The Order Strikes Back

To be honest, resolving the concentration camp problem left me a little too relaxed. I was certain that the Ministry raised maximum wards under some made-up excuse to cover their use of Dark magic, then didn't lower them to look legitimate. They'd eventually blame it on a drill or a leak of some thing or another, and everything would go back to normal. But I retained enough common sense not to jump straight to the signal. Not without finding out why someone was calling me yet again.

Our Acromantula preserve was under attack. Everyone awaited my decision to either run to the spiders' rescue or leave them to their fate. The situation revealed as follows: Crabbe and Goyle were gluing amulets and applying defensive charms to Acromantulas when they found themselves under attack. Concealment got blown off right away, followed by pressure on the wards. They both escaped after the very first hit.

We naturally tried sending a recon party from the useless lot as well as some golems and animals under Imperius. None returned or sent back any information - most likely destroyed or captured.

Now I was at Crabbe's house, debating what to do. Logically, property must be protected. But I had not the tiniest desire to valiantly rescue spiders from unknown forces, especially when I wasn't at my best. Send in another batch in hopes that they bring back information? There was no guarantee they would fare any better than the last. And what if the Ministry mutts were again meddling with Dark magic? Now to justify it correctly.

"These overgrown spiders are not worth the life of a single pureblood. It is all the more ludicrous to defend them by risking my most faithful. Can this in any way be traced to you?" I asked Malfoy. The last thing I needed was to lose a treasurer.

"No, my Lord. All work there was done by werewolves and men under Imperius. The only paper trail leads to Avery."

As I gathered from Malfoy's explanations, the Ministry had no record of their lease because the original got accidentally burned in a fireplace on its way to the archives. Malfoy and Avery kept the only remaining copies, but Malfoy wouldn't testify against himself, and Avery was about to be convinced.

Touching Crabbe's Mark, I summoned Avery.

"The Ministry is storming the Acromantula preserve. Be ready to become a target of intense scrutiny. Don't get caught in the paws of justice, but it you do- stay silent. We can quickly get you out of prison, but it would be preferable if you didn't end up there in the first place."

"My Lord… How did I come under the Ministry's suspicion?" he asked with sincere bewilderment.

"Your land was used to house Acromantulas. Factually they are Malfoy's, legally - yours. I forbid you from retaliating to Malfoy. Go cover your tracks."

I again touched Crabbe's arm, this time to call in everyone but the busiest.

"My loyal followers, the Ministry stooges are busy fighting Acromantulas. This is a perfect opportunity time to strike at the enemy's weak spots. If you meet any resistance, do not engage them. Stay away from the Ministry and Hogwarts, and don't forget to send recon ahead of yourselves."

We already had a list of targets for such an occasion: a couple of public officials and merchants who refused to cooperate. Good operations were not normally done this spontaneously, but it was only logical to take advantage of the Ministry's distraction. In the worst case scenario, I'd lose some cannon fodder.

Albus Dumbledore

Tracking down the Acromantulas turned out fairly simple. After the last battle, Albus had looked through the captive spiders' minds. Conjured clouds covered the stars, but he approximated the longitude by sunset and sunrise times. He sat down with piles of books on botany and herbology to classify every local plant and look up their ranges, then physically checked all matching locations. Having found the target, he informed the Minister.

For all Scrimgeour's flaws, he had the single most important merit: a drive to proactively fight Voldemort, even if he didn't know how. Once Albus personally located the Acromantulas, a joint operation appeared to be the best decision. The Minister did want to use… objectionable methods, but Albus said that in this case they can't count on his aid.

Now Albus walked across the field that was recently a forest. Everything had gone smoothly for a change. Acromantulas were a terrifying enemy in the woods, but when they stood against the entire Auror Department on brooms… It was not a battle, or even a hunt. It was a slaughter. Albus himself fought from the ground, stunning everything around him. Spits of poison and spiderweb all dissolved on contact with his shields. Voldemort's wizards never showed. A dozen of werewolves made no difference and were immediately captured. Albus thought of what to do with the captive creatures, but it was ultimately not his decision to make.

"Great job, Albus," said Moody. "This many spiders will do a lot of good at Mungo's as potion ingredients. I'm taking the werewolves in for interrogation, then off to rot in prison with the rest of Voldemort's lackeys."

Cruel and regrettable… But he saw no other choice.

"Alastor, you ought to consider staying off the front lines. You are now responsible for the whole of the DMLE."

"When I can't fight any more, go ahead and bury me. But check for polyjuice first."

The news of multiple Death Eater attacks as they were fighting the spiders didn't catch Albus unawares. He and Alastor had a surprise for them, being in multiple places at once with the Time-Turner.

Moody kept talking, but Albus's thoughts were already far away, back in the courtroom. The "removal" of Barty Crouch sprouted an overwhelming initiative to grant amnesty to everyone he had sentenced Azkaban without trial. Meaning everyone Crouch had ever sentenced to Azkaban.

Albus allowed himself some liberties in interpreting the procedural rules and personally checked the minds of all these prisoners. It took a while, but the Time-Turner helped keep everything under wraps.

The results astounded. Seven innocents, the rest imprisoned for a reason. A whole year and a half of active arrests! How, just how was it possible? He'd hired the wrong person to teach Divination… Better search the ruins of Crouch's home for the crystal ball the man was using…

But to be serious, where did it leave him? Justice meant reopening the criminal cases for further investigation. The innocents would agree to Veritaserum and legilimency, be acquitted and released with monetary compensation. But what to do about the guilty? Legilimency and Veritaserum couldn't be court-ordered without a probable cause. They'd simply refuse the tests and be acquitted on the lack of evidence.

Let the guilty walk? Leave everyone, including the innocents, locked up by not reopening their cases? Both decisions were equally legal and equally immoral.

Albus only saw one path: press for a new bill that would mandate all arrested by Bartemius Crouch undergo full mental evaluations and interrogations with Veritaserum. And he would do just that. But it nagged at his conscience. Albus knew he was stepping on very thin ice. As a friend of his liked to say, changing laws was easy. It made sense to give power to the most capable people, people who could determine the truth and set things right. If a law stood in the way of their work, it should be amended. For the greater good. Except following this conviction hadn't led to anything good at all…

I sat at the head of the table and listened to reports. The situation could be summed up in a single word: failure. We all should have all stayed home and pretended we didn't exist.

No, the fact that the opponents trashed a good portion of our forces didn't make much of a difference. Semi-criminals were abound and easy to recruit, not necessarily in this country. Pity that all the mercenaries Bellatrix hired demanded full payment upfront…

"I made myself clear: keep your heads down. Why did you get involved?"

"Forgive me, my Lord," Mulciber replied, gaze unfocused from some anesthetic spell. "I didn't expect Moody to be there. I was told he was fighting another team."

The hypothesis that Albus and Moody owned Time-Turners got undeniable confirmation.

"Do you need help creating a prosthesis?"

Restoring or transplanting an arm after it had been cut off with Dark magic was beyond my abilities. Luckily, it didn't extend to prosthetics.

"My Lord, I want to do it on my own, so that it may forever serve as a reminder of my mistake!"

But his thoughts said it was stupid to accept an arm from me because it would at best come with surveillance and at worst with a self-destruct mechanism. How perceptive.

Now I only stared at Goyle's body and wondered how a wizard of his caliber got himself killed in a routine operation.

"I told you to keep your heads down," I grumbled to one in particular.

"My Lord," Malfoy began, "he was under concealment, but Moody spotted him. When we found ourselves unable to disapparate, Goyle and the rest stayed behind to cover our retreat."

"There were eleven of you against six of them. Why did you not take Goyle with you?"

"We didn't have the opportunity, my Lord."

You did. But you decided that ensuring your own safety was worth gambling with your servant's life.

"Then why call me after they were already dead? Not only you failed your task, you've lost all your people!"

Yes, that was how it happened. I, having recovered by barely a third, faced off against Moody and five Aurors. It was one of those times when reputation saved me: the Aurors panicked. I slammed them with Fiendfyre, picked up Goyle's body and returned.

"Bellatrix!" I called out, pointing at Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Crucio! Crucio!" she said.

So wonderful to be understood without words.

"I will find you two an assignment to make up for your failure later. Malfoy, set someone to impersonate Goyle in his day-to-day life. We don't want his social circle under scrutiny."

"Yes, my Lord."

By the end of the operation, there were three Moodys and Albuses. One more Moody and Albus duo had been sighted in the London metro and another at the Acromantula nest. Acromantulas… Nearly all perished, as expected. We got left with about a dozen of live ones selected for experiments and a decent number of eggs. But raising them into a viable force would take years…

The bottom line was that we had one dead, one without an arm, one busted. Twenty ordinary soldiers dead or captured. Albus especially outdid himself: stunned twelve in three seconds. And to top it all off, I lost my prison camp. We saved the equipment, but it needed be reassembled and layered with new protections, preferably near someone's family source. No one besides Rosier would volunteer, and his location had already been compromised…

A couple more operations like this, and they'd all start to question whether they need such a master… Then sell me out for immunity from prosecution…

I already took a deep breath to launch into an inspirational speech when Rookwood belatedly stormed into the room.

"My Lord, important news from the Department of Mysteries! I was just there!"

To be fair, such blatant truancy deserved a Crucio. But Rookwood enjoyed special privileges. His high rank at the Department of Mysteries made cover absolute priority. They kept everything classified and scrutinized every absence, so he was free to come to the meetings at his discretion.

"I'm listening."

"The Ministry expanded their wards to stop a Tlahuilopochtli from escaping London! They think it came from your lab!"

I glanced around the room. Nobody's face expressed any understanding at the word "Tlahuilopochtli."

Rookwood took out his wand and conjured a smoky splotch. I scarcely recognized it as our overgrown Boggart.

"Why did they raise so much hell over a Boggart?" Edward asked.

And Rookwood told us. If even half it was true, this thing made a Basilisk look like a garden snake… An immaterial beast that could see the future… Oh, I'd chosen the wrong creature to make into a familiar…

"Rookwood, confirm this. If all of it is true, prepare to capture this Tlahuilopochtli or anything that remains of it. Think of how to house it and whether we can negotiate with it. Macnair, Edward: you will help me try recreating it, after we set up a secure cage."

I'd need to look through every variable used in that Boggart experiment for any unusual additives. It may have simply eaten a unique human…

"My Lord, we are unlikely to capture or transport it unnoticed. Not with the Ministry on high alert."

"Then prepare to catch it once it breaks through their blockade. If its abilities are not exaggerated, it has all the chances. Now, let us get back to more immediate business."

"The last operation may negatively impact our recruiting," Dolohov informed.

Stop rubbing it in, would you?

No matter. We'd find some way to turn a defeat into an advantage. It was nigh time to attack Dumbledore with the most horrible and merciless power on earth: sic lawyers on him.

The French Minister of Magic

The Minister was listening to the report of his head of foreign intelligence.

"The situation in England is looking more and more convoluted. We were unable to get a definite response regarding their government's actions. However, we have no reason to believe England is preparing any military action against France."

"The internal intelligence provided much more details," said the Minister, pointing at a thick folder.

"I've said it before and will say it again: two intelligence agencies in one state is redundant."

"A healthy dose of competition is good for any endeavor. Here, review this," he pushed the documents towards his subordinate.

The man flipped the pages for several minutes.

"What is the source of this?"

"A source close to their Dark Lord."

"It's obviously disinformation, Sir."

"It says the London metro is haunted by a Tlahuilopochtli. For what it is, see pages 32-37. Over two dozen muggles have already vanished. The muggles are naturally blaming a serial killer, but even if we found a muggle deserving of death penalty and convinced him to confess, this creature would continue to endanger the Statute. It escaped from their Ministry's Department of Mysteries, the same Ministry that is confirmed to use Dark magic. Next to these developments, the allegation that the Obscurus who destroyed the home of their former Head of the DMLE was Albus Dumbledore's sister no longer sounds so asinine."

"My sources are silent. I believe this is all a lie aimed to end the political blockade on the Death Eaters."

"We mustn't believe anything. We need cold, hard facts! The same source provided us with memories and autopsy reports. Check them for authenticity. There are also copies of some nasty anti-Veela drafts. My wife is a Veela! So what, she may no longer accompany me to England? And according to their laws I'm now a zoophile?! Must keep my daughter in a cage? Check everything thoroughly. If it's true…"

"Yes, Sir. What do we do if it is?"

"When the Death Eaters offered to open negotiations two years ago, we declined on the basis that we don't negotiate with terrorists. But if the situation in England has truly become this complicated, it is prudent to hear their side of the story."

Corhard Richter

Corhard Richter was often called the best attorney of Magical Europe. He didn't consider himself the best, but he was certainly one of the very top. Now he lived as a wealthy and respected citizen of Magical Switzerland, the best country in the world.

He never liked reminiscing about his youth. Shortly after he graduated, his father got thrown in prison for life, all their family assets confiscated.

The muggles has it easy. Less than a tenth of the Third Reich got executed. The leaders lived out their days in their mansions, writing bestselling memoirs where they waxed about how they would have won if it weren't for the Russian winter, if they had no issues with African supply lines, if there was no La Manche, if the USA were small and close by like Belgium. Businesses not directly involved in war crimes walked away with nominal fines.

His father was not a murderer. He never supported Grindelwald. He was a simple, law-abiding businessman who earned his fortune trading with Germany in the early 40s. But after the war, he faced inconvenient questions. What happened to the annexed countries' resources? Polish gold reserves? Gold dental crowns from prisoners? However much his father argued that he broke no laws and only conducted business with legally elected government officials, no one wanted to hear it. And in 1945, father got convicted, leaving him to feed their family…

Of course, he was not remembering all this out of the blue. He was looking at the client and thinking of Grindelwald. Feeling the blood drain from his face but still looking. Just in case, decided to bow. He desperately wanted to call security but knew he wouldn't live long enough for them to arrive.

"It is a great honor to see you," he said. "Surely England can't be all out of good lawyers?"

Right in his office, in the guest chair sat.. He-Who-Terrorized-the-Magical-Britain.

"England has good lawyers. But meeting me turns them inadequate. The first pissed himself and cried hysterically, leaving me no choice but to erase his memories. The second fell to his knees and started confessing his falsified bloodline. The third tried to commit suicide. How am I to work with such candidates?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't have come in person?" he blurted out and immediately regretted it. If newspapers were telling the truth, he too would be better off killing himself.

"Unfortunately, without my presence, they all refuse to take on the case regardless of the money I offer."

"You must know some very special magic to find three principled lawyers. Does no one value money or their life?"

"They do, but no one wants to represent my interests against Albus Dumbledore."

Albus Dumbledore… Without him, Corhard's father would have been released in eight years and kept his estate…

"And business does You-Know-Who have with me?"

"Even You-Know-Who has a right to legal representation. I am offering money. A lot of money. More than you can earn in a lifetime. What's more, I don't necessarily need you to win the case. But the process must be as drawn out and scandalous as possible. And it must begin when I decide."

"May I know the details?"

A client was a client. His crimes didn't incriminate him in Switzerland, everything was legal.

"Watch these memories," You-Know-Who placed two vials on his desk.

It could have been poison, but there were much simpler ways to kill him. He dived into the pensieve and watched a three-way fight between a young Dumbledore, his brother and Grindelwald, which ended with the death of a bystander girl. After adjusting the speed, he noticed that all three used Dark magic, and Dumbledore was the one to kill the girl with the Killing Curse.

Another memory. You-Know-Who opens two caskets and examines the bodies. A woman killed with a curse and that same girl, perfectly preserved.

He returned from the pensieve.

"I understand, milord. Regrettably, the chances are zero. The memories will be extensively tested. In the unlikely scenario they are ruled authentic, you have a distinct reputation… They'd assume you falsified the memories extremely well. I also don't understand what the autopsy of two women has to do with Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"Richter, the memories are authentic. These women are Dumbledore's mother and sister."

"Of course." It'd take much more than a fake memory or circumventing Veritaserum to dupe him.

"Richter… The memories really are authentic. I have live Aberforth Dumbledore who can testify. The two female corpses are Albus Dumbledore's mother and sister. The mother was killed by a Dark curse long before my birth. I have her body. The second is Albus's sister. She was not human. I have fragments of her body to prove it."

"What was she, then? A werewolf? A vampire? A Valkyrie? They no longer exist, you know, no one would believe it."

"An Obscurial, Richter. An Obscurial. His sister was an uncontrollable threat to the Statute of Secrecy. She was the reason Grindelwald took interest in Obscurials and conducted his most gruesome experiments."

For a moment, he got floored by the absurdity of this situation: the Dark Lord came to him with an offer to put Albus Dumbledore on trial. And he, who loathed Dumbledore, was arguing for the bastard's innocence.

To hell with it all. A client was a client. Even if his labor proved fruitless, it wouldn't go unpaid. He'd make sure to ask for enough to leave the practice for good and move far away from Europe.

As if sensing his agreement, the Dark Lord flashed a creepy smile and put a stack of papers on the desk.

"Here is everything of what I am accusing Albus Dumbledore. Multiple uses of Unforgivables on humans. Murder of his sister. Harboring a dangerous magical creature. Endangering the Statute of Secrecy. Founding and leading a terrorist organization, whose members include known Dark wizards and felons. Abuse of his official position to suppress the investigation of his employee, who was caught butchering humans for ingredients. Framing an innocent investigator whom he later personally sentenced to Azkaban. And this is only the first few pages!"

"Say we prove all that - it won't change anything. He can sit in the Chief Warlock seat all his life. It grants him complete immunity from prosecution."

"Rebellion is the right and duty of the English people. I am certain I can unite all concerned citizens under my banner to overthrow the tyranny of this ruthless usurper."

For a second, Richter's thoughts were in turmoil, and then he understood everything. One man's terrorist was another man's freedom fighter.

He always longed for revenge… If You-Know-Who weaseled into the ICW and got Dumbledore impeached from his posts, his father could receive amnesty… Unlike the British barbarians, they didn't feed prisoners to Dementors here. His father was healthy and had some years left to enjoy freedom…

"Can I count on you to protect me from the terrorists of Order of the Phoenix after I finish my last case?" he asked.

"Of course."

"It'd really help if we found proof of Dumbledore committing some theft or fraud…"

"If it is necessary, then we will find it," You-Know-Who assured.

"And maybe something truly despicable, a child homicide or the like, to rile up the public…"

"You'll have it. Even two."

Outstanding. Why did everyone fear You-Know-Who? He was the definition of a perfect client.

"We will begin with corruption scandals. Dumbledore must have Gringotts accounts."

"You are living up to my most optimistic expectations, Mr. Richter. I must introduce you to one very promising woman, I am sure you will work well together."

"May I know her name?"

Rumors said You-Know-Who had this totally unhinged woman who charged head on at their entire Auror force, and they couldn't kill her. He had no need of such volatile, non-paying friends.

"Rita Skeeter. An accomplished journalist and all-around delightful person. Only for some reason I'm her boggart, and she is so timid… But it doesn't stop her from accepting our money."

Richter took out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"To the beginning of a successful partnership!" he toasted.

You-Know-Who conjured a glass and filled it with something he brought with him.

"I only drink my own. Occupational hazards, you know. To our successful partnership!"

I sat down in my study at the Lestranges to read a letter from the goblins. List of the Potters' assets, Lily's inheritance… A fortune for the girl, too little for me… Bill for the goblins' work… I kept pouring over the lists in search of their invisibility cloak and was not finding it.

"Invisibility cloak" was a rather broad term. A cloak charmed by a Hogwarts seventh year might work for a few hours, the charm damaging the material as it wore off. An extraordinary skilled or powerful wizard could create one to last for decades.

Lily's and Wormtail's memories agreed that James used his invisibility cloak for all seven years of Hogwarts. It couldn't have been cheap. Why were the goblins not aware of it? Why did Albus take it? To study an interesting enchantment style?

A while ago, when I brought Snape to the inferi cave, I had thoroughly scoured his mind. Potter and friends bullied him for the majority of their time at Hogwarts. Snape gave as good as he got - fighting multiple opponents sparked his interest in Dark magic. Ever since his fifth year, Snape used spells that should have revealed them under the cloak. But he never got a single glimpse, despite performing the spells correctly… More than that, Hogwarts halls were patrolled by prefects and teachers. As far as Lily and Wormtail knew, no one had ever caught Potter under his cloak… So, Albus either ordered all his staff to close their eyes to Potter and his werewolf friend or the cloak was of extremely high quality… In which case the goblins' lists of Potter heirlooms should have included it…

I felt a switch flip in my head.

"GABY!"

"How can I serve?"

"Bring me The Natural Elite ! Now!"

I was soon combing through the boring book. The Potters were famous, but I didn't know their exact lineage…

Peverell.

The three brothers who created or obtained the Deathly Hallows… Albus had the wand. I got the stone from the Gaunts, descendants of the middle brother… The tale said that the cloak also went to the owner's descendants… And James's cloak being the legendary invisibility cloak would explain the Potters' artificer roots…

My fingers drummed out a rhythm on the table. Too many "ifs." And it meant Albus had two Hallows out of three. Hopefully he had no Merlin's pants or Necronomicon…

But whether or not Albus actually possessed the invisibility cloak, the idea had merit.

I returned home and took out Skeeter's manuscript from my desk to correct the title. The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore quickly gained a note "Vol 1."

Then I turned to the draft I've been writing myself. It made me want to cry… If it were true, Albus Dumbledore was so horrible that Emeric the Evil, Herpo the Foul and Salazar Slytherin should have been his house elves, and Voldemort and Grindelwald should duel for the privilege of being his follower. But I wasn't an idiot to believe my own propaganda. I crossed out the working title and wrote a new one: The Secret Life of Albus Dumbledore: Mansions, Hallows, Horcruxes . Who could have thought that such an upstanding man was secretly such a scumbag: killed his own sister to make her into a Phoenix-horcrux, stole the Elder Wand from his lover, orchestrated the deaths of his followers to defraud their estates…

The only problem was that no one would agree to publish these books - except maybe for our newly created anti-muggleborn organization, that is, the National Unity Foundation… No matter. In time, people would fervently copy it by hand.

I've had enough of guessing. James was dead, leaving only one person to tell me about his cloak. I had to interrogate Lily. Tomorrow, after resting and thinking what and how to ask her without tipping her off. All opponents must either be dead or ignorant.

I sat down to think and pet Nagini, who landed on my lap. In my previous life, I had a cat. Tom had a snake. Cats were better: cuter, softer, and warmer. Though, unlike snakes, they didn't speak… But in her new body, Nagini was absolutely perfect: chatty, warm, and prettier than any parrot. With a slight force of will, I shifted my perception to feel the world through her senses. The drastic differences in picture, field of view, and everything else felt disorienting. I quickly got bored and returned to my own body. Nagini was still chattering on about something.

" Master, what do you think ?"

" Say it again, I got distracted ."

" If I lay eggs, who will hatch? Do I sit on them? "

Yes, spring was in the air. But she did ask an intriguing question. Part Phoenix, part snake… Would it work? Nagini could be the only one of her kind, unable to bear offspring from either snakes or Phoenixes… Not to mention the conflicting instincts: as a phoenix, she should sit on her eggs, as a snake she'd see no point in it. Anywhere I turned, there was the power of love again…

Maybe try eliminating Dumbledore or Moody through seduction? Order Bella or Barty… No, it wouldn't work. They were too old and wise to fall for such tricks. If they were teens… But I should definitely add the steamy love affair of the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Head of the DMLE to my book. If Dumbledore was Sadomaso von Dom, then Moody better be… What to call him… I got it! Angry Auror Arse-Bandit. Men under his command never turn their back on anyone… And always greet their superior standing up…

But a certain someone could still be seduced.

" I don't know, Nagini. But we will find out. I have a task for you. "

" Master? "

" You are going to seduce someone and lead him into a trap to be killed. "

As far as I understood, Nagini was mostly a snake, with no instincts to defend her partner.

" What do I do and how? "

" I just told you what. How… I'm not sure yet," I began. "Gaby! Find me a book on Phoenix mating habits, quickly!"

Poor Fawkes… Love… It kills.

Albus was unlikely to maintain a constant link with his familiar. No sane person would enjoy plucking feathers out of their own behind day after day, and Albus didn't give off the impression of someone interested in emphatically experiencing bird sex. The Phoenix might disapparate or call Albus for help, but it would have no motivation to do so until the very end…

"Master!" the elf squealed. "We don't have this book! Gaby is bad!"

"Search at the Lestranges'!"

I'd have to put together a plan and tell the Lestranges to polish it… Some powerful runic trap to knock out two birds at once. Then finish one of them off… Or kill it in the middle of mating?

Bellatrix walking in interrupted my thoughts.

"My Lord, these idiots ruined everything! Do you want me to punish them more?" She probably meant the last operation.

Why kill everybody? I could have as well ran away to the North Pole as soon as I found myself here.

"Not right now."

"Still thinking about the good of the true wizards? You should rest, my Lord."

She picked up the phoenix like an ordinary house pet and, ignoring the annoyed hissing, plopped her on the window still.

" Nagini, go to another room, " I ordered. She disapparated in a flame.

Bellatrix sat on my lap, and I was fondling her breasts. But thoughts of work did not let up. Blasted Albus and Moody, why couldn't you stand still in front of an Avada? Great wizards my foot! If we fought with fists, I'd easily kill you both! I was no master of hand to hand combat, but a physically healthy man in his thirties or forties would make short work of a one-eyed, one-legged cripple and an ancient grandpa. Although… with Albus, nothing was ever certain… I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to have been a kung fu master all along… I just wanted to catch these two nuisances and slowly squeeze their necks until a nice, gratifying crack… In reality, I only squeezed Bella's breast too hard.

"I can't spend too much time under Fidelius. Might we go to my rooms?" she offered.

Tempting, but I was busy.

"One second… Bella, step aside, I'm going to use the Time-Turner. It will give us three hours."

I turned the hourglass.

"Too little…" She pouted and pulled me after her.

Evidently, there was going to be one more copy to devote full attention to Bellatrix… Or better, two more. I had to do something to push my new body project forward. Or always drink potions… Strange, she hadn't been this passionate in the past, neither with me nor in Rodolphus's memories. Was it all because of love?

… I should look through Andromeda's memories again. And Narcissa's, with the excuse of breaking their curse. Maybe it ran in their family? Though if it did, their women must resort to sleeping with werewolves. No human male could withstand this rhythm.

Another ridiculous idea pounded at my mind. A pureblood witch was obsessed with Tom Riddle Sr. And another one with his son. A coincidence? I'd think on it later…

Rodolphus Lestrange

It's been two days since his break up with Bellatrix. The phantom pains waned, but Rodolphus had yet to get out of bed. He drank wine, followed it with an emetic, threw up into a self-cleaning bowl, drank a cocktail of potions, and started over. He'd gone through two barrels in this fashion. If it weren't for the potions, he'd be dead.

There was sharp a knock on the door.

"Go away!" screamed Rodolphus. He always treated house elves well, but lately they were insufferable. He's already developed a bruise on his foot from kicking them out of his room.

"Rodolphus, it's me, can I come in?" He heard his brother's voice from behind the door. Before he had time to get up, it swung open.

"Hello, brother dear. I thought I'd get my charms practice here, unlocking your door. Hope you don't mind."

"Yes, and levitate some feathers while you're at it. What are you, eleven?"

"It's this neat modified unlocking charm…"

"So you would've come in no matter what?"

"Yes. Put on some clothes, would you? What example are you setting for your younger brother? I haven't seen you in your underpants… can't remember for how many years."

"What do you want?" said Rodolphus, emptying the next glass.

"You've got to to wrap up your drinking before father sends me on a quest to find you a new liver. Knowing him, a pureblood one. I also heard alcohol harms virility. Can't forget your duty to the family. But mainly, I wanted to bring you up to date on the latest news. While you were drinking, so much's happened!"

"I've only been drinking for two days. What could possibly happen? Dumbledore died? Grindelwald escaped? Goblins started a rebellion? The Minister became a vampire?"

"Fine imagination. No, it's just little things. Tlahuilopochtli roams around London, the Ministry declared a state of emergency, we had to evacuate the entire concentration camp, the Acromnatula preserve got wiped out, Goyle is dead, Mulciber lost an arm fighting Moody, Avery is on the run…"

"Tlahu-what? Now who's spinning tall tales?" Rodolphus huffed.

"You won't believe it - all true. Tlahuilopochtli isn't a fairy tale. Some of our geniuses went too far with an experiment."

"So, how many did the Lord kill for these grandiose failures?"

"You won't believe it. None."

"How many insane from Cruciatus?"

"None."

Apparently, the Lord has found a new way to relieve stress. Fucking his wife… Rodolphus threw the glass at the wall and started smashing bottles. As the bottles ran out, he calmed down. His marriage… it failed… No point in suffering together when at least one of them could be happy…

"Father is worried you might do something foolish," said Rabastan, unperturbed.

"I won't. Did he send you here?"

"Not exactly."

"How did he take the news of my breakup?"

"He's happy."

"He is not angry with her?"

"What for? It's not like she ripped off your manhood with Dark magic. Father's already made her a property split offer, but she said she doesn't need anything from us. I think father nearly fell in love with her himself. He's now busy sorting stacks of photos of pureblood women by their lineage."

"If he's looking for someone to fuck, I can offer advice."

"You went on a bender at a bad time, brother dear. Father's found himself a special lady - Diana Crouch. Though he hasn't woken her yet. Preparing for the wedding, I wager."

"Why is he searching for a bride for me and not you?" Rodolphus said with annoyance.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm sober and can make my own choices?"

"I'm serious."

"Don't you remember how the negotiations with the Dutch ended? No one wants to send their daughter where curses are flying."

"Quit dodging. Why is father suddenly concerned with my personal life and not yours?"

"I really don't know. He's been talking to me like I'm a child lately, lecturing about duty… And he often goes down to check Sirius and Andromeda with legilimency. It's like he thinks I'm another blood traitor who'd run away with a muggle the moment he found me a bride."

"No, father would never - he knows he raised us better than that…" Rodolphus began.

"Any toy is okay that keeps the mudbloods away," the brothers recited in unison and burst into laughter.

"So, what else happened while I've been drinking?" Rodollhus changed the subject.

"Eh, nothing earth-shattering. The press caught some Aurors led by Moody in a brothel. Now they're clamoring for Moody to be fired for "immoral conduct" and "failure to uphold professional standards."

"And?"

"And nothing. We are all human, we all get it: they wanted a corporate party. I sure hope Moody had the decency to pay the girls triple and take polyjuice or at least put a bag over his head. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he screamed that the journalists ruined his operation to apprehend a Death Eater! Right there, in the brothel! What I'd love know is did he do a prostitute together with that Death Eater or they took turns? Skeeter's already whipped up a feature article: "In the Sticky Wake of Sadomaso von Dom." There is an interview with one of the prostitutes, something along the lines of "he was a polite gentleman in colorful clothes, spoke of the power of love and called me "my girl," and when he left, my bum was sore for days."

"Listen, why do I get the feeling you've drank more than I have? Maybe I'm delirious…" said Rodilphus. "Minny! Sobering potion! And a double dose of the Universal Antidote!"

The house elf quickly returned with the potions. Rodolphus drank them. Strange, nothing changed…

Now to intently stare into his brother's eyes. "Fine, I'll bite. What did the Dark Lord order you to tell me?"

"I didn't feel you get through my occlumency…"

"Ha! I never tried. Not magic - deduction. Father would gladly give me time off for all the years of hard work. Bella… Bellatrix… She has other things on her mind, and you… You are a good brother, but you won't stop me from walking into hell if I want to. The only one left is the Dark Lord."

"I had a long talk with him today. He asked about my studies progress and my opinion on the new teacher, a whacked in the head druggie shaman. Look outside your window - there's a half-naked African drawing something and carving things out of wood. If you see little wooden puppets running around, they are his. And Nessie likes him-"

"Back to the subject of the Lord," Rodolphus reminded.

"We talked about this and that. Played backgammon."

"He can play?"

"No."

"You beat the Dark Lord at backgammon?!"

"No, of course not. First of all, he was reading my mind. Second, he moved the dice with telekinesis better than me, always making sure he rolled the highest and I rolled the minimum."

Rodolphus's head started to hurt, and it had nothing to do with hangover. Did he drink in his room for years rather than days? Time to get back to the real world…

"So what does the Dark Lord want from me?" he asked.

"You and I must research…" Rabastan paused in apprehension, "Phoenix mating habits… and assist him in developing a trap… for two mating Phoenixes," his voice cracked with doubt in this mad, mad world.

But Rodolphus understood everything. He had seen the Dark Lord's Phoenix. An excellent plan, eliminate Dumbledore's bird using his own! He was drinking to forget, but to think of it, work was just as good of a distraction.

"The Dark Lord's plan is brilliant! I'll get to it right away," said Rodolphus. He grabbed his wand, haphazardly threw on a robe and rushed out the room.

And Rabastan was thinking. He obviously failed to understand something. Chronically. He picked up one miraculously intact bottle of wine and drank straight from the neck. The Dark Lord's plan didn't become any clearer. Sleeping with Bellatrix must be harmful to mental health…