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)

Fate

Chapter 169 – The Revenant

Ronald Weasley's POV

Wednesday 21st July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Early Evening)

Silence.

Silence, and incomprehension.

Ron stared down at the crowd before him, a dull ache pulsating from his right shoulder all the way to his gloved hand, is this what he looked like whenever he stood before one of the Elders? Mouth hanging open, eyes wide with fear, shoulders as tense as a taut rope, speechless in the face of something grander than himself? Perhaps…

His gaze slowly drifted lower, to the black, mist-like ghost squirming upon the ground, struggling to raise itself up. This is the Dark Lord? One punch is all it took? He narrowed his pale eyes, his original conclusion was off by a thousand miles, wasn't it? It had to be, right? Why would the Dark Lord leave Magical Russia just to attack him? Why would he suddenly reveal himself to the Wizarding World when he had burned down a hospital, and even an entire forest, just to cover up his continued existence? And, yet, that thing down there looks just like he did when I saw him last. A spirit… A being made of shadow and smoke… What the fuck is going on here? What am I missing?

Pushing his curiosity aside, Ron focused on the moment itself. He had been blasted with the Killing Curse by a fucking child, who had then vomited out a spectre possessing him, and, this spectre, had then tried to possess Ron, only to meet the redhead's fist, instead. The suit… It really can survive the Killing Curse, then. That's very good to know. And, not just that, but it can touch the ethereal, too. The Basilisk skin's ability to disrupt Magic has not weakened over time. Inside my suits, I really am next to indestructible. He fought the urge to laugh, the pain barely felt like an inconvenience, now, given that any doubts about the investment he'd made so long ago had finally been put to rest. Attacking me, of all people, was a big mistake, you stupid bastard. You really should've aimed for my head. Too bad you won't get another chance to try your luck. His left hand trembled with the need to unleash his claws, to tear into the wraith's belly with wild abandon, but the hundreds of eyes focused solely on him made him reconsider. …There are cameras-… Flashes went off, as if the reporters had read his very thoughts, including Greta, irritating him immensely. …Fucking journalists. Getting in my way, as always. I'll need to be care-…

"…How?" the wraith moaned, its voice distorted and, yet, somewhat recognizable, as if Ron had heard it before. "…This… isn't… possible…" Cutis Terra!

Ron felt his muscles harden into steel, his bones become beams of concrete, before he jumped off the platform and brought his right fist down upon the wraith. DIE, YOU CUNT! The wraith, however, fell through the floor, vanishing from sight just as Ron landed, the black tiles cracking under the weight of his attack. …Fuck… Waited too-… The wraith shot out of the ground on his left with a blood-curdling shriek, grabbing Ron by the collar and flying into the air with him. What the fucking fuck?! The speed with which he was hauled up was astonishing, but it was nothing compared to the speed with which the wraith brought him back down, shattering the tiles upon collision and dragging him along the ground, both of them screaming in each other's faces. Despite being used as a tile-remover, Ron barely felt a thing, not even when the wraith span both of them into the air and hurled the redhead towards a wall. The impact was powerful enough to crush the tiles, and crack the foundation hidden beneath, but, again, Ron's enhanced form took the punishment without serious complaint. …Fucking hell… Quick bugger, isn't he? That one definitely hurt.

"How?!" the wraith roared, its murky face shifting and contorting in anger. "How are you not paste?! WHAT ARE YOU?! WHY CAN'T I ENTER YOU?!" …I know that voice… And that face… Is that really-…? No… It's not possible… "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" …Burke…?

Ron rose up from his knees, staring up at the wraith with jarring realization. "…You…?" I killed you, didn't I? What the fuck is going on here? Why do you look like the Dark Lord?! Don't tell me you were stupid enough to create-…!

Victor's spirit flew for him, again, its spectral hands outstretched like talons. You should've stayed dead, you piece of shit! Ron swiftly secured his footing and pulled his left hand back, summoning his warhammer, recently Enchanted with the Unbreakable Charm, and swinging it with all of his might as if it was a Beater's bat. The obsidian head smashed into the right side of Victor's face, sending the wraith rolling towards the stupefied mob, most of whom began running in the opposite direction, charging into those behind them like startled sheep. Ignoring the chaos all around him, Ron leapt several feet into the air, landing upon the wraith's back with an overhead strike from the warhammer. You're the sick fuck behind all those missing children, aren't you?! You're possessing them?! Using them as your puppets?! I'll kill you for that! Again! He raised up the warhammer a second time, bringing it back down upon Victor's ethereal form. The wraith howled and squirmed like a fish out of water, its body still warping and solidifying, at the same time, due to the suit's anti-Magic properties. Come here! With his gloved hand, Ron grabbed Victor's murky ankle, raising him upside down before slamming him into the ground repeatedly, eventually spinning in place and hurling the bastard towards the very same wall he'd been thrown at mere moments ago. Prolonged contact with my suit seems to have trapped him into a somewhat solid state. I wonder if Spells can hurt him, now, as opposed to going through him. Let's test that theory, eh? Lumos Solem!

A golden beam fired out of Ron's eyes and mouth, slamming into Victor's crumpled form and crushing him against the wall. Ron undid the Spell after a few seconds, immensely satisfied by the results. It worked! But how long before he can start phasing, again? Let's not find out. Rushing forward to get his gloved hand on Victor before it was too late, he failed to notice that many Aurors had finally managed to push themselves through the panicked masses, working together to create a shimmering barrier between Ron and Victor. WHAT?! What the fuck?! Not stopping his momentum, Ron shoved his gloved fist through the barrier, his fingers stretching out to touch Victor, but falling short by mere inches. Fuck, I can't reach him unless I grow my arm! Being the devious, opportunistic worm that he was, Victor, despite his terror, realized that this was his only chance to escape. We're not finished, cunt! Come out here and fight me! It's easy to prey on the weak, the innocent, the defenceless, isn't it?! Well, I'm none of those things! And I'm going to end you! Permanently!

"Ronald, stop!" Madam Roberts threw herself onto his back, fruitlessly trying to drag him away just as he started focusing on growing his arm. "We need to get you to safety! There's no telling what that thing is!"

"Get me to safety?!" Ron snarled, shaking her off with no effort. "You're getting in my-!"

"This isn't over!" Victor hissed, phasing through the wall at his back just in the nick of time. NO! Motherfucker! Get back here! Fight me!

Outraged, Ron slammed his forehead against the damaged barrier, red in the face and shaking with anger. He got away! I had him! I could've found some opportunity to use my claws away from prying eyes, even! But the fucking Aurors fucked it all up! He yanked his right arm out of the barrier, turning on his heel with the warhammer raised high. I'll crush your skull, you fucking bitch! How dare you get in my way?! Madam Roberts, now on her arse, went wide-eyed at the sight of the towering redhead about to end her life, frozen in place by the murderous look on her former student's face. The warhammer stopped well before it reached her skull, however, the wielder growling like some wild beast before pulling the warhammer away. …Fuck… She doesn't fit the code… Don't make the same mistake twice, you fool… Control yourself… Just breathe…

"Put down the weapon, Weasley!" Robards rushed forward, followed by McLaggen and a dozen American Aurors, all their wands aimed at him. "Put it down, now! Drop it!" Are you fucking kidding me?! There's a psychotic ghost loose in the building, and I'm the one you're pointing your wands at?! "Don't make us stun you!"

"Stun me?" Ron sneered. "Did you miss the part where I ate a fucking Killing Curse?! You think your shitty little stunners are going to hurt me?!" Robards blinked, as if he'd been yanked out of his training and tossed back into the present. "…You bloody idiots let that thing get away!"

"Search the building, now," McLaggen ordered the Americans, his alarmed gaze never leaving Ron. "We'll um… We'll secure Weasley and the crowd." Secure me? You mean you want to detain me, ask me all sorts of questions? Fuck that!

He drew in a shaky breath, desperate to douse his anger so he could think. Of course, they'll all have questions, even the sheep, which could jeopardize the secret of my suits. And, not just that, but my legend will be harmed, too. Questions will breed more questions, until I have no more secrets left. What do I do? How do I turn this shitshow to my advantage? Ron's eyes darted towards the crowd, towards the journalists still photographing him, and he had his answer. I'm just going to fuck off, I will. I'm in no state of mind to answer any questions with skill and tact. Yeah, let's fuck off right now, before anything else goes wrong.

"R-Ronald… You're coming with me," Madam Roberts managed, slowly rising from her backside with her hands reaching out to him in an appeasing manner. "It's me, remember? It's just me… You can trust me, okay?" Trust you? Aren't you the witch who dropped me like a sack of shit just because you saw me as a cripple? Because you wanted to spare yourself the loss of another student? I needed you, and I trusted you, and look at what you did with that trust. You wiped your arse with it.

"Go make sure your Minister, and that boy, are still in one piece," Ron said icily, taking on a more relaxed posture. "And, don't try to find me, or I really will bash your fucking head in."

With that, he dropped the warhammer and reached into his inner pocket, grabbing the Portkey to Emilia's manor and vanishing from the atrium, leaving all the chaos behind.

"You should've never been up there," Ravenclaw Ron chastised, frowning. "A public apology? Really? Why put yourself out in the open like that? To appease some mortal bitch? It was reckless! Foolish! Downright stupid!"

Ron ignored his past-self, staring down at his tattered suit jacket. The Killing Curse tore the fabric apart, the stitching too, but the lining remained intact. The Basilisk skin withstood the Curse, it even withstood the physical attacks. That's good, I suppose, these suits are much sturdier than I thought.

"Are you listening to me?" Ravenclaw Ron snapped, floating onto the other side of the bed. "You can't take risks like that! There have been attempts on your life before this, remember?!"

"Can you shut the fuck up?!" Ron snapped back, gnashing his teeth. "Whine, whine, whine! Can't you see I'm trying to fucking think here?! I just got jumped by a fucking dead man! Give me a second to process, will you?!"

"What's there to process, exactly?" his counterpart argued. "Burke made a Horcrux, obviously."

"Obviously, because that's just something people do, eh?"

"I'll give him props, he went further than most, but we don't know a damn thing about him, do we? You offed him before he could ever become a threat to the Order, before he could hurt your precious little Squibs. You underestimated him-"

"No, I saw him for what he was," Ron cut in. "A two-faced serpent, eager to poison both sides just for his own amusement and gain. But a fucking Horcrux? Am I supposed to work under the assumption that every cunt I go up against is hiding one under their pillow? Because, if that's the case, then I'm fucked, mate! I'm fucked, you're fucked, and the Entity will fuck! Both of us!"

Ravenclaw Ron clicked his tongue, seeing Ron's point. "…Next time you off someone, just make sure they stay that way."

"When could he have made one? How did he even manage it?" Ron wondered, pinching his eyes. "…What a fucking clusterfuck today has turned into. I can't catch a break, can I? Every day, some new fucked up shit rears its ugly head." And Fate… Why didn't she warn me about this? Fuck her, she really doesn't give a shit about anything but her own goals, does she? Stopping the 'Lord of Serpents' is her only concern.

"What are you going to do about the sheep?" Ravenclaw Ron questioned. "They all saw the impossible, today. They saw you. They saw that their 'Golden Boy' isn't so golden, after all."

Ron grimaced, pacing along the length of the bed. "…There will be questions, hundreds of them. There will be stories, some truthful and some embellished beyond reason. I mean, how many people were in that atrium, exactly? Four hundred? More? They'll all tell their own version of events, even the cunts in the back who didn't see a damn thing. Everyone will have something to say, because they'd want everyone else to know that they were there when history was made. I can't control that, not even with the Quibbler. It's impossible. I bet, even as we speak, word is spreading like Fiendfyre. Oh, and the media… The media will smudge whatever truth is spoken just to sell more copies. Witch Weekly, the Daily Prophet, a dozen smaller, local outlets, and even my Quibbler… It's all out of my control, now." And I fucking resent that.

"You didn't answer my question," Ravenclaw Ron pointed out. "What is your strategy, boyo?"

"I'm going to… disappear from the world," Ron whispered, mostly speaking to himself, now. "Secrets, knowledge, the truth… When I control them, I am powerful, but if you parade me in the streets, if you look under my suit, then I am powerless. I can't allow that to happen, never. Misinformation is the only strategy I can employ, now. Misinformation spread by the people, by the Ministry, by everyone that has a mouth… Yeah, let them talk… Let them spin their yarns… Let them get drunk and gossip… Let them muddy the waters even more, spread whatever nonsense they can come up with, and me? I'll just stay silent. I'll be a shadow on the wall."

"Silent shadows aren't exactly popular, though." Aren't they?

"But mysteries are," Ron stated, looking to his past-self. "Another wizard who survived the Killing Curse? A wizard who fought a demon within the very heart of the Ministry? And won? People love stories, especially ones with a powerful, and mysterious, hero. Just ask my Pansy, she'll tell you all about it."

"Your Pansy is going to have questions of her own, and the rest of them, as well. You're going to ignore them, too, are you? You're going to ignore Daphne?"

"To protect my power, absolutely," Ron confirmed. "If they don't like that, then so be it. I don't exist to please them; I exist to protect them. And I can't protect them if they can undermine me." And… What if they betray me, someday? My secrets in their clumsy hands could destroy me.

"Well, it's as good a plan as anyone could come up with in your shoes. There's still another problem, though."

"My enemies," Ron figured, and Ravenclaw Ron nodded fervently with an impish grin. "I've lost an element of surprise against them, and there's nothing I can do to get it back." Fuck you, Victor! Fuck you straight to hell! "The next time they come after me, they'll be far better prepared."

"They might even aim for your head," Ravenclaw Ron said, sounding delighted. "With a mug like yours, I'm surprised they didn't try that the first time around."

"I think a beheading still counts as a blow to the head."

"A blow to the neck, really."

"Can we stay on topic?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Godrey said I can hide here for as long as I need, and I doubt anyone will suspect I'm here. Not counting the Headmaster, of course. He'll be sending Fawkes to find me soon enough."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"Everything I know."

"That's not a good plan, not one bit," Ravenclaw Ron said blandly. "You tell him that you murdered a former student, and he'll jump onto that high-horse of his within a heartbeat."

"If Victor truly has a Horcrux anchoring him to this world, then the Headmaster and Professor Snape need to know. He's too big a threat to just hide under the bed. I will tell them everything." But I won't be lectured, because I know I did the right thing. Victor would have decimated the Order, his information leaks would've led to the deaths of most of my loved ones, of that I've never been more certain. He was-… He is an evil bastard, through and through, and, now, he's on my radar, again. I'll find him, and I'll finish him off for good. "I need some tea, and a dip in Emilia's hot spring."

"I suppose, your wedding plans are ruined, now." …The wedding…

"Once I've brought Marty here, I'll send him to Daphne with a message," Ron sighed out, somewhat drained due to the abrupt Portkey. "She'll just have to understand that I can't attend, not after this." For the next couple of weeks, at least, I'll only exist in the stories people tell of me. These stories will need time to plant their roots, and I don't plan to get in the way of that.

Wednesday 21st July, 1994 (Travers Manor – Night)

"You're going to hear a lot of rumours about me over the next few days, Godrey," Ron started, cutting up his steak. "And, for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you into my-"

"Godrey will not accept any apology, for no apology is warranted," the old Elf interjected, pouring Ron a glass of mulled wine. "Mistress told Godrey that Lord Wea-… Mistress told Godrey that Ron enjoyed mulled wine greatly. Try Godrey's own recipe, if it pleases. Godrey would very much like to hear Ron's thoughts." I wonder if he started working on this recipe simply for my benefit. I hope not, that makes me feel… wrong.

He smiled gratefully, raising the glass to his lips. "Cheers, mate."

The wine tasted sweet, too sweet even, but there was a slightly spicy aftertaste, which, when paired with its warmth and fullness, gave Ron a great sense of comfort, as if he were lounging in the Burrow's ever-warm living room alongside his siblings on a particularly cold night. …Wow…

"It's delicious, Godrey," Ron smiled more fully, taking another sip. "Reminds me of… easier times. Happier times." When I wasn't the Champion, only Ron.

Godrey bowed his head in response, before placing the glass pitcher on the table. "All the comforts of this manor are Ron's to enjoy, Mistress would have it no other way."

"You might regret those words after spending a couple of weeks with me," Ron chuckled. "I'm going to drive you up the walls, mate, just you wait." That is, unless I decide to return to the Chamber, but I shouldn't mention that right now.

"Then, Ron should be warned, Godrey believes-" the Elf was interrupted by a sudden flash of fire, followed by Fawkes' signature shriek. "Accursed bird! Do not scorch Mistress' furniture! Out! Get out!"

"He wants me to come over, does he?" Ron asked Fawkes directly, popping a bit of steak into his mouth. "Well, I'm eating dinner, as you can see, so he'll just have to wait." Fawkes tilted his head, before impatiently flapping his wings. Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you're speaking to? Are you forgetting who you should be truly loyal to? Are you forgetting who can kill you for good? "He. Will. Wait. As will you, Fawkes, unless you think you can take me by force. Well? Can you?" The Phoenix lowered his head, tucking his wings in. "Smart choice."

A Delicious Meal Later

He appeared before the Headmaster and Professor Snape in a flash of brilliant flames, his expression entirely devoid of any emotion. "Sorry for the wait, gentlemen, but I was eating, and I couldn't disrespect my host by leaving early." Also, beating the shit out of Victor, again, made me really hungry.

The older wizards looked him over, noticing that he wasn't wearing a jacket, before the Headmaster gave a relieved smile. "You're safe, then. Good. I've never seen Severus so worried-."

"Start explaining, boy," Snape demanded, ignoring the old man's quip. "What happened out there?"

"I was attacked while I was giving my public apology to Mad-Eye," Ron shrugged, causing Fawkes to fly off his shoulder and land on his perch. "It wasn't the Dark Lord, nor some pissed-off Poltergeist, as I'm sure you two already guessed. It was um… It was Victor Burke." Here we go, then.

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow, whereas Snape slowly rose out of his chair. "…What? Burke? Are you certain?"

"Wasn't Victor attending Hogwarts during your first year?" Dumbledore questioned, leaning forward. "…Yes, he was, wasn't he? He was a seventh year, I remember him. A bright boy, especially gifted in Charms." A little too gifted, I'd say.

"He and I had dealings after he left Hogwarts," Ron confessed, making his way over to his usual seat. "He's the one who introduced me to Priscilla, for one." Dumbledore and Snape exchanged glances, their brows furrowed. "I'll just come out and say it, then… I killed him. Beat him to death. Bits of his brain even ended up in my hair. It was messy." And incredibly satisfying.

The Headmaster blanched, whereas Snape looked entirely lost, now.

"You killed him? For what reason?" the Potions Master continued his interrogation. To protect the righteous and the good. And, because he pissed me off. "And, now, he's returned as a Vengeful Spirit?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, but also no. Vengeful Spirits are just really violent Poltergeists, right? Victor is something else entirely.

"…Ronald…" the old man sighed out, visibly disappointed. There's that fucking look, again. I'm getting really sick of it, now. "Tell us everything, now, and spare no details."

"During our last meeting, at the end of which I brained him, the Entity showed me a possible future," Ron started. "In this future, most of the Order, including my father, were wiped out in a Death-Eater raid. A raid that was only possible because Victor was passing information about the Order's movements to Bellatrix. He was playing both sides, I think. On one hand, he had the Order's protection as an informant, and, on the other, he had the Death-Eater's protection for the same fucking role. He was a threat to everything we've worked so hard to achieve, so I got rid of him, and I have no regrets."

"No regrets, he says," Snape whispered icily, his jaw clenching. "…If this is true, then why not tell us about this sooner? Why are we only finding out, now? When exactly did you 'kill' him?"

"I can explain his silence on the matter, Severus," the old man spoke up, stopping Ron before he could start. "It's because he knew we'd question his decision, and he cannot tolerate being questioned. Isn't that so, Ronald? You wish to do whatever you please, whenever you-"

"Spare me, please," Ron scoffed, sneering. "All I do is listen to you question every fucking decision I make, like you're some paragon of virtue. You're the same wizard who wanted to enslave Muggle-Kind, yes? Who just sits up here, twiddling his thumbs, while the world keeps going down the shitter? That's you, right?"

"Careful, boy," Snape warned, looking ready to smack him in the face. "Mind who you're speaking to." You agree with me, I know it. If it weren't for his Magical might, we'd be better off without him. He's old, weak, and soft-hearted, and, if we keep listening to him, he'll lose us the bloody war! People like him, the High Mother, Reyes, Wilkinson, Bones, Crouch… All of them… They've had their time, and they all wasted it. I see that, now. They're the past, and that's exactly where they belong.

"I saved your precious Order from a massacre, that's what I did," Ron continued, glaring at the Headmaster. "Victor was a fucking snake, that's why the Entity chose to show me the future in that moment. It was trying to warn me, to protect my Cycle from going to complete shit. And, you know what? Who fucking cares that I killed him? You? Why, huh? This twisted fuck made a Horcrux, Headmaster, long before I beat his brains out. He looked just like the Dark Lord did that night he fucking molested me. This is the kind of person you want to defend?"

"A Horcrux…? Burke?" Snape muttered, his remaining eye growing in size. "Are you certain of this?"

"I am, absolutely."

"I'm not defending him, Ronald," Dumbledore said sagely, maintaining his composure despite the dark news. "I'm trying my absolute hardest to help you understand that killing without conscience is a dangerous-"

"Again, spare me, because I've heard this speech before," Ron said dismissively, waving his gloved hand about. "It wasn't just that he was going to betray the Order, all right? He's the one who sold Priscilla to that Vampire Den… Yeah, the reason why she fled Knockturn Alley, the reason why all the children under her care were on the verge of death… He was behind all of it. He earned her trust, he pretended to be her friend, and, when she truly started to believe him, he sent her to her death. And, why did he do this? Because the idea that, in her final moments, she'd realize that it was him, her only friend in the world, who had orchestrated her murder gave him a fucking hard-on! What sort of person, if not an evil one, does that? Just for a laugh, he sent her to be eaten alive. What the fuck? …Yeah, this world is better off without a monster like that roaming its streets, and I'm going to kill him, again. I just need to find him, first."

Dumbledore stared into Ron's eyes for several moments, before turning his hardening gaze towards Snape. "Seven years he was under your direct supervision, and you never noticed he was capable of such evil?" Of course, he didn't notice, he doesn't give a shit about anything beyond his grudge against the Dark Lord.

"Am I to use Legilimency on all Slythe-?" Snape started, but was interrupted by Ron tutting him.

"Don't try to weasel out of this, Sir, we both know exactly why Burke remained unnoticed under your watch," the redhead said accusingly. "You don't care about your students, about who they are or what they do, as long as you're not personally disturbed by their antics. You do the bare minimum, if anything at all, to guide and nurture those under your care. Go on, try and deny that. I dare you."

"He was talented, but he kept to himself," Snape said aloofly, matching Dumbledore's gaze. "There are many students, in each House, who are like this. Shall we start invading all their privacies? If you want that, just say so, and I will happily oblige. I would even recommend it, personally, especially with the Dark Lord planning to eventually return to Magical Britain." Damn, he knows how to play the old man, I can't deny that. "Or, would you rather that we only target the privacies of the Slytherin students? We wouldn't want to upset Minerva, now, would we?" Ouch!

Ron looked between the two, scratching the back of his neck. It's not exactly a terrible idea, given that the Dark Lord will attempt to seduce every witch and wizard he comes across, but the old man will never-…

"Punishing everyone because of the choices of a single student is going to do nothing but turn them against us," Dumbledore said, looking disappointed, again. "However, do not mistake me for a fool, Severus, you and I know that you could do far better in your position."

"Then, give it to someone else." Oh, yeah, that's the mature response to valid criticism.

"Don't be a bloody child, okay?" Ron frowned, shooting Snape a withering glance. "You can do better, so do it. Your 'hands-off' approach is not helpful, not in the slightest, and it could cost lives."

"…This truly is a turn for the worst," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard while Ron and Snape waited on him impatiently. "Ronald, you will not seek further conflict with Victor Burke." What?! The fuck I won't!

"…I'm not going to let him-"

"The Aurors will be made aware of the what's happening, more or less, and that is final."

"The Aurors?" Ron fought the urge to laugh. "He only got away because of the fucking Aurors!"

"They were here mere moments after you escaped their clutches, boy," Snape told him, stone-faced. "They're searching for you, searching for answers. Sending them on a different hunt protects you, and it buys us time to learn more about Burke's past." …Damn, he's not wrong about that. I do want to stay out of the public's eye, and we've no idea what object Burke turned into his Horcrux. And, what if he's made more than one? Like the Dark Lord? That could be… problematic.

"What if he goes after my family?" Ron asked. "I'm not taking that sort of risk, all right? Irritating as they all are, I've put a lot of work in keeping them alive."

"I will personally speak with them, make them aware of the danger they might be in," Dumbledore volunteered. "I will also urge the Minister to spare your family an Auror, one who is, as the young say, 'in-the-know'." No one says that.

"Shacklebolt?" Ron cocked an eyebrow. …I don't know enough about him, but I've heard that he's… competent.

"Yes."

"…Agreed," Ron relented, seeing sense in their plan. "Make sure they listen, eh?"

"They will, and so will you," Dumbledore said sternly. "No more of this, Ronald. No more. You are not judge, jury, and executioner-"

"I'm warning you, don't fucking start with me, all right?" Ron grit out, clenching his gloved hand into a fist. "I'm trying to win a fucking war here, and, sometimes, I have to do things that are ugly. You don't have all the answers, so stop pretending that you do. You, that Veela slag who fancies herself a queen, all of you… Just fuck off, please, and let me do my job." With that, he began making his way towards the exit. "Tell me, Professor Snape, if this codger has all the answers, then why do I exist? Why did a Goddess feel the need to intervene with our Universe? Could it be that his half-measures are going to get everyone killed?" Judge, jury, and executioner? In one year, I've chased most of our enemies out of Magical Britain. In one year, I've done more to weaken Blood-Supremacy than you have over a lifetime. I'm the only reason you're winning this war, so just be grateful for once. Honestly, moments like these make me want to quit… Just to see how you fuckers do without me constantly saving your hides.

Arthur Weasley's POV

Wednesday 21st July, 1994 (The Burrow – Night)

"You're going to have to repeat all that, Arthur, because I'm not sure I heard you right," Sirius muttered, his disbelieving gaze, like everyone else's, fixed solely on the Weasley patriarch.

The Lovegoods, Sirius and Remus, the Tonks', and even Muriel, had packed themselves into the Burrow's kitchen, for word of Ron's resurrection, as well as his battle with the spectre, had reached them, and they'd all come marching to the boy's father for answers. It was a shame, then, that Arthur had no answers to give, as was so often the case where his youngest son was concerned. …Maybe, he really is a Revenant? No… No, I'm being stupid… He eats, he sleeps, he even goes to the toilet… No, he's not undead, not at all… But, then, how did he survive the Killing Curse? Even Revenants can't survive it, as far as I know, pretty much nothing can. And yet, he did… He just got right back up-…

"Arthur, please," came Pandora's voice, full of worry. "Focus, and tell us again what-"

"Give him a moment, all of you," Molly pleaded, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Can't you see that he's in shock? Arthur, love… Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry? You haven't even taken your cloak and shoes off."

"…No, I don't want anything," Arthur shook his head numbly, his mind still trapped in the moment he'd seen Ron shot down. "…It all happened so fast, and I… didn't have time to think about what I was seeing. Ron was there, talking and making people laugh, and then the Minister was shouting, and he just… fell…"

"He was struck down, you mean?" Muriel asked, her usual callousness nowhere to be found. "By the Killing Curse? That's what everyone is saying, even those who weren't there."

"I think so," Arthur gave a meagre nod, not failing to notice the scepticism behind certain eyes.

"This doesn't make any sense," Remus sighed out, leaning against the wall. "The Killing Curse does not spare anyone. It literally severs the soul from the body, and there is no surviving that. Maybe, it was a different Curse-"

"Greta was there, Remus, and she heard the boy shout the words," Xeno piped in, gently rocking Lysander in his arms. "She um… She's sharp, and she doesn't lie. Never, so I believe her."

"…A boy…" Molly whimpered, pale as a ghost. "Gods, what is happening? Nothing about any of this makes any sense…" It's like the entire world has lost all sense, right? As if it's gone as mad as Ron himself…

"He was possessed, wasn't he?" Sirius asked swiftly. "The boy? There was a spirit within him? And this spirit attacked-"

"I heard it was a Lethifold," Charlie spoke up, standing in the back with Kirsten and Bill.

"Same," Bill confirmed, wearing a vacant expression. "That's what all the Goblins are saying at Gringotts."

"Lethifolds don't possess people, you pair of nitwits," Muriel frowned at them.

"Actually, they can," Xeno confirmed, shrinking a little when the old witch glared at him. "…There have been cases of them wrapping themselves around children, and then puppeteering the children as they devour the children's flesh-"

"But Lethifolds exist in the tropics, not in Magical Britain, and they can't use their host's Magic," Remus cut in. "It couldn't have been a Lethifold."

"I agree, but I was just correcting-"

"What is the Ministry saying about all of this?" Andromeda asked. "Why haven't they given a statement yet? Surely, the top brass must have some answers, right?"

"The Minister herself is in a bed at St. Mungo's right now," Nymphadora answered her mother. "And I doubt they'll make any statement any time soon. They're probably just as confused as the rest of us, mum."

"Harry survived the Killing Curse, didn't he?" Ted reminded everyone, looking towards Remus. "Do you know how?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks, before the former answered. "Dumbledore says that it was Lily's love for him that safeguarded his soul. That she sacrificed her life for Harry's, and that kicked off some Old Magic that deflected the Killing Curse. He's… vague about the details, no matter how many times we ask him." Just like he's vague about his relationship with Ron. What is Dumbledore hiding from the rest of us?

"Maybe, that same Old Magic saved Ron?" Nymphadora suggested. "Wait, that would mean that someone sacrificed themselves for him, wouldn't it?"

"I don't think it's just about the sacrifice," Remus said. "It has to be more than-"

"We're spinning in circles," Muriel scoffed, standing up to leave. "It's clear to me that only Ronald knows why he's immune to the most dangerous Curse on this Earth, and, since he's not here, I will follow in his example." She then sneered at Arthur. "Useless fool, do you know anything about anything?"

"How dare you?!" Molly hissed, but Muriel had already begun to walk away. "You've no right to speak to my-!"

Arthur raised his hand, stopping her. "…It's fine… She's not wrong, after all…" I am a fool, and I have no answers to give. I just have questions upon questions.

"…Arthur, she has no right-…"

"I know you all want answers, but I'm sorry," Arthur went on, exhausted and ashamed. "I just don't have them… I don't know anything about Ron… And I'm sorry about that… Sorrier than any of you can imagine…" …The way he rose up, the way his bones made those terrible noises… Gods, I never knew that I could be so scared that I felt sick from fear… What sort of Dark Magic has he been delving in?

"…It's okay, Arthur," Pandora said softly, giving him an understanding half-smile. "You're not alone in feeling this way. We're all in the same boat as you."

"She's right," Sirius added, though he failed to hide his disappointment. "Sorry for pressing you, mate, I was just-"

"I understand," Arthur mumbled, looking down at his hands. "Um Molly… I think, I'll take that drin-"

"Forgive my intrusion at this late hour…" came Dumbledore's voice, causing everyone's heads to swivel in its direction at alarming speeds. "…But I'd like to know if dearest Ronald is here?" …You… Dumbledore looked around the room with an inquisitive expression, his gaze lingering on Arthur in particular. "I see that he is not, which means that my search must continue. Again, I apologize-…"

"Wait!" Molly rushed to the other side of the kitchen, taking Dumbledore by the arm and dragging him to the table. "Where is my son?! Do you know?! You have to have some idea, you're Albus Dumbledore!" …Molly… She's trying her best to be there for me, for Percy, but she's-…

"Molly, he just said that he's searching for the pup," Sirius pointed out, despite eyeing the old wizard with suspicion. "Why are you looking for him, though?"

"Because I heard the news," Dumbledore answered simply. "I can't seem to locate him, however, despite my best efforts. He's not at the Werewolf Sanctuary, so I was hoping he was taking shelter with his parents."

"He vowed to never set foot in this house, again," Arthur said, ignoring the awkward glances of his friends. "He's not here, Dumbledore." But you probably already knew that, didn't you?

"And why would he make such a radical, and dramatic, declaration?" Dumbledore asked, his gaze almost piercing, now.

"…Because I dared to ask him to put his family before his…" he trailed off. …Madness, I called it… The way he looked at me as soon as the word left my mouth… I thought he was going to hurt me, I was almost certain of it, but he just left… Never to return…

"Before his what, Arthur?" Dumbledore inquired, but he didn't wait for an answer. "What a shame, I had come here to warn him." Warn him? Of what? "The way his attacker has been described to me, I'm certain that it's a particular form of Wraith."

"A Wraith?" Remus muttered under his breath. "Are you certain, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore gave a sombre nod. "Yes, I am, because I've seen such a Wraith before."

"Where?" Xeno asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"At Hogwarts, the night Ronald was attacked by Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore revealed, causing the blood to drain from every single face in the room. …What…? What are you trying to-…? "Whatever Magic keeps the Dark Lord's soul anchored to this world, it also grants him a spectral form should his body be destroyed. It is like shadow given the shape of a man, this form, and it is incredibly dangerous. Now, I'm certain it wasn't Lord Voldemort who attacked Ronald at the Ministry, but, rather, someone who has delved into the same Dark Magic as him." His expression then turned grave, his eyes studying them all keenly. "This was not a random attack, I believe, but rather an attempt on Ronald's life by someone who loathes him enough to make themselves known to the Aurors. This means that all of you, his family and friends, are also in terrible danger, and I would urge you all to practice the greatest of vigilance and care."

"So, you're saying that it's a Dark Wizard who's after my son?" Molly whimpered, gawking. "…Why? Why would someone like that come after Ronnie?"

"I was hoping Ronald could shed light on this matter for me, but until I find him, I can give you no answers," Dumbledore said apologetically. "I will speak with the Minister personally and get some form of protection for your family, Molly, you have my word. Keep your children in the house, and only ever leave if you are accompanied by an Auror, or someone from the Order. The same goes for everyone here, of course."

"This thing can pass through walls, though," Pandora pointed out, and, for just a fraction of a second, Dumbledore's expression faltered. "It's true, that's what Greta told Xenophilius. That's how it escaped before Ron could subdue it. The Aurors… They tried to do their job, I'm sure, but they got in Ron's way and it fled." The Aurors got in Ron's way… Doesn't that sound insane to anyone else here? Any other child in the world would run from the danger, and rightfully so, but my child? My child throws himself at it with a smile on his face…

Dumbledore stared at Pandora, something shifting behind his brilliant eyes. "…It phased through solid surfaces? Xeno's friend is certain of this?"

"She was there, Headmaster, she even took pictures," Xeno confirmed.

"Why is that significant?" Remus asked. "Spirits can pass through solid objects, everyone knows that."

"Lord Voldemort couldn't," Dumbledore answered, his demeanour had completely changed, now. "…I must go. Heed my warning, and be safe. Goodbye."

"What are you not telling us?" Pandora asked, rising from her seat. "Headmaster, I respect that you must play your cards close to your chest, but the people in this room raised Ron. We love him, all of us, and we are terrified. Are you really just going to leave us like this? Can't you, at the very least, promise us that you'll send him home if you find him?"

"…Finally, someone with some bollocks," Sirius smacked the table, snarling. "Enough vagueness, old man, we demand to know everything you know about Ron. This has nothing to do with the Order, or with the Ministry, or with the war, so no more secrets. This is about the kid, and-"

"Sirius, mind your tone," Remus interrupted, visibly disappointed in his friend. "You can ask your questions without being disrespectful."

"Fuck respect, he's hiding things from us!" Sirius snapped, glaring at Dumbledore. "I'm sick of being left in the dark! Tell us what you know! How did Ron survive the Killing Curse?! I know you bloody know, so start talking!"

"What I know is that Ronald struggles to trust others, so betraying his trust, even to ease your fears, would wound him deeply," Dumbledore said sagely, speaking mostly to Pandora. "If I see him, I will relay your message to him, though I doubt he will care to hear it. If he has decided never to return to this house, then I would have an easier time convincing a mountain to fly. Goodnight."

"…Goodnight, Headmaster," Pandora sighed out, sitting back down with a dejected look.

The old wizard departed without another word, leaving a silence so complete in his wake that Arthur couldn't even bring himself to think.

"See that?!" Sirius fumed, now red in the face. "See how he avoided sharing what he knows with us?! We've put our lives in his hands, and he can't even give a straight answer from time-to-time! I bet, he's already seen the kid, and is-!"

"Sirius, that's enough," Andromeda sighed out, subtly nudging her head towards Molly, who was on the verge of having a meltdown. "Ted, why don't we go out and buy some food? The children haven't eaten, yet, and neither have we."

"…I can make-" Molly tried, but Ted was already on his feet, offering her a kind smile. "…Thank you, both…"

"I'll help," Remus volunteered, walking over and patting Arthur on his slumped shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Arthur, I promise. Just um… Just stay strong. We'll find Ron, and we'll get all this sorted out." Even if we find him, he won't tell us anything. He never does.

Arthur gave a curt nod, still replaying the scene of his youngest being struck by the Killing Curse in his head. …He'd be home right now if I hadn't gambled with that ultimatum, but what choice did he leave me? He's torn this family to pieces, he's hurt everyone who has ever loved him, he's even put his siblings in danger without remorse… Why did he have to turn out this way? …Why did he have to get back up…?

Harry Potter's POV

Wednesday 21st July, 1994 (Ginny's Room – Night)

Why was everyone under the assumption that he, of all people, knew what was going on? Sure, he'd survived the Killing Curse as a baby, but that was only because of his mother's loving sacrifice for him, right? It's not like he'd done anything himself, he was just a baby. But Ginny, and even the twins, think I know something about Ron surviving it. They think I'm hiding the truth from them because I've been told to by the adults. This is so-…

"It's okay if you don't know, Harry," Luna suddenly whispered, shuffling closer to his side. "Everyone's just scared, and when people are scared, they act irrationally." …Right.

He smiled weakly, grateful for her insight. "Thanks, Luna."

"What will be your moniker now, I wonder," Luna hummed, tapping her chin. "It can't just be the Boy-Who-Lived, because there's two of you, now. OH! What about 'The-Harry-Who-Lived'?" No, please… Just no.

"I'll settle for just Harry, if that's all right with you," he chuckled awkwardly, not always knowing how to speak to her.

"Of course, it is," she smiled broadly. "I like Harry perfectly well." She then leaned in close, her eyes sparkling with awe. "It must feel nice, right? To not be so alone, anymore?"

"Pardon?" he blinked, leaning away a little.

"Most people only ever see you for what you went through, but, now, there's someone else out there who went through it too," Luna elaborated. "You and Ron… You're linked, now, by the exact same experience. So, you're not alone, anymore, are you?"

Harry stared at her, pondering her words before smiling more fully. "Um… Yeah, I guess, I'm not… Thanks again, Luna, I didn't realise that until now." Ron and I both survived a Curse that kills anything it touches, and that means that I'm not some freak of nature. Or, at least, not the only freak of nature walking around. Come to think of it, we both also survived being attacked by Voldem-…

"What are you two whispering about?" Fred asked, and Harry finally noticed that Ginny and the twins were watching him and Luna. "C'mon, share with the class, won't you?"

"I was just telling Harry that he's not alone, anymore," Luna answered right away, still wearing her carefree smile. "Ron and he are the 'Boys-Who-Lived'! Isn't that great?!"

"What's great about Ron being nearly murdered?" Ginny asked, not amused in the slightest. "Stop smiling like that, okay? Nothing about this is great… Ron could've died, and you're smiling about it? What's wrong with you?" Ease up, she was just trying to be-…

"…Sorry," Luna adorned a more sombre expression. "I didn't mean-"

"Don't be a prat to her," George scolded Ginny. "None of this is her fault, you know? Luna, it's fine… You're right about Ron and Harry, and it's a nice thought. Don't let Ginny bully you like that."

"I'm not bullying her," Ginny huffed, crossing her arms. "Mind your business, George. You're in my room, remember?"

"That doesn't mean you can act like a jerk," Harry said bluntly, not hiding his displeasure.

Ginny went to retort, but upon seeing the frown on his face, she promptly reconsidered her words. "…Sorry, Luna… I'm just-"

"Me too," Luna nodded.

"How did you do that?" Fred asked Harry, while George smirked knowingly at Ginny. "Teach us your ways, wise one, so we too can occasionally shut her up."

"Piss off, Fred," Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to go wake up Percy. He was there, and he can tell us what really happened."

"You want mum to smack you?" George asked dully. "Leave him alone, Ginny, he was shaking like a leaf when dad brought him home."

"You don't want to know what happened?" Ginny asked in response.

"Of course, we do, but Percy looked traumatised, didn't he?" Fred jumped in. "We'll find out what happened, but just leave him be for now."

Harry found himself pleasantly surprised by the twins, he had no idea they were capable of being kind to Percy, the brother they constantly targeted with their shenanigans. Well, at the end of the day, they are a family, aren't they? And a very close family, too. It's just Ron who doesn't fit in with them, probably because he believes himself better than them. He has no idea what he's taking for granted, does he? I used to hate that about him, but, now, I just feel sorry for him. For someone so smart, he's being quite foolish. Family… It's the most important thing in the world, and if he can't understand that, then-…

A knock at the door distracted all of them, and Ginny rushed over to unlock it. "Ron?"

It wasn't her wayward brother on the other side, though, it was Tonks. "…Sorry, lass, just little old me. There's food downstairs. Come and eat."

"…Right, food…" Ginny deflated, shuffling past the blue-haired Tonks. "…Not even hungry, but whatever…"

Harry joined the twins, following after Tonks until they were in the kitchen. Takeaway? Makes sense… I doubt Mrs. Weasley is in the mood to cook for everyone. Can't Ron just come over to let her know that he's okay? She's his mum, doesn't that mean anything to him? The more he thought about how Ron treated his family, how he repeatedly ignored them to focus on his own whims, the more he remembered why he had grown to resent the Slytherin so profoundly. Which led me to doing something really stupid. He let out a sigh, deciding that it was better if he didn't get overly involved in Ron's affairs, again. Sirius and Remus always say that Ron is complicated, that he's got an 'unsettled soul', and it's not like I've ever heard his side of things. I should honestly just mind my own-…

"Harry, grab a plate and get some food," Sirius ordered from the table, gesturing towards said food. "I want you eating properly, all right? Go on."

Harry fought the urge to groan, why was Sirius on his case about his diet recently? Some people are skinny, all right? Just get over it, will you? Plus, Oliver said that my size makes me the ideal Seeker. He did as he was told, however, not wanting to be lectured the next time he was alone with Sirius, but just as he finished filling up his plate, there was a loud crack in the kitchen that made multiple people jump from fright. What was that?! Looking around, Harry, and everyone else, gaped at the Elf that was now standing on the far end of the table, his large, blue eyes studying every face keenly. Who are you? Where did you come from?

"…I know you…" Arthur muttered, slowly rising from his chair. "You're my son's-"

"Marty, humble servant of Ronald Bilius Weasley," the Elf bowed deeply, there was a thick tome in his bony hands that quickly caught Harry's attention. Ron has an Elf? And what's that book in his hands? Why does it have a bow wrapped around it? "Master has sent Marty to deliver a message."

"…A message?" Molly repeatedly breathlessly, before rushing over to the Elf's side. "Where is my son?! Tell him to come home, now! Please! Tell him that everything is forgiven and forgotten! Tell him that-!"

"Forgiven?" Marty blinked. "What was Master's crime?"

"…Please, just bring him home," Molly pleaded, her eyes welling up. "Please!" …Mrs. Weasley…

The Elf stared at her, pitiless. "It is not Marty's place to question Master's decisions." Even if the decision is completely stupid? She's scared to death, and he's choosing to ignore her. That's unforgivable.

"…Bloody Elves…" Sirius grumbled, anger flashing across his already-sour face. "Look here, you little shit, we just want to make sure he's all right. Nothing more. Just go back to him, grab his arm, and Apparate hi-… Hold on… Arthur, this house is under the Fidelius Charm, isn't it?"

"…It is," Arthur replied, all eyes now glued on Marty. "…You've been in this house before, haven't you?"

"Many times, yes," the Elf answered, beaming. "But Marty was always careful to avoid being seen by Master's family." …That's so bloody creepy. The adults clearly shared Harry's thoughts, as they exchanged wary glances with each other. "Fear not, Marty is no threat to those Master cares for. Marty is only here to alleviate any, and all, anxieties."

"How did Ron survive the Killing Curse?!" Ginny blurted out. "What?! If none of you are going to ask, then I will! Tell us! You know, don't you?!" Marty's smile grew wider, and fonder, at the sight of her, much to Ginny's discomfort. "W-Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it, you creep…"

"Master overpowered fifty Veela through sheer will, a feat none have achieved in Wizarding History," Marty started. "Master once eviscerated a Boggart with nothing more than a thought." Remus paled at the reminder, as did Harry. I remember that… Remus dragged Ron to Dumbledore right after, but nothing came of it. "Master possesses powers that none here can even begin to fathom. The Killing Curse? A Spell made by mortal men? What is that to one such as Master? Nothing… Master is beyond the reach of such pathetic, weak Magic. Nothing in this world can harm Marty's Master, the greatest wizard to ever walk this Earth!"

Silence followed the Elf's bold declaration, and, just like those around him, Harry felt a strange pit form in his stomach. Is he telling us that Ron can't die? What the hell? He can't be serious, right? That has to be a lie… Is it even possible? What about his-…?

"What about his brain-damage?" Tonks asked the question that was on everyone's mind. "I know for a fact that the Healers gave him very little time." Very little time? How little, precisely?

The Elf beamed, again, nauseatingly friendly in his demeanour even as he ignored Tonks' inquiry, before he crossed the table and presented Harry with the thick, brown tome. …For me? What is it?

"Happy Birthday, from Master," Marty announced, stunning him. Happy Birthday? Um, you're a bit too early-… "A History of the proud Potter Family, and the great wizards and witches it has produced over the centuries." …A history book about my family? Woah… I didn't know such a thing even existed… "Harry Potter will, in due time, surpass them all."

Harry accepted the book hesitantly, unsure of what else to do. "…How did you know I was here?"

"Master always knows where Harry Potter is," was the Elf's response, creeping him out even further. …He does?

"How, and why, does he-?"

Marty suddenly cracked away, before any more questions could be asked of him, leaving everyone in the kitchen baffled and disturbed in equal measure. …Okay, then… That was the weirdest experience I've had in a long time… Even by Wizarding World standards, that was mental…

"…Right, I fucking tried keeping it together…" Sirius was the first to speak, slouching. "Remus, what the actual fuck is going on? Was that Elf telling the truth? Is it even possible?"

"…With Ron, I've come to believe that anything is possible," Remus mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Let's just eat, okay? Starving ourselves isn't going to help us figure this out." Us? Are they finally going to let us 'children'-? "Fill up your plates, you lot, then go back upstairs." …Of course. What was I thinking? It's not like we want answers, too.

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, neither doing anything to hide their frustration. They complain about Ron hiding things from them, but they do the same thing to us. They're such hypocrites. I don't know about you, but I'm getting really sick of being treated like an idiot.

Amelia Bones' POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (St. Mungo's Hospital – Early Morning)

"I need to be discharged," Amelia argued, not hiding her displeasure. "With all due respect, Healer Aurora, I know my body, and I'm perfectly fine, now."

"Minister, you suffered a terrible concussion," the Healer stated plainly, staring at the parchment in her hands. "You woke up twice last night, and vomited on the nurses both times. Do you remember that?" …No, I don't. "You will be discharged by noon, I promise, but, for now, we'd like to keep our eyes on you. Just to be safe."

"But I have work to do," Amelia muttered under her breath, the last thing she remembered was Weasley coming back from the dead. …What the fuck is happening? The return of the Dark Lord, those Prophecies becoming corrupted, Weasley and all his unnaturalness… I feel like I'm losing my mind. Is this all just a nightmare? "…Healer, tell me, what have you heard about yesterday?"

Finally, the bespectacled Healer looked at her, curiosity flashing behind her bright eyes. "I've heard much, but I don't believe most of it. Some say that a Lethifold was possessing a child-"

"A Lethifold?" Amelia blinked, taken aback. "A flesh-consuming shroud from the tropics? Here? In Magical Britain?" The nonsensical rumours have already begun, then. "…Sorry, go on…"

"…They also say Ronald Weasley was struck down by a Killing Curse," Aurora went on. "They say he rose back up from the dead, like a Revenant, unable to die until his work on this Earth is finished."

"…His work? What work?" Don't tell me she's also a fan of his.

The Healer removed her spectacles, adorning a rather stark expression. "…Is it true? Was he struck down by a Killing Curse? Did he really come back to life?" She can't even hide it, can she? Gods… It's over… Even Harry Potter's reputation will be dwarfed by Weasley's, now. He'll be worshiped, not just by the British, but by the entire Wizarding World. Another Boy-Who-… "Minister, did you hear me?"

"…Do I have any visitors?" Amelia asked, staring down at her blanketed lap. I'll become even more dependent on him going forward, and he's clever enough to pounce on that opportunity.

"Um… Yes, actually, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is just outside," she revealed, putting her glasses back on. "As are a handful of Aurors, including Alastor Moody."

"Was anyone else hurt in the attack?" Amelia asked, not looking up. "Any civilians?"

"No civilians, but a few Ministry Officials were roughed up, like yourself."

"Such as?"

"I'll bring you the list." None of the public got hurt, so there's that, at least.

"…The boy…" Amelia mumbled tiredly, the back of her head aching a little. "…What became of him?"

"Mr. Crouch carried him here, causing quite the uproar," Aurora answered. "He's malnourished, with a fever to boot, but he will live. Director Reid himself is tending to him, and there are no safer hands in all of Magical Britain." That's good, I'll visit him once I've been discharged. Just to make sure, with my own eyes, that he's all right. To use a child in such a manner, as nothing more than a tool for murder… The Dark Lord truly is the vilest wizard to ever live.

"Send in Crouch and the Aurors, I must speak with them," Amelia ordered. "And start working on getting me out of here."

"Certainly, Minister, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

With that, Aurora left the room, and, shortly after, Crouch, Alastor, Jane, Gawain, and Bellator, walked in. …You imbeciles had one job… One job, that's it! Still, how can I blame you? A possessed child? The Dark Lord? No one could've predicted this. I certainly didn't, and-…

"They told us that you hit your head," Crouch broke the silence, a grave look on his face. "Are you… feeling better?"

"Spare me your attempts of trying to sound human," Amelia said bitterly, pressing her lips together tightly. "…What happened out there? Did I really see what I saw? Tell me it was all a dream, damn you."

The group exchanged looks, before Alastor stepped forward. "A child, under possession, shot Weasley with the Killing Curse, one potent enough to down a grown Troll, but Weasley walked it off."

"Walked it off?" Bellator chuckled mirthlessly. "Minister, after you were taken out of the picture, Weasley beat the fuckin' piss out of that spirit." …What? How? "With his bare fuckin' hands, no less. Reporters are on a frenzy out there, we had to fight them off just to get you through the floo."

Amelia's eyes travelled the room listlessly, lost and reeling from revelation. "…I um… I need some of you to start giving me some answers… I need to know what really happened-"

"It's his suits," Alastor cut in, every eye turning towards him immediately. "All of them seem to… disrupt Magic, and even though I can't explain how they do this, I know it for certain. My Magical Eye, Minister… Even it can't see through Weasley's suits, which means that there is a good chance that the Killing Curse never struck him. It hit the suit, and, as a result, was destroyed by its Anti-Magic properties. Weasley is no God, nor a Revenant, nor a damn messiah. He's just cunning, more cunning than most, but still human." …His suits? Now that I think about it, he's always wearing one. I thought it was just a fashion statement, or a way to make himself look older and more powerful, but-…

"We need to go public with this information," Crouch told her, as if he'd made up his mind, already. "We need to discredit all the fools out there claiming that he's more than just a-"

"You might as well sign his death warrant while you're at it," Jane argued, looking fierce. "This isn't the first attempt on his life, is it?! Minister, I urge you, do not do this! There are powerful people who want to take his life, and if you tell them about this, they'll start aiming for his head!"

"Jane, calm down," Gawain admonished tiredly. "But, Minister, my own feelings for that brat aside, Jane isn't wrong. And, just before the attack, you did promise him your hand in friendship. The truth won't help you, nor the Ministry." He's right. We'll be seen as treacherous, at best, and downright malicious, at worst. However, Crouch is also right, because, at this rate, the British Ministry will be seen as nothing more than a minion of Ronald Weasley. And, all of this right before my meeting with the International Confederation of Wizards… Gods help me, I wish that Killing Curse had struck me, instead.

"…Alastor?" Amelia looked to her Head-Auror. "…You were on that stage with me, remember? You had your eyes on Weasley the whole time?"

"…I did, yes," Alastor grumbled.

"Then, was it his suit that made his bones…?" she trailed off, her stomach lurching when she remembered the grotesque sounds coming from within Weasley's body. "…And the way he um… The way he rose up, his feet lifting his entire weight off the ground… What do you think of that?" Again, all eyes were fixed on him, but, this time, he had no answers to give. "There is something… inhuman… about him. I've seen him break his own neck, just so he could look back at me. Like some fucking owl pretending to be a boy. How do we explain that to the public?" She then looked to Jane, who had now lost her former ferocity. "…You must've sensed it, too, when you were training him, I'm certain of it. There's something wrong with that child, right, Jane? Something that made you wonder? Something that scared you?" The Head Hit-Wizard didn't answer, but she didn't need to, because the truth was written all over her face. That Vampire at Grueva's gala, the way he was running for his life from the gardens… From Weasley… He sensed it, too, didn't he? He sensed it, and he possessed the wisdom to flee, unlike the rest of us. "…The world's gone mad, and it's dragging me down with it."

They all just stared at her in complete silence, but it was Bellator, of all people, who broke the overbearing silence. "Maybe, we should pick this up after the Minister's had some more rest?"

"Where is Weasley?" Amelia ignored the American. "I want him brought in for questioning." He's the only one who has answers, no one else. Not Dumbledore, not his parents, not his brother, no one… He doesn't trust anyone but himself, which is exactly why none of our usual methods will work. I have to change my approach. I have to play the game by his rules, he won't allow anything else.

"We can't find him, Minister," Crouch revealed, sounding almost embarrassed.

"Can't find him?" Amelia repeated. "He was standing in the heart of our Ministry last time I saw him."

"He had a Portkey, an unregistered one, and he used it to escape," Crouch explained. "…He broke Magical Law in front of hundreds, and he didn't even bat an eye. That's what he thinks of us, Minister, that's what he thinks of our laws and society. Don't protect him, show the world that he's just a conman, a trickster-"

"Conman? No conman puts on a show like he did," Bellator pointed out. "You all saw that hammer, didn't you? You know what that is? You know why it suddenly vanished out of your custody, despite the Wards you put up? That was a Chief's Warhammer, a symbolic weapon that's bonded to one's soul. Centaur Magic, as ancient as their history. There's only one way you can get that weapon, by bein' a Chief of a Centaur Tribe." …What? What warhammer?! What is she on about?! "If Weasley has one, it means that he's seen as an honorary member of the Centaurs. You'll have four-legs, as well as his fans, kickin' down your doors if you turn on him." She then looked right at Amelia, deadly serious. "Minister, I like you, but, back in the States, we just made good with the Centaurs after years of diplomacy. The President will have your head on a platter if you bungle that up by antagonisin' the Centaurs here." He'll have my head, will he? Well, at this point, he is welcome to come and take it.

Amelia looked between Crouch and Bellator, before deciding not to rush into a decision. "…I need time to figure out what our next move should be. Until then, no one speaks to the reporters, especially reporters from the Daily Prophet."

"Our silence will make us look weak and unorganised," Crouch stated matter-of-factly. "And that's exactly what Weasley wants, mark my words. This boy has been a thorn in our side for nearly two years, now. Shoving himself into my Department so he could play 'Diplomat', which led to a strained relationship with the French Ministry that we're still trying to salvage to this day, followed by an avalanche of scandals, most of which ended with us looking like fools… Stop giving him what he wants, Minister, or he'll tear us all down." …It's not that simple, and you know it. "The abolition of our Ministry, and the personal ruination of you and me, is his endgame. I can see it in his eyes. His contempt for the established order… It mirrors the contempt shared by our worst enemies."

"It sounds to me like you have a personal vendetta against him," Bellator pointed out. That's because he does, and for good reason. "Your grudges can't become the Minister's policies-"

"This doesn't involve you, American," Crouch snapped, shaking with outrage. "Which side are you on, exactly? We all know how your government deals with dissenters like Weasley, and yet, you've taken every opportunity since the attack to defend him."

"I'm not defendin' Weasley, Sir, I'm defendin' my President's interests. He's the only reason why you're still in your esteemed positions, and I won't let you screw him over. He made an investment in this administration, a big one, and he expects you to be worthy of it. Makin' an enemy out of Weasley is goin' to destroy what's left of your reputations, it's goin' to embarrass him and my Aurors-"

"That's enough, you two," Amelia said strongly, her patience already taxed by yesterday's events. "Fighting amongst ourselves won't help us, nor will rushing into action without proper planning. I will make a statement to the press when I am ready, and that is the end of the matter. Right now, I want Weasley found and brought to me. And I want to know who attacked him. Facts… That's what we need right now, and I expect you all to find them."

"The boy who attacked Ronald, Minister…" Jane started, her eyes darting between Crouch and Bellator. "…He was the last child reported missing within the camps." …What? Truly? "I went back to the office and made certain of it. We're trying to contact his father in order to officially identify him, but, so far, we've been unable to locate the man."

"Does this mean that this 'spirit' is behind the missing children?" Amelia asked, feeling as though she was being buried under questions. It was the Dark Lord, wasn't it? The spirit? If so, then what is he doing, exactly? This doesn't make any sense the more I think about it. "…Well, Jane?"

"I can't say for certain, Minister, but all the evidence is pointing in that direction."

"It does make sense, doesn't it?" Gawain added. It does? "Several missing children, but never a single sighting of the perpetrator? The children aren't going 'missing', this thing possesses them and just walks away." …Gods above, this means that the other children are dead, doesn't it? "It must need a new host every now and then, like a parasite, and whenever it does, it goes out and finds one from the camps. Why children, though? Are they easier to possess? Why else would it choose them over adults with developed Magical Cores?"

"Jane, you're going to work with Bellator and her Aurors going forward," Amelia ordered, feeling a white-hot rage burn in her belly. "I want this thing found, and I want it destroyed. I want the bodies of those missing children recovered and returned to their kin. I don't care what it takes, you're going to get this done."

"We can narrow down its location now that we know how it operates," Jane gave a nod. "It lives close to its hunting ground, someplace hidden enough-"

"The sewers," Bellator cut in.

"The sewers? Why there?" Amelia asked.

"It can go through walls, but it's not invisible, and, as Robards said, it's never been spotted until now," Bellator said thoughtfully. "That's because it's comin' from below its victims. That's my theory. It finds out where they sleep, and it takes them when it's dark."

"The sewers are in ruins, though," Alastor countered. "During the raid, they were blown to hell by the Vampires, then crushed by Albus. I've charged the rookies with escorting Ministry architects down there, and, from what they've reported back, no one can navigate what's left."

"Children are tiny bastards, they can squeeze into places adults can't," Bellator shrugged. "It's just a theory, a place to start our search, that's all."

"Get started, then," Amelia gave her approval. "Now. There is no time to lose, this thing has already claimed too many innocent lives." The pair of them left without another word, and the moment they were gone, she turned her attention towards Crouch. "Was this the Dark Lord?"

The three wizards exchanged looks, before shaking their heads. …Then, what are we dealing with here?

"It's not his way to make such a public appearance," Crouch replied. "Even during the Great War, he only ever showed his face a handful of times. No… Whatever that thing is, it's not the Dark Lord."

"It's not a Vengeful Spirit, either, despite appearances," Gawain said. "I've put dozens of them to rest before, and this thing was a lot more… animated. Livelier, as strange as that sounds."

"Alastor?" Amelia looked to him.

"I was knocked unconscious, so I didn't get the chance to study it," the Head-Auror grumbled, disappointed in himself. "But, from the way it's been described to me, I have to agree with Gawain. Vengeful Spirits haunt locations, or certain people, they don't possess the living and throw out Killing Curses."

"Weasley knew what it was," Crouch said, grimacing. "He attacked that thing without a second thought, and the way they fought… It was personal." Again, that boy seems to be the only one with answers. "Alastor, pull your rookies out of the sewers so Roberts and Bellator can do their work. Have them join Kingsley in safeguarding the Weasleys, instead. We should assume that this thing seeks to harm them, as well." The Weasleys… Arthur… He was on the stage, too. He was right on top of his son before the boy 'came back to life'.

"Should I contact Albus?" Alastor asked Amelia directly. "Minister, he might know what we're dealing with." She gave a nod in response, and he limped away without wasting another second. "I'll be back within the hour."

Silence lingered in the wake of Alastor's departure, leaving Amelia to contend with a million different thoughts, all of which brought her back to Ronald Weasley. …Maybe, Crouch is right about him. Maybe, we should focus more effort on discrediting him before he ruins everything we're trying to-…

"Minister, with all due respect, don't do that, again," Crouch broke the silence, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Do what?" she asked standoffishly.

"The world's gone mad, and it's dragging me down with it?" Crouch repeated her words, causing her to shift in her spot. …Yes, I um… I should know better than to speak like that, especially near Bellator. "Your Ministership is hanging on by a thread, and if people start questioning your… soundness, then you'll be out of office long before the Dark Lord makes his move. Get it together, before it's too late."

"You're right, and I'm sorry," Amelia apologized, drawing in a deep breath. I can't react like an ordinary person, not anymore. I can't be seen to falter and hesitate, not even in the face of events like this. "What's the public saying about what happened? What are their thoughts?"

"They're saying too many things for us to keep track, but there is one constant… They're saying that Weasley is protected by powers beyond our understanding, that he's some sort of 'saviour'… A saviour that's been sent here to right the wrongs of our world." What? Like some Prophet? Damn it all! They've gone from seeing him as a philanthropist to a fucking Demi-God, now?!

Amelia's face twisted in disgust and anger; her worst fears were now confirmed. "…This is why you're so adamant about discrediting him, isn't it? It's not just your feelings for him pushing you forward?"

"You think he was untouchable before? If you don't step in, now, they'll start erecting statues of him in the middle of Diagon Alley. For Merlin's sake, Amelia, his face is plastered on the front page of every paper from every outlet all over the fucking globe. The entire atrium is clogged with reporters from every corner of the Wizarding World. I've had to issue warnings to every Department because the people are threatening violence if they don't get answers." All of this happened overnight? If that's true, then even Crouch doesn't understand that we've already lost. "What's that old saying? 'An individual is intelligent, capable of critical thought, but people are stupid and easily led'. Well, Weasley's proven it to be true, but we still have time to break the illusion. We just need to act before he does."

Amelia drew in another deep breath, shaking her head. "It's too late for that, I believe." And, on some level, even I can see that Weasley is something more than human. "They want to believe in him, Barty, they want what they're reading and hearing to be true. And, I offered him my hand in friendship… I all but announced my adoration of him before the world… Tell me, what will they say when I try to drag them to the truth, now? They'll call me a traitor, a jealous coward, and this administration will be torn apart by the very people it wishes to serve." And the Pure will rush back into the Wizengamot, and we'll all be back to where we started. "…We need to tether ourselves to him-"

"What?!" Crouch roared, horrified. "Have you lost your mind?!"

"It is the only way we can survive," Amelia grit out, feeling wretched. "I don't want this, you know I don't, but we're swimming against the tide here, and it's only a matter of time before we drown. And, don't mistake me, I'll die before I let the likes of Weasley undo the established order, but, for now, we keep him close. We use him, just as he uses us, and, hopefully, sooner rather than later, his damaged brain will put him down for good." Unless, all of that is an elaborate ploy to garner the people's sympathy. Merlin, please, don't let that be the case. "Barty, I promise you, this Ministry will weather any storm. Weasley will not defeat us, I won't let him, but you must learn to trust my judgement, or we will both lose."

Crouch frowned disapprovingly, shaking his head as he turned to leave. "…I will hold you to those words, Minister, because this Ministry cannot be allowed to bend the knee to a damn child."

Amelia nodded her agreement, before gesturing Gawain to follow Crouch out. "Find him, then, and bring him to me. Sign whatever warrant you need to sign, but don't let the public find out what you're up to."

"As you wish, Minister," Crouch responded coldly, already at the door. "Gawain, let's go. We'll start with his known associates."

Daphne Greengrass' POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Morning)

"More tea, Mistress?" Spinny offered, and Daphne gave a sombre nod. The sick Centaurs have probably taken their lives by now. I know Ron said that this was the best we could do, but none of it sits right with me. How can so many people just die without anyone even caring? "It's a beautiful day, Mistress, isn't it? Not a single cloud in sight."

"…It's why I wanted to have breakfast out here in the gardens," Daphne lied, carefully masking how dreadful she felt inside. "I think, I'll spend the day with the Fairies. Make flower-crowns and dance with them. Do you want to join me?"

Spinny stared at her, eventually giving voice to her thoughts. "…Mistress is avoiding Lord and Lady Greengrass."

"What makes you think that?" Daphne asked, composed.

"Spinny has eyes, Mistress." That obvious, is it? Well, it's not like I've made much of an effort to hide it. "Lord Greengrass wished to have breakfast with Mistress this morning, and-"

"He ought to go back to lurking in his study," Daphne cut in, her lips curling slightly. "I don't want to share a room with him, let alone a meal."

"Lord Greengrass will be displeased, Mistress."

"I've already wasted too much of my life trying to please him," Daphne stated, taking a modest sip of her tea. "And his displeasure with me will pale in comparison to my displeasure with him."

Spinny shifted in her spot, growing nervous. "…Mistress, please-"

"If you're worried that he'll take his anger out on you, don't be," Daphne said reassuringly, fixing up her expression. "He passed ownership of you to me, and I will protect you. You have my word, Spinny, not even my father will dare touch you." Can I really keep that promise, though? I suppose, if it comes down to it, I could send her to stay with Pansy. Yes, that could work, though she still listens to my father when he summons her. She's scared of him, and I don't blame her. I'm scared of him, too.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention, and she promptly steeled herself. Please, be Astoria, not mother or father. Much to her disappointment, it was not her younger sister who stepped into the gazebo, it was her mother. …Brilliant.

"Leave us," Mary ordered Spinny, stern.

Spinny bowed her head, cracking away without so much as a glance in Daphne's direction. …So much for being under my protection… Still, I can hardly blame her. She's been listening to their commands since she was old enough to walk.

"What is the meaning of this, Daphne?" Mary asked, unhappy.

"It's called breakfast," Daphne answered blandly. "It's considered the most important meal of the day by some-"

"Do not take that glib tone with me, young Lady," Mary warned. "Come, you will join your family in the dining hall."

"I'm not in the mood to be paraded before your mother," Daphne huffed indignantly. "I'm not some poodle, and neither is Astoria."

"Paraded? Is that what you think I'm doing?" Mary asked frigidly.

"That's exactly what you're doing." I grew up in this manor, remember? It won't be long before you start asking me to sing and dance for her amusement.

Mary went to retort, only to stop herself at the last second. "…Please, daughter, stop being difficult, and just come inside. We've not had a chance to eat together, all of us. It will go a long way in bringing us closer." And what makes you think I want to be close with your relatives?

"Didn't you hear how she addressed Ron?" Daphne asked, becoming irked. "She's foul, mother, and disrespectful."

"Do not speak of your grandmother in that manner," Mary scowled. "Shame on you, Daphne, I raised you to respect your elders."

"And father taught me that respect has to be earned," Daphne countered. "And that woman is not my grandmother. She is a stranger who walks around like she owns the place. She judges Astoria and me, stares down her nose at us. What gives her that right, exactly?"

"Don't you understand how this makes me look, Daphne?" Mary took a step forward, glaring down at her rebellious child. "Or, have you grown to enjoy your own mother's humiliation?"

"It's always about how you look, isn't it?" Daphne scoffed, crossing her arms and slouching. The Fairies, the charities, the grand balls and elaborate performances… It's all a façade, and I see that, now. The only thing you really care about is your own happiness, your 'perfect' life. Father murders men, women, and children, and you just turn a blind eye to it all because it's more convenient-…

"Sit up straight, girl, have you no respect for yourself?" Mary scolded harshly, but, this time, Daphne refused to do as she was told. "I see, then… This is how it's going to be between us going forward? You openly disrespect me, humiliate me, and discard my love for you?"

"You know, you haven't even asked how I feel about Chief Zotair's passing," Daphne pointed out, matching her mother's scowl. "I cared about him, mother, and he died in the most horrible way you can imagine! Because of father! Everything I thought I knew about this family is a complete lie! Tori is living a Cursed life, our fortune comes from the suffering of the poor, and my parents are criminals who would be sentenced to Azkaban for life if there was any justice in this world!" Merlin! That felt good! And I hope it hurts, you liar! "So, yes, this is how it's going to be between us from now on. If that bothers you too much for you to bear, then I will gladly return to the Weasleys. At least, I won't feel sick to my stomach sleeping under their roof." You and father couldn't buy their nobility and compassion, not even with all your gold and gems.

Mary let out a sigh, averting her gaze. "…Daphne, he made mistakes, but he's not that man, anymore. Remember what I told you? Our light guided him back from the darkness. I didn't ask you about Chief Zotair because I already know you're hurting, and me bringing it up would only hurt you further. Out of respect for you, and him, I've kept my distance, because nothing I could say would undo what's been-"

"I won't forgive either of you, ever," Daphne promised, stopping her mother short. "You might've gotten away with it all, but I can, at the very least, exist as a reminder of your crimes. Father might've changed his ways, but that doesn't erase the past. You don't just get to decide that you're someone else, now, not after what you two have done."

"And what of your sister?" Mary asked plainly. "She's asking questions, Daphne, about why her sister is acting so strange, so withdrawn. Sooner or later, she'll discover the reason behind your anger, and it will destroy her. Is that what you want?" I'm the one who's been protecting her this whole time! Where were you, huh?!

"You don't get to put that on me!" Daphne shot up, outraged. "You and father did this! And I've been busting my arse trying to-"

"Language."

"…protect her from your sins!" Daphne went on uninterrupted. "And, you know what? It's not fair that I've always been used as her personal nanny. I love my sister, but I can't keep her from the truth, nor should I have to." Ron gave her a Silver Leaf, same as Tracey, and she's becoming stronger by the day. She's growing, she's putting on healthy weight, she's even got more colour in her face, now. "Astoria is stronger than you give her credit for, as am I, and I won't let you use her to coerce me into becoming your accomplice."

Mary rubbed her face out of frustration, a very unladylike gesture, but it served to prove to the teen that she was right. "…Accomplice… Crime… Coerce… What are these words, Daphne? Do you really think I want you tied to what your father did? Do you truly believe that he would even allow that? Your sister and you… You're our children, and we've only ever done what we thought was best for you."

"That's not enough, not anymore," Daphne sat back down, composing herself a little. "I won't make your mistake, mother, I refuse to. I won't turn a blind eye to evil for the sake of comfort. If father truly has changed, then you need to convince him to go to the Aurors."

"What?" Mary blinked, taken aback. "…Daphne…"

"He has to turn himself in, as do you. You both need to pay for your sins before you can begin your atonement." But you won't do that, will you? They don't offer opulent delights in Azkaban, after all. "I'll believe that you've changed your ways when you prove it to me, not a second before."

"That boy has poisoned your mind, Daphne," Mary said, visibly aggravated, now. "He's put mad notions into your-"

"That boy?" Daphne repeated, appalled. "His name is Ron! He was a part of this family, remember?! He still has a room in this manor!"

"Yes, he does, because we gave him everything," Mary reminded her. "Your father and I lifted him up from mediocrity, we gave him our guidance and our love, we even came to view him as our own son, but he cut ties with us without hesitation when it suited him. He left us, Daphne, not the other way around."

"Because he has honour and integrity!" Daphne shot back up. "Something you and father lack! You think it's been easy for him?! No! Not one bit! You broke his heart! And, now, you've broken mine! And, soon enough, you'll break Astoria's! At what point do you start to entertain the notion that all of this is your fault?! Ron didn't build his empire on the bones of dead children! You two did that! Merlin help me, if I had half of Ron's strength, half his character, I'd leave you both in an instant! And I would take Astoria with me! Neither of you is fit to raise children! Neither of you should be walking the streets-!"

"That's enough, both of you," came Sebastian soft voice, startling them. …Shit! How long has he been there?! "Mary, leave her be. Come inside."

"Sebastian, did you not hear the vile things she-?" Mary started, furious, only to stop when he raised his hand.

"I heard enough," he answered, and, much to Daphne's chagrin, her eyes betrayed her and began to well up. Fuck you both! I hate you!

Mary shot Daphne one last ugly look, before storming past her husband. "…Unfit to raise children? Ungrateful girl, I survived hell just to hold you in my arms…"

Left alone with her father, Daphne couldn't stop her tears from escaping, despite her best efforts, feeling overwhelmed by a tidal wave of negative emotions. I don't care, anymore! I'm going to pack my trunks and leave! I hate it here! I feel like I'm spitting on the memory of those they've hurt, and murdered, by sleeping under their roof! And I'm sick of it!

"I am unfit to raise children, you're right," Sebastian said distantly, his expression blank. …What? "When I was your age, I too grew to despise my father. In him I saw everything wrong with people, and, now, history is repeating itself. But your mother? She's kept this family together through the most difficult of times, at great personal expense. Even after her imprisonment, after witnessing horrors you can only imagine, she raised you and Astoria with love and tenderness neither of us tasted in our youths. Don't take your anger with me out on her, Daphne, that's not right."

"Y-You don't know t-the first thing about w-what's right," she accused with a cracking voice, shaking and struggling to breathe. "You're a m-monster, and I wish you would j-just leave. We would be better off w-without you." She wiped at her eyes, her hands curling into fists. "I hate you."

Sebastian lowered his gaze, before nodding resignedly to himself. "…I'm sorry, Daphne, for everything. You and Astoria deserved a better father, just as Mary deserved a better husband. It's not fair that you got me, instead." Fuck your apologies, you don't even mean them! You'll say anything to get your way!

With that, he turned and left the gazebo, allowing Daphne the opportunity to fall back into her seat and let it all out.

Daphne, finally out of tears, felt hollow through and through, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression. Had she broken down because she'd never taken the time to properly mourn the Centaurs? Or, was it because she was so angry with her parents that it physically hurt her? …I'm not so sure, anymore… It's probably both… When Chief Zotair passed, I didn't think things could get any worse, but then his people decided to join him… And Ron… Poor Ron… He took all of that responsibility on his own shoulders; he made the one decision none of us could've… He protected us, even though it caused him immense pain… He protected me…

"He has killed yet another part of me, Daphne," Ron's voice echoed in her head, utterly devoid of the optimism and merriment it used to have. "He's killed another part of me."

She felt her hands curl into fists, her lips pressing together tightly and her jaw clenching. It's not fair! Ron shouldn't have to make these decisions in the first place! He's paying for the sins of my parents! And me? I'll spend the rest of my life trying to restore honour to this family! We're just children! Why do we have to right the wrongs of the adults?! Why should we inherit a world that they've destroyed?! Why am I even giving them a choice to go to the Aurors?! They're never going to do that! Why can't I just act?! Like Ron… Like Blaise… Like Pansy… They found the strength to break free from their parents' control, didn't they? So, why can't I? What's stopping me, exactly? It's not just Tori, is it? I keep thinking that I'm protecting her by staying here, but I'm really just protecting myself, aren't I? I'm so scared of making the wrong decision that I'm letting myself be indecisive. I'm being weak, and I'm using my sister to justify it. Well, no more… I have another family out there, one that I got to choose. I'm not alone. And, because of that, I'm not weak.

The hollowness became filled with resolve, and Daphne lifted herself up and carried herself out of the gazebo. I will stay with Pansy until the Break ends. I know she'll look after me. No backing out, all right? I'm doing this, no matter how awkward, or unpleasant, the situation becomes. I need to figure out these feelings away from this place, because just being here is clouding my judgement. I'm so miserable and angry that I can't think straight. As she neared the manor, her feet began to slow down without her consent, her mind trying its hardest to douse her hot emotions with cold logic, but through sheer stubbornness alone, she persisted. Think of Chief Zotair, and Ron, and Blaise, and Tracey, and Millie, and Pansy… Think of how brave they've shown themselves to be. You can do it, too, Daphne. You can, and will, get through-…

The sound of owls hooting, and wings flapping, interrupted her thoughts, and when she cast her eyes up, they grew to the size of dinner-plates. Woah… That's a lot of owls… What's this, now? She was used to seeing a dozen, or so, owls deliver letters every morning, as her father ran his empire from home, but there weren't a dozen owls circling the manor on this particular morning, there were hundreds. How did I miss this? Did they just show up a few minutes ago? It's a bit early for deliveries, too, isn't it? She stared at them for several moments, a strange sense of dread washing over her, before she rushed back into the manor and sealed the door shut behind her. Why were they just circling overhead? Could it be that they have no space to get into the owlery? If that's so, then exactly how many owls are here? What's going on? Alarmed by this sudden development, Daphne quickly made her way further into the manor, not failing to notice that the mercenaries were all patrolling with their wands out. Okay, something is seriously wrong. Even they look spooked.

"You there! What's going on?" Daphne approached a young man with shaggy hair, he was staring out of a window with a dark frown. "Why are there so many owls out there?"

He looked away from the window, his expression softening a little at the sight of her. "Little Lady, you haven't read the papers?" The papers? And don't call me 'Little Lady', it's demeaning. "You should go speak with your parents. I don't want to say something I shouldn't."

Daphne frowned at him, fighting the urge to argue. "…Don't ever call me 'Little Lady', again."

Before he could respond, she barged past him, eventually arriving at the central hall of the manor, where she spotted her mother and father whispering to each other at the foot of the stairs. They appeared unnerved, both of them wearing thousand-yard stares, which was shocking enough, but the newspaper in her father's ever-tightening grip caught her attention the most. The Daily Prophet? What nonsense are they peddling, now? Another piece on why Ron is the worst person to ever live? Ugh… Rita Skeeter… I despise her so much.

"…they're going to find out…" her mother hissed, her hand covering her forehead. "…tell them ourselves…" I can't hear them properly from back here. Should I risk sneaking closer? I don't want to talk to them after our spat, but I also-… "…if he's okay? ... sightings… him?"

Remembering the consequences of spying on her father, Daphne chose to approach them, instead, her curiosity getting the better of her. "There are hundreds of owls out there. They've completely surrounded the manor. What's going on?" Sebastian and Mary turned their attention towards her, speechless. "…Why are you staring at me like that? Tell me what's going on."

They exchanged looks, before Sebastian gave a curt nod. "Ron was giving a public apology yesterday evening to Alastor Moody, but he was interrupted by-…"

"Daphne!" Pansy's voice cut her father off, before the raven-haired witch burst into the central hall with Blaise and Al-Sarari at her tail. "Thank Merlin, I found you!" Pans? What's going on?!

"Get back here, girl," Al-Sarari caught up, restraining Pansy's arms. "I'm sorry, Lord Greengrass, she just ran-"

"Let go of her!" Blaise barked, slamming into Al-Sarari's back hard enough to topple both witches over. Gods! Pansy!

As Daphne rushed over to help her friends, Sebastian's voice boomed through the central hall. "Enough! Rania, unhand her!"

"Pansy, are you okay?" Daphne fretted, pulling the wheezing witch out from under Al-Sarari.

Blaise swiftly joined the effort, taking Pansy's other arm and lifting her up. "Sorry about that, I just-"

"What were you all thinking?" Mary also stepped in, checking Pansy over. "Are you hurt, dear? What caused this commotion?"

"…She wouldn't let us… through," Pansy panted, shooting Al-Sarari a rather mean glare. "Said we had to answer her questions before she-"

Pansy stopped abruptly when Sebastian's shadow fell over them all, realising that the Lord of the Manor was now standing before her. "Explain. Yourself. Now."

"Um… I um… I was trying to…" Pansy mumbled, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Daphne placed herself between her father and her friend, narrowing her eyes. "Your new guard-dogs were obviously not letting her through, despite her status as Lady Parkinson and as my friend."

Sebastian frowned darkly, before gesturing Al-Sarari to leave them. "This behaviour is not becoming of any of you, especially you, 'Lady' Parkinson. This is my home, and I will not tolerate such mayhem within it."

"Can you really blame us, my Lord?" Blaise asked, his eyes darting towards the newspaper in Sebastian's hand. Okay, seriously, what the fuck is going on? This is becoming scary.

"…No," the Greengrass patriarch answered coolly, composing himself.

"We came to make sure that you didn't hide this from Daphne," Pansy muttered under her breath, but they all heard her. Hide what?!

"Can someone just tell me what's happened, already?!" she lost her patience, a terribly theory already taking shape in her mind. Someone attacked Ron, again, didn't they? Someone tried to-…

"Ron was ambushed during his address, struck down by…" Mary started, but trailed off when Daphne's expression collapsed. Oh, Gods, not again. "He's safe, love, I promise! He's not hurt, as far as we know!"

"Daphne, Ron was hit directly by a Killing Curse," Blaise took over, his brow creased and his eyes searching for answers within hers. WHAT?! NO! "And he just got right back up like nothing happened."

Reeling from the contradictory statement, she nearly lost her footing from light-headedness. Ron was struck by the Killing Curse? Someone tried to murder him, again? Why? Why do people keep trying to kill-…?

"Here," Sebastian offered the paper to Daphne, who all but snatched it away.

Miracle, or Mischief?

Controversial, and unhinged, child celebrity, Ronald Bilius Weasley, has once again left the Wizarding World in disbelief. During what was supposed to be a humbling experience for the rebellious teen, ironically organised by our 'benevolent' DICTATOR, Amelia Bones, Ronald Weasley was attacked whilst he was, once again, peacocking before the masses. The perpetrator of the attack was, astonishingly, a child no older than ten. (What…? Ten?! That can't be right, can it?) That's right, dear subscriber, you didn't make a mistake reading that. The attacker was indeed a little boy, but with a twist so gnarly that it's bound to sicken, yet intrigue, you!

In an event so bizarre, so removed from reality and reason, Ronald Weasley was set upon by a Malevolent Spirit right in the heart of the Ministry! The possessed child cast the Killing Curse on the 'Golden Boy', murdering him before hundreds of horrified witnesses, including yours truly! And yet, much to our further horror, the alleged Dark Magic practitioner, and overall menace to civilised society, Ronald Weasley, 'rose back up from the dead' as if the most dangerous Curse known to Wizarding-Kind had no power over him! (…This can't be real… No way… Ron survived the Killing Curse? Is such a thing even possible? And what's this evil spirit she mentioned? What is this?! It doesn't make any sense!)

The Ministry's Atrium erupted in chaos after this, but through sheer tenacity, and an unwavering love for good journalism, this reporter recorded the following pandemonium without fail! The spirit discarded its host in an attempt to finish its foul work with its own hands, but was promptly beaten into submission by Ronald Weasley! As the Aurors scrambled to control the stampeding crowd, as the Ministry's jumped-up top brass were rendered useless by gravity, Ronald Weasley fought his would-be killer singlehandedly, causing severe damage to both the environment and the psyches of unfortunate onlookers!

Refer to photographs, taken by yours truly, on the following pages for your edification.

Breathing heavily, Daphne turned the page so quickly that she nearly tore it. Her jaw dropped as her eyes scanned the dozens of moving-images showcasing the fight between Ron and his attacker. …Circe's Breath… The first image, and arguably the most striking one, was that of Ron standing atop a stage, staring down at the camera with indifferent disregard of his dire situation. The next was that of Ron leaping off the stage, the one after that was of him being dragged across the floor by a shadowy spectre, the images becoming more and more disturbing as they continued, with the final one being that of Madam Roberts on her arse as Ron towered over her with murderous intent and the warhammer Chief Argenope had gifted him raised above his head. Daphne's eyes remained glued to the photographs for several minutes, her mind struggling to explain, or even decipher, what she was seeing. …This is insane… This is properly mental… It can't be real… Those around her, including her father, also found themselves captivated by what they were seeing, until she finally returned to the front page to continue reading the article. …I feel like I'm about to vomit… There has to be some sort of reasonable explanation for whatever this is… There has to be! Only one person has ever survived the Killing Curse, and no one even knows how he did it! Could Ron really have figured out that secret all by himself? And, if he did, then why has he never mentioned it?

The Malevolent Spirit, in the end, escaped both Ronald Weasley and the Aurors who attempted to capture it, taking with it any and all answers. Isn't that just so… convenient? (Convenient?) My dear readers, my intrepid detectives, ask yourselves this one simple question before you fall on your knees before the new 'Boy-Who-Lived'… How could the Ministry be so incompetent in their response to this entire mess? Is it because they actually are incompetent? Or, rather, is it because this was all a stunt organised by the Ministry itself to confuse the public? (What?! Is she being serious?! How could any of this possibly be a stunt?!) Isn't it strange that, right before the attack took place, our tyrannical new Minister put Ronald Weasley on a pedestal? Despite originally claiming that this was meant to be a public apology given by someone who was stupid, and violent, enough to attack the Head-Auror, the Minister spent most of her address masturbating Weasley's ego. Why? Why did she choose to pat him on the back, when she would happily throw any one of us in Azkaban for the same crime?

The more you think on it, the less any of this makes sense!

Minister Bones, we are not the fools you, and your unlawful administration, think we are! No, we have eyes, we have ears, and we have the good sense to figure out when something doesn't add up! It is this reporter's belief that, all of the chaos and the spectacle seen last night, was planned and pulled off with frightening efficiency! Ronald Weasley was glorified by the Minister to endear him to us, the public, before he was 'attacked' by a faceless, motiveless entity in order to shock us! The Killing Curse cast upon him was nothing more than a flashing green light, an illusion used to blind us, and later, awe us! The Ministry has Dementors under its control, and only the Gods know what the Department of Mysteries gets up to, so is it really so hard to imagine that they can bind a Spirit to do their bidding? Of course, they can! They want to use this bit of theatre to take our eyes off of Minister Bones' coup d'état! They want to stop us asking the real questions, like why Minister Bones, who was never officially elected by the people, refuses to hold a proper election! They want to come across as allies of the weak and the downtrodden, when, in truth, they have stolen the Ministership with the aid of foreign Aurors!

Is Ronald Weasley a figure of myth? Is he so powerful that even the Killing Curse cannot harm him?

Or, is he merely Minister Bones' poster boy?

Was this a miracle, or was this just another round of mischief from an administration that has repeatedly shown itself to be disingenuous and power-hungry?

I expect my readers to come to the right conclusion.

'Ever your servant',

Rita Skeeter

Dazed, Daphne finally looked to her friends, noticing that they were both staring at her expectantly. "…Ron can survive the Killing Curse?"

Pansy and Blaise exchanged looks, before the latter spoke up. "We came here hoping that you knew something about that." Me? How would I know? "C'mon, Daph, he tells you things he'd never share with us. Please, tell us this is one of them."

All Daphne could do was weakly shake her head, swallowing thickly. This is going to change the Wizarding World, isn't it? Those owls… They must be from every media-…

"Could the Ministry be behind this?" Mary asked Sebastian. "Like Skeeter claims?"

"Why would they willingly give more power to him?" Sebastian asked in response. "They want to weaken his influence, not strengthen it. And, if this was organised by them, they'd have made a statement by now." Something shifted behind his eyes at that, as if he'd realised some terrible truth. "We need to burn every letter Ron has ever sent us. Now."

"What? Why?" Mary blinked, while the teenagers just stared at the man for an explanation. Why would we need to do that? I'm not burning my letters from him! I've kept them safe all this time!

"Don't you understand? He fled the scene and hasn't been seen since, which means he doesn't want to answer any questions," Sebastian elaborated impatiently. "The Aurors will be searching for him, searching for the truth, and since they won't be able to find him, they'll come for those who know him best. That means you three, as well as myself."

"Oh, shit," Pansy paled, whereas Blaise drew in a sharp breath.

"Destroy any letters you've kept, now, then come back here so I can prepare you for an interrogation," Sebastian ordered, and Blaise burst into action, taking Pansy's hand and dragging her off. "Daphne, you as well. Go, now. Mary, we'll do the same."

"What about Astoria?" Daphne managed, her panic rising.

"I'll speak to her," Mary volunteered, already on the move. "Go, Daphne! Now! Do as you father commands!" Okay, okay! Destroy the letters! I can do that!

She ran up the stairs and towards her room, her mind racing even faster than her legs. She knew Rita Skeeter, of all people, could not be trusted under any circumstances, and yet, this entire story was so fucking barmy that it was hard not to question its validity. How could Ron possibly survive the Killing Curse? He wasn't indestructible, she knew that better than anyone, but, somehow, he had survived it. No, he hadn't just survived it, he'd gone on to overpower a shadow demon, too. I swear, every time I think he can't surprise me, he makes history just to prove me wrong! Upon entering her room, she made a beeline for her bed, dropping to her knees and reaching under it to pull out an ornate, silver lockbox. With a flick of her wand, she unlocked it, revealing every sweet letter Ron had written her over the last three years, and, upon seeing them, she couldn't help but hesitate. …Am I really going to destroy these? Can't I just hide them? I mean, none of these mention anything about Ron's plans and beliefs regarding the Ministry.

She rose up from her knees and sat down on the edge of her bed, the open lockbox resting in her lap. The only thing these letters will reveal are his feelings for me. She felt her gut twist up, the mere idea of destroying them cut her deeper than she could've imagined. So many of these are from second year, when we started kissing each other in secret. Merlin, I really miss those days. They were like a fairy-tale, and Ron… Ron was my Prince Charming. A nostalgic smile spread across her face, as her fingertips traced across the letter at the very top of the pile. …Father wouldn't ask me to do this if it wasn't important. The Aurors will find these, they'll search the entire manor, and this time, our bedrooms won't be spared. I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't want to share our memories with a bunch of goons. These letters were only meant for my eyes, weren't they?

Disheartened, but still determined, Daphne began piling the letters onto her bed, during which she spotted an envelope resting atop one of her pillows. That wasn't there when I left this morning. Ron! It has to be from him! She all but threw herself at it, grabbing it and tearing it open to reveal the letter inside. That's his handwriting! Marty must've delivered it in secret!

I'm sure you've read the papers. I'm safe, don't worry, but I can't attend the wedding, anymore.

Sorry.

R.

Daphne stared at the words, processing them, before flipping the letter over in the hopes of there being more writing on the back. …Nothing. No explanation, no hint regarding his whereabouts, not even a 'Dearest Daphne'. Just straight to the point. The bare minimum. Her eyes darted between the letter in her hands and the letters on the bed, and, with a resigned sigh, she tossed his latest letter onto the pile. Less words, and more action, right, Ron? I know you do what you must to protect those around you, and I know you don't need honeyed words to prove your feelings. You've proven them enough, already. With a resolute nod, she stood up and bundled the letters in her arms. I'll destroy these for your sake, to protect you in the only way I can right now. I want to prove my feelings, too.

Theodore Nott's POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Yaxley's Secret Manor – Morning)

"You said it would take a couple of days to cosy up to her," Millie grumbled, the pair of them heading for the dining hall. "It's been two weeks, now, Theo."

"She's not an idiot, all right?" Theo sighed out, why did she have to be so persistent about this madness? "And I'm not a Legilimens."

"You're stalling," Millie accused, scoffing. "People could be in serious danger, and you're stalling." Well, I can't deny that, honestly. I know people could be in danger, but if I make a mistake, I'll definitely be in danger. "Well, you've left me no choice, then. I'll just get the answers I want myself."

"…Gods, can you fucking not?" Theo didn't mask his growing frustration. "You're like a dog with a bone, you know that? All you can focus on is what you want, at the expense of everything else."

"I think, you're the dog with the bone," Millie countered, hostile. "She tells you a couple of stories about your mum, and you forget about why you approached her in the first place? Pathetic."

"Don't bring my mum into-"

"Do you want Tracey to lose her mum, too?" Millie asked, grabbing his arm and stopping them both. OW! Let go, bitch! "Because that's what's going to happen, do you hear me?! These people, including Lady Yaxley, want people like Mrs. Davis dead and buried!"

"Get off me!" he shoved her away, the manic glint behind her eyes scaring him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! They turned you into a proper freak at Durmstrang, didn't they?!"

She frowned darkly, her gaze piercing through his soul. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."

"W-What's that supposed to mean?" he tried to keep his voice strong, despite feeling terribly intimidated. …You're scaring me, Mills… Just stop it, already…

"You'll be joining me there," she stated bluntly. "C'mon, Theo, you already know you're not going back to Hogwarts, don't you?" He felt his throat tighten; he'd been desperately keeping that wretched thought at bay. "You, Lysandra, Crabbe, Goyle, me… We're all in the same boat, now, so you'll see soon enough what Durmstrang turns you into."

"…I'm not going to Durmstrang," Theo curled his hands into fists. "I'm going back to Hogwarts." I'm going back to my girlfriend.

Millie stared at him resentfully, before walking away. "…Your cleverness is wasted on you."

"Yeah? Well, you're a right prick, now," Theo muttered under his breath, distressed. I'm not going to Durmstrang! Fuck that! It sounds like a proper shithole! And Tracey needs me! Ron, too! He doesn't have much time left, and I'll be damned before I let someone-…!

"Are you coming?" Millie shot a frown back, interrupting his thoughts. "You don't want to displease your father by being late to breakfast, do you?" …Father… Fuck, is this why he's ignoring me?! He's trying to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, again?! Well, not this time, you old bastard! I'm not going to Durmstrang!

Breakfast was, like all recent meals, an awkward affair, consumed in silence and with as little interaction with others as possible. Occasionally, Theo would notice Flint shooting him and Millie dark glares, but he tended to ignore them as Flint was hardly a threat. What he couldn't ignore, however, were the dark glares Lord Yaxley frequently sent towards Lord Rowle, there was rising tension between the adults and, as always, that tension would eventually trickle down to their children. Wherever Lord Rowle ran off to, he clearly did it without telling Lord Yaxley about it. This could become a problem, or an opportunity, depending on what happens next. I just hope Millie is patient enough to wait for the fallout before she does something stupid.

"More eggs, pumpkin?" Lady Bulstrode asked her daughter, an appeasing smile on her face. She's become desperate, hasn't she?

Theo cringed internally, nothing was more embarrassing than unruly children, and the Bulstrodes had the unruliest child on the table. They're forcing her to attend every meal, now, no doubt because they're worried about her weight loss, but she's making sure they pay for it.

"No," Millie refused curtly, poking what little was on her plate with her fork.

"Please, dear, don't be-" Lady Bulstrode tried, but her husband ripped the ceramic bowl from her hands, scooped up a sizable portion with the spoon, and slammed that portion onto Millie's plate. Fucking hell… Just eat the damn eggs, please!

"Eat," Lord Bulstrode ordered, tossing the bowl onto the table and causing it to spill its contents. Why did I decide to sit across from them? It's like having front-row seats to a train wreck that kills everyone on board.

Lord Yaxley was visibly displeased by the commotion, the rest awkwardly pretended it wasn't happening, and Millie… Well, she did the one thing Theo would never dare to do, she flipped her plate over with a defiant expression. Oh, fuck me! What are you doing?! Please, just stop!

"Make me, if you dare," the gaunt-faced girl challenged, her grip tightening on her utensils. …Gods, she's lost it…

Theo's eyes automatically darted down to his own plate, his ears trying their best to block out the audible gasps from Ladies Crabbe, Goyle, and Yaxley. This is what hell must be like, huh? Millie… It's almost as if you want him to start hitting you. Just do as he says, for all our sakes. You might've broken your mother's will, but your father is a different story altogether. He's not going to start pleading any time-…

"…Robert, don't," Lord Yaxley broke his silence, his voice low and warning.

Reluctantly, Theo's eyes darted back up to the 'train wreck', his stomach sinking when he saw that Lord Bulstrode had turned as red as a tomato from sheer outrage. And yet, Millie seemed entirely unbothered, as if she knew something that no one else on the table did. She's completely mental, now. I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to keep associating with her, not when she's alluding to stabbing her own father during breakfast. Is this what Durmstrang is going to turn me into, as well? A lunatic? Fuck that! I'm staying as far away from that place as possible!

Fortunately, before Lord Bulstrode knocked his daughter's head clean off her shoulders, the large door leading into the dining hall creaked open, and mostly everyone took the opportunity to look away from the Bulstrodes, including Theo. Who's-…? Woah… Who is this beauty?! An East-Asian witch, most likely from Magical China, stepped into the room, wearing a black, silk dress that flowed behind her like rushing water. Theo found himself transfixed, watching her graceful approach with a stunned expression, until he finally noticed her eyes, which alarmed him enough to jolt him back to reality. …the fuck?! Her orange, cat-like eyes swept lethargically across the table, lingering on Millie, who seemed to have frozen out of fear, before becoming fixed on the man at the head of the table. Um… Who is she? Is she an envoy from You-Know-Who? Oh, fuck, she is, isn't she? It was impossible not feel the sudden shift in the atmosphere, the slender witch's arrival had caused even the Lords to become guarded. She, however, remained detached from the dread she so easily inspired, coming to a stop beside Lord Yaxley's side and Conjuring a newspaper for his viewing. …What's that? Is that the Daily Prophet?

Hesitantly, Lord Yaxley took the paper from her, reading it for only a few seconds before he shot out of his chair with such enthusiasm that it got knocked over. "Impossible!"

Intrigued by his bizarre reaction to whatever he was reading, every Lord in the room, save for Flint, who was still ogling the Chinese witch, rushed over to his side, including Theo's father, all of them gawking at the newspaper. What?! What does it say?! What's happened?! Theo and Millie exchanged glances, and, much to his surprise, the silent strength she'd been carrying around seemed snuffed out by the mysterious witch's abrupt arrival. Do you know who that is? How? What the fuck is going on?

"This is a lie!" Lord Bulstrode hissed at the witch, sneering. "A lie!"

"There were hundreds of witnesses, my Lord," Lord Rosier whispered, confusion marring his face. "…Perhaps, we should move this conversation elsewhere."

"He's waiting for you in your study, Corban Yaxley," the witch spoke softly, her expression giving nothing away. "Come, he doesn't like to be kept waiting." Who is she talking about? Wait… Don't fucking tell me that the Dark Lord himself is here… Oh, fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck… What does this mean for us? For Millie and me?

As the Lords followed the witch out of the dining hall, as if they were her pets, Theo found himself shaking in his chair, the mere idea of meeting the man who'd mutilated his best friend causing his heart to pound against his ribcage. …I want to go home… I didn't ask for this… I don't want to be here, anymore…

Corban Yaxley's POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Yaxley's Secret Manor – Morning)

Gaspard sat behind the desk with a fervent grin, his bestial eyes hidden by his round, black shades, and yet, his fangs gleamed menacingly thanks to the candlelight, giving him the appearance of a monster wearing a man's skin. "Gentlemen, I would like to start this meeting by saying that I, in my eagerness for death, might've joined the wrong side."

Corban frowned upon hearing that, marching up to the desk and slamming the paper down on it. "This is not possible! Nothing survives that Curse! Nothing!"

"Skeeter is right, this is all a stunt to prop up their unholy alliance," Robert added, though there was sufficient doubt in his voice. "It has to be, there is no other explanation!"

"Why would the Ministry bestow more power onto him?" Thorfinn asked in response. "Weasley has made it quite clear that he cares very little for the Ministry's authority, and Bones doesn't strike me as a woman who likes to share her power."

"Lord Rowle speaks true," Felix stated, but Corban's fierce gaze remained glued to Gaspard's grinning mug. "However, there must be a rational explanation behind all of this. Only Harry Potter has ever survived the Killing Curse-"

"If Potter could do it, then why not Weasley?" Cornelius asked, already pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey. "You faithless fools… Do you think our Lord chose this boy as his heir for no reason?" …Could he be right? Is Weasley truly so powerful? And how very much like him to start acting as though he was always on board with the Dark Lord's divisive decision.

"You!" Corban turned around, his finger pointing right at Flint's empty head. "Come here!"

"M-My L-Lord?" the idiot man-child whimpered, growing wide-eyed.

"Come here, now," Corban hissed, and, as soon as Flint was within reaching distance, there was a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, forcing his face down towards the paper. "Is he capable of this?! Has he ever shown any signs of wielding power over death itself?! Answer me, damn you!"

"My Lord, please," Felix rushed to his other side, grabbing onto his spare arm. "We must remain calm and-"

Gaspard's mischievous laughter cut Felix off, the Blood Lord leaning back in Corban's chair and clapping his hands. "Look at all of you! Look at what he's reduced you to in just a handful of months! Can you even imagine what he'll accomplish when he's a grown man? He'll probably string your Lord up by his feet and skin him alive before the cheering masses!" You dare?!

At that, Corban tossed Flint away, reaching into his inner pocket and brandishing his wand. "What did you just say, you treacherous abomination?!"

Gaspard laughed, again, though less mischievous and more cruel this time around, despite Cornelius and Thorfinn following Corban's lead. "Don't point those sticks at me, that never ends well for anyone."

"Father, now is not the time for antagonism," Natalia finally broke her silence, stepping forward. "Humans, he is merely winding you up. Put away your wands, or I will be forced to act against you."

Corban grit his teeth, realising that being trapped between the pair of them, him and his people stood absolutely no chance of surviving. "…What is your game, Vampire? Are you loyal to the Dark Lord? Or, are you only loyal to your own amusement?"

"Your Lord is my amusement, Corban, as are you," Gaspard chuckled, licking his fangs. "But, I think, I might've found someone even more amusing." Weasley? I thought you didn't go after children? Or, have you entirely stopped seeing him as a child after this?

Corban sheathed his wand, before gesturing the others to do the same. "He is off-limits, in case you've forgotten."

"We're not off-limits to him, though, are we?" Gaspard countered. "Didn't I tell you that he's behind all your misfortunes, already?" The Yaxley patriarch clenched his jaw, his heart pounding faster and faster. "Natalia, my love, tell them your theory before they lose their minds, won't you?" Theory? What theory?

She walked over to the desk, turning the page and planting her finger on the very first photo. "There, you see? His clothes… They're damaged, saved for the under most layer. The Killing Curse has no effects on one's clothing, the Curse passes through the gaps within the threads as it only seeks souls. Observe the damage inflicted on his suit, Corban Yaxley, the Curse couldn't get through the lining, which somehow overpowered the Curse. This caused severe damage to the outer layers, as you can see."

Corban blinked, following her arm down to the photograph of Weasley staring indifferently down at him. "…His suit stopped the Curse?"

"It undid the Curse, I believe, and, as we all know, when the Killing Curse clashes against anything it can't get through, it explodes and unleashes its energy violently," Natalia emphasized. "He never got hit with the Killing Curse in the first place, but most people don't know how the Curse actually works. They've never seen it in action, so all they can do is come up with the wrong answers."

"He's not like Harry Potter," Gaspard joined in, shrugging. "But he is exceptionally clever, don't you think? Whatever that material is, I bet all his suits are lined with it. No matter where he goes, no matter what he does, he's always wearing a suit of armour capable of protecting him against even the most dangerous of Spells." …I see… Rita Skeeter was only half-right, then…

The others gathered around, studying the images keenly. …I always did wonder why he was so attached to his Muggle clothing, and, now, it makes perfect sense.

"She's right, I've never seen clothes take that sort of damage from the Killing Curse before," Thorfinn said, stroking his freshly-shaved chin.

"There are very few materials capable of such a feat," Natalia stated, stepping back. "Materials like-"

"Basilisk skin, or, rather, scales," Corban heard himself mutter, the cogs in his brain grinding. "…Gornuk… He used to supply me with rare materials, and, shortly before he started working at Weasley's wretched outlet, he brought me all sorts of materials from a grown Basilisk."

Gaspard cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward. "The gold you put into his pocket is the same gold he used to thrash you and your friends?" Corban drew in a sharp breath, realising that, in his haste to win his Lord's favour, he'd given his most dangerous enemy the very means to undo him. "Hm, I wonder, what will your Master say about this? You've done more damage to his cause than even Dumbledore." The Blood Lord slid out of the chair, moving around the table and stopping only inches away from the paling Lord. "If you hadn't been exiled in disgrace, you'd see the idiocy unleashed upon every street of Magical Britain for yourself. People are calling him all manner of things, but what they call him most is 'Revenant'. An unstoppable force spat out by Hell itself to finish his great work, to undo everything you stand for. He's won, Corban, and you… You've lost. He will be worshiped by the ignorant, the faithful, the scared, the meek, all of them, and that will give him legitimacy."

"…Legitimacy to do what?" Corban asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"To kill you," Gaspard smiled darkly. "To kill all of you."

"The Dark Lord would never allow that," Cornelius pointed out. "We are his most faithful. He will shield us when the time comes."

"You are meat, old man," Gaspard ridiculed, losing his mirth. "You're all just meat, whereas Weasley… He's the one who hunted your friends down and butchered them. He's the one who proved himself strong, in spite of all your advantages. Who do you think your Master will favour when he's forced to make a choice? You? Or, him?" …Him… "I expected more from you people, but, most of all, I expected more from you, Corban. How very disappointing."

Despite his great disdain for the blood-sucker, the Yaxley patriarch was rendered impotent by his words. …Even we can't hope to combat fame such as this… Gaspard's right… I truly lost to Weasley, and this? This is the final nail in my coffin… I helped him without ever realising it, without ever contemplating it… I gave him the gold he needed to begin his campaign against-…

"What is this thing that attacked him, Lord Gaspard?" Felix asked, taking over for his foster-father. "Lady Natalia? Do either of you know?"

"No, we don't," Natalia answered, earnest. "It appears that Ronald Weasley has enemies from beyond this life, even."

"Enemies who also underestimate him, it seems," Gaspard added, tapping the photographs. "Even I struggle against Spirits so potent, but Weasley made short work of it without breaking a sweat. His suit doesn't just protect him, it's a weapon he knows how to utilize. And, not just that, but he's got an actual weapon I have long coveted for my personal collection. The warhammer of a Centaur Chief." Corban could do little but stare down at the photos taken by Rita Skeeter, overwhelmed in more ways than he cared to admit. "I've made up my mind, now. I must meet him in battle, and I don't care what your Lord has to say about it. This… warrior… might be the one I've been searching for all this time."

"Searching for what purpose?" Robert asked a little too eagerly for Corban's liking. You already know what he wants, must you really hear him say it?

"I'm going to fight him," Gaspard announced, proud. "And only the strongest will have the privilege of walking away."

Theodore Nott's POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Yaxley's Secret Manor – Late Morning)

"You know who she is, don't you?" Theo asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Millie pace back and forth. "Mills? I'm talking to you… Who was that woman?"

"I don't know," she answered aloofly. "But I've seen eyes like that before, Theo. A man came to our manor before my parents shipped me away to Durmstrang… He um… He ate one of the guards…"

Theo blinked, had he misheard her? "He 'ate' a guard? What?"

"He was a Vampire, I think," Millie stopped, a grave look on her gaunt face. "But not an ordinary Vampire, because, believe it or not, he bossed my father around." …Since when do Death-Eaters take orders from Vampires? And I've never heard of Vampires having cat eyes before. "Whoever that man was, I know one thing about him for certain… He's pure evil, so I'm going to assume that that woman is the same way. And, if she's here, then he must be too." Wait… Was this the 'He' she mentioned to Lord Yaxley? Not the Dark Lord? Thank Merlin for that… "Theo, this really fucking bad. Something happened out there in the world, something significant enough to bring those two here. We need to find out-"

"You just said that this 'evil man' ate a person, Millie," Theo gawked, shaking his head profusely. "We're not doing anything stupid, got it?"

"Not this-"

"No, no arguing this time, okay?" he put his foot down. "Millie, that woman had some of the most powerful men in the world, including Lord Yaxley himself, scared shitless! You understand what that means?! She's probably much higher on the Death-Eater hierarchy than them! We're not fucking with someone like that, and, if you even think about it, I'll just tell your parents what you're up to!"

"You'd tattle on me?" she frowned, her hands finding her hips defiantly.

"For your sake, yes."

"Spare me, you're just being a coward, as always."

"Call me whatever you like, but you're out of control, and I'm not going to let you get yourself killed. Your own father nearly wrang your neck during breakfast, and, now, you want to piss off someone he's scared of? What? Did they carve out a sizeable piece of your brain at Durmstrang, too?"

Millie let out a defeated sigh, greatly displeased. "…You're not even a little curious?"

"Oh, I'm very curious, but you know what they say about curious cats, don't you?"

"Does this mean that you're no longer going to help me find out what Yaxley's planning?"

"I think, whatever he's planning is about to stop," Theo theorised. "I think, that Vampire woman is here to boss him around, and, as I said, I'm not fucking with her."

"People could be in danger-"

"I don't care, all right? I do not care. I don't know them. I don't owe them a damn thing. Why should I get myself flayed for their benefit? I'm not Ron, and neither are you, so knock it off, already!"

"…Fuck you, Theo," Millie stormed off, causing his blood to boil.

"Fuck you, t-" the door slammed shut, cutting him off. "Ugh! Fucking idiot! Get yourself killed then, see what that achieves!"

With a frustrated groan, he fell onto his back, rubbing his face harshly. I need to get the fuck out of this place! I bet, it's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord himself shows up here! And when he finds out that I've had his past investigated, that I know he's a Half-Blood, he'll fucking murder me!

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Headmaster's Office – Late Morning)

"I want answers, and I'm not leaving without them," Alastor repeated, leaning forward with a menacing scowl. "This goes beyond visions and megalomania, Albus! People could've died! I don't care about whatever loyalty you feel towards that animal, it's time you show me the loyalty I deserve!"

"Have I been disloyal to you, Alastor?" Albus asked in response. Is this why you've fallen back into your previous role with such devotion? Or, is it Rufus' memory that is compelling you to see only one side of the coin?

"You've kept secrets that I didn't think you were capable of keeping," Alastor answered. "Harbouring a murderer, protecting him from any form of scrutiny, keeping those who've fought by your side for years in the dark… Even now, you're sitting across from me and pretending as though you've no idea where he is. Do you think I'm stupid? You know exactly where he is, and you will bloody tell me, damn you."

Albus stared at his old friend, unable to blame him for doing his duty. "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."

"…What? Isn't that the-?"

"The Hogwarts motto, yes," Albus gave a soft nod. "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."

"He's a dragon, now, is he?" Alastor scoffed, vexed.

"No, he's far more dangerous and unpredictable," Albus easily admitted. "If he doesn't want to be found, then it's best to leave him alone. If you start hunting him, you will quickly become the hunted. I'm protecting you, Alastor, because, despite your claims about my intentions, I am perfectly aware of the threat Ronald poses to those who get in his way." Those like Victor Burke, who made the same mistake you're about to make. I'm quickly running out of options where Ronald is concerned. I am convinced that some part of him wants to be despised, to be destroyed and forgotten. I can protect him from the Ministry, and from the Death-Eaters, but I can't protect him from himself. No one but him can do that.

"If you're aware of the danger he poses to others, then why do-?"

"I didn't say others, I said 'those who get in his way'," Albus interrupted. "Small difference, I know, but the devil is in the details, Alastor. The image you're so eager to paint of Ronald in your mind's eye does not account for all the good he does for others. And, no, it's not a front, either. I have seen him risk his reputation, his freedom, and even his life, just to make the lives of strangers a little brighter. An 'animal', as you so vulgarly put it, cares only for its survival, but Ronald cares for a great deal more than that."

Alastor threw himself back in the chair, gnashing his teeth. "…Doing good doesn't give you the right to do evil, Albus, I thought you understood that."

"That's something he would say," Albus countered astutely. "You and he are terribly alike, you both view the world from the lens of your morality, and if anything is even a little hazy, you seek to remove it from the picture. Have you given any real thought to your disdain for him? Where is this vitriol towards him coming from, Alastor? Is it just his actions you disagree with? Or, do you see something within him that you recognize in yourself?"

Alastor narrowed his good eye, but remained silent for many moments. "…He thinks he's above the rules…" Without a shadow of a doubt.

"You thought the same when you were a young man," Albus nodded to himself, stroking his beard. "However, you only bent the rules, whereas Ronald shatters them."

"And you set me straight, showed me a better way, but, when it comes to Weasley, you shelter him and even encourage him. I want to know why. What terrible future has he revealed to you, Albus, that you've turned your back on everything you stand for?" Have I done that? I don't' feel as though I have, but there is no denying that I have a tendency to be lenient with Ronald, given that I'm only one of two people who knows how much he's suffered for our sakes. "We haven't always agreed on how to fight the Dark Lord, and I'll admit that I've made the wrong calls before, but, this time, you're the one who's making the wrong call."

"Tell me what the right call is, then."

"Give him up," Alastor answered without missing a beat. "Take me to him, and help me convince him to stop."

"Stop what?" Albus asked just as quickly. "Stop fighting the Dark Lord?"

"To stop fighting the Dark Lord his way. To stop undermining the Ministry's authority. To stop keeping secrets from those who are wiser than him. To stop thinking of himself as some saviour, and admit that he's sick in the head and needs professional help."

"You are asking me to betray my promise to him."

"What promise?!" Alastor hissed, his patience nearing its limit. "Stop being cryptic with me, and just give me a straight answer!"

"Ronald will not see this intervention you propose as a reasonable request, he will see it as a threat," Albus sighed out, this back-and-forth was not accomplishing anything. "If I 'give him up', I will lose him forever."

Alastor rubbed what was left of his face harshly, visibly struggling to keep his frustrations in check. "…Listen, I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago, outside Gringotts, and I get the appeal… Not everything he says is barmy, I'll give him that, but he's going to break the only system in place that keeps anarchy and lawlessness at bay. He's clever and resourceful, but he's also young and impatient. And, you're right, I do see similarities between us, too many for comfort, even, which is exactly why I want you to stop him. He's sick, Albus, more than you care to admit, and it's only a matter of time before he becomes just another Dark Wizard seeking power for power's sake."

"No, he won't."

"How can you be so damn certain of it?" Alastor demanded. "You've obviously only told me the bare minimum, and you expect me to be satisfied with that? You're asking for too much this time, and I'm not going to stand by while lives are in danger. For Merlin's sake, Albus, he just had a brawl with a fucking spirit, or whatever it was, in the heart of the Ministry! And, don't even bother lying to me, that ginger bastard knew his attacker! And you do, too, I bet, but instead of helping me stop this madness, you're weighing pros and cons!" He makes a good point, because I am weighing the pros and cons regarding revealing Victor Burke to the Ministry. If I share what I know, the Aurors will be far more likely to discover that Ronald destroyed his original body in a fit of rage, essentially murdering him. This would only lead to further-… "Look at you, Albus, look at what you're doing for the sake of someone who's left this mess in your lap. I already know why he ran off, why he's hidden himself away… It's in his nature to hide the truth, to keep all the answers to himself. He might say otherwise, he might even convince himself that he's employing a strategy to protect his interests, but the truth is that he is a liar, through and through. Being open and honest is a foreign concept to him, which means that even you don't know who he really is deep down."

"I don't know where he is, Alastor, but, even if I did, I would not tell you," Albus made his final decision, much to his old friend's disappointment. "I will, however, tell you all I can about who attacked him." Victor has already claimed too many lives, and, if I don't help the Aurors stop him, then Ronald will hunt him down personally. Either way, there is a risk of Ronald being left vulnerable, this cannot be avoided. "His name is Victor Burke, and he was a student here…"

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (St. Mungo's Hospital – Midday)

"Did you have trouble getting here, Headmaster?" Amelia asked, sounding almost sarcastic.

"There was a man in the hallway…" Albus started. "…When he saw me nearing your room, he produced a camera and took a photo of me. Alastor chased him down, however, and is currently escorting him out of the building."

"We've put the hospital under lockdown, but they keep finding their way in," the Minister scowled, not hiding her contempt for tabloid journalists. "Your protégé continues to make my life harder, all the while reaping fame and glory at the Ministry's expense."

"Fame and glory?" Albus repeated, his eyes twinkling. "You do understand that Ronald was attacked, don't you? That he nearly died? And that you failed to protect him?"

Her expression softened, immediately regretting her outburst. "…You're right. I put him up there, and I failed to protect him. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Minister," Albus said sagely, not failing to notice that she looked beyond exhausted. "In your defence, no one could have predicted such a thing."

"Weasley predicted it," she pointed out. "So… Indestructible suits, huh?" …Alastor…

"Ronald possesses ingenuity in abundance," Albus chuckled, recovering swiftly. "And a good thing, too, because it saved his life."

"Ingenuity, and a complete disregard for Magical Law," Amelia said coolly. "I had a list composed of Magical Creatures with hides powerful enough to negate the Killing Curse, and, unsurprisingly, each and every creature on that list is endangered. Hunting them for pleasure, or dealing in their parts, is illegal throughout the Wizarding World."

"Is this why you've summoned me here?" Albus asked, unfazed. "To throw your frustrations at my feet?"

"Where is he?" Amelia asked promptly.

"I have no earthly idea."

"Don't play games with me," she warned. "I'm tired of being toyed with."

"Who is toying with you, Minister?"

"You! Weasley! The Purebloods! Harper! All of you!"

The door slid open, and Alastor stepped in with a dark look in his eye. "Damn reporters! They're pretending to be sick just so they can get into the building!" He stopped, his Magical Eye spinning in circles. "Everything all right in here?" I told him about Victor, about what Ronald did to him, and why he did it, as well as the means Victor has employed to cheat death. I can only hope now that Alastor has the good sense to keep this information private. If he doesn't, if he uses it to further corner Ronald, he will leave me no choice but to reveal the golden memory to him, despite the dangers that entails.

"The Minister believes that I'm toying with her, when in truth she has alienated herself with her radical approach to reform," Albus stated plainly. "I have already shared what I know of this situation with Alastor, but I cannot share what I simply don't know."

"…He has given me quite a bit of information, it's true," Alastor shot her a meaningful look. Time to see if my faith will be rewarded. "The killer we're searching for is Victor Burke-"

"Burke? I know that name…" she interjected, a little taken aback. "Yes, I had him put under surveillance before Knockturn Alley was destroyed. He was making friends with all the wrong people, even selling illegal goods under the table."

"Turns out, he's a lot more than a smuggler," Alastor continued. "Albus was also keeping an eye on him during his time at Hogwarts, but, much like yourself, he didn't have anything concrete against Burke."

Amelia was visibly lost, now, no doubt confused by the half-truths. "…Why did he look like a spirit, then? And why attack Weasley?"

"We don't know," Alastor lied, much to Albus' relief. "But thanks to the photos taken during the attack, Albus was able to recognise him. This is good, Minister, it's the first solid lead we've had on the bastard."

"Ronald's family could also be in danger, Minister," Albus added. "Might I suggest that-?"

"We're already on it," Amelia cut him off. "The Ministry doesn't need you to tell us how to do our job. It only needs you to be forthcoming and truthful, as a citizen of Magical Britain should be."

"I'm glad to hear that you've already taken action, and forgive me if I overstepped, it's just that I've become so very accustomed to your predecessors doing the right thing only when all other possibilities had been exhausted," Albus smiled politely, but she didn't take the bait. "I will take my leave, now. I've done my part, I believe, as a good citizen of Magical Britain."

"I will find out what you and Weasley are up to, Dumbledore," Amelia promised, watching him leave rather intensely. "It's only a matter of time."

Albus stopped at the door, looking back with his smile still in place. "Perhaps, it would be wiser of you to focus on who the real enemy is, Minister. If you keep slinging mud in every direction, don't be surprised when you find yourself standing alone." She's trying to run the country the same way she ran the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it's going to lead to disaster. "I shall see you at the summit, tomorrow evening."

Sebastian Greengrass' POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Greengrass Manor – Afternoon)

"We appreciate your help, Lord Greengrass," McLaggen said, before following Robards through the fireplace. …Finally, they're gone.

Sebastian pinched his eyes, letting out a long breath. Thank Merlin they didn't come here with criminal charges, I'm not sure what would've happened if they'd used Legilimency on the children. Though, knowing Ron, I doubt he's told his friends anything incriminating. Daphne, perhaps, but certainly not Blaise and Pansy. Some small part of him regretted not confessing everything he knew to the Aurors for the promise of their protection, but he'd made his decision and there was no going back, now. …What would be the point, even? My heir despises me, my wife is in danger of being imprisoned again, or worse, and I've made an enemy out of someone who can't die. It appears that no man, not even me, can escape his past.

He left the greeting room and went straight to his study, eager to prepare himself a strong drink, and, upon entering his sanctuary, he found his wife waiting for him at his desk, a glass of Apple Brandy in hand. "They're gone, then?"

"Yes, they exhausted their list of questions," Sebastian answered, avoiding the mess of parchments and making his way over to her. "They know as little about how Ron survived the Killing Curse as we do, and I very much doubt any of us will get any answers soon."

"Here," she offered him the glass, which he accepted most eagerly. "We did the right thing here, didn't we? Protecting Ron from those brutes?" That remains to be seen, but I think so. Daphne wasn't wrong when she said that he has integrity and honour, which is how I know he'll always look out for my girls. The Aurors, and this new Minister, couldn't care less about them. "Sebastian? Dear, are you all right? You've been acting very withdrawn ever since we came back." Withdrawn? Perhaps… Most men dread death, and I dread it more than most, especially because I can feel it hovering over my shoulder, now.

"Fighting with Daphne like that… That was foolish," Sebastian changed the subject. "I know Ron's actions have hurt you, love, but I expect you to keep those feelings between us. There is no need to involve the girls."

Mary averted her gaze, looking just as tired as he felt. "…She got under my skin, Sebastian. They both did, and, you're right, I shouldn't have-"

He stopped her by placing his hand on her cheek, giving her an apologetic smile. "Blame me, not them. I did this to us. I tore our family apart with-"

"You also brought it together," she interjected, kissing his hand. "My mother and Eric would still be imprisoned if not for you."

He didn't understand why, but her words of comfort beckoned more guilt than comfort. "…I imagine they expected less excitement in their newfound freedoms."

"They never expected to be free at all," she countered, smiling lovingly. "I think, mother feels terribly ashamed in your presence." She does? "Actually, I think, she feels ashamed in general, no matter where she is. Ashamed of how far she's fallen, ashamed of how her life turned out. It breaks my heart."

"What makes you say this?"

"…I've heard her crying when she thinks she's alone." I see. "Eric is trying to be there for her, but he's so young and so glad to be rid of father. He doesn't understand that, regardless of how things ended, mother still loved father. Or, at least, the man he used to be."

"What about you? Does some part of you still love him? Even after all we learned from that pig of a man?"

"I'm not sure, but I keep thinking about what must've happened after I left," Mary replied, holding his hand in hers. "It's hard for me, love, because, just like mother, I can't help but think of him as he used to be."

"Do you still think of me as I used to be?" he asked, surprising her.

"No! Of course not! Sebastian… What has gotten into you?!"

He let go of her hand, stepping away from her and towards the portrait of his beautiful, innocent daughters. "…I gave Ron the ingredients, Mary." But it changed nothing between us. I told him I might die soon, and he just walked away from me. He's truly given up on me, hasn't he? I've lost him completely.

"What?! You did?! When?!"

"A couple of days ago."

She marched to his side, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and distress. "I thought you decided not to do that? What changed?" …Dumbledore… He was right about me… "Sebastian, what are you not telling me?"

"It was an act of desperation, if I'm being honest," he confessed. "I was curious about what he would say, what he would do." And I wanted to say goodbye at least to one person I love.

"And what did he say and do?"

"You should've seen it, Mary… He just looked so fed up with me… Like he wanted me to just disappear forever, just so he wouldn't have to think of me, anymore."

"…Gods…"

"Don't get me wrong, I expected this from him, but it…" he trailed off.

"It still hurt you," Mary whispered, placing a hand upon his back. "I'm sorry, love." Not half as sorry as I am. Even though I cared so much for him, I still exploited him whenever the opportunity presented itself, and, to not lose my Golden Goose, I tried to trick him into seeing me as someone I've never been. "I think, in a few months, cooler heads will prevail, as they so often do. Ron and Daphne will forgive us, but we'll need to earn that forgiveness." A few months? I should just tell her what I'm planning to do. Maybe, she'll even convince me to see reas-… "I've been looking through this… organised chaos you've unleashed, and I'm so proud of you." Proud? "I know this is going to be difficult, withdrawing from so many longstanding investments, and finding more ethical ones, but if there is one man who can do it, it's you." …I'm not just withdrawing from unethical investments, Mary, I'm removing myself from my own legacy. Our daughters won't inherit my sins, that's all I want, now. "Sebastian? Why are you being so quiet?"

He stared up at the portrait before them, images of a discarded, dead girl flashing in his mind. …He made sure she resembled my daughters, and that she was killed on my way out. I know he was trying to get under my skin, to frighten me, and it worked. He'll regret that, I'll make certain of it. Mary suddenly shook him, disturbing his thoughts, and, when he looked to her, he saw that she had gone from being concerned to being scared.

"…I've seen that darkness behind your eyes before…" she muttered, taking a step back. "Sebastian, what's happened? Why are you-?"

"…I have a lot of work to do," he interrupted her, looking away. "Leave me, please." The sooner I get all this work done, the sooner I can begin preparations for my reckoning.

"I'm not going-" Mary started, but was again interrupted, this time by a knock. "…It's open."

"Lord Greengrass, it's your daughter…" Rania walked in, professional despite her rush. "…I caught her trying to sneak away with her friends under the Disillusionment Charm."

"Sneak away?" Sebastian asked, both husband and wife turning to face the mercenary captain. "Elaborate."

"She's got her trunks with her, my Lord," Rania answered, much to Mary's dismay. Running away from home, is she? Or, rather, running away from me? …Very well, then. I won't stop her. It might even be better this way… Easier…

"Let her go," Sebastian looked back to the portrait, resigning himself further to his fate.

"What? Sebastian, absolutely-!"

"Cooler heads will only prevail if you give them a chance to do so," he said aloofly. "She'll never cool down if she's here, and, if you force her to stay, you'll lose her." They'll need you, Mary, all three of them. Daphne will need your wisdom, Astoria will need your strength, and Ron will need your gentleness. "Rania, tell her she can go."

"As you command, Lord Greengrass," she departed without delay. I definitely prefer her to Jürgen, but he has talents she clearly doesn't. I wonder if he's managed to make contact with Berlin, yet.

"…Sebas-"

"Go, now. I have work to do." If I'm to be devoured by Magical Germany, I have to make sure that Magical Germany chokes on me. I will destroy those ill-bred mongrels, and this world will be better off for it.

Percy Weasley's POV

Flashback

Something had sent him tumbling off the stage overlooking the crowd, leaving him facedown against the cold tiles, ears ringing and mind swimming. What had happened, exactly? It all felt so murky after he'd seen his little brother struck down before his very eyes. Gods… Ron had died right in front of him, and he had just stood there like a damn statue, unable to move and unable to think, feeling as though he'd exist in that catatonic state for the rest of his life, until his father's screams had broken his invisible shackles.

That's right…

He had moved, in the end, thrown himself forward with sheer will just so his father wouldn't be alone in loss and heartbreak. However, Ron had returned to life before Percy could reach them, defying nature and all reason itself, freezing Percy all over again, but what next?

Why was he on the floor? And why was his forehead so warm and wet? Where were his father and brother? Why weren't they coming to his-?

Strong hands seized him by the shoulders, lifting him up onto his shaky feet.

"Move!" a distorted voice commanded him, the owner pulling him along.

"…Who…?" Percy wheezed, his ribs suddenly aching, as well. "…Dad…?"

It wasn't his father, though, even with his blurry vision he could tell. No, it was someone younger and shorter, but physically stronger. …An Auror…? His theory proved to be true, because, as his vision cleared up, he recognized his saviour; Rodney Finn, a recently promoted Auror. What's happening? What's all that noise? Turning his head back, Percy was left speechless as he saw Ron being flung into a wall by a corporeal shadow. …What the fuck…? His legs seized up, causing both him and his saviour to come to an abrupt stop, much to the latter's chagrin. …What is happening?! Why's Ron being attacked by-?!

"What are you doing?! I told you to move!" Finn hissed, all but dragging Percy with him, now. "Seth! Maria! I've got one more here!"

Percy eyes remained glued to what was happening behind them, however. The makeshift stage was in ruins, as if it had been blasted by the Exploding Curse, and past it were Ron and the shadow, the former Conjuring a massive hammer and striking his enemy down, and beyond them was the crowd itself, most watching the mad spectacle with stunned horror while others tried their hardest to get away from it, causing the Aurors in their midst to focus on stopping a stampede rather than aid in Ron's rescue. …I have to do something… I can't just-…

"Take him!" Finn passed him onto someone else. "I'll go grab more!"

"You're okay, now," Maria Roberto said reassuringly, wrapping his arm over her shoulders to support his weight. "I've got you."

"…My brother…" Percy heard himself mumble, but the witch kept pulling him further and further away. "…You have… to go help him…"

And, then, he was suddenly being helped down onto his arse, his neck struggling to carry the weight of his head. The Auror ran off to rescue more people, leaving Percy alone with those who had already been secured, but his loneliness didn't last very long, as another witch rushed over to his side.

"Percy?! Merlin's Beard!" her voice was awfully familiar, despite being laced with shock and terror.

"…Carey?" he groaned, feeling her tilt his head back so she could get a better look at his face. "…What are you doing here?"

"Episkey!" she chanted, and he immediately felt coolness spread across his forehead, returning some of his wit in the process.

He released a shaky breath, feeling as though he'd just awoken from a deep sleep, before reaching out for his Healer and grabbing onto her robes. "…Where's my dad…?"

"He's okay, don't worry," Carey answered promptly, using her spare hand to wipe the leftover blood away. "You hit your head-"

"Ron needs help," Percy grit out, forcing his weakened legs to raise him up.

"Percy, you're hurt! Stop!"

"…I'm coming, Ron," he gnashed his teeth, unable to focus on anything else, now. "Just hold on for a bit more. I'm coming."

He ignored the injured, and those helping them, limping back towards the ruined stage, and the battle taking place at the foot of it, and, soon enough, he wasn't alone, as Carey was by his side, again. "The Aurors will help him! You're going to get yourself killed! Percy, stop! Listen to me!"

Just as Ron came back into view, Percy finally stopped, jarred to see Madam Jane Roberts of the Hit-Wizards on the ground with his brother holding the massive hammer close to her head. …What the fuck? Where'd that thing go? And what's Ron doing? Gawain Robards, and a dozen other Aurors, stood behind Madam Roberts, shouting at Ron to drop the weapon, but the young Slytherin remained unfazed in the face of the many wands pointed at him, eventually doing as he was told when Madam Roberts tried to reach out to him. What are they doing?! He's the one who was attacked, wasn't he?!

"Stop pointing those wands at him!" Percy called out, shoving himself forward. "Wait! This is all a misunderstanding!"

Ron reached into his inner pocket, and, within the blink of an eye, he was gone. …Was that from a Portkey? He carries an unregistered Portkey?

"…Gods be good…" Carey whimpered, gawking at the destruction left in Ron's wake. "Percy, we really should-"

The Aurors suddenly began charging towards Percy and Carey, as if they'd done something wrong, before blasting past them at breakneck speeds.

"Open that elevator!" McLaggen roared, the American Aurors following his lead. "Get the fuck out of the way! That thing could still be-!"

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Ministry of Magic – Afternoon)

"Weasley! Wake up!" his boss, and Minister, ordered, storming past his desk. "Follow me!"

Brutally torn out of recounting yesterday's events, Percy did as he was bid, grabbing her itinerary for the I. C. W. meeting this weekend and chasing after her. She barged into her office, and the moment he had followed her inside, he sealed the door shut behind them. They really let her out of St. Mungo's so soon? I heard she suffered a pretty severe concussion-…

"Are you all right, boy?" she asked, pouring herself a Firewhiskey.

"…Yes, Minister," he answered meekly, she sounded angry with him. "Um… Are you?"

She downed the glass in one go, before pouring herself another. "No, I'm not, but that doesn't matter." It doesn't? She turned to face him, walking over to her desk and taking a seat. "Were you hurt during-?"

"Just a scratch, I'm fine."

She looked him over, studying him. "…Good."

"Minister, shouldn't you be at St. Mungo's?" he asked, hoping he wasn't overstepping.

"Shouldn't you be at home? With your family?" she asked in response.

"I… had work to do." And I don't want to be at home. I want to find Ron.

"Me too," she said, nodding in an understanding manner.

Percy shifted in his spot, before making his way over to her desk and presenting her with the itinerary. "The talks won't begin till Saturday, there is a formal dinner tomorrow night-"

She took the parchment from his hand, tossing it unceremoniously onto the pile of other parchments she needed to work through. "I want to know what happened, yesterday. From your perspective."

"M-My perspective?" he blinked, unsure of where to even start.

"I've spoken to the Aurors, I've spoken to the Wizengamot, and I've read the blasted papers," she leaned back, sipping her drink. "I want to hear what you have to say, too."

"Um… Minister, I'm still trying to figure out what I witnessed…" he tried, uncomfortable. "It's all a blur." Like a bad dream.

Her expression softened a little, as if she'd realised how intense she was being. "This isn't an interrogation, Percy, if that's what you think. The Aurors will get around to you, of course, they're questioning everyone your brother is associated with regarding his whereabouts. I just want you to tell me what you saw." She's trying to piece together the entire puzzle, isn't she? Smart.

"Um… Well, there was this thing… Like some spirit… It attacked Ron, and he fought back…" Percy massaged his forehead, swallowing thickly. "Ron… Ron was hit by the Killing Curse… I was standing on the far end of the stage… Then, it's a bit hard to remember-"

"The spirit tried to possess your brother, but it failed," she filled in the gap. "When your brother struck it, there was a blast of Errant Magic that hurled everyone, including you and I, off the stage." And I hit my head… Yeah… That makes sense…

"Ron survived the Killing Curse," Percy repeated dumbly, utterly lost.

She stared at him, eventually giving a curt nod. "…Yes."

"How?"

"We don't know yet," she replied. "Tell me what happened next, after you fell."

"The Aurors helped me, helped everyone who'd fallen, to safety behind the stage," Percy recounted. "…They were heroes…" She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. "Hundreds of bystanders, Minister, and not a single injury was reported, save for the Ministry Officials on the stage. Just a handful of them, and they somehow kept all those people safe."

"They did their duty, and they did it well."

"The thing that attacked Ron got away, though."

Amelia drew in a long breath, before taking another sip. "The Aurors will hunt it down, I promise."

"…No one helped Ron, even though he was being-"

"You can't expect civilians to risk their lives, Percy," she interjected, stern. "They were scared, and, from what I've been told, those at the front tried running away, only to smash into those behind them. The Aurors did excellent work in securing the crowd, but it's a miracle no one was hurt in the chaos." …Right… "Do you remember anything else?" …Ron used an illegal Portkey to escape, but I'm sure she already knows that. She's testing me.

"I think, Ron used an illegal Portkey, Minister."

She nodded, again. "He did, yes, and right in front of hundreds of witnesses, but not even the Daily Prophet is reporting on it. No, it's the spectacle they're all concerned with."

"Does this mean Ron is in trouble?" Percy had to ask. "I know he broke Magical Law, but-"

She raised her hand, stopping him short. "Your brother isn't in any trouble, we just want to find him and make sure he's safe." Oh, that's good, then. "So, I will ask you this, and I want honesty from you… Do you know where he might've run off to?"

"Have you checked the Werewolf Sanctuary?"

"He's not there." And he's not at home, either.

"He's friends with some very powerful people, people like Sebastian Greengrass."

"We're searching their many estates for him, they're all cooperating for the most part." Let me guess, Aunt Muriel is being difficult.

"Then, I don't know, Minister," Percy admitted, deflating a little. "He um… He's not exactly an open book…"

"I figured you'd say that," she sighed out. "It's okay, Percy, thank you for indulging me. You can go home, now." Home?

"Pardon?"

"Your brother almost died in front of you, and, when I walked in here, you looked as though you were in a trance," she explained. "Your family needs you, and you clearly need them. Take the day off, I insist. Tomorrow, you'll be joining me in attending the I. C. W. meeting, and these 'meetings' can take days to slog through. Go on, now. This is an order." Percy gave a reluctant nod, not eager to return home to his siblings' barrage of questions he had no answers for. "Is your father here, too?"

"Yes, Minister."

"Take him with you, and leave via one of the secret exits. I don't want either of you crossing paths with a reporter, understand?"

"…I understand, Minister." How am I supposed to help find Ron from home? Gods, where have you run off to, little brother?

Emilia Travers' POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Taiga Forest – Evening)

"I'm going back," Emilia announced, handing the newspaper to Artyom. "Whatever that thing is, it's going to pay with its life for daring-"

"You cannot go back," Artyom cut in bluntly, frowning. "Are you foolish? You go back with no results, no success, and he will punish you. You know this. Do not be so reckless."

"He was struck by the Killing Curse, mercenary, you can't expect me not to check up on him, at the very least."

"You know I am right," was Artyom's response, ice-cold. Damn it all… He is my friend, and I wasn't there to protect him. I can't ignore that. "He is alive. Death and he… They have strange relationship, we know this. You, however, can die like everyone else. Go back empty handed, and you might not come back." I'll come back, just not in one piece. "Yahontov wants to make contact with some elite Indian Aurors, and we must move camp before we are discovered by Sokolov's spies. You are needed here, not there. He will be fine without you, he needs no one to hold his hand."

Emilia grimaced, not liking that Artyom was making sense. "…Where were your people, 'Captain'? Why did none of them step in? Why did none of them take the Curse for him?"

"They were not there, simple. He went to apologize. Showing up with mercenaries would go against his purpose. You know how he is with his image. Meticulous. This was unfortunate event, but he escaped unharmed. That is all that matters."

Emilia let out a long sigh, feeling useless. "…I need to speak with Yahontov."

"About what?"

"If I can't go back, then I need to move forward," she answered, turning to leave. "I'm tired of sitting on my arse, and so are you."

He followed after her, the pair of them making their way further into the camp. Solomon had outdone himself, securing food, potions, clothing, bedding, even Invisibility Cloaks for covert operations, and, as a direct result, morale was high. Emilia's mercenaries, as well as Ron's, made them a formidable force, and with the Mrakogubci leading the vanguard, she was certain they could inflict heavy damage to the Five. And yet, Yahontov has decided to seek out further help, instead of striking while the iron is hot. I get the appeal, but he's risking the advantage we have right now. Soon enough, the Dark Lord will have organised his forces, and that'll make attacking them much more dangerous.

Without waiting to be let in, she barged into the Mrakogubci's war-tent, quickly spotting Yahontov standing shirtless over the large table in the centre of the space, overlooking a map of Magical Russia as Svetlana dabbed his damp, fevered skin with a warm towel. With the amount of Dragon's Breath he was regularly inhaling, nine out of ten men would be dead and buried long ago, but he's already on his feet and moving around in spite of his withdrawal. It's hard not to respect his strength and will, even if he is a fool for poisoning himself in the first place.

"…Ah, Ronin," Yahontov groaned, offering her a scathing smile. "Come to challenge my authority, again?"

"We should be striking at our foes, not searching for allies we don't need yet," Emilia ignored his jab, uncompromising. "You're in no shape to fight, I can see that-"

"I could kill you even in this sorry state, bitch," Yahontov suddenly lost his mirth, something flashing behind his eyes that convinced her he wasn't bluffing. "You think you can take me, is that it?" …No. "What about you, mercenary? You can help her, two against one, make the fight fairer for you and more enjoyable for me." Maniac. "What do you think?"

"Forgive him, that's the fever talking," Svetlana offered them a sorry smile. "He's in a lot of pain, and he's just lashing out. It's unwise to provoke him right now."

"You see this?" Yahontov grit out, smacking the bottom-left portion of the Russian map. "The Muggles call this bit of land Kazakhstan, now, and both Denis Sokolov and Dmitriy Egorov use it to smuggle all sorts of contraband into the heart of my country. Now, when I was still an Auror, I wanted to smash these trade routes to pieces, but I could never get the approval from the bastards on top, because most of them were on the take. We attack those trade routes, we steal every Knut, and burn everything else, we come across, and guess what? Both Sokolov and Egorov will be forced to show up and re-establish their control over the region."

"You want to trap them between us and the Indian Aurors?" Emilia realised, stepping forward and studying the map for herself.

"Sokolov is the more powerful Lord, but Egorov is no pushover, and they really don't get along," Yahontov continued. "They'll both want more control than they had before, so they'll be competing against each other, which means we could potentially take them both out while they're distracted. The problem is though, they won't show up without force, and we just don't have the numbers right now to take them both on at the same time. I plan to change that by calling in a favour from an old friend, Arhaan Bedi. He leads the Rakshasa, Magical India's answer to any problem that won't go away, and I saved his life a few years ago. He owes me, and he's an honourable man. He'll help us."

"What are Rakshasa?" Artyom asked. "I have not heard of this group before." Neither have I, actually.

"They're the hands that come out from the shadows, and drag naughty children into Hell," Yahontov smirked darkly, before coughing harshly. "…Shit…"

"They're like the Mrakogubci, then?" Emilia cocked an eyebrow.

"Not quite," Yahontov shrugged weakly. "They're more secretive, so secretive, in fact, that most people in Magical India itself believe they're just a myth. They do the dirty work for their government, understand?" …Assassins… "The sort of work that makes people clutch their pearls and cry out to the Gods."

"I thought you said they were Aurors," Emilia didn't hide her distaste. And we already have an assassin, even if all he's done so far is sulk. "Elite Aurors, at that."

"And, I was right, they are elite Aurors. The most elite in all of South-East Asia, actually."

"Auror assassins?"

"They're part of the family tree, all right? And they're damn good, so we're going to need them. If you've got a problem with that, run back home and complain to that overgrown bat." He then stood up straighter, catching her gaze. "Or, the 'third one', Ronald Weasley." It was only a matter of time before he fully caught on, and I'm sure the news coming out of Magical Britain helped. "I can understand Artyom here working for the brat, he gets paid for it, but what about the rest of you? Who is he, exactly?"

"You haven't read the papers?" Emilia asked, turning to leave. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Yeah, well, you tell the Chosen One that he ought to drop by sometime."

Emilia stopped, looking back at Yahontov as if he were an idiot. "Be careful what you wish for, Auror. Be very careful." I need to write to Snape, make him aware of the plan Yahontov's cooked up. And, while I'm at it, I might as well send an owl to Godrey too, see if he's heard from Ron since the attack.

Lord Voldemort's POV

Thursday 22st July, 1994 (Dolohov Estate Dungeons – Night)

His face twisted from unbridled rage, glaring down at the photographs of Ronald being assailed by an Anchored Soul. This will not stand! Another wizard utilizing a Horcrux, and, not just that, but attacking the heir of Lord Voldemort, as well?! This challenger to a power only one can possess will be made to suffer in ways no one else has suffered! His scarlet gaze travelled to the very first photograph, lingering upon the damage done to Ronald's clothing by the Killing Curse, and he felt some of his anger dissipate. At least, I can take solace in knowing that my heir is no fool, that he guards my Soul-Shard most cunningly. What material are those suits lined with, I wonder? It matters not, I will discover the truth soon enough.

He glided away from his desk, approaching his new alchemy workstation, and, with a wave of his hand, he Transfigured several pieces of firewood into living serpents. "Find every nook, every crevice, within this manor, and observe."

His freshly-crafted spies hissed obediently in response, slithering off the workstation and towards the stairs leading out of his lab. Why Ronald? Why would this pretender attack him in such a public place? This was personal, wasn't it? It wasn't enough to kill Ronald, the entire world had to see his growing legend be torn down. And this Rita Skeeter, this envious whore… She would have loved that, as she attacks Ronald at every opportunity, even this one. She will also suffer, for she attacks not only Ronald with her venom, but also his Lord and Master. I will tolerate her pathetic existence no longer.

Footsteps interrupted his musings, and he promptly covered himself with his hood. "Rabastan, what news?"

"My Lord, they are all here, and anticipating your exalted presence," the younger Lestrange brother bowed at the end of his descent, never raising his head. "Shall we proceed?"

"We shall," the Dark Lord hissed, gliding past his servant and up towards the light. "I must thank Lady Dolohov for her hospitality. This home, and the equipment she procured for my experiments, will aid our cause greatly."

"She is most eager to serve you, my Lord," Rabastan agreed with the sentiment. "As your spies shall soon prove, I'm sure."

The Dark One chuckled icily, slowing down. "Did they frighten you on their way out?"

"I was… surprised, but never frightened," Rabastan answered. "My time in Slytherin, and my mother's love for cold-blooded creatures with scales, served me well."

"They are a precaution, nothing more."

"I would never be so foolish as to question you, my Lord." I know, I simply enjoy conversing with you. You, better than most, understand and appreciate strategy. "Before we unite with our guests, my Lord, I feel that I must warn you."

Lord Voldemort stopped, his bare feet finally touching the ground. "Warn me of what, Rabastan?"

"This news about Ronald Weasley, it has some of them concerned."

"Whom? Give me names, my friend."

"Lady Agapov, as well as Lord Morozov." Cowards, both. "Lord Sokolov, on the other hand, seemed most eager to prove the news false himself." Is that so? "I will speak with him personally after this meeting, and make certain that he understands Ronald Weasley is an asset to be protected."

"You do that, Rabastan," the Dark Lord whispered. "What of Volkov? What did he say on the matter?"

"Nothing, surprisingly."

"This is why he's considered the most powerful amongst them," he turned his head slightly, imparting wisdom. "Silence betrays neither fear nor envy, it makes your true intentions far less predictable."

"Then, we must endeavour to discover Lord Volkov's intentions, my Lord."

"Your brother will be set to task," he glided forth, resuming the journey. "Volkov has come to respect Rodolphus' steadfast strength. They will understand one another, and both will share their knowledge of the other with me."

"Are my brother's intentions under suspicion, my Lord?" Treachery can blossom in every heart, even yours, and I will not tolerate any more betrayal. Never again.

"Rodolphus will share what he discovers out of love, whereas Volkov out of ambition," he avoided the question expertly. "Lord Voldemort must merely exercise patience, and this matter shall be resolved amicably."

With that, they reached the doors leading into the dining hall, and Rabastan stepped forward to push them open, clearing the way for his Master. On the other side of the doors sat his 'loyal' servants, the atmosphere between them tense and untrusting, until they noticed his arrival, all of them appropriately rising from their chairs to greet him. …The Five have been convened, brought together to serve my will and vision. Magical Russia is mine, now, and, this time, I will not loosen my grip on it. His robed body broke into mist and shadow, blowing past his servants as it travelled the length of the room, reforming at the head of the table, from where his scarlet, serpentine eyes studied each and every face. All my Loyalists, save for Antonin and Augustus, Samara Ivanov, Lucius Malfoy, Mila Dolohov, Arina Agapov, Matvey Morozov, Denis Sokolov, and Vladamir Volkov… My new inner circle, for the time being.

"My friends," the Dark Lord whispered, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey. "Sit, I beseech you, we are all equals this night, united by the ever-noble goal of restoring the natural order of this world. Sit, and let us share our minds and hearts with one another." He sat down first, of course, his opulent chair Transfiguring into a bony throne upon contact. The others followed suit promptly, all their eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to continue addressing them. "Magical Russia has always been most dear to me. For a long time, it was not only my home, but also my teacher. Many will claim that I arrived to the shores of this land as a learned scholar, but that is not true. It was this land, and its Lords and Ladies, who made me who I am, today. Now, I return here once again, to elevate you as you once elevated me. Together, we shall unite the Wizarding World under our banner, and usher in a new golden age for our people. A pure age. An age where we no longer bow to Muggle-Kind, or any other tainted species, and, instead, have them bow to us. We, the rightful heirs of Magic, shall inherit this Earth."

As soon as he finished, Bellatrix began applauding enthusiastically, and the others joined her shortly after, with the exceptions of Ian and Philip, the former staring off into the distance while the latter looked bored beyond description.

"We will stand by your side, my Lord," Volkov spoke for the Five, his expression betraying no emotion. "As long as you remember to honour your promises to us, old and new." Yes, they all harbour resentment towards me for casting them aside during the last war. A foolish mistake on my part, one that I don't intend to repeat.

"You, and your children…" Lord Voldemort started, enjoying the slight shift in Volkov's expression, "…shall rule. You will be kings and queens, princes and princesses, and at your feet will be all those who denied you your rightful stations."

"I already live like a king, and no one dares to deny me anything," Sokolov pointed out, fiddling with a small dagger. "What do I need you for, exactly?"

"Impudent welp!" Agapov sneered, narrowing her eyes on the youngest of them. "Do you not know to whom you speak?!" Two-faced, as ever, isn't she?

"Some old man people used to fear," Sokolov smirked, as if trying to goad Lord Voldemort, something that seemed to catch Philip's interest. "Times have changed in your absence, o' Dark One. Since your last outing, the Wizarding World has become increasingly progressive, almost as if it wants to spite your memory." …That is true. Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors have been elevated to loftier positions both within society and within the Ministries, especially in the last decade. "In many ways, you're the reason why our rule has only declined."

"Lord Volkov spoke true, you are quite brave," the Dark Lord smiled a lipless smile, his eyes gleaming from underneath his hood. "But bravery, and recklessness, are two sides of the same coin. Be careful which side your coin lands on, young Denis."

"Oh, don't think of me as not willing to join up, because I am more than willing," Sokolov assured him, nonchalantly shooting a glance towards Bellatrix, who was growing evermore impatient with him. "But I will not be muzzled, I've seen what that does to my blood-hounds, and it's not pretty. I am sharing my mind and my heart, just as you said I should." …Clever boy. He will prove most useful, just as Rabastan reported, and, in time, he will come to enjoy being muzzled. The arrogance of youth doesn't tend to last very long around me, after all.

"Will my brother be joining us at this table any time soon, my Lord?" Mila asked, cold and calculating, as always. Is this why you volunteered to host me? You know your brother well, it seems, as he will inevitably seek me out, as he always does.

"He will have recovered much of his strength by now, thanks to my concoctions," Lord Voldemort answered, keen for that particular reunion. "You will be together again before long, I swear it." He then turned his attention towards Samara, wondering why she was so quiet. "You have nothing to share, my dear girl? Nothing to say?" Not even to the man who threatened Alexie's freedom?

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I have very little to say near these two men," she replied strongly, her eyes moving towards Volkov and Morozov. "One stole my son from me, and the other wishes to steal my Ministership."

"I do not covet your office, Minister," Morozov chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his balding head. "I merely… disagree… with some of your policies these past few years. Policies that favoured the impure over your own people. You went to great personal lengths to enact them, too." Really? What policies is he referring to, exactly? "What is a man like me supposed to do? Allow his emasculation to unfold without protest?"

"It is for this very same reason why I 'stole' your son," Volkov added, blunt and to the point. "I question your devotion to our beliefs, our blood."

"My Lord does not question me, that should be reason enough for you to trust me," Samara countered, diverting scrutiny like any good politician.

"I will always defer to his judgement, which is why my disagreements will come to an end," Morozov didn't even hesitate, pretending to be meek as to not be seen as a threat. But I see you, worm, and I see your ambitions.

Volkov, on the other hand, just stared at her, as if he knew something that even Lord Voldemort had failed to realize. This division could become troublesome, but it could also serve to oust the weakest amongst them. I'll let it continue, for the time being.

"Lucius? What are your thoughts?" the Dark Lord addressed the lowliest of his servants, struggling to hide his disgust for the dishevelled, bearded fool.

"…As long as Bones lives, my Lord, we'll never gain complete control of the British Ministry," Lucius whispered, barely audible. "…We'll never be able to go home." Is that all you can think about, now? Going home?

"We won't be going home for some time yet, my slippery friend," the Dark Lord mocked, the false-kindness in his voice slipping. You lost me my Horcrux! I will torment you, and your family, until your last breaths! Mark my words! "However, you are correct, she will need to be dealt with. Her trespasses against the Pure these past few weeks cannot be tolerated. If left unchecked, she will inspire others to follow her foul example."

"Has she really made Crouch the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, again?" Rodolphus asked Samara, who gave a sombre nod. "…Gods be damned." Indeed, that man is a threat on par with Dumbledore himself.

"When the time comes, he is mine to finish!" Bellatrix announced, laying claim to the man's life. "If anyone else here kills him, I'll kill them! Don't think I won't, because I absolutely will!" She wants to secure my favour, doesn't she? She knows I will reward the one who brings me Crouch's head, and she never did like to share my affection with others.

"You're going to march into the Ministry and kill him, are you?" Philip asked, seeing right through her intentions. "Pray tell, what stopped you from doing that the last time around?" Bellatrix glared murder at him, before sticking her nose in the air. "I say we let Rodolphus take care of that self-righteous old bastard. He's the strongest of us, after all." Stop trying to sow chaos in my court, jester.

"This is not a game, you two," Rodolphus slammed his fist on the table, causing the wood to crack and splinter. "Petty games like these are why we lost the last war, so knock it off."

"I thought a 'Prophecy Baby' was the reason why we lost the war," Philip remarked, his lips twitching upwards. "What was his name, again?" My name will the last thing you hear if you keep pushing your luck. "Am I the only one who remembers the person responsible for ruining our good time? Am I the only one who wants to hurt him?" I assure you, you aren't.

"…Careful, Lord Travers," Rabastan said warningly, always the first to notice their Master's growing ire. "You go too far."

"I heard that Potter is now living with his Godfather, Sirius Black," Philip stood up, a dark glint in his eyes as he began to depart. "I think, I'll send them both a message. Dumbledore, too, while I'm at it." What message? "If you're going to involve Muggles in our petty games, there'll be less Muggles."

"Get back here, Travers!" Rodolphus ordered, but was completely ignored. "I told you to get-!"

"Let him go," the Dark Lord chuckled, amused. If he kills Potter's foster-family, it'll send a powerful message that will discredit Dumbledore's 'protection'. If he dies in the process, I'll be rid of a mad dog. Either way, this should be interesting. Speaking of discrediting Dumbledore… "Samara, have you made the necessary arrangements to enact our plan?"

They all exchanged curious looks, before focusing on the Minister. "Yes, my Lord. I will set the trap during the gathering of the I. C. W."

He smiled, again, delighted. "Well done, my child, well done. When the trap is sprung, Dumbledore will either lose his life, or his reputation."

"Or, both," she gave a soft nod. Or, both!

"What is this plan, exactly, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, shifting closer to him. "Perhaps, I can assist you-"

"Samara is the only one who can see it through," the Dark Lord interjected, studying the Minister most keenly. "And she will see it through, because Lord Voldemort will not forgive her a third time." First, Dumbledore and Potter, then this pretender, Bones, and Crouch, and, last, that demon possessing my Horcrux. None of them will survive, this I vow on my Magic and hallowed blood. "Now, shall we discuss the lesser Russian families? Young Denis, why don't you tell me the names of those who fall under your rule? And those who dare to challenge you?"

AUTHOR'S NOTES: See you all soon.