The Veiled Vestiges

Disclaimer – This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here. The characters involved are the intellectual property of their respective authors/creators except for the ones that are listed as an OC, which are mine.

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Chapter 12

Of Choices and Prophets part-2

Darkness. Black swathes of the unending abyss. Small pearls of lights, twinkling, shining upon her for brief moments before merging themselves in the same eerie darkness.

It was all she had known for a very long time.

All she could see, despite not having eyes or even a body to call her own. It all made sense to her though, in an abstract, wholly uncomprehending way that only a departed soul like her could understand.

There were moments, however, when her lack of physical senses was a boon. Moments when she could think clearly. Could see the small snippets of her life flowing through her mind like a gentle, loving breeze.

She remembered her life. Remembered how it had always pendulated between extremities. How her unloving, monotonous past had given way to the breathtaking and wondrous world of possibilities.

Magic.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. The joy in her when she had finally understood who she was. A witch. An honest to god witch, who could cast charms, bubble potions and though she could technically ride a broom as well, she preferred not to.

She remembered how she had learnt the real meaning of friendship and love, something she had felt would forever be lost to her. And could recall every single adventure she had in that world…her world…with her friends. And she certainly remembered him.

And then she remembered how it all had ended.

She could see now, quite clearly in fact, when life had given up on her. Could see how he had tried, given his everything to get to her before the final syllables of the curse left from her murderer's lips. With an almost unnatural detachment, something that would have fascinated her had she been living still, she could even remember the flash of green in his eyes that shone bright, brighter than even the curse which took her life as he saw it sail towards her and hit her squarely in the chest.

And in those final moments, she remembered feeling the loss, the pain that threatened to tore her before death ever could. And feeling afraid…very afraid. Though, unsurprisingly, not for herself…but for her husband, who had already lost too much.

She heard his name in her waking dreams when she had uttered it in a breathy whisper as she saw him sprinting towards her in a desperate attempt to reach her before the inevitable happened just as the last breath escaped her lungs.

'Harry…'

And then a brilliant flash of white and a sensation of warmth spread through her being that she couldn't even describe despite her rather extensive vocabulary. No word would ever, could ever be sufficient that could entail all her feelings in their entirety as to what this place meant to her.

Had it been the afterlife?

Perhaps. But it had seemed so much more.

And here it was that she found some trouble. She could feel there was something more here. That there was something that she had done, something she had lived. But try as she might, she could remember nothing of her time in that glorious warmth.

All she could recall was returning to the same murky pool of black nothingness that she had exited from when her life had been taken away from her and now this…

Her Prison.

She could not see her warden's face, but she instinctively knew who it was. The venom in her voice when she had welcomed her into her domain after wrenching her from the dome of pleasant warmth had been enough to jog her lethargic memories.

There was only one being who held this much animosity towards her husband on this plane.

Atropos. The third of theFates.

Harry had told her of his dreams during the end. He had shown her the mad ravings of the divine entity that plagued him every night. How she had tortured him with horrible images of his loved ones. She remembered seeing her own body, torn and defiled, in his mind one night when he had opened it up to her. While it had disturbed her something fierce, it had also risen her respect for him more than a few notches.

He had carried them all on his back even when he was suffering from demons of his own. And she couldn't possibly love him more than she did right at that very moment. He was her rock and it was only through him that she had lived all the years without becoming mad herself.

She just wished she had had the forethought to not dismiss his dreams then. It was war. They had all been broken somewhat. Hermione had just assumed it the burden on his shoulders that had taken a form in his psyche. She should have known, when her husband was concerned, the normal rules for mortals didn't just bend, they went out of the window altogether.

She did not know how long it had been since she was prisoned. Time, in this plane, did not follow the same rules as in the land of the living. It was subservient to the whims of her host it seemed. Maybe it was a good thing? She hadn't felt its corroding touch at least. She knew, instinctively, what could happen to her if she was exposed to its current now. A soul such as hers was not meant to be anywhere but within the dome of glorious warmth, she had been forced to leave behind. She was an aberration. And time…it hated aberrations just as much as it loathed paradoxes. Everything she had studied and known about it when she was living had made this clear to her.

A manic laugh snatched her attention from her thoughts as the bars of her prison cell were struck with a current.

It wasn't the first time it had happened. Her warden had a penchant for using means like these to gain her attention.

"I hope you're still with us, dear," the cold voice remarked.

Hermione remained silent. Unmoving. Knowing, her captor would only gain pleasure from hearing her pained voice.

"Oh, there you are," Atropos was nearer now, she could tell. Her voice carried over from the pale curtains that covered her cage.

"You have to forgive us, dear. We did, for an instant, forget you were here actually. It is a flaw in us, alas," she sighed theatrically. "We do tend to lose ourselves within our weave sometimes, you know. It's such a marvellous thing. All those lives, a touch of our hand and their thread slip under and over the great plan… Oh, the power in our fingers…It can be quite exhilarating," Atropos seemed to shudder in pleasure at the thought.

"Tell me though, have you given a thought to what we asked? It's a matter of some urgency, dear heart," she asked with false politeness.

Hermione didn't plan to say anything. There was no reasoning with this psychotic bitch. Atropos was high on her divine power. And for some reason, she had taken an offence with what Harry had done. Atropos had shown her everything. His attempts to travel back in time, his actions since his successful return, she had seen it all.

She could not be more proud of her Harry.

And when he was drowning in agony as the blood changed him and added into him the essence of the forebearers after the adoption ritual, it had taken everything in her to not cry out to him. Even then, ghostly tears had fallen from her eyes all the same. He was her everything. And after the life they had shared together, no matter how quickly it had ended, she knew she had to harden her heart to not betray his secrets. And so, she had stayed silent even in her mourning.

His face flashed before her eyes, smiling at her with the same lopsided grin of his. And the mere memory of him was enough to strengthen her resolve. She would not be bent. Not for this bitch, nor for anyone else. And when she considered it with some thought, It was good in a way, she supposed. If Atropos was this angry then it meant that he was still alive despite all her machinations. And to her, it meant everything.

A current that had until now stayed within the bounds of her cage jutted out towards her at her silence and struck her physically even in her ghostly form.

"AHHHHHHHH…"

She screamed in pain as if her soul was on fire.

"Silence will gain you nothing here, dear," Atropos remarked and flicked her fingers to stop the jolt.

Hermione heaved heavy breaths as her form relaxed. She lifted her head and a few hairs parted from her face as she glared at the shadowy form of Atropos behind the curtains. "Ne…never!"

A cruel, mocking laugh erupted from Atropos' lips at the response. "Oh my, the spirit! We'll see if your convictions stay this rigid after I am done with you, dear heart. I do so hope you don't break soon. My children in your world below have already started the preparations, you know. It'd be a shame were you to fall before they are done, wouldn't it?"

Dread filled her as she understood what the bitch had planned. Before she could think anything else, the pain that had stopped just a few moments ago flared within her with a vengeance.

"ANHHHHHHHH…"

Atropos simply hummed as though attempting to match a symphony with her screams. "That's it, dear, let it all out…" she giggled and soon was laughing along with her screams, delighting in her pain.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"…emeís oi profítes tou manteíou ton delfón dínoume ton eaftó tis se aftín…"

"…emeís oi profítes tou manteíou ton delfón dínoume ton eaftó tis se aftín…"

The chanting voices echoed in her chamber as the gateway she had created to the world of living glowed with power.

"Oh look, they have started. Such obedient children, whatever would I do without them?" Atropos sighed happily.

Turning to her side she saw the limp form of the soul she had stolen. She was ready. Oh, there was a struggle within her still, she had no doubt of that. But it was nothing compared to what it had been before. A slight laugh escaped her at that. To have a soul in her hands…there was nothing she couldn't make them do of she had the time. These pesky humans were strong-willed – a gift given to them by the one whose name she and every other being of the higher plane had long forgotten, after all these aeons without his presence – but even the strongest of them all had bent their knees when she was done with them.

Just like the soul before her.

If she'd had more time, she was sure she would have turned the little human to turn on her beloved of her own volition. But alas, her children were waiting with the vessel and she would have to make do with her weakened will rather than a broken one.

"It's time, dear. The world is waiting…"

The soul attempted to struggle feebly. "N…no. Don't…Please…"

Atropos snapped her fingers and the soul appeared in front of her, out of her cage. She had taken a lot of care not to let the soul see her visage, shrouding herself within a barrier. Mortal beings couldn't look at divinity without exploding most brilliantly. And while it had its own fun, she needed this particular soul alive to return the weave as she had woven it to be.

"…afíste tin psychí na entachtheí s 'aftó to skáfos kathós i megáli mitéra dioikeí."

(let the soul join the vessel as the great mother commands)

"Last chance, dear heart. Will you help me return the weave as it was supposed to be?" she asked again.

She knew what would come out of her pet's mouth before she said it. The spark of slight fire in her brown eyes had said it all, sadly. "No…no matter how many times you ask…I will not betray him…"

A cruel smirk came upon her face as she heard those words. "You will, my pet. It will be your hands that will strike him down. I have said so. And so shall it be."

In an instant, she grasped the struggling soul with her hands and shoved it into the gateway her children had opened for her.

A golden glow surged into her chamber as she flared her considerable power.

"…emeís oi profítes tou manteíou ton delfón dínoume ton eaftó tis se aftín…"

"…emeís oi profítes tou manteíou ton delfón dínoume ton eaftó tis se aftín…"

"The world will burn, Harry Potter and your love for her will end your days…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"…Welcome, Theïkóplo. We, the prophets of the great mother welcome you to the world of the living once more. Do you know what it is our mistress wishes you to do?" the blue-eyed blonde woman asked in a soft voice.

The golden mark of Ankh on Hermione's small body glowed with an eerie light and a mist covered her mind fogging her struggling thoughts.

"Yes," Hermione replied in a small conflicting voice.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"That went well," Sirius quipped after taking a long sip from his teacup.

Harry chuckled slightly. "The plan, maybe, but I can't say the same for your face, I'm afraid, Sirius. I reckon that cheek will stay red for a while longer."

Sirius scowled at the reminder.

Harry laughed a little harder. "Oh come on. Cheer up. We got this done, Sirius. And all it took was two serial murderers off the streets and a bit of planning."

"And a clip down my right cheek," Sirius added sourly.

"And a clip down your right cheek," Harry agreed. "But seriously though, did you really have to say it? 'Does your hand feel heavy, Madam Bones? I can hold it for you.'" A chortle escaped him as he remembered the look on Amelia's face when she'd heard the words. "She was already a bit rocky after the soirée downstairs, I am not sure trying to chat her up then was the best remedy for whatever she was feeling."

"You say that now…" Sirius mumbled inaudibly taking another sip to soothe his aching jaw.

Harry simply looked on, amused despite the serious conversation they had shared not an hour earlier. It had worked quite well for his plans. His offerings had done much to sway her to his thinking and though she hadn't decided one way or the other, he was certain it was only a matter of time now.

He had given her what her precious justice couldn't for years. Revenge. And if there was one thing he knew could tilt her to his way of thinking, it was the closure that she had been denied for so long.

She had said that she would be owling them with whatever she decided and he had wisely decided not to push. She was coming down from her high. The screams they had heard during the night had been enough for him to know that she had let go of one of the last tethers of her self-control to deal with her brother's murderers. It would have been difficult for a woman with her convictions to consciously give in to her baser instincts.

And yet, she had done just that.

If for nothing else, Harry would give her some space for that alone.

Amelia Bones had certainly earned his respect.

And from his godfather's face when she had departed, he wasn't the only one who was impressed by her it seemed. He knew Sirius was getting a bit more involved than he had to be with a woman who ran the whole Auror department for their nation. Harry knew he should have put a stop to it the first time he had seen it, but despite his warnings to him, he knew Sirius hadn't had much luck with women in his life. With a mother like Walburga and sisters like a maniacal, insane dark witch and a nosy uppity prejudiced trophy wife, he had never really stood a chance.

And speaking of, his godfather had become a bit more pensive than his usual self. Especially after his late-night meeting with Amelia. During the time she had busied herself downstairs, he and Sirius had had a little chat about what had transpired in the meeting in her office.

Something Sirius had said had given him an idea as to what it could be about but Harry hadn't touched the topic since.

"She said Dumbledore shut her down when she attempted to look into Runcorn," Sirius said with a deep frown. "Why would he do that?"

Suffice to say Harry was pleased with the directions where Sirius' thoughts were taking him. Sirius wasn't thick. He knew that. What he was, however, was fiercely loyal. And manipulations or not, Dumbledore had done much for him and his friends to earn that loyalty. Harry could only hope that this thread could unravel whatever curtain the meddler's had on Sirius' eyes.

A sharp rap on the window brought his attention and he saw a brown tawny owl sitting on the ledge glaring at him with large black eyes.

Harry hopped down the chair and walked towards the kitchen window. He opened the glass and as though it was invitation enough, the owl glided down the kitchen table and settled itself, preening its feathers.

A little wrangling with the owl and he had the letter dislodged from the owl's legs in exchange for a bowl of water which he slid towards the avian messenger.

"Expecting something?" Sirius asked coming from down the hall.

"Quite a few somethings actually," Harry answered distractedly waving his wand at the levitating parchment as he checked for any curses or jinxes.

When the letter glowed a pale blue, he slid his wand back into his sleeve and plucked the letter from the air. Opening the folds he read the first few words and a wide smile formed on his face. He finished the letter and chucked it onto the table. He was out of the kitchen before the letter landed.

"Hey! Where to?" Sirius asked confusedly.

"She's here, Sirius. She's finally here!" Harry yelled back as he grabbed the coin pouch from the side table and ran outside. He paused in his steps when a stray thought reminded him of his guests downstairs. Turning back to his frowning godfather he said, "Leave them down in the basement. I'll take care of it tonight."

"Fine. But…" before Sirius could finish the sentence Harry had already cast the disillusionment charm on himself and, with a turn and crack, was gone in an instant.

His frown turned to a smirk as he thought of a possible 'she' Harold could have meant. "Well, at least he's not stalking her anymore."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Harry arrived at the apparition point at the lesser used eastern edge of the Diagon Alley, facing the back entrance of Knockturn. There were a few dredges of society walking about but he had expected as much. His arrival had twitched a few ears in his direction but when they saw nothing, the nosy stragglers had wandered off without pause.

He moved with a joy that he had scarcely felt ever since coming back. He didn't quite believe in consecutive victories anymore, given that they hadn't happened to him all that often, but the owl mail this morning had been the best piece of new he'd gotten in a while. Some part of him was dreading the obvious, 'drop of the other shoe,' but his happiness had managed to contain it somewhat. And as it was something he had been hoping to hear for a couple of weeks now so, it wasn't some unexpected news that could bungle things up for him either. His experiences in life had taught him to enjoy the small moments of happiness he could get.

Coming near the entrance to Diagon, he shifted to a lone corner and seeing no eyes around, cancelled his disillusionment charm with a flick of his wand. Now quite visible, he moved into the crowd and let it carry him towards his destination into the alley proper.

A couple of hundred meters and a twenty-minute walk later he was standing outside the shop with a wandering mind. There were quite a lot of things that could go very differently from his expectations.

The branch of magic that his current dilemma was related to was never fully explored even by the most brilliant of academics. Though the bond wasn't considered a common occurring per se, it wasn't rare either and hence hadn't caught the fancy of the multitudes of researchers who delved in such things. Everything he had read on the subject had been speculations with very little theory to back it up.

But he knew her.

And he hoped she would know him too.

He took another look at the board and breathed in a fortifying breath.

'Magical Menagerie.'

The bell tinkled announcing his arrival inside the smelly and congested shop. He put a single foot inside and got the same cold welcome he had gotten before. "Got the mail, I see." The obese man, the owner of the menagerie was high up on the ladder cleaning the nests of various avian species and their droppings. "Don't just stand there blocking the door! Come in, boy."

Harry sighed and came through the door proper. The man was just as much rude as he had been the last few times. Apparently, the fact that he had known about a specific delivery before it was actually delivered hadn't sat right with him even when he had told the man a completely believable story about his friend delivering the stock down in Carkitt. As far as cock n' bull stories went, the one he had given the man should have been on the up and up.

Maybe the man was simply suspicious of everybody. Harry hadn't known him that well before, after all. He had only been here a couple of times when Ron or Hermione needed some food or specialised tonics for their pets and he himself had mostly ordered treats from Hogsmeade or by mail order.

The man came down from his perch and eyed him speculatively once more. Harry held his gaze with a frown of his own. Having had enough of the staring contest, he asked, "Can I see her?"

The shopkeeper broke the eye contact and turned his back to an open box that had some hay and straws jutting out of it every which way. "Yeah. She's right here. Came just this mon'ng," he answered turning around with his hands cupping something white and tiny as it wiggled in his large hands.

His breath hitched when he laid eyes on her. A beat quickened in his heart as if to coax him to move before time itself traversed the stream. The white plumage on her tiny body was thin but very full, foreshadowing the beauty she would become in later years. Her small amber eyes were looking around, trying to take everything in all at once. She was so small…so tiny…but it was her!

The owner stepped towards him and she darted her eyes to the front, trying to look past the man's large hands. Just when their eyes met, a familiar feeling stirred within his gut and he knew, with utter certainty, she was his.

Her last moments flashed before his eyes when she had taken a curse that had been meant for him and his eyes grew moist.

A breathy whisper escaped his lips. "Hedwig…"

The moment was broken when the man looked at him sharply. "What was that?"

Harry collected himself and give the man a dismissing smile. "Nothing. She just…she just looks like my mum's owl," he said shaking his head a little. "I'd like to have her. How much?"

The shopkeeper turned and walked behind the waist-length glass shelves that worked as a barrier between his stocks and customers. "She's young. I don't sell 'em till they're two," he said with a straight face.

Harry knew this game. He'd had to play it more times than he cared to admit. But seeing the man trying to shake him down when, at least to him, he was only a six/seven- year old boy? Harry took one look at his faithful friend in his grasp and sighed inaudibly. "Good to know. How much?"

The owner smiled at that. It was a greasy, smarmy sort of smile that made Harry want to curse the shit of him, but he relented. Barely. "Fifty Galleons. Not a knut less."

Alright, that wasn't too bad. The greedy bastard was simply charging him double. More or less. The usual price for mail-owls was somewhere around twenty-five to thirty galleons and bit more if they were rare breeds.

But why charge double though? That was the question, wasn't it?

Was it as simple as the man disliking him? And even then why try to swindle a kid when there couldn't possibly be a way for him to have fifty galleons lying in his pockets? Even an amount half of that was a stretch but it could be passed off as an expense for a child's first pet. Did he simply didn't want to sell her? That didn't make any sense either. The man owned a shop for pets for Merlin's sake!

Then it hit him.

It was a fucking test.

The fat fuck was trying to gauge him. But why? Harry hadn't given the man any reason to doubt him with the story he'd fed him. And even then he'd have no way to verify it since the friend whom he'd said would be delivering Hedwig to Carkitt didn't work there. Plus, it was such a small fucking thing. Wizards, even the sketchy ones like the owner seemed to be, though not as doting on children, not of their own, weren't this suspicious of kids. At least he hadn't met any who were. And there were more than a few people who bred owls and sold the owlet parliaments to various menageries. So, it couldn't be that. Was the man simply a bit paranoid? Or had he missed something?

Perhaps. But this wasn't the right time to mull over his interactions with the man. With a show, Harry pulled out the coin pouch and without opening it fully, dove his hand inside pretending to count. He smiled a bit apologetically at the man's annoyed expression and continued to move his hands inside. With a sniff, the obese man turned to put Hedwig back into a nest directly behind the counter and continued to clean the shelves as before.

With a shrewd eye, Harry noticed the man kept stealing glances towards the stairs that went upstairs. It was possible that the man was hiding some cross-breeds that had been outlawed by the ministry. Hagrid couldn't be the only one to have a great fondness for the beings who could kill you a hundred different ways. And it would certainly explain the shopkeeper's suspicious nature.

The menagerie was little ways down towards the cross where Diagon met Horizont Alley. And even though it was in Diagon proper, the traffic was certainly nothing as compared to the centre where most of the other shops that sold school supplies were located.

Even now, when it was half-past nine, he was the only customer the menagerie had.

His instincts that were until now suppressed somewhat by the joy of seeing his familiar once again were now niggling at the back of his mind, buzzing incessantly. As surreptitiously as he could, Harry darted his eyes around to see if the place was something more than it seemed to be.

The shelves were the same as they had been before. Filthy and full of various species of animals, magical and otherwise. The three Puffskeins he had seen earlier were still floating around. The baby Runespoors had gained a bit of length and were still lounging the lone corner for some sunlight. And even the Horned Toads were exactly in the same place, croaking their displeasure at being caged.

He jingled the coins once more and to show his commitment to the task, brought out a couple of galleons onto the counter, so it'd be easier to count.

Another quick look to his left and something caught his eye. A box at the lowest tier of the shelf was moving slightly, edging towards the drop. The next moment the head of a small green snake lifted from the lid and a forked tongue flicked from its mouth, tasting the air.

Harry smirked inwardly. His job had just gotten a bit easier.

'Just like the old days, then.' He thought to himself, remembering the countless raids in which he had used his reptilian friends to scout for his squad. It was funny how prejudice and fear of something absurd evaporated in an instant when one's very life was at stake. Even Justin, their resident explosive expert had never said a single thing to him when he had started taking advantage of the supposed dark arts to provide resources and food for the Resistance.

In one quick motion, he extended his wand from his sleeves just a little and cast a silencing ward in a very small radius with him as the centre. It was nothing that would hold up to a general-counter spell, but it was enough for a quick chat.

§"Hello…"§ he hissed.

The snake looked at him sharply, his beady eyes glaring at him as though judging his worth. §"Ssspeaker?"§the snake hissed back just as suspicious as his owner.

§"Yes. Do you know what's above those stairs?"§ Harry asked quickly.

The snake regarded him with a look which perfectly conveyed that it knew what Harry was doing. Perhaps it was just for revenge after having been kept in captivity for so long or perhaps it was just its nature but just when Harry was beginning to think that the snake wouldn't respond, it hissed back in what seemed to him like a contemptuous voice, §"Humansss….Sssick Humansss."§

And with those words, the snake was back inside his lid leaving Harry with more questions than before.

Confused and with little time to think about it, Harry flicked his wand to dismiss the ward and gathered all the coins he had put onto the corner back into his pouch. Right now, the shopkeeper was expecting him to either cough up the gold and prove whatever suspicions he had to be true or to give up Hedwig. And that was never going to happen. He'd just have to figure out what the snake had meant by sick humans when he returned later.

Harry masked his face into a one of disappointment and looked at the man dejectedly. "Oh…well, I don't have that much on me. I'd have to ask mum. Can you…can you please hold onto her for me," he said in a small pleading voice. And then as though he had just remembered what the man had said to him earlier, he continued in a more confident voice, "You said you would keep her for a week!"

The shopkeeper frowned and turned a little on his side to look at him, possibly having remembered saying such a thing to him. And then with a slight shake of his head, returned to cleaning the shelves at the back. "I suppose I did. Just a week then, boy. I won't sell her for another year or two after that, no matter your gold," he said as he turned and towered over the shelf to look at him menacingly.

Harry nodded with an enthusiasm to match his purported age. "Deal!" he said with a hand out front for a shake.

Before the man could take his hand, the bell tinkled one more and a wizard in a dark blue hooded robe entered the shop. Harry acted as though he hadn't noticed the arrival but could see the man moving past the shelves pretending to browse without actually paying any attention towards the animals. His eyes caught another similarly dressed fellow waiting outside looking decidedly nervous while holding another figure by the forearm.

The owner discarded his laid back routine and with some urgency took his hand and gave a shake. "Yeah…Deal."

With a side glance at the strange wizard to his right and a longing look back at Hedwig, who was now nuzzling the straws inside her nest, he left the shop thinking about the plan that was coming along in his mind.

'Definitely not just a menagerie then…I wonder how Sirius would look in a dress.'

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Absolutely not!" Sirius exclaimed.

"How about a transfigured robe then, with a hood. Nobody would even recognise you, Sirius," said Harry, more than a little amused.

"That…that doesn't matter! I would know, wouldn't I?" Sirius replied.

Harry smothered his laugh. "What do you suggest then?"

"Does it have to be your mum who has to go? And how do you even know he's hiding something? You said you were the only one with him in the shop."

"Yes, but he was acting shifty, Sirius. And when I was leaving there was this guy…" he shook his head, not sure how to describe the feeling he'd gotten. "Look, he deliberately hiked the price to see what I'll do. Who gives their kid fifty galleons for pocket change? And a pet store owner who doesn't want to sell the pets?" Harry asked arching his brow. "Tell me that doesn't seem off to you."

Sirius visibly deflated at that. "Sure. But loads of people go to his shop, Harold. Are you telling me none of them noticed what you did?"

He simply looked at him with a deadpanned expression. "Loads of people knew you, Sirius. Are you telling me none of them noticed the difference between your murderous doppelganger and yourself?"

Sirius grimaced.

"Wizards, as I am sure you must have noticed by now, don't stray from their common conceptions. And even if there's nothing wrong with the man I still need you with me to convince the fat bastard. It'd look odd if I just turned up with the gold."

When he saw him about to cave, Harry relented a bit more. "Tell you what, we can just use glamour on your face if you don't want to dress up."

Sirius sighed and stood up from his chair. "Fiiine. But after that I need to get back to my apartment, Gawain has noticed my restless feet. He'd be wondering where I am going after a while."

A crease formed on Harry's forehead. "That could be a problem."

"Maybe," Sirius agreed. "But for now, he is back inside Umbitch's arse looking for change."

Harry groaned at the image. The toady bitch had become a bit more resourceful than she had been during his Hogwarts years. Either her influence had drained somewhat in the years that had followed or she hadn't exerted as much pressure as she could have for some reason. Either way, they needed to keep an eye on her.

An hour later, with Sirius under a glamour charm, they were off to Diagon Alley. With brown hair, blue eyes and tall stature, Sirius was looking every bit of Harold's father.

Another apparition, this time a bit more close to Diagon proper, and they arrived in the shop without fanfare and the bells tinkled once more signalling their entry. Without a word, Harry led Sirius inside and not seeing the shopkeeper at the front, rang the bell on the counter.

"Hold on a moment, I'm coming." Came the shout from above rather than the back.

Harry looked at Sirius with a raised brow. There was definitely something upstairs. And it couldn't be an apartment because all the shops on this end of the alley were just ground level with a small attic above. The apothecary adjacent was much the same just with an open brewing station on the floor above which was quite visible to the customers.

The man came hurrying down the small corridor with heavy feet and rushed to the counter, a little out of breath. "How can I he…" he paused looking at him. "…you again," he drawled and shifted his attention to Sirius. "Brought your father I see."

"Hello." Sirius greeted with a small smile. "Can we see her, please?"

The man grunted in mild annoyance but turned to get Hedwig and her nest on the counter. "As I told the boy, I won't sell her for a knut less than fifty."

Sirius nodded with a smile. "Henry here said as much. Why, if I may ask, are you charging this much for a mere mail-owl and a recently hatched one at that?"

The burly man shrugged. "My shop. I can charge whatever I see fit."

"Of course. But as you can see it's the boy's first owl. I'm sure you can understand how much the first pet means to children, can't you? Now, I can't simply afford fifty, but how about thirty-five. I can…"

Harry tuned out the argument. He knew what the owner was doing. Now that he had set a price and his hunch had been proven to be without basis, he was trying to stick with the act, hoping they would think that he was merely being greedy. Harry would have commended him for his presence of mind in such a tricky situation had he not been busy sensing the man's magic that barely flared out of his body. A couple of seconds later, he was sure. The owner's magic was much like him, rigid and cold. Inflexible.

While Sirius was busy distracting the shopkeeper, he had just one simple task.

Find out what was hidden above.

With slow casual movements, he walked towards the very edge of the shelves and cages that lined the wall as close to the stairway as he could get.

With his back to the counter, he cast the homenum revelio spell to check for any other presences in the surrounding environment, sure that the burly man wouldn't be able to sense the marker on himself with his magic being so dense and rigid.

He waited for a second and then cast the mage sight charm on himself. The human revealing spell would create a glowing marker on the person and the mage sight would be able to see it even through the floorboards.

As per his usual modus operandi a third charm, this one a supersensory charm enhanced his senses.

It had taken his mind years to adapt to the overload of information his brain got whenever he cast the trifecta on himself. It was more than a little uncomfortable now that he was not really inhabiting his old body but it was manageable.

He didn't even have to squint when the invisible magical wave spread through the upper floor and stopped at the edge of the roof and markers began to show.

'Thirteen! What the fuck are thirteen people doing squatting above a pet shop?' he thought, thoroughly confused. 'The snake said there were sick humans there… What are you up to you fat fuck?'

He heard some murmurs from above and concentrated. There was a weird scent in the air that he knew but just couldn't put a finger on it. And then some of the muffled words caught his ears.

"The potion…last of them…it will not be enough!"

They were just bits and pieces and without a context, there was nothing he would understand just hearing the fragments.

"What are you doing there boy?" the owner shouted from behind the counter and he cringed in pain as the volume of his gruff voice was increased by the supersensory charm. "Your father's done the payment already! Enough browsing for the day if you ain't buying anything else."

Harry cancelled the charms with a subtle flick of his wand and turned back as smoothly as he could.

"'was just looking, old man. You've got nice toads there. My friends been looking for some," said Harry with false cheer.

His eyes caught the bundle of white feathers in his godfather's hands and he steadied himself for a moment.

With slow deliberate steps, he moved towards her and gently took her from Sirius' grasp. The owlet turned her neck to look at him in the bizarre way only an owl could and studied him with her wide open amber eyes.

Without warning, his magic surged inside him as though lifting up to touch a higher note of a symphony. He knew the bond that had been severed in his past after her death had reawakened when her amber eyes pulsed once in response to his own surge and nuzzled her face into his small hands.

Without a word to the owner, he walked out of the shop not even bothering to take Sirius with him.

He had missed her. He had missed the feeling of constant companionship that the bond between them provided. And until he had lost it and got it back, he hadn't realised the intensity of it. Hadn't realised how much it had affected him…changed him.

A small prek! from her and a smile bloomed on his face. She was just as he remembered her. Amazing.

Sirius came outside and put a hand around his shoulders. "Ever going to tell me why you were so fixated on buying this owl?"

"Maybe" he replied unattentively.

Sirius sighed. "Well then, at least tell me that you found something in the shop? I hadn't thought it possible then but the man was an arse for no reason. Did you know he kept asking me where I work? Why the hell should that matter for an owl purchase?!"

Harry finally looked away from sleeping Hedwig and turned to Sirius. "Yeah. There are thirteen people squatting in the space above the shop where there only should be a small attic. I suppose with expansion charms one could make enough space…but, well, I don't know what to think yet," he shook his head and continued walking towards the apparition point. Then he remembered something. "I smelled something too."

"Smelled something?" Sirius asked. "Like what? You know I seem to remember hearing that droppings of some of the magical species of rare breeds are used in making healing potions."

Harry frowned. "So?"

"So maybe you smelled that? They do use those in hospitals. And with your line of work, I am sure you must be familiar with every kind of healing potion there is. I have seen some of your scars, mate."

"Yes, well, we can't do anything about it now. Not without any clue about what he's doing there. And we've got problems of our own to deal with. Still have two house guests back at the cottage if you don't remember."

"You were the one who dragged me here," Sirius accused.

Harry ignored him.

A couple of steps later, they reached the apparition point and disapparated back to the cottage.

As soon as his feet touched solid ground, Sirius was moving back. "I have to go back to the apartment. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "tomorrow."

When he heard a crack, he looked down to see Hedwig stirring from her sleep.

"Hi Hedwig…" he breathed softly. "You're finally home…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Eight hours, a few of them spent playing with a really energetic Hedwig, Harry was standing in the same forest he had caught Greyback in.

It was just as creepy as it had been the night before. He had never understood why the werewolves were drawn to places like these. He knew that they craved nature and that it somehow subsided their more primal urges but there were countless forests that were isolated and did not look like people get murdered there.

But then he saw the two body bags lying on his feet and shrugged.

It did have its benefits.

He brought out his wand and with a few deft flicks and a steady wave, there was a soil mound and a trench to fit the bodies of both bastards within.

He levitated Macnair first and dropped him in the trench with a solid thump!

A shaky breath left him as he remembered how long he had waited for this day to come. The fucker had carved him up like a turkey once. Had made a mess of his back and was the reason why some of his people hadn't had the mercy of a quick death when they had been caught in the raids.

A hollow rage burned inside him as he remembered the monstrous acts of one Walden Macnair.

It was over, he told himself. And even if he wasn't the one who had ripped out his soul, he was at least the reason that he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore.

And dark smirk came to his face as he remembered the butcher's body. He might not have had a chance to pay the man back for the scars on his back but Amelia had not restrained herself when dealing with the man. He'd had to stick some of his toes back to his hands and feet before putting him in the bag.

He hadn't thought that people would understand his need for revenge. Had never held on to the hope that the would see him as anything but a monster, but seeing Amelia, he knew, he was not alone in his hunger.

Ridding his mind of the dark thoughts, he turned back and levitated Greyback in the same hole.

"Katie Belchley, Thomas Bailey, Cathryn Pince, Sylvia Bones, Roger Bones, Amanda Bones…This is for all those poor souls you ravaged you bastards…" He spat at the grave. "…and for those who you will never get to hurt again."

With a simple wave of his wand, the hole started to fill itself with the soil from the mound.

A shuddering breath escaped him as the earth became flat again, burying with it the most wicked of men.

He kept looking at the spot though. Struggling with his thoughts. There will be more bodies to bury soon. And there will be more blood on his hands. No matter how many allies he had and no matter how many of those he saved, the one to save him was forever lost to him.

Her face flashed before his eyes. Just like always, smiling at him with caring and loving eyes. Her voice whispered in his ears the sweet nothings and words of comfort to alleviate his pain.

It was all he had of her. Phantoms of times spent together.

A voice startled him out of her reverie.

"Back again I see."

Harry tensed in an instant. He turned around looking every which way, coiled and ready to run at a moment's notice.

"You won't find me as easily, heathen," the voice echoed among the trees.

Harry stayed quiet and kept his eyes open in search of the disembodied voice that had at least seen him twice doing something incriminating.

"What gives one right to call these men monsters when he is one himself?"

He stilled at those words. He didn't know the voice, he was sure of it. But the voice knew him it seemed. And it wasn't just the things he had done in these woods, the words were tinged with the loathing that could only come from someone who had seen much of what he had done.

"Do you even deserve the love you cling to with such fierceness?"

That, broke his silence. "Show yourself!" he hissed.

"So you can kill me as well? I think not, nullifidian." The voice said with open contempt.

Harry looked around in a vain attempt to find his accuser. He cast a revealing charm in a split second and got nothing in return. A gust of wind from his wand showed nothing hiding nearby.

A mocking laugh echoed in the woods as the voice howled at his failure.

"I have the protections of the great mother herself, heathen. Your magic would not touch me in this form."

A shade, surrounded by dull grey mist lifted from behind the cover of trees and glided towards him.

Harry's fingers clenched at his wand grip. She – now that he could tell it was a woman's voice – wasn't a ghost. He was certain. Ghosts couldn't affect their surroundings in even the slightest manner and she was giving off some serious magical discharge. And now that his magical senses were running on all cylinders, he noticed something strange. The surge from her floating form was diffusing on its own, as though she feeding off on the magic that she, herself was releasing!

He had never seen anything like it before.

"Shocked to see something out of your depth?" she asked snidely as though she had heard his thoughts.

Harry tightened his occlumency barriers to their limits. He didn't know if it was just a mind game, but the woman was trying to startle him. Well, more than she already had. Shaking his head to rid himself of the doubts, he took a deep breath. He'd need to be calm to play her game.

"Not really," he replied, "just wondering what a pretty witch, like yourself, is doing in these woods at night." He brought a hand to his lips as though telling her a secret. "I hear there are wolves about you know?"

"I am no witch, you nihilist!" she spat, disgusted by the mere word.

"Oh?" he asked surprised. "If you keep hiding in the shadows how am I to tell then, milady? Perhaps some light needs to be shed on the matter eh?"

The next instant, he slashed his wand to his side and with a whisper of, "Lumos Solem," the clearing was filled with a light as dense as though the sun was shining upon it in the middle of the night.

The female voice cried out in pain as the light hit her without warning. "AANGH!"

But Harry was already moving. With a crack, he appeared in front of her and cast a single spell on her clothes.

"Duro!"

The spell worked as he intended and the fabric on her skin turned to stone, dismissing her balance.

With a single pull, he heaved the startled woman to the ground just as the light from his spell ended and before she could push him away with her arms where the fabric hadn't touched her skin, he had his wand on her neck and was already removing the charm she had done to camouflage her presence.

To his surprise, it took more power than he had believed it would but with a sickening, ripping noise, the charm failed and he saw her face for the first time that night.

Long blonde curls hid the left side of her face as the shinning blue eye looked at him with a hateful look. Her red lips were stretched in a sneer as she attempted to bite off his face with her teeth.

He had seen her before! s

Thoroughly surprised and with a knot of fear growing inside him, he hissed at her, "Who are you?"

She stayed silent, not even bothering to move her arms anymore.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" he repeated harshly.

Her sneer turned into a vicious smirk and she looked at him as he lost his composure, having recognised her.

"Not the right question…" she returned. "The question you should be asking is where is your dear wife?" she giggled with sick glee.

He got off her in a flash with a curse on his lips.

Before he could cast she stopped him with a finger, "Un un un…you so much as twitch that wand of yours in my direction and you will find her in pieces, you filth!" she snarled.

Harry seethed with a burning fury. The bitch knew him. She knew who he was. And worse, she knew Hermione. He should have known to trust his gut when he'd felt something wrong seeing the blonde with her in the school park.

He cursed himself inwardly. He knew the dangers that lived in their world. He should have known sick fucks like the blonde bitch would drag Hermione into the mess no matter how much he tried to keep her safe.

But would she stoop so low as to kill an innocent seven-year-old girl just to get to him?

He knew, seeing her eyes, that she was capable of murder. Just a single glance at those unflinching blue orbs and he was certain, she was not someone he could just dismiss with a simple wave of his wand.

But to kill a child? That took an especially cold soul.

Could he take that chance?

It wasn't even a question he had to ponder. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to save his beloved.

"What do you want?" he snarled, controlling his fury.

The woman laughed at him. A deranged, maniacal laugh. "You think you can bargain for her life?" she chuckled darkly and then fixed her eyes on his own and spat at him. "What I wanted was to see your eyes when you realised there was nothing you could do to save her, destroyer. What I wanted was to look you in the face and tell you that you failed…Failed to keep her safe. The great mother will have her soul just like everyone else whom you have come back to save."

Harry stood still. Sounds of blood rushing through his veins thrummed in his ears as his mind dissected her words. 'The great mother,' 'have her soul?'

Then it hit him with the force of a freight train.

"Atropos…" it left from his lips in a whisper and his knees buckled.

The woman frothed at the mouth at the perceived disrespect and shouted, "YOU DARE SAY HER NAME? YOU DARE? MISTRESS WILL BURN HER BEFORE DEVOURING HER SOUL, YOU DEFILER. SHE WILL HAVE HER AND NOTHING YOU DO WILL BE ENOUGH! YOUR WORLD WILL BURN, JUST LIKE IT WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!"

With that, she smeared the blood from the cut on her body and painted it onto the symbol on her left arm her he hadn't noticed before.

His eyes widened as he recognised the mark on her flesh. 'The prophets!'

Before he could lunge at her, there was a bright light from the mark and a surge of magic so powerful that he was thrown back with a crash.

Harry scrambled back to his feet and looked around, searching wildly. "COME BACK! YOU COME BACK!"

Silence answered his screams.

A growl came from his throat and he steadied himself beside a tree. The woman was no doubt working with others of her kind.

'The fucking prophets.'

The pet projects of a raving bitch. He'd kill her. He didn't know how, but he'd rip her tongue from her mouth.

Without thinking, he brought out a silver bracelet from his robes and tapped it with his wand. The bracelet glowed a deep blue and he almost cried in joy.

'Got her, you bitch!'

Anchoring the bracelet to his magic so as to not have to picture his destination, he turned and with a crack, disapparated…and appeared an instant later, crashing on the ground with a sickening sound.

"AHHHHHHH…."

His screams echoed in the woods as he writhed on the ground in agony. A brief look at his arm and he saw it jutting out of its socket and the bone gouging the flesh.

"FUCCCKK!"

The block had been powerful and he had attempted to travel through it without a single defensive spell on himself.

The pain was just the reminder of his stupidity.

He tried to tap the ground with his good hand to find his wand even as his blood drained the dry leaves littered on the forest floor.

His hand touched the familiar polished wood and he grasped it at once.

He was in no shape to cast the mending spell as he knew the muscle and sinew had been torn off during his attempt to apparate into a warded zone.

He knew the spell, but it would take a much steadier hand than his own at the moment.

Harry took a calming breath and focused his thoughts. He was no good to Hermione dead.

With a slightly less tremble in his left hand, he touched the wand at the break and cast, "Ossious Emendo."

"UNGHHHH….."

He muffled his screams and dared to look at the wound. The muscle was still torn and flesh was still open, but the bone had popped back into the socket and the break was repaired. Good. He would be able to handle everything else with a bandage until he could heal it properly.

"Ferula."

White bandages erupted from the end of his wand and wrapped themselves around the wound, closing it temporarily.

He sighed as the pain dulled enough to help him think coherently again.

'The bracelet tied to the charm I cast on Hermione turned blue. So, the tracking charm is still definitely working, but the place she's being kept has been warded.'

It was both good news and bad.

Now he knew the place and, given time, could decipher the co-ordinates from the charm but he also knew he'd have to get outside the property line, assuming that was the reach of the wards.

Did he have the luxury of wasting time when Hermione was in the hands of those sick fanatics though?

'No. I need to figure out what I am dealing with. And how the hell does the fucking prophets have enough magic to cast wards in the first place?! Aren't they essentially muggles? Atropos isn't allowed to interfere directly, she told me as much. The fuck is happening?' he struggled, agitated and confused with the situation getting out of hands in such a small span of time.

Nothing was making sense.

He needed to think. He could get to Hermione easily, but there would no doubt be barriers stopping him rescuing her.

He needed to know what he was up against.

Know…knowledge!

His mind suddenly came to a halt.

He needed someone who would know what would happen. He needed an insider!

With a mental fuck you to the queen bitch herself, he stood up.

Casting a look around he saw bits and pieces of his torn robes on the ground along with his fresh blood. There was no way that the fucking ministry stooges wouldn't find him with the evidence right there for the taking.

'The magical surge from the blonde woman would have been more than enough to get their ears twitching.'

Knowing the time was of the essence he summoned all the torn pieces of his clothes and dropped them on the leaves that were soaked with his blood.

"Livenola Inflamare."

The bluebell flames soared from the tip of his wand and burned every piece of fabric on the dirt without marring the soil itself.

Wizards thought bluebell flames to be something of a plaything. They confined it within jars to light their houses, they let children play with them without fear.

None but a few knew it's true nature. Bluebell flames were capable of completely annihilating a single object upon which it was cast. It didn't hurt the flesh or the living, but from the wand of a wizard with enough control over his magic, it could consume the most rigid of things.

Harry saw the black fabric shrivel up and die inside the churning blue flames and hastily repeated the process for his spilt blood after dousing the flames.

Lifting his still shaking left arm, he conjured a smooth piece of cloth to use as a sling for his right arm and cast a numbing charm on the wounded limb.

Breathing out slowly he focused his thoughts once more. He knew he cutting it a little close but he couldn't afford to splinch himself now. Hermione was counting on him even though she probably didn't know he was coming…or who he was.

The thought of her, scared and alone in a place filled with fucking heretics immolated his fury and he clenched his fists. With a destination in mind and steely resolve, he disappeared with a resounding crack!

The woods returned to their silence, having witnessed the clashing beliefs of two beings on either end of the balance.

A wandering gust of wind eroded away their footprints as the critters returned from their hollows.

A few moments later, two muffled cracks broke the silence as two hooded figures appeared out of thin air.

"This is the site?" a male voice asked.

"Yes, Agent Bernard. Sensors picked up a serious flare around the clearing ahead." A female voice replied.

"Hmm…" the Agent hummed looking around. "Let's see what we've got…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

The front yard was just as untidy as the last time he had seen it. The copses of Snargaluffs and Gurdyroots were scattered along the small hedges around the garden, protecting the other delicate fauna from the alien touch. The broken-down kissing gate guarded the green array of foliage.

He pushed the small wooden door open and stepped inside the garden, knowing full well that at least one person inside the black-coloured cylindrical house sitting on top of the hill would know of his presence.

With quick steps, he cleared the distance between the garden and the house itself and came near the back door.

Two old crab apple trees stood on either side of it, bearing berry-sized fruits and white-headed mistletoe, just as a little Owl with a slightly flattened hawk-like head possibly belonging to the owners preked sharply, perched on a thick tree branch.

He hid behind the first tree on the side and sat beside the storm shed.

There was only one reason for his presence here.

If he was meant to be here and for whatever reason, if she held the answers, then he had to see her. And if half the stories he had been told about her were true, then she would already know that he was standing outside her door.

So he waited.

He had nothing to go on but faith.

Half a minute passed. Nothing.

One minute. Silence.

His hands rubbed his tired eyes as doubt flared inside his mind. 'I should be searching for her!'

A minute and a half.

His eyes prickled as thoughts of Hermione's small frail body in a cage ravaged his mind. 'She didn't deserve this…She doesn't even know about anything. I should have protected her! I should have done more!'

"Doubts would not help you now, stranger," a soft melodic voice broke his meanderings.

His neck snapped upwards with a jolt and he jumped to his legs.

His quarry stood there, in front of him, dressed in a cream coloured evening gown looking at the spot he was hiding with glassy, vacant eyes.

"She's alive?" he asked in a hoarse whisper hoping she knew.

Her eyes changed at the question, becoming a bit sharper as she looked up at the dark sky. "She is…"

He smothered his urge to simply take the woman with her and comported himself with a force of will. "Tell me…please." A tear rolled down his cheek in his desperation.

The woman stood silently for some time. Unmoving, as she looked at something only she could see in the stars.

Just when he was beginning to think that she wouldn't answer, she spoke again in a strange musical litany. "You will find her at the place where she stopped being just herself and became something more. The place that gave you both what you needed from life."

Harry scowled for a moment as he heard another riddle. His fists tightened around the bark of the tree as he began to think about what the woman had said.

Images flashed before his mind of the places that meant something to him and Hermione both. Her house in Heathgate, Hogwarts, their house in Devon, numerous others bombarded his mind trying to match the words from the woman with the times they had spent together in them.

A soft hand touched his own and everything stilled within him. A strange clarity filled his being and with a certainty, a picture of a small valley came into the forefront of his mind.

His blue eyes caught her pale silvery ones and he nodded in thanks.

Just as he was about to turn away, the hand on his own tightened and stopped him. "you will return and explain why I saw the things I did," she said with a commanding tone.

He nodded again. "I will. I promise."

With that, he left the back yard and moved with a brisk pace to cross the garden before disapparating.

He knew the woman would demand answers. Had known it ever since he had decided to ask her for help.

There was a price to be paid when you meddled with the Fates. And he had just kicked the hornet's nest by pitting one of them against the other.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the maudlin thoughts, he took one last look at the hill he had just left behind and disappeared without a sound.

He didn't notice the woman still standing near the doors, looking at the spot where he stood with shining grey eyes trying to understand why this meeting had been something important to her.

A shout from the house broke her reverie. "Pandora dear, the roast's done."

"I'm coming, Xeno. Wake up Luna, would you?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

~ Review please ~

A/N – 1. I swear I had no intention of leaving it here. But the effing document manager was spitting out the chapter with ANSI characters. I could only amend this much of the chapter in the last three days. I will post another chapter, "Of Choices and Prophets part-3" in a day or so. I promise. I really didn't mean for it to be in three segments.

I am just as annoyed as you are.

2. Legend

• Theïkóplo – The vessel of Atropos.

• Nullifidian – A person having no faith in a deity. An unbeliever.

• The Fates – or Moirai – are a group of three weaving goddesses who assign individual destinies to mortals at birth. Their names are Clotho (the Spinner), Lachesis (the Alloter) and Atropos (the Inflexible).