"Fuck me…" Hydrus stroked his beard and stared down at the writhing corpse-in-waiting. "How do you botch your own suicidal poisoning?"
The vampire was gasping and coughing up lung-fulls of blood. The being had tried to kill himself before Hydrus could start torturing him, probably with something hidden in a fake tooth. Now the time traveller wasn't sure if what the idiot had done to himself was worse than the interrogation he was going to do on his own, and whether or not he should heal him. Could he heal him? He made magic, not miracles, happen.
There was a snapping of fingers behind him, and the thrashing and choking vampire vanished into an ashy mist. Hydrus turned to see he was being ambushed by…
"Damn, look at you out of your castle for once," he muttered. "What's the king of all vampires doing 'interfering in the affairs of mortals'?"
Dracula scowled back at him. "You speak as though you know me."
Hydrus did, in a sense. He and Voldemort had both tried swaying the king to their sides when the war was on, and they'd both gotten told to 'fuck off' in much more vulgar and drug-addled terms. The king of all vampires was one of the few beings on earth who could've realistically tipped the scales one way or the other in the conflict. It wouldn't have been enough for Harry to win, but his castle was impregnable and housed all but a small percentage of the vampire population with 'room to spare' according to Charlie. It wasn't doing so now, as far as Hydrus was aware, but during the war they'd come together as a people to survive.
Charlie, one of the last three Weasleys, and eventually one of the last two, was Hydrus's usual man for such spycraft. He had developed an odd sort of charisma later in his life, the sort that allowed him to have pleasant conversations with world-powers like Leorex, Dracula, and other such titans. He always managed to thread that needle for showing them the proper respect, whilst also never showing them fear. He was a man who enjoyed, or perhaps even thrived in, danger.
Maybe that was why he survived longer than most others.
"I may not be able to kill you," Hydrus said to the true immortal. "But believe me when I say—"
"Save your posturing, boy, you're as bad as that whelp Arcturus." Dracula rolled his eyes. "I'm here to offer you a deal. Seeing as how Death has chosen to replace me as his chosen, I see no reason to continue to be his slave. I'm not willing to cross him unfairly, however."
Hydrus frowned, wondering what sort of ploy this was. "Go on."
"I will give you nothing, except a fair rate of exchange." Dracula began to flare his power, and Hydrus felt how familiar yet alien it was to his own Black family magic. It was primal, raw, closer to Death's own deific power than the cold and darkness filled version he himself wielded. "The next time you stumble upon one of my children, I will exchange their life for one of Death's other followers. Ones I'm… Less attached to. I will ensure that they have just as many connections as whomever you have captured, even some that are also my children. You may exchange those as well.
"In return, you shall not harm them, and their minds, any further than is necessary to facilitate their capture. You will not destroy their psyches as you have been." Dracula's nose was twitching like he wanted to snarl. "You will gain nothing from this transaction. I will be forced to waste my nation's resources in exchange for sparing my subject's lives, coming out at a level I find acceptable."
"You're right, I don't get anything out of that transaction, except losses in my own time," Hydrus said coldly. "Why the fuck should I bother?"
He already knew what would come next. Charlie might've been his spy for beings like this, but Harry always handled his own negotiations when the opportunities arose. Monsters such as Dracula and himself didn't make concessions; they did not gild any lilies. They wielded the stick when met with one of their own, never the carrot.
"You would be getting the chance to not be a fucking monster," Dracula snarled. "You have begun a genocide against my family!"
The king of all vampires truly flared his magic now, truly brought its weight down on Hydrus's shoulders, and the time traveller twitched. He batted the other being's magic aside with his own, sending Dracula stumbling back.
"That's not good enough," he began. "Your 'family' have—"
'That's absolutely rotten, Hydrus.'
"Have signed on with Death. I would, and have, spared the ones who haven't." He licked his lips as new words came to mind. "You killed this one before I got what I needed from him. I want five of Death's followers."
"Two."
"Five."
Hydrus slammed his magic down on the vampire now, and the other titan growled in displeasure. Just like him, however, Dracula didn't buckle.
"Very well," Dracula said. Hydrus stopped his working. "I shall have one of my attendants stay here until such a time as your misguided pissing contest with my master is over. Twenty-four hours from now, you will be able to return here and have five names waiting for you." The vampire pulled a small tin from somewhere in his pocket, then opened it to reveal what Hydrus thought was some make up tray. "I shall strive for future transfers to take less time, but you will accept that twenty-four hours is the time limit given to me. Are we in accord?"
Hydrus began to mull it over. He wasn't some non-human hating psychopath like Arcturus. He was just willing to kill innocent beings for the crimes of their god. The Black madness crept up inside of him and he coughed out half a laugh. What a—
"Are you snorting something?" Hydrus demanded as Dracula stuck one side of a metal straw in his nose and the other in the 'make up' powder. "Are you fucking—"
"Do we!" Dracula began. "Have an accord, mortal?"
Maybe… Maybe he actually did hate vampires. Or, no, perhaps it was just his hatred for old people. Almost all of the vampires he met and hated were very, very old after all.
"We do."
Dracula vanished in a cloud of smoke, completely unlike any apparition or other teleportation method Hydrus had ever seen before. Hydrus sighed and began to turn over his neck in a bone cracking symphony.
His tip had held the names and addresses of two vampires, so he still had work to do today.
Hermione looked over the letter she'd gotten, and tried her best to translate it from nonsense into sensibility. If it weren't for the fact that she'd seen first hand what sorts of wonders her 'cousin' or 'nephew' or whatever Giannis was to her could do, she'd have dismissed it all as hogwash. Instead she was fascinated as she put the puzzle pieces together.
The rune matrix he was describing technically fit into a three-dimensional scheme, but it didn't follow the usual rules of such things. Instead of discussing the depth and spacing and irreflecting surfaces between one rune and another, it talked about them reaching through the medium they were imprinted on. It seemed like it was taking into account the fact that brooms were made of various kinds of wood, and demanded a specific species of plant that neither she nor apparently he were aware of to make it work. The wood apparently had to be 'friendly but not inviting', 'good with interacting but not willing to do so'. She had no idea how that was supposed to work, let alone what it meant, but she pushed past it to continue on. The designs of the individual runes he referenced were completely foreign to her, and a few of them were ones he claimed to have found all on his own. Whether or not that meant he read about them in some book or designed them himself, Hermione wasn't sure.
She sighed and set the letter down. If she didn't have classes today she'd spend the whole of it studying the writing, getting to the bottom of it all, but for now she knew she had to put it off. Well, she had to put off the proper reply anyways.
"Dobby?" she tested. The elf appeared. "Could you tell Giannis that I'm busy with school, and I'll get back to him this weekend?"
"Of course, Mistress Hermione!" She winced at him calling her 'mistress'. The whole concept of house elves was so— "Master Giannis is also wanting to know whether or not you's is coming to the wedding?"
Wedding? What wedding?
Like an answer to her unasked question, owls came flooding into Hogwarts. Before long Hermione was accosted by the same snowy owl that had just been in here a moment before, and this time she had a much more formal looking envelope in her talons.
Hermione ripped it open and began to read. Apparently Harry's godfather and that woman she'd met in Hogsmeade a while back were getting married… This weekend?
"It's such short notice," she whined. "I don't know. What if there are quizzes on Monday? I need to be ready."
Dobby looked at her for a moment, then held his hand up in the air. "Dobby will check."
He snapped his fingers, and Hermione's worst nightmare happened.
The entire teaching staff of Hogwarts were transported from where they were dining to the floor or stumbling back as they suddenly found themselves without a seat. Her blood turned to ice, she leapt to her feet, but it was too late to stop the shame from pouring out and the laughter around her from pouring in.
"I'm so sorry!" She practically screamed. "I didn't mean for him to do that, oh god, I'm so—"
"It's quite alright, Miss Granger," Headmaster Dumbledore said. Unlike all of the others, he was still 'sitting' despite there being no chair underneath him. "I'm more curious as to what our friend Dobby has brought us here for."
"Yes, I'd rather like to know that myself." Hermione glanced over and her eyes widened at the sight of Professor Lupin in pyjamas with a foam around his lips and a toothbrush in his hand. "Dobby, if this happens again, I'm telling Hydrus on you."
"Master Hydrus says its good for Dobby to interpret things how Dobby sees fit." The elf nodded his head. "Master Hydrus will be very pleased with Dobby."
The werewolf sighed and Hermione winced. "I'm so sorry, again, I didn't mean for this to happen. I just didn't know if I could go to Sirius's wedding this weekend because there might be quizzes on Monday and Dobby just—"
"Settle down, Miss Granger." The headmaster's eyes were twinkling as he gave her a genial smile. "As I said, it's quite alright. I, too, am very proud of Dobby for being so forward thinking." The house elf beamed at the old man. "That being said, since I so very rarely get the moments to teach you all directly, allow me to make a quiz of my own for you.
"Should you take a battery of quizzes on Monday, covering the subjects you so regularly study and practice, and somehow fail them all," the headmaster continued. "Do you think you would regret those failed test scores more than you'd regret not going to the once in a lifetime opportunity to celebrate one of the grandest days in a family member's life?"
Hermione swallowed. That was a tougher judgement call than she was willing to admit since she knew the obvious answer.
"No," she said eventually.
Most of the teachers were wandering back to the head table, with the exception of Professor Lupin who'd gotten Dobby to send him back to his room directly and Professor Mcgonagal who was still watching the interaction, no doubt waiting to deliver the completely fair and deserved punishment Hermione was sure to get.
"I agree." Professor Dumbledore held out his hand to the Transfigurations professor who raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you mind helping an old man up, Minerva?"
The corner of the stern, matronly woman's lip twitched. "I would, actually."
"Alas." Dumbledore hefted a grunt and stood, reminding Hermione of what a feat it was for him to have been 'sitting' all this time. Had he conjured up an invisible chair? "I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, Miss Granger."
He turned to leave and Hermione prepared herself for the lecture from her Head of House. Instead, the headmaster looped his arm into the woman's and began pulling her away. Hermione's eyes widened for just half a second and she thought she saw the ancient warlock turn and give her a wink, acknowledging that he'd spared her the incoming punishment.
"Totally barmy," Ron said as the pair left. "Honestly, it's like he's gotten even more weird since turning himself all young again."
"He's not 'barmy', Ronald," Hermione chided, trying to settle down and let her heart come to a still. "He's our headmaster."
"He can be both," Harry chimed in. "Loads of smart and powerful people are barmy. Just look at my dad."
Ron laughed but Hermione just rolled her eyes. She'd never paid much attention to pureblood politics before Hydrus more or less told her that she could have a seat at his table for it. Since then she'd done a lot of learning, and she was fairly certain her best friend had no idea just how powerful his father was.
Draco had filled her in on some things, they'd discussed his understanding of the political landscape one day after last weekend, one night when Study Club was over and he and Doppsy were cleaning everything up. She'd also talked about the situation with Dahlia, in one of the rare moments that the Slytherin pariah let the Gryffindors spend time with her. The gossip rags had loads to say as well, though Hermione had been forced to make them into a metaphorical venn diagram and only believe in the things that every last one of them (besides the Quibbler) said. From there it had just been doing things like actually listening in on the gossip going around the girl's dormitory once everyone was getting ready for bed.
James Potter was widely considered to be the third or fourth most powerful man on the lighter side of the political landscape. Headmaster Dumbledore was obviously the be all, end all on their team, and after him were the recently deposed Augusta Longbottom or the Diggory family as a whole. It wasn't possible to say who was second between them, the hard liners with the Longbottoms and the renegades with the Diggorys, as neither one of them could truly pull the court one way or the other on a given issue on their own.
Dumbledore could. The Supreme Mugwump could probably even pull half of the darker bloc onto an issue if he chose to do so, though he never did. But since neither family was capable of getting him on their side, their only method to making things happen was winning over James Potter and those who followed him. In that sense, it was almost as if the Potter lord himself was the second most powerful member of the party.
He didn't have the most numbers, but he had the numbers that mattered most.
Hermione had met the man plenty of times, eaten dinner with him and Professor Potter and the rest of their family on countless occasions, so she couldn't blame Harry for being so flippant about him. Mr. Potter was just as childish as his son was, except even more confident that no one (besides his wife) could scold him when he got out of line. He made crass jokes at the teenagers' expense and embarrassment, constantly made a fool of himself to make them laugh, and in general was one of the most personable people she'd ever met.
It was almost impossible to reconcile the 'goofy uncle' figure in her life with a man that most of the purebloods talked about like some sort of spectre of justice.
"I fucking hate politics!" James roared into the fire as Sirius cackled and Remus just shook his head. "They never! Shut! The fuck! Up!"
"You feel better, ya knob head?" Sirius asked, genuinely hoping his brother did. "Get it all out of your system?"
"I won't feel better till I can dump it all on Dahlia," James groaned before leaning back into his chair, nearly rocking it too far back and falling on his head. "I swear on my grandpa's grave I'll burn the fucking Wizengamot down if we don't get this coconut charcoal bullshit done and over with."
Sirius grunted in approval. "I tried that once."
"Yeah, it was real inspiring."
The three marauders sat around a firepit in the backyard of James's house. The night air smelled of smoke, though the plumes themselves were all being channelled straight up through some fancy bit of runework Lily had made and James had powered with his family magic. The three men were laughing and trading stories about the past, until James suddenly had that 'breakdown'. Sirius had brought up the time in Seventh year James had been forced to step up to sit in his father's seat while the older man dealt with Dragon Pox, and it had set the man off on a tangent.
This was the closest thing to a stag night that Sirius was going to get on account of all the rushing; that he'd managed to scheme this bit of time away from his bride-to-be and the rest of his family was a miracle in itself. If Sirius was being honest, it was mainly thanks to Hydrus popping up at the hands of Kreacher to fight on his behalf. His son had pointed out to Amelia that if she didn't want him holding it over her head for the rest of their marriage, it was better to give him something.
He loved that 'kid'.
Still, he wouldn't trade this little shindig for the world. His best friends were both there, smiling rosy-cheeked grins, and despite all the chaos and insanity he'd been going through, it brought him peace. Remus had long ago helped him understand why being a part of the Potter family meant so much to him, talks about voids in his childhood or something like that. Moments like these really helped pack the cement down even deeper.
"Oi, your turn," Sirius said, throwing his empty at James's feet. "I want something… Dutch."
"Asshole," his brother grumbled. "Alright. Be right back."
James apparated away to keep the game going. It had started when Remus mentioned wanting some beer they served at a nonhuman bar. James had told him to go get it then. He'd brought back three steins, drank all but the two sips Sirius and James tried before nearly losing their breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, then told Sirius to get something 'French' since they weren't 'man' enough for what he drank. After that Sirius told James to get something proper English. And then they just kept on taking turns getting drinks from all over the world.
"Hell of a thing, that kid of yours," Remus said once they were alone. "James was his father. You were his dad. I was his… Fucking war-time school counselor."
"And somehow he turned out more like our annoying principal than any of us." Sirius shook his head and Remus chuckled. "Who woulda seen that coming?"
"I'm… I'm sorry I didn't tell you, man," Remus slurred. Sirius hel back a giggle at the rare sight of his best friend actually drunk for once. "I just…"
"No, no, you're good." He waved him off. "I get it. Well, fuck, no one gets it, it's all just—"
James reappeared with a trio of cans in his hands. "Here, ya fucks."
"You're a fuck…" Remus grumbled as he threw back the rest of whatever they'd just been drinking and took his. "Ya fuck."
And so the conversation continued on, the trips to various parts of the world continued on, and Sirius just kept enjoying his family's, his first real family's, company.
Regulus leaned against Octavius as their carriage continued down the trail to the palace. It had been a bumpy ride at first when they set off from Octavius's familial estate, but now the road was magically paved and smooth as silk. There was a massive line of carts behind them, and just two ahead of them, the ones belonging to the last two surviving siblings of Octavius.
"We're almost there," Regulus muttered, unsure what sorts of listening might be going on and how effective it could be. "Are you ready?"
"They've given me no choice but to be ready," his boyfriend said. "I'm more concerned with you. I know this isn't what you wanted."
"I'm a Black," Regulus said with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "If I was going to throw a tantrum every time someone tried to put a crown on my head, we'd never get anything done."
Octaius laughed and pulled him in closer.
Regulus loved the man. They'd met nearly a year and a half ago at a party being thrown by the Zabinis, and the two had hit it off immediately. Octavius, despite what he'd say to anyone who asked, had always been rather insecure about being the sixteenth son of a fading king, so having someone like Regulus who was of such high social status but wasn't concerned with royalty at all had given him a bastion to rest his spirits in. Regulus just liked the mountain of a man who knew how to dress at first. Over time he realised how sweet, genuine, and uncomplicated his 'one, then two, then three' night stand was and things just kept going from there.
Now they were about to become kings.
Well, Octavius was going to be king. Regulus couldn't remember what his title was going to be, but he knew it was something very platonic and very nondescript. Something the conservatives wouldn't be too disgusted at hearing, but not so plain as to be ignored.
Hopefully things would flow even more smoothly once he'd slit the throats of his love's rivals.
"Just let me know if you need anything," Octavius murmured. "It can be a pain getting the staff's attention in these sorts of events."
"Of course, dear," Regulus squeezed the love of his life. "I think I'll be set though. There's already plenty on my plate."
After all, there would hardly be time to eat when he was leaving things in other meals. Spying on those lastsecond, 'okay fine I'll do it' requests that always cropped up before and during major turning points like this. Strutting about and reminding everyone that the most powerful family in the world was backing this coupe.
Plus, despite Octavius's obvious offence at the distaste, he hated African food. He'd really only tried the stuffs from Morocco and Algeria in any great amount, but none of it had been particularly inspiring. Him and his boyfriend had even had a miniature spat over it recently, especially once Octavius snidely mentioned that Hydrus had loved the food he'd tried. It probably had been a bit rude for Regulus to point out that he'd yet to find a food his nephew didn't devour, aside from celery of all things, but still.
"Never thought I'd be here," Octavius muttered as the carriage came to a rolling stop. "Never wanted it."
"That's not true," Regulus assured his man. "You just wanted your brother to have it more. You'll make him proud."
"I hope so."
"You're a coward."
"I've been called worse."
Draco glared at Longbottom who still refused to meet his stare. The Study Club's Herbology Tutor was entirely focusing on his work, dropping some sort of liquid in a specific pattern around a potted sprout the size of Draco's pinky. They were in the new 'staff greenhouse' which only Professors Sprout and Snape were supposed to have access to, but which Neville had gotten off the books permission to enter and Draco hadn't cared enough to stop himself from following after.
The space itself wasn't all that different from where Herbology class happened, though without things like tables or chairs dominating most of it there were a lot more room for planting boxes and shelves filled with pots. Most of the plants here were just little things like what Neville was fiddling with, but there were a few exceptions that either Snape or Sprout had brought from somewhere else. The weirdest of them all was some sort of lion-head-shaped flower as big as a quidditch hoop, though a great shorter.
Neville still hadn't given a proper reason to say no, even as he straightened up to move on to another plant. They'd been going around in circles with this argument all evening.
"Just one time," Draco said. "I just need you to—"
"No," Neville interrupted. "I'm not going to fight you, Draco."
The Malfoy heir growled and nearly stomped his foot. What the hell was the other boy's problem? He didn't want to fight, he wanted to duel. Everyone saw how fast Longbottom's casting speed was, and he wanted to try and fend it off for himself. Instead the Gryffindor was flat out refusing him without even an excuse as to why. It was like the idiot had been missorted into the house of bravery.
"If you don't duel me, I swear I will make your life a living hell," Draco threatened. "I will ensure that you don't have—"
"I'm not afraid of you, Draco," Longbottom said. The other boy began making his way over to a planters box on the ground a few steps away. "There is nothing you can do to me that—"
"I will write your nan." Neville froze. "And I will offer her my most sincere and heartfelt congratulations towards your courting of Daphne Greengrass."
Longbottom turned around slowly, face pale and jaw clenched. "You wouldn't."
"You know damn well I would." He couldn't let an opportunity like this pass, after all. "I swear I shall—"
"Master Draco!" a voice squeaked, and Draco forgot about his confrontation entirely as Doppsy clambered up to his shoulder like a lemur. "Mistress Luna is wanting to know where you is."
"Tell her I'm trying to… To hang out with my friend, dear," he said, correcting his terminology so he didn't swear in front of the toddler. "And that he is being very mean to me."
Doppsy turned and glared at Neville. "Don't be mean to Daddy! D-, Doppsy means Master Draco!"
Before he could assure the juvenile elf she was fine, she popped away. He shook his head at her yet again proving she could pull off the feat of apparition. The poor thing was constantly walking up to him from some far away distance like she couldn't do just that, always so unsure of herself. How was she going to be the house elf for House Malfoy if she wasn't more arrogant?
"Don't try and guilt me, Malfoy," Longbottom said. "I'm a gardener. I have no interest in duels."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said, putting his nose up into the air. "I don't need to guilt you, I'm in the midst of blackmailing you, thank you very much."
The other boy shook his head, but before Neville could respond, Draco continued.
"In fact." He drew his wand. "If I were to start tearing this place apart, I wonder who would catch the blame…"
Longbottom narrowed his eyes and put out his shoulders. "Don't you dare."
Draco grinned as he saw the other boy palm his wand. "Watch."
He pulled back on his wand, but Doppsy popped back up on top of him.
"Mistress Loony is wanting to sees you's, Master Draco," she squeaked. "Bye Mean Mister Longbottom!"
"Wait, no—"
The last thing he saw before they vanished with a crack was Neville smiling in triumph.
Tonks knocked on the nondescript door Sirius had told her to go to, and wondered what she could even do to him if this turned out to be some sort of prank. He'd told her there was someone here who she could spar with while he was busy with his emergency wedding plans, but the place looked like a derelict warehouse.
She was in a muggle industrial district with lots of similar looking buildings all around and the smell of smog in the air. This was the only one charmed to ward off her father's people though. Just like the rest it was covered in graffiti, though whether it was real or not was impossible to tell. Even the door itself had a dent in it, which told her it probably wasn't made of wood like the appearance belied.
After a moment, it opened to reveal a plump woman with a short bob of hair, wearing coveralls and wiping something off of her hands with a towel. Tonks would've sworn she'd seen her somewhere before, but she couldn't place the familiarity. The woman cocked an eyebrow back at her.
"Hello there," she said. "You're Siri's niece, right?"
"Uh, yeah." Tonks held out her hand and was surprised at how firm a shake the other woman had. "Tonks. He sent me."
"I remember." The woman nodded and Tonks winced, that meant she should've known her name. The 'stranger' caught her expression and laughed. "I guess you don't remember me though. I'm Alice, Frank's wife."
"Oh!" She could've slapped herself; they had just met at that party. "Right, of course, sorry I—"
"It's alright, lass." Alice tipped her jaw up at her. "What can I do for you?"
"Ah—" Why on earth had Sirius sent her to Frank's wife for training? "Well, I'm thinking he was just messing with me now, but Sirius sent me here cus he's too busy to spar with me."
At least the excuse of 'I'm getting married this weekend' was a valid one. Once that was over with though, she was definitely going to—
"Just messing with you, huh?" Alice said. Tonks cringed when she realised that probably sounded insulting. Before she could apologise, the woman drew her wand. "You know I was actually ahead of Frank at the academy, don't you?"
"What?"
That was all she got out before she found herself encased in some sort of tough, rubbery bubble and sent rocketing up into the air. She screamed in fear as she flew, but it only got worse when she felt the awful shifting to falling back down. Death was on her mind as she saw the ground careening closer and as the feather fall charm she cast did nothing. Just as she was about to have an actual panic attack, she came to a gentle stop. The bubble popped, and she fell the remaining metre or so onto the ground with a yelp.
"Lucky for me the wards go all the way to the clouds," Alice said, turning around. "Hurry up! Let's see what the Black Sheep's niece has to show for herself."
Gritting her teeth, Tonks snapped to her feet and stomped after her. The inside of the warehouse was surprisingly chic. Pieces of modern art hung on the wall and there were statues everywhere. They were heading towards a relatively empty space, the only thing in the area was a piece of half-molten metal.
"I retired from Auror work after my son was born," Alice said. "Once he got too big to need me around all the time, I decided to get into art."
"Oh." Tonks wasn't really sure what to say to that. She couldn't even imagine having a kid, letting alone giving up her life's work for it. "How's that working out?"
"Loving it." Alice stretched and kicked open a door Tonks hadn't noticed. "I'm living the life, kid."
'Kid?' Tonks thought, nose wrinkling. "That right?"
"Here."
They were in a large room without any walls showing. Everywhere she looked there was nothing but boxes stacked atop boxes. A singular light fixture hung in the centre of it all, three light bulbs jutted out of it without any covers. Most of the space was open, but it was hardly what Tonks would call a—
"Stupefy!"
She dodged, and suddenly realised the woman was very much in the same school of thought as Sirius when it came to student safety. The spell that had missed her crashed into the wall, sending boxes rattling, one of which fell. Tonks cringed at the loud explosion of glass within, and that momentary distraction was all it took. The next spell Alice launched locked her whole body up like she was being painlessly electrocuted, and she fell backwards against the shelf, thankfully missing her head on any hard edges.
"I ain't gonna duel you, kid," Alice said, holstering her wand. "I think you're probably good on that front from what I remember Frank mentioning. Instead, when the body-lock fades off, you're gonna fix that box of jars then come see me." The woman began to leave, and although Tonks was sure her hair was doing all sorts of wild things, none of them stopped her. "When you ain't working, if you wanna get better, you're gonna work in my shop."
How the hell was that supposed to—
"You're a good wand, but prone to panic," Alice said as she flicked the light switch off and threw the room into darkness. "So I'll surprise you so much and so often that you learn how to react at the drop of a knut."
The retired auror shut the door, leaving Tonks all alone with nothing but her murderous thoughts.
Hydrus thumbed his Black signet ring as he stared down at the body he'd hoped to find alive. The mangled corpse was rotting with Black family magic, and he knew damned well that he didn't have any living relatives who'd've been in a place like this. His nose wrinkled as the things stomach popped, sending foul smelling gases pouring out.
"This bait…?" Hydrus muttered. "Or is the fuck just taunting me?"
He'd seen his 'great-grandfather's' penchant for insanity when they'd last met. If he was still dipping in and out of the family's curse, it wouldn't be a surprise at all if he'd heard from Dracula that Hydrus had a guaranteed target he was hunting and beaten him to the punch. The revived…
'Dark lord,' Hydrus thought, thinking the word purposefully now. 'That's truly what he is now.'
The revived dark lord was also probably aware that Hydrus could commune with the dead though. If he went off the word of whoever this used to be, it could just be a trap. He couldn't use legilimency on ghosts to verify what they said. What to do, what to do…
"Dobby." The house elf appeared, carrying a large bolt of cloth that was probably a curtain. "Get my thinker."
"Who is—, oh!" Dobby beamed. "Dobby will be right back!"
The elf vanished and Hydrus turned away from the body. Everything around him was dying out from the family magic's corruption, turning trees into husks and the grass into crumbling dust every time he shifted his weight. The deceased vampire had probably been running from Arcturus, but that didn't mean they hadn't been used as bait against their will.
"For fucks sake!"
Hydrus jumped. Remus had appeared, standing between him and the body. The werewolf had a gore-covered snow shovel in his hands and some strange pinching device over his nose. His advisor looked like he was going to take a swing at him with the shovel but he stabbed it into the earth instead.
"Is this just how things are going to be for you 'Slytherins'?" Remus demanded. "First it was Giannis, then it was Hermione, then it was Giannis again, give you one bloody guess who hit the threepeat after that, and now here you are!" The werewolf wrenched the shovel out of the earth, once more Hydrus wondered if he was about to be attacked, but once again his advisor just drove it hard into the ground. "Summoning me up like I don't have a literal pile of bodies to deal with."
"Why would you… Oh, right, the hole." Hydrus shook his head. "Well I've got one more for you, extra magical thanks to my great-grandfather's embellishment. Keep your nose plugs in beca—"
"Don't ignore me!" Remus snapped. "I don't know why the other me let you walk all over him, but I'm not just going to drop everything anytime you need me to bury a body."
What a treat this version of Remus was. So much more normal than the one who'd never raise his voice against Harry. It was a complex feeling in his chest to be so annoyed with the rebelliousness, but at the same time, so glad to see it.
Hydrus put on his best, most sincere smile and laughed. "The reason why the 'other you' let me walk all over him was due to the immense amount of guilt he felt at having abandoned me on account of his self loathing.
"I'm glad to see you're still so self-confident in this timeline, my friend," he continued on, watching his former general crumble at the reminder of failures that weren't even his own. "And if I had known you were being dragged around by the nose by a child who doesn't know any better and a student who probably sincerely needed your help, I would've been more than happy to ask Dobby not to bother you on their behalf." Remus made to speak, but Hydrus kept going. "I'm afraid, though, that when I need you it's because I was assured by you yourself that I can rely on you for advice when it comes to matters of life and death."
He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Are you reneging on that offer?"
There. A perfect performance.
"I… No." Remus bowed his head. "Sorry, it's just been a tough week with everything going on. Again, I'm— Wait."
Remus's head snapped back up and Hydrus cocked a brow at him.
"Don't fucking Dumbledore me!" Remus shouted. "I saw the memories of him teaching you how to do that, you little shit."
Hydrus cackled. After a few moments to let the madness marinate, he wiped his eyes and straightened up. "Fuck, I love you Remus. Whether its the old you or this new one. You're the best."
The werewolf sighed and began clearly counting to ten in his head. Hydrus waited for him to finish, knowing he'd succeeded in placating him at the very least. After a few moments the werewolf looked him in the eye.
"What do you need?"
"Advice. Like I said, keep your nose plugs in, but my most recent would-be victim was killed by Arcturus Black before I could get my hands on him." He gestured to the body and Remus turned around. "Now I'm debating whether or not to have a chat with his soul to see if he knows anything about where the bastard is."
Remus turned to look, then returned his attention to Hydrus with a pallor to his cheeks. "It's probably a trap."
"I was thinking the same," Hydrus agreed. "But traps can be useful."
"I… I don't know." Remus shook his head. "Can we get Dumbledore instead? He'd know better than me, he's actually done this shit before."
Remus wasn't even sure what to say. For the first time since he was told that another version of himself had existed, he wished he could be him. How was he supposed to know whether or not this was a trap? Whether or not they should pursue it? It was all he could do to not puke at the sight of the man's innards having exploded. It looked like a damned butcher's spill.
"Dumbledore is annoying," Hydrus grumbled. "You're an easy lay; he wants breakfast in the morning."
Remus snorted at the metaphor. "Then get ready to bake some pancakes. This one's above my paygrade."
"You're lucky I'm above slut-shaming." Hydrus waved his hand. "There. Kreacher will be bringing him."
Remus sighed and sat down on the ground. The shovel he'd been using to shove pixie bodies into the Hole was still up right so he knocked it over. The work was foul, but the pests were getting ridiculous. Unlike other creatures which had been avoiding the colony since the werewolves settled in, the vermin were beginning to flood the space in hoards. Fenrir loved it, calling it good practice for the kids. Unfortunately, kids were rarely good at cleaning up after themselves.
"You're killing me, Hydrus," Remus muttered. "All this… Death and Magic shit, it's got me on constant edge."
"I understand. But I promise, you'll be safe." Hydrus smiled at him, eyes nearly closed and laugh lines coming out stronger than ever before. "I've gotten you through much worse, after all. Trust me, my friend."
A shiver ran down the werewolf's spine. It was disturbing how much the man resembled Dumbledore in moments like these, and not the one who'd been Remus's own headmaster. Hydrus seemed just like that monster who'd raised him. The one who'd taught him how to manipulate people into being brave, into being scared, into being anything you needed them to be. Sometimes for their benefit, sometimes for your own. The fact that his nephew was relying so much on what he'd been taught on the other timeline bothered him, but it said something else too.
It said the time traveller was nervous. Hydrus was genuinely unsure of what to do next, what to do in order to win. In one of their therapy sessions, the man had confessed that he felt like he was more helpless than ever despite having grown so much stronger that he struggled to properly work his spells without overpowering them. Hermione had been a much more easily guided inventor than Giannis was. No amount of memory sharing and discussions could make up for the years lost between himself and Remus so that the werewolf could advise him. There hadn't been a proper replacement for Ron at all, a strategist who knew how to move things while thinking one, two, three, a thousand steps ahead. The closest thing he had to a shadow like Neville were Dumbledore in terms of his strength, and Draco in terms of ideals. Neither were up for the other's share on their own.
And so he defaulted back to just imitating the only man he'd seen bare the weight of such loneliness.
"I spent some time with your fathers last night," Remus said. "We called it a stag night, but really it was just three of us sitting around James's fire pit. I wish you could've joined us."
"I was busy hunting." Hydrus kicked at the ground in annoyance. "And I've either wasted all that time, or I've found a way to strike a fatal blow."
'He's ignoring the out I gave him,' Remus thought. 'He doesn't want to be distracted.'
"Have you, though?" Remus asked. "Best case scenario, what can we do? What if he does drop you off on Arcturus's doorstep? You can't beat him, you said Apophis had to eat Herpo the Foul to stop him from reviving, so it's not like you can just sick Dumbledore on him."
"Sick me on whom?"
Remus jumped and turned around. Albus was standing behind him in a bright, shimmering silk robe and a nightcap with a tassel on its end. He was also wearing a pair of slippers with some sort of muggle cartoon character on their toes, but Remus couldn't remember who it was supposed to be. If these were supposed to be pyjamas then Remus might as well have been sleeping in the nude till now
"Found a body covered in Arcturus's magic," Hydrus answered, completely nonplussed despite the headmaster's ridiculous sleepwear. "Between the Resurrection Stone and my familiar, I can get risk-filled, unverifiable information. I won't be able to know if it's a trap or not until I follow through on the lead. What should I do?"
"Never turn down…" The headmaster yawned. "Ahm, knowledge, no matter how poisonous it may be," he said. "Take the information and we can review it together. We can use serpents to scout wherever we might be pointed, as I saw Tom do to us in your previous timeline, or any other number of options I can come up with when I'm less exhausted."
Remus's mouth hung open slightly. Despite how obviously sleepy the man was, Albus had answered quick as a whip with what seemed like a perfectly sensible suggestion. It was dawning on him now that there was no reason he couldn't have said the same thing himself, he'd just been… Been…
He'd been scared of stepping up into the shoes of his past self.
Albus wasn't scared of whatever sort of mismatched and dingy pair of slippers his other self had apparently worn, though. Was he really not afraid of becoming that monster? Or was he just that confident in his current self? When Remus woke up, covered in sweat and heart slamming against his chest, more often than not it was with the afterimage of his own atrocities painted on his eyelids. The tortures he'd performed, the murders he'd committed, the demands he'd laid on Hydrus or Harry or whatever he wanted to call himself's shoulders.
'This is the one time I'm making a demand of you, Harry,' Remus had said. 'The attack on Fenrir's forces happens tomorrow. If not, I'll do it by myself, and you'll lose the—'
'Enough.' Harry had smiled a gentile smile that completely disarmed the werewolf's passionate and vicious request. The same smile he'd just smiled. 'You know that you can make any and as many demands of me as you want, Uncle. There isn't enough time in the world to pay back all you've done for me.'
The other Remus had seemed so moved by those words, so touched by them, so turned towards the devout. It was only because the current Remus himself had watched Dumbledore teach Harry how to perform the way he had that it didn't still pull at his heart strings. In all their time together, throughout all their therapy sessions and other meetings, the only moment Remus felt like he truly saw Hydrus was when the time traveller had made a request of him.
"Don't I deserve that small bit of happiness?"
It was what Hydrus had asked him when he requested that Remus not tell Sirius about what he'd seen in the pensieve, to not reveal to his father that Hydrus had committed such an atrocious act. To not reveal that he was a monster. In that small glimpse past all the bullshit and acting and facades Remus had seen the closest thing to Hydrus's true self:
Someone who didn't want to disappoint their family.
Remus had done a great deal of reading on psychology and how the human mind worked as of late, but he knew he wasn't nearly qualified for the bag of cats that was Hydrus's psyche. Despite what his nephew said, Remus wasn't a genius, he just learned things quickly. The muggles were a great deal further along than the magical community in regards to therapy, but even they didn't have enough answers for all the things his 'patient' was throwing at him. He had some theories though…
"The problems stem from my own fears," Hydrus said. "Our opponents are quite literally nigh-omniscient. The amount of outcomes and potentialities they can plan for far exceed our own. Even if we were to take every precaution possible, there's still a chance we fail."
"Then we simply don't take the potential bait," Albus grumbled. Remus could hardly believe the tone coming out of the once-ancient warlock's mouth. "If the fear—"
"The fear doesn't lie in whether or not it's a trap, Albus," Hydrus chided. "It comes from whether or not I'd be able to say no even if it obviously was."
Remus's eyes widened. Albus's advice had been wrong. Hydrus wasn't worried about whether or not to trust in the information they got, it was whether or not to trust himself with the potential it held. It was like he was willing to stick his hand in a bear trap just to get the chance to use the other to punch the trapper in the face. It was like he was desperate for the chance.
It was like he was a hunting dog who was tearing at his leash for the chance to kill his prey.
"I see," Albus near-whispered. "Are you able to summon the vampire's shade without being present? And would you place the judgement on whether or not to pass on the knowledge to you on the shoulders of Remus and I?"
The werewolf nearly coughed. "I'm not really—"
"Are you willing to bear that weight, old man?" Hydrus looked back to the corpse behind Remus, which the werewolf hadn't been willing to look at since he first saw it. "Can you oppose me if I demand finality?"
It felt like he was caught up in some sort of melodrama. One night he was sharing beers and happy stories with his best friends, the next he was part of a duo whose decision would hold literal, cosmic repercussions. This wasn't right. It wasn't sane. He wasn't—
"Isn't being the bulwark to your missteps exactly my role in your journey, Hydrus?" Albus asked. "It's a lamentable weight you've placed on my shoulders, but I assure you, you've done a perfectly fine job of preparing me for it."
Remus's eyes darted back and forth between the two titans. Hydrus looked like a homeless wizard with a penchant for violence thanks to his dirty robes and unkempt hair from days of 'hunting'. Dumbledore looked like the star of a comedy play who loved his costume a little too much. Remus probably looked like the most average man in the world, if only out of contrast.
What a life he led.
"Whatever. Fine." Apophis appeared from around Hydrus, and Remus's eyes widened. The snake seemed to have grown a great deal since he last saw him. "Apophis, you can do what needs to be done?"
The basilisk hissed back at him.
"Good." The deadly creature uncoiled from around his 'father' and slithered onto Dumbledore, looking the smallest bit smaller for the taller man's stature compared to Hydrus. "I'll leave you three to it then."
Hydrus took the ring on his middle finger off and tossed it to Dumbledore, but Apophis's mouth shot out and snatched it up instead. Remus gasped when the snake swallowed it, but the basilisk's master just rolled his eyes.
"Petulant little shit," Hydrus muttered. "Just see it done."
With that, the time traveller vanished, and Remus suddenly felt a weight off his shoulders that he hadn't realised was there. It felt like when someone stopped flaring their magic, but it was different. It felt more…
"Your father certainly knows how to make his presence missed," Dumbledore said, looking down at Apophis. "I'm glad you're so much more suited to the inheritance the other me passed on to him than he himself is."
The basilisk hissed at him.
"What I wouldn't give to understand you…" The basilisk's feathers shivered over its head. "What do you think, Remus?"
"Don't ask me that," he muttered. "I don't want to be rude."
Albus chortled. "Shall we at least see the matter we're judging?"
"I'm not ready for this." Remus shook his head. "It's too much."
"You know it isn't," the headmaster said. "If you can find enough pride in your heart to lead the de facto and burgeoning capital of werewolf society, then you must surely also be worthy of advising one mere human."
"I hate talking to you and Hydrus," Remus grumbled. "It's like playing exploding snaps with skrewts."
"Did you know I recently tried boiling them?" Albus quipped. "They found it rather relaxing, though, so I went hungry."
The werewolf snorted, knowing if anyone else had said that he'd have written it off as an unfunny joke.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Remus asked. "Let's get this over with."
Albus gave a nod. "Apophis, if you would?"
It took a moment for anything to happen, but then a spirit appeared. It was horrifying how normal the vampire looked compared to the bloated and exploded corpse behind them. There was panic in his eyes for a second, but then they stilled.
"You have taken me from my god's embrace," he snarled. "Return me at once!"
"Tell us where Arcturus Black, Death's Chosen, is." Albus's voice was domineering and commanding, and even Remus straightened up like he was back to being a too-often-scolded student. "Just as we have wrenched you from your journey, so too can we hold your soul hostage for all eternity. Unless you wish to spend the rest of existence in the stomach of Apophis, Son of Hydrus, speak."
"I am not afraid of you, mortal," the vampire said, sneering. "I am a blessed son who can trace his lineage all the way to— AGH!"
Remus gasped when something… Something besides magic flared out of Apophis. The basilisk suddenly seemed several dozen times larger than was possible, like he was stretching out through a fourth dimension. It brought a tear to his eyes that left them stinging, and when the werewolf wiped it away he saw blood on the sides of his palms. When he looked back at the vampire spectre, squinting, he saw the man was missing one of his arms.
"Did…" Remus began. "Did he just bite a ghost's arm off?"
"It would seem so," Dumbledore breathed. He reached to his chin and stroked the basilisk's feathers. "What an amazing creature you are, little one."
Apophis did some sort of wiggle at that.
"It makes no difference!" the vampire roared. "If my fate is eternal damnation, then I shall gladly step into the pit for the honour of being my god's martyr! I am—"
"Eat him, Apophis," Remus said, an idea finally coming to him. "Just like Hydrus told you to do with Herpo the Foul."
The snake didn't hesitate, though this time Remus closed his eyes as soon as he felt the being begin to 'stretch'. After a few seconds, he peeked out behind one lid, then the other. The ghost was gone.
"We didn't need to give up so quickly," Albus said, not quite chastising but certainly no signs of approval either. "What prompted that?"
"Hydrus has been fighting this war the wrong way," Remus answered. "All he's done thus far is torture some of Death's servants, then hand them straight back to their god." The headmaster's eyes widened. "It's like I've been saying from the start. No more killing. Instead, we take hostages."
"Aha." A smile began to bloom across the headmaster's face. "I knew you were the right man for the job, my friend."
A tinge came over Remus's cheeks. "Whatever. Apophis, can you handle, um, eating so many souls?"
The basilisk reared up and the werewolf stepped back. He winced as the snake began hissing at him, sending small spits of venom across the ground that left the grass dissolving wherever they landed. His feathers were flared up like quivering flames as he continued to hiss and spit in what must have been anger.
"I'm sorry?" Remus tested. The basilisk settled down. "I can certainly see why he's House Slytherin's patron."
Now Apophis truly relaxed, and began coiling around Dumbledore so that he was settled once more.
"He has every reason to be proud," the headmaster said gently. "Do you need assistance in returning to Hogwarts?"
"I'd appreciate it," Remus sighed. "No bloody idea where he even drug us to this time."
"Hmm…" Albus looked up to the stars. "I believe we're somewhere in Romania."
BBaRtS
Another chapter, maybe the last for a while depending on how something goes tomorrow. Today? Time is dumb.
"I like how you explain the house elves. I've always theorized they had an actual reason for being "subservient" to wizards despite being so damn powerful." - I love the weird mythology of things like elves/brownies/whatever in British Isles folklore/mythology. Those weird litttle things like 'leave a bowl of milk out for them, but don't ever say thank you'. So weird, so fun.
"Wait, so Lockhart pulled a Phillip J Fry? The absolute madlad." - I added an AN at the beginning of the story that mentions how I don't write smut, specifically phrasing it as 'no one's gonna do the nasty in the pasty', which was 100% a build up to that revelation lmao. He might not've ACTUALLY banged his own grandma, but he IS his own grandpa. In a sense.
"I SWEAR if this charcoal nonsense is all just one big shaggy dog… I'll be quite impressed and upset with myself for caring about it so much" - I mean, at the very least it will have *a* punchline at the end. This little unassuming thread has been going on for over a year, all the way back to chapter one lmao
"And I'd like Hydrus to stop being such a douche to poor James. Maybe try to forgive his own father for something that wasn't his fault. And be a bit nicer and helpful to his own younger self. " - Idk how deep I'll be able to get into this plotline, but there is a reason for his 'douche-ness'. If I had more time, and if I wasn't worried it might be a dull path to tread, it'd be fun really laying out all of Hydrus's traumas regarding family, his father specifically, and more. It's not getting dropped or anything like that, I just might not be able to soliloquy about it the way that I might otherwise do.
"*Gets on her knees and takes out a ring from her pocket. 'will you marry me?'" - Not unless you come with a big-ass dowry. #IAmExplicitlySayingHeAGoldDigger
"poor Greggy ❤️" - I really like what all we got to do with him in this story, especially since it turned out he was Lockhart. I wish more fics included that Prince Charming villain, he's such a fun piece of the HP Fanfiction toybox.
And that's all. Like before, there'll be a link in my bio that'll take you to a google doc that describes some potential non-Fanfiction story ideas I could work on, and it ends with a link to a Google form if you're interested enough to cast votes. So far the one that's in the lead, with literally only one person not giving it the okay, is 'The Tutorial Won't Let Me Go'. Also, keep on letting me know of anything you might think still needs wrapping up. Thank you all, love you all, see you when I see you.