Chapter 18: Decipher

"Son of a bitch." He mumbled loudly, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the empty hallway.

A quick flick of his wand disappeared the black coffee from the front of his white tee shirt.

' I must have forgotten to enchant this one.'

Another flick and his shirt was enchanted to be stain proof.

Reaching an impasse, Harry stopped to check his father's map.

He found a sense of comfort in his current predicament; late at night, under his family's unique invisibility cloak, utilizing his father's handcrafted map of the castle.

Over the last few months he had found himself staring at the map in amazement - hearing stories from Sirius about his father's prowess had been one thing but seeing it first hand was another.

Taking a glance around the map, his eyes paused on a twin pair of dots near the kitchens.

The sight of the Weasley twins on the map made him wonder what sort of trouble it had gotten the Marauders into back when they were in school.

' Were they like the twins?' He had been disappointed when Remus had been unable to comment one way or another on that topic.

" I don't know, are they?" The smartass response had been something he had come to expect from the werewolf, and he had made a note to bring the older man to the first board meeting of 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," whenever that may be.

Did the Marauders have the map when they turned Flitwick's skin purple during third year?

What about during fifth year when the group of friends had charmed the chairs in the Slytherin common room to attack their occupants?

It was moments like these while he was breaking Hogwarts ever-expanding list of rules that he felt closer to James Potter than ever before.

' Filch and the cat to the left. Headboy straight ahead.' He thought to himself as his eyes darted over the worn parchment. ' To the right it is!'

Hanging a right towards the staircase, Harry cast quick 'tempus'and smiled at his impeccable timing.

' 12:13. Right on time.'

The staircase would be positioned to take him to the second floor at a quarter after the hour.

A flash of silver reflected off his invisibility cloak as he moved silently and unseen up the staircase, continuing at a brisk pace towards the second-floor girl's bathroom.

Checking the map to ensure that he was alone, Harry stepped into the girl's loo before dropping to a knee and hissing loudly at the plumbing.

Laboriously the pipes began to moan as they sprung to life, revealing a hidden entrance where the sink had been a moment earlier.

A quick wave of his wand cleared the newest layer of dust and grime off the narrow, damp staircase while a second wave brought the tiny passage to life with a dim light.

He quickly stepped into the musty passage, following the descending stairs till the path widened where he was met with a familiar brick wall.

Having disabled the now-decipherable ward set protecting the brick wall, Harry paused, shutting his eyes briefly, visualizing his next steps.

Taking a deep breath, he calmly cast the necessary diagnostics, carefully removing the illusions.

As always, Harry was impressed despite himself as the brick turned to a textured marble.

Set in the middle of the marble wall was a newly minted inscription:

Kisipn wdvkrinu cd Rnwceikaf! Mkipcirc du cei Edmtpkcr udvfgikr!

Upon unlocking the initial set of wards on the seemingly-brick wall, he and Daphne had watched as their elation turned to frustration when the brick melted away to reveal not a passageway like they'd hoped, but the smooth marble, and jumbled set of letters now in front of him.

Their early morning discovery had stumped them for the better part of three months.

Until about an hour ago.

It had been an unrelated observation made by Daphne back in February that had ultimately led him to the answer.

" It's incredible how similar you and Riddle are."

He had feebly fought her observation - uncomfortable with hearing his own thoughts verbalized back to him.

The similarities went beyond both being orphans, prodigies, and parseltongues, and into the more mundane.

School subjects, their discovery of magic, even their childhood experiences shared a degree of similarity.

In his youth a small, ostracized Tom Riddle would run the half kilometer from the orphanage to a park down the road to avoid bullies. Spending hours climbing trees to avoid the cruelty of the other children, using the years before Hogwarts to stew in his hatred and hone his parseltongue abilities.

As a kid Harry also used to run from bullies to take solace in the park down the road, using the foliage as cover from his cousins little gang.

Both had, at one point or another, longed for the acceptance of others, stepping outside of their comfort zones in an attempt to make friends.

For Riddle that had meant teaching Mary Lou to read, only for her to abandon him when the other orphans mocked her.

Harry had taken up footy, becoming better than average until he made the mistake of outclassing his cousin, who in turn bullied those who would pick Harry for their side.

But most importantly, at least in this case, both had taken an interest in literature.

"Great Expectations," "Moby Dick," and "The Iliad" had all kept a young Tom Riddle occupied throughout his days at Wool's Orphanage; but it was a fifteen-year-old Tom Riddle's tongue-in-cheek comment about murdering his father that had caught his attention.

" He had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want."

The quote, from Poe's "The Gold Bug" to describe the main character had given him the idea to investigate the possibility that the most feared dark wizard in a millennium - a pureblood supremacist - was using a muggle cipher to hide the secrets of another pureblood supremacist.

That realization forced him to research the topic, leading him to eventually figure out what needed to be done.

' Speak to me Slytherin! Greatest of the Hogwarts founders!'

Harry grinned in triumph as he hissed Voldemort's grandiose pass phrase, waiting with barely contained giddiness as the marble wall slowly began to disappear, leaving a small passageway in its place.

He felt excitement as he passed through where the wall had been, pleased to have solved Tom Riddle's puzzle at long last.

' Daphne will be pissed I did it without her!' He thought with a grin. The girl hated when a puzzle she had been working on was solved by somebody else.

The path in front of him widened considerably as he walked and was paved in the same elegant marble as the second barrier. While the tunnel in this part of the castle appeared to be much better contained, with less cracks and leaks than where he had come from.

' Her fault for spending the night with Astoria.'

Though even as he thought it, he knew that wasn't true. If it had been Daphne suffering from nightmares, he would do anything in his power to comfort her, even if it meant delaying his exploration of the mythical chamber.

As he descended down a winding staircase, a cold feeling of despair began to form in the pit of his stomach.

' This place has been sealed off for a reason.'

' Coming here alone was a mistake.'

' This sort of recklessness got Sirius killed.'

The last thought made him stop in his tracks as he fought to regain control of his mind.

' Psychological wards.' He thought as he doubled down on his occlumency, pushing the growing anxiety from his mind.

' I must be getting close!'

As he used his occlumency to fight the anxiety, the initial feeling of angst was replaced by the pain of knives stabbing through his flesh, causing him to let out a horrific scream as he clutched at his abdomen, eager to prevent his organs from spilling out onto the marble floor.

Each step tore a new hole in his flesh, and soon enough he found himself dropping to his knees as he howled in pain as he searched in vain for the warm sensation of blood that must be drenching his shirt.

' It's all in your head.' He reminded himself as he fought the pain to regain his focus.

Chancing a glance down he saw his white shirt un-ripped, still in near-perfect condition.

' It's all in my head.' He told himself again.

With that in mind, he pushed forward in agonizing pain, making his way towards the wide chamber at the end of the hall, only to be stopped in his tracks, left with a decision.

Harry glanced in frustration at the three-separate tunnel

A moment later a kaleidoscope of color erupted from his wand, dancing in the dim torchlight.

What he saw made him growl in frustration.

More wards.

A few more spells confirmed that these wards were different from the set protecting the marble wall.

With a defeated sigh, he turned around, deciding to call it a night.

She let out a frustrated growl as her elbow slipped into her salad.

Pushing her half-eaten lunch to the side, the fourth year Slytherin turned her attention back to the essay in front of her.

' What adjustments will I have to make to my telescope to see the intersection of Ganymede and Callisto?'

Daphne thought hard, trying to remember the intricacies of calibrating her stupid telescope.

She hated astronomy. The class failed to hold her interest, and once a week it disrupted her sleep schedule - effectively ruining her Thursday mornings.

The subject was primarily used as a resource in potions and Herbology to understand the properties and growing cycles, of certain plants. The alignment of moons and stars, however, had been used by the quacks who had studied divination for centuries, a load of rubbish, if you asked her.

But since Dumbledore found that branch of magic to be credible, the class had taken to studying the effect astronomy had on divination as well.

' Harry's technically on the Board of Governors, maybe he can have astronomy removed from the curriculum?' She thought, a sad smile pulling on her lips.

Astronomy represented the string that tied together three subjects she had next to no interest in.

While potions was useful, and she knew the importance plants played in their economy, that didn't mean she found the subjects any more fascinating.

" Center the secondary mirror on the axis of the focuser drawtube."

Lily's patient voice played out enthusiastically in her mind as she explained her passion to Daphne.

" Next, it is important to aim the eyepiece at the center of the primary mirror before centering your primary mirror's sweet spot in the eyepiece's field of view."

She felt a set of tears begin to form in her eyes as she jotted down the steps laid out in her mind by her late friend.

Perhaps what she hated most about astronomy wasn't the late nights, or the pointless lessons - but the hours she spent debating the subjects merits with the black-haired witch - debates she would never again have.

It was that reality, the realization that Lily Moon would never make a cheesy remark about her name and its relation to her favorite subject ever again, that made her hate the night sky.

The hierarchical nature of society meant that although her family had a seat on the Wizengamot, they never received the fawning attention that surnames like Black, Bones, Longbottom, Malfoy, and Nott commanded. While her father's relative lack of ambition meant that the Greengrass family often found themselves without invitations to the social gatherings that littered the calendars of their peers.

Except for Astoria, she had grown up without friends.

That changed when she met Lily outside Flourish and Blotts before their first year of Hogwarts, for the first time she had known what it was like to be cared about by someone other than her family.

The smell of lemon and the sound of shuffling caused Daphne to hold up her index finger, fending off the conversation she knew she was about to have before it could even begin.

"Hey Daph."

Astoria's soft voice called out, cutting through the noise of the great hall like a knife through butter the second her quill stopped moving.

Looking up she took in her sisters-tired eyes, her face showing the hint of something foreign.

Reaching out with legilimency, she felt Astoria lower her occlumency shields.

Fear. Her sister was overrun with it. It was seeping out of her pores like oil, Astoria's mediocre grasp of occlumency was the only thing saving her from broadcasting her emotions to Dumbledore.

' Or Snape.'

Swiftly packing her things, Daphne silently grabbed Astoria's hand, leading her past the throngs of students and into the empty hallways.

"DAPHNE SLOW DOWN!" Astoria shouted as she stumbled over her feet in an effort to keep up with her older sister.

Daphne ignored her, leading her silently through a myriad of passages before doubling back and hanging a left past Dumbledore's old transfiguration classroom and down the corridor towards her and Harry's room.

Astoria tensed in fright as they approached.

"Daphne, I don't want -"

"Shut up and give me your palm." She said, grabbing at her little sisters hand as she shoved her own through the wall.

Grabbing the sheath behind the illusion, the blonde girl removed the silver knife before slicing deeply into her sister's palm a second later.

"You bitch!" The younger girl roared, a pained expression on her pretty face.

Daphne turned towards the keystone, obscuring her grin from view as she wiped Astoria's blood across the rune set.

The carvings glowed a light orange, accepting her sister's blood, and allowing Astoria safe passage.

"So, this is where you and Harry disappear to?" The younger girl asked as she held her hand out towards her.

She noticed her sister watch enviously as she silently healed her wound, adding in a slight numbing charm for her comfort.

Astoria may have had the world wrapped around her finger. The sweet, selfless girl that her year mates gravitated towards.

The future queen of the Malfoy clan.

That thought disgusted her; 'over my dead body.'

Lily had once compared Astoria favorably to a dog; smart, loyal, attractive, and eager to please.

" The only similarity Astoria has to a dog is that they both can be bitches." She had said at the time.

Lily's face came alight with laughter at her comment.

Daphne, however, knew that behind those hazel eyes was a child who wished she could cast a stunner without exhausting herself.

She responded to her sister's question with an ambiguous hum as she watched Astoria's eyes travel over the room.

Astoria's shtick had made Daphne look like Bellatrix Lestrange, by comparison. When given the choice between the two sisters, people tended to gravitate towards the younger girl.

All except for Harry.

Their room was a living monument to their journey through magic.

The basic bookshelf and table near the door were the first pieces of furniture they ever created.

The knick-knacks on the shelves represented Harry's earliest attempts at cursing and enchanting, while the locked wardrobe in the corner contained her first attempts at conjuration.

Astoria's eyes landed on the animated stool walking around the front of the room in a menacing manner, lunging at various shelves but never straying more than a few meters from the corner.

"What the hell is that?" Astoria asked, a confused curiosity seeping out of her voice.

" Then the chair bit Snape! I'll never forget that, Harry. Minny wanted to be mad, but your father had just broken a fundamental law of transfiguration, she had no choice but to be impressed!"

"Just an experiment, Stori."

Grabbing her sisters pale hand and dragging her towards the expanded section of the room, she felt her sister tense once more as they passed through the wall and into her and Harry's more private area.

Her sister gasped as she eyed Harry's desk.

"Did he create that?"

Astoria didn't try and contain her envy as she allowed her fingers to glide across the smooth granite surface.

The oversized desk with a large headboard was nigh-near indestructible, and more grandiose than practical.

The whole thing was completely unnecessary, if you asked her.

"Of course, he did." She stated proudly.

The pair went silent as Daphne allowed her sister to inspect her own, more practical mahogany desk before turning her attention to the rest of the room.

She gave her sister a few minutes of peace, waiting for Astoria's back to be turned towards her before deftly casting a calming charm on the brunette.

"What's wrong, Stori?" She asked, a tinge of concern infiltrating her soft voice.

Taking a seat on the chair across from her, her sister briefly closed her eyes.

"I think I've been memory charmed."

Daphne nodded her head calmly, doing her best to contain her inner panic.

' The nightmares.'

"Why do you say that?"

"The nightmares." Astoria responded instantaneously. "They're coming into focus."

The recurring dream had started as a hodgepodge of pictures and sounds that, over time, had managed to sort themselves out - although they had remained blurry.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure." Her sister's voice quivered nervously. "But Lily was there."

At the mention of her late friend Daphne rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning in in anticipation.

' What did she see?'

"What other details do you remember?"

A contemplative look fell over Astoria's pretty face.

"Nothing."

' A hint of panic in her voice that time.'

Daphne fought the urge to further pester her sister with questions before reaching into her desk and pulling out a vial she had gotten off of Boot, passing it over to the third year.

"Dreamless Sleep potion."

Astoria gave her a grateful smile.

"Let's get you back to the common room." She said immediately, suddenly eager to get back to her dorm.

' I have a letter to write.'

"Professor!"

He asked politely, raising his voice only slightly to gain the attention of the friendly witch.

Septima Vector's dark hazel eyes met his own emerald, a kind smile on her face.

"Yes Harry?" She answered kindly, curiosity laced her voice as the fifth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin class emptied her inviting classroom.

Being left alone with his godfather's widowed fiancée always left him feeling a bit awkward, no matter how supportive Professor Vector had been.

He had hoped to avoid this, but he found himself stumped.

"I'm having problems with power absorption wards."

To his surprise, Professor Vector nodded her head sharply, not looking the least bit surprised.

"Would you mind silencing the room for us, Harry?"

He smiled before flicking his wand, a soft buzzing hummed along in the background, drowning out their voices to anyone who may be listening.

His professor gave him a strange look.

"Why this spell, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Sirius taught it to me."

She offered him a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I never got to say that."

He gave her a confused smile. "It wasn't your fault, professor."

She offered him an amused look; "no, I don't suppose it was. But after everyone you've lost, to have to lose both Sirius and Lily in only a few months? I'm sorry that you've had to go through so much."

Her voice trailed off and she glanced away for a moment before looking him in the eyes.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm her for you."

And she would be. He could hear the reassuring resilience in her voice.

"Please Harry, when we're in private it's still Septima, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

The faux sternness in her voice made him smile.

"How can I help you?"

Bill's hints at yule had set him on the right path towards working out the older man's crowning achievement, but he had found himself at an impasse over the last month, and with Bill unavailable he had turned to the brilliant witch in front of him.

"Well…"

This is where he struggled. He didn't know where he was going wrong. The rune set was correct, and he had improved his carving immensely, there was no reason the wards shouldn't act properly.

In his search for a memorable warding thesis, Bill Weasley had went looking for inspiration in the muggle world, finding it in electricity.

Unable to find a set of runes capable of accomplishing his goal, he had first attempted to modify a strong set of runes meant to power the strength of wards, before realizing the obvious - the wards he would need needed to be able to absorb and not just emit the magic around them in order to continuously power the affected area.

The red-head had spent years tinkering before coming up with the proper formula.

Bill's set of wards, once officially trademarked, would bring the wizarding world out of the dark ages and begin to bridge the technological gap between wizards and muggles.

Thus far, Harry's wards could only absorb the magic, he had yet to crack the secret to releasing that magic steadily and on command.

In his frustration he thrust his notes into her outstretched hands.

Septima grabbed the parchment before returning to her desk and sitting down.

Putting on a pair of thin-framed reading glasses, he allowed his professor to read in silence for several minutes before an amused smile played at her lips.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, he made to interrupt her; "what is it?"

She set the notes down. "Your problem isn't with the runes, or the ward set as they are currently diagramed, your problem is in your arithmancy. "

The comment left him agape. He hadn't even considered that could be an issue, arithmancy had next to no use in wards.

"What?"

It was also his poorest subject.

"Research Tobias Gruber and his theory on storing magic. I think you'll solve your puzzle."

He smiled in firm resolution as she stood up, handing him back his notes before eyeing him seriously.

"You don't look well, Harry, you need more sleep."

He was touched, if he was being honest with himself. There was no reason for her to be concerned for him, not anymore.

"I sleep plenty." He snapped. It was true, six hours a night was plenty.

His annoyed tone didn't seem to bother her.

"You look tired. Maybe you should stop spending your nights exploring the castle?" She said a tinge of humor in her voice.

"Yeah, maybe." He replied evasively, a forced smile in his voice.

He left the classroom a few minutes later, slightly confused.

' Is she following me?'

Silently he passed the man a bag of galleons in exchange for the manila folder that was now secured in his right-breast pocket.

Walking at an appropriate pace towards the apparition point of Diagon Alley, Lucius Malfoy wore the slightest grin on his regal face as he silently disappeared.

Reappearing seconds later in the patriarch study at Malfoy Manor, Lucius removed the manila folder from his overcoat before taking a seat at his desk.

Reaching into the uppermost compartment to his left, he removed a matching folder he had retrieved from Walden regarding the Dark Lord's inventory during the spring of 1975.

There hadn't been a single dragon lung in their stores.

If Bellatrix wasn't signing off on a dragon's lung for their lord, then there were only two options.

Flipping to March of 1975 he searched for several minutes, a frown forming on his face.

' The Ministry had no record of a dragon's lung being imported from Romania in their supplies.'

A dragon's lung was a rare, if not highly sought after, potions ingredient used primarily in advanced strengthening potions.

The type used in his late father's regiment to treat his creeping Emerson's.

' If Bellatrix wasn't importing the lung for their lord or the ministry, why did she need it?'

Ophelia would have known.

He needed to speak to Alfred.

He felt a large mass run into him, causing him to take a step back involuntarily.

"Excuse me!" The mousy looking first year nearly shouted before running off after his friends, completely forgetting where he was.

Harry offered him an annoyed scowl, suddenly remembering why he had stopped coming to the crowded library during normal hours.

Taking a quick glance down at the map, Harry found his target wandering near the advanced charms section on the second floor.

Confidently walking towards one of the spiral staircases towards the back of the room, he idly noticed the nervous looks his classmates shot each other at the sight of him as they presented Harry with an uninhibited path to his destination.

The loud whispers and uncomfortable looks would have bothered him, once upon a time.

Years of their gossip, doubt, and fear, however, had ebbed his desire to win a popularity contest.

Whether his classmates were intimidated by his power, or feared his prowess did not matter to him, not anymore.

Harry paused at the top of the staircase for a brief moment to take in the biggest library in the British Isles.

He watched as throngs of students below him pushed their way through the crowded shelves, while others milled about, looking for an open chair or table.

Turning around, Harry walked comfortably across the spacious second floor; dodging the odd seventh year, weaving between nearly empty tables on his way over to the advanced charms section.

He was walking for nearly a minute before he felt his mind begin to wander and his dopamine levels begin to rise.

Clamping down on his occlumency, he saw the reason for his condition staring intently at a shelf of books several meters ahead of him.

Harry took a minute to admire the attractive witch as she allowed her fingers to roam over the spines of various books, debating internally which would best suit her purposes.

Unlike her younger sister, who paired her beauty with a pretty laugh and charming smile, Fleur had discovered her passion, and spent her time pursuing it relentlessly.

She reminded him of Daphne.

"Ms. Delacour!" He said after some time, chastising himself for getting lost in his thoughts.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but covered the distance between them, grabbing the older witch's attention instantaneously.

The Beauxbatons champion looked up, an annoyed look marring her pretty features as she glanced around for the source of the interruption.

Happy that he hadn't been caught staring, he waited nervously for her to notice him.

Intense stormy blue eyes met his a moment later before her annoyed look transformed to one of interest as she signaled him over.

Charms, more specifically complex wide-area enchantments and what they all entailed, that was the French witch's niche.

Enchantments designed to prevent structural damage in housing, protect a room or curse intruders all fell under her purview. But it was her ability to make those enchantments work properly within a particular set of wards, or in a specific environment that had set the part-veela on a path towards at least two masteries, and, he suspected, had laid the foundation for her to be chosen as her schools champion.

"Lord Potter." She said formally, the slightest hint of a French accent in her voice as she curtsied politely.

He hadn't had an appropriate reason to speak with Gabrielle's sister yet, but the older girls infatuation with Septima Vector, and her own expertise in charms had given him a reason to seek out the French champion.

"Heiress Delacour."

She offered him a radiant smile, her full lips parting to show off a perfect set of white teeth.

"Let's dispense with formalities, Harry. In private, please call me Fleur."

She took a second to take him in before glancing back at the bookshelf.

He smiled, taking the older girls hint he cast a quick privacy charm.

"I was hoping you could tell me about the 'obliviation' charm."

He felt the older girl hesitate.

He didn't blame her - the memory was a fickle thing, more than a few wizards had ruined lives in their pursuit of knowledge.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. "Speaking specifics about that charm without ministry approval is against your country's laws."

' Don't I know it.'

He had hit a wall while trying to research memory charms. Outside of a description of the spells effects and the illegality of practicing it, there was nary a mention of them at Hogwarts.

' If only I could sneak away to Grimmauld Place.'

The gloom London townhome was a shrine to forbidden knowledge, he had no doubt that fifteen minutes roaming those shelves and he would find what he was looking for.

He nodded his head sagely. "My question has more to do with detection. How can one detect if they have been memory charmed?"

Fleur seemed to consider him for a moment.

"Time is the best indicator." She began, seeming to have reached some sort of conclusion.

"Most who cast the charm lack the touch, focus, and time to splice and replace a moment in someone else's mind, that's why sixty percent of memory charms fail within the first thirty days."

Fleur's expression, and tone seemed to take an uptick at her students focus, and she continued her lecture with a soft smile on her beautiful face.

"The second, and most common form of detection for a properly cast obliviation is discovery by a skilled mind healer trained to look for such discrepancies, it's for this reason that most ministry's require their employees to visit one quarterly."

A quick scowl flashed across his face as he worked to get his occlumency under control.

The pretty witch cocked her head to the side slightly, her silver hair reflecting off the light of the library, giving her an almost angelic appearance.

"Is that what happened to you, 'Arry?"

He frowned at the exaggeration of her accent.

"No." He said a bit too quickly. "To a friend towards the end of their life."

A look of comprehension came across her face.

"Lord Black, then?" She said matter-of-factly. "He was your godfather, no?"

He offered her a crooked grin, finding her bluntness refreshing - not many people had the nerve to talk to him like this.

"Yes." He answered almost immediately.

She nodded her head; "how long did the charm last before detection?"

He found his current situation so odd that before he had time to stop himself, Harry was answering the stranger's question.

"About a year and a half." He said. "Does that tell you anything about the caster?"

The blonde girl rubbed her chin in thought, a look of concentration on her face.

"I don't think so." She started. "Just that whoever cast the spell wasn't an obliviator."

The pair fell into a brief, comfortable silence as Fleur continued to browse the books around her, stopping momentarily to examine the spine of an old, maroon book.

"What about during dreams?"

Fleur turned her attention back towards him, her expression changing to a slightly uncomfortable look.

"I understand how personal this topic can be." She said gently, placing her arm lightly on his forearm. "But to answer your question, I need more information."

He thought quietly for a minute, debating what he could and could not tell this stranger.

"The nightmares."

He said, being particularly ambiguous as he inflicted a tremor of fear into his voice.

"I'm no longer certain that they are nightmares. It feels as though I'm walking out of a fog, and things are slowly starting to clear up." He said, repeating Astoria's own words to him from the previous night.

If Fleur saw through his tactics, she didn't comment on it.

"It's possible that a rushed obliviation is unraveling."

She tapped her fingers on the spine of the maroon book she was now holding, formulating her next words carefully.

"It is probable that given enough time, this person will be able to recall some of the incident. However, if this was me, I would see a mind healer as soon as possible to work out the details."

"How long does it take to recover a memory?" He asked eagerly, hoping to find an end to Astoria's ordeal as soon as possible.

"If the memory can be recovered?" She corrected. "It can take months."

As he turned to walk away, the intimidating girl stopped him.

"Your godfather. What were they able to determine about the obliviation?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry found himself answering her question.

"Only that it happened sometime during the summer of 1993."

He stood perfectly still, his brown eyes searching the atrium of the small home as he waited for the elf to return with its master.

Voldemort didn't have to wait long, feeling the creature's latent magic as it rounded the corner, returning with a tall, thin man and his short wife.

"Roger!" He greeted, his steady voice maintaining a gracious tone before he turned his attention to the troll-like creature in front of him.

"Marlene!" He stated, allowing Tom Riddle's calm, confident charisma to seep into his voice as he dipped his head slightly in a respectful bow. "Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home."

He ignored the not-so-subtle look the dimwitted woman shot her husband.

His words were misleading, and all three of them knew it - the small townhome on the newer west-end of Whisper Alley was cramped and dumpy on the inside, and he hadn't been invited so much as demanded an audience.

She offered him a nervous smile, receiving an encouraging nod from her husband before addressing him directly.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence." She got out before her eyes widened slightly; "my lord." She added quickly.

In his younger years he had dreaded these little recruiting visits as he tried to curry favor with the general public, often losing his temper and murdering his targets in anger.

As he'd aged, however, he had come to appreciate the different challenge each situation presented.

He had spent months researching possible moles within the Department of Mysteries before ultimately settling on Augustus Rookwood, earning his devotion by promising him the ability to carry out his experiments in peace and without judgement.

Tobias Selwyn had found himself in an unfortunate situation, one his wealth couldn't buy him out of when Cornelius Fudge's investigation into the disappearance of Cassandra Prewitt led to his doors. Voldemort had been able to forgive where the ministry couldn't, overlooking the murder of a magical child and providing protection for Selwyn in exchange for the monetary resources of the unpleasant man.

The Edgecombe's presented a different sort of challenge, one that put Voldemort outside of his comfort zone.

"Lucius had mentioned to me that Minister Nott ignored your threat assessment for the Wizengamot."

Barely contained rage flashed across Marlene Edgecombe's face, causing her husband to place a calming arm on her forearm.

"The minister is a fool." She spat.

Internally he smiled.

Voldemort schooled his handsome features into a charming smile, causing the dumpy woman to lean closer towards him as she waited for his response to her idiotic proclamation.

The Edgecombe family was neither rich, nor powerful, and as such they had next to nothing of value to provide him.

"I had a chance to review your plans, personally." He stated, his voice carrying a degree of sympathy to it.

A self-important smile came across Marlene Edgecombe's face.

What Marlene, and by extension Roger Edgecombe craved was recognition. In the matriarch's mind, she was every bit the woman Amelia Bones was.

"I think Minister Fudge has badly miscalculated the vulnerabilities at the west entrance of the chamber."

It was true; when he had been presented with options his eyes had immediately gravitated towards the furthest entrance from the street, and therefore the entrance that had the least amount of security.

He didn't need legilimency to see that Roger was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

Voldemort suppressed the rising urge to kill the man and continue the conversation alone with his wife.

' Later.' It wouldn't do him any good to lose the cooperation of the wife, not when he was this close.

"Marlene - "he started, pausing briefly after he addressed her personally, causing her to smile softly, "you should be recognized for the work you've done to try and protect this country."

The small woman nodded enthusiastically.

"Lord Voldemort can help you get the recognition you deserve."

He felt a tug on his hand as his girlfriend directed him towards their secluded spot on the south side of the lake before he joined her on the soft ground, frowning as he felt the early-morning dew seep through the seat of his robes.

Daphne laughed, causing her lips to curl into a wide smile, the morning sun reflecting off her high cheekbones.

"It's the little things, Harry. You always seem to forget them."

Instead of responding, he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her lips, his mind considering her words.

The blonde had a point - whether it was forgetting to waterproof his robes, stain proof a shirt, or failing to notice a friend under the imperius curse; he had found, to his depression that the details had become his kryptonite.

Turning away from Daphne, he gave the lake a haunted look as he opened up his copy of the newspaper, thinking about the friends he had lost due to his incompetence.

' Is that how I'll lose Daphne?'

A half-dozen horrific scenarios played themselves on repeat in his mind, outlining the dozens of ways his enemies could use her against him.

Harry shook the thoughts from his mind, returning his focus to the girl in front of him.

"Someone's got to tackle the important things." He pontificated, inserting some haughtiness into his voice. "I'll leave the rest to you peasants."

The musical nature of Daphne's laugh caused him to smile before he joined her in a fit of giggles.

She smiled viciously. "I hope you're thinking that way tomorrow, I'll beat you for sure!"

The last weekend in May brought the dueling championships, and, as expected the Hogwarts contingent would win the fourth-year tournament, regardless of whomever ended up winning the actual duel.

The pair sat silently for several minutes; Daphne's head in his lap as the great squid danced around the calm lake.

" Bulgaria, France Condemn Britain Over Lestrange!"

' Better not let Daphne see this.' He thought, closing his copy of the 'Daily Prophet.'

"I think I'm going to go." He stated softly, causing Daphne to turn around and look at him.

"Good." She responded definitively before her face lost a bit of confidence and her voice staggered slightly. "You should be there, you need to be visible."

With his ascension as both Lord Potter and Lord Black the Prophet had taken to speculating about his social circle, particularly the motivations surrounding the heiress from a forgotten member of the Sacred 28.

More recently, however, Rita Skeeter had publicly questioned his commitment to his ancestral duties; deriding him for sending a metamorphmagus who had been labeled a liar, and a werewolf to act in his steed.

"I'm not allowed to actually vote." He said halfheartedly, repeating the talking points he had provided the Prophet with back in March.

And he wasn't; the rules of the Wizengamot expressly stated that a voting member of the august body must be of age in order to cast a binding vote.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Then you need to be seen directing others on how to vote."

While he couldn't vote, he was allowed to speak on the floor of the Wizengamot, something he had yet to do.

Politics, procedures, and recruiting others to his point of view all made him want to kill someone.

He smiled; "at the very least I'll direct one other vote."

His girlfriend offered him another laugh before a smile fell across her face and she reached into her bag.

"That reminds me." She said, handing him a piece of parchment, the wax seal having already been broken.

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, causing her to blush. "It's just an invitation to Astoria's birthday party."

"I'll be there."

' Especially with Malfoy hanging around.'

"And I've got the perfect gift for her." He said, offering her a mischievous smile.

Daphne groaned. "She doesn't need any more of those fireworks, Harry. I don't trust them."

Whether she was referring to the twins, or their products he didn't know.

"It's important that I support businesses I have an interest in, Daphne." He said, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "Besides, investing in them was your idea."

She groaned again, as he recalled her urging him to have a conversation with Terry about the need to diversify his portfolio.

"You know damn well that wasn't what I had in mind! I meant making partnerships with other families, not supporting a pair of classmates!"

He just shrugged. "One thing at a time, Daphne." He smiled, lightly chiding her for her grandiose plans for his future. With a wave of his wand his robes elongated; becoming a garish neon pink while he felt a long white beard begin to grow off his chin; before loudly exclaiming, in his best impression of Dumbledore; "I have a dark lord to defeat, first!"

"The amount of work Mr. Potter and Ms. Greengrass have put into their dueling has been very impressive."

"Yes, it is." Septima agreed readily, offering the head of Hufflepuff a quick glance and a kind smile.

"The pair have quite the work ethic."

Pomona began to say something before letting the conversation drop and turning her attention back to the impending duel.

She felt herself frown at the older woman's antics, having no patience for the herbology professor's indecision.

Behind closed doors the Hogwarts staff had been whispering about Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass with increasing regularity of late, and for the last week Pomona had been dying to ask her about just how advanced her star pupil was.

She supposed it was the impropriety of such a question that held the dumpy woman back; despite Corbans fondness for the lady, the two of them just didn't have that type of relationship.

Deciding to throw the witch a bone, she found herself offering the old gossip her own opinion.

"I have no doubt that if he had had the desire to compete, Harry would have won the main competition."

If she was being honest with herself, she didn't think Harry would have had to put in that much effort in order to outpace Fleur. The girl was smart; prodigious in charms and above average in runes, but lacked the raw ambition that Harry attacked every subject with.

She didn't blame the French witch for that - few lacked the focus to master multiple branches of unrelated fields of magic.

Involuntarily her eyes drifted over towards the Beauxbatons contingent, catching the Delacour sisters - both of them - giving the soon-to-begin duel their unfettered attention.

' Something's changed.' She realized instantaneously.

Fleur didn't react that way to strangers. The veela was cold and aloof to those she knew, and her and Harry were strangers.

' That look says otherwise.' She told herself.

Frowning, the deputy headmistress made a mental note reminding herself to research where the two may have crossed paths.

' Fleur and I should do dinner soon as well.'

With the tournament coming to an end in a week, she would need to do something to keep the girls attention.

"You can't truly mean that, Septima."

The other professor's voice was filled with disbelief and a tinge of admonishment, causing her to nearly lose her temper.

' He'd do a hell of a lot better than that embarrassment Diggory.'

Turning to face the older woman, Septima smiled internally as her face morphed into one of the condescending poses perfected by Narcissa Malfoy.

"I should know, Pomona. I've examined him personally in all his core subjects as well as ancient runes and warding; he does things with a wand I've never seen before."

Septima turned her attention back to the fight right as it was beginning, using the action to cover her smile, she could almost feel the amount of effort it was taking the elderly woman not to pry further.

Greengrass opened with three organ rupturing curses right as the ref began the fight, causing those in the crowd that recognized the spell to gasp as Harry deftly dodged the pale pink streams of light, his own wand already in motion, emitting a pair of high-arching boomerangs back at the Slytherin girl.

Greengrass appeared to smile as she gracefully avoided her boyfriend's salvo, returning fire at a rapid pace.

' She's trying to overwhelm him.'

The blonde witch, a budding force in her own right, lacked the power and creativity to win a prolonged duel with Harry Potter.

She chanced a glance at the younger Greengrass sister reacting animatedly with every spell as she clung to the Malfoy brat.

" There can be no loose ends."

Bella's words rang out clear as day in her head as her mind drifted to the manila folder locked in her personal chambers.

' Sorry sweetheart.' She thought as a horrified gasp from the crowd drew her attention back to the duel unfolding in front of her.

Harry's jaw was clearly broken as a strand of thick, bloody spit dripped out the side of his mouth, but it was the terrified scream of Greengrass, not Harry's appearance, that had enraptured the crowd.

For a brief moment Greengrass went quiet and the crowd held its collective breath, entranced by what was unfolding in front of them.

Septima turned her attention to Harry, who wore a curious expression on his face, his wand still pointing loosely at his girlfriend as she continued to fight the effects of the unknown spell.

Then Greengrass laughed hysterically before returning fire with a barrage of questionable pain spells forcing a crippled Harry to bat them away with more effort than she had expected.

Sloppy spell work gave Harry the opening he needed as he waved his wand, ending with a sharp diagonal slash downward from left to right.

For a brief moment nothing happened, and she could almost feel Pomona's smug expression from next to her.

' You have no idea what you're smirking about, you stupid hag.'

She felt the magic a moment before she saw its effects, causing her to smile.

Greengrass didn't smile as her eyes widened before she dove out of the duelers circle right as a dark purple bolt of lightning scorched the ground, she had been standing on a second before.

The hall was silent in the moments afterwards as Greengrass got to her feet.

Her footsteps echoed around the silent hall as a satisfied smirk rested on her dry lips.

She and Harry stared at each other for a long moment, before Greengrass curtseyed deeply towards her opponent, completely ignoring the crowd that was beginning to stir around her.

A large smile formed on Septima's face as she caught the horrified look on Sprouts face.

' Cedric will never be able to do that.'

He let a serene smile grace his features as he listened to the squat, elderly Herbologist give her end of term report.

Grey-silver hair flapped about wildly as Pomona regaled him with an update on the 'Moly's' that had bloomed in the third greenhouse.

"You have to be careful when handling them, Albus, the secret, of course…" the head of Hufflepuff added, leaning in ever-so-slightly as if divulging to him something grand.

' Is to grab the stem by the thorns…' He thought to himself, reciting the enthusiastic witch's annual speech on the Moly.

"… the thorns, you see don't emit that noxious puss." Pomona concluded, finishing his internal dialogue.

Sensing an opening, Albus began to rummage around in his large oak desk, searching for the ever-present bottle towards the back corner of his uppermost drawer.

Grasping the dusty bottle, he ignored the gasp of his longest-tenured professor as he quickly conjured two small glasses before filling them with the amber liquid and passing one her way.

A sly smile spread across the small woman's face, and he knew that by the end of the day the fact that he kept a bottle of firewhiskey in his desk would be common knowledge among the staff.

"Really Albus! In your desk? During school hours?" The faux admonishment in her voice reminded him of his old friend, and how they'd spend hours alone in this office at the end of each term, talking about nothing in particular.

"School is only in session for a few more minutes, Pomona." He said with a smile.

Looking back, those rare moments were how he'd remember his old confidant and served as a sad reminder that he would need to find a replacement for Minerva.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Albus smiled; "after my defeat of Grindelwald I spent several months tending my brother's bar." He said in way of explanation.

Sometimes he yearned for those times when his greatest worry was whether or not the glasses behind the bar were clean.

"A toast." He quickly added as he pushed those thoughts aside. "To Cedric Diggory! Who represented his house, school, and family with honor!"

Pomona's smile seemed slightly forced as she downed the harsh liquid in one go.

"While I am certainly proud of my badger, I wish he could have done better."

He too had had higher expectations for the tournament, not that he would air them now.

"Second place is nothing to be ashamed of, Pomona. Mr. Diggory's efforts during the third task provided a serious challenge for Ms. Delacour."

The herbology professor didn't appear to hear him as she clutched her now empty glass tightly in her small, calloused hands as she stared at a blank spot on the wall behind him.

"Septima made an interesting comment during the duel between Mr. Potter and Ms. Greengrass."

Albus could hear the disappointment in her voice as she mentioned the controversial duel that had set off a frenzy in their news-starved society.

"What did she have to say?" His voice genuinely curious as he resisted the urge to simply steal the thought from her mind.

Pomona had always been a bit of a gossip, going back to her days as a Professor's assistant under Professor Ward when she had fed the rumors that the middle-aged man was having an inappropriate relationship with a student, a rumor that wound up, fortunately for her, being accurate.

"She told me, rather smugly I might add." The rotund woman spat.

Whatever Septima had said, Pomona had taken it personally.

"She said that had that sociopath Potter competed, he would have represented Hogwarts better than Cedric!"

Silently he agreed with his deputies assessment, though he wouldn't let it show on his face.

"The boy shows talent, yes. But he lacks the moral compass to call himself a champion; I don't know what Professor Tonks was thinking, choosing him as a fourth-year dueling representative!"

He felt a tinge of anger stir inside of him as her comments hit close to home. People feared potential, and Harry Potter had it in spades.

"Both students represented themselves, and the schools, admirably." He stated diplomatically.

He didn't need legilimency to know what Pomona was thinking.

"Though it is to be expected." Pomona stated thoughtfully, seemingly ignoring his comment as she began tapping her fingers gently against his desk. "Septima has always had favorites. Martha used to regal me of stories of a young Septima Vector aggressively defending Corban against his critics."

"Martha?" Years of practice kept the surprise out of Albus Dumbledore's voice.

The casual mention of Martha Yaxley by Pomona reminded him of why he had kept the old gossip close for all these years.

Martha Rosier and Pomona Sprout. Lifelong friends who wound up on different sides of a civil war, never letting their ideological differences disrupt their friendship, no matter how many lives were lost.

One example among the hundreds that explained how Voldemort could have disappeared for over a decade, only to return to a stagnant society, primed once again to be susceptible to his manipulations.

"I wasn't aware that Septima was on friendly terms with the family."

There had been four men in Martha Yaxley, nee Rosier's family.

Three of them were killed fighting for Tom while the fourth had been too young to be involved.

Pomona's face perked up and her smile widened, it wasn't very often she knew something he didn't.

"Oh yes!" She exclaimed smugly. "Helena Vector worked for Martha for years prior to her death."

Pomona added the last part solemnly; the Battle in Hogsmeade had made many orphans.

"After Helena's passing, Martha hired Septima to do some work over the holidays, she practically lived on their estate!"

The conversation drifted for several more minutes before he kindly excused the energetic witch.

As he watched her descend his winding staircase, Albus found his mind drifting back to what he had learned.

' Why did Septima keep this from me?'

Before quickly adding; 'did she?'

Placing his wand against his temple, he focused on his initial interview of the charming half-blood.

Using occlumency to provide clarity, the headmaster found the conversation they had had all those years ago before removing it from his mind and placing it in a vial.

Quickly he began to make his way back to his private office, where his pensieve sat, only to be interrupted by the sound of a woman clearing his throat behind him.

Turning around he offered the portrait a smile.

"Yes Doras?"

"Professor Snape wishes to see you immediately."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Dumbledore placed the vial back in his desk, locking it securely before exiting his office.

The sound of talons clutching the windowsill grabbed his attention as he set his fork down and turned towards the noise.

'Hoot.' Perseus greeted as he hopped off the windowsill, giving Terry an unblemished view of the Celtic Sea.

The proud Eagle Owl helped himself to a bit of bacon as Terry caught view of the light blue seal holding the piece of parchment together.

Clamping down on his occlumency, Terry calmly wiped his face before turning to his parents.

"Would it be okay if I spent the morning down on the beach?"

Melisa and Edward Boot shared an amused look as they communicated wordlessly for a short moment.

"I guess that would be okay." His mother replied, a teasing tone to her voice.

That was all the permission the fifteen-year-old needed before he excused himself from the table and made his way to the door.

Exiting his house, Terry ran the short distance to the steep staircase that led him from his family's Cornish summer home, down finely carved cliffs, and to the rich blue sea below.

Conjuring himself a simple beach chair, Terry sat down, letting his toes sink into the sand as the cool sea water splashed against his feet.

He hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Marci until she had kissed him goodbye three days ago.

' She did say she'd write.'

He had been worried that he wouldn't receive any post for another week while his family took holiday at their summer home in Newquay.

The strong scent of lavender greeted his senses, reminding him of the Yule Ball, causing his heart to flutter momentarily.

An idea struck him right as he was about to dive into the letter, causing him to pause momentarily.

"Accio mouse!" He whispered, chastising himself for not being able to cast the spell silently yet.

As the brown-haired boy waited for Perseus' treat to arrive, he quickly transfigured a large rock into a basic cage for the small rodent.

A moment later the captured mouse was scurrying around the cage, and Terry was using his letter knife to carefully break the seal.

' Harry can never find out about this.' He told himself with a smile, not after all the teasing Terry had put him through about his Daphne obsession.

Still smiling, Terry let his thin fingers grasp the soft parchment, eager to see what was inside.

His smile turned into a look of panic a moment later as a violent tug at his navel caused him to blackout, leaving the beach empty once more.

He sighed in frustration, undoing his tie for the third time, only to try again.

"That looked fine, Harry!" Tonks groaned from her stool in the corner. Tonks, dressed in her dark violet robes, the two crests on her right breasts marking her as the custodian of both the Potter and Black votes, whined at him.

"I don't know why you refuse to use magic, there's a spell that ties the tie for you, you know."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead going through the motions once more.

The truth was the habit went back to his primary school days.

Despite his aunt's unfettered dislike of him, the Dursley's had an image to maintain, and that meant pressed shirts, slacks, and ties to church every Sunday.

The mundane event was the only time he got to wear clothes that belonged to him, and he had learned to take a pride in his, at the time, haggard appearance.

"I told you, Nymphadora. " He said, purring her name as a triumphant smile crossed his face, a perfect double Windsor knot reflecting back at him in the mirror.

Turning around to face his former professor, his eyes fell upon Phineas Nigellus, who he supposed was spying on him for Dumbledore.

"I'm a creature of habit."

At that moment the most disliked headmaster in Hogwarts history cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

"Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to remind you that session begins at the top of the hour."

"Tell him we'll be there." Tonks replied for the both of them.

The room seemed to fall silent the second he stepped out of the floo.

His eyes darted around the same greeting room the Wizengamot used for his godfather's funeral.

' Calm yourself, Harry. You can do this.'

Rummaging around in his pocket, he removed a small vial of amber liquid, turning ever-so-slightly from view, he uncorked the vial, downing the honey-colored potion in one go.

Harry immediately felt a calming sensation wash over him.

' Thank you, Terry!' He said silently. Thanking his best friend for the calming draught.

"I don't like how I stick out." He said pointedly as he stepped out into the atrium, Tonks on his arm.

Tonks shot him an amused look. "They're just jealous of your rugged handsomeness." She said, messing his hair. "I always knew you'd look good in Gryffindor Scarlet."

He frowned. It was no coincidence that the robes worn by underage Lords was scarlet. Eldric Gryffindor, Godric's grandfather, had come up with tradition.

"Lord Potter." A deep voice greeted him.

"Lord Greengrass." He greeted in return to the taller man, an amused smile at Alfred's formality resting on his face.

"It's good to see you Harry, are you nervous?" Alfred's response was casual and welcoming.

He smiled. "Of course not." He said. "It's just an introduction."

Alfred gave him an amused smile before greeting Tonks.

"Madam Tonks, will you be joining us for Astoria's birthday party at the beginning of the month?"

Tonks, who had decided to attend the Wizengamot in her natural form, gave Alfred a feral smile.

"I'm training for the London Invitational, so unfortunately I won't be able to make it. Though, I've asked Septima to pass along my gift."

"How's Victoria?" Harry asked, injecting himself back into the conversation.

Alfred raised an eyebrow; "you don't want to know how Daphne is?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know how Daphne is, I just talked to her."

His mind drifted back to the mundane conversation they had had not an hour ago through Sirius's enchanted mirrors.

Alfred chuckled. "Victoria is well. She cannot wait to thank you for letting us use your box at the opera."

He smiled appreciatively. Truth be told, he had no interest in the opera, though the Potter's had a permanent box at the house, a gift for a generous donation from his grandmother.

"As long as Victoria plans on thanking me with food, you two can use the box whenever you'd like."

The blonde man grinned. "No need to worry there."

Since he had had the opportunity to try Victoria's cooking, he had been attempting to pressure Daphne to learn from her mother, only to be rebuked.

The three of them chatted animatedly for several more minutes before moving to mill about the room.

"Supreme Mugwump Boot!" He said, raising his voice slightly in order to grab the jovial man's attention.

"Lord Potter!" He smiled, turning from his conversation with Lady Fawcett. "I'm glad to see you in attendance!"

"I'm glad to be here." He said with a calm confidence. "How's Terry?"

"When I left him, he was rushing to the beach to read a letter from Marci."

Harry laughed - Terry had been grateful when his father had offered the French witch an apprenticeship at his firm for the summer, however he had insisted that he wouldn't miss her while they were separated for a few days.

' I'm going to give him so much shit for this.' He thought,a rugged smile forming on his face.

"Remus wanted me to thank you and Melisa again for her offer. He's looking forward to getting started."

The next stage in Melisa Boot's project included advancing the Wolfsbane potion from a treatment to a cure for lycanthropy. When offered the chance to help reach her goal, Moony had jumped at the opportunity.

"She's happy to have him. There aren't many subjects with his level of education. His insight will be invaluable to her."

Being a werewolf meant, at best, being ostracized and at worst death. The fact that Albus Dumbledore had allowed a boy infected with lycanthropy to attend Hogwarts would have caused riots.

Thankfully Remus's condition wasn't widely known.

"Lord Potter." A stern voice from behind him interrupted his conversation with Terry's father.

Turning around, he was met with a tall, well-built woman with dark, curly red hair, black robes, and a familiar crest on her right breast.

"Lady Bones." He greeted the newly appointed head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement respectfully with a deep bow.

"It's great to finally meet you." He said diplomatically, doing his best to remember his etiquette lessons with Madam Glass.

"I look forward to your speech."

He fastened what he hoped was a charming smile to his face.

"Please, Lady Bones, call me Harry."

' I wonder what she wants?'

While friendly enough, Houses Bones, Potter, and Black didn't necessarily see eye to eye on a wide array of subjects.

"Then, Harry, I insist you call me Amelia." The smile on the older woman's face looked almost unnatural, highlighting the pronounced dimples on her cheeks, drawing him into her attractive dark eyes.

For a moment he found himself wondering if this is what her niece Susan would look like when she grew up.

"I don't have much time right now, and unfortunately that speech is going to have to wait." Amelia said in a slightly rushed voice. "But I had heard you would be attending today's session and wanted to welcome you to the chamber personally."

He smiled. "Thank you, Amelia."

' That's not why you're here.'

"I was hoping you would join me, and a few others, at my estate this Saturday for lunch? I have a proposal I wish to discuss with you."

His interest piqued, he chanced a glance - first at Tonks, then at Alfred. Receiving subtle approval, he smiled; "what can I bring?"

Sticking to the edges of the room, a nondescript rat scurried passed security and up a dimly lit staircase towards the furthest entrance to the Wizengamot from the street.

Hiding in the shadows, Peter Pettigrew transformed back into his human form, revealing a chubby man with salt and pepper hair and sickly skin.

Peeking around the corner, the ratty man counted four guards lackadaisically milling about the hall.

Reaching into his pocket he removed a vial filled with a clear liquid before placing a bubble head charm on himself and spiking the vial onto the marble floor.

The room quickly filled with a thick fog.

The hallway filled with the sound of violent choking before he heard the sound of four bodies collapsing to the floor.

Pettigrew waited patiently for the fog to clear before quickly transfiguring the bodies of the two guards into a couple of potted plants, placing them on the decorative shelves above the entrance before considering his next steps.

Taking a deep breath, the animagus reached into his pocket, removing the piece of parchment provided to Bellatrix by her spy before being passed along to him, and got to work.

He groaned for what felt like the hundredth time, his nerves having long since been replaced by frustration.

He tapped his foot on the floor impatiently as Lady Fawcett reported her committee's findings on the giant population in the British Isles.

"In conclusion…"

' Finally.' He thought as the young woman's monotonous voice filled the chamber.

His eyes drifted across the room, and by the looks of it, most of the Wizengamot members seemed to be thinking along the same lines as himself.

On the far side of the chamber, Lord Abbott and Dowager Longbottom appeared to be quietly conversing amongst themselves while Dumbledore's attention seemed to be taken by what appeared to be a muggle crossword puzzle.

Seeing the headmaster caused his own mind to drift towards the upcoming school year.

He'd be finishing his basic education in both charms and transfiguration this year, while he and Daphne would both be joining sixth year defense and runes.

He would also be attending his first formal warding classes.

On the opposite side of the chamber Lords Flint and Macnair were exchanging glances while Lord Parkinson appeared to have skipped the proceedings all together.

Thinking of warding caused his mind to drift, first to Septima and then to Fleur, who would be attending the London Invitational next month and wanted to meet him for lunch.

He'd agreed, out of curiosity more than anything else.

Lunch with a veela, he grinned, 'Sounds like the start of one of those stories Sirius used to keep locked in his desk .'

Lord Parkinson wasn't the only Lord missing from Malfoy's block, he noticed as his attention turned back towards the session. Crabbe, Gayle, even Goldstein were all missing.

His eyes rested on Lucius Malfoy, who was eyeing Lady Fawcett with faux interest.

' What the hell is going on?'

"Tonks." He whispered, startling the witch out of her daydream.

"Is there any reason the traditionalists would be missing so many delegates?"

The duelist glanced around the chamber slowly, and her attitude seemed to change as she looked towards where the traditionalists normally sat, the section had seemingly emptied.

Instantly she was more alert, her hand disappearing into her robes, no doubt searching for her wand, her actions immediately setting him on edge as he gripped his own.

"It's not a voting day, maybe they decided to leave?"

His words sounded weak even to him. Members of a caucus didn't all just walkout on a session of the Wizengamot, you never know when an emergency motion may appear.

"Where'd they go?" He said a little too loudly, drawing undue attention to himself.

Lord Smith opened his mouth to chastise him, but his words were drowned out by a large explosion near the west entrance.

He wasn't a very smart man, he counted his ability to admit as much as one of his greatest strengths.

With simple instructions, however, he could accomplish quite a bit, including lowering the intrusion wards surrounding the Wizengamot main chamber.

A counter-clockwise swish of his wand, and the three pale orange beams of light in front of the entrance shattered, leaving the chamber unprotected, and Pettigrew feeling a rare sense of accomplishment.

Turning his wand to his left forearm, he hissed in pain as his wand caused his dark mark to burn, emitting a wisp of pale, grey smoke.

A moment later the dark mark glowed black, signifying that Bellatrix had received his message.

A small smile on his face; the traitor transformed into a rat once more, having played his part.

A light smoke filled the chamber, distorting the chambers visibility by just enough to cause confusion.

Streaks of light cut through the smoke, crashing into a handful of unsuspecting people near the entrance, covering the area with blood and debris.

"We need to leave, now!" Tonks yelled, placing herself between him and the guardrail overlooking the lower part of the chamber, her wand held at the ready.

He silently agree as he watched aurors in blood red robes exchange spells with a second group of identically dressed aurors who were providing cover for a group of masked individuals in the process of spanning out along the upper levels of the chamber, taking aim at those on the lower level.

Below he caught sight of Dumbledore, who was deftly dueling an unmasked Bellatrix Lestrange.

The crazed death eater danced around the room, avoiding the relatively safe spells being thrown at her by Dumbledore, and returning fire with killing curses, putting the former Supreme Mugwump on the defensive.

He watched in shock as Voldemort's general appeared to smile through the ordeal before leveling her wand at the back of Lady Fawcett's head and letting loose a bludgeoner, causing Lady Fawcett's head to cave inwards, covering the area in brain and skull fragments.

The display of violence caused a shift in Dumbledore's attitude as his spells took on a more violent nature, causing the psychotic woman to throw back her head in ecstasy.

"Harry!" Tonks shouted as she traded spells with two smaller death eaters.

He caught the small bottlecap serving as their emergency portkey expecting to be whisked away, only to find himself still standing in the middle of a battle zone a half second later.

Half shocked, he stood still for a long moment, watching the chaos around him.

" Bloquer les sorties!" He heard a freshly unmasked attacker declare in French.

' What the hell?' He thought before taking aim, silently unleashing a torrent of bone breakers at the French wizard.

His first attempt missed, but his second and third spells struck true, breaking the man's left leg before his second effort hit the man in the neck, ending his life a second later.

"Harry! Look out!"

Tonks voice cut through the confusion like a knife, and his eyes widened at the burnt orange curse that had been flung in his direction.

Too late to shield, Harry smacked the curse aside, causing it to hit an auror off to the side.

Ignoring the man's painful howl, Harry spotted his opponent several meters in front of him and immediately stopped trying to shield in order to go on the offensive.

He found himself smiling despite himself as he traded spells with the man.

He had spent thousands of hours perfecting spells and strategies, specifically for a moment like this.

He shimmied to his left, catching sight of a dismembered hand flying through the air.

Harry quickly enlarged and animated the dismembered hand, banishing it towards his opponent.

His opponent took care of the hand with a quick exploding curse, covering the surrounding area in a fresh coat of gore.

Off to the side he noticed Tonks shepherding Lords Smith and Corner towards a larger group of Wizengamot members who were being guarded by a group of aurors who had created a protective semi-circle around them.

As he dodged his attackers retort, his wand never stopped moving.

' Preforo, ardere sagitto, fulminis!'

The older man dodged his piercing curse and the hoard of arrows before being hit with a violent purple bolt of lightning, causing the man to pulsate as his body was filled with electricity.

His efforts seemed small in comparison as attackers continued to breach all the exits, effectively blocking all escape routes.

Casting a quick disillusionment charm on himself, Harry weaved his way through the crowd as he made his way downstairs, hoping to sneak behind enemy lines and out a door unnoticed.

A familiar voice stole his attention as he made his way down the stairs and towards what he hoped was an exit.

"Albus! We need help over here!" The shaky voice of Edmund Boot who, along with a severely injured Alfred Greengrass was desperately trying to fend off a pair of Death Eaters, caused him to abandon his plans.

' Shit.'

With a sigh he took aim, unleashing a triage of organ rupturing curses.

The spells missed, but drew the attention of one of the attackers, who responded by throwing killing curses towards their invisible foe indiscriminately.

' Shit, shit, shit.' He thought as he dove to the left before dropping his disillusionment charm and quickly conjuring a marble wall to block the second curse meant to end his life.

' Glacius aquapilatum!' He repeated the spell two more times, sending three large balls of rigid ice at the two attackers, giving Edmund and Alfred a much-needed reprieve.

Alfred, wand arm hanging limply at his side, and blood running from the corner of his forehead, opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it and turning to run off towards Augusta Longbottom, who along with a large, red-headed man and a group of aurors had retaken control of the lower entrance facing Diagon Alley.

Seeing a way out, Harry took a step towards them before collapsing to the ground in agony.

Septima waited calmly under her invisibility cloak just inside the security measures surrounding the Wizengamot chamber, waiting for her signal.

Twirling her wand in her fingers, she went over Bella's objective in her mind once more.

' I'm not supposed to be in these situations.' That had been the agreement when Bellatrix had approached her, unlike her lover, her heart didn't yearn for the battlefield.

' Yet here I am.' She thought with a slight frown.

Life, that's what she was trying to preserve.

' My life, at least.'

A scream and the sound of boots running passed her told Septima that her time was coming.

A battle had too many variables, many of which could end her life.

Feeling a warmth in her pocket, the spy hurried her way into the chamber before the aurors could initiate a lockdown of the room.

" You'll have three minutes to accomplish the objectives and get out." Her escape route having been pre-arranged by the Dark Lord himself.

Making her way into the chamber, Septima clung to the walls.

' Point me Amelia Bones.'

When nothing happened, she frowned.

' Point me Amelia Bones.'

She tried again, seeing the same result.

' Where is she?'

The bottlecap in her pocket vibrated, warning her she was running low on time.

With a frown, she abandoned her primary objective, watching as her secondary target struggled to use his wand.

"Imperio." She muttered, pointing her wand at Alfred Greengrass.

Her ebony and dragon heartstring wand shook violently in her hand for several seconds as the man fought the effects of the spell.

Clamping down on her focus, Septima quickly gained control of the man.

' Join Longbottom in the corner.' She instructed.

The blonde-haired man stalked off quietly a second later as, for the first time, she noticed Harry trading spells with the Carrow twins.

A wave of disappointment shot through her a second later as a final vibration from the bottlecap caused Septima to abandon her viewing of the impromptu duel and hurry off towards her escape route back to Hogwarts.

Shrill laughter invaded his consciousness as he dropped to his knees in pain.

" Anyone can trade spells, Potter! The trick is surviving the ones you're hit with!"

Snape's voice echoed out in his mind as he fought the effects of the cruciatus curse.

Forcing the pain from his mind, Harry shot off a silent laceration curse at his still laughing opponent, catching the squat woman off guard as his spell tore through her robes, cutting deeply into her abdomen.

A thick, red pool of blood began to flow freely from the wound, causing his attacker to pale.

He didn't have time to savor his small victory as the woman's partner growled in anger, unleashing a torrent of orange and black flames his way.

"Aqua Erecto!" He shouted as a thick wall of water surrounded him.

Flames hitting the water caused it to evaporate into hot steam, burning his skin and causing him to grimace as he ended his spell.

' Jahannam.'

A half-dozen balls of dense, black flames appeared in front of him, orbiting him like planets as he dodged another one of the other man's spells.

Meanwhile, to his side, the other death eater had patched up her abdomen, and was in the process of sending a plethora of heinous-looking spells his way.

Abandoning his other target momentarily, Harry let go control of the balls of flame, willing them towards the woman who was intent on ending his life.

Around him he noticed aurors had retaken most of the room while healers had begun to attend to the numerous injured members of the Wizengamot.

Three of the cursed balls of flame found their mark, tearing through the woman with ease, spraying his face with a stream of dark red blood.

The woman's partner howled in rage, capturing the chambers attention and sending a fresh set of killing curses his way.

Blood covering his vision, Harry blindly dodged the spells, hoping to avoid the deadly green light.

Still moving, he shot three small, white balls of light towards the erratic man.

Quickly the white balls expanded into long, thin ropes, wrapping themselves around the death eater before slicing through his skin, cutting his torso into several grotesque pieces, leaving a mess of blood and organs in its wake.

The chamber went silent, even as a dark green skull with a snake in its mouth floated harmlessly above them.

Turning away from his victim, he caught sight of a beady-eyed woman with an expression of unrestrained glee on her face as the man next to him snapped a picture.