell me I'm on a list of targeted muggleborns was a little upsetting," she said.

"I'll bet. They looked at your wards?" Theo checked.

"They had a ward specialist with them who checked my wards and said they were good. I had Bill do them shortly after the first attack."

"Good," Rachel said. She trusted Bill's wards.

"Hermione, may I ask you a question you don't want me to ask?" Theo looked at Hermione, seeming almost reluctant.

"I'm not going to run," Hermione said, looking squarely at Theo. "I'm not going to leave my home just because the Death Eaters don't want me here. If it starts to look like the Death Eaters are targeting the muggle relations of muggleborns, I'll put more wards on my parents' home too. I have a mobile phone - they can reach me in an emergency."

"Call us or the aurors if it comes to that. Don't go face them alone," Rachel said, reaching out to touch Hermione's hand.

"I will. I'm not stupid."

"We know you're not, we just want you to be safe," Theo said.

"I know. It's a scary time. Again. I can't believe this is happening again. It's been over ten years since the last known Death Eater attack," she said, shaking her head, her loose curls bouncing around her shoulders.

Rachel could barely believe it either. She'd thought they'd been making progress, but magical Britain's same old demons were back to haunt them. "We'll do whatever we can to keep each other safe," she said, feeling that was the only thing they really could do.

"We will," Theo agreed.


Tom's school days were passing in a blur. By the time he was sixteen he was the undisputed leader of Slytherin House. Many people looked up to him. Tom wore his prefect's badge proudly on his chest. What no one else in Hogwarts knew was that Tom Riddle was opening the Chamber of Secrets.

It was 1943 and over the last dozen or so sessions that Rachel had spent in the Morsius Pensieve, she'd gotten a fairly good history lesson about the war with Grindelwald. Grindelwald's followers were called the Alliance, and by Tom's fifth year at Hogwarts they stood in good position to completely take over Eastern Europe. Two years earlier, Germans had been dropping bombs on London while Grindelwald's Alliance was spreading far and wide. From what Rachel was coming to understand, there was no way to keep track of who the casualties were from the muggle war and who were casualties from the magical war, because both were killing large numbers of muggles.

When Tom had returned to London in 1941, he'd discovered that his orphanage had been evacuated to the countryside. Tom had immediately become independent, using the summers to free roam over London and stealing and using magic to survive. Rachel had wondered about the trace and the Restriction for Underage Sorcery, but a quick look into the history of the time showed that those laws hadn't been enacted until 1953.

Watching Tom and his friends gather at the Slytherin table in the morning to look at the newspaper to see if there had been new attacks in the war had been strangely reminiscent of Rachel's own school days. Watching Tom Riddle and his friends gather in private to critique the war and to say how they could do better was not reminiscent at all, and Rachel found it profoundly disturbing to listen to fifteen and sixteen year olds discuss their grand plans for killing muggleborns and muggles.

Abraxus Malfoy had asked Tom in private one evening if Tom was the one opening the Chamber of Secrets. Rachel had no plans to tell Draco that his grandfather had been Tom Riddle's closest confidant at school. Tom Riddle had considered the question carefully before telling Abraxus that he had a suspicion of who was opening the Chamber of Secrets, but he wanted to wait to catch them in the act. Abraxus had smiled and then said "or just let them get on with it" and then both boys had laughed.

Rachel didn't know what it meant that it was only five years from when she'd first seen these boys at their Sorting Ceremony and now she was watching them gleefully plot murder. She felt she had changed a great deal over her adolescence, but not like that. None of her friends had changed like that.

Today they were walking with purpose toward the second floor and Rachel had realized that she didn't know what had caused Tom to stop opening the Chamber of Secrets, but at some point he clearly had. The fact that it was late and the sun was out suggested that the term was about to end. Rachel supposed he wanted to have one last hurrah with the basilisk before he went back to London for the summer.

They went into the girls' bathroom on the second floor and Tom went directly for the sink. "Open. Come to me, ancient one."

"Who's there? This is the girls' bathroom," came a voice from inside one of the stalls.

Tom froze for a brief moment and then drew his wand. "Myrtle? Is that you?"

"I said go away! You're not supposed to be in here! I'll tell a professor!"

Rachel took a step back as the head of the basilisk entered the bathroom, but before she had time to do more, a stall opened and revealed a young girl that Rachel barely recognized, mostly because she was used to seeing her as a ghost.

Myrtle's mouth dropped open as Tom shouted "kill!" and then she fell to the floor.

Rachel took another step back, her own mouth open in surprise. She'd never seen anyone killed so quickly. She had known basilisks could kill, but she'd always pictured a slow meeting of their eyes as then…something. Something different. Not just falling over dead.

"Was she impure?" the basilisk asked Tom.

"Yes, Myrtle is…was muggleborn." Tom walked over and nudged Myrtle's body with his shoe.

"Are we hunting tonight?" the basilisk asked. "There are more who are impure."

"There are, but I have to deal with this. We'll get caught if we hunt tonight. Go sleep in your chamber, you did well," Tom said, still focused on Myrtle's body.

"Very well." The basilisk retreated down the pipe and Tom went back to the wall and closed the entrance.

"It's time," Tom said. "I still have time."

Rachel watched as he took a small black book out of his bag and a thin knife. She'd seen him with his diary twice now, though had never gotten a good look at what he was writing in it.

Tom knelt down next to Myrtle, untied her tie and then began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Wait," Rachel said to the pensieve. "I don't want to see this."

Nothing happened to indicate the end of the memory, so Rachel turned her back on Tom and then after a moment covered her ears and closed her eyes. She gasped as she found herself yanked across the room, putting her almost on top of where Tom was cutting into Myrtle.

"You can't make me watch this!" She knew what was happening without having to be told. Tom Riddle was making his first horcrux.

She tried to pull away, but couldn't move more than three steps away from Tom. If she closed her eyes or turned her back she was immediately brought back to the scene. She immediately thought of the punishment runes carved into the basin of the Morsius Pensieve. She was supposed to be watching the life of the person she killed so that she would feel remorse for taking a life. Right now she was more glad than ever that she'd killed the Dark Lord and wished she could go back in time to do it sooner.

Rachel watched with gritted teeth and recognized that she was not going to sleep for a very long time after witnessing this. Eventually Tom put the knife away and began working with his wand. She slowly breathed through her nose, telling herself that she couldn't throw up in the pensieve and she wasn't sure what would happen if she actually did so. In general terms, it was best not to let any of your bodily fluids interact with magical artifacts.

Finally Tom pressed his diary against Myrtle's bare chest and began to incant in a language Rachel didn't recognize. Given that the term 'horcrux' was Old English, she would guess the language was Old English.

Tom finished after a few minutes and then began closing the wounds on Myrtle with his wand. He redressed her and then dragged her body into the toilet stall. He washed his own hands in the sink, gathered his bag, and then peeked out into the hallway. Apparently satisfied that no one had seen him, Tom left, looking for all the world like an average school boy and not someone who had just committed murder and worse.

The pensieve released Rachel and she staggered over to the chair and put her head between her knees as she breathed. She reminded herself that wasn't the worst thing she'd seen in her life. She'd seen plenty of bad things. She'd seen plenty of downright horrible things and experienced some of them herself. At least Myrtle's death had been instant and painless. That was better than what a lot of people suffered. Rachel had seen worse, but she'd never seen that done to a dead body before. She'd never thought of a dead body as anything other than an empty vessel, and now she had to think of all the things a body contained and how they might be used. Maybe she would put in her will that she wanted to be cremated. Or vanished.

When Rachel could stand without falling over, she picked up the book from the desk and left the room. The Department seemed to sense her mood because she was back in the entryway within five minutes and she stopped to sign herself out before going directly to Patrick's office.

Patrick looked up from his desk. "Did you take ill?" he asked, standing up.

Ill was one word for it. Rachel went into his office, closed the door, and then held her hand up to lock it with an advanced locking charm and then cast a privacy ward around them. "I am not writing out the process of creating a horcrux," she said, shaking the book at him.

"Oh dear, come sit down. So soon? I thought he was still a student," Patrick said, clearing a chair for her.

"He is. He's just finishing his fifth year," she said, sinking into the chair.

"He's sixteen years old and he knows how to create a horcrux. How?"

Rachel shook her head. "I've seen him in the library a few times, but never looking at things like that. He also was roving around London, so there's no saying he couldn't have gone into Knockturn Alley and found a book there."

"I suppose so. There used to be fewer restrictions on what sort of books people could sell," he said.

"How many people know how to do that?" she asked, driving straight to the heart of the matter.

"A handful of Unspeakables who were looking into the situation of you and You-Know-Who. The information could probably be found in a dozen family libraries, if people cared to seek it out. The horcrux ritual is very old and for the most part it has been forgotten that it even exists. As long as there are still books with it out there, we can't use a secret keeping spell to erase the knowledge."

She slowly breathed in and out. "I'd like to believe that almost no one would be so depraved to do that, but I find I am having my illusions about human nature rather sorely tested."

"I think it is rare indeed that you will find anyone both willing, skilled, and with the knowledge to perform the horcrux ritual. Would you like to be obliviated of the knowledge?" Patrick offered.

"Yes, please." Rachel paused for a moment and realized that she was just going to see this again when he made his other horcruxes and she didn't want the horror of watching it again and again for the first time. "Tom Riddle had a total of seven horcruxes, including me."

"Seven?"

Rachel waited. She wasn't in the mood to play guessing games.

"How did Dumbledore find them all? Did he tell you?" Patrick asked.

"For the most part he used me to find them. Like sensing like, as he would put it."

Patrick sat quietly for what felt like a long time. "I would understand if you had complicated feelings about being used in such a way," he finally said.

Rachel's feelings weren't all that complicated about that. She didn't a hundred percent approve of all the things that Professor Dumbledore had done, but in the end they had won the war and that was what mattered. She was perfectly willing to be used if it stopped all the torture and killing. "It was what it was," she said. "How soon do you think I can be obliviated?"

"It's probably best to wait until you have all of the memories of the ritual. You should go into your mental architecture and collect the memory and move it to somewhere separated and where you can find it again. Collect all of those memories there, and then let me know when you're ready to be obliviated and we will take care of them all at once. We want as few connections between the memories as possible. Write your account of the rest of the memory before you move it, in case things get a little hazy. Memory manipulation can be tricky," Patrick instructed.

Rachel nodded. "I'm going to write and then go home and take care of this. I don't want to be in the Ministry while I'm in my mental architecture."

"That's fine. Take as long as you need," he said. "Do you need an escort to get somewhere?"

"No." Rachel just wanted to be out of the Department. She'd go to her Wizengamot office. Write there. Tell Booker she was away for the rest of the day to take care of something. Go home. Deal with the memory. And then take a long shower until she couldn't feel her skin crawling any longer.


On Friday, Rachel found herself sitting on a bench outside a Healer's office in Saint Mungo's. She was tapping her fingers restlessly against her knee as she tried to prepare herself for what she knew the Healer was going to say. She did not want to be doing this, but she also knew that she couldn't go on the way she was.

Before the accident she'd never really paid that much attention to her shoulders. They were just there, doing what they did. Now she was very aware of how moving her arm in different directions moved her shoulder and even just lifting her hand to cast was still twinging a little. Rachel was supposed that was the way life worked though - it was easy to take something for granted until something went wrong with it.

She had a decision to make. She could either undergo the procedure to regrow her scapula and deal with the damaged tissue around her shoulder, or she could carry on the way that she was. What her answer should be was obvious, but it was not what she wanted her answer to be. She'd much rather stick her head in the sand and pretend that her shoulder was fine.

Rachel jolted slightly as the door next to her opened and a Healer stepped out.

"Wizengamot Member Snow?" he asked, peering at her.

"Just Rachel, please," she said as she stood.

"Of course. I'm Healer Julius Peterson. Please come in," he said, motioning to the door.

Rachel followed him inside the exam room and then sat on the exam table when he nodded at her.

"It's been a little over a year since your injury?" Healer Peterson asked, looking over a file.

"About a year and two months." It had happened during a demonstration game about a month after the League Cup finale.

"Tell me why you're coming in now," he said, looking up to meet her gaze.

"I'm still in pain when I put any sort of pressure on my shoulder. I can't sleep on my left side. Flying causes pain that lasts for more than two weeks," she listed, feeling a little embarrassed. She didn't like complaining to people.

"May I do some diagnostics?" he asked, drawing his wand.

"Yes." Rachel sat, feeling the different spells as they interacted with her shoulder.

"You've been repeatedly aggravating your injury, there's a lot of damage here," he said after a few minutes, stepping away and tucking his wand back in his robes.

"I suppose so." She did not want to admit that she shouldn't have gone back for another year on the Harpies after her injury.

"Why have you waited so long before seeking help?"

Rachel pressed her lips together, biting down on the insides. "I'm nervous about being unconscious for an extended procedure," she finally said, though nervous did not really describe her feelings about it.

Healer Peterson sat down on his stool. "That's very common, most people are very nervous about undergoing such a procedure. I'll tell you that the Healers here take very good care of our patients. You will be safe and well cared for. You can speak with the team of Healers who will be doing the procedure beforehand. You can have your family with you while you are recovering and they will be there with you when you wake up. Do you have more specific concerns?"

She weighed what she was about to say, before deciding that it was important to her. "I'd like an auror with me while the procedure is ongoing. I have some concerns about my safety and I'd feel more comfortable if someone I trusted was in the room with me while I was unconscious."

"That can be arranged. I completely understand why you would have concerns about your security, especially under current circumstances. We've made such arrangements before, when Ministers or Chief Warlocks have had procedures," Healer Peterson said. "Do you have concerns about the procedure itself?"

Rachel did not particularly want the details of what they were going to do to her, her stomach was unsettled enough as it was. "What does the recovery period look like?"

"You'll want your shoulder fully immobile for a month, with weekly check ups so we can monitor the healing process. After that we'll keep you in a sling for another four to six weeks while you're doing controlled movements of your shoulder. Overall, you can expect to be back to moving your shoulder comfortably in about three months."

Three months was a long time. Did she have three months before the situation with the Death Eaters escalated? On the other hand, was it wise to leave her shoulder as it was and potentially have her shoulder be a target in combat? Other Seekers had learned they could take her out by aiming for her left side; it stood to reason that the Death Eaters could make the same connection.

"How soon could the procedure be done?" she asked, trying to coax herself toward actually agreeing to do this.

"I'll have to check the schedule, but by the end of the month at the latest," Healer Peterson said.

She took a moment to breathe in and out through her nose. She could do this. She'd endured much worse things in her life. "Alright. Let's make the appointments."