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Chapter Text

The sounds of Umbridge's screamed threats, as she was dragged by the centaurs deeper into the gloom of the Forbidden Forest, were just starting to fade away in the distance when Harry grabbed Hermione by the arm and started pulling her back towards Hogwarts.

"Come on, Hermione!" he said with a touch of panicked urgency in his voice, "We need to get back to the castle, find Ron and the others, get to the Ministry and rescue Sirius."

He had barely taken two more steps before he found himself disarmed and in a Full-Body-Bind. Turning his head as far as he dared, Harry glared at the bushy-haired witch and yelled, "Bloody Hell, Hermione! What are you playing at? Let me go, we have to..."

She cut him off with a stern look of her own as she growled, "No, Harry. I've told you, repeatedly, that this isn't a good plan, that it's likely a trap. Besides, Professor Snape has probably already sent a message to the Order. They'll be at the Ministry by now, let them take care of things."

Not listening to her words of reason, Harry began to beg, "Please, Hermione," his forehead creased with worry, "Sirius is the last family I have left who knew my parents. I can't risk losing him, too."

He continued to plead with Hermione for another five minutes before she let out a heavy sigh, "Fine! I'll help you, Harry, BUT, we are going to do things my way, for once. Which means only you and I are going to the Ministry."

"But, Hermione..." Harry started to protest only to have Hermione Silencio him.

"No, Harry," she repeated, poking him the chest with her index finger, "You know as well as I do, that the more people that are dragged along in this ill-advised adventure of yours, the greater the chances are that we'll all get caught or injured," the 'or killed' was left unsaid. With a quick swish of her hand, she wordlessly cancelled the spells on Harry then conjured up a mage light to guide them through the deepening shadows.

"Can I have my wand back?" Harry asked as they followed the softly glowing orb through the trees.

"Not until we get to London," she replied, urging him along the faint path before they lost sight of it in the rapidly growing dark.

Ten minutes later, they emerged from the forest near what would appear to most magical folk was an empty paddock. But, to Hermione and Harry, the moderate-sized corral was full of....

"Thestrals?!" gasped Harry, having only just started seeing the creatures during the carriage ride to school this year.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, Harry, Thestrals. They're how we're going to get to London. Now, please be quiet and don't move," she hiss-whispered before entering the enclosure and moving slowly towards one of the oily-black beasts.

"But, Hermione what..." Harry started to ask before, once again, he found himself restrained and silenced.

"Sorry, Harry, but you left me no choice," Hermione muttered, returning her wand to her wand holster.

As The-Boy-Who-Lived watched with widening eyes, his petite friend began her careful approach, one hand outstretched and head bowed. Eventually, Hermione was half an arms length away when she stopped in her tracks and waited for the skeletal horse-like creature to respond.

The large two-year-old colt knickered as he watched the girl inching nearer, letting out a snort just as she paused.

Hermione barely breathed as the massive, to her, beast walked forward and nuzzled her hand, signaling that she was acceptable.

Seconds seemed to drag by as Harry strained to hear what Hermione was saying but, she was too far away and talking too softly for him to make out the words. Eventually, she turned and wandlessly Finite'd her spells on her fellow Gryffindor and waved him over to the colt who was kneeling so that they could, more easily, climb onto his back.

Transfiguring a leaf into a saddle blanket and imbuing it with cushioning and sticking charms, she placed in on the Thestral just past his wings. "He's agreed to take us," she whispered, indicating to Harry to take the spot behind her.

When the two teenagers were comfortably settled, the great beast took a few running steps, becoming airborne with little effort despite the added passengers.

('Finally,' thought Harry, grabbing onto Hermione's shoulders for balance, "We're on our way to rescue Sirius').

They travelled in relative silence for about five minutes before Harry leaned in closer to Hermione, "What were you whispering to the Thestral back there in the paddock?" he asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"Nothing much," she replied, shifting her weight slightly to the right to signal to the winged creature to turn South, "I simply explained to Thorne that you had a family emergency and we had no other way to travel and he offered to take us."

Something about this bit of information was unsettling to Harry, "Ummm, how do you know his name is Thorne?"

Hermione shrugged, "He told me, of course."

"What?...I mean how?....Bollocks!" Harry spluttered, his fingers tightening on her shoulder, "Since when can you communicate with animals, Hermione?"

She let out a deep sigh before answering, "I don't know how it happened, Harry, but ever since the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year, I found I understood beast-speak."

"Why keep something important like this a secret from me and Ron?" Harry grumbled, a deep frown creasing his brow.

"Honestly? I thought I was losing my mind, at first," she scowled, her back tensing from the memory, "Then, I considered it may have been a weird side-effect from that potion I was given before Dumbledore put me and the others in Black Lake. And, I kept it a secret from everyone, not just you and Ron."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you," he apologized, moving his arms to her waist to give her an awkward hug, "It just seems like everyone's been keeping things from me this year, especially, the Headmaster." After a few steadying breaths, he continued, "Can you talk to all beasts?"

"No," replied Hermione, casting a warming charm over herself and Harry to stave off the growing chill, "So far its just, Dragons, Thestrals, Unicorns, Hippogryphs and Abraxans...oh, and Fawkes."

"But, not your cat? That doesn't seem fair," teased Harry, relishing in the sudden relief from the cool night air from Hermione's spell.

Hermione rolled her eyes, although Harry couldn't see the gesture, "No, with Crookshanks, I have to gauge his meanings through his actions, body language, and vocalizations."

"To bad you can't speak to snakes," said Harry, touching his forehead to Hermione's back for comfort, "It would be nice to know that someone else besides me and Lord No-Nose could do it."

"I promise to let you know if Parseltongue becomes part of my repertoire," chuckled Hermione, glad that Harry was more relaxed, flying was still not her favorite form of travel and the last thing her nerves needed was a major argument during this trip, especially, at this height off the ground.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione leaned forward and whisper into Thorne's ear, the skeletal horse whickered in response and began a steady decent to the neighborhood below.

Harry watched as they drew closer to the buildings and growled, "What are you playing at Hermione!? This isn't the Ministry."

"True, but it's important that we stop here, first," she said tersely, trying to keep her own temper under control. Moments later, they were safely back on Terra Firma, thank Merlin! She briefly thought of jumping from the back of the Thestral and kissing the dirt but, thought better of it after Thorne started relieving his bladder on the ground where he stood.

After transfiguring a blade of grass into a small trough and filling it with a tepid Aguamenti, Hermione then touched her head to the colt's chest and thanked him for coming to their aid. "When you're feeling rested, please return to your herd and when I get back to Hogwarts, I'll bring you some fresh cubes of steak from the kitchens." Thorne nuzzled her in response, accepting her promise of such a tasty gift.

Harry was still fuming that Hermione hadn't taken him to the Ministry but, didn't want to risk angering the Thestral (those hooves looked wicked sharp) and he didn't relish the idea of getting kicked by the beast and further delaying his plan of finding Sirius...providing they weren't already too late with this detour.

It wasn't until Hermione moved away from Thorne that Harry took in the surroundings where they landed, realizing that this small backyard garden meant that they were at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry roughly grabbed Hermione's arm and spun her around to face him, "Why are you wasting time coming to this place!? Kreacher already told us Sirius wasn't here."

"I know that Harry," she snarled in return, jerking her arm out of his grasp, "But, this place in under a Fidelius Charm which means we can Floo directly to and from the Ministry from here and not worry about being tracked once we rescue Sirius. Now, quit being such an arse and trust that I know what I'm doing."

He stared at his friend, his face now flushed from embarrassment instead of anger, "You're right, Hermione, I'm sorry...I hadn't even considered that possibility."

"It's alright, I know you're worried about your Godfather," she said, patting him on the arm in sympathy, "Now, let's get inside and check the Floo. Hopefully, the network is still open from when we placed that firecall earlier and I don't have to undo any wards."

When the two entered the hallway on the first floor heading towards the parlor and the hearth, the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end. "Someone's here," she hiss-whispered, pulling Harry into the shadows of the downstairs library, returning Harry's wand to him after she retrieved her own.

"Be quiet and stay here," she murmured before casting a Disallusionment Charm over herself, moving slowly through the house until she got to the basement kitchen, the direction where she'd heard heavy footsteps and voices. Stepping through the entryway, she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking out in alarm. There at the end of the long table sat the very person they were trying to find!

"Sirius Black! What are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed as she dropped her spell, startling the man with her unexpected appearance and harsh shouting.

"Merlins Balls, Hermione! Why are you here, shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?" Sirius yelped as he hurriedly stood with wand drawn, hating the slight shrillness to his voice...he was loathe to admit it but, the girl had truly taken him off-guard.

A sudden movement behind the witch had her and the still rattled Lord of the house whirling about with wands ready to cast some nasty hexes. "Harry? First Hermione and now you? What's going on?" Sirius asked, lowering his arm as he walked over and gave his Godson a crushing hug.

Hermione wasn't as gentle in her response, marching over to her friend, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him away from his Godfather. "Now do you believe me about your dreams and Old Moldy-Vort?

Harry had the sense to look sheepish but, Sirius was just more confused, "I think it's time you two started explaining things," he growled, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

Hermione followed with a similar gesture but added a quirked eyebrow, making Harry wince. ('She's never going to let me live this down,' he thought with a mixture of relief and sourness.)

Shifting his feet and lowering his eyes to the floor, Harry let out an exasperated huff. "I've been having these recurring dreams, you see...nightmares, actually...that you'd been captured by Death Eaters, taken to the Ministry and was being tortured by Lord Snake-Face," he muttered, nervously shifting his feet, "I talked Hermione into helping me try to rescue you and...well...that's how we ended up at Grimmauld Place...we were going to use the Floo here to get to the Ministry."

"Why didn't you just firecall or have McGonagall get a message to me, Harry?" asked Sirius, worry for his Godson evident on his face.

"Professor McGonagall was busy dealing with some of the mess that horrid witch, Umbridge, created. And, for your information, we did call here less than an hour ago but, Kreacher told us you weren't here," said Hermione, irritated that Sirius would believe she hadn't thought to try contacting him beforehand.

"WHAT?! Kreacher! Get your worthless arse out here and explain yourself," bellowed Sirius, his eyes burning with rage.

As soon as the cantankerous old house-elf appeared, Sirius grabbed him by the back of the dingy black cloth he wore and shook him, "Why did you lie to my Godson and tell him that I wasn't here, you filthy, worthless shite. Because of you, he could've been killed!"

"Stop it!" yelled Hermione, hitting Sirius' arm and causing him to drop the little elf, placing herself between the two "This is exactly why he did it, you git! You're constantly abusing him and this was the best way he knew how to get back at you, by putting Harry in harm's way."

Kreacher was looking smugly at his hated Master until Hermione whirled about and began scolding him, too, "And, you! I've defended you to the likes of that wizard until I'm blue in the face and for what? So, that you could betray my brother in all but blood and send him into danger?"

Turning back to Sirius, she continued, "You can't allow Kreacher to stay here any longer, Sirius, you can't trust him."

Black protested, "Now wait a moment, Hermione. If I do that, who's going to help me take care of this place?"

Hermione glared at the man, "Are you a wizard or not, Sirius Black? Surely, you know any number of housekeeping spells," she chided, waving her wand about to emphasize her point, "Then, again, looking at the state of this house, neither you nor Kreacher have been doing a very good job of maintaining it."

She looked back at the elf who had started grumbling at the 'Upstart Mudblood who dared to try and make him leave his Mistresses' home', "Shut it, you!" she hissed, pointing her wand at the foul-mouthed being.

"Now, I have a proposition to make that should benefit you both, so listen carefully," Hermione snapped at the brooding Master and his equally surly elf, "Sirius, you give Kreacher fresh clothes to break the bond with your family, banishing him from all of your holdings," she held up her hand to stop Black from interrupting, "Then, Kreacher, you present yourself to Hestia, she's the Matron of the Hogwarts House-Elves, and she will put you work at the school. Trust me, there's plenty to do and you'll never get bored. Plus, you can take Walburga Black's portrait with you so you won't be without your beloved Mistress in your new home."

Hermione paused a moment to let this idea sink in, "The sooner this happens, the better it will be for everyone concerned," she said, tapping her foot impatiently.

Wizard and house-elf glared at one another for another few seconds before silently nodding in agreement.

While Sirius and Kreacher were busy severing their Master-Servant connections, Hermione headed to the first floor library searching for books on household and gardening spells for the soon-to-be house-elf free Lord Black.

Unfortunately, this meant Harry was left to wander about Grimmauld Place on his own. And, even without Ron there to influence him, this typically led to trouble. Which happened about ten minutes later in the form of another head-splitting vision.

Due to their connection, Voldemort was fully aware that Harry wasn't going to be lured to the Ministry with the false images of Sirius Black. Instead, Riddle began feeding Potter a new temptation, The Department of Mysteries and the all important Prophecy, it was in danger of being stolen. Of course, Voldemort embellished the scenes a bit, taunting Harry with the notion that once the orb was in his pale hands, that he and his Death Eaters would be assured victory over the Order and the Light. And, once in control, Riddle would have Muggle-borns everywhere rounded up and enslaved or killed...with top priority being given to Potter's best friend, Granger.

Harry ignored the visions for the better part of thirty minutes before the last one of Hermione being taken and kept as a special 'pet' for Voldemort's personal amusements reeled him in. Seconds later, he was on his way to the Ministry on a borrowed broom.

Chapter Text

Hermione was sitting in the middle of the rug-covered floor in the Black Library with a handful of dust-covered books on Charms spread about her in a semi-circle. As she slowly flipped through the tomes, she periodically stopped to bookmark a page on housekeeping spells that she felt might be useful to Sirius. ('If nothing else, it should prove entertaining to watch him learn the wand movements,' she mused with a tiny smirk on her lips.)

The young Gryffindor had just picked up a third volume that contained gardening enchantments, for both magical and Muggle plant species, when the migraine started.

"No!" Hermione groaned in pain to the empty room "I don't have time for this."

She had never experienced the eye-watering, stomach-churning headaches until a few months ago and they were becoming more intense with each episode. Thank the stars they only occurred for a day, at most, once every four weeks...any more frequent, and she might wind up hexing anyone who dared breathe too loud in her presence. But, this time, something new was added to the mix. Along with the usual agonizing, stabbing sensation behind her right eye, Hermione was also spiking a fever, and, on the inside of her left wrist and on the right side of her neck near her shoulder, a walnut-sized lump had developed beneath the skin.

"Oh, what fresh Hell is this?" whimpered Hermione as she held a hand over her face to block out the uncomfortable brightness from the aura-ringed wall sconces. Gingerly, she rummaged through her jeans back pocket with her free hand for the shrunken box of extra-strength Pain Remedy that the school matron, Madame Pomfrey, had given her to take for these flair-ups. To her dismay and frustration, Hermione discovered the remaining vials were broken, her throbbing mind somehow managing to recall stumbling and falling over a large tree root while leading that wretched Umbitch through the Forbidden Forest earlier that evening.

"Shite!Shite!Shite!!" she cursed under her breath, "I hope Sirius has some potions on hand or I'm royally screwed."

Black had just sent Kreacher on his way to Hogwarts, along with the, oddly quiet, portrait of his despised mother, and was about to break out a bottle of his Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey to celebrate when Hermione stumbled into the kitchen looking like death-warmed-over.

"Merlin! Hermione. What happened?" he asked, taking mental note of the flinch she made at the sound of his voice and her paler-than-normal complexion, "You look like you were on an all-night bender."

"Migraine," was all she managed to say before she dashed over to the sink and emptied her stomach of the meager dinner she'd had that day.

Sirius wrinkled his nose, vanished the sick and gently maneuvered the ill witch over to a chair. "Stay there, I'll be right back," he said, disappearing out the kitchen door and returning a few minutes later with two small vials and handing them to Hermione along with a glass of cool water. "Take the pain-relief before the Pepper-Up," Sirius instructed, worried that she was coming down with something contagious considering that she now appeared to be suffering from chills, too.

After quickly downing the concoctions, and taking a large gulp of water afterwards, Hermione let out a sigh as her discomfort slightly eased, the pain potion was a general, all-purpose mixture and only partially took the edge off the headache but, it was appreciated just the same. "Thank you," she finally managed to rasp out, her throat still sore from vomiting.

Rather than get any closer to offer Hermione a comforting hand on her shoulder, Sirius said, "Just stay seated and rest, Hermione, I'm going to grab a couple more vials and check on Harry. If you're having these symptoms, then it's likely he is, too," he stated, hurrying out of the room as she protested, "It's a migraine, you twit, not the bloody plague!"

In actuality, Hermione was glad that Sirius was concerned about Harry's health, someone else besides her needed to be after the hellish year he'd been put through by the pink nightmare. She growled at the memory of those torturous detentions with Umbitch but, smirked seconds later, knowing the detestable witch was finally getting her comeuppance at the hands of the centaurs. Hermione didn't show any sign of remorse either when she hoped that Magorian's herd would make it a permanent solution.

Neither did she have any misgivings when she believed that Dumbledore should suffer to some extent, too. After all, he did nothing to stop the High Inquisitor when he was shown undeniable proof the odious woman was using illegal Blood Quills to punish students.

She was working herself into a right strop as she recalled the Headmaster's patronizing dismissal of her Auror-worthy gathered evidence but, was rapidly brought out of her frustrated ruminations when a distraught Sirius rushed back into the kitchen.

"Harry's missing and one of my racing brooms is gone," he blurted out, his hair and clothes in disarray after his frantic search of the house for any sign of his Godson.

Black at least had the sense to back up from Harry's best friend and put up a Protego when she snarled, "I can't believe that asinine twit!" she said, slapping the surface of the dining table as she stood up, "He's going to wish he was back in Umbridge's tender care when I get my hands on him."

Grabbing the medicinal potions vials that Sirius still had in one of his hands, Hermione stuffed them into her pockets and left the room before he could comment about her rudeness. Without a backwards glance, she headed towards the parlor fireplace with Black close on her heels.

"Where do you think you're going, Hermione?" he demanded, trying to keep up with the tiny witch on a mission, "You're obviously too sick to travel."

"I'm fairly certain I know where Harry's going," she replied, wincing as she bumped her swollen wrist reaching for the container of Floo powder on the mantle, the added pain causing her stomach to flip-flop in protest.

"Then, I'm coming with you," Sirius proclaimed stubbornly, attempting to take the metal box from Hermione's hands.

Before Sirius could blink twice, she'd sent a wandless, wordless Incarcerous in his direction and glared at the wizard, "No, you're not," she snapped, a fiery defiance flashing across her face, "In case you've forgotten, Sirius Black, you are still a wanted escapee from Azkaban. I can't be worried about keeping you from getting caught and thrown back in prison while I'm looking for Harry. And, you know he would blame himself for it, knowing that you came out of hiding to search for him."

Hermione didn't wait around to listen to Sirius' objections. Quickly throwing down a handful of Floo powder and calling out "Ministry of Magic, London" she stepped into the green flames and swirled away from the loudly fussing Lord Black.

Lucius Malfoy was having a wretched evening, The Dark Lord had tasked him with retrieving The Prophecy and here he was standing in The Department of Mysteries staring at a veritable endless array of the mist-filled orbs. How in Merlin's twisted beard was he supposed to find the right one amongst this sea of glass containers, it seemed a Herculean undertaking. And, more than once, it crossed his mind that Voldemort had intentionally set him up for failure so that he had an excuse to punish him and his son...not that The Dark Lord ever truly needed a reason to curse his followers, especially, during the past year.

Malfoy closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory of his last major blunder, the loss of Tom Riddle's diary two years ago. That grievous mistake had cost his wife, Narcissa, her life (her sister, Bellatrix, always was a bit too enthusiastic with her cursed blades). Now, he was more determined than ever to do whatever was needed to protect his only child, even this proverbial needle-in-the-haystack hunt for a prophecy.

So, imagine Lucius' surprise when the Boy-Who-Lived rushed into the large gallery as bold-as-brass and began searching the extensive rows of shelves, obviously, with a similar goal in mind. Malfoy couldn't help the devious smirk that turned up the corners of his mouth. If he was patient, Potter would do the tedious work for him, then, all he need do was capture the oblivious teen and relieve the boy of his prized possession. Presenting The Dark Lord with the young wizard would be an unexpected bonus, one that he could use to negotiate for a boon for Draco.

It was a simple enough scheme, until a certain bushy-haired witch showed up and threw a major spanner into the works.

Hermione arrived at the Ministry, Disallusioned herself and made her way to the bank of lifts in the Atrium. Pressing the button for the ninth level and the Hall of Prophecy, she began muttering to herself all the things she'd do to her brother in all but blood when she found him...none of it pleasant.

When the doors to the car opened, Hermione carefully made her way along the corridors, having spotted Order members and Death Eaters roaming about the halls, some engaged in frenzied duels. Casting a Protego Maxima over herself, and keeping pressed close to the walls and shadows, Hermione managed to avoid getting hit by several stray spells, all except the last one.

The slicing hex grazed her left wrist, opening up the swollen knot which released a strange, musky citrus fragrance into the air. "What the actual fuck!?" exclaimed Hermione, cleaning up the minor wound with a Tergeo and covering the slightly oozing laceration with a transfigured bandage made from a loose thread on her jeans.

Sighing loudly, Hermione continued on towards the Hall of Prophecy, she'd have to investigate this new phenomenon after she retrieved Harry and got them back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry had finally managed to locate and retrieve The Prophecy from a high shelf and was turning to exit the cavernous space when he felt the press of an unseen hand and wand to his chest, nearly causing him to drop the orb. He almost wished it was Voldemort when he recognized the owner of the agitated growl.

"Harry James Potter," she hiss-whispered at her startled friend, "Just what the Bloody Hell did you think you were doing sneaking away from Grimmauld Place and coming here," Hermione stated more than asked, "I told you the Order would take care of things and they are...in fact, they are on several floors above us fighting a crew of Death Eaters as we speak."

"But, Hermione, Voldy..." Harry started to explain but, Hermione cut him off by pushing the tip of her wand even deeper into his skin.

"I don't give a flying fart in space what that snake-faced lunatic showed you through shared visions, you can't trust anything he revealed to you," she snarled, her Disallusionment falling away so he could see the disappointed anger on her face, "His sole purpose was to lure you out into the open, away from the safety of Hogwarts, and he's succeeded...you're right where he intended you to be."

Tugging on his shirt, the little witch began dragging the flustered boy towards the exit, still fuming as they went, "If we're lucky, the Order will have chased off or captured most of Moldy-Shorts' followers and we can get back to Grimmauld Place without anyone noticing us."

Of course, they weren't to be so lucky as they heard the arrogant, drawling voice from somewhere behind them. "Well, look what we have here...a pair of lost Gryffindor cubs. And, not just any two, either, but, two-thirds of the famous Golden Trio," the blonde aristocrat purred, "Whatever shall I do with the pair of you?"

Chapter Text

Lucius found himself positively captivated as he listened to the fired up little witch berating Potter for his impulsiveness. Although, at one point, he thought he'd given his presence away when he stumbled against one of the prophecy shelves, rattling some of the glass orbs in the process, as he struggled to himself to keep from laughing out loud at the younger wizard's flustered attempts to justify his actions.

('The boy doesn't stand a chance against her.')

As the Malfoy patriarch continued watching the pair from his place in the shadows, his mouth nearly dropped open in shock, the girl's hair was undeniably alive with her magic, becoming increasingly animated the more irritated she became with her single-minded friend. Currently, her golden-chestnut curls were writhing about her head like a nest of pet vipers waiting for the command to strike. One thing was for certain, it put Miss Granger's physical altercation with his son during their third year into an entirely new perspective.

It was no wonder that Draco failed to mention this intriguing detail, manifestation of power like this in a person this young was either breathtaking to behold or terrifying to watch...depending on where you stood.

Naturally, this sent a flurry of new questions racing about through Lucius' mind. Did either The Dark Lord or Headmaster Dumbledore know about Miss Granger's increased magical talents? Was this Gryffindor and her unique presentation of magic in some way connected to The Prophecy? More importantly, Malfoy wondered, how could he capitalize on this information to his and Draco's benefit?

But, as intriguing as these thoughts were, it was vital that he retrieved The Prophecy. Stepping out from behind the stacks, Lucius shook his head at the younger witch and wizard, they were so caught up in their argument that they hadn't noticed his sudden appearance.

"Well, look what we have here...a pair of lost Gryffindor cubs," purred the blonde aristocrat, "And, not just any two, either, but, two-thirds of the famous Golden Trio. Whatever shall I do with the pair of you?"

Harry and Hermione shivered with dread when they heard the arrogant drawl of the Malfoy patriarch. "Take The Prophecy and run, Hermione, I'll hold him off," hiss-whispered Harry, shakily pushing the orb into his friend's hand. But, Hermione was having none of Harry's brash heroics. She needed to come up with a plan to save them both from this known Death Eater and she had to do something fast before Harry rushed headlong into danger once more.

With an abrupt snap of her fingers (a trick she learned from the house-elves), Hermione disarmed Harry and shoved his wand into her back pocket while casting a Locomotor Mortis curse, adding an Incarcerous with a Sticking Charm in for good measure, to keep her wayward friend firmly rooted to his current spot. Was it a bit excessive? Well, yes...but, she was seriously pissed off at him for brushing off her warnings, again, and running off without backup.

Ignoring Harry's spluttered 'What the Hell are you doing?', Hermione conjured up a leather pouch from a loose button she plucked off the front of his shirt, placed the orb inside for safekeeping and whispered so only he could hear, "Did you listen to The Prophecy...all of it?"

"Well, yes, but..." Harry started to reply.

"Good. Now, shut it and really listen to me for a change," she muttered through clenched teeth, "If you know what The Prophecy says, it won't be long before Lord Snake-Face 'hears' it through your link."

"But, what has that...?" he tried to ask before Hermione cut him off once more.

"It makes this prophecy orb irrelevant but, Mr. Malfoy doesn't know that," Hermione murmured as she moved around her best friend, placing herself between him and the older wizard.

Locking her fiery whiskey-brown eyes onto Malfoy's cool silver-grey ones, Hermione squared her shoulders and said in a steady voice, "If you help us get out of here, free and unharmed, Mr. Malfoy, I promise to give you this special artefact," pulling one side of the leather bag down to reveal the mist-filled glass sphere.

"And, why should I consider such a thing, Miss Granger," asked the blonde aristocrat, trying to keep his breathing under control.

"No, Hermione! You can't, HE's shown..." Harry started to protest but, Hermione cut him off with a Silencio without taking her gaze off Malfoy Sr.

"Quiet, Harry! I can and I will do this," she snapped, holding the shimmering orb up for Lucius to get a better look at it, taking note of the eager gleam she saw in the man's eyes, "Well, you see, Mr. Malfoy," she replied coolly, "This particular item contains a rather unique prophecy. One, I'm sure, your Master has expressed an interest in obtaining. So, do we have a deal?"

Ever the Slytherin, Lucius countered with, "I will give your proposal the consideration it deserves, Miss Granger, once you hand over that orb intact."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the smug-looking blonde, did he honestly believe she'd just turn over their only bargaining chip so easily? "Do I look like an awe-struck first year who just stepped off the Hogwarts Express to you?" she growled, pointing her wand at the irritating wizard. But, regardless of the audacity of Lucius' reply, Hermione knew the best hope of getting Harry back to Grimmauld Place in one piece was in taking the chance that the Malfoy patriarch would accept and honor their trade, it was far better odds than trying to out duel the more experienced Dark wizard.

"Well, what's it to be, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, dangling the orb in her outstretched left hand over the stone floor, "Are you going to safely escort Harry and I back to the Atrium or do I shatter this Prophecy that you so obviously want for your Master?"

Lucius couldn't hide the flash of panic from his eyes, "Fine!" he hissed, his back and shoulders rigid with tension, "I agree to aid you and Mr. Potter in your escape, Miss Granger." ('Merlin! How was this witch not sorted into Ravenclaw...or Slytherin for that matter? She's far too calculating for a typical Gryffindor.') "Just secure that sphere before anything happens to it...please."

"Now, was that so difficult?" smirked Hermione, returning the globe to the pouch and tightly tying the leather drawstring around the belt on her jeans, "Well, come along, Mr. Malfoy, we don't have all day."

('Bossy witch.')

As the blonde wizard slowly moved towards them, Hermione finished readying Harry for their journey back through the Ministry. First, she removed the Sticking Charm and the leg-locker curse but, kept the Silencio and Incarcerous in place, for the moment.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized as she set about casting a few select glamours over her silently grumbling friend, "But, I can't risk you doing or saying anything to jeopardize our chances to get out of here, hopefully, unharmed." By the time she was finished, Harry no longer resembled The-Boy-Who-Lived, instead, he was a dead-ringer for another blonde wizard...his long-standing obsession, Draco Malfoy. Conjuring a mirror and holding it so that Harry could see the results of his make-over, Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh when he silently mouthed 'What the Bloody Hell, Hermione!'.

"Think about it, Harry, it's the most logical choice for a disguise," she explained, vanishing the mirror, "Few people, if any, would detain Mr. Malfoy and question him if he's seen caring for his incapacitated son. Well, any Death Eaters, that is." After pausing a moment, Hermione added, "I could've simply Disallusioned you, of course, but, given your...ill-advised actions this evening, I feel it best to keep you where I can see you." Needless to say, this earned her a mutinous glare from Harry and an inaudible 'You don't know what you've done' as he struggled against his magical bindings.

Shaking her head sadly, Hermione added a Petrificus Totalus and Mobilicorpus to the mix of spells already placed on Harry as she waited for Mr. Malfoy to join them by the exit.

Malfoy Sr. stood by the prophecy shelves until Granger was nearly finished tending to Potter before attempting to approach the two Gryffindors, fully aware that the girl's eyes were tracking his every move. He was also mindful of the wand that was clutched in her right hand and that the all important, and easily breakable, Prophecy was guarded by her left arm as it lay cradled in the leather pouch at her waist. ('Patience. Your prize is almost within your grasp.')

But, it wasn't until he was about fifteen paces away from the pair that Lucius realized that something was wrong with the young witch. How had he not noticed the seeping bandage on her left wrist, the slight tremor in her limbs or the the bright red fever flush covering her cheeks? ('Clever girl, using that Gryffindor bravado to direct my attentions away from the fact that she's injured. No wonder she was so willing to bargain away The Prophecy to ensure their safety, she knew she'd be at a physical disadvantage, unable to protect herself and Potter on her own.')

Unaware of Lucius' internal dialogue concerning her health and motivations to negotiate, Hermione reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out one of the hastily stashed potions vials, popped the cork and quickly downed the contents, returning the empty bottle to her pocket.

Temporarily closing her eyes as she breathed a sigh of relief, Hermione missed Lucius' raised eyebrow. Of course, Malfoy immediately recognized what she'd taken, having had the need to imbibe that particular concoction far too many times himself in recent months.

With this new bit of information in mind, Malfoy contemplated pressing his luck to gain the upper hand against the weakened girl but, was stopped short when a faint, but enticing, musky citrus fragrance drifted across the short distance between them and hit him squarely in the nose like a stray bludger.

Lucius' physical reaction to the unexpected aroma was near instant...both his pupils blowing wide, nostrils flaring to capture more of the scent, a low protective growl rumbling deep within his chest, canines sharpening and a feral grin blooming across his, normally, emotionally reserved face. ('Well, now. I certainly hadn't considered that possibility.') Shaking his head to regain his composure, Malfoy Sr. found himself chuckling at Granger's confusion at his altered demeanor. ('Is it possible she has no idea what's happening?')

"Oh, my. Aren't you full of surprises today, Miss Granger," Lucius purred, delighted at her noticeable shiver in response to the tone in his voice, "Or should I say, Omega."

Hermione drew back as if slapped, "What...what did you call me?" she stuttered, her head now pounding in time with her racing heart despite the pain potion she had just taken.

"Never mind, it's unimportant at the moment," he continued, the smirk evident on his face, "Tell me, my dear, are you willing to do anything to protect your friend?"

"That depends on how you define 'anything', Mr. Malfoy," Hermione countered, cringing at how vulnerable she sounded. ('What is wrong with me?')

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," he drawled, his wand arm dropping to his side to show her he was no threat, "I have a new counter proposal, Miss Granger. I will guarantee Potter's freedom if you turn yourself over to me, willingly, along with the undamaged Prophecy, when we reach the Atrium."

"What about Harry's life, will he be unharmed?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the older wizard, "And, how do I know you will keep your promise?" ('What's he playing at? Surely old Moldy-Shorts would value Harry's capture more than mine?')

"I give you my oath on my magic," Lucius replied without hesitation, "I will do everything I can to ensure Mr. Potter's escape with his life."

Hermione's eyebrows arched towards her hairline in astonishment as the magic of the oath settled over the blonde aristocrat. Lucius Malfoy just gave her a Wizarding Vow to protect Harry. How had that happened and why?

But, before she could question his motives further, or talk herself out of it, Hermione blurted out, "I accept."

Harry was having a silent meltdown as he helplessly watched his best friend agree to Lucius Malfoy's terms. ('No!No!No!, Hermione can't seriously be doing this! I need...we need that Prophecy orb to win this War!') But, no matter how hard he tried to struggle, the spells that Hermione had placed on him didn't budge. ('I knew I should have paid closer attention when she tried to teach me and Ron wandless and wordless magic,' he groaned.)

Thirty minutes later, and true to his word, the Malfoy patriarch delivered them safely to the Ministry Atrium, having only needed to stun one Order member and two masked Death Eaters, who he swiftly Obliviated, that blocked their path near the lifts in The Department of Mysteries.

Turing to the young witch and holding out his hand, Lucius flashed her that predatory smile once again, "Now, my dear, it's time to keep your part of the bargain."

"Before I do," Hermione said, removing the glamours and Mobilicorpus from Harry and returning his wand to his trousers pocket, "I need to release Har..."

"Stop!" "Get away from them!" interrupted two familiar voices, followed by the flash of red light from stunning spells and the sound of them being deflected off rapidly thrown Protego's.

Hermione barely had time to recognize the faces of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley before Lucius Malfoy grabbed her around the waist and pulled the two of them into the unsettling, twisting motion of Side-Along Apparation.

Two hours after Potter had given Snape that cryptic message about 'Padfoot' in Umbridge's office, and he had warned the Order to send a rescue team to the Ministry, Severus received another puzzling missive, this time from his old friend Lucius.

The unembellished note, delivered by one of the Malfoy house-elves, stated, "I found her. Bring medical potions kit. Suspect long term suppressants. Burgundy safehouse ~ LM."

Ten minutes later, the parchment was a pile of ash in the Potions Master's fireplace as he disappeared from his personal quarters at Hogwarts with the help of an emergency Portkey.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore was in a right state...somewhere between incandescent with rage and a massive panic attack as he paced about the sitting room at Grimmauld Place, ignoring the worried conversations going on around him.

How could things have gone so horribly wrong in the last two hours? Naturally, he had delayed contacting the Order when he received Snape's warning. But, that had been all part of his scheme...to test Harry's leadership skills by allowing The Chosen one and his little band of friends time to reach the Ministry on their fool's errand. Of course, Albus had known all along that Sirius hadn't been taken captive, his hidden tracker on Black had told him as much. But, Harry didn't need to know that, Potter simply needed a cause to fight for in order to become the figurehead Dumbledore needed him to be for the upcoming war.

But, this...this he hadn't anticipated. How had that demure little bookworm, Miss Granger, managed to convince her fellow Gryffindor from involving more than just the two of them on their mission to The Department of Mysteries? Albus also hadn't envisioned her being strong enough to prevent the impetuous Sirius Black from following his Godson to the Ministry. Only, there he had been, trapped and trussed up like a Christmas goose at Order Headquarters looking more like a sheep than a lion as Lupin had vanished the magical bindings. Pathetic.

He had counted on the headstrong man acting like he so often did at school, charging in without thinking, and risking his own life to get to the boy at the Ministry. And, if Black had happened to succumb during the rescue attempt?...well, Albus had planned to use that predictable event to his advantage to gain further control, making the Golden Trio even more dependent on him and his counsel.

Only, then, the bushy-haired chit had to go and let herself get abducted by a Death Eater...and, Lord Malfoy at that! Who could he possibly enlist now at this late stage in the game to motivate Potter and Weasley, keeping them on task for recruiting and training the members of the D.A.? That Patil twin, perhaps? Thank Merlin Granger had at least gotten those two through their O.W.L.'s before she'd been taken.

Insufferable witch, mucking up his schemes like this...absolutely no consideration for his Greater Good.

Lucius had mere moments to cast a series of Protego's to prevent being struck by Shacklebolt's and Weasley's stunners. And, for one heart-stopping beat, he thought he'd deflected one of the spells straight into Miss Granger and The Prophecy. But, despite the little witch's weakened state, she'd managed to dodge the bright red light and, in doing so, moved herself closer towards him.

In the blink of an eye, Malfoy wrapped his arm around Granger's waist and Disapparated from the Atrium, landing them in a safehouse he maintained for emergencies...and this definitely qualified as such. He certainly couldn't return to Malfoy Manor for the time being, that's the first place Weasley, Shacklebolt and others from the Order or the Aurory would go to search for him and the missing Gryffindor.

For now, Lucius thought it best to just secure the orb and wait to be summoned by the Dark Lord...and, of course, decide what he was going to do with Miss Granger. The fact that she was an emerging Omega certainly would make that process...interesting...his Alpha nature shivered happily in anticipation.

Unfortunately, in his haste to escape the Ministry, Malfoy hadn't taken into consideration the effects of Side-Along travel on Miss Granger's fevered condition and wound up with her vomiting all over his expensive dragon-hide boots.

Sighing heavily as he vanished the mess from the both of them, Lucius led Granger over to a nearby dark blue leather settee while plucking the leather pouch containing the, miraculously, intact Prophecy orb from the girl's belt.

"I would have handed that over to you if you'd simply asked, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione tersely rasped, her throat slightly raw from being sick, "We did have a deal, after all, and you fulfilled your end of the bargain."

One of Lucius' blonde eyebrows arched up in surprise, even with his limited Legilimacy skills he could tell that what she said was heartfelt, not even the slightest hint of deception. Looking down at the witch's alarmingly pale face, he replied, "Forgive me, Miss Granger," he drawled, "I'm not used to dealing with honorable Gryffindors."

That earned him an unladylike snort from the girl, "I presume your referring to Headmaster Dumbledore or Minister Fudge with that sentiment?"

"Indeed," he replied with a smirk as he carefully placed The Prophecy orb into a runed box he'd pulled from a robe pocket, heavily warding it and returning it to his robes, ready at a moments notice to be presented to The Dark Lord.

Hermione sat on the leather settee with her head cradled in her hands. She'd accomplished her task and her conscience was clear, haven gotten Harry to, relative, safety by keeping her word to the Malfoy patriarch, freely giving up The Prophecy and herself for her friend's sake. However, she never promised to remain with Mr. Malfoy once they left the Atrium and arrived...wherever it was he'd taken her.

She needed to come up with an escape plan but, the migraine was making it difficult to think straight. Sliding her fingers into her pocket, Hermione snagged the last vial of pain-relief and had it half way to her lips when her hand shook violently, causing the contents to spill everywhere. ('Circe's Saggy Tits!') Granger felt like throwing the bottle and smashing it against the grey stone wall but knew that wouldn't help matters.

Knowing that this would likely lead to another negotiation, Hermione let out a put upon sigh and gingerly turned to face her, hopefully, temporary host, "Do you have any headache potions in this place?" (Merlin! Kill me now...did I just whimper?)

When Lucius had walked Miss Granger over to the sofa, another faint wave of her musk wafted up his nose, only this time there was a sour undertone to the sweet citrusy fragrance. After retrieving the asked for potion and handing it over to the grateful little witch, Lucius watched with satisfaction as the concoction took effect and relief spread across Granger's face. It nearly made his male pride visibly preen, knowing that he eased her pain in some small way.

After a few moments, it was obvious to Malfoy that something else was still causing Miss Granger to be unwell and in distress, making his protective instincts roar to the surface. Not wanting to add to Granger's discomfort by sweeping her up into his arms to soothe her as his Alpha nature dictated, Lucius, instead, tamped down those reactions behind an Occlumency shield, settled down on the far end of the settee and began assessing her symptoms.

Although not currently in pain, she was still running a fever but, there were also chills and muscle tremors and he'd noticed the scent gland on her neck had not fully emerged like the one she had covered on her wrist. That was another cause for concern. Was Granger deliberately trying to hide that aspect of herself? Why would she do such a thing when it was a normal part of a person's second gender? But, then, he recalled her confused, almost frightened, response at the Ministry when he called her 'Omega'.

Suddenly, all the color drained from Lucius' face as more pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Miss Granger was the same year in school as Draco which would make her fifteen...sixteen at most. Ordinarily, secondary gender presentations didn't occur until a person's seventeenth birthday, when they attained their magical majority, in either sixth or seventh year. Even taking into account Granger's rare power manifestation, her appearance as an Omega was happening far too soon.

Which meant someone was deliberately hastening this little witch's natural development, most likely with a combination of an aging-potion and Praecoquis spell. It would certainly account for the majority of her symptoms. And, based on her earlier reaction to the mere mention of the word Omega, these changes weren't self-inflicted nor done with her knowledge and consent.

Did someone suspect that this particular Gryffindor would present as an Omega? True, her petite stature was an indicator but, not a guarantee. He'd known a few Beta's that weren't much taller than Miss Granger, Bellatrix LeStrange, being one of them. And, tampering with a person's secondary gender, but especially an Omega's, was an automatic sentence to Azkaban for ten years. Who would risk such a thing?

A final realization almost had Malfoy hexxing the low coffee table setting in front of the settee in frustration and rage. The reason he could detect Granger's faint original scent at all meant that he was her intended Alpha...only a true mate or mates would be able to smell their Omega's musk.

Whoever this person or persons were, they were trying to alter her natural fragrance, to claim Miss Granger for themselves...or for someone else in particular.

Malfoy hurriedly Accio'd a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, wrote a quick note to the one other person that was keyed to this specific safehouse, and sent the missive on it's way with his most trusted house-elf, Trinket.

As soon as the little elf disappeared, Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at Malfoy. "What's going on?" she asked with as steady a voice as she could manage, the chills and muscle tremors causing her to nearly fall off the settee.

"I've just sent for an old friend who has the knowledge and skills to better treat your malady, you'll probably recognize him when he arrives," soothed Lucius as he levitated a warm blanket over to the young witch.

"You know what's wrong with me?" Hermione nearly squeaked, "I'm not contagious, am I?...Never mind, don't answer that last bit...of course, I'm not. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting in the same room with me. Why are you still here, Mr. Malfoy? Don't you have an orb to deliver? Who..."

A loud, exasperated noise coming from someone standing in the shadows behind Hermione stopped her from rattling on with more questions. "Merlin's Saggy Balls! Of all the witches on the planet, why did it have to be you?"

"Now, Severus, is that any way to greet our future Omega?"

Chapter Text

"Nimue's Frilly Knickers! Lucius. Did you find your son's hidden stash of Professor Sprout's magically enhanced Special Herb and smoke the entire bag?" scowled Snape, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, "Because there's no way on this gods-be-damned Earth that we would ever..."

Whatever derisive comment the dour man in black was going to say to his blonde friend about this Know-It-All of a witch was quickly forgotten as Hermione's face contorted into a mute rictus of agony before their startled eyes. Seconds later, her entire body began violently thrashing about like a person being tortured with a Cruciatus.

Both wizards were at her side in an instant, their conversation set aside for the moment to tend to the witch in trouble from an unknown cause. Severus quickly drew his wand from his arm holster and began snapping out a series of diagnostic scans. While he was doing that, Lucius wandlessly directed the warm blanket, which had fallen from Hermione's lap onto the floor, to gently entwine itself around Granger's upper body and added a sticking charm to the knotted back to secure her to the settee, preventing her from accidently pitching herself onto the low coffee table or the ground.

A low hiss of displeasure escaped from Severus' mouth as the results from his tests began displaying themselves in angry red and sickly green lights hovering about the insensate Gryffindor. Accio'ing a pale purple vial from the bottom of the emergency potions kit he'd brought, Professor Snape hurriedly spelled the sweet smelling liquid directly into Granger's stomach and anxiously watched for signs of it taking effect.

"Sweet Mother of Merlin! What's happening to our little Omega, Severus?" demanded Lucius, as he moved closer to read one of the assessments, not liking the feeling of being next to useless in this situation.

"Stop calling Miss Granger that," growled Snape, taking a small bezoar from his medical bag and vanishing it to a safe position in the girl's throat past her vocal chords, "But, as loathe as I am to admit it, Lucius, you were correct about one thing concerning my student's health," rolling his eyes at Malfoy, knowing the blonde wizard would probably gloat about being right later on, once this crisis had passed, "Someone had been regularly dosing her since the beginning of term last year with some Dark Magic concoctions but, for whatever reason, this regimen was disrupted at least eight weeks ago," pointing to one of the sickly green readouts.

The tension in Snape's shoulders finally began relaxing when he saw the witch's tremors lessening and a healthier pallor returning to her skin. Turning to Malfoy, he further explained Granger's condition, "Her seizure was the result of a combination of factors...remnants of those Dark potions in her system, withdrawal symptoms from said concoctions, the multiple doses of pain-relievers she'd ingested during the last four hours and the physical stress from her emerging secondary gender," he murmured, casting another round of diagnostics, "And, if you hadn't sent for me when you did, she may not have survived the night," he added, studying one of the more prominent lighter green displays, "Miss Granger's condition is stable, for the moment, but she's going to need a cleansing procedure to rid herself of the residual potions. I'd advise taking her to Gringott's when she awakens and have the Goblins see to her needs, they're far more knowledgeable concerning this process than any healer at St. Mungo's."

Lucius gave a slight nod to Severus, acknowledging his appreciation to other man for his efforts to save the little witch. "Will the purging of those elixirs reverse her forced Omega presentation or is it too late to stop the progression?"

"What are you on about, Lucius?" asked Snape, quirking a single eyebrow at Malfoy, "Miss Granger's secondary gender wasn't induced, it was being suppressed."

"Then how do you explain her Omega emergence as a fifteen or sixteen year old fifth year?" growled Lucius, gesturing to the sleeping witch, "That shouldn't happen until her magical majority at age seventeen."

"Funny you should mention that, Lucius. Based on these diagnostics, Miss Granger's biological age is seventeen but, according to her Hogwarts' records, she's sixteen," replied Snape, pointing at a specific display, "And, before you ask, I've already ruled out aging potions or any kind of Vetero spell."

Further discussions between the two wizards were brought to a grinding halt when Malfoy let out a snarling hiss, the Dark Mark on his left arm had begun to burn. Snape's Mark remained undisturbed. "It seems I'm being summoned, my old friend," he said as he stood and prepared to leave, "Please remain here with Miss Granger until I return but, should you also be called by The Dark Lord, send for Trinket to attend to her."

After taking a moment to ensure he had the runed box with The Prophecy firmly secured, Lucius touched his wand to the writhing Mark on his arm and disappeared.

Hermione shuddered as another chill raced through her body, only this time it wasn't caused by her unknown illness. It was the second time Mr. Malfoy had referred to her as 'Omega'. ('What the Bloody Hell does that even mean? And, why do I feel like I should know the answer?') But, she didn't have time to mull over these questions as the blonde aristocrat perturbed her even further by claiming that she was somehow his AND the Professor's Omega...person?...whatever that word implied. Well, Hermione was certainly going to enjoy nipping that notion in the bud. She didn't belong to either of these two wizards, nor anyone else for that matter, she was an independent witch, thank you very much!

At least, the Professor seemed to be in agreement with her about this shared Omega nonsense...and, wasn't that a shocker! Squaring her shoulders, Hermione opened her mouth to object to the two men's spiraling 'is she or isn't she' conversation and steer the discussion back to whole reason why Professor Snape had been invited here by Mr. Malfoy in the first place...finding out the cause of her mystery ailment.

Only, Hermione never got the chance to utter a single word of protest as all the nerves in her body chose that moment to ignite in searing pain. Fortunately, her awareness of the tortuous sensations lasted mere seconds before she succumbed to darkness.

Harry was hiding in the Black library at Grimmauld Place, sitting in Hermione's favorite reading nook and staring out the window at the night sky when a shadow loomed over him. He didn't even flinch when a large, warm hand settled on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Don't you worry Harry, Remus and Mad-Eye are two of the best trackers in the Order, they'll find Hermione in no time and bring her safely back here or to Hogwarts," reassured Sirius, silently hoping in earnest, for Harry's sake, this sentiment was true.

"If I'd just listened to Hermione, none of this would have happened," groaned Harry, trying desperately to hold back his guilt-ridden tears, "She was right about Lord Snake-Face using my dreams to taunt me but, I just HAD to try and retrieve my Prophecy orb so the Order could use it to win this war. I needed to do this to...to protect her and the other Muggle-borns. But, I screwed things up so badly, Sirius," he sighed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to block out the last image he had of his friend, "I didn't just manage to lose the Bloody sphere, I got Hermione captured by a Death Eater, too," one tear finally broke free and trailed down his cheek, "I...I don't want to think about what Malfoy's going to do to her before he turns her and The Prophecy over to that red-eyed bastard."

Sirius hadn't wanted to dwell on those thoughts either, having heard some of the rumors about Lucius Malfoy and his use of 'creative' torture on abducted Muggle-borns. As he shifted into his Animagus form and placed his dark shaggy head on Harry's lap to better console his Godson, Black silently pleaded with all the deities he could name to help Remus and Moody find the little witch in time.

Dumbledore had returned to his office at Hogwarts in a right foul mood. Against his advice, the werewolf and that nut-case ex-Auror went off searching for that exasperating Granger witch. He hadn't said it aloud as Potter was in the room but, Albus felt it was a monumental waste of time and resources as the girl was most likely dead by now. And, even if they did manage to find the silly chit alive, he couldn't risk her continued association with Harry and the youngest Weasley boy. In her, sure to be damaged state, Granger would be too much of an inconvenience, Dumbledore simply couldn't have her become the center of the two Gryffindor boys' attentions as they helped her recover...he needed them focused on recruiting and training other DA members.

One way or another, he had to make sure Granger was no longer their concern.

Lucius returned to the safehouse barely thirty minutes later, his meeting with Lord Voldemort and the other returning Death Eaters from the Department of Mysteries having been somewhat anti-climatic given the earlier excitement at the Ministry. Although, The Dark Lord had been somewhat surprised that Lucius was able to accomplish his mission given the reports of the destructive clashes between the Death Eaters and the Order that evening.

Luckily, Malfoy was rewarded for his efforts in retrieving The Prophecy and was allowed to depart without being subjected to the Cruciatus. Some of his other followers weren't so lucky, Bellatrix, in particular. Due to her penchant for violence, she had provoked some of the more brutal fights and, as a result, Jugson, Davis and Roberts were killed. The Order had suffered injuries, some critical, but no losses.

Bella was still under the torture curse when Lucius left Lestrange Hall.

The blonde wizard couldn't keep the broad smile from his lips as he twisted into his Apparation, knowing that the person who killed his wife was getting some long overdue punishment.

Five minutes after Lucius had left to answer his summons, Hermione's eyes began to flutter open. She attempted to sit up but a firm hand on her shoulder held her back. "You need to remain still, Miss Granger, you've suffered a rather nasty seizure and your body needs to recuperate," stated Snape matter-of-factly.

A quick glance at her surroundings let Hermione know that it was just the two of them in the room. "Please, Sir. If Mr. Malfoy has gone, now's my chance to escape...with your help."

"And, why would I do that Miss Granger?" drawled her Potions Master, "Surely, you realize such an action would destroy my cover as a spy for the Order," he stated plainly, "Not to worry, I have a plan in place to facilitate your rescue when you visit Gringott's later."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted towards her hairline with that odd bit of news, "And, just why would I be visiting the Wizarding bank in the first place, Professor?"

"As I mentioned, you've experienced a seizure, one that was induced by a number of factors but, the main cause was the presence of illicit potions," said Snape, his face a cool mask as if conveying a lesson in class, "Substances that need to be purged from your system to prevent a recurrence and the Goblins at Gringott's are the best option to perform such a procedure."

Hermione wanted to ask questions but, for once she didn't know where to begin. The Professor ignored her obvious dilemma and continued, "In the meantime, I need to change that bandage on your left wrist...with your permission, of course."

All Granger could do was mutely nod her consent. Her normally snarky Professor was tending to her wounds without derisive commentary and it was further confusing her already aching brain. But, that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Snape removed the sodden wrappings from Granger's wrist, banished them and set about cleaning the oozing lump before he would apply a new bandage. It was a straightforward process...or so he thought.

While damping away the clear fluid with a sterile cloth, the faint scent that had Lucius Malfoy nearly drooling over the little witch in The Hall of Prophecies rose up and similarly smacked Severus Snape in his large aquiline nose.

And, like Lucius, Severus' Alpha nature roared to the surface, much to the tightly buttoned-up, controlled man's embarrassment. Dropping her arm as if it burned him and backing away from the girl, no, seventeen-year-old young woman on the verge of her magical majority, he growled out through tightly clenched teeth, "You've got to be kidding me!"

A burst of laughter from behind him had Snape whirling about to face the smug visage of Lucius-sodding-Malfoy.

"I told you, she's our Omega."

('I'm so fucked.')

Chapter Text

Hermione's muzzy brain was reeling with all the new information that she was trying to process. A seizure would certainly explain why she currently felt like the Hogwarts Express had run her over twice but, illicit potions? How had that happened? The only thing she took with any kind of regularity were her once-a-month migraine elixirs. Could someone have tampered with the concoctions before Madame Pomfrey gave her the boxful of phials? She groaned to herself when she remembered the last remaining vials had been broken as she was leading Umbridge off into the Forbidden Forest and she'd vanished the mess when she discovered it later while at Grimmauld Place, there was nothing left of the mixtures or containers to test for contaminants or spells.

But, that led to a whole other set of concerns that soon had Hermione's stomach tied up in knots. Were there other potions being altered and given to the students or Professors at Hogwarts? Had only specific people been targeted? Was Harry being subjected to these illegal mixtures, too? She could definitely see Umbridge being behind something like this but to what ends? If controlling 'troublesome' people like her or Harry were the goal, there were far better ways of going about it.

Just as the room threatened to spin out of control again from this current flurry of questions swirling about her mind, Lucius Malfoy Apparated back into the place and snapped Hermione's attentions back into focus with the mere mention of that one strange word...Omega. Why did it seem so familiar but, at the same time, remain frustratingly beyond her grasp?

Gingerly lifting her chin, Granger faced the other people in the room, determined to get some answers.

"I've asked you, repeatedly, to stop calling Miss Granger that, Lucius," Snape growled at Malfoy, still trying to quash what his own senses were trying to tell him.

"Now, Severus," purred Lucius, grinning as he realized the cause for his friend's discomfort, "It's obvious that your body has recognized and...responded to our Omega's scent, no matter how much you may deny it."

"For Merlin's sake!" hissed the little witch, pulling the warm blanket up to her chest as a way of distancing herself from the two posturing wizards...one dapper, calm and smirking, the other ruffled, bristling and frowning, "Would one of you, please, just explain to me what in the Bloody Hell is an Omega and why Mr. Malfoy insists that I am one?"

Under different circumstances, the abrupt shift in Malfoy's and Snape's demeanor would have been humorous. But, Hermione was still feeling out of sorts and didn't appreciate them looking at her as if she'd just declared that Bubotuber Pus was a lovely shade of blue and smelled like lilacs.

When neither immediately answered, she continued, "I'm sorry, was that question too difficult for you to understand or do I need to repeat it in another language? Gobbledegook, perhaps?" she snarked, her patience with these two puerile wizards wearing thin. (You'd think with all the years of experience dealing with Harry's and Ron's inane squabbles she'd be well practiced at coping with ridiculous male behavior but, not today, apparently.)

"Cheeky witch," laughed Malfoy, recovering from his initial shock at the Gryffindor's admission of ignorance about her status, "You have to admit, Severus, our lives certainly won't be boring with her around."

He cackled all the more as he ducked the stinging hexes Severus and Hermione both sent his way.

"You can't possibly have us believe that you know nothing about secondary genders, Miss Granger," scoffed the Potions Master with a steely glint in his eyes, "All fifth years were required to attend that particular Health lecture in the school infirmary during the first week of term last September. And, I know for a fact that you were there, constantly interrupting with a barrage of annoying questions, as I presented the segment concerning Alphas."

Both of Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as her mouth fell open in disbelief, "What!? How...I...I would remember something that important, Professor," she spluttered, her hands visibly trembling and her cheeks flushing crimson.

The Potions Master rolled his eyes and scowled, folding his arms across his chest in a clear display of skepticism, "I would expect this act of feigned ignorance from your two dunderheaded shadows but, not from you, Miss Granger."

Despite the defensive fierceness in her eyes, the little witch's shoulders involuntarily curled in on themselves, making her look vulnerable and even smaller in stature, "Whether you want to believe it or not, Sir, I am telling you the truth. I don't know what any of that means...secondary genders, Omega, Alpha...none of it...and, I definitely don't recall you teaching anything else this year except Potions."

A low growl rumbled through Malfoy's chest when he noticed Granger's reflexive display of distress, "It's obvious that our Omega isn't lying, Severus," the blonde aristocrat snipped, "How can you stand there and continue to ignore what your instincts and logic are screaming at you?" Lucius demanded, baring his elongating canines as he stepped between his friend and the young woman, "I may have no Mastery in the subject but, you said it yourself, there's unmistakable evidence of Dark Magic potions in her system. Isn't it plausible that one of those may have affected her memory?"

Between the older wizard's protective body language and snarled words, it was as if Lucius had doused Severus with a bucket of ice water. Glancing down at the young witch, Snape took notice of her bowed posture and agitated expression and mentally began kicking himself. Even without Legilimacy, he should have easily picked up on those few visual clues from the young Gryffindor and discerned she wasn't being deceptive.

Unclenching his jaw and letting his arms drop to his sides, the Potions Master huffed out an extremely exaggerated sigh and conceded, "It's entirely possible those elixirs or one of their components may have damaged Miss Granger's recollection but, I have a distinct feeling that something more insidious could be at work."

Turning to Hermione, Snape held out one of his hands to help her to her feet, "We need to escort you to Gringott's, Miss Granger, and have the Goblins run their own assessments," he stated, softening the tone of his voice, "If there's anything else besides the Dark potions involved with your memory loss, they should be able to locate the source through their more in-depth scans...and, hopefully, successfully treat the cause. It's your best option."

Hermione looked at her Professor and took the proffered arm, only, instead of using his assistance to stand, she pulled the unsuspecting wizard off balance and down onto the settee next to her.

Ignoring Snape's muttered cursing, and Malfoy's unabashed laughing, Granger said, "Before we go, Professor, I need you to give me an abridged version of that secondary gender lecture...just in case the Goblins can't return my lost memories. I promise not to ask questions until you're done."

After setting himself to rights, Snape started off with some rather cut and dried facts for Granger, the first being that there were three secondary genders - Alpha, Beta and Omega. And, that every squib, wizard and witch in the Wizarding World presented as one of these three on or shortly after reaching their seventeen birthday with, roughly, sixty percent emerging as Betas, thirty percent as Alphas and ten percent as Omegas.

Continuing on with the basics, Severus then informed her that Betas were average in height ("Frequently, average in intelligence, too," smirked Snape after pointing out that the large number of stodgy politicians working at the Ministry, including Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, were Betas.) while Alphas were tall in stature ("Both males and females range from 1.828meters to 2.032meters") and Omegas were petite ("Females are 1.4224meters to 1.6256meters and males 1.6002meters to 1.7018meters")

Professor Snape's voice gradually trailed off before he cleared his throat. And, for a split second, Hermione thought that the man was signaling that he was finished with the discussion, that it was time to leave for Gringotts.

That notion was quickly dispelled when Mr. Malfoy's low-pitched chuckling broke the growing silence, "Don't stop now, Severus, you're just getting to the more interesting bits."

"Shut it, Lucius, or I will hex everything you own orange," hissed Severus, two spots of bright pink appearing on his pale cheeks.

Wisely, Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting to risk the growing ire of the obviously embarrassed wizard. Only now, the little witch's curiosity was peaked...what could possibly cause this, normally, stoic man to blush like a firstie.

Snape truly wanted to curse Malfoy for drawing attention to his discomfort but, in the end, he knew that he was merely stalling for time. Ordinarily, this part of the lecture was given by Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout while he sat back and read a book. Only now, there was no one else to take over (Lucius was decidedly not an option). No, the responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders to educate the Gryffindor witch...someone who, for some reason, was currently gazing at him like he was a rarely seen magical creature.

He had to bite back the derisive snort that image brought to mind...Severus Snape, the only Flame-Cheeked Dungeon Bat in existence.

Taking a steadying breath to regain his composure, Snape shifted into his familiar classroom persona, "This brings us to the segment concerning...reproduction," he drawled, taking care to not make eye contact with Granger, "Betas, being that they are the most prevalent, often gravitate towards other Betas but, a handful will pair off with Alphas. Omegas, however, exclusively mate with Alphas. And, it's not unusual for Triads to be formed...typically, one Omega with two Alphas or one Alpha with two Betas."

"There's even been a recorded case of a Tri-bond between one Alpha, one Beta and one Omega...one of my ancestors was involved, of course," interjected Lucius with a hint of family pride on his face, "My Great-Aunt, Cassiopeia Malfoy, was the Omega, Esmerelda Rosier was her Alpha and Eduard DeLacroix was her Beta. Cassie had a set of twin girls with Esmerelda and Eduard bore Esme two boys."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, she couldn't help it, "Wizards can be mothers and witches can be fathers?" she squeaked, desperately trying not to look like a landed fish.

"Yes, Miss Granger," purred Malfoy, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Isn't magic wonderful."

Leaning forward slightly so that his reddening cheeks were covered under the curtain of his hair, the Professor continued on, "Since Omegas are so rare, they are the most sought after as mates by Alphas, as a result, fights over Omegas were not uncommon. Over time, Omegas developed a defense mechanism in the form of two scent glands, one on the left wrist and one on the right side of the neck. These ensured that only the most magically compatible Alpha or Alphas would take notice of them when they emerged on their seventeenth birthday. These same glands will later emit a pheromone, signaling to the partner that their Omega has entered a week-long heat cycle...a time when the Omega is at their most fertile. If contraceptives are used, the cycle will recur in three months time."

"Of course, there are secondary indications that an Omega's heat has started," drawled Lucius, giving Hermione a salacious wink, "Increasing fever, heightened senses, the instinctual desire to build a nest in a safe space...and the copious production of a natural lubricant called slick to ease multiple couplings."

Granger stared at Malfoy and Snape with comically wide eyes, then glanced down to the blanket on her lap that she'd begun unconsciously kneading with her hands, letting out a strangled 'meep' as she connected the dots between the information she'd just been given, her current symptoms and the various reactions of the two wizards to her presence.

('Fucking, Fuckity, Fuck! I'm a freaking Omega...Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy are my Alphas...and, I'm in heat!...and, someone gave me illicit potions...and...')

Mentally shaking her head to derail that train of thought, Hermione hurriedly brought the Health lecture to a screeching halt, "I'm ready to go to Gringott's now, Professor."

Chapter Text

"Oh, but there's so much more...delectable information that we have to share with you, Miss Granger," rumbled Lucius, gliding towards the little witch like a predator stalking its prey, "Don't we, Severus?"

"All of which can wait," hissed Snape, rising from the settee and placing himself between his fellow Slytherin and the shivering Gryffindor, though, he couldn't tell if her shaking was a delayed effect from the seizure that had rattled her system or her Omega's natural reactions to the two Alphas in close proximity to her person. Perhaps, a bit of both?

"If you don't mind," Hermione blurted out, trying to sound more steady than she felt, "I'd really like to go to Gringott's, now, to find out what the Goblins can do to help me."

Malfoy let out a put-upon sigh, so much for continuing to tease these two ('Such spoilsports,' he thought.) "Very well, if you insist, little Omega," reluctantly giving in to her wishes, "But, make no mistake witch," he purred, eyes gleaming with amusement at Granger's poorly concealed response to his voice, "We will continue this discussion later, hopefully, to our mutual...satisfaction."

Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from moaning aloud. What was wrong with her? She wasn't this wanton, needy, mewling being! She was an independent witch with specific goals for her life, for Merlin's sake! Is this what being an Omega meant? Throwing away all propriety and entertaining thoughts to climb these two powerful wizards like they were trees?

Albeit, they were tall, masculine, sensually breathtaking trees that she wanted to....Shaking her head again to dispel those libidinous thoughts from overtaking her fevered brain, Hermione carefully rose from the settee and walked closer to Professor Snape, believing that he was the safer of the two wizards in the room to be near at this point. Unfortunately...or maybe, fortunately, for her, Hermione couldn't sense the physical and emotional war currently raging behind the Potions Master's reserved, buttoned-up appearance.

While Lucius was, unashamedly, the more flirtatious, Severus was, by no means, innocent in his thoughts towards the young witch and was hanging on by a rapidly unraveling thread behind his Occlumency shields. Her scent, which was now completely filling the small room, was playing havoc with his, normally, well ordered and sensible mind, short-circuiting his logic like nothing had ever done before, causing him to want nothing more than to give in to his primal instincts, to sweep the little Omega off her feet and drag her into the opulent master bedroom to have his wicked way with her the way his rutting Alpha wished, that carnal side he was embarrassed to admit was as much a part of him as breathing that desperately longed to mark her with his bite for the whole world to see...'Mine!' his animal brain howled.

From where she was standing, Hermione couldn't see the slight sheen of perspiration forming across on the Professor's forehead nor the twitching of his hands at his side as he fought the impulse to touch the exposed skin on her arm. Snape had to act quickly or they would not leave this safehouse anytime soon.

Clearing his throat to get Malfoy's and Granger's attentions, Snape managed to grind out through clenched teeth, "Follow me, Miss Granger," turning his back on the young woman and stalking towards the large stone fireplace on the other side of the room, "We'll take the Floo directly to the bank manager's office."

Breathing out a shaky sigh of relief, Hermione hurriedly followed behind the dour man in black, keeping a wary eye on the blonde aristocrat walking behind her who was, currently, taking in both their retreating forms with a clear appreciation in his eyes.

Stepping up to the fireplace, Severus grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out "Grimsby's Office, Gringott's" before disappearing from sight.

Just as Hermione was about to follow Snape through the flames, Lucius leaned in close, his warm, sweet scented breath tickling her neck, "I look forward to meeting the real you on the other side, little witch."

But, before she could ask Malfoy what the Bloody Hell he meant by that, Hermione was pulled through the green fire, stumbling as she emerged through the hearth, saved from falling flat on her face only by the quick reflexes of the Potions Master.

('She's so warm, so soft...and practically purring from a simple touch from my hands...Merlin! The things I could teach her') thought Snape as he caught Granger about the waist, keeping her from falling to the floor as she emerged from the Floo. But, reasoning fought back for control and slapped his wandering, scent-addled mind back to their present situation, ('Fuck! Minerva will hex my bollocks off and make me wear them as earrings if...when she finds out about our status!') Letting go of the young witch as quickly as possible, without dropping her on her arse, Severus moved back several paces to regain, at least, the illusion of respectability and self-restraint.

Grimsby, who had watched the two flustered people awkwardly distance themselves, merely shook his head. Silly wizards and witches with their, equally, inane sense of decorum...it was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were bondmates. Then, Lucius Malfoy walked out of the fireplace and things really became interesting. Ahhh, now he understood the first pair's nervousness...a Triad...that would tend to complicate matters.

Clearing his throat to get the trio's attentions, the bank manager said, "Welcome to Gringott's, Lord Malfoy, Potions Master Snape and...guest. I understand one of you is in need of an assessment. Follow me, if you would please."

Chapter Text

Snape, Granger and Malfoy trailed closely behind Grimsby, leaving the bank manager's office through a long, narrow hallway lit by strings of small mage lights hanging down from the ceiling, the luminescent effect reminding Hermione of pictures she'd seen once in a book about the fascinating glow-worm caves in New Zealand. At the very end of the dark green marble corridor was an ocean-blue doorway covered with an intricate pattern of runes. But, the markings were nothing that any of the three humans recognized. Smirking at his clients' curious stares at the unfamiliar symbols, Grimsby murmured 'Goblin Moon Runes' before he tapped on a select number of the marks to unlock the passageway.

As the heavy wooden door slowly swung inward, their diminutive guide waved Severus, Lucius and Hermione on through to a large circular room filled with more symbols and strings of mage lights. Waiting on the other side of this space from the group were three more Goblins, each wearing a hooded, dove-grey robe with gold embellishments on the hems, marking them as Healers among the Goblin Nation. And, all of them were standing around a short white granite pillar on which sat three shallow rock crystal bowls, each containing a colorful mercury-like fluid...the first a sapphire blue, the next an emerald green and the last a translucent silver.

Grimsby paused and looked over to the three humans, "Which of you needs to be assessed and given the cleansing procedure?" he asked, it was a mere formality on his part as anyone could clearly see that the young witch was showing signs of illness and distress.

"That would be Miss Granger," drawled Snape, tilting his head slightly towards the little Gryffindor, "I ran a preliminary set of scans over her before our arrival that indicated the presence of illicit potions and confirmed them to be suppressants. Based on her response to this discovery, it would seem they were given to her without her prior knowledge or consent, they also appear to have affected her memory of certain events, in particular, the Health lecture at Hogwarts regarding secondary gender presentations and all that entails. Due to time constraints, I was only able to give Miss Granger a brief overview of the materials."

There were a few hisses of displeasure from the three hooded figures and Grimsby at this information, causing both Snape and Malfoy to raise an eyebrow at their reactions. But before either of the two wizards could ask any questions, the Goblin standing closest to the human trio pulled a bit of spelled parchment from a hidden pocket and carefully approached Hermione, "I will need three drops of your blood on this page to begin our analysis," the Healer stated, the cowl falling away to reveal a female Elder.

Granger pulled her wand from her jeans pocket to perform a slicing spell only to have the Goblin shake her head as she withdrew a delicate silver knife from her grey robes, "We must use this charmed blade, witchling," the Elder said as she gently took Hermione's left hand into hers and made a quick slash across the girl's index finger, the three required drops slowly falling to the page from the small wound.

As soon as the dark crimson liquid hit the parchment, writing began to appear and gradually fill the entire sheet. After sealing the cut on Hermione's finger, the female Goblin silently read the results and snarled, then, turned to the other two hooded figures and began rattling off a frenzied string of Gobbledegook.

('Well, that certainly doesn't sound promising.')

Grimsby took the scroll from the Healer and strolled over to the young witch, "Elder Marshbank just confirmed that she and her two colleagues will be able to purge these suppressants from your system but, it will not be a simple undertaking," explained the bank manager, his brow deeply furrowed as he spoke, "And, once the cleansing procedure has been finished, they strongly recommend that you remain in seclusion until your body has fully acclimated to your secondary gender...that's the easy part," he said glancing back down at the parchment.

After a moments pause, he continued, "Our diagnostics also found that, when the inhibiter potions blocked your Omega presentation, they also severely impaired your magical development. Which means that after the source of this obstruction has been fully removed, your magics will automatically seek to reach their rightful levels. In order to prevent your magical core from being damaged by this power spike, Elder Marshbank and Healers Towbane and Dartmire will need to carefully monitor and regulate this energy influx...all of this will take a minimum of three hours to safely complete.

Despite her growing concern over this bit of news, Granger was anxious to find out more information, "How long will I need to be in seclusion, what else does your screening test say, why were you and the Healers so upset by what Professor Snape told you, do the readings indicate who did this to me?" asked Hermione, visibly shaking from her nervousness and spiking fever, "Will it....?"

Grimsby held up a hand to stop the little witch's flurry of questions, "First things first, Miss Granger," he said, baring his teeth in the Goblin version of a smile before further explaining that the procedure involved the administration of a detoxification elixir. Pointing to the crystal bowl with the translucent silver liquid, he added, "Ordinarily, just one small vial of this mixture would be sufficient to do the job but, as you were dosed with suppressants for an extensive period of time, you'll need to consume half the volume in this dish to properly clear your system," stated Grimsby, the Healers confirming this with a solemn nod of their heads, "Make no mistake, the removal of these Dark Magic potions will be...uncomfortable. Do we have your consent to begin?"

Hermione's guts were in twisted up in knots with the whole idea but, in the end, she answered with a simple 'Yes'. She'd endured debilitating migraines these past three months, surely, the purification of her body couldn't possibly be any worse...

Lucius and Severus paled, then flushed with anger as they listened to Grimsby. It was bad enough that someone had tampered with Hermione's Omega presentation, but, when Malfoy and Snape heard that their little witch's magics had been bound by these potions, a low growl began to rumble deep within their chests. Lucius' eyes met Severus' and a silent agreement was made, whoever did this to Granger would wish for death before they were finished with them.

But, that would all have to wait until after their Omega was once again whole and healthy.

Healer Towbane led Hermione to the center of a large, bowl-like depression in the floor that she'd not noticed until now. "You will need to disrobe before we have you drink the elixir, Miss Granger," he said matter-of-factly, "And, place your wand in the warded box Grimsby is holding, he will ensure it's safety until you are recovered."

Hermione's eyes went comically wide, "What do you mean, I have to be naked and hand over my wand?" she squeaked, her face turning scarlet as she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly about herself, her cherished vinewood clutched tightly in her right hand, "Why is that even necessary?" she asked, biting back a groan. ('Is it possible to die of embarrassment?')

"It is standard practice for this process as it will prevent your clothing and wand from being ruined from the effects of the detoxifier," Towbane stated flatly, studiously ignoring the young witch's agitated state, "Plus, it will allow Marshbank, Dartmire and I to directly monitor you for any changes to the skin across your chest and upper thighs for any indications of an adverse reaction...because those effects will need to be counteracted as soon as possible."

"I think it best, for Miss Granger's peace of mind, if Severus and I waited elsewhere," interrupted Lucius, wanting to ease some of their Omega's distress in any way that they could manage. Severus nodded silently in agreement, trying to keep his own cheeks from flushing pink after hearing the additional requirement of her treatment.

"That's not an option," declared the Elder, staring at the two human males as if they were a pair of complete dunderheads, "You both are Miss Granger's Alphas, are you not," she stated rather than asked, "Once she has been cleansed of the Dark Magic potions and her core stabilized, she will need her bondmates' bodies and magic to be intimately connected with her while she recuperates...a simple holding of her hands will suffice," Marshbank hurriedly added when she saw the two wizards' eyebrows lift towards their hairlines the second she mentioned the words 'intimately connected'.

Grimsby, having had more experience with Wizarding kind and their, often, prudish sense of propriety, smirked, "If you are that concerned about preserving your Omega's dignity, I can provide you gentlemen with blindfolds, if you wish. Although, I can't understand why you wouldn't want to look at your mate, she is rather lovely, don't you agree?"

Hermione's face wasn't the only one in that room to turn bright red.

Mortified didn't even begin to describe how Severus felt at this moment. And, his brain and extensive vocabulary seemed to have abandoned him, too, as his mouth opened and closed a couple of times without a single word being uttered.

Lucius, understanding his fellow wizard's plight, spoke for the both of them, "As it's her body, we leave the choice entirely up to Miss Granger," lowering his eyes so that Hermione could not see the conflicting looks of concern and longing within them, "What is your decision, my dear?"

Granger's head was spinning and starting to throb in time with her heartbeat. Between all the secondary gender information Professor Snape had imparted to her before traveling to Gringott's, her steadily rising fever, the Goblin's assessment and recommended treatment, she was feeling just a tad overwhelmed. And, then, Mr. Malfoy had to go and do something genuinely thoughtful by giving her a chance to have some small say in what was happening around her. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this point.

Taking a deep breath, and deciding to be pragmatic while her mind was still, somewhat, functioning, Granger replied, "Blindfolds...please."

While Lucius and Severus were being positioned about the bowl-like structure where Hermione was to be for the entirety of her procedure, Snape re-asked one of the myriad of questions that she, and they, desperately wanted answered, "Did your diagnostics reveal who did this to Miss Granger?"

Grimsby and Marshbank exchanged a knowing look before he turned to the dour wizard, "I'm afraid that is a rather complicated issue, Master Snape, as there are several magical signatures intertwined with the Dark Magic. Naturally, Miss Granger's is one, being the recipient of the potion and one, we are certain, is the brewer. But, as this person does not have an account with this Gringott's branch, and therefore neither a wand nor blood imprint are on file here, we can't match a name to them."

"Can we presume from your reactions, you have identified some of the others?" Lucius inquired, his face was the picture of calm but, underneath his Occlumency shields he was a mixture of frustration and indignation for their little Omega.

Again, Grimsby and the Elder conferred with one another through a glance, "One appears to be that of a house-elf," replied Marshbank, "But, that's all we can determine about them as there's no family affiliation tied to that being's magics," that caused Snape to mutter under his breath, "Most likely a Hogwarts or Ministry elf as they're tied to the institution and not individuals or families."

Ignoring the man's commentary, Grimsby then added, "Two others belong to that of a pair of witches, however, as they are still under-age, we can't officially disclose their identities without the express consent of their parents."

Catching the Goblin's, not so subtle, hint, Snape smirked, "And, unofficially?"

The bank manager wrote out the names on a piece of parchment and handed it over to Granger who read them and growled, "Marietta Edgecombe and Pansy Parkinson."

Lucius opened his mouth to ask Hermione for more details but, Severus shook his head...now was not the time to speculate on that pairs' motivations, "Was there anyone else?"

"We believe that there's at least one other," said Marshbank, frowning, "Unfortunately, that information has been masked behind a strong Celamentum charm and it will take a cursebreaker a few days to reverse it without destroying the signature, unfortunately, we have more pressing issues to attend to at this moment," gesturing to Miss Granger who was nervously waiting for the two wizards to cover their eyes so she could begin disrobing for her detoxifying procedure.

"Of course," drawled Lucius, plucking the silken cloth from Grimsby's hand, "But...you will inform us as soon as you have the name," he said, giving the Elder a meaningful look, leaving no doubts about his intentions towards this unknown witch or wizard before blindfolding himself.

Snape said nothing as he tied the proffered scrap of material over his own eyes. Deep down he had a growing suspicion of this person's identity and the thought of it made his stomach sour. Who else would have fairly ready access to Granger and a house-elf with no familial ties but, that twinkly-eyed, old goat of a Headmaster...Albus-Sodding-Dumbledore.

Only, he was still unclear as to how and why Miss Edgecombe and Miss Parkinson became involved in this matter, what could possibly be worth the risk of handling a Dark Magic potion to assist Dumbledore in this manipulation of Miss Granger's Omega presentation?

All other thoughts Snape may have had about this puzzle were brought to a screeching halt when a heart-wrenching cry echoed around the room.

"Please...make it stop!"

Chapter Text

Remus and Kingsley stood in the Ministry Atrium near the spot where Shacklebolt last saw Hermione Granger before Lucius Malfoy abducted her. He and Arthur Weasley were still struggling with that fact, that they'd been mere seconds too late to stop that reviled Deatheater from absconding with the young witch.

Lupin saw the man's distress and did his best to comfort the other wizard, telling him that he'd done all he could in the moment.

"That's just it, Remus," snapped Kingsley, pacing the floor, "If Arthur and I had only been a few minutes faster up that charmed staircase, we could've added the anti-Apparation ward to the lobby and prevented Malfoy from taking Hermione in the first place! We..."

"Had you two rushed matters, then Rookwood and Dolohov would've gotten away," stated Lupin, placing a calming hand on the other wizard's shoulder, "And, if you hadn't taken that necessary time to duel and re-capture those two escaped criminals when you did, how many more Order members would they have seriously hurt, or even killed, including me? So, stop beating yourself up about the 'What If's' here."

The werewolf then turned back to the task at hand, giving Shacklebolt a few moments to compose himself. He had taken only a few steps forward when he froze in place, sniffing the air thoroughly and nearly gagging as a result.

"What's the matter, what did you find?" asked Kingsley, rushing over to Remus' side.

Lupin shook his head and moved back a few paces before answering, "I found Harry's and Malfoy's scents without any problems but...there's something terribly wrong with Hermione's trace," he said coughing loudly, turning his head and spitting out the sour taste in his mouth.

"Don't tell me she was wounded by that bastard before she was kidnapped," Shacklebolt said with a tightness in his voice, his thoughts immediately jumping to worst case scenarios.

Seeing the growing concern in Kingsley's eyes, Remus quickly added, "No. There are no signs of blood but...decidedly something more serious."

"What could be worse than a severely bleeding wound, broken bones or curse damage?" murmured Shacklebolt, his complexion paling, contemplating what Malfoy could have done to the little Gryffindor before Disapparating with her.

"I'm not one-hundred-percent sure, we'd need Snape or another Potions Master here to confirm my suspicions," Lupin claimed, not looking the other man in the eye.

"Don't give me that!" growled Kingsley, taking hold of Remus' arm and shaking him, "You're just delaying things. What. Did. You. Find!?"

Lupin let out a heavy sigh before answering, "Hermione was in trouble before Lucius Malfoy took her," he replied, a marked uneasiness in his tone, "Her natural fragrance was almost completely masked by a harsh chemical smell, specifically, that of an illegal suppressant that I've come across only a few times, once near a seedy apothecary in Knockturn Alley," Remus continued, not wanting to believe the implications of his discovery, "Which suggests that Hermione was being dosed with this potion by someone she trusts or, at the very least, knows well enough to allow near her as I can't believe she'd willingly subject herself to this elixir, especially, given its harsh effects. And, given the strength of the concoction's odor interwoven with her scent, she's been given this drug for quite some time. If I had to hazard a guess, for three months...at a minimum."

Shacklebolt scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration, "That's something we'll have to deal with later," he said, filing that bit of information away for another time, "Can you use it to track Granger?"

"Yes, I've already added it to the modified locator spell you taught me. This way," stated the werewolf, moving towards the main entrance. ('Hold on, little cub. We're on our way.')

At the sound of their Omega's anguished cries, Lucius and Severus attempted to rush to her aid. The Goblins, however, had already taken precautions to prevent them from interfering with the cleansing process, using an industrial strength Sticking Charm to glue their blindfolds and bodies in place the moment they sat down along the edge of the bowl-shaped structure.

Naturally, the two Alphas fought against the spell as they cursed at Grimsby and the three healers. All four Goblins merely smirked and shook their heads at the wizards' colorful threats, knowing that they were only lashing out due to their protective instincts. Taking pity on the struggling pair, and not wanting to risk the off-chance that they'd break their restraints, Healer Marshbank cast a Somnus on Malfoy and Snape and linked a monitor to the charm that would free them as soon as Granger's detoxification was completed and her magics stabilized...approximately, in three hours time.

Grimsby, in the meantime, left the Healers to their work and returned to his office, taking a copy of Hermione's assessment with him. He needed to start a number of discrete inquiries on Miss Granger's behalf, starting with making contact with his cousin at Hogwarts, Professor Filius Flitwick...someone that he could trust implicitly to secretly liaise with the Hogwarts' house-elf Matron. The Goblins may not be able to discern which Hogwarts elf might have been involved with the handling of the illicit suppressants through their tests but, the elf-Matron certainly would recognize the magical signature if it was, indeed, one of the school's elves.

Dumbledore was feeling rather smug, at the moment. While still at Headquarters for the Order meeting, he'd received an urgent firecall from the Board of Governors stating that, after an emergency meeting, he'd been reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts, effective immediately. That had been followed up with an equally satisfying message via post owl from the Wizengamot informing him that Cornelius Fudge had been ousted through a unanimous vote of 'no confidence' and replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour.

The fellow Gryffindor promised to be far easier to 'guide' through the upcoming proposals on educational reforms, certainly less troublesome than the increasingly paranoid Cornelius...or, at least, Albus has hopes that the former Chief Auror would be far more amenable. If not, he could always push the man out of office with a carefully crafted scandal. Ministers were a knut a dozen, after all.

After returning from Grimmauld Place, Albus wasted no time in implementing a few changes. The first was in summoning the young Miss Padma Patil from her dorms in Ravenclaw Tower and securing her agreement (albeit with a few strong compulsion spells) to aid Potter and the youngest male Weasley with their schoolwork, freeing their time up for the more important task of recruiting and training new members for the DA.

With those missions once again back on track, Albus relaxed on the leather wingback chair nearest his fireplace with a large tumbler of Odgen's Finest Firewhiskey to celebrate. Now, he just had to patiently wait to see if that meddling werewolf and Auror recovered the Granger chit and quietly remove her from Hogwarts before the Chosen-One and his red-haired sidekick discovered that she'd been rescued.

Perhaps, he could arrange for a 'tragic accident' to befall the young witch by Imperio'ing her and sending her to wander into a nest of those Acromantulas in The Forbidden Forest. Then, all he'd need to do was Obliviate Lupin and Shacklebolt.

That would certainly be the easiest solution but, of course, it would all depend on how many other people that pair of wizards told about finding the girl before she was brought back to the school...if it turned out to be more than three, he'd just have to improvise something.

('I know, I'll stage a 'Deatheater' raid on the poor child and her Muggle parents this summer. Naturally, Potter and Weasley will mourn her loss. But, by the time the next term starts, they'll be far too busy with other important matters to waste their energy missing her,' he mused, taking a large sip of Firewhiskey, 'Yes, that will work out nicely and be much better for my plans in the long run.')

Hermione had never been so wrong. The cleansing process was far worse than any migraine she had ever experienced and she was not afraid of admitting it, in fact, she'd gladly confess her mistake to anyone who'd listen, at least, until her voice gave out...if only the Goblins would answer her pleas to alleviate her suffering and humiliation.

Oh, yes, that was one little tidbit that the Healers had conveniently left out...that her purification procedure would involve the, supremely, embarrassing expulsion of every body fluid imaginable from all possible orifices (including the pores of her skin!), beginning seconds after she finished drinking the carefully measured detoxifying potion.

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this point...in the end, the agonizing pain won out and she screamed. "Please. Make it stop!"

Getting no response from the Goblin healers, Granger tried in vain to get her Alphas' attentions, her rambling pleading and physical misery causing her to miss hearing the spells that Marshbank had cast over them.

Unable to clearly see the two wizards because of the copious amounts of oily tears currently leaking from her eyes, Hermione's fevered mind convinced her that their silence could mean only one thing...that they hadn't truly cared about her, their supposed concern for 'their Omega' had merely been a cruel joke at her expense. And that delirious thought broke her resolve, causing her to howl out her distress all the louder.

Mercifully, darkness closed in on her and claimed all conscious thought mere seconds later.

Grimsby sat back in his office chair and sighed. Flitwick had, unsurprisely, been outraged by the news concerning the drugging of a student under his care (wisely, he had withheld the little witch's identity for all their sakes). And, it had taken little persuasion on the bank manager's part to convince the Charms Professor to assist in the tracking down of a possible suspect amongst the school's elves.

"I'll firecall you whether the elf-Matron recognizes the magical signature or not, Cousin," promised Filius, looking at the isolated piece of the potion's analysis he'd received from Grimsby, "I must take my leave of you, though, Dumbledore's being reinstated as Headmaster by the new Minister of Magic and he's called a staff meeting."

"I understand, Cousin," replied Grimsby, keeping his opinions about that particular wizard to himself, "May you have a fruitful hunt."

"And, may you have equal success in your endeavors," stated Flitwick, closing down the Floo.

Less than an hour later, Grimsby was sitting back at his desk and re-reading Miss Granger's assessment, his eyes shining in wicked amusement as additional lines shimmered into place on the parchment (an expected consequence of the little witch's cleansing that only he and the three Healers were aware of...for the moment, at least).

As he continued to skim the corrected information on the page, he mused aloud, "I wonder if Miss Granger was aware that she was adopted?"

In the Goblin Moon Runed chambers, Towbane raised a single bushy eyebrow as the Healers' copy of their patient's status changed before his eyes to read:

Hermione Jean Granger (Adoptive name) - altered birthdate 19 September 1979

Birth name: Maia Athena Peverell - born 31 July 1979

Time-Turner enhanced age : 17

Blood Status - Muggleborn with addendums : natural parents were of Pureblood families, disowned and Obliviated due to squib status; Paternal line distantly related to Muggle British Royal family, one of two surviving members of this magical branch

Adoption date - 30 November 1981 (original birth records sealed on this date): Father (Muggle) - David James Granger; Mother (Muggle) - Elizabeth Jeanne Granger (nee Bouchard)

Birth Parents: Father (squib) - Andrew Corbin Peverell - deceased 31 October 1981; Mother (squib) - Athena Selene Peverell (nee Gaunt) - deceased 31 October 1981

Titles (unclaimed): (Paternal) Lady Peverell-Ravenclaw (Ravenclaw by right of conquest); (Maternal) Lady Gaunt-Slytherin (Slytherin by direct blood descent)

Soulbond (unconsummated): two Alpha mates: Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy (Pureblood), Potions Master Severus Tobias Snape-Prince (Half-blood, Prince Lordship unclaimed)

Magical gifts : (Gaunt-Slytherin bloodline) Beast adept, Beast-Speak, Natural Animagus (multiple forms); (Peverell-Ravenclaw bloodline) Elemental affinities - Earth and Fire magics

Two living relatives - distant cousins (Gaunt line) - Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr.; (Peverell line) - Harry James Potter

(Original birth records sealed by unknown person(s), identity obscured through Dark Magic)

Magical Inheritances: (see secondary attachments for details outlining Perverell-Ravenclaw and Gaunt-Slytherin families' vault contents, investments and physical properties)

Glancing at the next page, which listed the contents in the first of the three Peverell-Ravenclaw vaults, Towbane let out a low whistle, "Merlin! This child's going to be richer than the Malfoys!"

"Put that paper down and get over here, Towbane," hissed Elder Marshbank, irritated that the younger Goblin wasn't as attentive to their patient's changing magic levels, "I need you and Dartmire to continue monitoring and washing Miss Granger until I return."

"Where are you going, Elder?" asked Dartmire, levitating another basin, filling it with a body-temperature Aguamenti and mixing in a citrus-scented soap solution before pouring the warm liquid over the unconscious, filth-covered little witch, the fluids all then flowing away through numerous small drains at the bottom of the bowl-shaped floor.

"I'm going to enlist four more senior Healers for the next phase," replied Marshbank, hurrying towards the door, "Based on Miss Granger's latest readings, the three of us won't be able to safely regulate her increasing magic levels without the additional help."

Chapter Text

Harry, after spending a couple of uncomfortable hours being mother-henned by Sirius and a few other Order members, managed to make it safely back to Hogwarts from Grimmauld Place with Arthur Weasley Side-Along Apparating him to the castle's front gates and Hagrid escorting him up to the Great Hall. But, as soon as he slipped through the portrait entrance at Gryffindor Tower and into the Common Room, Ron and Neville cornered him and began inundating him with questions.

"What happened with Umbridge? And, what was all that about a secret weapon for Dumbledore?" asked Neville, more interested in the latter rather than the former. Naturally, Longbottom had a list of other questions for Harry but, when his housemate's face began to pale at an alarming rate, his need to know the answers to things rapidly shifted to a growing concern for his friend's well-being.

"Never mind about that or the pink toad. What happened to coming back for us and going to the Ministry to rescue Sirius?" demanded Ron, his hands clenched into fists at his side, his face flushing to an unflattering shade of red, "And, where's 'Mione? Or did you decide to ditch her, too, like you did with me, Neville and Luna?"

Harry's guts were already twisting with guilt over leaving his friends behind but, even so, he felt like punching Ron in the head at this moment, "Hermione was the one who changed the plans at the last minute but, that doesn't matter. Sirius was at Grimmauld Place the whole time, he wasn't in any danger...that wretched old house-elf, Kreacher, lied to me about Padfoot not being home when I Floo-called earlier!" his complexion quickly shifting from a milk-white to a deep pink, "Only, we decided to go to the Ministry anyway. Well, that's not entirely true," he said, quickly correcting himself, "After we found Sirius, I snuck away from Grimmauld Place and headed off on my own to The Department of Mysteries to retrieve The Prophecy, I truly believed we still needed it to help us win this upcoming war against old Snake-Face. Hermione simply followed soon after to try and stop me," he sadly confessed, "It...it was a trap like she kept trying to tell me...it's my fault she's missing."

"What the Bloody Hell do you mean by that!?" screeched Ron, his freckles now hidden by the nearly purple flush on his cheeks, "Where is she, what happened at the Ministry!?"

Harry reflexively flinched as Ron reached a furious Molly Weasley volume. Ignoring the fuming ginger-haired boy as best he could and looking down at his feet to hide the growing distress on his face, Potter continued, "We were caught by a Death Eater in The Hall of Prophecy and Hermione...she made a deal with him to save my life," he explained, his voice breaking slightly, "Kingsley and Arthur almost caught him in the Atrium but, the bastard managed to escape...he's...he got away with The Prophecy and kidnapped Hermione, too," Harry stammered, a few tears now rolling down his cheeks and falling to the floor, "Remus, Moody and Kingsley are out there now trying to track them down but, Dumbledore believes...he said it's a waste of time, that she's already...lost to us."

"Dumbledore would never have said anything like that! You're lying!" roared the youngest male Weasley, roughly shoving Potter on the shoulder, causing the raven-haired boy to stumble backwards towards one of the large sofas in the room.

"I'm not lying, you git!" snarled Harry, his own hands now curling into fists, "And, if you won't take my word for it, just ask Sirius or Remus, they were there!"

Longbottom stepped between his two dormmates to stop things from escalating into an all out brawl, "Who took her Harry, which Death Eater? murmured Neville, changing the subject, although, he was fairly certain he wasn't ready to hear the answer.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Bloody. Buggering. Hell!"

The moment Lupin and Shacklebolt exited the Ministry, the locator charm's signal splintered, leading the wizards in opposite directions. Kingsley followed the pale orange ribbons of the first trail, until they disappeared at the waters' edge near Dover, while Remus chased down the dark red strings of the second trace as it passed through The Leaky Cauldron....these wound up sending him on a scenic loop about Diagon Alley before disappearing through the front doorway at Gringott's.

When Lupin entered the lobby, it took a great deal of restraint on his part to keep from dropping to his hands and knees to sniff the ground like a bloodhound in a desperate attempt to pick up the faintest hint of Hermione's presence. His worries soon faded away, and his hopes started to climb, when his nose began to sting and his eyes to water the closer he got to the end of the concourse, the side where the branch manager's office was located. Granger's acrid fragrance was even stronger near Grimsby's door than it had been in the Ministry Atrium.

Ignoring the stares of the nearby bank patrons, Remus cast his Patronus, sending an urgent message to Kingsley, "Get back to Gringott's as fast as you can, Hermione's definitely been through this place recently, with luck, she's still here. If not, hopefully, one of the Goblins will remember seeing her or knows where she and Malfoy were headed to next."

Elder Marshbank returned with four more Goblin healers just as Towbane and Dartmire finished bathing their patient, the little witch's eyes slowly fluttering open as the larger group drew closer.

"Oh, Merlin! More spectators," groaned Hermione as she curled over into a tight ball to hide as much of her naked body as possible, "Please tell me my cleansing is nearly done."

"I'm afraid the longest stage of your treatment has yet to start, Miss Granger," Marshbank stated calmly, taking up her position at Hermione's head, "Now, just relax witchling and we'll begin," she instructed, waving her hand over the young woman and levitating her a meter above the purification basin.

Hermione clamped her eyes tightly shut and hissed, "A little warning would have been nice, I don't like heights!"

The Elder merely 'hmmm'd' before casting another spell, one that highlighted the spots each Goblin was to focus their magics upon during the stabilization phase, "Dartmire, keep an eye on Miss Granger's vitals, everybody else, take your places and wait for my signal to proceed."

Before Hermione could ask what was to happen next, a searing jolt of white-hot pain burned along the full length of her spine, effectively taking her breath away.

"Now, everyone!" ordered Marshbank, holding a gnarled hand over Granger's face as a bright golden strand of healing magics formed between her outstretched palm to a glowing blue circle on the young woman's forehead, "Maintain a steady level of power between yourself and Miss Granger on your designated pathway," she commanded as the light between her and her patient began to rhythmically pulse, "And, hold on tight, this is going to be a bumpy ride!"

Flitwick was sitting quietly at his desk marking the last of his fifth years' essays when a larger-than-average sized house-elf popped into his office and bowed to him with respect, "How may Hestia serve yous, Master of Charms," asked the Hogwarts elf-Matron.

"Ah, yes, Hestia. I have a rather important mission for you that requires your utmost discretion," said Filius, taking the piece of parchment Grimsby had given him and placing it in the waiting elf's hands," I need you to help me locate the house-elf that has this particular magical signature, that is, of course, provided they work here in the school or surrounding grounds," he stated, watching the elf-Matron's face for any sign of recognition as she looked at the patterns on the paper, "It is vital that he or she be identified as soon as possible as a student's health is at stake," he explained, anxiously tapping his index finger on the top of his desk," But, most importantly, you are to tell no one of what you discover on this task except myself...under no circumstances is The Headmaster to be informed."

Her moss-green eyes widened at that last bit of instruction but, Hestia quickly gave Flitwick a knowing smile which meant she understood his implication...whatever this house-elf had done, the Professor suspected that Dumbledore was somehow involved.

"Hestia sees, Sir," she replied, running her fingertips over the unknown signature, her own magics committing it to memory, "I will do's my best to help yous find this naughty elf and brings them back to yous for punishments."

"Well, lets just start with finding out if they are associated with the school," said Filius, pleased that the elf-Matron didn't balk about leaving Albus out of the loop.

"Hestia is most happy to do's as yous ask, Master of Charms."

Dumbledore was relaxing on the chaise lounge in his private quarters, pleasantly numb from his generous Firewhiskey consumption, when his wards pinged. Someone had given the password to the stone gargoyle and were currently winding their way up the spiral staircase towards his office.

"Probably that nosy old cat, Minerva," he grumbled as he carefully levered himself up, "May as well see what the blasted woman wants, I can always Confund her and send her on her way if she's just here for a late night chin-wag."

Imagine his surprise when it was not McGonagall but, two students who were waiting on him when he arrived in his office. "Miss Edgecombe, Miss Parkinson it's thirty minutes until curfew, what's so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning to be discussed?" he asked, thankful that he had downed a Sober-Up potion before entering the room.

The two girls nervously looked at one another before Marietta finally spoke up, "We have your supply of 'special supplements', Headmaster," she replied barely above a whisper as she pulled out three black crystal vials from her robe pocket, "After Umbridge had you sacked, we attempted to send these to you through owl post but, they came back undeliverable."

Albus bit back a growl of displeasure ('Bollocks! I forgot all about those suppressants. Never mind...Miss Granger is gone and Miss Patil won't be needing them.') "Ah, yes, just leave those on my desk then be on your way before you're caught out by Mr. Filch."

"What about our payment, sir?" murmured Pansy, frowning at the twinkly-eyed wizard, "We can't procure any more of these until you do."

Unlocking a hidden side drawer on his desk, Dumbledore pulled out two small leather pouches full of coins and tossed them towards the two witches, "As that project has recently been canceled, I no longer require your services. Take your money and leave."

"But, what about this!?" scowled Marietta, pulling up the fringe covering her forehead, revealing the dark purple spots that spelled out the word 'SNEAK', "You promised that you'd fix this if we did what you asked."

"And, what about my part of the bargain?" demanded Pansy, reaching for one of the partially spilled bags of galleons, "You guaranteed to seal the betrothal contract between me and Draco!"

"So I did, Miss Edgecombe, Miss Parkinson," smirked The Headmaster, subtly waving his hand and striking both girls with a Stupefy, "Pity that neither of you will remember this little arrangement of ours. Obliviate!" he snarled before gathering up and returning the two bags of galleons to the specially warded drawer. "No sense in wasting good money on these two vain and greedy bints."

Hermione grit her teeth, trying her best not to scream, when the first spike of magic struck. She imagined that this was what it must feel like to be attacked by a nest full of Blast-Ended Skrewts, alternately being sucked dry of blood, stung and burnt. Fortunately, the overlapping sensations didn't last long as the Goblin healers hurriedly moved to counterbalance the power surge.

As the pain gradually subsided, one of Hermione's latent abilities emerged, catching her and a few of the healers by surprise. She tried to speak, to ask what was happening to her but, all that came out of her newly shaped mouth(s) was a series of chirps, growls and whinnies as her various Animagus forms appeared.

"Make sure to document everything, Dartmire!" yelled Marshbanks over the racket, "Miss Granger's going to need to be registered with the Ministry for all these species once this is over."

The younger healer shook her head in mild amusement (having never heard the Elder sounding so flustered before) but, maintained focus on each of the witchling's animals as they surfaced, making careful mental notes of any distinguishing features for a detailed Pensieve memory to be collected and submitted later ('It would probably be easier to catalog what she HASN'T transformed into!')

By the time the last creature took shape (an impressive golden-colored Zouwu), Hermione had fallen into a deep slumber.

"It's just as well that Miss Granger is comatose," sighed Towbane, rolling his neck and shoulders to stave off a cramp, "I'm not undergoing any of these changes and I'm knackered, I can't imagine what it's been like for her."

"Enough chit-chat," growled Marshbanks, watching the floating diagnostics scan Dartmire had set up, "The next power spike is building, resume your places everyone!"

Less than ten minutes after Shacklebolt received Lupin's Patronus message, the Auror and werewolf were standing together outside the Gringott's branch manager's office attempting to gain entry, a snarling assistant to Grimsby blocking their way.

"Grimsby is busy meeting with other clients this morning," hissed Griphook, pushing the two wizards away from the door with a Knockback Jinx, "You'll have to make an appointment and come back after lunch, the first available time is at one 'clock. I suggest you take it and leave the premises or do I have to get security?"

Reluctantly, Kingsley accepted the offer for the afternoon meeting and dragged a grumbling Remus out of the bank.

"We can't just go!" growled Lupin, struggling against the other man's grip, "Hermione could still be in there, we could miss our chance to rescue her if we leave now!"

"No one said anything about leaving this area," stated Shacklebolt, barely maintaining his hold on the distressed werewolf, "Besides, I've taken the precaution of setting a number of monitoring charms, inside and out, of the bank. And, I'll be sending for two more Order members to meet us here to cover our posts should we need to take a quick break for food or other needs."

"So, don't worry, Remus," soothed the older wizard, "Malfoy won't be able to get Hermione out of these front doors without us knowing about it."

Towbane and Dartmire, along with the four other Goblin healers collapsed to the ground in exhaustion while Elder Marshbank gently lowered Hermione back down into the purification basin. The stabilization process had taken far longer than Marshbank had expected and left the, once again, unconscious witch's chestnut-colored hair looking as if she'd stuck her finger in a Muggle light socket and her cream-white skin gleaming with sweat. But, the most intriguing after-effect was the bright, silvery-blue aura that temporarily lit up Granger's entire body from within.

"Sweet Circe! That was intense," exclaimed Dartmire as she gazed at their patient in awe, "Do you think whoever slipped Miss Granger those suppressants were aware of her special magical gifts?"

"I doubt it," replied Marshbank, pouring a conjured bowl of soapy, citrus-water over Hermione to cleanse her body and tame her hair, "That potion was strictly to impede her Omega presentation, the arrested development of her abilities was just an unforeseen side effect. Besides, if someone truly wanted to control the emergence of her latent talents, there are simpler and more effective means of going about it...a modified inhibitor cuff, for instance."

Turning to Dartmire, the Elder Goblin instructed, "Take over getting Miss Granger freshened up and dressed while I prepare her recovery space."

"As you wish, Healer Marshbank," responded Dartmire, thankful that this was the only detoxification scheduled for the day. Naturally, she had participated in her fair share of untangling magics over the years but, Granger's case was a whole other level of crazy complicated...the likes of which she didn't want to encounter again anytime soon.

Hermione groaned as her senses slowly returned but, made no attempts to move, much less, open her eyes as it felt like the Hogwarts Express had run her over more than once.

"Welcome back, witchling," soothed a mildly raspy voice somewhere to her right, "Don't try to get up just yet, Miss Granger. We're going to levitate you over to a more comfortable transition area, then retrieve Lord Malfoy and Potions Master Snape so they can help in your recovery."

That got her attentions and her eyes popped open, "Why are they still here, surely they left the first chance they got!?" she bitterly snapped out, immediately regretting that decision as her throat felt like she'd gargled sand.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" frowned Healer Dartmire, pouring one last round of clear, warmed up spring water over the shivering girl before casting a drying spell on her, "Elder Marshbank put them under a Somnus to keep them from breaking their restraints and jumping into the purification basin in some foolish attempt to protect you," she said, shaking her head at the memory, "If she hadn't, they would've compromised your entire cleansing process and we simply couldn't allow that to happen as you were rapidly running out of time."

"What? I don't understand...Why would they do that?...I...they...they don't even like me...I...I mean nothing to them," Hermione spluttered, her muzzy brain making it difficult for her to process and accept what she was just told.

The room fell deathly quiet as all the Goblins stared at the little witch in disbelief. "You DO remember that they are your Alphas, don't you, Miss Granger?" asked Healer Towbane, breaking the growing awkward silence, "You know what it means to be their Omega?"

"I'm not sure...maybe?" Hermione sighed heavily, her brow deeply furrowed in concentration, her earlier conversations with Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy at the safe house shifted abruptly to a hazy image of a Health class with Madame Pomfrey and Professors Sprout and Snape, it was a bit disorientating. Scrubbing a hand over her face in frustration, she continued, "I'm afraid my memories are a bit shaky at the moment, everything's so...muddled together," she hesitantly admitted as she glanced about the room.

"That's understandable given everything you've just been through," stated Dartmire, handing Hermione a white robe, "For now, just get dressed so you can begin the next phase of your healing."

"But...I have so many questions," grumbled Hermione, gingerly maneuvering the whisper-soft piece of clothing over her head and sliding it down the rest of her body just as the healer levitated her over to the other side of the room.

"Those can wait. Your magics are decontaminated and your power levels have been restored but, your core needs time to recuperate from all the changes and, for that, you'll need your Alphas' assistance," said Elder Marshbank, her firm tone signaling that this course of action was not up for debate, "Now, settle yourself into that nest while I revive them."

Severus and Lucius awoke feeling worse than they did that weekend they'd gotten into the late Abraxas Malfoy's wine cellar and drained a bottle (or two) of the elf-made elderberry 1960 vintage that had gone a bit...off (What did they know about the stuff, they were only 12 and 14 at the time).

"Merlin's Balls!" snarled Malfoy, twitching about like a newborn Abraxan colt trying to stand, "What in the Nine Circles of Hell happened?" he asked of whoever was around to answer.

"Keep your voice down, Lucius," hissed Snape, wincing from the loudness of his friend's words and the sore muscles in his back that made their presence known as he attempted to sit up, "I know as much as you do, which is zilch."

A loudly cleared throat caused them to turn their cloth-bound faces towards the sound, "What happened, gentlemen," stated a weary Elder Marshbank, Finite'ing the sticking charm holding them in place and vanishing their blindfolds, earning her a deep growl from the two wizards as the sudden light assaulted their eyes, "Was that I had to sedate you two to keep you from trying to interfere with Miss Granger's procedure. But, that process has been completed and her magics have returned to their rightful levels," she added, waving them over towards Granger who had since been draped in a pearlescent white robe and was currently laying on, what appeared to be, a thick pile of goose down feathers, "Now, come along, it's time for you two to assist with her aftercare."

Seeing their hesitation to approach the extremely pale-looking young witch, Marshbank sent a mild Stinging Hex to their backsides, "We don't have all day," she said, warning them to move with a twitch of her fingers or risk a repeated zap, "Go on, she won't bite you. Well, maybe she will...if you ask nicely," the Goblin healer cackled wildly, especially, when the two men blushed a bright pink.

Chapter Text

Harry, Ronald and Neville were still discussing (well, arguing) about Hermione's chances of survival at the hands of Lucius Malfoy when the portrait hole opened up and Padma Patil walked through into the Gryffindor Common room, effectively ending their debate.

"Ummm, what are you doing here, Padma?" snarked Ron, glaring at the girl for interrupting him and his housemates' intense conversation, "Don't tell me Parvati or Lavender told you our password?"

"Of course they didn't," she scowled, offended that Weasley thought so little of her twin sister and their best friend and their ability to keep secrets, "Professor Dumbledore gave me this week's code himself so that I could meet with you and Harry about setting up a new training schedule for the DA."

"They don't have time to think about that!" growled Neville, stepping between the dark-haired witch and his dorm mates, "Hermione's been kidnapped and we're planning what we can do to help Remus and Kingsley get her back."

"No, we're not, Neville," hissed Ron, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation, "The Headmaster's right, 'Mione's lost to us," running his trembling hand through his uncombed hair, "Look, it's been hours since Malfoy, Sr. took her from the Ministry and, let's face it, he'd be crazy not to have taken her straight to Old Moldy-Voldy."

"You don't know that for sure, Ron," frowned Harry, rubbing his scar on reflex at the mere mention of the wizard formally known as Riddle, "Why are you so willing to give up on Hermione so quickly? She'd certainly keep fighting to get you back if you'd been the one abducted."

"For the love of Merlin, Harry!" snapped Ron, his face turning redder by the second, "Even 'Mione would tell you it's not logical to think she ever had a chance to come out of this situation...unhurt...and you know it."

Before their arguments could get any more heated and come to throwing punches or hexes, Padma stepped in and cast an ice-cold Aguamenti over the trio of boys. Amid their sputtering, indignant yelps she snarled, "Oi! I get it, Hermione's your friend BUT, she's not here and I'm sure she'd be pissed off that you're carrying on like this," pausing to calm down her own rising temper, "Instead of wasting time on a futile rescue attempt and getting yourselves killed or captured, do something to help others prepare for the upcoming war. Don't you think that's what Hermione would want instead of...this", she said gesturing between the bedraggled looking group.

The three Gryffindor teens at least had the sense to look mildly ashamed of themselves, "You're right, Padma," Harry murmured, casting a drying charm over himself and his disheveled friends, "Hermione would absolutely hate us acting like a bunch of dunderheads."

"Yeah, she would," admitted Neville, attempting to straighten his mussed up hair by running his fingers through it, "So...what do we do now?"

Padma breathed a small sigh of relief, pleased that she wouldn't have to hex the Gryffindors into cooperating, "Well, let's just start with setting a schedule for dueling practice and go from there, yeah?"

With Elder Marshbanks leading the way, Lucius and Severus slowly moved towards Hermione only to have one of the four other Gringott's healers step forward and block their path. "Pardon my interruption Healer Marshbanks but, we can't let these two wizards near Miss Granger, not just yet," the younger Goblin stated plainly.

The weary Elder Goblin raised an eyebrow at the other healer, "Explain yourself, Shadowmeld," she snapped, not in the mood for any unwarranted delays to the healing teams already wrecked treatment schedule.

"As you know, my specialty is in curse-breaking and it has left me somewhat...sensitive to the presence of certain magics," he proclaimed, waving his hand over the two men to perform a confirming diagnostic, "Both of these wizards have been subjected to a Leeching spell and it must be removed before they can aid in Miss Granger's recovery, otherwise, the curse could easily latch onto her core through their Alpha-Omega bond...even an unconsummated such as theirs."

"What?! That's not possible, we would have noticed something like that," Malfoy scowled, outwardly affronted. Internally, though, he was slightly unnerved at the idea that someone like him or Snape, who were well-versed in Dark Magics, could both have been attacked in such a manner that neither of them were aware that such a curse had been performed on them.

Snape nodded in agreement with Malfoy before fixing a steely-eyed glare at the younger Goblin, "You must be mistaken. That spell is notorious for rapidly draining its victims' power, at most, people have a month before their magics become severely depleted," letting out a disdained snort before continuing, "Obviously, Lucius and I haven't exhibited any of the telltale symptoms of weakening that accompany this curse, either, or we would have taken the prescribed steps to remove it already."

Ignoring the wizards' outbursts, Marshbanks asked, "How long will it take to counter the Leech?" after confirming Shadowmeld's assessment with her own scan.

"For Lord Malfoy, three drops of the cleansing potion should have him cleared in five minutes but, Master Snape will need six drops and ten minutes as he has two such spells attached to him."

"Hells Bells! Well, don't just stand there twiddling your thumbs, Shadowmeld," exclaimed the Elder Goblin, hurriedly levitating the still protesting Lucius and, the now fuming, Severus over to the purification basin, "Lets get these men treated at once!"

"Not until you've answered some of our questions," growled Snape, figuratively digging in his heels at this point.

"Go ahead and sate their curiosities, Shadowmeld," ordered Marshbanks, flicking her wrist and unceremoniously stripping the wizards down to their birthday suits as she placed them within the nearby bowl-like structure, "But, keep things brief. They need to establish physical contact with Miss Granger within the next thirty minutes for her core to have any chance of being properly rejuvenated."

As the two Obliviated witches left the Headmaster's office, a small house-elf with long, bat-like ears popped into view before Dumbledore and bowed low, nearly touching the tip of his long, pointy nose to the floor.

"Missy Padma is now with Mister Harry Potter, Sir. Is there anything else Dobby can do for the Headmaster?"

"No, that will be all for now," replied Albus, setting a large cardboard box in front of the little elf, "As a reward, you may choose one item from the Lost and Found before you leave."

"Oh, thank yous very much, Master Dumbledore, Sir!" smiled Dobby, happily digging through the mismatched and long forgotten bits of clothing, "Dobby's so proud to be helping the mans who saved Dobby's friend Harry Potter from that bad Missy Granger."

"Yes, we've got a much nicer witch to help the boy from now on," smirked Albus, lightly touching the side of box with his wand and whispering 'Stupify', 'Incarcerous' and then 'Portus' in quick succession. After the container glowed blue and disappeared from his office with the tightly bound and unconscious Dobby still inside, Dumbledore sat back down on his comfortable chair and sighed, pouring himself another large glass of Firewhiskey.

"That will take care of another loose end quite nicely. I do hope Aragog enjoys his late night snack."

The younger Goblin chuckled at the indignant squawk made by Lucius when the cool air of the room hit his bare skin, earning him another vicious glare from Severus.

"Was that really necessary?" growled Snape, directing his snarled inquiry towards the Elder healer as he hurriedly attempted to cover his suddenly exposed dangly bits as best he could.

"What are you complaining about?" she smirked at the flustered men, "Miss Granger complied with this part of her treatment without nearly as much fuss."

"Granger still voiced her displeasure and, if you will recall, we were both blindfolded while she..." Malfoy stopped in mid-rant, his head snapping around to look in the young witch's direction, hoping that she hadn't been caught off guard by their unforeseen...predicament.

Lucius' concerns were confirmed when his eyes caught sight of Hermione's rapidly blushing face, although, she made no move whatsoever to cover her own eyes.

Whether this was due to shock or curiosity, he couldn't tell...and, she certainly wasn't volunteering any answers at the moment.

As Hermione watched the two wizards (her Alphas, she finally admitted to herself) cautiously approaching her as if she were an easily startled rabbit, it nearly made her laugh out loud...could these considerably more accomplished and experienced men possibly be feeling as nervous as she did?

Giving them an encouraging, albeit, shy smile Hermione started to reassure them, "I know we got off to a rather shaky start with all this..." the rest of her sentiments caught in her rapidly drying throat, her skin flaring to a near glowing shade of pink as there before her stood two suddenly, gloriously nude, wizards.

Being the swotty, need to know-it-all that she was, Hermione took in as much detail as possible, wishing that she had a self-inking quill and parchment to make notes.

Of course, both men were very tall (especially, compared to her), each easily 1.95 meters in height, with a variety of scars across their skin (Snape more so than Malfoy) and both with that distinctive tattoo across their left forearms. But, where Lucius' well-defined muscles looked like they had been carved from smooth, white marble, Severus had a slightly sallow, leaner swimmer's physique. Across his chest was a light dusting of raven-black hair and an eye-catching trail of it starting just below his navel that lead down to...

"My, oh my, aren't you the lucky witch," commented Healer Dartmire as she leaned in close to Hermione's right ear, causing the young woman to let out a startled 'meep', "If I were you, I'd stock up on Stamina potions."

When her brain finally stopped short-circuiting from the Goblin's suggestive comments, Granger realized that Malfoy and Snape were still intently observing her, carefully assessing her reactions.

Of particular interest to them, at the moment, was the fact that Granger had yet to avert her gaze.

Lucius' tense shoulders relaxed, pleased that the sight of his and Severus' numerous scars and Dark Marks hadn't frightened their little Omega. A slow, beaming smile began to light up his face. "Well, isn't that an interesting development, my friend?" purred Malfoy, glancing over to Snape, "It appears that our little witch has regained her Gryffindor bravery."

"More likely, Miss Granger's insatiable curiosity has temporarily overcome her disgust. You'll see, Lucius, reality will soon set in and she'll start screaming and hurling insults and hexes as she runs away ('just like Lily')," growled Severus, tilting his head so that his hair fell forward to cover his paling face.

"Merlin! I forgot what a miserable sod you can be at times, Severus," said Lucius, reaching over and roughly shaking Snape by the shoulder, "Now, pull your head out of your arse and really take a good look at Miss Granger, that beautiful pink blush on her face says she thinks us anything but disgusting."

Snape cautiously lifted his chin, his hair continuing to cover his face enough so that he could observe Granger without getting caught. As much as he hated to admit that Malfoy was correct, the young witch did look rather fetching with that flush of color across her cheeks. And, the fact that she showed no signs of revulsion, or more importantly no pity, as her eyes continued to rove over their exposed skin was certainly an unexpected, and pleasant, surprise.

Severus raised a single questioning eyebrow as Hermione's whiskey-amber eyes met his inky black orbs, the unguarded interest she saw reflected back at her threatening to send her heart rate skipping about like a badly scratched vinyl record, her face heating even more as her blush deepened. But, before her thoughts could become derailed once again, a fevered memory that had been niggling around at the back of her brain clawed its way to the surface...something about flushing cheeks and increasing body temperature seemed familiar...followed by an intense need, the desperate wanting to be comforted and protected by...('Sweet Circe! How could I forget that!?')

Tamping down those newly recovered images (and the muddle of emotions they brought with them) Hermione finally shifted her gaze from Malfoy and Snape over to Healer Marshbanks and began nervously blurting out questions that she'd forgotten she needed answers for, "Why am I no longer in heat? When will it start again? Or will it ever return? What do we need to..."

Holding up a gnarled hand to stem the flood of questions spilling out of the young witch's mouth, the Elder Goblin replied, "The cleansing treatment temporarily halted your heat cycle until your body was purged of all those toxic suppressants. But, until your magical core has healed, and your system has a chance to fully adjust to your restored power levels, you won't experience another Omega heat until..." Marshbanks paused a moment to consult Hermione's most recent scan before finishing, "the end of September, three months from now."

Healer Dartmire leaned in once more and whispered so only Hermione could hear, "Well, that should give you and your Alphas plenty of time to get better acquainted," she said, giving the young witch a knowing wink, "Without all those messy bonding pheromones getting in the way, that is."

Despite her embarrassment, Granger managed to silently nod in agreement ('Those will certainly be some interesting conversations, I'm sure' she mused as more troubling thoughts intruded, 'Bollocks! How are Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy going to keep Lord Snake-Face from discovering my connection to them? And, what of Harry and Ron? I can't possibly tell them about my new status or my Alphas' names!...Merlin! I'm so fucked.')

Sitting on a throne-like chair alone in a manor ballroom somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Wiltshire, sat a milk-pale snake-like wizard. In his left hand was The Prophecy orb and within its swirling mists were the words that had changed the course of his life.

All this time he believed that the Potter brat had been the child foretold, the one born as the seventh month died, the boy that was going to threaten his plans for the Wizarding World...and, all of it was a lie...well, mostly.

Chapter Text

Several hours had passed since Professor Flitwick had sent Hestia on her mission and she was beginning to get frustrated. So far, she had checked the magical signatures of all of the house-elves that worked in the Hogwarts kitchens, laundry room and general housekeeping, none of which were a match for the Gringott's diagnostic scan.

Heaving out a deep sigh, Hestia headed towards the castle vegetable gardens and potions ingredients greenhouses where the last group of elves that needed to be tested were currently working, she didn't hold out much hope for finding the naughty elf there, either.

As the Elf-Matron Apparated next to Greenhouse Five, the one closest to The Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut, she overheard a conversation going on between the half-giant groundskeeper and one of the Forest Herd centaurs.

"One of our hunting parties found him in an Acromantula nest that's near the Western border of our summer encampment while they were clearing out a couple of the smaller webs," stated the imposing dark-maned stallion as he handed over a tiny, blanket-wrapped body to Hagrid, "We're sorry, old friend, the spiders' venom had already taken him beyond the Veil before Firenze could get him to our healers. We believe he could be one of your school's elves that simply wandered too close to the Forest and was taken to feed some of their hatchlings."

"I can't say he's one of Hogwarts' elves, for certain, Magorian" replied Hagrid after pulling a corner of the blanket down to look at the undamaged side of the elf's ashen-hued face, "But, I'll take him to Dumbledore, he's sure to recognize him if he worked here."

From her hiding place in the shadows, Hestia let out a barely audible hiss. While Hagrid and his friend were busy talking, she had carefully reached out with a diagnostic spell, testing the residual magics on the deceased house-elf's rapidly cooling body...it was an undeniable match to the Gringott's scan.

The Elf-Matron knew she had to act fast, she couldn't let Hagrid carry out his task. She had no doubts that if the Headmaster got his hands on the unfortunate little being, he'd probably just destroy the body and any evidence it might have on it. Should that happen, she and the Charms Master could lose their best chance to link Dumbledore directly to the illegal potioning of a student.

Decision made, Hestia let her presence be known as loudly as possible. "Oh, no's!" she wailed as she stepped away from her hiding spot, forcing tears to her eyes with a subtly applied (but, mild) stinging hex to her abdomen, "My poor brother, Tippy, we've been lookings all over Hogwarts for him. Please, Sirs, can yous help him?"

After doing his best to console the distraught female elf, who made it a point to identify herself as Flower (a name that Hestia knew didn't belong to any of the Hogwarts house-elves), Hagrid handed her the re-wrapped body of her claimed sibling, "Thank yous kind Sirs. My family will take care of everything for our lost one, no need to disturb the busy Master Dumbledore," 'Flower' reassured Hagrid, bowing politely.

Before he could open his mouth to object, or offer further condolences, Hestia snapped her fingers and Disapparated with her 'brother' straight to Professor Flitwick's private office.

"Sweet Mother of Merlin! How does anyone survive this madness?" hissed Lucius as the Cruciatus mixed with a side of Fiendfyre level of pain ripped down his spine and through both arms, dropping him to his knees...or he would have if he weren't still being levitated above the purification basin.

"Stop your whinging, Lucius," growled Severus through clenched teeth, his nose wrinkling at the sight and smell of the oily, black sludge now pouring out of their left forearms like a putrid waterfall onto the ground beneath them, "You're treatment's nearly done. I've got six more minutes of this torment to get through."

Healer Shadowmeld shook his head at the two wizards as they continued to grouse and curse, especially, when they were being rigorously scrubbed, rinsed, dried and dressed after the Leech was finally removed from their systems ('How can human males claim that their females are the weaker sex? The young witch endured far worse for much longer and with fewer complaints. It's obviously a flawed assessment.')

Remus and Kingsley had just left The Leaky Cauldron after a much needed lunch break and were heading back to confer with the two Order members that were aiding them in surveilling Gringott's.

Arthur and Tonks greeted the other pair warmly but, had nothing new to report other than that Mad-Eye was chomping at the bit waiting for the new Minister to sign the warrant granting him and his team permission to raid Malfoy Manor, the information from the modified tracking spell had remained unchanged, Malfoy Sr. and Hermione were still somewhere within Gringott's.

Shacklebolt cast a Tempus and glanced at the other three, "It's time for our appointment, Remus, let's go rescue our young friend. Arthur, Tonks we need you to remain out here should Malfoy manage to get around us."

"Not to worry, Kings," Arthur assured the younger wizard, a mischievous gleam lighting up his pale blue eyes, "Tonks has been teaching me a few rather interesting new spells and I would simply love to have Malfoy be my...test subject."

"You can do anything short of an Avada on that blonde git, just be sure to leave enough of that vile Death Eater intact to stand trial for abducting one of my pups," snarled Remus, his eyes flashing over to amber.

"I'll make sure he doesn't get carried away,"said Tonks, giving Arthur Weasley a conspiratorial wink.

('Not Bloody likely.')

Dumbledore was feeling pleasantly mellow after drinking nearly a full bottle of Ogden's. Too bad his good mood was once again interrupted, this time by a Patronus update from that damned werewolf, Lupin, and his goody-two-shoes fellow tracker, Auror Shacklebolt.

('Can't a wizard get a moments peace around here?!' he snapped when the silver-blue wolf strolled in and delivered its message.)

"We've tracked Hermione's and Lord Malfoy's magical signatures to Gringott's" said Remus' hopeful but, strained voice, "Kingsley and I are going in now to question the bank manager, Grimsby. Arthur Weasley and Auror Tonks are nearby in case Malfoy tries to leave with her. With luck, we will be bringing Hermione back within the hour."

Professors Flitwick, Trelawney and Sinistra, as well as, a large number of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students on the seventh floor were severely rattled when the very walls of Hogwarts shook from an apparent explosion. Many of the younger year students believed it to be from a major potions accident (a few secretly hoping Professor Snape was finally done in by either Longbottom's or Finnegan's latest failed brewing efforts), that is, until a few seventh years pointedly reminded them that there were no Potions classes or detentions with Snape scheduled for that day and that any such blasts occurring in the dungeons wouldn't have been felt this high up in the school.

A few others, including Head Boy, Percy Weasley, considered that it was the infamous Twins, Fred and George, working on yet another prank idea that had gone wrong. To that end, Percy made it a point to stop by the school infirmary after his rounds to find Mafame Pomfrey knowing that they'd, eventually, seek her out to put whatever it was that had gone wrong back to rights.

Whatever the cause, it had to have happened on the seventh floor.

Granger was preparing herself to observe the rest of Malfoy's and Snape's cleansing process when Healer Dartmire cast a spell bringing up a shimmering barrier between them, one that obscured all sights, sounds and smells emanating from the other side of the chamber.

"I apologize, Miss Granger," said Dartmire as Hermione glared at her from her chosen spot on the down-covered floor of the recovery 'nest', "But, based on your Alphas' reactions to this part of your treatment, Elder Marshbanks thought it best to shield you from that experience. Plus, she didn't want to risk damaging your weakened core with a restraining charm."

"Besides, there are a number of important things you need to be made aware of while you wait for your Alphas to join you," added Healer Towbane as he handed the young witch the records detailing what the Goblins had uncovered about her magical inheritance.

Hermione hesitated in opening the thick envelope proffered by Towbane, looking at closed file as if it might bite or hex her, "What sort of things?"

Towbane smirked at her, "Just read the paperwork, Miss Granger. I assure you, it's quite...informative."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pulled out the first piece of parchment, her eyes growing comically wide as each long held family secret was finally revealed.

"What the actual Fuck!?"

Professor Flitwick was quietly tending to his third years' essays on the history and development of the Banishing Charm when Hestia popped into his office carrying something wrapped up in a blanket.

"I's found that naughty elf, Charms Master," she announced, uncovering the heavily damaged body of the unfortunate little house-elf, "We don't knows him, Sir, but his magics matches."

"Excellent work Hestia," praised Filius, confirming the elf's magical signatures with the scan his cousin had given him with a subtle flick of his wand, "This will certainly...." Whatever else Flitwick was about to say was cut off by a loud explosion.

Suspicious of the timing of this unknown disturbance, the Professor put in an emergency Floo call to his cousin, "Grimsby! I finally found that family heirloom I told you about but, will need to send it to you for safe keeping, I simply don't have the space to secure it here."

Grimsby knew something was wrong the moment Filius greeted him by his given name instead of Cousin, following his lead he answered, "Certainly, Professor Flitwick. I have a few moments between appointments, step on through to my office and we'll take care of that right away."

In a gloomy corner of his study in the 'borrowed' Manor house in Wiltshire, Lord Voldemort...no, Tom Marvolo Gaunt (he still despised his Muggle father's last name) stared at the dying embers of the fireplace as he knocked back the last of his rare indulgence of Firewhisky...the echoes of The Prophecy still rattling around in his head.

"Dumbledore has a lot to answer for, Nagini," he declared to his, noticeably smaller, and rather grumpy snake familiar, "But, first, I must finish collecting the other Horcruxes and re-absorbing my soul shards," he said as he slipped the still smoking Gaunt family ring onto his right index finger and placed the slightly tarnished cup of Helga Hufflepuff on the fireplace mantle.

"Not counting my lost diary, that makes three down and three to go before my magics are sufficiently stabilized. Until then, I need to bring forward plans to shred that bastard's reputation."

"Now, what shall we have Rita Skeeter publish first?"

Chapter Text

Flitwick had barely stepped though the Floo into Grimsby's office, with the unknown house-elf's body in tow, when a loud buzzing sounded from the bank manager's desk. The older Goblin grumbled an apology, "We will have to make this a short visit, Cousin, my next appointment has arrived and apparently they are somewhat impatient."

"Will you have time to hide this poor elf? It's important no one at Hogwarts knows he's been found, he's the key to catching whoever was dosing your student client with illegal potions," Filius stated, his face still a slight green from seeing the injuries on the elf's body.

"Not to worry, Cousin," smirked Grimsby, taking over the levitation spell from Flitwick, "Those two wizards can wait until I have this unfortunate little one secured. Now, hurry back to your quarters at school before anyone realizes you're gone."

The petite Charms Professor bowed, "My thanks, Cousin. May your enemies fall in despair at your feet."

"And, may your vaults always overflow with galleons, dear Cousin," replied Grimsby, tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Without another word, Flitwick stepped through the green flames and disappeared from sight.

"Alright, my little friend," Grimsby said to his blanket covered 'guest', "Let's get you some place safe from prying eyes."

Emerging from his fireplace, Filius hurriedly shut down the connection, took a deep breath to calm his nerves and strolled out into the main hallway of the seventh floor.

Seeing a number of his Ravenclaw students gathered about in small groups speculating on the cause of the explosion, he cast a Sonorus to be heard over the low droning of their conversations, "Everyone get back to your common room!" he commanded, his stern expression discouraging any questions, "Professor McGonagall and I need to investigate this disturbance and we can't safely do that with all of you in the way. Of you go then...and don't come out of your dormitories until she or I give the all clear."

As soon as the last student cleared the hall, Filius resumed his mission to suss out the cause of this disruption, hopefully, it didn't involve one of his students, he'd hate to have to remove a significant number of house points and assign detentions to any of his Eagles or worse, expel one of them.

Dumbledore was in a right strop. All his carefully restructured plans to supplant that Granger chit with the Patil girl and those two meddlesome Order members had to go and throw a spanner into the works by actually tracking down the Gryffindor witch! Now he'd have to come up with an alternative scheme to keep her from Harry before they brought her back to Hogwarts...but, what?

As he downed a vial of Sober-up and his mind cleared, a wicked smirk formed on his face. ('Yes, that would be perfect. I'll simply plant a few suggestions in Harry's and that oaf Weasley's minds and let their suspicious natures do the rest, by the time Miss Granger returns she'll be lucky if the whole of Gryffindor House doesn't hex her on sight. One can only hope their fierce rejection will be enough to motivate Granger to withdraw from school altogether.')

Strolling around the shattered bits of sitting room furnishings that he'd mangled during his fit of temper, Albus absent mindedly set about repairing the damage and vanishing items that were a lost cause all while contemplating the most plausible doubts to use on Potter and his ginger-haired friend. (It wasn't as if any of his parents' antiques ever held any sentimental value for him, only that his brother, Aberforth, didn't get his hands on any of the pieces).

The one thing that was still giving him problems were the blast marks left on the walls and floor. Scorgifying the charred spots didn't clean up everything and it left a noticeable dent on all the affected surfaces, plus, he couldn't exactly make those areas disappear into thin air without compromising the structure of the entire tower. And, he'd sooner gouge out both eyes than put up wallpaper.

Compromising, he strategically rearranged a few of the bigger portraits to cover the burns on the walls and shuffled a few large rugs and chairs around to hide the streaks on the floor, it would have to do until he got a professional in to restore everything before Obliviating the decorator...can't have them revealing anything about the nature of the destruction, after all.

As Dumbledore put the finishing touches in place, he felt the ping on his wards letting him know McGonagall and Flitwick had arrived at his office. Not that he was surprised, he had roughly shaken the seventh floor with his anger driven magical outburst.

Sliding his usual grandfatherly appearance into place, the Headmaster greeted the two Professors with a well practiced twinkle in his eyes, "Ahhh, come in Minerva, Filius. Care for a sherbet lemon?"

Marshbanks had just completed a final diagnostic on Snape and Malfoy when the young witch on the other side of the treatment chamber began cursing a figurative blue streak.

"Miss Granger! Pardon, I meant Miss Peverell. Please, control yourself," admonished Healer Towbane, shaking his head in disapproval, "I realize this information must have come as a bit of a shock to you but, that's no excuse for such crass language."

"Are you Fucking kidding me?" snarled Hermione, waving a thick folder in the Goblin's face, "How else should I react when I've just found out my whole life was a lie?"

Well, that certainly got the two wizards' attentions.

Barefoot and clothed only in a white, silken robe like Granger, Snape and Malfoy cautiously strolled towards the seething Gryffindor with their hands held up palms outward in a non-threatening gesture. Lucius' attempt to soothe the distressed young woman fell flat, "Miss Granger, perhaps if we could just..." he didn't get another word out as her head snapped about, her fiery amber glare locking onto the two Slytherins, causing them both to pause in their approach and take a half-step back.

"That's not my name," she hissed, slapping the blonde aristocrat on the chest with the heavy stack of parchment, "Apparently, I was adopted and the people who I've always believed were my natural parents never told me." As Malfoy and Snape watched, Granger's shoulders slumped, they presumed in distress over this unexpected revelation, neither aware of the true cause...yet.

('Just wait until my Alphas learn about my cousins. Will they reject me and our bond over it? It's not consummated, surely, that would that be a possibility.')

Pushing aside these gloomy thoughts for the moment she added, "Worse still, Healer Towbane informed me that whoever gave me these gods-be-damned Omega suppressants severely compromised my magical development, whether that was intentional or not, they're unsure. Regardless, it's a Bloody miracle I didn't accidentally blow up the entire school!" she growled, her body visibly shaking, partly over this narrowly avoided disaster, but mainly, in anticipation of being spurned by her Alphas.

"Miss Gran...my apologies. Miss Peverell's correct," confirmed Healer Dartmire with a casual wave of her hand, summoning a Calming Draught in case the young witch couldn't settle down on her own soon, "If Elder Marshbanks hadn't brought in additional help to control her wild power fluctuations, we wouldn't still be here to have this conversation and this part of Gringott's would be in dire need of extensive restoration."

Lucius was only half listening to the Goblin healer at this point, his eyes having been drawn to the first page of the records currently in his hands, his face draining of color when his gaze landed on the names of his Omega's next of kin.

('Fucking, fuckity, fuck! Our little witch's related to both the Dark Lord AND Harry Potter?')

Severus was torn. His Alpha instincts were howling at him to comfort Miss Granger (or Peverell, well, whatever her name was now...and wasn't that going to take some getting used to) or finding out what was in those files that was causing Lucius' abrupt change in demeanor.

In the end, curiosity won out and he took the paperwork from his blonde friend's hands and began to read, starting with the page that had thrown Malfoy for a loop.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, although, Snape did get a bit sidetracked, fixating on the death dates of Granger's (Dammit!) Peverell's birth parents. It was the same day as Lily's and Potter, Sr.'s, after all...certainly, that couldn't be a coincidence. And, yes, it had been mildly amusing to discover that she was related to the Muggle British Royal family (the irony of her nickname, the Princess of Gryffindor, was not lost on him).

But then, he spotted what had Lucius looking pale as milk and suddenly his heart was in his throat.

('Merlin's Sagging Hairy Balls! She's a cousin to The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse and the Dark Lord? Obviously, the boy wasn't aware of this connection but, had He found out about her and come after her family the same as He'd done with the Potters? If so, how did Granger (Bugger!) Peverell survive the Dark Lord's attack? And, who sealed her birth records?')

Snape didn't have long to contemplate this information as Elder Marshbanks grabbed his and Lucius' wrists and dragged them into the recovery 'nest', placing them on each side of their little witch, loudly commanding all three of them to sit down and listen.

"Yes, yes. There's a lot for all of you to review and discuss in those files...later. Right now, you two gentlemen need to take her hands in yours and complete Miss Peverell's healing. NOW!" she snapped, her energy and patience having finally worn out, "And, don't leave this basin for at least another two hours. Should you need anything, stay put and call for Gem, she's the house-elf assigned to you," with that, Marshbanks turned on her heel and stalked out of the room without a glimpse back at the trio.

Rita Skeeter appeared with a loud pop of Apparation outside the main gates of Malfoy Manor, her nervousness making her stumble slightly upon arrival. Never in a million years would she have thought she would be personally invited to interview He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. (Well, commanded to appear would be more accurate but, who was she to quibble over semantics. Either way, this promised to be the story of a lifetime).

More surprising, the wizard himself silently greeted her at the front door, dressed in flowing dark green robes that hid the fact he was barefoot. And, the large snake draped over his shoulders eyeing her like she was a tasty snack was enough to keep Rita from speaking, for the moment.

After quietly leading the blonde witch through the foyer to the small terrace off the sitting room, Tom finally spoke. Once he called for a house-elf to serve light refreshments, he then invited Skeeter to take a seat around a wrought iron garden table comfortably shaded from the afternoon sun by an overhanging willow.

Following the arrival of the tea and nibbles, the raven-haired man turned his disturbingly crimson-colored eyes upon the younger witch, "Miss Skeeter," he drawled, setting a cool, pale hand upon one of hers, "How would you like to help me expose Albus Dumbledore for the fraud that he is to the whole of Wizarding Britain?"

The devilish smirk that bloomed across Skeeter's face was enough of an answer for Tom but, she still replied, "When do you want to start, M'Lord?", her acid-green Quick-Quotes Quill twitching in excitement over her notepad.

Remus and Kingsley entered Grimsby's office with an air of grim determination. And, it took a bit of restraint on the Goblin manager's part to not hex the two men before they'd even opened their mouths to speak. He'd dealt with enough wizarding folk over the years, Aurors in particular, and knew that they could become aggressive when desperate for information...and, that's exactly how these two appeared, agitated and in great need of answers.

"Good afternoon gentlemen, what service can Gringott's provide you with today?" quietly asked Grimsby, keeping a watchful eye on both men's faces.

"You can start with taking us to Hermione Granger," growled Lupin, his hazel eyes flashing over to amber, "Don't bother denying she's been here, her scent is fresh and all over this room."

Shacklebolt, who was marginally more in control, placed a hand on Remus' shoulder to calm the werewolf before he did something regrettable, "What my friend here means is that we have strong evidence that shows a person reported as abducted was brought into the bank and that she's likely still on the premises with her captor. We would greatly appreciate your cooperation with our investigation and, hopefully, aid us in the safe recovery this missing witch."

Grimsby bared his teeth in his form of a smile, he needed to delay these two for as long as possible to give the healers time to finish Granger's cleansing, "It would help if you provided a description of the person you are searching for, perhaps then I could better direct you."

Kingsley casually flicked his fingers and a wispy image of Hermione appeared in the air above Grimsby's desk.

"Ahhh, yes, follow me," replied Grimsby, standing and moving towards the hidden passage at the back of his office.

Knowing that his options for stalling were limited, especially, in the presence of a werewolf with heightened senses, the Goblin manager decided to lead the two wizards to an empty room one floor below the one where Miss Granger was being treated, 'letting slip' an embellished detail as they walked through the door, "The young witch you're looking for asked to speak with our healers, she didn't elaborate on why she came here instead of St.Mungo's. Remain here and I'll find one of the Elders who spoke directly with her."

Before Remus or Kingsley could object and demand that one of them should accompany Grimsby on his task, the Goblin manager stepped back towards the door and pressed his hand on a rune carved into the frame, locking the two wizards in the room.

"You Sodding Bastard!" hissed Lupin as he and Shacklebolt futilely tried to break the security ward.

"I'll have you know my parents were happily bonded before I was born."

Hermione shyly looked at the two men seated next to her as Elder Marshbanks and the rest of the Goblin healers left the treatment chambers, leaving the trio alone for the first time in several hours.

It was Lucius who spoke first, breaking the growing awkward silence, "Well, whatever shall we discuss now, Omega?" flipping open the folder setting on the young witch's lap with his free hand and pulling free the page with her birth records.

"Might I suggest finding out what name you wish to be called? Perhaps, Princess would be in order considering that you are royalty," drawled Severus, taking note of the lovely shade of pink blooming across on the young woman's cheeks.

"No!" she stated adamantly, wincing at how shrill her voice sounded, "Ron gave me that nickname in first year and I've never cared for it. Besides, I doubt I rate anything higher than a Baroness as far as the Muggle Royals are concerned. But, I rather like the sound of Maia."

"Hrnmm, it does fit your personality better. I believe in Greek mythology Maia was one of the Pleiades and the mother of the messenger of the gods, you're certainly a beautiful nymph as far I'm concerned," purred Lucius, brushing a kiss over the knuckles of their joined fingers, causing her blush to deepen.

"I prefer the Maori meaning of brave warrior," said Severus, rolling his eyes at his blonde friend, "Far more appropriate for a Gryffindor."

The beaming smile that the little witch gave the Potions Master made his heart clench in his chest, no one ever looked at him like that, not even Lily...well, maybe Lucius on rare occasions but, often it preceded the asking of a favor.

"Definitely, Maia...Maia Athena Peverell," she replied, chewing her lower lip between her teeth, "Do you think it'll cause problems at...oh, Merlin...how will I get back to school? I can't just show up with either of you two. The other Professors would hex Mr.Malfoy on sight and I'd hate to think what they'd do to you, Professor Snape.

"After everything you've been through, I'm not surprised you've forgotten, Miss Peverell," smirked Snape, resisting the urge to reach over and pull the abused lip from between her teeth, "I have a plan in place to ensure your safe return to Hogwarts, once your healing process is complete. And, it won't endanger Lucius nor compromise my standing as a teacher."

"Now, can we address the proverbial erumpet in the room and discuss the issue of your cousins," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"I'd rather kick a Nundu in the nads."

Chapter Text

The day before Gaunt invited Rita Skeeter to Malfoy Manor, he made his way to the Inferi cave to retrieve his ancestor's locket (Merlin! That was an ugly necklace). It was supposed to be a fairly easy task, until it wasn't. Oh, he had the neutralizing potion to counter the poisonous elixir in the basin that contained the heirloom, to be sure (and had brought along a house-elf to consume the contents of the bowl...just in case). But, that wasn't the problem. No, R.A.B. had beaten him to it and Nimue only knew when he'd taken it or where the necklace was now.

Tom's only chance, and it was a slim one at that, was that Regulus Black had passed on this information to his estranged brother before disappearing.

This would change a few of his plans but first, he needed to recover Ravenclaws' Diadem from The Come and Go Room at Hogwarts. And, for that he needed the assistance of a particular follower, one specifically suited to the task...Peter Pettigrew.

After Filius and Minerva left his office to continue their search for the source of the explosion on the seventh floor, Albus returned to his thoughts on what 'truths' to plant in Potter's and Weasley's minds regarding their, soon to be former, friend, Miss Granger.

He still wasn't sure what had gone wrong with that girl. The Muggleborn had been fairly pliable when she first started at Hogwarts, willing to do her two housemates' homework, well, pretty much any assignment short of taking their exams, in order to maintain a friendship with both boys.

But, everything began slowly unraveling sometime after third year. Perhaps something unusual had occurred when she was using the Time-Turner or possibly Professor Lupin's transformation into a werewolf in front of her had traumatized the witch far more than he'd thought? Ahhh well, no matter. At least Miss Patil was working out much better for keeping Harry on task.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes...plausible rumors."

Off in the Forbidden Forest, sitting on a high branch of an English oak, was a bedraggled and forlorn Phoenix singing a heartbreaking tune. Once his lament was finished, Fawkes stretched out his wings and took flight, soaring high above the clouds to avoid being sighted by Muggles.

For several hours he listened from his hidden perch in the oak as the Forest Unicorns and Hagrid's small herd of Thestrals spoke of an unusual witch being in the woods with the dark-haired Snake-Talker. And now that his bond with the Headmaster had finally shattered due to the growing darkness in the wizard's mind and soul, Fawkes was determined to seek out this girl. It was time to find a far more worthy familiar before his next Burning Day.

"Alright, we'll skip the uncomfortable family members topic, for the moment, Maia," drawled Lucius, tracing a soothing circular pattern across her wrist with his thumb, "Instead, let's discuss these magical gifts of yours. I'm especially interested in this natural Animagus aspect."

Maia ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to cover the flush of color blooming across her cheeks,"Merlin! That was embarrassing to have emerge during the cleansing process," she admitted, not daring to look up at either of her Alphas, "The shifts happened so quickly it made my head spin but, I believe the Goblins documented everything. Maybe there's a list in this stack of parchment?"

Snape twitched two fingers on his free hand causing the paperwork on her lap to flutter momentarily. After a few seconds, the movement stopped and the file settled into place once more. "No, they haven't provided you with a copy. Although, it's quite possible they needed to review the records before submitting them to the Ministry Animagus Registrations office, to insure they made a thorough accounting," speculated Severus, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "Do you recall any of the creature forms you had taken?"

The little witch bit back a snort of laughter, "Well, obviously, the first and last transitions were rather memorable, those being an Acromantula and a Zouwu. Only, my coloration wasn't typical for the spider. Instead of being jet black, I was a brilliant ruby red, it scared the beejeebers out of Healer Dartmire...although, I'm not sure if that was due to the unusual color or my size."

"Any others that stand out amongst the crowd?" asked Malfoy, genuinely intrigued by this rare variant of Transfiguration magics.

Maia shut her eyes temporarily, allowing the flood of images to play across the inside of her eyelids like scenes from a Muggle movie. Several minutes ticked by before she returned her gaze to her two companions and continued, "At some point, I was a Phoenix and, like with the Acromantula, my presentation was atypical. Instead of reds, oranges and golds, my feathers were in shades of greens, silvers and blues. I was also a Runespoor, becoming that was extremely disorienting, having three heads and sets of eyes focussing on different things about the room at the same time," she let out a shuddering sigh, "...I'm sorry, the rest are too jumbled together to sort out."

Snape clumsily attempted to ease her disappointment, "It's not a test, Maia. You won't fail at anything if those are all you can remember."

Peverell merely 'hrnm'd in response, not used to receiving any type of reassurances from her Potions Professor. Then her brain shifted gears and zoomed in on one word, "Tests! Do you think my O.W.L.S. results have been posted yet?"

"All of these life-changing facts coming to light and you're wondering about school exams?" chuckled Lucius, shaking his head at their little witch's odd sense of priorities.

"What? I need to know what books to start reading for next term," she grumbled before a second random thought popped up, "What do we do when my Omega heat returns in September? I mean, what happens if it starts in the middle of a class or in The Great Hall during dinner? Where will...?"

"Let's just get through today first, shall we?"

Pettigrew gasped in pain as the Dark Mark on his left arm heated up, The Dark Lord was summoning him and apparently he was impatient. That never bode well, although, it was a puzzle to Peter as to why his Master would be displeased with him. He hadn't been on any major assignments as of late and hadn't, knowingly, committed any offense.

('Best not keep him waiting,' sighed the rat-like wizard as he hurriedly left his quarters and scurried through the halls in the Manor.)

Imagine his surprise then when The Dark Lord entrusted him with the task of recovering the Diadem from Hogwarts, it was a great honor and his Master promised him a special reward for it's safe and speedy return. "I promise, I won't let you down, my Lord," said Pettigrew, bowing to kiss the hem of the older wizard's robes.

"See that you don't," hissed Gaunt, waving the simpering man away from his person, "I expect the tiara here by noon tomorrow. Remember, don't touch it with your bare hands...it won't end well for you if you do."

McGonagall and Flitwick had done a complete search of the seventh floor and found nothing to explain the unusual disturbance from an hour ago. After reassuring their respective students that nothing was amiss and to return to their dormitories, the two colleagues retired to Minerva's quarters for a cuppa and some of her ginger newts biscuits.

"I just know Albus had something to do with that ruckus earlier," growled McGonagall, adding a splash of Odgen's to her tea, "As there's no way either of us could have missed seeing any form of damage unless it was in his private chambers."

"I agree, Minnie, but as no one was injured and the castle's still intact we can't simply barge in and demand to inspect those rooms," sighed the Charms Master, "No matter how much we may want to do just that."

"Perhaps, there's another way."

Rita leaned back into her chair looking Stupefied after Tom dropped his first bombshells, "Sirius Black isn't a Death Eater, he never betrayed the Potters and he was sent to Azkaban without a trial for crimes he didn't commit. And, Dumbledore made sure that Black was never given the opportunity to be questioned under Veritasersum," Gaunt stated casually as if he were making small talk about the weather, "You'll find that Ministry records will confirm that the Wizengamot, acting solely on the recommendations of their Chief Mugwump Dumbledore, transferred Black straight to prison from the holding cells less than an hour after he was captured."

Skeeter blinked rapidly as her brain finally processed this information, "If Sirius Black didn't tell you where the Potters were hiding, who did?"

"I can't divulge their name as yet as they're currently running an errand for me," smiled Tom, casually taking a sip of his tea, "Once his task has been completed, I will be turning him in directly to the Minister of Magic myself...not for recognition or reward but, simply for the sake of righting this grievous miscarriage of justice committed against Lord Black."('Well, that and it will invoke a Life-Debt from Black with the added bonus of neatly ridding myself of that twitchy rat Animagus, he's been acting even more suspiciously here of late.')

Rita bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from snorting out a laugh ('Right, and if I believed that I'll eat my Quick-Quotes Quill'). Instead, she asked, "Why now, why not bring this to light when Sirius Black first escaped prison?"

"I'm afraid I wasn't in the best of...health at that point in time and I, myself, was unaware of the full extent of Dumbledore's involvement with Black's case until recently," replied Gaunt, petting his snake familiar as if she were a cat.

At this moment, the Dark Lord paused in his conversation, a pinging on his personal wards having informed him that a particular minion had returned to the Manor. Standing up he made his excuses to Skeeter, telling her to remain where she was, that he would be back to continue the interview within the hour.

"Of course, M'lord." ('Are you kidding me? Wild hippogryphs couldn't drag me away from this place until I get the rest of this interview.')

"Will you stop your pacing, Remus, it's not helping our situation," snapped Kingsley, trying to keep from hexxing his friend.

"Sorry, Kings," apologized Lupin as he took a seat on one of the two plush chairs in the room, "Moony's just a tad anxious knowing Hermione's somewhere nearby and we can't do anything to help her."

"I know but, we just have to sit tight and hope our last Patronus messages have reached the other Order members by now."

As the two Alphas were reading over their Omega's shoulder at the top page of the file in her hands, Severus began to chuckle as his eyes landed on one item in particular, "Why does it not surprise me that you have an affinity for fire? Especially, given that incident where you set my robes aflame in your first year."

Malfoy quirked a blonde eyebrow at Snape and Peverell, "Well now, my curiosity's certainly been piqued," he drawled, urging them to continue with a casual tilt of his head, "You simply have to divulge more details."

There was no hiding behind her hair this time, Maia's entire body felt like it was lit up like a crimson star atop a Christmas tree, "In my defense, I thought the Professor was hexxing Harry's broom during a Quidditch match at the time. From my perspective in the stands, I couldn't see that it was actually Professor Quirrell casting the spells trying to make Harry fall."

Chewing her bottom lip between her teeth, she added, "And, I did send you a formal written apology and replacement robes during that Summer break."

"Was that before or after you..." Snape started to ask, the remainder of his question catching in his throat when a large ball of scarlet and orange fire popped into existence above their heads. At first, he believed Peverell caused the pyrotechnic manifestation but, a second look proved that it was the unexpected arrival of a familiar magical creature.

Dread instantly settled like a lead weight in the pit of Snape's and Malfoy's stomachs at the implications of Fawkes' appearance...that the Headmaster had somehow tracked them to Gringott's and was now waiting for them to emerge from the healing chamber.

Their protective Alpha instincts went into overdrive as they let go of their Omega's hands, climbed out of the recovery basin and began hurriedly stalking about the room to find their wands and other belongings, not noticing that the flaming bird and the little witch were carrying out a lively trilling conversation with one another.

"Where the Bloody Hell did those Sodding Healers put our clothing!?" snapped Lucius as he tried, and failed, to wandlessly summon their missing items. Severus wasn't having any better luck wandlessly attempting to transfigure their robes to something more suitable to be seen wearing in public.

Maia simply started laughing at their near-panicking antics which earned her a stern glare from both wizards before she calmly called out, "Gem!" to summon the house-elf assigned to them and ask her for the required items, "I don't know why you two are in such a hurry to go anywhere, we can't leave these chambers for another thirty minutes yet."

Severus looked down at the young witch as if she'd sprouted a second head then pointed up at the still hovering Phoenix and growled, "THAT'S why, don't you recognize who's familiar that is, Maia?"

She smiled up the glowering man, "Of course, I know that's Fawkes. But, I don't understand why you're so worried, he just..." Snape and Malfoy both stared incredulously at her as Lucius interrupted.

"You may not be concerned but, I could be arrested and thrown into Azkaban for abducting you from the Ministry or had you forgotten about that little detail? And, Severus... who knows what the Order and the DMLE would do to him for being here with you in our current state of semi-dress and in the company of your kidnapper."

Peverell crossed her arms tightly across her chest and impatiently hissed, "If you had bothered to let me finish, I could've told you both there's nothing to worry about. Fawkes is here on his own, he left the Headmaster back at Hogwarts," holding up her hand to stave off another outburst from the Alphas, she hurriedly continued, "And, he told me that he and Professor Dumbledore are no longer bonded. In fact, he asked me if I would consider becoming his new familiar."

Comprehension finally dawned on Malfoy and Snape at the same time, their eyebrows disappearing into their hairlines. "Beast-Speak," she said waving the parchment they'd been reading just to make certain they understood, she then chirruped at Fawkes who glided down to the little witch and settled himself into the nest with her, his body snuggling onto Maia's lap and chest and his head comfortably resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'd never admit this to anyone else but, I'm actually jealous of an oversized flaming chicken."

Back at the castle, Harry and Ron had just been silently whisked away from their beds and delivered to the Headmaster's office by a young Hogwarts house-elf. When they appeared in front of his desk, Albus greeted them warmly, "Sorry about the impromptu visit," smiled Dumbledore, twinkling at them in his typical grandfatherly manner, "But, I received some important news that couldn't wait until morning." After having them take a seat, he added, "I'm pleased to inform you both that I've had a favorable update on Miss Granger. Coactus Duis."

When the spell settled, Albus gave the two younger wizards their instructions, "Your task will be to repeat every story I'm about to tell you to your Gryffindor housemates and all your friends in the other Houses."

"And if asked, you'll say your information came from Professor Lupin."

Chapter Text

Gaunt was practically vibrating with excitement when he felt the wards ping to inform him that Pettigrew had returned from his task at Hogwarts. After making polite excuses to Skeeter and, temporarily taking his leave of her, he all but flew back to the Manor house to meet with his soon-to-be ex-minion.

After confirming that the other wizard had, indeed, brought back the authentic Horcrux vessel, the Dark Lord turned towards his nervously waiting Death Eater. "You've done well, Peter. I am most pleased. Remain here in the sitting room until I return with your reward."

Being the ever opportunistic sycophant that he was, Peter simply nodded his head and did as asked.

('I wonder if it's that new prosthetic he's been promising to create for me?' Pettigrew mused as he looked down at the heavily worn silver appendage that was his current left hand, 'That would be lovely.')

It took all of five minutes for Tom to re-absorb his soul shard from Ravenclaw's no longer lost diadem, placing the once again pristine crown on the mantle securely next to Hufflepuff's cup. Mere seconds afterwards he had the rat-like Pettigrew proverbially gift wrapped for the Minister of Magic.

Casting a subtle Glamour over his features, even though they were no longer snake-like (well, for the most part) Gaunt Floo'd straight to the Atrium at the Ministry with a Disillusioned and magically caged Pettigrew in tow. Once at the check-in desk, Tom subtly Confunded the clerk on duty to avoid presenting his distinctive bone-white wand for inspection then obtained a security pass before making his way to Minister Scrimgeour's office on Level one.

With a sparkling gleam to his hazel eyes, the disguised Dark Lord approached Scrimgeour's executive assistant, "Inform the Minister that Lord Gaunt wishes to speak with him concerning an urgent matter," he drawled, easily feigning an attitude of Pureblood self-importance, "If he asks why, tell him I have captured the real person who betrayed the Potters to Lord Voldemort. And, if that's still not enough to pique his interest, then explain that I have irrefutable proof that Sirius Black was wrongly incarcerated for murdering Peter Pettigrew."

If Fawkes were a feline he would've been purring up a proverbial storm as he snuggled down into the nest with the little witch. He knew had made the right decision in his choice for a new familiar as soon as Maia called for the house-elf, Gem, and requested that she prepare a silver bowl laden with freshly picked plums, a part of the Phoenix bonding ceremony that wasn't readily known outside of a Mastery-level Care of Magical Creatures class or textbook. (It was a good thing Phoenix didn't swoon).

To demonstrate his wholehearted appreciation of her gesture and acceptance, Fawkes began to enthusiastically serenade Maia as soon as the little elf reappeared with the dish full of mouth-watering purple fruits.

(And, if she had been a fully Phoenix creature-inheritance, instead of it being one of her many Animagus forms that he sensed, Fawkes would've initiated a mating flight with Maia on the spot. Alas, she was only a magically gifted human.)

Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting at his desk at the Ministry ready to pull his hair out. He knew gong in that the Minister of Magic position would, at times, be difficult but, his predecessor had made a right cock-up of the job and now he was left scrambling, trying to correct the worst of the issues before they caused any more damage.

In the past week alone, he had been tempted to set fire to the office and simply start from scratch, particularly, after discovering ten eavesdropping charms and just as many recording spells about the place. Seriously, as paranoid as Fudge had become before he was removed from this post why was he that lax with his security protocols?

But, the absolute capper for the new Minister had been when he uncovered two heinous new proposals that Fudge had already scheduled for a vote before the Wizengamot at the end of the month. One would severely impact the Muggleborns, requiring them to prove their magical heritage or face possible imprisonment in Azkaban for 'stealing' their power from Pureblood lines known to have children or other family members born as squibs. The second would prevent persons with any form of creature-inheritance (not just Lycanthropes) from obtaining a job or being able to find housing anywhere within Wizarding Britain.

And, both documents had been underwritten by that horrid pink toad, Dolores Umbridge, the currently missing former Undersecretary to Cornelius. Fortunately, Rufus had managed to postpone all pending policy changes until a thorough investigation of all the records was completed, with special attention being paid to anything with Umbridge's name or magical signature on it.

It was in the middle of all this chaos when Scrimgeour's office assistant approached him about an unscheduled visitor.

Peverell momentarily hesitated about taking Fawkes up on his offer, chirruping her concerns about the probability of their fledgling connection having an adverse effect on her Alpha-Omega bond with Severus and Lucius or that the familiar ritual would significantly delay her healing process, causing Snape to have to postpone his plans for her 'rescue'...which, in turn, would increase his and Malfoy's chances of getting caught by the Order or the DMLE.

Fawkes wasn't offended in the least by the little witch's need to ask questions, in fact, he was even more impressed with her empathetic nature, her desire to ensure their actions didn't, inadvertently, cause harm to her human mates. Cooing a soft melody to soothe Maia's growing anxieties, he assured her that their bonding would take a mere five minutes to complete after her core was fully restored and that familiar links were created separately, that there was absolutely no overlapping of the magics between the two bond forms.

Maia trilled in relief, touching the tip of her nose to Fawkes' beak in acceptance to his proposal, causing him to fully display his head crest in return...and, Severus and Lucius to frown.

"Why's that Sodding bird so damn chipper?" sulked Malfoy, still somewhat peeved that the cheerfully warbling feather duster with a penchant for bursting into flames had so rudely interrupted his and Snape's conversations with their little lioness. There was so much they had left to discuss, including, the issue of her newfound cousins. And, he preferred that the main points were handled before they left the security of the treatment room.

"Well, I just informed him that I agreed to become his familiar the minute my healing session was done," chuckled Peverell as Gem returned carrying a large silver bowl of ripe plums and a second crystal dish full of other seasonal fruits...just in case her Alphas wanted something to nosh while they waited, "He's simply celebrating a bit early."

"Does he by chance have an off switch or a mute button?" smirked Snape, earning him a glare from Lucius, although, he shared the same concerns for time as his blonde friend, "It would be best to able to hear ourselves think while we continued our previous line of conversation."

"Fine, I'll ask him to reserve his high-spirits for later," smiled Maia, understanding her two Alpha's pressing need for answers about her emerging magical abilities and newly discovered family.

And, given her human bondmates current level of irritation, Maia believed it for the best that she didn't mention Fawkes' passing commentary about her...intriguing Phoenix form nor just how close the two wizards came to having to physically 'share' her with the highly intelligent avian...she didn't have to be a Seer to envision how that bit of information would be received by either man.

While the trio, plus one devilishly smug Phoenix, settled down to tackle a couple of the more delicate topics in her records while waiting for the remaining thirty minutes to tick down on her treatment, Remus and Kingsley had received a Patronus message from Tonks...she, and a handful of on duty Aurors, had been called to the Ministry on a matter of some urgency. Arthur Weasley was left alone to wait outside Gringott's for her Order replacement to arrive.

"What could possibly be more important than rescuing Hermione from that Slytherin bastard!?" snarled Lupin, pacing towards the door and futilely punching at the wards Grimsby had activated.

"As an Auror, I can tell you it would be a matter of extreme consequence for Minister Scrimgeour to bring in an off-hours Agent such as Tonks," stated Shacklebolt, himself anxiously wandering about the small room, "My guess is, whatever has transpired, the Minister requires her expertise not only as a Metamorphmagus but, for her mastery-level curse-breaking skills, too."

"Well, damn."

Chapter Text

Scrimgeour was seriously contemplating casting a nasty Stinging Nettle hex at his office assistant and the haughty unwanted visitor for interrupting his already hectic afternoon. That is, until he caught a glimpse of the, now visible, restrained wizard the other man had levitated into his office...in an electrified magical cage, no less.

As he cautiously scrutinized the two men from behind his newly installed security runes, the wary Minister's eyes comically widened when he realized that the shackled rat-like person appeared to be a not-so-deceased Peter Pettigrew. But, he hadn't risen through the ranks of the DMLE to his previous position as Chief Auror by simply accepting things at face value. At the very least, this apparently living dead man warranted a full medical and magical assessment, questioning under Veritaserum was a must, too....once the man regained consciousness, of course.

And, although he knew straight away that Polyjuice was out of the running for an explanation of this person's disturbing appearance (as that potion didn't work with organic materials from a deceased individual), he was still going to have this wizard observed for the standard hour it took for Polyjuice to wear off just as a matter of protocol.

Decisions made, Scrimgeour flicked his wrist and wandlessly called up his Patronus, sending out the order for a select team of Aurors to meet in his office immediately. Once the impressive male Barbary lion left to deliver his summons, the Minister of Magic instructed his office assistant, Miss Bayswater, to return to her desk in the outer office and begin rescheduling his afternoon meetings before carrying on with her previous assignments.

('Merlin! I wish I could tell Darby about all this at dinner tonight,' Penelope mused, pulling the appointment planner from the top drawer of her desk, 'He'd be absolutely green with envy.')

"While we're waiting for my Agents to arrive, perhaps you should enlighten me on a few details," drawled Scrimgeour, gesturing for the other man to take a seat on one of the comfortable black leather wingback chairs in the room, "Starting with who you are exactly and how you came across this alleged criminal."

Marvelo smirked, having been fully prepared for the younger man's questions, "Of course, Minister. Let me begin with a proper introduction. Lord Tom Marvelo Gaunt, at your service," he said with a formal bow, making sure that the ring with his mother's family crest was noticed by Scrimgeour, "Now, as to this miscreant, that's a far more interesting story."

During the course of their renewed discussions, Lucius and Severus disclosed to Maia that they, too, had an affinity to one of the elemental magics...Water for Malfoy and Earth for Severus. Lucius also 'accidently' let slip that Draco had an affinity for Air which promptly caused Peverell to let out an unladylike snort of laughter.

"I'm so sorry, Lucius, that was rude," Maia said, not looking the least bit repentant, "It's just that particular piece of information explains so much about Malfoy's attitude. While I'll admit, reluctantly mind you, that he's intelligent and fairly skilled in a variety of magical disciplines, he can be somewhat of a pompous windbag about it."

"True," smirked the blonde aristocrat, his silver-grey eyes sparkling in amusement, "I'm afraid he comes by that specific trait quite naturally. And before you dare make a snide comment, Severus, you know I was referring to his Grandfather Abraxas' personality, not mine."

"Severus? Are you alright?"

Snape wasn't really paying attention to that thread of the conversation, his focus having been drawn elsewhere by another revelation, to one disturbing tidbit in particular in Maia's files. No, not the passage proclaiming her shared ancestry with the Dark Lord and Harry Potter (although, that had certainly been a real heart stopper) but, the one stating that there was a Lordship just waiting for him to claim. How was that even a possibility?

On several notable occasions throughout his miserable childhood (his maternal Grandfather's death announcement in The Daily Prophet, for instance) Severus had been told by his mother that she, and subsequently he, had been summarily removed from the Prince family tree and the line of succession in perpetuity. Yet, here was proof to the contrary and it unsettled him.

While Snape deemed it highly unlikely that his mother, Eileen, would purposely lie to him about something this important, that still begged the question...who had dared to instigate this falsehood in the first place? More importantly, were he and his mother the only victims of what amounted to attempted line theft?

One thing was for certain, Severus needed to have Grimsby perform an inheritance test on him so that he could officially lay claim to Prince title, and all that it entailed, as soon as he left this healing chamber.

"Severus?" Peverell asked, slightly louder this time, "Still no response. Has he ever done this before?"

"Only once that I'm aware of but, he'll have to explain why, if or when he's ready," drawled Malfoy, a fleeting memory briefly clouding his eyes.

"What do we do now?" asked Maia, the worry evident in her voice.

An impish expression settled over Lucius' features, "I recommend a mild shock, nothing dangerous mind you, simply something a bit unexpected...and a touch naughty."

Arthur had just made another circuit around Gringott's and was returning to rejoin Tonks, who remained on watch under Disillusionment across the alley facing the main entrance to the bank, when Scrimgeour's Patronus approached the spot where the hidden witch stood and delivered it's message to the young Auror.

"Shite!" exclaimed the now visible witch, "Sorry about this, Arthur," she apologized, "Is there anyone else from the Order that can get here on short notice to help you?"

"One or two," he replied, conjuring his weasel Patronus and preparing to send out his call for assistance, "You best contact Remus and Kingsley to let them know what's going on."

"Way ahead of you," the pink-haired Metamorphmagus smirked, her silvery-blue wolf sitting on its haunches in front of her eagerly awaiting her command, "I'll be on my way to the Ministry as soon as this message is sent."

"Stay safe, my dear."

"You, too, sir."

Harry and Ron stumbled through the portrait hole back into the Gryffindor common room and were instantly besieged by their housemates, all asking at once about what the Headmaster wanted or if they'd received any more news about Hermione.

"Why would we care what happens to that traitorous bint!?" sneered Ron, nearly spitting the words, startling almost everyone there into silence.

"Yeah, turns out she'd planned to leave with Malfoy all along," snarled Harry, plopping gracelessly down on the nearest plushy chair, "Everything she did was just an act to cover up the fact that she's a Death Eater spy."

"Someone's been feeding you a load of Thestral shite, Harry," scoffed Seamus, shaking his head, "I mean, this is Hermione Granger we're talking about, after all. And, a Muggleborn witch at that, there's no way she'd work with those racist wankers."

"That's just it, Seamus, she's not a Muggleborn, she's a Sodding Pureblood!" growled Ron, waving his arm about dramatically, "She's lied about a lot of other things, too, just to get near Harry."

"What utter Bollocks," yelled Neville, his hands at his side slowly clenching into fists, "Gran and I've met Hermione's parents, they're as Muggle as you can get."

"Those weren't her parents, Neville, they're her contacts. Hell, she's not even a teenager," ranted Harry as he glared at the other boy," She's a full-grown witch who was given a de-aging potion. It makes sense if you think about it, no one our age is that smart or capable of the kinds magic we've seen her do."

"Hermione IS that good because she's either in the Library reading ahead and researching or practicing spellcasting every chance she gets," argued Neville, when he saw a handful of Gryffindors beginning to consider Ron's and Harry's words, "Besides, if she had taken such a potion to change her age, don't you think Madame Pomfrey would have discovered that fact back in second year after Hermione was petrified by the Basilisk?"

"Yeah, right," snipped Harry, standing up and moving to stand in front of Neville, "Like she or any of the Professors noticed Barty Crouch, Jr. taking Polyjuice Potion during fourth year?"

Neville started to open his mouth to defend both the Matron and his friend but, Ron effectively squashed his arguments by blurting out, "Harry and I aren't making any of this up. Dumbledore was given this information about 'Mione directly from a trusted Order member, we were there in the Headmaster's office when the Firecall came through."

Snape was unceremoniously startled out of his troubled musings by several sharp pecks to the tip of his nose by a devilishly bemused Phoenix. "Bloody Hell! Why did that ruddy bird attack my face?"

"Would you have preferred I got your attention by having Fawkes set fire to your lap?" deadpanned Maia, arching a single eyebrow in a perfect copy of his well-known mannerism.

"Obviously, not," snipped the Potions Master, gingerly tending to his abused nose with a wandless Tergeo followed by a healing spell, "Surely, calling out my name would have sufficed to gain my notice."

"We tried that...repeatedly," smirked Lucius, plucking a wayward Phoenix feather from his hair," Maia also went so far as to mutter a delightfully suggestive idea in your ear and you didn't even bat an eyelash in response."

Peverell's cheeks pinked at the reminder of the sexual fantasy she'd whispered to the previously distracted wizard, "Yes, well. That's why I had to resort to asking Fawkes to help bring you round from wherever you'd gone to in your mind, Severus."

"As you now have my undivided attention," drawled Snape, his baritone pitching even lower as his darkening eyes roved over Maia's flushed appearance, "Perhaps you'd care to repeat your request? With the proper motivation, I'm certain I could be persuaded to fulfill your chosen...desire."

('Oh. My. Goddess! That man's voice should be illegal.')

"Later," Maia said somewhat breathlessly, the bloom of color rapidly spreading from her face down to her neck and chest, "First, tell us what had you so deeply lost in thought. If you have a problem, maybe we can help in some way."

Severus let out an exasperated sigh and pointed to the pertinent section in Maia's paperwork, "I was never informed of my pending Lordship status. Which means, at a minimum, my post owls have been diverted and my correspondence heavily censored or possibly a Gringott's employee has been compromised either through bribery or coercive magics. Regardless of which situation turns out to be correct, it means someone has been tampering with my life, too."

After Severus voiced his concerns, Lucius and Hermione were in agreement that he needed to undergo an inheritance test the moment their time in the healing chamber was finished. Granger called for their little house-elf straight away and sent a message to Grimsby about Snape's urgent request.

Gem returned shortly after delivering the missive, "Master Grimsby will meet with yous in his office in ten minutes. I's will returns to take yous there when it's time," she stated before popping away on another assignment.

"Whatever shall we discuss while we wait," purred Lucius, pleased with the returning pink glow to Maia's cheeks, "I know. I seem to recall Severus wanting you to repeat that fantasy he missed hearing earlier."

"Oh, yes. Please enlighten me."

Chapter Text

It was pure pandemonium in Scrimgeour's office by the time Tonks arrived on the scene. (Which was no small wonder considering there appeared to be an unexpectedly alive Peter Pettigrew in custody!) And, if it hadn't been imperative to obtain the rat-like wizard's confession, she'd have morphed into a Bengal tiger on the spot and used the bastard's worthless hide as a scratching post to earn some payback for her wrongfully accused cousin.

('Kings is going to shite kittens when he finds out this was why I was called to the Ministry.')

After an intense eye-opening briefing between her, the Minister and Lord Gaunt, Tonks engaged her basic Occlumency shields to steel herself to her task as interrogator. Her next preparation was to alter her entire appearance into that of Lily Evans-Potter (a tactic suggested by Gaunt and approved by Scrimgeour) before approaching the semi-freed prisoner, the electrified cage having been carefully replaced with a magic suppression band about his neck along with a modified binding spell tethering him by his right ankle to the stone floor.

"The Veritaserum has been administered," confirmed Healer Soulstone, stepping back to make room for the Metamorphmagus to approach the simpering wizard, "You may begin questioning the suspect whenever you're ready."

Casting a Tempus and notating the date and time for the official court documents, Lily-Tonks then silently stalked towards the squirming prisoner.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we," she smiled, the expression rather terrifying given her current persona, "State your full name, date of birth and your Animagus form for the record."

As expected, Pettigrew struggled against the effects of the truth potion to no avail before finally blurting out, "Peter Harcourt Pettigrew, 31st of August 1960, common garden rat," he whinged, cowering away from the vision of one of those he betrayed and her accusing emerald green eyes.

"Fascinating," Lily-Tonks said flatly, casually flipping a loose strand of her waist-length flame-red hair over her shoulder, "Now, this animal presentation, I presume that you are registered?" she asked, knowing full well that he wasn't but, needing him to state it aloud for the Ministry's files.

"No. Never registered. My Animagus form wasn't anybody's business but my own and a few select friends," he muttered, trying to look anywhere but at her.

"Unfortunately, for you, the law says otherwise," she drawled as her appearance shifted once again, this time into the likeness of James Potter, the resulting terrified squeals from Pettigrew causing a warm feeling of smug satisfaction to bloom within the Metamorphmagus' chest.

Rufus Scrimgeour and Lord Gaunt kept to the corner of the Minister's office, listening with growing horror and anger (on Rufus' part) as Pettigrew shakily related every sordid detail behind how he betrayed the Potters for, among other things, a small Gringott's vault full of galleons and a higher position of power and protection within the Death Eater ranks. As to framing Sirius Black for his crimes against Lily and James, well, that had simply been a convenient coincidence...Peter freely admitted it could just as easily been Remus Lupin as his scapegoat but, Sirius had been the unlucky one to find him first in that Muggle London neighborhood that fateful night.

For the next ten minutes, when prompted by James-Tonks, Pettigrew provided what details he could about upcoming Death Eater activities and which colleagues would be involved. Marvolo had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling aloud, nothing Pettigrew confided to the Auror was relevant anymore, the events having been canceled or postponed the day he sent Wormtail on his quest to retrieve the Ravenclaw diadem.

Mere seconds before the Veritaserum started to wear off, Peter dropped a couple of unsolicited, heart-stopping bombshells. The first, that Dumbledore had known all along that he, and not Black, was the Potter's Secret Keeper, having cast the Fidelius Charm on Godric's Hollow himself. Worse still was that the Headmaster used his position as Chief Mugwump to exert pressure on the Wizengamot to send Sirius (along with a handful of others) straight to Azkaban without a trial.

When asked how he'd learned of this latter piece of unsettling news, Peter let out a snort of smug laughter, "I was watching from the shadows of the courtroom while in my Animagus form, of course," somewhat pleased with his early spying efforts. After a momentary pause, he added, "Though I'll admit, I'm still rather curious as to why Dumbledore pushed for imprisonment instead of the Dementor's Kiss."

"Curious, indeed."

Obviously, Marvolo knew about Albus' direct role in Black being sent to Azkaban from his research into the Ministry archives but, Scrimgeour was hearing most of this disturbing information for the first time and it clearly rattled the man. At one point, Gaunt thought for certain that the Minister was going to storm from the room and head to Hogwarts to confront Dumbledore about his despicable actions towards Black. But, to his relief, Scrimgeour stayed put and kept silent until the effects of the Veritaserum on Pettigrew finally dissipated.

"I've heard enough," snarled the Minister, taking his wand from its arm holster and securing Oaths of Secrecy from everyone present before barking out orders, "Auror Tonks, collect Pettigrew's recorded statement and the witnesses' Pensieve memories, make official copies for the Wizengamot and leave the originals with me. Auror Dawlish, file the necessary paperwork to formally charge Peter Harcourt Pettigrew with twelve counts of first-degree murder, three counts of conspiracy to commit murder, criminal destruction of Wizarding and Muggle property, failure to register as an Animagus and anything else I may have left out. Aurors Savage and Proudfoot, escort Pettigrew downstairs to the maximum security holding cells and place him in solitary confinement under quarantine protocols."

"Yes, Minister!"

Once the Agents had departed from his office to carry out their various assignments, Scrimgeour turned towards Lord Gaunt and growled, "We have much planning to do if we're to successfully hold Dumbledore accountable for his actions and remove him from his position as Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot. But, first things first, we have to secure the exoneration of Sirius Black."

"I couldn't agree more."

Sirius was pacing about his sitting room in a near state of panic, alternating between his human and dog Animagus forms with each completed circuit about the place. It had been some time since Moony and Kings left Grimmauld Place to try and track down Hermione, their last update nearly an hour ago informed him that they were about to enter Gringott's to follow up a promising lead...since then, nothing but nail-biting silence.

Black knew he couldn't risk sending any type of message as any owl or Patronus might tip off that blasted snake Malfoy to their presence. He also wouldn't consider leaving the sanctuary of his Secret-Kept home wearing a cosmetic glamour or his Padfoot guise (and Polyjuice was totally out of the question as he was allergic to the Boomslang skin in the potion). He knew if he were to get caught, he'd automatically be sent back to Azkaban and he simply couldn't do that to Harry...or Hermione, for that matter. Especially, not after all the trouble she'd gone through to arrange for his godson to reside at Grimmauld Place for the upcoming summer.

Running out of options and patience, Sirius decided to firecall Dumbledore to see if he'd been contacted by the other two men. As he reached for the Floo powder on the mantle, his hearth flared a brilliant green and his favorite cousin stepped through the flames.

"Dora!," he drawled, sending a gentle cleaning spell her way to remove the soot from her clothes, "What brings you out to my humble abode at this time of the evening?"

Not saying a word, Tonks pulled the disheveled man into a bone-crushing hug before stepping back and retrieving a sealed Ministry scroll from her robe pocket and handing it over to Sirius.

"What's this, Tonks?" he asked, eyeing the parchment with a touch of suspicion, still somewhat confused at the witch's actions. While his younger cousin liked being in his company (in small doses), she had never been quite this demonstrative with him, her preferred sign of endearment being a solid punch on his arm.

"Open it and find out," she ordered with a beaming smile, her barely contained excitement causing her hair to shift into a eye-watering shade of yellow.

Ignoring her antics, Sirius wandlessly cast a few detection spells over the parchment (you could never be too cautious these days) before tearing open the crimson wax seal.

He re-read the missive three times before he found his voice again, "I've been cleared of ALL charges? I'm officially a free wizard after all this time?" he asked incredulously, still not quite trusting the official declaration in his hands.

"Yeah, it came as a bit of shock to me, too," admitted Tonks, pointing to the letter, "I can't reveal all the particulars as a few things are still being settled at the Ministry but you, my dear cousin, are exonerated for all the crimes listed...well, you will still need to pay a fine for being an unregistered Animagus, although, that shouldn't be much of an issue with the Black fortune. I..."

Her next words were cut off as a deliriously happy Lord Sirius Black let out a loud 'Whoop!', grabbed Tonks about the shoulders and returned her breath-stealing embrace.

"I can't wait to tell Harry and Hermione!" Black crowed before his elation suddenly fizzled out and he released his cousin from his grasp, "Wait. Have you heard anything lately from Remus or Kings about Hermione? They were on a lead but, haven't made contact in some time. I was about to reach out to Dumbledore when you showed up."

After casting a Tempus, Tonks returned to her official Auror demeanor, "I need to check in with a contact who was helping those two with surveillance," she stated, putting a calming hand on the agitated wizard's arm, "I will send a message as soon as I know anything," seeing the determination in his eyes to accompany her, she hastily added, "I know you want to help but, you must remain here, Sirius...at least, for another two days."

With an exasperated sigh, Dora spelled things out plainly for her stubborn cousin. "The ink on your pardon is still wet and, as of yet, not common knowledge within the department. And, we simply can't afford to have some wand-happy, wet-behind-the-ears rookie Auror trying to make his career by trying to take you into custody. The paperwork from that incident alone would be a nightmare."

"You know me too well."

"Indeed."

Marvolo sat with the Minister in his office drinking a tumbler of Ogden's Finest trying, and failing, to hide the smug look of success on his face. It had taken less than an hour to convene an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot (minus Albus-Sodding-Dumbledore, of course), present the evidence and have Sirius Black exonerated. He had honestly thought it would take a bit more arm-twisting to convince the assembly but, given all the irrefutable evidence, the least being an undeniably alive Peter Pettigrew, it had taken the twenty or so members gathered in the courtroom all of ten minutes to declare Black a free wizard.

There had been talk of extensive monetary reparations, too, but Gaunt had tuned out that part of the proceedings. His only concern was that the newly restored Lord Sirius Orion Black was now in his debt and, hopefully, that meant the missing locket Horcrux was just that much closer to finding its way back into his hands.

After taking a leisurely sip of the warm amber liquid, Marvolo felt a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fall of Albus Dumbledore had begun in earnest with the Wizengamot's unanimous agreement to launch an immediate, more in depth, investigation into the Headmaster's actions in Black's case. And, depending on what other little skeletons they might find rattling about in the no-longer venerated wizard's shady legal closet, permanently removing him from his position as Chief Mugwump would be the least of the old wizard's problems.

Gaunt wished he could be a fly on the wall when the Ministry owl arrived at Hogwarts to deliver the wonderful news in the Great Hall at breakfast.

Speaking of flies, he had a, most likely, irate reporter to get back to sometime within the next thirty minutes. Ahh, well. A former Dark Lord's work was never done.

When the time arrived for Maia, Severus and Lucius to leave the healing chamber, Grimsby had the little house-elf, Gem, Apparate the trio directly to his office...Fawkes followed seconds later via his own fiery portal.

"Griphook will be here momentarily," stated the Goblin manager as he took a fresh piece of parchment and an ornate silver dagger from his desk drawer, "Until he does, let's proceed with your inheritance test, Master Snape. Three drops of blood is required," he informed the wizard, giving him the blade handle first.

Without a word, Severus took the implement from Grimsby, stuck the tip of his left index finger and let the three dots of crimson liquid fall onto the middle of the waiting page. As with Maia, his name, birthdate and the names of his parents and grandparents appeared. And, just like with hers, certain...issues were revealed.

Below the couple of previously known items (the unconsummated status of the Alpha-Omega bond and his unclaimed title to the House of Prince) were several lines that had Snape and his two mates growling in response.

"That twinkly-eyed bastard!" hissed Malfoy, looking at the number of spells used on Severus over the years, the oldest dating to his time as a student at Hogwarts, "He best hope the Aurors reach him before I do."

As Maia read over the parchment, she noticed that all but one of the enchantments on Snape had been broken by the cleansing potion used to remove the two Leeching spells from him, the misdirection and censorship of his mail that began after the death of his maternal grandmother five years ago.

She found herself whole-heartedly echoing Lucius' sentiment. The Headmaster needed to pay for his treachery, and soon...preferably, with a bit of pain involved.

Fawkes sang in agreement, his rendition of 'Burning Down the House' filling the occupants of Grimsby's office with giddy determination, making even the dour Potions Master smile...well, his version of one anyway.

Meanwhile, back at the Manor House in Wiltshire, Lord Gaunt was being thoroughly entertained by the nearly orgasmic reaction of a certain blonde reporter as he explained the reasons for his delayed return in great detail.

Naturally, Rita accepted his apology.

Chapter Text

Once Gem delivered the trio to Grimsby's office, she popped over to check on her other assignments, they being Lupin and Shacklebolt.

Seeing as the two had finished the light dinner she'd provided them earlier, the little elf snapped her fingers and banished the mostly empty plates to the Gringott's kitchens to be cleaned.

"Will Sirs be needing anything else from Gem?" she asked politely while keeping a watchful eye on their body language for signs of any type of magics being directed towards her.

"Yes, you can get us and our young friend, Hermione Granger, out of this place," growled Remus, his patience with the overly polite elf wearing thin.

Gem shook her head and replied with a devilish smile just before popping out of the room again, "There's no ones by that name here, Sirs."

"What the Bloody Hell did she mean by that!?" snapped Kingsley, glaring at the spot where the little house elf had been standing only a moment ago, "Grimsby told us himself that Hermione was here at Gringott's. Unless," he said with a deep frown, "Malfoy's already left the premises and taken her with him."

"If I had to guess, I'd say the elf was ordered to mention that Hermione wasn't around in a feeble attempt to throw us off the trail. But, my heightened sense of smell assures me that she and Malfoy are definitely still within this building and close by," scowled Lupin, trying his best not to start pacing about once more.

"Unfortunately, we can't do anything about Hermione's situation until that gods-be-damned Goblin returns to release us or the Order arrives to rescue the pair of us and her."

Severus was sitting in Grimsby's office silently staring at the files that Griphook had dropped off detailing the contents of the Prince vaults, as well as, a listing of his family's investments and properties. Along with this paperwork, his account manager had handed over a highly-polished burl walnut box containing the Heirship ring to the House of Prince and seven Goblin-silver vault keys...to say that Snape was stunned would be a vast understatement.

And, Maia wasn't faring much better after her own accounts managers, plural, had brought her four thick stacks of papers to wade through along with two runed mahogany boxes, the largest one was strictly for her vault keys while the other contained her Heirship rings to the Houses of Peverell, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gaunt. The latter two, she'd been informed, would revert to the Heir-Apparent crest should her distant male cousin ever decide to claim those Lordships but, they would evenly split the voting seats on the Wizengamot for the Gaunt-Slytherin Houses with five apiece. The Peverell-Ravenclaw Heirships and those ten Wizengamot seats, however, would remain hers regardless as Harry had the Potter title to claim when he came of age.

"Are you both alright?" asked Lucius as he took the summary pages from the stacks of parchment from his mates slightly trembling hands and skimmed over the details, his silver-grey eyes widening comically the more he read.

"Sweet Mother of Merlin!" exclaimed Malfoy, nearly dropping the paperwork on the floor, "According to these you're both wealthier than I am. I don't know if I should be impressed or jealous."

Snape's mood rapidly shifted from shaken to angry in mere moments as the undeniable proof of the Headmaster's years of tampering with his life lay spread out before him from the various documents.

"That Sodding Wanker!" he finally managed to hiss, a fiery spark in his obsidian-colored eyes flaring dangerously, "If Dumbledore hadn't interfered with my inheritance, I could've gotten my Mother out of that ghastly house in Cokeworth and away from her drunken bastard of a Muggle husband far sooner."

This was the first time Severus had mentioned anything to Maia about his Father and, from what he just blurted out, it wasn't a particularly pleasant topic of conversation. Knowing it was a delicate subject, she carefully considered her words before placing a calming hand on Snape's arm, "But, she's safe now, yes? Your Mother's okay?"

"Of course," snipped the Potions Master, his temper slowly dissipating when he saw the genuine concern on Maia's face, "But, that's not the point," he added with a bit less pique, "I could've gotten her away from my...sire before he...before..." whatever it was that Snape Sr. had done, Severus left it unsaid. Obviously, it was still too painful for him to speak of so neither she nor Lucius pressed him on the matter.

Taking the risk to steer the discussion towards something, he hoped, would be a suitable distraction, Malfoy picked up one of the reports and waved it under Snape's nose, "I'm curious to know if your library in South Wiltshire is as extensive as the one at the Manor," he drawled, noting the titles of some of the rare books listed in the inventory of the Prince Ancestral home near Salisbury.

Maia's interest was instantly roused at the mere thought of a new source of information to explore, "Can we visit there soon? I'd love to see what your collection contains that Hogwarts...Oh, Bugger, that reminds me," her brow furrowing with worry, "How were you planning to get me back into the castle without it causing a problem for you, Severus?"

Seeing an excellent opportunity presenting itself, the Goblin manager interjected before the raven-haired wizard could reply, "Whatever schemes Master Snape may have had in mind for your return, I believe I have a much better solution for the pair of you," stated Grimsby, chuckling at the dour man's questioning eyebrow, "And, it involves a pair of Order members who are currently in a nearby waiting room partaking in the Goblin Nation's hospitality."

"What!? And you're just informing us of this development now?" Lucius asked, his already pale complexion becoming milk white, "They can't know that any of the three of us are here, otherwise, things could end rather badly for Severus and I."

"I'm afraid that they were already aware of yours and Lady Peverell's presence in Gringott's, Lord Malfoy," stated Grimsby, trying not to roll his eyes at the man's reaction, "When they arrived for their appointment in my office after lunch, they immediately began demanding answers to your whereabouts, however, they made no mention of Lord Prince."

"Which two Order members?" drawled Severus, his hastily raised Occlumency shields masking his growing apprehension and the fact that his heart was fluttering about in his chest like a cage full of agitated Cornish Pixies.

"A Mr. Remus Lupin and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt," replied Grimsby with a smirk.

('Fucking Hell! The werewolf AND a DMLE Agent, they'll hex first and ask questions later, if we're lucky.')

Biting back an exasperated groan, Snape replied through clenched teeth, "I suppose it could be worse."

"For YOU, maybe. They'll want to string me up by my collective...assets."

At the expansive Manor in Wiltshire, the sounds of cackling could be heard echoing throughout the halls. Rita Skeeter had left Gaunt's company by Floo only minutes ago and he couldn't hold back his mirth any longer.

Once Marvelo's interview had been concluded, he and the blonde witch had spent a couple of rather productive hours tweaking the various articles she had outlined, as well as, Arithmatically determining the best possible sequence for releasing the pieces for the greatest impact on Dumbledore's life. And, it was this image of a completely flummoxed Albus that had Gaunt currently laughing like a loon.

"Oh, my dear ex-Headmaster-to-be," chortled the former Dark Lord to the empty room, "You have no idea how delicious your long awaited fall from grace will be," he said looking down at the first of the decided upon headlines.

EXONERATION FOR LORD SIRIUS ORION BLACK FOLLOWING THE CAPTURE OF PETER PETTIGREW

An exclusive by Rita Skeeter

Yes, dear readers. You read that correctly. The much maligned Sirius Black was granted a full pardon by the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, late last night after a grievous miscarriage of justice was finally brought to light.....

After the consumption of a couple of Calming Draughts (on Lucius' and Severus' part), Grimsby laid out his plans for the 'rescue' of one Maia Peverell, or rather, Hermione Granger by Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"It's quite simple," the smug Goblin explained, "First, I'll connect my private Floo to whichever of your estates you prefer, Lord Malfoy, so that you may return there immediately. Once that's done, I'll do the same for you, Master Snape. I'm presuming your choice will be to your private quarters at Hogwarts?" he asked, receiving a silent nod in confirmation from the Potions Professor, "Obviously, for your safety, you and Lady Peverell must keep your change in status to yourselves."

"Anyway...Miss Granger, I will then escort you to the room where Messrs. Lupin and Shacklebolt are waiting and let you explain your not-so miraculous escape from the clutches of the evil Death Eater," smirked Grimsby at the low growl of displeasure from the blonde wizard, "The easiest pretense should contain a kernel of the truth, in this case, that you were severely injured when you were taken from the Ministry and required extensive healing. Lord Malfoy, not wanting to add accidental manslaughter or murder charges to his abduction of you, brought you here for treatment as we Goblins are a neutral faction when it comes to this looming Wizarding War. We treat anyone's wounds, no questions asked."

Maia, who'd been quiet during Grimsby's entire commentary, finally spoke up.

"What do I do about Fawkes? He's not going to be easy to disguise or explain."

As if to answer his familiar's question, the Phoenix trilled out a few bars of 'Count On Me' before succumbing to his Burning Day.

"Anyone have a dust pan and a broom?"

Filius and Minerva were supposed to be meeting in her quarters after breakfast to finalize their plans to sneak into Dumbledore's private quarters to confirm the source of the previous day's explosion on the seventh floor. They needn't have bothered as their prime, and only, suspect was about to 'out' himself before the majority of the students and staff in The Great Hall.

If they had known what was about to happen, they would have sold tickets, made popcorn and settled in to enjoy the show.

Chapter Text

Maia stared down at the fluffy Phoenix chick nestled within the palms of her hands. If she hadn't known that it was Fawkes, she would've believed this adorable little lint ball was a wholly different magical bird as his feathers were no longer the red, orange and gold that they were originally. Instead, he was now similar in coloration to her Phoenix form...blues, greens and silver.

It was the perfect means for hiding him in plain sight at Hogwarts.

To express his own delight in the changes, Fawkes peeped out 'Hiding In The Blue' as he snuggled against his familiar's fingers.

"We're going to have to give you a new name, too," Maia cooed, stroking the newly reborn Phoenix across his downy crest feathers, "Do you have any preferences?"

Those beetle-black eyes closed momentarily while contemplating his myriad options. He'd been 'Fawkes' for so long this was going to take some careful consideration.

After what seemed liked hours, but in reality was only fifteen minutes, those glittering dark eyes once again gazed upon Maia's face. If he had been a cat he would have smugly purred.

('Vukan,' he trilled.')

While the young witch and her fuzzy companion were involved in their excitable chirruping conversations, Lucius had Grimsby proceed with connecting the private Gringott's Floo to his personal study at the Manor in Wiltshire.

Malfoy hadn't wanted to return to his Ancestral home as the Dark Lord was still in residence there in the East Wing but, he needed to make an appearance soon and perform the basics of his hosting duties for his unwanted houseguest. He didn't want to risk giving the mercurial wizard any reason to lash out against Draco or himself, especially, not when he'd just regained the man's good graces with the successful retrieval of The Prophecy.

"Do you need me to assist you with hiding your memories of the past couple of days?" asked Severus, his own experiences of the previous forty-eight hours now carefully locked away beneath numerous layers of his well-practiced Occlumency shields.

Lucius gave his old friend and fellow Alpha an easy smile, although, his silver-grey eyes were tinged with worry, "Thank you for the offer but, no, Severus. In case you've forgotten, I was the one who taught you how to Occlude."

"How could I when you bring up that annoying tidbit at least once every time we meet for social gatherings," Snape drawled, allowing a tiny spark of amusement to show through with the brief upturn of the left corner of his mouth. To anyone else, this might have looked like a nervous twitch but, Malfoy knew better.

Changing the subject, Lucius nodded his head towards their little Omega and the rather animated Phoenix chick who was currently flapping his wings to rid himself of some rather itchy down feathers while continuing to chirrup, "Now, what do you suppose that's all about?"

"With any luck, it's their plan to set that Sodding Wanker of a Headmaster and his eyewatering wardrobe on fire," growled Severus, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly growing bird's antics.

"One can only hope."

After Maia re-introduced the newly renamed Vukan to her two Alphas, which evoked an undignified snort of laughter from Lucius and another twitch of the lips from Severus, the trio stood before Grimsby's fireplace preparing themselves to part ways.

It came as no surprise to either wizard to see the apprehension mixed with anger and determination in their little witch's whiskey-amber eyes.

"What should I do if things don't go well with Remus, Kingsley and the Order or, especially, the Headmaster? Maia asked, nibbling her lower lip between her teeth, a sure sign of her nervousness.

Lucius reached over and tenderly plucked the mildly abused lip free then handed Maia an ebony button on the end of a Goblin-silver chain that he'd pulled from a hidden robe pocket, "Keep this on you at all times and, in case things truly do go sideways, simply activate this Portkey by saying 'Portus, Burgundy', it will deliver you straight to the safehouse where I took you after we escaped from the Ministry Atrium," Malfoy explained, his voice remaining steady despite his growing concerns for Maia, "The wards will alert me of your arrival and I will meet you there as soon as it's safe for me to leave the Manor without raising suspicions."

Placing Vukan onto a hastily transfigured wooden perch, Maia took the feather-light chain and immediately draped it around her neck, tucking the shiny black button out of sight underneath her baby-blue t-shirt, "Thank you, Lucius. I promise I won't use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I know that you won't," he soothed, tucking a wayward strand of her chestnut-colored hair behind her right ear.

"Whenever you are ready, Lord Malfoy," interjected Grimsby as he stepped forward holding a golden bowl containing a sparkly green powder, "The Floo is now set for your departure."

Knowing that it was highly unlikely that he would see her again until after the Summer hols began in three weeks, Lucius took Maia's left hand in his and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her upturned palm. Aside from its traditional purpose of declaring his intentions to court her, this tender gesture would also serve to strengthen their fledgling Alpha-Omega bond. Besides the untraceable (and obviously illegal) Portkey, it was another layer of discrete protection for their Omega while she finished out the term at Hogwarts.

(Well, that and having Severus' assurances that he'd keep a close watch on Maia and head off any potential problems she might encounter while she remained within the castle walls. But, with the 'Golden Trio's' penchant for finding and getting into trouble, Lucius did not envy his friend this undeniably nerve-wracking task).

Maia, having never heard about (much less studied) the more important Wizarding customs thanks to the meddlesome Dumbledore, merely thought Lucius was using an overly formal manner of saying goodbye to her. But, after everything they'd been through together over the past few days she was having none of that and promptly pulled the blonde wizard off-balance into a rather enthusiastic embrace followed by a heated, albeit, brief kiss for a proper farewell.

Naturally, Lucius was taken off-guard (delightedly so) by Maia's unexpected boldness, which definitely bode well for their future...interactions. But, before he could express his appreciation for this whole-heartedly welcomed development, the distinctive sound of a loudly cleared throat interrupted his thoughts.

"If you two are quite finished mauling one another," sneered Snape, wrapping his traveling cloak loosely about himself in an effort to hide his true reaction to his bondmates' amorous display, "We need to leave soon, preferably today. Some of us have to prepare for classes on Monday."

It didn't help the rarely flustered Potions Master in the slightest when Vukan began suggestively warbling 'Losing Control'.

"Nobody asked for your Bloody input, you Sodding flammable feather duster."

When Maia released Lucius from her farewell hug and kiss, she blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, especially, after Severus made his snarky commentary. What had possessed her to do such a thing? She'd never been one to be so forward when it came to bestowing people with her affections.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She usually had a ready embrace for her parents, often when arriving or leaving King's Cross Station or frequently for no reason at all during the hols, or for Harry and Ron if they looked like they needed it, typically, after losing a Quidditch match. Then there was Neville, her first friend, who was like a walking, talking teddy bear and sweet little Luna who had a love of books that rivaled her own. And, it went without saying that Vukan was just so damn fluffy and huggable in his current lint ball chick phase. (Bugger! How was Crookshanks going to handle this news!?)

But apart from that, Maia had never made the 'first move' as it were where persons that she was attracted to were concerned but, it wasn't like she had a lot of experience with something of this nature (and no, Professor Lockhart didn't count, dammit...nor Professor Lupin or Viktor for that matter). Could this simply have been an unconscious expression of her nervousness for Lucius' safety or was this merely a delayed side affect of the cleansing process? Merlin! But those explanations sounded shaky even to her own ears. Traitorous brain, why aren't you working when I need you the most?

Maia closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and reign in her wildly spinning thoughts. Whatever the underlying cause for her unusual behavior, she definitely didn't want to risk using any artificial means to control it. Especially, not after being so ruthlessly manipulated with potions by Dumbledore.

('Will I ever not be weird and broken?')

Lucius, Vukan and Grimsby all glared at Severus when they saw Maia withdraw towards a corner of the Goblin's office, her facial expressions pinched and her shoulders curling downward in a defensive posture, confusion and self-doubt rolling off her in perceptible waves.

"Must you be so...you at a time like this?" Lucius snapped at Severus, barely holding back the urge to punch the other wizard in the face for ruining the moment, "Maia was merely telling me goodbye."

"We can't have Miss Peverell...er, Granger meeting Lupin and Shacklebolt in this agitated state, help me fix this!" Grimsby demanded of the two wizards, gently plucking the fussing chick from his perch and stepping closer to the young witch with the intention of placing the Phoenix back into her hands in an effort to soothe them both.

Severus rolled his eyes and glowered back at the other three males, "She's merely over-thinking her actions with you, Lucius," he stated flatly, tapping the side of his head with a pale fingertip, "Her thoughts are so loud, I don't need Legilimacy to hear what's got her so rattled," Snape explained calmly in answer to their unasked questions, his own Occlumency shields hiding the slight pang of guilt twisting his stomach into knots for his part in, inadvertently, triggering this level of discomfort in Maia.

"Well, care to enlighten the rest of us?" growled Malfoy, not liking this feeling of helplessness when it came to Maia's well-being, "Or should we resort to a round of twenty questions?"

Huffing out a heavy sigh, Snape muttered, "Because Maia's physical and magical development was severely delayed due to that twinkly-eyed bastard's interference, she's only now able to experience what it's like to have a healthy libido. But, as she has no frame of reference, it's got her questioning her own behavior. As if it's something abnormal or 'weird' as she puts it to be so forward with us, both physically and emotionally."

"However, I know a fairly straightforward method to snap her out of this spiraling state of mind," he added as he cautiously strolled towards the young woman, "I've used it successfully once before when she nearly worked herself into a full-blown panic attack over her O.W.L.S. revision schedule."

"If you upset her again, I won't hesitate to hex you into next week," warned Lucius, baring his elongated incisors in a grimacing smile.

"Yes, yes. Are you quite done with your big bad Alpha posturing, Lord Malfoy, or can I get on with aiding our Omega?"

From his vantage point on Maia's right shoulder where Grimsby wound up placing him, Vukan fluffed out the feathers on his chest and loudly peeped 'Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting'.

"He does realize it's Sunday, right?"

Sirius Black was currently sat at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place with his cousin Dora, the pair of them laughing like a couple of loons. The bottle and a half of Special Reserve elf-made champagne shared between them having largely contributed to their present state of giddiness. Another factor had been the remembered look on Cornelius Fudge's face when Sirius' barrister handed the former Minister the extensive inventory for heirlooms and properties that were confiscated from the Black estate after his incarceration all those years ago. The flabbergasted man was then given a month to either locate and return said items and deeds or make financial restitution (current market value, of course) for their loss.

Personally, Sirius was hoping for the latter as there were few things on that long list that he wanted back, his brother Regulus' old racing broom being one of them.

He and Tonks had barely regained a modicum of control when a regal-looking eagle owl began tapping at the window near the door leading to the back garden.

"Merlin's Twisted Beard! Please tell me it's not another congratulatory letter from a Wizengamot member looking to get into my good graces," grumbled Sirius as his bubblegum pink-haired cousin plucked the scroll from the bird's outstretched leg and offered it a special owl treat for its efforts. The imposing creature scowled at the Metamorphmagus and ignored the proffered snack but, dutifully remained on his window ledge perch awaiting a return reply.

"Somehow, I doubt it," stated Tonks, downing a Sober-up potion and running several (somewhat wobbly) diagnostics charms over this latest missive before allowing Sirius to break the wax seal, "That's not a Ministry owl nor is that a Wizengamot crest. In fact, it's not a mark of any House that I recognize."

Sirius took a Sober-up potion of his own before attempting to read the letter, which he did three times before exclaiming, "Fuck. Me. It's from that Lord Gaunt fellow you told me about, Dora," he said, rubbing a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair, "He wants to have lunch this Tuesday to discuss an important matter that somehow involves Pettigrew."

"That rat's already in custody, what more could there be to discuss?" asked Tonks, struggling to keep her eyes open, it had been a rather long day of paperwork and meetings at the DMLE and with Sirius' barrister. Plus, her conference with Arthur had been a bust, he'd had nothing new to report from Remus or Kings concerning Hermione.

"He mentioned a missing family heirloom but, not much else," replied Black, himself having trouble remaining awake, "I wonder why he didn't contact you or Scrimgeour, this sounds like something one of you should be handling."

"My advice," yawned Dora before she stood to head to the Floo and return to her flat, "Just meet with him and find out what he has to say, then send me or the Boss an owl if it looks like the Aurors should get involved."

"True. What's the worst that could happen?"

Chapter Text

Grimsby watched on with curiosity as Severus sat Maia down on a settee transfigured from one of his leather wingback chairs before beginning to talk to her in soothing, barely audible, whispers.

"Why would counting out one's breaths do anything?" muttered Grimsby, tilting his head at the pair as if the change in angle would help him puzzle out the answer, "Occlumency would be far more effective."

"You forget," drawled Malfoy, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Unlike with Goblins, the majority of witches and wizards in Britain, or the entire magical world for that matter, aren't even aware that Mind Magics exist. So, when someone is having a panic attack or some other form of crisis that severely unsettles them, this exercise can help to refocus their thoughts and calm their nerves to a more manageable level."

"How do you know so much about this particular technique, Lord Malfoy?" asked Grimsby, a single questioning eyebrow raised at the blonde aristocrat.

A wistful look now graced Lucius' face from the memory that surfaced, "My late wife, Narcissa, frequently used this method to prevent herself from hexxing my Father into oblivion whenever he said something truly foolish to her, usually, about her fitness as the new Lady of the Manor or as a mother. Which, towards the end of his life was an almost daily occurrence."

"Hrm," responded Grimsby in a sound of understanding, "It seems magical females of all species have this issue in common when it comes to dealing with clueless males."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

Once he was assured that Maia was, indeed, sufficiently calmed and ready to meet with Lupin and Kingsley, Lucius took his leave of his bondmates and Floo'd to his private study at the Manor.

What he hadn't anticipated was the radical difference to the very atmosphere in his home, it was as if the entire place had been purged of the oppressive Dark Magics (well, anything that wasn't directly linked to the Malfoy family that is) and it left him feeling wrong-footed. Taking a seat at his heirloom desk, one of the few things left to him by his Father that he actually liked, Lucius considered the various possibilities for this unexpected, but welcome, change.

Had something happened to the Dark Lord while he'd been away? Dare he believe that the Order had finally done something dramatic and captured, or even, killed the increasingly unhinged, snake-like wizard?

Unfortunately, that budding hope was squashed when the man in question strolled into Lucius' study not five minutes later and gave him one of the biggest shocks of his life.

"There you are Lucius," drawled the Dark Lord without his usual raspy hiss, "I'd wondered where you were keeping yourself. As you can see, we have much to talk about."

Malfoy slammed down his Occlumency shields to prevent himself from gaping at the extreme alteration in Voldemort's appearance, the only thing remotely serpentine about his countenance now being the pearlescent, scale-like texture to the pale skin of his exposed forearms and lower legs and the tops of his bare feet...and, of course, the meter-and-a-half long ball-python draped over his broad shoulders.

('Wait, was that Nagini?').

What HAD the man been up to while he was out of the Manor? And, more importantly, what prompted him to undergo such a drastic transformation at this point in time and how had he accomplished this feat?

"I'm sure you have many questions, Lucius," smirked the older wizard, easily seeing the surprise in Malfoy's silver-grey eyes despite the otherwise reserved expression on the blonde man's face, "But, first things first. As of today, Lord Voldemort no longer exists," he explained nonchalantly as if discussing the weather, "I visited Gringott's recently and finally claimed my long neglected birthright. From this moment forward, I am officially Lord Tom Marvelo Gaunt."

Not giving Lucius the chance to react to these pronouncements, he pressed on, "And, I'm most anxious to set up a meeting with my two young cousins, starting with my Heir-Apparent, Maia Athena Peverell," said Gaunt, the right corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at the sight of Malfoy's pale eyebrows sailing towards his hairline.

If Lucius hadn't been seated behind his desk, he was certain that his knees would've buckled, sending him to the floor in an undignified heap.

"I wasn't aware you had any living blood relatives, MiLord," stated Malfoy, pleased that his voice remained steady, unlike his churning stomach and racing heartbeat ('Thank the goddess Grimsby had the foresight to ward Maia's records with moon runes straight away.')

Unfortunately, even Goblin magic hadn't been able to block everything because of the family inheritance and right of succession laws but, at least, her cousin would've learned only her name when he claimed the Gaunt Lordship. Everything else about Maia, but especially, her magical gifts, adoption by Muggles and Omega status, as well as, the identities of her Alphas would remain hidden, for the time being. ('Who knows what will happen when she and the Dark Lord meet face-to-face, though. I have to warn her and Severus the first chance I get.')

"Nor was I, until today, because of Albus Dumbledore's interference," sneered Gaunt, his hazel eyes darkening, oblivious of the other man's inner turmoil, "And, it's a disruption to mine, and their, lives that won't go unpunished for long."

"You mentioned two cousins, who's the second...if I'm permitted to ask?" inquired Lucius, feigning ignorance, knowing full well it was Harry Potter because of Maia's heirship paperwork.

A calculating look spread across Tom's face before he answered, "For my relatives continued safety, I can't divulge that name at this time. Should that meddlesome old goat, even accidently, get wind of this information before I've had a chance to properly introduce myself to them, it could be disastrous for everyone involved."

"Of course, MiLord, I understand completely."

Before departing Grimsby's office, Lucius (briefly) explained the significance of the courting gesture to Maia and stayed long enough to witness Severus, awkwardly, repeating the formal kiss to her left hand. Malfoy could barely contain his amusement at the blush of color blooming across his fellow Alpha's normally pale cheeks when Maia responded as she'd previously done with him...with an enthusiastic hug and snogging session.

But, instead of adding to the Potions Master's flustered state, Lucius shifted Maia's focus back to himself by loudly clearing his throat to interrupt and then promising to loan her a book from his personal library, one on Wizarding customs and holiday traditions to help fill in the gaps in her magical education.

Now running terribly short on time, the Malfoy patriarch hurriedly spun on his heel, strolled into the Floo and was gone in a brilliant flash of green flames, completely missing the beaming smile Peverell had given him for this unexpected gift of new knowledge.

When Lucius disappeared from sight, Severus (having since regained his composure) turned to Maia, "I'm afraid it is time for me to take my leave as well...Miss Granger," he drawled, smirking at her indignant squawk over his use of her old name.

"As Grimsby advised, it's best we keep our change in status to ourselves. Unfortunately, that will require the use of our previous names," he firmly stated, taking a step towards the large fireplace, "And don't forget," he cautioned, his onyx-colored eyes growing even darker, "Once you return to Hogwarts, Do. Not. under any circumstances meet with the Headmaster on your own, have Professor McGonagall escort you. It is your right as a student to make that request given that she is your Head of House and, therefore, your magical guardian while you're at school. If she's unavailable for any reason, call for my house-elf, Quills, and have him get an urgent message to me and I'll accompany you in her place. Again, it is your right to do so."

"The same goes for you...Severrr, uhhss Professor Snape...not being alone with the Headmaster, that is," Maia, now Hermione again, said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, "And, thank you for teaching me those detection charms to use during meals, Sir. If anybody asks what I'm doing, I'll simply explain that I've recently developed some food allergies and am just taking precautions so I don't wind up in the infirmary."

"Or, you could just tell them to Bugger Off and mind their own business."

From his favored perch on his familiar's left shoulder, Vukan expressed his whole-hearted agreement with the Potions Master's last sentiments and belted out an exuberant rendition of 'We're Not Going to Take It'.

With Severus safely on his way back to his private quarters at Hogwarts, taking Vukan with him (everyone agreeing it would be suspicious for Hermione to return with a new companion in tow after Harry Potter and two Order members saw her being 'abducted' by Lucius) Grimsby began leading Miss Granger along the hallway leading towards the room where Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt were still waiting, quite impatiently, to be released.

When they were within five steps from reaching the door, Hermione let out a low hiss as one of the glamoured heirship rings on her left hand suddenly warmed, startling her.

"Oh, Merlin! Now what?" she muttered as she removed the concealing charm and saw the changing symbols on the Gaunt band, indicating that Voldemort had claimed the Lordship of the House of Gaunt and that she was now the Heir-Apparent.

"Not to worry, my dear," soothed Grimbsy, as he caught sight of what was causing the young witch's concern, "The only information about you that your cousin will have access to are your birth name and through which branch of the family tree you're related. Everything else has been heavily warded," he assured her, "He can't learn anything beyond that...unless, of course, you decide to tell him yourself."

Hermione let out an unladylike snort, "I'd rather risk mooning a love-sick Erumpet."

When they heard the magical locks on the door slide open, Remus and Kingsley took up their planned positions on either side of the doorframe, preparing to physical restrain whoever entered and strongarm them into freeing themselves and then Hermione. They'd have to be quick, though, the last time they attempted something similar using magic, Grimsby had sent them flying arse-over-teakettle to the other side of the space without so much as breaking a sweat.

So, imagine their surprise when the little witch they'd been desperately trying to rescue was the first to walk into their 'guest' room.

"Wait!" snipped Shacklebolt, his arms folded tightly across his chest and his eyes narrowing in suspicion at the young girl, "How do we know this is the real Hermione Granger and not some imposter?"

"It certainly smells like her," replied Lupin, his nose twitching as it took in her familiar scent, meanwhile, his presumed former student stood with her hands on her hips and glared at the pair of wizards.

"Or, you could simply ask me a question that only you and the real Hermione would know," she huffed, her irritation causing her magic to spark through her chestnut curls like small bolts of lightning, "Honestly, you two are smarter than this, at least, I thought you were once upon a time." (Seriously, hadn't they learned by now she never liked people discussing her as if she weren't in the room?)

Ignoring her biting remarks, Remus quickly mulled over a few options before smiling triumphantly, "What was the title of the last book I packed into my bags before I left Hogwarts in your third year?"

Without hesitation, Hermione answered, "It was 'Hogwarts: A History', the 1971 edition, if I remember correctly. You said it was your favorite to read during your time as a student, although, you mentioned 'Most Potente Potions' was a close second. Which is odd considering you can't brew a potion any better than Neville Longbottom."

Lupin's grin grew even wider, convinced that this was their missing friend. Shacklebolt, however, needed further assurances, "Where were we first introduced?"

Hermione took a few moments longer to mull Kingsley's inquiry over before replying, "Initially, I'd have said it was in the library at Grimmauld Place during the summer right after the Triwizard Tournament in my fourth year. You ducked into the room to hide from the Weasleys after dinner that particular evening and interrupted my reading of 'Arithmancy Today'. But, I seem to recall seeing you at a DADA dueling demonstration in my third year. Although, Professor Lupin introduced you to the whole class and not just myself."

The tension in Kingsley's body noticeably drained away as he was certain that this was, indeed, Hermione Granger and not some Polyjuiced or Glamoured associate of Grimsby.

"Finally," sighed Hermione, scrubbing a hand over her face in relief, "I really need to get back to Hogwarts and..."

"Before we can escort you there," interrupted Shacklebolt, his voice taking on his official Auror tone, "You'll need to accompany us to the Ministry and make an official statement with the DMLE about Lucius Malfoy and your abduction."

"Fine," she groused, her anxiety ramping up at the mere mention of returning to the MoM, "But, please take me to Grimmauld Place first so that I can freshen up and change clothes. No offense to Grimsby's and the Goblin healers' skills but, repeated Tergeo's haven't done my hair and skin any favors."

"None taken, little witch," smirked Grimsby, standing aside and waving the trio through the door, "You are cleared to leave at any time."

"Just like that?" snipped Kingsley, glaring down at their diminutive 'host', "With no further explanations?"

"Miss Granger's quite capable of handling any inquiries you might have," sneered Grimsby, having tired of the wizard's grumbling attitude hours ago, "Now, I'm rather busy today and need to get to my next appointment. See yourselves out, I'm certain you remember the way."

After his curt dismissal, Grimsby turned on his heel and left the trio standing in the hallway, the men scowling and the young woman chuckling but, none of the three had seen the smug look that bloomed across his face for the successful completion of his plan...the Lords Malfoy and Prince escaping Gringott's without either of them being noticed and the Lady Peverell delivered safely back into the hands of her anxious wannabe rescuers.

If only all his schemes were this easy to accomplish.

Sirius was just sitting down at the large kitchen table preparing to have a quiet lunch when he felt the wards at Grimmauld Place activate, yet again. Black started to curse a blue streak at the disruption until he realized it wasn't the Post owls intruding on his meal, this time, but three human visitors entering his house through the back garden door. His wand slid into his hand out of habit even though he knew that the people who had full access to this place was strictly limited.

And, he nearly dropped said wand when the last person he expected to show up strolled through the door followed by Remus and Kingsley.

"Hermione!? Oh, thank the stars, you're okay," Sirius said in a rush, striding quickly over to the young witch and pulling her into a breath-stealing hug, "Did you manage to capture that bastard Malfoy, too?" directing his question to Remus without loosening his grip on Hermione, irrationally feeling she'd disappear in a puff of smoke if he did.

"Unfortunately, no," growled Remus, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, "We can't stay here long, either. Kings and I have to take Hermione to the Aurory to file charges against the man."

Wrenching herself free from the surprisingly clingy Sirius, the young witch muttered at the three men through clenched teeth, "Excuse me, I have to go change before we leave." Turning around, she all but sprinted out of the kitchen to keep from shrieking at the wizards. She, Severus and Lucius had expected this outcome of her disappearance but, it still didn't sit well with her, causing her stomach to tighten uncomfortably.

Hurrying up the stairs to the room she used when she stayed during the summer, Hermione put those gloomy thoughts aside and focused on her cover story. She had to be believable if she didn't want to be given Veritaserum by whomever they got to interview her.

Remus, Kingsley and Sirius stood about in awkward silence after watching the little witch flee from the kitchen.

Not wanting to add to the uncomfortable atmosphere with difficult to ask questions concerning Hermione's treatment at the hands of the despised blonde Death Eater, Sirius chose instead to redirect the conversation towards his recent change of fortune.

Holding out the Minister's decree towards Remus, Sirius gently said, "Something else occurred while you two were rescuing Hermione."

With trepidation on his face as he took the proffered document and began to read, Lupin's demeanor rapidly shifted to one of disbelief, "I swear to Merlin, this better not be an elaborate joke, Pads. Not after all that's happened the past few days.

"I assure you it's not, Moony," replied Black, his lips pressed into a tight thin line, although, he really couldn't fault his old friend for jumping to that conclusion considering his history of pulling complicated pranks, "Dora confirmed the paperwork's authenticity herself. You're looking at the newly reinstated Lord Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

"Not to rain of your parade, Lord Black," stated Kingsley, still looking a bit shocked after skimming the parchment himself, "But, celebrations will have to wait until after Hermione's case has been properly filed."

"Of course, her health and safety take priority."

It had taken a couple of hours but, Hermione had done it. With Remus and Kingsley on the other side of the one-way mirror observing, and she, Minister Scrimgeour and Auror Nymphadora Tonks sitting about the table in the interview room, Hermione had eventually convinced them all of the veracity of her version of events surrounding her supposed abduction by Lord Malfoy...and all without the use of Veritaserum. Thank the goddess for small favors.

As Severus had told her, "The best lies contain several kernels of truth within them." And, that's exactly what Hermione'd accomplished, sharing exactly how she and Harry wound up at Grimmauld Place (naturally, omitting the part about leading Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and her Beast-Speak abilities when arranging the Thestral ride) and then their journey to The Hall of Prophecies (she'd apologize later to Harry for painting him as an impulsive Gryffindor wizard with a Hero complex, although, that wasn't much of an exaggeration) followed by her deal with Lucius Malfoy.

"So you see, Minister Scrimgeour, Miss Tonks, I wasn't taken against my will, I volunteered to go with Mr. Malfoy," she stated plainly, smirking to herself when she saw their eyes flash with irritation and disappointment as their long hoped for case against Lucius began to crumble to dust.

To Scrimgeour's consternation, Hermione even backed up her statements with a few select memories which Tonks readily verified as genuine, finding no alterations by any means.

Not about to let things slide so easily, the former Chief Auror pressed the young woman for further information, "What about afterwards, Miss Granger? You were missing for a couple of days, after all. Surely, Malfoy attempted or actually did something...unseemly with you during that time? He does have a certain reputation when it comes to his interactions with witches."

Hermione resorted to clenching her hands into fists underneath the table to prevent her from reaching over and slapping the wizard, "No. He didn't. In fact, he was the perfect gentleman," she responded tersely, scowling at the irritating man when he snorted derisively at her assessment of the blonde aristocrat, "And need I remind you, if it weren't for Lord Malfoy's quick actions, I might not be here speaking with you now. He was the one to recognize that I had Dragon Pox and get me to the Gringott's healers for treatment straight away," she said, only a hint of nervousness in her voice for this blatant lie, "All of which can be verified with the branch manager, Grimsby."

Hermione swore she heard a muttering growl coming from one of the men behind the mirror at the mention of the Goblin's name but, she really couldn't be arsed to care. This was one of her Alphas they were trying to send to Azkaban for a crime they hadn't committed and it was setting her teeth on edge.

Oh, Merlin! Her teeth! And her fingers! She mildly panicked when she felt her incisors sharpening inside her tightly closed mouth and the nails on her concealed hands curving into claws the angrier she got with Rufus Scrimgeour for his insinuations that Lucius had assaulted her.

Taking in a few slow, deep calming breaths through her nose like Severus had taught her to do, Hermione managed to control her anxiety and stop the transformation. Circe! That's all she needed to happen, to go full feral defensive Omega on the new Minister of Magic, or worse, shift into a Nundu.

Yeah, that wouldn't end well for anyone.

After finally concluding their interview of Hermione, Scrimgeour and Tonks released her back into Remus and Kingsley's care, giving them permission to escort her back to Hogwarts.

"I'll Firecall the Headmaster and your Head of House immediately to inform them of your safe return, Miss Granger," stated the still aggravated Minister, "And to expect you and your temporary guardians at the front gate within the next twenty minutes." (Not that he truly wanted to speak to Dumbledore knowing what he found out about the man because of Pettigrew).

"If no one objects, I'd prefer to stay the night at Grimmauld Place," interjected Hermione, suddenly looking a touch peaky, "I'm not ready to face all the questions I'm sure my housemates will subject me to once I arrive at Gryffindor Tower this evening, especially, from Harry and Ronald. I wouldn't get a wink of sleep."

Scrimgeour's demeanor softened slightly, taking pity on the young witch, "A reasonable request Miss Granger given the circumstances," he conceded, waving her towards Shacklebolt and Lupin, "I'll amend my messages to Dumbledore and McGonagall to say you'll be resting at Order Headquarters tonight before journeying back to the school the first thing in the morning."

Hermione breathed out a small sigh of relief, "Thank you, Sir," turning to Remus she added, "I'm ready to leave whenever you two are, just, can we Floo to Grimmauld instead of side-along Apparating? I'm not certain my stomach, or your shoes, will benefit if we have to travel the latter way."

"Of course, Hermione," replied Lupin, taking her left hand and placing it on the crook of his right arm, "I just have to send word to Sirius to open up the receiving room fireplace and we'll be there in no time."

As soon as the trio had left the interview room, Scrimgeour looked to Tonks and ordered, "We may not be able to arrest that Sodding Death Eater for taking Miss Granger so, I want you, Moody and your teams to pay a little visit to Lord Malfoy at his Manor and bring him in regarding his participation in the damage to The Department of Mysteries. It may only result in the charge of destruction of Ministry property and a substantial fine but, it will certainly let him know we are fully aware of his involvement in the disappearance of the girl...even if he did inadvertently save her life."

"Right away, Boss, just as soon as the ink's dried on the warrant. We don't want him slipping away on a legal technicality, now do we," Tonks smirked, her hair rapidly shifting from its current vibrant blue to the Malfoy platinum blonde.

"I wish you wouldn't do that in my presence Dora. You know it makes my eyes water."

Unfortunately, for the former Chief Auror, his plans for the nuisance arrest of the Lord of House Malfoy would have to wait. The arrival of the special edition of The Daily Prophet the following morning would see to that.

"Dammit Gaunt!" Scrimgeour yelled aloud in his empty office, "So much for taking things slowly in making Dumbledore answer for his crimes against Lord Black."

A second thought occurred to him as he stewed over this development, "Wait, how did he manage to circumvent his wand oath?"

(He'd be shocked to learn what Goblin magics and potions could do these days. Although, he really shouldn't, they did make the best cursebreakers, after all.)

The noise in The Great Hall was at its usual low thrum of conversation when an alarmingly large parliament of owls descended upon those gathered there for breakfast. Along with the usual deliveries of packages and letters, all of the students and staff members present for the meal received a copy of the latest Daily Prophet whether they were subscribers to the paper or not, Gaunt and Skeeter made certain of it in their planning.

Needless to say, it caused quite the stir amongst the crowd but, the reaction of the Headmaster left a number of those present hastily ducking for cover under the tables.

When Percy Weasley spotted a significant number of Ministry birds arriving amongst the post owls that morning, his face paled, "Oh, Merlin! That can't be anything good," he muttered, glancing down the long table and noting the locations of his younger siblings. As Head Boy this year, he had drawn up a number of contingency plans for a variety of emergencies and by the time the multi-hued flock began their descent to deliver their missives, Percy had managed to signal the Gryffindor and other House prefects to be ready to spring into action and get their housemates to safety should the need arise.

Little did he know it would be the Headmaster that would be the cause for concern and not an imminent attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or some other impending disaster.

As the birds swirled and dove about the Hall in a flurry of feathers, Professors Flitwick and McGonagall cast subtle side-glances at Dumbledore, curious to see how he was responding to this chaos.

When all they saw was the unconcerned, almost bored, expression on the older wizard' face, Filius quietly sighed, "The Headmaster must have gotten prior word as to what this commotion's all about," whispered Filius to his dining companion after the other man continued to eat his usual breakfast fare of scrambled eggs, sausages and toast with blackberry jam as if this avian ballet were a common occurrence, "It's probably just another silly Ministry fundraiser, you know how these politicians can get during an election year," neither of them aware of the recent developments at the MoM.

"Nimue! I hope not," said McGonagall, leaning in close so that it looked like they were discussing the chaotic scene going on around them, "Anyhow, best not to speculate until our own mail arrives."

Things rapidly turned to shite when it did.

Ron was a bit put out when the owl delivering The Prophet dumped it on his plate of food but his irritation was soon replaced with joy for Harry when saw the bold headline declaring Sirius Black a free wizard.

Without reading more, he whisper-yelled, "Congratulations, Harry! You know what this means, mate?" he laughed, making Harry spill some of his pumpkin juice as he shoved the paper under his best friend's nose.

"Ron, you know I don't read that rag after what Skeeter wrote about me last year," grumbled Harry, reluctantly taking the slightly damp paper from his ginger-haired friend to prevent getting poked in the eye.

"You'll want to for this," insisted Weasley before stuffing a large bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth, "It's about Padfoot. Or maybe, you should get used to calling him Lord Black."

"What?" asked Harry, apologizing when he startled some of his nearby housemates with his raised voice as he noisily flipped the paper over to the cover story. As he skimmed the headline and the first few paragraphs, a wide grin broke across his face, "Bloody Hell! Sorry," he said again when Ginny glared at him for his loud Ron-like response and manners.

A sudden cloud darkened Harry's mood though as a disturbing thought occurred to him, "What if it's just a ruse by the Ministry to draw Sirius out of hiding so they can arrest him?"

Before Ronald or anyone else at their end of the Gryffindor table could offer their opinion, Hedwig fluttered down and settled onto Harry's left shoulder, a large envelope in her beak.

Taking the letter from his snowy-white familiar and giving her a slice of bacon for her efforts, Harry broke the wax seal and began reading the missive, his smile returning in full force, "It's from Sirius!" he beamed although a few happy tears were threatening to fall from his eyes, "He's making arrangements for me to visit him first thing tomorrow so he can officially claim me as his godson. I won't have to return to the Dursleys this summer...or ever again!"

Potter's happiness and the sounds of cheer from his friends for his good news was short lived as a surprisingly close and booming voice growled out, "NO! I won't allow this to happen!" coming from the decidedly angry looking Headmaster who had left his place from The Head Table and was purposefully striding down the row between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables towards The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"I have far more important plans for you, Boy, and they don't involve your mutt of a godfather," Dumbledore sneered, causing more than a few students to cower back in their seats, "You're coming with me. Now!" he commanded, bodily pulling Harry up by his collar and practically dragging the younger wizard in the direction of the main doors.

They had barely made it more than a few paces when another voice, one tinged with ice, called out, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! Unhand Mr. Potter this instant!"

Spinning about to see who dared try to interfere, Dumbledore chuckled at the sight of the Scottish witch and diminutive half-goblin standing about four meters away, both with wands drawn and pointed directly at his chest.

"Really, Minerva, Filius," he mock-pouted, his blue eyes no longer twinkling," You two think you can stop me? You forget, I taught you both everything you know," sending a wordless Silencio and Full-Body-Bind towards the pair.

"Not everything, Albus," hiss McGonagall, batting away the spells with barely a flick of her wrist, sending them harmlessly away into the bare stone wall to her right, "And, as of this morning, that's Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick to you," pulling the Ministry marked decree from her robe pocket so he could see she was not bluffing about that matter.

('I'll deal with that conniving weasel, Scrimgeour, later.')

Changing tactics, Dumbledore pulled the struggling Harry closer and pointed his wand directly at the younger wizard's head, "If you care anything about Potter's well-being, you will let us leave. Otherwise, I will have to do something I may possibly regret."

An over-sized, incredibly strong, hand clamped down around the Headmaster's throat from behind and slowly began squeezing, "I wouldn'a do that if I were you."

Chapter Text

The unexpected after dinner Firecall from Minister Scrimgeour had initially thrown the Headmaster for a loop. That Sodding Granger chit was, somehow, still alive and preparing to return to Hogwarts in the morning.

Shaking his head, Albus walked away from the fireplace in his office and began strolling towards his private quarters. Although it was an unpleasant surprise the witch had survived her abduction, the planted memories and instructions he'd given Potter and Weasley in preparation for such an event had sufficient time to take root. At lunch this very afternoon, Dumbledore had overheard the angrily hiss-whispered rumors spreading like Fiendfyre amongst the Gryffindors, as well as a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, over Granger's believed betrayal to Harry and the school.

The Headmaster smiled to himself, before the next day was over he was certain Miss Granger would be running for the gates of Hogwarts and Apparating away to Merlin knew where to escape the wrath of the majority of the castle's inhabitants.

He chuckled wickedly, nearly giddy with the fact that his schemes were falling into place.

(To bad Dumbledore's plans were about to be derailed in spectacular fashion ).

When McGonagall received the message from the Minister about Miss Granger, she nearly burst into tears. Thank Merlin the young witch had been found relatively unharmed and taken to a secured location but, she was concerned about her favorite cub's emotional well-being after enduring, what she naturally believed, was a traumatic event (it was, just not in the ways she imagined).

After ending the Firecall with Scrimgeour, Minerva immediately Floo'd Madame Pomfrey and informed her of the situation, the two witches agreeing that it best that Miss Granger undergo a preliminary mental health assessment with Poppy and, if warranted, sending her on to St. Mungo's for further treatment with a Mind Healer (while they knew the Goblins would do an excellent job handling any of the girl's physical injuries and managing her illness, their Healers weren't exactly known for their skills when it came to the psychological needs of humans).

"Are you going to apprise Miss Granger's friends about her safe return?" asked Madame Pomfrey as she checked the infirmary stock for potions she might need to give her patient ('Bollocks! I'm nearly out of Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draughts thanks to that cow, Umbridge. Thank Merlin she's no longer here. I'll have to give Professor Snape the term end brewing list sooner than expected. I'm sure he'll be thrilled by that.')

"Not until after you've had a chance to evaluate her condition," replied Professor McGonagall, her lips pressed into a thin line at the thought of what the Matron could discover, "I'll be contacting Remus and Sirius next to arrange for you to Floo directly to Order Headquarters and meet with her tonight. Once you've seen her and given me the full picture regarding her health, then I'll inform her housemates when they can expect her back at school."

"Let me know when that's done. I'll be getting my medical bag ready in the meantime," stated Pomfrey, Accio'ing her Healer's satchel.

"I'll call you in fifteen minutes," promised McGonagall, ending their conversation.

Unfortunately, when Minerva contacted Sirius moments later, she was informed that Hermione had been so exhausted from her apparent not-abduction and interview ordeal at the Ministry that she'd taken a Sleeping Draught and gone straight to bed.

For her own peace of mind, McGonagall stepped through the Floo to Grimmauld Place to check in on the young Gryffindor herself. Satisfied that the security measures set about the little witch were up to her own exacting standards (not that she expected anything less than the best from the two Marauders), Minerva then walked back downstairs to the receiving room.

"Notify Poppy and I the minute she awakens," she instructed Black and Lupin, "And, don't contact Messrs. Potter and Weasley or anyone else at Hogwarts for that matter about what's happened. We need to ascertain that Miss Granger's truly well enough to return to Hogwarts or if she requires further medical treatment at St. Mungo's before I tell her housemates of her status."

"Of course," said Sirius, Remus silently nodding his agreement, "You'll be the only one we call."

Neville finally had enough arguing with his housemates about the nonsense that Harry and Ron were spreading about Hermione for the umpteenth time that day and left the Gryffindor Common Room for the fifth year boys' dormitory. With an agitated swish of his new chestnut and unicorn hair wand (a gift from his Gran during the previous Christmas hols that Hermione had made possible by using unwavering logic to convince the scary older witch that her grandson needed a wand of his own), all of his clothes and most of his other belongings began packing themselves. Within minutes everything was neatly stowed away in his school trunk...well, as neatly as possible for him in his current state of mind.

Afterwards, he shrunk the hefty piece of luggage and attempted to place it in his robe pocket, adding a lightening charm to the palm-sized black leather rectangle when he realized he wouldn't be able to pick it up otherwise. Cradling his prized Mimbulus Mimbletonia under one arm and taking one last look about the room to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, Neville headed out of the Gryffindor Tower unnoticed (or so he thought) and hurriedly made his way towards the empty seventh floor hallway where there were several unused classrooms, one of which he decided would be his new home for the remaining three weeks of the term.

As he rounded the corner, Longbottom briefly considered utilizing The Room of Requirement but, then remembered it still needed a few more repairs to fix the damage that the pink toad and her goon squad had caused to the DA practice space after she'd blasted her way through the main wall. The deciding factor against the Room as his new accommodations was that he was unsure if his things would be vanished completely or automatically returned to the Tower once Harry and the other members of the DA started making use of the magical room at the end of the week.

His mind made up, Neville picked the least dusty, and smallest, of the four available classrooms and set about creating a cozy bedroom for the night. He planned to speak with his Head of House after breakfast in the morning about the temporary changes, and why it was such a necessity, but, for now, he needed some sleep...who knew that arguing with a bunch of dunderheaded friends could be this physically draining.

In a startling moment of clarity, Neville realized something he never considered before about his most feared Professor. If dealing with those clueless, accusatorial twits for housemates for a single day had put a normally easy-going person like him in a right foul mood, then imagine what having to endure a handful of similarly aggravating students on a regular basis, and for a decade at least, could do to a teacher's disposition.

"It's no wonder Snape's such a cranky bastard," muttered Neville to himself, shaking his head, "Merlin! I really am exhausted if I'm sympathizing with the Dungeon Bat."

"Oh, dear. Talking to yourself already, that's clearly not a good sign," chuckled a familiar voice from the open door behind Neville.

"Nope. Not in the least," agreed an almost identical sounding person, "The real question is, why would Longbottom, of all people, be running away from the rest of us loveable Gryffindors?"

"Bloody Hell!" yelped Neville as he twirled about on his heel, his wand pointed at the nearest Weasley twin, whether it was Fred or George he couldn't say, "I nearly hexxed you both. Why did you follow me? What do you want?"

"Tired of our company already?" mock-pouted Fred, pushing the tip of Neville's wand away from his chest, "We need to step up our game, Forge."

"Naturally, Gred," smirked George, flicking his wand and transfiguring an old wooden desk into a comfortable leather settee, "There, a nice housewarming gift fit for entertaining those unexpected guests."

"What do you two want?" repeated Neville, not lowering his wand arm, "I'm not in the mood for any more nonsense about Hermione, I had enough of that from Harry and Ron."

"That's what we wanted to talk to you about," sighed Fred, scrubbing a hand through his hair, "We were hoping you could tell us what's going on with those two and pretty much everyone else in your year. We tried to ask a number of them directly but, they were somewhat busy trying to dodge Ginny's Bat-Bogey hexes."

"Bollocks! I forgot you both were in the infirmary until today," said Neville, taking a step back and slumping down onto the inviting new sofa, "What was it this time, another potions mishap or...?"

"Those blasted Whizbang Fireworks, again," grumbled George, setting on the other end of the settee, "We still haven't perfected the timing charm, they keep exploding too soon," he admitted, pointing out the smoky residue on the left arm of his newly repaired shirt, "Anyway, what happened between Harry, Ron and Hermione? She finally snap and punch them out like she did with Malfoy?"

"If only it were that simple," muttered Neville, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, "The short version is that Hermione's gone missing and Harry believes she's some sort of Death Eater spy."

Both the twins' eyebrows sailed upwards towards their hairlines, "I think we need to hear the long version of this story, Neville...and don't leave anything out."

"Fine but, I'm going to need some strong tea and a Pepper-up for this."

Draco Malfoy was having a seriously confusing and distressing weekend. To begin with, Potter and Weaslbee were acting rather strangely, well, more so than usual. He still couldn't wrap his head around why they had apparently turned on the Granger witch (not that he cared about the curiously absent Know-It-All) but, if SHE was a Death Eater as they were now proclaiming to everyone within earshot, he'd burn his new racing broom and eat the ashes.

Despite the unexpected entertainment value of watching the Gryffindor Trio's friendship implode, Draco's thoughts quickly returned to the fact that he hadn't received the promised owl from his Father, the one letting him know that he was safely back home after his latest mission for the Dark Lord. Oddly enough, it was through Potter's continued rantings about ten minutes later that he learned that Malfoy Sr. had been successful. (But, if this were truly the case, why hadn't his Father contacted him by now?)

To make matters even worse, when Malfoy had gone to visit his godfather to ask if he could use his Floo to Firecall the Manor, he was denied entry by the formidable wards on the older wizard's private quarters. On these rare occasions, this meant that his Uncle Severus had been summoned by the feared snake-faced leader, only, he'd never been gone from Hogwarts this long before. Quite frankly, Draco was worried that this implied that something horrible had happened during his Father's escape...could a stray spell from an Auror have hit him as he Disapparated from the Ministry Atrium with Granger in tow? (And, hadn't THAT little tidbit from Potter been a shocker.)

Draco began to pace in front of Snape's locked door. He had finally come to terms with losing his Mother in his second year at the hands of his crazy bitch of an Aunt, he didn't know what he'd do if his remaining parent was...No! he refused to fall down that rabbit hole of despair again, his heart couldn't take it.

(Never mind the fact that if something of that nature had occurred, he'd wind up in Bella's 'tender loving' care, being as she was his next closest blood relative....the very idea made his stomach lurch violently).

With one last desperate idea in mind, Draco called for one of the Malfoy elves, not knowing if they could even enter past the school's wards.

"Trinket!" he hiss-whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear what he was attempting. When the little elf popped into view in front of him mere seconds later, Draco nearly cried in relief.

"Young Master Draco. What can Trinket do's for you?"

"Have you seen my Father today? Is he okay? Is my godfather with him?"

The tiny female house-elf smiled sweetly, patting one of Malfoy's hands with one of hers to comfort the obviously worried teenager, "Master Lucius is safes and unharmed, Young Master Draco. He and Master of Potions are taking good cares of the Young Mistress."

Draco's mouth gaped open as an uneasy thought surfaced, "Young Mistress? You...you don't mean...Hermione Granger?" he stuttered, his brain threatening to short-circuit. Trinket chuckled softly and gave him a knowing wink.

"Yes. Young Mistress being very important to them both. She beings their Omega." (The little elf saw nothing wrong in conveying this wonderful news to Draco as he was the Malfoy Heir. Well, that, and she hadn't been expressly forbidden from discussing such matters with him...a slight oversight on Lucius' part...oops).

Malfoy, being the strong Pureblooded wizard he was, fainted dead away, landing in a crumpled heap onto the cold stone dungeon floor.

Trinket simply 'tsked' at the young man, snapped her fingers and whisked him away to his bed in the Slytherin dormitory.

"Silly Young Master. Should be's happy, he's getting a new Mum."

Drcao awoke early the next day, groggy and confused, not remembering how he'd gotten back to his dormitory. Sitting upright, he startled badly at the sight of the patiently waiting Trinket standing at his bedside, the little elf having stayed in his room standing guard over him the whole night.

"Mornings, Young Master Draco. What can Trinket do's for you today?" she asked quietly as to not disturb his still sleeping housemates, smirking as the memories from the evening before came flooding back to her charge's brain and registered on his face.

"Has my Uncle Severus returned yet?" whispered Malfoy, grabbing his wand from its place under his pillow and dressing himself in the blink of an eye.

The little elf nodded, "Yes. Master of Potions is in his quarters."

"Good. Take me to him," ordered Draco, a scowl settling across his pale features.

"As you wishes, Young Master Draco," replied Trinket with a snap of her fingers, Disapparating the two of them with a soft 'Pop!'

Severus had just settled onto his favorite reading chair next to the fireplace with the current copy of 'Ars Alchemica' in his hand, Vukan perched on his new swing in the nearby corner with his head tucked beneath a wing, when they both heard a sharp persistent knocking, the wards informing Snape it was his godson.

A small flick of the wrist had the door swinging wide open, "Enter!" was all he said, not looking up from the article on hydroponically grown potions ingredients.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Uncle Severus," groused Draco, stalking across the room towards the older wizard and snatching the periodical from the man's hands, "Or should I be calling you 'Dad' now? Were you even going to tell me about...her?"

Snape's Occlumency controlled visage didn't reveal a thing but, his slightly paling complexion spoke volumes, "What, exactly, are you implying?" scowling at the little house-elf, presuming (correctly) that she was the source of the leaked information that currently had Draco in a royal snit.

Malfoy crossed his arms tightly across his chest and rolled his eyes at the Potions Master, "Seriously? Of all the witches on the planet you and Father could have scented, why did it have to be Granger?!" he complained, his voice bordering on shrill.

"You had the health lecture, Draco, you're aware of how the Omega glands work...or do you need a quick refresher course on the matter?" snarked Severus, arching a single dark brow at the boy.

"You're missing the point!" hissed the frustrated Heir Malfoy, "It's...she's a Mud...a Muggleborn witch...THE Muggleborn witch who happens to be best friends with Potter. What do you think the Dark Lord is going to do to my Father, or you for that matter, when he finds out? I can't...I won't lose either of you because of her...I...I don't..." he trailed off, his emotions causing the words to stick in his throat.

Snape lowered his mental shields slightly, softening his gaze before he replied, "I assure you, her blood status is no longer an issue," holding up his hand to stop Malfoy from asking another question, "I can't go into further details now but, trust me, mine and Lucius' health won't be endangered because of Miss Granger's...upbringing."

Seeing the doubt still lingering in the younger wizard's silver-grey eyes, Severus let out a heavy sigh before taking out his wand and pointing it at his godson, "I'll need an Oath from you, Draco, before I consent to give you this one piece of information," turning to the house-elf he addressed her, too," And you, Trinket, are not to discuss anything involving Miss Granger outside of myself, Lucius or Draco. Understood?"

"Of course, Master of Potions. Trinket understands," she agreed, making a tick-a-lock gesture with her left hand next to her mouth.

Not seeing any other choice in the matter, Draco slipped his wand out of his arm holster and took the Wizard's Oath, "Alright. Spill. How can Granger being a Muggleborn not matter anymore?"

A truly wicked smirk graced Severus' face as he answered, "Because she was adopted."

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, Draco fainted in an inelegant heap onto the frigid dungeon floor.

"Well, that was...unexpected."

Vukan, fully awake again, trilled out 'You May Be Right'.

Over the past few days, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts had his hands full dealing with the various magical beasts about the school and The Forbidden Forest...more so than normal it seemed even without the influence of a full moon.

The first instance involved a wayward Thestral colt named Thorne. "Oi! Ya daft bugger, where you been off to this evenin'?" fussed Hagrid, tossing the obviously hungry creature a large piece of raw steak from the charmed basket near the paddock, "Bet you've been chasin' after them Thestral fillies again over by McGregor's farm in Hogsmeade," he mock-glared, gently patting the skeletal horse-like beast on the neck,"Reckon we'll know for sure in a few months time, you randy beggar you."

Thorne merely stamped his right hoof on the ground and impatiently whinied for more pets and food.

Later in the afternoon the following day, an agitated Dumbledore visited the half-giant in the man's cluttered hut. (It seems the Headmaster had finally noticed Fawkes had gone missing from his office and he wasn't too pleased about it).

"Sorry 'eadmaster, I ain't seen 'em about on me rounds," apologized Rubeus, offering the flustered man some tea and rock cakes, "I can ask round the pub this evenin' when I drop off Madame Rosemerta's herbs order for P'fessor Sprout."

"That won't be necessary," stated Albus, hurriedly strolling towards the door and away from the unwanted refreshments, "I'm certain he's just out searching for a female to share his nest, again." (He didn't know how right he was, only not with the species he imagined).

"Yer probably right, Sir," agreed Hagrid, despite knowing it was the wrong time of year for the Phoenix's annual courting flight, "I'll keep a bowl of fruit handy in case he shows up with comp'ny."

The current beast problem was yowling on the groundskeeper's doorstep, sending his excitable boarhound, Fang, into a fit of exuberant barking.

"Settle down ya dozy git!" Hagrid grumbled at the slobbering mutt, his forehead becoming deeply furrowed in concern when he saw that it was the presence of a lone orange half-kneazle causing all the fuss.

"Crookshanks?" he muttered, glancing around for signs of the hissing cat's young witch. (He'd been so preoccupied with a difficult unicorn foaling he'd not been around for several meals in The Great Hall and hadn't heard the news about the incident in the Ministry nor of Harry's and Ron's accusations). "Wat'cha doing out 'ere on yer own so early in the mornin'?"

The large ginger cat stared up at the sleep deprived man and rapidly flicked his floofed out tail across the ground where he sat, drawing Hagrid's bleary-eyed attentions down to the copy of The Daily Prophet laying upon his dirt-covered doormat beneath Crooks' paws.

Yawning, he bent down and picked up both the paper and the smug-looking cat, "May as well come in, I'll see if I can rustle ya up a bite of sumpthin' ta eat before I read me newspaper."

Scant moments later, Hagrid's anger-filled shouts shook the walls of his home, startling Fang into silence. Crooks took all the ruckus in stride, never once looking up from his plate of tasty grilled chicken.

Rubeus had been beyond livid after reading the verified accounts proving that Albus knew that Pettigrew, and not Sirius, was guilty of betraying the Potters. But, when he saw the old goat arguing with McGonagall in the middle of the dining hall and holding the young lad he had come to cherish as family at wandpoint, he saw red.

In three long strides, the half-giant was standing behind the Headmaster, blocking his exit. Grabbing the older wizard by the throat and slowly squeezing, Rubeus growled, "I wouldn'a do that if I were you."

While Filius pulled Harry free from Dumbledore's weakening hold, Minerva moved to disarm her former colleague and ex-friend as he struggled to free himself from Hagrid's slowly tightening fist. She should have known the devious old wizard had a contingency plan but, she was so focused on ensuring Potter's safety that she didn't consider the possibility until it was too late, mistakenly believing the anti-Apparation wards around the school were sufficient to help keep Albus contained.

As McGonagall flicked her wrist, preparing to place a Full-Body-Bind on the twinkly-eyed bastard, Dumbledore had already slipped his left hand into a hidden robe pocket, wrapped his fingers around a runed grey stone he kept there for last ditch emergencies and rasped out 'Portus, Code Black'.

Before Rubeus', and everyone else's horrified gazes, Albus disappeared from his grasp in a bright flash of blue light.

It was this chaotic environment that Hermione, Poppy, Remus and Sirius wandered into after they Floo'd over to the infirmary and walked to The Great Hall.

Madame Pomfrey had given the younger witch a clean bill of health earlier that morning at Grimmauld Place (although, Hermione had been sorely tempted to hex the Mediwitch after the third round of tests) but, the Matron had been unsuccessful in her attempts to contact Professor McGonagall at her office as previously arranged.

"I don't understand," Poppy frowned, closing down the Firecall, "It's not like Minerva to have forgotten this appointment."

"Perhaps, an urgent matter came up and she didn't have time to contact us," suggested Remus with a shrug of his shoulders, "Given some of the more...rambunctious personalities that attend Hogwarts, it's not an unreasonable presumption," Lupin clearly having the notorious Weasley Twins in mind.

"True. Especially, at this time of year after exams," chuckled Sirius, fondly recalling the mass Ducklifors jinx he'd cast over the Slytherins at dinner the day before the leaving feast in his and Remus' sixth year.

After a bit of deliberation, the three adults collectively decided to return to the castle through Poppy's hearth and surprise Hermione's friends during breakfast.

Hermione wasn't confident in this plan, wanting to wait until they'd heard from her Head of House before going back to the school.

"Come on, Kitten, no need to be so nervous," soothed Sirius, draping an arm around her shoulders and leading her over to the fireplace, "Everything will be fine, you'll see."

They really should have listened to Hermione concerns and stayed at Grimmauld Place a bit longer. If they had, the wards-approved post owl would have arrived with Sirius' copy of The Daily Prophet in time to forewarn them of the turmoil they were about to face.

"Hermione! Merlin, when did you get back?" asked Neville as he, Fred and George spotted her and her escorts near the alcove just outside The Great Hall. Striding closer and pulling his friend into a shaky hug, Longbottom whispered into her ear, "You really don't want to go in there right now, Hermione. Ron and Harry have been saying some truly awful things about you since you disappeared."

Wriggling free of Neville's embrace, Hermione looked at her first friend and frowned, "I don't understand. Why would they do such a thing? Don't they know I've been sick with Dragon Pox?" the well rehearsed lie easily spilling from her mouth.

"They don't seem to care," added Fred and George as they mingled with the group, anxious for a chance to speak with Remus and Sirius about their legendary pranks...once they'd made Hermione aware of the nature of the rumors that their little brother and Harry had been spreading about the castle, of course.

"Exactly what have they said?" demanded Madame Pomfrey, steering the younger witch away from the open archway, hopefully, before any of the students gathered for the morning meal caught sight of her.

Neville's face pinked, partly in embarrassment for what he was about to say and the rest from anger, "That you deliberately left with Lucius Malfoy because you're really a Death Eater spy."

"They said WHAT!?" growled Remus, his eyes flashing gold for a second, "Where did they get such a ridiculous idea like that?"

"From you, actually," stated Fred, gesturing towards Lupin, wincing as the saw the man's features darken, "They claimed they overhead a Firecall you made to Dumbledore a night or two ago," continued George, taking a couple of steps back from the increasingly agitated wizard.

"I did no such thing," snapped the irritated werewolf, Sirius at his side doing his best to calm his mate before he really lost his temper.

"Let's go to back to my office to continue this conversation before..." Poppy started to say but, it was too late. Hermione had been spotted by Ron and a handful of others at the Gryffindor table.

"Get away from my brothers and Neville, you filthy traitor!" Ronald yelled, drawing the attentions of most of the crowd in the dining hall to Granger's presence.

Harry, mildly recovered from his unpleasant encounter with Dumbledore, pulled free from Professor Flitwick's grasp and added to the growing tension, "How dare you show your face here again after what you did!" he shouted, aiming his wand and preparing to curse the witch, "Grab her Sirius, Remus. Don't let her get away!" clearly having not seen her arrive in the company of his godfather, Lupin and Pomfrey.

"Expelliarmus!" drawled a familiar baritone from somewhere behind Hagrid's towering form, Harry's wand flying to the outstretched hand of the glowering Potions Master, "Haven't you learned by now, Potter, that not everything is as it first appears?"

McGonagall couldn't believe her ears as Weasley and Potter began attacking Miss Granger. "Enough!" she hissed as she sent stunners at the pair of young wizards, dropping them to their knees, "Remus, Sirius would you two please levitate Messrs. Weasley and Potter up to my office. I intend to get to the bottom of these ludicrous accusations in a more secure location," although she already had a fair idea who was responsible, "I'll meet you there in ten minutes," she stated, before turning to Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, "Severus I need you to escort Poppy and Miss Granger to the infirmary. Make sure they arrive safely then, stay put until I arrive. And get comfortable, it may be a few hours before I finish sorting through this mess."

Immediately upon his arrival at his Secret-Kept safe house in the hills near Menton, France, Dumbledore furiously set about reinforcing the spells around the white-washed stone cottage and its surrounding property. Once that task was completed, Albus stomped outside to the attached gardens and proceeded to blast every lemon tree in sight.

"Sodding ingrates!" he roared to the cloudless sky, "They dare to try and arrest me?!"

Pressing his wand to a now visible band of magic encircling his left forearm, Albus sent a compulsion spell to the wizard connected to him by the Oath. "I'll show them all I'm not a wizard to be trifled with," impatiently sending a second summons through the link ten minutes later. And, a third pulse twenty minutes after that.

Nearly an hour after the first call out, a shadowed figure Apparated in to their instructed point of arrival at the end of a long gravel path several meters away from the cottage.

"About time you showed up, Horace, I was beginning to think you had turned on me, too," snarled the former Headmaster, leading the way towards a large storage building out of sight of the safe house, "I'm certain I needn't remind you as to why that would be an...unwise decision on your part?" he sneered, relishing in Slughorn's paling complexion at the threat, "Are you prepared to get to work on that specialty elixir I mentioned I may have need of the last time we met for tea?"

"I'll need to read any books or notes you have on this mystery brew and take stock of what ingredients you have on hand, first," replied Horace, nervously mopping his brow with a blue silk handkerchief, "I'm still not certain why you contacted me for this job instead of Severus Snape."

"I have my reasons and none of them concern you," snipped Dumbledore, unlocking the door and waving the retired Potions Master through to the state-of-the-art laboratory. While it was true Albus would have preferred Snape for this task, what he'd never admit to anyone, least of all Slughorn, was that every attempt at contacting his Death Eater spy since his arrival in Menton had been met with failure. And, he simply didn't have the patience to unravel the puzzle as to why the Vow summons hadn't worked on the younger man as it had always done in the past.

"I expect results by the end of the week," Albus demanded, ignoring Horace's protests of needing ample time to read through the materials before proceeding with brewing an unfamiliar concoction.

"Stop squawking and get started," ordered Dumbledore, pulling a sealed file from another pocket in his robes and handing it to Slughorn, "That's all the research Nicolas Flammel had on the elixir translated into English, even you should have no problems following the directions."

"Of, course. Right away, Albus," sighed Horace, knowing it was pointless to argue with the man once he had his mind set on something.

Dumbledore missed the strangled gasp from Slughorn as the portly wizard glanced at the opening page for the Le Morts Ambulants potion and read the hastily scrawled note in the margins about the intended targets...the children of Wizarding Britain. Otherwise, another amused smile would certainly have crept across his wizened face.

Chapter Text

When Draco regained his senses, yet again, his godfather was smirking down at him where he lay stretched out on the setee.

"Have a pleasant nap?" he teased, stepping back as the younger wizard slowly sat up and straightened his robes.

Ignoring Snape's question, Malfoy asked one of his own, "Who were Granger's birth parents, what happened to them?"

Severus strolled over and sat back down on his reading chair, "It's a long story but, the short version is that they were both Obliviated Squibs from two Pureblood families. We still don't know exactly how they died just that whatever happened to them took place the same night Potter's family were killed."

As that information sunk in another thought popped into Draco's head, "Hang on a minute, Granger's not seventeen. Her Omega presentation shouldn't have occurred for, at least, another year."

The Potions Master let out an exasperated sigh, "Again, that's part of the longer story but, I assure you, she is of age," raising his hand to stop the younger Malfoy from asking further questions, "Trust me, all will be explained once the school term is over and you are back at the Manor where it's safer to discuss these matters."

Draco was aggravated that he'd have to wait another three weeks before he learned more of what occurred with Granger but, he completely understood the need for secrecy given how her Omega status could be exploited to hurt his Father and godfather.

"It's nearly time for breakfast, you should start making your way to The Great Hall," drawled Snape, himself preparing to leave his quarters.

"Wait!" exclaimed Malfoy, causing the Potions Master to raise a single eyebrow at his godson, "I don't know how long you were away from the school but, there's something you should know about Potter and Weaselbee," he stated as he headed towards the door.

"And that would be?" grumbled Severus, controlling his desire to roll his eyes, expecting the usual litany of complaints about the two Gryffindors.

"They've been spreading some vicious rumors around the school about Granger over the past few days," he claimed, flicking a piece of imaginary lint from his robes, "The mildest being she's a de-aged Death Eater spy sent by the Dark Lord to gather information about them and the school."

Only Snape's years of Occlumency training kept him from visibly reacting, inside his Alpha was fuming, having a good idea who was truly behind this character assassination of his young mate.

He was momentarily distracted from all the ways he wanted to retaliate against the Headmaster when Draco stopped dead in his tracks, staring at something across the room that he only now just noticed.

"Since when do you have a Phoenix?" asked Malfoy, openly gawping at the unusually coloured bird, "It is a Phoenix, right?"

Vukan fluffed out his feathers and chirruped 'Got a Secret'.

By the time Draco and Severus arrived at The Great Hall and took their usual seats, the parliament of owls had begun their deliveries.

It wasn't until the two Ministry birds dropped their missives in front of McGonagall and Flitwick that Snape truly began to take notice, especially, when he heard the surprised gasps from both his colleagues.

However, his inquiries regarding the, undoubtedly shocking, news they'd received was interrupted as the flurry of post-owls began bombarding the Hall with copies of The Daily Prophet.

Normally, he saved his perusing of the newspaper until his tea break later in the morning but, the attention grabbing headlines about Pettigrew's arrest and the Mutt's exoneration couldn't wait.

As he skimmed the, astonishingly, well written account, Snape's complexion drained of what little color he had when he reached the section on Dumbledore's complicity in the deaths of the Potters.

('I'll kill the Sodding Wanker with my bare hands!')

Before the Potions Master could openly challenge the Headmaster, the man in question was half-way down the rows of student tables making a beeline towards Potter with McGonagall and Flitwick following close behind.

As much as Snape still wanted to throttle the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse for his, no doubt manipulated, actions made against his Omega, he couldn't in good conscience let Dumbledore leave The Great Hall with the teenager.

Fortunately, that outcome didn't come to fruition thanks to Hagrid of all people but, it disturbed Severus how easily it could have happened when the, obviously, illegal Port-Key was activated, whisking Albus off to Merlin knew where.

"Well, that was certainly...unexpected," declared Flitwick, ensuring that Potter was, at least, physically unscathed after his ordeal.

"I can't believe he tried to kidnap me," Harry blurted out, his emerald green eyes wide with shock, "Why would he do that?"

"I'm sure the Aurors will..."

Whatever else McGonagall was about to say was interrupted by Ronald Weasley's outburst, "Get away from my brothers and Neville, you filthy traitor!"

Neville couldn't help but smile with satisfaction as he watched Professor Snape and Headmistress McGonagall disarm and stun Harry and Ron. As far as he was concerned, they deserved every unpleasant punishment they were facing for trying to harm Hermione.

But, after he'd had a few moments to reconsider Remus Lupin's vehement denial of making the Floo call that Harry and Ronald claimed to have overheard and reading a portion of what had happened to Sirius Black in The Daily Prophet, Longbottom began to wonder, had the former Headmaster influenced his fellow Gryffindors' actions?

If that were the case it might, possibly, excuse some of Potter's and Weasley's behaviour. Only, what reason did the rest of the students have in blindly believing the unfounded accusations that Harry and Ron had spread? Why hadn't any of them bothered to verify anything?

And...oh, Merlin, he couldn't believe he was sympathizing with Professor Snape once again...this time about Hogwarts students not using critical thinking skills and learning the truth for themselves.

('I think I need to take nap before this becomes a habit.')

After giving Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey their instructions, McGonagall turned back to the rest of the students and staff still assembled in The Great Hall. With a Sonorous in place, she quickly brought their attention to her.

"Everyone remain seated and quiet as I have a number of pressing issues to address," she began, her stern features conveying she wouldn't tolerate any interruptions, "As of seven o'clock this morning, the Board of Governors officially appointed me as Headmistress of Hogwarts and Professor Flitwick as Deputy Headmaster. And, before Dumbledore's unconventional departure, the DMLE had dispatched a number of Aurors to escort him back to the Ministry for questioning in a number of matters, including, the unlawful incarceration of Lord Black. As that is no longer an option, the Aurory will, no doubt, be investigating the former Headmaster's offices and private quarters, as well as, other areas of the school and grounds for clues to his current whereabouts. Stay out of their way and do not interfere with their work or you will find yourself in detention with me."

After giving that a moment to sink in, the Headmistress continued, "Now, I've recently been made aware of some gossip being spread about these halls concerning one of your fellow students. And, I'm here to inform you that everything you have heard about Miss Granger in the course of the past two days is false," firmly declared McGonagall, pausing to glare at the Gryffindor table, making more than a few students squirm uncomfortably in their seats, "With her permission, I'm allowed to reveal that she's been in isolation with the Healers at Gringott's while undergoing treatment for Dragon Pox but, she's been deemed cured and cleared to return to classes. With that being said, if I hear so much as a whisper of one of those disgusting accusations floating about again, the person or persons responsible for them will find themselves in detention with Mr. Fitch for the remaining weeks of this term doing whatever task he requires without the aid of magic. Should there be any repeat offenses, and I strongly recommend that there aren't, that student or students will find themselves facing suspension in September. If the culprit is a soon-to be graduate they will, instead, be turned over to the DMLE and face harassment charges. Do I make myself clear?"

A collectively rumbled, 'yes, Headmistress' was heard throughout The Great Hall.

"Good. That is all for now, you are dismissed," pronounced McGonagall, canceling the Sonorous and beckoning Remus and Sirius to follow her to her offices with the still immobilized and levitated Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in tow, the two younger wizards floating behind the small group like a pair of oddly shaped party balloons.

Horcruxes!

Sodding, Bloody, Horcruxes...plural!

('No wonder the Dark...errr, Lord Gaunt had been so manic in his efforts to track down the Potters,' thought Lucius, still somewhat stunned over what the older wizard had shared with him, 'It certainly accounts for his disturbing appearance after the Resurrection ritual four years ago and his horrific rage when that diary was destroyed by Harry Potter.')

Lucius closed his eyes in pain from that latter memory. It was the night Voldemort gave Bellatrix permission to torture Narcissa, resulting in her death over the loss of (what he truly thought was) merely a private journal from Tom Riddle's days as a Hogwarts student.

But, the shocks hadn't stopped there. Malfoy learned that Gaunt's inspiration for re-absorbing the remaining Horcruxes had come after his successful retrieval of The Prophecy for the man...an ambiguous prediction that turned out to have been false all along.

Lord Gaunt had yet to disclose how he had discovered that earth-shattering bit of news. He only stated that Dumbledore had orchestrated the whole thing.

"I know that this information is little consolation to you for the loss of your beloved wife, nor does it excuse the part I played in her death as a result of these influences," drawled Tom, handing Lucius a chilled tumbler of Firewhiskey, "Just know that I will be doing everything possible to bring the Headmaster's misdeeds to the Wizarding World's attention. Starting with this," he said, placing an advanced copy of The Daily Prophet into Malfoy's other hand, the headline announcing Peter Pettigrew's arrest and Lord Black's innocence.

"It's the first of many revelations that will finally prove to the British Wizarding public who the true Dark Lord has been all this time."

The second Hermione, Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape crossed the threshold into the infirmary, Poppy slammed down the quarantine wards over the entrance, the unexpected action causing Severus to raise a questioning eyebrow at the Healer.

"Don't look at me like that young man," she snipped, although there was no bite behind the words, "It was the fastest and best way to ensure Miss Granger's safety. Besides, if anyone should genuinely require my services, I can simply override the spell once I've assessed their condition at the door."

"Now, if you two will excuse me," continued Pomfrey, strolling towards her office, "I have a stack of charts to update and file. Oh, and if you need something to occupy your time until Minerva contacts us, Severus, I have a list of potions that need restocking," handing the end-of-term order to the Potions Master.

"Merlin, Poppy!" exclaimed Snape, looking at the requisition, "This is almost the entire inventory."

"Yes, well," said the Matron with an exasperated sigh, "Blame that awful Umbridge and her personal squad of hooligans for keeping the infirmary filled with patients for the better part of two months."

Snape shook his head, that pink nightmare may be physically gone from the school but, she was still causing havoc.

"Use the Floo in my office," suggested Pomfrey as she stood leaning against the door frame, "I'll temporarily key you in so you can directly access your quarters and private laboratory from there."

Not needing to give it a second thought, the Potions Master replied, "Lead the way, Poppy. With any luck, I'll have half of these potions and salves replenished before Minerva has finished berating Potter and Weasley for their unseemly behavior."

After ensuring the students and other staff had cleared The Great Hall, Professor Flitwick retreated to his office and locked the door, putting up a privacy charm for good measure.

Satisfied that his room was secured, the diminutive Professor called for the House-elf Matron, Hestia.

"I trust you're aware of what happened with Albus Dumbledore earlier today?" he asked the elf, carefully taking a seat on one of his thickly cushioned chairs.

"Yes, Master of Charms," replied the elf Matron, "All the Hogwarts elves knows. He no longer controls the school, that Mistress McGonagall is now in charge."

"Good," smiled Filius, relieved that was one less task he had to handle, "Minerva will have her hands full today dealing with the incoming Aurors, as well as, other pressing Hogwarts matters. So, to make things easier for her, have the housekeeping elves go ahead and prepare several of the guest quarters. I have a strong suspicion that the DMLE investigation will take several days to complete and that a few of the Agents may wish to stay here until they're work is done."

"Of course, Sirs," smiled Hestia, having already directed the other house-elves to accommodate the extra wizards and witches, "We's will have everything ready. Extra food for meals, too. Is there anything else Master of Charms requires?"

"Yes," whispered Flitwick, although there was no one around to overhear their conversation, "Now that The Great Hall is empty, I want you to do another scan for that mystery magical signature, starting with the area between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables."

Hestia's bat-like ears twitched with anticipation, hoping that she could finally find a lead on the killer of the unidentified house-elf, "As you wish, Sirs. Hestia will returns when she has finished."

Once Remus and Sirius reached McGonagall's office, they gently revived Harry and Ron before settling them onto the tartan-coloured settee near the fireplace, keeping the Full-Body-Bind in place but, removing the Silencing charm from the two younger wizards.

It didn't take them long to reconsider reapplying that spell as the teenagers continued where they'd left off denouncing Hermione, despite her not being in their presence.

McGonagall, however, had heard enough and hexxed the belligerent Gryffindors, placing a strip of magical packaging tape over their mouths.

"Given what Albus tried to do in The Great Hall earlier and their continued hostile behavior towards Miss Granger," said Minerva, striding towards her hearth, "I believe it best to have Messrs. Potter and Weasley assessed for undue influences and to determine whether it was Dumbledore's or someone else's doing."

"Agreed," readily replied Sirius, "And, as his godfather, I give you permission to seek out that care for Harry."

"Thank you," said the Headmistress, "I just need to Firecall Arthur Weasley to get his consent for his son's treatment and then I will contact Gringott's to make the arrangements for their evaluations."

Lupin tried not to growl at the mention of the place, "Wouldn't St. Mungo's be better?" he asked, looking all the world like he had sucked on a lemon.

"I assure you, Remus," stated McGonagall, giving him a somber look, "The Goblin Healers are the best when it comes to handling all manner of compulsive magics, which is what I believe has happened with these two. Plus, they can be counted on to be discreet," she said firmly, making it clear that her decision was made.

Chief Auror Gawain Robards stood outside Dumbledore's old office and scowled, he and two of his best curse-breakers had spent the last fifteen minutes sending wave after wave of diagnostic and revealing spells over every inch of the place. Currently, it was lit up like a Muggle Christmas tree, complete with a few areas of flashing red lights, indicating that those spots needed to be diffused first.

"Merlin's Saggy Man Tits!" exclaimed Auror Dawlish, attempting to unravel one of the enhancements, "At this rate it's going to take us a couple of days to disarm just this one section."

"What did you expect, John?" asked Agent Proudfoot, hissing as a strong Bone-Breaking curse hit his shield and bounced off, "This is Albus-freaking-Dumbledore we're talking about, you knew he'd have his rooms layered six-ways-to-Sunday with all manner of protective wards and deterrents."

"You two, shut up and focus on your tasks," snipped Robards, setting individual containment spells over each of the whirling, clicking brass gadgets on the bookshelves, "I'd rather not leave from here looking like Alastor Moody's doppelganger, thank you very much!"

"Right, Boss."

"Sorry, Boss."

Healers Towbane and Dartmire stepped through the Floo into the new Headmistress' office prepared for anything. Well, almost anything. They hadn't anticipated being so thoroughly scrutinized by a prickly wizard (who they immediately recognized as being a Lycanthrope) when they'd left Gringott's five minutes ago.

"Oi! Watch where you're sticking that snout of yours," hissed Towbane, preparing to slap the large man when he started snuffling about her medical bag, "There are a number of delicate healing materials inside and I don't need your hair contaminating my supplies!"

"Remus! Behave yourself or I'll have to ask you to leave," scolded McGonagall, sending a mild Stinging Hex at the werewolf's rump, making him reluctantly back away, "Sorry about him," she apologized to the Goblins, "He's simply worried about these two," she explained, gesturing to the still restrained younger Gryffindors, "And, after the events of this morning, it's made him a bit...over protective, especially, of Mr. Potter."

Dartmire smirked, "Yes, we were briefed about Dumbledore's disgraceful actions by the Aurors before we left Gringott's," he said, walking towards Harry and Ronald and preparing to begin his initial assessment on the ginger-haired teenager, "And, we understand your need to take added precautions, just not when it interferes with the treatment of our patients," he stated, directly addressing Remus.

"Now, bugger off and let us do our jobs," snipped Towbane, glaring at Lupin until he moved across the room, closer to Sirius and Minerva.

"What has gotten into you, Moony?" growled Sirius, keeping a close eye on what the Healers were doing, "I could understand you being this testy if it were nearly the full moon but, that's not for a couple of weeks. So, what's got you this antsy?

"I don't know," grumbled Remus, trying not to pace about their corner of the room, "I just...my inner wolf is going nuts, telling me I need to protect Harry."

That caused Minerva to arch an eyebrow, "But, not Mr. Weasley?"

"No, only Harry," replied Lupin, glancing over at the Goblins as they began their diagnostic scans, a low whine escaping from him.

"Did anything significant or out of the ordinary happen recently?" asked McGonagall, a thread of an idea forming in her mind.

"My exoneration was formalized as you no doubt saw from that Daily Prophet article," answered Black, reaching out and grabbing Remus' wrist in an effort to calm his mate, "Oh, and I filed the documents with the Ministry to claim my rights as godfather, to officially become his guardian. I was going to surprise him today after we brought Hermione back to school but, you saw how things went after Harry and Ron spotted her in The Great Hall."

"I believe I know what's wrong. Well, not so much as wrong but, why you are reacting as you are, Remus," declared the Headmistress, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "One of my cousins is a Lycanthrope," she stated, gesturing for the two wizards to take a seat, "She and her husband couldn't have children, so they adopted a pair of orphaned siblings," said Minerva, calling for a house-elf and ordering some tea and biscuits.

"Is there a point to this story?" growled Lupin, a frown making a deep crease on his forehead.

"Patience, dear boy, I'm getting there," smirked McGonagall, selecting a lemon-ginger biscuit from the plate of nibbles the elf had served, "As I was saying, my cousin and her husband blood-adopted two children. And, once the ritual was completed and the family magics recognized the youngsters as their offspring, she began acting strangely, much like yourself," she added, taking a sip of tea, "It seems her Lycanthrope instincts were pushing her to claim the little boy and girl as her pups with a small bite to the neck...outside of a full moon, of course."

"But, Sirius and I didn't blood-adopt Harry," said Lupin, puzzlement temporarily replacing his rising anxiety, "So why would my wolf's instincts drive me to visibly mark him as mine?"

Sirius chuckled, causing Remus to glare at him, "No, but the Black family magics would be invoked all the same when I was recognized as his godfather, doubly so when I named him as my Heir."

"Well, Fuck me," murmured Lupin, looking rather sheepish for a werewolf. (For all his research into Lycanthrope culture in the past couple of years, how had he missed this important bit of information? Then again, he hadn't been aware of McGonagall's cousin, either.)

"Later, my love. We don't want to traumatize the boy."

Tonks and Moody were carefully walking the perimeter of The Great Hall checking for anything Dumbledore may have left behind when they were approached by a grim-faced house-elf.

"Please, Mistess Tonks, Master Moody," she begged, taking each of them by the hand, "Master of Charms needs to speaks with you's right away".

But before either could ask why, Hestia had Apparated the pair away, directly into Professor Flitwick's office.

"What the actual Fuck, Professor!" snarled Alastor when he discovered exactly who was behind their abduction, "You do realize you can serve time in Azkaban for kidnapping two Aurors?"

"Sorry about that but, time was of the essence," said Filius before launching into an explanation about everything he and Hestia had uncovered since they'd come across the other unfortunate elf's body.

The smile that slowly broke across Moody's face was somewhat frightening to see, "You truly believe we can trace Dumbledore's whereabouts using these partial magical signatures?"

"In theory, yes," replied Flitwick, carefully sliding off his chair and pulling an Advanced Charms and Spellcrafting book from one of his shelves, "A brand new tracking spell would have to be developed, of course, but, eventually, you should be able to locate the Sodding Bastard."

"Fan-damn-tastic! What else do you need to get started?"

Chapter Text

Professor Snape had just dropped off the first batch of Madame Pomfrey's long list of potions to the infirmary and returned to his private lab to start on the next batch of healing elixirs when he was summoned. Hissing like an angry snake from the unwelcome burning sensation emanating from the Dark Mark on his left arm, Severus schooled his emotions (especially, his fear for Lucius' well-being) and dampened the pain behind a strong Occlumency shield before returning through the Floo to Poppy's office.

Having known Snape since he was a student at Hogwarts, Pomfrey instantly recognized that something was off based on his overly rigid body language, "What's happened, my boy? Are Messrs. Potter and Weasley alright?"

The Potions Master frowned, "This involves...something else," he replied, his eyes briefly flicking down towards his left forearm. Poppy caught the subtle movement, immediately understanding his unspoken concerns, having treated him numerous times over the years after his visits to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"I see," she said, keeping her voice low so that Hermione wouldn't overhear their conversation, "Shall I inform Minerva of..."

"That won't be necessary," he interrupted, grabbing a few vials from the freshly stocked shelves, "I will see the Headmistress on my way out and apprise her of the situation.

Pomfrey placed her hand on his shoulder, "I expect you to return here in relatively one piece young man," she said firmly, her forehead furrowing with deep lines that clearly expressed her worry.

"I will endeavor to do my best."

When McGonagall received the urgent Firecall from Snape, she instructed him to return to his private quarters, saying that she would meet him there momentarily as her office was currently unavailable for a confidential discussion.

As she stepped through the green flames of the fireplace and into Severus' sitting room, the Headmistress somehow knew she wasn't going to like what he had to tell her...and she was right.

"Merlin! That man's timing couldn't be any worse," Minerva exclaimed, looking mildly haggard after the distressing events of the day.

"Agreed," drawled Snape, gritting his teeth as another summons pulsed through his Dark Mark, "And it seems He's rather impatient today."

"Be on your way then, Severus," stated McGonagall, ushering him towards the door, "And do be careful."

The Potions Master controlled the urge to roll his eyes over hers, and Poppy's, parting words, 'Mother hens, the pair of them' he muttered to himself. (He'd never admit it out loud but, it warmed his heart to know that there were others, aside from his two mates, that truly gave a shite about his welfare during these meetings with The Dark Lord...unlike the previous head of the school.)

"As always, Minerva," he assured her before quickly disappearing from her view down a darkened passageway leading to a hidden exit from the castle.

Healers Dartmire and Towbane had just finished cleaning up their two young patients after their purging treatments were completed when the Headmistress returned to her office. She didn't even bat an eyelash when she saw that Sirius had resorted to restraining Remus with a Petrificus Totalus and a Silencio. Black quietly explained that during the last stage of the process, Harry's heart wrenching cries had the werewolf on the verge of pouncing on the two Goblins and forcibly removing his pup from their hands.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the disheveled looking wizard, making the man lower his head in shame under her intimidating gaze. Her soothing words, however, helped to ease his anxieties, "My cousin also had to be similarly constrained when her children were receiving medical care for Pixie Pox," she stated, placing a calming hand on Lupin's shoulder, "It's perfectly natural to want to aid your kids when they are calling out to you for comfort but, you'll need to practice a bit more self-control, much like she did. Otherwise, you could wind up getting hexxed...or worse."

Turning to the two youngest Gryffindors, both of whom looked as pale as milk, the Headmistress asked, "How are you feeling now Messrs. Potter, Weasley?"

"Like a herd of hippogryphs trampled my head," groaned Ronald, pressing the heel of his hands to his eyes.

"Yeah, that, and wanting to find Dumbledore so I can curse the Sodding Bastard for trying to kidnap me," growled Harry, hissing as the scar on his forehead began to ache.

"Language, Mr. Potter," admonished McGonagall, causing Harry to mumble a quick apology, "Although, I completely agree with the sentiment."

"Now, we've much to discuss, starting with informing you of everything that Dumbledore has done to the both of you to the amount of groveling you'll need to perform to get Miss Granger to forgive you."

Lucius tried not to flinch as Lord Gaunt drew his wand and used the Dark Mark on his arm to summon a select few of the Death Eaters to the Manor, focusing on the more fanatical of the Blood Purists amongst the Inner Circle and the next highest ranking members, some twenty one people all told. The older wizard had explained his audacious plan to Malfoy and he was certain that the ones that Gaunt were calling to this meeting were not going to take it well, especially, Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus.

He fervently wished that Severus wasn't among those being summoned just in case things went pear-shaped, one of the two of them needed to survive to be there for their little Omega.

Tom noticed his blonde companion's growing apprehension through his ramrod straight posture and paling complexion and attempted to set Lucius' mind at ease, "Not to worry, my friend," he soothed as the security wards let them know the first three invited Death Eaters had arrived at the front gate, "I intend to separate my followers into three smaller parties. And if any of them become hostile over my restructuring ideals and attempt to 'dissuade' me of my changed way of thinking, at least, they will be more...manageable."

Malfoy looked at his leader and nodded his understanding, not saying a word as he spotted the familiar figure in black. ('Fuck. Me. I should have known better than to hope Severus would be left out of this scheme.')

Harry, with the newly healed familial claiming bite from Lupin on his shoulder, and Ronald sat on the tartan settee in McGonagall's office between Sirius and Remus, both looking utterly shattered at what the Headmistress revealed to them.

"I know this is a lot to take in, particularly for you, Mr. Potter," stated Minerva, setting down the shorter of the two medical reports the Goblins had provided her before they took their leave and returned to Gringott's, "But, the pair of you needed to understand the severity of what's happened to you, as well as, what you've done under Dumbledore's influence."

Wealsey was the first to regain his voice, "Bloody Hell! 'Mione's never going to forgive us for what we said," he whinged, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt.

Potter sat in silence while staring at the floor, too ashamed to look anyone in the face. Finally, he broke, bitter tears began flowing down his cheeks and dripping onto his trousers and boots, "Its worse than that, Ron," Harry rasped, wiping his face with a handkerchief Sirius handed to him, "She'll never trust us again."

After the Headmistress dismissed the crowd from The Great Hall, Neville and the Twins retreated to Longbottom's newly claimed private quarters as none of them had classes for another hour.

"So, Neville," started George, giving the younger boy a mischievous wink, "What are you planning to do now that the Headmistress has taken care of Hermione's problem with the rumors?"

Longbottom let out a deep sigh, "I'm not sure," he replied, looking about his cozy new place, "I just know I can't return to Gryffindor Tower yet, if ever," his face pinched by a deep frown, "I realize that Dumbledore may have caused Harry and Ron to act out like they did but, all the others were..."

"Sodding two-faced Wankers," Fred and George stated together, the usual playful warmth in their eyes giving way to icy indignation.

"I was going to say thoughtless, gullible twits but, that works, too," said Neville, scrubbing a hand through his hair and ruffling his sandy-blonde locks. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose to ease his nerves, the younger wizard came to a decision, "Until the term is over, I'm going to camp out here. You two, and Ginny, are welcome to hang out anytime...provided you don't prank me."

"Now why would we do that?" asked Fred with an impish smirk. "When we have a nearly a whole school full of victims...errr, people to test our products and spells on?" added George with a matching expression on his face.

"Let me help and I'll show you the best places to harvest Scurvy-Grass and Lovage," offered Longbottom, a wicked smile now gracing his features.

"Deal!"

Tom, Severus and Lucius were standing in the middle of the Manor ballroom when the first seven Death Eaters entered the space, all of them showing varying levels of surprise when they finally realized that the distinguished older wizard greeting them was their previously snake-like Dark Lord.

After their initial shock had worn off, and Dumbledore's public disgrace was heartily celebrated with champagne, the festive mood of the summoned followers rapidly deteriorated to one of disgusted disbelief as Lord Gaunt revealed his new plans for integrating the Muggleborns into Wizarding society instead of subjugating or destroying them.

It didn't help matters when Tom presented them with archival records and medical proof that Muggleborns were misnamed...that they were instead Squib-born, descending directly from well-known Pureblood lines.

"You're either lying or delusional!" yelled Walden Macnair, sending a vicious Bone-Breaker curse towards Gaunt, "Either way, you're no longer fit to be called our leader!"

"He has to be an Imposter. The true Dark Lord would never sully himself by helping those filthy Mudbloods!" hissed Corbin Yaxley as he dodged an Impedimenta.

Further shouts of 'blood traitor' and more inventive curses were thrown towards Tom, Lucius and Severus, all which they easily deflected even as they shielded themselves and returned fire. In less than thirty minutes, all but one of the Death Eaters had fallen to the floor around them never to rise again. Thorfinn Rowle, having wisely chosen to side with Lord Gaunt just seconds before the fracas commenced, helped to maintain cover for himself and his three allies during the short-lived rebellion.

"Well, that certainly escalated quickly," drawled Malfoy as he banished the deceased wizards to a guest bedroom to be dealt with more fully at a later time.

"Indeed," stated Snape, casting Scourgify and Reparo over their ripped clothing and the blood-covered marble floor, "Might I suggest trying a different approach with the next two groups, MiLord."

Thorfinn chuckled darkly, healing the few cuts that he and his companions received in the fight from flying glass and splintered wood from a shattered chandelier and a Bombarda'd section of flooring, "Yeah, like Avada first then let the gods sort them out."

As Granger quietly walked to the infirmary with Snape and Madame Pomfrey accompanying her, Severus broke the uncomfortable growing silence by mentioning the article in The Daily Prophet he'd read over breakfast that morning, briefly highlighting the Former Headmaster's transgressions against Harry's parents and Sirius Black. Snape speculated aloud that, based on these verified facts (coupled with his own, unspoken, discoveries about the older wizard raised during his time spent in Gringott's over the past few days), that Dumbledore was the likely culprit behind Potter's and Weasley's current atrocious behavior.

"That awful man," snipped Poppy, raising the quarantine wards on the hospital wing after they passed through the main doorway, "I don't doubt he's done far worse things."

But at the back of Hermione's mind, certain memories resurfaced, and she wondered just how many of the boys' actions over the years were due to Dumbledore's influence and how much was based on their genuine opinions of her. ('She's a nightmare! It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends.', 'You call yourself a proper witch? You can't even fly on a broom like the rest of us.', 'You're just jealous because someone else is finally better at something than you.', 'Snape was right about one thing, 'Mione, you're an Insufferable Know-It-All who simply likes to show off.', 'Brightest witch of our age, my arse! You still haven't figured out that no one cares what you think.')

A mixture of old insecurities, anger and heartache threatened to overwhelm her senses, had Harry and Ronald ever truly been her friends?

Although Hermione wanted to consult Severus about the matter, to ask if he would consider using Legilimacy on Harry and Ronald to help get to the truth, Madame Pomfrey had more pressing plans for the dour man in black. The hospital Floo sounded moments later, the brilliant green flames taking Snape to his private laboratory to begin brewing potions to replace the infirmary's severely depleted stores, leaving Hermione to puzzle things out on her own.

Thorfinn Rowle, Rabastan Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood stood at the threshold of a large guest suite in Malfoy Manor gazing down in disgust at the pile of dead bodies lying on the floor. Out of the original twenty-one Death Eaters summoned that day, they were the only ones who survived Tom's 'screening' procedure.

"I can't say that I'm the least bit sorry that these bastards are gone, especially, my waste-of-space brother and bat-shite crazy sister-in-law," claimed Rabastan, delivering a swift kick to Rodolphus' dragonhide boots with the toe of one of his own.

"Agreed," said Augustus, barely holding himself back from spitting on Amycus Carrow's remains, "Their fanaticism was starting to make them a danger to everyone around them, it didn't matter if you were Muggle or magical," pulling back the collar of his shirt to reveal the cursed knife scar on his neck, an injury that particular twin had given him over an imagined insult.

"That's merely a love bite, check this out," stated Rowle, rolling up his shirt sleeve to show his friends the elbow-to-wrist scar on his left arm that was gifted to him by the other Carrow twin, Alecto, after declining their invitation to dinner.

"I've got you both beat," drawled Lestrange, pulling up his shirt and displaying the line of lash marks on his back, all inflicted by his own brother 'just because he could'.

While the three wizards were busy comparing the various wounds they'd received at the hands of their single-minded associates, Snape, Malfoy and Gaunt strolled over to join them in the hallway outside the guest room serving as a makeshift morgue. Lucius approached them first, carrying a small wooden bowl in his left hand, contained within it was a collection of grey river stones crafted into simple necklaces that Severus had charmed to act as a specialized Port-Key.

After instructing the other men to place one of the pieces on each of their former colleagues, Gaunt explained that when activated by him, the Port-Keys would take the deceased Death Eaters to an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of Yaxley's property in Cornwall.

"Once the last of them have been transported," Tom elaborated, looping a necklace over Bellatrix's head before moving on to Antonin Dolohov and repeating the process, "The six of us will Disapparate to their location and stage a failed raid attempt. After that task has been completed to my satisfaction, all of you will Apparate back to Malfor Manor and await my return in the main dining hall."

"We still have much to discuss, including, your new assignments."

Next to one of the pale lemon-coloured walls in the hidden potions lab in Menton, France, Horace Slughorn sat on the edge of a plush, black leather settee holding his head in his hands, his portly body shaking like a large bowl of lime Jell-O in the midst of an earthquake as he waited for the Calming Draught he'd downed to take effect, his current physical state due to the conflicting thoughts and emotions rattling about through his weary brain and the tattered remnants of his conscience.

The main cause of Slughorn's heart-pounding distress was the more pages he'd read of Nicolas Flamel's translations on the Les Morts Ambulants potion, the more he came to realize that it was imperative that he sabotage Dumbledore's insidious project.

But at his core, Horace was a staunch Slytherin and his innate sense of self-preservation was battling with this unfamiliar Gryffindor trait, it was the second reason why he was presently self-dosing almost to the point of immobility.

The, relatively, easiest part of Slughorn's budding scheme would be the stealing of the rarest potions ingredients, selling them on the black market and using his ill-gotten gains to make a fresh start in the States. However, keeping himself safe long enough to enjoy his self-imposed exile was throwing a spanner into the works as his growing paranoia whispered to him that Dumbledore likely had contacts across the Pond, too. ('You'll be forever jumping at shadows and looking over your shoulder just waiting for the curse that will end your miserable existence.')

Somehow, Horace managed to squash the worst of these niggling concerns until the Calming potion kicked in and his roiling thoughts settled. Slughorn then took a deep cleansing breath and got to work. The first thing he needed to do was get a coded message out to the one person he knew that had as many resources at his disposal as Dumbledore and, more importantly, wouldn't betray him to the mutually despised Gryffindor despot...one Lord Lucius Malfoy.

Chapter Text

After Remus and Sirius escorted Harry and Ronald to Gryffindor Tower and got them settled in amongst their severely chastened, and highly discomfited, housemates, the couple returned to Headmistress McGonagall's office, preparing to Floo back to Grimmauld Place to decompress after the disturbing events of the day.

Before they could make their exit, though, Minerva had them take a seat, saying that she had received additional information from the Goblins about Harry's recent assessment.

"I didn't mention it this morning during his and Mr. Weasley's compulsions removal because that process was distressing enough as it was for everyone involved," she explained, pulling up the second document Healer Towbane had handed to her prior to their treating Potter and Weasley. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I'm sorry to have to inform you both that this in-depth scan revealed certain medical issues that will take far longer to correct and required the involvement of Child Protective Services. I've already contacted their offices and they are sending a case worker over shortly to further discuss these matters."

Remus' eyes flashed over to a bright yellow, already not liking the direction of this conversation, "Exactly what does that report say about Harry's health, what else has happened to him?" he demanded, the 'and who besides Dumbledore do I have to hunt down and tear apart' left unsaid, his nerves still on edge from previously having to helplessly sit back and listen to his pup's anguished cries. Sirius tensed and shifted uncomfortably on the settee, his body automatically preparing to restrain his agitated mate even as he angrily voiced the same concerns.

The green flames in McGonagall's fireplace interrupted her response to the pair as sparks flared brightly and a stern-looking raven-haired witch emerged, standing on the threshold of the grey hearth stones with a steely glint flashing through her sky-blue eyes.

"My apologies Headmistress, Lord Black and Mr. Lupin, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. I'm Agent Camille Tutela," she brusquely stated while pulling a stack of documents from out of her well-traveled brown leather briefcase. Strolling forward and handing a copy of the papers to Sirius and Minerva, Agent Tutela quickly added, "Let's get started then, alright? I want to have those despicable Muggles in custody by nightfall."

Lord Gaunt stood outside the dilapidated farmhouse in Cornwall waiting for the five other wizards to emerge after they'd added some finishing touches throughout the interior...a few strategically placed scorch marks and holes from spellfire on the walls and floor, a torn scrap of parchment showing the partial address to a Muggle residence near Godric's Hollow loosely positioned within Bellatrix's cold fingers, blood from a handful of the bodies splashed haphazardly on the ground and the removal of the temporary Port-Keys from the deceased Death Eaters so their origin couldn't be traced back to Malfoy Manor.

Once Lucius and his companions completed their tasks and rejoined Gaunt outside, Tom then proceeded to cast a slow burning Incendio on a large, dried-up shrub standing along the overgrown pathway leading to the building, the billowing black smoke certain to catch the attention of the closest neighbors within the hour, giving them plenty of time to Apparate back to Wiltshire before the DMLE were called out to the scene.

As the group was preparing to leave, Lord Gaunt glanced up at the sky and noticed that several ominous looking storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. Determined to ensure that the bodies were found in a timely manner, just in case the fire he set was dampened too soon by the approaching rains, Tom sent an anonymous tip to the Ministry using a house-elf messenger shortly after returning to Lucius' study.

"Now that this unpleasant business has been put behind us, let's get back to your new assignments, shall we? "

Rookwood's new role was fairly straightforward. Being Yaxley's second-in-command in the DMLE-Ministry Security Division, he would step in as head of that department once the current shift of Aurors discovered their late colleague's remains on his property. Until then, Rookwood was to return to his flat in London to await the 'unexpected' notification from his fellow Agents.

With this new position, Augustus would then be granted even higher level security clearance, making him privy to all manner of useful information within the, otherwise, sealed Wizengamot records, plus, gaining him access to the Dark Artifacts depository.

Lord Gaunt's Occlumemcy controlled features gave nothing away when he revealed why Rookwood's promotion and new privileges were of such vital importance.

"There's a missing piece of Gaunt family jewelry that may have found its way into those vaults about fourteen years ago," explained Tom matter-of-factly, "I need you to review court documents and check the repository inventory to be certain if that's the case. I'll send you specific dates and other details once your new position has been made official."

(What Tom didn't divulge to his followers was that this was a backup plan should his meeting with Sirius Black on Tuesday not lead to the recovery of his ancestor's locket. Besides, it never hurt to gather information that people went to so much trouble to hide from the public, having ready access to confiscated Dark Magic objects that might prove useful later on was a lovely bonus, as well).

Learning that this was the outcome of Rookwood's assignment had Lucius' and Severus' nerves on edge. Other than being a family heirloom (which they had serious doubts about), why was this bauble the one the former Dark Lord was determined to retrieve? What did the curse attached to it do? And, more importantly, was it intended to make its way to a particular target?

Shortly after lunchtime, Agent Tutela and Auror Shacklebolt Apparated into a dusty alley near Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whingeing.

"Are you ready to put the fear of Merlin into these sorry excuses for human beings, Kings?"

"More than ready, Madame. Lead the way."

While Shacklebolt and Tutela were having way too much fun in showing Petunia and Vernon Dursley the error of their ways, Black, Lupin and McGonagall were busy making arrangements with Elder Marshbanks to treat Harry's significant list of poorly healed physical injuries, psychological trauma and malnutrition issues.

And, oh yes, that pesky little piece of a soul-shard embedded in his lightning-bolt scar.

Minerva had wisely withheld that disturbing tidbit until Tutela and Shacklebolt had left her office and the Goblin Healer was on hand to help prepare the two new parents for this alarming problem.

"Fuck. An. Ever-loving. Duck!" Sirius had exclaimed, his head feeling like it was going to explode with this bombshell, "Tell me you can remove this Bloody thing without killing Harry."

Marshbanks bared her impressively sharp, gleaming white teeth at the wizard, "Of course," she stated, sedately shaking her head at the anxiously pacing man, "Goblin magics are far more effective than Wizarding treatments when it comes to handling things of this nature. But, we'll need to complete your son's physical healing before we can transfer that sliver of Dark Magic into an inanimate vessel, it will be at least a month before Mr. Potter will be anywhere near ready for that ritual."

"A month?!" That shite needs to be taken out of Harry now!" snarled Remus, his hands clenched into tight fists.

The Goblin and Headmistress exchanged an exasperated glance, "As I've explained, Mr. Potter needs to be much healthier, physically and mentally, before we can safely perform the necessary separation rites. Until then, I will encapsulate the shard in a modified containment shield. It will help to mitigate any discomfort, such as, migraines or nightmares that the boy may be experiencing from the Dark Magics so that he can properly rest."

McGonagall placed a soothing hand on Black's and Lupin's shoulders, "This is the best possible treatment plan for Mr. Potter," she assured them.

"And, we can begin the young man's road to recovery first thing in the morning," gently added Marshbanks, wordlessly pulling up the Goblin Healers' schedules, "Is 9 a.m. good for you?"

"Just...peachy".

Severus and Lucius were finally left alone in the blonde aristocrat's study.Thorfinn, Rabastan and Augustus had hurried off to begin their respective projects and Lord Gaunt had departed shortly afterwards, heading to London for an early dinner engagement with several members of the Wizengamot.

"Sweet Circe, Severus. What are we going to do?" asked Lucius, his forehead pinched into a deep frown over his given task, "That conniving bastard wants me to arrange a luncheon here at the Manor so he can meet our lioness, his cousin Lady Peverell. He'll likely kill her and then us when he uses Legilimacy on her and discovers her identity and our connection to her!"

"Calm yourself, old friend," drawled Snape, although, he silently shared some of his friend's concerns, "Based on his earlier speech and later actions with the Inner Circle, he doesn't support the Blood Purist ideologies anymore."

"You honestly trust his sudden change of heart regarding Muggleborns?" scoffed Malfoy, reluctantly taking a self-inking quill and parchment from his desk and beginning to compose a letter to Maia about Gaunt's request.

"Not exactly. However, Tom did just help us eliminate his most fanatical Pureblood supporters, the ones who'd pose the greatest threat to her life," Severus said truthfully, "I'm far more worried that he'll insist that we bond with Maia on the next full moon when he learns that she's our Omega...and with all the traditional rituals that will entail."

Lucius' eyes widened almost comically as he dropped his quill, smearing the deep green ink over the scroll, "You don't seriously think he'd sanction such a thing? Maia's not ready for something like...like...", he stuttered, his cheeks taking on a pinkish tinge.

"A public claiming?...specifically, a consummation with conception? No, I doubt that she would be so inclined," said Snape, a matching color having formed on his own face.

"Fuck. Me."

"Yes, I believe that's the whole idea."

Upon the Potions Masters return to Hogwarts, he reported in with the Headmistress and gave a brief overview of his interactions with Lord Gaunt (naturally, leaving out the improvised slaughter of eighteen Death Eaters).

"I don't believe it!" scowled Minerva, staring at Severus as if he'd grown a second nose, "This self-same wizard who just captured Peter Pettigrew and cleared Sirius Black's name is actually He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? For what purpose? Other than exposing Dumbledore's treachery for all the world to see, what does Lord Volde...Gaunt expect to gain from of all this...public service?"

"Unfortunately, Tom hasn't seen fit to impart any details about his new schemes to the Inner Circle," grumbled Snape, glaring at the clock, he really needed to get back to brewing soon if he ever hoped to catch up with Pomfrey's ridiculously extensive potions order before the week was done, "For now, he's set individual tasks for a handful of us to complete. In my case, I'm to help Lucius Malfoy in the tracking down of a newly discovered cousin of Lord Gaunt's and facilitate a meeting between the two of them. Well, that, and continuing to brew various potions for him and the other Death Eaters."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the wizard in black, noticing the fatigue (and something else she couldn't quite place) that suddenly seemed to take over his entire form, "I see. I will leave you to get back to it then. And Severus, should you ever need to speak to me about anything, no matter how difficult the topic, my door is always open."

"I'll keep that in mind...Minerva."

By the time Black and Lupin finished making arrangements with Elder Marshbanks for Harry's treatments (plus an assessment and cleansing for themselves, too, based on the Goblin Healer's blunt counsel ) and returned to Grimmauld Place, Sirius was a bundle of nerves. He and Remus only had three days to cleanse their dreary residence in preparation for Harry's arrival, and combining that self-imposed deadline with the knowledge of what his adopted son was about to face tomorrow morning, it was enough to send him into a frenzied state of renovation. But, he wasn't daft enough to attempt updating the whole house on his own. Instead, he cajoled Remus into cleaning and reorganizing the Library with the promise of going to Tomes and Scrolls later and buying him the latest editions of 'Transfiguration Today', 'Charms Quarterly' and a new supply of Honeyduke's Special Edition dark chocolate truffles (shameless bribery, he knew but it worked).

Leaving his mate happily dusting and sorting books, Sirius stepped into the hallway and called for his newly acquired house-elves, a sister and brother pair named Castle and Bishop, to assist in some of the preparations. (Apparently, the previous family that they'd been bonded to had been chess enthusiasts and, yes, he'd deal with Hermione's admonishments for not doing things for himself later but, quite frankly, he and Remus desperately needed the extra help. Especially, since they both were absolutely pants at cooking. Hell, they'd nearly set the stove on fire trying to boil water to make tea!)

After directing the siblings to tend to the long neglected garden, that disaster of a kitchen and the uninviting dining area, with the added instructions that if they came across any Dark Artifacts to bring them to him immediately, Black strolled downstairs to begin his arduous task of ripping down the previous Fidelius Charm Dumbledore had set about his family's ancestral home.

It would take him the better part of two hours to remove Albus' unwanted magics and recast the enchantment, making himself the Secret Keeper but, it was well worth the physically and magically exhausting effort to ensure that his new family was safe within these slowly brightening walls.

When he felt the new Charm settle within his magical core, Sirius found himself daydreaming that the despicable former Headmaster had risked coming back to Grimmauld Place only to lose his mind when he realized that he could no longer see nor access Order Headquarters. A most satisfying thought, indeed.

After deciding that her energies were being wasted on worrying over the status of her friendships with Harry and Ronald, Hermione asked Madame Pomfrey if there was anything she could do to help lighten her workload.

Without a second thought, Poppy had the younger witch making Dittany-laced bandage wraps and brewing Pepper-up with the equipment and limited ingredients she had on hand.

"I thought Professor Snape was in his laboratory already working to restock your inventory," Hermione said more than asked, scrunching her nose up in confusion.

('Bugger, I forgot she doesn't know Severus was called away.') Pasting a well-practiced smile on her face, the Matron replied, "He is but, I neglected to list the bandages on the requisition form, and I can always send any extra Pepper-up potions on to St. Mungo's."

The younger witch arched a single eyebrow at the Healer, indicating that she knew the woman was holding something back but, instead of questioning the Matron further, Granger got to work, figuring she could ask her Alpha later on what was happening.

Lord Gaunt strolled into the posh Muggle restaurant with a smug look on his face, he'd purposely chosen this venue for a couple of reasons. First, it would be far less likely that his conversation with the Wizengamot members would be overheard by other Wizarding folk but, mostly, Tom had done it to make the Neutral faction of Purebloods uncomfortable, having them off-guard would serve to make this business dinner far more...productive, at least, for him.

Severus had no sooner Floo'd from Lucius' study back to Hogwarts when an exceedingly twitchy house-elf wearing a grey-green towel-dress popped into existence in front of him and mutely extended its trembling hand for him to take the small, unmarked brown package it carried.

After casting a few diagnostic spells to determine that the container was safe to handle, Lucius called for his own house-elf to tend to the silent messenger, the sender obviously expecting a return reply.

Taking the newly Engorgio'd, and deceptively light, box in hand and breaking the dark green wax seal, Malfoy carefully deciphered the contents of the accompanying coded letter he saw laying on top of a collection of rare ingredients, items that he knew Severus would gladly curse someone into next year to acquire. Setting the missive aside and pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered aloud, "What in the Bloody Hell have you gotten yourself into now, Horace?"

Snape visited the infirmary to inform Granger of the good news, that Potter and Weasley had been successfully treated for compulsive magics placed on them by Dumbledore, and that McGonagall had given the 'all clear' for her to head back to Gryffindor Tower, assuring her that the rumor mill had been effectively squashed on all fronts. Only, when he relayed this message to his little Omega she flatly refused to return to her dormitory.

"Regardless of what the Headmistress told my housemates, I still wouldn't feel safe staying there anymore," she explained, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture, "I certainly don't trust any of them, especially, Harry and Ronald, even though they've been freed from Dumbledore's influence. Please, Professor. Isn't there somewhere else that I can go, at least, until the term ends for the Summer hols?"

Severus had to slam down his Occlumency shields to control his protective Alpha nature, otherwise, he would have swept Hermione up in his arms and taken her to his private quarters. Another thing keeping him firmly rooted in place was the knowledge that those impulsive actions would get him hexxed six-ways-to-Sunday by both Poppy and Minerva. Fortunately, he was saved from his dilemma when Pomfrey spoke up, "You can stay here with me, Miss Granger," she offered, placing a calming hand on the younger witch's shoulder, "I have a guest bedroom in my quarters that you may use, and I'll send a house-elf to fetch your school trunk and other belongings. Would this be an acceptable solution for you?"

"Yes. And thank you, Madame Pomfrey," replied Hermione, although, she had silently hoped her Alpha would have given her a similar option.

"Good. That's settled then," said Poppy, calling for an elf and instructing it to gather up the younger witch's possessions and settle them in the room next to hers.

As Hermione left to acquaint herself with her temporary new quarters, Pomfrey turned to Snape and raised an eyebrow at the suddenly brooding wizard, "I'm certainly glad to see you back safe and without injury this time, Severus," she soothed, patting him gently on his arm, "Now, tell me," purred the Matron, an impish gleam now sparkling in her eyes, "When did you discover that Miss Granger was your Omega?"

Snape was taken so off-guard by Poppy's unexpected question that his reply came out as a strangled, unintelligible 'hrrk'.

Dumbledore left the lab after checking up on Slughorn's progress, whistling a happy little tune as he went, pleased that the plump wizard had just completed the base for the Les Morts Ambulants potion.

In two weeks' time, everyone at Hogwarts and the British Ministry of Magic would be sorry they'd ever defied him, his revenge would be exceptionally sweet.

Horace let out a relieved sigh as the twinkly-eyed git disappeared out the door and he could finally rub the sides of his face to ease the soreness that had resulted from biting the inside of his cheeks. It was the only way to keep his smug grin from emerging and giving himself away as Albus glanced at the contents of the cauldron and 'hmm'd' his approval. As he suspected, the overconfident megalomanic hadn't bothered to read the notes Flamel had translated, nor did he have a good working knowledge of potions, otherwise, the old goat would have noticed that the color was all wrong for the vile elixir he was expecting.

...however, it was precisely on point for the Invisibility potion that Horace would need for his backup escape plan in case Lord Malfoy didn't come through for him.

Chapter Text

Lucius read Horace's letter once more before getting to work. First on the agenda was a secured Firecall to Gringott's. He knew Grimsby had the necessary connections to find out just how much the bundle of rare potions ingredients were worth without drawing unwanted attention.

While waiting for the, oddly excited, bank manager to Floo back with the sums, Malfoy carried on with Horace's next request. Collecting that morning's edition of The Daily Prophet, and attaching a brief accompanying note, Lucius had his house-elf Trinket deliver both items to the Paris address of the world renowned alchemist and academic, Nicolas Flamel. Although his old Head of House was rather vague with the details, he'd been adamant that it was to prevent a national disaster, that Flamel needed to be warned that his old friend was 'returning to the path of Grindlewald'.

Although he'd known the former Headmaster was despicable given what he'd done to Severus and Black, Horace's cryptic warning gave him pause. 'How much worse could the man get?'

The last item on Slughorn's 'to do' list was a dawdle, an untraceable Port-Key to someplace safe and warm.

'Anywhere but here, dear boy. You know my tastes, I'll leave the particulars to your discretion,' the note had said.

Unfortunately for Lucius, he did know of the older wizard's penchant for barely legal pursuits. Although, this reminder certainly helped to narrow down possible relocation sites. Malfoy just hoped that this was the absolute last time Horace sought out his help from a precarious situation.

As expected, the Aurors showed up at Lestrange Hall to notify Rabastan of the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law and to question him concerning his whereabouts during the time of their murders. He had a strong motive, after all, standing to inherit the entire Lestrange family fortune given that Rodolphus and Bellatrix had no offspring. (This same approach was being used with the other deceased Death Eaters' relatives all over Britain. Although, truth be told, none of the Agents were going to shed any tears over the sudden removal of these, often violent, followers of Voldemort from the general population, the fewer of these rabid Blood Purists that they had to deal with, the better.)

However, when Aurors Barnaby and Jones were greeted at the front door by an old elf named Promus and were informed that the young Master had been sick with Dragon Pox for the past couple of days, the pair hesitated to enter farther into the house.

"Come along,Jones," said Barnaby, casting a full-body Bubble charm over the two of them after sending a Patronus cautioning the other Auror teams about the potential for Dragon Pox exposure, "We've got to at least confirm Lestrange's illness. And if that's the case, it helps rule him out as a suspect."

"Fine," Jones grumbled as he strolled into the foyer and proceeded to follow Promus down a long hallway towards Rabastan's bedroom, Barnaby walking a few steps behind him, "But we're going to St.Mungo's afterwards for a booster vaccine."

"I always suspected you were a bit of a hypochondriac. This just confirms my theory," smirked Barnaby, although, he wouldn't admit it aloud to the younger wizard that it was a sensible precaution, "I'll even make sure to request Healer Dobbins to walk us through the decontamination protocols."

Jones' cheeks flushed a bright pink at the mention of the cute Mediwitch's name, "I'll hex your dangly bits blue if you do!"

"Ah, my favorite color. However did you guess?"

Malfoy nearly fainted when Grimsby Firecalled back an hour later to inform him that the price tag for the entire lot of rare ingredients came to a jaw dropping five million galleons. But, Lucius was determined not to sell these items off to some random stranger. Every little seed, scale, egg and powder from the package Horace smuggled out to him was earmarked for Snape. Besides, Lucius was fully aware that his dour friend could now easily afford this expense with the Prince family inheritance...plus, he wouldn't put it past Severus to invent all manner of customized spells to hex him with if he didn't offer him the opportunity to acquire this unexpected windfall.

After taking a Calming Draught to settle his nerves (Grimsby may have gone out of his way to mention that Snape could create two phials of the legendary Fons Iuventutis potion from just five grams of the powdered Turritopsis Dohrnii eggs. 'Something to consider given the...exuberance of your Omega,' the Goblin had stated with a knowing wink), Lucius authorized the transfer from his personal vault to Slughorn's account.

When the twitchy little house-elf left Malfoy Manor and returned to Horace Slughorn later that afternoon, the retired Hogwarts Professor had to bite the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from laughing aloud at the sight of the, mostly, empty potions crate she presented to him.

"You may return to your normal duties at the main house, Timens," said Horace, dismissing the shaky elf with a casual wave of his hand, "I won't need any further assistance this evening."

Only after the tiny house-elf silently bowed and Disapparated with a near soundless 'Pop' did Slughorn open the box containing the sealed reply from Lucius. A devious smile growing ever wider across his face the more he read.

"Absolutely wonderful," cooed Horace as he secured the envelope in his shirt pocket before setting about bottling his latest brewing efforts, a nasty surprise he was leaving for Dumbledore to find once he'd escaped, unfortunately, it wouldn't be a lethal gift, he hadn't the time nor the right ingredients to create something of that nature... pity, that.

Once finished with that task, Slughorn sent the copper cauldron and other dirtied equipment to the sink to begin self-cleaning...old habits were hard to break, well, that and it ensured that any evidence connecting him to Albus' laboratory, however forced, was destroyed should the authorities ever manage to track Dumbledore to this location.

Taking a calming breath to steady himself, Horace proceeded to turn Flamel's translations on the ghastly Les Morts Ambulants potion into confetti then for good measure set the shredded pieces of parchment on fire. That done, he placed the ashes into a ceramic bowl and poured a generous amount of armadillo bile over them, further reducing the particles into an non-Reparo-able grey sludge.

Satisfied with the results, the portly wizard dumped the mess over the roots of the nearest lemon tree growing outside the building's front door, sending the emptied bowl to the sink with the other items being washed by magic.

His sabotage completed, Horace exited the nearly empty lab after one final glance round, having already secured three shrunken and lightened packing crates full of brewing equipment and common potions ingredients in two of his robe pockets (it's not as if Dumbledore would have further use for any of it anyway).

As Slughorn hurriedly moved through the grove of lemon trees and into an open field of wildflowers, he smiled and tightened his non-wand hand around the carved jade chess piece that was attached to the bottom of Lucius' letter. With a few softly muttered words, the soon-to-be free wizard was pulled into the blue-white flash of an illegal, International Port-Key, taking him to the prearranged, unplottable Safe-House in New Orleans.

('Oh, yes. Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!')

Albus immediately knew something was amiss, the magic of the actuated Port-Key having triggered a proximity security alarm.

Cursing under his breath, Dumbledore ordered Timens to check the perimeter of the property for signs of an intruder while he headed towards the laboratory to check on Slughorn.

The vibrant Gryffindor red and gold fireworks display, set into motion when Albus stumbled over the invisible trip wire stretched across the lab doorway, would have made the Weasley Twins green with envy. So, too, would the glow-in-the-dark paint ball that hit Dumbledore squarely in the face, breaking the twinkly-eyed wanker's nose.

The added bonus was that the Flobberworm mucous mixed with Murex powder used to create the sticky purple paint would make it imposssible for Dumbledore to use glamours and Disillusionment charms or ingest Polyjuice Potion for the next forty-eight hours, any attempts to use any of those methods to hide or disguise himself would only spread the color to previously unaffected areas of his body and add another twelve hours to the effects...it's never wise to piss off a Potions Master.

Once the initial shock of the unexpected noise from the fireworks, and the throbbing pain from the paint ball striking him the face had slightly lessened, Dumbledore let out a roar of anger worthy of an injured Hungarian Horntail.

"That slimy, potions pushing Slytherin will die slowly for this!" growled Albus, casting a Tergeo followed by an Episkey at his face. What he didn't notice straight away was that the cleaning charm only removed the excess paint dripping from his visage, the remaining purple dye was stubbornly affixed to his skin.

Although it was an exercise in futility, Dumbledore stalked forward into the smoky room, clearing it with a blast of air and sending a Hominem Revelio ahead of himself, confirming what he already knew. Slughorn had taken Flamel's work (and damn near everything else that wasn't tied down) and escaped despite his many precautions ...heavy anti-Apparation wards about the entire property, no Post-owls for sending messages, the inhibitor spell on Timens which prevented the elf from doing anything but delivering Slughorn's meals and providing assistance in the lab, no Floo network connected fireplace, plus, Dumbledore knew the man had never been able to master the Patronus Charm.

And even if Horace had stepped beyond the wards, Slughorn didn't know the area, he wouldn't be able to Apparate further than he could see, which wasn't far given the current time of evening. The short, multiple 'hops' Slughorn would be forced to make would soon drain the portly wizard's magical reserves, leaving him vulnerable for quick recapture.

But now wasn't the time to locate and punish his wayward potioneer. The ongoing fireworks were already drawing unwanted attentions from the local Wizarding and Muggle communities. The French MLE and Muggle authorities would be on the way before too long to investigate. As much as he hated the idea, Dumbledore would have to vacate Menton for Grimaldi, Italy, his next closest Secret-Kept house just over the border. Only then could he safely set out to find his truant lacky.

Filius balled up another piece of parchment and chucked it into the fireplace in frustration, his latest efforts to create a customized tracking spell to locate Dumbledore having failed like the previous three.

He was about to start on a fifth iteration when McGonagall strolled into his office with a bottle of Ogden's and two glasses, pouring the first tumbler and handing it to him.

"After the day I've had I needed this," she said, filling the second glass and knocking back a generous mouthful, "And you know how I hate to drink alone, besides, it looks as if you could use one these yourself."

Taking an appreciative sip, Flitwick smirked as he took in the new Headmistress's disheveled appearance, "Dare I ask how bad it was, Min?"

McGonagall finished off the rest of her drink before answering, "After squashing the student rumor mill this morning and dealing with Messrs. Potter and Weasley, I spent most of my time in meetings with Ministry officials and the Board of Governors interspersed with fielding frantic calls from angry or worried parents. And somewhere in between, I managed to grab a sandwich and a cup of tea while compiling a list of candidates for the Transfiguration Professorship and Head of House posts for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw next next term. Oh, and apparently, we've a missing house-elf to track down, too."

Flitwick nearly choked on his Firewhiskey, "What? Which elf?" he managed to rasp out after regaining his breath.

Although puzzled that this piece of news would cause such a reaction from her Deputy, Minerva replied, "One called 'Dobby' that, apparently, bonded to Mr. Potter at some point between his Second and Third year. He's not answered any of the boy's summons today and none of the other Hogwarts elves who tend to Gryffindor Tower have ever heard of him."

Filius let out a deep sigh, "The house-elf Matron and I were investigating an incident involving an unidentified elf found in the Forbidden Forest. If this was Dobby, and I now suspect that he was, I'm afraid we'll have to inform Mr. Potter that his elf was killed by Dumbledore, although, we still don't why."

Minister Scrimgeour was preparing to leave his office for the day when the flames in his hearth flared a bright green and the voice of his French counterpart, Gerrard Delacour, called out to him, "Rufus, are you alone?"

Hearing the urgency in the man's tone, Scrimgeour hurriedly locked and warded the room before responding, " I am and my office has been secured, you may speak freely or step through. "

With a second bright flare of green, Minister Delacour walked into Scrimgeour's office, a grim look set on his pale face, "I wanted you to know as soon as I was contacted," he said, skipping the usual pleasantries, "About fifteen minutes ago, the MLE received word from an impeccable source that stated your fugitive, Albus Dumbledore, is currently in our country. This person also provided us with a list of three possible locations where he may be hiding but, we could use the loan of some of your Aurors to help investigate the sites. We are rather short staffed at the moment because of an outbreak of Wizarding Flu."

"I have a dozen people I can pull together and have meet us here for a debriefing in twenty minutes," stated Rufus, already casting a Patronus, "Please, take a seat and call for my elf, Pippin, should you require anything."

('We're closing in, Albus. Enjoy your freedom while you can.')

"Masters," squeaked Castle as he popped into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, "Bishop's said yous must come to the tapestry room straight away, somethings happening to the walls, Sirs."

"Merlin! I hope it's not another hidden vault with a cursed tea service inside," growled Remus, heading to the room in question right behind Sirius and the little house-elf, "That last one nearly took my left hand off at the wrist."

"You're exaggerating, it was merely a nip on the fingers," teased Sirius, earning him a glare from his mate, "But, if it will make you feel any better, I'll check for any lingering traps this time."

Lupin didn't have time to think of a snarky reply, the imagery on second wall in the tapestry room having caught him off guard, "Bloody Hell! Is that an entirely new family tree?"

Black moved closer to get a better look and started laughing, "It seems my becoming the new Lord of the House of Black has changed things a bit as far as the Family magics are concerned," pointing to his and Remus' names and miniature portraits at the top of the stylized tree, a smaller split branch leading from both their images to an oval containing Harry's name and visage, "It's even recognizing Andromeda and Tonks," he smirked, gesturing to the newly reclaimed cousins," Too bad it had to spoil things and include that Malfoy prat, Draco, even if Cissa was one of my favorite relatives."

Remus gave a sympathetic shrug before he let out a puzzled 'hrnm', "Who in Merlin's name is Maia Peverell?"

"Don't know, love. But according to this she's Harry Potter-Lupin-Black's cousin," said Sirius, squinting at the birth dates, "It also says she's a couple of years older than Harry, maybe she's a seventh year at Hogwarts?"

"We could check with McGonagall when we pick Harry up for his next Healers appointment," suggested Remus, a small smile ticking up the corner of his mouth, "Wouldn't that be something, finding a 'lost' family member near his age. He'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

After taking a moment to reign in his surprise, Severus scowled at Poppy. ('Impertinent witch,' he thought, raising his Occlumency shields as he arched a wary eyebrow at the Matron, "How did Poppy find us out? Although, she could just be fishing for information, she hasn't mentioned Lucius, after all.')

Deciding to play things casual, he finally replied, "I don't know what you're talking about," he drawled haughtily, his husky baritone (thankfully) holding steady and not cracking like that of a wibbly, hormonal teenager.

"Really, Severus? That's the best excuse you could concoct?" asked Pomfrey, enjoying seeing the normally stoic man trying not to fidgit under her piercing gaze, "I may not know Legilimacy but I've taught that ruddy Alpha-Beta-Omega health course for longer than you've been a Professor AND I'm rather adept at reading body language. And you, Sir, are an Alpha about to crawl out of his skin wanting to protect his Omega."

Not willing to give up the pretense so readily, Snape deflected, "You should get your eyes and memory checked then, Madame," he chided, glancing down at his fingers nails, seemingly bored with the conversation, "Miss Granger's merely a Fifth year, as you well know, therefore she's far too young for any secondary gender traits to have presented."

The Potions Master knew he was in for trouble when he saw the wicked, knowing gleam flash across the Matron's eyes.

"Seriously, young man," chortled Pomfrey, waving her wand to highlight a specific line on a single page taken from Hermione's medical records, "You honestly don't think I would allow Miss Granger to mix with the other students without first confirming for myself that she was clear of the Dragon Pox virus, do you? So, imagine my shock when my diagnostics revealed that not only was she a year older than her birth certificate claimed but that she had already emerged as an Omega."

Snape's scrubbed a slightly trembling hand over his face, knowing he could no longer deny Poppy's assertions, "Well. Bollocks."

The Matron decided to show mercy on the wizard when his already pale complexion further drained of color, "Not to worry, Severus," she soothed, vanishing the confidential data from sight, "My Healer's Oath prevents me from discussing this matter with anyone except the parties involved."

"Merlin's Twisted Beard, woman! Couldn't you have led with that instead of giving me heart palpitations?" grumbled Severus, a near bloodless looking hand pressed over the center of his chest.

"Now where's the fun in that? "

Despite the comfortable bed and the warmth of the room, Hermione was restless and hadn't slept well that night in Madame Pomfrey's guest quarters.

Giving up the idea of rest as a lost cause, Granger crawled out of bed and into the ensuite for a refreshing shower before dressing for the day. Hopefully, she could convince the Matron to let her sit next to her at The Head Table in The Great Hall for her meals, at least, for today.

She'd barely finished pulling on her dragon-hide boots when there was a knock on her door.

"Se...Professor! Good morning. What's...?" the rest of the question stuck in her throat when she saw the concerned expression on her Alpha's face.

"Your newfound...cousin wishes to meet with you as soon as possible. And eventually with Potter, too," drawled Severus, his forehead furrowing in a worried frown.

"Bloody Hell! We're so fucked."

"Quite possibly."

Chapter Text

The whole day had been an absolute nightmare for Harry. First had been Headmistress McGonagall personally fetching him from Gryffindor Tower and escorting him to Professor Flitwick's quarters before breakfast, regarding an 'issue of some delicacy' she had explained when she informed Ronald that he had to remain behind in their dormitory.

He knew something was horribly wrong the minute he saw Sirius and Remus waiting for him as soon as he stepped into the Charms Masters' private office, their pale faces drawn with worry.

Putting two and two together and coming up with pi, Harry blurted out his erroneous conclusion, "The Wizengamot changed their minds and disallowed your claim as my godfather haven't they? They're sending me back to the Dursleys?" the rising panic evident in his voice.

"No, nothing of the sort, Mr. Potter," assured McGonagall, having him take a seat between Black and Lupin, "This is about another matter entirely."

"I'm sorry, there's no easy way to break this news," stated Flitwick, drawing a blue silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow, "We believe we have found your missing house-elf, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid we were too late to save him."

"What!? What happened? Wait, I need to see him. I need to be sure it's really Dobby and not some other elf," demanded Harry, his heart racing, "Please," he added, belatedly realizing how rude he sounded.

"I realize you have to identify him to be certain but I must warn you, Mr. Potter, there was significant damage done to the elf's body," cautioned Filius, motioning for Harry to follow him into his study, "We have him under a stasis charm and have draped a blanket over the worst of his injuries but it will still be an...unpleasant experience."

Holding out a small phial of anti-nausea potion to his student, Flitwick advised, "You'll want to get this in your system beforehand."

Less than an hour later, McGonagall, Flitwick and Hestia watched as a heartbroken Harry Potter was lead out through the Headmistress' Floo by his godfather Sirius. Remus, carrying the shroud covered body of the positively identified Dobby, followed them through the green flames a few seconds afterwards.

"That poor boy," said Filius after thanking Hestia for all her assistance and dismissing her for the day, "As if his life wasn't already complicated."

"Albus best hope the DMLE locate him before Remus tracks him down," stated McGonagall, re-opening the Floo connection to Flitwick's office, "Otherwise, there won't be much left to toss into Azkaban."

"Ten galleons says the Aurors Avada Dumbledore on sight, instead," proclaimed Flitwick, stepping towards the hearth.

"Fifteen galleons if the Minister orders The Dementor's Kiss before Albus makes it to court," McGonagall countered, moving aside to let him pass.

"Twenty more if Dumbledore crumbles like a wibbly first year should Scrimgeour make that decision," smirked Filius, holding out his hand for her to shake it.

"Deal."

After Sirius made a few discrete Firecalls, he, Remus and Harry were on their way to the Weasley's residence at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur having agreed to let Harry use one of the nearby sand dunes to bury the deceased elf after the young wizard explained that 'Dobby had always wanted to visit the beach and see the ocean'. It was the least they could do to help ease the teenager's grief.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet, even the weather was co-operative. The longest part were the preparations as Harry wanted to bury Dobby 'properly' which to him meant without magic. Although, he did concede to having the site warded to prevent creatures from disturbing the grave.

Once everything was said and done, the trio said their goodbyes to Bill and Fleur and returned to Grimmauld Place, the Headmistress having given Sirius and Remus permission to keep Harry with them until dinner the following day.

"I'm worried about Prongslet," confessed Sirius, watching Harry moving zombie-like towards his room, "He's not said a word since the memorial and he hasn't eaten much all day."

"Give him time, love," advised Remus, pulling his mate close in a comforting hug, "He just lost someone important to him. But, if he's still refuses eat more than two bites at dinner, we'll put in a call to Madame Pomfrey. I'm certain she knows all manner of spells to feed despondent or uncooperative patients. We have to make sure he gets some nutrients, otherwise, Healer Marshbanks won't hesitate to hex us at his appointment tomorrow morning."

Black gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of the Goblin Elder, "I honestly don't know who's more frightening, Marshbanks or McGonagoll."

"My monies on the Healer," chuckled Lupin, pressing a chaste kiss to Sirius' temple, "But enough about them. You've got to get ready for your meeting with Lord Gaunt. He'll be here in another hour."

Sirius let out a tired sigh, "I'm just glad he agreed to postpone things until teatime. Although, I'm a bit surprised he was so understanding. Not many people care about the death of a house-elf."

"I think it had more to do with the fact that Dumbledore was involved," muttered Remus, guiding his mate towards their bedroom, "Regardless of why, though, get your arse in the shower and freshen up. You know you take longer to get ready than any witch I've ever met."

"That's usually because you're there to distract me," smirked Padfoot, waggling his eyebrows in invitation.

"Not today," insisted Moony, sending the pouting wizard on his way, alone.

"Now go, I'll make sure Castle and Bishop have everything prepared for Lord Gaunt's arrival."

Dumbledore was having an utter conniption fit. Shortly after his arrival at the Safe-House in Grimaldi, Albus had caught sight of himself in a mirror and attempted to Tergeo the lurid purple paint clinging to his cheeks and nose. Adding to his growing temper, the ruddy mess became even worse, spreading across the entirety of his face.

Throwing a nearby potted plant at the mirror in frustration, the deposed Headmaster stormed into the nearest bathroom, stood before the filling sink and began rigorously scrubbing his skin to rid himself of the offending pigment.

His agitation continued to spiral when a glance into another mirror revealed his non-magical cleaning efforts were for naught as well. Growling at his reflection, Albus attempted to Glamour the unwanted color only to watch in horror as the vibrant stain extended downwards to cover his neck.

"That fat bastard is going to die, slowly and painfully!" roared Dumbledore, smashing this second glass with an overpowered Bombarda, not caring whether or not if the old superstition about breaking a mirror resulted in seven years of bad luck. His primary focus now was on making the missing Slytherin pay for this treachery.

Gaunt was having a late breakfast when he received the Firecall from Lord Black requesting a postponement for their luncheon appointment. Apparently, Dumbledore had killed Harry Potter's house-elf and the teen was taking the news rather badly.

Although he didn't see the need for a funeral service for the elf, Tom could understand how his young cousin needed this ritual to come to terms with all the wrongs Albus had inflicted upon him, all that betrayal. Plus, if he played his cards right, he might even be able to use this event to his advantage and arrange a meeting with the teenager even sooner than Snape or Malfoy could manage it.

After all, who better to comfort the boy than a newly discovered member of the family. Just to be safe, though, he'd bring proof of his claim, the results of his inheritance test from Gringott's would do nicely.

And who knows, perhaps he could persuade Potter to introduce him to Maia Peverell, too. That is, if she was another student attending Hogwarts and the younger wizard was even aware of her existence.

But, first things first. The re-acquisition of his ancestors locket and the absorption of the last Horcrux took priority.

...at least what he believed was the final soul shard.

Kingsley, Moody, Tonks and several other Aurors Floo'd into Minister Scrimgeour's office shortly after receiving the urgent summons, all prepared to deal with whatever new threat they could be facing.

Needless to say, their curiosity was piqued when they noticed the French Minister standing alongside Scrimgeour, a discernable look of relief blooming across the dignitary's face at their collective arrival.

When the last Agent entered the room, Minister Delacour revealed the need for their assistance, the possible apprehension of Albus Dumbledore.

Moody, in particular, was ecstatic with this news and began grinning like a proverbial cat who got both the cream and the canary...which on his heavily scarred visage was a rather unsettling sight, causing a number of the younger Aurors to involuntarily shudder in response.

"Must you do that, Alastor?" grumbled Kingsley as Tonks' hair turn a nauseating shade of green.

"Get used to it, Kings," smirked Moody, walking towards Scrimgeour, "If luck is with us, I may just have the means to guarantee that sick bastard is in DMLE custody by morning."

Lord Gaunt had barely stepped through the Floo at Grimmauld Place when an excitable house-elf popped into view next to his host, Sirius Black.

"Pardon me, Masters," apologized Bishop, nervously clasping her hands together, "But we's found something you must see's right away in Master Regulus' old room."

"Surely, it could wait until after...," began Sirius, flicking his wrist to remove the soot from Gaunt's robes.

"No's, Sirs," interrupted the wide-eyed elf, tugging on Black's trouser leg to urge him to follow her upstairs, "Necklace we's found has Dark magics, not safe for young Master to be around."

Turning to his guest, Sirius started to make his excuses for this intrusion but Tom stopped him by holding up his hand, "By all means, show us to this trinket," suggested Gaunt, gesturing for the elf to lead the way, "However improbable, it could be the stolen heirloom that I've been seeking," he said, concealing his hopes for that very outcome behind an Occlumency shield, "And whether it is or not, I'm rather adept in neutralizing curses."

"Please, allow me to assist in keeping your family safe."

Sirius tried his best not to gawp like a Stupified mooncalf at this relatively perfect stranger who'd not only captured Pettigrew and gotten him exonerated but was here offering to protect his family. Why? What could the man possibly gain from all these endeavors? Well, there was the fame, of course, and the reward monies, too. Although, the wizard had just as quickly donated all those funds to several Wizarding orphanages.

But no, the only thing that seemed to matter to this man was the recovery of his missing family heirloom. What was so special about the bauble other than the apparent, strong sentimental value?

More importantly, if this was the pilfered necklace in question, how had it ended up in his absentee brother's bedroom?

Hermione stared at the food on her plate, trying to will herself to eat at least one bite of her breakfast. The fact she was currently sitting in her Potions Master's private quarters only added to her nervous dilemma.

"It's not been tampered with, I can assure you," drawled Severus, his forehead pinched with concern for her. Poppy had released Hermione to his care for the day but if she didn't start eating, he might have to Firecall the infirmary sooner than he'd liked to procure nutrition supplements for her, seeing as he'd used the last of his stores and hadn't time to brew more before classes began.

(Plus, any perceived shortcomings on his part would only lead to a specific graphic lecture from the Matron about Alphas providing certain...comforts to their Omegas, an embarrassing talk he wished to avoid at all costs. Lucius would never let him live that down if that happened.)

Granger managed a weak smile at her dark-haired Alpha, "I know, I saw you run the scans. I'm just preoccupied with this whole 'meet with the family' thing with Harry and Lord Gaunt. Especially, given who my older cousin is or was...and might still be," she said with a grumbling sigh, "How long do you think you and Lucius can postpone our lunch date without causing the two of you added problems?"

"Two weeks, maybe," stated Snape plainly, "However, I wouldn't press for more than five days. Even though Gaunt is somewhat more even tempered as of late, it's not wise to presume his good will remain intact after repeated delays."

"Dammit," muttered Hermione, stabbing a sausage as if it personally offended her, "There's nothing for it then," she added with an aggrieved huff, "Contact Lucius and set this 'happy reunion' up for this Saturday."

"But I'm warning you now, if he so much as tries to hug me, I will hex his dangly bits off."

"I'd almost be worth his wrath to watch you do that."

Before Gaunt and the others reached the room where the house-elf found the necklace, he felt the Dark Magic radiating from the first open door on their left, the Horcrux he'd sought was reaching out to him in silent recognition of its source. Keeping the smile from forming on his face was difficult but he managed, barely.

"Don't proceed any farther," he cautioned Sirius, who arched an eyebrow in question at the older wizard, "My family magics protect me from the trinket in that bedroom just as it has also informed me that this is definitely the heirloom I seek," he explained as he pulled a shrunken family grimoire from his pocket, opened it to the desired page and handed it to the elf while he asked, "Can you confirm that this is, indeed, the necklace you found? I don't wish for Lord Black to think I go about randomly laying claim to valuable magical artifacts."

Bishop's eyes widened at the image on the page even as her head started nodding, "Yes, Sirs.This be's the same. I left it on top of Master Regulus' old school trunk, wrapped in a green silk scarf."

"Very good," said Tom, returning the book to his robe pocket, "Both of you please remain here on the landing while I neutralize the curse, it should take no more than ten minutes. If you wish, have your elf ward the door after I enter the room. The extra precautions won't affect my spellwork."

Sirius, after finally managing to get his brain and mouth working together again, grumbled, "Once you've secured that...item, Lord Gaunt, we need to have a serious chat, like how my brother came to have that particular bit of your family heritage in his possession, and one full of Dark Magic at that."

Marvolo merely 'hrnm'd' in agreement. He'd concoct a plausible explanation after he absorbed this last soul shard. But if push came to shove, he'd simply use a Confundus on Black and implant a false memory. He wasn't ready to admit that the younger Black Heir had turned on him (well, his former persona as the Dark Lord Voldemort), removed the necklace from its hiding place in the poison-filled basin within the Inferi guarded cave and, quite probably, perished for his efforts.

...which led to another unsettling insight, Regulus likely had an accomplice.

Remus returned from his errands in Hogsmeade, a pretense to give Sirius additional privacy for his meeting with Lord Gaunt, expecting the other wizard to have left Grimmauld Place by now.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the pair chattering away and celebrating like old friends, along with a smiling Harry, as they all sat about the kitchen table drinking Firewhiskey (tea for Harry).

"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, moving forward to plant a kiss on Sirius' cheek, "What's the reason for breaking out the Special Reserve? Wait, have they caught Dumbledore?" he asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Not that I'm aware of," stated Sirius, his cheeks slightly flushed but whether it was from alcohol or laughter Remus couldn't tell, possibly both, "But, remember that heirloom Lord Gaunt had asked me about before? It was here in Grimmauld all this time! Bishop accidentally found it while cleaning," he explained, pouring a fresh glass and handing it over to Remus, "Anyway, that's only part of the cause for the expensive libations."

"Lord Gaunt is my cousin!" blurted out Harry, practically bouncing on the edge of his seat while pointing to a bit of parchment spread over the table that displayed a Family Tree, "And, apparently, there's a witch named Maia Peverell who's about my age who's another! Sirius said he'd check with the Headmistress tomorrow to see if she's a student at Hogwarts, too."

"And that's not the best bit," crowed Black, carefully clinking his crystal tumbler against Harry's porcelain teacup, "Since Gaunt is blood family to Harry, he says he can safely remove that piece of Dark Magic from our pup's scar tonight, we don't have to wait a whole month for the Goblins to do the procedure."

"Isn't that great?!"

Tom was reveling in the return of Slytherin's locket and the recovery of the remaining piece of his soul (or so he thought), no longer did he require a Glamour for his skin as the last of the iridescent scales on his arms and neck had quickly faded away. Pleased that he was relatively whole once more, minus the lost piece from the destroyed diary, Gaunt looped the thick silver chain around his neck and prepared to make his way towards the stairs, devising a plausible story for Lord Black about his brother as he went.

With his mind partially distracted by this task, Gaunt nearly hexxed the disheveled teenager that suddenly exited from another room farther down the hallway. He didn't need to see the lightning bolt scar to recognize the Boy-Who-Lived. But what he wasn't expecting was the small tug of familiar Dark Magic drawing him closer to the young wizard.

('No! It can't be.')

Memories of that fateful Halloween night flooded Gaunt's brain, effectively rooting his feet in place even as Potter began demanding to know who he was and what he was doing there in his Godfather's home. As he half listened to the increasingly irate teen's ranting, Tom conceded that the improbable had occurred that evening all those years ago, the evidence staring him the face at that very moment. An accidental Horcrux...and in a living vessel to boot.

The problem now was, did he leave the soul-shard in place or find a way to remove it without raising any suspicions?

That decision was settled for him seconds later when the ruckus Potter had been making sent Sirius dashing up from the kitchen two steps at a time, wand drawn and ready to curse whoever had distressed his pup.

"Bloody Hell! Harry. Put your wand away, this man is an honored guest," hissed Black, stepping between the two wizards, "He's the one who caught Pettigrew and gave me my freedom back, he's the reason why you're with me and Remus now instead of those disgusting Dursleys."

Harry blinked, his own wand arm slowly dropping to his side. He did everything but smack the palm of his hand to his face. In his grief over Dobby, he'd completely forgotten about Sirius' meeting this afternoon. Looking sheepishly at the older man, then at his shoes, Harry began to stammer out an apology but was stopped by the unexpected chuckle from the wizard.

"No need to berate yourself, Mr. Potter," smirked Gaunt, holding his hand out for the embarrassed teenager to shake, "Quite impressive reflexes you have there, good defensive instincts, too. By the way, I'm Lord Tom Marvolo Gaunt. But you make call me Tom or Marvolo or...cousin, whichever makes you more comfortable."

Both Sirius' and Harry's heads snapped up to look towards Tom, "Cousin?" they asked in unison, earning them another bark of laughter from Gaunt.

"Yes. Cousin. It's another reason why I wanted to meet with Lord Black today," drawled Tom smoothly, the lie falling easily from his lips, "I've only recently discovered I had family still living. You and a witch named Maia Peverell. I have the Inheritance Test the Goblins ran if you wished to see it," reaching into his robe pocket to draw out the scroll, "But there's another more pressing matter I wish to discuss now that I've meet you, Mr. Potter," he added, handing the parchment to Sirius to peruse and pointing to Harry's scar, "That wound on your forehead contains Dark Magic similar to the locket I just cleansed," tugging on the silver chain to emphasis the point, "I could remove it from you today, if you so wished."

For a split second there was nothing but silence to answer Tom, then, "What?! The Goblin Healers at Gringott's assured us that we had to wait a full month before they could safely purge that taint from Harry," stated Black, the emotions in his eyes flickering between confusion, disbelief and hope, "How could you possibly do that procedure sooner without harming my pup?"

Gaunt held back the Cheshire Cat-like grin from his face, this was going to be easier than he thought, "The Goblins were correct, it would take them that long to prepare for the cleansing but, they aren't blood family. I assure you, I can do the ritual tonight with little to no adverse effects to my young cousin."

"Brilliant! When can we get started? I want this damn thing gone," said Harry, jumping at the chance being offered to him on a silver platter.

"Not so fast, Prongslet," muttered Sirius, clapping a hand to Harry's shoulder, "We need to wait for Remus to get back first. I don't feel like getting hexxed or punched if we did this without him."

"Fine," grumbled Harry, plucking the ignored scroll from Sirius' fingers and reading the names, his demeanor changing from brooding to happy in seconds, "Merlin! This Maia person is only a couple of years older than me. Do you think she attends Hogwarts, too?"

Sirius shook his head and chuckled to himself. He'd forgotten how mercurial teenagers could be at times.

"Come on, let's head to the kitchens and grab a bite to eat while we wait for Remus to show. I'm suddenly finding myself a bit peckish."

What could he say, he wasn't that much older than Harry...in spirit and appetite, anyway.

(After watching this short exchange between Black and Potter, the only thing on the former Lord Voldemort's mind was how had Dumbledore possibly convinced him that this kid was someone to have feared.

Fucking manipulative bastard.)

Moody was waiting at the back of the group of Agents for his turn to step through Minister Scrimgeour's Floo to the French Ministry of Magic with his usual snarling demeanor firmly in place.

"Shite! What crawled up your arse and died?" smirked Tonks, her hair currently a rather tame deep shade of purple, "You were like a cat amongst the pigeons less than an hour ago."

"Don't mind him Dora," chuckled Shacklebolt, earning him a two-fingered salute from Alastor, "He's a bit cranky that Flitwick was unable to join us on this mission. He was counting on the Professor's new tracking charm to give us an added advantage in getting the jump on Dumbledore."

"But we still have the House-elf Matron with us, shouldn't her natural talent for tracing that partial magical signature be more accurate than an untested spell?" she asked, securing her wand before moving towards the fireplace.

"While that's true," stated Kingsley, running a last minute check over his person to make certain he hadn't forgotten anything, "I think Alastor was simply looking forward to seeing Filius in action, he's a retired Master Duelist after all."

"Oi! I am standing right here, you know," growled Moody, lightly smacking Shacklebolt on the back with his new, heavily runed walking staff, "And for your information, I'm not cranky. I'm always this pleasant when we're about to take down an evil wizard."

"I just never thought I'd have to use that description for someone I once considered a good friend."

Remus nervously paced about the library as he and Sirius waited for Lord Gaunt to complete the cleansing procedure on Harry. They had all discussed matters at length before finally agreeing to let Gaunt perform the ritual. So far, they hadn't heard any sounds of distress coming from the sitting room where they'd set up the purification circle.

"Would you sit down, Moony, you're making me dizzy," grumbled Padfoot, he may have been seated but his left foot was rapidly tapping out a pattern like a woodpecker full of caffeine, "Tom walked us through every step, you yourself agreed that everything was ready, our pup will be fine."

"But what if I missed something vital? I only ran the Arithmancy twice and..." he started to say, the appearance of a triumphant looking Lord Gaunt at the open doorway stopping him mid-sentence.

"Your Godson is free of the Dark Magic and resting comfortably," Tom stated calmly, gracefully slumping down onto a leather wingback chair and stretching out his limbs, "I would give him an hour or so to recuperate, though, before waking him for dinner, it was a far more draining an experience than I anticipated," he explained further, stifling a smug smile behind a faked yawn, "The soul-shard had an extremely tight grip on his core and it took a few extra steps than originally planned. Overall...I'd say the ceremony was a success."

Remus stopped dead in his tracks and Sirius' nervous twitching ceased, "I'm sensing a 'but' coming," said Black, carefully watching his guest.

"It's nothing earth-shattering, I assure you," drawled Gaunt, subtly dropping his wand from its holster, his right leg keeping it hidden from view, a Protego already in place.

"What. Happened," snipped Lupin, the hair on the back of his neck prickling, his eyes flashing to yellow-gold for a split second.

"The only way for his body to withstand this complication was to give him a potion to aid him with the extended extraction process. Harry's perfectly healthy."

"...just two years older than he was this afternoon."

Chapter Text

Flitwick sat next to McGonagall during that mornings staff meeting as she outlined some of the most pressing issues to be addressed before the Summer hols.

"Now that Albus' shameful activities have been brought to light, Filius and I agreed it would be prudent for the entire staff of Hogwarts and all the students, starting with the soon-to-be graduating seventh years, to be tested for various compulsion spells and potions, as there's no telling how many people Dumbledore may have seen fit to manipulate in this manner - or for what purpose," she stated glumly, as she glanced about the room at her colleagues, "Filius and I, as well as, Messrs. Potter and Weasley and Potter's new legal guardians have already been cleared as of late yesterday and earlier today."

"Who's going to pay for all of this?" asked Professor Vector, ever the pragmatist, "I don't mind undergoing the process, nor shelling out the galleons for my own peace of mind, but there are several families with two or more children attending here who would struggle to cover the expense."

The Headmistress smiled, knowing that this might be one of the concerns, but she was more than prepared to answer, "All costs for diagnostic examinations and treatments will be taken care of by the recently exonerated Lord Sirius Black. He said it was the least he could do to ensure no one else had to endure his previous fate."

Minerva allowed that news to sink in for a moment before handing out a schedule for the other Professors' upcoming appointments, "Are there any more questions regarding this plan? No? Good. Onto the next order of business then."

When Kingsley, Tonks, Moody and Hestia landed in the French Minister's office that evening, there was a low hum of excited speculations being bandied about the room.

Not one to stand on ceremony, Alastor growled out, "What the Buggering Blue Blazes is going on?"

Dora mumbled something under her breath that sounded like 'Sodding rude git' while Kings smacked a palm to his face in embarrassment. Hestia merely looked on in undisguised amusement, humans could be rather entertaining at the most unpredictable moments.

Minister Delacour didn't take offense. Having dealt with the English for a number of years, the experience made him fully aware of their tendencies towards bluntness, especially, Agents on active cases involving dangerous criminals.

"In answer to your question, Monsieur Moody," replied Delacour politely, holding a small, unrolled sheet of parchment in his left hand, "It seems we can rule out the location in Menton as Dumbledore has fled that site sometime within the last hour, there are Aurors and an Oblivation team still in place."

"Excellent," rumbled Alastor, wasting no time in separating the Agents present into two groups, "Let's get this show on the road, then. He's running scared now and bound to make a mistake sooner or later."

"That also makes him more dangerous," cautioned Tonks, despite appearing just as eager as Moody to be on their way.

"Indeed," stated Shacklebolt taking one of the maps showing the coordinates to the house in Grimaldi, "Which means, under no circumstances, is anyone to approach that wizard alone."

"Agreed. We want all of you returning, hopefully, unscathed," said Delacour, giving Alastor's scarred appearance a discrete glance.

"And Dumbledore? What condition should he be brought back in, Minister?" asked one of the younger French Agents.

"Preferably, alive. But I won't lose any sleep over it if he's not."

Remus, Sirius and Tom were all glaring at one another in a tense standoff in the library when Harry unexpectedly stumbled into the room, his face flushed a light shade of scarlet and his sweat-soaked body visibly trembling. "Something's wrong, I don't feel well," he managed to rasp out before collapsing into a disheveled heap onto the carpeted floor.

All thoughts of fighting momentarily ceased between the three older wizards as Remus and Sirius rushed to Harry's side, Lupin casting the few medical scans that he knew while Black called out for Bishop and Castle for assistance.

Gaunt, naturally, stayed out of the way, his wand still in his hand at his side in case either of the other two men decided to turn on him for causing this latest issue with the teenager.

It didn't take long, Sirius growled as he sent a Stupefy and an Incarcerous towards Tom, "You said he was okay except for the slight aging," he snipped, his eyes darkening to a stormy grey, "Does THIS look like he's fine to you!?"

Marvolo merely smirked as he easily deflected both charms, his smugness irritating Black even further, "Congratulations, you have an Omega," he declared, gesturing towards the shivering Potter being wrapped up in a blanket by Lupin, "Although," he paused, taking in Remus' and Sirius' looks of surprise at this pronouncement, "Based on your non-responsiveness to the obviously open scent gland leaking a copious amount of pheromones down his left wrist, neither of you are his Alphas."

Holding up his non-wand hand in a placating move, he hurriedly added, "And before you jump to the wrong conclusions, neither am I."

"You sick bastard!" growled Remus, stepping between Harry and Gaunt, giving Bishop time to clean and bandage his pup's wrist, "Harry's our claimed son, Sirius is my mate. Of course I wouldn't be his Alpha, or Siri his Beta."

Again, Tom held up a hand to show he wasn't a threat, for now, "My apologies for any unintended offence but I personally know of one Alpha who raised, who he believed was his daughter, only to find out when she presented as his Omega that she was another wizard's child. And although my young cousin's neither of yours biological offspring, history has taught us things like this can happen, albeit it's a rare occurrence."

Lupin was still bristling but silently nodded his head in agreement, everyone raised in Wizarding Britain had heard the story of the Alpha, Lord James Avery, and his 'daughter', Elizabeth, a witch who turned out to be the result of his Beta wife's, Catherine's, affair with his Alpha neighbor, Lord Albert Stebbins.

"Alright. Fine," sneered Black, who was equally aware of the Avery case, "That does nothing to help Harry now. We need to take him to St.Mungo's for a legal potion to temper his heat until he can locate his Alpha. Or better yet, find an antidote for the aging potion you gave him."

"I'm afraid that de-aging will not be a viable option," stated Gaunt nonchalantly, "That would severely destabilize Harry's magical core, possibly even making him a Squib. And I don't believe either of you would want that outcome for him."

"Fuck! I need a drink."

Remus, having gotten his anger somewhat under control, realized that whisking Harry away to St.Mungo's might not be such a good option, "Put down the Floo powder, Sirius. We can't go to the hospital with Harry, you know they'll ask too many questions and someone's bound to leak the story to The Prophet to earn a few quick galleons. And, worse still, the Healers will contact Child Protective Services. We can't risk them taking Harry from us, not after just getting him away from the Dursleys."

Sirius roughly scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration, "So, what do we do? We can't go to Gringott's and have Marshbanks see Harry like this either. That Goblin's already going to hex us six ways to Sunday over the early removal of the Dark Magic from his scar, not to mention the aging potion."

A softly cleared throat brought their attentions back to Gaunt, "You have an easy solution at your disposal," said Tom, stifling the urge to roll his eyes at the two mildly panicked parents, "Madame Pomfrey should have everything you need to treat Harry back at Hogwarts. If not, I'm certain the school's Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape, will be able to brew what my cousin needs."

Despite McGonagall having ambushed Sirius and Remus earlier with an impromptu Goblin run healing session, which removed (among other things) the long-term charm applied by Dumbledore to distrust all things Slytherin, they both still had a visceral reaction to this particular Snake's name.

"How do you know Snape?" hissed Sirius through clenched teeth.

Tom did not hold back his snort of derision, "You're joking, right? Everyone in the Wizarding World knows that he's one of, if not, THE best Potions Master in Britain and Europe and, when he was just twenty-one mind you, he became one of the youngest persons in the past one-hundred years to have attained a full Professorship posting at Hogwarts," he said, shaking his head, "Given all that, he's proven himself more than capable of assisting Harry."

"I've known him since we were in school, I don't trust the conniving twit," scowled Black, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, "He's been a right foul bastard to my pup, too, as his Professor."

Gaunt gave Sirius a shark-like grin, causing the younger man to involuntarily take a step back, "Personal history aside, you do realize that wizard not only teaches an extremely hazardous subject to numerous classes full of emotional teenagers but brews all the potions for the school and about half the stock for St.Mungo's, and all without the benefit of an Apprentice or student assistant to share the workload? I think you'd be hard pressed to be 'amicable', as well, if you were solely responsible for the continued well-being of that many lives on a daily basis."

"He does make some rather good points, Sirius," conceded Remus, glancing over at his irritated mate.

"Shut it, Lupin. The Dungeon Bat's still a Death Eater. P!us, he's one that Dumbledore himself hired."

Remus kept his mouth shut. No sense bringing up the fact that the former Headmaster had likely employed all the Professors currently working at Hogwarts, he knew Sirius wouldn't listen anyway.

Gaunt wasn't so reluctant, "Are you really that dense? Of course Dumbledore hired Professor Snape! That former Headmaster signed on all the staff for the school. Whatever your issues are with the wizard, it will have to wait. Your son needs medical attention now and the Hogwarts Matron and Potions Master are your only options at this point."

Some of the stubbornness slightly faded from Sirius' visage, "Fuck! Okay, let's just get Harry to the Hospital Wing and to Madame Pomfrey's care. But if that Greasy Git shows up and so much as looks at Harry wrong, I will hex the bastard."

The raid on Dumbledore's hideout in Grimaldi, Italy went about as bad as it could get without anyone dying...but only just. Moody was going to need new prosthetics to replace his shattered metallic left leg and damaged trademark whirling, magical blue eye. Tonks was in an induced coma, both her legs a bloody mess below the knees, having taken the brunt of a Bone-Breaker Curse meant for one of the younger Aurors. Kingsley was temporarily blinded by a nasty Caecus Hex he'd taken to the face.

And Hestia, well, she was fit to be tied, literally. One of the British Aurors, a man named Leroy Jenkins, had jumped the proverbial gun and set off one of the still active defense wards, alerting the wayward former Headmaster to the DMLE's presence before the rest of the team was fully in place about the property...all Hades had broken loose within seconds. In the aftermath, the house-elf Matron had to be physically restrained from clawing and biting the Agent's family jewels off after declaring 'such dunderheaded wizards mustn't be allowed to breed'.

Of all people, it was the cantankerous Alastor who calmed the highly agitated elf, directing her to use her energies in attending to the other injured as best she could until a full Healer team arrived, "I'll deal with that little gobshite Jenkins," he assured her with a smirk, a truly scary image considering his current physical state, "He'll be lucky if he's not in Greenland freezing his arse off by the end of the week."

As to their target? Well, Albus hadn't gotten away completely unscathed. Combing through the rubble of the mostly destroyed house looking for clues to Dumbledore's next likely destination, one of the French MLE Agents found a mangled hand clutching a very distinctive - and now broken - wand.

Albus screamed in pain, and frustration, as his house-elf landed them in his newest sanctuary, a fairly recently acquired property in the middle of the Wettsteinpark in Lucerne, Switzerland. (Ever the Gryffindor, he'd originally chosen it for its proximity to The Lion Monument. But now he was thankful for its nearness to a number of discrete Muggle-Wizarding medical facilities, including, the Hospital Lucerne).

After sending the rattled Timens on his way to fetch a specialist Healer, Dumbledore gingerly wandered into his study, his desk there containing a spare, unregistered, wand he'd picked up at a specialty shoppe in Bern during a holiday excursion there the previous Summer. Although nothing compared to the lost Elder Wand, the 11" Fir with dragon heartstring core readily served to aid him in repairing his spell damaged robes, casting the charms with his remaining hand in relative ease. While awaiting the Mediperson's arrival, Albus altered his mended clothing to a more subdued midnight blue and conjured up an unembellished, bronze-tinted mask to cover his face, a matching cravat wrapped about his neck was the finishing touch, both items serving to obscure the purple paint that still marred his skin.

It was a simple means of concealment but would suit his purposes to hide his identity until the Healer had finished his treatment (an added Obliviate planned before Timens returned the Mediperson to the hospital would ensure that he and this place remained secret, for the time being).

Albus' only hope now was that Moody and the other Aurors were too injured themselves to continue tracking him, giving him sufficient time to recover before moving on to another site.

Plus once recuperated, Dumbledore had a longtime former friend he needed to express his displeasure with face to face...one Nicolas Flamel, the only other person who knew about the house in Grimaldi.

"Sodding Bastard. Can't trust anyone these days."

Severus had just finished crating the last of the potions for the infirmary, with Hermione's help of course, when the urgent call from Madame Pomfrey arrived, the wispy badger Patronus nearly vibrating with the sender's voice, "Lord Black and Mr. Lupin just Floo'd in with an unconscious Mr. Potter. I've managed to stabilize him, for the moment, but the boy is in need of your expertise, Severus. Please hurry."

"I'm going with you," stated Hermione, her body posture tensing, expecting an argument from her Alpha, "At the very least, I can bring these vials and stock the shelves while you and Madame Pomfrey tend to Harry."

Not having the time to argue (Poppy wouldn't have contacted him if it was something she could handle), Snape simply raised an eyebrow at his determined little lioness and motioned for her to follow him to the fireplace. Just before he tossed down a handful of Floo powder, Vukan started chirring, causing Hermione to chuckle, "Vukan says he's coming with us, too. Something about you probably needing all the help you can get."

"Cheeky feather duster," Severus muttered under his breath as he dropped the sparkling green powder into the fire, "Fine, the both of you can accompany me. Only stay back under an isolation shield until I've determined whether Mr. Potter and the others are contagious or not."

"Agreed."

The very air seemed to crackle with animosity when Snape appeared through the Matron's fireplace, the two other adult wizards already waiting there obviously not liking his presence one bit...well, Sirius more so than Remus. But there was a sudden break in the growing disquiet when they both spotted the strangely colored Phoenix swoop in and perch upon Snape's left shoulder and begin merrily chirruping 'Why Can't We Be Friends?'

"Since when do you have a Phoenix familiar, Snape?" asked Lupin, not noticing that Hermione had emerged from the Floo covered in a shimmering bubble of protection seconds after the Potions Master and his feathered companion arrived.

Black recovered quickly and scoffed, "It's clearly just an accidently transfigured or potioned student, Remus. You can see the colors are all wrong and a true Phoenix would never associate with a Death Eater, much less, the Greasy Dungeon Bat. Such magical creatures of Light and purity wouldn't ever come near an obviously Dark Magic practitioner and follower of You-Know-Who."

"As if you aren't also familiar with those same Dark Magics considering the types of spells you used to cast at me when we were in school," smirked Snape, rubbing Vukan under the chin in an attempt to quell the urge to curse the other man in front of his Omega.

Before another word was uttered between the scowling pair of wizards, Pomfrey stepped in and hexxed them both, "Enough!" she growled, separating Sirius and Severus with another flick of her wrist, "Lord Black you will control yourself or I will ban you from the infirmary. And you, Professor Snape...shame on you. I called you here to assist in the treatment of a patient, not to add to the number of casualties."

"Now, you two sit down and remain quiet while the Professor sees to Mr. Potter."

While the minor pissing contest was kicking off between her Alpha and Sirius, Hermione used the distraction to head towards the infirmary storeroom with the last crate of potions she and Severus worked on, intending to finish restocking the half-empty shelves.

Well, that was her plan anyway. Remus, unfortunately, spotted her and stepped in her path.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he softly asked, his nose wrinkling as he caught a familiar scent wafting off her skin, "And why do you smell like Snape?"

The petite witch narrowed her eyes at the suspicious werewolf and answered with a partial truth, "If you must know, I've been helping the Professor brew for Madame Pomfrey, she was completely out of everything. So, if you will excuse me, I need to get this batch of elixirs unloaded. We're supposed to start working on the requisition from St.Mungo's next...after the Professor tends to Harry, that is."

Remus raised an eyebrow at her brusque tone, "I gathered that much from the levitated crate full of medical supplies but that's not what I'm referring to, Hermione," he said, sniffing the air around her a second time, "Your underlying scent has changed, why is that?"

('Damn his nose,' she grumbled to herself, 'Can I get away with Confunding him?')

Putting on a feigned innocent expression, Hermione moved around Lupin, heading to the stores and resuming her original task, "As I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about, I'm afraid I can't answer that."

"Somehow, I don't believe that but it can wait until after Snape has finished helping Harry," stated Remus, leaving no doubt he wasn't going to let the matter drop.

('Dammit!') "Fine. What's the wrong with Harry, anyway?" Hermione finally asked, she may not like her fellow Gryffindor at the moment but still cared about his well-being...to some extent, "Did he insult someone else to their face and get his bollocks hexxed off?"

Remus winced out of reflex, "Ahhh, no. Nothing like that," his face turning pink got Hermione's attention, "He's...that is to say...ummm...you see..."

"What the Wolf is so eloquently trying to explain is that Potter has somehow managed to age himself by a couple of years, forcing his secondary gender to emerge prematurely...as an Omega," drawled Severus, not bothering to stifle his smirk, "I'm sure, Miss Granger, you'll recall what THAT entails from your Health courses?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, "He's in heat," she replied, tilting her head as if contemplating something else, "...and, he's without his Alpha."

"Indeed."

Just as Hermione was about to ask Severus what he planned to do to assist Harry through the week-long heat cycle, an obnoxiously loud crash sounded from Madame Pomfrey's office.

"Bloody Hell! Alastor watch where you're guiding me!" hissed Shacklebolt, his eyes still covered with a protective silk blindfold, "I don't need you adding to my list of injuries."

"Stop your whingeing, Kings," grumbled Moody, unsteadily walking the younger Auror out of the Matron's office, "I'm not used to the new leg, yet. And until I get my new eye, my depth perception is for shite."

"Would you two give it a rest," snipped McGonagall, following closely behind the others, levitating the unconscious Tonks towards Poppy, "With the noise you're both making, I'm surprised you haven't awakened Dora from her coma."

"Merlin! What's going on here?" asked Pomfrey, Accio'ing a couple of chairs for Kingsley and Alastor to sit on then directing Minerva to place Tonks onto the closest empty bed.

Minerva sighed heavily, "The medical personnel and support staff at St. Mungo's, particularly those on the private Aurory treatment floor, are in the process of being screened for compulsive magics. Until it's safe to transfer them back to the hospital, Minister Scrimgeour has asked us to sequester this lot here."

"Thank goodness then for Professor Snape and Miss Granger, the infirmary supplies have just been replenished," said Poppy, moving to check her newest patients.

"Our injuries have already been tended to, Matron," growled Moody, smacking away the Mediwitch's probing hands and wand from his person, "We simply need a secured space to rest for the night."

Pomfrey didn't have time to protest that she needed to assess his and his newly arrived colleagues state of health for herself. A mournful cry stopped her and, almost, everyone else present in their tracks.

"Alpha...I need you," pleaded the semi-lucid Harry, reaching his left arm outward from his bed, the gesture causing his mild, earthy scent to waft across the room and snack the person in question square in the nose.

To which a low, rumbling purr soothed, "I'm here my little Omega. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Followed by a quickly hissed, "Don't just sit there, Alastor," groused Kingsley, awkwardly grabbing onto the other man's shoulder, "Guide me to my mate. Now."

Chapter Text

As Sirius stepped through the Floo with Harry clinging to their arms to see Madame Pomfrey, Remus turned to Gaunt and grimly advised, "You'd best leave here and not come back nor try contacting Harry or us. Once we're certain he's going to be okay, we'll send word...maybe. Logically I know, based on the Arithmancy, that you did what was necessary to save Harry but on an emotional, parental level, it will take some time for me, and especially Sirius, to accept the consequences of what you've done to our pup."

Tom gave Lupin a slight nod of his head, "I understand," he replied, pulling on his traveling cloak and preparing to depart, he had accomplished what he came here to do after all, and then some, "I will respect your wishes and await your owl."

With that promise made, Gaunt casually strolled out of Grimmauld Place through the kitchen door and disappeared from the backyard garden with a loud 'crack' of Disapparation.

Remus stared at the spot where the other wizard had departed for a brief moment, having expected at least a modicum of protest from the man for being summarily banned from communicating with his newly found cousin. But he decided now wasn't the time to puzzle out the man's oddly compliant behavior, he needed to be with his family at Hogwarts.

After double checking the wards, and giving instructions to Bishop and Castle to guard the place just in case Gaunt changed his mind and attempted to return, Remus stepped into the fireplace and left in a flash of green flames.

The Healer from Hospital Lucerne had just finished treating Dumbledore with a large cocktail of potions to regrow his missing right hand when Timens nervously announced to his Master and guest that dinner was ready.

Mediwitch Sano looked to Albus and the elf and politely declined the implied invitation, stating that she had a ward full of other patients that she needed to return to and treat.

"That's a pity," drawled Dumbledore, silently and wandlessly casting a Stunner at the witch, "I had rather hoped to provide you with a decent meal as a 'thank you' before I Obliviated you of today's visit."

Standing over the unconscious woman, the former Headmaster performed the memory spell with practiced ease, "Take the Mediwitch back to the hospital and make sure you are not seen, Timens," he ordered, levitating the woman closer to the elf, "Once you've done that, stop by the local markets and bring back provisions to last the week as it appears I will be stuck here for that amount of time until my hand has sufficiently regenerated."

Timens shakily bowed and silently Disapparated with the insensate witch as directed. As the tiny elf left the woman in an unlocked supply room where she could safely recover, he shook his head in frustration, this was going to be a long and trying week with his Master.

Dumbledore never was one for sitting idlily by for extended periods and was going to be particularly prickly in the coming days. Given the not-so-painless effects of the potions he'd been given (the Skele-Gro especially), and being forced to flee from the magical authorities for the second time in such a short period, Timens knew that this was going to make his Master rather vicious during his confinement even as the man busied himself with plotting his revenge.

If he weren't magically bound to this wizard, he'd have left long ago.

Tom arrived back at Malfoy Manor just as Lucius Apparated in from wherever he had been, followed shortly afterwards by Thorfinn, Rabastan and Augustus.

"I trust that your missions were successful," Gaunt stated more than asked, following them all into Lucius' study where the Lord of the Manor had retreated.

"Naturally," replied Rookwood, casually brushing off his lapel, drawing everyone's attentions to the silver badge that designated his new status as Chief of Ministry Security, "I even have copies of a few documents for you to look over at your leisure, MiLord," he said, handing over the re-sealed files to their leader.

"Excellent. And what of your efforts, Thorfinn?" inquired Tom, tucking the proffered records into his robe pocket.

"It went as expected," smirked Rowle, strolling over to the drinks cabinet and pouring himself a generous tumbler full of Firewhiskey, "The meeting with your remaining supporters has been set for this Saturday afternoon at four o'clock."

"Perfect," purred Gaunt, turning his gaze towards the last wizard, his eyebrow arching in a silent question towards the man.

Inwardly, Malfoy sighed. Severus had contacted him earlier about Hermione's decision to meet with the former Dark Lord but it didn't make this any easier to do, "Severus owled me a few moments ago, MiLord, with an update on that special project you assigned him. However, I recommend that we discuss the particulars in private," he said, hoping to keep this news from his three other associates for as long as possible. Only, Gaunt had other ideas.

"I appreciate your concern for discretion, Lucius," drawled Tom, gesturing at the other men in the room, "But I give you permission to speak freely in front of everyone. They're going to find out soon enough anyway."

('Bollocks! So much for that plan.')

Although he was given the approval to speak freely, Lucius proceeded with caution, "As I alluded to before, Severus has been diligently working to find your cousin," he said, unsurprised at the expressions of mild shock displayed on the faces of his other colleagues at this mention of a previously unknown Gaunt family member, "From his research of the school's records, Maia Peverell has never been a student at Hogwarts, leading Snape to speculate that she's currently attending under a pseudonym. We surmised that may have been Dumbledore's intention to keep her existence hidden from you, MiLord, until it no longer suited his purposes," the partial lie flowing easily from him.

Gaunt scowled at the mention of the former Headmaster, "I have no doubts that was the case, it wouldn't be the first time that old goat interfered with mine or my family's lives," sneered Tom, waving a hand for Malfoy to continue.

"Anyway, through an elf-delivered message to Severus, she has agreed to a supervised meeting with you, perhaps for brunch this Saturday," said Lucius, trying not to squirm under the older wizard's gaze, "She's, understandably, nervous about the whole thing given that she was unaware of your existence, and her familial connection to you, until now."

"Will anyone be accompanying my young cousin for this visit?" asked Gaunt, looking pointedly at the blonde, "More importantly, will they be a hinderance or a help in this overdue reunion?"

Lucius paused for only the breadth of a couple of heartbeats before answering, "She's asked that Professor Snape be her guardian for this event, MiLord," replied Malfoy, keeping his expression neutral, "She says that she trusts him to keep her safe - which is another reason that he feels she's a current student as she, apparently, has had sufficient interaction with him in order to form this opinion."

"Given that Severus wasn't made privy of her other name, I presume that she's a member of another house? A Ravenclaw, perhaps?" inquired Gaunt, calling for a house-elf to serve tea.

It was a good thing that he hadn't taken a sip of his beverage, as yet, when Malfoy announced (all while biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smirking), "Unfortunately no, MiLord. According to Miss Peverell's letter, she's a Gryffindor."

Moody carefully maneuvered Shacklebolt around the infirmary beds but before they could get any closer to the young Omega calling out for his Alpha, Sirius stepped between the two wizards and his godson, "Get away from my pup, you perverts! Bloody Hell! Harry's was only fifteen just this morning, for Merlin's sake," snarled Black, his wand pointed at both Aurors, "He was being treated for a health issue and there were...complications," he hedged, not wanting to admit in front of these two Aurors what he and Remus had allowed Lord Gaunt to do to Harry, "He was accidently aged by two years and the process can't be reversed without causing permanent damage to his magical core."

Alastor sneered back, not the least bit intimidated by Sirius' feeble posturing, they'd just battled Dumbledore after all, "Out of the way, you Sodding Twit. By your own declaration, Potter is now legally of-age and Kings has every right to be with his mate."

"So typical of you, Mutt," drawled Snape, making the hairs on the back of Sirius' neck stand on end as the despised Slytherin took up a defensive position next to Shacklebolt, gently resting a hand on the blindfolded man's arm to make him aware of his presence, "It's truly pathetic of you to threaten persons who are already injured and unable to defend themselves," the deadpanned sentiments causing Moody to snort-laugh. If anything, Alastor was even more dangerous without a wand in his hands, known by many to use whatever was available to him in a fight should he ever be relieved of his wand or in some other way impaired.

And given the rapidly paling face of Lord Black, he had (belatedly) remembered this fact, too. But it still didn't stop him from verbally cursing at Snape before he sent a Slicing Hex towards the Potions Master's wand arm.

What none of the wizards had taken notice of during their little testosterone-fueled standoff was Hermione's reactions. At first, she had moved in to set up a protective shield between Harry and the posturing men but the more Sirius threatened her own Alpha, the more agitated she became and by the time the first spell left Black's wand she had shifted into one of her many beast-forms - a Scimitar Cat - and with a loud, angry yowl, she launched herself at the offending Beta male.

Naturally, all Hades broke loose in the infirmary after that happened.

Madame Pomfrey had just finished checking over Tonks condition, making the necessary updates in her chart, when the chaos erupted in her infirmary. Striding out of the private room, where she had eventually settled the comatose Metamorphmagus, the Matron nearly took a deflected Stunner to the head when she was momentarily distracted by the brightly coloured Phoenix perched on Snape's left shoulder belting out 'We Will Rock You'.

After putting up a Protego Maxima and taking in a quick glance at the fights participants, the Matron bellowed, "What in the name of all that's sacred do you lot think you are doing? This is a medical ward not a Sodding dueling platform! And what in Sweet Circe's Tits is THAT and how did it get in here?" she yelled, causing almost everyone in the room to stop dead in their tracks...the exception being the beast that was Hermione, she had continued to battle the enraged Lupin who had come to the aid of his severely clawed up and bleeding mate.

"I said enough!" screeched Pomfrey, sending a barrier spell out to separate the fuming werewolf from the unknown enormous cat-creature, "If that, whatever it is, belongs to any of you, I suggest getting it under control immediately before I'm tempted to Avada the thing for everyone's safety."

"I strongly suggest you resist that urge, Poppy," drolly advised Snape, covertly winking at the bristling feline that was his fiercely protective Omega, "Otherwise, you would have the dubious honor of informing Miss Granger's parents of her untimely demise at your hands," smirked Severus, silently gesturing for Hermione to stand by his side, whispering as she drew in close for her to transform back to her human self, "Besides, the ensuing paperwork would be a total nightmare to handle."

Her agitated mind still not making the connection, Pomfrey scowled, "And just what does Miss Granger have to do with that beast?" gasping in disbelief seconds later as the creature melted away and the witch in question appeared in its place.

"Hermione!? Is that really you?" rasped Sirius, his blackened eyes comically widening even as Remus struggled to hold his mate's battered self upright, both their mouths opening and closing repeatedly in an imitation of a pair of landed trout at the newly revealed Animagus.

Hermione casually shrugged her shoulder, "Of course, it's me. Were you expecting someone else?"

Once Sirius had recovered from his initial shock at seeing the massive cat-creature transforming back to the petite human shape of Hermione Granger, Black snapped at the young witch when she chose to remain standing next to the Slytherin Potions Master, "Why the Bloody Hell were you attacking me and Remus and defending Snape!? He's Dumbledore's Sodding pet Death Eater, Hermione! You know he can't be trusted!" he growled, although, his attitude rapidly changed to one of concern as his brain abruptly side-stepped to the wrong conclusion about the teen, "You're obviously not thinking straight, Kitten. That Greasy Dungeon Bat's probably slipped you a potion or has you under some sort of spell."

"Please, just come over here to us, Hermione," pleaded Remus, wrongly believing this might explain the underlying scent he detected earlier on her person, "We'll protect you while Poppy frees you from Snape's control."

Hermione held up her hand to stop Madame Pomfrey from angrily responding even as she turned her own ire on both these wizards, "I think I've more than proven that I can take care of myself, thank you very much! I don't need either you or Sirius to rescue me," she hissed, her hair crackling with her magic, "Now, I don't know what your problem is with Professor Snape, and quite frankly I don't care, but you two should know that without his masterful brewing skills, I wouldn't be standing here arguing with you. Besides, if that's not enough for you, then consider this, neither Headmistress McGonagall nor Deputy Headmaster Flitwick have seen fit to fire Professor Snape nor have they contacted the Aurors to take him away for questioning," she snarled, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her whiskey-amber irises briefly flashing over to a fiery gold, "Perhaps you two numpties should take those facts into account before you make any more baseless presumptions about him."

"Anyway, I wasn't assisting Professor Snape," she added with a devilishly smug grin, pointing towards the blindfolded Kingsley who was now seated on the bed with Harry comfortably curled up on his lap, murmuring soothing words into his Omega's ear, an equally pleased Alastor Moody standing guard with the pair underneath a large dome of protective magic, "I was distracting you and Remus long enough for Harry to connect with his Alpha."

When Alastor first witnessed Granger transforming into, whatever that was, he nearly cursed her into next week out of an instinctual need of self-preservation...and the protection of his temporarily sightless work partner, of course. But he quickly realized that she was focused solely on Black and Lupin, deliberately drawing their attentions away from him and Kingsley, steering them away from Potter and towards the other side of the infirmary. It was the perfect opportunity for him to lead Shacklebolt to his Omega without interference from the young wizard's godfather.

"Come on Kings, let's get you to your mate," muttered Alastor softly so only his colleague could hear, "That Granger witch has caused quite the distraction for us, as I'm sure you can hear."

"I'll admit, I'm rather curious as to exactly what she's done," conceded Shacklebolt, his head tilted towards the commotion moving steadily away from them as Moody proceeded to guide him towards Harry, his little Omega calling out for his Alpha once more, "But you can show me the memories later in a Pensieve after my sight returns. I find myself rather looking forward to seeing that fight."

"In the meantime, might I suggest taking things slowly with the lad for a few days," advised Alastor, barely settling Kingsley onto Potter's bed before the feverish teen eagerly climbed onto his Alpha's lap and made himself comfortable against the older man's chest, "At least until we can confer with the Matron about Black's claims about Potter's age...mostly, to cover both our arses in case anyone else kicks up a ruddy fuss."

"Naturally," soothed Kingsley, drawing calming circles on Harry's back even as he pressed his face to the scent gland nestled in the crook of his Omega's neck, growling lowly as he pulled the earthy fragrance deeper into his nose and lungs before carefully puncturing the gland between his teeth, officially marking Harry as his, "I hadn't planned on taking things any further until my vision was fully restored, I don't want to miss out on any part our consummation."

"Yes. Well. Spare me any of those details if you would, I'm still not fully recovered from Savage's graphic recounting of his Omega's first heat."

Out of frustration at being duped, yet again - and this time by a Sodding teenager - Sirius attempted to hex Hermione where she stood. And although the young witch could empathize with the wizard's distress over matters that were beyond his control to fix - especially, when it concerned Harry - she was done with this man-child's misdirected animosity.

Without thinking twice, Hermione shifted forms. Only instead of the Scimitar Cat standing between Black, Lupin and Snape, there now appeared an extremely pissed off Nundu who promptly breathed a noxious looking acid-green cloud of transformative magic in the wizard's face. The effects were immediate. Sirius fell over like a cut tree even as the previous bites and deep lacerations he suffered from his fight with the other giant cat-Hermione were cleansed and healed. However, no sooner had those injuries disappeared from Sirius' skin did he begin breaking out in electric blue spots that spelled out the words 'Wanker', 'Dunderhead' and 'Arsehole' across his face.

Remus was gobsmacked. To be certain, he had originally been mortified when that green mist hit Sirius full in the face, thinking that the cat-witch had just killed him. And he had every intention of taking his revenge but all that changed the moment he saw what Hermione had actually done.

As soon as he'd gotten his heart out of his throat, and tampered down his growing temper and premature grief, Lupin took a closer look at Sirius. He couldn't help himself and burst out in nervous laughter at the sight of his colorfully petrified, yet somehow still breathing, mate even as he kept a wary eye on the still bristling Nundu, hoping not to receive the same treatment for his, less than stellar, behaviour towards Snape and Hermione.

(Despite the fact that he, too, was rattled by what was currently happening between Harry and Kingsley, Hermione's plausible assertions concerning the Slytherin Professor had hit home. He couldn't refute her reasoning. Logically he had to agree with her, that if McGonagall and Flitwick only marginally suspected Snape was Dumbledore's loyal acolyte and, therefore, a threat to everyone, they'd have trussed him up like a Christmas goose in a heartbeat and handed him over to the Aurors).

That issue settled, as far as Lupin was concerned anyway (even if he never personally liked the Slytherin, he could learn to be civil towards him...maybe), Remus was still figuratively left scratching his head at Hermione's new appearance, he'd never heard of (much less witnessed) anyone having two Animagus forms.

Holding up both his hands, palms out, to show he wasn't a threat, Remus slowly approached Nundu-Hermione and soothed, "This is an impressive achievement, Hermione," he softly praised, not daring to take his eyes off hers, "Then again, you always were...are the brightest witch of your age. But however did you manage it? Is it a new Transfiguration spell you've created? Or the result of a potion combined with a charm? Or, perhaps, you've managed this feat with a runed artifact?"

"Merlin! Lupin, take a breath and give the witch a chance to answer," grumbled Severus, his wand still in his hand, cautiously guarding his little Omega as she returned to her more vulnerable human state in front of the werewolf.

If Remus hadn't been watching so closely, he'd have missed the fleeting emotions as they flickered through Hermione's eyes when Snape spoke. Then, the startling realization hit him like a ton of bricks...Hermione's changed underlying scent, that brief, abeit, unmistakable look of respect and adoration towards Snape (of all people) and her extreme reaction to his and Sirius' attempts to keep Harry and Kingsley separated...he couldn't believe it took him this long to figure it out.

"You're an Omega, too, and Snape's your Alpha!" he blurted out, loud enough for everyone in the infirmary to hear.

"Nimue's Frilly Knickers, Remus! Was it your intention to try and announce our status to the whole school?" Hermione growled as she glared at the indiscrete wizard standing directly in front of her. Not taking her eyes of Lupin, she addressed Snape, "You're going to have to pinpoint Obliviate all of them now, aren't you, Professor?"

"Not quite," smirked Severus, even as Moody hobbled over to the immobile Sirius, preparing to cast the precision memory charm.

"He's correct, my dear," chuckled Pomfrey, after restraining the unsuspecting Lupin with a wordless Incarcerous, "You have far more allies here than you know."

After escorting Moody, Shacklebolt and Tonks to the infirmary and leaving them in Pomfrey's tender care, Minerva hurriedly Floo'd back to her private quarters, taking the opportunity for a short respite before starting on her next task of the day, sending out invitations to interview to the first group of prospective teaching assistants for the Fall term. Also on the agenda for the afternoon was her perusing the list of prospective apprentices that her colleagues intended to contact in the upcoming two weeks and preparing the castle to create the adjoining Master-Apprentice suite of rooms the moment their respective contracts were signed, accommodating the young witches and wizards as soon as they were ready to begin their training. (To no one's surprise, Pomona was planning to approach Neville Longbottom for this prestigious honor, she didn't even need to wait for his OWL results to know he'd already meet the necessary educational requirements in Herbology).

She'd barely finished her first sip of Earl Grey and taken a bite of a ginger newt biscuit when an international post owl landed at her window and started hooting rather loudly.

"Keep your feathers on," she grumbled as she retrieved the scroll from the impatient bird's outstretched leg. After gobbling down a stunned mouse that McGonagall had given it for a treat, the avian messenger softly clacked his beak in thanks and took flight, the sender obviously not expecting a reply.

No sooner had the regal Eruasian owl left than Minerva opened the missive from the unknown sender. It was a good thing she hadn't been sipping on her tea at that moment as she would likely have spit it out all over the stone floor in her quarters.

"Sweet Circe and all her little piglets!" exclaimed the Headmistress as she stared at the brief note from Dumbledore. Although, the letter itself was harmless (otherwise, it wouldn't have made it through the new security wards), the message on the parchment was quite clear...Albus was going to make certain several individuals suffered for their interference with his schemes, starting with her, Filius, Severus and Hagrid.

"We'll just see about that, you Sodding old goat," hissed McGonagall as she conjured up her Patronus. Looking at the three silver-blue tabbies, she ordered them to find her three associates and have them meet her in her office immediately, "It's a matter of the utmost urgency, I expect your arrival in ten minutes if not sooner."

After Alastor and Poppy saw to the troublesome Mauraders - and Hermione reluctantly reversed the colorful embellishments from Sirius' face, but not until after Severus had taken photos - Kingsley faced the direction he believed the other Alpha-Omega pair to be standing and smiled, thanking Hermione and Severus for their assistance on his and Harry's behalf.

"So, when did you two find out that you were a match?" drawled Shacklebolt, his lips curling up into a mischievous grin, "Not that I'm surprised, mind you, seeing as you both are the smartest people I've ever known, it somehow makes sense you'd wind up together."

Harry, however, wasn't interested in that topic at the moment, "Forget that, I want to know why my Godfather hates you so much, Professor. Ummm...please, Sir," he added belatedly to make up for the brusque demand for an answer.

Snape let out a long-suffering sigh, "I'm afraid that's a rather long and complicated story, Potter," he drawled, lowering his voice so that only Hermione, Kingsley and Harry could hear, "The short version is that they, the Mutt and your Father that is, decided on our very first day on the train that I was bad news from the second I mentioned that I wanted to be sorted into Slytherin. From that point on they, along with Pettigrew and Lupin, made it their mission to remind me, as often and as unpleasantly as possible, that my continued presence at Hogwarts wasn't welcomed. Dumbledore didn't help matters, either, he all but openly encouraged their malicious behaviour. 'Boys will be boys' as he was so fond of telling me whenever I wound up in the infirmary after their latest 'prank'. Often, it was a four-against-one situation and always when I was alone. I never did figure out how they managed to find me when I was by myself."

It didn't escape Severus' notice that both Hermione and Potter were now sporting matching blushes and giving each other knowing glances. But before he could insist on an explanation from either of the young Gryffindors, the Headmistress' Patronus bounded into the room, demanding his immediate attention.

Pomfrey saw Snape's hesitance, knowing that he didn't want to leave his Omega so soon after the altercation with Sirius and Remus, "Go to your meeting with Minerva, Severus. Moody and I will ensure her safety while you're gone," she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "Besides, Miss Granger has proven she's more than capable of taking care of herself. And I truly doubt Black will risk receiving another blast of Nundu-breath to his face...or possibly, something worse."

'Now, off with you. You know Minnie won't like to be kept waiting."

Harry watched as the Potions Master smoothly glided from the infirmary, his black robes billowing behind him like a receding thunder cloud, the strangely coloured Phoenix still perched on his left shoulder the only spot of color on his person. As soon as the dour man was out of the room, he turned to Matron with a pained look on his face, "Is it true? Did my Father and Godfather really hurt Snape that often?" he asked, already dreading she'd confirm Snape's claims, "And that all four Marauders attacked him on a regular basis?"

The darkening look in the older witch's eyes made Harry reflexively flinch and he found himself instinctively curling further into his Alpha's chest for protection, "Unfortunately, yes, Mr. Potter. I can't go into details without Severus consent but, suffice to say, that man was here frequently for treatment during each school term," she stated, her demeanor softening at the teen's growing distress, "However, I must remind you that Dumbledore was at the heart of all their spite. Believe me, I've read the Goblin Healers' files on Sirius and Remus, they removed all manner of spells and potions from their systems," said Pomfrey, gesturing towards the two wizards in question, "And while I was in Lupin's memories earlier, I can also tell you that Albus wasn't beyond using emotional blackmail, too. Something like that, especially given how long they've been influenced by Dumbledore, is bound to have lingering effects that will take time, and quite probably, sessions with a reputable Mind Healer to resolve. Now, I don't expect that Severus, Remus or Sirius will ever be friends but I would certainly settle for them not trying to curse one another on sight."

"Given that Remus is the more likely to listen to reason, seeing as how he conceded to Miss Granger's prior logical arguments concerning Severus, I would approach him first and enlist his aid in getting Sirius to submit to further treatments," advised Pomfrey, giving Harry a small but encouraging smile, "Believe me, I can see how this news has shaken your opinion of your Godfather, Mr. Potter. But don't give up. Get them, and yourself, into therapy, it can only help to mend your relationships with them."

(Hermione didn't comment out loud but she was definitely going to discuss the idea of therapy -whether magical or Muggle in nature didn't matter - with Severus and Lucius when she next saw them both, they all could benefit from talking with a neutral third party...Severus in particular given what she'd witnessed earlier with Sirius and Remus).

Neville, the Twins and Ginny were heading back to Longbottom's hidden quarters after lunch when Professor Sprout approached the small group.

"Don't worry, none of you are in any trouble," chuckled Pomona when she saw the looks of concern on the students' faces, "I'm here to speak with you, Mr. Longbottom, about an exciting opportunity," she grinned as she pulled a thick file from her robes and handed it over to the puzzled young wizard to read.

"An apprenticeship?" asked Neville when he glanced at the heading on the forms, Fred, George and Ginny appearing equally gobsmacked over this development for their fellow Gryffindor.

"Naturally," Sprout beamed, trying not to giggle from her own giddiness over the situation, "You are the most gifted student I've had the privilege to teach in my past twenty years as a Herbology Professor, Mr. Longbottom. It would be my great honor to become your Master and guide you in advanced levels of our craft," she all but cooed, "Now, you don't have to give me an answer today. Take your time to read over the basic contract, make a list of questions you have or note any changes you wish to make and weigh all your options, as you should. I will await your decision by the end of the week. And even if you conclude that this is not the career path you wish to pursue, don't be afraid to tell me, I won't be angry or disappointed."

With that, Professor Sprout turned on her heel and left the four young Lions to continue on their way.

"Bloody Hell, Neville!" smirked Fred, clapping his housemate on the back so hard it nearly knocked the other teen off balance, "I knew you were really good with plants but this is next level brilliant."

"Yeah, you'd be nuts not to accept these terms," agreed George, glancing over the top page of the contract over Longbottom's shoulder.

"Back off you twits," scowled Ginny, sliding her arm through one of Longbottom's and continuing on down the hall towards Neville's room, "Like Professor Sprout said, he needs to take his time and decide on his own. He doesn't need you two adding in your two knuts worth about his educational future."

"Hrmn, if we didn't know better, Gin-Gin, we'd think you had a vested interest in old Longbottom here," teased both Twins, easily dodging a hex she sent their way, "Is there something you need to tell us? Should we be giving him 'The Talk' about treating our sister right? Or need we contact Father, too?"

"Seriously?" hissed the youngest Weasley, hers and Neville's cheeks now a brilliant shade of crimson, "The both of you need to leave before I show you the latest spell Mum taught me."

Knowing that they were, indeed, pressing their luck at this point, Fred and George raised their hands in mock-surrender, "No need for violence, little sister. But you're barmy if you think we'd let you visit another wizard's room alone without supervision," said George without a hint of amusement, "Mum would have our guts for garters. And, quite frankly, she scares us more than you."

Grumbling as she put her wand down, Ginny huffed, "Fine. But don't pester Neville about the apprenticeship or I will make you regret it. And trust me, you won't even see your comeuppance coming until it's too late."

Longbottom couldn't help but smirk at the Twins. They were wrong, they should be more terrified of the fiery little witch at his side.

Severus was the first of the three invitees to arrive in McGonagall's office, Filius and Hagrid following no more than five minutes later. But during those short moments alone with the Headmistress, Snape read the note that Dumbledore had sent, a low growl leaving his throat as he finished processing the threatening words.

"How do you wish to proceed, Minerva?" he grumbled as he took a seat on the closest wingback chair.

"I have a few ideas but would welcome your input," stated Minerva, turning to welcome Filius and Hagrid, offering all the wizards tea and ginger newts before getting back to the matter of Dumbledore.

Flitwick counseled letting the Aurors and Ministry continue with their current wizard-hunt and strengthening the wards about Hogwarts while Hagrid suggested using the Acromantulas in some creative, and rather disturbing, ways. Snape startled them out of their progressively animated discussions when he started laughing, a decidedly sinfully wicked sound if there ever was one.

Once his colleagues had gotten over their initial shock (and that included their sudden realization that the dour Potions Master had a Phoenix with him), Severus disclosed the source of his unexpected expression of amusement, "I say we hit him where it will hurt him the most...his ego and bank account," drawled the Potions Master, "That will certainly draw the bastard into making a mistake he wouldn't normally make."

"What exactly do you have in mind, Severus?" asked McGonagall, her cat-like curiosity evident with the twitching of her nose and the bright spark of mischief growing across her visage.

After a miniscule pause for dramatic effect, Snape stated, "He's guilty of the attempted line-theft of the Prince family and of preventing me, in his role as an un-matched Alpha, from locating my intended mates. In fact, he nearly killed our Omega before my fellow Alpha and I ever discovered her identity," he scowled, the others noticeably gasping at this additional surprise. Not merely the fact that Snape, of all people, was in an apparent Triad now but that he was from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Prince, making him one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight...and a freaking Lord and a member of the Wizengamot if he formally accepted the title!

Ignoring his associates' reactions for the moment, Severus continued on, "As a result of Albus' ignominious actions, I have gained the legal right to challenge him to an Egregium duel at a place and time of my choosing. Something he cannot refuse to attend without suffering the loss of the entire Dumbledore fortune to me and mine in perpetuity. One or both of these situations should be sufficient enough to draw him out from whatever rock he's crawled under to hide. "

Vukan, rather pleased with his familiar's train of thought, expressed his whole-hearted support with a lively rendition of 'It's Time For Some Action'.

Chapter Text

Sirius awoke with a start and immediately regretted the sudden movement, "Bloody Hell, Moony! What hit me, the Hogwarts Express?" he asked after briefly noting that Remus was sitting on a comfortable chair at his bedside before clamping his eyes tightly shut once more, shutting out the ambient light that was adding to his already throbbing headache.

Lupin, appearing slightly sheepish for a werewolf, cleared his throat and explained, "We may have gotten a tad carried away towards Shacklebolt because of Harry," he confessed, grasping one of Black's hands in his before continuing, "Hermione took offense and reacted instinctively to protect them, she shifted into her Animagus forms and then proceeded to kick our arses. I wouldn't recommend antagonizing her again anytime soon, we might not be so lucky the next go round."

Black gingerly raised one eyebrow, his eyes still firmly closed, "Just what in Merlin's name did she become, an erumpet? It certainly feels like one sat on me. Wait. Did you say forms, as in plural?"

"Yes. And two rather sizable pissed off felines at that. The first was something known as a Scimitar Cat - don't go rolling your eyes at me under your eyelids, I didn't come up with the name - and the second was a Nundu," Remus informed Sirius, empathizing with his mate's sharp intake of breath at the mention of the latter, "Needless to say, you bore the brunt of her claws, teeth and breath-weapon and, for a few minutes there, I thought she'd killed you," he paused briefly, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, "I reacted rather impulsively and attacked her, intent on making her pay for your death. I'm ashamed to admit it wasn't my finest moment, I should have known she wouldn't take you from Harry or me like that, no matter how angry she was with us."

Black peeked over at the witch in question with one squinted eye. He could see that Hermione was currently sitting on the edge of another bed, chatting quietly with Harry and Kingsley. A deep sigh escaped him, "At least the two of them seem to be getting along again," Sirius muttered before a low growl rumbled from him, "But why did she have to go and defend Snape like that, surely he..."

Lupin put up a hand to stop Black's one-track train of thought, "Stop that, and I mean right this instant," he said firmly, his lips pressed into a thin line, "That's another thing that fueled Hermione's ire and landed us here on our own hospital cots, Pads," he scowled, pointing to the dour wizard speaking with the Matron," Incorrectly presuming that she was compromised with a potion or spell by a teacher she, and the Headmistress, trusted as she previously pointed out. Pomfrey, Moody, Flitwick and McGonagall all set the record straight concerning him...rather loudly I might add, it's a wonder they didn't wake you with all the ruckus they made."

"But, it's Snape!" hiss-whispered Sirius, openly glaring daggers at the smug looking Potions Master, "He can't be..."

Remus huffed in exasperation, interrupting his stubborn mate a second time, "You need to take a close look at these," he said, handing Sirius a set of medical records...Black's and Snape's, "Pay special attention to the highlighted sections and Pomfrey's personal notations. I'm telling you now, this information will have you regarding Snape in a whole new light."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, his distaste at wasting his time reading anything concerning the Slytherin was evident to everyone in the infirmary, "Fine. But I sincerely doubt some dreary little files will change my mind about the Dungeon Bat, it will snow in the Nine Circles of Hell first."

Apparently, the forecast for the Underworld called for a blizzard that evening.

After his meeting with Minerva and Filius had concluded, Severus returned to his quarters to place a secured Floo call to Lucius. Once he'd informed his fellow Alpha of their Omega's decision to meet with her cousin on this coming Saturday morning, and of his intentions to challenge Dumbledore, Malfoy apprised Snape of the scheduled gathering with the remaining Death Eaters for afternoon tea that same day.

"I strongly advise convincing our little lioness to postpone for, at least, a week," drawled Lucius, his Occluded features masking his concern, "We need to discern what Gaunt's planning before those two set eyes on each other."

"Ordinarily, I would agree but Hermione was adamant on not delaying her 'family reunion' any longer," replied Snape, a hint of tension in his voice, "Naturally, I will be escorting her to the Manor for this event. Should Tom ask why, simply explain that given how busy Flitwick and McGonagall are these days, the duty of chaperoning a student off school grounds fell to me. Besides, she trusts me...us to keep her safe."

"Now if you will excuse me, I need a quick shower and a change of clothing before returning to the infirmary. I don't like having to have left Hermione in the company of the Mutt and the werewolf even if Pomfrey and Moody are keeping an eye on them."

Hermione cautiously approached Kingsley as he sat on the edge of his bed, tenderly holding Harry against his chest, the two speaking so softly that she couldn't catch any of their conversation.

She was so focused on the cuddling pair of wizards before her that she didn't hear Moody's shambling approach. As a result, he almost made her jump out of her skin when he leaned over from behind her and grumbled next to her right ear, "It's not polite to stare you know," he said with his trademark raspy growl.

Mortified at being caught out, Hermione started to splutter out an apology, that is until she saw the mirth dancing about in the man's natural eye. Instead, she chose to step back and glare at the Auror, "It's also impolite to sneak up on someone and give them heart palpitations, you twit."

Once her heartrate returned to normal, Hermione changed the subject and belatedly thanked the Auror and Madame Pomfrey - who had just strolled over to stand at Alastor's side - for their timely intervention with Black and Lupin, "How much will Remus and Sirius remember about Severus and I?" she asked, needing to know how to act around the two men when they eventually awoke from their spell-induced sleep.

"Not to worry, Miss Granger," soothed Poppy as she moved to check the status on Shacklebolt's eyesight, "Every thought concerning you as an Omega and Severus as your Alpha has been removed."

Hermione released the breath she didn't even realize she was holding, "Thank heavens for that, at least. Too bad their animosity towards Slytherins couldn't be handled as easily."

"Unfortunately, no," sighed the Matron, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on her healer's apron, "It's one more thing to the growing list of offenses that Dumbledore needs to be held accountable for after he's been captured."

"Sodding wanker," hissed Moody, involuntarily touching the bandage over his left eye, "If I ever get my hands on that bastard he'll wish he'd never been born."

"You'll have to get in line behind me and half of Wizarding Britain," stated Pomfrey, her wand hand twitching reflexively, "But enough of those vengeful notions, for now. I believe you needed me to assess Mr. Potter's true age, Alastor...for his and Kingsley's sake?"

"If you would please, Poppy. I don't want my work-partner being carted off to Azkaban should Black or Lupin decide to file a formal complaint," said Moody, his tone not hiding his concern for his friend.

"I'd hex them back into a coma and Obliviate them, again, before I'd let that happen, love."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Witch."

While Pomfrey and Moody were busy fitting and making adjustments to his newly arrived prosthetic eye and leg, Harry tentatively reached out to Hermione, "So...you and Snape, huh? I guess that makes a weird sort of sense, you two are the smartest people I know," he said cautiously, not sure of the status of their friendship after his and Ron's earlier actions against her...despite it all being Dumbledore's fault.

"That's Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione automatically correcting him out of habit, "But please, you need to keep that information to yourself. Don't even tell Ronald...especially, him. I don't think he'd understand and I'm truly not in the mood to listen to his opinions on the matter. You, at least, can appreciate the need for secrecy, what with how Sirius and Remus reacted to Kingsley."

"Yeah, I do," conceded Harry sadly at the memory of how his godfather treated his Alpha, "But even though I know it's because of Dumbledore's influence, I'll admit I'm not particularly fond of the Potions Master, either. It's just going to take time to sort through all those years of misplaced anger and resentment."

"That's exactly my dilemma with you and Ronald," sighed Hermione, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, "I fully understand that the two of you said and did all those awful things because Dumbledore manipulated your minds but that doesn't make it any easier to forgive you both. As you said, it'll simply take time...and counseling sessions with a Mind Healer. I recommend you, Ronald, Sirius and Remus do the same, Harry."

"I'll suggest it to them," said Harry, relieved that his friend hadn't given up on them, "Like I said, definitely the brightest witch I know."

As Hermione was chatting with Kingsley and Harry, the dark billowing cloud that was her Alpha re-entered the room unnoticed. Well, not completely. Pomfrey and Moody had been waiting for his return, wanting to get his opinion on the latest version of his magical eye, a natural looking piece of magi-technology that was part charms work and part Muggle biomechanics - anyone who didn't personally know the Auror would never guess that his left orb was a perfect fake.

"You should have Filius take a look at this prosthetic, Alastor," suggested Snape, himself rather impressed with what the healers at St. Mungo's had created - not that he would ever admit that out loud, of course - "He'd certainly appreciate the charms work in the development of this device, he'd definitely have a better idea of how to improve the spells, it is his magical area of expertise, after all. Although, I would recommend adding a security ward on the piece, to prevent anyone from 'hijacking' the thing, so to speak. In its current form, someone could co-opt it for personal or political purposes without your knowledge...for example, the perusal of sensitive case files or surveillance of private Ministry meetings, you'd become a spy whether you realized it or not."

"Damn, Snape. And here I thought I was the paranoid one," grumbled Moody, popping the glass eye out of his socket with practiced ease and covering the empty space back up with the eyepatch, "But you make a fair point, the last thing I need is someone like Dumbledore taking advantage of that security loophole," he snarled as he began the meticulous warding of his new magical eye.

"Indeed."

Hermione left Harry's side feeling cautiously optimistic about the status of their friendship. However, the relief she'd briefly felt was quickly shoved aside and replaced with bristling anxiety when she saw Sirius Black and Remus Lupin approaching her Alpha. She'd already shifted into her Nundu-form, preparing to blast the two men with another cloud of transformative magic if they so much as twitched their empty wand hands, knowing that they both could cast certain spells wandlessly.

Her low yowl of warning stopped Black and Lupin dead in their tracks. But although they'd not taken one step closer, Sirius attempted to soothe Nundu-Hermione.

"Easy there, Kitten," he cooed, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Remus and I just want to talk to Snape...and to you, of course. That's all."

"Then I suggest starting by not referring to Miss Granger by that nickname," drawled Severus, one raven-colored eyebrow raised to accentuate the point, "She's not fond of it nor of 'Mione', for that matter."

"And just how would you know that, Sni...Snape," grumbled Black, narrowing his eyes at the Potions Master, years of automatically being suspicious of the Slytherin rising once again.

"Because I've listened to her complain of this very thing to Potter and Weasley over the past five years," Severus smirked, his dark eyes glittering with a combination of amusement and disdain, "I recommend you refer to her as Miss Granger, or Hermione if you must, or risk being breathed on again. Although, it would be rather interesting to see what she does to you this time with her breath-weapon."

Remus placed himself between the other three, "We understand, Hermione. Now, may we approach for a long overdue chat with your Professor?"

Nundu-Hermione tilted her head at the two Marauders, assessing their sincerity before returning to her human shape, "Fine. But I reserve the right to unleash my Nundu on your arse again if you so much as think about attacking Professor Snape."

"That's a bit...." Sirius started to protest but Remus' glare kept him from finishing that sentence.

"Fair enough," Lupin replied instead, "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

Poppy and Alastor had been closely watching the tense interaction between the three Gryffindors and one Slytherin...in case they were needed to step in and mediate, of course. But that didn't prevent them from having a touch of fun over the group's awkward conversations.

"Five galleons says Hermione winds up breathing on Black before teatime," chuckled Moody, patting his robe pocket where he kept a small bag of coins.

"I'll take that bet," smiled Pomfrey, her wand at her side in case she needed to cast a Bubble-Head Charm over herself, Shacklebolt and Potter should that event occur, "Only this time, I say she changes Black into something a tad more...manageable. Perhaps, a Pygmy Puffskein?"

"Deal. Only it'll be a Crup."

Vukan apparently agreed with their line of thinking as they could hear him cheerfully singing 'Changes' from his perch on Severus' shoulder.

After an intense hour of discussions between Severus, Remus and Sirius, the very air in the infirmary seemed to relax as the three wizards came to a tentative truce.

"Damn," growled Moody, figuratively scratching his head as the younger men shook hands, "I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eye."

"You're just pissed because we both lost the bet," mused Pomfrey, chuckling at the glower she received from the grumpy Auror, "You can't deny..."

Whatever else the Matron was going to say was interrupted by a disheveled witch abruptly entering the hospital wing shouting for the blood of one Albus-Fucking-Dumbledore, "I can help you locate him but it comes at a price," she claimed, taking the thick glasses she was normally seen wearing from her robe pocket, dropping them onto the ground and stomping them with a sickening crunch under her dragonhide boots, "That I accompany the DMLE team that's sent to retrieve that Sodding Wanker. After he twisted my magical gifts and with what he did to me and my family, I must be allowed to witness his downfall."

"What on Godric's Green Earth are you on about Sybill?" asked Pomfrey calmly, not wanting to agitate the other witch any further, knowing (well, believing) that Trelawney had been pining after Snape for years and had no living relatives - plus, if she caught Severus in the company of Miss Granger anytime soon, things could get awkward rather quickly.

"I've just come from the Goblins after my mandatory cleansing session. Imagine my surprise when I suddenly remembered I was married to Aberforth Dumbledore," Trelawney sobbed, dropping gracelessly down onto a nearby chair, "And all those female 'goats' he's so strangely fond of aren't animals at all, three are my younger sisters who came looking for us when they hadn't heard from us in over a week, four are my nieces and two were...are our daughters," she cried, covering her face with her hands, "The Gringott's cursebreakers and Healers are with them all now trying to reverse Albus' enchantments but it's going to take time."

"Oh, Sybill. I'm so sorry," soothed Poppy, handing the woman a Calming Draught, "Not to worry, we'll all help you get through this shock."

"Minerva and Filius told me the same thing before they sent me here to the Aurors to file a formal complaint and offer my services," stated Trelawney, downing the elixir in one shot, the potion taking effect almost immediately, "Now, what do you need to know first Messrs. Moody and Shacklebolt?"

Listening in on the older woman's conversation had Hermione's curiosity getting the better of her, "How exactly did the former Headmaster alter your talents? Are you saying that Divination wasn't your area of magical expertise?" she couldn't help the smugness in her voice from coming through with finally getting confirmation that this was a 'wooly' subject at best.

Sybill's now golden coloured eyes focused intently on Hermione's face for several minutes, causing the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck to stand on end when her former teacher knowingly winked at her. Ignoring Granger's growing discomfort, Sybill explained for all in the infirmary to hear, "All Trelawney women have Seer blood running through their veins because of our Grandmother Cassandra, and with that, varying degrees of being able to successfully receive and relate Prophecies. We also have a knack for certain specialties. My sister Cassiopea is strongest with Palmistry, Selena with Astrology and Aurelia in Tarot. I, on the other hand, can read a person's Aura and can sense if they have 'the gift' or not. Wizarding families sought our family's counsel regularly to assist their children in selecting their curriculum before attending Hogwarts or one of the other magical schools, they didn't want to waste their time taking Divination if they didn't have an affinity for it, after all."

"It's what Dumbledore claimed he wanted when he contacted me all those years ago, to aid incoming Muggleborns and Muggle-raised Half-Bloods in improving their educational futures. But that was all a lie," Trelawney hissed at the recently returned memory, "When I arrived in Hogsmeade that evening, that arsehole Imperio'd me. After leading me into The HogsHead and having me read a few lines of rubbish that he'd written, he forced 'The Prophecy' from me and had it officially recorded. Messrs. Potter and Longbottom, their parents, and the lives of countless others were all ruined because of the perverse schemes that monster set in motion that night," she stated, leaning in closer to Hermione so only that she could hear, "A fact of which you are also well acquainted with, Miss Granger. Or should I say, Miss Peverell?" smiling slightly at the younger witch's stunned demeanor, "We'll talk later. I have so much to tell you about your paternal Grandmother Rosalind and the measures she took to hide you from that megalomaniac."

As Hermione's visage continued to pale, Sybill realized her oversight, "Forgive me child. I forgot to mention that the deceased often contact my sisters and I in order to convey messages to the living. She couldn't risk speaking through me before now because of that man's control over mine, and others', actions. For the time being, just know that she's so proud of the witch you've become."

Being the Gryffindors that they were, Sirius and Remus jumped at the chance to help take down Dumbledore when Trelawney mentioned that she could locate the despised wizard. An idea that Pomfrey, Snape, Moody and Shacklebolt quickly squashed.

"You will do no such thing," snarled Poppy, quickly containing the pair with a well practiced restraining spell.

"The both of you have enough responsibilities here to manage without adding to them, leave the work of bringing Dumbledore to justice to the DMLE," added Kingsley while attempting to soothe his distressed Omega.

"And you've seen what he can do to trained Aurors," stated Alastor, tapping his prosthetic foot on the floor, pointing to his eyepatch and then to Shacklebolt, "The pair of you would only get in the way and get yourselves injured...or worse."

"But Snape and Trelawney are going, they're not Agents, either," whinged Sirius, struggling futilely to loosen his bindings.

"True. But I've seen Snape duel and he knows more about the Dark Arts than most in the DMLE, excluding myself, of course," smirked Alastor, nodding his head in acknowledgment to the Potions Master, "And Trelawney will only be there as an observer and on hand to track Dumbledore in case he gives us the slip again."

"Besides, the documented attempted line-theft of the Prince heritage and Sybill's medical proof of having an Unforgiveable cast upon her - resulting in a coerced Prophecy - and the loss of her family through forced Transfiguration give Snape and Trelawney the strongest, legal, rights to be present at Albus' capture," said Kingsley, effectively shutting down any remaining objections by Black.

"Now that's settled, how are you going to trace Dumbledore, Sybill?" asked Pomfrey, reinforcing the restraints on Sirius and Remus...just as a precaution, mind you.

"Through the ancient art of Scrying, naturally," she replied, pulling a long silver chain from about her neck which had a quartz crystal pendant dangling at one end, "I just need a map of the continent you want me to focus the magics upon and something that belongs to Dumbledore to strengthen the connection."

"I'll Floo Minerva. Dumbledore's quarters are still being sorted through," stated Moody, making his way towards the fireplace in Poppy's office, "I'll have her select something portable he used on a regular basis, like a favored quill, and have her send it through."

"Perfect. Let's get started then, shall we? The sooner that conniving bastard is under lock and key, the better."

While Trelawney was unhurriedly preparing herself for the upcoming ritual, and Alastor and Shacklebolt were huddled together animatedly discussing various strategies, Severus looked for and finally caught sight of his conspicuously absent Omega. She'd withdrawn to a quiet corner of the infirmary when no one was paying attention and was currently hunched over into a tiny ball upon a bed with her arms tightly wrapped about her legs.

"I promise that we will take every precaution on this mission, my little Lioness," Snape soothed as he cautiously approached Hermione, wrongly presuming that she was simply worried about his and the others' safety.

He was, therefore, unprepared for the fiery glare she aimed his way and the growled words that followed, "Not everything is about you, Severus," she hiss-whispered, shifting to stand somewhat unsteadily in front of Snape, poking the tip of her index finger to the middle of his chest to emphasize her point, "Professor Trelawney knows who I am...my true birth name, that is. She also claims that she's received information for me from my long deceased biological Grandmother."

Only a single, raised eyebrow gave any indication that the Potions Master was surprised at this development.

"Although I'm still not a fan of Divination," conceded Hermione, "Even I have to admit that this latest version of Sybill Trelawney appears to be genuine. How else do I rationalize how she found out about my identity, she's not exactly subtle. I sincerely doubt she snuck into Gringott's and rooted out my secrets from anyone there or got her hands on my records. And you and Lucius would never let anything slip - accidently or otherwise - to anyone, and especially her."

"If you wish, I could use Legilimency on Sybill, once she's done Scrying that is, and verify her story concerning your Grandmother," offered Severus, his Alpha nature puffing up with pride when his Omega graced him with a grateful smile, "Just to set your mind as ease."

His moment of bliss was short-lived, though, as his little Lioness' next words had his heart in his throat.

"Wonderful! And while you're doing that, I'll be convincing Moody and Shacklebolt that it's only logical that I should be on this mission as Professor Trelawney's personal bodyguard. After all, who in their right mind would willing face down a protective Nundu?"

An explosion of agitated magics rocked the infirmary and its current occupants, sending the Matron, her patients and visitors alike scrambling for cover.

It was quickly followed by the sounds of startled laughter (from Harry, Sirius and Remus), the subtle disapproving tsking of Madame Pomfrey and Professor Trelawney, and the awed rasp from Moody when he saw the subdued figure of Severus Snape beneath Hermione Granger's scowling Hebridean Black dragon-form.

"Merlin's Sagging Balls, girl! Have you ever considered a career with the DMLE? I'd gladly be your training partner," he all but purred at her.

"Oi! What about me, your actual work partner," snipped Kingsley, not fully understanding what happened as he couldn't get a straight answer from Harry due to his ongoing fits of giggles.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Kings," chuckled Moody, softly patting the other man's hand like one would to comfort an upset child, "I'm not looking to replace you anytime soon."

"In another year or two, perhaps...but not right away."

Unheard by the rest of the group was Severus' wheezed words of surrender, "Fine! You've proven your point, Hermione. You're more than capable of being a bodyguard for Trelawney."

"Now could you - slowly and gently - remove your claws from my person. They're dangerously close to certain...sensitive bits that I'm rather fond of keeping attached."

Chapter Text

Upon returning to Hogwarts with the injured Aurors, the house-elf Matron returned to the kitchens to check up on the other elves. Once satisfied that they were on task with their various assignments - and catching up on the latest gossip currently making the rounds about the school - Hestia Apparated back to the infirmary to assist Madame Pomfrey in the care of her patients... Agent Tonks, in particular.

Unknown to the rest of the group that were present in Grimaldi, Italy when the mission to capture the former Headmaster had gone pear-shaped, the Metamorphmagus had saved the house-elf Matron by pushing her aside. Otherwise, the Bone-Breaker curse that had struck Tonks in the legs would've hit Hestia in the face and chest, which likely would've killed the elf on the spot.

The witch's selfless act instantly endeared herself to the house-elf, creating a tentative bond between the two. If Tonks so wished, Hestia wouldn't hesitate to leave Hogwarts in the hands of her daughter, Donelle, and bind herself to the young Auror and her home.

But, that was a topic for a later time.

Shortly after Hestia arrived at the infirmary, Trelawney had burst through the hospital doors screeching for the head of Albus Dumbledore. The house-elf Matron listened with interest from Tonk's room, becoming rather angry on the Divination Professor's behalf as the woman revealed what that despicable wizard had done to her and her family.

As the humans plotted their next moves to locate and capture Dumbledore, Hestia approached Sybill and offered her services to the witch.

"Hestia be's honored to assist yous, Mistress Seer," said Hestia with a slight bow, "We knows bad wizard's magical signature and can adds it to your Scrying crystal."

A fiery gleam flashed across Sybill's golden irises, "Yes, that would be most helpful," she all but purred, handing the necklace over to Hestia. As the house-elf held the bit of quartz between her hands and infused it with her memory of Dumbledore's magic, Trelawney smiled as she asked, "Would you like to accompany me to observe the Aurors capturing Albus?

Hestia's face brightened with a mischievous smirk, "Hestia gladly accepts Mistress Seer's generous offer."

"Wonderful! And don't forget to bring the dragon-popped corn. I have a feeling it will be quite the show."

When Hermione's temper cooled and she returned to her human form, her expression softened as she glanced down at her Alpha's contrite but worried visage.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," she murmured in apology, "I'm not certain what came over me. Did I hurt you?"

"Merely a mild bruising of my Alpha pride," he informed her, wanting to reach out and smooth the worry line that appeared on his Omega's forehead but he held back, not wanting to share such a tender moment with others watching, "I assure you, I'll fully recover from this incident," he added with a low chuckle, "I somehow suspect that it won't be the last such occurrence," raising a knowing eyebrow at her ('I'd better warn Lucius...then, again, perhaps not'), a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes at the prospect of witnessing his fellow Alpha being pitched flat on his arse by their diminutive witch.

Hermione missed Severus' bemused expression, having already cast her own eyes downward in an attempt to (unsuccessfully) hide her blush behind a curtain of her hair, "I believe," she said hesitating a moment to gather her thoughts, "That it was, in part, a reaction to what Dumbledore did to his brother and Professor Trelawney. To silence all those witches in such a manner and to leave them in that altered state for all these years...well, it unnerved me, knowing that it could have just as easily been my fate, too, if the Headmaster had so chosen," she stated, shaking her head sadly, "Then to have you standing there yelling at me, telling me what I wouldn't be allowed to do because..." her voice trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I understand, my little lioness," drawled Snape as he pulled himself up to a more dignified seated position before carrying on with their conversation, "On some subconscious level, my brusque manner of expression must have reminded you of something Dumbledore had said to you in the past, and it triggered your dragon-form for protection."

The Gryffindor witch visibly shuddered. In her heart she knew neither of her Alphas were anything like the wretched former Headmaster but her previously oft-potioned and bespelled brain needed a hard reset (much like Sirius and everyone else that had been manipulated by that wizard for years) to properly separate Dumbledore's words and deeds from those of every other male around her.

Contemplating a few options before making a decision, Hermione let out a deep sigh, "I want to schedule an appointment with a Gringott's Mind Healer for as soon as possible," finally raising her head to look at Severus, "Perhaps, before I meet with my cousin this coming weekend?"

"I'll Floo Healer Marshbanks as soon as I return to my quarters this evening and set it up," Severus promised in a whispered reply, "Hopefully, she'll have something available for the both of us...as a couple. That is, if you so wish it."

The beaming smile of appreciation he received from Hermione told Severus he'd made the right call in offering to undergo treatment with her, his Alpha nature happily purring from his Omega's unspoken approval.

It had been a week since the Ministry mandated check-ups and cleansing procedures had been implemented at St. Mungo's. And today, the final handful of staff and patients were to be scanned and treated, should any of them test positive for coercive potions and spells tied to the deposed Albus Dumbledore (or anyone else, for that matter).

Sabine Soulstone was the last of the Mediwitches to stroll out of Healer Dartmire's temporary office on the fifth floor of the hospital and given the clearance to return to work. Feeling better than she had in years, Sabine headed towards the long-term care unit in the Janus Thickey ward. She was anxious to read the Goblins' examination results for the last three people on that floor, seeing as how she'd been one of three main caregivers for Frank and Alice Longbottom for the past fourteen years and Gilderoy Lockhart for the preceding three.

What the Mediwitch hadn't counted on was witnessing those three patients sitting up in their beds and amiably conversing with one another as if they were having a relaxing day in the park.

"Oh, my stars!" she exclaimed as she cautiously moved towards Mrs. Longbottom, "How is this possible? You were deemed unrecoverable because of what Bellatrix Lestrange did to you and your husband."

Healer Marshbanks turned and glared at the witch for her outburst, "Then it's a good thing we were brought in to independently reassess everyone - finally - otherwise you'd have kept them in their magically-induced comas indefinitely."

"But...their curse injuries..." objected Soulstone, gawping at the Goblin Elder.

"Were greatly exaggerated by whomever initially brought them into St. Mungo's for treatment," huffed Marshbanks, turning back to her charts and making additional notes, "However, we can overlook you and your colleagues' incompetence in this matter as over half of the people working in this hospital, especially on this ward, were compromised by Dumbledore's handiwork. For what purpose, we can only speculate. But I've advised both the Longbottoms and Mr. Lockhart here to visit Gringott's and request an audit of their accounts the first chance they get, particularly, in light of what happened to two other of my patients this week."

"Now, do please stop imitating a goldfish in a bowl and lend me a hand with their physio-therapy. With a bit of hard work, and some extra potent strengthening elixirs, we could have these three ready for discharge by the end of the month."

Gaunt and Rookwood had been running into one dead end after another with their research into Maia Peverell and her family. Even the Ministry's copy of The Book of Names, that Augustus managed to sneak into the Archives and duplicate, contained nothing about the teenager. At first, they both speculated that this dearth of information simply meant that the girl had been born elsewhere, it wasn't unheard of for Hogwarts to have transfer students on occasion throughout the school term when their families moved to Britain for the parents' jobs or for other reasons. But that hadn't explained the absolute lack of any files on the witch. And if it hadn't been for the scant few lines on his inheritance test at Gringott's, Tom would've never known this young cousin ever existed.

So, when Lucius Malfoy approached him earlier that day and said that the enigmatic witch in question wished to meet with him this Saturday, Tom had been ecstatic (not that Lucius could tell from the heavily Occluding man). Finally, he'd had a chance to solve the tantalizing puzzle that was Maia Athena Peverell.

However, first he (read, the Malfoy house-elves) had a brunch and afternoon tea to plan.

That evening after dinner in The Great Hall, Headmistress McGonagall approached Neville Longbottom as he sat surrounded by The Twins, Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood.

"Mr. Longbottom, if you would please follow me to my office," she began, raising an eyebrow as she took in the obvious changes to his mealtime companions, "I have something of great importance I need to discuss with you."

"Oh, if this is about my contract, Headmistress, I signed it and handed the paperwork over to Mistress Sprout just before dinner," he grinned, turning his head slightly so that the Hufflepuff sigil on his collar marking him as the Herbology Professor's new Apprentice was visible.

McGonagall returned the warm smile with one of her own, "Congratulations, Mr. Longbottom, but that wasn't the matter to which I was referring. Now please follow me. I assure you that it is good news," she hastily added when she noticed the looks of concern exchanged between the three Weasleys. The Lovegood witch didn't appear to be fazed all, her visage remaining serene as she gently encouraged her friend to accompany the Headmistress.

"Go on, Neville," Luna murmured sweetly in her usual breathy tone, "It's going to be a conversation you'll remember for the rest of your life."

On that cryptic note, Longbottom stood up and hurried after McGonagall, curiosity winning out over his growing nerves.

After the two Mediwizards and one senior member of the Wizengamot stepped into the Floo in Madame Pomfrey's office and returned to their respective places of employment, Poppy locked down the fireplace connection then strolled towards Shacklebolt's and Potter's bedside with an official document in her hands, her well practiced poker face giving nothing away.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, Witch. What's the verdict?" grumbled Moody, desperately trying not to pace about the private room his friend and Potter had been moved into when the other healers and the Undersecretary first arrived.

Unable to keep up the pretense of neutrality any longer, Pomfrey smirked at the three anxiously awaiting wizards, "You are, as of today, officially recognized as an adult in the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter. Congratulations," she declared, handing the paperwork over for Harry to read to Kingsley, "Healers Barnaby and Jones and Undersecretary Dawkins also provided Minerva with a copy of their findings. Which means, young man, that you and your Alpha can seal your bond without fear of any legal repercussions whenever you both are ready. But, I recommend that it be sooner rather than later," she advised with a knowing wink.

"Come along, Alastor. Let's give these two some much needed privacy."

The crimson blush that bloomed across Harry's face as Pomfrey and Moody left the room, locking the door and silencing the place as they went, was noticed by Kingsley despite still being blindfolded - the profuse heat radiating from his embarrassed Omega, along with the sudden silence from his previously chatty mate, clued him in to Harry's obviously flustered state.

Hoping to put Harry's mind at ease, Kingsley smiled, "Don't listen to Poppy, my little lion," he softly drawled, tracing soothing circles on the younger wizard's upper back, "I can wait for however long it takes for you to be comfortable with the idea of our becoming more intimate. In the meantime, we can discuss something else. Perhaps, your career plans once you graduate," he suggested, leaning back against the stack of pillows on the bed.

Only Harry wasn't having any more delays, his Omega heat (and Gryffindor brashness) taking that moment to re-emerge with a vengeance. As soon as his Alpha was settled on the bed, Harry voiced his intentions, his thoughts on the matter unmistakably clear, "I'm quite ready NOW, thank you very much."

With his declaration made, Harry then promptly pounced on the older man, causing his Alpha to chuckle before he lustfully growled.

"Who am I to deny my fierce little Omega what he so desires?"

Dumbledore was prowling about his safe house in Wettsteinpark after breakfast - as he had done every morning since his arrival - his mood growing steadily nastier with each hour that passed from the discomfort he endured from his steadily regenerating hand. It also didn't help his temperament that the headlines of the papers that Timens fetched twice daily from the local news agents were focused on stories coming out of Britain.

The first two days, the international and local newspapers and magazines had recounted the details of his escapes from Hogwarts, France and Italy (along with myriad theories on his possible current location) and the International Confederation of Wizards' order to the various magical law enforcement agencies to Petrificus-on-sight. The majority of that governing body were determined to have him taken alive to stand trial, starting in the London courts.

This morning's headlines, however, had shifted to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts and the sweeping changes she and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick had already begun to implement at the school. But, Dumbledore's ire over that announcement was nothing compared to his displeasure with Rufus Scrimgeour's restructuring plans for the Ministry of Magic.

"Bloody traitors, the lot of them!" he scowled aloud, ripping apart the copy of The Daily Prophet Timens had procured from the international news shoppe, the shreds falling to floor around him like sooty clumps of snow, "They'll destroy the perfect society I've worked so diligently to create all these years...and before Christmas at this rate!" he bellowed, his agitated movements kicking up the torn newsprint, making both the wizard and elf sneeze, "Especially, that blasted feline Minerva. 'Equal access for All', my lily-white arse. Not everyone's worthy of learning to wield magic, doesn't she realize that by now!?" he sneered, his mind filled with images of 'his' Hogwarts being inundated with all manner of unsavory, inferior beings.

"And what would that wet-behind-the-ears wanker Rufus Scrimgeour know about running the Ministry?" Dumbledore continued with his meandering rant, "I had everything ticking along like clockwork with Cornelius at the helm."

"I must find a way to regain control, The Greater Good must prevail!" proclaimed Albus to himself, his eyes taking on a near manic gleam, "But who can I still count on to assist me?"

Quite wisely, Timens retreated to his cozy nest in the pantry while his Master rumbled through the hideout like a purple-shaded storm cloud contemplating his options.

When Neville entered the Headmistress' office, the last thing he expected to see was his Grandmother Augusta standing by fireplace waiting for him...with a smile on her usually dour face. To be honest, it was a bit unnerving.

"Gran!" he exclaimed, focusing on the stuffed vulture on her hat rather than her unsettling grin, "What are you doing here? I mean, it's good to see you but what's going on? Headmistress McGonagall said it was something important."

Augusta toned back her expression to a more neutral setting before answering, "That it is, Neville," she said, tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the hearth, "We've been requested to speak with Healer Soulstone in person at St.Mungo's about your parents. Apparently, they've had a significant change in their conditions but she wouldn't elaborate as to what that entailed over an open Firecall, just that there was a 'thrilling' development and to hurry over to her office straight away."

Neville wasn't certain he could handle any more shocks today. And he didn't want to get his hopes up about his parents, either. After all, what if this change only meant that his Mum and Dad had spoken a word or two or managed to dress themselves without assistance? Not that those things wouldn't be a huge milestone, but still, they wouldn't recognize him or Gran in the way he dreamed about for years.

But, he'd never know for certain what had happened unless he met with the Healer. So with a steadying breath, Neville stepped into the green flames and disappeared on his way to St. Mungo's, his Gran following seconds later.

Aberforth Dumbledore awoke with a blinding headache, unsure of even where he was at the moment. The one thing that registered beyond the pain and his tightly closed eyes was that he wasn't in his private apartment above the HogsHead Inn. Wherever he was, it smelled different, fresher, for starters.

The second clue was the unknown, yet friendly, male voice that greeted him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Dumbledore. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been trampled by an angry herd of Hippogryphs," snarled Abe, reaching about for his wand but not finding it nor the wand holster on his left arm, "Just who the Bloody Hell are you and where have you taken me?" he demanded, struggling to get to his feet only to nearly fall flat on his face.

"Careful there, Sir, don't move," soothed the person, sounding a bit closer this time, "I'm Bill Weasley, Mr. Dumbledore. Don't you remember? I'm one of the Gringott's cursebreakers that was called in to assist on yours and your family's case," he explained, calling up his wolf Patronus and sending a message to the Goblin Healers that one of their patients was awake, "It's taken us a couple of days but you and both your daughters have been freed from your brother's enchantments. The team's still working on your sisters-in-law and nieces, though. Dumbledore really did a number on them."

"Albus," hissed Aberforth under his breath. Ignoring the throbbing migraine, Abe squinted his cold-as-ice blue eyes at the ginger-haired wizard before him, "I want to see my girls first," he demanded firmly, pointing an index finger at Weasley, "Then you're going to return my wand to me, I have a bastard of a brother to hunt down and hex into Oblivion."

"You'll do no such thing, Mr. Dumbledore, I'll not have you undo all our hard work to set you to rights," stated Healer Marshbanks as she glided into the cleansing room, "Besides, Minister Scrimgeour already has a competent team hunting your fugitive relative down. Unfortunately, they have orders to bring him back alive to stand trial for his numerous crimes."

"Unfortunate, indeed."

Trelawney collapsed to the floor of the infirmary, still within her Scrying circle, with a tired but triumphant smile on her face, "Lucerne, Switzerland," she stated, knocking back the Strengthening Solution Poppy had handed to her, "Hestia and I can pinpoint the exact address to raid once we arrive in country."

"I'll notify Scrimgeour straight away so that he can contact the Swiss Minister of Magic and give her a heads up," said Moody, making his way towards the fireplace in Pomfrey's office "In the meantime, I suggest everyone else that's going on this excursion to be ready to depart as soon as we've been given the go ahead."

Hermione and Severus had packed in preparation long before Sybill had even begun the ritual and only needed to double-check the contents of their backpacks. The bags contained, primarily, medicinal potions and other emergency items but also a few extra surprises that Filius had supplied them with courtesy of his cousin Grimsby - rune covered moonstones that would not only mask their magical presence but provide the anti-Apparation wards so that the effect remained securely in place even if one of the team were incapacitated.

Vukan was starting to become stressed over the delay, impatiently chirruping 'Let's Go', causing Snape to mock-glare at the Phoenix bobbing heavily up and down on his left shoulder.

Sybill chuckled at the sight, reaching out to soothe a few of the large avian's ruffled crest feathers, "Don't worry, dear, you'll get your chance at that fucking waste of breath and magic. I'll make certain of it."

Lucius had been holed up in his study at the Manor when a Hogwarts elf popped in to deliver an urgent message from Severus. Asking the house-elf to wait, he tore into the missive, his previous frown of concern giving way to an irreverent smirk as he read Snape's request to be his second in a duel against Dumbledore.

Grabbing a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, Malfoy hurriedly scratched out his reply of acceptance and handed it to the young elf to deliver it to his fellow Alpha immediately.

"Clever boy," he chuckled aloud, making to leave his office and head towards his rooms to prepare and pack, "Challenging that old goat to an Egregium duel. Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Talking to yourself? That's never a good sign, Lucius," drawled Thorfinn, causing Malfoy to nearly hex the other blonde wizard for startling him as he appeared from around the corner just outside the study, "Where are you going in such a rush? Lord Gaunt is expecting us in the solarium in twenty minutes. I came to fetch you so we could walk down together."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, the meeting concerning the weekend events had slipped his mind in his excitement over Severus' upcoming duel.

"I'm sorry to impose upon you, Finn, but you'll need to send my regrets to Tom," Malfoy said firmly as he continued walking towards his bedroom, "I've had an emergency arise with one of my business holdings overseas and it can't wait."

"Fuck that! You're telling him yourself, Luc," stated Rowle as he stopped and turned to leave, "The last time I played post-owl for you, Gaunt hexxed me so badly I swear I tasted blue for a week."

Lucius growled at Thorfinn's retreating form, "Fine. I'll be in the solarium in ten minutes," the lie falling from his lips without hesitation. (There wasn't any way he was missing out on assisting Severus, he'd take his punishment from Tom upon his return).

However, Malloy wouldn't risk leaving the Manor without first sending a message containing his apologies to Gaunt either by house-elf or owl...an inconsiderate host he was not, despite the unpredictable nature of his current guest.

That particular Thursday had been fairly productive for Dumbledore. His right hand finally restored, he'd spent the better part of his morning working out the stiffness in the appendage by casting increasingly more difficult and flourished spells at an enchanted mannequin Transfigured to look like McGonagall - it secretly thrilled him to no end to hear the pseudo-witch figure screech in agony as it repeatedly fell to his curses.

Satisfied with the functionality of the regenerated hand, Albus had then set about trimming down his list of potential remaining allies to contact, going so far as to write five of them letters and having Timens discreetly post the missives through the local owelry after lunch.

With a bit of luck, he expected to receive positive news in another two days.

Unfortunately (for him, that is), that luck was about to turn on him in spectacular fashion.

Malfoy had barely stepped through the Floo into Snape's private quarters when he was nearly bowled over by his happily squealing witch. With her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands clenched tightly onto the front of his robes, Hermione looked vaguely like a baby Koala clinging to it's Mum.

"Oi! Why does Lucius rate a lovely hug while I get sat upon by an angry Hebridean Black dragon?" grumbled Snape as he finished packing the medi-kits into his and Hermione's backpacks.

"Well, I've been worried about Lucius," mock-pouted Hermione, snuggling closer to her week long absent Alpha, "After all, I haven't seen nor heard from him since we got back from Gringott's. Besides, you did try to command me into staying here while you went off to duel against Dumbledore."

"Really, Severus?" smirked Lucius, shaking his head as he unsuccessfully tried to prise their little Omega from his person, "With as many Class XXXXX beast forms as Hermione displayed during her cleansing, you chose to go the over-protective Alpha male route with her?"

"I'll admit it wasn't my finest moment," huffed Snape, defensively crossing his arms over his chest, "And if you will recall, Hermione, I did apologize for that honest misstep."

"Please tell me you made a Pensieve memory of all that?" murmured Lucius into his cling-along's ear.

"Naturally," replied Hermione, subtly slipping a small unbreakable crystal vial into Malfoy's breast pocket before carefully sliding down his chest and legs, "Now, we need to get back to the infirmary. Professor Trelawney was about to start her Scrying ritual and I don't want to miss seeing that."

"Such a bossy Omega we seem to have on our hands, Severus," chuckled Lucius after watching Hermione strut over to collect her pack and head out the door (and more importantly, out of ear shot), "Whatever shall we do with her?"

"I may have a few ideas," purred Snape, his onyx coloured eyes growing impossibly darker, "Once dear old Dumbledore has been dealt with for good, of course."

"Indeed," drawled Lucius, strolling into the hallway behind Severus, "And what of Gaunt? We still don't know what he's scheming."

"We'll worry about that...him, later."

The calm of that bright clear morning as the dew settled onto the greenery about the Wettsteinpark was shattered by a series of small explosions, colorful bursts of lights reminiscent of summer fireworks and numerous vicious yowls, some of them even human.

All of which ended, seemingly, as abruptly as it started it with a single voice carrying over the subtle breeze.

"I warned you what would happen if you messed with the wrong witch."

Chapter Text

Gaunt scowled at the brief message from Malfoy that his house-elf Amber just delivered. The expression causing Rowle and Rookwood to take a step back and pull up a Protego in an instinctive act of self preservation.

Glancing up, Tom noticed the subtle flinch from Thorfinn. Sometimes it was just too easy to know who to question. "Did Lucius say anything to you, Rowle? Maybe, how long he'd be gone or where exactly he was headed?"

('Dammit, I really need to practice my Occlumency') "No, Lord Gaunt. Only that it was an urgent, unavoidable trip to one of his companies someplace overseas."

Tom let out an exasperated sigh, "In light of this unexpected turn of events, you two may leave. I'll send an elf once I've rescheduled this meeting."

Thorfinn and Augustus silently nodded and left the Manor in haste, knowing it best to depart while their leader was in a relatively forgiving mood - no sense in tempting fate, after all.

Severus, Lucius and Hermione, along with Sybill, Alastor and Hestia, left the Swiss Ministry of Magic building after receiving the authorization from Madame Juvo to track, and hopefully apprehend, Dumbledore in her country.

Before they left her office, the Minister wished them luck and gave them one more piece of advice, "Should...extreme measures need to be taken, by all means, don't hesitate to use them. It would be best for all concerned in the long run."

The group had barely made it out onto the street when Hermione turned to Severus and asked, "Please tell me it wasn't my imagination, that Minister Juvo basically gave us Carte Blanche to Avada Dumbledore."

But it was Alastor who answered, "No, Miss Granger, you didn't misinterpret a thing," rasped Moody, his new magical eye gleaming in the sunlight.

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that.," replied Hermione, her demeanor become predatory.

"Oh, I definitely like this witch. Are you certain I can't persuade you to become an Auror?"

Neville stood in the doorway of the private room in the Janus Thickey ward as his Grandmother embraced his, fully awakened and completely lucid, Father and Mother. To add to his shock, the former DADA Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, was seated on the edge of his own bed near an enchanted wall depicting the flowering courtyard several floors below. The small table before him was covered in neatly bundled papers and books, his face pinched in deep concentration as he cast spells between the two stacks.

"Well, don't just stand there gawping, Neville, get over here and say 'Hello' to your parents," mildly chided Augusta as she openly dabbed away the tears from her eyes with a blue silk handkerchief.

Cautiously Longbottom approached, afraid that this was just some weird potions induced dream and that he'd suddenly awaken and find himself in the school infirmary. But the closer he got to the couple on the bed, the more he realized this was really happening, that his long hoped for wish had finally come true.

With one last quivering step, Neville shook off any remaining doubts and fell into his parents' embrace, choking out a hoarse, "I've missed you both so much."

"And we you, son."

After several minutes into their tearful family reunion, Neville glanced at the other wizard who seemed to be finished with whatever he'd been doing before and was now silently watching them from the other bed, "I don't mean to appear rude, but why exactly are you in my parents' hospital room, Mr. Lockhart?"

The older blonde let out a deep sigh but before he could reply to Neville's question, his Mother explained, "Gilderoy's here because he's family, Neville. Your cousin, in fact. Apparently, he was investigating what happened to your Father and I when Dumbledore caught him snooping around, asking questions and trying to gain access to our medical records."

"Then instead of Avada'ing me on the spot, that manipulative arse did something far worse," stated Lockhart, picking up the story from there, "He upended my entire existence and turned me into this pathetic charlatan," he scowled, angrily tossing aside a copy of his alternate personality's autobiography 'Magical Me', "I was a well respected researcher and author on wizarding cultures before that Sodding bastard twisted my life's work into that libelous pile of fiction."

"The only smart thing the other 'me' did was retain creative control over these publications," continued Gilderoy, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension in them, "As a result, I was able to replace every single copy of those disgraceful fabrications using my original manuscripts and a modified Substitution Charm," he said, gesturing to the stack of parchment and tomes on his bedside table, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction, "My accounts manager at Gringott's is also in the process of redistributing the majority of the royalties I received to the people who should've gotten recognition for the events 'he' claimed as 'his' own. After that," he huffed tiredly, "I don't know what to do, my reputation is in tatters."

"But at least," he smiled wistfully, "Our family's healthy and whole once again."

Neville blinked twice at his newfound cousin, taking in the rush of new information from the older man. Then before he could second guess himself, Neville blurted out, "Have Healer Soulstone send a copy of your case file to Headmistress McGonagall along with one of your original research articles," he suggested, glancing over at Lockhart's paperwork on the table, "She's reinstating a bunch of courses that Dumbledore disproved of years ago, ask for an interview for one of the open teaching or assistant positions. The worst she could do is say 'no'."

After a long pause, Lockhart spoke, his voice an emotionally raspy whisper, "I...Thank you, Cousin. I...I'll consider it."

Sybill watched Hermione as she tried not to fidget in the Swiss Minister's office, waiting for their authorization to leave and hunt down Dumbledore.

"Not to worry, Miss...Granger," soothed Trelawney, her golden irises focusing on the closed door where Scrimgeour was conversing with Juvo, "We'll be on our way before you know it."

"While we have the time, I could tell you a few of the things that your Grandmother Rosalind revealed to me about you," calmly stated Sybill, obviously knowing the younger witch would figuratively jump at this chance.

"If you would, please," replied Hermione, nervously worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Where to start...hrnmm, yes, you're quite right of course," muttered Trelawney, seemingly to herself, "Rosalind said the day Healer Greenbriar confirmed that her seven-year old son Andrew, your birth father, was a Squib, she knew had to hide him from your Grandfather Corbin. So, with Greenbriar's assistance they altered the medical records to state that Drew died from Dragon Pox and his body was cremated - which wasn't unusual given the contagious nature of that disease."

"Anyway, the Healer skillfully...restructured Andrew's memory, making him believe he was an orphan, then your Grandmother placed him with a Muggleborn foster family that lived in the Muggle world. The Ashburns, along with a handful of other Muggle-raised wizarding couples and Healers, knew the usual fate of Squibs - particularly those born to Pureblood families - and took it upon themselves to rescue as many such children as they could."

"And my Grandfather Corbin just accepted this story of my birth father's sudden demise without hesitation? Wasn't he at all suspicious?" asked Hermione skeptically while trying to restrain herself from rattling off a string of questions, knowing the time before their mission began was limited.

Sybill tiltled her head, listening to her unseen informant for a moment, then smirked, "When Healer Greenbriar presented Corbin with Drew's contrived prognosis, Rosalind may have hit him from behind with a Confundus before implanting an Admonitus spell instructing him to never search for explanations about their sons' rapid onset of illness and resulting death. She even anchored the charm to his Lordship ring, making it permanent."

"Let me guess, Grandmother Rosalind was a Slytherin," said Hermione, a slight smile on her lips.

"Ravenclaw, actually. But your Grandfather was Slytherin and she may have picked up a few...pointers along the way during their marriage," chuckled Trelawney, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

Gaunt smirked as Thorfinn and Augustus scampered out of the Manor and away from his presence, the sight amusing him to no end ('Good. Best to keep them focused on their own tasks,' he mused as he strolled towards his desk, 'I don't need them hanging around here and accidentally stumbling across the next phase of my latest project.')

Through Rockwood's assistance in collecting sealed records at the Ministry (and Tom's subsequent meetings with select members of the Wizengamot and Board of Governors based on the information contained in some of those files), the first part of Gaunt's new scheme had already been put into effect - the reinstatement of the Omega and Alpha Registration program in England, a previously long-established service that Dumbledore had gleefully dismantled early on during his reign as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (fortunately, the interfering wizard's efforts to ban all such programs in other magical communities had been overruled by the International Confederation of Wizards despite his influence as their Supreme Mugwump).

(It was after reading of Albus' malicious intention to systematically 'breed out' the Omegas from the gene pool - from a thick document marked for 'Dumbledore's eyes only' that Rookwood had procured - that this had become the former Dark Lord's next priority. It had also taken a great deal of restraint on Tom's part to not act like a Gryffindor and rashly storm off in an effort to track down the blue-eyed bastard on his own and erase him from their world, one excruciating piece at a time).

Already the re-formed Alpha-Omega matching initiative was bearing fruit as fifteen previously unmated Omegas from Britain had found their Alphas, all from Wizarding societies in other countries - because these poor Wixen had been forbidden from international travel due to their status (another aspect of Dumbledore's scheme to decrease their numbers) they'd had to resort to taking the legal (often horribly overpriced) suppressants for years just to survive their heats on their own. (They were the lucky ones though, ten other Omegas had simply disappeared over the past five years, allegedly, the victims of random Death Eater attacks).

However, even with this newly recovered resource for potential new partners, none of them had turned up as a match for Gaunt. Which's where the second part of Tom's plan would now come into play should his cousin Maia also turn out not be his mate - the potions-assisted transitioning of borderline Betas, so that every Alpha on the planet could have at least one Omega partner...no longer would Alphas have to settle for a less than ideal Beta pairing.

And the first three successful Betas-to-Omegas (also not a match to Gaunt) were currently sequestered in the confines of his private lab at the Manor, waiting to be presented to the handful of Alphas amongst his followers at the upcoming tea party on Saturday...hopefully, giving one or more of them a new partner before releasing them to the Ministry for registration.

But, as with other groundbreaking potions formulas, this one had some...drawbacks. Like the fifty-percent chance it would simply kill the Beta instead of permanently changing them to an Omega... as the previous ten 'volunteer' test subjects could attest to if they'd survived.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes...that," the older witch sighed, her demeanor rapidly shifting to a more somber tone, "Your birth parents. They were among the twelve people that were killed by Peter Pettigrew that October night in London in 1981. Thankfully, you were with the Ashburns that evening - both Andrew and Athena kept in touch with their foster families over the years and Charlotte and Meghan often babysat for them."

"Anyhow, as soon as the explosion and the victims' names were announced on the Muggle news reports, Charlotte contacted Rosalind because, odds were high, that any Aurors investigating the scene because of Black's and Pettigrew's involvement would discover your parents' true identities with a basic diagnostic scan. Rosalind strongly believed it would be a short matter of time before the Ministry, and therefore Dumbledore, became aware of your existence and came looking for you. Especially, given your familial links to both of Albus' designated 'Chosen One' and Dark Lord.

Hermione bit back a grumbling sound of impatience, silently gesturing for Trelawney to continue. She'd long surmised that given her Peverell-Gaunt lineage, her familial connection to Riddle and her original July birthdate, this tantalizing combination would've had Dumbledore drooling at the chance to replace Harry with her, seeing as she'd be the far better candidate to carry out his counterfeit Prophecy.

Sybill rolled her eyes at the restless younger witch but steadily carried on, "Knowing that time was of the essence, Rosalind, Charlotte and Meghan performed a Dark Magic blood ritual that very weekend. With the sealing of your birth records under a Celo Charm, your existence was erased from the minds of every Wixen who knew your name the moment you were adopted by the Grangers. It wasn't until after she passed beyond the Veil, that the knowledge of you returned to your Grandmother...naturally, the Ashburns and Healer Greenbriar are still oblivious. And, of course, your adoptive parents were never informed of your magical heritage. When you received your Hogwarts' letter, you were like any other Muggleborn learning about the Wizarding World for the very first time."

"What.The. Actual. Fuck, Sybill!?" growled Severus, having just strolled out of the Minister's office and catching the last few revelations from Trelawney, "Of all the assinine things to do, why bring that up now? How's Hermione supposed to protect you with those distracting bombshells bouncing about her brain?"

Hermione gently placed a hand onto her bristling Alpha's arm, "I imagine she's telling me this as a precaution, just in case things with Dumbledore don't go to plan," she whispered, the soft quavering sound to her voice (something Hermione was unaware that she was doing) having an immediate effect on the wizard, the anger visibly leaving his body, his facial expressions shifting from irate and on edge to relaxed in the space of a few heartbeats.

Lucius' cheeky praise, however, broke the unintended calming magic, "Excellent use of your Omega thrum, my little lioness," purred Malfoy, not bothering to try and hide his impish smirk, "You'll need to practice it quite often with this cantankerous snake."

"Impudent, preening peacock," groused Severus, his relaxed expression quickly turning dour.

"You've just made my point," chuckled Lucius, his words emphasized by Vukan's delightful contribution of 'I'm a Grumpy Old Man'.

"And no one asked for your opinions, either. You oversized, combustible feather duster."

Vukan kept right on trilling, completely ignoring his familiar's raven-haired companion muttering under his breath about 'Sodding, flaming chickens'.

Dolores Umbridge was having an absolutely wretched time of things. It had been bad enough when those despicable brats at Hogwarts had disobeyed her Educational Decrees earlier this year and formed their secret little dueling club. But even after she'd finally discovered their hiding place last month - blasting through the wall with a Bombarda and capturing the Sodding ring leaders Harry Potter and his filthy little Mudblood girlfriend Hermione Granger - things rapidly went downhill from there.

And now, having finally escaped from those disgusting half-breed deviants called Centaurs, Dolores was struggling to make sense of the world to which she'd returned. From the headlines on back issues of The Daily Prophet she'd found waiting in her incoming owl post basket upon her return to her home, the Wizarding community had seemingly gone round the twist. Headmaster Dumbledore was a wanted criminal on the run, that Azakaban escapee and murderer Sirius Black was now an exonerated Lord and new member of the Wizengamot, and a mysterious Lord Gaunt had apparently made it all happen with the capture of a not-so-dead Peter Pettigrew.

Then there was that tartan-wearing Bitch of a Headmistress with a beady-eyed, treacherous little half-Goblin at her side as Deputy Headmaster opening up the doors to Hogwarts for all manner of unnatural Creatures to attend, their very presence was an affront to those hallowed halls! It was pure madness run rampant!

But the absolute worst change, to Umbridge's sensibilities at any rate, was that her much beloved Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had been replaced by that Gryffindor upstart Rufus Scrimgeour of all people. Not only that, the leontine-like wizard was rapidly dismantling all those necessary Creature laws that she and Cornelius had worked so hard to put into place.

Didn't the man realize that those abominations - the werewolves in particular - were a danger to the Wizarding World? And those magic-stealing Mudbloods weren't much better. Both groups of vermin needed to be eradicated for the betterment of proper Wixen everywhere...starting with one Hermione Granger.

Without bothering to clean up her disheveled appearance after her escape from the Forbidden Forest, Dolores Floo'd to the Ministry and made her way towards the DMLE offices to file her complaint, an evil grin blooming across her toad-like features the closer she got to the new Chief Auror's office.

With a bit of luck, Agents would be hauling that foul Mudblood bint out of Hogwarts within the hour, in shackles on multiple charges for assault and attempted murder.

And Umbridge was determined to be on hand to witness it happen.

Several growled threats, and a few strategically placed hexxes later (from Moody), had the group finally making their way towards Wettsteinpark, the latest spot where Sybill's scrying ritual directed them.

They were about twenty meters away from the entrance to the park when Hestia let out a low hiss, sounding like an extremely pissed off kneazle, "Dumbledore's close by, we not sees the bad wizard but we feels his magic past those two trees," she stated, gesturing at a pair of nearby oaks to the left of the paved walkway.

Moody scowled under his breath while pulling out the Goblin rune-enhanced, anti-Apparation crystals from a leather pouch attached to his belt. Handing the remaining shiny trinkets over to Hestia after ensuring all the humans had one in their pockets, he began snipping out their planned approach, "Right. Malfoy, Snape and I will follow Hestia as she places these markers along the perimeter and take up positions at points on the West, North and East. While you, Granger, stay here with Trelawney at the South."

"Once Hestia returns to you witches, Trelawney will send up a silent flare of red sparks and we three wizards will begin our assault on Dumbledore's hidden stronghold. With a bit of luck, that'll drive him straight towards you, Granger," stated Alastor, giving the younger woman a knowing smirk, "I suggest taking advantage of your Nundu-form for this part. After all, your breath-weapon proved rather effective against Black and Lupin."

Not giving Severus or Lucius a chance to voice any last minute objections, Moody started off at an easy pace following Hestia towards the western most position, snarking as he went, "Don't just stand there gawping like a pair of Mooncalves, you two. We've got to take this Sodding bastard down now while the Muggles are busy elsewhere."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sybill and Hermione found themselves chuckling softly as the trio of men slowly faded from their sight under their crystals additional Disillusionment Charms, reminiscent of a parade of (albeit strange looking) ducklings following their mum as they awkwardly trailed behind the house-elf Matron, that mental image further enhanced by the pale yellow tea towel Hestia had chosen to wear that day.

"We're not going to let them forget this anytime soon, are we?" asked Hermione, shifting to her Nundu-form as Trelawney crafted a large protection circle in white chalk about herself on the pavement.

"Obviously," replied Sybill, her laughter lighting up her eyes even as she focused on her task, "In fact, I think we should suggest it as a party theme to Minerva when we return to Hogwarts."

Vukan, who remained behind with the two witches and was currently perched on Trelawney's left shoulder, heartily chirruped his agreement with his rendition of 'Party Like a Rockstar'.

Dumbledore was taken completely off guard as explosions rocked the wards surrounding his safe house on three sides, the unexpected detonations making his house-elf Timens drop the breakfast tray he'd been levitating onto the dining room floor, the crash only adding to the chaos.

"Damnation!" shouted Albus as another series of blasts shook the barriers of his latest refuge, "How did those buggers even find this place," he growled, glaring down suspiciously at his trembling elf even as he contemplated whether or not the post owls may just have been tracked.

"Get us out of here, now, Timens," he ordered, deciding to give his elf the chance to prove his loyalty to him - at least until they reached the hideout in Kavala, Greece.

Timens shakily grabbed onto his Master's left wrist and tried to Apparate away, only nothing happened, the traveling spell fizzling out as quickly it began.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get us out of here!" snarled Albus, threatening the elf at wand point.

Three times the trembling elf attempted to Side-a-long the increasingly agitated and desperate wizard after moving into another room further away from the ever stronger explosions. But each try ended the same way, in complete failure.

Large, sad eyes stared up at the man, pleading for him to understand that he was doing his best, only Dumbledore wasn't listening.

One final explosion fractured the ward covering the wall behind Albus, blotting out the sound of his shouted 'Avada Kedavra'.

Hestia, Sybill and Hermione were on edge the moment their trio of wizards began their assault on Dumbledore's concealed safe-house.

(Well, not totally camouflaged anymore. Before the group had left Hogwarts, Hermione had brought up a flaw she'd noticed about Wizarding wards - they kept out all manner of magical means of detection but not Muggle. To that end, she suggested a method of making the invisible visible that had Moody and Malfoy scratching their heads and Trelawney and Snape laughing their arses off - paint balls.

Once she explained the concept of launching colourful spheres filled with paint using special rifles, the Auror and Pureblood Lord were fully on board. Anything to further their advantage was a plus in Alastor's mind.

"At the very least, we'll be able to see what we're aiming for," he smirked., "And if we're lucky, maybe once of us will peg dear ol' Albus in the face with a few of these orbs.")

By the time the first Bombarda was cast at the stronghold in Wettsteinpark, the place was splattered with several large patches of electric-blue, acid-green, sunshine yellow and candy-apple red.

And as if Lady Luck had been listening in on Moody's wish, Trelawney nailed Dumbledore with a yellow paint pellet to the jaw as the man stepped from behind the buildings wards in an effort get past the Anti-Appararition zone to escape, the pain from the impact causing Albus to yowl like a wounded animal before he started to curse the witch.

"You!" he sneered, halfway through casting his chosen spell, "I should have killed you and your sisters when I had the chance."

Sybill smirked at the brightly coloured, fuming wizard that had caused her and her family so much grief, "I warned you what would happen if you messed with the wrong witch," she cackled, a look of horror blooming across Dumbledore's face at the long forgotten caveat, "Only I failed to mention, I wasn't the witch you should fear."

With a twitch of her hand to signal Hestia, the Disallusionment about Nundu-Hermione was dropped, just long enough for Albus to let out a strangled yell as the sickly-orange cloud from her breath-weapon hit him square in the face.

Chapter Text

Minister Scrimgeour had just settled back into his sinfully comfortable leather desk chair when his fireplace, yet again, roared to life in an overly bright flash of green flames. The strangled groan rumbling deep in his chest left no doubts, had anyone been about to hear it that is, as to his feelings on the matter.

It had been several hours since he'd returned from the Swiss Ministry and every minute had, seemingly, been spent putting out one small crises after another, so he was dreading whatever this latest Floo-call was bringing his way.

What he hadn't anticipated was Auror Chief Robards stepping through the fire and gruffly handing him a warrant to sign.

"It appears that Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge is no longer a missing person, Sir," grumbled Gawain, glowering at the document in his hand as if it personally had offended him, "Less than an hour ago, she barged her way into the DMLE offices and loudly demanded - well, screeched - that we immediately send a team to Hogwarts to arrest a Fifth Year, one Hermione Jean Granger, who she claimed conspired with the Forbidden Forest Centaurs to murder her last month."

Having, unfortunately, witnessed the pink toad of a witch when she was ranting about Muggleborns or the Sentient Beings she often referred to as 'Undesirable half-breeds', Rufus muttered sarcastically, "I can't possibly imagine why they'd want to do such a thing to her of all people."

Robards had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cackling aloud.

While Trelawney and the others waited for the orange cloud surrounding the unconscious Dumbledore to safely disburse, Moody, Snape and Malfoy cautiously entered the now visible safe house to ensure that Albus hadn't left any unpleasant surprises behind for others to find.

But other than the deceased house-elf's body laying crumpled in the hallway, the trio of wizards found nothing else of importance. Which made them a touch wary, so they checked everything a second time, all to the same outcome.

After gently collecting the elf's remains and reverently covering him with a soft cotton shroud, they exited the house and placed a hefty Muggle-Repelling charm over the paint-splattered building, leaving it marked so that the Swiss MLE could readily find the premises later to conduct their own search for their official records.

When Severus, Lucius and Alastor approached Hermione, Sybill and Hestia with the news that they could leave at any time to escort the fugitive Headmaster back to the British Ministry of Magic, Trelawney's demeanor abruptly shifted.

Turning to Hermione, the older witch let out a pained sigh, "I'm so sorry, dear," she began, a look of regret mixed with anger flaring through her golden eyes, "But you can't return to Hogwarts, or anywhere in England, for that matter. Not yet, anyway."

"What the Bloody Hell do you mean Hermione can't go back home?" demanded Severus, his Alpha nature going on the defensive for his little Omega.

Lucius, being a touch more tactful despite his own instincts howling at him to protect their lioness, stepped between Severus and Sybill, "Perhaps you could be a touch more specific as to why Hermione can't travel back to Britain, if you would be so kind," he drawled, his voice steady regardless of the growing dread causing his heart to clench tightly in his chest.

Sybill took a deep steadying breath before elaborating, "A certain pink-obsessed witch made a formal complaint with the DMLE , she's demanding that you be hauled in by the Aurory and charged for a number of offenses, including, her attempted murder," she growled in displeasure, "Which means, the moment you return to British soil, you'd be detained and placed in a holding cell at the Ministry until you were brought before the Wizengamot to stand trial."

"Umbridge," hissed Hermione, her wand hand twitching in reflex, "It was her own damn fault," scrunching her nose at the memory, "True, I did lead her away from the school and into the Forbidden Forest under false pretenses but, if she hadn't persisted in insulting the Centaur hunting party we chanced upon by calling them half-breed beasts or trying to strangle a couple of them with an Incarcerous to their throats, they might not have resorted to dragging her off into the Forest to their leader for judgment."

There was only a heartbeat or two of silence before someone cleared their throat. "As much as I would like to hear the details behind that particular story," said Moody, moving to place a set of magic-suppression cuffs on the comatose Dumbledore, "We've got to get this smarmy Bastard into a holding cell before he wakes up."

Looking over at the agitated young Gryffindor witch and the two Slytherin wizards who were standing on either side of her offering softly whispered words of comfort and advice, Moody pointedly asked, "I'm presuming one or both of you gentlemen have a residence outside of Britain where Miss Granger can seek sanctuary until I can review the case Umbridge has made against her?"

Before Hermione could open her mouth to strongly object to Alastor not speaking directly to her on this matter, Lucius responded, "Yes. I have the perfect secret-kept villa on the continent that will do nicely," he drawled, pleased that he could offer a secured space for his little Omega, "And once you have an unpdate, simply call on my house-elf, Trinket, to forward the information on to Hermione, Severus and I."

Having had enough of these wizards planning things without consulting her, Hermione firmly stood her ground and interjected, "I have a much better solution," she stated adamantly, rejecting the idea of hiding while that vile toad of a witch freely hopped about ruining her name, her life, "I'll travel back in one of my beast forms, posing as Moody's new familiar. That way I can be there when he researches the files and see first hand what 'evidence' Umbridge has contrived," saying the name with a sneer, "Then when he goes to question her, I'll simply shift into my Nundu-form and blast that Sodding pink cow with my breath weapon. Who knows, perhaps the transmutations it causes would be a marked improvement for her."

"And even if it doesn't, it would certainly make me feel loads better."

Pomfrey had just returned to her office for a much needed tea break after dealing with the results of the latest pre-Leaving Feast shenanigans - the worst had been the six cases of Alphas dueling their perceived rivals after the announcement of the newly reestablished Alpha-Omega matching program had been reported in The Daily Prophet.

Hormonal twits, the lot of them. She'd had to remind the overly zealous bunch, repeatedly, that nothing had changed with the Omega's basic biology, that they'd still be the ones to choose their mates, no amount of Alpha posturing would override their scent glands. The only difference was that the pool of potential partners had grown exponentially overnight.

She had treated their broken bones and spell damage and sent them on their way with a stern warning, "If I see any of you in here before the term officially ends because of such foolishness again, I will hex you with something truly nasty. And trust me, I know some absolutely vicious spells that will leave you begging for death."

Not that she'd ever do such a thing, especially, to a child in her care, her Healer's Oath would prevent her. But the students apparently weren't aware of this fact....or had merely forgotten in their haste to get away from the irate Mediwitch.

Either way, Pomfrey's empty threat worked. Well, that and the rumors that spread quickly as a result amongst the other students - the Matron was one scary witch that you didn't want pissed off with you, for any reason.

When Dumbledore slowly began regaining consciousness, his first instincts were to Disapparate to his next safe-house. Unfortunately (for him, that is), nothing happened, not even the tiniest hint of the expected sensation of magical travel twitched through his core.

His next muddled thought was to fight, at least until the vague memory of a Nundu breathing in his face surfaced. It was then that Albus realized he couldn't move or speak, not that it mattered.

Once he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he became all too aware that not only was he surrounded by five other people, one house-elf and an oddly coloured Phoenix, but that he was wrapped from shoulders to ankles in a high-level Incarcerous.

With his head and eyes as the two things left in his full control, Albus used them as best he could to convey his continued defiance and displeasure - to almost everyone else, it made the former Headmaster appear like a toddler having a major temper tantrum.

It was Trelawney who responded to Hermione's plan of attack first, "While I...we applaud your sentiments, Hermione, your sense of satisfaction would be fleeting, at best," she claimed, her golden eyes flaring brightly with her magic, "On top of that, you know in your heart that it will make things decidedly difficult for Alastor when his supposed familiar is revealed to be a wanted fugitive in Animagus form. Not only would his career as an Auror be finished but he'd be facing extensive time in Azkaban for aiding you."

Hermione frowned, her hair sparking dangerously as her own excess magic flowed along her curly strands in jolts of blue, "I wouldn't be so careless as to confront Umbridge in front of witnesses in broad daylight," she scowled, folding her arms tightly across her chest in a defensive posture, "My actions with Dumbledore should've proven to you by now that I'm not the stereotypical brash, unthinking Gryffindor," she huffed, the 'unlike Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley' left unsaid.

"Enough!" growled Moody impatiently, pulling a handful of Port-Keys from his pocket and draping one circle of green ribbon over the still insensate Dumbledore's neck, "We'll discuss matters further AFTER I get this Bastard into a Ministry holding cell and speak with Robards about Umbridge's accusations."

"Until then," he said, glancing over at Lucius and Hermione, "Get Miss Granger to safety, Malfoy," his tone denoting he'd brook no arguments from anyone, "And you three," he ordered, gesturing at Hestia, Sybill and Severus, "Report back to Hogwarts and check in with McGonagall," he said, casting another Incarcerous and Silencio over Albus in preparation for his transport to London, "She needs to be informed that our mission was a success but that her favorite cub won't be returning for the last couple of weeks of school. I suspect she may already be aware as to the why."

The group startled, their conversations and plans to depart temporarily disrupted as Vukan abruptly began trilling an overly loud and chipper rendition of 'Good Morning Starshine', immediately drawing their focus to the now wide open, icy blue eyes of Dumbledore.

Secretly, Alastor was more than a little pleased with this development, having wanted to witness the exact minute it dawned on Albus just how little time he had left to enjoy the fresh outdoor air. But Moody's elation rapidly shifted to alarm as Albus' face turned an ugly shade of puce even as his head began twitching erratically about, giving him the appearance of having some sort of seizure.

Moody was sorely tempted to release the modified Silencio from his former friend for fear that the older wizard was experiencing difficulty breathing due to a delayed adverse reaction to Hermione's Nundu-breath weapon. Now, he couldn't give a rat's arse if Albus kicked the bucket in such an unexpected manner, but it would lead to further complications for Miss Granger - ones of the legal variety that would gain the entire British Wizarding community's (and most assuredly, Umbridge's) notice given that Dumbledore's high-profile case would require that his remains undergo a thorough (possibly, semi-public) assessment that would uncover the true nature of his demise, information that would be reported fully on The Daily Prophet's front page by its next edition as part of Scrimgeour's promise of ministerial transparency.

Severus, however, stayed Alastor's wand hand with a lowly hissed "Don't.You.Dare. remove that Wanker's gag!", even as he started casting diagnostic spells over Dumbledore's twitching form, "The last thing any of us wants to hear is that disgusting sack of shite's voice spewing feeble excuses for his deplorable actions."

"I wouldn't mind hearing a bit of groveling from this pathetic excuse of a wizard," drawled Lucius, his silver-grey eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and spite aimed directly at the restrained former Headmaster, "But I understand if you don't wish to endure, what is certain to be, a mildly entertaining performance."

After showing Moody and the others the scan results, that assured them that nothing medically urgent was happening to the Sodding old man, Snape growled, "Now, get him out of my sight before I start using him for target practice for some of my more...creative hexxes."

Vukan whole-heartedly seconded Severus' command with a spirited chirruping of 'They're Coming to Take Me Away' as Alastor prepared to leave with the ex-Headmaster.

As if to add insult to injury, Dumbledore's Nundu-breath inspired transformation finally started to manifest mere seconds before Alastor activated the Ministry Port-Keys that hung around their necks - it had taken only five minutes longer than with Sirius' and Remus' modifications but it was so worth the wait to see the almost comical expression of horror dawning on his former friend's face.

Scrimgeour downed a Headache-Relief Potion, readying himself for his visit to the heavily warded containment area that the Department of Mysteries director, Amelia Bones, had specifically set up for Albus Dumbledore's confinement and interrogation.

Although he'd been immensely relieved when the word came down that Auror Moody had safely returned with the fugitive wizard, Rufus had not anticipated the borderline hysterical Floo-call from Amelia that he received ten minutes later.

(At least, Scrimgeour believed his long-time colleague had been in the middle of a major panic attack episode - in reality, Madame Bones had been laughing to the point of tears upon seeing the altered state of their captive and was having difficulty speaking without breaking down into another fit of giggles).

It wasn't until he turned the corner and the occupant of the holding cell came into his full view that he became aware of the true reason for Amelia's unexpected behaviour.

There, awkwardly pacing about the magic-suppression room was Dumbledore - or who Rufus presumed was the wanted man. It was difficult to say for certain as this...Being appeared to be just as much goat as human. In place of both their hands and feet were cloven hooves, their pale ears were elongated and flopped over at the middle, ice-blue irises were the horizontal shape typically seen in goats and on the sides of their forehead near the temples sprouted two large, golden-brown horns that curved back from their face. Then there was the fact that whenever this hybrid-Bovidae spoke, their sentences were punctuated with random 'bleats'.

Bizarre didn't even come close to describing this individual.

"Well what... what do...you make...of...of our 'esteemed' former Supreme Mugwump, Minister?" asked Amelia between gasps for air, the mirth plain to hear in her voice.

Scrimgeour bit the inside of his cheeks, unable to answer without cackling loudly at the fallen leader of the Order, tears of laughter freely streaming down his face.

He knew at some point that they'd need to properly interrogate Dumbledore under Veritasirum and then formally charge the man. But for now, he and his colleagues simply couldn't accomplish any of that until they regained their composure... however, at thirty minutes and counting, it didn't appear that this would be happening anytime soon.

Lord Gaunt was in his study at the Manor when Augustus Rookwood firecalled him, stating that he had an update on Dumbledore but that he wasn't willing to divulge any of the details over the open Floo Network, "Although the DMLE has cleared about half the network of the monitoring charms that old bastard Headmaster placed on it, the Manor is still connected to those spells. And even though Minister Scrimgeour publicly claimed that everyone's privacy will be restored by the end of the week, I wouldn't put it past him to leave a select few homes and businesses linked to these surveillance charms, such as, Malfoy's residence and Borgen and Burkes."

"Quite likely," agreed Tom, stepping aside to allow Rookwood to stroll through the green flames and into his study, "That's why I've been relying on the house-elves to deliver my confidential messages."

"Now, tell me. What's the latest word on dear old Albus?"

After Rookwood walked out of the fireplace and vanished the soot from his clothing, he pulled a crystal phial from his robe pocket and handed it over to Gaunt, "As I don't want to spoil the surprise, I won't even give you a hint as to what's contained in these memories," said Augustus with a knowing smirk on his face," But I'd strongly advise being seated to view them."

Intrigued by his colleague's recommendation, Gaunt summoned the Pensieve from its place in his storage cabinet on the other side of the room and set it on the middle of his writing desk. Pulling up a chair, Tom uncorked the phial and tipped the silvery contents into the viewing liquid, gesturing to Rookwood to follow him into the glowing memory.

"Let's get started then, shall we. I have an appointment at Gringott's in an hour," drawled Gaunt, his growing curiosity easily noticed by Rookwood.

"Trust me, MiLord. This will be well worth your time."

McGonagall was sitting at her desk contemplating taking a power nap instead of afternoon tea when Hestia, Sybill and Severus popped into existence right in front of her, causing her to let out a startled mewl. Honestly! Sometimes magic was not the best thing for her blood pressure.

Before she could even think to ask, Sybill ran to her friend and pulled her into a tight hug.

"We actually did it, Min!" Trelawney squealed triumphantly, twirling Minerva about in a free-form dance, "Moody's taking Dumbledore into custody at the Ministry as we speak."

The Headmistress was beyond ecstatic, even more so when Snape described the man's physical condition upon arrival.

"Sweet Circe! I would have paid a hundred galleons to see the look on that asshat's face when he transformed," cackled Minerva, calling up a Patronus and sending a brief message to the other Professors so that they could share in the joy of the moment.

"I know, isn't it marvelous?" smirked Sybill, her eyes sparking with unbridle mischief, "It's Karma at its finest considering what he'd done to my family."

Minerva was about to summon her personal house-elf, Duncan, and order up some tea and sandwiches for a small celebration when it dawned on her that the group was short of a couple of people.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as to why that could be, "Severus, where are Miss Granger and Lord Malfoy? Were they injured during Albus' capture? Will they be alright?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, not looking forward the upcoming conversation, "A...situation has arisen that requires Miss Granger to take early leave from school. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that you hadn't received notification of the specific circumstances before we arrived."

"What. Happened." growled McGonagall, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end in anticipation of Severus' explanation.

"That Sodding cow Umbridge happened," hissed Sybill, then proceeded to disclose a few of the details that had been passed along to her through Hermione's Grandmother Rosalind, "If that pink nightmare of a toad gets her way, she'll see to it that Hermione winds up in Azkaban for life, or worse, receive the Dementor's Kiss in retribution for her humiliation at the hands of the Centaurs."

"Given Madame Umbridge's tendency to...fudge the details to support her version of events," added Snape, folding his arms tightly over his chest in a sign of his obvious frustration, "We all agreed that it was best if Miss Granger relocated to a safe-house, for the time being. Lucius knew of one readily available and he volunteered to transport her there before we left Switzerland."

McGonagall had gone suspiciously quiet during Sybill's and Severus' explanations, it had been a lot to take in, after all.

Trelawney and Snape had begun to get worried as her silence continued, the only sound in the room being the steady ticking of the mantle clock sitting above the hearth.

After what seemed like an hour, but in reality was only ten minutes, a frightening smile started to take the place of the deep frown on the Headmistress' lips.

"I believe it's high time we broke the wards sealing Dolores' abandoned office shut" she practically purred, with everything else that had needed attention since Albus' dramatic departure from Hogwarts, that particular task had fallen by the wayside, "And who knows what interesting things we'll find there when we do."

"Careful there, Min," drawled Severus, a single raven-black eyebrow arched in a knowing gesture, "You're Slytherin side is slipping out."

"Which, given the circumstances, is not a terribly bad idea," agreed Sybill, her golden irises sparkling with impish glee.

"Indeed. Now, let's go dig up whatever potential information that pink obsessed prat has left behind. I have a feeling it could be wonderfully....enlightening."

Vukan, who had been strangely subdued during this entire meeting, briefly fluffed out his feathers as he perched on the back of McGonagall's chair, and trilled out 'Secrets' before taking flight, encouraging the trio of humans to follow him down the hall towards Umbridge's old office and quarters.

When the dizzying swirl of Port-Key travel abruptly stopped, Hermione discovered that she and Lucius had been deposited in the middle of an oddly familiar location, the secret-kept house where she first learned of her Omega status and her connection to Severus and Lucius.

Well, she was fairly certain it was the same place, she had been rather feverish at the time, after all.

Malfoy noticed her mild confusion as she furtively glanced about the room, "You're not mistaken, my little lioness," he drawled, casually gesturing towards the comfortable settee near the fireplace, "This is the very same hideaway where I sequestered you after our encounter in the Ministry Atrium."

"Severus and I, and now you, are the only people who are aware of its existence," Lucius assured her, pleased when he saw his words had the desired effect, the slight tension visibly leaving Hermione's scrunched shoulders, "It's fully stocked with whatever you may need and I had my house-elf, Trinket, retrieve all your belongings from Hogwarts and place them in your room through there," he stated, pointing to the pale blue door to her right, "Should you require anything else, other than wanting to step outside the wards surrounding this place, just call on her and she'll do her best to accommodate you."

Hermione scowled at Lucius' not so subtle reminder that she wasn't to wander beyond the confines of this sanctuary. While logically she knew that until this legal nightmare that Umbridge was about to complicate her life with was properly handled, that she'd have to remain safely tucked away in self-imposed exile, it still rankled her sensibilities.

With a deep sigh, Hermione gracelessly plopped down onto the settee, "Please tell me that the grounds about this place are included within the wards so that I can, at least, get some fresh air once in a while so I don't go stir crazy," she pleaded, the look of tired resignation in the depths of her whiskey-amber eyes making Lucius' Alpha nature want to wrap her up in his arms to soothe her.

Instead, he took one of her hands in his and led her through the house on a guided tour, "I'll have you know that this place was designed for the comfort of some of my French ancestors," he purred smoothly, "Which means, my little Omega, you've not seen even a miniscule portion of the amenities this Manor has to offer."

"For instance, through here," he said, pushing open the dark green door at the very end of the hallway, "Is a recreational space complete with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a dueling facility and a sauna. While past the French doors in the opposite direction, lead out to a modest-sized garden full of all manner of magical and mundane flora for you to stroll through at your leisure.

Not giving Hermione time to fully take in this information, Lucius continued leading her down a third passageway to a set of ornately patterned, bronze double doors. Before pressing them open he smiled, "But in here, my dear little lioness, is a place where I believe you will be spending most of your time," he said a touch smugly, "I know it's one of Severus' favourite places to wile away the hours."

And with a small wave of his free hand, the large shiny doors swung open, revealing an exquisite library that was only slightly smaller than the one at Hogwarts.

Hermione couldn't help the small cry of happiness that escaped her mouth, the sight of all those, obviously well tended and used, scrolls and tomes was simply heaven to a bookworm like her.

('Perhaps being cooped up here in this gilded cage of a refuge won't be so incredibly tedious as I initially imagined it would be,' she thought to herself.)

With another sound of unbridled joy, Hermione then practically tackled the bemused Lucius about the waist, words of thanks and laughter mixed together reaching his ears.

"Well, if I had known that I'd received such an enthusiastic response," his voice dropping to a sinfully deep rumbling purr, "I would've brought you here far sooner."

Dumbledore defiantly glowered at all the people he just knew were now watching and judging him from behind the one-way observation mirror on the far side of interrogation room he found himself contained within.

Albus tried equally as hard to ignore the reflection staring back at him, the irony of the goat-inspired partial tranfiguration hadn't been lost on him.

But he laid the blame for his altered state wholly on Sybill, her emotional state had obviously influenced that vicious beast she'd brought with her. (And how she had managed to sneak a Class XXXXX creature into Switzerland without issue was a puzzle for another day).

It never even occurred to him that it was a witch-Animagus bent on her own vengeance underneath all that fur - Trelawney's warning having apparently not been retained by his mind during his adrenaline-fueled attempt to escape capture and subsequent gassing by Nundu-breath.

None of that mattered now though, Dumbledore was determined to make these people see reason. He had to convince them that everything he'd done was for The Greater Good, that the Wizarding World was better off with his guidance.

"Well, this is certainly going to be fun," said a new voice dripping in sarcasm, the well-dressed consultant entering the observation room then strolled over to take a stand next to Madame Bones.

"Why do you think that?" asked Chief Robards, his eyes still watching the pacing Dumbledore.

"I don't need to be a Legilamens to read that Albus-Sodding-Dumbledore doesn't believe he's done anything wrong," stated Lord Gaunt bluntly, "And so long as he maintains that particular frame of mind, questioning him under Veritaserum will be rather tricky, if not totally useless."

"Not to worry, Sir," chuckled a gleeful Auror Tonks as the wheelchair she was sitting on was guided into the room by a smug-looking Alastor Moody, "As you well know, I can be quite...creative when it comes to interrogating difficult suspects."

"Just give me a few choice tidbits about Dumbledore's personal history that'll throw him off-guard and I'll do the rest... as you said, this is definitely going to be fun."

Chapter Text

Dumbledore defiantly scowled at Chief Auror Robards when the younger wizard strolled into the room with a tall-ish figure who's entire face and body - with the exception of their hands - was hidden by Wizarding robes and a hooded traveling cloak. They seemed a touch frail, too, as they walked using a sturdy wooden cane with an elaborately carved silver handle in the shape of a Phoenix. They also held onto one of Robard's arms as if their life defended on it.

Or perhaps, they simply knew of his power and were afraid to be near him even looking as he currently did. ('Yes', he thought with more than a touch of smugness, 'I can work with that. Put their fear to good use, ease their nerves with a few well chosen words and gain a potential ally.')

Confident with his internally mused plan, the severely deluded Dumbledore finally stopped his awkward pacing and took a seat on one of sturdy metal chairs provided in the room and then waited for the stranger to reveal themselves.

('This should be interesting and most entertaining.')

Dear old Albus simply had no idea how right he'd be...just not in the manner he expected.

Alastor Moody hated to leave the observation room before the interrogation of Dumbledore had formally begun but he had another urgent task to complete. Aside from filling out his, and submitting the others, mission statements on the capture of the despised former Headmaster, Moody needed to get his hands on the testimony and any other pieces of evidence that Umbridge used to support her complaints against Miss Granger. And that required him returning to the Aurory offices to search the records likely still sitting on the middle of Robards' desk waiting to be sorted.

At least, that's where Alastor hoped he'd find that particular case file. Otherwise, he'd have to dig through the DMLE filing cabinets for the pertinent information and that meant dealing with all manner of legal red tape that none of them had the luxury of time to deal with at the moment.

With a deeply disgruntled sigh, Moody quickened his pace down the long twisting corridors, sending a silent plea up to any deity that might be listening to aid him in his quest to vindicate the young witch.

And Merlin help anyone who got in his way.

Before leaving her office, Headmistress McGonagall contacted the DMLE in order to secure the assistance of an Auror to attend the opening of Umbridge's abandoned quarters and office, insisting that they needed an impartial observer or two present to ensure that everything that she, Snape and Trelawney uncovered was properly assessed and documented.

"I simply refuse to give Umbridge any cause to claim we tampered with anything she left behind," stated Minerva, pleased when the Chief Auror readily agreed, sending Agents Proudfoot and Savage through the Floo approximately ten minutes later.

"Alright gentlemen," smiled McGonagall, following the chipper Vukan out of her office and into the corridor, "You two know the drill. Scan and document everything!"

(While Proudfoot and Savage had never personally met Miss Granger, they had, however, encountered Madame Umbridge on more than one occasion, remembering almost every cringe-worthy rant she'd ever made over the 'disgusting Mudbloods freely roaming about the Wizarding World without consequence'.

Whatever the Headmistress had planned to discredit that pink nightmare, they were completely on board with it, even for the sake of a supposedly dangerous young stranger.)

"Of course, Ma'am. Ready when you are, lead the way."

Hermione - once her endorphin-swamped brain finally registered that she'd pounced on Lucius after seeing the safe-house library and how he'd reacted in return - blushed from head to toe and attempted to step away from her emotionally-charged embrace of the wizard.

Malfoy chuckled darkly once again at his little Omega's adorably flustered state, gently wrapping his arms about her waist to prevent her from retreating from his person.

"And just where do you think you are going, Lioness?" purred Lucius, taking mental note of the shuddering hitch in Hermione's breathing in response to his voice, "I rather like our current... position. Don't you? Or, perhaps, we could continue on with our tour of the Manor and discover a few new ones along the way."

Hermione let out a strangled 'meep', her deepening blush bypassing pink altogether and dipping into a fiery red. Could a person actually expire from embarrassment?

While Lucius continued to acquaint Hermione with the various features of the safe-house - playfully teasing his young mate every chance he got along the way - a certain Muggle home back in Southampton was being invaded by a Disallusioned witch who had a disturbing fascination with the colour pink.

It had been ridiculously easy for Umbridge to locate the Drs. Granger's address through the Ministry of Magic's records on Hogwarts' students. With the ongoing chaos due to the restructuring of departments and personnel changes, Dolores had simply slipped through the office door under a Notice-Me-Not charm and duplicated the Accio'd folder from the Archive's filing cabinets.

If Umbridge'd had the time, she would've duplicated every slip of parchment pertaining to the Muggleborn and Muggle-raised students currently in residence at the castle as she had certain plans in mind for that information. Fortunately, for everyone else, Dolores didn't want to risk getting caught. Instead, she focused her energies on tracking down the disgusting creatures that had spawned the devilish Mudblood Hermione Granger.

And Umbridge had done just that mere hours later. She'd also taken great pleasure in the Drs. Granger's shocked expressions as she dropped her concealment charm and bound them with a hastily cast Incarcerous to their sitting room settee.

Staring down her nose at her helpless captives, Madame Umbridge moved in closer to the elder Grangers and began speaking to them in her sickeningly sweet voice as if she were discussing the weather, "We're going to have an interesting little chat about that abomination you call a daughter," she smiled, the effect rather frightening given her toad-like features, "Starting with who helped you steal the magic from a Pureblood Wixen and place it in that vile beast of a child."

"But first, a little incentive to tell me the truth."

"Crucio!"

Chief Robards had to bite the inside of his cheek and turn his head slightly to prevent himself from laughing aloud as Tonks dropped the hood of her cloak, revealing her borrowed visage to Dumbledore. The goat-man's gobsmacked expression alone would surely be a strong enough happy memory to power his Patronus Charm for months, if not years, to come.

He'd have to thank Headmistress McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore in person later for passing on their invaluable input. In addition to the information regarding Albus' personal life in connection to Gellert Grindlewald, suggesting the image of Arianna Dumbledore - Albus' beloved deceased sister - for Tonks to manifest in front of their uncooperative, megalomaniac prisoner had been the proverbial icing on the cake.

This latter tactic alone worked so well that for the past two hours, Albus had been alternating between babbling-bleating, sobbing uncontrollably, laughing hysterically and confessing to all manner sins - all without the benefit of Veritaserum.

The only problem now was getting the man to stop.

Gawain leaned in and whispered in Arianna-Tonk's ear as they waited for the on-staff Mediwitch to arrive to assess the hybrid goat-wizard before administering a Calming Draught, "Damn, I think we may have broken his brain."

"It would be the least of what that sick Bastard deserves after what he's done to so many other people," sneered the Metamorphmagus as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. For some reason, maintaining this form was making her skin itch.

('Probably because it's related to that fucking Wanker.')

"I just don't want the Wizengamot to, even remotely, consider leniency for this arsehole if they believe him to be of diminished mental capacity," scowled Robards.

"Not to worry," smirked Arianna-Tonks, holding up a specific phial of Pensieve memories, "Once all those Alphas see Dumbledore's plan to eradicate Omegas from the planet, he'll be lucky to leave the courthouse in one piece."

"One can only hope."

In the wee hours of that sultry night in June, a third fire brigade adjacent to Southampton rushed to answer the call out to an out of control fire in one of the more affluent neighborhoods. By the time the original two crews had rolled up on the scene, not only had the initial two-story structure been fully engulfed but the bright, orange-white flames had rapidly spread to three other homes as well.

And from the look of things, the strangely aggressive blaze must have involved a chemical leak of some sort as several firefighters swore they saw fantastical creatures made purely of fire moving towards even more houses.

A young constable named Gerard Abbott had just reported in for duty when he and several others on the graveyard shift were summoned to aid in the evacuation of families from the surrounding areas near a neighborhood that was engulfed in flames.

"Get a wriggle on boys!" yelled their desk sergeant who had received the incoming orders, "This fire is moving fast and you've not a lot of time to get these people to safety."

Being a part of the Muggle-Magical liaison team from the Ministry, Abbott nearly shite his trousers as he exited the personnel carrier after it reached the staging area, the involvement of Fiendfyre instantly recognizable the moment he caught sight of a fiery serpent shape slithering towards another home.

Knowing he wouldn't be missed for long even in this chaos, Gerard hurriedly slipped into a darkened alleyway behind a large dustbin, pulled his wand from a hidden pocket in his shirt and cast the Patronus Charm. The lively silver-blue jackrabbit was soon sent on its way, carrying the desperate message to the Aurory for full-scale reinforcements.

"Send the entire Obliviation team and every competent spellcaster you have and make it snappy!" demanded Abbott, the fear still evident despite his steady voice, "Some arsehole went and unleashed Fiendfyre in a Muggle neighborhood and more than three dozen civilians have already noticed that the flames aren't normal. Agent Davis and I are on scene but the two of us won't be able to control this disaster on our own. Hurry, we've already received word there's been at least a dozen life-threatening injuries and it's only going to get worse!"

It wasn't until several hours later when the Muggle arson investigators were allowed on site of the first home to be destroyed, combing through the debris to determine the cause of the blaze, that the bodies of the two victims were discovered where the Obliviation team had returned them - once their own diagnostic scans had been completed, of course, and evidence planted to indicate a gas leak.

Based on the address where they'd been found, Abbott and Davis had noted the tentative identities in the preliminary files for the deceased persons but nothing would be confirmed (for the Muggles, that is) until dental films were collected and compared to the autopsy records.

The seriously tough part would happen afterwards, contacting the next of kin to deliver the tragic news. And from the statements gathered from a couple of the neighbors, that would involve informing a teenaged girl - that they both knew to be a witch based on her very recognisable name as one of the so called Golden Trio - that her parents were murdered by an, as yet, unknown Wixen and that she was now an orphan.

Oh, and that they'd then have to take her into custody because of the DMLE's recently signed warrant for her arrest.

Some days their jobs just truly sucked.

Moody had since left the Chief Auror's office having, indeed, found the case file containing all the evidence Dolores Umbridge had presented to the DMLE on the center of Robard's desktop. Although, seemingly, straightforward on the surface (the requisite complainent's statement, Wizarding photos documenting injuries, a medical report, and a vial containing a Penseive memory of the incident had been enclosed), certain things immediately stood out like a hippogryph in a sparkly gold tutu.

For starters, Umbridge's account of the attack hadn't been obtained under Veritaserum and the injuries he saw in the photos were far too fresh to have occurred at the time of the alleged murder attempt.

In his opinion, not that it would make any difference at this point, the charges should have been held off until everything was further investigated. But apparently Madame Umbridge still held some political sway within the Ministry and had gotten the arrest warrant pushed through with little issue.

That this young witch, who had taken down one of the worst wizards in recent history, could potentially be sent to Azkaban over what? Petty revenge? Jealousy, perhaps? It made him see red. So much so that he nearly bowled over two Agents leaving the Muggle-Magical Liaison Office as he stalked past the door.

Lord Gaunt was going over last minute touches with the house-elves in preparation for his weekend meetings with his cousin Maia and his remaining supporters when Rowle and Rookwood burst through his office door looking as if they'd run the whole way to Wiltshire from London.

"MiLord," gasped out Augustus, holding onto a nearby wingback chair to steady himself, "It's official, Dumbledore's been captured and is currently sitting in one of our Ministry's interrogation rooms."

"Not only that, Sir," added Thorfinn, scowling at his colleague for stealing his thunder, "One of those responsible for this feat are now being charged with the attempted murder of one of your lower level allies."

Gaunt, who had been silently pleased with the news of dear old Albus' fate, was caught slightly off guard by this second tidbit, "Who's involved in this latest...incident?" he asked, trying (and failing) to keep the surprise from showing on his face - difficult to do when one's eyebrows disappeared into your hairline.

"Madame Dolores Umbridge's the one pressing the case, Sir," replied Rowle, amused at his leader's reaction - not that he'd ever bring it up, mind you, he valued his bollocks too much to embarrass the man, "She claims that the Muggleborn, Hermione Granger, was responsible for the attack that left her missing and in the hands of the Centaurs for the past month."

Contemplating his options for a mere split second, Tom ordered, "Bring Umbridge to me...today. I want to hear the full story directly from her," not that he truly cared what had happened to this toad of a witch, Dolores' Blood-Purity ideals were too much like those of the late Bellatrix Lestrange for his liking.

But, Gaunt wouldn't let it be said that he didn't give Umbridge the same chance as he had the other Death Eaters that fateful night. Her life, like theirs, would be in her own hands.

He'd just have to come up with a more suitable place to dispose of her if she chose unwisely, there's no way he was risking damaging his party venue this close to the weekend gathering.

Blood stains were such a Bitch to clean even with the aid of magic.

McGonagall, Snape, and Trelawney were working through the last ward on the door to Umbridge's old offices when Moody arrived through the school's main entrance. He'd needed the extra time walking the path from the wrought iron gates to help cool his temper after literally running into the two junior-ranking Aurors Abbott and Davis at the Ministry, particularly, after Davis told him of the disturbing news coming out Southampton in connection to Miss Granger. The proverbial icing on that shite-storm of a cake was further worsened when Abbott showed Alastor the official warrant for the young witch's arrest.

Moody had let out such a long string of profanity at that point that the two younger wizards actually feared for their lives, pulling up protective shields in case the Senior Auror let loose with actual curses in the crowded hallway.

Much to their profound relief, Alastor snatched the document from Gerard's hand and growled for them both to be on their way, that he would personally take charge of the notification and subsequent arrest of the girl.

Being a higher ranking officer, Davis and Abbott didn't question Moody's orders, gladly handing over the distasteful task to older wizard.

And once Alastor's stormy retreating form disappeared from their sight, Gerard and Jonathan continued on towards The Leaky Cauldron, this time to drown out the wrongness of the whole situation in numerous glasses of Firewhiskey.

Lucius had just finished giving Hermione the tour of the safe-house and was preparing to return to Wiltshire to report the news of Dumbledore's capture to Lord Gaunt when Snape abruptly popped into existence in the sitting room, badly startling the three of them.

"Sweet Circe's Tits, Severus!" exclaimed Malfoy, dramatically holding a pale hand to the center of his chest, "Are you trying to scare me into a heart attack? What are you even doing back here? Not that you're not welcome."

The habitually dour expression on Potions Master's face gradually morphed into one of regret, and he was sadly focusing it towards their little Omega.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he murmured softly as he took one of her hands in his and lead her to the nearby settee, "I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news and there's just no easy way to break it to you," he said, removing a bottle of Calming Draught from his pocket and having her drink it down before continuing on with his sorrowful task.

After a few false starts, Snape finally managed to share the life-changing information that Moody had imparted to him, Trelawney and McGonagall only thirty minutes prior.

Despite the extra-strength potion flowing through Hermione's system, a heart-wrenching cry escaped from the very depths of her soul, the burst of accidental magic accompanying her profound grief shattering every glass and ceramic object in the sitting room and severely straining the wards ability to keep the safe-house hidden.

They held, but only just.

An excruciating hour passed before the two Alphas were able to soothe their Omega enough to help control her sporadic magical outbursts and finally ease their frayed nerves in the process.

Overall, they'd managed to contain her emotional destruction to the sitting room, the receiving room and an adjoining small dining area.

"With few exceptions, this whole place was in dire need of redecorating anyway," assured Lucius before Hermione could attempt to voice an apology.

"Besides, your well-being is far more important to us than a few random baubles and sticks of furniture" Malfoy drawled, vanishing the remnants of items that were beyond even a hefty Reparo to restore.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Hermione decided to leave the discussion of said 'random' items for later. There were far more pressing issues to address now.

Like plotting the actual murder of one Madame Dolores Jane Umbridge, the only Wixen she suspected to have motive for casting Fiendfyre in Southampton.

Chapter Text

The hall outside of Umbridge's old offices at Hogwarts was deathly quiet for all of ten seconds after Moody finished delivering his distressing news to McGonagall, Snape and Trelawney - Aurors Savage and Proudfoot were a discrete distance away as they continued working on the wards to Dolores' rooms but close enough to still take in the conversation.

It was Minvera who broke the silence first.

"After everything that poor girl's been put through here at school because of Dumbledore's interference and now this?" she gasped, looking over the Liaison officer's certification confirming the Drs. Grangers' identities, "This will just crush her."

"I'm afraid that's not the worst of it, Min," said Alastor, reaching over and turning to the next document in McGonagall's hands. Wisely, he took a step back as she read the information, sensing that an explosive outburst from this witch was imminent...he felt no satisfaction in being proved he was right.

"Please tell me that the DMLE has an inkling as to who committed these atrocities!?" hissed the Headmistress, her hand holding the report detailing the Grangers' gruesome demise visibly trembling from barely contained rage, the agitated magic crackling through her fingertips making the parchment smolder.

Quickly removing the file from his friend's hands so as to prevent it from catching fire, Moody let out an exasperated sigh before cautiously answering, "That part of the investigation has hit a bit of a snag I'm sorry to say," scowled Alastor, scrubbing a hand over his face before continuing, "Whoever did this to the lass' parents used an unregistered wand and whatever Muggle implements that were conveniently nearby. It'll make tracking them down that much more difficult."

As Alastor spoke, Severus had plucked the documents from the older man's grasp and rapidly skimmed through the data that had his friend and colleague in such a state of, only mildly, restrained fury. But as he read the extensive list of injuries suffered by his Omega's parents from obviously prolonged torture, he couldn't fault Minerva's reaction one iota.

"Bloody. Fucking. Hell!" he exclaimed, adding his own ire to the growing tension shared between the other Wixen, "Whoever did this had best hope you find them first, Alastor. Because I will show them no mercy for what they've done."

"On that, we are of the same mind," growled McGonagall, viciously slashing her wand through the air, dismantling another ward surrounding the toad's office, "Until then, we need to discredit Umbridge's claims so that Hermione can mourn her parents without the threat of being arrested and sent to Azkaban hovering over her."

"Agreed."

Another thirty minutes passed as the Headmistress and the Potions Master plotted increasingly nastier acts of retribution against the unknown, to them, murderer of the Grangers - the three Aurors present intentionally withholding comments to their every scheme, although, they did take mental notes for future use...for academic training purposes only, mind you.

"As entertaining as your ideas are, Severus," smirked Minerva, pushing open the door to Umbridge's quarters after the last ward crumbled, "Until Robards and the DMLE make further progress in identifying the culprit, there's nothing more we can do about this mystery person."

Sobering her tone, she added, "For now, return to your rooms and get yourself cleaned up, then be on your way to the safe house. In case you've forgotten, Hermione still needs to be notified of what's happened. And it's best if this news comes from her Alpha and not Alastor who's duty bound to arrest her on sight."

"Trust us, we'll thoroughly comb through every dark and dusty corner in Umbridge's office," assured Moody, motioning for Proudfoot and Savage to follow him through the doorway, "If Dolores left behind any evidence in there that will destroy her case against Hermione, we'll find it."

"Indeed," said McGonagall, scrunching her nose in disgust as the shockingly pink decor before turning back towards Snape, "Well, be on your way, Severus," making a shoo'ing gesture at him, "We can handle things from here."

When he hesitated to move, Sybill placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder, "Go to your little Omega, Severus," she whispered so only she, Severus and Alastor could hear, "You know as well as we do, she's going to need both her Alphas to get through this heartbreak."

Duplicating the case file and handing one to Snape, Alastor affirmed, "Aye, lad. Your priority is with her," ushering the younger wizard back out into the hallway, "And if there are any new developments, I'll send a secured message through Hestia."

Knowing that there was no sense in arguing with either of them, Severus nodded his head in thanks, turned on his heel and made his way to the dungeons. Only when he was safely ensconced behind the enchantments to his rooms did he activate the Port-key to the Burgundy safehouse, dreading the conversation that awaited him once he arrived.

Minister Scrimgeour slumped gracelessly in his chair behind his desk, a tumbler of Ogden's Finest in his left hand, his eyes open and staring at nothing in particular. He'd just returned from an emergency closed session of the Wizengamot where they had unanimously voted Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore guilty on all counts - not that it was any surprise to anyone involved in the sealed courtroom...well, except maybe the unscrupulous former Headmaster himself.

Equally predictable had been their decision to sentence Dumbledore to the Dementor's Kiss - to be carried out effective immediately....Albus had violently struggled against his restraints and loudly bleat-protested until the very end.

As expected, not one person in that room had second thoughts nor shed a single tear once the disgraced wizard's punishment had been carried out - currently, Dumbledore's now soulless body was on its way to Azkaban with Auror Tonks in charge of the escort team.

'Good riddance to bad rubbish' had been the prevailing sentiment as the members of the Wizengamot filed out the chambers on their way towards the Atrium, impatient to return to the comfort of their own homes.

Rufus silently agreed with their opinions on the matter as he sipped on his Firewhiskey.

"One thorny problem down, only a thousand more to go," tiredly sighed Scrimgeour, taking a second longer pull on the soothingly warm liquid.

His quiet moment of respite was, unfortunately, interrupted by the decidedly sour Chief Auror Robards entering his office not five minutes later.

"We've got a complication with the Granger case, Sir," growled the younger wizard as he carefully dropped a sealed folder onto the already precarious stack of paperwork in the Minister's inbox.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, Gawain," huffed Scrimgeour, setting his glass down onto his desk blotter, "Give me the highlights before you break out in a rash."

Taking in a deep breath to steel himself, Robards blurted out, "Some sick Bastard tortured and killed the girl's Muggle parents. Oh, and then used Fiendfyre to try and destroy evidence of their crimes."

Rufus would've choked on his Firewhiskey if he hadn't already swallowed that last mouthful. Accio'ing a second tumbler and generously filling it before handing it over to Robards and gesturing for him to take a seat, Scrimgeour drawled, "Alright, let's try that once again - with the detailed version this time."

Umbridge was in an utterly foul mood as she Apparated back to her unplottable home in the middle of the Fright Woods near Canterbury.

Her interrogation of those filthy Muggles in Southampton hadn't been nearly as fruitful as she'd hoped and, in the end, Dolores had slit their throats with one of their own kitchen knives out of sheer exasperation.

The only slightly useful thing she'd managed to wrangle out of the simpering creatures was the Mudblood's adoption paperwork that they'd kept in a hidden wall safe.

"Disgusting vermin, breeding unchecked," she snarled as she began leafing through the documents, "Now I'll have to track down the Bitch that birthed this abomination to learn which Pureblood child she stole their magic from and put in her unworthy spawn."

It wasn't until an hour later that Umbridge realized that she couldn't recall a single thing she'd read from the folder in her hands.

Snape and Malfoy lay protectively curled around and spooned against their emotionally distraught Lioness on the king-sized sleigh bed in the master suite, whispering soothing words mixed with lowly growled promises of retribution on her behalf in her ears.

The oddly comforting combination had Hermione spluttering a weak, slightly wet, laugh in response.

"You two say the sweetest things," she murmured, her sentiments somewhat muffled as her face was currently pressed against Snape's black wool clothed chest, "But, in all seriousness," she said as she moved to sit up with her back against the headboard, "I think my time for hiding is over."

Both her Alphas started to protest, "The Aurors have orders to arrest you the moment you show your face anywhere in public in Britain," stated Severus, a single eyebrow raised in disbelief. Didn't she have any sense of self-preservation? Or had her grief momentarily numbed her awareness to the dangers of such an action?

"Even with legal..." Malfoy started to say but was silenced by Hermione holding a hand over his mouth.

Despite the glistening tears still threatening to roll down her cheeks, their little Omega gave them a wicked grin, "I'm fairly certain that it's a Hermione Jean Granger that the Aurory is on the lookout to arrest," she smirked, boldly reaching up to give each of her Alphas a chaste peck on their lips.

"However, we all know that's not me as she never existed...not in the strictest sense, anyway."

The sudden spark of comprehension dawned in both Malfoy's and Severus' eyes - followed soon after by sinfully dark chuckles.

"In that case, my dear Maia Athena Peverell," purred Severus, tucking a stray curl behind her right ear, "When do you wish to depart the safehouse and where do you want to make your grand debut into British Wizarding society?"

"Where all of this started, of course," she said somewhat cheekily, "The Ministry Atrium...and is Friday too soon?" her attempt at nonchalance slightly ruined as she failed to stifle a yawn, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the past few stressful hours finally wearing on her, "But perhaps, not until after lunch."

"As my Lady wishes," drawled Lucius, pulling her back down on the bed between her two Alphas, "Leave all the arrangements to me."

"Fuck.An.Everloving. Duck!" exclaimed Auror Savage as he eventually managed to break the charmed lock on the blush-pink jewelry-type box setting on one corner of Madame Umbridge's old mahogany desk - one of the few un-pink pieces of furniture in the place.

His outburst, however, wasn't due to the difficulty of the locking spell but rather what had been hidden within the container.

"Sodding Blood Quills!? Where did she even get her hands on those things?" snipped the youngest Agent in the room, "I mean, yeah, they're used to sign all manner of legal contracts but they've no business being in a school full of kids!"

"Thank you so much for that glaringly obvious assessment, John," snarked Auror Proudfoot sarcastically as he photographed and catalogued this latest find, "Whatever would we do without your undeniable expertise on these matters."

"Oh, bite me, Samuel," hissed Savage, causing the disturbingly numerous enchanted kitten plates on the walls to hiss in response, "It's just..."

"Enough!" barked Moody, running a diagnostic scan over one of the desk drawers before carefully sliding it open with a dragonhide-gloved hand, "The security measures in this room are difficult enough to navigate without you both getting on each others nerves. Remember, our purpose here is to uncover sufficient evidence to keep a young lass out of Azkaban on questionable charges. So, keep your yaps shut and do your jobs."

"Yes, Boss."

"Sorry, Boss."

"Won't happen again, Boss."

"Hnmph. See that it doesn't."

Madame Pomfrey purposefully made her way towards the private room in the infirmary where her two remaining patients had been cozily ensconced over the past several days.

Knocking briskly on the door to make her presence known, Poppy also loudly announced her intent before strolling into the 'heat suite' as many a bonding pair had dubbed it over the years.

"Ready or not, gentlemen, I'm coming in to assess everyone's state of health, especially, Mr. Shacklebolt's." She chuckled as she received an unintelligible groan of compliance out of Potter and one begrudging 'Alright, already. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Witch!' from a somewhat testy Kingsley.

(Not that she could blame either wizard for being snippy, smirking as she recalled how she and Alastor had reacted when her Mediwitch Grandmother paid them an unwelcome visit during their initial bonding - she'd never heard such coarse language uttered before...and that was from her Nana Pomfrey!)

"None of that now, boys. And do please sit still," Poppy mock-chided, running diagnostics over Kingsley first, "I promise I'll be out of everyone's hair before you can say 'Quidditch'."

Or, she would have if things had gone to plan.

The Matron smiled as she removed the bandages from around Kingsley's face for the last time, "Perfect," she cooed, adding some moisturizing drops into the Alpha's eyes before releasing him from her care, "Your turn, Mr. Potter. This'll take but a moment," she said, waving her wand in the now familiar scanning pattern.

Which she then repeated...twice.

Naturally, even if he'd still been blindfolded, Shacklebolt would've known something was amiss.

"What's going on, Poppy? And don't say it's nothing," he said, his steady voice not betraying his growing nerves and racing heartbeat.

Surely it must be something serious given the Matron's pinched expression.

Pomfrey glanced between the two wizards for a good ten minutes, her face reflecting a range of emotions before she startled them both by breaking into laughter.

"I apologize. I simply had to make certain before I shared this news," she spluttered between gasps for air, "Congratulations are in order, it seems," however, the gesture of a waggling finger in their faces as if they naughty schoolboys caught out after curfew simply confused them.

"I've only heard of three such cases in my career as a Healer, but I've never witnessed it first hand...until now, that is," added Poppy, raising an amused eyebrow at the men now sitting on the edge of Kingsley's hospital bed in anticipation of her disclosure, "On rare occasions, the magics unleashed during an Alpha and Omega's first bonding are so strong that it can overwhelm certain potions and charms."

"In this case...your contraceptives."

Harry's eyes widened comically and his cheeks flushed a bright pink while Kings' entire visage paled at the implications, "You mean I...we're...he's..." stammered Shacklebolt, openly staring at his young Omega's abdomen.

"Yes, my dears. In approximately nine months, you're going to be parents."

The soft 'thump' of a body hitting the bed was the next sound heard in the infirmary.

"Oh, my. I'd never have bet Kings to be a fainter."

Lord Gaunt was standing near the fireplace in Lucius' study reading the latest missive from Rookwood. Twenty more natural Omegas from Europe and the States had been matched through the reinstated Alpha-Omega pairing program, five of which were arriving in London by Port-key on Monday.

And one of them would become Thorfinn Rowle's mate. ('The grinning fool just left my office after informing me' Rookwood had commented in the letter, the snarkiness tinged with a hint of jealousy evident in his words).

Augustus went on to say that she was a newly emerged Omega from France who had recently graduated from Beauxbatons where she excelled in Charms work - as luck would have it, Miss Delacroix had petitioned Professor Flitwick for an interview, hoping to become his apprentice under the recent staffing changes implemented by him and Headmistress McGonagall.

'So, she will be more than enough to keep our old colleague on his toes,' claimed Rookwood as he segued into a familiar coded message, 'Twelve additional prospects are set to meet with you at the Manor on Friday next. Merlin willing, one of them will turn out to be a suitable candidate for the position you've been advertising.' Translation, a dozen borderline Betas had discreetly approached Gus during the past week, all expressing a keen interest in Gaunt's Beta-to-Omega experiment.

Gaunt tossed the scroll into the fire, smiling as watched it turn to ash, "Twelve more potential chances for a mate," he purred to himself, "... providing they survive the transition process, of course."

At the back of his mind, though, he was still holding out for his young cousin, Maia, to be that one.

Hermione-Maia awoke with an absolute beast of a headache and feeling like her insides had been hollowed out with a rusty spoon. But as devastating as the news about her parents had been to hear yesterday, she was just as relieved that she wouldn't be facing any of the aftermath alone.

Such as this morning as she sat down with her Alphas at the small dining table for breakfast - not that she had much of an appetite - Maia was struggling to figure out how to claim her Mum and Dad's remains without landing herself in a Ministry holding cell.

Thankfully, both Snape and Malfoy were thinking with clearer heads than she was at the moment.

"We know you're an only child, Lioness, but did either of your parents have siblings or other relatives we could contact?" asked Severus, handing her a Headache Relief potion and a glass of chilled ginger water.

"Someone that you'd trust implicitly to meet with the Muggle-Magical Liaison officer and handle arrangements afterwards?" Lucius inquired, buttering a slice of toast and placing it on the small serving plate in front of her.

After tossing back the potion in one go, Maia groaned aloud, partly in relief and partially for not coming up with this solution sooner on her own.

"Terrence Digby," she sighed, holding her face in her hands and shaking her head, "I feel so stupid. I should've thought of him straightaway," said Maia before continuing to explain, "He's one of my parents business partners but he's also my Dad's cousin. I've always called him Uncle, though."

Severus 'tsk'd' at her even as he reached over, pulled Maia off her chair and onto his lap, "You're anything but stupid, Lioness - merely distracted because of this nonsense with Umbridge and from the grief over losing your beloved parents," he soothed as she rested her head against his chest, "Anyone would be hard pressed to be fully functional under these circumstances."

"Even you?" she asked, playing with one of the many onyx buttons on his grey shirt.

"Probably not," he honestly replied, ignoring Lucius' eye roll, "While I care deeply about my Mother, I don't care one bent knut about my Da. And as for that pink toad of a woman?...Well, let's just say she'd never have found her way out of the Forbidden Forest in one piece and leave it at that."

"Hrnm," responded Maia, closing her eyes and imagining all manner of things Severus would have done to ensure Umbridge remained permanently in the Forest, "I was kind of hoping she would've wandered into a large nest of Acromantulas. But, then again, I suppose that there are things that are too foul for even them to try and make into a meal."

Lucius was about to comment on Maia's assessment of Madame Umbridge when Hestia popped into view with a loud 'Crack!' of Apparation, startling them all.

Maia automatically shifted to her Nundu-form in self defense at the unexpected intrusion and was preparing to breathe on the house-elf when she realized that they weren't under attack and morphed back to her human state, her breathing still a touch laboured from the shock.

Hestia, however, carried on as if she hadn't been about to be transfigured into Merlin-knew-what by the young Nundu-witch.

"Master Moody says to inform yous that the pink toad's office has been completely searched," Hestia stated matter-of-factly, "Theys not sees anything about young Mistress but theys found several Dark Magic objects in her desk."

After thanking Hestia and sending her back to Hogwarts, both Severus and Lucius broke into shark-like grins, "This calls for a small celebration, wouldn't you say?" drawled Malfoy, pulling Maia into his arms and swirling her about in an impromptu waltz about the dining room.

"I can't imagine why," said Maia, confused by her Alphas reactions, "Hestia just said Moody didn't find anything that could help me with my case."

Severus took over the discussion while Lucius continued to spin Maia around the makeshift ballroom, "While technically that's true, those artefacts he and the others uncovered are still enough to warrant bringing the esteemed Madame Umbridge in for further questions - this time under Veritaserum," he smirked, tapping Malfoy on the shoulder to cut in for his turn to dance with their Omega.

"Indeed," purred Lucius, a dark gleam sparking across his eyes, "And being the diligent investigator that he is, Alastor may just happen to steer the inquiry towards the charges she brought against you...for the purpose of clarifying certain details for the Ministry records, of course."

"And it's all perfectly legal," added Severus, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in his version of a smile.

"Yes. Isn't that simply marvelous?"

On a far off northern shore in the British Isles, in sight of the infamous Azkaban prison, stood three figures clothed against the swirling breeze of an incoming storm. Beside them hovered the soulless husk of the once formidable Albus Dumbledore.

After tucking the 'For Your Eyes Only' message back into a secured pocket, Tonks dismissed the two other Aurors in her escort group.

"It's alright lads, I can take things from here," she said, glancing over at the empty, non-twinkling blue eyes of their prisoner, "I doubt this Bastard's going to cause me any trouble."

"Go on, then. No sense in all of us getting caught out in the rain," she urged, casting a look up at the rapidly darkening sky, "I'll catch you two up at The Three Broomsticks when I'm done for a few rounds of drinks...the first one's me," tossing a couple galleons over to the wizards.

Needing no more encouragement, both Agents Disapparated on the spot, leaving Tonks and Albus alone to wait for the next ferry out to the lonely grey rock in the North Sea.

Well, that was the official story.

Making certain that no one was nearby, and setting a Notice-Me-Not for good measure, Tonks turned to the prison-stripe garbed former Headmaster and sneered, "I can honestly say, I'll not regret this order."

"Incendio Tria!"

Between the triple strength of the fire charm and the increasing winds, the body of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was reduced to ashes in a matter of minutes. And when the storm finally broke, the heavy rains washed the pile of unlamented dust into the water to be carried away on the tides.

Her mission completed, Tonks Apparated to Hogsmeade without a backwards glance...and a devilish smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Hermione-Maia stood under an over-black umbrella between her two Alphas, all three of them disguised with heavy Glamours. The rain-heavy clouds and rumblings of not-too-distant thunder reflecting the bereft witch's mood as she lingered near the freshly filled graves of her beloved adoptive parents.

The service had been kept simple and relatively brief, as they had specified in their long-ago made wills, Maia's 'Uncle' Digby having followed his cousin's last wishes to the letter even as he struggled to cope with his own grief.

In the weeks to come, Maia and Terrence planned to meet in order to settle the remainder of the Drs. Grangers' affairs. But today was all about saying farewell and processing the loss in their own ways.

And for Maia that meant allowing Severus and Lucius to comfort her, tending to her every need until she growled 'Enough' or hexxed them - both were distinct possibilities but they were willing to endure these potential discomforts if it eased their Omega's deep heartache even the tiniest fraction.

(Another point in their favour was them patiently listening to her increasingly vicious retribution scenarios for whomever the culprit turned out to be, they even suggested a few creative embellishments here and there which earned them tentative, albeit, sad smiles from Maia.)

For now, their silent support and warmth against the encroaching elements was all that she required.

By the time the first drops of rain began to fall, the officiant and other attendees had already drifted away in small groups, climbed into awaiting vehicles and left the cemetery - Maia's Uncle Terrence being the last.

Once the trio was finally alone, Maia moved away from her stoic sentinels and towards the dark monument marking her parents' Earthly resting place. With a slightly shaking hand, she reached out and placed the two small, jade-green stones she'd brought with her onto the mirror-black marble gravestones then stepped back to read the engravings.

David James and Elizabeth Jeanne Granger

Childhood Sweethearts, Steadfast Friends and Beloved Parents

Left this Mortal Realm together on the 20th of May 1996

'There are no good-byes for us. Wherever you are, You will always be in my heart.'

She stood in silence as the storm increased in strength, the winds whipping about her body, adding moisture to her already wet cheeks.

Minutes that seemed like hours ticked by until Maia eventually returned to her wizards, grasped one of their warm hands in each of her chilled ones and nodded her head, indicating to them that she was finally prepared to leave this place of sorrow behind.

They did so with the near-silent activation of the safe-house Port-key, all mere seconds before an arc of red spellfire struck the damp ground they just vacated.

A lone, fuming figure in pink let out a frustrated shriek of 'Noooo!' only to have it swallowed up by a mocking clap of thunder.

For the past couple of days, Madame Umbridge took to Glamouring herself and Apparating to the mixed Wizarding-Muggle village near her cottage. Each morning and evening she collected a couple of newspapers from the shops, looking through the Obituaries for a particular name.

When the announcement concerning the Mudblood Granger's parents finally appeared, revealing to Dolores a place and time for the remembrance service, she smiled - a truly horrible expression given her toad-like face .

"Perfect," sneered Umbridge, tapping the tip of her left index finger against the notice, "That foul little bint won't know what hit her," scrubbing her hands together like an old fashioned Muggle film villain.

Stepping towards the desk in her study, Dolores picked up a slender box that was sitting on the middle and opened it.

Staring down at the near-black red dagger inside, she giggled like some demented version of a young child opening a Christmas present, "It's time for that filthy Mudblood to learn what happens when she disrespects her betters."

Thorfinn Rowle paced about the International Port-key Office receiving area anxiously awaiting the arrival of his Omega, Annalise Delacroix. He'd requested, and gotten, one of the private rooms located off the main point-of-entry, wanting their first meeting out of view from the prying eyes and flashing cameras of The Daily Prophet reporters currently gathered in the lobby like a flock of news-hungry vultures.

And it was a good thing that he'd made this arrangement days in advance. With his fitfully poor sleep since learning about his match, Thor wasn't sure he was capable of a coherent thought, much less, intelligible speech at the moment.

But, all of Rowle's unvoiced concerns about making a good first impression stopped seconds later when the door to the room slowly swung open to reveal a stunningly beautiful brunette witch dressed in form-flattering sapphire-blue robes.

Thorfinn's previous nervousness rapidly drained away, replaced with an urgent need to comfort and protect the young woman when he saw the trepidation in her eyes and body language.

Cautiously, as if approaching a skittish kneazle, Thor moved a couple of steps forward before formally bowing and greeting Annalise, "It is my extreme pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Delacroix. As you may have surmised, I am Thorfinn Rowle. I hope you don't mind," he stated, gesturing towards the modest-sized settee along the far wall, "But I thought we could..."

The rest of Thorfinn's words of welcome were silenced as Annalise abruptly tackled him about the waist and proceeded to climb him like a tree, the reasons becoming clearer as her fragrant scent of fresh strawberries dipped in dark chocolate hit his nose like a bludger - his not-at-all shy Omega was at the start of her heat.

Rowle couldn't stop the approving Alpha growl that escaped his throat even he wanted to, "In light of your enthusiastic...introduction, my Pet," he soothed, trying his best not to strip the young witch and himself of clothing and claim her right there against the nearest wall, "Might I suggest we depart from this place and adjourn to some place more private. Preferably to my...our bedroom at home."

With Annalise's breathily begged 'Yes. Please, Alpha', Thor wrapped his left arm tightly about her slim waist, wound a length of green ribbon about their free hands and activated the Port-key, whisking them both away to his ancestral manor house in The Fens in Lincolnshire.

It would be a week before either of them resurfaced in public - the still unmatched Rookwood being the first to spot the obviously fully bonded pair, making the grumbling unmated Alpha even more...testy.

Gaunt was more than just a little bit aggrieved when a house-elf delivered the curt message from his young cousin Maia cancelling their brunch on such short notice. At least, until a second, slightly more lengthy, apologetic missive arrived later that same morning by owl-post.

However, Maia had not mentioned her adoptive parents by name (or the fact that they were Muggles) so Tom was prepared to contact Rockwood to root out the missing details. No one did something like this to his family and got away with it, he'd personally make sure the culprit(s) were caught and punished - preferably, along the same lines as Bellatrix and the other rabid Death Eaters who were no longer an issue.

But, first things first. Tom penned a letter to Maia expressing his deepest condolences and that she was not to worry about their missed reunion, that could wait until things were more settled. Gaunt even offered his assistance should she require it for any of the arrangements.

'My wand, vaults and business contacts are at your disposal for whatever you may require, dear Cousin. Simply owl or reply by house-elf should you have need of my services.'

Signing it with a plain 'T. M. Gaunt' - he felt tacking on his Lordship title would be far too formal given the circumstances - Tom sent the message on it's way, hoping that Maia would take him up on one or more of his offers.

...preferably, the use of his skills with a wand. It wouldn't bring her parents back but, if it eased her grief (or desire for vengeance) he was more than willing to do whatever it took for her...especially, if it proved his worthiness to her as an Alpha.

The weather overhead turned threatening as Umbridge bulldozed her way through a crowd of Muggles that blocked her path, subtly hexxing as many as she could without triggering the Secrets Statute and alerting the DMLE to her presence in London.

('Stupid, filthy beasts,' she sneered to herself, 'Once I've gotten my answers from that Granger Bitch, I'll come back and deal with these disgusting creatures.')

The pink clad witch, out of necessity, had to stop in the area to get her bearings and a map. The Mudblood's adoptive parents weren't to be buried in Southampton as she had expected but in a church graveyard near The Forest of Dean in a community called Tutshill that Dolores had never heard of much less wanted to visit.

('Inconsiderate vermin, I have an important mission to complete!')

With that single-minded thought, Umbridge wandered into a News Agents and walked out moments later with a stolen chart highlighting the county of Gloucestershire and a list of general directions, an evil gleam sparking through her dark blue eyes.

Even with her ill-gotten assistance from the Confunded shopkeeper, Dolores arrived late to the memorial. From her hidden position amongst the trees, Umbridge could tell there were only a handful of people left standing near the freshly turned plots of earth.

As she slowly making her way closer, Dolores subtly reached out with her magic to sense the presence of her target, presuming correctly that Granger would appear in disguise given her wanted status with the DMLE.

Umbridge's smirk grew wider, giving her a disturbingly Grinch-like expression, when she detected a total of three Wixen huddled beneath a large black umbrella close to the gravestones.

('Perfect,' she purred as she mistakenly believed the two Glamoured males to be Potter and Weasley with the disguised, grieving Granger, 'I'll be able to take down the whole so-called Golden Trio in one fell swoop. My Cornelius and I will finally have our sweet revenge!')

With a vicious slashing motion of her wand, Umbridge cast an over powered Slicing hex at the three figures only to miss by the barest of fractions when they disappeared in the soft blue glow of an activated Port-key.

"Noooooo!" screeched Dolores, not caring who heard her - or that her spell had severed the elder Grangers' headstones in half - not that either was likely to be noticed given the breaking storm.

...or so she thought.

"Hello, Madame. My, you have been a rather naughty witch, haven't you?" hissed a vaguely familiar voice from the shadows, one that broke into an evil cackle when Umbridge finally recognized her, "Let's go somewhere a touch more private, shall we? As we have much to discuss concerning your future within my organization."

"Not to worry. It's sure to be a brief, yet satisfying, encounter. For me, that is..."

"...you, not so much."

A second ear-piercing wail of anguish was covered by another, heavier, clap of thunder that evening in The Forest of Dean.

An event that would go unnoted by everyone except the smirking, unmasked blue-haired Wixen and the desperately struggling, Incarcerous'd Pink Toad who was Side-A-Long Disapparated from the now deserted graveyard.

Chapter Text

McGonagall sat in her comfy chair in her office pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off yet another headache. It had been a little over a month since she had taken over the role as the Headmistress of Hogwarts and already she was contemplating handing the reins over to Flitwick and retiring somewhere in the country for a bit of peace and quiet.

It would certainly be a less stressful experience...maybe.

Especially, after that morning's meeting with the Matron in which Pomfrey so casually informed her that, not only, was Mr. Potter magically (and legally) of age, that he'd presented as an Omega and was the Alpha Kingsley Shacklebolt's mate, but now...now the newly of age wizard was up the duff after his very first heat!

If Minerva didn't know any better, she'd probably believe that the Weasley Twins were playing an elaborate prank but Poppy's diagnostic scans of the younger Gryffindor proved that simply wasn't the case.

The sheepish, yet somehow still prideful, Alpha smirk on Kingsley's face over his Omega's current health status didn't help the situation either.

Taking a sip of her fortified afternoon tea, the Headmistress steeled herself before speaking to the smugly preening Auror standing before her desk, "While I appreciate that Magic herself seems to have had a hand in bringing about Mr. Potter's...delicate condition, Mr. Shacklebolt, I hope that you're taking measures to make an honest man out of the lad, and sooner rather than later?"

Kingsley nodded his head, if possible, his grin became even broader, "But of course, Headmistress. Harry's accepted my proposal - enthusiastically so...and often," he chuckled wickedly when McGonagall held up her hand to signal that she didn't need any more of those particular details, "And, with your approval, we'd like to Floo from Poppy's office to his Godfather's residence in the morning so that we may have the private bonding ceremony performed there in the backyard garden. Remus Lupin will be in attendance as our second witness along with Sirius and Alastor Moody has agreed to act as our Ministry officiant - in fact, he insisted on it to ensure that everything 'twas done proper'."

Minerva let out a heavy, but relieved, sigh, "Fine, I grant you both permission to leave school grounds for the ritual and a week-long honeymoon stay at Grimmauld Place. But! You will return no later than ten o'clock on the morning of the eighth day or I will send Madame Pomfrey to fetch you back."

"And believe me, you don't want that to happen," she cautioned, her voice sounding stern although her eyes revealed an underlying mirth.

"Thank you, Headmistress," said Kingsley, his smile not faltering in the slightest, "Believe me, I've seen that witch in action when Alastor has tested her ire," he said with an exaggerated shudder of his shoulders, "I know better than to risk that fate."

Waving the man out of her office, McGonagall added one parting warning, "Oh, and if you hurt that young man, I trust you know I and his Godfather will hunt you down and make you regret your actions."

"Naturally. I would expect nothing less."

Eight o'clock at 12 Grimmauld Place rolled around far faster than Sirius had anticipated, not that it made any difference. No matter what the time, he simply wasn't ready for this handfasting ceremony to take place between his Prongslet and Kingsley.

For Merlin's sake, he'd only just attained the magical guardianship of their pup and in the proverbial blink of an eye, their son was preparing to bind himself to his Alpha and leave them behind to start his own family!

And hadn't THAT particular piece of news been a real kick in the gut - both he and Remus had been ready to hex Shacklebolt in the dangly bits until Poppy had put that notion right out of their heads with a firmly hissed threat of the same spell if they dared upset her younger patient.

Sirius was in the middle of contemplating the risks involved with going against the Matron's instructions when the fireplace flared a bright green and Moody stomped through the flames into the receiving room, surly as ever - a good indication that he hadn't had his second cup of coffee that morning.

"Alright you randy beggars," scowled Mad-Eye, roughly brushing the soot from his robes, "Let's get this show on the road, I have a person of interest to interrogate before lunch."

"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine," smirked Remus, pushing a large mug of black coffee into the hands of the grumbling Auror and another under his mate's nose, knowing that it would help distract both Sirius and Alastor for a few moments while he and the two house-elves, Castle and Bishop, made a few last minute touches to the garden before the grooms arrived.

Remus had just cast a couple of hefty shielding and bug repellent charms over the lush grounds when the thunderclouds that had been threatening for the last hour finally opened up, dropping buckets of rain that would have soaked everyone and everything had the enchantment not been in place.

Oddly enough, Sirius perked up with the onset of the gloomy weather.

"That's a portent of bad luck if I ever saw one," he grinned, his gleeful facial expression not matching up with his words of warning, "I'll just send Harry a Patronus and inform him that we had to postpone the ceremony for the foreseeable future."

In his unexpected giddiness, Sirius failed to register the sound of the Floo flaring to life behind him or of the ominous shadow moving closer until it was too late.

Sirius startled badly when a robed arm reached around from behind him and quickly plucked the wand from his grasp, "Not so fast there, Black," drawled Kingsley, the taller Alpha now glaring down his nose at the Beta, "My Omega and I are having our bonding ritual performed today, with or without you."

"As for this unexpected deluge, we're all wizards, are we not?" stated Kings, nonchalantly gesturing towards the darkened sky, "A few extra shield charms, throw in an Impervious or two for good measure, and we'll be just fine. Besides, Harry's already here," looking over Black's shoulder at the latest arrival before leaning in and lowly growling in Sirius' ear, "And you will not do anything to upset him on his special day. Am I clear?" subtly pressing his wand into the other man's ribs.

"As crystal."

When the Trio landed in the safehouse, they immediately set about checking themselves and each other for injuries, the brief flash of a slicing hex having caught their attentions even as the Port-Key whisked them away.

Finding no evidence of any spell damage on their partners, they all let out deep sighs of relief.

"Did either of you see who tried to attack us?" asked Severus, summoning a bottle of Ogden's and three tumblers, pouring two fingers worth of the amber liquid into each and handing them over to his bondmates.

Maia nodded her head, "It was that toad of a witch, Umbridge," she snarled, her eyes sparking with agitation, "I only caught a glimpse of her as she stepped from behind a tree but I'd recognize that nauseating shade of pink anywhere."

Scribbling out a quick message on a spare bit of parchment and calling for his house-elf, Trinket, Lucius sent the tiny Being off to apprise Mad-Eye Moody of the situation, "I doubt Alastor or others of his Auror team will catch her before she leaves the area but we can always hope."

"Even if they don't," said Maia, taking a sip of her drink to calm herself, "An attempted assault charge filed by you, Lucius, or rather Lord Malfoy, should be enough to bring her in for questioning."

"Indeed."

Moody was...well, certainly living up to his family name today.

After being asked to perform the bonding ceremony for Potter and Shacklebolt, an honour that had left him momentarily speechless, Alastor had received word from Tonks that Umbridge had been sighted in Muggle London but that the slippery toad had, once again, eluded them.

"I swear that witch has the proverbial eyes in the back of her head, or maybe, she's simply paranoid enough to not remain in one place too long," suggested Tonks, her hair a dull shade of brown, reflecting her disappointment in apprehending the soon-to-be former Ministry Undersecretary.

"Put Savage and Proudfoot onto tracing Dolores' movements," growled Moody, preparing to head to the Registration offices to ensure he had the necessary paperwork filed to legally act as an officiant for Shacklebolt's handfasting to Potter, "Because I have another pressing assignment for you."

Curiosity piqued, Tonks' hair shifted to a bright, sunshine yellow, "What do you have in mind, Boss?"

Gaunt was sitting at his desk pondering the enigma that was his cousin Maia. The witch had promptly owled him back, sincerely thanking him for his regards but outright refused, albeit politely, any form of his assistance, stating that all arrangements had been made by her Uncle and that she would contact him in a couple of weeks time to reschedule their brunch.

In the meantime, Rookwood's efforts in finding out anything more about the girl or her adopted family were coming up frustratingly empty.

"There are no records of a Maia Athena Peverell attending Hogwarts, Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. Which leads me to believe that she was probably homeschooled," stated Augustus, cringing at the glare he received from his leader, "However, I'm still awaiting replies from my contacts in the remaining Wizarding schools to make absolutely certain she didn't attend elsewhere. I've even begun checking into the possibility that the witch was registered under another name but I've hit a major snag on that front."

"And why is that, Gus?" growled Tom, making Rookwood flinch in anticipation of a hex from the older wizard for his lack of progress.

"Other than the scant information you acquired when you claimed your Lordship title, there are no further documents, whether magical or Muggle, of a Miss Peverell being born much less adopted," replied Augustus with a slight shake of his head, "Which means, even if she was renamed as part of the adoption process, there are no case files indicating such an occurrence, it's as if she appeared out of thin air the very day you slipped on your family ring."

Gaunt frowned, taking in this thin amount of information, "Dig deeper. Someone, somewhere knows something."

"As you command, MiLord."

Tonks was starting to get antsy as she hid underneath a Disallusionment charm in the graveyard in Tutshill, silently standing guard over the grieving Hermione Granger and her two glum sentinels, none of which were aware of her presence.

Reaching into her robe pocket, Tonks removed a vial of Wide-Eye Solution (she'd not had time for coffee before Alastor had rushed her out of his office for this surveillance assignment) and knocked it back in one go, stifling the urge to loudly gag from the awful taste of the potion.

'Merlin! You'd think brewers could've found a way to make this stuff more palatable by now' she grumbled to herself, her eyes watering slightly, 'They'd make a fortune if they did,' vanishing the empty bottle rather than having it rattle about making noise in her pocket, or worse, tripping over the damned thing if she discarded it on the ground.

No sooner had the phial disappeared from the Auror's grasp than a flash of color along the nearby tree line caught her attentions.

'Finally! smirked Tonks, looking forward to apprehending this particular witch and dragging her back to the DMLE in restraints.

But those pleasant thoughts gave way to anger at the sight of the slicing hex leaving Umbridge's wand, the red light hurtling towards Granger and her companions.

The Metamorphmagus' scowl shifted to glee as Umbridge's hex missed the Port-keying Trio altogether. It was even more satisfying when she heard the toad-like witch bellowing out 'Nooooooo!' in frustration before gasping in shock as Tonk's disarmament and Incarcerous spells took effect, the weather seeming to mock the older woman's predicament with it's thunder and now soaking rains.

"Hello, Madame. My, you have been a rather naughty witch, haven't you?" Tonk's hissed as she dropped her Disallusionment and stepped from her position in the shadows, revealing herself to the struggling Umbridge's gaze.

"Let's go somewhere a touch more private shall we? We have so much to discuss concerning your future in my organization."

"Not to worry. It's sure to be a brief, yet satisfying, encounter. For me, that is..."

"...you, not so much."

The blue-haired Auror cackled loudly as the older woman howled out her displeasure, another crack of thunder masking their departure as Tonks Side-along Apparated the two of them back to the Ministry.

Poppy smirked at her grumpy other half as he stomped about that morning getting ready to officiate his work-partner's handfasting ceremony, Tonk's late night Patronus about the capture of the elusive Madame Umbridge, and the intense conversations (near hexxing) with Snape and Malfoy Sr. afterwards - both in full protective Alpha-mode - having learned that their grieving Omega had unknowingly been used to lure the Undersecretary out into the open, only added to his caffeine-deficient moodiness.

"Settle down, Alastor," she soothed, trying (and failing) to keep the mirth out of her voice, "Or you'll do yourself an injury - and not in our usual fun way - before you even leave for Grimmauld Place. Besides, you're making our young guest rather anxious with your pacing," she mock-chided, knowing full well that the younger wizard was still fussing about in the guest bathroom and totally unaware of his host's current temperament.

Moody muttered something unintelligible under his breath but at the same time stopped his agitated striding, albeit, temporarily.

"It's time I left anyway," he growled, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the nearby mantle and tossing it into the fireplace, "And remember, wait ten minutes before sending Potter through."

Poppy made a shoo'ing gesture towards him, "Yes, dear," she huffed, rolling her eyes at the man, "This isn't my first binding ritual, you know. Now, off you get before Sirius does something asinine...like attempting to transfigure Kings into a puffskein and feeding him to an owl."

Moody let out a rare snort of laughter as he stepped into the green flames, "I'd pay ten galleons to see him try."

Umbridge had kicked up such a fuss from the very moment Tonks had landed the two of them on the steps of the Ministry that it hadn't taken more than twenty minutes before the word of Dolores' arrest made it round the various departments, and eventually to Rookwood's ears.

Augustus, in turn, immediately Firecalled Lord Gaunt from his office with this bit of news, knowing that the older wizard had sent a couple of their associates on a mission to locate the horrid pink clad witch within the past few days.

"I know you were hoping to track Umbridge down first, MiLord," stated Rockwood apologetically, "But from what I've learned from one of my sources in the DMLE, that harpy will be staring at the inside of a cell in Azkaban for a minimum of ten years."

"It's better than what she truly deserves," hissed Tom, the green flames of the Floo accentuating his irritated demeanor, giving the man an almost demonic appearance, "Inform me the moment the Aurors are transferring Dolores to Azkaban," he ordered, his tone indicating that there was no room for argument, "I want to provide her with a...proper send off."

Rookwood did his best to quell the shudder that Gaunt's implications evoked - the hint of the old Dark Lord's mannerisms peeking through making his skin crawl.

"Of course, MiLord. I'll make certain of it."

Although still physically drained from her parents' memorial, Maia was emotionally leaning towards a mixture of livid and elated in regards to Auror Moody's actions. While his methods had, ultimately, lead to Madame Umbridge's capture, it still rankled that he didn't at least clue one of the Trio in on what was happening in case things were to go sideways.

"Honestly!" she huffed, her hair rapidly changing to look like a living thundercloud had formed about her head, complete with small jolts of blue lightning, "I don't know whether to thank Moody or curse him into next week for keeping us all in the dark about our Tonks-shaped shadow."

"Agreed," casually drawled Lucius, inwardly he was relieved that their little Lioness was regaining some of her previous spark, having personally experienced that downward mental spiral after losing Narcissa.

(Realistically, Malfoy knew that he couldn't prevent Maia's grieving process, but he didn't want her to fall into the less savory methods of coping as he had done with potions and alcohol. Snape, being of a similar mind after their heated 'chat' with Alastor, was currently setting up the practice mannequins in the exercise room, hoping to curb any of Maia's urges to confront the old Auror and challenge him to a duel...they had no doubts, though, that she'd wipe the floor with him even if she refrained from shifting into a Nundu.)

"On a more pleasant thought, how much do you want to bet that Chief Auror Robards will have that despicable excuse for a witch confessing all her sins within the hour?"

Alastor stood on the steps leading up to the Atrium of the Ministry, staring in disbelief at the carnage before him.

His mentee, and pseudo-daughter, Tonks and most of her escort team lay sprawled across the scorched and broken marble stairs not moving and, from what he could tell from his position, barely breathing.

Worse still, their prisoner - the recently convicted Madame Umbridge was no where in sight.

"What in the Bloody Blue Blazes happened here!?" snapped Moody at no one in particular, his bellowed demand causing more than one of the attending Medi-staff on scene to scowl in his direction before returning their attentions back to their patients.

One wizard, a person Alastor initially presumed to be a bystander based on his torn, non-descript business attire, limped towards him as he held an ice-pack to the side of his head near his swollen left eye.

"Obviously, it was an ambush," explained the injured man, identifying himself as Security Chief Rookwood and one of the crew traveling undercover to assist in the high-profile prisoner transfer, "Apparently, the former Undersecretary had some associates just waiting for the right moment to help her escape."

"And why do you believe that?" growled Alastor, his new prosthetic eye unnervingly focused on the younger wizard's face, looking for signs of deception, "It could easily have been some of her victims looking to take matters into their own hands."

"True," stated Rookwood, wincing as he repositioned the ice pack, "And normally I would have considered that as a possibility if Umbridge hadn't cackled like the evil crone she is and said 'It's about Bloody time you lot showed up' before they used...well, I'm not exactly sure what it was they tossed at us."

A slightly raspy voice from behind them chimed in, "They used Muggle devices. Flash-bang grenades they call them...I think."

"Tonks! You're alive!" exclaimed Moody, although, he refrained from pulling her into a bone-crushing hug of relief in front of witnesses.

The Metamorphmagus groaned at her mentor's enthusiastically loud reaction, her head still painfully throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

"I'm not so sure about that."

Once the nauseating swirl of Port-Key travel stopped, the still magically shackled Dolores Umbridge maniacally laughed at her new surroundings and the three people she recognized as low level Death Eaters who freed her from an unjust prison sentence to Azkaban.

"Well, don't just stand there," she huffed somewhat impatiently, "Get these cuffs off of me, Jugson."

'Jugson's' features shifted as the heavy Glamour fell away and the visage of an unknown wizard greeted her with a barely concealed sneer.

Although startled, Umbridge's voice remained steady as she demanded, "Who the Fuck are you? And where's Jugson?"

"Now is that any way to treat an old acquaintance, Dolores?" he hissed, waving his hand across his face and causing it to transform into the pale, snake-like form she was infinitely more accustomed to seeing.

"Lord Voldemort!" she squeaked, attempting to bow before the Dark Lord as best she could given the limitations of the restraints, "Forgive me, MiLord. I never thought..."

"There in lies your biggest problem," he snipped, interrupting her simpering excuses, "You.Don't. Think. It's truly rather embarrassing considering you claim to be the prime example of an intelligent, Pureblooded witch."

But we all know that's a lie, don't we, Dolores?"

Having provided his statement to Auror Moody (most of which was corroborated by the gravelly-voiced Tonks), and allowing the Healers to fully tend to his wounds, Rookwood finally left the Ministry an hour later, gingerly Apparating himself to the main gates of Malfoy Manor.

The tormented sounds of a screeching female, presumably that of Madame Umbridge, accosting his ears as he entered the sitting room was almost enough to make him turn around and leave.

Almost.

Chapter Text

Alastor stomped about the site of Umbridge's daring daylight escape checking for anything that the other Aurors investigating the scene may have overlooked, his temper flaring when there wasn't a single scrap of a clue to be found, those Muggle grenades having effectively destroyed any usable trace.

"Bloody, Buggering, Hell!" he hissed in exasperation, striding towards the bank of fireplaces in the hallway leading off the Ministry Atrium. Taking a deep breath, Moody called out the address to Grimmauld Place, he needed to inform the Potter-Shacklebolts and the Lupin-Blacks of Umbridge's disappearance for Harry's continued safety, especially, given their recent volatile history at Hogwarts and the teen's current delicate condition.

...although Alastor was quite certain that between Kingsley, Sirius and Remus, that pink nightmare would be a cloud of dust particles before she got anywhere near Harry.

No, what he was truly dreading would happen afterwards - notifying Hermione that her would-be assassin was, once again, on the loose. And that this time, Dolores apparently had allies to help.

It was not a discussion he was looking forward to anytime soon.

Sometime after breakfast, Harry strolled out the kitchen door of Grimmauld Place and stood in the middle of the backyard garden, alternately glancing down at the new band of gold on his left ring finger and taking in his surroundings.

He'd been officially wed to his Alpha for the better part of a week and he couldn't be happier...except for the one metaphorical dark cloud that continued to hang over the event in the form of his Godfather, Sirius Black.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Harry wandered over to the dour wizard in question who'd taken up a spot on the lone wrought iron bench with a cup of coffee in his hands. Sitting down next to Sirius, Harry took the plunge and began the overdue conversation, "It's time we cleared up a few things, Pads," the younger man said with a touch of nervousness in his voice, "I believe it may help us in the long run."

The ongoing tension in Sirius' shoulders at Harry's words had them hiking up towards his ears but he readily complied with Harry's request for a private chat.

As the pair stared out from their shaded corner of the garden, Harry was the first to break the growing awkward silence between them.

"Look, I realize this bonding ritual was sudden and I get that you're not completely okay with how that all came about," he said, his Emerald green eyes full of empathy, "But I'm truly happy with Kings, he's a wonderful Alpha and he's going to be great Dad. It's just...I want and need both you and Remus in my life," smiled Harry, gently pressing a hand to his Godfather's shoulder in a soothing manner.

"My marriage to Kings and the impending birth of our children won't ever change that. You know that right? You're still my family, too," pausing a moment to let his sentiments sink in with Sirius.

The change in Black's demeanour was almost instantaneous as Harry's words registered, causing the older wizard to visibly shudder in relief even as he fought to hold back his tears of joy.

But Harry didn't give Sirius a chance to verbally reply as he pressed on, "Besides, I'll definitely need your advise and, probably a Protego or two, when Hermione visits us later today," he added somewhat cheekily, "Especially, when I tell her about these two little ones," laying his free hand on his still flat stomach.

"So, what do you say? You willing to lend a hand to a fellow wizard to help shield us from my scarily brilliant and, most likely, highly exasperated friend...Grandpa Siri?"

Black spluttered a moment in mock-horror even as Lupin walked up and caught the latter part of their conversation, barking out a laugh at his mate's feigned indignant reaction, "Bite your tongue, Harry. If anything, I'll be their cool, fun-loving Uncle."

"Now hold on, Pads," drawled Remus, his yellow-gold eyes glittering with mischief, "Grandpa Siri has a certain ring to it, don't you think? Besides, you know I've always had a thing for older wizards."

"Oi! Who are you calling old? My birthday's only three months before yours," groused Sirius, although, the corner of his mouth was twitching in an attempt to stifle a smile, relieved that he and Remus weren't losing their pup from their lives anytime soon, "Keep that nonsense up and Moony will find himself on the rug in the den for the next full moon."

"See right there?" teased Remus, "You're a natural already at being the grumpy, but loveable, neighborhood curmudgeon."

"That's it, forget the rug, you're sleeping outside...tonight," huffed Sirius as he shamelessly flicked a Jelly-Legs Jinx towards Remus' knees.

Not ten minutes later, the young family's lighthearted banter and playful hexxing duels were interrupted as Kingsley strolled outside, enthusiastically announcing the newly arrived Hermione Granger.

As the young witch in question glided casually through the door, Harry, Sirius and Remus could see that she was still dressed in her elegant, but tastefully subdued, navy blue business attire from her court appearance that very morning - a Wizarding photograph of her very public exoneration by the Wizengamot, immediately preceding Umbridge's closed courtroom trial, had been splashed across the headlines in The Daily Prophet's Special Edition that was delivered to Grimmauld Place less than an hour ago.

The wizards' collective happiness and relief for her triumphant return, after her being involuntarily sequestered in an undisclosed safe-house for the past few weeks - as far as they knew - changed in an instant, their mouths gaping open (Kingsley being the exception) in stunned silence when they realized she wasn't alone, her unexpected, and instantly recognizable, pair of Slytherin escorts catching them off guard.

"You do realize that it's rather rude to stare," drawled Lucius, levitating a stray twig from the ground and transfiguring it into a colourful chaise lounge (Slytherin green and silver, naturally) for himself, Maia and Severus to set upon.

"And do close your mouths," smirked Severus, gallantly seating Maia onto the chaise before taking up a protective stance beside her, "You're bound to catch lacewing flies if you don't."

"Now, now gentlemen...and lady," calmly stated Shacklebolt, himself instinctively moving into a protective position slightly in front of Harry - but not completely blocking him from their visitors' line of sight, "We've already agreed to be civil for the sake our Omega's well-being," gesturing between himself and the Slytherins, "It would be best for you two to cooperate as well."

There were a few lowly grumbled sounds of acquiescence heard in the otherwise quiet air in the garden, primarily, from the direction where Sirius stood (who was still uncomfortable with the presence of the two snakes despite their previous truce made within the Hogwarts infirmary weeks ago.)

"Excellent," purred Kingsley, a slightly smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "What shall we discuss first, then, hrnm? I believe Lady's choice is in order, given Hermione's our invited guest."

Harry couldn't control the soft groan that escaped his lips, knowing what was likely to happen next based on the familiar scheming look he saw blooming across Hermione's face...it was the same expression she had displayed before leading Umbridge off into the Forbidden Forest and into the hands of the Centaurs.

He was so Fucked...and not in any fun way.

Maia smirked as she withdrew a scroll, along with a small gift-wrapped box, from her robe pocket, "Thank you, Kings," she cooed sweetly at the other Alpha, handing him a belated wedding present.

Turning her impish, and maybe a touch wicked, focus fully onto Harry as she slowly unfurled the parchment, Maia savored her fellow Gryffindor's growing apprehension (turnabout was fair play in her mind given what he - and Ronald - put her through at Hogwarts over the years, speculating that not all of their actions were caused by Dumbledore's influence.)

"I hope no one minds, I jotted down a few notes. I do so enjoy being...thorough."

Lucius subtly made eye contact with Severus, pressing a non-verbal question directly to his mind with Legilimancy.

('Should we intervene?')

('Only if it appears our little lioness is about to physically eviscerate the boy. Otherwise leave her be, this conversation between them was long overdue.')

('True.')

The inside of the Ministry courtroom was the absolute last place on Earth (well, aside from a cell in Azkaban, obviously) that Maia, Severus and Lucius wished to see that morning.

Unfortunately, the members of the Wizengamot didn't give a flying fart in space about any of the trio's discomfort, the young Muggleborn's unease in particular.

Even though all the charges filed by Umbridge against the younger Wixen had been officially - and with a great deal of public fanfare - dismissed, the Wizengamot demanded...errr, politely requested Miss Granger's presence for the former Undersecretary's trial as a material witness, no excuses were tolerated nor accepted.

Given Dolores' nasty penchant for wriggling out of difficult situations, the court hadn't wanted to leave anything to chance. (Plus, having the target of the older witch's ire in attendance just to aggravate the detestable woman was simply a lovely bonus - likely to be highly entertaining, too).

...what the Wizengamot hadn't counted on was the tenacity of a certain reporter in circumventing the security wards to the closed-to-the-press chambers.

Rita Skeeter was in journalistic Paradise. First had been her exclusive, breaking headlines work on the surprise capture and conviction of a not-so-dead Peter Pettigrew which then lead straight to the follow-up story of the exoneration of Lord Black. Next was Rita's masterful series detailing the spectacular fall from grace of that megalomaniac bastard Dumbledore. And even though these pieces were practically spoon-fed to her by Lord Gaunt, they were oh so satisfying to write and have the public eating them up and begging for more.

And this latest lead (one that she'd sussed out entirely on her own) was shaping up to be another equally gratifying corker - the trial of a former Ministry official whose crimes made the crazed actions committed by the late Bellatrix Lestrange look fairly tame in comparison. (Seriously, what had that pink-obsessed witch been thinking unleashing Fiendfyre in a crowded Muggle neighborhood like that!? Not that she personally gave a damn about Muggles, as a general rule, but Umbridge came close to exposing the British Wizarding community to them with that brazen stunt. Completely mental, that one.)

But it was only when Skeeter hitched a ride into the courtroom on the lapel of an Auror that she discovered the true gold mine that lay behind this newest story - the hidden identity of the star witness for the prosecution, that same irritating brat who'd kept her imprisoned in that unbreakable glass jar last summer, Hermione-Bloody-Granger. Or should she say, Maia Peverill.

Wasn't it simply too bad then - for the plain-jane, frizzy-haired tart, that is - that the Secrecy Oaths the Wizengamot invoked before the proceedings began didn't work on her Animagus form.

Kingsley, noticing his Omega's defensive posturing, stepped fully between Harry and Hermione, lowly growling out a warning at the teenaged girl, "I strongly advise rethinking your plans, witch," he snarled, vaguely gesturing towards the parchment in her hands, "As you'd sorely regret causing physical harm to my pregnant mate."

Before Lucius and Severus could react with their own Alpha fueled response in Maia's defense, she shrieked, "You're pregnant, Harry!? What were you thinking? No, don't answer that, it's rhetorical. You haven't even graduated from Hogwarts yet!"

Spinning around to face Shacklebolt so quickly it was a wonder she didn't have whiplash, Maia punched him on the arm, hard, "And you," she hissed, continuing to assault the man to emphasize her pique, "Why didn't you take a contraceptive potion? Or, better yet, make certain Harry took his own dosage of prevention like a responsible Alpha? Honestly, what were you thinking!?" she repeated, landing a vicious right hook to the man's solar plexus, causing a slight 'oomph' to leave his mouth.

Sirius, being the ever helpful Marauder that he was (not), barked out a laugh at the suddenly mute and blushing Kingsley who was subconsciously backing away from the feisty spitfire of a witch.

"Merlin! Hermione, give the bloke a chance to answer."

Maia conceded but not until she'd finished venting her disappointment in the two men with a few more quick jabs to Kingsley's chest and a not-so-veiled threat to his dangly bits, making all the others wizards in the garden reflexively flinch out of sympathy.

As Lucius and Severus gently pulled their fiercely glaring little lioness to a safer distance, out of arms reach of the somewhat still stunned Kingsley, it was Harry who spoke up to finally defend himself and his Alpha.

"It's not what you think, Hermione," he stated, sounding far more confident than he felt, "Our magics during...ummm, my heat...yes, that...it...well...it somehow overwhelmed the potions," reverting rapidly to a wibbly first year under his friend's unblinking, studious gaze, "It wasn't our fault, just ask Madame Pomfrey."

"Maia," she replied, confusing all but her Alphas with her odd response.

"What?"

"Maia," she repeated, wrinkling her nose, a minor sign of nerves for what she about to reveal, "That's my real name, not Hermione. And, if that's true about the magical negation effects on the contraceptives, then I sincerely apologize to you both for jumping to the wrong conclusions."

Ever the eloquent friend that he was, Harry spluttered out, "What do you mean you're not Hermione? Of course you...wait, did you say Maia?" as some niggling thought tried to surface from the depths of his memory.

Maia rolled her eyes, but understood his bewilderment, "Yes, Harry. I'm Maia. In fact, that's part of the reason why I accepted Kings' lunch invitation today. I've a few important things that I've been meaning to discuss with you, but certain recent...events prevented our meeting until now," she paused, taking in a deep breath before deciding to plunge straight ahead with the first part of her news.

"My true full name is Maia Athena Peverell - Heir Gaunt-Slytherin or Lady Peverill-Ravenclaw if you wish to be more formal. Pleased to make your acquaintance...cousin."

Tom glared down at the simpering witch at his feet, the insipid woman had had the audacity to attempt to hex him as his Glamour had fallen away and he was taking great pleasure in reintroducing himself to the now groveling woman. It was pathetic, really, at how quickly Umbridge had changed her attitude.

Not that any of her efforts were going to help her in the long run... ignorance was NOT bliss in this case.

"I don't understand, MiLord," whinged Dolores, openly gawping up at Gaunt's restored visage, "Why would you toss aside your Lord Voldemort persona for something far less...intimidating and powerful?"

"You know nothing of true power, Madame," he hissed, making Umbridge nearly piss herself from the force of the magic currently rolling off the wizard in angry waves, "An oversight we need to correct, it seems, before I decide on your fate."

Once the pseudo-Immobulus effect from Maia's pronouncement over most of the wizards at Grimmauld Place had worn off, the flood of questions began.

"Sweet Circe's Tits! When did you know? How did you find out?" (Sirius)

"Wait, does this mean you're adopted? What happened to your birth parents? Or did your family just legally change their names, and for what reason?" (Remus)

Why did you wait until now to tell me...us? Who else knows?" (Harry)

And why are Professor Snape and Lord Malfoy here with you?" (Kingsley)

Maia arched an eyebrow at the four Wixen, "To paraphrase, give a girl a chance to answer," she chuckled, earning herself a few knowing smirks in return from Lucius and Severus

"But, in no particular order...," she began, taking a second to steady herself, "Yes, I was adopted. No, no one except you lot here and a handful of Gringott's Goblins know my true identity. My birth parents were murdered by Peter Pettigrew - they were among the twelve people killed that day the rat framed Sirius. And I inadvertently found all this out after my premature emergence as an Omega sent me to the Healers so they could stabilize my magic and save my life."

Pausing momentarily to glance over at Lucius and Severus, and getting their almost imperceptible nod of approval, Maia proceeded, "And Professor Snape and Lord Malfoy accompanied me here today because they're both my Alphas. Aside from the Goblin Healers, only a select few are aware of this fact, for obvious reasons - Madame Pomfrey being one - and now you four."

Once again, there was brief pause where nothing but the sound of stuttered breathing and the buzzing of bees could be heard....and then all Hades threatened to break loose.

...at least until Maia shifted forms.

"Oh, did we forget to mention? Our rather talented little lioness here is a natural Animagus," smugly drawled Lucius, his wand drawn in case she required assistance - although, he seriously doubted she would against this bunch of Gryffindors.

"And we strongly advise not pissing her off," smirked Severus, carefully placing a calming hand atop Nundu-Maia's prickly ruff, "Otherwise, you'll experience how Dumbledore was truly apprehended."

A startled 'meep" from Harry was the only response heard for the next five minutes.

As Gaunt raised his wand to send a Cruciatus at Umbridge, the quivering woman shrieked, "Please, MiLord! I have important information you need to hear," she whimpered while daring to look the man in the face, "I...that is, she...and they," struggling to continue as the Secrecy Oaths the Wizengamot put into place at her trial took effect.

Tom lowered his wand hand when he recognized the binding magics now visibly shimmering over Umbridge's skin. It was a spell he knew from experience was utilized by the Ministry to protect witnesses or sensitive materials from becoming known to the general public.

Sneering at the toad of a witch, Gaunt drawled, "Well, Dolores. It seems you've gained a reprieve... for now."

Strolling over to the fireplace, Tom Floo-called Gringott's and asked for the Cursebreaker Division. When the Goblin on duty answered, Gaunt bared his teeth in greeting.

"Rockbiter! How fortuitous. I have another Wixen requiring your wondrous services. The sooner, the better, of course," he said, waving the young-ish Goblin through to the Manor.

"Another Ministry applied Oath, I presume," the cursebreaker stated more than asked, dusting the soot from his clothes with the flick of his fingers, "The standard fees plus confidentiality clause still apply."

"Naturally," agreed Lord Gaunt, ushering Rockbiter over towards Umbridge who's eyes narrowed at the approaching Goblin, her disgust for a Being she deemed 'lesser' to her evident in her demeanour. "I advise keeping your opinions to yourself, Madame," hissed Tom, having no time or patience for her brand of drama, "You wouldn't want Rockbiter to accidentally forget a vital step, now would you?"

For the moment, Umbridge heeded her leader's instruction, certain that she'd have the opportunity to deal with those vermin later once that filthy, lying Mudblood and the two Blood traitors were exposed as the true threats to the Wizarding community.

Once the Gryffindor wizards of Grimmauld Place managed to, somewhat, calm down, Maia shifted back to her human form, a slight smile tugging at her lips at the chaos she'd just unleashed.

Merlin! Her Slytherins were influencing her attitudes far too much if she was enjoying flustering these Gryffindors to such an extent. Or, perhaps, this could've been her mindset all along if it hadn't been for Dumbledore's meddling?

Maia sighed to herself. ('A puzzle to solve for another time.')

All eyes in the courtroom turned towards Maia she entered the Wizengamot chambers alone, the silent scrutiny making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Lucius and Severus had wanted to escort their lioness into the room but knew it would be best if they didn't.

"We can't have them questioning the facts of your testimony before you've uttered a single word," drawled Severus, releasing Maia's hand as they stood outside the door waiting for her to be called in by the court clerk.

"You'll do just fine on your own, but should you require it," soothed Lucius, flicking his wand to remove any Floo powder from her robes, "Look for us in the gallery to your right, we'll be on hand if things turn ugly."

This caused Maia to let out an all together un-ladylike snort of amusement, "Sorry," she said, anything but apologetic, "Things will already be ugly if Umbridge is present."

"Cheeky witch. Don't let anyone hear you make such comments in open court. They'll think you're biased against the defendant," he mock-chided.

"No promises, but I will do my best."

Umbridge's eyes bulged comically wide, giving them an even stronger toad-like appearance, as the hated chit she'd been after for so long sauntered casually into the courtroom.

('That Mudblood should be on trial, not me!' Dolores scowled to herself, unable to speak her mind until the spells on the defendant''s chair were released. Instead, she rattled the magical chains that held her in place to express her great displeasure.

"Settle down Madame Umbridge. You'll be given the opportunity to question this witness in due course," assured Minister Scrimgeour, tapping the gavel to bring the session to order, "Until then, calm yourself."

Her rumbled growling went unheard by the others within the chambers but Umbridge didn't care - when the time came, she'd make the Wizengamot understand what an affront to magic Miss Granger and the other Mudbloods were if it was the last thing she ever did.

Chief Auror Gawain Robards watched with growing interest as a certain young Wixen strolled into the Wizengamot chambers and stood in the witness circle, patiently waiting to testify. In an effort to prevent himself from outright staring at the teen, he lowered his head and glared down at an interesting spot on the floor.

For whatever reason, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something about her was oddly familiar (and not because he'd recently read the accounts on her participation in the capture of Dumbledore), but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

Shuddering as the cool sensation of the Secrecy wards fell over everyone in the courtroom, Robards filed those puzzling thoughts away for the time being, focusing his mind and energies instead on the tasks at hand.

The first of which was administering Veritaserum to the Muggleborn witch as had been adamantly demanded by that pink nightmare Umbridge as was her legal right when facing her accuser.

Minister Rufus Scrimgeour waited with an almost bored look on his face until Chief Robards signalled that the Veriraserum had taken effect. Then clearing his throat, he began what was to be the routine baseline enquiry of the young Wixen...or so he believed.

"Please state your full name for the record," ordered Scrimgeour, motioning for the clerk to start recording Miss Granger's answers.

The Minister's eyebrows, along with a few others in the courtroom, sailed upwards towards their respective hairlines when Maia serenely asked, "Which one? I have two."

Umbridge, who had been rubbing her hands together with gleeful anticipation like some Muggle film villian, took advantage of everyone's stunned silence and blurted out, "Both, you wretched girl!" commanded Dolores, her eyes gleaming brightly with malicious delight, "Then spill all your other sordid little secrets and prove to the Wizengamot I was right all along about you, that you're a liar and a thief of magic."

Skeeter, who was still in beetle form and firmly attached to Auror Dawlish's collar, excitedly twitched her green antennae, ('Yes, you horrid little tart, tell us everything. And by morning, your life will be in tatters and I will be celebrating my promotion in my new corner office.')

Maia hadn't batted a single eyelash when Umbridge demanded that she be questioned under Veritaserum, knowing that all that would accomplish would be to confirm that the toad-witch was a wretched person who relished in using Dark objects to torture children during her tenure as a 'teacher' at Hogwarts this past year.

So it never occurred to Maia that she'd be asked her name before giving her statements. And glancing over at her Alphas, it appeared that possibility slipped their minds, too. There was nothing for it, she'd have to answer.

Thank the stars, the Minister activated the Secrecy wards about the chambers. No one but she, Lucius and Severus could speak about her true identity outside the courtroom.

It would be another presumption that would bite her in the arse sooner rather than later.

Lucius and Severus winced as they watched their little Omega shattering yet another target dummy in the dueling room, concern evident on both their faces as Maia destroyed her fifteenth substitute, pink-clad or beetle-themed quarry over the course of the past thirty minutes - and with no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Scattered at their feet, and around the room, were the smouldering remnants of that evening's Special Edition of The Daily Prophet.

"Don't you think we should step in before our lioness deals herself a serious injury," Lucius stated more than asked as he reinforced the shields about himself and his fellow Alpha, "At this rate of intensity, Maia will severely deplete her magical reserves within the next half hour."

Severus quirked a single ebony eyebrow at Lucius in a gesture that clearly said 'I prefer to keep my bollocks attached where they currently are, thank you very much'.

"Fine, we'll just let Maia naturally exhaust herself," conceded Malfoy, his wand arm twitching as another target exploded in a rain of fiery splinters, "Now, how do you propose we console our, eventually, weepy witch once this rage fit subsides?"

"I may have one or two suggestions."

Whatever Severus had in mind, he hadn't the chance to voice it to Lucius as a Malfoy house-elf arrived carrying an urgent message from Lord Gaunt requesting their immediate attendance at the Manor.

The last line causing their hearts to clench painfully in their chests.

"And please ensure you bring my young cousin Maia with you. It appears we have much to discuss.

Chapter Text

Cautiously, Severus and Lucius approached their still raging lioness, her spent magic even now cracking dangerously about the smoking remnants of the practice targets scattered throughout the dueling room.

Somehow sensing that her two Alphas were closing in on her, Maia whirled around on the balls of her feet, preparing to chide or hex (likely a combination) both wizards for disturbing her much needed time alone to vent her many frustrations.

But the unanticipated worried expressions on their faces made her pause, "What's wrong?' she asked, slowly lowering her wand arm to her side, "Is Harry okay? I didn't stress him out too much earlier with my barrage of surprises, did I?" the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.

"No, Maia, it's nothing like that," soothed Lucius, reluctantly holding out the missive from Lord Gaunt, "I'm afraid it's something, potentially, far worse."

Maia's face paled as she skimmed through the demanding letter penned by her other distant cousin, "Oh my stars! I'm not ready to meet him yet. Look at me, I'm a total wreck!" she proclaimed, gesturing wildly at her sweat-soaked, disheveled hair and clothing, dark circles that had seemingly taken up permanent residence under her eyes since her parents' funeral completed the effect, "Is there any way to convince Gaunt to postpone this meeting until tomorrow? At least, until I've had a chance to settle myself a touch more over this latest fiasco with Umbridge and Skeeter."

"We can but ask," drawled Severus, his face once more a mask of control from implementing his Occlumency shields, "However, the odds are stacked heavily against a favorable outcome."

Maia pinched the bridge of her nose in an all too familiar Snape-like response of exasperation, "Fine, I'll...we'll," she corrected with a grumbling huff, "Visit him later today. But I can't guarantee I'll be civil considering the circumstances."

As Severus and Lucius watched Maia storm from the wrecked exercise room to prepare herself for the long delayed family reunion, they almost felt sorry for what Lord Gaunt was about to experience...almost.

In the relatively quiet atmosphere of her personal quarters, McGonagall was taking a much needed moment to unwind after a truly exhausting day of running Hogwarts. Comfortably attired in her favourite tartan dressing gown, she looked forward to a relaxing night of reading.

But as luck would have it, it was doomed to be a short-lived respite.

Grabbing the special evening edition of The Prophet and a cup of fortified tea, Minerva settled into her favourite plush chair by the hearth and opened the paper, eager to peruse the latest developments surrounding Umbridge's arrest and trial.

Instead, the shocking headlines that greeted her disbelieving eyes had her sucking in a deep breath of surprise - this reflexive action subsequently causing her to start choking on the mouthful of the alcohol-laced beverage she had just imbibed.

Once Minerva got her breathing back under control, she hurriedly strolled over to the fireplace and Fire-called the Deputy Headmaster, Filius Flitwick.

"Sweet Circe, Min!" grumbled the diminutive Professor as he stepped into her quarters, "What's got you all in a flap at this hour?"

In answer, McGonagall pushed the newspaper under his nose, his own response mirroring that McGonagall's earlier reaction...minus the incident with the tea, of course.

"Holy Hufflepuff!" Flitwick's voice coming out somewhat squeakier than usual, "How did that wretched Skeeter come up with THIS sensationalist nonsense? And why now? Here of late, her articles have been far less tabloid trash and more actual reporting."

Minerva frowned, her mouth pressed into a thin line, "As loathe as I am to say it, I believe most of Skeeter's story," this admission causing Flitwick's eyebrows to sail upwards towards his hairline.

But before he could splutter out a single question, McGonagall elaborated, "I've seen more than my fair share over the years of how Alphas act when they are protecting their Omegas," she said, tapping the photograph featuring a thunderously glaring Severus Snape and a haughtily sneering Lucius Malfoy pointing their wands at anyone who dared to get too close to them as they escorted an anxious-looking Hermione Granger towards the Ministry courtroom, "As have you, Filius. And those two are practically shouting their connection for all the Wizarding World to hear."

"And what of the rest of the article?" asked Flitwick, tossing the paper onto the nearby coffee table as he took up a seat on the tartan-patterned settee, "Do you truly believe that Miss Granger is this long-lost Peverell-Ravenclaw heiress?"

Minerva let out a heavy sigh, "Given the mountain of evidence of what Dumbledore has done over the years, and to numerous families at that, I wouldn't put it past him to somehow have hidden her lineage from us and the rest of the school for his own demented purposes."

Filius shuddered involuntarily, Minerva's statement calling to mind the story of Lord Sirius Black's wrongful incarceration.

"You're probably right, Min," conceded Flitwick, looking all the world like he wished he could visit the convicted former Headmaster in Azkaban and hex the man six ways to Sunday, "That sick Bastard would've thoroughly enjoyed ruining yet another person's life under our very noses."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

While, presumedly, everyone in Britain was busy gossiping about the recently outed Alpha-Omega Triad in their magical community, tucked away in the unremarkable back offices of Births, Marriages and Death at The Daily Prophet was a young journalist who was busy verifying background information on a handful of dearly departeds for the next day's Obituaries page.

It could often be a mind-numbingly boring task, but it was a steady paycheck and everyone had to start somewhere in their career as an investigative reporter. At least, that's what Emma Squiggle told herself on a near daily basis in order to sort through the never-ending stacks of research materials.

And this afternoon was shaping up to be just another in a long line of those dreary humdrum days. Well, it was until a wax-sealed envelope from the DMLE arrived by a special Owl-post.

Curiosity piqued, Emma ripped open the secured correspondence after hurriedly checking it first for anything harmful. (One could never be too careful these days given the recent rash of missing persons, all Betas.)

Emma almost squealed with maniacal glee as she perused the contents of the folder - a notarized Ministry death certificate and an official Auror's report (filled out in its entirety by Agent Tonks, naturally) describing the sudden demise of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, his Dementor-kissed body having been Avada'd by persons unknown when his escort to Azkaban was attacked.

Merlin's Beard! This breaking story could very well make her career.

"Too bad Rita," Emma gloated aloud to the empty room, "This scoop's mine!"

At nearly the same moment in time, in a heavily warded corner in the storage cellar of The Hogs Head, three robed figures whispered amongst themselves.

"I can't thank you two enough for helping stage my alibi," said the first, dropping her hood to reveal her identity as Auror Tonks.

The other pair, Aberforth Dumbledore and Sybill Trelawney, waved a hand in a gentle dismissive gesture, "Think nothing of it, my dear," said Abe, levitating a glass of Ogden's Finest to each of them, raising his in a salute to the younger Wixen.

"It's true, we should be thanking you for showing us that Penseive memory," Sybill heartily stated, taking a sip of her Firewhiskey "After what he put our family through, it gave us the deep satisfaction of knowing that Sodding Bastard is well and truly gone from this side of the Veil."

Tonks' hair shifted to a bright pink, matching the colour of her cheeks, "Thanks, but enough about old Dumblefuck. It's time to celebrate."

"We couldn't agree more."

"Cheers!"

Ronald Weasley was miserable. Ever since his mandatory cleansing ritual to rid him of Dumbledore's influence, his world had turned upside down - although, there were a number of things that remained unchanged...his love of all things Quidditch, his seemingly bottomless appetite for food (with the accompanying bad table manners) and his burgeoning teenaged libido.

The root of his latest teenaged angst, at least in his mind, was being denied access to his best mate, Harry, and his girlfriend, Hermione, in the infirmary - and she was definitely his witch as far as he was concerned as she had forgiven him and Harry (mostly) for what they'd said and done because of the former Headmaster.

Unfortunately, he was being blocked from carrying on with his proper boyfriend duties as Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let him past the main door to the hospital wing.

"For the umpteenth time, Mr.Weasley," snarled Pomfrey, her arms folded tightly across her chest, "Neither of your friends are available for visitors. But if you wish to leave them a message, write it with the self-inking quill and parchment provided at the well-wishers desk and I will personally deliver it to them for you."

That mostly one-sided conversation was over a week ago - or was it two? - and Ron still hadn't managed to get a face-to-face conversation with either Harry or Hermione. Well, that and he had gotten a bit sidetracked with charming any witch he could into a hidden alcove with him for a bit of fun - strictly for practice, mind you, as a bloke had certain needs that required regular attention or they'd figuratively explode.

Besides, it was only fair, after all, as he was completely convinced that Hermione and Harry were warming each others beds on a regular basis while being cooped up in isolation together. It's precisely what he would do, given the same circumstances.

As long as he and Hermione wound up together as they were always meant to be, that was all that mattered.

This week, Ron had a sure-fire scheme to get past the she-devil that was the Hogwarts' Matron...borrowing Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it sooner (likely, it was the lack of blood flow to his brain whenever he spotted his next source of physical 'stress relief'... today his sights were set on that cute little Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott).

But his plans were soon to fall apart by the arrival of that evening's post.

Ronald was lounging about the Gryffindor common room that evening perusing the latest edition of 'Quidditch Quarterly' while nearby Seamus played a losing round of Wizard's chess against Dean Thomas.

No sooner had Finnegan conceded the match than The Daily Prophet arrived by special delivery owl-post, one of the copies landing squarely atop Ron's head.

"Ruddy bird!" he fussed, waving away the cheeky avian messenger, "And I thought Percy's owl Errol was a menace," he grumbled as he eagerly opened up the newspaper - like others in the room already had - to learn the fate of their most hated DADA teacher.

Instead, the sight that greeted him and his fellow Fifth year housemates was that of the full-page exposition centered on Hermione Granger, her previously undisclosed status as an Omega and the identity of her, not one but two, horrifyingly recognizable Alphas.

"Damn. Truly bad luck there, Mate," commiserated Seamus, his own eyes still glued to the article, "We know you were hoping to ask Hermione out to the last Hogsmeade weekend before end of term. But now..."

The youngest male Weasley's face turned a violent shade of puce as he spluttered, interrupting in outrage, "That Bloody well wasn't bad luck!" he snarled, flinging his copy of the newspaper to the closest coffee table, "That's Sodding Dark Magic, that is," adamantly claimed Ronald, pointing to the offending photograph of Hermione being flanked by Malfoy Sr. and Snape, "Those disgusting Slytherin Bastards obviously have my Hermione under a spell or potion."

Pavarti Patel snort-laughed at the flustered Weasley, causing his scowl to deepen, "Your Hermione? As if," she scoffed, gesturing in the direction of the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, "Only last week you were panting after Lavender like she was the last chocolate biscuit in the tin. And the week before that, you were caught snogging Romilda Vane by Professor Burbage. Hermione doesn't exist unless you need help with your homework."

Choosing to ignore the dark-haired witch's spot on observations, Ronald jumped up from the settee where he'd been comfortably sprawled only moments before and stormed towards the portrait hole, "I need to see McGonagall," he declared, tucking his wand up his robe sleeve, "Those evil gits won't get away with kidnapping my witch."

The flustered ginger had barely disappeared through the Guardian portrait when Dean spoke up "That's going to be a painfully short conversation," he drawled, glancing over at his dormmates with an impish smile on his face, "Alright everyone, time to place your bets! How long will it take before the Headmistress sends Ron back in a right snit and if this will involve Madame Pomfrey giving him a refresher course on Alpha-Omega physiology. Bonus payout if you guess correctly what animal McGonagall transfigures Ron into after he does something asinine like insulting her or the Matron. Buy in is ten sickles."

Neville, who had arrived shortly before from his first day assisting Professor Sprout as an apprentice - a long, dusty afternoon of harvesting potions ingredients from Greenhouse Three - to take a shower and then visit with a handful of his yearmates, tossed over a small bags of coins, "Ten minutes, definitely after an embarrassing anatomy lecture from Pomfrey...a babbling, bumbling, bright red baboon...AND, the Headmistress will Firecall his Mum to discuss with him on how to properly treat witches, not that any of it will do him any good."

"Damn, Neville," gawped Seamus, making note of Neville's predictions, collecting the bag of coins and handing it over to Dean, "I thought Ron was your best mate."

Longbottom shook his head, "Not so much anymore," he stated, heading to the boys' communal bathroom to freshen up, "Especially after all that he and Harry put Hermione...errrr, Maia through over the years."

Finnegan shrugged his shoulder as he carried on assisting Dean with the wagers, "Fair enough," turning to the gathered crowd of Gryffindors, "Alright then, who's next? Place your bets while there's still time!"

Neville chuckled to himself as he strolled away, it was obvious to everyone present who would be taking over and carrying on the Weasley Twins' legacy once those two mischievous gingers finally graduated from Hogwarts next year.

(Speaking of which, Neville's next visit was to Fred and George's secret laboratory hidden nearby to their, now fully authorized, shared private quarters - Luna and Ginny had the repurposed rooms to the left of theirs - the recent harvest of Boomberries seemed to be most promising for their ongoing Skivving Snackbox experiments and he was looking forward to their latest trial run...perhaps he could convince them that Ron would be the perfect target....errrr, candidate for testing their products.)

Maia stood staring forlornly at the yellow-orange flames in the safe-house hearth while waiting for Severus and Lucius to finish preparing for their upcoming visit with Gaunt. As Snape had warned her, Tom hadn't accepted another postponement of their meeting.

While the fire continued to crackle merrily, seemingly mocking Maia's dour mood, she wished for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes that she'd still had access to a functioning Time-Turner.

(But after Maia mentally ran a series of increasingly complex Arithmantic calculations on this hypothetical situation, incorporating all the known variables of an equally non-existent magical device, she reluctantly conceded that the only thing she could've safely changed would've been to prevent Skeeter from outing her and her Alphas to the Wizarding public - anything more drastic or elaborate would run the risk of negating the original outcome to Umbridge's trial.)

And this was how Maia's Alphas found her moments later, silently glaring at the fireplace as if it had personally offended her.

Lucius gently placed a hand on Maia's shoulder so as to not startle her and wind up on the receiving end of a hex to his face.

"I'm afraid it's time, Lioness," he said barely above a whisper, his tone apologetic.

A heavy sigh escaped Maria's lips, "Let's get this over with then, shall we?"

"Remember," advised Severus, tossing a small handful of Floo powder into the fire and calling out 'Lucius' study, Malfoy Manor', "If he tries anything...unsavoury with you, shift to your Nundu-form and breathe on him. We'll sort him out later...maybe."

"You never know," responded Maia, comforted by her Alphas' show of support, "He might warrant a touch of dragonfire from my Hebridean Black."

Quirking a single eyebrow at Maia, Snape deadpanned, "Either option would be...acceptable," he drawled, which in Snape-speak meant he was totally on board with whatever Animagus shape she chose.

"I'll meet you both on the other side," said Severus before strolling into the Emerald flames and disappearing from their sight.

"Ready when you are, Lioness," stated Lucius, gesturing for Maia to go next.

"Do you have the emergency Port-key with you?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Malfoy, her anxiety rolling off of her in palpable waves.

"Naturally, my dear," he soothed, patting his hand on the said item hidden beneath a Disallusionment charm deep within in his robe pocket, "And Severus has his, too."

"Alright, then. I'm ready to meet my more worrisome cousin."

Lucius' throat tightened with concern as he watched Maia disappear within the flash of Emerald fire, knowing without a doubt that her last sentiment was a lie.

Headmistress McGonagall had just dismissed the four Heads of Houses to carry out their assigned tasks (gathering their respective charges in the students' common rooms, reminding them of the school's anti-bullying policy, and addressing and quashing any rumours sure to have been generated about Miss Granger before things got out of hand), when there was an urgent knocking on her office door.

"Now what?" grumbled Flitwick as he waved his hand, wandlessly casting a Hominen Revelio to ascertain who was there, "Oh, it's just Mr. Weasley. Ronald that is, not one of the Twins," stated Filius, sounding equal parts relieved and annoyed as he glanced over and informed his colleague.

With a heavy, put upon sigh, Minerva nodded her head, "Well, let him in before he breaks my door down," she instructed, a disapproving frown in place to greet the impatient teen, "Hopefully, whatever's got his knickers in a twist will be relatively easy to handle."

Unfortunately, things were never that simple whenever this particular Weasley was involved.

Once Umbridge had been freed from the Wizengamot-imposed Unbreakable Vow by the Goblin cursebreaker, Rockbiter, Dolores giddily began regaling the former Dark Lord with the myriad crimes that the detestable little Mudblood, Hermione Granger, had dared commit against her and the Wizarding World - but mostly her - starting with the failed murder attempt using the Centaur herd in The Forbidden Forest as her weapons.

For the most part, Gaunt merely sat back and tuned out the woman's boring, spite-filled ramblings. That is, until the pink-clad witch divulged a few attention-grabbing details.

"...and then that vile little creature had the audacity to state in open court that her birth name wasn't Hermione Granger...that, instead, it was Maia Peverell!" spat Dolores, her mouth twisting into a deep frown, "Disgusting wretch, how dare she be-foul the sacred memory of an extinct, Noble Pureblood house by claiming she's one of them!" scowled Umbridge, her nose crinkling as if she'd smelled something exceptionally revolting.

"At least, I had the distinct pleasure of ridding our world of those repugnant Muggle vermin that she called parents," Dolores proudly crowed, "They'll never again spawn another magic-stealing thief in this life. I made absolutely certain of it."

It was a good thing that Gaunt hadn't yet taken a sip of the house-elf served tea. If he had, he surely would've choked on the imbibed liquid.

"Are you positive she said 'Maia Peverell'?" he demanded more than asked of Dolores when he recovered from his initial shock.

Eager to please her intimidating leader, Umbridge enthusiastically nodded her head in the affirmative "Of course, MiLord. The Granger chit practically sang it, as if that would magically transform her lies into truth," she scoffed.

"Although, I'm surprised Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy didn't inform you of this travesty themselves, they were there in court that day, after all," she casually added, conveniently not mentioning that they, too, were placed under the same privacy oaths cast on her.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending migraine, Gaunt dismissed the disgustingly pink witch from his sight, sending her off to one of the Manors many guest rooms for the next few days.

He'd decide on Umbridge's ultimate fate later - right now, he had a more pressing problem. Two of his most trusted lieutenants had deliberately kept hidden vital information about this Miss Granger, a Wixen who, in actuality, was his elusive cousin Maia - a potential Omega match to his Alpha that they'd purposely delayed him from seeing.

Their deceit simply couldn't go unpunished.

The hair on Lucius' neck figuratively stood on end the second he emerged from the Floo as he found himself staring down the wrong end of a pair of wands pointed directly at the center of his chest.

In the blink of an eye, he was relieved of his own wand and restrained with a partial Body-Bind from shoulders to knees. A quick glance about his study revealed that Severus and Maia had also received the same treatment along with an additional Silencio, jolts of blue lightning crackling through Maia's hair signaling a clear warning to everyone present of her rising displeasure.

Pulling himself up to his full height as best he could given the uncommonly tight magical bindings about him, Malfoy snapped at his captors, "Rab. Gus. What in Merlin's name is the meaning of this nonsense? My companions and I were personally invited here by Lord Gaunt himself!" he hissed, attempting to wandlessly and non-verbally vanish his restraints.

"Sorry about the uncivilized reception, Luc," apologized Rabastan Lestrange, although, the impish grin on his face indicated he was anything but contrite, "Boss' orders. He said it was necessary given the extenuating circumstances."

"And just what would those conditions be to warrant such rough handling?" pressed Malfoy, his previously calm, steel-grey eyes shifting to a stormy charcoal - almost black - in the space of three heartbeats as his protective Alpha nature bubbled to the surface.

In answer, a rumpled copy of the previous evening's special edition of The Daily Prophet landed with a soft 'plop' at Lucius' feet, "I'd say it's likely to do with this shocking bit of news," drawled Augustus, gesturing between the photograph, the headline and the trussed up trio.

"But, that's just my humble opinion, mind you."

Umbridge angrily stomped through the mostly quiet halls of the Manor in search of something descent to eat. (She was having to fend for sustenance for herself as the entirety of the Malfoy house-elf staff outright refused to serve the bad-tempered witch after she'd Crucio'd two of the elves over her breakfast not being to her liking.)

"Undisciplined little beasts," snarled Dolores, violently slamming closed yet another door when it led to, yet another, water closet instead of the kitchens, "Seriously, how many bathrooms does one wizard need?" she scoffed in distaste, "I mean, really!"

Turning another corner, Umbridge found herself staring down a seemingly endless corridor with several more doorways, a minimum of a dozen additional possibilities. Grumbling under her breath about 'pretentious prats', she reached for the closest doorknob to her left and froze in place as if Stupified.

Muffled voices from at least three wizards could be heard through the heavy wooden door, one of them she readily recognized as the Lord of the Manor himself, Lucius Malfoy.

"Finally!" she muttered, pushing the door open and stepping through without invite, "Someone who can properly discipline those blasted house-elves, reminding them of the consequences for disobeying their betters."

But as the man in question came into view, the sight of the bane of her existence - that horrid little Mudblood, Hermione Granger - constrained within a Body-Bind had the toad-like witch cackling with pure malevolent glee.

"Well, isn't this a wonderful sight," gloated Umbridge, pointing her wand at the, presumably, helpless bint, "Getting your long overdue comeuppance, I see," completely missing the shifting colours of the bound girl's eyes.

"Allow me to assist in removing this trash, gentlemen," sneered Dolores, a powerful slicing hex leaving her twisted wand in the blink of an eye, the violently red spellfire sailing towards Maia's unprotected shoulders and neck before Rabastan or Augustus could react and put up a Shielding Charm.

Once Gaunt left Lestrange and Rookwood in charge of receiving his three guests, Tom exited Lucius' study, hurriedly returning to his own personal chambers to shower and change in preparation for the trio's arrival.

But first, he had to regain control of his rising temper as the last thing he wanted was to Crucio Snape and Malfoy on the spot in front of his young cousin, Maia...first impressions were important, after all.

To aid in that end, Gaunt gave Skeeter's tell-all article a second, more thorough, examination. Eventually he tossed the irritating newspaper aside, scrubbing a hand over his face in resigned exasperation.

Loathe as he was to admit it, Gaunt had to concede that Maia was never meant to be his Omega, the gut wrenching evidence was there before him in black and white, there was no more denying it.

That disappointment aside, Tom, however, couldn't let slide the fact that Severus and Lucius had deliberately kept Maia from him, despite knowing that he and others were actively searching for any sign of or information about the witch. Snape and Malfoy also hadn't sought his permission to court his little cousin as Pureblood tradition dictated, being as he was her legal head of household - well, as far as the Gaunt line of succession was concerned, anyway.

As such, these blatant slights simply couldn't go ignored and unpunished. The main problem now was deciding what was...appropriate and effective without creating an, avoidable, rift between himself and Maia.

While the concept was glaringly new to him, Maia (and Harry Potter) was his family. And Gaunt was determined to do right by her...and, given sufficient time after that aging incident, maybe the boy, too.

While Tom stood under the delicious warmth of his shower mulling over his options, a wicked grin slowly bloomed across his face.

Perhaps as an additional welcoming gift to Maia, he could offer her the opportunity to assist him in...enlightening a certain toad-like witch about the Gaunt family history before collaborating over the odious woman's fate.

Yes, that would be an excellent chance for them to strengthen their familial bond. Of that, he was certain.

Headmistress McGonagall stared at the youngest male Weasley whose current complexion was doing an excellent imitation of a ripe tomato after his near-shouted claims that his girlfriend was in danger from two conniving Slytherins.

"Mr. Weasley, please calm yourself," she firmly stated, "While Professor Flitwick and I appreciate your concerns for Miss Granger...errr, Miss Peverell. We can assure you that she is in absolutely no danger from either of her Alphas."

Filius readily nodded in agreement, "Being their Omega, Lord Malfoy and Professor Snape would rather turn their wands on themselves before they'd harm her. It's not in their nature to..."

But Ronald was having none of their placating words, the whole world had obviously gone mad if they believed that tripe printed in The Prophet.

"No! You're wrong!" snapped Weasley, cutting off the rest of Flitwick's sentence, "There's no way my 'Mione is an Omega, Muggleborns are all Betas. Everyone knows that!" he said adamantly, pointing towards the Headmistress' fireplace, "You have to call the Aurors to rescue her from those sick Bastards before it's too late!"

For a brief moment, a look of satisfied relief washed over the young Wixen's visage as McGonagall stepped forward and tossed down some Floo powder.

But it was to be a short-lived feeling as instead of firecalling the DMLE as he expected, the Headmistress placed a request for the school Matron, "Madame Pomfrey, could you please step through to my office. Mr. Ronald Weasley's here and in need of your services."

And before Ronald could utter a single word in protest, Flitwick had him bound to a nearby chair with a silent Incarcerous.

"Now, Mr. Weasley," the Charms Professor said with a frown, "You are going to sit there quietly and listen to us without further interruption," adding a Silencio to the teen when he opened his mouth to complain despite his instructions to the contrary.

"As we said, you WILL listen to what we have to say."

Freshly scrubbed and dressed, Gaunt prepared to go seek out his young cousin, confident that Lestrange and Rookwood hadn't been too...enthusiastic in their reception of Snape and Malfoy. Well, maybe a little, those two still needed some sort of punishment for their deceptions.

But that could wait for a more appropriate time. Right now, Tom needed to welcome Maia properly as befit his Heir Apparent to the Gaunt family line.

Making a brief side trip to his warded dresser, Gaunt rummaged through the small collection of baubles he stored there until he found the one he wanted - the locket of Salazar Slytherin. As he no longer had need of the thing as a soul shard container, he felt it an appropriate gift for Maia (originally, he had intended it to be a courting present for his possible Omega, but as that was no longer a viable option, it would now serve as a symbol of Maia being officially named as his successor.)

With the necklace carefully tucked away in his robe pocket, Tom quickly strolled out of his chambers, heading in the direction of Lucius' study. However, halfway down the hall towards his destination, Gaunt stopped mid stride, his feet seemingly glued to the spot, an overwhelming sense of dread over the outcome of this visit with his cousin impeding his progress, unexpected doubts clouding his mind.

Long seconds ticked by before Tom vigorously shook his head, sending the unwanted thoughts skittering back into the ether where they belonged. "Just a simple case of nerves," he muttered to himself, "It's nothing, you'll see. Everything will be fine."

Until it wasn't.

Ronald wasn't even half listening to the lecture Madame Pomfrey was giving him at this point. 'Alphas. Blah, blah, blah. Omegas. Blah, flipping blah. Muggleborns. Rare emergence. So many Sodding nonsensical words of blah!'

('Merlin! This woman could talk the ears off a Jackalope! Will she ever shut up?')

From the moment Flitwick had bound and gagged him, Weasley knew he couldn't depend on any of these Professors for assistance. So he decided to bide his time, silently nodding along as if agreeing to whatever was being said - no matter how wrong they were - and leave the Headmistress' offices as soon as he was released.

And based on his housemates assorted reactions earlier, Ron also realized he'd likely not find any allies amongst any of the students at Hogwarts, either. But, he was certain of one person he could count on at home. His Mum. After all, she'd been telling him for years that he and Hermione were 'meant to be', that they were a 'match destined by the stars', just like Ginny and Harry.

She would understand his desperate need and help him rescue his witch from those Bloody Slytherin snakes.

He just had to hold out for a few minutes longer.

Maia was fuming as she silently contemplated all manner of unpleasant forms of retribution against Rookwood and Lestrange for them unceremoniously restraining her and her Alphas with an Incarcerous - the added Silencio on her and Severus only increasing her resolve to be...creative in her actions. That is, once she got loose from her bindings.

But all thoughts of payback instantly flew out of her head when THAT unnerving, tittering, hate-filled voice directed their particular brand of vitriol at her from somewhere behind her.

In a flash, Maia shifted all her focus towards the pink-clad nightmare, the one who forever stole her parents from her life.

And it had her seeing red, quite literally.

A blood-curdling, banshee-level screech reached Tom's ears mere seconds before he entered Lucius' study, the sound making shivers run down even his war-hardened spine, that earlier feeling of impending dread in the hallway near his rooms returning in full force.

"What the Bloody Fuck is THAT monstrosity!?" demanded the unmistakable voice of Dolores Umbridge, the sound of spellfire punctuating her words, "I always knew you were an abomination, Mudblood!" she hissed, a bright red light leaving the tip of her twisted wand just as Gaunt stepped across the threshold of the room, "Die you filthy Freak!"

Rabastan, who was standing closest to Maia when Dolores cast that double slicing hex at the younger witch, instinctively Finite'd the Body-Bind and Silencio over the girl and threw a Protego to shield the teen - but it was all a split second too late.

Umbridge's first hate-fueled spell had hit it's mark along Peverell''s back, opening a gaping wound from her left shoulderblade down to her waist - the one aimed at her neck missing by the narrowest of margins when Maria reflexively dropped towards the ground in an effort to dodge the hexxes.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the whole room seemingly exploded with an array of blinding light, thunderous sound and scorching heat.

Maia's howl of pain as she fell into a bloody heap on the floor was quickly joined by a mixture of Lucius' loudly growled threats while he and a still Silencio'd Severus fought against their bindings. In the background was Umbridge's taunting laughter (soon to be replaced by screaming) interspersed with more curses and Rookwood's verbal stream of expletives punctuated by defensive spells - all of which was a minor disturbance compared to the blast of magic that was unleashed next by the injured teenager.

It was a display of raw power that Lestrange wouldn't forget for as long as he lived...or until someone Obliviated him.

And in this case, his rattled nerves wouldn't object to the latter.

Lucius and Severus were desperate to reach their fallen Maia, their Alpha natures promising painful retribution against all who had harmed their lioness...starting with that gloating pink-clad hag, Umbridge.

"For such a proud, self-proclaimed Pureblood, Dolores," snarled Lucius, his steel-grey eyes taking on a flint-like harshness, "You display an incredible amount of ignorance about our culture, especially when it comes to Alphas and their Omegas."

But Umbridge wasn't listening to any of Malfoy's taunting, her attention was fixed solely upon the filthy human beast that was slowly making its way towards her.

"Pathetic creature," she smirked, sending a Blood-Boiling Curse in Maia's direction, sneering as the girl barely managed to evade the spell, "Even your vile Muggle parents put up more of a fight. But, then again, what can one expect from such a feeble-minded, disgusting Mudblood playing with stolen magic."

"Crucio!"

Maia heard screaming in her ears, the pain along her back throbbing in time with her heartbeat, only her brain wasn't fully registering that the anguished sounds were coming from her. At least, not straight away.

Then, the torture curse landed across Maia's left shoulder and arm and it was as if a switch had been flipped - the noises falling away to a dull roar even as the young witch realized that she was no longer bound and silenced.

Opening her eyes (which Maia hadn't noticed until now that she'd closed), she saw red...everywhere - from the blood running down her legs and pooling at her feet to the flashes of spellfire flying from all directions about the room.

But it was the latest source of bright crimson that caught the attentions of everyone in Malfoy Manor, including Maia, as the young Gryffindor's very skin was engulfed - from head to toe - in giant ribbons of fire.

The screeching from Umbridge caused Maia's eyes to snap towards the toad-like woman's paling face, "What the Bloody Fuck is THAT monstrosity?!", another Cruciatus following in the path of her bellowed demand.

At first, Maia thought she had shifted into her Phoenix-form out of an unconscious need for self-preservation but she quickly dismissed that notion. This felt vastly different. The magic heavier. Darker.

A fleeting glimpse of herself in the lone mirror on the nearby wall of the study, that somehow managed to remain intact through the ongoing spellfire, confirmed Maia's suspicions.

She was no Phoenix. This was something new. Exciting. Dangerous.

Especially, for one Dolores Jane Umbridge.

The mayhem that greeted Tom as he finally managed to enter the study was...eye-opening to put it mildly.

On the far left was Rabastan and Augustus standing between the Incarcerous'd Lucius and Severus, defending themselves and the other two wizards from a wildly spell-flinging Dolores - that witch never could stay out of trouble for long.

Gaunt's focus, however, was quickly drawn from those five Wixen to the Being - presumably, his young cousin, Maia - at the far right of the room, their very presence threatening to set the place on fire...or, at the least, Umbridge, who was simply making things worse for herself by casting one Cruciatus Curse after another at the slowly approaching living flames.

"I always knew you were an abomination, Mudblood! Die you filthy Freak!"

For Gaunt (and quite possibly, all the others in the room), time seemed to slow to a crawl at that point.

The latest Crucio that left Umbridge's twisted wand would be the last to emerge from that gnarled bit of oak as a small flicker of flame shot outwards from Maia's outstretched right hand, engulfing the offending weapon (and two of the fingers grasping it) in a of ribbon of vibrant red.

In seconds, the wand and both digits were a smouldering pile of oily, pink-tinged ash on the floor at Dolores' feet...it would take another three heartbeats before Umbridge's mind to register what just happened.

And when she did, the screeching began once more.

Tom stood in the doorway, staring at the sight of what, presumably, was his cousin in an avenging Fire Elemental form taking that wretched woman, Umbridge, apart literally piece by piece. After the wand and two fingers had been half the older witch's left foot, swiftly followed by her right ear, each wound instantly cauterized by a tendril of living flame, preventing Dolores from bleeding out but prolonging her agony.

Gaunt found himself smiling with something he supposed was akin to familial pride (he wasn't absolutely certain, having never experienced anything like it before now). Who knew that Omegas could be quite so delightfully...ruthless.

As Tom continued to watch Maia work her fiery magic, a twinge of jealousy flaired up out of nowhere, causing his previous good mood to sour.

('Damnit! If she weren't already bonded to Severus and Lucius, Maia would be my perfect match.')

Then, a niggling touch of another unfamiliar emotion snuck in, causing the smile to completely fall from his face - fear.

Only now did it dawn on Gaunt that he would have to tread carefully with his punishments for those two Alphas, otherwise, this Omega would turn her fiery wrath loose upon him.

('Bugger me sideways! Things were so much simpler when I was the Dark Lord.')

For a brief (and mercifully fleeting) moment, Tom wondered if it was too late to return to being Lord Voldemort.

Thankfully, those few seconds passed by without anyone else being made aware, Gaunt having summarily dismissed that notion as being a Very. Bad. Idea.

Chapter Text

Madame Pomfrey had just finished giving her refresher course of the Secondary Presentations lecture - with a much stronger emphasis on Alpha-Omega dynamics - to the silently fuming and tightly bound to a chair Ronald Weasley when McGonagall's fireplace flared to life.

From the Emerald flames emerged a familiar voice, one that had a touch of desperation in his words.

"Headmistress, I need help," pleaded Sirius, giving the older witch a wild-eyed look, "It's about Harry, you see. We could really use Pomfrey's medical expertise. Hermione...errr, Maia and her...two companions only just left Grimmauld Place and their...her conversations have my Godson in a right agitated state and given his delicate condition..."

McGonagall hurriedly waved a hand in a shushing motion to prevent Sirius from rambling on about Mr. Potter's health and it's cause but the damage had already been done. Ronald's face took on an unflattering shade of puce that clashed horribly with his ginger hair upon hearing that Harry...the best friend he'd been prevented from visiting all these weeks was no longer on school grounds.

And likely hadn't been for quite some time.

('That lying harpy! Wait until my Mother hears about this!')

"I'll send Poppy over as soon as possible, Sirius," assured Minerva, doing her best not to scowl at the flustered man, "She's attending to another important matter but should be done shortly," she then shut down the Floocall with a flick of her wand.

('Merlin give me strength,' McGonagall muttered to herself, 'At this rate, I'll need a Stamina Potion before lunch.')

Turning to the Matron, the Headmistress shook her head, "Please tend to Mr.Potter before Lord Black wears out my Floo," she smirked, ushering Pomfrey towards the hearth, "I'll finish here with Mr. Weasley and send him back to his dormitory."

"As you wish, Minerva. I shouldn't be gone too long," stated Poppy, tossing down a pinch of Floo powder and vanishing within the Emerald flames, ('What more in Hades could that girl have said to cause such a flap?')

As soon as the Matron disappeared from view, McGonagall fixed a stern glare on Ronald, "Now, Mr. Weasley, Madame Pomfrey's biology review should have put to rest any doubts regarding Miss Granger's...rather, Miss Peverell's status and her connections to Lord Malfoy and Professor Snape."

"But just to be absolutely clear, Miss Peverell IS, without a doubt, an Omega and she'll never, under any circumstances, be 'your witch' as you've so erroneously claimed. Furthermore, I strongly advise dropping these baseless accusations of kidnapping using Dark Magic coercion before her Alphas get wind of them - as they won't let these egregious aspersions go unchallenged. Is that understood?" she emphasized in a tone that brooked no argument as she released all the bindings on the red-faced teen.

"Yes...Headmistress," replied Ronald, not daring to look the older witch in the face as he lied his compliance through clenched teeth.

"Good. You may return to Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Weasley, as I imagine you need to finish your packing to leave for the Summer break," dismissing the boy with an impatient 'shooing' motion.

('Interfering old crones,' he muttered, scrambling out the Headmistress' office and up the stairs, making a detour to the owlery, 'I've got to get that letter off to Mum tonight! She'll know how to rescue Hermione from those vile snakes.')

A few stray sparks clung to Maia's wildly curling hair in her decent to the ground, collapsing as she did into a boneless heap in her human form, her angry Fire Elemental energy having finally been spent through her brutal physical retribution against Umbridge.

The older witch was barely breathing, unconscious and missing more than a few appendages - but never again would that pink toad harm or threaten another of Maia's family...not without assistance anyway.

And Maia didn't see the chances of that happening anytime soon given the vicious sneer that her older cousin was currently aiming at the detestable, smoking shell of a woman.

"Are you alright, Lioness?" soothed a rumbling voice near her right ear. At some point, Maia had closed her eyes but she'd know that silky tone anywhere.

"Yes, for the most part, I think," she replied to Lucius, peaking over at him and Severus with a tired smile on her face, "Although, I reserve the right to have an emotional meltdown later on...once everything that's happened fully sinks into my brain."

"Whatever you need, let us know and we'll do our best to aid you," drawled Severus, extending his hand for her to take, pulling her to stand between them.

Maia thanked them both with a chaste kiss to their cheeks, completely ignoring the existence of the other people in the room. They could wait a moment longer while she sought comfort with her Alphas, assuring herself that they truly were unharmed.

After that...well, her reactions would all depend on her cousin's answers to her questions.

Glancing at the three other wizards in Lucius' study, Maia's smile quickly faded. Stepping towards Lord Gaunt, she drew in close enough to slap him across the face, hard, "What the Bloody Hell kind of reception was that!?" she hissed, drawing back and punching Tom in the nose much like she'd done to Draco Malfoy in their Third Year, "I should just Floo out of here with my Alphas and wash my hands of you, you Fucking Bastard - unless you can convince me to do otherwise.

"You have five minutes, so you best make it good."

When the last of the late Headmaster's remaining enchantments over him was finally broken, Aberforth breathed a long sigh of relief, the dispelled magic having resulted in the Hogshead Inn now fairly gleaming in the afternoon sun - no longer being engulfed in the perpetual dirt and grime of Albus' hateful curse had seen to that.

And while the Inn would never, by any stretch of the imagination, be a five-star establishment, it was, once again, the cozy and rustic waygate for travelers as Aberforth had always envisioned.

But with his late brother's actions having tainted this dream, Abe found himself wondering if it wasn't time to sell up and leave it behind and start anew elsewhere with his restored family at his side.

It was during dinner that evening, and Aberforth's latest round of contemplating the issue of whether to remain in Hogsmeade or move on, that Sybill collapsed, crying out in distress as she fell.

Abe was at her side in the blink of an eye, settling her down upon his lap as her sisters tended to her and their upset children.

"Who's contacting you in such a rush, dear?" asked Cassiopeia, placing a cooled flannel against Sybill's bared neck, "Please tell me it's not that Wanker, Albus."

Without raising her head from its cradled position in her hands, Sybill rasped, "No, it's not that Sodding pillock, it's Rosalind," pausing a moment to listen to the invisible, and rather persistent, messenger.

Sybill let out a low hiss mere seconds later, "Contact the Muggle-Magical Liaison Office at the DMLE immediately, Abe," she urgently instructed, her now ashen face still slightly hidden behind her hands, "Then Firecall Poppy. We're going to need her expert services shortly."

Cassiopeia's brow furrowed, knowing from prior experience Sybill's requests meant only one thing, "Who's been sent prematurely across the Veil, sister?"

"Two someones," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "Hermione Granger's parents."

"Fucking Hell!" exclaimed Aberforth, nearly dropping the tin of Floo powder into the fireplace, "Best make certain her Alphas are with her before you break this news, love."

"Yes, I know. I have done this sort of thing before...unfortunately."

Rabastan and Thorfinn had every intention of making themselves scarce once the Fire Elemental that was Lady Peverell-Ravenclaw became fully engaged with tormenting that odious excuse of a witch Dolores Umbridge.

They weren't concerned with Snape or Malfoy, either, as both Alphas attentions were focused elsewhere, cautiously waiting at a discreet distance until their wrathful Omega was through extracting her vengeance upon the hapless older witch, quickly putting out any stray sparks that threatened to set the study on fire.

But Lord Gaunt had other ideas in mind for them, Apparating to block their escape, looming in the doorway like an unwanted specter of Death.

Their leader's abrupt manifestation in their path had Rabastan reflexively uttering an almost shrill 'meep' - Thorfinn managed to not make a similar undignified noise, but just barely.

"And where do you two think you are going?" drawled Tom, a single eyebrow arched in question. Not waiting for a reply, he continued on, "Once my delightful cousin's done dispensing justice for her parents, and providing Umbridge survives the ordeal, I need you to transport what remains of Dolores to St.Mungo's. Afterwards, check in with Rockwood - he may need you to collect the next batch of volunteers for his ongoing project."

Rowle winced, uncomfortable in bringing up a glaring issue, the movement didn't go unnoticed. "Do you have a problem with this assignment now that you have your Omega, Thor?" bristled Gaunt, his wand arm twitching at the perceived defiance.

"Merlin, no! Nothing like that, MiLord," Rowle responded, hesitantly adding, "It's about Umbridge."

"What of her, then? Don't keep us in suspense," grumbled Tom, growing impatient when the younger wizard didn't immediately elaborate.

"We'll all wind up in Azkaban over...that," gesturing towards the shredded and burnt shell of a witch, "But, especially, your cousin when Umbridge presses charges."

A wicked gleam sparked through Gaunt's eyes, "Not if she has no memory of anything that's transpired since she escaped the Ministry."

"Bloody Hell! Why didn't I think of that?" mused Rowle, a mildly puzzled look settling across his face.

"Probably because your brains have been deprived of proper blood flow since finding your Omega," teased Lestrange, smirking at the resulting flush of pink that coloured his colleague's cheeks.

"Enough with the idle chit-chat," mildly chided Tom, "We've work to do." "Of course, MiLord."

"Apologies, MiLord."

Molly flitted about the Burrow like a sugar-drunk hummingbird, waving her wand to send dirty dishes to the sink to begin washing up even as she moved further into the kitchen to check on her latest batches of ginger newts, cauldron cakes and treacle tarts.

Only the arrival of a Hogwarts' school owl slowed the Weasley Matriarch's frenetic pace. Four of her children were due home from the school the next day and she had grand plans for each of them over the coming Summer hols, starting with them partaking in these delicious, specialty potions-infused treats to ensure their co-operation.

(What had been a carefully guarded secret, thanks in part to Dumbledore's over inflated male ego, was that some of his most insidious ideas came from someone else's twisted mind - in this case, one Molly Weasley nee Prewitt. Not even the inventive questioning by Tonks in his sister Arianna's form had managed to wrestle this tidbit from him - a prudently timed and strategically cast self-Obliviate shortly after his last safe house was breached ensured it remained that way.)

Amongst the things lost to Dumbledore's mind through his personalized memory charm had been Molly's advice that Albus should utilize Harry's house-elf, Dobby, to carry out tasks that required a touch more stealth...like the spiking of a certain Muggleborn's food and drink with illegal potions to guarantee her compliance in aiding Harry and Ronald with their schoolwork.

Another missing fact was that it was Madame Weasley who championed the cause to dismantle the Alpha-Omega matching program...purely for selfish reasons on her part, of course - the last thing she would tolerate would be having to share her Alpha husband, Arthur, and the Burrow with some upstart (and likely younger and prettier) Omega. Dumbledore, however, was solely responsible for devising the subsequent scheme of eliminating Omegas from the British Wizarding population altogether.

So, with Molly's steadfast support (he didn't even have to dose her with a monthly loyalty potion!) they began his grand, long-term 'revitalization' project by covertly tracking unmated individuals through the Ministry - unknowing test subjects that determined just how quickly he could eradicate this unwanted secondary gender without anyone becoming suspicious of his involvement.

As a reward for Molly's enthusiastic assistance with this oftimes research and paperwork heavy process, Dumbledore allowed her to choose from a pool of mutually agreed upon candidates (read wealthy and genetically acceptable) for her large brood.

(Of particular interest to Dumbledore in his experiments was the potential outcome of a pairing between Molly's precious Ronniekins and one Hermione Granger. It had taken some fast talking on his part to get Molly to consider all the advantages such a coupling would have for the boy's future progeny ('you must admit, her intellect and drive are very much needed to counterbalance his...lackluster talents.') But, in the end, it was the tantalizing promise of gaining a substantial Muggle dowry through this marriage that swayed the Weasley Matriarch to accept the match.)

Lamentably - for Dumbledore, anyway - his spectacular public removal from Hogwarts and eventual capture left Mrs. Weasley to carry on this vital work alone. It was no surprise then that these extra responsibilities left Molly with little time to relax, much less, have the luxury of reading, the important news from the Wizarding World reaching her through Arthur.

But all that was about to change with the arrival of the post-owl with its special delivery of The Daily Prophet and the accompanying scroll from her youngest son Ronald.

As the sounds of skin striking skin echoed about the study, Rabastan and Rowle took that opportune moment of distraction to levitate the still smoking and unconscious form of Madame Umbridge from the room, making haste lest they, too, gained the ire of the feisty, and once again human-looking, Omega.

But it wasn't until they'd stealthily dropped off the grotesquely injured Dolores at St.Mungo's intake desk that they dared to give voice to their opinions on the...complicated first meeting between the Gaunt-Peverell cousins.

"Merlin! I never thought I'd live to see the day that our Lord Gaunt would show fear," stated Lestrange, shuddering at the memory, "Especially, of such a wee slip of a witch."

Rowle didn't bother trying to stifle his snort-laughter, "And though she be but little, she is fierce," he smirked, quoting an oddly familiar line, "Besides, he'd be an absolute dunderhead not to dread crossing anyone who can transform into a Bloody Fire Elemental."

"True," conceded Rabastan with a smirk, "I just hope Gaunt doesn't do anything more to piss her off, at least, until after I find my own Omega."

"Nice to know you have your priorities straight," said Rowle, rolling his eyes at his colleague.

"Of course, I aim to please."

It had taken Lord Gaunt the better part of an hour to soothe his cousin Maia's temper down to low simmer...for the most part. At least she was no longer poking him in the chest with the tip of her claw-tipped index finger, punching him in the face and re-breaking his freshly healed nose or, most importantly, threatening to broil his family jewels with her favoured Bluebell flames...thank Merlin!

Eventually, Maia's ire cooled enough for her to consider staying on at Manor for dinner, on one condition, "There'll be no more talk of Severus and Lucius needing your permission to court me," she snipped, linking her arms through theirs, "I've already accepted them and they me, and that's all that matters."

"However, to placate your need to appear as my properly protective Head of House, I'll concede to a small bethrothal party and a tasteful announcement in the Society section of The Daily Prophet...provided that anyone but Rita Skeeter writes the article," hissed Maia, wishing she had never let that troublesome beetle out of her jar after the Tri-Wizard Tournament last Summer.

Tom grumbled under his breath about 'bossy Gryffindors' but nodded his agreement, "That would be...acceptable."

It wasn't but he valued the continued existence of his manhood far too much to voice any dissent.

('Sweet Circe's Tits! When did I lose control of this situation? Did I ever truly have it?' he sighed heavily to himself, 'Probably not.')

As Maia resumed chiding her cousin Tom over his deplorable manners - amongst other things - her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head, collapsing with little warning into a disconcerted Severus' arms - her adrenaline-driven body only now registering the critical stages of depletion of her magical, physical and emotional energy reserves.

"Bring Maia over to the chaise lounge in the Solarium, Severus," directed Lucius, flicking his wand to purge the study of the lingering odor of scorched flesh (and any wayward remnants) of roasted pink toad, "We don't want her waking in the same place where she tormented and maimed another person...even if that wretched woman deserved every last curse."

Snape didn't hesitate, carefully scooping their little lioness up into a firmer grip within his arms and hurriedly striding from the no-longer offensive smelling room, casting an infuriated glare over in Gaunt's direction as they exited the study.

"Whatever that was about," Tom protested somewhat petulantly, gesturing towards the retreating forms of Severus and Maia, "Wasn't my fault."

"Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel any better," growled Lucius, waving Gaunt to exit the door next, "But make no mistake, your questionable decision-making these past few days - particularly, bringing Umbridge into the Manor - directly contributed to Maia's current condition."

The normally confident wizard's shoulders drooped slightly, a sign of reluctant resignation, "Fuck! She's going to make me grovel for forgiveness for the foreseeable future, isn't she?"

"Only if you're lucky."

Molly Weasley's face - in similar fashion as her youngest son's had done earlier - flushed to an unflattering shade of crimson as The Daily Prophet's headliner article on Hermione, Umbridge and those two wretched Slytherin wizards, Snape and Malfoy, unfolded before her ever widening and disbelieving eyes, the shriek that erupted from her throat when she learned of the girl's newly revealed status as a long-lost, Squib-born heiress was intense enough to even unnerve the ghoul in the Burrow's attic.

"No!" she bellowed, shattering a window in the sitting room with a tantrum-fueled hex, "That Sodding cow!" she scowled, casting a hasty Reparo on the broken panes of glass, "Skeeter never could keep her damnable nose out of everyone else's business."

"And those slimy Alpha Snakes!" bellowed Molly, splintering the front door with a Bombarda, "How dare they claim our Hermione for themselves! She's meant for my Ronniekins, Dumbledore made all the arrangements himself!" she growled as she scurried over to a hidden wall safe behind the portrait of her Aunt Tessie, opening it up and pulling out a thick, wax-sealed document.

With a flick of her wand, Molly hurriedly transfigured her flowery, everyday housedress into a more suitable business attire. Carefully stuffing the Betrothal Contract into her robe pocket, she then brusquely stomped over to the fireplace and angrily threw down a pinch of Floo powder, calling out 'The Ministry of Magic Atrium'.

As the swirling Emerald flames carried the Weasley Matriarch away - her intended destination being the Department of Magical Contracts - she muttered unpleasantly, "That girl's a promised Beta, a future Weasley bride and those two smarmy, gold-digging Slytherin Alphas aren't about to steal her away from us with blatant lies and outright trickery!"

The hypocrisy of her words - of hers and Dumbledore's unscrupulous scheme to bind the unsuspecting girl to the Weasley bloodline - were obviously lost on ginger-haired witch.

Not that Molly would give a rat's arse even if she did.

Maia's senses slowly began to filter back to her, the first being her hearing. However, the distinctly male voices interacting somewhere nearby were garbled, sounding more like Mermish to her awakening ears. And although most of the words were complete gibberish, their tone was clearly hostile. Well, two of the three were antagonistic, the third was more defensive, 'It's not my fault' the one discernable phrase amongst the jumbled conversations.

The seconds flowed unhurriedly by - much like treacle in the Winter - but eventually Maia was able to pry her eyelids apart, and regretting the action almost immediately. The light flooding in from the too bright images swimming across her field of vision triggered an instant headache, though the resulting low groan emerging from her lips pompted a temporary cease to her blurry companions' arguments.

"Maia! Thank Merlin you're alright," murmured Lucius, gently grasping her left hand in both of his and pressing soft kisses to her fingertips.

"Says you," rasped Maia, cautiously squinting at her blonde Alpha with one eye, "I feel like I've been broiled alive and then trampled by an irate herd of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"Hrnmm, have a lot of experience with that, do you?" asked Severus as he helped Maia to sit up and drink a Headache Relief potion, the smirk evident in his voice though his face was still a muzzy expanse of pale skin framed by a thick curtain of raven-black hair.

Once the blessed respite of the elixir took effect, and the rest of her senses had fully returned, Maia leveled an exasperated glare at the remaining wizard standing across the room from the trio.

The subtle flinch from her cousin Gaunt hadn't gone unnoticed.

Tom hesitantly moved closer to the smirking Omega, his sense of self-preservation screaming at the back of his mind to just turn about and leave. But he knew he couldn't avoid Maia's admonishment forever, best to simply get it over with sooner and move on with his other, more pressing, projects.

Time seemingly crawled to a stop before Maia grumbled out, "While I appreciate that you wished to give me the opportunity to exact revenge upon that pink-clad...witch, I didn't much care for you making that decision unilaterally," she snipped, her hair crackling with agitated sparks of magic, "That being said..."

Maia's voice trailed off as she shifted into her Nundu-form, breathing a pale, green mist straight into Tom's horror-stricken face.

Chapter Text

Madge Sinclair had just returned to her desk in the Department of Magical Contracts after her, much too short to her mind, coffee break when a right harpy of a witch stormed over and began wildly waving about a Ministry sealed envelope in her left hand, demanding to speak immediately with her Supervisor, completely ignoring the other Wixen already waiting in the outer room.

When Madge calmly inquired about the purpose for her visit and if she had an appointment with Mr. Clearmont, the irate red-head glared at the receptionist and snipped, "That's none of your Sodding business!" she hissed, slapping her free hand onto the desk top to emphasize her point, nearly overturning a crystal ink pot in the process, "Now, do as I asked and direct me to your Boss. It's a rather pressing matter and time is of the essence."

Madame Sinclair was, unfortunately, accustomed to handling such ill-mannered clients for her boss on a daily basis and she wasn't about to let this latest cow of a witch badger her way into his office.

Madge rose quickly from her chair, moving to block the snarling ginger witch from Clearmont's receiving room, her hand already reaching towards the hidden button on the side of her desk to call for Security.

Well, that was her p!an anyway until the smugly grinning harridan pointed a wand at her face and gleefully whispered 'Imperio'.

Having already placed a heavy privacy charm about his office for the comfort of his guests - a habit he'd formed after his first day at this job - Harold Clearmont was wholly unaware of and unprepared for the commotion currently taking place in the outer rooms between his colleague and the Weasley Matriarch.

Sighing heavily, he scrawled his signature onto the paperwork in front of him, the swirling ink on the bottom of the yawn-inducing building expansion contract declaring 'Permit approved.' In a bored tone, he called out, "Send in my next appointment if you would please, Madge."

If he'd bothered to look up from the case file on his desk, Clearmont would have seen the telltale blank expression in Madame Sinclair's eyes and known immediately that something was amiss...but he hadn't. And therefore, when he finally did glance upwards, he was shocked to discover a similarly aged to him ginger-haired witch standing before his desk instead of the expected, and rather elderly, Mr. Davenport.

But before he could fuss at his assistant for this, albeit rare, mistake, Molly slapped the documents she'd had in her hand onto his desk and with a smile that didn't reach her eyes said, "Mr. Davenport, that dear sweet old man that he is, graciously let me take his appointment. He knew this, " she continued, tapping on the paperwork for emphasis, "Was far more important than his filing for a permit to create a community memorial garden in his dearly departed wife's name."

"Now, let's get started, shall we?" tearing open the sealed envelope with a flick of her wand, spreading the contained Betrothal Contract out for Clearmont to read, "We need Hermione back at my Ronniekin's side where she belongs," slipping a copy of The Prophet under the silent man's gaze, "And these two Slytherin snakes thrown into Azkaban where they deserve to be for, obviously, using Dark Magic to lure her away from my family."

(It also wouldn't hurt that once the Granger girl was bonded to her precious, youngest boy that Molly could finally access the substantial dowry she'd negotiated with the late Headmaster for consenting to this Betrothal Contract. And should the bothersome, know-it-all meet with an unfortunate 'accident' shortly thereafter?...well, the Wizarding World was a dangerous place these days.

Besides, after giving her poor Ronniekins time to mourn, she could then arrange for a proper match for him with a Pureblood Beta witch, preferably, one that was quiet and knew her place.)

As Maia's Nundu-form shuddered and shifted back to human, her legs buckled beneath her and she would have collapsed to the scorched stone floor if not for the quick reflexes of her Alphas.

Severus scooped their little Omega into his arms bridal style while Lucius transfigured a nearby wingback chair into a settee just wide enough to accommodate the three of them, Gaunt's recently Nundu'd state being temporarily forgotten as Maia's visibly trembling form dissolved into tears, her Alphas doing everything they could to comfort their distraught Lioness.

Several minutes ticked by before Maia settled enough to mutter, "I...Umbridge...I almost b-became a m-monster, another m-murderer like...like her," she gasped, her eyes closing tightly together as if that would wipe away the destruction of the room surrounding the Trio while what was left of the hated pink-clad, and excessively burnt, witch was Apparated away to St. Mungo's for treatment by one of Gaunt's men.

No sooner had Umbridge Disapparated from their line of sight, than the underlying weight of Maia's true source of despair resurfaced - the loss of her parents...all of four of them. Two at the hands of the now gravely wounded pink Toad and two that she'd never had the opportunity to know because of Pettigrew's malicious actions and Dumbledore's cruel manipulations afterwards.

Severus and Lucius silently communicated over the top of Maia's distressed form, both determined to refocus their young Lioness' attentions, to do whatever it took to ease her undeserved sense of guilt over how she'd handled the problem named Umbridge. To that end, they gently guided her closer to the still silent wizard slumped against the far wall.

"This is the person you should direct your anger towards, Maia," drawled Lucius, slowly tilting her downcast face upwards until Gaunt was in her line of sight, "His carelessness put that demented Bitch in your path. You can't hold yourself responsible for the consequences of his mistakes."

She felt Severus' warmth at her back as her dark clad Alpha neared, his calming woodsy scent of fresh herbs and newly turned Earth causing the tension in her muscles to visibly ease.

"Lucius is correct, Maia," he practically purred in her ear, his rumbling baritone against her skin causing her breathing to hitch reflexively, "Although, I must say I'm a touch puzzled by Gaunt's unchanged appearance," he added, keeping a wary eye on the wizard in question, "Your Nundu breath-weapon doesn't seem to have resulted in much of an effect, other than rendering him unconscious, of course."

A truly mischievous (with a hint of malevolence) grin slowly bloomed across Maia's face, causing both her Alphas' eyebrows to twitch skyward towards their respective hairlines, a mild shudder running down their spines.

"What did you do, little Omega?" inquired Lucius, hoping his commanding Alpha voice sounded steadier than it felt.

Maia's eyes fairly sparkled, "Don't worry, it's only temporary," she assured, not sharing any further details...for the moment.

Sybill stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, sighing happily as she repositioned herself against her lightly snoring husband's back. Ever since the Goblin cursebreakers had restored their memories and rescued their family from their wretched existence as a herd of goats that Albus had condemned them to being for years, she and Aberforth had been making up for lost time like a pair of randy newlyweds.

(It also helped that Lady Magic herself had seen fit to turn back the proverbial clock for all of them, to gift back the entire Trelawney-Dumbledore clan their lost time as a family. A fact that Sybill was currently appreciating as her eyes lustfully roved over Abe's extremely fit, forty-year old-again physique...oh, yes, most grateful.)

Unfortunately, her blissful moments of silently ogling her sleeping husband was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a familiar, and extremely agitated, ephemeral form of Rosalind Peverell.

"Sorry to intrude," she rasped, sounding as if she'd run across the entire expanse between the living and the dead, "But my Granddaughter is in danger and I need your help."

Sybill scrunched up her nose at this pronouncement, "But, I thought Umbridge was under heavy guard at St. Mungo's...don't tell me she's escaped again."

Rosalind adamantly shook her head, "No, that foul, wretched...creature's no longer a concern. This new threat is much worse."

Well, that certainly got Trelawney's full attention - who, or what, could possibly be more dangerous to Maia's well-being than Dolores Umbridge?

A horrible thought crossed Sybill's sleep-adled mind, "Merlin's Sagging Balls!" she hissed at Rosalind, her face paling almost to the shade of the hovering ghost, "Don't tell me that Albus managed a way to come back."

"No, but I'd almost prefer if it were him."

Headmistress McGonagall was just settling in for breakfast in the Great Hall when the morning Post-owls began to arrive, one large avian in particular practically dive-bombing in her direction, a large and formal looking envelope in his beak and a copy of The Daily Prophet grasped in his talons.

"Merlin!" declared Flitwick, he was seated to McGonagall's right as the Eagle owl dropped its delivery in front of her plate and swirled gracefully away, "That looks ominous," the diminutive Deputy Headmaster stated, knowing that Minerva had just met with the Ministry budgetary committee the day before and that she wasn't expecting an answer for another week, "What's it say, Min?" he asked as she opened the sealed missive and began to read, his concern turning to alarm at the rapidly changing expressions on his colleague's face.

"That wretched harridan of a woman!" hissed McGonagall through clenched teeth, hurriedly showing the document to Flitwick, "How could she do this to that poor girl? She's been through enough as it is these past few weeks."

"Sweet Circe and all her little piglets!" exclaimed Filius as he skimmed the demands of the Ministry letter to 'Surrender Hermione Granger or suffer the legal consequences for harbouring a fugitive', "Thankfully the students were sent home already or we'd have absolute chaos on our hands."

Minerva's grumbling reply was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of one rather agitated Herbology Professor.

"What utter Bollocks!" scowled Pomona Sprout striding with grim determination towards the Headmistress from the Professor's entrance into the Great Hall, furiously waving about her copy of The Daily Prophet, "I knew this harpy was prone to writing fantastical stories for a grubby headline but this is unconscionable, it's bound to stir up extra problems for Miss Peverell...and Professor Snape," she snarled as she slapped the front page down between Minerva and Filius to read.

'LOST HEIRESS' IN REALITY A GOLD DIGGING IMPOSTER

by Rita Skeeter

'That's right, dear readers! Maia Athena Peverell, the alleged missing heiress to the Noble and Ancient House of Peverell is actually that upstart of a Gryffindor tart known as Hermione Jean Granger.

(read excerpts of Granger "s prior liaisons during last year's Tri-Wizard Tournament on page 5)

Why this convoluted and poorly executed ruse you may ask? Well, that's where things get truly interesting! It seems that this conniving Muggleborn Beta was attempting to wriggle out of her Ministry signed and registered Betrothal Contract to another Beta by hiding herself away with a wealthy Alpha by passing herself off as an Omega.

Not possible? That's where you would be sorely mistaken, dear readers! It seems the scheming harlot had an accomplice - either through blackmail or other sordid means - in the beak-nosed form of Potions Master Severus Snape. With his known proclivities for the Dark Arts, this wicked pair conspired together to ensnare the senses of the devilishly handsome and unsuspecting widower, Lord Lucius Malfoy....'

The newspaper suddenly caught fire, burning to ashes in the blink of an eye.

"Enough of that tripe!" snapped McGonagall, tucking her wand back up her robe sleeve, "We need to find those three before the Aurors do and warn them."

"Agreed," said Filius, Pomona and all the other Professors present silently nodding their assent (Trelawney and Pomfrey being notably absent - one tending to family and the other busy discharging her last two patients from the Infirmary).

"And should any of you happen to run across a certain...reporter," smirked the Headmistress, mischief sparkling in her eyes, "Feel free to make your opinions known - repeatedly, if necessary."

Maia calmly walked over to Lord Gaunt - who had yet to awaken on his own - and loudly sighed in exasperation. "We don't have time for this," she muttered under her breath before casting a strong Renervate on the wizard.

He instantly came to with a jolt and, even though he was still somewhat groggy, he instinctively began preparing himself for an attack by putting up a wandless/wordless Protego while scrambling about for his missing wand.

"Calm yourself, Cousin," snipped Maia, directing a chair towards the wobbly man and gesturing for him to take a seat, "And focus on our voices. We've a number of questions that need answering and you're going to cooperate whether you like it or not."

"For starters," she said, continuing in a tone that brooked no argument, "Explain to me...us why, on Godric's Green Earth, that you believed freeing that pink toad Umbridge from the very steps of the Ministry and harbouring her in Malfoy Manor was a good plan? And don't attempt denying it, you couldn't if you wanted to, her presence here practically shouts that you were behind her 'escape'."

Despite being seated, Gaunt straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin in a well practiced move to look the part of a fearsome Alpha. But it fell flat rather quickly, his eyes widening almost comically upon discovering that he, indeed, couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth in a rush.

"It was my intention to gift you the opportunity to exact justice for your parents' deaths," Tom blurted out, "The sentence the Wizengamot imposed was an insult and you deserved better. My actions were meant to impress you, Little Omega," his added, his tone softening, "To demonstrate that I'd do anything in my power for you as your Alpha, to provide for and protect you."

Severus growled, "But you're not - Lucius and I are Maia's Alphas," he hissed, his hands clenching into fists, tempted to smash one or both into Gaunt's face, "And as you've seen, she can fend for herself rather spectacularly."

A brief flash of longing crossed Tom's face, "Yes, so beautiful and powerful, the perfect mate. But, unfortunately, not for me," the defeat evident in his tone, "So, I had to make alternative plans to find my match."

Lucius wanted to hex the man, but he spoke to the older wizard as if he were already bored with the whole conversation, "I would have thought it obvious for you to make use of the Ministry's re-established Alpha-Omega Registry from the moment they made the announcement."

Gaunt rolled his eyes at Lucius, "I'm afraid that wasn't working out so well for me, so, I developed a potion that creates new Omegas from borderline Betas. It's still a work in progress, though, as it only has a fifty percent chance of success...so far."

"You did what!?"

The three wizards all gawped at the irate young witch. Maia's hair had seemingly grown in volume and was writhing like a nest of agitated serpents (flaming snakes, at that), her eyes turning a solid aubergine - appearing almost as dark as Severus' onyx-coloured orbs. And from the middle of her back between her shoulder blades, a small pair of leathery, black wings emerged. With this mix of forms, she looked far more demoness than human...it didn't help quell that impression when a thin plume of deep violet smoke drifted out from the corner of her slightly open mouth.

"Betas are human beings not Bloody Build-a-Bears!" snarled Maia, all her ire focused on Gaunt after his Nundu-breath induced confession, the Muggle toy reference completely lost on both Gaunt and Malfoy... Snape, however, had difficulty stifling an undignified snort.

"Simply magnificent," Tom crooned, a hint of longing returning to his demeanor, causing Severus and Lucius to silently stare daggers at the man's head, "We would have made such beautiful and powerful pups together. Ah, well, if only things had been different."

Ignoring the irritatingly sappy comments as best he could, Snape pressed on while the effects of Maia's Nundu-breath still held Gaunt in its thrall, "Back to this potion you mentioned," he drawled as he stepped between Tom and Maia, redirecting the other wizard's focus onto himself, "Which Potion Master did you consult for this...pet project of yours, as it obviously wasn't me."

Gaunt struggled futilely to not answer, but the Veritaserum-like effects of Maia's breath-weapon won out, "I did all the brewing myself," professed Gaunt, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, "And my calculations were impeccable," he insisted with a defensive growl, "Besides, as Secondary Gender manipulation is a controversial topic at best and a possible life sentence in Azkaban at worst if discovered, the fewer people that knew what I was attempting, the better."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, attempting to stave off a migraine at theTom's sheer hubris (not the part about avoiding prison, that was totally understandable) believing that he could develop a complicated potion such as this all on his own.

Glaring at the other equally prickly wizard, Snape brusquely commanded, "Bring me all your notes on this formula...Every. Single. Scrap. of parchment, leave absolutely nothing out," he instructed, "And maybe, just maybe, I can fix your deplorable fifty-percent results to a more respectable level of success."

"Well, don't just stand there imitating a landed trout," hissed Lucius when Tom made no effort to move, "Fetch your Arithmancy and Potions research papers for Severus. Now!"

"Or do we need to let Maia 'tenderize' you a bit more like she did with Umbridge."

Gaunt didn't didn't need any further motivation to comply.

As the Weasley clan prepared to board the Hogwarts Express in Hogsmeade, along with the multitude of other students ready to begin enjoying their Summer hols, their youngest brother lagged behind.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Ronald pulled out the letter he had received from his Mother that morning and read it again, a malicious glint forming in his eyes.

'My Dearest Son, All is well. By this time next week, you will have your girlfriend back and the whole of Wizarding Britain will know the truth about that treacherous Potions Master Snape. And if the House of Malfoy should get caught up in the scandal and ruined, all the better!

See you in a few hours my precious boy.

Love,

Mum

Hurriedly stuffing the scroll back into his pocket, Ron shuffled forward with the crowd on the platform, feeling somewhat giddy as he stepped aboard the train. His plans for the Summer were certainly looking anything but dull.

Maia was curled up on a Reparo'd wingback chair as Severus poured over Gaunt's research. Periodically he'd strike through a notation to correct the amount of an ingredient used, substitute one component for another, often deleting whole steps altogether, making grumbled comments as he went.

("Circe's Tits, Tom! This should be sliced Ginger Root not Daisyroot...unless you wanted your Beta test subjects to experience debilitating stomach cramps for days on end after transforming."

"But, what about..."

"No."

"It has to be Finely ground Moonstone NOT Coarse, otherwise, the mixture will be the consistency of pebbled beach sand, or that was your intent all along?"

"That can't be right, the Arithmanacy said..."

"Honeywater is a must to temper the heat of the Fire Seeds, its no wonder your previous attempts regularly broke like a poorly mixed meringue."

"Fine. Okay. Just stop your insufferable smirking...")

By the time Severus had finished his critique of Gaunt's efforts, Maia was surprised he hadn't graded the papers with a large 'T' for Troll or simply tossed the whole thing into the fireplace and deduct House Points from Slytherin.

All in all, the whole scene would have been much funnier if she still weren't royally pissed off at her Cousin, his actions reminding her far too much of what Dumbledore's manipulations had done to her not so long ago.

Lucius had retreated to his study to attend to some business correspondence while Severus and Maia remained in the outer room with Tom. Occasionally he indulged in an audible chuckle when overhearing his fellow Alpha berating Gaunt.

He was three pages into a tedious ten page report about Fluxweed and Bicorn Horn shortages, with possible leads on alternative sources, for the Malfoy Industries Potions division when a Ministry owl began rapidly pecking on his office window demanding admittance.

An impatient 'screee' from the bird followed by more rapid-fire tapping had Lucius hissing in response, "Keep your feathers on, I'm almost done you silly beggar."

After dropping the thick envelope into Malfoy's outstretched hand as soon as the window opened, the agitated bird gave Lucius a sharp nip to his left index finger then left in a huff, apparently, no immediate reply was requested.

"Bloody nuisance," muttered Lucius under his breath as he slammed the window closed and strolled back to his desk, shaking his hand from the painful bite. Once there, he slid a letter opener deftly across the seam to break the Ministry embossed wax seal.

His face paled to the colour of milk as he skimmed the contents of the missive, his breath clenched tightly in his chest. Several long minutes passed before he was certain he could stand without stumbling.

"Severus! Maia!" bellowed Lucius, the near panic in his was clear for all to hear, "We have a serious problem!"

The pair, along with Tom, rushed into the study after Lucius' outcry, all rather worried for the cause of his distress.

Malfoy practically shoved the letter at Maia, "Read this, it's...well, deranged doesn't begin to adequately describe it."

Severus moved closer so as to peruse the missive's contents over Maia's shoulder...he almost wished he hadn't.

Gaunt, apparently having no shame, snatched the message and hissed after reading the summons for Snape, Malfoy and Granger (not Peverell he noted) to appear before the Wizengamot to answer for a number of charges filed by the Weasley Matriarch on behalf of her youngest son.

"That Sodding cow! She and her ginger-haired spawn are several knuts short of a galleon if they believe that they can win this case. You have my word, the family barrister will have this sorted in no time."

"Pardon me if I don't hold my breath, Cousin," said Maia, the sarcasm in her tone not lost on any of the three wizards at her sides.

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a set of Weasels I need to practice setting on fire. Maybe then they'll get the hint I'm not the Beta they believe me to be."

Chapter Text

Harry and Kingsley casually strolled down the stairs at Grimmauld Place towards the dining room for a much needed bite of breakfast, eventually joining Remus and Sirius in light banter as they all filled their plates with scrumptious food. Well, the three older wizards fended for themselves. Kings, on the other hand, unashamedly fussed over his young Omega, encouraging Harry to take a seat and relax while he selected nutritious items for his pregnant mate.

But all that gentle teasing and laughter at the expense of the blushing Harry came to an abrupt and unpleasant halt with the arrival of that mornings edition of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter's article working better than a mass Stupify over the quartet...for the span of four long heartbeats.

"Bloody Hell! Even though this whole story is a load of tripe, Maia's going to go spare," declared Harry, his face flushing in empathy for his recently-discovered Cousin.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's already contacted her barrister," stated Remus, scowling down at paper in his hands, the pages beginning to smoulder before he tossed the offending article to the nearby fireplace where it finished going up in flames, "The entire story is simply begging to become exhibit A in a libel lawsuit."

Sirius snorted into his tea, causing more than one questioning eyebrow to raise in his direction. "I truly doubt she's had to do anything, considering the nature of her Alphas," he smirked, although, the gesture was a touch strained, "I may not be their biggest fans, but say what you will, they'll have Maia's back in this matter," he said, pointedly glancing over to Kingsley, "I wouldn't be surprised if you got a Floo-call from your boss in the next few days to investigate an...incident involving that wretched cow, Skeeter."

Shacklebolt's responding malice-laced chuckle sent shivers down everyone's spines, "That would be one summons I would gladly attend."

"Merlin's Sagging Balls!" nervously exclaimed Lupin, "Remind me never to piss you off, Kings."

"Provided you don't upset my Omega, you have nothing to worry about," he grinned, the effect reminding Harry of a shark he'd seen once during a rare visit with the Dursleys to an aquarium one Summer.

"Noted."

Once they'd completed their task of dropping off the odious Madame Umbridge at St. Mungo's for treatment of her many injuries, Rabastan and Augustus Apparated back to the steps of the Ministry to set about recruiting the latest batch of borderline-Betas for Gaunt's ongoing potions experiment. Well, after they'd enjoyed a much-needed break and gotten a bite of lunch, that is (the two wizards would never admit it out loud, but ever since Scrimgeour had taken office as the Minister for Magic, many things had greatly improved...one, of which, was the fare offered in the Ministry cantina).

With their appetites fully sated, Lestrange and Rookwood slowly stood from their bistro-like table to take their leave only to have their progress abruptly halted mid-step, as if an Immobulus had been cast over them. Both wizards inhaled deeply, their noses twitching almost in unison when the alluring fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon filled their lungs, closely followed by their deep, rumbling growl of 'Omega'.

For a split second, Rabastan and Augustus believed they were destined to share an Omega like their Fate-blessed colleagues Severus and Lucius, however, they were pleasantly surprised when a set of blonde, paternal twins cautiously made their way over to them from the direction of the International Port-key offices. 'Alpha', they crooned in unison, their matching violet eyes sparkling with joy - a touch of mischief added at having caught their mates by surprise.

The Canadian-born Omegas, Lawrence and Lorraine Larabee, explained that they purposely requested that the matching agency keep their arrival a secret, not wanting to spook their Alphas should Lestrange and Rookwood turn out not be friendly towards the other or disagreeable with the whole notion of becoming in-laws. But after watching the pair amicably conversing over lunch, the Larabees were relieved to discover those fears were unfounded.

A cat-that-got-the-cream grin bloomed across Rabastan's face as he looked at Augustus, "I wish we could see the look on Gaunt's face when our owl arrives to tell him the good news. Well, not so much for him, seeing as he will have to do his own recruiting for his project for the foreseeable future."

Rookwood 'hrm'd' in agreement, not taking his eyes off his lovely young Omega, "Best we get the message sent out before we take our delectable mate's home as I have no desire to be disturbed while we're on heat leave...not that I will be answering any owl posts or Floo calls for the next week. I plan to be quite busy with more intriguing...delights."

"Agreed."

True to her word last night, Maia had made thorough use of the Manor's exercise room (the dueling platform, in particular), utterly destroying several sets of practice targets that had hastily been transfigured to resemble the Weasley Matriarch and her youngest male offspring. Unfortunately, her aggressive mangling of the substitute-gingers did nothing to ease Maia's mind. After having completely exhausted herself, although her magic still sparked wildly through her hair and from her fingertips, Severus and Lucius gently coaxed their agitated young mate to follow them to the spacious ensuite off the master bedroom where they proceeded to pamper her like the Queen she was to them...starting with a long soak in the ridiculously huge bathtub (alone to her unexpressed disappointment).

Once dried and comfortably dressed, her Alphas settled her onto the equally oversized sleigh bed, gently tucking her in between the two of them where they continued their tender ministrations by hand feeding her some of her favourite treats, reading excepts from her well-loved copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' and making heartfelt promises to keep her safe (not that she needed them to defend her, of course) - whether from herself or the Weasels they didn't specify, not that it mattered. Their intended effects were obviously successful as Maia settled herself against Severus and Lucius, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you," she sighed, her warm breath tickling over Severus' clothed chest where her head was softly tucked, "You really didn't have to do all this but, I deeply appreciate it all the same."

"Anything for you, my Sweet," purred Lucius, making slow, soothing circles against her back with his left hand, his right offering her another chocolate-covered strawberry, "Within reason, naturally," he teased lightly.

Severus quietly watched this lighthearted exchange, slowly letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding back. When he first learned of what those two ginger menaces were planning, his first instincts had been to seek them out and...encourage them to cross the Veil, repeatedly.

Lucius, however, had taken note of the ever-darkening expression on his fellow Alpha's face and, for once, he was the voice of restraint.

"You won't be of any use to our Omega if you're thrown into Azkaban, or worse, given the Dementor's Kiss," he drawled, cautiously placing a hand on Severus' shoulder, "Besides, Maia would be devastated by your loss. And while I may relish the thought of having her all to myself, we would both miss your brooding presence."

"I don't brood, I contemplate," scowled Severus, a single eyebrow raised for emphasis.

"He's right, you know," murmured the young witch snuggled so comfortably between them, the sincerity and tenderness in her tone instantly soothing her raven-haired Alpha faster than any Calming Draught, "With that in mind," she added, her cheeks turning pink, "I need to ask the both of you to do something rather important for me before we face those wretched Weasleys in court."

Intrigued by their Omega's suddenly shy demeanor, Severus and Lucius tilted their heads slightly to encourage her to continue, "I want you to officially claim me as yours...and, naturally, I'll do the same with you," she stated, her skin now a radiant crimson, "I'm not under the influence of a Heat cycle so you know that's not influencing my decision-making," she hurriedly added, daring to glance up at her Alphas' faces, pleased to see that her proposal had temporarily stunned them into silence, "When we walk into that courtroom together, I want everyone to know, without a shadow of doubt, that we are a fully bonded Triad."

Seconds steadily dragged by into agonizing minutes and Maia was starting to second guess herself, naively believing that her proposition had not been welcomed nor wanted.

Her Alphas gladly disabused her of that notion with their enthusiastically growled, "Merlin, yes, Witch! We thought you'd never ask."

Thursday morning dawned under a particularly nasty thunderstorm for the residents of Ottery-St.-Catchpole and everywhere else across the length and breadth of the British Isles, for that matter. According to the Wizarding Wireless reporter, Muggles were calling it a 'Storm-of-the-Century' event due to an equally rare hurricane currently churning up the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Ireland. But whatever the cause, it hadn't put a damper on Molly Weasley's spirits. For today was the Wizengamot hearing that would finally gift her family (well, mostly her) the riches and social influence that she fully believed they were long overdue.

Naturally, Molly hadn't discussed any of her plans with Arthur, nor with her five older sons and only daughter, as they just wouldn't understand - she simply couldn't take the risk that they might interfere if they knew what was about to happen.

(Being blissfully unaware of his wife's schemes, Arthur set off to the Ministry with Percy in tow - of all his many offspring, Percy was the only one to express an interest in their Summer mentorship program. Closely following their departure were Bill and Charlie, the former to Gringott's for his first day as an Apprentice cursebreaker, the latter to catch an International Port-key back to the Romanian Dragon Preserve to resume his work with his beloved creatures. The Twins stepped through the busy Floo next, eager to be on their way to visit Neville at Longbottom Hall. For the life of her, Molly couldn't understand why her prankster sons had taken up a friendship with the somewhat antisocial younger wizard. But, as long as it meant that Fred and George wouldn't be experimenting with some new (and often explosive) pranks in their Father's tool shed, Molly didn't truly care...their absence meant there would be one less distraction for her to deal with today. Ginny, on the other hand, was out of the house already, having made previous arrangements to stay the week with the Lovegood's.

This left Ronald who, for once, didn't require extra prodding to wake up and eat breakfast on time with the rest of the family. As he, like his Mother, was overly eager to leave for the Wizengamot...foul weather be damned.)

With the rest of the Weasley brood now out of the house and earshot, Molly took the time to go over some last-minute instructions with her youngest son, casting a few well-placed Tergeo's to remove any food stains from his clothing and teeth as she spoke.

"Remember, Ronniekins, no speaking unless asked a direct question from the Barristers or the Judge and for Merlin's Sake sit up straight and don't fidget," she commanded as she stepped closer to the fireplace, her hand reaching for the tin of Floo powder setting on the mantlepiece.

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes and simply answered 'Yes, Mum' before strolling into the hearth to await the familiar swirl of Emerald flames that would carry them away to the Ministry Atrium.

No sooner had the Mother and son pair disappeared from the comfort of The Burrow than an ominously loud 'boom' of thunder rattled the very foundations of the oddly shaped house, lightning having struck and split open an apple tree on the edge of the property wards nearest the kitchen.

Whether this was an ominous coincidence, or a portent of doom was yet to be determined.

At the end of a winding path sat another strangely designed home, this one reminiscent of a castle chess piece. Within these cozy confines sat a platinum blonde witch with her equally blonde Father and her ginger-haired girlfriend, all enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Two had startled badly at the unnerving racket the storm produced so close by while one remained totally unfazed.

"I believe the Nargles are going to cause all sorts of mischief for Molly and Ronald today," calmly mused Luna, plucking several grapes from the fruit bowl setting at the center of the dining table and proffering them to Ginny and her Father.

The peculiar comment, along with the gift of a sweet tidbit, had the desired effect, at least where Ginny was concerned, the red head's shoulders visibly relaxing as the tension left them. Xenophilius, however, remained as discomposed as ever.

Xeno gave his daughter a tired smile, softly rubbing his temples with his free hand, "Perhaps you're right, my Dear. The willow bark tea isn't working anymore. I'll make an appointment for the morning once this storm has passed."

"No need, Father," hummed Luna, a hint of amusement in her tone, "Healer Soulstone will see you in an hour."

He knew better than to question how his daughter had known what he needed, it was a knack she'd inherited from her late Mother, Pandora.

"Well, I suppose I should make myself presentable then," he replied with a resigned sigh, "Otherwise, they'll think I've been attacked by a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Of course, Father. Ginny and I will clear away the dishes and the food and meet you by the Floo," said Luna in her typical breathy style, "And wear your blue robes, you know how much Sabine enjoys that colour on you."

A slight flush of pink bloomed suddenly over flustered wizard's cheeks, but he'd turned about and retreated from the kitchen so quickly that Ginny was uncertain she'd even seen it happen, "What was that about, Luna?"

Luna gave Ginny a not-so-innocent smile, "Healer Sabine Soulstone has had feelings for my Father for quite some time, and he for her. But he's hesitant to say or do anything about it because he believes it would in some way be disloyal to my Mother's memory, even though I've assured him numerous times that he has her blessings to court Sabine."

"Now, we need to hurry. We don't want Daddy to be late for his future happiness."

At first, Healer Soulstone had been absolutely thrilled at the sight of Xenophilius Lovegood strolling into her office with his daughter and her friend in tow, but that feeling of elation lasted all of five minutes after she'd begun her diagnostic scans over the man.

Ginny and Luna began to worry at the deepening frown on the older witch's face, "What did you find?" asked Ginny, giving voice to all their concerns even as she gently squeezed Luna's hand to show her support, both silently bracing for the worst.

Sabine paused, casting a second series of confirming spells over her patient, before finally answering, "Xeno...Mr.Lovegood," she hastily corrected, although she didn't feel like being professional in the moment, "I don't know how to tell you this but, you've been the target of a rather nasty memory charm fused with a compulsion spell...and it's been in place for years."

"That Bloody Bastard Dumbledore did this to me, didn't he," Xeno stated with a hiss, the pain in his head now bordering on nauseating.

"That's the thing, it wasn't him who hexxed you," explained Soulstone, her tone laced with disgust for what had been done to this lovely man, "I've performed the cleansing procedure on a number of his previous victims these past few months and the magical signature simply doesn't match."

"If not him, then who?" he asked, tightly shuttering his eyes against the steadily increasing discomfort, "And can you reverse the spell damage?"

"Fortunately, yes," confidently replied Sabine, beginning the steadily enchanting song of a counterspell, the easing of Xenophilius' migraine an immediate result. The remainder of the treatment took another thirty minutes to complete but, in the end, Mr. Lovegood's thoughts were as clear as day, no longer did he feel as if he stumbling about through life as if in a delirious haze.

He took one look at the brunette Healer who had given back his clarity of mind and something just clicked within him. Strolling towards her in an almost predatory stalk, briefly glancing at this his daughter and her girlfriend, "Pardon me, my Dears," he soothed, pulling the Medi-witch into his arms, "But I've been wanting to do this for ages," then proceeded to snog the breath from the pleasantly startled Sabine.

Ginny blushed at the scene unfolding before them, turning away to give the couple a modicum of privacy only to come face to face with a smirking Luna. Git. She'd obviously known what was going to happen between her Father and the Healer and hadn't warned her. Well, not exactly. She did vaguely hint at him 'finding his future happiness' but nothing about what that entailed.

So, it was with a bit of surprise when Ginny noticed the smile fading from Luna's face only to be replaced with one of disdain. "What's wrong, I thought you were happy about this turn of events."

Luna 'hrmd' in repsonse, her gaze turning from the affectionate couple nearby and training it on Ginny, "For them, I am. But. Someone stole this time and companionship from my Father ages ago, as Sabine discovered. Likely shortly after my Mother's death," said Luna, a tinge of sadness flashing across her pale features, "And while she may not recognize the magical signature of the person who did this to him, to them, we both know of someone with the skills to identify the culprit," a single blonde eyebrow raised in a knowing gesture.

Realization struck Ginny rather quickly, "Bill," she muttered, an impish grin tugging at her lips, "With his cursebreaking knowledge, he could trace the offender's magic without breaking a sweat."

"Exactly," Luna murmured, taking Ginny by the hand and leading her out of Sabine's office, "I'll just leave Father a note so he won't wonder where we've gone," removing a bit of parchment and quill from her robe pockets, scribbling a brief message and setting the missive to hover at eye level next to her distracted parent's head, "There, one of them is bound to see it once they've...emerged from their activities," chuckling at the red-head's blushing mortification, "Now, let's find your brother and track down the wretched creature that dared tamper with my Father's life and make them regret their poor life choices."

Ginny silently nodded in agreement, thanking Merlin and the stars above that she wasn't the person that would soon be on the receiving end of Luna's wrath.

Stepping into the hallway, the pair headed towards the Floo in the lobby, all the while two questions were rattling about in Ginny's mind...who would do such a horrid thing to a sweet-natured wizard like Mr. Lovegood and why?

The atmosphere of the Ministry courtroom was positively electric, filled with the numerous hush-whispered murmurings of several conversations taking place at once throughout the large space. It was amongst this near-chaotic environment that one Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter extraordinaire (if she did say so herself), sequestered herself in her beetle-Animagus form, choosing to perch herself atop a tapestry depicting the three Moirai, the legendary Fates of Ancient Greece. From this advantage point, she would have the absolute best 'seat' in the court, being able to discern everything without straining herself to hear all the no-doubt-to-be headline worthy details.

It was as Skeeter was contemplating a number of salacious headlines for the morning edition of The Prophet that Minister Scrimgeour purposefully strolled into the room followed by a handful of the members of the Wizengamot. Amongst them was the newly appointed Chief Warlock, Lord Gareth Greengrass, a well-known and politically neutral Pureblood wizard. ('Interesting choice' thought Rita, her shrunken Quick-Quotes quill hurriedly jotting down notes, 'Smart move on Rufus' part. The man's well liked by all sides.')

Next to arrive was Molly and Ronald Weasley, accompanied by their barrister, Benjamin Bartleby. If beetles could sneer, Skeeter would certainly have mastered the expression. ('Seriously, seven children? Has the woman never heard of a Contraceptive Charm or Potion in her life?')

Behind them, around ten paces back, walked a St. Mungo's Mediwitch in their tell-tale lime green Healer's robes, likely an expert witness to be called upon to prove the lies of the upstart little gold-digger, the Gryffindor tart herself, Hermione Granger. Personally, Skeeter couldn't wait to see the overly ambitious little chit being called out as the conniving Beta the Weasley Matriarch had claimed.

What Rita hadn't anticipated was the appearance of a certain blonde wizard and witch that strolled through the courtroom doors closely afterwards - that dithering numpty, Xenophilius Lovegood, and his equally scatter-brained daughter, Luna.

She smirked (well, as much as one could as a beetle-Animagus) at the sight of the addlepated Father and Daughter glancing cautiously about at those gathered in the courtroom before carefully taking a seat in the visitors' gallery just as the proceedings were about to begin. Rita thought wistfully of the last face-to-face encounter she'd had with the pair years before and smiled wickedly (again, difficult to do in her current state but, she believed she'd managed to pull it off successfully).

('Upstart Bastard thought he'd take my job from me, did he? I earned that promotion after all the hard work I put in digging through people's disgusting trash bins, not him with his accidental discovery of a rare beast. And now look at him, writing conspiracy nonsense in that silly little publication of his all these years later. What was it? Oh, yes. 'The Quibbler'. More like 'The Crackpot'. Not my fault he's still so susceptible to my Confundus Charm after all this time...fortunately, for me'.)

Skeeter's little trip down her unscrupulous memory lane, however, was interrupted moments later when the main doors swung open dramatically and a trio of Wixen strolled into the courtroom looking as if they didn't have a care in the world.

('Finally! Time for the real fun to begin.')

Maia wasn't certain what woke her first, the rather nasty thunderstorm pounding at the Manor walls and rattling the windows, the increasing heat radiating between her and her Alphas as they snuggled together in a state of blissful semi-consciousness, or the fact that her bladder was making its need to be relieved known with growing urgency. Her bladder won out in the end and she began carefully squiggling out of bed, the feat made that much more difficult when both Severus and Lucius tightened their arms about her waist and shoulders, effectively pinning her in place.

She hissed in mock-indignation as she lightly smacked their amorous appendages away from her person, "If you two don't release me. Now. I'm going to piss all over us and the bed! And I'd rather not do that, thank you very much."

Warm, rumbling chuckles vibrated through her body as her Alphas eased their grips, "We can't have that now, can we?' drawled Lucius, sliding to the side to let Maia ease past, "When you return from your ablutions, we'll have a light breakfast ready," holding up his hand, palm outward, to disrupt any protest on her part, "While we realize that you may not wish to eat, Maia, you're going to need your strength to fully overcome today's vexing ...challenges."

"Plus, there are things that a Strengthening Solution simply cannot help you to overcome," added Severus, pulling on a dressing gown (black, of course) and strolling through the connecting door towards his own quarters to shower and prepare for the long day ahead of them, "And if you're not back in half an hour," pausing briefly for effect, "We'll set Ginger out to track you down."

The non-threat still garnered a slight gasp from Maia, having been on the receiving end of that particular house-elf's displeasure once already for not eating enough of her dinner to 'keeps a sparrow alive'.

It was not an experience she wished to repeat anytime soon. Still, that time constraint was problematic, "Best make that an hour, Severus. You know it'll take me half that just to sort my hair even with magic."

Snape rolled eyes, "Fine. You have an hour, but not a moment longer."

"Yes...Professor mine," she smirked, enjoying the sharp intake of air the sultrily cooed honorific evoked from her raven-haired Alpha.

A rolling 'Boom' of thunder, one that seemingly shook the very foundations of the Manor, interrupted their teasing banter, signaling the need to continue readying for their ordeal with the Weasleys and the Wizengamot.

"We'll continue this later...Minx."

"I look forward to it...Sir."

Arthur had just settled down with a fresh cup of tea at his desk in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, pulling a file from the In-basket to peruse as he routinely did every workday. But today promised to be anything but that as a harried looking co-worker rushed through the door, waving his arms about like a demented windmill, nearly knocking the teacup from Arthur's hands.

"You have to come with me to the courtrooms. Quickly," gasped Martin Dell, sounding like he'd run the entire distance between floors, "I'll explain on the way. Bring your son, too."

Dropping the case file as if it had burned him, the Weasley Patriarch grabbed his traveling cloak from its hook by the door, draping it over his shoulders as he stepped into the hallway, calling for Percy to follow them. His son, who'd been quietly sorting through correspondence at his makeshift workspace for his Mentorship assignment that morning, copied his Father's actions and pulled his cloak on before hurrying to catch up to the rapidly retreating forms of the two older wizards.

As promised, Martin began recounting the conversation he'd overhead earlier as he'd exited the Ministry cantina, "Naturally, I recognized Bartleby's deep baritone straight away but it was the sound of your wife's voice that truly caught my attention, especially, since you mentioned she was supposed to be at home tending to a leak in the roof," he huffed, picking up his pace while deftly weaving through the crowded hallway on the way to the lifts, "I only caught snippets of their discussion because of the gathering crowds but, the gist of it was the legal enforcement of a Betrothal Contract involving your youngest son and a witch Ronald called 'Mione'. And, that the hearing before the Wizengamot was about to convene."

"Merlin, Morganna and Hectate!" muttered Arthur under his breath while stepping into a, relatively, empty lift and stabbing at the button that would send them careening towards the courtrooms on Level Two, "Molly, what have you done?"

Poppy Pomfrey and Alastair Moody sat sequestered in the witness box hidden from the courtroom awaiting to be called forward for their expertise, particularly, on the topics of Dark Art curses, Compulsion and Memory Charms. They hadn't been informed of exactly who they'd be providing the information for - or against, as the case may be - but with that morning's headlines in The Daily Prophet, they had a fair idea. And they didn't like it, not one bit.

Poppy's nervous pacing about the relatively small space wasn't helping matters. "Love, you're going to wear a hole in the carpet at this rate," gently chided Alastair, guiding Poppy by the elbow to sit in one of the, surprisingly, comfortably plush wingback chairs provided for them, "We don't know for certain that this is about Hermione...errr, Maia. For all we know, we could be testifying for Gilderoy Lockhart in his compensation claim against the Albus Dumbledore estate for the academic career and reputation he lost due to that man's interference."

The school Matron raised a single eyebrow at the former Auror and scoffed, "Given the timing, and the secrecy, you don't believe that any more than I do," she sighed, sinking heavily into the warmth of the chair, her arms folding tightly against her chest in her frustration, "That young lady has been through so much in such a short amount of time. And to have Molly Weasley, of all people, to do this...this nonsense now, it's just not right!"

Alastair audibly exhaled, "I know, Petal. It's not fair," he agreed wholeheartedly, "The only thing we can do is answer honestly when the time comes and hope that the members of the Wizengamot don't have their heads up their collective arses. Which, given how diligently Scrimgeour has been cleaning up Dumbledore's and Umbridge's influences in the Ministry here of late, that lass' chances before the court should hold to her favour."

"I do hope you're right, Alastair, for her sake," she said, reaching out to clasp one of her hands over his in an effort to seek comfort and reassurance.

"As am I, Love."

Benjamin Bartleby was busy settling his prepared notes into strategically placed stacks across the top of the oak table designated for him and the Weasleys, he'd long since tuned out his clients' near-constant commentary (bickering, actually) about the young witch they were about to expose as a fraud. Merlin! He'd be glad when this day was over, he had three more equally pressing casefiles awaiting him in his office and he desperately needed to make a start on them this evening if he had any hope of keeping to his self-imposed schedule.

He became so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't notice the silence that had suddenly descended over the courtroom. When Bartleby finally did become aware of the shift in noise levels, he raised his head up from his work to discern the cause of the almost unnatural stillness. And what he witnessed nearly stole the breath from his lungs more effectively than a Petrificus Totalis.

There before him, at the center of the courtroom, stood the most exquisite being he had ever seen in his life (and he'd had the fortune of meeting with Madame Evelyn Trowbridge, the new Supreme Mugwump of the ICW last month).

But Sweet Circe and all her little piglets! This witch, this unexpectedly ethereal-looking young woman, was positively glowing from within from, presumably, her magic. It took considerable effort on his part not to openly gawp at her. Of course, the scowling countenance of the two Alphas standing guard on either side of her certainly kept his unsolicited perusal of her person in check.

And just as quickly, the spell of her presence over him was shattered by the strident voice of his younger client, "Oi! What the Bloody Hell are those two Death Eaters doing here with my 'Mione," hissed the crimson-faced Ronald Weasley, "Well don't just stand there, Bartleby, do something! They obviously have her under some sort of Dark Magic spell or potion, I mean, just look at her. That's not natural."

"Sit down and keep quiet Ronald," snipped Molly in a low, commanding tone, not wanting her youngest son to cause a scene in front of the Wizengamot members or the Minister, "We've a plan in place. Those two will get the prison sentence they deserve soon enough...and you, my boy, will have your witch. Isn't that right, Mr. Bartleby."

Benjamin, not wishing to express his now growing doubts in front of the agitated Weasleys, merely nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

"Good," smiled Molly, although she sounded extremely pleased, her demeanor reminded Bartleby of a circling shark and he reflexively shuddered. Fortunately, she hadn't noticed. "Let's get things started then, shall we? I've a celebratory dinner to make afterwards."

The trio at the center of the courtroom had observed the exchange between the Weasleys and their barrister with close interest. And while they couldn't hear everything being said, their body language filled in the gaps.

Severus and Lucius could feel the tension rolling off Maia despite her calm facade, "Don't worry, Love," soothed Lucius, wishing he could wrap his arms about her to calm her nerves, but they were being closely watched by several interested parties - the Minister and the Chief Warlock amongst them.

"Indeed," drawled Severus, not taking his eyes off the ginger-haired menaces, "Your idea was sound, they can't separate us now...we made quite certain of that."

"Yes," chuckled Lucius softly, looking like the proverbial cat who got the cream and the canary, "Often and rather enthusiastically."

"But, should they still contest our bond, there's yet another option open to you," proclaimed Severus, his coal-black eyes gleaming with the prospect.

Maia looked up at her Alphas, giving them a fair impression of Severus' knowing smirk.

"I could simply challenge Molly Weasley to a duel under the Rights of Combat established in 1784," she stated, tilting her chin up in defiance at the ginger weasels she'd previously considered as friends, as a second family.

"Precisely," said Lucius, tightly clenching his hands at his sides to prevent him from inadvertently reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Maia's ear in a comforting gesture (however, the risk of being prematurely, and unfairly, judged by the Wizengamot was too great at this point in the proceedings).

"And I, for one, am hoping for that very outcome," stated Severus, his eyes becoming impossibly smugger at the thought of this prospect.

"What beast form would work best, do you think? I was considering the Hebridean Black dragon, but now I'm leaning towards the Acromantula given Ronald's fear of spiders," she murmured, looking more confident by the second.

"Whatever you decide, I'm certain it will be rather spectacular, my Dear," cooed Lucius, relieved that Maia was slowly regaining her Gryffindor resolve.

"Agreed. Let's just hope the Weasleys are the absolute Dunderheads we believe them to be, and they say something that is challangeable by law," said Severus, also pleased with Maia's returning tenacity.

Giving her Alphas a brief smile, Maia turned to bailiffs who had escorted them inside the chambers, "Please inform the Minister and the Chief Warlock we're ready to begin with the hearing."

As the pair strolled away, she heard them grumbling, "Just who the Bloody Hell does she think she is, the Sodding Muggle Queen of England? asked the taller of the two wizards.

The other man wore a puzzled frown on his face at the question, causing the first to sigh heavily, "Seriously, Reginald? Read something besides The Daily Prophet, for once in your life, man."

Minister Scrimgeour took in the scene from his lofty seat above the courtroom floor, his focus casually drifting between the two Weasleys, their barrister and the striking trio currently standing beside their own large oak desk opposite them.

A heavy sigh escaped from him through his nose, making Scrimgeour sound like the perturbed lion that he vaguely resembled. Fortunately, no one else in the Wizengamot was close enough to hear it, he was supposed to be the embodiment of neutrality in this instance, after all.

Personally, he thought this whole case was ludicrous as he was here during Umbridge's trial and had witnessed the Veritaserum testimony of the Granger-Peverell witch. However, a trusted colleague, Harold Clearmont, the department head in Magical Contracts had verified that the Betrothal Contract Mrs. Weasley presented was legitimate, so, here they all were, waiting for things to begin. Upon receiving word from one of the bailiffs that the young woman at the center of this conflicting evidence was ready, he cast a Sonorus and proclaimed that the court was now in session.

"Mr. Bartleby, please present your opening statements," directed the Minister, his tone flat and even, the very picture of control. Silently, however, he was torn. His gut feelings developed from years as the former Chief Auror were telling him that something was 'off' but, his logical mind and sense of duty reminding him that the laws had to be upheld equally, that everyone should have a fair say in the matter, including, the overbearing Weasley Matriarch.

Stifling another exasperated sigh, Scrimgeour then declared, "And may Lady Magic herself guide us to the Truth."

From her unseen position, Rita Skeeter silently quivered in anticipation, "Better yet, my more thrilling version of it."

Lucius and Severus paid close attention to Maia as they entered the courtroom. And it was good thing that they did as her eyes had begun to shift into bright glowing orbs of blue fire when she took notice of the smug expressions on Molly and Ronald Weasleys' faces...as if they'd already won the case.

Acting in a coordinated effort, Severus quickly conjured up a pair of Muggle sunglasses and promptly set them on her nose while Lucius moved his body to block everyone else's view of their Omega. Just in time, too, as the Minister called for Mr. Bartleby to begin his opening statements even as he turned his gaze towards the three of them.

"Best not to reveal your secrets yet, Love," drawled Lucius, leading Maia to set at their designated table, gently placing her between himself and Severus, "There will be time enough later to eviscerate those ginger twits...should the need arise, of course."

"Indeed," soothed Severus, his voice dipping into a sinfully lower register, causing Maia to shiver from the pleasurable memories his tone brought forth, "It's best to savor every, delicious moment before you crush their plans, their dreams...and, perhaps, their loathsome ginger heads."

Her inner Omega responded as they'd hoped, her body practically melting into them as she pressed against their sides, "For now," she conceded, even as a devilish smile lit up her face, "But I make no promises if they do or say something exceptionally stupid."

"Naturally."

"We'd expected nothing less from our fierce Lioness."