HP: Night of the Wolf

The smouldering remains of the morning edition of The Daily Prophet had been cast aside in Lord Voldemort's rage, the headlines only corroborating what his Death Eaters had reported to him the previous evening.

Men in white cloaks and black masks, not dissimilar to the garb of his own followers, had disrupted their attack in large numbers.

The most concerning part of all of it, however, wasn't the numbers but the symbol they had aligned under.

The Serpent.

The Dark Lord had spent most of his school years seeing that symbol, hearing of the bravery and brilliance of The Serpent who had turned out to be none other than Harry Evans, the man who had stolen his family magic, who had attempted to kill the boy Voldemort had been.

Evans was behind this group, but what angered the Dark Lord most was that he was undoubtedly being mocked.

The robes, the symbol, all of it.

"They hide like cowards," Voldemort snorted. "They dare not show their faces because they know that we will come for them."

"Don't we hide our face for the same reason, my lord?" Goyle questioned.

For an unusually dim-witted man, the question was rather apt, but the Dark Lord shook his head as he smiled.

"No, we hide who we are to instil fear," he explained, the same way he would to a child. "We conceal our identities so none know who their enemies might be. Imagine not knowing if your own neighbour, your brother, or even your father counts themselves among us."

The assembled Death Eaters nodded.

"What about Crabbe?" Abraxus Malfoy enquired.

Voldemort hummed.

"What would you suggest?" he asked the cunning man.

"We could attempt to have him released," Abraxus mused aloud. "Perhaps we can ensure on a healer assessment. I could arrange for him to be quite out of his mind before his trial."

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully.

"Will it work?"

"Indeed, my lord," Malfoy replied with a bow. "If his sanity is brought into question, any testimony he gives will be dismissed."

"Then I will leave it up to your discretion, Abraxus," Voldemort decided as he took a seat, sweeping the ash that had been the newspaper to the ground. "I would see Amycus in a similar state."

Abraxus nodded.

"How is recruitment going?" Voldemort pressed.

"Going well, my lord," Walden Macnair answered quietly. "In the past month, we have added another two hundred men and women to the cause. They are ready and waiting for you to call upon them."

"Then I shall do so. We will need them," Voldemort returned. "Is something bothering you, Walden?"

Macnair released a deep breath.

"Evans," he sighed.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Not Harry, but Jack, his son."

"What about him?"

Walden looked towards Rosier and Avery before speaking once more.

"Jack is our friend, my lord," he answered. "He was at Hogwarts with us, a Slytherin…"

"Who has chosen to fight against us!" the Dark Lord snapped. "Our friends are the ones who stand with us, Walden, not those that oppose us."

Walden nodded reluctantly.

"Of course, my lord," he said with a bow.

"Now, I would urge you all to be careful. With Evans and his group active, we must tread carefully."

"We are going to lay low?" Avery asked almost hopefully.

Voldemort shook his head.

"No, we will become more active, but in smaller groups," he explained. "We will strike and retreat before Evans and his companions can react. Wizarding Britain will soon see that any resistance is futile and more will fall behind us."

The Death Eaters murmured amongst themselves, nodding approvingly.

"Rest my friends," the Dark Lord urge. "Our work is only just beginning. Soon, they will realise that we cannot be defeated, that we are the superior wizards."

The men cheered and Voldemort smirked to himself victoriously.

He had expected there to be more complaining, more questions, but neither had come.

The Death Eaters were in this just as deeply as he was now, and they couldn't continue to question or doubt him, not if they wished to experience the success they sought.

Under Lord Voldemort, they would be successful, of that he had no doubt.

(Break)

It was inevitable that a meeting of the Wizengamot would be called after Harry and the other veteran's escapades the night before, but he had not expected it to come so soon.

Usually, the Ministry dithered on such matters, but Jenkins was seemingly keen to discuss what had occurred.

Entering the chamber, Harry was treated to the sight of the two largest groups arguing and hurling insults at one another.

Rolling his eyes at an amused yet concerned Lord Greengrass who rarely took sides, he made his way to his own seat and waited for the proceedings to begin.

Jenkins crashed her gavel against the podium several times before the posturing lords and ladies fell silent, and she offered both sides a stern glare before speaking.

"I do not know what this country is coming to, but I will not have what is happening devolve into a civil war either in here or on the streets of Britain," she began firmly. "This afternoon, I will be meeting with the Prime Minister to explain why twenty-eight muggles were murdered in Bristol, and our own Department of Magical Law Enforcement now have six people in custody to deal with, a dead auror, and four more dead who were found dressed in black cloaks and masks."

The Minister was red in the face by the time she finished speaking and breathing heavily.

Her job was not an enviable one at the best of times, but now, it was downright awful, though Harry found it difficult to sympathise with the woman.

Had she taken a strong stance from the start, the incident the night before may not have happened.

He snorted at the thought.

It would have happened regardless.

Voldemort and his followers needed to be dealt with quickly and with the same level of violence they exhibited.

"Baron Evans, could you kindly explain the appearance of your mark after the group of vigilantes arrived?"

Harry nodded as he stood.

"I must admit, I was surprised to see it," he answered. "I have not used the mark in almost three decades."

"LIES!" Lestrange roared.

Harry sobered when he heard the man's tone.

"I would keep your mouth shut if I were you, Lestrange, or I may well just see that my symbol finds its way hanging over your house."

Lestrange purpled with rage but was placated by Abraxus Malfoy who whispered something in his ear.

"I do not take kindly to accusations without evidence," Harry continued, his gaze not leaving Lestranges. "Any idiot could have worked out how to create it. As for me, I was in bed when my son informed me that he had been ambushed by a shower of bastards whilst he was carrying out his duty as an auror. Now, I understand that his job is quite risky at times, but an attempt to murder him in cold blood is something I cannot let slide. I can assure you that I will be personally looking into the matter, and when I find those responsible, I will ensure they never raise a wand to anyone else again."

"Baron Evans," Minister Jenkins warned.

Harry slammed his hand on the table in front of him as he turned his gaze on the woman.

"This is now a family matter, Minister," he bit back. "As a Baron, I have the same right as any other in this room to deal with it as I see fit. Besides, I'm sure Mr Crouch and the rest of the department will be too busy to give it their full attention."

"Quite right," Crouch murmured.

Jenkins and many others were staring at Harry worriedly.

The thought of him coming for them was rather unsettling, exactly the effect he wished to have on Voldemort's supporters.

After a moment, Jenkins cleared her throat.

"So, you weren't there?" she asked.

Harry offered the woman a polite smile as he shook his head.

"I attended the scene after the incident, something Mr Crouch can attest to. I arrived wearing my pyjamas. They were blue with some rather nice stars and moons embroidery. I believe my wife bought them for Christmas."

Many of the lords chuckled at the description and Jenkins sighed irritably.

"Is this true, Barty?"

"It is," Crouch confirmed. "The pyjamas were blue."

"Not the pyjamas," Jenkins huffed, and Harry was certain he saw Crouch's moustache twitch in amusement. "Did Baron Evans arrive after the incident?"

"He did," Crouch answered with certainty. "He was rather displeased by the incident and made some rather colourful promises."

"Promises?"

Crouch nodded as he consulted his notes.

"He said that when he found out who was responsible for the attempt on his son, he would boil them within their own skin and feed the soup to a pack of Thestrals. He was quite upset."

Harry nodded his agreement with the statement as Jenkins shook her head in frustration.

"I do not wish for there to be any more incidents like the one we saw last night," she declared.

"And do you have a suggestion to prevent them, Minister?" Charlus broke in. "These groups have both proven they are willing to kill, and the aurors are unable to intervene similarly. Is it not too dangerous to expect them to?"

"It is," Crouch agreed. "Unfortunately, Minister, we are quite powerless to stop them with the level of violence they have exhibited. I am not willing to risk the lives of my men and women when they are unable to defend themselves aptly."

"So, we just allow these skirmishes to continue?"

Crouch released a deep sigh.

"I do not believe we have any other choice unless either side can be negotiated with," he answered. "At this time, it is not possible. We do not have any means to contact who is leading either of the groups. We do have prisoners in custody that I will be interviewing personally. Depending on our findings, I would hope to have them on trial within the week."

Jenkins nodded, though she was clearly displeased by how the meeting was being concluded.

A diplomatic approach, even with a warning, was going to achieve nothing here, and as the lords and ladies were dismissed all within the room knew the fighting would continue in earnest.

It wouldn't stop until Voldemort was dead, something that Harry would rather see to sooner than later.

The Dark Lord would need to be lured out, forced to leave the safety of the shadows he so loved to lurk within.

(Break)

"What's going on?" Jack asked as a frustrated Reg left the interview room.

He had been chosen to assist Crouch with interviewing the prisoners, but after only a few moments of commencing them, a squad of healers had arrived.

"Someone got to them," Reg sighed. "They are incoherent, and their memories have been wiped. We will get nothing from any of them."

"Voldemort," Jack muttered irritably.

Reg nodded as he took a seat.

"He wasn't taking any chances," he murmured. "Your father won't like this."

Jack hummed his agreement.

His father would be displeased, and just when Jack thought that the Ministry had something they could work with, it had been snatched away from them.

"What did the healers say?"

"Not much," Reg replied with a shake of his head. "Only that Carrow was found in a similar state."

"Isn't he being guarded?"

"The guard conveniently nodded off," Reg snorted. "I don't like it. The whole thing stinks of corruption. I mean, we have no idea who is following him. Anyone in this office could be on his side."

"They could," Jack observed. "We need to be careful, Reg."

"Not me," the man declared as he stood and removed a roll of parchment from within his robes. "I'm not taking any chances. I was supposed to retire ten years ago. I'd rather fight this head on, with men that I trust."

"You're leaving?" Jack asked sadly.

Reg nodded and offered him a smile.

"I'm too old for the job now. I've been fighting for more than three decades. I'll keep fighting him, but on my own terms."

Jack grabbed the man's forearm as he turned away.

"You were with my dad," he whispered.

"I will neither confirm nor deny it," Reg replied with a wink. "Just know that I may not be here anymore, but I will be there when I'm needed, just as I was during the Grindelwald years."

Jack released a sigh as he pulled the man into a hug.

Reg didn't need to confirm it, he wouldn't be anywhere but by his father's side.

"So will I," he assured him before he headed towards the fireplace and flooed to his parent's home.

Both would have finished for the day by now, and as he thought he would, he found them sitting at the kitchen table with Rosa.

"Jack!" his mother greeted him happily, standing to wrap her arms around him. "What's wrong?"

Jack's gaze was fixed on his father who returned it curiously.

"I want in," he said simply. "Whatever this group is that is fighting him, I want to be a part of it."

"You're in," his father answered without hesitation.

Jack was taken aback but accepted the coin his father pressed into his hand.

"Just like that?"

His father nodded.

"I would be a hypocrite if I tried to keep you out of the fighting," he explained. "By the time I was your age, I'd fought on the continent and killed Grindelwald. This way, you fall under my command, but I will say this only once. You will do as I say as though you were one of the others. Understood?"

Jack nodded as he turned towards his mother.

The woman was not happy about his decision, but she made no attempt to dissuade him from it.

He was very much his father's son, and Jack would not sit idly by whilst those he cared about fought against something that threatened them all.

"So, what happens now?"

His father looked at him seriously for a moment before answering.

"Now, you must be initiated," he informed him. "You must first learn the secret handshake."

"Secret handshake?"

"We will get to that in a minute," his father said dismissively. "I need you to get me a slice of that treacle tart. It's quite important for the initiation," he added, pointing to the cooling dessert on the windowsill.

Jack frowned in confusion, but did as he was bid, cutting his father a generous portion, and handing it to the man who nodded satisfactorily before taking a bite.

"Good," he declared.

"What was the point in that?" Jack asked.

"I wanted some treacle tart," his father answered with a grin.

Jack rolled his eyes at the man whilst his mother and sister laughed.

"What about the secret handshake?"

At his question, his father lost his composure and joined in with the others.

"Bloody hell, this isn't the scouts," he huffed amusedly. "There is no handshake. I just wanted some tart."

Jack shook his head irritably.

He should have expected something like this.

"Oh, my poor boy," his mother simpered, cupping his cheek. "Come on, have some dinner with us."

Jack took a seat, aiming a kick at his older sister who continued to mock him.

"Mum, tell him!" Rosa complained.

"You're a grown woman, Rosa, deal with your own problems," Minerva replied as she added some food to a plate for Jack who stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"Ow!" he grumbled as Rosa's foot collided with his shin.

"That's what you get."

Jack cursed under his breath.

Really, he should be grateful that the others weren't here. He wouldn't get any respite if they were.

Happily, he tucked into the meal before explaining what had happened to the prisoners to his father who did not seem to be surprised.

"I should have expected it," he muttered. "Not that it really matters. We'll get more of them soon enough."

Jack nodded knowing that he had done the right thing.

As much as he loved being an auror, he didn't like feeling helpless, especially when faced with such a prevalent threat.

Were it not for his father's actions the previous evening, he would likely have been killed, and Jack didn't plan on dying whilst on duty, not when he had yet to experience the better things life had to offer.

Shooting a glance between his parents, he knew what it was he wanted.

He'd dedicated his life to being an auror, and neglected other things, but he realised in this moment that he wanted more.

He wanted what his parents had, to find someone to share his life with, to finally settle and have a family of his own.

(Break)

Albus had not truly been surprised that an offensive against Tom had been mounted, but the speed of which it came had caught him off guard. Since the attack in Bristol, he had been mulling the situation over, and though none had spoken such words, it was clear to him that Britain now found itself embroiled in a civil war.

The headmaster had always known that Harry would seek Tom out but given the circumstances and the nature of the boy's departure from the castle almost three decades ago, the former had been unsuccessful thus far.

Still, with Tom back in Britain, that confrontation was inevitable.

Albus deflated at the thought.

Harry had warned him and Armando when he'd arrived of what would come, but Albus had been so caught up in what Gellert was doing that he had not given his words much thought.

Now, what Harry had spoken of was playing out in front of his eyes, and Albus feared it would only worsen.

Since the incident at the Quidditch stadium, he had been making discreet enquiries, reaching out to those he knew that he could rely on to begin bringing about Tom's downfall, but it seemed that Harry was unwilling to adopt such tactics.

As ever, Harry was proving to be as, if not more, ruthless than the enemy he faced, yet Albus still wished to discuss it with the man.

He couldn't see himself confronting Tom, not that Harry would allow it, but he wished to be of assistance, especially since Harry had shouldered the burden of the previous war, something Albus would always be grateful of.

"Come in," he called when the expected knock sounded at the door.

"You wanted to see me, Albus?" Harry questioned.

"I did," the headmaster confirmed. "Please, take a seat."

Harry did so, and Albus eyed the man closely.

He had long had his suspicions of the magic of the ritual Nicholas had conducted close to four decades ago.

Harry appeared to have barely aged ten years since he had first met him as a boy.

Quite the curious feat indeed.

"I wished to discuss this with you," Albus explained, sliding the edition of The Daily Prophet towards him that depicted the symbol of The Serpent over the city of Bristol.

"You want to know if I am behind it."

Albus chuckled as he shook his head.

"I do not think we need to waste time debating that. I vividly remember one of the very first conversations we had when you arrived. I am not making accusations, Harry, but I am not foolish or naïve enough to believe anyone else behind it. I am not the Ministry."

Harry snorted.

"Fine, I am behind it," he admitted unashamedly.

Albus leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

"It is not my place to deter you from what action you see fit. You have proven to be quite the master of warfare, after all. What I wish to do is offer my assistance. I have been speaking with people I trust and am putting a group together in aide of seeing an end to Tom's efforts."

"An order of sorts?" Harry asked, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Albus frowned thoughtfully.

"I suppose that would be an apt description."

Harry chuckled amusedly.

"The Order of the Phoenix."

"Excuse me?" Albus probed confusedly.

"It was the name of the order you put together where I came from," Harry explained. "Sorry, Albus, but they were not so effective."

"I see," Albus murmured unhappily.

"Not at the fighting side of things at least," Harry continued. "I can see that you want to help, and I appreciate it, but you should stay away from the fighting. Most of the order members were killed for intervening, and I do not wish for that to happen again. I have fighting men, but I could use your assistance with something else, something equally as important."

"Of course," Albus offered with a bow. "I will help in any way I can."

"Horcruxes. I need you to find out all you can about them. Tom has created at least three so far, but I wouldn't put it past him to create more. Find out what you can, and where he may have hidden them."

"Three?" Albus asked worriedly.

Harry nodded.

"The first I believe is a diary he would have had when he was here. I destroyed it when I was twelve, but I didn't know what it was at the time."

"Destroyed it?"

"With a basilisk fang," Harry explained. "It is one of the few substances that can do so."

"Indeed," Albus agreed. "The two others?"

"The murder of Hepzibah Smith. She had two important artefacts belonging to the founders that I have no doubt Tom stole when he framed Hokey for the murder."

"Hufflepuff's cup," Albus murmured. "It was known to be in the Smith family."

"And a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin that she purchased from Borgin and Burke's," Harry elaborated. "Mr Burke came into possession of it via Tom's mother."

"And he would have wanted it back," Albus added thoughtfully. "I would suggest that it is a distinct possibility that Tom would have sought out other items belonging to the founders."

"There are others?" Harry asked.

Albus nodded.

"None of which have been seen for hundreds of years, some not since the founders themselves were alive."

"What items?"

"Well, we have the Sorting Hat, of course," Albus explained. "It belonged to Gryffindor. Tom would not have been able to corrupt that."

"No, he wouldn't have," Harry agreed as he eyed the unmoving hat.

"There is Gryffindor's sword," Albus continued. "It is said to have been created by the goblins and gifted to him. It has never been found, however, and most believe it never truly exists."

"It exists," Harry countered with a knowing grin. "It came into my possession when I needed it most. It is safe from Tom, I am certain of that."

"Truly, you found it?" Albus asked, surprised by the revelation.

"The sword found its way to me," Harry explained cryptically. "I will say no more on the matter."

Albus nodded his understanding as he pondered any other items he knew of.

"There was a ring that belonged to Salazar Slytherin. It is quite possible Tom obtained it from the Gaunt family," he said worriedly.

Harry shook his head as he removed a chain wrapped around his neck.

"I got to it before him."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully as he eyed the ring, wondering why Harry had seen fit to take it.

Before he could get a good look at it, however, it has hidden within the man's robes once more.

"Ravenclaw's diadem," Albus remembered, "but that too has not been seen since Rowena herself roamed the castle. I don't suppose you can account for its whereabouts?"

Harry shook his head, a deep frown marring his features.

"What is a diadem?"

"A tiara," Albus explained.

"Like the one the statue wears in the Ravenclaw common room?"

Albus nodded.

"I wouldn't put it past him to look for it, but where would you even begin finding something lost for almost a thousand years?" Harry mused aloud.

Albus hummed.

"I do not know," he murmured. "The Grey Lady may have some knowledge. She is Rowena's daughter, after all."

"Her daughter?" Harry asked, evidently not having known that.

"It is not so common knowledge," Albus explained, "but wouldn't be so difficult to discover."

"Who would know it?"

"Most of the more seasoned professors," Albus answered, and Harry released a deep breath.

"Slughorn."

"Horace?"

"You and Minerva have both mentioned that he and Tom were close. Where else would he go to get information? Horace may have just mentioned something like that in passing."

"That is quite concerning," Albus sighed. "I will talk with him and see what he knows."

"You should," Harry agreed as he stood. "Anything you can discover about the horcruxes will be most useful, Albus. If you focus on that, I will focus on Tom."

The headmaster nodded, already planning on where he could begin to gather any relevant information about Tom.

Horace would be the best place to start and attempting to trace his movements when he fled from Britain, though that would be a difficult task.

Perhaps he should seek out Mrs Cole from the orphanage?

She did know him well enough when he was a boy.

"I will look into it as a priority," he assured Harry.

The man nodded gratefully.

"Then let us hope we are both successful in our endeavours sooner rather than later."

Albus stood and offered the man his hand.

It was accepted immediately with a firm group, and Albus chuckled as he shook his head.

"For a man past fifty, Harry, I must say, you are looking very well indeed."

"Surprising with how stressful my life has been," the man snorted.

Albus nodded as he hummed, getting a closer look at him in the light.

"Barely a wrinkle," he commented. "Have you considered that the ritual Nicholas completed has had an unintended, long-term effect?"

"No," Harry murmured. "I've not thought about it."

"I think you will find that it has," Albus mused aloud. "Both he and Perenelle used their own blood which contained…"

"The elixir of life," Harry whispered. "What does it mean?"

"I cannot be certain, my boy, but I think that you are perhaps aging considerably slower than is natural. Even for a wizard, you are retaining your youth remarkably well, as is Minerva come to think of it."

"How?"

Albus pondered the question before nodding.

"I suppose that the elixir has become a part of you, something you have passed on to your children, likely in a more diluted way."

"What does that have to do with Minerva?"

"She carried your children, Harry, five of them in all. That magic could have easily spread to her during her pregnancy. Alchemy is usually a very precise branch, but there are factors that, if not accounted for, can have quite the profound outcome. The act of becoming pregnant is something of a ritual in itself. I would hazard a guess that the effects of the ritual you underwent, passed on to Minerva."

Harry frowned for several moments whilst he absorbed Albus's deduction.

"Bloody Nicholas," he huffed. "The bastard definitely got the last laugh, didn't he?"

"He always did," Albus sighed. "Whether or not he knew this was a possibility is something that will remain a mystery to us."

"But it is likely, isn't it?" harry asked pointedly.

"I would certainly say it is," Albus agreed. "Nicholas was the most brilliant man I knew, and he would have considered the possibility it would affect your lifespan. I do not think, however, that he would have looked beyond that, and that Minerva, and whatever effect is has had on your children, was not something that crossed his mind."

Harry could only shake his head.

"I bet he's laughing his arse off right now."

"Oh, this would be the ultimate source of amusement for him," Albus returned, unable to hide his grin despite Harry scowling irritably.

(Break)

Lily hadn't enjoyed her flying lessons thus far. It had been one of the skills she had been looking forward to learning, but it had proven to be much more difficult than she could have imagined.

There were those among the class like James Potter and Sirius Black who were already brilliant at it, but not Lily. She wasn't terrible, and there were those that couldn't even get the broom off the ground without injuring themselves, but she was far from being the best.

Maybe Miss Evans would be able to help her?

"Okay, class, this is my first-time teaching anyone to fly, so why don't we begin by you showing me what you can do, and I will offer some pointers?"

Lily tentatively called her broom into her hand before mounting it.

She took off shakily, and flew a few feet above the ground, not daring to go as high as James Potter, let alone attempt any of the dangerous tricks he did.

Ignoring the snickers of the Slytherin students, Lily continued, slowly becoming used to the odd sensation of flying.

"You need to be confident, Lily," Rosa called encouragingly. "If your broom senses fear, it will not react well to you. Calm yourself, and it will come much easier."

Lily nodded and released a deep breath.

"Calm," she whispered to herself.

After a few more minutes of manoeuvring the broom around, she finally felt as though she had more control over it.

"Good," Rosa praised. "When you're ready, go a little higher."

Once more, Lily nodded and braced herself before urging the broom upwards and levelling it up when she was almost ten feet from the ground.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Rosa asked from next to her. "Now, gently lean the nose forward and take it back down."

Lily followed the instructions and breathed a sigh of relief as she touched down where Rosa joined her.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Lily shook her head.

"I'm just not a natural flyer."

"Not everyone is," Rosa pointed out, "but you can be competent. It's different for me, and for James. I was flying before I could walk, and he was taught by my father too."

"Is Professor Evans a good flyer?"

Rosa snorted amusedly.

"If there wasn't a war he had to fight, he could have played Quidditch for England."

"Really?"

Rosa nodded.

"My father is an excellent flyer and would be better than me if he focused on it."

"Is he good at everything?" Lily asked with a frown.

Rosa giggled amusedly.

"Oh, he's terrible at potions," she informed her. "Slughorn takes a lot of pleasure telling people that."

"I like potions," Lily declared. "I find it relaxing."

"I can't say that I was much better at it than my dad," Rosa sighed. "I did well enough, but we can't be good at everything. I did hear that you have impressed Professor Flitwick."

"Charms is my favourite," Lily replied, blushing slightly.

"It takes a skilled witch or wizard to master them. My father taught it here years ago, before Professor Flitwick came along."

"He must be good at them?"

Rosa nodded.

"He was able to cast a patronus at the age of thirteen, and he's invented dozens of them. He's a brilliant man. I didn't realise just how brilliant until I was older."

"Do you think he'd teach me some?"

"I'm sure he'd love to," Rosa replied with a smile.

Lily returned the gesture as Rosa checked her watch.

"Bugger, alright, that's it for today," she announced. "Please return your brooms and head to your next lessons."

Most of the boys groaned, but Lily, despite spending time with the woman she was coming to like very much, was glad for it.

She placed her broom with the others and turned to catch up with Marlene but was faced by a worried looking Severus as she did so.

"What's wrong, Sev?"

"She's Evans daughter," the boy whispered. "You must have heard what he has done."

"What he's done?"

Severus sighed as he took her by the hand.

"You read about the first war, didn't you?"

Lily nodded.

"Professor Evans defeated Grindelwald, and saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives."

Severus nodded.

"He also killed hundreds, if not thousands of people," he pointed out.

"Bad people," Lily countered.

Severus shook his head frustratedly.

"He's dangerous, Lily. You have seen the news recently; Evans is the one leading the men in the white cloaks."

"Good!" Lily said firmly. "Those ones in the black cloaks want me and other people like me dead."

"That's not true," Severus denied. "They just want to make sure that pureblood traditions aren't ignored."

"By attacking innocent people? If you believe that, Sev, then you are stupid."

Severus appeared to be hurt by her words, and Lily felt a stab of guilt.

She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Lucius thinks it will only get worse with Evans sticking his nose in."

Lily nodded.

"It will, but at least someone is sticking up for me," Lily replied, turning away from her friend.

Severus grabbed her by the wrist to stop her.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing, Snivellus? Let go of her!" James demanded as he drew his wand.

Lily rolled her eyes at the boy, and Severus's lip curled in distaste as removed his own.

"There will be no fighting!" Rosa said firmly as she stepped between the two boys. "James, you know better than that. My father would be furious if he saw you acting this way."

James had the decency to look abashed and placed his wand back up his sleeve.

"If I see or hear of any more incidents like this, I will take a leaf out of my father's book and have you all scrubbing toilets for a week. Do I make myself clear?"

The boys nodded grumpily and withered under Rosa's glare.

"Good, now get to your next lesson!"

Lily followed the others back towards the castle.

"Bloody hell, she's scary," Peter commented.

"You've got no idea mate," James replied. "She might be teaching us to fly, but she's vicious with her wand. Harry made sure she can look after herself, but it's Jack you've got to watch."

"Jack?" Remus asked.

James nodded.

"Her younger brother," he explained. "He's an auror, but he's bloody scary. He showed me some of the spells Harry taught him once. I wouldn't want them fired at me. Harry was really angry when he found out."

"Are all the Evans mental?" Petr asked worriedly.

"They can all look after themselves, but it's definitely Harry you don't want to get on the wrong side of. I saw him duelling my father and Lord Black once. He wiped the floor with them."

"He did kill Grindelwald," Sirius pointed out.

Lily frowned at the thought.

Professor Evans was just so nice, and she couldn't imagine him killing anyone, even if she had heard the stories about him.

"What's it like having him as a godfather?" she asked.

James smiled brightly at the question.

"Harry is the best," he said simply. "He taught me to fly, and he always comes to visit when I'm at home."

Lily nodded her understanding.

Professor Evans did seem like a doting man, and though Severus didn't seem to like him much, Lily did.

Despite what anyone else said, she knew that he was a kind man, and not the monster Severus or the other Slytherins made him out to be.

(Break)

Albus had pondered how best to broach the topic of Tom Riddle with Horace, something the man would undoubtedly become defensive about. Horace was a sensitive man and did not react rationally if he felt his back was against the wall.

Still, this was of the utmost importance, and the potions master may just hold the key to Tom being defeated.

Bracing himself, Albus knocked on the office door.

It opened a moment later, and Horace was seemingly taken aback by his presence.

"Albus, what can I do for you?" the man asked jovially enough.

"There are things we must discuss in private, Horace," Albus replied. "May I come in?"

"That serious is it?" Slughorn questioned nervously, stepping aside to allow Albus into the room.

"I'm afraid so," the headmaster confirmed. "I will not insult your intelligence with small talk. I am here to discuss Tom Riddle."

Horace paled at the mention of the former student.

"Riddle?" he whispered, looking around the room as though the Dark Lord himself would appear.

Albus nodded severely.

"I need to know if he ever asked you about horcruxes?"

Slughorn somehow paled even more, his eyes bulging in shock.

"Whyever would he do that?" he sputtered.

"Because you were his confidant in the castle, Horace," Albus pointed out. "It would be you he came to for advice or information."

Slughorn swallowed deeply as he shook his head.

"I d-don't remember. It was almost three decades ago, Albus."

"Horace," Albus pressed. "If anyone were to ask you about them, you would not forget. Let us not waste time on this foolishness. I am not here to sully your reputation, nor will this conversation see you in any trouble. I merely need the truth of the matter."

Horace's lip began to tremble, and he wiped a layer of perspiration that had formed from his brow.

It was quite the feat that he managed to pour himself a drink with how nervous he had become, but after draining a glass of mead, he nodded reluctantly.

"He asked me about them, among many other things," he said in just above a whisper. "Albus, I didn't think he actually would…"

The headmaster held up a hand to silence the man.

"What did he wish to know?"

Horace sagged defeatedly.

"He asked about how many of them someone could make," he explained. "I told him that I didn't know, that making just one was an awful idea let alone seven."

"Seven?" Dumbledore pressed urgently.

Horace nodded.

"You do not think he would have done it?"

Albus tugged at his beard thoughtfully.

"I believe he intends to," he murmured. "The ritual to do so is exceedingly dangerous and taxing. Had he made seven of them already, he would not be so calculating. Horcruxes do not simply take a fragment of a soul when created, they remove a part of what makes that person who they are. I believe he has made more than one, but not seven. Not yet, at least."

"Dear me," Horace muttered. "Can he be defeated?"

A slight smile tugged at Albus's lips as he nodded.

"Of course," he replied with a bow.

"Evans?"

"Who else?"

Horace released a deep breath.

"The boy played me like a fool, Albus," he sighed. "I tried to see the best in him, I really did."

"I know, old friend," Albus comforted. "Some people just cannot be helped, Horace."

With that, Albus walked back towards the door, pausing as he reached it.

"Did you happen to mention that the Grey Lady is Rowena's daughter to Tom?"

There was a pause whilst Horace seemed to ponder the question.

"I believe I did," he answered. "He asked many questions about the castle, and I told him all I could."

Albus had already suspected as much.

Tom's knowledge of the school became so in depth that he was able to navigate the halls without being detected.

He would need to ensure that the castle was secure enough to keep him out.

That would be a discussion to have with Harry.

Now, however, there was another conversation to be had, this one with a ghost that too had likely been manipulated by the budding Dark Lord.