AN: Hey! Thanks for stopping by, I hope you'll stay a while. First things first, this is the second story in my Secrets series and if you haven't read the first one you might want to (or maybe you don't cause live dangerously and #yolo and all that) pop back to my author page and read through Secrets That Remain Untold to start at the beginning of Kaelix's story. Regardless, this is still Harry Potter and I still don't own anything you might recognize, so this is me, disclaiming *waves hands* everything, except Kaelix she is my smol bean. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Numb

~ Summer 1987 ~

It was dark. Grey clouds were thick overhead, full of rain that was threatening to fall; they blocked out most of the moon's glow. The wind blew hard and sharp, howling and as cold as ice, it made the trees moan with the effort to stay rooted in the ground. A brief flash of light illuminated the distance and was momentarily followed by the rolling of a thunder cap. A storm was not far off.

The once fresh autumn air was tainted with the smell of smoldering ash, wet hay, and charred flesh; it was suffocating. A once beautiful home lay in ruin, looking as though a cataclysm had struck it. The scene was silent and still from a distance, appearing abandoned. To the untrained eye it would appear abandoned even up close. Only certain people would be about to tell that there were people moving about the scene, analyzing, probing, and searching… but for what they did not know.

'Find the cause' had been their orders but as to what the 'cause' was, no one could tell them for certain. They still didn't know whether they were searching for a human, an animal, or some kind of device. They simply searched, examining every piece of the ruined house. Of course, everyone would have their own suspicions, a rumor they chose to latch onto. There hadn't been an event like this in several years, but the similarities would set some down a hopeless spiral of panic. The whispers would echo down the halls of the ministry, false accounts that had been exaggerated with each telling would spread like wildfires if they couldn't find the truth of what had happened here tonight. And then, even if they did, panic had a way of spreading faster than fact ever could.

It was in the nature of facts and fiction for the latter to spread more wildly. Reality tended to be so much more limited than the stories that the mind could weave. It was intoxicating, recounting something riveting for an eager audience. Most people wouldn't even realize they were exaggerating the truth into something else while they were doing it. Others would knowingly muddy the lines between the two, happy to go on living entirely in the world of fiction if it meant they didn't have to deal with the harsh facts of reality. Some of those people had been here, at this very house.

Some methods of escaping reality are more harmful than others. Though a casual observer would never be able to tell that it was those participating in a mostly harmless method that had caused the devastation before them. Not even the detectives who probed the scene with their polished wooden sticks would be able to fully discern what had happened to disturb the once peaceful home. Perhaps they'd discover what had left it in ruins this night, but it would be some time before anyone learned that it had been in a different kind of ruin for much, much longer.

They didn't have spells or incantations that would reveal to them the way the once peaceful home had been spiraling downward since long before this night. No number of spells could expose the root cause of the destruction or reveal the events that had led up to it. Their efforts were sincere but futile. There were only two people that could give them any idea as to what had occurred that night, and even still, neither one of them could really understand what had happened. At least not yet.

Hushed voices could be heard just on the other side of the rubble, indistinguishable to those few who were probing what remained of the building. The dull thud of their steps on the ground, the wood creaking and snapping as they shifted things to search, and the occasional shattering noise drowned out the voices. There were two people speaking and the hushed nature of their voices would indicate that they did not want to be overheard, not even by those who searched the house. Though even their hushed tones did little to cover the fact that they were arguing over something.

"...are you saying that after six years-" a stout man wearing dark robes and a bowler hat said, glancing nervously around as though checking that no one was listening, "-after six years, you think that You-Know-Who is still alive? And he's out there somewhere, giving orders to his followers again?"

"No, Cornelius. I am simply saying that we haven't seen anything from Voldemort-" Cornelius flinched "-or his old followers for the past six years. What would motivate them to do something like this now?"

"Whatever motivated them before, Albus. Power? Greed? Anger?" Cornelius said. "What does it matter what their motivation is?"

"You said it yourself, all those that would risk life in Azkaban for openly showing their loyalty to him have already done it and are sitting in a cell. So why would any of them do this when their leader hasn't returned?" Albus asked.

"So you do think he's returned?" Cornelius asked, shifting on his feet. "How would he do that, Albus, if he's dead?"

"You know as well as I do that no one can confirm that Voldemort died that night. Without a body I hesitate to believe that he is actually gone," Albus replied.

"He can't be alive, Albus, he can't be. He hasn't returned," he muttered. "Impossible."

"I think anything is possible until we have evidence otherwise."

Cornelius was silent for a while, looking uneasy and lost for words. "But-" he scrambled. "But then why? If he is still out there, why would we have peace for so long? This cannot be a calculated attack, it must be a stray death eater, without You-Know-Who. We defeated him, he cannot still be out there."

Albus' head turned slightly, "But defeated and killed are two entirely different outcomes. And nothing any death eater ever did was arbitrary."

Cornelius' eyes widened at his statement, "He's gone, Albus. Dead. End of story. We can't- It's been six years, really… We don't need to stir up any panic with false rumors that he might still be out there. Especially when we have no proof otherwise. Death eaters are one thing, we certainly didn't catch them all, but You-Know-Who? No, we can't have people thinking he's returned, or that it's even a possibility. Death eaters have attacked countless wizards and muggles alike for no reason other than spreading terror. Their attacks were the very definition of arbitrary. How can you think he is behind this?" his voice rose more than he intended.

"You misunderstand me, Cornelius, I've no intention of starting false rumors. I simply don't believe that this is the work of a death eater, supported by Voldemort or not," he paused for a moment. "Everything that Voldemort and his followers did was part of his plan, every piece of it, every attack, every murder was planned to further his agenda. What seemed like arbitrary attacks to us, were strategic acts of terror meant to weaken both our own resolve and the muggle world's. This is too haphazard for him to be behind it, it's too random, too isolated, it accomplishes nothing. If Voldemort or his followers were to come back and make a statement, it wouldn't be this."

"You don't think it could have been a stray death eater, just acting of their own volition? Maybe there was something here that they wanted..."

"In a secluded house, miles from any town, what could possibly be here that they would have any interest in?"

Cornelius opened his mouth but came up short, he had no idea. "Then who would do something like this, something so horrible to these innocent muggles?" he questioned, not willing to relinquish the argument just yet.

"Maybe it was an accident," Albus mused, his eyes focused not on the scene in front of them but somewhere else, far off in the distance. "Or an act of mercy."

Cornelius' brow furrowed as he observed his companion. "I'm not making any allegations here, but you say that as if you know more than I do," his words were slow, measured.

"I'm afraid I've led you astray, I know nothing more than you do, Cornelius, I just like to keep an open mind about the information that I do have. When something is destroyed we tend to assume that the destroyer is the villain of the story, when the simple fact is that is not always true."

"Well whether it was an accident or an act or mercy or anything other than an attack, whoever did this still needs to understand that there are other ways, there's protocol and procedures to follow or else-" he was cut off.

"Or else someone like Voldemort may be killed unfairly? Or else someone like Sirius Black might go to Azkaban for life without a trial? I do not question your protocols or procedures, but I do believe there are instances that warrant exceptions, which history would indicate the ministry agrees with. In some instances."

Cornelius ran a hand over his brow and adjusted his hat. "Be straight with me, Albus, do you think this was the work of a dark wizard or not? Was there some new evil here tonight that we should be worried about?"

"Yes and no," he replied. "Dark wizards are not the only evil things in this world."

His eyes had that distant look about them again, focused on an image that only he could see. Something that might help explain what had happened. A memory that had initially been tucked away for later importance, but now it might be of use.

Cornelius was watching Albus, who remained silent and deep in thought. His eyes moved quickly over the older man, head to toe and back again, but he didn't seem satisfied. He was on the verge of asking a question but his hands were fidgeting with the contents of his robe pockets, his eyes shifting from Albus to the scene of ruins in quick flickering movements, and he rocked slightly on his feet. He didn't just want to ask the question, he wanted a certain answer as well and he was afraid he wouldn't get the one he wanted.

His lips parted and he glanced at Albus again contemplating whether he should ask the question or not. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could voice a word there was a small 'pop' and a woman appeared; walking toward the two of them. Albus returned from his deep concentration and spoke to her.

"Good evening, Minerva. Though not as good for some, as you can see," he said solemnly, indicating the ruins that were left of the house.

The woman nodded as she walked briskly to stand next to Albus, her emerald robes billowing out behind her. As she stopped beside him, her robes fell still around her feet and her eyes began to scan the ruins in front of her.

"Have you found out what happened yet, Albus?" she breathed, turned her gaze to him.

"We have learned nothing that we did not already know," he replied.

Minerva looked somewhat disappointed.

"Were you hoping for something more?" he asked.

"Just something that would confirm that all the rumors flying around are just our own fearful imaginations. You know what they have been saying don't you?" she glanced at him but he said nothing so she continued. "They have been saying that this is an omen, Albus. An omen foretelling the return of You-Know-Who. People are panicking." She sighed. "It hasn't been like this in six years."

Albus remained silent for a few moments while Minerva's words hung in the cold night air. "You are the last person that I expected to hear that from. Particularly knowing how you feel about Divination." -she huffed- "As for the panicking, it's not entirely unwarranted, as you said it has been six years since something like this has happened and it reminds them of darker times. But this house is very different than any of the ones that were demolished six years ago."

Cornelius was fidgeting on Albus' other side partially excluded from the conversation but still listening intently.

"How so?" Minerva asked when Albus didn't elaborate.

"Look to the sky, what do you see? Thick dark storm clouds. Nothing out of the ordinary, no signature dark mark stating that a death eater had been here or any other follower of Voldemort's."

Minerva's eyes scanned the sky briefly before saying, "They may have decided to begin discreetly."

"They would not have begun here, not with this house, destroyed in this way," Albus answered simply.

"How can we be sure?" she asked.

"If they had come here for a purpose that required discretion, they would not have destroyed it like this, leaving a trail for us to follow. If instead they wished for a display of rising power, then they would have chosen a more public place in both the wizard and muggle world. These rumors that are spreading will burn themselves out in a few days when there are no follow up incidents," he said.

"These kinds of events have their way of sticking in people's memories," she said.

Albus nodded his agreement but remained silent.

"What are we going to do, Albus? Whoever has done this is still out there somewhere, and we have no idea who they are or where they're going."

"Isn't that more of a Ministry thing to decide, I don't mean to be rude but taking action against criminals is what the Aurors are paid to do," Cornelius said seizing the moment to jump back into the conversation.

"I was only thinking that with these rumors spreading so rapidly, people would feel more at ease if we did something immediately," Minerva stated.

"Well maybe you should think about the fact that it's the Ministry's job to ensure the safety of the wizarding world, and running the Ministry is the Minister's job, not Albus'," Cornelius replied.

Minerva opened her mouth to argue her point farther but Albus interrupted her.

"Minerva, Cornelius has a point, we do pay the aurors well to perform their jobs. We should not interfere with them. However, as it is their job, I would expect them to take some action immediately, people will be expecting it," he said pointedly.

They both fell silent. Minerva knew there was no use arguing the point further, and Cornelius because he was at a loss over Albus taking his side.

"We do not need to be at war with each other, especially if there is a new threat out there," he said.

"Do we have any idea what that threat might be?" Minerva asked anxiously.

"We don't even know that there is a threat yet," he said absently. His eyes were fixed on a person that was approaching them from the ruins of the house. He had a lithe build and was moving carefully but efficiently through the deris, as a hunter would stalk his prey. He slowed as he approached the three of them and nodded to each one in turn, "Sir, Professor, Professor."

"Novak, what is it, have you found something of importance?" Cornelius asked impatiently.

"Another one of the muggles, the young girl, she's alive," he said.

It was silent for a moment before they all collectively registered what he'd said; there was another survivor.

"Alive? Are you certain?" Cornelius asked.

"How did you not notice this before?" Minerva asked.

"Where?" Albus asked.

"Follow me," Novak said, "I'll explain on the way."

He led them across the rubble, picking through large fragments of wood, glass, and indistinguishable furniture remains.

"We were told initially that there were no survivors, and we were given strict instructions not to touch the bodies," he explained, "some nonsense about contaminating the scene," he added with a tone that clearly showed his disapproval. "As you know that had to be modified when we found the other one was alive."

He slowed to a halt just outside a semi-clear circle that was completely blackened from the fire. It looked as if the blast had been most severe in this area; it was hard to believe that anything here would have survived.

"I was inspecting this area here," he said, indicating the debris to their right, "when I thought I heard something unusual coming from over there." This time he indicated what appeared to be the remains of a couch and a blackened pile of rags. He then led them closer to the remains and continued, "so naturally I came over for a look and found that the source of the sound was her shallow breathing. Per the Minister's orders, I didn't touch the body before informing you, sir," he directed the last comment to Cornelius.

"Novak is this some kind of joke, I don't even see-" Cornelius began.

"Took me a minute to realize it too, that bundle of rags there, that's her. If you move over that way you can see a bit of her face through her hair, the fact that it's black helped disguise her a bit," he said pointing to the darkened mass.

An icy, bone-chilling wind blew around them, Cornelius shivered, Minerva pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, and Albus remained motionless. Even as lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled dangerously close, no one moved.

"What do you want us to do, sir? Technically the Minister's orders are void, again, she being alive and all. Should we take her to St. Mungo's as well?" Novak asked, seemingly unaffected by the scene in front of him.

Cornelius opened and closed his mouth several times before he found his voice, "I think that would be what the Minister wanted in this particular case. When she wakes she may be able to tell us something about what happened here."

A siren in the distance came within earshot and Cornelius jumped slightly. Novak simply glanced in the general direction of the noise before turning back and continuing with business as usual.

Albus walked ahead of the rest of them and knelt down next to the girl's body. He withdrew his wand and muttered something under his breath. A soft light spread out over her body, blanketing her.

"Shall we get her transported away and disperse from the scene before the muggles get here? It would look rather suspicious if they found us all here and it doesn't look like we're going to find anything else anyway."

"No," Albus said quietly but sternly as the sirens grew louder. "She's only a child, she won't be able to tell us anything."

"I beg your pardon?" Novak asked.

"She's stable, doesn't appear to have suffered any physical harm, other than being somewhat cold which is understandable this evening. Questioning her will only lead to her distress. Leave her here for the muggles to find, she will be safe with them."

"Sir?" Novak asked Cornelius.

"Albus, just because she's young doesn't mean she can't help us figure out what happened-"

Albus cut him off, "She's barely seven years old, Cornelius. We have the boy, we can ask him what happened here. If he doesn't know then it's unlikely that she will know anything more."

Cornelius looked as though he was having a hard time making a decision, he was once again fidgeting with the contents of his robe pocket, rocking on his feet a little, and looking everywhere except at the others present.

"I don't mean to be rude but the muggles are getting closer," Novak remarked as the sirens turned onto the street that led up to the house.

Albus stood and faced Cornelius squarely. Cornelius finally met his gaze and caved in.

"Leave her to the muggles. We can always find her again if the Minister wants to question her. Give the order to return to the Ministry."

Novak nodded and retreated to give the order. Small 'pops' could be heard across the scene indicating the departure of the investigators, a very close one signaled Minerva's departure.

"I hope you're right, Albus, for your sake," Cornelius said before quickly disappearing himself.

"As do I, for the sake of us all," Albus said quietly to himself.

The muggle vehicles were screeching to a halt at the end of the drive, only fifty feet from where Albus still stood. He whispered something and made a small gesture with his wand. Everything returned to its original place and a blanket of warmth settled over the girl, a small breeze uncovering her face to aid their search. None of the muggles could see the last adjustments to the scene that played out a few feet from their approaching footsteps. With a final 'pop' the scene was left for them to investigate, less one of the survivors.

~ Present Day ~

Kaelix sat with her back against the cold stone of her cell without feeling it. She gazed at nothing, nor did she register the screaming that echoed through the prison walls. She's lost track of the number of days she'd been there, although she hadn't made much of an effort to keep track in the first place. Days meant nothing here. Her only real sense of time was marked by the unappetizing meals she was given twice a day.

She hadn't slept at all the first few days. Perpetually cold with no indication of whether it was night or day had bothered her more than the dementors had. Those first few days her mind had been filled with the voices. They were loud, clear, and relentless. But they were also old, tired echos that she'd long since memorized. They'd haunted her dreams and waking hours more times outside of Azkaban than they had inside. No, her body's constant shivering was far worse. By the time it had lessened, she hadn't even bothered to consider whether it was her body adapting to the constantly low temperatures or whether she was just slowly freezing to death.

It didn't matter that she was constantly surrounded by dementors, she wouldn't have allowed herself to hope even in their absence. She didn't hope, she didn't dream, she didn't cry, she just… existed. Hopes and dreams wouldn't help her escape, they would only disappoint her. There was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but darkness separated one moment from the next. Was this what it was like to live after the dementor's kiss? A still beating heart but only to maintain a living shell that once contained a soul. Maybe one of them had slipped into her cell while she'd slept and taken it from her…

Her head cocked ever so slightly, her ear picking out the unfamiliar noise. It was subtle but striking in its contrast to the sounds she'd memorized, the sounds that she'd become numb to. Footsteps. Dementors didn't have footsteps. She shifted her glassy gaze to the door of her cell. The door that hadn't so much as been touched since day they locked it behind her. She forced her eyes to focus, their perpetually glassy state a bit hard to shake. More unfamiliar noises. Clicking. Yet they were nearly familiar; last time she'd heard them they'd been reversed.

After one final click the door swung open with a sharp groan, and the stale air of her cell seemed to sigh. A rather tall man was standing on the threshold, a dementor hovering just behind him. She nearly squinted at his bright sapphire robes, an aggressive contrast to the colorless world she'd lived in for so long. He gazed at her with deep brown eyes, his brown face lined with years beyond what he'd lived. He didn't say a word as she held his gaze, but he stepped to the side of the cell door and gestured to her.

"So," she said, her voice cracking a bit, "the Old Man came through after all."

Those depthless brown eyes smiling at her was all the confirmation she needed.

AN: As always, thank you so, so, so much for reading! I'd love it dearly if you took just a minute or two to tell me what you thought of this first chapter of the next installment of Kaelix's story! Any guesses about what's going to happen now or in the nearish future? Any burning questions you haven't gotten answers to yet? (other than, you know, LOTS of Stuff and Things from the first story hehe pleasedon'thateme answersarecomingIpromise). I hope you all are staying safe and sane, until next time! :)