Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Harry Potter franchise and seek to make no profits from the distribution of this fictional work.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long folks; turns out that work and free time don't go together so well. It took a little bit of doing but I've figured out how to balance my time as best as possible. Hope you all enjoy the fruits of my labor.

Behind the Veil

By StycianLeo

Chapter XXIV

Hidden Cabin, Cairngorms, Scotland

He hated the cold, truly, utterly, despised it. For over a decade icy coldness and despair had been his only companions other than the mad ravings of his fellow inmates and while he was now free of the infernal hospitality of Azkaban Prison, he had not yet been able to shake off the remnants of his long incarceration. Weariness still dogged him and his sleep was fitful with nightmares and remembered horrors but every day that passed saw him just a little stronger and the memories of his youth were slowly returning to him.

At the moment, Peter Pettigrew was bundled beneath no less than three separate fur covers and sat not far from a blazing hearth fire, a long table stretched out before him beneath a layer of parchment; inches upon inches of tightly packed and barely legible scrawl covered them as the fugitive animagus attempted to pen everything he recalled from his days in servitude to the Dark Lords. These memories came to him easily as they were full of terror and pain and thus burned into his mind with perfect clarity.

Behind him lying on a pallet of furs were the three still forms of his hostages, each of them were seemingly frozen in the quiet repose of death save for the very slight moving of their chests as they breathed. It hadn't been a hard decision to sedate the three muggles, not after their long drive to the Scottish interior and the days it took to hike to this particular bolt hole; one of a few such locations that he had set up during the Blood War.

This particular cabin had been donated to the cause by the muggles; he had come across it while looking for property that might have been useful for the Order, it had been used primarily as a hunting lodge and a shelter for hikers in the area but a few repelling charms attached to a set of ward stones buried in a septagram pattern had created a square mile that no muggle was going to stumble upon. Over the years of conflict and his defection, he had upgraded the wards with alarms and defenses against those trying to spy in on him.

The years had not treated the cabin well however, exposure to the elements had left the wooden walls rotting in places and part of the roof had collapsed under the weight of snow during a previous winter. He had done what he could to make it more habitable but he had been exhausted from holding his captives under the Imperius for so long, so rather than take the time to set the place to rights and further deplete his reserves he had dug out his cache and dosed each of the muggles with the Draught of Living Death before he had taken the time to rest.

He was in a very precarious position; just about every person he knew was out to kill him. For some it was personal and he could admit that some of them had fair reasons, Frank Longbottom had suffered through a widowing though from what little information he could glean of recent events it didn't seem like he had suffered the ignominy of it very long. Mostly though, the people that would hunt him down were afraid of the things that he knew becoming public.

How many ranking pureblood aristocrats would be toppled from their comfortable seats on the Wizengamot or removed from the positions of power and prestige within the Ministry if what he knew came to light?

So of course the safest thing to do was to put it all to paper; every sordid detail that he had been forced to relive was written down to be used as leverage. As much as Frank or James or Sirius might hate him, he could trust that when the parchment crossed their desks that they would investigate every claim he could offer them because they were bound by their honor and duty to do so. Gryffindors to the core the lot of them.

Of the Maruaders he had not been the cleverest, or the bravest, or the most reliable but he had been the sneakiest; they wouldn't have gotten away with even a quarter of the pranks that they had set off if he hadn't been meticulous in engineering their escapes. It wasn't much of a surprise that he was just as meticulous in ensuring his life if not his freedom; which was why he was hedging his bets by planning to deliver the same information to Iris.

He had to admit that it seemed rather silly, giving this wealth of information to a thirteen year old schoolgirl but he had yet to meet a person throwing off that amount of magic at idle that didn't have some political or martial clout to back it up. That she was the heiress to a wealthy family that could trace itself past Merlin seemed to be a good indicator that she was on the right track too. Then again he had spent much of his adult life in prison so some could argue that he wasn't exactly in the best position to make sound judgements.

Peter cackled quietly to himself as his musings drifted about like a dingy in the midst of a hurricane but still his quill scratched on the old sheets of parchment as he wrote an account of one of the raids the Death Eaters had committed just after he had begun his role as a double agent and gave up the Prewitt Twins. Fabian and Gideon had been the hellions of the generation preceding the Marauders and had continued there devious exploits by wreaking havoc against the forces of the allied Dark Lords.

It was their deaths and his first betrayal that had earned Wormtail his Dark Mark and consigned his soul to the fiery pits of Hell but he had planned to live a long life at least. The vanquishing of Grindelwald had thrown a spanner into his designs but he would have survived it if not for Severus Snape. The man had been only too happy to reveal that the mole in the Order was really a rat and part of the group of students that had tormented him throughout his school years, undoubtedly seeing the betrayal and anguish that had hit the others had been ambrosia to him.

James himself had been the one to arrest him though it was Alastor who had interrogated him and personally escorted him to his cell after his trial. No amount of pleading or offering of information to reduce his sentence had been considered, instead he had been sentenced to eighty years in the worst place on earth and should he survive it would be the Dementor's Kiss for him.

He would have the last laugh though, the Goddess herself had seen fit to favor him, how else did one explain that his door was unlocked by Lockhart? That he had managed to cling to what amounted to a rowboat on the choppy waters of the North Sea? Even now he was safe and warm in his little hideaway that no one but he knew even existed while he worked to secure himself at the table of the next powerhouse of the British Isles.

After all he knew where the bodies were buried, literally and figuratively, since it was he that Dumbledore had instructed to research Lord Voldemort and discovered the truth of Tom Riddle. It was also he that had decided to do the extra legwork of studying Grindelwald and in turn learning some things about the esteemed Headmaster that would make the old fool most cross should it been found out that he knew.

"What naughty children you all turned out to be though I suppose I wasn't all that surprised, as mild-mannered as dear Remus was just because of his furry little problem it would have to take something rather extreme to make Dumbledore that goody-two-shoes that he is." Pettigrew spoke to himself with a nasty grin on his face as he scribbled furiously with his quill, "Then again, once a blood-purist always a blood-purist, so maybe it was less about absolution than preserving those most worthy, eh Albus?"

Twelve years in prison was a long time to think, especially when you're stuck in your own head for most of it; plenty of time to wonder and speculate and for devilish little thoughts to worm their way into your mind, growing into paranoid delusions.

In the end he had learned two things, the wizened old man with his ever-roasting chicken was not to be trusted and that Dark Lords weren't all they were cracked up to be.

But Peter could see a third side to the old conflict if he could just nudge Iris in the right direction, he worried that his warning to her was simply too vague to be of any use without knowing what he did. He couldn't just come out and tell her though; there was no way she was going to believe anything he tried to tell her. So he would have to give her everything, an unreserved and full accounting of what he knew from the last war along with his Oath.

It was a risky play, putting his life in the hands of a schoolgirl, he knew that. He wouldn't have even considered it when he left Azkaban but he couldn't resist seeing the little girl he had sacrificed everything for. It had taken one look into those eyes, brimming with magic and so intense that just recalling them made him shudder, to know that she wasn't just any schoolgirl.

"Beware those Lords of Magic, blessed by the Goddess and chosen by Fate, for the world trembles before them and history is shaped at their whimsy. What is the nature of capriciousness when they can move mountains and part seas?" Peter sing-songed to himself as he planned the best prank in history, one that would show that Wormtail had been more than just the hanger-on to the Marauders but the best of them all.

With a grin that pulled at muscles unused for decade Peter could not help the thought that crept into his mind and played itself over and over as a mantra, 'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good.'

Hogwarts, Scotland

The morning of Halloween started as most mornings for Iris did, with her snapping into full alertness as a nightmare drove her from the realm of Morpheus and back into the world of the conscious. Her sheets were tangled around in near suffocating tightness while her skin was clammy with cold sweat that made her sleeping gown cling to her uncomfortably.

It took a few moments while she fought to get control over her thumping heart and racy breathing before she could recall the terrors that had visited in her dreams. Hermione's broken body lying in a pool of water, shards of wood and broken ceramic littering the floor as a troll loomed over her supine form. Dark yellow eyes peering out of the darkness as students dropped dead before them only to be swallowed whole as exulting cries filled the air. Men clad in shadow sneaking through the dorms and slashing the throats of sleeping children, their hands wrought from silver.

And at each death their eyes fell on her, accusation and betrayal etched into their features because they knew that she was the reason that they had died and that she had been unable to save them.

The delicious aroma of baked pumpkin and spices permeated the castle and Iris' stomach churned in protest as bile rose in the back of her throat, compelling her to throw back the sheets harshly as she slipped into the bathroom to retch. It took several long minutes of painful heaving before her stomach had settled and she could rinse her mouth out from the faucet, looking up at her reflection in the mirror she couldn't help but wince.

She was paler than normal, bags under her tired eyes with her hair a disheveled mess with strands sticking to her forehead; all said she looked like death warmed over.

"You look dreadful dear; perhaps a visit to the Infirmary will do you some good." The mirror said in its tinny, female voice with concern.

"I'm fine, just had a rough night s'all!" Iris stated firmly as she splashed cold water over her face before patting herself dry with a hand towel.

"If you're certain dear," The tinny voice returned though it sounded far from mollified but then again it was a mirror, with the facsimile of a personality and powerless to do anything but make suggestions.

With a grunt, Iris returned to the shared bedroom of the dorm and looked out through the window to see that the sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon, the first rays of dawn spilling into the tower. Stripping off her sweaty night gown, she tossed it unceremoniously into the hamper beside her vanity before she changed into her exercise clothes; if she was going to be up at this ungodly hour she might as well put it to use.

Fetched her broom from under the bed, Iris was careful to stay as quiet as possible as she slipped past the other beds and out of the dorm room. Descending down the stairs to the common room, a quick glance around told her that except for a lone Seventh year who was bent over one of the worktables drooling on his textbook, she was alone.

Satisfied that she hadn't disturbed anyone, Iris clambered out through the portrait hole and trudged down to the ground floor of the castle; beckoned onwards by the increasingly powerful smell of cooking that was coming from the kitchens. She debated with herself for a moment about making a quick stop down in the dungeons but the squirming of her stomach told her that it probably wasn't a good idea yet.

Looking forlornly at the bare tables of the Great Hall, the raven haired teen shuffled past knowing that breakfast wouldn't be served for another couple of hours. Stepping out through the massive doors of the Entrance Hall she was greeted by a rush of chill morning air that carried with it a humid slap as a weak fog had settled across the expansive lawns and seemed to set them afire as the sun's early light made for a scintillating display of reds, yellows and oranges that carried effortlessly to the edges of the Forbidden Forest with it autumnal boughs doing their best not to be outdone.

Iris admired the beauty of the scene for a long moment as she walked through the courtyard, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the light mist as her pant legs and soft boots were quickly soaked. She let her fingers slide over the water slickened stone of the fountain in the center, her eyes alighting on the ring of stone benches and the ivy-wreathed columns that stood silent vigil over the space.

"So far so good," Iris muttered to herself as she looked around warily while her magic stretched out to augment her awareness, she wondered idly if Moody had rubbed off on her more than she had thought. She had only met the Master Auror once in this lifetime and what amounted to a handful of interactions in her previous one but the barked command of 'Constant Vigilance!' seemed to be ringing in her ears today.

"I bloody hate Halloween!" she said under her breath as she settled her nerves and set of at a light jog for the pitch.

Iris gave over to the easy lope of the run, letting her mind stray while her eyes took in her surroundings. She had to concede that the last two months of diligent exercise with the team had definitely had some benefits as she felt her mind clear through the simple exertion and the newfound energy of a well exercised body surged through her muscles.

Of course the psychological effects weren't the only benefits, Lavender's exclamations over the toning on her stomach and the firmness of her bum had left her blushing furiously at the time but she was quietly pleased at the compliments. She was also increasingly aware of the subtle and not-so-subtle stares from some of Hogwarts' denizens though thankfully none had approached her yet, truthfully she didn't know what she would do if or rather when it happened.

Memories of a flustered Ron Weasley declaring that Hermione was a girl flitted through her mind and caused her to smirk somewhat, oh yes, she knew it was only a matter of time indeed.

The run carried on through several laps around the pitch before she started through a routine of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and a few farmer carries with the aid of a bit of transfiguration interspersed with periodic sprints. Once she was thoroughly drenched in sweat, she surrendered to the urge to fly and took to the air on her trusted Nimbus; her eyes watching the skies for the dark shapes of Dementors. While she enjoyed the thought of acquiring (or was it reacquiring?) a Firebolt for herself, she had no intentions of plummeting in a near-fatal accident and losing her broom to the Whomping Willow.

Racing through the air in chase of an imaginary snitch the young Seeker darted through a series of dives, climbs, rolls, and spirals in a whirlwind display of aerial acrobatics that would have turned spectators green with queasiness as she cut through the air. She danced about like a leaf on the wind for nearly an hour as she lost herself to the blissful freedom of flight that drained away her worries and stress like nothing else could.

By the time she settled back on the ground the sun had climbed a good margin into the sky and burned away the fog that had accompanied her trek down to the grounds, with a faint pang of regret she headed for the locker room beneath the Gryffindor section of the stands. She passed through the team room with its benches and blackboard that Ollie used to draw up plays and give his speeches on her way to the women's showers.

She lingered beneath the spray of hot water as steam swirled around her, luxuriating in the sense of relaxation as the stresses of her nightmare fell away and left her feeling revitalized. Feeling refreshed, Iris shut off the water and toweled herself dry before stepping out into the locker room; her wand moving through the air as she pulled the excess moisture from her hair and into a sphere at the tip of the holly shaft.

Pausing in mid-step, her eyes narrowed dangerously as her instincts told her that she wasn't alone in the seemingly empty room. With a flick of her wand and a muttered incantation, the ball of water froze over and split apart as it formed a dozen foot-long stakes of ice while she slid her right foot back and assumed a dueling stance.

Tapping into the deep well of power that was her magic she drew in up and let some of it course through her; filling her with life as colours bloomed brighter, sounds louder, and scent sharper. Unbeknownst to her a visible mantle of swirling violet, indigo, and cobalt light took shape around her as her aura surged into being.

A surprised squeak coming from her left drew her attention and she pivoted smoothly, her wand coming up and the shards of ice glittered dangerously as they formed a loose circle in front of her. "Show yourself at once!" Iris commanded as she zeroed in on where the squeak had originated from.

To her surprise a house-elf seemingly materialized in the room as it shed the magic that allowed it to remain invisible though it was still mostly hidden behind the lockers at the far end of the aisle across from her; its large hands were clapped firmly over its protuberant eyes. The little creature splayed its fingers slightly and cracked open its eye to peek through the gap it had made and with another squeak it hastily covered its eye again having spotted the young witch clad only in a towel with the deadly looking ice crystals floating in front of her.

"Benjy is most sorry Miss but I is being asked to deliver a letter to you personally," The house-elf, Benjy, exclaimed as he squirmed in place a blush tingeing his cheeks as it was uncomfortable with being seen and being in the presence of a near-naked witch.

Iris for her part rolled her eyes in gentle exasperation as she relaxed and let go of the magic that filled her, her aura fading gradually as the power settled back into the reservoir that she imagined for it. She had a soft spot for the little guys but when they cropped up in the bathing area it was a bit much; "Alright Benjy, no harm done. Just stay there a moment and please keep your eyes covered until I tell you otherwise."

She didn't know if it would heed her orders as she wasn't his bonded master but she took his eager nods as a good sign while she opened her locker and pulled out one of the outfits she kept here for days like today. In a few short minutes she was dressed and seated at the edge of the bench nearest the creature, her wand held loosely in her right hand while the ice needles circled overhead. Just because he was acting nice now didn't mean he might not decide to beat her into submission with something later, Dobby had taught her that lesson a long time ago.

"You can open your eyes now," Iris instructed as she kept careful watch on the house-elf in front of her, taking the time to take in its appearance for the first time.

It was one of the taller elves that she had seen an inch or two taller than three feet with the same large eyes and long pointed ears that defined its brethren however it also seemed somewhat more solid than the Hogwarts elves she was mostly familiar with. Rather than the spindly limbs, there was some mass to them that made this elf seem stocky by comparison and the fact that it wore a clean white tunic with a leather belt wrapped around its waist pointed to the fact that he was unlike any elf she had seen before.

Once again taking a peek at her through his splayed fingers to make sure she was decent, Benjy bashfully smiled up at her while he lowered his hands and reached into the small satchel at his belt. He stilled suddenly as three of the ice needles floating in the air above their heads dropped suddenly and began to orbit above him but seemingly summoned up his courage to slowly extract the letter he had spoken of.

"Master Riddle told Benjy to deliver his letter so that the nasty old goat couldn't try taking it away from the young miss! Benjy is doing just like Master asked but Benjy did not know young miss was bathing! Benjy is most sorry for startling Miss Iris Potter and will see to it that the Master knows that he is to be punished!" The elf started off with a rather happy and proud look as his chin was held high in the air but by the end of his declaration, he seemed to be half his size as he collapsed in on himself.

Iris knew better than to argue with a house-elf, the way their minds worked were simply too alien for her to follow along with though she had always tried to treat them with respect and kindness. It seemed pretty clear though that this guy was feeling pretty distressed over the situation and that he was probably going to do something egregious to himself over something that was practically inconsequential. Really, it shouldn't bother her since she knew that once the Professor found out about it he would probably order the elf to punish itself by feeding Nagini a mole or something but she could practically feel the urge to do something rising.

'I should really get this whole 'saving people' thing checked out. I'm sure it's not healthy for me in the long run.' Iris lamented to herself as she took the letter from the elf while the three icicles that had been spinning lazily around him returned to their fellows to take part in the aerial routine that had turned into a scrimmage game of Quidditch minus the seekers at some point.

The letter in her hand looked rather ornate compared to what she was normally used to with the pale linen envelope and the series of runes that were inked into the supple cloth in gold ink. Looking over the runes more carefully she could make out Algiz, Perthro, and Othala followed by Gebo, Thurisaz, and a merkstave Wunjo before the pattern became too complex for her to follow.

There was definitely magic in it though and a cursory diagnostic spell caused the runes to flash brightly and the envelope to glow a bright turquoise with bands of red and black running through it. Iris interpreted the meaning easily enough, the envelope was ensorcelled with powerful wards of privacy and protection and those that tried to breach the protections without permission would be injured in some way, finally if the defenses were breached then the item would destroy itself and its contents.

Professor Babbling's words echoed in her ears as she looked at the envelope in her hand, "Words have incredible power behind them; they can cut you to the quick and console you in your darkest hour, disgust you or entice you, obfuscate and make clear. The runes you will learn in my class are just as powerful if not more so because they are not used without the intent to invoke them.

"You do not hem and haw in Elder Futhark nor do you gossip with Egyptian Hieratic; these scripts when written and powered by magic have the potential to create unrivaled protections or turn a simple stone into a weapon that would make the kings of yore tremble with envy."

Turning the envelope over she was met with a green wax closure and impressed upon it was the familiar seal that quartered Hogwarts' crest; a rearing serpent upon a shield. Looking up at Benjy she found the house-elf politely turned around with his fingers plugging his ears and humming quietly.

Smirking to herself she raised the envelope and hissed softly, the sibilant language of the snakes passing over her lips easily and she watched with no little amount of interest as the wax glowed softly, the linen warming comfortably in her hand for a moment before the flap fluttered open and let her extract the folded piece of parchment within and read its contents.

Iris,

As promised I have secured for you a tutor befitting a student of your talent and capability, I trust that you will find him a suitable instructor in my absence. You will find him on the seventh floor this evening at half past eleven post meridiem, you know where. Heed his teachings well, while some of his information is out of date at his peak he was a formidable wizard. It would please me to know that you have been given a solid foundation from which we can build upon in the future.

The Headmaster continues to be a thorn in my side; he is using allegations of misconduct to scrutinize my every move. My post is being screened and my departures from the grounds logged, and while I am not well-loved by my colleagues I have at least commanded their respect but this too seems to have waned considerably.

For the time being, any communication between us must be done through Benjy whom I have commanded to attend your summons. The envelope, as you no doubt noticed, is heavily warded and thus you should take great care with it; while it will not cause excessive harm should someone attempt to force it open without the key phrase they will most likely not attempt a repeat of the action.

Keep me apprised of your progress, I look forward to hearing of your successes.

Yours,

Tom M Riddle

P.S. Burn this letter after you've finished reading

'Well, at least I'm not the only one feeling a bit paranoid today,' she mused to herself as she finished reading the postscript but with a little smirk she waved her wand and caused the paper to burst into flame, the red tongues consuming everything and leaving naught but ash to drift to the floor. A flick of her wand erased the smoldering evidence from existence and another cleared the air of the lingering odor of burnt parchment.

Holding the envelope in her hand, she looked at the pressed image of the serpent and quietly hissed again; watching with unveiled interest as the wax seal glowed once again before snapping the cloth flap shut. It was a curious piece of magic but she put it out of her mind for the moment, she had other concerns to deal with as she tucked the linen into one of the inner pockets of her casual robe.

Rising from her place on the bench, Iris approached Benjy and laid her hand on top of his head. She felt him stiffen under her touch for a moment before relaxing as she drew her hand away; the house-elf pulled his fingers out of his ears with tiny popping sounds and ceased his humming while he turned around to face her.

Crouching down so that she was at eye level with the magical creature Iris gave him a radiant smile, "Thank you for delivering this Benjy and for being so careful, it means a lot to me knowing that the Professor has such a dedicated house-elf." As she spoke, she watched as the little guy went from stunned disbelief at being thanked to glowing with pride, holding himself a bit straighter with the praise. Still smiling, Iris stretched up and rubbed the elf on the head between his ears before summoning her broom with a raised hand and a thought.

As she filed out of the locker room sans her icicle entourage; she left a madly blushing house-elf, who had one hand rubbing his scalp with a somewhat dopey smile on his face, behind. "Young miss will make a wonderful Lady one day," Benjy said quietly after she had left the room, the icicles bobbing in the air in silent agreement.

With a snap of his long fingers the icicles disappeared and with a quiet pop, the room was empty.

Riddle's Office, Hogwarts, Scotland

Riddle sat behind the desk in his office working through a stack of essays on his desk with a scowl, his activities of late had occupied more of his time than he would have liked and set him behind schedule when it came to grading. He honestly enjoyed teaching, there was something inherently satisfying about passing knowledge forward to his students especially those who displayed their exceptionalism but he would always be the first to admit that there was quite a bit of tedium that he didn't care for.

With a sigh he set down the essay in front of him and scratched an Acceptable at the top of the parchment in red ink before moving it to the completed pile. Setting his quill down beside the inkpot Tom pushed back from the table, his chair sliding back with a slight rasp as it dragged over the carpet. Rising from his seat with a muffled groan, he stretched his arms overhead to the accompaniment of several pops before he crossed the room to look through one of the enchanted windows that provided him a view over the Forbidden Forest despite his quarters being in the dungeon.

The soft pop that sounded behind him told the Defense professor he was no longer alone in his rooms, not that he needed the audio clue to tell him when his House-Elf was present. He had thought long and hard on whether or not he should take one of the magical creatures into his service. While marvelously efficient beings there had been little need for him to personally acquire one when the castle was filled with them. The castle's elves were supposed to maintain the quarters and attend to the needs of the professors when called upon but ultimately they were sworn to the service of the sitting Headmaster and with recent events he refused to allow anyone he could not trust into his sanctum.

The utility of the creatures was undeniable but so was the knowledge that he would never get the most out of whatever bond he initiated. The history of the House-Elves had long been forgotten but there had been enough curiosity about them to warrant an investigation into their capabilities by the Unspeakables and Rookwood had provided him those studies along with many others.

The findings in the report had been mildly interesting in that it showed that the diminutive beings needed a large concentration of ambient magic or a magical bond to sustain themselves, deprived of both and they simply faded away. They had also found that a house-elf bonded to a family that cared and… loved… it was capable of more sophisticated feats of magic than one that was abused; whether this was a reflection of a psychosomatic condition or a real byproduct of its condition was indeterminable. Regardless, Riddle had never experienced love nor did he think he would ever be capable of it so it mattered little; he would have to find an alternate means of drawing his new servant's full power out.

"Is it done Benjy?" Riddle asked quietly as he turned around to face the large-eyed creature.

"Yes, Master Riddle!" Benjy nodded emphatically, his ears flapping with the vigorous motion, "Benjy delivered the letter just as Master commanded but Benjy startled the young Lady while she was in the bathing room." The elf looked rather morose as he recited what happened, "Benjy accepts whatever punishment that Master deems fit!"

Riddle was rather impressed by the little being's resolve as it declared that it should be punished, he'd seen Death Eaters tremble at the mere thought of him punishing them but then again to them he had been the most powerful Dark Lord in living memory; as far as Benjy was concerned he was just a very powerful school teacher.

"Hmm… was she distressed or upset at your intrusion?" Riddle asked with a frown as he looked at the house-elf curiously.

"The young Lady thought she was under attack at first and drew her wand…" Benjy started hesitantly as he furrowed his brow and wrung the hem of his tunic in his hands worriedly, "But when Young Miss sees Benjy, she is not being upset. She is thanking Benjy for being good House-Elf!"

Riddle repressed a snort at the awe-struck tones of the creature though he did take note of the terms of address that his servant used. He wasn't sure if Benjy was using her social rank or if he was alluding to her magical strength; if it was the former than there was little to worry about but if it was the latter… he didn't like the idea that such information could be gained by anyone with a House-Elf.

"Seeing as Iris did not kill you and that she thanked you for your service, your punishment will be mild this time." Riddle stated as he settled himself in one of the arm chairs in the sitting area of his office, "As punishment, you will suppress Iris' magical signature until she learns how to do it herself. Now, what information do you have of the other matter?"

Benjy stopped twisting his tunic as his hands slackened in surprise; the punishment was far less than he had expected to receive but he wasn't about to argue. "Benjy does as Master ordered and is watching Miss Talky without being seen. Miss Talky is being speaking with many students but some students is being speaking to her more than others. The Boy-Who-Lived is going often times to see Miss Talky and some of the Snakies too."

By the end of the short report Riddle was pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that was trying to form as he deciphered the house-elf's words. 'Longbottom doesn't surprise me; Dumbledore would want to make sure his golden boy wasn't going to fall apart after the Vault but the Slytherins…'

"What do the Slytherin students discuss with Sinclair?" Tom asked as he crossed his legs at the knee and reclined back into his seat.

"Benjy is not sure, Master. Miss Talky is using spells to hide her speaking but there is much anger and hatred in the Snakies and it grows sharper before they leave. Miss Talky is being very pleased when they leave." Benjy answered as he furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to dredge up anything he might have heard the students or the woman talk about.

"This doesn't bode well," Riddle muttered to himself as he steepled his fingers and rested his chin on his fingertips, "Benjy, I want you to compile a list of the Slytherin students that have met with the Counselor and try to find out what they have been discussing. Do not get caught and report back to me as soon as you discover something."

"Yes Master!" Benjy knew a dismissal when he heard one so the faithful creature bowed deeply and popped away to carry out his duties.

"What are you and your lapdog up to Albus?" Riddle asked aloud as he glanced out of his artificial window to the entrancing view of a red dawn, "You're stacking the deck against someone, giving the kids someone to rail against but the question is: who?"

Hogwarts, Scotland

Iris was rather subdued as she sat at Gryffindor Table for the Halloween Feast; her sense of anticipation had mounted steadily since she had received the letter that morning but ever since the golden platters had arrived it had bled away to be replaced by a quiet rage and a fierce determination.

Halloween had never really been a good day for her what with trolls, bloody messages, fugitives out for blood, and being entered into deadly tournaments, not to mention a yearly anniversary of murdered parents that everyone celebrated.

For all that though, Iris suspected that Halloween was even tougher for Liatris; she had been the victim of a beast that had left her confined to a bed for weeks with a wound that wouldn't close and caused her unbearable pain. A beast that was first released on Halloween and had without ever being seen infected the school with fear and suspicion like a plague.

Her sister sat stiffly at the table, her muscles taut with anxiety as though she could feel the Sword of Damocles hanging perilously overhead. It was a stark contrast compared to the jovial faces of the students around them, tucking into their meals with gusto, and it struck Iris poignantly.

She remembered the Samhain rituals that she had performed at sunset with her family; the offering of food and gifts to the spirits of her forebears and to the Goddess. She remembered the rush of magic as the offerings vanished from their bronze dishes and the powerful upwelling of love and security as she felt the presence of her ancestors dancing alongside her around the bonfires.

She had resigned herself to the knowledge that the Old Ways were not observed at Hogwarts, that such ritual magic was frowned upon and those that practiced it were backward Purebloods that wanted to terrorize muggles and muggleborn alike. While part of her felt the Old Ways were new and strange it did nothing to take away the sense of majesty that the ancient rites had evoked in her, the way that it called to her and sang in her blood. She knew that she could bear the stymieing rules of Hogwarts until she graduated and could once again celebrate as she was meant to.

At present she could not help but to feel resentful of the children stuffing their gobs while Liatris looked like she would break from the tension. Disgust turned the food to ash in her mouth and she had to fight to keep the gorge down, breathing exercises and judicious use of Occlumency kept her from abandoning the table and storming out of the Hall altogether. As it was she barely held on until the deserts disappeared, her favorite treacle tart left untouched, and the students dismissed before she made her way back to the seventh floor at a very brisk walk.

Hermione and Pollux struggled to keep up with her pace but Liatris was just as eager to make her escape and was ready to sprint if it meant getting back to the relative peace of Gryffindor Tower. Before long they had arrived at the Fat Lady and Iris found herself staring warily at the portrait and taking in its undamaged canvas, the cold finger of surprise tracing her spine and making her shudder.

'You'd think that I'd get used to falling down the rabbit hole by now,' Iris mused to herself as she realized that her foreknowledge had faltered once more, 'But I haven't. Things are incredibly different and yet so very similar that I can't help but be surprised when things go completely sideways.'

"Iris? Are you alright?" Hermione's voice drew the raven-haired witch from her thoughts and she looked over at her friend's concerned features.

"I'm fine," Iris said as she smiled reassuringly at the brunette though it did little to alleviate the girl's furrowed brows, "Careful 'Mione, if you keep looking at me like that you'll start getting wrinkles."

"Well don't just stop walking and space out like that then, prat!" Hermione chastised her lightly with a mock glare as she tried to suppress the smile that was making the corners of her mouth twitch.

"Sorry," Iris offered with a shrug before giving the password and leading the way into the common room as she heard the dull roar of the rest of their housemates coming up the stairs, "Just got caught up in some thoughts is all."

"I didn't know you were capable of those," Pollux stated with an easy grin as he threw himself into one of the armchairs by the fireplace though he did seem to squirm a bit under Iris' glare, much to her satisfaction.

The girls took the long couch across from the hearth, the older pair sandwiching the youngest in the middle. The warmth and security of the common room was a welcome comfort that helped to bleed off the stress and anxiety that had built up over the day as they waited for the inevitable to happen.

"They've been known to strike her every now and again, generally at the least opportune time." Liatris offered airily before a finger poked her in the ribs and drew a half-shriek, half-laugh from her as it landed on one of her ticklish spots.

"Keep talking and I'll share some of my ideas with the Weasley twins," Iris threatened lightly, "I'm sure I could cook something up that they'd be eager to try for themselves." Iris' words were met with a pair of shivers from the Second Years; while they knew she wasn't much of a prankster she was still Marauder raised. Anyone that grew up in that setting would invariably wind up more devious than most… and with a healthy paranoia regarding unattended food.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't; those two get into enough trouble without anyone's help as it is." Percy's voice cut through their conversation and the group of younger students turned to look over the back of the couch at the Headboy, "Pardon me for intruding but nearly everyone else has headed up to the dorms."

Iris blinked in surprise and looked around to find that the Common Room was empty save for themselves and a few other Seventh years that were working on what looked like an Arithmancy formula.

"Point taken Percy, we'll turn in for the night as well." Iris said while the others nodded their head in confirmation, the Headboy smiled and gave them all a nod as he bid them goodnight and headed over to the study group to take one of the empty chairs.

Pollux left the girls at the foot of the stairs as he headed up to his own dormitory while the girls trudged up the steps to their own rooms. Liatris took Iris by surprise as she caught her sister in a fierce hug on the landing for the Third Year Girl's dorm before wishing her and Hermione goodnight.

Iris watched as her sister's form vanished up the spiraling steps of the tower with a look of worry, it had only been a few weeks since Liatris had stopped having nightmares on a nightly basis but with the dread that had filled her all day she suspected that the kind-hearted girl would be awakened at least once by the terrors that her mind could conjure up. That was an experience that Iris had only too much experience in and that was before going up against a boggart that had probably scared a few years of her life away.

Iris was startled out of her musings when Hermione nudged her arm, giving her bushy haired a friend a wan smile she followed her into their dorm. The familiar sight and sounds of her sleeping classmates was welcome and she held a faint hope that just maybe things were different because they could be better this time around.

Sliding under the warm duvet of her bed behind her shut and silenced curtains, Iris lay awake as she waited impatiently for the minutes to tick by. She briefly entertained the idea of going out for an evening flight on her Nimbus, sneaking out wouldn't be all that difficult but getting back in after Dumbledore locked the castle down for the evening was rather hopeless. With nothing else to do she slogged her way through her Arithmancy texts already knowing that she was probably going to have to reread the chapter but at least it killed the time.

Fifteen minutes before she was due to arrive at the Room of Requirement; Iris spelled herself silent and invisible before she slipped out of the shared bedroom and down the stairs to the empty common room. Feeling a bit more confident, the young witch made her way out of the portrait hole without disturbing the Fat Lady's slumber before setting off on the brief trek to her destination.

The corridor on the seventh floor was deserted as usual, she wondered just how dusty this part of the castle would be if it wasn't for the House-Elves constant maintenance. It was a pleasant musing as she came to the door that stood out starkly from the bare wall around it and paused before it as she took a fortifying breath and stepped forward into the Room beyond.

The room's configuration was a large, cavernous stone room lacking in both ornamentation and furniture; not even a training dummy stood that might be of use. It struck her that she might simply be early and the tutor wasn't present yet but that wouldn't explain how the door had been summoned and waiting for her to use; odds were that the tutor was in the room but hiding their presence and if that was the case it would be easy enough to figure out. Dispelling her disillusionment charm with a negligent wave of her hand, she drew her wand and prepared to use the Homenium Revelio charm.

She never got the chance to however as the barriers that shielded her mind from intrusion repelled an alien tendril of thought that had sought to gain entrance, bringing her to full alertness and sending her senses into overdrive as she tried to locate her the unseen threat. Diligent study and practice had turned Iris' Occlumency into a formidable protection and her recent experiences had made her hyperaware of any attempt to gain access to her mind as she refused to let anyone have control over her ever again.

Having been repelled and detected the mysterious entity gave up any pretense of subtlety and launched a devastating barrage against her mental fortification. The pain that resulted as she held against the assault was very near crippling, driving her to her knees as nerves flared and her vision blurred.

With sheer willpower she shunted the pain aside and reinforced her mental barriers, gathering herself to retaliate with a psychic lunge of her own. She shaped her probes, barbed arrowheads to pierce the barriers and dig into the mind of her adversary, shafts of razor wire to rend and tear. With profound effort she launched them against her attacker and earned satisfying grunt of pain as the mental attack ceased abruptly.

The satisfaction was momentary however as she felt a surge of magic build and flashover before a familiar bolt of red magic was sent skirling towards her from her flank. With a half-gasp half-grunt, she flung herself forward from her kneeling position, rolling to her feet beneath the wash of the Cruciatus Curse. Her temples throbbed angrily as the sudden movement aggravated the splitting headache that she had developed and her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

"Vasilikí̱ Prostasía," the incantation feel from Iris' lips as she traced the number three in the air from the bottom up and followed it with a quick downwards slash. With the deep tolling of a bell, a dark azure barrier flashed into being in time to catch a pair of grey lights on its surface; the spells flashing out of existence with crashing chimes as the magic collided against the shield.

Iris could now barely make out her attacker, their invisibility shattered in the aftermath of their spells though it availed her little as they were cloaked in shadows that the room provided for them. With the knowledge that her shield was holding up against the barrage of curses that the unknown man, she guessed it was man from the wide shoulders and height, was throwing her way; the witch decided to advance forward. It was a risky move this early in the fight, the spell-caster still fresh and only just beginning their attack but the pace and strength of the spells had not let up and she knew that he would flag soon; she just had to wait for that lull…

And there! That last spell hadn't been remarkably weaker than the others but it hadn't hit with the same intensity as the previous spells. With but a thought her shield evaporated and she was forced to step to the side as a pair of spells flashed towards her, poisonous green and neon pink light that bathed her in their light and made the hairs on her arms smoke as the passed her with nary any space at all.

The next few moments would have been packed with tension had there been any spectators to see the terrifying display of magic as curses and hexes ranging from the painful to agonizingly lethal colored the air with the lithesome girl dancing around them. Iris sidestepped, ducked, twirled, and jumped with preternatural economy of motion; not a single inch was given more than was absolutely necessary to avoid the incoming spell and if she couldn't get out of the way she blocked or parried.

For nearly thirty seconds the man kept up his rate of casting, not a single word uttered nor a single step taken; only did his arm move, his wand a brush painting an incomprehensible pattern in the air as magic spewed forth at a blistering pace. After what would have been an utterly exhausting feat for just about any witch or wizard the man seemed to flag, not by much, but where there had only been room enough before to breathe and move there were now tantalizing moments where Iris could muster a riposte.

The casual robe she had put on that morning after her exercises was singed and torn, the hem frayed from the debris that had bit at her legs as she leaped over Blasting Hexes and shallows cuts bled along her arms and cheeks but the only injury of note was the blistered skin that peeked out from under her collar, the result of a too close ball of flame, and while it was surely painful she couldn't truthfully say she felt it at all. Not with the blood pounding in her ears, her heart racing in her chest, and her adrenaline surging through her veins while exhilaration and terror coursed through her to form elation.

Never did she feel as alive as when she was in the middle of a fight, her senses blown wide as her magic filled her utterly and where every breath could be the very last. Seizing the moment to fight back, Iris raised her wand and let her instinct and training take over.

What had started as an ambush transformed into a fight as the enigmatic figure was forced to move aside or raise defenses of his own as lances of cobalt, jets of yellow, and darts of angry orange light descended upon him. The air between them was soon saturated with magic; Iris' magic forming a visible corona, an amorphous cloud of scintillating color that flowed around her like a mass of writhing serpents.

It didn't take long then for the battle to shift into Iris' favor at that point, her magic pulsing through her in time with her heartbeat as her pace began to quicken; uttered incantations and wand movements became silent and motionless. No sooner had one spell left her wand then the next was following after it, driven forwards by sheer intent and the seemingly inexhaustible well of power that sprung within her. Bars of fire scorched the ground, silver sickles scoured the stone of the chamber and blasts of barely visible force tore chunks from the wall.

The level of devastation that she wreaked was impressive in a darkly morbid sense as her volleys dipped lower into the shades of grey as her frustration mounted with each spell that failed to connect despite the fact that she had him pinned and that he was only surviving by virtue of conjuring or shielding against each attack.

With a furious snarl, Iris reached down into her core and tapped into the swirling torrent of rage that seethed within her, a dark malice held in check through sheer determination. It had been born in a cupboard under the stairs where it had been forcibly muzzled for fear of the Dursley and nurtured by darkness and hunger. Adversity and persecution became its constant companions over two lifetimes and this man, who hadn't even bothered to introduce himself, had attacked her and with such magic that would have seen her broken and dead were she any less capable and now he refused to succumb to the inevitable.

"Annihilarus!" The incantation was spoken with such enmity that it barely sounded human at all but the effect that it spawned was utterly monstrous, pinpricks of darkness swirled together at the tip of Iris' wand forming an egg sized sphere of oily blackness. The kind of black that makes the color around it dull in comparison because of its stark and absolute clarity.

Riddle's Workroom, Hogwarts

She had asked Professor Riddle about this spell at the end of her second year after Liatris had been attacked and she had desired a piece of magic that would help her to destroy the thing that had harmed her baby sister. He had looked at her then, truly looked at her, and weighed her measure before he spoke.

"This is Dark magic you're asking about Iris and not the kind that you can just point a wand and let fly with an incantation. The Obliterating Curse requires you to want, from the very soul, to destroy otherwise the magic will fail and the backlash can very well kill you if you are not strong enough." Tom's voice had been soft, gentle even, but the gravity of his words still weighed on her heavily.

"Do you think I'm not strong enough to handle this kind of magic?" Iris had asked, that she was a twelve year old girl had not really entered her frame of thinking, she didn't view herself as such anyway; not with all the nightmares and memories that swirled about in her head. Even Tom acknowledged that, he had seen her covered in blood and the slashed throat of Quirnius Quirrel, no one who had looked upon that scene could consider her a mere child.

"I think you're strong enough to survive the backlash but I don't know if you're prepared for the Dark Arts. The power of Dark magic comes at a cost, one that many people are not prepared to pay." Tom paused to see if the witch had been scared off yet but only saw chips of green ice staring back at him with steely resolve.

Content that she had not been cowed at the dire proclamation he continued, "The Dark Arts require that the caster embrace the parts of themselves that most people shy away from. You must accept the fear, the rage, and the hatred that you feel; you have to be totally honest with yourself. You can desire justice and retribution but you cannot deny the desire for revenge that lies there as well; there can be absolutely no illusions about what you are invoking when you use a Dark spell. It is why many neophytes go mad or die when they first venture into the forbidden arts."

The slight smirk as he said the last conveyed what he thought of those people who lost their minds and lives in the pursuit of power. It was a cold and cruel look but it was genuine, Riddle knew exactly what he was capable of; had known for a very long time in fact and he didn't try to tamp down the sense of superiority he felt over those unable to master themselves.

Iris considered his words carefully and thought on the words that Bellatrix Lestrange had once told her, that righteous anger wasn't enough to fuel the Cruciatus but that you had to want the person to hurt, to suffer. She looked at the back of right hand, the skin there was whole and unblemished but she could recall the words that had been etched there with perfect clarity, 'I must not tell lies.'

Looking at the nearly sculpted features of her mentor Iris made her decision, "I don't know if I'm ready yet…" she admitted but held his dark gaze with her own, "… but I will be. Show me the spell." And he had, in all its terrible glory.

Room of Requirement, Hogwarts

Iris held on to her urge to destroy and felt her wand-hand tremble with the strain as her desire and magic coalesced within that small dark sphere. With the sound of a chimera's wail, the shrieks of a hundred predators blended into one terrifying roar, her wand bucked as the curse shot from the end of her wand and hurtled towards the man who was still pinned in place by the remnants of her onslaught.

He didn't even have the chance to move as the Obliterating Curse punched through the golden barrier of his shield, breaking the defensive spell with the sound of shattering glass before he was struck full in the chest. For a mere fraction of second, the world in Iris' eyes seemed to stand still as a shockwave emanated from the man; it passed over her in a great rush of air before it rushed back the way it came stealing her breath and sending her hair whipping in front of her face before a thunderous explosion of black fire caused time to race forward in an effort to catch up.

She felt the ground shudder beneath her feet as the walls of the room flaring to life with the radiance of the sun, hundreds of thousands of runes activating simultaneously as a wall of dark flames collided against them. She could feel the biting heat of the conflagration wash over her, fresh beads of sweat breaking out across her brow and arms as she raised a hand to shield her face from the scalding gusts of wind.

Her magesense was fully open from the duel and she could feel the battle raging between her magic and the Room's defenses; the black flames a dark symphony of rage and anguish that roared defiantly against the gentle but relentless lullaby of the runes. It took several long moments before the music began to quiet and then eventually fade but when it had, she was both horrified and entranced by what she saw as she lowered her hand.

The part of the chamber that had been hit with her spell was charred black and smoothed to a glossy sheen as though it were polished granite. No trace of her attacker remained and she quietly wondered if she had somehow immolated the tutor that Riddle had gone out of his way to acquire for her. She was struck by a sudden guilt at the thought of killing a man who she didn't even know as well as a profound sense of satisfaction seeing as the person had been doing their level best to kill her.

As the adrenaline and battle-lust that had sustained her slowly drained away, Iris found herself feeling extremely drained as she sank to the floor in exhaustion. Her muscles ached dully and the well of magic that she was used to having filled to the brim was nearly depleted from the amount of magic that she had been throwing around in the fight, the amount of power she had used in the Obliterating Curse alone had been far more than necessary and while the results had been impressive it had also been incredibly wasteful.

Mentally chiding herself for letting herself lose control like that she breathed deeply and tried to get her heart rate back under control while she thought of what she was going to tell the Professor about killing her tutor. He was probably going to be more than a little upset especially since his letter had conveyed a sense of respect for the wizard but there was nothing she could do about it now.

"Congratulations, Scion Potter, you survived the entrance exam." A quiet baritone broke the silence and caused Iris' eyes to snap open as she rose shakily to her feet and took up a dueling pose as she turned towards the voice, her wand leveled at the speaker's heart. Under normal circumstances most would find a thirteen year old in a battle stance to be humorous but the dangerous glint in her eyes and the crackling of violet light took all the levity out of the air.

The voice belonged to a young man, just over six feet in height and powerfully built with wavy long hair and an unshaven look that suited his gaunt face. He was handsome in a rakish way that reminded Iris of her godfather and what she thought Pollux might achieve in a few years.

He was dressed in a bright blue silk tunic that fell to mid-thigh with embellishments of silver thread at the collar and hem, the rich garment was cinched around the waist with wide leather belt strewn with pouches. He wore a set of robes in dark grey, elaborate scrollwork twisted along the border in sinuous patterns while a thick woolen cloak hung over his shoulder in a checkered silver and green pattern. A large silver brooch was clasped at his right shoulder; a snake coiled around a wand, and at his left hip was the ornate hilt of sheathed dagger.

What was truly disconcerting about the man's appearance was the blood that stained his chest darkening the silk and turning it black while heavy chains of iron crossed over his torso like bandoliers and though she could not see it, there was a large padlock with runes carved over its entirety that rested on the center of his chest.

It took a moment before shocked recognition entered her eyes and she realized just who the man was, "You're the Bloody Baron!"

"I am… and I am not." The man said quietly as he looked down on the young witch in front of him with unveiled curiosity and interest, "Just as you are not what you appear to be, Iris Potter."

The silence that fell between them was deafening, witch stared at wizard with narrowed eyes and a calculating gleam as she pondered how to respond to that statement. He could not know the magnitude of his statement, even under the Legilimency attack that she had suffered her barriers had only cracked and would have given him only access to her surface thoughts. Her secrets were safe so that only left what he could infer from her performance during his test... which was still a rather lot.

"Bugger me sideways!" Iris muttered aloud as she relaxed her stance and glared at the man reproachfully, "Is it possible to Obliviate a ghost?"

The Bloody Baron chuckled at the girl's reaction, "I can't say I don't understand your sentiment; wandless magic, silent point casting, Occlumency, and the Dark Arts. Riddle said you were an advanced student but I did not suspect that you would be beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. Nor do I suspect does he. How delightfully fascinating!"

The Ghost of Slytherin House delighted in the glower that was fixedly locked on him and smirked widely as he looked down at the girl with eyes the shade of Death, "And no, a Ghost can not be Obliviated. You could of course bind a spirit to silence if you were inclined towards Necromancy…" Iris entertained the thought for a moment but she stilled had nightmares of being nearly drowned by Inferi and wanted nothing to do with them so she shook her head to the man's consternation, "I thought not, no one appreciates the fun stuff anymore."

Iris looked at the corporeal ghost quizzically as she tried to determine if he was serious or not but his face was stoically set and she couldn't get a read on him, "You have an amazing poker face, you know that right?" He didn't respond for a long moment before he gave a very slight nod of acknowledgment.

Shedding the moment of levity, Iris' face hardened as she looked piercingly at the ghost; "So what happens now Baron? You know my secret and you must have some understanding of what I've gone through the last couple of years I've been here. You must understand how imperative it is that what you've learned never be discovered by others."

The Baron's face remained impassive but tension seemed to settle over his shoulders as he considered his words, "Firstly, I am no baron and though my name and holdings have long been forgotten to time while I lived I was known as Ragnall Dunaid, a Prince of Alba." Iris nodded as she tucked away that kernel of information and waited patiently for him to continue.

"We, the restless dead, are attuned to the presence of the Beyond having refused or been denied its embrace and never before have I encountered one such as you, so heavily steeped in Death. Neither Godric nor Salazar whom fought and lead wars such that they had been mired to the knees in corpses carried the scent as strongly as you do."

Iris was unsure what to say after hearing the ominous proclamation so she remained silent and watchful while she stared up at the long dead man, her gaze unflinching as she met his ancient intellect. The pair remained quiet for several long moments, unperturbed at the tense silence that filled the air as each weighed the other.

"When I asked Rowena's Study to provide an opponent that would draw out the true depth of your abilities, I did not anticipate more than a gifted fledgling's flailing attempts at dueling instead I am presented with a warrior tempered by combat. What I know of you are tales of strong family and happiness but your magic screams of solitude and suffering. You are an enigma wrapped in a contradiction and I know not what to do."

Iris folded her arms across her chest as she listened to Ragnall, this was easily the most she had ever heard the Slytherin ghost speak. She didn't know if perhaps he was more comfortable speaking with his fellow dead but from what she knew, which was very little truthfully, he tended to be exceedingly quiet. Still distant memories of another conversation with a ghost had revealed to her why he wore his chains and sported his stains of blood.

"To me you are little more than a stranger but what I do know of you makes me believe that you are not one to go out of his way to render assistance to a student in this manner." Iris weighed whether she should give voice to her wonderings or not before she gave in to her curiosity, "I mean no disrespect or discourtesy but I am curious as to why you are here."

Ragnall didn't seemed phased by the statement though he did seem somewhat pleased by it, "In my living days, I was apprentice to Lord Salazar Slytherin; as part of my apprenticeship I swore an oath to serve him and his family faithfully until I had been judged to be a wizard of worth and achieved sufficient mastery in my craft to take on a student of my own."

"I see but what does tha-… oh!" Iris's brow furrowed as her mind leapt to a conclusion that she was positive was correct.

"Indeed," Dunaid was nodding as though he knew exactly what had occurred to the witch, "Salazar Slytherin was a very cunning man to have made what seemed a trivial oath of apprenticeship into an Oath of Fealty that binds me even in death." The Albion prince fingered the padlock that held his chains in place, "The present Lord Slytherin is every bit his ancestor's equal in that regard as well which makes our current predicament so interesting."

"Lord Dunaid, I have taken great pains to be seen as merely a prodigious student of magic and not the accomplished duelist that you've seen me to be. I am beset with adversaries on all sides, all of whom wield more influence than I. Not even those I consider my allies know the complete truth less they betray me, wittingly or no." There was no point in not being honest with the specter made real, his mind was his own and short of Black Magic there was no force on Earth that could compel him to silence. She would have to make her plea and hope that she had swayed him into holding her confidence.

"Lord Slytherin shared with me how the Headmaster ensnared you with a Ring of Obedience, that the shade of Grindelwald had taken some interest in you and that you've ventured into the Vault of Hufflepuff and survived the Trial. For being as young as you are I did not think you could have attracted so much attention but having seen you fight without reservation I begin to see the truth of the matter.

"Heir to a Most Ancient and Noble House and magically powerful in your own right, you represent political, economic, and martial power. Independent of one another you would be courted heavily for the influence you would wield upon taking the Headship after your father but when held together you become an asset best seized young and molded accordingly."

Ragnall Dunaid had existed in one form or another for over a millennium, in that time he had accumulated a wealth of information; magical and historical. He had seen so-called Dark Lords rise on the backs of the disenfranchised, seen them rise through bigotry and jingoism; invariably though they required money, fighters, and allies to push their agenda. It was easy to see why there was a vested interest in Iris and her development, he would admit to being very curious himself since she had survived Hufflepuff's Trial unscathed despite what he had seen of her use of magics that would have been called Dark when he was alive.

"Very well child, I will hold your secret for the time being and teach you as my Lord Slytherin hath bid me. In exchange for my silence however I will ask that you render a service to me in the future, no questions asked." Ragnall's gaze settled on Iris in an unwavering stare as he waited for her to make her decision.

Iris hesitated to take the ghost up on his offer, she knew that whatever favor he had in mind that had such stipulations could turn out very badly for her but she had little choice in the matter; she could not allow the truth of her capability spread, not even to Riddle's ears. "Very well Lord Dunaid, I pledge to render aid on the occasion of your choosing in exchange for you keeping what you have learned of me in confidence. Do we have an accord?"

The dark haired man nodded win satisfaction, "Aye, Heir Potter, we have an accord. Now we have much to do and little time to accomplish it, en garde child and let us begin."

Summerland Hall, London, England

The British Ministry of Magic could be called a lot of things; xenophobic, bigoted, and corrupt were among them but no one had ever accused it of being afraid to wield its rightful powers so when the Rosier family died out during the Blood War, Minister Bagnold seized their estate as reparations for supporting a terrorist organization. Summerland Hall was one of the true historic townhouses of London, a sprawling estate in the center of the city built along the Thames when wizards were still openly mingling with non-magicals though it had long past from the minds of the muggles after the International Statute of Secrecy had passed.

The former city seat of the Rosier family had for a brief time served as the headquarters for the Auror Academy before a string of budget cuts had reduced the program to a mere handful of candidates per year that could be easily accommodated using the Bluecloak facilities within the Ministry building. Now it served mainly as a ceremony and banquet hall, and for James Potter it was evidence of just how far off track the Ministry had strayed over the course of the last decade.

He had been among the first of the Aurors trained at Summerland, Grindelwald had just been vanquished and while Voldemort's shadow still loomed ominously over the horizon there had been no sightings of him. He and Sirius had been cautiously hopeful at the time, the Order had been told to keep a careful eye but to stand-down otherwise and though they were still running sorties on behalf of the Hit-Wizards, even those operations were winding down.

He remembered Mad-Eye giving him and Sirius all the motivation they could handle in clearing the assessments right up to their graduation when he had handed them their dragonhide coats. And what he wouldn't give to be wearing his trench coat instead of the gaudy monstrosity that he was wearing now, the Auror dress robes were meant to be both impressive and functional but no one had had seemed to question their comfort during the design stage.

Functionally; the fitted crimson high-collared robes were meant to serve as dueling robes with the way they contoured across the shoulders and chest, tapering sleeves provided ease of movement but prevented the wearer from getting their cuffs snagged on anything that the more casual robes allowed for with their voluminous design. The lower half of the robes were split at the back to facilitate more rapid movement without restriction and meant that the polished dragonhide jackboots were on full display.

His Auror badge, a gold shield with three crossed wands emblazoned on it and a single flawless piece of quartz mounted in the center, was placed on the left breast of his robe with the rows of commendations and awards affixed below it, three eight pointed stars were pegged above the badge to denote his rank as a Captain.

"Don't make me put a Sticking Charm on you, if you can't stop picking at your collar; I'll make you!" Lily's voice stopped his hand as it was nearing his shoulder and he sighed dejectedly as he lowered it back to his side.

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to worry about the thing choking you!" James whined plaintively as he looked over at his wife and drank in her appearance not for the first time that evening as they crossed the quadrangle towards Summerland's main entrance.

Lily had always kept herself in shape, her muggle upbringing had ensured she never got too complacent with magic and allowing laziness to set in but ever since Wormtail had managed to get himself past the wards at the Potter country house she had started up the old regiment she had placed herself under during the Blood War. Lean muscle had firmed and toned parts of her anatomy that had softened over the years through neglect and the results had certainly been noticed by James.

The dark navy off-shoulder dress she was wearing only served to emphasis her beauty, the sheath styled gown clinging to her curves in all the right places but still teasing the imagination as it feel to floor length, a slit in the skirt reached from the hem to her knee. The silky gown shimmered elegantly in the weak light cast by the gas lamps of the building and its dark hue contrasted vividly against her fair skin and complimented her auburn hair, swept up in a complicated braid. In a word, she was stunning.

"You're starting to drool, James," Lily said with a smile as she wrapped her arm around his and hugged it to her, leaning into him as they walked stepped past the massive iron-banded wood double doors that had been swung open to allow the guests admittance.

The Auror was about to defend himself with a well-placed compliment but was interrupted by a voice from behind.

"And well he should be Lils, you look positively smashing!" Sirius stated boldly as he and Sarah caught up to the pair, the roguish man bearing his cheek splitting grin as Lily mocked swooned at the compliment and James growled at his best friend though the glimmer of humor in his eyes took out any threat from it.

"Shouldn't you be keeping your eyes on your wife, Padfoot? As radiant as she is, I doubt she'd appreciate your straying eyes." James jabbed at the Marauder as he took Sarah's hand and bowed over it while the journalist laughed pleasantly at the banter.

The couple presented a striking image; Sirius wearing his dress uniform with aplomb and Sarah gowned a slate grey chiffon dress, the strapless bodice hugging her firmly and displaying a tasteful amount of cleavage while the skirt fell from the high waisted silver belt, to the floor in flowing pleats.

"I don't particularly appreciate it but I can quite understand it," Sarah stated with a smile as James righted himself and she could greet Lily with a brief hug, whispering in her ear as she did so; "Careful where you pose, the Minister might have to charge you with assault if everyone breaks their necks trying to get a good look at you."

That got a very unladylike snort from the enchantress as she returned the woman's embrace, "At least I'll have good company maybe they'll even let us share a cell."

The close friends continued to chat amiably as they stood in the Entrance Hall, mingling with the other guests and greeting familiar faces as the crowd of attendees steadily grew. The DMLE Halloween Ball was one of the more well attended social events that the Ministry sponsored, serving as both a fundraising function and a celebration marking the end of the Blood War. As such, much of the Ministry's senior staff was in attendance; various department heads, Wizengamot members and of course the Minister and his Undersecretary.

It wasn't Minister Fudge with his lime green bowler or his squat toad-like Undersecretary in her lurid pink dress that stood at the head of the room; rather it was the dour faced Director Longbottom who stood before the bronze doors that separated the Entrance Hall from the Ballroom with Regina at his left hand. Behind him and to the right were his three heads, along with their escorts; in the case of Thicknesse and Rufus it was their wives but in the case of his Head Auror, Amelia, was joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Frank cut an impressive figure in his jet black uniform dress robes with its golden trimming; five eight-pointed stars on his chest over the DMLE's coat of arm, a helmed escutcheon with a crossed sword and wand, to signify his rank as the Department Head. His chest was covered in medals and achievements upon both breasts of his robes, most of them earned in combat and several of those were repeated.

Tapping the flute of champagne in his hand with his wand, Frank sent a chime rolling over the crowd and cut through the chatter. As everyone's attention turned towards him he coughed once to clear his throat before giving those assembled a sweep of his gaze and a tight smile, "Ladies and gentleman, I want to thank you all for coming tonight and showing your support for the DMLE in light of the recent events that have taken place."

Frank paused to level an even glare at Fudge causing the Minister to gulp heavily as he feared what the man would do; it had been weeks since he had been chewed out in his own office by the department head and threatened with exposure. It had taken a good bit of gold and several favors to get Barnabus Cuffe to agree that there would be very little to gain by revealing to the people just where their tax money was going but that wouldn't stop word of mouth from spreading if Frank decided to drag it out now.

To the crowd of attendees, watching the silent byplay it was obvious that Fudge was afraid of the Director as the Minister paled dramatically under the man's gaze but they returned their attention to Frank as he began speaking again, "Despite what is being spread in the press, the DMLE is doings its utmost to capture the fugitives that escaped Azkaban and bring them to justice. However, tonight is not a night for the long winded speeches of old men; tonight we gather to pay homage to our fallen brethren and honor our friends and family."

Raising his glass in toast and held a moment of silence as he remembered the men, women, and children that had died during the Blood War and those that had died since he was Head Auror and then Director. Every Auror accumulated a few cases over their career that they would always carry a torch for, keeping an eye out for a lead that could break the case wide open but Frank took it a step further; he kept a copy of every unsolved case in his office and knew every victim's name and face.

Lowering his glass Frank sipped the expensive champagne to wet his throat before he began speaking again, "As you all know, there is another reason behind tonight's event… the DMLE's Sentinel Fund. For those who are unaware, the DMLE maintains a fund to be used in times of personal crisis for our personnel; the Sentinel Fund supports the widows and orphans of those who have paid the ultimate price in the execution of their duties.

"Every year the members of our family give generously but we look to the community that we serve to aid us as they can. I am proud to say that this year the generosity of our neighbors has been substantial and for that I wish to thank you all however there is one among us who deserves special recognition…" Frank paused as he looked into the crowd and extended a hand towards the person in question, "…Madam Isabel Zabini has donated a sum of half a million galleons to the Sentinel Fund and a number of items from her personal collection to these evening's silent auction!"

A polite round of applause went up at the announcement and the dark-haired Italian woman gave an abbreviated curtsy in her red dress as she smiled beatifically at the crowd. James raised an eyebrow as he caught Sirius' gaze, the Marauders weren't strangers to a good prank and having a suspected murderess donating a sizable fortune to the people that viewed her with suspicion just smelled of mischief. From the way that grey eyed Auror's eyes were twinkling, he was thinking along the same lines and found the irony of the situation hilarious.

The deep ringing of a gong pulled the attention of the two men back to the front of the room where Frank had opened the doors to the ballroom; a large circular space with floor to ceiling windows along the outer wall looking out over the gardens and the Thames. The room was illuminated by a pair of crystal chandeliers that glittered and gleamed with reflected fairylights, a dozen braziers were placed around the room and filled the air with a faint yet pleasing incense.

The crowd of attendees filtered into the room and gathered at the small tables that dotted the room save for in the center where a polished wood platform was left open for those who would be dancing. The party of four settled at one of the tables at the periphery, mostly out of habit rather than because they wanted to be away from the other guests; Mad-Eye had a way of getting his lessons to stick after all. The small table was filled out when Kingsley and Amelia joined them, the Head Auror and her escort/bodyguard relaxed at the table as small talk and the clatter of silverware against ceramic filled the air.

James for his part did little to keep up any of the dinner talk as his gaze kept sweeping over the room as he watched the crowd and he wasn't the only one either, more than a few of those dressed in Auror Crimson and Hit-Wizard grey were watching the dinner guests with thinly veiled distrust. Not that he could blame them for it, even fourteen years after the war was over it was hard to set aside the notion that some of the people seated beside you had been part of the bloody revelry that the Death Eaters had taken part in behind their masks and robes.

He personally had a number of files in his study at the manor with the names of several of the people in this room that had escaped prosecution by buying their way out of an Azkaban sentence or had managed to slide with the Imperius defense. What was more interesting to him however was how they all seemed to be taking glances at the guest of honor and how Isabel Zabini seemed to take no notice of their actions as she chatted with the Minister and Frank.

"Sensing the tension, eh Potter?" Amelia asked the bespectacled Auror with a faint smile on her face as he turned to face her, "Frank was understating just how bad off we were, every year since the war ended the department's budget has been shrinking. The Sentinel Fund has been covering the areas that we can't budget for anymore; armour, spare wands, field supplies and the like. We've been subsisting off of charity for years now but with the breakout and those raids we lost a lot of the good will that keeps the fund running."

The Head Auror polished her monocle on her diner napkin before pressing on, "We were afraid that we were going to be in for a lean year but Madam Zabini's contribution caused a quite a ruckus. The last week or so we've had a number of sizable pledges, far more than we had expected but I suppose no one wants to be seen as less charitable to our needs than a foreigner."

James shared a thoughtful look with Lily as he glanced back at the curious woman that was the mother of one of his daughter's best friends, "Well, it's not like she can't afford it and her son does attend Hogwarts though I'm uncertain as to the why behind it."

Sarah tapped her chin with a finger as she let her inner journalist out, "Considering the amount of attention she's getting it could be just as likely that she's looking to expand her portfolio. A donation of that size would easily prove that she has the capital to back up whatever venture she wants without having to divulge any details."

"I thought much the same myself," Amelia said as she looked at the reporter and smiled at her when the woman flushed faintly under the scrutiny, "I don't much like the fact that we're dependent on what is most likely gold earned duplicitously but we're not in a position to be picky."

James let his attention drift away from the conversation as his eyes settled on the Italian woman, watching with unbridled curiosity as various people approached her table where she sat with the Minister and the Director to exchange a few words before moving on. Music began to fill the room as a small band of musicians set up on a stage at the farthest left-hand side of the room and began to play much to the delight of several guests as they rose from their seats and ventured onto the dance floor.

Most of the people that attended Lady Zabini weren't all that surprising, Wizengamot members, Ministry workers, businessmen, but what was more interesting were those who James knew were members of the shadier elements. She treated most of them with the same detached politeness that you expected when dealing with strangers but occasionally there were signs of familiarity as she greeted people warmly.

James was pulled from his observations as a powerful hand squeezed his forearm gently and drew his attention; Kingsley had a small smile on his face as he shook his head ruefully, "Finish your wine and dance with your wife Potter, you can work out the angles tomorrow when you're on the clock." The man's melodic bass rumbled quietly as he reprimanded his old friend, removing his hand when the younger man nodded his head in acknowledgement.

James looked at Lily with a sheepish smile while she shook her head in mock exasperation, her eyes twinkling with mirth as the messy haired Auror rose from his chair and asked her to dance. They stepped onto the dance floor with easy grace as they swayed to the slow rhythm of the music, enjoying the way that their bodies fit together as they held each other close.

"So does Amelia have to start worrying about her job?" Lily asked quietly as she wrapped her hands behind her husband's neck while his hands settled on her hips.

James cocked an eyebrow in confusion as he looked into his wife's emerald eyes, he honestly had no idea what she was talking about and he frowned a bit at her gentle laughter.

"Everybody can see that you've been working hard these last few months James and no one is going to fault you for it." Lily placated his ire with her reassurances, after the scares they had gone through over the summer and her near breakdown she wasn't going to fault him for throwing himself into his work to catch Pettigrew or the other Death Eaters, "Just don't forget to come up for air."

For his part he knew better than to argue with Lily, especially when she was right; he had bee pursuing the fugitives nearly nonstop since they had escaped and now that Fudge had decided to meddle in their affairs he was doing everything he could think of to stop him from going on a leave of absence ad just tracking the rat down himself.

So he just heaved a put upon sigh and muttered, "Yes dear!" With a playful smirk as she narrowed her eyes at him in mock irritation as the corner of her lips twitched.

The redhead cuffed him on the back of his head lightly in response to his teasing tone but he took it in stride with an impish smile that she couldn't help but laugh at, "And when this is all over you're going to take a vacation and relax. Got it!?"

"No argument here," he agreed quickly as he leaned in to peck her on the lips and rested his forehead against hers, "Where shall we go?"

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment before she spoke up, "You're the one that insisted the girls learn French while they were young, so why not put it to good use?"

"You've been talking with the Grangers haven't you?" James asked lightly as he thought of the parents for his eldest daughter's best friend, he rather liked the two dentists though he still found their occupation somewhat strange but Lily had enjoyed getting together with the doctors on occasion.

"Just a bit but I think it'd do the girls some good to get out of England for a while, besides Narcissa says that the Riviera is a must see." Lily said as she closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"You know, I still don't know how you two got to be such good friends," James said as he encircled Lily's waist with his arms, he spared a glance for the other dancers and smiled at a few of his colleagues as his wife tucked her head under his chin.

"The same way that Draco and Hermione managed it, with patience and an open mind. Admittedly they both had Iris giving them a push in the right direction." Lily stated fondly as she thought of her eldest child and her actions.

Lucius' position had mellowed over the years but he still had a bias against first-generation magicals due to their ignorance of the culture in the Magical World and he had passed that bias onto his son. Hermione had been everything that Lucius despised in the Muggleborn before Iris had started to educate her in the Old Ways, young and eager to point out all the flaws without any thought to the people and their beliefs.

It had been the same for herself all those years ago except she had Severus to teach her and guide her steps so that she did not make the faux pas that many other Muggleborn did. It was thanks to that guidance that she had gained a measure of acceptance before she had ever considered dating James but she would admit that marrying the heir to a powerful line had given her unprecedented privileges and her academic records had allowed her to capitalize on them.

"Aye, she's definitely your daughter; Merlin knows I wasn't half as mature at that age as she is." James muttered wistfully as they slowly turned in place as they rocked with the beat of the music. He was thankful that both of his girls had inherited their mother's sense of fairness, while he would defend that the Marauders had done some remarkable things in their time at Hogwarts there was no denying that a lot of their pranks had crossed the line.

"Don't sell yourself short, you had an open mind when you befriended Sirius and learned about Remus' condition. You just weren't thinking with the right head when it came to Severus and he didn't help things by retaliating in kind." Lily assured him with a small smile as she stepped back to look into his face, the music coming to an end as she hugged his arm to her and started back towards their table.

James chuckled softly at Lily's words, "We still can't stand each other but at least we manage to be civil these days." He doubted that he and the Potions Master would ever be anything close to friends but at the very least they could sit in a room and treat each other politely.

"And thanks be to the Goddess for that!" Lily replied with a quiet laugh as she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. The dark-haired man smiled at that and leaned in to reward her with a searing kiss of his own, earning himself more than a few wolf whistles from his fellows in the DMLE that the couple dutifully ignored.

It was in the midst of these cheers that no one paid much mind to the young brunette woman in Auror work robes that entered the dining hall from a side entrance and padded over to the Director as quietly as possible. The fact that the recently graduated cadet managed to make it to Frank's side without stumbling or falling over herself once wiped the small smile that the usually dour man had when he joined in the whistling.

Excusing himself from the table he motioned for the young Auror to follow him off to the side of the chamber and fished a small rune engraved moonstone from the pocket of his trousers. Clenching it in his fist and feeding a trickle of magic into the stone the pair were caught in a sphere of silence that would prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"Auror Tonks, report!" He ordered, falling easily into his role as commanding officer; he wasn't highly decorated because he had been riding a desk post his whole career after all.

"Yes sir, Outpost Delta missed their check-in at twenty-two hundred this evening so Auror Group Six rolled out with Hit-Wizard support as per your orders. When they arrived on scene they found that the wards had not been breached and there were no signs of struggle however we received no response to our challenges or Patronus. Auror Moody ordered a tactical entry into the Outpost…" Tonks trailed off in her retelling as she shivered violently, her hair paling from the rich brunette it had been to a limp grey as she recalled what she saw.

"Sir, everyone stationed at Outpost Delta was catatonic when we breached and preliminary investigation shows evidence of them receiving a Dementor's Kiss. The Dementors are still holding position around the Hogwarts grounds as ordered but we've no way of telling which of them attacked the handlers or what provoked the incident." She finished with a shaky exhale as she shuddered and visibly gathered herself together, her hand returning to its natural hue.

Frank cursed softly under his breath; he had been against stationing the Dementors at Hogwarts to protect his son against possible threats. He would have much preferred to stick a few Hit-Wizards around the schools entrances and have an Auror shadow prime targets under an invisibility cloak but the Minister had point blank refused to tie up most of the DMLE with babysitting a school. Instead the imbecile had chosen to use a group of lesser demons as a guard force and deterrent because they worked for free, if you counted the souls of the worst scum in Britain as being a free resource and having seen the budget for Azkaban that wasn't exactly a stretch.

"And people ask me why I hate politicians," Frank grumbled bitterly under his breath before he fixed the fresh graduate with a fierce stare, "Since you're here I'm betting that Moody is already sharing this information with Albus and that we'll have a net of wizards who can cast a Patronus in Hogsmeade by sun up."

The shocked look and the way that her hair went from brunette to neon yellow and back again was all the validation that Frank needed, "Half of the senior Aurors trained under Mad-Eye including myself and Amelia, we all know just how he looks at the bureaucracy. Stick close to him; learn all you can and you'll go far. Just try not to play the insubordinate card until you've trained your replacement."

Frank dismissed the young Auror with a gruff smile as he pocketed the moonstone and allowed the sounds of the room to crash back down on him. With Moody at the scene he knew the paranoid bastard would do his job and lock down the scene for the Investigative Squad and keep Hogsmeade safe until he could get the retirees some relief. He would have to make it through this party before he got down to business so it was looking to be an extra long night for him.

"I bloody hate Halloween!"

Author's Note: I don't know if this chapter counts as being long awaited but I'm relieved that I finally managed to write a chapter that gets the story past Halloween; I swear October did not want to end and it's introduced a whole slew of new plots to juggle that I hope you'll enjoy it in the long run. I know that last part was really slow but it was needed to set up what comes later and I really wanted to give James and Lily a bit more attention to flesh them out. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the extra-long chapter! Cheers!