All for one

by midnightsstar9212

For you

54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

What remained of the Gaunt shack was pitiful at best, but the familiar magic Harry could sense protecting the place was sinister and oozed malicious intent.

This is all that remained of the Slytherin legacy.

It was a tragic tale, the decline of the Slytherin legacy. Once a family of power and influence, it had succumbed to the ravages of time. Generations of inbreeding, the squandering of wealth, and the descent into madness had reduced it to a mere shadow of its former self.

It had, and all that was left was a dilapidated shack and a megalomaniac who would soon perish.

Crossing the threshold of the property with his wand drawn, Harry readied himself for whatever lay within.

He knew where to find the ring and the unpleasant withering curse it had been imbued with, but Dumbledore, as ever, had not gone into detail about what other unpleasant surprises awaited anyone who came here.

Still, Harry had made his living by venturing into places most dared not, and this would be no different.

He was surprised, however, that Tom had chosen this place to hide one of his Horcruxes, given that his identity was known.

If anything, it served as a reminder of just how egotistical the man was and how untouchable he believed himself to be.

Harry had already proven that he wasn't such, and he would do so again in due course.

For now, his focus was on retrieving the fragment of soul hidden here, but he looked forward to the day that Tom Riddle was no more, in body and in spirit.

Reaching the front door, he idly acknowledged the decomposed remains of a snake that had been nailed to it; a threat or perhaps a warning.

Undeterred, he pushed it open, and the rusted hinges screeched in protest.

Footprints in the dust.

It was the first thing he noticed on the floor, which meant that Tom had only taken it upon himself to hide the Horcrux quite recently.

Harry nodded to himself as he used his wand to check for any hidden spells he'd rather not fall victim to, ensuring to scan the entirety of the room.

The was nothing save for what lurked beneath one of the floorboards, and though it would be easy to attribute the lack of protection to Tom's ego, it would undoubtedly lure some into a false sense of security.

Dumbledore had known who it was who'd laid the magic here, and he'd still been outwitted by the Dark Lord.

Harry would not, and as he pried the floorboard away from the others, not even the sudden influx of intoxicating magic invading his senses could overpower him.

Tom had never had much luck in getting Harry to do what he wanted, not with the Imperius Curse and certainly not the Compulsion Charm he'd placed on the ring.

Dumbledore had given in only because of his desire to possess the Stone, and that moment of weakness had cost him his life.

Harry harboured no such wish.

As useful and as powerful as the Hallows were, the risk in possessing them was not worth it.

The cloak only remained so because its secret had been closely guarded by generations of his own family, and the Stone had been lost.

The wand, however, did indeed have a bloody, violent history, and Harry was left in no doubt the others would share a similar story if not for them being so well hidden.

Opening the box, he looked upon the ring briefly before closing it.

Having gotten what he'd come for with little fanfare, Harry saw no reason to linger here.

Perhaps Tom would learn of its absence before he'd die, or not.

It truly didn't matter to Harry so long as Tom Riddle perished sooner rather than later.

"What's on your mind?"

"Huh?"

Amelia snorted amusedly at his incoherent reply.

"You've been staring at that piece of parchment for almost fifteen minutes. You've not even touched your breakfast."

"Sorry," Harry offered before taking a bite of his toast. "I'm just trying to start an example essay for Bellatrix."

"And you got distracted."

"I did," Harry chuckled.

Amelia hummed as she took a sip of her tea and reached across the table to take his hand.

"You got the ring," she pointed out. "As far as you know, it's only him left to deal with."

"And the diary," Harry sighed. "I wouldn't even know where to begin finding it."

"It doesn't matter even if you don't," Amelia assured him. "By the time this is over, not even those who have sided with him will want him back. Besides, I know you, Jameson. You'll do what needs to be done. Just look at what happened in Spain."

Amelia had not been impressed by their antics on the continent, though when Harry had explained what had happened, she'd proven to be as understanding as ever.

No matter what mess Harry found himself in, he could always count on the redhead for her support, even if she did think him to be quite mad in his own unique way.

"So, any thoughts on when you want to get married?" she asked, her eyes alight with amusement.

"Erm…"

"You've not even thought about it, have you?" Amelia accused. "You can't just propose to me and think you don't have to follow through," she chastised, a grin tugging at her lips.

"Erm…"

Amelia laughed as she shook her head.

"It's not like we've had much of a chance to give it any thought," she sighed, "but I mean it, Jameson. You better intend on marrying me, or I might find myself arranging a funeral instead."

Harry nodded as he chuckled, and Amelia stood and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Do try and have a day where you don't find yourself in trouble," she implored. "You know, I am surprised you've not been in custody in Britain."

"I'm smart enough not to get caught."

Amelia quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Remember when I said for you not to make me arrest you?"

Harry nodded.

"That still stands, Jameson. You might be my husband one day, but I would get more enjoyment than you could imagine seeing you in cuffs."

"Oh, I'll look forward to that," Harry returned with a wink.

Amelia could only shake her head.

"Don't push your luck," she warned, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Oh, and Edgar has invited us for dinner tomorrow night. Can you make it?"

"I can," Harry confirmed, "but it might be easier if you come to Hogwarts and cuff me."

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

Harry laughed as she left the room before turning his attention back to the parchment, doing his utmost not to be distracted by everything else happening in his life in a bid to get the essay written.

(Break)

"Here, drink this," Nicholas urged.

"What is it?" Harry asked, grimacing as the unpleasant aroma of the potion wafted under his nose.

"Just a tonic to help calm your magic," Nicholas explained. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Harry answered. "It's just causing problems whenever I even think about helping without being provoked."

Nicholas nodded thoughtfully.

"I have a theory," he mused aloud. "I'm guessing that the vow you took has been somewhat nullified by the incident that saw the two of you sharing blood. You are still bound to the vow by your magic, and that is why you are experiencing these symptoms."

"I thought the same thing," Harry huffed irritably. "It's 's something I could do without."

"But something you must live with. You are fortunate that you're able to help as much as you are. You got Black out of there."

"I'd rather not risk my life for the likes of her," Harry grumbled. "I won't forget that she supported Grindelwald so ardently."

"But it is Grindelwald who is helping you now. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Not in this case. Grindelwald will never be absolved of what he did, nor anyone who followed him. I saw what they did across the continent, Nicholas, and I won't forget it."

"You shouldn't," Nicholas agreed, "but you are facing a similar threat now. This consortium is not so transparent with its goals or what they have done, and that, in many ways, makes it even more dangerous. To the outside world, you are fighting an invisible war. None understand it, but the undercurrent of what is happening is being felt. Two Ministers dying within days of each other is noteworthy, and it is almost certain that there are those looking on in anticipation to what will happen next."

Harry shook his head.

"I still don't like it."

"I know," Nicholas comforted, "but when it is all over, you can return to normality with the peace that you've always wanted."

(Break)

Cassiopeia couldn't remember when she'd last set foot in Germany. It had been during the war some two-and-a-half decades prior, but when or why eluded her.

She remembered the state of the country back then.

The muggle world was in turmoil because of the German government, but as always, it was the people who suffered.

Few men could be seen on the streets, save for those who were a part of the war machine, but most had been sent to unfamiliar lands to fight for a cause they no longer believed in.

Cassiopeia didn't empathise much with the plight of her muggle counterparts, but the war had seen so much senseless death, and as history was wont to, it would only repeat itself when the memories of the horror faded.

Despite the significant damage sustained here, the Germans proved to be as efficient as ever in rebuilding their cities.

Still, the scars remained of what had happened, and the memory remained fresh.

For now, perhaps war amongst the muggles could be avoided for some time yet.

The same, however, could not be said for the magical population.

Britain again found itself in the midst of such, and even if they didn't know it, the magical world at large was playing host to its own struggle between what had become a few traitors and the not-insignificant power they wielded.

This time, many would likely agree that Cassiopeia found herself on the right side of the conflict, which was what brought her here.

What fruit her efforts would bear, she didn't know, but the man she sought would be an invaluable ally, as he had been to Gellert during his rise.

His help, however, would depend on whether or not he was still alive or if his interest lay in doing something that would benefit wizardkind at large.

Cassiopeia had her doubts, but Weber was all but impossible to understand.

Had the man turned his attention towards thwarting Gellert, the war could've been much more difficult to fight than it already had been.

Much like Gellert, Weber enjoyed chaos and thrived in it better than any Cassie had ever met.

It was a testament to his brilliance that the allied forces of the ICW had never even become aware of him and the part he'd played in much of Gellert's successes.

If he were amiable, he would indeed become quite the headache for Abernathy, Laurent, and the rest of their allies.

Arriving at a spot a short distance away from the German Ministry, Cassiopeia ensured that no one was paying too close attention to her as she left a few etchings on a nearby building.

Gellert's own mark was joined with a simple 'W' and a question mark.

If Weber were keeping abreast of what was happening in the world, it would be brought to his attention.

Cassiopeia did not know how that was so, but then again, no one did when it came to Weber.

The man simply knew things he had no business knowing, and if he couldn't find the information, then it didn't exist in the first place.

Such was his brilliance and the danger he posed.

When she was done, Cassiopeia did not remain where she was, choosing to leave Berlin as she idly wondered what Weber had been up to all these years.

It was likely that he'd found another purpose to focus on, and she hoped that it did not involve allying himself with Laurent and his ilk.

She shook her head at the troubling thought.

If that were true, Jameson and Evans would not have made it as far as they had with the few problems they had encountered.

(Break)

"What news do you have, Nott?" Voldemort asked as the man arrived.

He looked tired, and his voice was hoarser than usual when he spoke.

"He has been spending considerable time in the room of records and paying particular attention to portkey departures and arrivals."

The Dark Lord frowned.

He had several agents working within the Ministry, most of which being in the Department of Transportation, though he was beginning to recruit a number of Aurors who simply did not wish to be killed in the line of duty.

"Then he is getting too close to discovering things he should not," Voldemort declared.

"What would you have me do, my lord?"

"Kill him," Voldemort answered. "Take as many as you need to get it done, and ensure his body is found. Leave our symbol above where he is left. It won't take long for someone to discover him. It will also serve to send a message to the old fool. He should never have involved himself."

"Very well, my lord," Nott replied with a bow before taking his leave of the room.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair and nodded to himself.

It was easy enough to conceal his operation from the likes of Alastor Moody.

As an Auror, his followers knew to be careful around the man, but civilians were another matter entirely.

It would take only one slip of the tongue or a foolish mistake for them to be found out, and then, they would be rendered useless, leaving the Dark Lord without eyes and ears within the Ministry.

No, it was best the threat was eliminated before he became more of a burden.

(Break)

Diagon Alley remained devoid of life.

Only a few of the shop owners were courageous enough to keep their establishments open, but most had closed their businesses, some altogether, and others choosing to run an owl-order service.

It was rather eerie to walk the length of the street, and the presence of the dozen goblin guards standing vigil outside Gringotts only made it more so.

There was a handful of people milling around, and more Aurors than there were civilians.

It was telling of the times they lived in; he'd only come here to pass through on his way to the Ministry.

Having had a late night, he'd opted for an early lunch as he'd missed breakfast entirely.

It was close to sunrise when he'd made it home, and yet, he was already returning to the place he'd left what had only been a few hours prior.

The war was something he could do without.

Although he was a talented wizard in his own right and a gifted duellist, he was a businessman at heart, but he would not sit back and allow Tom Riddle to continue his campaign of terror.

One needed only to take a look at the state of any wizarding dwelling within Britain to see the effect the man was having.

With a shake of his head, he reached the apparation point and left Diagon Alley, arriving on a side street a short distance from the Ministry of Magic.

Despite not wanting to believe it, he knew that something was amiss within the government building.

Riddle was able to gather information too easily, and his ability to have giants and an enormous pack of werewolves enter the country, seemingly without detection, was concerning, to say the least.

It was suspicious, and although Alastor was doing an exceptional job uncovering what he could, he was limited by the fact that everyone within the building knew him well. The addition of his wooden leg certainly did not make for subtlety.

As such, Benjy had volunteered his services.

He had several friends in the various departments of the Ministry, and his presence would not provoke suspicion, though as he made his way across the atrium, he could not help but think that he was being watched closely.

Scanning the swathes of people passing by, none caught his attention, and he decided that he was perhaps being needlessly cautious.

It was understandable, given the paranoia that had gripped the company, but even when he was clear of the atrium, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had gripped him.

(Break)

Her sudden appearance in his homeland after more than twenty years had piqued his curiosity, and as he traced her path through the centre of Berlin, he could almost smell the floral perfume she'd always worn.

He made a point to keep tabs on people of interest, and though Cassiopeia Black had all but vanished after Grindelwald had been defeated, he'd ensured he was aware of her movements over the days.

Most curious was her recent activity.

She visited Grindelwald often, but Cassiopeia had also ventured to Britain, Belgium, and Spain, countries she seldom graced with her presence.

He found it odd that she would kill Fontaine and Espinosa, considering that they were once primed to become allies of Grindelwald, but with only a little reflection, it quickly became clear why she had done so.

The Serpent.

The infamous Hit-Wizard had been quelled during the war but had resurfaced in recent months and had even played his part in rescuing Black from the clutches of the Spanish government.

Something was afoot, and Weber had been expecting it would happen one day, though perhaps not so soon.

He suspected Jameson was responsible, but he would not pretend he had all the pieces of the puzzle.

Jameson and his sudden appearance was another curiosity that caught his interest, and as he arrived where Cassiopeia had left her mark for him to find, Weber nodded to himself thoughtfully.

Perhaps he would get the answers to the many questions he had sooner rather than later.

Nonetheless, until he had them, he would remain cautious.

It was his thorough nature that had kept him undetected during the war and throughout his life after.

Now, however, he may have just found his own next venture as, once again, his future seemed to be intertwined with some of the more interesting people that had appeared in his periphery over the years.

(Break)

Having spent another day in the Ministry of Magic with little to show for his efforts, it was a tired Benjy Fenwick who was leaving later than he'd intended. With each department much busier during the day, it was difficult to snoop in the files he wished to see, but listening into conversations was equally important, even if he seemed to learn next to nothing.

Still, he was hopeful that someone would slip up, that an off-hand comment would be made that would provide him with a firm suspect of who was passing information onto Riddle.

Someone was, or perhaps several.

It was almost impossible for the Dark lord to move his supporters in such a way without someone actively assisting the man from within the Ministry, or at the very least, turning a blind eye.

What was happening went beyond neglect of duty or simple incompetence.

No, there were agents within the Ministry, and Benjy was determined to find them.

Reaching the fireplaces, he huffed irritably as he found all of them to have been snuffed for the night, a measure Bagnold had introduced in her long list of restrictions.

Strictly speaking, he should've been home more than an hour ago now, but he always had an excuse to hand if necessary.

He could simply say he was having a business meeting that had run over or that he had been abroad and lost track of time.

He knew enough of the Aurors that they wouldn't probe too deeply into what he'd been doing.

With a shake of his head, he made his way towards the lift that would allow him to exit into muggle London.

From there, it was a short walk to The Leakey Cauldron, where he would be able to use the floo to take him home.

With winter approaching, it was a brisk evening, and Benjy shoved his hands in his pockets to stave off some of the chill in the air, keeping his head down as he walked towards Charing Cross.

He'd only covered the distance of a couple of streets when he felt the same peculiar sense that he was being watched, and though there were muggles around, none gave him the impression of being out of place.

Still, to throw off the scent of anyone paying too close attention to him, he took a turn into a nearby alley and then another before emerging back onto the main walkway, but the feeling remained.

It was unnerving, to say the least, and as he picked up the pace, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone following suit.

Realising that he was indeed being followed, he readied himself, though as he turned to face his assailant, he found himself quite alone.

Was he being paranoid?

Benjy would have sworn he'd heard another set of footsteps, but with no one in sight, he continued on his way with his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

"Evening, Tom," he said, feeling the relief wash over him as he entered the bar only a few moments later.

The smile he received in return was rather forced, but it was too late for Benjy to rectify the mistake he'd made.

Before he could even draw his wand, every would-be patron in the bar had aimed theirs at him, and Benjy only had time to release a humourless chuckle of defeat as dozens of spells slammed into him.

(Break)

"Congratulations!" Eliza gushed as Harry and amelia entered the dining room of Bones Manor.

The woman all but crushed Amelia in her arms, and the redhead blushed as her sister-in-law squealed at the sight of the ring.

"You seem surprised that I'm getting married."

"I am," Eliza said unashamedly. "I never thought I would see the day that there was a man you would agree to marry. You've always been so…"

"Selective?"

"I was going to say picky."

Edgar snorted as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"She didn't give you too much difficulty, did she?"

"Damn near ripped the thing out of my hand," Harry chuckled.

"I did not!" Amelia denied. "You can always have it back."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her and held his hand out expectantly.

Amelia glared at him before shaking her head.

"Don't play games with me, Jameson," she warned. "You don't want to start married life on my bad side."

Harry merely grinned at her in response.

"Well, she didn't curse you," Edgar said amusedly. "Our Amelia has always been quite handy with the curses if you annoy her."

"I wouldn't want a reputation for abusing my husband," Amelia returned with a shrug. "You are another matter."

Edgar held his hands up innocently.

"Did I tell you how much of a favour you're doing for me by marrying my sister?" he asked Harry.

"That's why you offered me such a large dowry," Harry replied thoughtfully. "I should've asked for double."

"You never mentioned a dowry," Amelia interjected with a frown.

Harry offered her a grin.

"It's the pureblood way, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Well, Harry didn't take any gold," Edgar assured her, "but I insisted on paying for the wedding. Have you decided when you're going to have it?"

"We've not really spoken of it much," Amelia answered. "We've been busy."

"Well, I suppose we know what the dinner conversation will be," Edgar sighed, nodding towards his wife.

Eliza was all but trembling with excitement at the prospect of speaking of weddings, and Amelia rolled her eyes.

"Would you like to help me with what I need to do?"

Eliza squealed again, and Amelia gasped as the air was squeezed from her lungs.

"Any regrets yet?" Edgar asked Harry.

"None whatsoever."

(Break)

With the school year in full swing once more, Albus found himself as busy as ever. Fortunately, he'd not needed to find any new staff, a mercy he was grateful for, but the usual mountain of work remained the same.

Still, he wouldn't give up his job for anything, even if his duties were regularly interrupted.

"Alastor," he greeted the grizzled Auror as the man's head appeared in the fireplace. What can I do for you?"

The man was paler than usual, and he seemed to be lost for words for a moment before he managed to find his voice.

"It's Benjy, Albus."

"Benjy? What's wrong with Benjy?"

"He's dead, Albus," Moody said grimly. "Murdered, and we can guess who by."

Albus was taken aback.

Of all the things Alastor could've told him, the death of one of the members of the group was not something he expected.

"Murdered?" Albus whispered.

"Aye, brutally."

Albus swallowed deeply and took a moment to let the news sink in.

"What happened, Alastor?"

The Auror released a deep sigh.

"He was ambushed in The Leakey Cauldron, and his body was dumped outside the Owl Emporium with Riddle's mark above it. The owner of the shop is dead, and Tom from the pub is in St Mungo's," Alastor explained. "The Healers aren't sure if he'll make it."

Albus was lost for words.

He knew it had been a risk forming the group to intercept Tom's attacks and to gather information to help end the war, but he'd not expected it to result in cold-blooded murder.

"Any suspects?" he asked sadly.

Alastor shook his head.

"With the amount of magic saturating the place, we couldn't pick up any independent traces. I'm guessing he was noticed snooping around the Ministry."

Albus nodded his agreement.

"Very well, I will call a meeting to inform the others, and from now on, we must be much more cautious in what we are doing."

"Aye, well, I thought I would let you know. I will do my best to find out who did it, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Want me to send for the others?"

Albus shook his head.

"No, I will do it shortly," he murmured. "Thank you for informing me, Alastor."

With that, Moody vanished from within the fireplace and Albus released a deep breath in a bid to calm himself.

He was deeply saddened by what had happened, and though Benjy had known the risk of what he was doing, the man had not deserved sauch a fate.

Tom truly needed to be stopped before any more damage was caused, but as ever when it came to his former student, it was much easier said than done.

(Break)

It warmed his heart to see Amelia so enthusiastic as she and Eliza were discussing the ins-and-outs of what she would like for her wedding. It wasn't that Edgar thought his sister never wanted marriage, or to start a family of her own, but it had never seemed to have been a priority for her, not until she'd met Jameson.

Amelia had changed since the man had come into her life, well, not changed exactly, but she'd regained a spark she'd lost when their parents had died.

Edgar remembered the vivacious, funny little redhead who'd gone out of her way to make his life hell at times when they'd been children, but after what had happened, she'd become focused only on justice and had lost much of herself along the way.

With Jameson, she seemed to have found it once again, and there was nothing more that Edgar could have hoped for.

"I never thought I'd see the day that she'd be talking about flowers and dress colours for her bridesmaids," he snorted amusedly.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him from across the table, evidently having heard his comment.

He merely offered her a wave in response before turning his attention back to Harry.

"It's not that surprising to me," the man chuckled. "I've seen her dressed up, and when she's not wearing her Auror robes, she's… no, she's just as terrifying," he corrected amusedly.

Edgar nodded his agreement.

"She's damned quick with her wand, and since she's met you, even more vicious."

Harry grinned proudly.

"Good," he declared.

Edgar could only shake his head.

He knew that Harry had killed several men and had likely done other things that would make most balk, but Edgar had gotten to know him well enough over the years to know that Amelia was in good hands.

Still, although his sister was a grown woman, there was a part of him that couldn't separate who she was now to the little girl he'd raised, and he still felt a keen protectiveness of her.

"Harry…"

"I will protect her with my life, Edgar," the man broke in reassuringly, as though he'd read Edgar's mind.

"I know."

In truth, Edgar didn't need to hear the words to know that Harry would, but he took comfort in them, nonetheless.

"Is that the floo?" Eliza asked with a frown as a chime sounded throughout the room.

Edgar nodded.

"Excuse me," he murmured as he took his leave of the dining room and entered his study a short distance away. "Albus, what I can do for you?"

The headmaster's expression was grave, and Edgar immediately felt a sense of concern wash over him.

"There's been an incident, Edgar," the man said gravely. "Are you able to join the rest of us for a meeting?"

"I have Harry and Amelia here," Edgar explained. "We are having a dinner to celebrate their engagement."

"Engagement?" Albus asked, surprised by the revelation. "Well, that is most welcome news. Perhaps I can visit with you in the morning and explain what has happened elsewhere? I wouldn't want to ruin your night."

Edgar frowned deeply but nodded.

He did not wish to have his evening ruined either, and with the rest of the group there to assist Dumbledore, whatever news he had could wait until the morning.

"Of course. I can come to you at nine am."

"Thank you, Edgar," the man offered before vanishing, leaving Edgar to wonder what had happened to have shaken Dumbledore in such a way.

Still, he would learn all he needed to come the morning.

Tonight, however, was a celebration, despite what news awaited him when he woke.

(Break)

"It is done, my lord," Nott informed him tiredly.

Voldemort nodded as he stared into the flames.

He was pleased that his followers had been successful, but one less of Dumbledore's group was barely a scratch on the surface of what he needed to overcome.

Dumbledore…the Ministry…Jameson… The Serpent….

His enemies were plenty, and though Fenwick's demise was a welcome development, he needed more.

"Who is next on the list?" he asked.

"Next, my lord?"

"One is not enough, Nott."

The man frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, Meadowes is one of the more dangerous enemies," he mused aloud, "but it may take you to kill her, my lord. She will not be as easy as Fenwick."

"Then make the arrangements and I will be there when needed," the Dark Lord assured the man, waving him off in a gesture of dismissal.

Nott left and Voldemort continued to stare into the flames.

Now that he was on the cusp of gaining some true momentum, his campaign would pick up steam, and the more of his enemies who fell, the closer he would come to crushing Britain beneath his mighty heel.

(Break)

It was the sound of approaching heels that pulled Gellert from his thoughts as he was observing the moon outside the small window of his cell.

"You should be resting," He chastised Cassiopeia lightly.

"I intend to," the woman replied. "I left the mark this morning. I suppose we wait to see if he even sees it."

"If he is alive, he will see it."

Cassiopeia did not seem convinced.

"What if he doesn't?"

"Then Jameson and Evans will have to make do without Weber," Gellert sighed.

"Can they do it?"

Gellert nodded.

"Alone, I do not think so, but together, it is possible. It will not be easy but I have learned to have faith in them, and I suspect you might too. They took quite the risk rescuing you."

"I still don't know why they did."

"Because deep down, they are good men who do not wish to see people suffering needlessly. It is their morals that urged them to act when you needed them. For some, it is a weakness to be such a way, but for them, it compliments them."

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"I hope I don't owe either a life debt."

"I think you would know if you did," Gellert pointed out. "Go home and rest, my dear. Tomorrow is a new day, after all, and you are lucky that you will see it."

The woman said nothing as she took her leave of Nurmengard and Gellert returned to his vigil of watching the moon.

He'd lost count of how many times he'd watched it wax and wane over the years, but the novelty of it had never worn off.

"You wished to see me."

The voice startled Gellert and he turned to see the familiar though worn face of a man he'd not seen in more than twenty years.

"I see that you have not lost your ability to go unnoticed," he commented.

Weber merely offered him a tight nod.

"It is what I do, Gellert."

"Indeed. Are you aware of what is happening around us?"

"That depends on what you mean. There is much happening around us."

"Laurent."

Weber nodded.

"I know of him, his cohorts, and their ambitions."

"The Serpent."

Weber's expression darkened at the mention of the man.

"What about Jameson?"

"Ah, now he is a curious one," Weber replied, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Just as curious as the Serpent."

"He is," Gellert acknowledged. "More than even you know."

"Is that so?"

Gellert offered the man a grin.

It was not often that he could profess to know something Weber didn't, and yet, he felt no urge to reveal Jameson's secrets, not unless it became absolutely necessary.

"What is it you want from me, Gellert? You cannot believe your cause has any traction left."

Gellert chuckled.

"No, I am aware it doesn't, but Laurent and his ilk have become a problem."

Weber frowned and gestured for him to continue.

"Jameson and Evans are the best hope of putting a stop to them."

"And you wish for me to assist them?"

The man was surprised.

"This is most unlike you," he mused aloud. "You enjoy the chaos Laurent could bring to the world."

"No," Gellert denied. "Not that kind of chaos."

Weber chuckled humourlessly. As he turned his back on Gellert.

"I will think about it."

"Think about it?"

Weber nodded.

"I will," he murmured. "For now, you should perhaps warn them that Abernathy has sent his very best men to kill them, and Berg's men will be assisting them. Failure is not an option for them, so they will come with everything they have."

"How do you know that?"

Weber said nothing as he made his exit, his footsteps as eerily as silent as ever.