A/N

I'm sorry for the long delay. Working hours have been very long this year, and I seriously lacked the drive to continue writing the way I intended. Mercifully, the story is nearly finished. I've only planned two more chapters and an epilogue. This chapter will be a bit shorter than usual (only 5,500 words). Next time we'll watch the third task already. Have fun.

You'll have to wait a bit for the rest of the story, as I intend to first finish chapter 26 (third task) and 27 (ritual) before I publish them together.

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Are you ready for this?

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Hogwarts – 20th of May 1995

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"Headaches again?"

At Paul's question, Jenny glanced to the side where Harry and his friends were training and nodded sharply. "Harry is trying to hide it, but it's troubling him. He needs to spend more and more time with meditation to keep calm and even-tempered. Luckily, Luna is still able to sooth his nerves with a single touch. Without her…" The words died on her lips.

"Yes, we're lucky to have her," Paul agreed, still feeling thankful of how much this slip of a girl had changed the life of his young friend. For a while, the duo watched Harry in silence. In the past couple of weeks, they had intensified their training to new heights. The details about the last task were still sparse. The judges had turned the Quidditch field into a labyrinth of hedges. Dense and ever-changing. Dark and confusing. The parcour through the area would be aggravated by all kinds of dangerous plants, creatures, riddles and traps. Luckily, the whole team combined possessed enough knowledge to prepare them properly. In addition of Harry, Luna, Neville, Hermione and Parvati, the team consisted of a few friends of other houses and two key assets: Charlie and Bill Weasley. As Dragons would have no part in the third task, Charlie was allowed to help Harry and Neville at long last, while Bill officially only spend time with his girlfriend.

Fleur had perhaps been the most unusual addition to the training group. Not only had she accepted Harry's invitation readily – contrary to Viktor Krum who only sneered at the friendly words – but she seemed really eager to assist the boys. Neville in particular got the most useful tips from the older girl. Nevertheless nobody – not even after all that training – expected him to play a major role in the victory rush. In the beginning, the teenagers had been confused by Fleur's honest participation and her reasons for helping the weakest champion so much. Her answer had been simple: "You're Bill's brother. You're important to him, so you're important to me."

Bill had watched the exchange proudly. Both Bill and Fleur had been helpful in training the boys on a couple of more advanced spells. While both Harry and Neville now had a solid base of simple spells, they still lacked the broad-spectrum Viktor and Fleur had at their disposal. The time was too short to fully equalize the difference in age and experience but with a dozen new spells under their belt, the youngsters stopped feeling hopeless.

Exploiting the whole team's knowledge of plants and creatures that could be used in the task they had started on tactics. Charlie unsurprisingly possessed insights into possible obstacles imported by the Durmstrang delegation. Fleur even added her own discoveries about Beauxbatons's part in this international cooperation. The joint preparation didn't mean the champions intended to use the same tactics. Each of them still had their own skills and pitfalls. While Harry intended to make the best use of his Ki Adept Powers, Neville had to be extra careful, lacking the power to strong-arm his way like the others.

"We want to take care of it this summer," Paul declared a bit later, his voice barely above a whisper. "He'll be fifteen in a few weeks. His core will finally be settled enough to attempt the cleansing ritual."

"Does Mum know?"

"Yes," Paul smiled weakly. "She's… unhappy, but she still agreed."

"Unsurprising… to both." Jenny had expected such a reaction.

Michiko had always been especially concerned about Harry's scar. She had been the driving force behind the last string of examinations over Christmas break. They still didn't know much more about the scar than a decade ago: It was a sliver of Voldemort's magic. He apparently tried to perform a soul magic ritual, presumably to strengthen his magic and prolong his life. He had failed, but left traces of his magic and soul behind, mostly emotional magic that reacted strongly to both positive and negative emotions. It wasn't a real Horcrux, but quite similar in nature.

They had known this part for years already. But something had changed since Easter: The headache returned, the scar looked like inflamed and Harry had more troubles keeping calm. There had even been a quarrel or two with Jenny, something new for them. She had been shocked by Harry's outburst, and Harry immensely ashamed by his behaviour. Sincere apologies and strong sibling hugs thankfully cleansed the air.

"Is Voldemort returning?" Jenny asked, deeply concerned.

"I fear he is, yes," Paul nodded. He had always been honest with the teenagers and intended to keep doing so. Jenny deserved to know the truth. She wasn't a little girl, but a young woman willing to defend her family – Harry.

Jenny gulped. She clenched her teeth and a look of determination set into her eyes. "Then we'll have to prepare. We will be ready for him."

Paul put his hand on her shoulder, the other one buried in Floe's fur. "That we will. I have no doubt."

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Warded Area below Hogwarts – 10th of June 1995

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Two weeks – only two weeks left until the third task. Two weeks until he would get his chance to finally leave this juvenile body and return to his full strength and glory. Tom smiled evilly, amused by the hopelessness and despair he felt from the sliver that was Ginny's spirit. Her phase of insurrection had withered away as the date finally closed in. The girl knew she would die soon. Oh so soon. The force of her life, her spirit and magic would fuel the transition. His own soul would be healed at last, transferred to a new body with the full knowledge of his former life.

So far, he had been preparing the ritual with Pettigrew's assistance. Two new sacrifices - Muggleborns from one of the smaller schools - had strengthened his magic and the part of his soul that was residing in this girl's body. He fully intended to stay "Tom the younger" after the ritual, in personality at least. The "Tom" in control of his mind, emotions and behaviour, without the unbridled rage and hate of his older self. Without the temper tantrums and the senseless cruelty that caused more harm than good. He wanted to rule Great Britain, but first he needed to rule himself. Merging with the other slivers would endanger that control, especially with the older sliver inhabiting the mirror. He had to be careful. He had to prepare. This was his second chance at becoming a true emperor of magical Britain. He didn't intend to squander it.

"Everything prepared for our departure?" He asked the man to his left.

"The portkey is ready and set," Barty Crouch junior responded with a small bow. "I obliviated the clerk delivering it and it's cleared of the usual trace. He patted the side of his cloak. "I've got Polyjuice ready to mimic your appearance and a broom. I'll take a route that will look hidden but allow a couple of people to watch me – by complete chance naturally. I'll stay the night at a quite untrustworthy hovel. The proprietor will certainly try to gain a bit of money by betraying my trust. They'll find a flyer proving that I – as Miss Weasley – took a ferry to Europe."

"Sounds good," Tom was content.

Neither those false traces nor the hints he mentioned towards his family for the past months – hints about Ginny's wish to see something of the world – would deceive Aurors or the Weasley family for long. But it wasn't meant to. It was just at distraction. Believability was the aim there.

They would squander their resources following those false leads, giving him enough freedom to prepare everything. It was a risk, but one he had to take. Tom had planned exactly how he intended to spend those two weeks. Even Granger would have been proud about the level of precision he put into planning his schedule. One day to reach his hideout, three days to recover from today's ordeal, eight days for the rituals in Valentia, allowing him two days to rest before the big D-Day.

Yes, he had everything planned out. And all of it started now. With the next step, there was no going back. No room for errors, no time for doubts, he was meant to rule and rule he would.

"Bring me the sacrifice."

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Those eyes, those wonderful terrified eyes, pleading for mercy while receiving none – in his old body Tom would have had a hard-on. As "Ginny Weasley" he felt a blissful shudder up and down his spine, intensified because of the disgust and despair coming from Ginny's spirit. Disgust at the bloody and heartless way he disposed of the sacrifice. Despair because she was unable to stop or at least delay him. Tom cackled madly, for a moment allowing his sadistic self to raise its ugly head. Controlling his emotions was easier when he allowed them to let off steam from time to time, as he already noticed.

The sacrifice was resting on the ground: crumpled, bloodless and lifeless. Crouch would vanish her body and any hints of blood later. Now, he was watching his master, the tiny body of Ginny Weasley filled to the brim with life energy – the sacrifice's life energy. Tom needed it, both to accomplish what he had in mind and to survive the task without serious injuries or magical exhaustion on a dangerous level. Albus Dumbledore wasn't stupid or careless. He had done well in protecting the chamber. No single wizard – not even an accomplished curse breaker - would be able to shatter the wards. Bill Weasley, the oldest brother of his host body, could have tried. But even he would be unable to break through the spells protecting Tom's destination. This body was something very different right now. Strengthened by rituals and previous sacrifices, empowered by its magic, life and soul, Tom was far more than a simple wizard. He was a powerhouse of magic and lifeforce, able to punch through nearly any barrier.

And he was willing to make good use of this power. The mirror would be his.

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Barty Crouch gulped. Sitting on the broom, he had left the grounds of Hogwarts an hour ago, memories of what he had seen still burned in his mind. It had been such an unbelievable show.

My master is invincible, he grinned madly.

Watching him kill the sacrificed girl and absorb her life force had been fairly scary. Feeling the raw magic emanating from his master had been terrifying. However, being witness to his master shattering the strong wards around the chamber, simply smashing them, toring them apart and using their magic to infuse his own core with even more might, had been the sight to behold. Watch a true master of magic and wail in despair.

I'll never forget that moment, he mused. It's something to tell my children and grandchildren about. I was there when it started. I and only I. Not even that bastard Pettigrew was present. He scowled for a moment. He knew that he had to endure the rat – for now at least. The rat wouldn't stay on the seat to the right side of his lord forever. Sooner or later, he would make some serious error. And I'll be there, watching him fall. He smirked. And I might even push him so he falls faster and deeper into blackness.

Barty sighed deeply. Everything went according to plan. His master broke through the wards and got the mirror. They left the castle and separated. The Dark Lord would already be at the site of the planned ritual, thanks his portkey. Tomorrow, he would meet him again, the false lead hopefully distracting any search parties long enough to prepare everything. Not that he doubted his master's plan in any way. But like the old saying went "a plan only endures until the first contact with the foe."

It's never too late for a little emergency planning.

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Hogwarts – Great Hall – the next day

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"I heard she ran away with her secret lover," Lavender whispered loudly into Parvati's ear.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the silliness. For the day, Lavender was allowed to visit the group's table, the animosity between her and Hermione monetarily forgotten.

Parvati frowned. "Didn't know she had one."

"That's because it's called 'secret lover', silly: it's a secret," Lavender admonished her.

Oh, how she had missed her friend. Their friendship had taken several blows over the years, mostly about Granger and how Ron treated her. But since Halloween it completely went down the drain, and the girls had barely been on speaking turns. This all changed through a simple fact: Ginny Weasley had mysteriously vanished.

"I don't believe it," Parvati shook her head. Ginny had been behaving strangely lately, she was ready to admit that. But never had there been any sign of her being in a relationship. Actually, she didn't remember a single instance where Ginny had been willing to gossip about one of the boys. Not even Cedric - the prince charming of Hogwarts - had caught her interest. Strange that.

"Naturally, there are other rumours as well, mostly about some crime being committed. Perhaps a … creature… attacked her." She wanted to say 'a troll' but remembered Hermione's history at the last moment. Glancing towards her, Lavender continued. "Or that she was abducted and sold into slavery, perhaps into some Arabic harem." Hermione rolled her eyes again, and according to her mimic even Parvati thought that idea too hare-brained. Lavender lowered her voice: "Ron…"

"Yes?" Both Parvati and Hermione scowled at the mentioned name.

"Ron thinks…"

"Spit it out," Hermione growled. "What's his latest dumb-ass idea?"

Lavender sighed. "He assumes Neville has something to do with her disappearance."

Hermione blinked. Parvati looked more than a little confused, enough not to instantly enrage as Hermione would have expected. The Indian beauty was more than a little protective of her boyfriend. "That's quite a stretch, even for Ron's pea brain," she uttered after a few moments of silence. Ron still hated Neville, there was no doubt about it. It hadn't got any better since the rest of the Weasley family closed ranks in their attempt to welcome Neville back. Arthur's visit on Easter break, Percy's support of the boy, and now even Molly had tentatively started a pen friendship with him. With every step the Weasleys took, Ron's ire raised even more. But this…

"I don't believe it either," Lavender sighed. "Neville is simply… he is nice. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"Not to forget that he owes Ginny for learning the truth about his past," Hermione reminded her. Neville took such obligations very seriously, irrespective of how much he distrusted her reasoning.

Lavender looked her in the eye. Three weeks ago, Hermione's new look – or should she say "old look"? – had been a shock. One day, she entered the Great Hall without her usual limp. Her shoulders were even once again and the scars on her face were gone. Or mostly gone, all except a single one. One that made her more interesting to look at. Like the Japanese said "a tiny fault to emphasize the perfection". Not that the girl was perfect, far from it, Lavender reminded herself, looking proudly at her own curves. But gone were most of the traces of the troll incident. After years of living with those scars, Hermione was mostly back to her former self. Ron had been spitting nails, something that had flabbergasted Lavender. Shouldn't he be thankful for this, after his not so small part in her injuries? It had been the last nail to the coffin for their years-long friendship.

"I only wanted you to know. Forewarned is forearmed, or so they say."

"I appreciate it." And Parvati really did. Hopefully, Ron was stupid enough to retell that bull in her hearing range. She had a few humiliating hexes in mind, perfect for such an opportunity.

Nobody badmouths my Neville. Nobody!

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Hogwarts – formerly warded area deep below – same time

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It could be a coincidence, Albus mused, not believing it himself for a single moment. He didn't believe in coincidences, especially not in such dire times.

He was deeply shocked and scared by the sight. His wards had been shattered the day before. He had felt it immediately. Knowing that even the swiftest journey would be too late to stop the intruder, he had waited for everything to calm down. Albus wasn't certain Headmaster Slughorn would notice the disturbance. Headmaster – Albus scowled deeply, but instantly pushed aside the troubling thought. Looking around, he analysed what happened here. Someone had died. Corpse and blood had been vanished, but the taint in the aura was still there. It had been a planned murder, intended to strengthen someone enough to break through Albus' impeccable wards. The approach spoke of a very dark soul. He hadn't met many of those in the past.

Was it possible? Had He returned? He had already attempted it a couple of years ago and the hints had been obvious about his imminent arrival. But the feeling was all wrong. He still lacks a body, Albus nodded to himself. He's using minions, like three years ago when he possessed Quirrell. And this time…

Albus sighed in slight despair. I should have realized it earlier, identified the signs and reacted more swiftly and decisively. Hindsight was always 20/20 and he should have known: Voldemort was using the Weasley girl. He either possessed her, used an Imperious or some other means to control her. Whatever means he had chosen, the girl was his tool now, completely under his sway and lost to salvation. This was the real reason for her helping the Longbottom boy: Voldemort wanted to undermine Albus' position. And he had been all too successful. Did Sirius know that his plan had backfired or was he under Voldemort's sway as well? Something to ponder more deeply, certainly.

Back to the here and now!

Albus looked around. There wasn't much to do any more, at least not around here. The mirror was gone, and with it the sliver of Voldemort he had trapped therein. The meaning was clear: some other sliver of the Dark Lord, stored in some other Horcrux, had started to act. Was it the sliver in Harry's head? No, Albus dismissed the thought. That Horcrux was still there. He had been able to still feel it back on Easter, a time when Voldemort already had been acting against Albus. So, there were three parts of his soul at least: the one in the mirror, the one possessing the Weasley girl and lastly the one in Harry's head.

I should have taken the mirror with me, Albus regretted that decision deeply. His plan to use it to fulfil the prophecy was now impossible. But there was still a chance to win, with Albus as the clear saviour, again. He nodded, a smile creeping on his face at the wonderful idea. Voldemort would be interested in the boy as well. I'm certain he is preparing a ritual right now, to fuse both parts of his soul. Why did he vanish now? Why not wait until the summer break? The answer was clear: he needed time to prepare the ritual and intended to finish it in two weeks time. Harry would be an important ingredient of the ritual.

He'll have to abduct him somehow from the tournament. Should I prevent it? Warn the boy? No, Albus shook his head. None of that. Voldemort has to be successful. But I'll have to be there, at the ritual, influence it so that it turns out my way. I have to trace Harry. He thought about it for a while. No, Harry was difficult to approach without raising any red flags, and with his friends around him all the time the chance was far too high for someone to detect the trace. So, how should I… Weasley. The girl will be there. I have to trace the girl. Yes, that was easier to achieve. The best tracer spells worked with blood. And it didn't even have to be her own. The blood of a close relative would be sufficient. And he knew just a boy willing to part with it.

Albus departed, his heart lighter again. The future didn't look as dark and bleak as it had an hour ago.

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He never sensed the presence watching him. This was the last chance to do the right thing instead of the easy choice, Albus. You have squandered it. Now, you'll have to face the repercussions and take the fall.

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Roman Ruins – a few days later

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The place was unusual without a doubt. Rarely had she been able to cross the frontier - that weird membrane that protected the plane of the living from the plane that nowadays was her home - this easily. . It usually needed something special to allow the transfer, be it a unique day like Halloween or a ritual. But this place, these ruins, obviously had enough weirdness in themselves, a combination of spiritual might and pure magic, to make it work. She hadn't even feel the urge to return, or the exhaustion that normally accompanied her few stays in this world. And for once she wasn't watching over her beloved daughter.

She had watched the girl that was two, the girl of two spirits since her arrival a few days ago. The moment her eyes crossed the girl's face, she recognized her: Ginny. Ginny Weasley, daughter of Molly and Arthur. She had been her daughter's friend in times past, in better and happier days. And now she was possessed, beaten into submission by a madman, damned to a fate worse than death. Thankfully, Selene had died swiftly on that day, her potion mishap instantly and utterly destroying her lab and her body. The girl wouldn't be this lucky. How long has she been like this? Selene wondered. How long has she been under the rule of this darkened spirit?

Selene looked around. Apart from the girl, there were two men present at the ruins, and many ghosts. Angry ghosts. They didn't speak to her, not that she would have understood them very well in the first place. Language barriers were still an obstacle, even in the afterlife. Like most Magicals she only had a fragmented knowledge of Latin, just enough to understand the incantations of her spells, certainly not enough for a conversation. At least, they didn't attack her despite their anger. Perhaps they realized Selene had nothing to do with the living intruders who desecrated their place.

Because desecration had been on the possessed girl's mind since her arrival. Selene felt sick, thinking about the rituals. Most of them she didn't even understand. Perhaps it was best. She had never dabbled in Necromancy or other Dark Arts. Potions and Charms had been her forte. But one of the results had been far too obvious to misinterpret. The girl had entered a side chamber, filled with corpses the pair of underlings had gathered the weeks before. The darkness in the magical aura of the place had forced Selene to keep her distance as the girl started to create Inferi. Dozens of them. The sight alone troubled her deeply, the feeling intensifying as she noticed the gems the girl used to replace their eyes. What could be the meaning of those? Selene assumed it was to strengthen them or to give them additional abilities. As if Inferi alone weren't sick enough. She was disgusted beyond measure.

Perhaps this was the reason she didn't notice one of the other preparations, the hidden glances in her direction and the smirks. Selene needed awhile to acknowledge the absence of the other ghosts. Before they were whirling around all over the place. Now there was not a single one of them in sight. Selene widened the area covered by her senses. She hadn't done this for a while because of the ugly, stomach-turning changes in the magical aura of the place. Now she had to, she had to get to the ground of this. It was important, she could feel it. There was something at the edge of her senses, some kind of barrier. Was the barrier keeping them out? Had the spirit possessing the girl decided to get rid of the angry ghosts?

Selene hovered towards the barrier. It was clearer now. Looking up, she saw it rise high into the air, curving into a dome covering the whole place. Was it a whole sphere, going below the earth as well? She expected it to be like that, otherwise it wouldn't stop the ghosts…

Merlin!

Only now did she realize her precarious position. The barrier was encompassing the whole place. It was keeping the ghosts outside. But she… she was inside.

Selene shuddered. I'm a prisoner!

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He knew the moment she realized the situation. Oh no, little missy, he smirked, no running away to warn the others. You'll stay and play your part – as my leverage.

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Hogwarts – Ravenclaw Tower

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I can't feel it any more.

The entity known to most people as the Grey Lady felt troubled. Something had changed and she hated changes, especially those of the unexplained kind. For centuries after her death, everything had been the same, year in, year out. New headmasters, teachers and students came and went, but Hogwarts always stayed the same. Then, fifty years ago, He came, with his guile and his charm, his deviousness and his sweet tongue. He had tricked her into revealing her knowledge about the diadem – her mother's diadem. He departed, only to return later with the diadem in hand, tainted. He hid it somewhere protected even from her senses. However, she had always known it was there, hidden within Hogwarts, tainting the place with its ugly brand of dark soul magic.

And now, this feeling was gone, like the diadem. The connection was lost. What was the meaning of this? Was he playing his ugly game again? Had he proceeded to the next step of his plan, whatever it was? For days, she had explored the castle, had spoken with paintings, house elves and other ghosts. There was no trace of the diadem, no real explanation for its vanishing. She had exhausted all her resources – aside from one.

I have to ask him, to tell him about the diadem and how it went missing. She hated the feeling, hated to think about her past. But she had to do this. He deserved her trust and Hogwarts certainly deserved her sacrifice and her pride's suffering.

On the spur of the moment, the grey lady that had been Helena Ravenclaw changed directions and hurried towards the shack at the edge of Hogwarts – the shack where she would find him… Harry.

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Hogwarts – Granny's quarters

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"I don't like this," Granny growled. She looked pale and quite guilty.

"Nor do I," She responded with an unhappy sigh. "But it's the only way. It has to fully unfold as He planned. He has to feel in control. It has to end now, not with a feeble standstill like last time but with a bombastic explosion of fire and hell."

"But Selene…" Granny grumbled. It felt utter wrong to sacrifice her like this, after everything she had to endure in life and afterlife.

"She'll survive," She responded glaringly, ignoring that she was talking of a spirit. She blinked softly, her aura embracing Granny in a soothing manner. "You know I love her, Granny. No harm will come to her. But she has to be there. Her daughter will need her. And the other ghosts deserve their rest as well. They've waited long enough."

"I understand," Granny whispered. "I accept." Didn't mean she had to hate it any less, or stay inactive. Granny suppressed a wistful smile. Perhaps it was time for her very last adventure.

Mathilda was ready to accept the baton.

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Somewhere else

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The place was really weird. The feeling was all wrong: the sight, the sounds and the smell. Spirits, even the taste was different. Not only normal humans, be it Mundane or Magicals, would creep out at the sensation. Even Paul, despite his past dealings with other planes, would feel out of place.

Michiko had only been able to get to this… whatever this was… with the help of her old master. Telling Takado Azuke about the past months and her feeling that something dark was looming over her son, he hadn't tried to placate her, to tell her that everything would be alright and her son safe. Instead he instantly invited her for a training session, totally freaking her out in the process. Naturally, she had followed through. You didn't reject an invitation from Takado Azuke. Entering the academy she knew so well from her youth, she had barely time to have a look around before Takado brought her here.

It looked like a Temple, a Shinto shrine of old times. It was inhabited by… she actually had no idea about the exact nature of the inhabitants. They looked human enough, but she had her doubts. Even her teacher was creepy. He hadn't told her his name, behaved like a master from one of those bad Kung Fu films from the seventies. But hell had she learned something in her time with him. She had always been an accomplished fighter, was still better than Jenny if barely. But in those sessions, she felt like a rookie getting her first impression of the Martial Arts.

"You're doing well," Takado told her. She didn't feel like it. Feeling her doubts, he added: "I was far worse on my first visit. He's content with your progress." Takado hadn't used a name for their host so far, only called him Master.

"I'm feeling like a rookie," Michiko complained. "And a bag of bruises."

"Don't fret," Takado slapped her shoulder, making Michiko wince from the pain. "It will get far worse before we leave again."

Michiko rolled her eyes. "Aren't you a bunch of daisies and sunshine?"

"I aim to please. Come on, let's go. Break is over."

Michiko followed him without complaint. In the end, she knew all the pain and exhaustion was worth it. Her children were worth it. She had to be ready.

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It felt like they had spent months at this place, spending every day with fighting, training and stretching, but Takado had assured her that not even one day would have passed on their return. Michiko wished Harry and Jenny could share this training, but they weren't ready for the strangeness of the temple. Would she be allowed to bring them here at a later time? Jenny would love the place and Harry as well. Michiko smiled shortly. Luna would feel right at home, she had no doubt.

It was time for their departure. Back in the Mundane World, the day would already be near for their departure to Scotland. Her bruises had been healed, the sprains and strains recovered. Michiko felt better than in a long time.

"There you are." The Master already awaited her, his hands holding a wooden casket that he offered her without further preamble.

Michiko glanced to her left and accepted the casket after a curt nod from Takado. She opened it only to find the content to be a pair of masterfully crafted and artfully designed Sai. Michiko had never seen the bluish metal that glistened in the sun like crystal, nor the thumb-sized stones that adorned their hilts. One was blue like a summer sky, the other a deep green reminding her of her son's eyes. Bands of tiny runes and symbols meandered around the blades, their meaning unknown to her. These weapons were priceless and full of magic, a really stunning gift. "Thank you, Master," Michiko was barely able to utter.

Master acknowledged her words with barely a nod before handing her a second casket, this one smaller and round like a hatbox. "This one is for your son." Michiko accepted the box without opening it, as that wasn't her place. "He'll know how to handle the content in time. There are more souls at risk than his own," his words frightening her.

But in her eyes, it was the most important one, in the eyes of a mother. Before Takado and Michiko left, the Master stopped them a last time. "Tell him he has my blessing." Confused by the parting words but intend to deliver them as ordered, Michiko departed at last.

Time to go home. Remus would be waiting for her.