Fate

by TheTrueSpartan

When Ron discovers that he can see the future, his entire fate is thrown off of its course. A story about adventure, friendship, growing up, and pushing forward through hardships. This story will get darker as it progresses, just like the original Harry Potter novels. It will cover all Seven Years of Hogwarts, but mostly from Ron's perspective. No Mary Sues, no Character bashing.

167. Chapter 167 - Master and Apprentice

WARNING!

This chapter contains grotesque descriptions of sexual violence against both adult characters, and child characters! Please, be warned, and proceed at your own discretion!

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not intend to make any money off of this. Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling , and I take no credit of it whatsoever.

I was also inspired by Demon Eyes Laharl's: THE RED KNIGHT! and also from Random-Fruitcake04's: CHOICES! I hope you check them out as well because they are genuinely very good stories.

There's also a few more Ron fics out there that are on point! They're called 'There and Back Again' by Chuchi Otaku, 'Stay Standing' by Windschild8178, 'Scala ad Caelum' by GRND (criminally underated story, so go give it some love), and 'Cooking Like a Bachelor' by Avatar Vader. Please, go check 'em out! You won't regret it, spread the Ron love, people!

P.S: Starway Man is a chad! (I'm never removing this)

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Fate

Chapter 167 – Master and Apprentice

Ronald Weasley's POV

Sunday 11th July, 1994 (The Chamber of Secrets – Midday)

The cobblestones had done a lot more damage than he'd intended, but, in a strange sort of way, he was glad for it. The pain pulsating throughout his body was sharpening his focus, his attention was once again fixated on what really mattered. His mission, his undying duty to protect the weak and cull the wicked, was at the forefront of his mind, again. But there's more, isn't there? Why was I so surprised by Percy's decision? So disheartened? It makes sense, in so many ways, and I'd be a fool to deny that associating with me is dangerous. Why, then? Why did it hurt so much? Why was I so angry with him for making a wise decision? Am I that petty? That starved for affection from at least one member of my family? This… cannot be allowed. I can't be so easily compromised, not when so many depend on me. Percy did what all people do, he chose what makes him happy and gives him purpose. Am I really so different? I don't think so.

Standing in nothing but his boxers, his eyes closed as to better help him with his Occlumency, Ron pinpointed each part of his body that was damaged. Most of my face, my right shoulder, my ribs, my lower back, my right knee, and my right foot. Oh, and my right forearm, but there's nothing I can do about that particular injury. The landing could've been better managed, honestly, and yet, it's not like I'll get to choose which parts of my body get hurt during actual combat. This is a blessing, this pain, and I'll make good use of it.

He drew in a ragged breath, using his eldritch powers to increase his muscle mass and size, his skin stretching to compensate for his larger frame. Hm, odd… The pain lessened, for some reason. It's still there, but it's been weakened. Why? He still had so many questions regarding his own changed physiology, and this time around, he planned to figure out the answers, even if it took him years. But, right now, I need to focus on the Spell. C'mon, old boy, remove the distractions. Once again, his Occlumency proved itself to be his greatest asset, removing any, and all, thoughts that weren't pertinent to what he was trying to accomplish. A Lotus Flower blooming, picture it in your mind's eye.

Both his hands began to glow golden, the feeling of pins and needles spreading all the way up to his shoulders. As expected, the Spell is stronger from the get-go due to my enhanced body. Good. Keep up the momentum. He willed the Magic to spread upwards from his hands, providing great relief as it climbed and climbed, until it finally reached his shoulders, the golden glow now pushing away the darkness around him. It's working! Push on! Spreading the Magic down to his chest, and beyond, proved more difficult, but with sheer will, he overcame the struggle, feeling his cracked ribs heal completely within mere moments. I… can do more… Cutis Terra! He managed to preserve the Healing Spell, even as his body became as hard as steel, which swiftly eased the growing pressure of maintaining the original Spell. Up to my head, now. Go. The glow continued spreading through him, traveling up his neck before covering the entirety of his head. The pain was soon conquered, much to his pride, allowing him a moment to appreciate how good it felt to breathe through his nostrils rather than his mouth. His entire upper body was now glowing, illuminating even the Chamber's darkest corners, but the pressure grew too difficult to handle, and Ron was forced to let go of the Spell before it caused a different form of injury. …Merlin's cock, that was… intense…

Breathing heavily, Ron rolled his neck and shoulders, noticing that there was no pain whatsoever. My right leg is still hurting badly, but there's no way I could've healed it. Still, I've never managed to maintain that Spell for so long, not to mention spreading it so far past my hands. This is excellent progress, it really is! Deciding that he'd earned a break, Ron turned to walk back to his bed, only to spot Marty staring at him in awe and wonder, Custard tucked safely in his thin arms.

"And you were fretting about me jumping off that building, begging me to go to St. Mungo's," Ron smirked, sticking his nose up. "I know what I'm about, mate, so let this be a lesson. Don't ever doubt me, again." Limping, he returned to his bed, planting his arse down and letting out a sigh of relief. "Fetch me a mirror, I want to see the results."

Marty swiftly did as he was bid, but when he reached Ron, his awe had been replaced with concern. …There's that look, again… "Master does not fool Marty."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron frowned, taking the mirror. "I told you before I went to see Percy, didn't I? I wanted to heal my own injuries, but your constant mewling convinced me otherwise. I have to master this Spell, Marty, it could save my life out there, and I can't do that unless I'm injured to begin with."

Marty said nothing in response, merely looking heartbroken as he returned to caring for his pet. …Whatever. Go mope somewhere else. I don't need this shit. Using the mirror, Ron scanned every area that was bruised, scratched, or bleeding, and much to his satisfaction, he looked as good as new. Fucking hell, what a Spell! How could such Magic just fall through the cracks? How much knowledge has been lost to us over the years, simply because it's difficult to implement? Putting the mirror away, he looked down at his muscled legs, grimacing at the state of them. A few more minutes to catch my breath, and then, I'll heal them too. I need to become so proficient with this Spell that I can cast it all over my body within a second. I doubt my enemies will just wait for me while I spend a minute standing about like some prick.

---

Sunday 11th July, 1994 (The Headmaster's Office – Evening)

"It seems unwise to me, Albus," Snape continued, while Ron munched away at his bread and cheese. "The Triwizard Tournament will compromise this castle's security, and the Dark Lord… He will take advantage of that. The more I think on it, the more I come to believe that we'd be better off without hosting this ridiculous spectacle." This is good cheese. And the bread… Freshly baked, isn't it? So good. "Ron, you agree with me, don't you?"

"You're just mad that you'd never be chosen as the Champion of Hogwarts," Ron grinned, always eager to push the man's buttons.

The Headmaster chuckled under his breath, whereas Snape adorned a grim expression. "Take this seriously, boy! And put away that plate! You've eaten enough!"

"I'm just saying…" Ron shrugged, his grin growing. "…You'd never get picked between us three."

"And, let me guess, dear boy, you would," Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think not."

"Don't take the bait, Albus," Snape sneered. "I don't have time for-"

"I would too," Ron laughed, as if it were obvious. "You think you'd be picked over me, old man? You, and your Quaffle-sized prostate? Get out of here with that!"

Snape let out a frustrated sigh, gritting his teeth. "…Every single time…"

"My Quaffle-sized prostate?" Dumbledore repeated, losing his mirth. "You go too far, Rona-"

"How many times a night do you wake up to take a piss, hm?" Ron asked, stalling the greatest wizard of all time. "Well? Go on, tell us."

Dumbledore shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "So… Severus, you were saying that we should-"

"He's ignoring the question!" Ron laughed, gratified to get one over the old wizard. "I got him good this time, didn't I?!"

Snape looked Dumbledore up-and-down with disgust marring his pallid face, much to the old wizard's discomfort. "…Perhaps, Albus, a visit to Poppy is in order?" What?!

Ron nearly fell out of his chair, laughing like a hyena. This is golden! The Phoenix-King, everyone! The saviour of the Wizarding World!

"…My highest number is six…" Dumbledore admitted pathetically, removing his half-moon spectacles. "Time, my friends, is no man's ally."

As Ron wheezed and tried to regain his composure, Snape decided to move the conversation along. "There is still time to convince the Minister to pull out of the deal."

"She will not listen," Dumbledore stated matter-of-factly. "To pull out now would paint her as weak and indecisive, and, I fear, her pride will only push her onwards should I bring up our doubts."

"Why don't we get her to station a couple of Aurors at the school?" Ron suggested, finally having recovered. "There'll be Officials here, right? From Magical France and Magical Scandinavia? Ask them for some Aurors, too. I'm sure the Minister will help if you remind her of the Dark Lord's hard-on for Harry."

"The idea has occurred to me, already," Dumbledore said, stroking his flawless beard. "Speaking of Harry, Remus has informed me that he's made great strides as a wizard these past few months. He can now conjure a corporeal Patronus, and keep it under control." That's good. I'm glad he's not just fucking around. "With the Prophecies compromised, however, I feel that it would be wise to keep Harry away from the war, until he is better prepared to participate. He will serve us far better as a mascot, rather than a soldier." Snape and Ron exchanged looks, before nodding their agreement. He's just a kid. It's fucked up that the Dark Lord has already infected him. "I will discover a method to undo the Horcrux Magic, in the meanwhile, for both of you."

"If it's even possible," Ron said offhandedly. You'll probably have to do us both in. Poor Harry, what a shit hand he's been dealt.

"Do not lose hope, Ronald," Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. "I will search every corner of the Earth, if I must."

"This plan is all well and good, but have you forgotten that you've already invited the brat into the Order?" Snape pointed out. "Do you think he'll just let you sideline him, now? No… He's like a dog with a bone, and all three of us know it." Me most of all, yeah. I kind of like that about him, though. I didn't, at first, but his determination is something I wish my own friends had.

"I can control Harry, be assured of that," Dumbledore chuckled, undeterred. "He has much to learn, as I'm sure he already knows."

"I doubt it," Snape said sceptically, holding back whatever insult that was brewing on the tip of his tongue. "Can we move on from this? The International Confederation of Wizards is meeting soon, I hear. Is this true?"

"Yes, I finally managed to organise an emergency meeting," Dumbledore confirmed. "Most Ministers will be attending, as well as many Ministry Officials. My reluctance to share what the meeting was about has resulted in many rumours, I'm afraid."

"When's this meeting, then?" Ron asked, leaning forward. "Can I sneak one of my people in? From the Quibbler?"

"I'll see what I can do," Dumbledore agreed. Good, we can't let the Daily Prophet be the only publication reporting on this story. "It will take place on the Friday after the upcoming one, on the twenty-third, in Magical Italy. The Italian Minister insisted on playing the host, delaying the entire process."

"Ambitious attention-seeker?" Ron asked, and the old wizard gave a nod. How surprising. "Have you figured out what you're going to say?"

"Are you asking if I'm going to share the truth? No, Ronald… I must play the fool, as this news will shake the foundation of politics the world over," Dumbledore sighed out. "The fact that we didn't learn of this revelation until just now is extremely alarming. All Prophecy-Keepers must have been compromised by the Entity-"

"The Star of Madness," Ron corrected. "The Entity is the being in my head, but it is 'only a drop from an endless ocean' when compared to the real thing, which remains trapped inside a star in a desolate Universe."

"…Of course…" Snape muttered under his breath, visibly unnerved.

"…Yes, the Star of Madness," Dumbledore did a better job of keeping a straight face, though his voice had grown soft and distant. "Ronald, my boy, you seem far too at ease given the situation. Why?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Ron asked in response, chuckling. Haven't we discussed this, already? "Panic? Pull my hair out? Nah… If the Star is here, it's because it's searching for little old me, and, in my experience, it's just better to ignore whatever these 'Gods' are up to. It's not like I can do anything about it, right? Plus, I'm certain Fate will keep me safe, seeing as I'm her favourite son. The Star can suck my taint ever-so-succulently, for all I care." Fuck that thing, fuck Fate, and fuck those Prophecy-Keepers. I'm not going out because of any of these bastards! Only I get to kill me!

"Fate's favourite son?" Dumbledore repeated, his brow creasing. …What?

"I said tool, Headmaster."

"No, you said son," Snape gave him an odd look, full of apprehension. Did I?

"…Must have been a slip of the tongue," Ron shrugged, not really bothered. Why not son? She made me who I am, didn't she? Her and the Entity? My holiest mother and my unholiest father! And me! Their cunt of a son! "Just do your best, Headmaster, and, if you can, get those Prophecy-Keepers thrown in dungeons. If the Star has gotten to them, they're a threat. I don't know what sort, exactly, but a threat, nonetheless."

"If they're anything like Professor Saul Croaker, they'll need a hospital, not a dungeon," Dumbledore mused, before looking to Snape. "Any word from Luka?"

"None," the Potions Master said dully. "He's probably still recovering from his withdrawal." Ah, yes. The greatest Russian Auror of all time, and it turns out that he's just a lowly drug-addict. Aren't we just so lucky? "Magical Russia is far away, though, so he might've sent word that hasn't reached me yet."

"You have a Portkey, don't you? One that leads right to their camp?" Ron pointed out. "Just go there and check." Why are you being lazy?

"Ronald is right," Dumbledore agreed. "I know you are displeased with Luka, and his shortcomings, but you must remain on top of this. There can be no mistakes, not right now. Tom's power is only growing, and we must challenge him before it is too late."

Snape gave a soft nod, frowning to himself. "…I will go."

"If it bothers you so much, send me, instead," Ron volunteered, smiling innocently. "I'll make sure they're in tip-top shape, I will." I'll start by gutting one of them, just to set an example. Their fuckup with Alexie has cost us dearly, and their plan… What the fuck were they thinking? Where was the strategy? Where was common fucking sense?

"When I have need of your… talents… I will let you know," Snape said simply. "If there is nothing more to discuss, I'll be on my way. It is almost time for Draco's lesson."

"He'll make a fine Potions Master, someday," Ron joked, whereas Dumbledore smiled proudly at Snape.

"Perhaps, he will," Snape said, already heading for the fireplace. "Send Fawkes should you need me."

Once they were alone, the old man turned his attention to Ron, his eyes twinkling, again. "So… The Centaurs… How did it end with them? I'm most curious."

"Oh, that?" Ron grinned, leaning back. "Eh, I don't know… Such an epic tale will cost you more of that cheese, I reckon."

"I'm certain that can be arranged, my boy."

---

An Epic Tale Later

"What choice did she have but to agree?" Ron asked, sniggering. "See? Unlike you, I don't give the worms a choice but to submit to my will! If she had defied me, I'd have smashed her fucking skull in! And, then, I'd have turned my fury on those who followed her! She knew she had no choice but to toss her pride aside, I made sure of that!" I'm overexaggerating, aren't I? I liked Argenope. She is a tough, strong leader. If I had been forced to kill her, I'd have hated myself for it. She fought me to the very end, and not for herself, but for the honour of her people. What an exceptional leader, she is. Zotair was a fool for not seeing her for what she is.

Dumbledore nodded to himself, his expression unreadable. "What a shame that it had to come to that." What a shame? Yeah, it is a shame! You lot are to blame, though, not me! "You did well, Ronald. I'm very proud." Proud? Despite me resorting to such violence?

Ron blinked, somewhat taken aback. Dad didn't look proud, he looked scared. They all did. "…It's nothing, rea-…"

"No, it is a prodigious triumph," Dumbledore smiled, his pride unmissable. "Chief Argenope was on the road to ruin, and you dragged her off of it. You did exceptionally well, my boy." I did? You mean that? "Every day, you make me so very proud of you." …You keep saying that…

Ron blushed, not knowing what to say. "…Thanks, Sir." I made him proud? Good. I'm glad. Making him proud is a great feat-…

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you," Dumbledore continued, looking thoughtful. "You know, many Centaur related issues came to my doorstep during my time as Chief Warlock, and I…" he trailed off. You hoped people would make the right choice? That they would show understanding and reasoning, rather than hate and suspicion? You should've done more to make them, especially when people like Umbridge sat on the Wizengamot.

"Why didn't you step in?" Ron asked, despite knowing the answer, already. "Headmaster… Was it really worth it? Hiding from your power up here?"

"It wasn't… I see that, now," Dumbledore confessed, nodding to himself. "I regret that you must step in, now, because I chose not to. You could've been killed, my friend. A single misstep could've cost you your life, and all because I was weak and afraid. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry." …And he ruined it…

"Um… Don't do that…" Ron shifted in his seat; he really didn't like pointless whining. "…You're ruining my story with your regrets." I choked out a Centaur! C'mon! I even gave a grand speech, like you would've! I was fucking brilliant! Let's discuss that, instead!

"I am, aren't I?" Dumbledore realised, chuckling in an apologetic manner. "Forgive me, but, as I said, time is no man's ally. It should've been me who tackled such dire issues, not you. I feel that I am responsible for so many of your hardships, and-"

"Do I need to call Professor Snape back?" Ron cut in. "Why do you get like this when it's just us? I was telling you of my victory, and you start moaning at me like some sad cunt?! Stop it." …I don't want to hear you say these things, especially because your regrets don't mean shit to me. They do nothing to change the state of the Wizarding World. Nothing at all. "Headmaster, please… I know you've changed, okay? I don't blame you…"

"Don't you?"

Ron averted his gaze, before putting his plate away. "…Maybe… I don't know… Look, I know all about your sister, okay? How that entire shitshow changed you… I'm not saying that you're not at fault, but you wanted people to come to their senses without forcing them, right? You wanted them to learn from the past, but they didn't do that."

"So, you blame us all?" Dumbledore asked, making him frown. What is your problem?! What do you want me to say?! "I wouldn't blame you if you did, Ronald."

"…You know what? I do," Ron said, losing all his excitement and joy. "Is that what you want to hear? What the fuck, old man? We were having a laugh just a minute ago! What's your problem?!"

"My problem?"

"Why are you ruining this for me?! I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad! You fucking asked for the story! I just-…" he stopped abruptly, remembering the disturbed look on Daphne's face. I scared her, didn't I? I know I did, because I wanted to, just so she'd finally understand that I'm not playing around. As useful a piece as she could potentially become, I'll happily destroy her if she follows her parents' footsteps. She'll become just another file I stash away. "…I did what had to be done, and I don't blame anyone but Sebastian Greengrass."

Dumbledore stared at him, for almost a minute, before speaking, again. "What else happened, my boy?" For fuck's sake!

"…Nothing."

"You know you can tell me about it, don't you? I would never betray your trust."

"Nothing happened, okay?!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "There was a battle, I won, and the Centaurs realised I was not a man to be fucked with! I put an end to a struggle a decade old! I did what had to be done, without losing myself to my anger! Why does there have to be more?!" Shaking his head, he shot out of his seat. "I'm going to go… You're always looking for an angle, aren't you? Can't you just listen for once?"

The Headmaster raised his hands in surrender, before gesturing him to sit down, again. "Forgive me, I let my own insecurities get the better of me. In my experience, such victories rarely come without cost." Cost?

"Imagine if the Minister found out that I knew about your 'dealings' with the Centaurs?! She'd toss me in Azkaban, in a cell right next to yours!" Percy's voice echoed in his head, full of accusation and dread. It did cost me, didn't it? But there's no point in lamenting. He made his decision, and it's one I can understand now that pain has washed away the fog. He worked so hard to make his dreams a reality, and I ended up getting in the way without even realising it.

"Ronald? You've fallen silent, my boy," Dumbledore said, still staring at him. …What would I be without Percy? I still remember sitting at his feet, absorbing his knowledge as if it were gospel. The others laughed at me, doubted me, but he took me under his wing. Him and Charlie both.

Ron sat down, deflating. "…You have a brother, don't you?"

Dumbledore blinked, before giving a nod. "I do, yes."

"You and he don't get along, anymore, right?"

"No… No, we do not, but it is my fault," Dumbledore admitted, studying Ron carefully. "He blamed me for Ariana's death, as I told you, and I agree with him."

"How long ago was that?" Ron asked. "Several decades? You two never bothered to make up?" If that's the case with him, what chance do I have to make up with anyone before I die? Do I even want to? Wouldn't it just be better for everyone if I died out of sight and out of mind?

"I tried, a few times, but he would not listen," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I suppose, it's because I never forgave myself, so he had very little reason to."

"The Sages… The vision they trapped you in…" Ron started, knowing that it was a touchy subject. "You told us that you saved your sister, and you didn't seek vengeance on those Muggle boys. You're not the wizard who was enamoured with a lowlife, anymore. You're not the wizard who held contempt in his heart for his family, anymore. You've changed, and your brother deserves to see that."

"What is your point, Ronald?"

"Tell him," Ron suggested, shrugging. "You're not in my shoes, Headmaster. You keep secrets because you choose to, whereas I keep them because the truth would scar others like I've been scarred. What's gained by this distance between you and your only kin? Would Ariana really want such a thing?" I don't think she would. I think, she loved you. Why else would she jump into that deadly Duel? She was trying to protect her brothers.

This time, it was the old man who averted his gaze, lost for words. "…It's not so simple, my friend."

"It is for you," Ron stated. "You're just scared that he might not forgive you, even after all this time." Stop letting fear hold you back, already. Stop being pathetic.

The old wizard mulled over the Slytherin's sage advice, a comfortable silence falling between them. Maybe, I shouldn't be giving advice about family? I mean, the mere thought of being around my own family vexes me. Yeah, this is hypocritical of me, and I don't even know why I'm doing it. Why now? Is it because of the divide that's formed between Percy and me? Am I trying to project my own feelings onto the old man? Hm… Getting these sorts of answers was easier with Madam Pomfrey's help, I can't deny that.

"I'm going to go train," Ron stood up, again. "Take care, Headmaster."

The old wizard said nothing in response, lost in his own thoughts. Still, I hope he does make peace with his brother. He deserves far more than he's got. He deserves kinship after all these years alone.

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Monday 12th July, 1994 (Savoy Hotel Berlin – Early Morning)

"Do you think the Minister knows?" Mary asked, sipping her coffee.

"By now, yes," Sebastian nodded. "If she hasn't figured it out for herself, then someone will have told her. The companies, and aliases, we used to buy those ingredients are connected to us, in one form or another. She has great experience in following trails, and we'd be fools to underestimate her."

"Then, it is only a matter of time before you are summoned by her, love," his wife stated, a hint of displeasure seeping into her voice.

"I will see her when I choose to," Sebastian smirked. "I am not some mutt to be summoned by the likes of her. First, we save your mother, then we deal with the Minister."

"Good," Mary smiled from behind her cup. "I can't have you distracted, husband."

"You are distraction enough, my love."

Mary pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at his blatant plagiarism. "…I'll let that one go, because I am in a generous mood this morning."

"That one was one of my own," Sebastian lied.

"I read 'Closed Minds, Open Hearts' before you did, remember?" She did? Damnit…

"Why the generous mood?" Sebastian quickly changed the subject, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment.

"Your performance these last few days has been nothing short of exceptional." Oh, really? "And your vitality, too."

He smiled; she always knew how to stroke his ego better than anyone else. But she never does it without purpose. "Is this the part where you follow up your compliment with a request I won't like?"

Mary blinked, before smiling like the cat that had devoured the canary. "Am I so predictable?"

"We've been together for a long time, my love," Sebastian reminded her. "Go on. I'm listening."

"The ingredients we've purchased, we could use them to broker a peace with Ron." …What? "The Werewolf Sanctuary is in constant need of more Wolfsbane Potions, and our gift could solve that issue for many years to come."

Sebastian clicked his tongue, losing his mirth. "…Is this why you came up with the plan in the first place? Not to take steps to counter the coming taxes, and aid your husband, but to give even more power to Ron? Why don't we just buy him a crown, and a throne made of solid gold, while we're at it? It would be cheaper, at the very least."

"It is because he is powerful that we should make peace with him," Mary advised, putting her cup away. "Husband, his influence extends far wider than our own, now, and he has carved out a corner in our daughters' hearts. When I came up with this plan, I did it for the same reason I do anything, to empower this family, but I will not lie that the idea of making peace with Ron came early to me. We can afford the taxes, but we can't afford to have an enemy who holds Dumbledore's ear." …That is true… In America, both Dumbledore and Snape were there. They are in an alliance of some sort, it's not even a secret, anymore.

"He disrespected you," Sebastian reminded her. "What did he say to you? 'You are neither worthy of my respect, nor my love'. Something like that, yes?"

"Holding a grudge does nothing for me, Sebastian. It never has."

"It's not about holding a grudge, it's about gratitude. You opened your home, and your arms, for that boy, and he casts you aside without a second thought? I will not deny that I made mistakes, that I should've been truthful with him, but he punishes you to punish me? He poisons Daphne against us? He threatens our very lives? He does not hold family sacred, Mary, not like us. We were nothing more than a means to an end for him."

"You do not believe that," Mary sighed out. "You feel hurt, betrayed even, thus your judgement is clouded. Ron was always virtuous and of strong principles, you and I even admired that about him, but now that he has turned his back on us because of his virtues, you feel personally slighted." She reached forward and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. "Husband, let us be honest with ourselves… We are not like most Purebloods, but there is still blood on our hands. We live lavishly because we know which throats to step on. Sooner or later, he would've turned on us, regardless. Let's make peace with him, so we can all go our separate ways. There is still time-"

"He will see your generosity as nothing more than a bribe," Sebastian stated, he knew the boy inside out. "You think he's angry with us, now? No, Mary… If we do this, he will stop at nothing to undo us. There will be no peace, not like this." And you've no idea what he's capable of! I've seen his real face, and it is monstrous! More monstrous than my own, even!

Mary thought about his words, contemplating the next best decision. "Then, let this gift be sent from the shadows. Let it be an apology, instead of a bribe."

"We've spent thousands on this, Mary," Sebastian pulled his hand back, now in a state of utter disbelief. "An emperor wouldn't expect such an expensive apology."

"It isn't just about him," his wife continued. "You have made us so very powerful, my beloved, and you have made us safe. Your efforts have secured this family's power for generations to come." Where is this going? "You've done enough." Ah, I see, now.

"So, I should just start giving it all away?" Sebastian asked. "Turn every pauper in Magical Britain into a prince? Is that it? Don't we do enough, already? The orphanages? The charities? The fundraisers? Paying directly out of our own pockets to maintain the country's infrastructure? Oh, and now, the taxes that Bones wants to persecute us with, as well. At what point does the blood on our hands wash away, Mary? Do you truly believe that salvation can be purchased with gold? It cannot, my dear." For a man like me, salvation comes from protecting my family, not from throwing fistfuls of Galleons at the needy.

"You told me that you couldn't recognize the man who poisoned that Centaur Tribe," Mary reminded him. "That's because I spent a decade pushing him into the darkness, because that was not the man I married. He did not laugh, or read Muggle love stories, or show favour to the talented, or make spontaneous gestures of kindness and affection, or even take an interest in the world around him. He existed solely to dominate others, nothing more. Me, and our daughters, we brought you back from the despair your father, and the Dark Lord, cast you into. Perhaps, you should listen to us when we tell you that you can be more than just your name, more than just our protector. You should listen to me." She drew in a long breath, giving him a pleading look that began eating away at the foundations of his resolve. "I believe salvation can be purchased, not with coins or gems, but with acts of goodness, selflessness, and kindness. Take a gamble that love exists, Sebastian, and do a loving act. Not for a prize, or for salvation, or even for Ron… Do it for yourself. That's all I'm asking."

"…I know love exists, Mary," he muttered, thoroughly put off his breakfast. "Daphne and Astoria are proof enough for me." By giving Ron those ingredients, we risk making him even more powerful than he already is. That's not altruism, it's madness. She is underestimating how vindictive he is. He will never settle for anything less than my humiliation and defeat. If only my own flesh and blood could show half the commitment he does, I'd be more inclined to-…

"Then, will you do this?" …Merlin's Beard… I spent so much money purchasing those blasted ingredients… "I will not think lesser of you if you-"

"Stop," he commanded, grimacing at the table. "…I will think on it. Give me time." There is no need to be impulsive about this. I should take my time and figure out the ramifications of such a decision. "You should have told me your intentions from the start. I do not appreciate my wife keeping secrets from me."

"I withheld the whole truth because I know what my husband needs better than he does," she countered, smiling lovingly. "You have never been like other men, Sebastian, it's what drew me to you in the first place. If I had shared all my thoughts with you, then you would've never made the purchase to begin with. Logically, selflessness has no merit, it can even be self-destructive, and you have always valued logic above all other traits, especially in business." I see that I'm not the only predictable one here. Her words hold sense, this cannot be refuted, but this deception, if it can be called that, still vexes me.

"…I'm going to go pack," Sebastian stood up, tossing his napkin over his half-eaten breakfast. "We have stayed in one location for far longer than I am comfortable with. It's past time we moved on."

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Monday 12th July, 1994 (Chamber of Secrets – Late Morning)

Charging forward, he dodged the incoming Spells with extreme ease, his enhanced body allowing him to change his trajectory at break-neck speeds. Before the P-12 could initiate any countermeasures, Ron was already on top of it, punching it in the chest with such force that the wooden man was shattered in two, its separated body making a terrible racket that echoed throughout the chamber. Ugh… It's so fucking slow! Hardly even a challenge, now! And it's so easy to outwit, too! Any change in its enemy's approach, and it takes a fucking century to alter its strategies! How did this thing ever give me a challenge to begin with?!

Frustrated, Ron kicked the P-12's lower half, sending it sliding across the damp surface. "Fucking useless… I need a proper fight, against something with a brain and a heartbeat. Something that can think, something can die." Just as he went to repair his broken toy, Custard hopped onto his foot, looking up at him expectantly with her lengthy tongue darting in-and-out of her fur-covered mouth. "Are you volunteering, eh? Sorry, Custard, but I'm not ready to face the likes of you just yet. I wouldn't stand a chance." Reaching down, he lifted the spherical creature up with his gloved hand, dodging her tongue's efforts to steal his bogeys. "Stop that! Marty, she's hungry, again!"

"Custard, no!" Marty shuffled over from the other side of the chamber, an embarrassed look on his face. "Master's hallowed nostrils are not a source of food! No! Forgive Marty, Master, but-!"

"It's fine," Ron chuckled, handing the hungry beast over to the Elf. "Are you all right? You seem distracted." Is he still upset about me jumping off that roof? Why? I'm all fixed up, aren't I? His constant fussing is starting to annoy me. I don't need him mollycoddling me, I need him fighting by my side. I need him to toughen up.

"Mistress is again trying to summon Marty," the Elf reported, waiting for Ron to give him permission to leave. Ugh… I'm not really in the mood to deal with her…

"Ignore her," Ron instructed. "She needs more time to digest what happened with the Centaurs." If she can't understand that, sometimes, violence is the only answer, then I'm wasting my time with her. I don't want her to be exactly like me, but I also don't want her to have a weak stomach. I've no use for such a person.

"This could be urgent, Master," Marty whispered, bowing his head. "Mistress is being relentless this morning."

Ron let out a groan that lasted for nearly a minute, finishing with a bitter sneer. "…Fine. Go. Actually, before you do…" He made his way over to his side table, picking up the copy of the Daily Prophet resting there. "Give her this after you hear what she has to say. I want her to know that her parents are fucking over the Werewolves just to stick it to the Minister."

"Is Master truly certain that Lord and Lady Greengrass are behind-?"

"I know it's them, Marty," Ron interrupted, drawing in a sharp breath. "Who else could it be? Lord Fawley and Tiberius Ogden weren't behind this, they confirmed as much. I know Muriel and Augusta don't even bother thinking of the Werewolves, seeing them as nothing more than vermin, and the rest aren't wealthy enough to pull this off overnight. It's him… It's his fucking wife, who knows the Potioneering Market like the back of her hand." I'll cut off those pretty, thieving hands for this, I swear it. "Give it to Daphne, make sure she reads every last word."

"It could be the exiled Lords and Ladies, couldn't it?" Marty tried, much to his Master's chagrin. "…Marty does not wish to question Master, but to merely suggest that a more thorough investigation is warranted." Horseshit, you've a soft spot for her, so you're trying to save her from feeling ashamed, despite it being the best thing for her.

"I've set London to task, already," Ron told the Elf. "She'll bring us more concrete answers when she's finished." Not that I need them. I'm not a complete idiot. I know which of my enemies are capable of what.

"Then, perhaps, it would be best not to force this upon Mistress? For the time being, at least?"

Ron narrowed his eyes, before tossing the paper onto his bed. "…You do her no favours by being soft, Marty. She needs to be straightened out, plain and simple. She needs to eat some shit so she can finally learn some damn humility. That very humility might even save her life down the road." The Elf said nothing in response, merely bowing his head, again. "Go on, then. Find out what she wants, and report back to me. And don't let my family see you." He then looked at Custard, who had grown more and more impatient. "Give her to me. I'll feed and brush her."

"Master does not need to-"

"It'll save you time, mate, just hand her over. I'll make sure she's taken care of." No reason for her to go hungry, right?

---

"…You nasty little furball," Ron muttered, gently brushing her as he watched her devour three dead spiders in one go. "You know, we can get you something more… appetizing to eat, if you want? Butterflies, maybe? How do butterflies sound? All colourful and pretty?" Custard slurped down two more spiders, letting out a satisfied burp. "…Spiders, it is, then. Disgusting."

Content with his services, the Puffskein began to purr in his lap, lazily shutting her eyes. Nap time? Let me finish up, then I'll put you in your crib. I'll even clean up the brush, just to make things easier on-… Marty suddenly cracked into the chamber, causing Custard to yelp and shoot off of Ron's lap. No! Get back here!

"Really, Marty?" the Slytherin frowned. "I just cleaned her, you idiot!"

The Elf smiled sheepishly, he always forgot to mind the volume of his Apparitions. "A thousand apologies, Master."

"…I'm not the only one you need to apologize to," Ron sighed out, putting the fur-covered brush away. "Well? What did she want? Keep it brief."

"Mistress has informed Marty that Chief Argenope wishes to meet with Master," Marty reported. Argenope? "Chief Argenope has also made great efforts to reconcile with Chief Zotair, and the rest of the sickly ones." …I see. Well, that's nice, I suppose. They were all friends and kin once, weren't they? Before they ran into the devil himself.

"Why does Argenope wish to speak with me?" Ron asked, curious.

"Chief Argenope did not specify, only instructed Mistress to pass along the message." Right, she probably doesn't like Daphne enough to reveal her true intentions. Hardly surprising, given Daphne's parentage, but the idea of this meeting doesn't sit right with me. I've nothing more to say to Argenope. All I want from her is for her to honour her word. "Shall Marty make the necessary preparations?"

"…No," Ron shook his head, moving off his bed. "I'm still not sleeping right, and needless Apparitions risk my life. We'll deal with Argenope, eventually. For now, just have some of the mercenaries keep an eye on the camp." He then drew in a deep breath, his expression indifferent. "Did Daphne have a personal message for me?"

"Mistress wishes to meet with Master, as well," Marty answered. "Mistress sounded deeply concerned for Master's health and safety." So, not a single word on my epic victory, eh? Just more bleating… Whatever…

"Pass my instructions onto the mercenaries."

"It will be done, Master," Marty bowed, before cracking away. …Right. Now, where was I?

"Custard? Where are you? Papa Marty didn't mean to scare you. Come back, and Grandpa Ron will give you more spiders." Where'd she run off to? I hope she didn't get herself lost in the tunnels, again. "Helios! Come over here! I need your help tracking Custard, again!"

---

Amelia Bones' POV

Tuesday 13th July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic - Afternoon)

"So, it was really him, then?" she sneered at the transaction receipts, memorizing the aliases and companies involved. "…Greengrass… As always, he slips past our notice, despite his ill reputation." He doesn't behave like the other Purebloods, doesn't make a peep until it's too late for us to act. "We should've seen this coming, Crouch."

"We can only focus on so many fronts at a time," the grim man stated, his expression blank. "His days are numbered, anyway. Wars are a messy affair, after all, and people die without even realizing they're in danger. It's all too common."

"Whatever you're hinting at, don't," Amelia tossed the receipts away. "This Ministry will not resort to assassinations to get results. We do things by the book, always, or we might as well align ourselves with the likes of the Butchers of Birmingham."

"You speak of doing things by the book, and yet, you've yet to announce the date of the next election." Next election? "Oh, have you forgotten? You're not actually the Minister. The public didn't vote for you. You're Acting Minister, elected by the Wizengamot to hold the throne temporarily. That is, before you dismantled the very Wizengamot that put you in power, effectively declaring yourself dictator."

Amelia clenched her jaw, not appreciating the man's scornful tone. "I could announce an election, but what if I lose? Do you think this Ministry's enemies will play fairly? Or, will they do everything in their power to secure my defeat? What, then, Crouch? Who will run this Ministry? Another puppet of the elite? Another fool? I'm certain the Dark Lord would want no other result than this. If I call for an election, now, then I might as well hand him the keys to Magical Britain."

"Save me the justifications, you just don't want to risk losing your power," Crouch said icily, getting up to leave. "Alastor went by Gringotts this morning, and was laughed out of the building once again, just as I expected. I'm going to put the next part of my plan into action."

"Are you going to share this plan with me, now?" Amelia asked, studying him keenly. He's angry about me hiring Percy, that much is obvious, but there's something more this morning. He's being particularly bitter, and not just with me. "Well? I'm waiting."

"Telling you would leave you vulnerable if it goes to pot," Crouch answered, heading for the door. "You're just going to have to trust me." …Sounds like you're not exactly giving me a choice. What are you up to, Crouch? What is the reason behind all this secrecy regarding the Goblins?

"Mr. Weasley, get in here!" Amelia called out once she was alone, and within seconds, her new secretary stepped into her office.

"What can I do for you, Minister?" the young wizard asked obediently, his expression overly-eager.

"You're to deliver a message to your brother, Ronald, on my behalf," Amelia started, shooting a quick glance towards the discarded receipts. "I need to speak with him most urgently. He's to be here tomorrow morning, at nine."

Percy went as rigid as a statue, looking a lot less enthusiastic, now. "Um… Minister, Ron no longer lives with-"

"I know, but you know how to reach him, yes?" Amelia interrupted. "Or, perhaps, your father? This is important, Mr. Weasley. Lives are at stake." Lives I promised to look out for, no less. I cannot afford to break any promises to the people right now.

"I'll um… I'll figure something out," Percy promised, determination flashing behind his eyes.

"Be sure that you do," Amelia had already returned to her work, cursing the sorry fact that Sebastian Greengrass had survived both the Great War and its aftermath. We should've thrown them all in Azkaban when we had the chance.

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Tuesday 13th July, 1994 (The Fox Den Motel - Evening)

"This is demeaning, Sebastian," Mary stepped out of their bedroom, the stained bedsheet floating behind her. "I will not sleep in such a place. I simply refuse to."

"This is the last place Rask would think to look for us," Sebastian repeated, giving her a meaningful look. "It's only for one night, Mary. Tomorrow, we'll find a different motel."

"Have Jürgen bring us clean sheets, at least," his wife hissed, disgust marring her fine features. "How can any human-being tolerate living in this godsforsaken motel? Muggles… I often forget this side of them… No better than pigs…"

"The moment he returns, I'll send him out to buy worthier bedding," Sebastian promised. "I'm sorry, but your 'childhood friend' is trying his very hardest now to keep us under surveillance. Jürgen tells me that Rask's spies are now patrolling in every hotel worthy of us, be it Muggle or Magical. He wants us where he can easily reach our throats, and I'm not giving him that advantage. Not even for your comfort."

"He's a busybody, husband, and a narcissist, but he would never threaten our safety so boldly."

"You're only saying that because you don't want to be here," Sebastian sighed out. "Don't be petulant, my love. He is very much a threat, especially because I have no intention of playing whatever game he's trying to force on me. Both the game, and the man, are beneath me."

"And sleeping in this place isn't?!" Mary demanded, before cursing in German, causing Sebastian to zone out. Mary does not wish to see that her old friend will, inevitably, become the Dark Lord's puppet, whether he likes it or not. And what a powerful puppet he'll make… So powerful, indeed, that it would be unwise of me not to remove him from the board while I'm still here. Yes… Rask must die, and his wife too. Perhaps, even their son, given the boy's talents and sharp mind. How, though? How do I bring this ignominious end of the Rask Bloodline about? This far East, I'm cut off from the vast majority of my assets, and as Rask himself likes to say, he's 'king' here.

He pinched his eyes, there were too many moving pieces right now, all of them trying to corner him, including his own wife. She's going to want an answer regarding Ron very soon, and she won't like my decision. Giving that boy those ingredients will solve none of our differences, it will only give him even more power than he already has. Rather than hand him said power, it would be better if I used it myself. Knowing Ron, he'd just hand over the ingredients to both the Minister and the Werewolf Sanctuary, so that's what I'll do. There's no need to involve him, at all. It's clear to me that Mary will be upset if we go through with the original plan, even if she doesn't voice her displeasure, and the last thing I want to do is to sow further conflict in my family.

There was a knock on the door, and Sebastian instinctively brandished his wand. …Wait for it. Two more knocks, followed by a pause, and then, one last knock. Jürgen, at last. He better have an answer from Koch this time. Sebastian made his way over to the door, undoing his Charms and Wards, before unlocking it. Jürgen wasted little time in rushing inside, his clothes damp from the rain.

"Like I said, they'll never find us here," Jürgen grinned, eyeing the rundown room. "Yours is actually better than mine, so there's that."

"…How comforting," Mary drawled, her lips curling downwards. "Sebastian and I need new bedding, some degenerate left a rather suspicious stain on the one provided."

"New bedding? Now?" Jürgen chuckled, stopping immediately when he saw Sebastian's deadpan expression. "…Are you serious? And where am I supposed to find clean sheets at this time? I just spent the entire day standing on a street corner, in the rain, waiting for Koch's people!"

"I thought the rain didn't bother you," Sebastian said dully, moving back to his seat.

"Well, it doesn't… But that's beside the point," Jürgen argued. "Use Scourgify, or something. You'll live." His tone… If he weren't so useful, I'd have him-… He froze, momentarily, remembering Aidan's grizzly fate. What became of his wife, and unborn child, I wonder? He screamed for them before I had him-… "Are you there, my Lord? I said that Koch is ready to meet with you."

Sebastian inhaled, clearing his burdened mind as best he could. "When?"

"Tomorrow night, at his club," Jürgen answered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Der Zirkus des Elefanten."

"I've heard that name before," Mary blinked, visibly taken aback. "It's real? Truly?"

"What is it?" Sebastian asked, looking between the two Germans. "Why do you both appear so mystified?"

"It's an old legend in Magical Germany," Mary explained. "A circus of sorts, only it's so spectacular that, even by Wizarding standards, it's considered Magical." A circus? Well, this country doesn't have a shortage of clowns, so it fits. "Oh, we have to attend, Sebastian! I have to see this!" WE?!

"It's not a circus, my Lady, not really," Jürgen spoke before Sebastian could. "As I said, it's a club, and it'll be filled with some of the most dangerous, deranged people in Magical Europe. I'm talking about killers, smugglers, flesh-merchants… They all use Koch's network to ply their trade in Magical Germany, making him their benefactor. It's a pyramid, gold trickles up and favours rain down. It's no place for a Lady such as yourself."

"Agreed," Sebastian added. "My wife will not share the same air as criminals."

"Doesn't she, already?" Mary countered, staring at the two wizards as if they were idiots. "This quest is about saving my mother, and I will not be forced to sit on the side and watch. Not this time." Quest? This isn't a novel! Chances are that neither Jürgen, nor I, are leaving that 'circus' alive! "We will go together, all three of us. I doubt Koch will allow the rest of our guard to follow us inside, but with me there, I might be able to lower his guard."

"Lower his guard how?" Sebastian asked darkly. Is she truly set on this mad path?

"By dressing appropriately," Mary smirked. "A club, you say? That should be no problem." …You're kidding me…

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Tuesday 13th July, 1994 (The Chamber of Secrets – Night)

"He seemed desperate, did he?" Ron asked, his lips quirking upwards. "Ah, the Universe… What a funny fucker, it is!"

"What do you mean?" London asked, cocking an eyebrow. You know, I could do some serious damage to Percy's credibility by showing up at nine at night, instead of in the morning, but that would be cruel, wouldn't it? Cruel, and unnecessary. "Boss?"

"If Bones says that lives are at stake, then we have to go," Ron made his decision. "This is probably about whoever raped the Potioneering Market. It's obvious they want to take advantage of the Ministry's latest Werewolf Legislation."

"I'm still looking into that, but I'm pretty sure it was the Greengrasses. A lot of aliases used this time around have been used by them in the past for similar reasons, and the man who acted as the face of the sales is obviously Jürgen. It's almost impossible not to remember every detail of that monstrous face."

Ron let out a frustrated sigh, massaging his temples. "What a pair of cunts! Is it always about the money?! Can't they think of anything beyond themselves?!" It's almost as if they're trying to goad me. Wait… What if that's what this is? A challenge? A direct insult? Are they trying to show me that they can do whatever they want, and that I can't do anything about it? Do they really believe they can outlast me? They're fucking mental-…

"Boss? You've got that scary look in your eyes, again," London cut into his thoughts, looking more worried than wary. "And living down here is doing very little for your complexion, I'd like to add. I've seen corpses with more colour on them."

"I'm fine," Ron grumbled. "I like it down here. It's peaceful."

"What time is it? Take a guess," London challenged, stopping him before he could check his Rolex. "Take a guess, I said."

"It's six in the evening," Ron rolled his eyes, not caring for this stupid game.

"It's almost ten," she revealed, somewhat surprising him. Almost ten? I spent far longer in training than I realized. That, or I woke up very late. "It might be peaceful down here, but it's not good for you. You told me you're not getting enough sleep? Well, this is why. You can't even guess what the time is down here. There's no sun, no moon, nothing… Just darkness." From the corner of his vision, he could see a fire-lit Marty watching them, no doubt hoping that London would get through to his Master. "You feel unsafe at the Sanctuary? That's fine… I'll get us an apartment in Glasgow, or something. Somewhere you can feel safe, and get some sunlight, yeah?"

"Glasgow?" Ron frowned. "What the fuck am I supposed to do in Glasgow? I'm fine right here, all right? And I don't need to guess the time, because I have a watch. Plus, I want to continue preparing this place as a last bastion, should the world go to shit."

London let out a long sigh, shaking her head to herself. "…All right, then. It's not my place to force anything on you." No, it most certainly isn't! I can't wait until your usefulness runs out, and I can finally rip your spine out!

Ron fixed up his expression, keeping any hint of his endgame buried deep. "Since you're so adept at keeping time, why don't you come fetch me tomorrow morning? Be here at eight."

"Are you going to bed?" London asked. "Have you eaten dinner, yet?" …She's doing it, again. What the fuck?

"Get out."

---

Wednesday 14th July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Morning)

Percy was completely absorbed in his work, signing documents and organising schedules as if his life depended on it, and the longer Ron watched, the more disgust he felt towards his once-idol. The Gryffindor had started to open his eyes for the first time in his miserable life, only to become distracted by a shining position as the Minister's personal butler. How pathetic, and short-sighted, was that? How wasteful? How uninspired? How unsurprising? And yet, Ron had been surprised, even if he was loathe to admit it, and so, in this moment, any notion of Percy's struggles, of all his hard-work, none of it mattered to Ron. The only thing that mattered was the goofy, ignorant, and content, smile on Percy's face as he demeaned himself for a corrupt institute's acknowledgement, not having the faintest idea about where real power came from. Funny… For all his bluster all these years, he'll never become Minister, now that I think about it. He lacks the charisma, the guts, the will, the strength of character, the empathy, needed to become the leader of a nation. At most, he'll become the Head of a Department, but nothing more. Being a bookworm can only take you so far, right? He's so clueless when it comes to people that he doesn't even realise no one has ever respected him, save for one person, whom he discarded because it made his 'new life' more convenient. Why did you have that Gringotts Pouch with you, brother? I left it with Charlie, didn't I? Were you planning to use it? Until dad stepped in and took care of the bills? You didn't give it back because you stood against the idea of it, like you told me… No, you gave it back because you didn't need it, any-…

"If you keep looking at your brother like that, he'll catch fire," London whispered, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Merlin's Beard, boss, what did he do to you?"

"Honestly, nothing," Ron answered, turning his gaze ahead. "I just realized something right now, something I should've realized a while ago." I, much like Percy, close my eyes when it's convenient. I looked past all his flaws, his weaknesses, because I didn't want to see them. I just wanted to see the brother I looked up to. That was wrong. No one is above scrutiny, no one is flawless. And Percy… Percy is nothing more than a follower of other people's authority. Mum and dad, then the Professors, and, now, Bones. He's barely even a man, the scrawny worm. "Did your sister have flaws, London? The one who got her throat slit?"

"Pardon me?"

"Answer my question," Ron commanded, his jaw clenching.

"Um… Uh, yeah… I suppose, she did…" London started, giving him an odd look. "She was bossy, for one. Oh, and she was selfish. She never shared anything, not even when we were kids. What else? Hm, she loved making up stories, especially those that humiliated me. I really hated that about her. But what does any of that matter, now?"

"It doesn't?"

"You think I remember the worst of her?" London asked in response. "No, boss… When I think of her, only the good comes through. In life, we see the flaws, the cracks, but in death, we see the virtues, the beauty. It's just how it is." Is that so? Hm, when I think about Octavia, it's true that I can only focus on what I liked about her. I don't really think about what a stupid cunt she was, or how overconfident, or how easily mislead. That's wrong, isn't it? Why should we put people on a pedestal after their death? What does death even change? Meat is meat, whether it's rotting or not-… "I know you don't care to hear it, boss, but you really scare the shit out of me. Just saying. I don't even want to know what you're thinking right now."

"Noted," Ron muttered, zoned out. I need to stop seeing those I care about as special, because they're not special. I'm special. I'm the one with the power, the one with the questions and the answers. I'm the one who determines destiny itself. And, because of these reasons, I can't fall prey to weaknesses of the heart. If I do, I could hurt the innocent, the undeserving, just like I almost hurt the twins for wounding my pride. I could even fall to Greengrass' level, or, worse, to Ravencunt's level, if I'm not careful. I must master my heart, just as I've been trying to master my mind. It's the only way I can stay on the path that leads to victo-…

"Ron, the Minister will see you, now," Percy said, having walked over to them. It's Mr. Weasley to you, secretary.

He bit his tongue, drawing in a calming breath. "…I know my way to her office." Master the heart, move forward.

Before long, he was sitting across from Amelia Bones, the usual, constipated look on her face vexing him. She's called me here to ask a favour, and yet, she shows not a hint of humility. She truly doesn't understand how easily I can tear her in two, does she? That, or she believes herself safe from my wrath, despite her ignoring the deaths of thousands just to keep her job. I cannot wait until I have no use for her, either. I'll truly enjoy whatever punishment I inflict on her.

"Are you going to talk, woman?" Ron broke the silence. "Fucking staring at me like I'm Narcissus."

She frowned, as if he'd failed some test. "…Mind your tone, boy."

"MiNd YoUR TonE, BoY," Ron repeated, making a mockery of her heavy voice. How about I fist you to death in front of your niece, you man-jawed dyke? "What do you want from me? Hurry it up, I have places to be."

"You're pricklier than usual," Bones noted, irked. "I wanted to discuss the public apology you promised me." Oh? This isn't about my old mentor? Horseshit. She's trying to twist my arm. "I know it will be embarrassing for you, humiliating even, but that's the point, Mr. Weasley. You must be taught before the public that you are not above Magical Law." Blah, blah, blah! Just get to the point! "So, when are you available?"

"Today," Ron told her bluntly, making her blink. "Does the afternoon work for you? I'll clear up my entire schedule. Let's get this done. You just give me a time, and I'll be there."

Again, she began staring at him, and he knew exactly why. Fucked up your plan, eh? What a dumb bitch. "Have you not considered what this will do to your image?"

"You think I care about my image?" Ron asked immediately. "You think I care about the opinions of my fellow man? Really?" He shook his head, his wide eyes glaring into hers. "The only opinion that matters is mine, don't ever forget that." This is my planet; you lot just live here. "So, I'll give the apology, don't you concern yourself with my image. I know I won't." Now, what? What will you do, now? "Just tell me the time, already. I'll be sure to swallow your entire load, even, and thank you for it."

She continued looking into his eyes, but, eventually, she let out a defeated breath. "…I do not like you, Mr. Weasley… You're arrogant in ways I never thought possible, and yet, what irks me the most about you is that your arrogance is warranted…" Arrogance? I call it confidence with a hint of cuntery. "You know about Sebastian Greengrass, I take it?"

"He's just doing what he always does," Ron gave a nod. "He's turning people's misery into a profit."

"He has broken no laws, which makes it difficult to punish him."

"Oh, he has, and if you cared to look, you would find his crimes, but we both know you won't, because he will fucking destroy you and your career in retaliation." He then scoffed, shaking his head, again. "So, what do you do, instead? You call me here, hoping I'll speak to him and sway him from sticking in your arse."

"…Yes, that is why I called you here," Amelia admitted, looking as though she'd sucked a lemon. "…So, will you? I'm willing to forego your public apology-"

"He and I have parted ways, I'm afraid," Ron cut in, feeling his temper spike. She thinks she can buy me? "But, don't worry, I'll use my own funds to buy you two years-worth of supplies from Magical France. I have friends there who will happily give me a good price, far better than any price Greengrass will offer you. And, I'll give the apology, as well. Mad-Eye did not deserve to suffer such an injury at my hands, and the Werewolves… They've suffered enough due to people like you and Greengrass." With that, he stood up, heading for the door. "Set a date for the apology, build a grand stage, even, and let's get it done." Why is it so difficult for any of you to do the right thing? Without incentive, without gain, without favours? Pathetic.

As he went to open the door, the lock clicked. "I did not ask you to purchase the supplies, Mr. Weasley. I cannot do that, because if you're anything like your mentor, you'll hold them over my head-"

Her lamp exploded suddenly, causing her to shout and leap out of her chair. The Champion turned his head one-hundred and eighty degrees, the sound of his neck snapping echoing through the office. Their eyes became locked, his full of fury and hers full of terror, neither of them saying a word, until Fate's Harbinger finally shattered the haunting silence.

"I'm nothing like him," his voice brimming with authority, his grotesque display draining the blood from her face. "I'm far, far, far worse." He snapped his neck back into place with a crunch, rolling his shoulders. "You either open this door, or I'll just go through it. Your choice."

He waited for several seconds, before the lock clicked for a second time, and Ron departed without wasting a moment. Magical France, then. I've been meaning to go there for Abadie, to find out what the High Mother's been up to. Let's kill several birds with one Spell, shall we? I'll stick it to the Veela in my files, I'll ruin Greengrass' plans, and I'll bring the High Mother to heel. Finally, some fucking fun!

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Wednesday 14th July, 1994 (Outside Der Zirkus des Elefanten – Night)

They crossed the street with their arms entangled, an excited glimmer in Mary's eyes while Sebastian's were entirely lifeless. Why had he allowed her to come? And why did she choose a dress that displayed so much of her cleavage and entire leg? It was uncouth, downright embarrassing, and he should've shut her down before she even picked out the black-cocktail dress. But, I didn't, because if this was about saving my mother, I'd kill the person trying to make me a spectator. When did I become so soft? My own wife is overturning my decisions, now?

"This is a terrible idea," Sebastian repeated, gnashing his teeth. "Mary, this is a very dangerous place-"

"Jürgen is right behind us, dearest," Mary hushed him, smiling wide enough for the both of them. "And, truth be told, I'm rather thrilled about this entire affair. We've never walked into a den of criminals together, have we?"

"There's a good reason for that," Sebastian said darkly. "What kind of man forces his wife to witness the evils of the world?"

"I'm a big girl, husband," Mary assured him, squeezing his arm. No, you're sheltered, despite all you've been through. I always dirtied my own hands, just to keep yours clean. I thought you understood that about me. "Smile, please! We need to make a good impression, but, more importantly, we need to display unity."

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, the pair of them approaching a tall wizard guarding a run-down Muggle building. The wizard noticed that they were looking right at him, realizing that they weren't Muggles. Anti-Muggle Charms are in effect, then. Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Charms too, I bet. One way in, one way out. That could be an issue if things turn sour.

"Einladung?" the tall wizard asked, smirking as he ogled Mary.

"That's my wife you're-" Sebastian sneered, only to stop when Mary stepped on his foot. Gods be damned! What was that for?!

"Bernard Koch is expecting us," Mary told the wizard, her voice as sweet as honey. "Sebastian and Mary Greengrass."

The guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a bit of parchment, reading through it. "The old man is only expecting your husband, I'm afraid. And that… creature… behind you."

Jürgen chuckled in his eerie, raspy voice, causing the smirk to vanish from the guard's face. That's better.

"I'm certain we can work something out," Mary beamed, looking to her husband. A bribe? Fine…

"Money is all well and good, but I'll settle for a peek of your lovelies," the guard grinned, he was handsome enough, and young enough, to believe that he came across as charming. A peek?! I'll give you a peek!

Sebastian reached into his inner pocket, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the guard's foot. "Diffindo!"

There was a red flash, followed by guttural screams as the guard fell onto his side, clutching his toeless right foot. Maggot, mind who you're speaking to.

"Sebastian, what the fuck?!" Mary shrieked, while her husband kicked the guard in his temple, all the while Jürgen laughed like a madman. "What have you done?!"

"Make sure he doesn't follow us inside," Sebastian ordered, grabbing Mary by her arm and dragging her to the door. "Teach him the manners his father failed to pass down to him."

Jürgen hurriedly seized the dazed guard, dragging him away into a dimly-lit alleyway. Disrespectful cur! Jürgen will sort you out for life! Mary wrestled her arm free, a look of horror on full display. What?

"He was little more than a boy, Sebastian! He was just being foolish!" his wife clamoured, causing him to narrow his eyes. "That was unnecessary and cruel!"

"You wanted to come here, remember that," he said simply, unlocking the door and stepping inside. "Come, let's see how 'thrilled' you'll be in ten minutes." You want to make a mockery of my role as your husband? You want to be on the frontlines of this 'quest'? Very well, I will respect your wishes.

Inside the run-down building was a clublike setting reminiscent of the early nineteen-hundreds, gaudy and full of feigned magnificence. The smell of smoke, Firewhiskey, and sweat, bombarded their nostrils, while their eyes feasted on barely-dressed harlots and their ardent admirers. Without a doubt, this was a place built to cater to men's darkest desires, but the club itself was nothing more than a front should the authorities come looking, of that Sebastian was certain. Best we find Koch, discuss our business, and leave. The longer we stay here, the more danger we'll be in.

Keeping his wife by his side, Sebastian navigated the cheering crowds, his eyes searching for Koch, but finding only debauchery. One of the dancers was showering a laughing crowd of killers-for-hire with her own breastmilk, squeezing her already-swollen breasts together until they looked like a pair of purple balloons. Another had thrown herself into the crowd, both wizards and witches fondling every part of her possessively. There was even one who had been mounted by two burly wizards atop the stage, the pair of them ruining her honour for any man who would follow. …Vermin. If Koch is indeed a rat, as Rask described him, then this truly is his kingdom.

"Circe's Breath, what a terrible sight," Mary whispered, gawking at the 'entertainment'. "These poor girls must be here because they're being forced to be here."

Sebastian followed her gaze, seeing nothing but euphoria on each harlot's face. "…I'm sure."

"Who are these people?" Mary asked, studying the crowds. "Mercenaries, right? Many of them resemble our own people."

"Death's Hand, Gelded Birds, Sweet Nightingales, even some Garroters," came Jürgen's voice from behind them, startling Mary. "And a whole lot of common filth. No officers, Lords, or Ladies, though. Odd."

"Not odd," Sebastian shot a look back. "This is where the help is sated. No master eats in their dog's kennel."

"So, Koch isn't here?" Mary asked, bumping into a lively witch drunk out of her mind. "A thousand pardons, young lady. I failed to notice your approach."

The drunk witch blinked at Mary, dumbfounded, before bursting into maniacal laughter. "English? Want fun? Me and you? Very pretty, you."

Sebastian stopped, reaching into his inner pocket, again. This time, Mary acted swiftly, grabbing his arm and dragging him away. "Don't be foolish! I thought you smarter than this!"

"I don't usually have to defend my wife's honour when I'm at work," he countered. "Why couldn't you just stay behind? You're a distraction to me." Foolish woman! I need my wits about me, and they're compromised with you here!

Mary said nothing in response, merely looking back to the witches violating themselves for the howling animals at their feet. "…I don't understand… Why do they look so happy? What joy can be derived from such dishonour?"

Jürgen laughed, making them both look back at him. "They are not witches! They are Muggles under the Imperius Curse! Look at their eyes! See that shimmer?! Glamour Charms to restore the colour of their eyes! These women were picked off the streets! And, by the end of tonight, they'll be back in the streets, their throats cut! Unless, one of them strikes the fancy of some rich flesh-merchant, who wants to keep them as a pet! Or, sell them off to-!"

"Stop, that's enough," Mary raised her hand, drawing in a shaky breath. "I've heard enough."

Even Sebastian felt disgust bubbling in his belly, glancing towards the stage with a somewhat sullen expression. They're someone's daughters. "…Let's get this over with. Come, Mary. Do not stray from my side."

Pushing onward, they eventually reached a pair of well-dressed wizards guarding a lavish door, both of them signalling Sebastian to approach. Koch must be behind that door, then, along with his personal guests.

"You are late," the guard on the right declared. "And you have an uninvited guest."

"Inside, go," the other one ordered, unlocking the door with a golden key. Not a Magical lock? Why? Wait… The key must be Enchanted… Only he can unlock this specific door, and no one else.

The lavish door swung open, revealing a set of stairs reaching into the bowels of the Earth. And Mary chose to wear high-heels. The three of them began to descend, swiftly noticing a drop in the overall temperature. Cold. Why? Is it Koch's preference? Or, do they keep something down here that needs cooling?

"I didn't dress for any of this," Mary clicked her tongue, using his arm for support. "It's getting darker, too."

"Being nervous won't help you, now," Sebastian stated, easily able to hear the shift in her tone compared to when they were outside. "Jürgen, anyone tries to make a move on us, and you kill them before their bodies hit the floor."

"Lots of liquor down there, lots of blood," Jürgen responded, sniffing the air. Lots of blood? "My poor Lady is in for nightmares, tonight."

"What?" Mary muttered. Fucking brilliant!

Biting his tongue, he continued leading the way down, tightening his hold on his wife's arm. A purple-pink light eventually began to creep into the dark tunnel from the other end, signalling an end to the stairway. When they finally reached the bottom, the tunnel opened into a massive chamber illuminated by purple-pink orbs of sparkling light. Gods… Who built this place? The chamber below wasn't as lively as its counterpart above, but in terms of hedonism, it made even the Carrow Twins' 'festivals' look like picnics. Muggles of all ages, from children to adults, were catering to Koch's guests out in the open, breathing life into their most vile fantasies. From a woman being sullied by a stallion in the dead centre of the chamber, moaning loud enough for all to hear, despite her bloodied sex being torn apart by the large beast's monstrous phallus, to pre-pubescent children serving tables in nothing but silver chains. …Their faces… They are all under the Imperius Curse, as well… In a state of pure euphoria, even as they're used and discarded without care…

A small, blonde girl approached them with her bruised lips stretched into a bright smile, a crystal tray of drinks held up by her tiny hands, silver chains fastened together by blood-covered piercings all over her frail, naked body, and blood trickling down her enflamed thighs. She bowed her head to Sebastian, who closed his eyes and grit his teeth, thinking of playing chase with his precious daughters around the manor when they were no taller than his knees. If Elias spends his time in such places, then he is truly lost to all reason.

"Nothing for us," he managed, forcing himself to open his eyes. "Where is Koch?" Focus, Sebastian! There's a reason why a girl who resembles Astoria is the one who greeted us! Koch just made his first move!

The girl tilted her head, before pointing towards the darkest corner of the chamber. Sebastian began moving forward, only to stop when he realized that his wife had become frozen in place. Before he could speak sense to Mary, the little girl began to move away, only to be grabbed by a familiar looking man sitting nearby. He yanked the girl down to her knees, ignoring the shattered glass caused by his brutish strength, forcing the girl's head between his legs, where it began to bob up-and-down dutifully without hesitation. That's… Lord Hans Jäger… One of Rask's closest allies… What the fuck is he doing here? He has ties with Koch, too? Who else from Germany's high-society is down here?

Mary's body swayed, and Sebastian was harshly brought back to reality, grabbing onto her before she collapsed. "Jürgen, take her and leave."

"My Lord?" Jürgen cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not leaving you in-"

"Go," Sebastian commanded, guiding Mary into the mercenary's arms. "I will do this on my-"

"No," Mary shook her head clear, pushing herself upright and drawing in a long breath. "…Forgive me, both of you, but the cold overwhelmed me. Let's find Koch."

"Mary, you have nothing to prove to me," Sebastian tried. Just leave, please!

"This has nothing to do with you," she said strongly, steeling her expression. "I will not let some low-born pig like Bernard Koch intimidate me so easily. I'm a Greengrass, too. Come, we know where he is, now."

She moved on ahead, leaving Sebastian and Jürgen in her wake. "…Onwards, then."

"She's going to get us both killed trying to act tough," Jürgen said plainly. …Probably… "Should've left without telling her, like I suggested." You wouldn't have to deal with her upon our return. She'd leave me and run off, again. Or, worse, she'd follow us here and get herself killed.

They chased after her, with Sebastian quickly taking the lead, again. "I talk, Mary, and you support me. Pay no mind to what's happening around us. We have come for words, for information, nothing more."

"How many of these people grew up with me?" Mary whispered angrily, her eyes frantically darting about. "I knew Hans when we were both children. And look over there… That's Adelaide Ackermann beating a Muggle man with a barbed cane. She was always a cruel bitc-"

"What did I just say?" Sebastian asked, frowning. "Focus." Is she wondering if she'd turn out like them if she didn't leave Magical Germany behind? Would she have turned out like her father? I don't think so. She left because she was never like them to begin with. Neither of us were anything like our parents, we were always meant to be together, instead of being with them.

At last, they approached the hidden booth in the far-corner, where Koch was waiting for them. He was an old, balding, obscenely obese man, so obese, in fact, that his opulent robes were stretched to the point that their fine embroidery was on the verge of tearing. His pale eyes landed on them, and a foul smile consisting of cracked lips and crooked teeth broke out across his flushed, four-chinned face.

"Children, my guests have arrived," Koch announced, his thick fingers stroking the snow-white arms of the boy and girl straddling each of his trunk-like thighs. "Say… hello."

"Hello," the boy and girl chirped, both of them black-haired and blue-eyed. Are they… twins? They look exactly alike… Who did he steal them from?

Once again, the trio were forced to stomach a ghastly sight, as the children in Koch's possession were wearing nothing but silver chains, the only difference being that the boy's genitals were locked behind a silver chastity cage and the girl's piercings were ruby studs. Fucking degenerate monster! No wonder Rask sent me to him, and went to the Goblin King himself! He left the worst of it to me!

"Sit, sit," Koch said invitingly, his hungry eyes lingering on Mary. "What a fine treat, to lay eyes on such beauty amidst such darkness. A sun is born unto us, children. A sun!"

"A sun," the children chirped, beaming at the dead-eyed Mary.

Once they were seated across from Koch, with Jürgen standing directly behind them, Sebastian willed himself to focus only on the 'elephant' running this circus. "My man spoke to your people about my purpose for seeking you out-"

"You wish to discuss my friend, Elias, yes," Koch nodded, slipping his fingers between the girl's legs.

As if on cue, she grabbed some grapes from the table, lovingly popping them into the maw Koch called his mouth. "Tasty?"

"So tasty," Koch groaned as if he were in heat, pushing his index finger inside the girl, who moaned jubilantly.

Sebastian's stomach heaved, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not retch. Mary, however, failed to stop her heaving, swiftly covering her face with her trembling hands. Koch laughed at her reaction, much to Sebastian's ire. He just killed my queen, didn't he? I can expect no support from her.

"Do not feel disgust, my Lady, for my daughter enjoys my tender touches," Koch said reassuringly, pulling his finger out of the girl and placing it into his mouth, suckling upon it. "What delights youth holds, what pleasures, waiting to be explored by more experienced minds." I'm going to kill this man. Yes, I've made my decision. He dies, no matter how much gold it costs me. I'll buy this country if I have to, but I'll watch the light leave his eyes.

"Elias Maier," Sebastian spoke up, deciding to ignore Mary. I've won without queens plenty of times. "Why are you protecting him? A man like you… Powerful and well-connected… What do you need from a Lord who's long been exiled by his own?"

"The source of all sin, Sebastian Greengrass," Koch answered, grinning maliciously. "The source of your sins."

"Coin."

"Enough to mend even this broken heart of mine," Koch chuckled, squeezing the children against his protruding belly. You have coin, though. No, there is another reason, one that he's not willing to share. "A man needs more than warm flesh to sate his appetites, doesn't he? I love my children, my son and my daughter, but I have needs they cannot tend to. Elias, however, can, and does so most willingly."

"What does my father need from a monster like you?!" Mary demanded, shaking from fear, disgust, and rage. "You despicable, villainous, cowardly-!"

"Mary, enough," Sebastian cut in. What are you doing?! He'll have us torn to pieces! Have you forgotten what we saw upstairs?!

"At ease, my Lady, stay your hand, for it slaps where it should stroke," Koch's eyes flashed with mischief, he was getting off on tormenting Mary in particular. "Your father is indebted to me, for I have given him what his estranged kin could not. I have given him… peace."

"Peace?" Sebastian asked, and Koch whispered directly into the boy's ear. What's he doing, now?

The boy giggled, before turning himself around on Koch's thigh, reaching forward to dig through the fat man's robes for something. Sebastian and Mary averted their gazes, as the boy, in his brainwashed state, did nothing to hide his anus from their eyes. The German Aurors are in his pocket, they have to be. If not all of them, then most of them. The entire Department of Magical Law is compromised in this country. How else can this bloated beast get away with such heinous actions? He's running a flesh market underneath Magical Berlin, for fuck's sake! How has he not been discovered yet?! He owns the Aurors, that's the only explanation! Eventually, the boy managed to pull out an old photograph, handing it to Koch, who took it gracefully and gave the boy a quick peck on the lips as a reward.

"Dutiful child, favoured child," Koch hummed, before tossing the photo onto the fruit-covered table. "Who is this girl, Sebastian Greengrass? Is she… known… to you?"

Warily, Sebastian picked up the picture, his eyes almost popping out of his head when he realised it was a picture of Mary when they were in fifth-year. "What is the meaning of this?! Explain yourself, Koch!"

The Elephant laughed, again, and, this time, it was Sebastian's torment he was feeding on. "Elias pays a king's ransom each time he visits my pleasure palace, and, in return, I find him a girl who looks just like the girl in the photograph." …What? "The things he does to them makes even my bile-filled blood curdle, for it is not beauty he seeks, as I do, but destruction."

"Broken teeth, broken noses, broken faces," the children laughed, as if singing a limerick. He murders them?

"Sebastian, what are they talking about?" Mary asked, but her husband found himself lost for words. …Elias… You've gone mad, haven't you? What demon has possessed-…?

Mary snatched the picture from his hand before he could react, her breath hitching in her throat. Koch's cruel gaze returned to Mary, his cracked lips trembling from exhilaration upon seeing the life die behind her eyes. …This is worse than we could've imagined… Elias could potentially kill Mary, if given the chance… I need to get her out of this fucking country!

"What did you do to him, girl, to turn him into such a hopeless little thing?" Koch asked, and the photograph slipped out of her shaking fingers. "His downfall paid for your elevation, didn't it? He was shamed, and you were exalted! A wife, a mother, a bringer of life and light, but what of Elias? An abandoned father, a scorned friend, a cuckold." A cuckold? "A man with eyes set towards the future of his family, now blinded by his past. You did that to him, Mary Greengrass, and he makes certain that you pay for it every time he comes to me." Mary stumbled back out of her chair, nearly tripping before Jürgen caught her. "Leaving so soon? But you've only just arrived! Come, sun, I can soothe your pain, too!"

"Take her away," Sebastian ordered, and Jürgen followed the command without hesitation.

"Why do women always flee from me?" Koch asked, sounding strangely saddened, before smiling his evil smile, again. "Now that your wife is gone, can I tend to your desires? A man? A woman? A boy? A girl? Or, perhaps, something more… exotic? I have Elves who are trained to endure pain-"

"The heart of my desires has just left us," Sebastian cut in, not hiding his contempt. "You go too far with your games, Koch."

"Games?" the children repeated, exchanging excited looks. Shut up!

"Later, my loves, later," Koch stroked their raven-black hair, his gaze focused solely on Sebastian. "If not your desires, then what? What can I give to you?"

"You protect Elias because he puts money in your pocket, yes? Abandon him, and you can have my gold, instead." Until I figure out some way to get rid of you. "And not just my gold, but my network, too. I assure you, there is nothing Elias can offer you that I can't."

"Is that all you see? Is that all that is sacred to you? Gold? You are a broken soul, too, just in a different way." Koch's meaty hands began to travel down the length of the children, feeling every inch of their slender forms. "Is your gold more beautiful than these two? More precious? Does it shine as they do? Can it give you the bliss they give to me?"

"Elias' time is finished," Sebastian pushed on, deciding to make his move. "The King of Magical Germany is targeting him, and even you can't stop that."

Koch blinked. "The King of Magical Germany?"

"You know of whom I speak, don't play ignorant." This gamble better pay off, or I'm going to die here!

"Conrad Rask," the Elephant said dully, his amusement gone in a flash. Yes! The chink in his armour! I found it! "He is the king of nothing-"

"I would caution restraint, Koch, unless you want to become his enemy, too," Sebastian continued. "There's a reason why you skulk down here, while he prospers up there. He told me as much himself. You are no match for him, despite your long years in power."

"He… told you?" Koch whispered dangerously. I've struck gold, it seems. They're likely enemies with no regard for each other, which might be the real reason why Rask sent me here. After all, there can't be two kings of the same kingdom, can there? This could be my chance to cause a lot of damage to German high-society, as well as rescue Anna from captivity, and then, flee in the chaos back to my own kingdom. When they're all weakened, I'll return to pick them off, starting with this bastard. Or, better yet, I'll show Dumbledore what I saw here using a Pensieve. None of them will survive his wrath, and I can watch them burn from a safe distance.

"Will you stand with us? Or, with Elias?" Sebastian asked strongly. "Lord Rask has every German Pureblood of note backing him, whereas Elias only has you and, supposedly, the Death's Hand… However, tell me, who will the Death's Hand side with, if push comes to shove? A bitter old man indebted to you? Or, the man who runs this entire country?"

Koch continued staring at Sebastian, something so dark was lurking behind those pale eyes that even the Chess-Master was forced to wonder if he'd overplayed his hand. "…Your welcome is rescinded. Leave."

"I must urge you to reconsider."

"Tell Rask that another of his puppet-Lords failed him," Koch hissed, waving a dismissive hand. "You think you are the first powerful Lord he has sent to me? He has sent others, and they all returned to me in time, abandoning their posts to fill my domain." Hans Jäger, and Adelaide Ackermann? I see… "Will you return, too? I look forward to finding out. Surely, even you must realise that I can give you what no one else can… Not even your Gods." I'm going to give you what the Aurors of this country should've given you, and more! I'm nothing like the other Lords Rask sent to do his dirty work for him!

Sebastian moved off his chair, silently making his way towards the exit. His stride, however, was cut short when he saw the little girl who'd greeted them upon entry lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, someone had beaten her to death with their fists alone. …Hans Jäger…

He closed his eyes and stepped over the girl, continuing on his way. Perhaps, instead of Dumbledore, I can show the memories to Ron, instead. Mary wants us to make him a peace offering? Well, this is the only kind of offering I believe he'd accept.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Thursday 15th July, 1994 (High Mother's Bedchambers – Past Midnight)

Ron came out of the Portkey with wobbly legs, barely managing to maintain his balance, and before he could even begin to regather his wits, the High Mother's personal attack dog, Eda, was on top of him, her ceremonial blade drawn and pressed against his neck. FUCK! Cutis Terra! By some miracle, he reacted quickly enough to seize her right forearm, dropping the files he'd brought to show the High Mother but stopping Eda from slicing his throat open. She, however, adjusted just as swiftly, using her left hand to smash his head against the wall his back was now pressed to. Get off me! What the fuck?!

"You dare come here at this-?!" she started, only to be cry out in pain when Ron slammed his knee into her groin. You like that?!

Pushing himself off the wall, he squeezed her right forearm with such vicious strength that he dented the golden vambrace, breaking her arm in the process. His freed fist then slammed into her Eagle-faced helmet, sending her barrelling to the floor, where she remained unmoving as he charged over. Fucking cunt! I'll beat you to death! Ignoring the weight of her golden, winged armour, Ron took her by the nape and threw her into a nearby dresser, causing the entire thing to collapse. Lumos Solem! A golden beam of hard-light burst forth from his eyes and mouth, bombarding the beaten guard with enough force to break away pieces of her fine armour. When he finally stopped his Magical onslaught, he again moved towards her, ready to finish her off, only to be stopped by someone latching onto his left arm and pulling him away.

"That is enough!" the High Mother commanded, her expression stern despite being half-asleep. "Both of you, stop this! Ronald, she was only protecting me! That is her-!"

Ron turned on his heels and punched her in the gut, not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to knock the wind right out of her. "There's your fucking protection! You want some more?!"

The High Mother tried to stay on her feet, but was soon forced onto her knees, clutching her stomach and wheezing for air. "…Stop, please… This is all a… misunderstanding…"

"Why give me a Portkey that brings me into your room, only to have this insane cunt attack me?!" Ron demanded, his blood boiling from the entire debacle. "I ought to feed you your own teeth! She almost took my bloody head off!" Wait, everyone in the mountain must've heard this racket! Bloody hell! I didn't come here for a fucking fight, but if one is forced onto me, I'll happily oblige!

Ron drew his wands and aimed them at the door, only to realize that it was still sealed shut. No one is coming? He focused on the Magic all around him, figuring out that the room itself was protected by all manner of Charms and Wards, many of them no doubt designed to keep would-be assassins out. That's why she gave me a Portkey that brought me straight here, but also kept Eda around. Was she worried that I'd give the Portkey away? Or, use it to try and assassinate her? Eh, I don't blame her for being cautious, I'd do the same in her shoes. He inhaled deeply, lowering his wands and using his Occlumency to cool off his volatile temper. Just breathe, old boy, you can still salvage this if you calm down. What a fucking shitshow this turned out to be. Maybe, coming here this late was a stupid idea to begin with? Well, hindsight is fucking useless, so what's the point of regretting? Just keep breathing, then figure it out from there.

As he worked to regain his composure, the High Mother crawled over to her personal protector, making sure that the other Veela was still breathing. "We must get help, at once! Look at what you've done to her!" His fingers traced his throat, the tips becoming stained with specks of blood. Little more than a scratch, but if I hadn't reacted so quickly, she'd have done some real damage to me. "Ronald, are you listening to me? Her breathing is labour-"

"Stop your whinging, I'll fix her in a second," Ron growled, walking over and grabbing the unconscious guard by the arm. "Come here, bitch."

Ignoring the High Mother's pleas to be gentle, he hauled Eda towards the centre of the room, dropping her back down unceremoniously. I should undo Cutis Terra, then tend to her injuries. No need to keep it up, anymore, I reckon. I punched her so hard that I splintered her fucking helmet. There's no fight left in her.

---

One Hour Later

He stared at the unconscious Eda, his gaze honing in on the black eyepatch covering her left eye, and the claw-shaped scars running down that side of her face. No wonder she wears that helmet, it hides the fact that she's missing an eye. Hm, I wonder what sort of creature did her in, though, and where she faced it. I thought the Veela of the Mountains never leave their home. Isn't that why they look down on the Veela who do? Because those who do want to be a part of the Wizarding World?

"Where did you get these, Ronald?" the High Mother asked, pacing with the Donadieu file. "Ancar, Heroux, Donadieu, Bisset… These are powerful Veela families outside the mountain."

"Powerful, and extremely corrupt," Ron drawled, flicking Eda's silver hair out of her face. Half her face is clawed off, and she's still prettier than most women. No wonder Veela arrogance rivals our own. "I want you to invite them here."

"Invite them?" the High Mother repeated. "Why?"

"I want to kill them," Ron answered bluntly. "Lord and Lady Ancar, Lord and Lady Bisset, and their psychotic son, Lord and Lady Donadieu, and Lord Heroux. Oh, and Lady Ancar's friends in your court. I'll take them, as well."

The High Mother drew in a sharp breath, staring at him intently. "…Goddess, this is why you finally come to me? To bathe in the blood of my people?"

"Is that going to be a problem?" Ron looked to her, narrowing his eyes. "You want to join them?"

"These are powerful Veela who hold much sway in the Ivory Court," the High Mother stated, unfazed. "A queen who lets a foreigner slaughter her people won't remain queen for long." Don't bother with that, you have a death-grip on the loyalty of your subjects. I've seen how much they adore you, how they worship you. They'll get over this, eventually.

"I don't care how you sell this, that's your problem," Ron told her. "You give them to me willingly, or I take them from you using force. Either way, they're going to die. So, do the smart thing, and just hand them over."

"It would be easier for me to try them on these crimes, to hold trials-"

"They'll just weasel out of your trials, as they weasel out of the Ministry's. No, the time for trials is over. I have proof of their guilt, and that's more than enough to sentence them."

"And you have the power to sentence my people, do you?" the High Mother demanded, greatly displeased.

"Your people, your children, you… Yes, I have that power. Oh, and don't forget, you've given me your allegiance. You know why I'm here. In refusing to help me, you're refusing to play your part in saving this world."

"What does saving the world have to do with this?" the High Mother asked swiftly. "No, Ronald, do not dare to play me for a fool. You want to kill these people because it satisfies you, not your mission. I thought you more honourable than this. More decent."

"You don't even know me," Ron chuckled dryly. "I am anything but decent, and as for honour… Well, I gave that away a long time ago."

"That is a lie, and a poor one at that." …Ugh…

"Do you happen to have dogs? Hounds you like to breed?" Ron asked, making her blink.

"Pardon?"

"Do you?"

"…Yes…"

"I'm going to need them for an experiment once you hand over those I want," Ron said, his mind racing with the possibilities. "Make sure they aren't neutered, as that would ruin my experiment." The Imperius Curse should put the dogs in a state of arousal, right? Isn't that what euphoria means? I hope so, because I doubt I could command them to get erections.

"…Par la Dèesse…" the High Mother sighed out, closing the Donadieu file and taking a seat beside him. "Ronald, I had very different expectations of our next meeting. Tell me, is this truly why you've come here?"

"I have other goals, but, for now, I'll settle for those I've named."

"Your rage…" she whispered, gazing into his eyes. "…It's become even more powerful, hasn't it?" He said nothing in response, merely staring at her as if she weren't even there. "Does Dumbledore know that you are here? Does he know that you're demanding sacrifices to sate your bloodlust?"

"No." If he knew, he'd come and stop me, and I can't allow that. As much as I respect him, I know he doesn't have it in him to do what needs to be done to birth a new world. He wants to save the one we have, flaws and all, whereas I want something better.

"The Demon that resides within you, the one who shows you the future, is it behind these callous demands?" The Entity doesn't make demands, anymore. Ravencunt makes damn sure of that.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked in response. "Stop trying to talk me out of it, please. That'll end with you joining those you're trying to protect. Didn't you read those files thoroughly enough? Lord and Lady Ancar treat Muggles as nothing more than meat to satisfy their basest desires. Lady Ancar herself has raped, and murdered, over fifty men in the last two decades. Lady Bisset has aided her son in escaping four known murders of young witches. Freshly graduated from Beauxbatons, their entire lives ahead of them, and this sick fuck carved them up for his amusement, and his doting mother used her allure, and her body, to rig his trials, denying the victims' families justice. The Donadieus have made it their life's mission to pass Legislations that allow the torture, and execution, of Elves, free or otherwise, so I can only imagine the terrors they've inflicted upon the Elves in their service. And Lord Heroux? Seducing young women with promises of extravagant careers, of lavish lifestyles, only to destroy them in both spirit and body once he's had his fun with them." That bastard was even bold enough to try and make similar offers to Daphne, and she was only thirteen! For that alone, I'll make him suffer! "You're protecting rapists, murderers, and black-hearted rogues, and yet, it's my honour you dare to bring up?"

"I'm protecting you, you unfortunate boy," the High Mother said sincerely, much to his chagrin. "What does butchering these Veela solve? With a trial, with due process, I can make an example out of them. I can stop others from following in their footsteps."

"Did you give your Oracles a trial?" Ron asked blandly.

"That was different-"

"How?"

"They knew, Ronald." They did? Truly? "They had seen glimpses of the future you've shown me, and this was several years before you were even born. However, around six years ago, these glimpses stopped, because, as you said, your arrival changed the future."

"The Entity's arrival," Ron corrected. "So, why kill them? Because they kept secrets from you? If so, then who are you to try and persuade me from satisfying my urges?"

"You speak of matters you do not understand," the High Mother said softly, reaching forward and scratching the back of his head. "One day, I will tell you of what those myth-weavers stole from me, but, tonight, I want to try and dissuade you from feeding the beast within you."

"There's no beast within me, this is just me," Ron frowned, smacking her hand away. "You have three days, High Mother. If you fail me, I will march through Magical France, and any Veela who stands in my way will burn. Make your choice." With that, he got up and walked to the centre of the room, his eyes gleaming red. "Don't lose those files, I still need them for my collection."

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Thursday 15th July, 1994 (Another Shady Motel – Midday)

"Mary, it's me," Sebastian knocked on the door, but there was no answer. "Love, please, you've not eaten since yesterday. Let me in." More silence. "…There's food on the table, I've placed Preserving Charms on it. I have to go, now, so, please, make sure you eat something." Bernard Koch… He has to die… I don't care how, but he has to…

He made his way over to the bottle of Firewhiskey he'd been using to drown the horrors of the previous night, but try as he might, he could not forget what he'd witnessed. I am no saint, I know this, but those people in that 'club', they were evil. Perhaps, in a way, even more evil than the Dark Lord. For all his cruelty, he was always above such profane pleasures, which makes him easier to understand than someone like Koch. He downed a full glass, letting the burn distract him momentarily. …Gods, I can't wait to go home. I can't wait to see Daphne and Astoria, again, and to hold them… My beautiful, wonderful babies-…

"We're all set," Jürgen returned to the room, closing and locking the door. "Oh, food! Mind if I have a nibble before we go? Been running around all morning for you."

Sebastian looked to the monstrous mercenary, wondering why he was so unfazed by what they'd been forced to endure. Not just unfazed, he was entirely at home in that place. I can't overlook that there's a great deal about this man that I simply don't know. "…You can eat when we return."

"If we return," Jürgen smirked. "The Death's Hand doesn't betray clients, my Lord, and you know that."

"I thought you said you had confidence in my abilities to sway them."

"I did, until Koch rattled you without breaking a sweat."

"And I rattled him, once I didn't need to worry about my wife's safety," Sebastian stated, sounding a little too defensive. "In fact, I might've done far too good a job of it. We must hurry and secure aid from the Death's Hand, before Koch, or Rask, decide that we've overstayed our welcome."

"I've got the Portkey," Jürgen patted his coat. "Let's go."

---

The last time he'd been in this building, wherever it was, he was with Ron. I suppose, I'll be dealing with Alger, again. He proved himself an excellent representative, and I enjoyed his temperament. This is good. If I'm to bring my case to one of the Death's Hand's leaders, I'm glad it's him. Wait, is he a leader? Or, just their spokesman? Who knows?

"They're ready for you," came Jürgen's voice, and Sebastian turned his head towards the mercenary.

"They?" he frowned.

"The top brass is here," Jürgen answered, sounding a little vexed. The top brass? "Fucking Frederick… That snake must've called them after I left to get you." Frederick? Is that Alger's real name? "Sorry, my Lord, but you're going to have to go in there by yourself. Just don't act high and mighty with them, and you'll be fine."

Sebastian let out a tired sigh, running his hand through his black, slicked-back hair. "If anything happens to me, take Mary back to Greengrass Manor."

"You have my word."

Steeling his resolve, Sebastian stood up and made his way down the trophy-filled hallway, eventually coming upon Alger's door. He knocked politely, waiting patiently before the door swung open, coming face-to-face with an older witch dressed in black and gold robes. Is she one of the 'top brass'? She was a sallow-faced woman, probably in her late fifties, though, despite her age and waning health, there was a strength behind her eyes that couldn't be dismissed. She's seen death, and lots of it.

"Enter, Lord Greengrass," the witch invited him cordially, stepping out of his way.

He did as he was bid, stepping into the familiar room with his head held high. Besides the witch who'd let him in, there were three other occupants waiting for him, including Alger. One was a broad-shouldered wizard with thick, dirty-blonde hair, dressed entirely in Dragon Leather and supporting various scars all over his bearded face, and the other was an old man, bald and blotchy, dressed as fashionably as any Lord could ever hope to.

"Sit," the large wizard ordered, standing next to Alger's Portkey drawer.

Sebastian took a seat across from the old man, who was sitting in Alger's chair, while the owner himself stood behind the old man, as if he were nothing more than a butler. It's safe to assume to that Alger is not a leader, just very high up on the chain of command. The other three… They're definitely the ones running the show.

"I would like to start by apologizing to you, Lord Greengrass," the old man started, his voice was gravelly and barely audible. "Fenrir Greyback continues to elude us. We cornered him in Magical France, but an Auror operation interrupted us. In the chaos, Greyback escaped after inflicting grievous injury to the Auror leading the operation, Paul Durand." The Head-Auror himself? Why haven't I read about that in the news?

"That is most unfortunate, but I understand that Fenrir Greyback is exceptionally dangerous," Sebastian said, giving a soft nod.

"Thank you," the old man returned the gesture. "He has gone to ground once more, but we will continue hunting him. Berlin here has decided to lead the hunt himself. You won't find a more capable executioner than him."

Sebastian looked to the bearded wizard, nodding, again. "May your hunt prove successful." They certainly don't tolerate failure when it comes to completing contracts. They've already refunded me, and, now, one of their leaders is stepping in to get the job done. I like their dependability. They are a good investment.

"Now, Jürgen tells us that you have important matters to discuss regarding another one of our clients."

"Elias Maier, yes," Sebastian leaned forward, holding the old man's distant gaze. "My mother-in-law, his own wife, has become his captive. I will not bore you with the details of her imprisonment, save for telling you that I intend to rescue her and her ward, Eric Schwarz."

The sallow-faced witch clicked her tongue, moving over to Berlin's side. "Lord Maier is paying for our protection, as are you. If you intend to use violence, we will be forced to intervene."

"Perhaps, it vould be best to solve this domestic dispute amicably?" Alger suggested, though his tone was far too authoritative. "Ve could arrange a meeting between you two, one that need not end in bloodshed." That protects your interests, not mine. He's a threat to my wife, and I can't have him seeking his misguided vengeance upon her.

"He enjoys killing young girls who resemble my wife," Sebastian said bluntly, surprising Alger, but not the other three. "And he has long held a grudge against me for daring to love what he thought belonged to him. There is no method to solving this amicably, I'm afraid. He will not release his wife, nor their ward, not without a fight."

"…That is a shame," the old man whispered to himself, shooting a glance towards the other two leaders. "We had hoped to avoid our own killing each other, but these things happen."

"They don't need to," Sebastian started, his expression reflecting the power he wielded. "Elias Maier is a sinking ship, one that is drowning in vice and madness. Even as we speak, the other German Lords work to undo him. Conrad Rask, Hans Jäger, Albert Ackermann, Kaspar Bierhals, Sigmund Waldvogel, Michael Färber…" Any other Lords who I'm certain will join the Dark Lord? "…And Harald Aldershof." The three exchanged looks, again, none of them saying anything. "Even the Death's Hand, with its vast resources and manpower, cannot hope to stand against so many united Lords. Lords, who, I'm certain, also employ your services. When war breaks out between Elias and these Lords, it's the Death's Hand that will suffer the most losses."

"You failed to mention your own name amongst those Lords," Berlin grumbled, sneering at him. "Convenient." …Shit…

"Because I have no intention of stealing Elias' businesses, his assets," Sebastian swiftly recovered. "I simply wish to save my wife's mother, and the boy, before Elias kills them with his escalating abuse. The moment I have them in my custody, I will depart from Magical Germany."

"Do you really expect us to buy that drivel?" Berlin laughed scathingly. "You hear him, you two? He's just going to leave after he saves the bitch and the brat!"

Sebastian maintained his firm expression, not giving them an inch. "There is great tension between the German nobility and Elias, and I can already tell that, sooner rather than later, there will be violence. I intend to be long gone before the inevitable happens. I am only here because my wife loves her mother, that is it."

The old man's gaze finally became focused, searching Sebastian's eyes for the truth. "Why did you meet with Bernard Koch?" Of course, they know about it. That place was filled with their troops. Honesty will be my shield from here on out. No more manipulations.

"Because he protects Elias, most likely because Elias makes for a valuable partner due to his own network and wealth. Believe me when I say that I would never associate with a creature like Koch, not if I had a choice. I don't want to be involved in German politics, as I've already stated. I've only come here to save-"

"Shut up about your mother-in-law and her damn ward, already," Berlin hissed, his left eye twitching. "You're not fooling anyone in this room with this saviour act! A man like you is always trying to benefit himself, no matter the situation!"

"He is a client, Berlin, show him the respect he is due," the grey-haired witch scolded her ally, her tone almost threatening. "Forgive him, Lord Greengrass, but he is a more effective soldier than he is a negotiator." It's nice of her to confirm that this is indeed a negotiation.

"There is nothing to forgive," Sebastian stated calmly. "It is not lost on me that you three are being shoved into a very difficult position. If there is a 'civil war' in Magical Germany, it will be mercenary blood that's spilled, not the blood of the Pure. That is why I called Elias a sinking ship, he's dragging you all down into the deep with his overly-long suicide."

"We signed a contract," the old man frowned. "It cannot be broken."

"Because you care for your reputation, I understand, which is why you must strike before you're forced further down this road."

"Strike who?" the old man swiftly asked.

"Either Elias himself, or the Lords who don't employ your services," Sebastian answered, he was almost there. When the Dark Lord reaches Magical Germany, I'll make sure he finds nothing but ash. "If you remove Elias from the board, the entire conflict will be resolved, but at the expense of your reputation. If you assassinate the Lords who don't put gold in your pocket, then Elias will be in a better position to fight back against Rask's advances, but that will mean more bloodshed in the long run."

"Neither of those scenarios solve our problems, Lord Greengrass," Alger pointed out.

"I never said that they would," Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "I am merely showing you the only two moves left for you to make. Your reputation, or your blood… Which is more important to you? It can't be easy to fill your ranks, you only ever accept the best, and a drawn-out struggle between Elias and Rask could weaken your organisation considerably."

"Conrad Rask is not a client, his dearest friend, Lord Waldvogel, is," the witch spoke to the old man. "We should cut off the snake's head, be done with it." You're thinking too small, mercenary.

"Rask might be leading the charge, but, make no mistake, they all want a piece of Elias," Sebastian intervened. "This is what we Purebloods do, you see? We eat our own friends to grow fatter than we already are. It is in our very nature. Elias has isolated himself, and that foolish act has condemned him. Why do you think he latched onto you and Koch? Even in his diminished state, he understands that his old friends covet what is his. If you only target Rask, you'll only delay the inevitable."

"Removing Lord Rask vill empower Bernard Koch even further, and do any of us vant that?" Alger asked, and Sebastian didn't miss the disgust that flashed across the old man's face. "It is men like Lord Rask who keep Koch underground, not the authorities."

"Are you suggesting we kill Koch, as well?" the steel-eyed witch asked. "Foolishness… His network and connections are vital for our success, not to mention the money we make off of him."

"He doesn't deserve to breathe," Berlin growled to himself. "Fuck him, and his fucking circus. We should storm the building, and kill everyone we see." I certainly won't object to that idea. "We used to stand for something once, remember?"

"And what happens after his death, you fool?" the witch demanded. "Who fills the vacuum? Us? You know that can't happen, Berlin, so why don't you-?"

"Enough!" the old man commanded, silencing the room. "No decision will be made, today. We are missing two of our number, after all." There's five of you? Hm… "Lord Greengrass, thank you for visiting us. You have given us much-needed perspective. We will be in touch." In touch? What about my reason for being here?

"There's still the matter of my mother-in-law," Sebastian reminded them. "I will not leave until she is within my custody."

"Say what you truly mean, Lord Greengrass," the old man encouraged. "It's almost time for me to take my potions." Then, I'll do just that.

"Rask sent me to Koch in the hopes of stealing away Elias' strongest defender, but I failed," he started. "Elias' madness is more monstrous than even I could've imagined, and it is a madness Koch seems to take great pleasure in feeding. He'll have alerted Elias of my presence in Magical Germany by now, and of my intentions, which means that my time, and options, are limited."

The old man gave an understanding nod. "Even if Lord Maier and Lord Rask don't start a fight, you will."

"Using your people, yes," Sebastian confirmed. "Jürgen, and those under his command, will stage an assault on Maier Manor in the hope of extracting Anna and Eric. At most, I will wait three days before I make my move. I don't care about Rask and his grand ambitions, and I certainly don't care about Elias and his perversions. I will land the first blow that will ignite a war, and then, I will simply leave with my prize."

"While we're forced to shed our blood for a bunch of greedy Purebloods," Berlin grumbled. "…You bastard… Why couldn't you, and your wife, just stay in Magical Britain? Your arrival was the last straw, you know that, don't you?"

"We came for the same reason the Death's Hand went from hunting the Dark Lord's supporters to working for them," Sebastian answered swiftly, causing Berlin to sneer in disgust. "We humans do what's best for us, regardless of how it affects other people. I'm here because I can't bear the thought of losing my wife and daughters, and I'd sooner burn the world to cinders before I let it separate us, again. Mary's here because some part of her has always craved her parents' love, the very same love she threw away to keep mine. She's always enjoyed having her cake and eating it too. And you… You're in this position because you didn't want to stop fighting, even when the world was trying to heal. You're in this position because you're just as greedy as the Purebloods, and don't you dare deny it." With that, he stood up, looking back to the old man across from him. "In business, when you're forced to choose between two clients, you always choose the client you can trust to be straightforward with you. And, if that very same client has pockets as deep as mine, then choosing him is just common sense." The old man looked towards Berlin and the grey-haired witch, while Alger gave Sebastian a subtle nod of agreement. "You have three days to make your choice." Because, if I must, I'll make it for you.

---

The first thing he noticed upon returning was that the food was still untouched, a revelation that caused his heart to sink. "…She didn't come out, after all."

"Would you?" Jürgen whispered in response. "Her father gets off on killing girls who look just like she used to."

"Not for long," Sebastian sighed out, before making his way over to the bedroom door. "Mary, come out! I need to speak with you!" He waited, and waited, and waited, but Mary remained silent on the other side of the door. "We'll have your mother in our custody within three days. It's all sorted, now."

There was a long period of silence, which, suddenly, was broken by timid footsteps, after which the door creaked open, revealing his haggard wife, her golden hair a wild mess and her beautiful face marred with dried tears. "…Is this true?"

Sebastian looked her over, glad that he'd finally said something that had gotten her attention. "…Yes, it's true. However, things can still go wrong for us, so I won't make you any promises." No one knows the future, after all. Not even me.

"The Death's Hand?" Mary croaked, wiping at her red-rimmed eyes. "They agreed to help us?"

"…Not exactly…" Sebastian started, preparing himself to further break her heart. "They understand that they have a choice to make; Elias or themselves. I think, they're going to kill him, after which we'll be able to-"

"Kill him?" Mary mumbled, looking like a lost child. "W-W-What do you m-mean?"

He drew in a long breath, gently gripping her arms. "I'm sorry, love, but what's about to happen started a long time ago. You and I, our arrival was simply the catalyst needed for events to begin unfolding as they will. Elias will die at the hands of the other German Lords, and they will divide the spoils of murder amongst each other. We will be allowed to take Anna and the boy, though, of that I'm certain."

Mary stared at him for many moments, before swallowing thickly. "…This understanding the Death's Hand reached… Did you help them reach it? Don't lie to me, Sebastian… Tell me the truth, please… Is this the outcome you'd hoped for?"

"Yes."

Her face twisted painfully, and she let out a meek sob as her legs wobbled. "…Why?"

"Because your father is gone, Mary, and the Ghoul walking around in his skin is a threat to you," Sebastian said unapologetically. "He's a threat to Daphne, who is your spitting image."

"I can still-"

"You can't," he cut her off, shaking her hard enough to startle her. "Don't endanger what we have for what will never be."

"I d-did this to him-"

"No, he did it to himself when he chose his pride over his daughter's happiness." Mary deflated in his grip, and he gently pulled her into his embrace. "The Death's Hand will reach out to us soon, and, when they do, we must be strong. We must be vigilant. They could still turn on the Lords not employing them in order to protect their reputation, and, if that happens, we'll be caught up in a war between the German Lords and Elias." That would be the worst-case scenario for Mary and me, but it could prove beneficial for the Order. Less Lords in Germany means less support for the Dark Lord, after all.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Friday 16th July, 1994 (Madame Maxime's Home – Late Morning)

He picked at the fire using the iron fire-poker, wondering why a woman of Madame Maxime's reputation would sleep-in on a weekday. It's almost eleven, now. I should just go up to her bedroom and wake her up. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can return home with Fawkes. I want to keep practising Umbra Cordis-…

"Mon Dieu!" Madame Maxime's voice rang out from behind him, followed swiftly by the rustling of silk. "RONALD?! Is that you?! What are you doing in my home?! How did you even get in here?!"

Ron turned his head slightly, looking back at her. "Good morning, Madame Maxime. Long time, eh?"

She appeared murderous, holding her robes together with one hand and pointing her wand at him with the other. "Get out this instance! How dare you?!"

Ron let out an annoyed grunt, standing up and turning to face her. I didn't expect her to be happy with me for dropping in without invitation, but there's no need for threats, especially those she can't hope to make good on. Electricity crackled between the fingers of his left hand, before traveling up his arm and crawling across the side of his face. "Are you going to make a move, then? Go on."

She continued glaring at him, breaking eye-contact only when Fawkes shrieked from the sofa. "…You? You brought him here?" The Phoenix spread his wings, as if ordering her to stand down. "…Did Albus send you two? Why? What has happened? Has the Dark One made-?"

"I've come here because I have a use for you," Ron interrupted, turning back around and kneeling. "You must have contacts in Magical France's Potioneering market, right?"

"The… Potioneering market?" she repeated, some agitation still present in her voice. "I suppose, I do, but only because they sell to Beauxbatons. They are not my friends, barely even acquaintances."

"Our reputations will make up for that," Ron said softly, once again poking at the fire. "Get dressed."

"Ronald, I have plans of my-"

"Cancel them."

"This is too audacious, even for one with your legend, and I will not-!"

"Do you remember the pain you inflicted upon me during the Junior League Chess Tournament?" Ron asked, stopping her short. "Unless you want to experience that very same pain, multiplied by a thousand, you'll go back upstairs and make yourself decent. Go, now. I don't have all day."

---

Friday 16th July, 1994 (La Route Bleue – Midday)

"This way," Madame Maxime pointed ahead, and Ron silently followed. "We are almost there, so I might as well say this to you now. I do not appreciate you breaking into my home, nor do I appreciate the tone with which you addressed me. I thought we were on good terms, Ronald. Has that changed?"

"No."

"Then, why?" she shot a stern glance back.

"I don't like this country," Ron answered from the heart. "Being here makes me irritable." The more I learn about Magical France, the more I want to wipe it off the map. "And, I'm in no mood to try and persuade people to help me. What would a back-and-forth between us have achieved? You'd still be here, guiding me through these streets, only it'd be hours from now. No… I don't have time to waste, nor do I care enough about your plans to accommodate you. Lives are at stake, your luncheons and parties can wait."

"…At least, you're still straightforward," Madame Maxime said curtly. "So, I will be straightforward with you, also. Your plan is going to fail. No one is going to sell you, a foreigner, such a large quantity of ingredients. Not even if the French Minister himself vouched for you."

"Then, we'll buy from multiple sellers."

"That will take all day."

"That's why I wanted to start sooner rather than later," Ron shrugged, his eyes subtly scanning his surroundings. This place isn't as large as Diagon Alley, but it's just as packed. I don't like it. I can't Sense worth a damn with this many people around, and anyone could make a move on me at any second. This is dangerous, even with Madame Maxime with me. Perhaps, I should've brought London, after all.

People were starting to notice him, too, whispering amongst each other and pointing out the famous pair to any who hadn't noticed. Any second now, I'm going to feel-… A dull ache shot up his skull, bringing a dark frown to his face. Fucking allures! Is this what Hogwarts will be like come September?! Focusing on his breathing, and on watching out for potential assassins, Ron continued moving forward. Almost there, that's what Madame Maxime said. Just bear with it for a bit longer, old boy.

"In there, we'll find what you need," the gargantuan witch gestured at a green shop with Chinese Chomping Cabbages on display in the window. "Le bosquet d'émeraude. Beauxbatons' supplier owns this establishment."

"Let's hurry inside, then, before some Veela gives me an aneurism."

---

A short, rosy-cheeked, pot-bellied man arrived into the shop via floo, making a beeline for Ron with a bright smile on his face. "C'est vrai! Monsieur Weasley! Dans mon jardin!" Um… What? "I am ze largest fan! Largest! Welcome, welcome!" Largest fan? Probably means the biggest.

"You must be Mr. Lavigne," Ron smiled back, firmly shaking the man's hand.

"Please, call me Antoine!" the man laughed merrily, refusing to let go of Ron's gloved hand. "Ma fille va être tellement jalouse!"

Ron couldn't help but chuckle, there was an earnestness in the man's emerald eyes that couldn't be denied. He's so excited to see me that he hasn't even noticed Madame Maxime standing right behind me.

"Ahem," the Headmistress of Beauxbatons cleared her throat, and, finally, Antoine acknowledged her presence.

"Ah! Mademoiselle Maxime!" he bowed his head a little in respect. "Content de te revoir!"

"My friend, Ronald, does not speak French, so, for his benefit, let us converse in his tongue," Madame Maxime suggested, and, after making sense of her words, Antoine gave an enthusiastic nod. "Ronald, go ahead."

"You need ingredients, non?" Antoine asked just as Ron was about to speak. "For Werewolf? For zeir changes?" He's quick, which is good for me. "My daughter read about zem to me! In ze Quibbler! Very sad!"

"I need a lot," Ron confirmed, looking down at their joined hands. "Um, Mr. Lavigne, you're still-"

"Oh, pardonne-moi!" Antoine laughed, finally letting go. "Zis is exciting, is all! Very exciting! My daughter, she has poster of you! Many poster!" Who's making these posters? This isn't the first time someone's mentioned them to me. "Tea? Coffee? Any sweets?"

"No, Sir, that's not necessary," Ron said reassuringly, wanting to stick to his objective. "I need enough to last me two years, for roughly five thousand, or so, people. Wolfsbane leaves, Mandrake leaves, vials of Dragon blood, everything needed to concoct the Wolfsbane Potion."

Again, the Herbalist processed Ron's words, before going wide-eyed. "Mon Dieu! Why so much?!" He then shook his head, losing much of his gusto. "Non, non… Is not possible, Monsieur Weasley! Many English buyers already! The market zere was stolen, non? We not have so much left!" Damn, I didn't even think about that. Gods damn you, Mary Greengrass. "I can arrange for six months, but no more… I am sorry."

"What about playing the middleman for me?" Ron suggested, making the man blink. "You must have contacts all over Magical Europe, right? With those in your profession? Madame Maxime tells me that you're exceptionally successful, and a man I used to know always told me that 'no man is an island'." Antoine gave a slow nod, appearing perplexed. I should speak slower, shouldn't I? I don't want miscommunication fucking this up. "Reach out to your friends, buy in bulk from all of them, then pass the ingredients over to me. I'll pay you extra for all your legwork, and, of course, I'll also cover the cost of all the purchases."

"Clever," Madame Maxime stated, giving a soft nod of approval.

"Zis… is possible, but… It will take some time," Antoine started, stroking his freshly shaven chin. "I want to help ze Werewolf, my daughter would be proud of her papa. Oui, je le ferai! I will do this!" Thank you, Universe, for finally sending a good man to my aid!

"How long will it take?" Ron asked, barely masking his relief.

"I cannot know, Monsieur Weasley," Antoine answered truthfully. "I must speak to my friends. Find good price. Merchants are… um… What is ze word? Fickle! Oui, very fickle!" That's fair enough.

"Prosperity Farm, in Kent," Ron gave a nod. "Send owls there with any news of note."

"Prosperity Farm," the man repeated in recognition. "From Quibbler, non? How exciting!" Is this the jolliest man in Magical France? Hm… So jolly, in fact, that I feel like he's infecting me with it.

Ron undid his reckless smile, returning to his usually-sombre expression. "I'll leave you with ten thousand Galleons, that should be more than enough to get the job done. More will come through my associates whenever you need it."

"That is too large an investment," Madame Maxime whispered, but Ron ignored her. Hardly. I know where his shop is, now, and, if he cheats and steals from me, I'll pay him a visit that'll leave his daughter fatherless.

"Come to my office," Antoine gestured them to follow, waving at a nearby employee tending to the various flora. "Zat is Édouard! Very good boy! Very good with ze plants!" Okay, then. "Zis way, we must do ze paperwork for Ministry inspection."

"Ministry inspection?" Ron asked, not pleased with the idea of involving them.

"It's the law, Ronald," Madame Maxime told him. "Such large purchases can't be made by a single party without their direct supervision. It's a failsafe to avoid what's happening in Magical Britain." That's why Sebastian and Mary used so many different aliases and companies… It helped them slip past the British Ministry's notice. Fucking desk-workers couldn't take five minutes to investigate those purchases? Incompetent idiots.

"The Ministry will interfere, though."

"We'll use my name, then," she sighed out, vexed. "You're right, if they see your name on the documents, they'll make a fuss. Honestly, Ronald… This is not how I expected my day to go."

"You're doing a good thing for a lot of good people," Ron reminded her. "If that's not enough for you, then I don't know what to say."

"You could try 'Thank you'," she quickly retorted. "What has happened to the well-mannered young wizard I knew?" What, indeed?

Ron drew in a deep breath, guilt poking at his brain. "…You're right… Thank you, Madame Maxime, and I'm sorry. I'm short-tempered right now, it's been a shitty few days, but that's my problem, not yours."

"…I see," she whispered to herself. "After this, you and I will indulge in a hearty meal. You can share your frustrations with me." That sounds awful.

"I'll happily have lunch with you, but, please, I'm in no mood to talk," Ron said plainly, wondering if the High Mother would give him what he wanted without forcing his hand. If she calls my bluff, that'll be very embarrassing.

---

Friday 16th July, 1994 (La Cage à Canari – Afternoon)

"I'm glad Antoine was such a devoted fan of yours," Madame Maxime broke the silence, swirling her wine glass. "The man barely even noticed my exalted presence." Jealous? I think, on some level, she is. Even here, more people have taken notice of me than her. "It is the way of the world, I suppose. The young supplant the old." Yeah, she's mad about it.

"You're hardly old," Ron smiled a little, looking up from his salmon. "The Headmaster is old… You're semi-old, at most."

She scarcely seemed pleased with his humour, pressing her lips together tightly. "Rude boy." That's me! "Your temperament has improved slightly, at least. For that alone, I'm glad. Sulky men are the worst sort of men." That's also me! "So, has your meeting with Antoine improved your low opinion of my country?"

"Are there Veela still about?" Ron asked in response.

She studied him carefully, finding it much harder to get a read on him, now. "Have you grown to despise them, also? Just like so many others?"

"They're an acquired taste, that's all I'll say," Ron shrugged, cutting up his salmon. "I have no tolerance for those who enjoy turning others into slaves." Plus, they lack control, not only over their allures, but over their very natures. It's pathetic.

"Slaves? That's too harsh a word, Ronald."

"Thralls, then? Madame Maxime, I know you are friends with many prominent Veela, but don't forget that, not so long ago, one of those friends tried to sink her claws into my country's Ministry. They think they're better than everyone because they're beautiful, and their entire culture is built around self-indulgence. When I look at them, all I see is hedonism and weakness. I don't hate them, I wouldn't go that far, but they do disgust me."

"A culture built around self-indulgence? Tell me, what do you know of their culture?" she challenged, before taking a sip of her wine.

He thought back to his short visit to the Ivory Court, images of gaudy extravagance, and conceited cowards hiding inside a mountain, raced through his mind, and Ron grimaced. "They worship themselves, their own beauty, and if something is not beautiful, they discard it. For all their complaints against Wizarding-Kind, the bigotry and distrust, they have no problem with inflicting the same injuries to other Magical species. Elves are too unsightly to be allowed in public, Goblins are too short and ill-tempered to be taken seriously, Centaurs are more akin to animal than man… I've looked into the French Ministry's policies, its legislations, and it is every bit as prejudiced as its counterparts all over the world. What's the difference here, you might ask? It's the Veela who push for these prejudices, not out of greed or out of a desire to expand, but simply because they look down on those who don't look like them. I find that even more disturbing, more repulsive, than the problems I face at home."

Madame Maxime mulled his words over, still staring at him. "You've changed." That's what you have to say right now? "Do you remember when you came to me with that letter from Albus? Asking me to join the Order?"

"I do."

"Do you know what convinced me, in the end? To risk my own life for the greater good?"

"What?"

"People are people," Madame Maxime said strongly. "Simple words, yes, but effective in displaying your character. That's why I joined, because you reminded me that borders only serve to disconnect us. Wizards, Veela, Goblins, Centaurs… We all have our faults, but we are all just people. Do you not believe this, anymore?"

"Of course, I do, but I don't believe it's a valid excuse to be our worst selves," Ron countered, putting aside his utensils. "And, from what I've seen, Veela-Kind relish in being just that. Even at your school, Veela children viciously bully those who aren't like them. Amanda, my friend, had her boyfriend stolen by a Veela abusing her allure on the poor lad, and do you know what Amanda did? Nothing… What could she do? She lives in a society that puts her bully on a pedestal."

"And yet, she is friends with Veela children, now." Did she completely ignore the fact that some chap was brain-raped by one of her Veela students? Are boys and men that expendable in Magical France?

"What other option did she have? You either play by their rules, or they stomp on you."

"You're mistaking them for the Purebloods-"

"No, it is you who is making the mistake," Ron hissed, feeling his temper spike. "What of the boy, Madame Maxime? Did he really cheat on Amanda? I don't think so… If I tricked a girl into drinking the Love Potion, and she left her boyfriend to be with me, would you not see me as the root of the problem? Would you not accuse me of being a rapist? Would the Aurors not drag me off to a trial? And, no, I don't care about young Veela struggling to control their 'urges'… That's some horseshit they like to spread around so they can avoid accountability. I have the perfect solution to teaching them some fucking control." He raised his gloved hand to his side, displaying his palm. "One fucking slap from me, and they'll think a hundred times before using their allure. That's what they all need from as young as five, plain and simple." Noticing her alarmed expression, he drew in a long breath in order to regain his composure. "…Ugh… I swear, when you lot arrive at Hogwarts next school year, you'd best keep them under control. If I find out that they've used their allures on anyone, I'll break their pretty faces beyond repair. I'm warning you right now, I will show no mercy."

She gawked at him, wide-eyed, his outburst had thoroughly jarred her. "…Ronald… Have you ever considered employing the services of a Mind-Healer? Because you really should…"

He exhaled, picking up his utensils, again. "I had one, but it didn't quite work out. My issues… They can't be solved with words, only action."

Madame Maxime took another sip, slowly regaining her own composure. "I had no idea you felt so strongly about Veela subjugation-"

"Subjugation? What?" Ron narrowed his eyes on her. "No, don't do that. Criticism is not subjugation, all right? You favour them, that much has always been obvious, probably because they embody every trait you value… Grace, beauty, femininity, all that tripe… But, tell me, where were these traits when I was trying to play some bloody chess? Where was basic fucking decency? I was twelve! And you lot almost murdered me over a damn game! I have good reason to find them repulsive, as do many others, and it is up to Veela-Kind to better itself. Otherwise, they'll be left wishing for subjugation, because what I will unleash upon them will be infinitely worse. In that regard, yes, Veela, and certain Purebloods, are the same. They think they can treat the rest of us as playthings, just meat for their amusement and elevation, but that is simply not the case. All it takes is one angry motherfucker, and regimes come crumbling down."

"And you believe yourself to be this angry… individual?" Madame Maxime questioned, visibly displeased. "I have heard enough, Ronald. You are clearly not in your right mind, today. This visit, I cannot claim that it was a pleasant one." She rose from her seat, tossing her napkin onto her half-eaten lunch. "I will be speaking to Albus about his errant protégé, have no doubts about that. For shame."

She abandoned him to dine alone, causing him to roll his eyes. "…Fucking drama-queen." Perhaps, I should start looking into her past? Why exactly is she so fond of Veela? I mean, just look at her… I doubt they treat her as one of them, so why is she such a devoted bootlicker? Reyes could help me gather the information I need, I'm certain of it, but, first, I'll need to remove the French families he wants gone. I can't go to him empty-handed, after all, that'd be poor manners.

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Friday 16th July, 1994 (Yet Another Shady Motel – Night)

"Are you going to sleep hungry, again?" Sebastian asked from the doorway, seeing her in her current state was undoing him. "Mary, please… Just a little-"

"…I can't," she broke her long silence, sitting on the bed and hugging her knees. "…It wasn't supposed to happen like this, Sebastian… Koch, my father, even Conrad… This is not the Germany I grew up in…"

"You left at seventeen, Mary," he reminded her. "None of this is your fault-"

"I should've listened to you… I should've never gone down to see Koch," Mary sniffled, her right hand moving up and resting on the side of her dishevelled head. "That girl… She looked just like our Tori… Our little mischief-maker… She did, didn't she, Sebastian?"

Sebastian lowered his gaze, feeling something primal, something hungry, awakening inside him, again. Koch… I want him dead… I need him dead… Even though it would be madness to make an enemy of someone like him, even if it will cost me a fortune to hunt him down, I want his head on a spit… Why, though? For the sake of his victims? For the sake of Mary? Or, simply, for the sake of doing the right thing? I just don't know… All I know is that neither Mary, nor I, can stop thinking about that disgusting creature… He haunts both our dreams…

"Get some sleep, love," Sebastian whispered, turning to leave. "This will all be over soon."

He closed the bedroom door, before making his way over to Jürgen, who was peeking at the parking lot through the black curtains. He's on edge, today. This is the fifth time I've caught him checking the perimeter.

"The Lady is still fasting, is she?" Jürgen asked as Sebastian approached, keeping his focus on whatever was outside.

"Koch did a number on her," Sebastian answered, studying the mercenary's back. Something is definitely off with him. "Jürgen, what exactly are you looking for out there?"

"I'll let you know when I see it."

"Try again."

Jürgen looked back, something deadly flashing behind his eyes. "You put the Death's Hand in a corner, my Lord… Have you considered that they might remove Elias, and you, from the equation?"

"They won't," Sebastian said blandly.

"You know them so well, do you?"

"Not them, no, but I do know what keeps a business like theirs afloat," Sebastian started. "Killing me simply doesn't benefit them, whereas killing Elias helps them avoid participating in a needless war. Tell me, what keeps your interest in my endeavours?"

"Your gold," Jürgen answered immediately.

"Exactly so, and Elias is going to cost them a great deal of gold in the long run. Now, they might clamour about their reputation until they're blue in the face, but the truth is that they want as much gold as they can carry. It's always like that with people like you, and people like me have always used that to our advantage."

"…Fair point."

"So, no, I'm not concerned with being assassinated by the Death's Hand… My only concern is that I'll be forced to make a move against Elias before they do, which could result in me losing control of this situation." I'm already at a disadvantage, and one mistake could cost me the whole game.

"Don't forget that Rask is probably after you by now, seeing as you vanished on him."

"Him too," Sebastian grimaced. "And Koch, and this Goblin King, and the likes of Hans Jäger… The longer we stay here, the more danger we'll be in. We need to get our hands on Anna and Eric as swiftly as we can, and then, we can make our escape." Once I'm home, I can start plotting Koch's, and Rask's, downfall in earnest. "These next few days will determine-"

Jürgen suddenly raised his hand, sniffing the air and turning pale. "Fuck!" He swiftly peeked through the curtain, again, his breath hitching. "FUCK! Get in the bedroom, now!"

Startled, Sebastian didn't have any time to respond before Jürgen began running around the room, checking the Wards in every corner. What's happened?! He moved to the curtain, and when he took a peek for himself, he was left horrified and speechless. …No… This can't be… The parking lot was filled with mercenary-types, all of their gazes fixed on the room he was in. The Death's Hand?! Impossible! They chose Elias over me?! Why?! Why would they do that?!

"They've sealed us in!" Jürgen barked, but all Sebastian could do was impotently stare at the army on his doorstep. "The Portkey isn't going to work! Neither is Apparition! You just had to distract me, didn't you?!"

"…I don't under-" he was suddenly yanked away from the window, and harshly shoved towards the bedroom.

"Get in there, and lock it behind you!" Jürgen snapped, his filed-teeth bared. "Go, now! The few of my people we brought with us are probably dead!"

Just as Sebastian gained enough control over his body to begin moving his legs, there was a cordial knock at the door, bringing about a silence so deep that he could hear his own thrashing heart trying to break out of his chest. …I miscalculated? Me? No… No, surely, this isn't-… Another knock, followed by a familiar voice. "Lord Greengrass, open the door. We know you're in there, and we have this… establishment… completely surrounded. Come out, now." Sebastian and Jürgen exchanged hopeless looks, the voice belonged to Berlin, one of the leaders of the Death's Hand. "If we wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Open the door."

"Don't," Jürgen warned in a whisper, shaking his head. "They didn't show up in such numbers for a fucking tea-party."

Sebastian, still reeling, felt the urge to vomit, the entire room was spinning faster and faster, until, suddenly, his wife's voice cut through the nausea. "What's going on, Sebastian? Who's knocking on the door?" He looked to her with a bloodless, forlorn expression, his mouth hanging open. …I got her killed… My wife… The mother of my children… "Husband? What's the matter?" Mary rushed over to him, her face contorting with concern. "Sebastian, what's happened?! You look as though-!"

Another knock cut her off, it was far more impatient than the previous two. "I'm going to break this door down if you don't come out. Open it."

Jürgen moved between the Greengrasses and the door, his wand at the ready. "Take her and go! Blow the wall in the bedroom and run for it, I'll hold them here!" You won't last more than five minutes… There's an army out there…

"Hold who?!" Mary asked in a panic. "Who's at our door?!" …There's only one move left to me, now.

The Chess-Master drew in a sharp breath, and, through sheer will, he forced himself to jumpstart his mind. "…Jürgen, take Mary into the bedroom."

"What?!" they both looked to him, alarmed.

"Make sure she gets home safely," he continued, preparing himself to do his duty to his wife one last time. "I will negotiate safe passage for you both."

"What are you saying?" Mary gasped, grabbing onto his arm. "Sebastian, I don't-"

"Look after my girls, Jürgen, and you'll be remembered as the richest mercenary in Wizarding history." He then pulled his arm free from his wife's hold, putting on his bravest expression. Be strong for her. Be strong. "Daphne and Astoria… Their safety, and happiness, are in your hands, now." Mary looked ready to pass out, trembling at the mere thought of losing her husband. "Grieve later, please, right now you have to focus on surviving. That's all that matters."

Before she could say anything, Jürgen marched over and took her by the arm, dragging her screaming form away even as she fought with all of her might to return to Sebastian's side. …Goodbye, my love. Once the bedroom door was sealed shut, Sebastian allowed his true feelings to show, nearly falling over as he let out a pathetic whimper. …I don't understand… What can Elias offer that I can't? Did I really read the Death's Hand so poorly? Did I really make such a fatal-? His thoughts were cut off when the door was blown off its hinges, but Sebastian didn't even react, as he was too busy leaning on a chair for support. …To die in this wretched country, so far from home… To die without saying farewell to my daughters… To die without making peace with my son… Have my sins finally caught up with me? Is this what I deserve?

Berlin stepped into the room with a dark frown, glaring at the Greengrass patriarch. "I warned you, didn't I?"

"…My wife…" he managed, turning slightly to face the leather-wrapped mercenary. "Spare my wife, I beg you… She only wished to save her mother, nothing more."

"We didn't come here for her, just for her husband," Berlin aimed his wand at Sebastian's head, ignoring the screams coming from the bedroom. "Are you afraid?" …I'm terrified…

He drew in his final breath, standing upright with his head held high. "We Greengrasses know no fear-"

There was a blinding red light, and then, oblivion.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 17th July, 1994 (High Mother's Bedchambers – Afternoon)

"Is there no other way, Ronald?" she asked, watching his reflection closely in the mirror. "Can I not persuade you to abandon this hunt?"

"No," he answered, his eyes flashing red. "They die tonight, but I'll do them a kindness and let them share one last meal with their queen."

"And how will I explain your murders to my people?" she asked, her hand steadily brushing her long, silvery hair.

"I'm sure you already have a plan, High Mother. After all, you've done a fair bit of murdering yourself, haven't you?"

She pressed her lips together, not used to being spoken to with such indifference. "…Treason… They were all part of a conspiracy to undermine my power, and the safety of the Ivory Court, a conspiracy that you brought to my attention." That'll work just fine.

"And the conspiracy is why you sealed the Ivory Court away," Ron added, causing her to look back at him. "Yes, after tonight, you'll reopen your doors. I won't let you hide in here, away from all the danger the Dark Lord promises to bring upon this world."

"You overstep your bounds, child," she warned, her expression still regal despite her blatant threat. Child? I've struck a nerve, haven't I? She doesn't like to be challenged, she's simply not accustomed to it.

"I gave you the option to not view my memories, to stay unburdened," Ron reminded her. "You let your curiosity win, after which you gave me your word that you'd become my ally. Do you really think I'll let you hide in here? Do you really think I'll let you benefit from the sacrifices of those out there? No… You don't get to be a part of the new world if you don't fight for it. The days of the powerful remaining on the sidelines are over. You either fight, or you die."

"I offered resources, not soldiers," she countered. "We Veela are not fighters, Ronald, one as clever as you must understand that. War is not our nature, not our way. Only in peace can my people thrive."

"There can be no peace without war, one as wise as you must understand that."

"It won't be a war, it'll be a slaughter," she moved off her chair, facing him properly. "Do you wish to use Veela-Kind as a shield? Are you our enemy, Ronald?"

"Think back to the memory I showed you, and ask me that ridiculous question, again." She averted her gaze, but only for a heartbeat. "The real enemy wouldn't even bother to reason with you, he'd just string you up for all your people to see. He has to be stopped, High Mother, even if it means sacrificing every life in this mountain."

"Do you even understand why we never left this mountain?" she asked. "Why we harbour disdain towards those who did? It's because the world out there is bloody and brutal, and if it gets in here, our kind will cease to exist. I, and those before me, have worked tirelessly to keep Veela-Kind from meddling in the affairs of wizards and witches for that sole reason. This mountain isn't just our home, it's our guardian, and you are asking me to leave it vulnerable?"

"I am asking you to acknowledge that there's an entire world beyond your mountain, and it will be engulfed in flames before long. Once that happens, your mountain won't be your guardian, anymore… It'll turn into an oven, and you'll all be roasted alive within. Mark my words, the only way to live is to fight, and if you ignore me now, I won't come back to help when my words prove true."

"Then, what is the difference between our saviour and our destroyer?" she swiftly demanded, making his eye twitch. "Both of you command that we lay down our lives for your cause, and, if we refuse, you threaten to take them, regardless. Tell me, Demon-Bearer, what is your true purpose here, on this Earth?"

Ron lowered his gaze a little, unable to ignore the truth she'd thrown in his face. "…My own feelings for Veela-Kind aside, I know I'm asking for far too much, but, please, understand that I have no other choice. For thousands of years, I've been trapped in an endless cycle of failure and death… The only way to be free of it, the only way to end this ceaseless conflict, is for me to do whatever it takes."

"Thousands of years?" she blinked, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I only shared a fraction of the truth with you, and even that was enough to make you flee," Ron looked back to her, his gaze once again full of determination. "However, believe me, your troubles are trivial compared to mine, and, in my shoes, you would have surrendered to the abyss long ago."

Although she didn't appreciate his self-glorifying words, the emptiness behind his fierce gaze gave her reason to pause. "…This Demon inside you-"

"It's not a Demon, it's more akin to a force far older than the multiverse," Ron corrected her, causing her to go wide-eyed with intrigue. Even now, she's hungry for forbidden knowledge. This woman's appetite for secrets is insatiable, isn't it? I need to use that against her. "Do you have a Pensieve? Let me show you another marvel."

She immediately looked hesitant, eyeing him with suspicion. "What marvel? More death and destruction? More suffering?"

Ron smiled at the mere thought of the memory he wished to share, shaking his head softly. "I want to show you life, High Mother, in all its infinite beauty."

---

She stood beside his memory-self, gazing upon the canvas of Creation with tears flowing from her eyes. Ron himself stood further back, feeling more peaceful than he had in days simply because of the swirling colours of one particular nebula in the shape of a multicoloured eye. There's so much to see that I never even noticed that one before. So beautiful, so majestic. I should come here more often, just to remind myself that I, and my troubles, are insignificant. This is what matters. This is what someone like the Dark Lord can't even begin to understand. This is… life!

She suddenly turned to face him, laughing like a schoolgirl and wiping her eyes clear. "…Ronald… Look at this… The Edge of the Universe itself… Infinity conquered by our eyes alone…"

He couldn't help but smile back, glad that she'd forgotten her worldly woes in this moment. "Almost as beautiful as you, isn't it?"

She laughed, again, blushing, even. "…In two hundred years, no man has ever given me such a magnificent, humbling gift… Thank you…"

"Take one more look, High Mother, because it's time for us to go."

"Go?" she repeated, her smile wavering. "…Why? We just entered this memory…"

"It's been two hours, High Mother," Ron refuted, adding some steel into his voice. I can't let her get lost in all of this, I've indulged her enough. "Soon, my past-self will be visited by an all-powerful being, one beyond even my understanding, and we cannot risk being here when that happens."

"…But this is only a memory," she tried.

"And yet, I have reason to believe that this thing will sense us through Time and Space, and could even do us harm should it find our presence offensive," Ron told her, remembering how Dream was able to interact with him despite him being shown a memory of the Cycles' beginning. Even Fate couldn't sense me, she only interacted with the Ron she infected with the Entity. Dream, however, spoke directly to me, and he later even cast the Headmaster and Professor Snape out of the Pensieve. That bastard isn't like the other Elders, it's omnipresent. It even invaded the fantasy crafted by the Sages, and I don't think any other Elder could've done that. They can't see into my mind, after all, but Dream… Dream always shows up when I least expect it. Bloody hell, for all I know, it's already here, watching me share this memory with the High Mother.

"…You look afraid," the High Mother's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Ronald, what is coming?"

"We're leaving," he ordered, closing his eyes and willing himself out of the memory.

His head jerked out of the Pensieve, and after regathering his wits, he grabbed the High Mother by her nape and pulled her out, as well. She leaned against the Pensieve for support, breathing heavily as her eyes travelled across her gaudy bedchambers, the spark behind them no longer present. Welcome home, such as it is.

"Strange, right?" Ron asked, watching her intently. "To witness true majesty, and then to return down here, on this tiny ball of dirt we call a world… It's enough to sap the very soul from one's body, or the sanity from one's mind."

She swallowed thickly, trembling in place. "…How do you adjust to such a cruel reality?"

"You don't," Ron shrugged, tapping his temple and grinning maliciously. "It'll drive you mad before you even realise it. One day, you'll just look in the mirror, and the person staring back will be a stranger. You should know, High Mother, you saw my child-self, didn't you? Cleaning the table after his birthday dinner, laughing and smiling like some little clown cunt? Like nothing could ever go wrong in his life? Could you really say that he and I are the same person? I would argue that you-"

"…Stop it," she raised her hand, nearly gagging. "I feel… terribly ill. I need something to drink, something strong."

Ron sniggered, feeling satisfied with himself. Two hundred years, and I doubt anyone's fucked with her the way I have. I've literally taken her very understanding of life itself, and wiped my arse with it. "Give me the Lords and Ladies I've asked for, then open this mountain and play your part. I'll even compromise a little, and allow you to put on trial the friends of those degenerates."

"Those within my walls?" she asked, and he gave a nod. I don't have any evidence against them, and I don't fancy wasting my time in acquiring it. You can do that for me.

"I say trial, but what I mean is execution. Investigate them, find their secrets, and if they're guilty of their friends' crimes, or had knowledge of said crimes and said nothing, burn them alive."

She closed her eyes and leaned heavily on the Pensieve, shuddering. "…Goddess… Dumbledore is either blind, or wilfully ignorant…"

"He's of a gentle disposition, always has been," Ron shrugged. "He can stop the Dark Lord, sure, but he can't stop the creation of another. He fails to understand that the fire is good for the forest in the grand scheme of things." It's because of him that the Loyalists still live, for one, and it's because of him that we're still stuck fighting the same enemies as a decade ago. He could've killed them all just by himself, but he didn't. Instead, he sat on his arse and wasted precious time, the fool, and now, we have to sacrifice so much more than we should have to. I will not make his mistakes.

"They will be here soon," the High Mother stood up, flattening her glittering dress. "The Ancars, the Bissets, the Donadieus, and Heroux, they will all come bearing gifts for their mother, whilst concealing knives behind their backs."

"They won't live long enough to use them," Ron stated, turning his head and cracking his neck. "Stick to our plan, High Mother. Lure them into a false sense of safety, remove their wands from their persons, then leave them to me."

"And the dogs?" she asked, a defiant glint igniting behind her eyes. "Ronald, I have a faint idea of what you intend to do, and you mustn't. Such a vile act has nothing to do with your mission-"

"I never said it did," Ron chuckled darkly. "No, this is something I want to do for myself. A gift from me to me, if you will. I want Lady Ancar and Lord Heroux to know how it feels to be debased, to be torn apart body and soul, and I always get what I want. So… Just shut the fuck and do as you're told, eh?"

---

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

?

He awoke with a jerk, immediately going still when he saw Berlin's wand aimed at his face. I'm alive?! Why am I alive?! He panted and coughed, his eyes darting around the dimly-lit room for an explanation.

"What's your name?" Berlin asked, watching him like a hawk.

"…Sebastian… Greengrass…"

"I didn't hit you too hard, then," Berlin smirked, lowering his wand and taking a step back. "You're probably wondering what's going on, aren't you?"

"Where am I?" Sebastian croaked, sitting up on the comfortable bed. "Where's Mary?"

"Your wife has been escorted back to your manor," Berlin revealed. "Jürgen dragged her away against her will, I'm told." He did? Good… That's good… "They both think you're dead, I'm sure, we whisked you away before either of them left the bedroom."

"Why?" Sebastian sneered, clenching his fists weakly. "Why did you do this?"

"You walked into our home, told us what to do, and the worst part is, you were right," Berlin shrugged. "None of this was my idea, I assure you. It was Stuttgart's."

"Who?"

"The old man who led the meeting," Berlin clarified, taking a seat on the chair beside the bed. "Petty, right? A pathetic show of false strength, but that's how he operates. Meek gestures to intimidate weak men." Is that so?

"You'd have just killed me, I imagine," Sebastian figured, and Berlin shrugged, again. "That would be a pointless waste of a promising investment."

"Hardly, it would serve my cause quite well," Berlin countered. Your cause? "But that doesn't matter, now, does it? You're still alive, your wife and manservant are safe, and Elias… Elias is rotting downstairs."

"You killed him?" Sebastian asked, feeling a rush of relief.

"No, we tossed him in our dungeon," Berlin answered. Damn, so he still breathes. "You're going to kill him, after we've had our chat." What? "That's right, you can finally take your revenge. Consider this opportunity a gift from the Death's Hand." Kill Elias myself? I can't say I didn't dream of it as a young man, but-… "Oh, and from Bernard Koch. He helped, too."

"Koch? He betrayed Elias? Why?" Sebastian didn't hide his shock, still reeling from the fact that he was alive.

"For the same reason why you steal, betray, and dismantle, any business you pretend to back. Elias proved himself a poor investment, and, despite Koch's… theatrics, he's as shrewd as a black cat. When he told Elias of your intentions, the old man flew into a drunken rage, threatening to murder both his traitorous wife and his wand-swallowing ward. I suppose, in that moment, Koch realised that he was riding a mad horse, just as you warned, one that would lead them both into open war against the German nobility. So, Koch had him seized and shipped off to us, while our people under Elias' employ ushered Anna and Eric here."

"They're here? Both of them?" Sebastian gawked at the blonde man, who gave a strong nod. "And I can leave with them?"

"After you've helped us, certainly."

"Helped you? With what?" Of course, there is always a price to pay.

"At the heart of this entire debacle lies a great deal of land owned by Elias, land that supposedly has large reserves of oil," Berlin started. "I doubt Rask told you any of this, but a couple of years ago, Elias found this oil, but instead of digging it up and making yet another fortune, the old bastard decided to sit on it like a fat Dragon. Eventually, he began showing off to the other German Lords, trying to rub their noses in-"

"Surely, even he is not that foolish."

"Oh, but he is," Berlin smirked. "The drink has addled his mind, and bitterness has twisted his soul."

"Let me guess, one of those Lords Elias goaded was Rask."

"Yes, and ever since that day, Rask has been sniffing around Elias in the hopes of stealing the land in question. He considers himself the start of a dynasty, Rask, and with that oil, he'd become one of the richest Lords in Wizarding Europe."

"But Koch knew of this land, as well, and he kept Rask, and his cronies, from getting their hands on it."

"You catch on quickly," Berlin said, leaning back in the chair. "We searched his memories, and Elias has no beneficiaries in his will, not even his wife, so when he dies, the question of ownership will fall into the Ministry's hands."

"And Rask will get his prize, given his close friendship with Maximillian Weber. They'll put on some grand act of fairness, lots of back-and-forth, but the result will never change."

"Probably, yes."

"And you don't want that?"

"He doesn't employ us, but some of his friends do, and they also covet the land. If we could divide the oil evenly between them, it would help a great deal in everyone looking past our… betrayal… of Elias. Oh, and it would weaken both Rask and Koch greatly, making them more dependent on us."

"You're trying to shift the balance of power in Magical Germany, just so you can be hired by more people?" Sebastian asked. "That's the sum of your ambitions? Why not take the land for yourselves?"

"If we bring this baby into our house, its cries will keep us all awake," Berlin stated plainly. "Do you know why the Death's Hand is so powerful? Why it's considered the best in all of Magical Europe? We don't play politics… We don't pretend to be Lords and Ladies… Discipline and loyalty are our bread and butter, and without either of them, we'd turn on each other like hungry dogs. But, don't worry about us, we'll still get a cut of the pie, enough to make those of us at the top a lot wealthier." Yes, I doubt Jürgen, a captain, will ever see a Knut of this pie. You are just like the Lords and Ladies you seem to despise, Berlin, despite your delusions.

"Where do I come in, exactly?" Sebastian asked.

"You're an intelligent man, so much so that, in just a month, you turned this years-long stalemate on its head," Berlin commended. "Some would say that you got lucky with your timing, but we at the top understand that you saw Rask for the viper he is, and you even managed to get under Koch's thick, gelatinous skin. We know what you're after, now. You want Rask and Koch at each other's throats, don't you? Why? We're not sure just yet, but we'll figure that out, too." Were they waiting for me to wake up so they could go through my memories? That would be catastrophic! I must avoid that possibility at all costs!

"There's nothing to figure out," Sebastian decided to make another move. "I'll tell you, but only you." What did he say during the meeting? Ah, yes… 'We used to stand for something once'.

"Go on, then."

"The Dark Lord lives, and, eventually, he'll come for the allegiance of the German Lords," Sebastian revealed, ignoring the rapidly growing pit in his stomach caused by taking such a gamble. If this works, I could potentially bring the entirety of the Death's Hand under the Order's command. An army of killers to hunt down that evil bastard, and, this time, kill him properly. If it doesn't work, I'm definitely going to die here.

Berlin stared at him long and hard, his brow furrowed. "…Lies."

"Oh, it's not a lie, and if I hadn't made an Unbreakable Vow to Dumbledore himself, I'd share all the Order's secrets with you to prove it," Sebastian said, moving off the bed and standing up. "You said that you had your own cause, right? I'm guessing the five of you at the top aren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye, anymore. Well, let me be the bearer of ill news… Your organisation is finished, because when the Dark Lord arrives in this country, the German nobility will throw themselves at his feet. And, you'll join them through association. You'll join them because you 'never break a contract'-"

Berlin shot out his chair, grabbing Sebastian by the throat with enough force to nearly topple him. "You're lying! He's dead! He's been dead for over a decade! Harry Potter destroyed him!"

He grit his teeth, struggling to even breathe, let alone form words. "…The Loyalists… Greyback… St. Mungo's… Knockturn Alley… Use your… wits, Berlin… Put the pieces… together… War is… coming…" He's going to break my neck, the brute!

The mercenary's expression went from murderous to unnerved, his grip weakening ever-so-slowly. "…No… How is this even possible?"

Sebastian pulled himself free, fighting the urge to smirk. I have him! "Do you really think I care about these inbred Lords and Ladies? That I want to embroil myself in their games? I came here for my wife's happiness, and I acted with the knowledge that the weaker these people are, the weaker the Dark Lord will be. My intention, all along, was to hurt him through these wretched people. So, no, Berlin, I will not give you the means to make them more powerful. You can kill me, but I won't help that tyrant ever again."

Berlin took a step back, his face twisting from the many conflicting emotions coursing through him. "…This is a trick… You want that land for yourse-"

"I want that land to continue causing turmoil in this country," Sebastian cut in. "The longer it's in play, the more damage it'll do." Now, it makes sense why a Goblin King is so invested in Wizarding affairs. He aligned himself with Rask in the hopes of getting a cut. "Whoever owns that land, they'll be the one on top in Magical Germany, which means that you and I need to fan the flames of war amongst these Lords. We must sow mistrust and-"

"You and I?" Berlin repeated, snarling. "There is no 'You and I', Greengrass. If I got my way, you would be dead by now."

"That was before you knew of my intentions. Now, by killing me, you'd only be aiding the Dark Lord." And I have a strong feeling that you hold some unspoken grudge, much like myself.

"Your Ministry confirmed his death! Did they lie?!"

"They reported the truth they wanted to believe," Sebastian answered. "You don't have to trust me, but from what I can tell, you're a man with sharp instincts. Trust them, Berlin, and make your decision. Are you going to help me? Or, are you going to help your masters?"

Again, Berlin stared at him long and hard, eventually gnashing his teeth. "…Fuck…"

"Indeed," Sebastian shared the sentiment. "Our first act must be to ensure that Maximillian Weber dies. As long as he lives, Rask will have an unbeatable advantage. His death will throw the German Ministry into disarray, which will cause this land dispute to stagnate."

"Turning the hungry dogs into starving ones," Berlin surmised, his jaw clenched tight. "If you're lying to me, Greengrass, I will kill everyone you've ever loved. Everyone. Am I understood?"

"Time will prove me true," Sebastian gave an understanding nod. "Get rid of Weber, then start whispering ideas into your clients' ears. Why should Rask be further empowered at their expense? He will never share his power with them, after all. Convince them to turn against him-"

"The other four… They'll kill me if I go rogue," Berlin pointed out. "And they're not stupid, Greengrass, the moment Weber dies by one of our wands, they'll know it was me."

"Hire someone from afar, then."

Berlin let out a resigned sigh, pinching his eyes. "You speak, and I feel myself being filled with shit. This is not how I imagined this conversation would go." What? You thought I'd just let you bully me into compliance? I didn't get to where I am by letting some thug like you dictate terms to me. "Even if Weber dies, Rask holds considerable power in this country. More so than Koch, more so than all the other Lords. What's stopping him from outright claiming the land for himself?"

"He'll never do that," Sebastian explained. "If he does, then he might as well announce to the German nobility that he cares only for his own ambitions."

"But he does, and so do they."

"That is true, but there is an unspoken rule in Pureblood society that we put more value in preserving purity of blood than in personal ambitions. No one follows this rule, of course, but those who openly challenge it find themselves cornered before long."

"…You people…" Berlin sneered in disgust.

"Yes, we're incredibly dishonest," Sebastian admitted. "Rask will not risk upsetting the balance of power in this country by making a land grab, not as blatantly as you're imagining. He needs many of the Lords in his corner to remain loyal to him, without them he'll be forced to deal with Koch on his lonesome." And I'd wager my gold on Koch should that happen. "We have to make them fight each other for it, all of them. This conflict must not be resolved, it must endure. That's the best way to weaken everyone involved."

"My job here was to order you to solve this conflict, though," Berlin reminded him. "I can't return with empty hands, do you understand?"

"You won't," Sebastian quickly adjusted his strategy. "All those under Elias' command, the ones you showed up with on my doorstep, I'll hire them at double the cost. I'll even offer you, and your friends, twenty thousand Galleons each."

Berlin nodded slowly, thinking the offer through. "I can use that to convince the others that you simply wanted no part in German politics."

"So, are we in agreement, then?" Sebastian offered Berlin his hand, his gaze unwavering.

Berlin took his hand, gripping it tight enough to cause considerable pain. "If this is yet another scheme of yours, it'll be your last." He still requires assurance? Very well, then.

"Are there any others at the top we could pull into this alliance?" Sebastian asked, keeping his expression from showing any signs of weakness.

"No," Berlin whispered, something akin to regret flashing across his face. "The Death's Hand isn't what it used to be, the only outcome sharing this information would result in is a steep rise in our costs." That's a shame… It seems Berlin, and those loyal to him, will be the only ones to join the Order's fight. Still, something is better than nothing.

"Take me to Anna and Eric-"

"No… Elias comes first."

---

The man on the other side of the iron bars was a stranger to him, grey-haired and skeletal, with eyes full of bitter contempt for the world. Sebastian felt no anger towards this man, for he was not the man who'd tried to keep Mary all to himself. No, this was a man who'd thrown everything away in the pursuit of what he had been denied, a broken shell of a man not worthy of anything but disregard.

"…I always knew you'd return to steal the rest of my family," Elias broke his silence, glaring murder at his son-in-law. "You're like a plague-"

"I stole nothing," Sebastian said icily, his expression blank. "We could've been family, Elias, but you never gave me a chance. Your stubborn refusal of Mary's feelings, and my worth, lost you your daughter. And, now, your hatred and cruelty has lost you your wife and ward. Do no blame me for your mistakes."

"I will blame you, you British bastard!" Elias roared, charging at the iron bars and grabbing onto them hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU STOLE EVERYTHING FROM ME!"

Sebastian remained indifferent, staring through the pathetic man before him. "They sent me here to kill you, Elias, and there was a time when I would've paid them for the privilege, but now…" he trailed off. I'm not that man, anymore. Mary, and my daughters, saved me from the abyss. "They can take out their own garbage, because I'm done with you. Mary chose me, that's all I ever wanted from the Maier family."

"I'll get out of here, and I'll make your life-!"

"Stop," Sebastian interrupted. "You're not leaving this cell alive, and we both know it." He clicked his tongue, feeling strangely disappointed. "You have two granddaughters, both of them beautiful and brilliant-"

"Whores, just like their mother!" Elias spat out, pushing himself off the bars. "I do not acknowledge any such child as my own! They have your tainted blood flowing through their filthy veins! Get out of my sight, you dog!"

Sebastian nodded to himself, before turning to leave. "You're a foolish man, Elias. Perhaps, even more foolish than my own father. Goodbye."

"This isn't over!" Elias bellowed as Sebastian began leaving the dungeon. "I'll get out! I'll work out another deal with this treacherous band of Half-Bloods and Mudbloods! This! Isn't! Over!"

He travelled up the stairs and shut the iron door behind him, already dreading having to tell Mary of her father's grisly fate. She's been put through so much these past few days, but with this, it finally ends. She'll be reunited with her mother, at long last, and my daughters will have a grandmother.

"Is it done?" Berlin asked, stepping out of the shadows.

"If you want him dead, you'll do it yourself," Sebastian replied. "My fight with Elias ended long ago."

"What? I don't understand," Berlin frowned, displeased. "That man treated you like dirt, and you're not going to get even with him?"

"That man is barely even a man, anymore. And… If I kill him, that would inflict a terrible wound upon my wife's heart." For all his faults, for all his crimes, she still loves the man he used to be, and I won't kill someone she loves. I won't return to being the man she feared, the man even I can no longer recognize. I'm a husband and a father, and that's more than enough for me. I don't want anything else.

Berlin stared at him, before unsheathing his wand. "I'll do it myself, then. Go… The old woman and her brat are just down the hallway. They have a Portkey that will take you back to Magical Britain."

"Make it quick," Sebastian said, walking away. "There's no need to torture a dying animal."

He continued his journey towards the light, and when he finally reached it, he found himself standing before a frail witch that he only recognized due to her uncanny resemblance to his wife. Anna had aged drastically over the last decade, her golden hair mostly replaced with grey, and her once regal demeanour replaced by a timid, uncertain one. They stared at each other in sullen silence, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. It should be me, shouldn't-?

"Thank you, my Lord," the black-haired wizard at Anna's side stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. "Forgive me for reaching out to you through your daughter, but I was left with no other alternative. I will forever be in your debt for your timely rescue of my mother and I, that monster would have surely killed us, tonight." Sebastian said nothing in response, still gazing into Anna's sunken, sapphire-blue eyes. "Um… My Lord?"

The young man then gestured his stepmother to join him, but before she could, Sebastian stepped forward and stopped her, placing his hand on her bony shoulder. "You're both safe, now. Come. Mary's waiting for us."

Anna tensed from the contact, but her eyes gave away her relief and joy at the prospect of being reunited with her daughter. "…Thank you…"

"Which one of you has the Portkey?" Sebastian asked, removing his hand.

"I do, but…" Schwarz muttered, looking conflicted. "We have no clothes but the ones on our back, my Lord. The Death's Hand gave us no time to-"

"Everything you need will be provided for you," Sebastian promised. "Prepare the Portkey, we're leaving before anyone changes their minds."

"What of Elias?" Anna murmured, her eyes darting down the hallway. "…Is he dead?"

"Yes."

"Mother, we are finally free of him," Schwarz whispered, entangling his fingers with hers. "Our suffering is over, and that is all that matters."

"The boy is right," Sebastian said unemotionally.

Schwarz pulled out a handkerchief from inside his dark robes, and hidden within was a Galleon Enchanted to act as a Portkey. "Here, my Lord. They said this would take us to Diagon Alley."

"Give me your hand, Anna," Sebastian instructed, and after a few seconds of hesitation, she did as she was told. "You too, boy." Mary, I'm coming back to you, and not alone.

---

The moment he stepped foot inside his manor's greeting room, he felt all the tension leave his body. …Home, at long last… The fireplace coughed out Anna and Schwarz swiftly after, their hands still joined. One looks ready to keel over from dread, while the other hasn't stopped smiling since I first laid eyes on him. Hopefully, Mary will be able to-…

"You're alive, my Lord!" one of his mercenaries rushed over, looking alarmingly glad to see him. "The Captain ordered us to prepare for fighting, he's currently in the middle of planning your rescue."

"Rescue?" Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. "With twenty-five men?"

"Lady Mary couldn't be reasoned with," the mercenary explained. "She was convinced that you weren't dead, seeing as they took you away and all."

"Take us to Mary and Jürgen," Sebastian ordered. "Then, alert those on patrol that a hundred more troops will be arriving all throughout the night." With just Elias' men, I've brought home a great prize for the Order. Now, I just need to wait for Berlin to play his part, then I'll return to Magical Germany to sow more chaos.

Sebastian, Anna, and Schwarz followed the mercenary through the manor, eventually entering the dining room, where they found Mary and Jürgen trapped in a heated debate. What are they bickering about? Hm… He probably doesn't' want to die on a suicide mission to rescue me, whereas Mary wants him to take her along. What an unseemly racket they're producing.

"Stop this," Sebastian intervened, his voice causing them both to freeze in place. "If you're going to have a spat, have it in English. I don't want to hear German for the foreseeable future."

"Sebastian! You're alive! I knew it!" Mary wailed as she charged at him, tears of joy already brimming in her eyes, only to freeze once again when she spotted her estranged mother.

Sebastian stepped aside, looking between the two women in silent contemplation. It's been nearly two decades, hasn't it? Although Elias did most of the shouting, Anna was every bit as disappointed, and disgusted, by Mary's decision to marry me. Now, here she is, back in our-… Mary made the first move, marching over to her shrinking mother and pulling her into a loving embrace, which the timid woman quickly returned, the pair of the weeping to each other in German.

"What happened with the Death's Hand?" Jürgen rasped in his ear, his dangerous gaze lingering on the teary-eyed Schwarz.

"They chose me over Elias, after all," Sebastian replied, still staring at mother and daughter. "I'll reveal more details in the morning. Right now, I need to reach Albus Dumbledore." He has to be made aware of what's about to happen, regardless of how he feels about it.

"Dumbledore?" Jürgen repeated, baffled. "Why?"

"I don't want him interfering with what I've started in Magical Germany." And I'm certain Mary and Anna have a lot to catch up on, and my presence seems to make Anna shrivel up. Whatever Elias put her through, it's left a terrible mark on her. I can see the terror in her eyes, it's very similar to the terror the Dark Lord left in me.

Sebastian gestured Schwarz to make his way over, putting a hand on the young wizard's shoulder. "Mary will help you both settle in. What's ours is yours, so feel free to explore the manor come morning."

"My Lord, I cannot even begin-" Schwarz started, only to stop when Sebastian raised his other hand.

"Keep close to Anna, she will need you for comfort as she becomes accustomed to her new home," he instructed, letting go of the black-haired wizard. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more business to attend to."

"At this time, my Lord?"

"Yes," Sebastian began to creep away, his gaze once again lingering on his wife and mother-in-law. All of it was worth it to see that smile on Mary's face, even meeting Koch.

Koch… He needed to die, but now that Sebastian was more aware of the power struggle taking place in Magical Germany, removing Koch too early could prove disastrous. It would remove the only piece capable of challenging Rask in the oil dispute. The Death's Hand, for all their strength, want to be nothing more than servants, so expecting their full support would be idiotic. Even Berlin's hands are tied for the most part, and once Weber is dead, Berlin will be forced to lie low in order to avoid suspicion. Hm… I don't need mercenaries to deal with Koch, I need butchers. I need Ron.

---

Ronald Weasley's POV

Saturday 17th July, 1994 (The Northern Mountains – Night)

He had to give the High Mother credit; she'd managed to lure in every single Veela he was after in just three days, though, it was also obvious that they'd slithered out of their holes for personal gratification rather than any real loyalty towards her. A night dining with royalty? To be commended and given office by the queen herself? Yeah, worms like them can't resist bait so potent. Just look at them… Look at the fucking smug, self-satisfied smiles on their faces, like they own the world, or something. His eyes scanned every Veela on the 'U'-shaped table, not a single one of them had noticed him roaming the room under the Disillusionment Charm. The High Mother, and her guards, knew of his presence, of course, but his victims-to-be? No, they were so lost in indulging themselves that not a single one of them expected any trouble to befall them. Any minute now, the High Mother will take her guard and leave, and I will prove these people wrong. I'll show them that they aren't immortals, that they aren't untouchable. I'll show them that my reach is impossible to escape, and that all the money in the world doesn't mean shit when a nasty cunt like me has a problem with you.

The High Mother suddenly rose from her seat, tapping her crystal glass full of pink champagne with a golden teaspoon, attracting the attention of all her guests. Ah, fucking finally! I was getting sick of waiting! Honestly, a couple more minutes, and I was going to do them all in! He came to a stop behind Alain Bisset, the young Veela Lord who considered himself an 'artiste', one that utilized the bodies of Non-Veela women as his canvases. Eager to put an end to this degenerate once and for all, Ron found himself trembling with excitement. I'm going to break you into pieces, you motherfucker! I'm going to tear you apart while your cunt parents watch! Oh, I'm ready! I'm so fucking ready! Whatever the High Mother was saying, it was resonating with the Lords and Ladies in attendance, the lot of them exchanging excited, insatiable looks with each other. This is almost sad, in a way, because they're thinking they're about to be elevated above all others, but the truth is that I'm about to bury them!

"Un toast à vous! Ceux dont les os construiront son trône!" the High Mother finished her speech, downing her entire glass in one go.

The Lords and Ladies exchanged looks, again, but, this time around, they appeared somewhat alarmed by whatever she'd said. The High Mother, however, ignored her subjects, gazing around the decorated chamber with a blank expression, as if searching for him, before shaking her head to herself and gesturing her guard to escort her outside. The signal! Ron grinned from ear-to-ear, there was no hope for escape, now. …A few more seconds… Just a few more… The Lords and Ladies were beyond baffled, watching with growing confusion as the Veela of the Mountain left them behind without explanation, sealing each and every exit out of the chamber in their wake. Cutis Terra!

Ron's eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his bones shifting and snapping as he began to grow to a monstrous size, his hands joined above his head like a sledgehammer waiting to fall. ALAIN BISSET! HERE IS YOUR SENTENCE!

"Était-elle ivre?" Lady Donadieu asked, but before anyone could answer, Ron let out a blood-curdling roar from behind the young Bisset heir. FUCKING DIE!

The degenerate didn't even have a chance to squeal before Ron brought the full force of his might down on the Veela's skull, causing his spine to snap in two at the base of said skull, which left him looking as though he'd been born with no neck. The crunching of bones, the dislodging of Alain's eyeballs, the eleven-foot monstrosity towering over their son's fresh corpse, all of it resulted in the Bissets screaming in absolute terror, whereas Ron wasted no time in launching him onto Lady Bisset, his left hand pining her head against the table while his right lodged itself inside her warm mouth. With a push and a pull, he ripped her lower jaw clean off, her skin peeling off all the way down to her bosom. Her jaw bone, teeth and all, still in his hand, Ron gave chase to her fleeing husband, managing to tackle the perfumed ponce to the ground, where he pressed the jaw bone against the screaming Veela's eyes, and, with his gloved hand acting as a hammer, bashed the wife's bone inside the husband's skull. The screaming never stopped, not even for a second, but Ron didn't care, he just kept smashing the bone further and further in, his own vision turning as crimson as his toad-like eyes. We'll leave this planet a fucking graveyard!

---

He sat on the steps leading to the table, covered in gore and wearing a dazed expression, his elbows resting on his knees. "…I… might've taken this too far…" From right behind him, he heard Heroux moan in agony, his femurs shattered and his tongue ripped out. "Yeah, I know… This is no way for a saviour to behave, eh? Well, I don't want to save any of you… Not really… That's the truth I can only admit in moments like these, moments where I can be honest without fear of persecution or ridicule… I'm just stuck with this thankless fucking job, and all because some cunt out there is scared of dying… I need moments like these, Lord Heroux, to get me through my shit lot in life. Your deaths, your mutilation at my hands, serve a greater purpose than you can even fathom. You, a fucking rapist and thief, keep me from losing my mind. You, a grown man who likes to fuck little girls, are the reason why I won't wipe out your entire species. Thank you for your sacrifice, for satisfying my cravings in a healthy, and productive, manner."

"A God isn't a God without tribute, is he?" Ravenclaw Ron sniggered, floating about the freshly-repainted chambers. "And what a mighty offering this was! Be sure to thank the High Mother on the way out, won't you, Ronnie-Boy?! She's gone and won herself my seal of approval!"

Ron ignored his past-self, staring at the half-legged Lady Ancar drag herself through Veela blood in a pathetic attempt to reach a locked door. Look at this thing… Like a cockroach, it refuses to give up on its wretched life. Clinging to it like it's something priceless, something worth saving… What gives her the right to value her life so highly, exactly, when she holds no value in the lives of other people? Is she special? No… Is she someone great? No… Then, why? Why won't she just roll over and die, already? His face twisted into a menacing sneer, and he rose up onto his feet, slowly approaching the hysterical, wittering Veela. She let out a heart-wrenching sob when she realized he was coming back for her, trying to crawl away faster, but he grabbed her by her cauterised stubs and dragged her to where he'd lain out Heroux.

"You like raping, you two?! You like fucking people against their will?! Well, as someone who's been fucked his whole life, I'm going to teach you how it fucking feels!" Ron spat out, tearing at their clothes, and, occasionally, kicking them whenever they tried to stop his assault. "You're going to help give form to certain thoughts I've been having lately! You see…" he went on, breaking Ancar's nose with a decisive blow, "…I've started to realise that I'm not as creative as the other children my age! I don't play enough! I don't mingle enough! I'm getting left behind because of bastards like you! So, it's up to you to make me feel creative! Now… Let's see… What are the handiest positions for the dogs, eh?"

He spread Ancar's stubby legs, using the Sticking Charm to keep her pinned on the bloody floor in the shape of a disfigured star. Heroux, however, proved far more difficult to manage, mostly due to his broken femurs making it impossible for him to be positioned as an anticipating bitch. How about I put him on his shoulders, and then move his legs next to his ears? His arsehole will face the ceiling, but I'm sure the dogs will manage with some savvy instructions by yours truly.

"Shaved all over, eh, my Lord?" Ron laughed maniacally, ignoring the Veela's howling as he was contorted and twisted into position. "Tada! Look at you! You look like a proper bitch, now, you do! I bet you'll actually end up enjoying this, even! I've heard stories about you Veela men! Faggoty as faggots can be, they say!"

Ravenclaw Ron threw his head back and cackled, clapping his ghostly hands. "Forget the Veela part of him, he's French, isn't he?! Of course, he'll enjoy it!"

Taking a step back, Ron admired his work, though the shrivelled bits between Heroux's legs did make him want to wash his hands as soon as possible. Ugh… I touched another bloke's bollocks, didn't I? Fucking disgusting! I'll just keep that to myself… No one saw it, so no can claim it even happened. His attention shifted towards Ancar, and, despite her disfigured and bloody state, her Veela beauty persisted, almost making him want to drop his guard just so he could keep ogling her heaving tits. …I… should continue on… She's just meat for a dog, now, not worthy of my attention… He kicked her sex with the tip of his boot, causing significant tearing to the vulva, which elicited a scream from her so loud, and so primal, that it caused his eyes to gleam red from sheer malice. The dog will need something wet for lube, right? Just helping you out, Lady Ancar, in my own way. I doubt you extended any such kindness to your many, many victims.

"High Mother, it's time!" Ron announced, traveling down the small steps and pulling at the heavy doors. "Open up, I want to see what you've brought for-"

Something massive crashed against the doors from the other side, causing them to fling open and send Ron rolling through the blood. What the fuck was that?! He attempted to stand back up, to regain his footing and composure, but said feet slipped because of the blood, causing him to become further soaked by his fine work. Fuck's sake! Move! Whatever that was, it won't-…! His movements, and his thoughts, came to an abrupt halt when a gigantic, four-legged beast leapt over him, landing beside Heroux and Ancar, neither of whom managed to react before the leopard-like beast bit, and clawed, their throats open, killing them almost instantly. NO! You fucking cunt! What have you done?! The Nundu roared victoriously, before biting into Heroux's belly, tearing out the Veela's intestines and munching on them happily. You'll die for that! You ruined Our fun!

The Champion brandished his Aspen wand, aiming it at the Nundu's exposed ribs. "Avada Kedavra!"

The chamber exploded in green, but as the light died down, the Nundu remained standing, looking back at his attacker with a deadly snarl. …The Killing Curse didn't even tickle it… Oh, shit… The Champion, despite being alarmed, smirked at the murderous beast, promptly hiding his left hand behind his back. We have something else that'll definitely do the trick, don't We? Come here, kitty. Come to daddy. The Champion blew kisses at the Nundu, mocking it in the hopes of goading it into attacking foolishly, the pair of them inching closer to one another step-by-step. …Come on… Just a few more-…

"Enough, Polka," came the High Mother's powerful voice, distracting both beasts just in time. "You, as well, Ronald. There will be no more bloodshed, not with my blessing."

"What is the meaning of this?" Ron hissed, turning to face her. "We had a fucking deal!" She gazed upon him with such disgust, such antipathy, that even Ron was left stunned, but only for a moment. "…Don't eyeball me, lady. That's not a smart idea."

"Clearly," she said scornfully, her gaze darting towards the top-half of Lady Donadieu hanging from the chandelier thanks to her entangled entrails. "…Goddess have mercy on our souls…"

"Oh, I doubt she will," Ron pulled a face. "I mean, she chose me, after all, so you know she's just as fucked in the head as I am." I wonder what she'll say about my work here. I should ask her the next time we meet. I have feeling that she'll not only approve, but she'll even admire it.

"Take these and leave," the High Mother commanded, Eda stepping up beside her and handing Ron the files he had left with them. "Tell whoever gave you these that you've done their dirty work for them." Eh, I'm not surprised she caught onto the fact that I didn't gather all this information alone. She's a clever clog, after all. "Bring them to my mountain, afterwards. I would like to speak with them face-to-face."

"Why?" Ron immediately asked. You want access to Reyes' network of spies, don't you? I highly doubt that's going to happen. I don't think you're his type, not that you could seduce him even if you were.

"I must know who they are, and how they know more about certain Veela than I do."

"Oh, that's easy… You're not half as smart as you think you are," Ron grinned, causing Eda to reach for the hilt of her sword. "Uh-oh! Someone didn't learn their fucking lesson! Go on, bitch, unsheathe that sword… I'll shove it right up your twat!"

"Eda, non," the High Mother ordered, before stepping out of his way. "Leave, Ronald… Go back to Dumbledore soaked in the blood of my people, let him see the monster he's forged-"

"Don't blame him for your people's sins," Ron snarled, raising his gloved finger to her face. "Every piece of shit in this room got what they deserved, save for you."

She matched his gaze without so much as blinking, leaning towards him until her moon-bright face was hovering right in front of his. "Do you really think he can't carry your burdens, you sorry boy? Do you really think he can't stop you from going further down this path you're on? He can, but he chooses not to, because he'd rather control you than help set you free. You're his perfect soldier, so he remains wilfully ignorant of your growing madness. In the end, he'll dispose of you when your race is run, when you're no longer worth puppeteering."

"I can control Harry, be assured of that," Dumbledore chuckled in the back of his mind, causing him to narrow his eyes ever-so-slightly. …She's trying to make me doubt the old man… That's all this is… She's trying to-…

"If you ever want to bring life back to your heart of stone, if you ever want to feel what you felt on that asteroid without resorting to an already-fading memory, come back to me with a little more humility," the High Mother pulled away, beholding his bloody form one last time. "You truly turned out to be a bitter disappointment, Ronald, despite your otherworldly magnificence. How utterly pathetic, and hideous, you are. I would rather burn than be saved by a deformed, despicable mutant like you." Um… All right, then…

Ron stared at her, unable to care about her opinions even if he tried his hardest. "Open the mountain, or I'll come back and open your chest. Got it?" She didn't answer with words, merely giving him a nod before walking away. "Fawkes! Come to me!"

The Phoenix appeared onto Ron's shoulder in a flash of brilliant orange, causing everyone to shield their eyes. Fawkes' head darted in every direction, studying the carnage with strange admiration, before spreading his massive wings and letting out a resounding battle-cry. Bit late, mate, I already won. Ron too studied his work, before looking down at the files in his blood-soaked hands. How would the old man react to seeing me like this? Could he 'wilfully ignore my madness', then? Hm… She's probably trying to get me onto her side, to influence me in the hopes of getting more out of this partnership for her people, and yet, something about her is so… I don't know… Honest? Sincere? I'm not sure I know the right word to describe what I think of her. She's a ruthless dictator, but her people love and worship her. She has the means to completely usurp the French Ministry, but she seems to go out of her way to maintain balance between Veela-Kind and Wizarding-Kind. Oh, and, for some unknown reason, it really bothers her that I am what I am. What possible reason does she even have to care about me? Why doesn't she care for millions of other unfortunate children out there? Is she shallow? Is that it? I'm powerful, so she sees me as special and worth taking an interest in?

Ron shook his head clear, deciding to leave before his good mood was further spoiled. "Fawkes, take me directly to the Headmaster."

The Phoenix tilted his head, looking into Ron's eyes for confirmation, and upon seeing it, he burst into flames, bringing the young Slytherin straight to the Headmaster's office, covered from head-to-toe in gore. The old wizard, sitting behind his clawed desk, spat out his tea and fell victim to a coughing fit, while his black-haired guest turned around with an alarmed expression, which swiftly turned to one of pure horror. …You?! What the fuck are you doing here?! Why aren't you in Magical Germany?!

"…Ron…?" Sebastian muttered, his jaw dropping wide open. "What… happened to you...?"

Dumbledore, having recovered somewhat from his accident, glared at Ron in disbelief, making strange gestures with his hands. …How was I supposed to know you had a guest, you old prick?! Thanks, Fawkes, you good-for-nothing bastard!

"…How many did you slaughter this time?" Sebastian asked, closing his mouth and looking back at Dumbledore. "…You… fucking hypocrite! You knew about him this entire time, didn't you?! You knew long before I did, and you never said a word!" …For the love of fuck… Can I have one night where something doesn't go horribly sideways? Please?!

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Author's Notes: Happy Fate day, people! See you guys in the next one!