MP: "Gotta have opposites, light and dark and dark and light, in painting. It's like in life. Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come. I'm waiting on the good times now." - Bob Ross
Chapter 20 - Trigger
The manor's great hall was quiet when they returned. She slowly took the hairpin trunk out of her clothes and quickly enlarged it and transformed it back to its usual form. Lynne approached it and knelt, her fingers tracing the subtle leather along the hinges before pressing in the sequence that unwound its locks.
A muted click broke the silence, and she eased the lid open, the enchantment shivering away like a curtain being pulled aside. Sirius Black was crouched near the corner of the trunk's interior space, shoulders hunched as though bracing for an attack that never came.
His hair hung in uneven strands, clumped together with oil and dirt, the dark lengths framing a gaunt face lined by exhaustion. He looked up at her with the reflexive wariness of a man who still didn't trust that he was out of prison yet.
Together with her master, they went inside her trunk. The smell rose with him as they approached him, heavy and stale, the rank dampness of dust mixed with sweat and pee, the sour tang of someone who hadn't had a shower in what seemed like years.
With his consent, even if his face showed clear discomfort, they spent the entire night assessing his mental state, conditioning him where it was needed and even obliviating some years in Azkaban off his mind.
Black was a clear mess, bordering insanity. They had a lot of work ahead of them. For now though, they were trying to patch things up, a temporary fix so that he cold meet with Harry without things turning badly very quickly for both.
She felt the exhaustion creep after what felt like exercising for hours non-stop. Outside, morning was beginning to seep into the sky in pale streaks, yet inside the air still held the stillness of night.
Her master was satisfied with how much they advanced that night and they left Black sleeping on her trunk to get some rest and recover her magic.
Through the day she had to keep Harry busy, while her master continued with their work. With the help of Zicky, they even went to buy new books to Diagon Alley for a bit. Even if it was risky, they were confident the house-elf could get them out in a blink of an eye if it was needed. Once she had Harry hooked reading his new acquisitions, she came back to help her master.
It had taken a lot of effort and many tiring hours, but they felt confident he wouldn't break down anymore. Of course, they still had more work and therapy planned for him, but her master deemed him sane enough, and finally they let him out of the trunk.
Thorne crossed the space without slowing, his boots clicking softly in rhythm with his cane against the polished floor, and glanced back just once to say that he would speak with Harry about Sirius at once while having breakfast. His voice was as calm as ever, but the instruction was deliberate and his face showed his exhaustion clearly.
"Make sure he is presentable, he needs a bath." he said as he moved away.
She was trained to dismiss discomfort, to set aside any sensory distraction that might cloud her task, but this was a stench that clung to the air in a way that no discipline could truly erase. It was a smell that spoke of years without warmth, without care, without even the smallest luxury of clean water. She have had prisoners locked for days before, so she thought she was used to it by now, but Azkaban clearly left a distinct mark.
"We have to clean you first before you can meet Harry." she said.
Black looked down at himself, winced, and with a slow nod accepted. She reached for him and his reaction was immediate as Sirius jerked back, his hands rising as if to ward her off.
"Wait, wait. I can manage." he muttered, his voice rough and uneven from disuse.
He attempted to step aside despite the narrow space. The effort was more about pride than capability. His balance was unsteady, and the faint tremor in his limbs betrayed the weakness he refused to admit.
Her hands moved with quiet precision, unfastening the worn coat that clung to his shoulders. He gritted his teeth and tried again to fend her off, his eyes flashing with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment.
When she began stripping away the last of the ragged layers, his protest turned sharp, telling her that she was too young to be doing this, that she should not be seeing him like this. She ignored the implication and focused on the task.
Beneath the grime, his body was a map of pain and marks all over. Scars crisscrossed his skin in pale, raised lines, some thin and straight as though made by a blade, others jagged and warped from burns or deeper wounds that had healed poorly.
His back was the worst of it, broad sweeps of scar tissue twisting across the shoulder blades, the work of repeated injury and neglect. She did not comment, though she understood that such marks were probably previous to his Azkaban stay.
He tried to pull away again, twisting enough to throw off her grip, and that was when her wand slid from her sleeve into her hand.
"Petrificus Totalus." The full body-bind curse caught him before he could regain his balance.
His body went stiff, and she caught him before he could collapse. In her arms, he felt insubstantial, the weight of a man worn down. To her enhanced strength, it was easy to pick him up.
She carried him through the hall, her steps measured and steady, the sound of water running already echoing faintly from the bathing room ahead, no doubt Zicky keeping track of them. Steam curled into the cooler air, carrying the faint scent of soap and clean linen. She set him down beside the deep porcelain tub, the water still swirling from the taps, and lowered him in with care.
The counter-curse brought a flicker of awareness back into his arms, the shock of the heat making him flinch. His gaze darted to her face as though expecting mockery, but her expression gave him nothing to work with.
Whatever words he had in mind faltered, his shoulders easing slightly as the warmth began to sink into his bones. She worked methodically, washing away the dirt that clung stubbornly to skin and hair alike, replacing the stale weight of Azkaban with the clean scent of soap.
"I'm not a child." he muttered. She chuckled slightly at him without stopping what she was doing.
By the time she finished, the man in the water looked less like a prisoner and more like someone who could stand in daylight without shrinking from it. His hair, though still ragged, no longer clung in greasy strands, and the deep lines of tension in his face had eased fractionally. He sat in silence now, no longer fighting her presence, as though the act of being clean had momentarily disarmed him more effectively than any spell.
The bathwater had cooled by the time Sirius settled into it without flinching. The steam had thinned into faint wisps curling toward the high window, and the restless twitch in his shoulders had faded into something closer to a comfortable and relaxed state.
His eyes no longer looked panicked, though there was still a wariness to the way they tracked her as she wrung out the cloth in her hands. For a time neither of them spoke, and she let the silence stretch.
She cleaned the last traces of grime from his neck and jaw, passing the cloth over his pale but now clean skin. It had taken its time but now he really looked quite handsome if you ignored his scrawny state, although that thought was a bit conflicting as she wasn't used to it invading her mind.
When she finally straightened and set the cloth aside, his voice broke the quiet.
"Who are you, exactly?"
The question was careful, more curious than hostile, though there was a guarded edge to it. His gaze lingered on her face as if measuring how truthful her words could be.
"I'm Lynne Volant." she replied. "I attend Hogwarts with Harry."
His eyes widened in surprise. "You are very young to be rescuing people off of Azkaban."
She didn't correct him, never mentioning her age and continued.
"My master is Solan Thorne, he is my guardian and the one who staged your rescue."
She expected the name to sharpen his suspicion, to draw some reflexive condemnation, but instead his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line that spoke more of thought than rejection.
"I remember Thorne, but I've never had much contact with him, thought he looked familiar." he said at last, his voice low. "Dumbledore was never fond of him. Said his methods were… extreme. I can see he trained you for this. I may not be fond of how he does things, but he fought ferociously and at times made the war switch to our favor."
That was not the reaction she had anticipated. Her impression of Sirius had been shaped by Thorne's limited reports and by what little the Prophet had ever written before his imprisonment.
She expected a man firmly in Dumbledore's camp, a loyalist who would have little tolerance for those operating beyond the headmaster's reach. Yet there was no outright disdain in his tone, maybe it was being a part of the Black family that didn't see his master's methods in a bad light.
"To be honest I expected another reaction." she said, her voice measured.
"I'm surprised for sure, but you rescued me anyway, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt at least." he admitted, leaning back against the rim of the tub. "I thought Azkaban would be the end of me that I deserved. But for some reason, right now I feel that there are still things left for me to do and have a second chance to do so. There are more important matters at hand, I'm not in a position to complain."
She studied him for a moment, searching for the flicker of falsehood that sometimes betrayed a man's real intent, but found none. Whatever else Sirius Black was, he believed his gratitude enough to say it plainly, they had really done a good enough job so far then.
"We won't stop you if you choose to leave, at some point, but we want you to be recovered first." she told him, "The Ministry will be looking for you the moment word spreads. That will be sooner than you think."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, though it didn't reach his eyes. "They'll have to catch me first. For now I just want to make sure you are not using my godson for some nefarious purpose."
It was bravado, she thought, but not without conviction. There was a spark there, a stubbornness that might make him more trouble than safety in the days ahead. She nodded back at him, not many survived 12 years of imprisonment and looked that sane without strength.
"About Harry, we will explain his situation to you shortly."
Sirius's gaze drifted toward the small window, the light there brighter now as the day continued to break. His fingers tapped absently against the rim of the tub, as though keeping time with a thought he had not yet voiced.
"You are too silent for a kid." he remarked at last, looking back at her.
"There is no need to say much right now." she replied.
That earned her a short laugh, dry but genuine. "Thorne's style, I suppose."
She briefly considered telling him more, some of the details about the war Thorne was preparing for, or the quiet network already working to dismantle the remnants of Voldemort's circle, but held her tongue. He would hear it soon enough from Thorne himself, and she had no reason to gauge his reaction here in the bath.
Instead, she stepped back, letting the moment settle. The lines in his face were different now, not erased but softened, as if the simple act of being warm and clean had shifted something in him. He didn't look as embarrassed as before, now that he understood that she was just cleaning him without a hint of being unsettled on her task while he was naked.
"Dry off when you're ready." she said, placing a folded towel on the stool beside the tub. "I'll find clothes for you."
As she left him, the smell of his Azkaban stay was finally gone, replaced by soap and steam. The change was small, but it was enough to make her think that Sirius Black, for all the damage he carried, might be able to walk out of this room looking like a man again.
The clothes she found for him were from Thorne's own collection, heavier fabrics in dark colors that would not draw attention. Sirius complained about every piece as if the fabric itself had personally wronged him.
The shirt was too stiff, the trousers too plain, the sleeves not cut the way he liked. His protests were more dramatic than angry, a half-playful defiance that seemed to be part of his nature.
She ignored it entirely, fastening buttons and adjusting hems until he was dressed, the smell of soap still clinging faintly to his skin. It took around 4 hours to complete her task but he was finally presentable, just in time for lunch.
When she pulled him toward the dining room holding his hand, he made a sound of exaggerated suffering, muttering about his dignity being dragged across the manor floor. She said nothing, though she could see how his eyes darted toward the corridor ahead, curious despite himself.
The long dining table was already set, silverware gleaming under the pale daylight streaming through the tall windows. Thorne sat at the head, posture composed, and Harry was seated along the side, fidgeting with the edge of a folded napkin.
When Sirius saw him, whatever lighthearted mockery had been in his expression fell away entirely. He stopped in the doorway as if his feet refused to move, his gaze locked on the boy.
For a long moment no one spoke. Lynne could feel the shift in the air, the way Sirius's guarded posture loosened into something rawer, almost fragile. Then Harry looked up, his eyes widening in recognition not of the man himself, but of the sense of connection that passed between them.
"Harry." Sirius said, his voice unsteady, as though testing the sound of the name after too many years of silence. Harry gave a small nod, then another, as if unsure whether to speak.
"You look so much like James." he said with pain in his voice.
He glanced once at Lynne, as though to confirm it was safe, before his curiosity overcame his hesitation.
"So it's true... You knew my parents."
Lynne thought that Thorne should have explained more to him, but since Harry didn't know about Sirius's existence yet, he probably wasn't even aware that he was branded as a traitor to his dead family, and this was a good start.
Sirius stepped forward, pulling out a chair but not yet sitting. "They were my best friends." he said. "Your dad was like a brother to me, and your mum… she kept both of us from doing even stupider things than we already did." His mouth curved into a faint smile.
Lynne hoped that he wouldn't break down right there, she was prepared just in case with her hand prepared to grab her wand as fast as possible.
Harry's face changed with every word, at first cautious interest giving way to a tentative smile, then to a flicker of grief at the mention of his parents, and finally to a warmth that surprised even Lynne.
She watched the exchange with careful attention, not to the words themselves but to the way Harry's posture shifted, how his shoulders straightened as this was the first time he heard something real about his parents.
Sirius sat down at last, though his eyes did not leave Harry's. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." he said. "I should have been, and I know it will take some time, but I'm here now and I will do what I can to make up for it."
Harry's voice was quiet when he answered. "I… didn't think I'd ever have the chance to know more of them from someone close." His eyes shone faintly in the light from the windows. "I want to know everything."
"Then you will." Sirius promised, leaning forward as though closing the distance would make his words more certain. "Stories, the memories I still have of them, whatever I can give you. They would want you to know who they were."
The table sat untouched between them, the meal forgotten as the conversation began to weave between questions and recollections. Harry's voice gained strength with each answer, asking about how his parents met, about their time at Hogwarts, about the war. Sirius spoke easily at first, but now and then his gaze would harden when the past took him somewhere darker. Lynne remained silent, letting the two of them navigate the fragile ground between grief and discovery.
Her role, in that moment, was not to speak but to observe, to ensure Harry and Black were steady under the weight of what was being discussed. She knew the boy well enough to see that his questions came not just from curiosity but from a deep need to finally know more about his family.
Thorne would chime in here and there and it seemed her master was also fond of the Potter family and their contribution to the war effort, even if he didn't know them from Hogwarts as he never attended the school. Something to ask him about later on, her newfound curiosity getting the better of her.
When Sirius finally leaned back, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth, Harry mirrored it almost unconsciously. It was a wholesome moment for her best friend and she was sure they had given Harry something he yearned for deeply, a connection with his dead parents as well as the possibility of finally having a family, as unconventional as this one was.
Thorne's office was a room built for both war and negotiation. Dark shelves lined the walls, each filled with orderly rows of books and scrolls, their spines worn from use but never neglected. The air held the faint scent of parchment, ink, and the smokeless candles that burned in wrought-iron holders on the desk. A large map of Britain covered one wall, dotted with pins of varying colors, the pattern shifting with every new development in Thorne's work.
It had been a very busy week and Lynne was glad that they were progressing rapidly. She entered first, holding the door open for Sirius, who strode in with an easy confidence that seemed at odds with the gauntness still clinging to his frame. Thorne was already seated behind the desk, fingers steepled as his gaze passed from her to their guest.
"Sit." Thorne said simply.
Sirius gave a faint, mocking salute before lowering himself into the chair opposite. Lynne took her place to the side, standing rather than sitting, her hands resting lightly at the back of Sirius's chair.
Thorne did not waste time on pleasantries. "You are free now. The Ministry will not forgive that. Azkaban has been humiliated, and its guards will not take the embarrassment lightly."
"I am aware." Sirius replied, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "I have no intention of handing myself back over."
"Good." Thorne said, his tone making it clear this was not a courtesy remark. "I did not risk this operation for you to waste the opportunity. However, do not mistake this for complete trust or altruistic reasons. I know your history, Black and I know you were innocent. But I also know you have a tendency toward reckless decisions that cannot endanger what we are building."
Sirius tilted his head, eyes narrowing faintly. "What exactly are you building?"
Lynne caught the subtle pause in her master's movements and the shift of a man deciding how much to reveal.
"A war." Thorne answered. "Against the Death Eaters. Against every one of them still walking free. Whether or not the Dark Lord is back at full power, most of his allies remain, and we will dismantle it piece by piece."
Sirius's expression darkened at the mention of Voldemort. "And you expect me to help."
"Yes. I do." Thorne said. "If you choose not to, I will still let you visit, as Harry is close to us at the moment, we have been protecting him where Dumbledore failed and that won't stop now. But if you choose to stay, you will operate under my command."
The room was silent for a few moments, save for the quiet flicker of the candles. Sirius's gaze moved to the map on the wall, then to Lynne, and finally back to Thorne.
"Why are you using a little girl like her for this? It's dangerous enough."
"The war took her parents away, if someone deserves to take up wands against them is her, she is more than what you think. She is also protecting Harry at school, she knows the risks involved and I have full confidence in her capabilities." her master replied, giving no room to question him more about it.
Sirius nodded slowly although looked unconvinced.
"You mentioned the dark lord as if he were still alive." Sirius said slowly.
"Lynne and Harry encountered him already in her first year at Hogwarts. We know he is, we believe he is not at full power though." he answered.
Sirius's eyes widened for a moment then he considered his words carefully. "Then you are trying to cripple his followers now than wait for him to return somehow. I understand..." With a look of newfound determination he stood. "Harry deserves to grow up without that shadow hanging over him. So yes, I will help."
"Great! I have many plans ahead but I will let you know when I need you and I can slowly share more details with you. I'm glad we can work together, Black."
"Sirius, please."
Her master nodded. "Sirius then. As a token of goodwill I'll let you know what we did up until now to fight them." he said.
"What about Dumbledore? I don't see you working with him."
"That's right, we will not work with Dumbledore, he won't approve of me or my methods and he is content doing nothing."
A shadow crept on Sirius face.
"There is something else you should know." Thorne said, his voice sharpening slightly. "You didn't manage to kill the rat that night. But you will be glad to know, that it is now dead."
Lynne glanced briefly at Sirius. She did not understand the significance, but the change in him was immediate, his eyes widening in surprise. Then a slow, feral smile spread across his face, his shoulders relaxing in a way they had not since she had first seen him in the trunk.
"Good. I didn't know he was still alive." he said simply.
She stored the reaction away for later, his master would answer it if she asked. She briefly wondered if this was the same rat she killed as she never considered even for a moment she had killed something important.
Thorne reached into a drawer and withdrew a long, slender object wrapped in dark cloth. He laid it across the desk, pushing it toward Sirius. "This was recovered from the Ministry by a contact of mine, it's a miracle it wasn't snapped. I believe it belongs to you."
Sirius's hands moved slowly at first, as though afraid it would vanish if he reached too quickly. When his fingers closed around the cloth and unwrapped it, the polished wood of a wand gleamed in the candlelight.
He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb along the familiar grooves, and for the first time Lynne saw his grin without restraint, teeth bared in genuine delight.
"Feels like it never left me." he said.
Thorne inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a piece returned to its rightful place.
"Make sure it stays with you this time."
The meeting ended without ceremony. Sirius stood, still turning the wand in his fingers, and followed Lynne out. She kept pace at his side, the image of that unguarded grin lingering in her thoughts.
It was the first glimpse of a man who had hope and resolve in his eyes, a great improvement from the battered look he had when rescued.
The air outside was sharp with the scent of wet grass and turned soil, the kind that lingered after a night of steady rain. From the manor's rear terrace she could see the rolling grounds stretch toward the far hedgerows, where Harry and Sirius were weaving low arcs through the air on broomsticks.
Sirius's movements were quick and erratic, his path looping around Harry's in teasing spirals that drew bursts of laughter from the boy. It was the kind of sound she had rarely heard from him at school and only present when he was up in the air. She stayed a moment longer to watch before turning toward the smaller path that led to Thorne's study.
Her master was at his desk when she entered, a single sheet of parchment spread before him, its surface covered in tight columns of names. He did not look up immediately, his quill moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Only when he finished the line he was working on did he set the quill aside and lift his gaze to her.
"The Ministry is aware." he said, the words leaving no question as to which matter he meant. "Sirius's absence from Azkaban was discovered. By now the news has reached every office and outpost they control."
She stepped closer, the faint crackle of the fireplace filling the pause. "Their response?"
"Exactly what I expected, they wanted to keep it under wraps but it is something too big for that." he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Two Death Eaters used the chaos to their advantage. Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood escaped, both gone before the guards woke up after we left them unconscious. In which manner, I'm not sure."
The names were familiar from her training, from lists of the most dangerous still living. Dolohov's reputation was one of brutal precision, Rookwood's one of cunning and long patience. She understood the frustration that edged Thorne's voice when he continued.
"We should have ended them when we had the chance." he said. "But the rescue was the priority. That was the right choice, even if I have to create new plans to contain those two."
He rose from his chair and crossed to the map on the far wall, his fingertips tracing an invisible path between several of the marked pins.
"We will find them, and when we do, they will die. But before that, we need to gather information on them and I don't know who they will go to first. Especially Rookwood."
She nodded once, the decision requiring no further discussion.
"The Ministry's panic has already reached the Muggle world." he went on. "The Prime Minister himself has issued a statement. A 'capture or kill on sight' order for Black. They have dispatched dementors and aurors to the most likely locations Sirius might seek refuge."
"Will that be a problem for us?" she asked.
His mouth curved faintly at the question. "Not unless we allow it to be. Moody proved to be a successful project, he has fully turned to our cause. That old paranoia of his will be useful, and he has always outspoken against Dumbledore's inaction. The reinstatement of the Order of the Phoenix was inevitable once news of Sirius' escape reached him, and he has already returned to active work."
He stepped away from the map and picked up a smaller folder from the side table, holding it out for her to take. She opened it to find sketches, coded notes, and a thin sheaf of financial ledgers marked with Yaxley's name.
"This is our next target. Corban Yaxley." Thorne said, the syllables flat with disapproval. "His illegal operations run deeper than most realize. We have enough to break them apart, but this will need to be done with precision. When he falls, every death eater will feel threatened and amidst the chaos, they might unite under someone's leadership. From here many things could happen, either they band together or they escape the country. If they band together, then they will probably launch raids or attacks to feel they are still in control, that they still hold power, while trying keep the rest of their allies and businesses from collapsing."
Lynne closed the folder and met his gaze. "When do we begin?"
"In around ten days time." he answered. "This time we will get support from hired wands. The first strike will draw blood in more than one sense. When it lands, the war will no longer be quiet. It will begin in earnest."
Her grip tightened slightly on the folder, the weight of it more symbolic than physical. "I am ready." she said.
"I know." he replied. "You have been ready for some time."
He returned to his desk, settling into the chair once more, and for a moment there was only the sound of the flames. Then he looked back at her, the faintest spark of anticipation in his eyes.
"If they find a leader to whom rally behind, this will escalate quickly. From this point onwards, there will be no going back."
She inclined her head in acknowledgment, the decision already made. Whatever came next, she would face it head on.
The manor felt quieter in the days that followed, though not with the stillness of peace. It was the kind of quiet that came when everyone in the house was waiting for something, each of them aware that the plans set in motion would soon demand action. Yet for now, the attention was turned inward.
She divided her time between reviewing the information gathered on Yaxley and helping Harry with his summer work. He was sprawled at the far end of the library table, quill in hand, parchment spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Sirius had offered to help, but his advice tended to wander into wildly unrelated stories about pranks, duels, and the questionable merits of hexing Slytherins when they didn't expect it. Harry laughed more during these study sessions than she had seen all year.
In the evenings, Thorne joined them in the training room to continue work on the Patronus charm. Harry's progress was rapid, the silver mist already forming into a more defined shape whenever he summoned it. His determination burned bright in every attempt.
Sirius had not even attempted the spell, he had shrugged it off with a smile that did not reach his eyes, muttering that he did not have enough happy memories left for the charm to work. She understood that feeling more than she cared to admit. Her own attempts were frustratingly inconsistent, the right memory always just out of reach.
They celebrated Harry's birthday a bit later than they wanted to, the library was abandoned in favor of the dining hall, where a modest cake sat at the center of the table. The candles flickered in the warm light, their glow reflected in Harry's eyes as he leaned forward to blow them out.
There were wrapped boxes beside the cake, gifts purchased with Sirius's vault funds. He had insisted on buying far more than they could possibly fit on the table, his enthusiasm almost boyish in its persistence.
Master Thorne watched from the head of the table, a faint trace of approval in his expression. When the last gift had been opened, he spoke, his tone carrying the measured calm that meant the words were important.
"I have found a place safe enough to carry out your theme park trip." he said. "The arrangements are made."
Harry's head came up sharply, the grin spreading across his face before the words had even settled. Sirius's reaction was even louder, a bark of laughter followed by a wide-eyed look of recognition. "Lily told me about those parks." he said. "She wanted to take all of us once we finished school."
Her master explained that they would use an international Portkey to reach Rio de Janeiro, then switch to Muggle transport for the final stretch into Argentina. Their destination was Parque de la Ciudad, a vast sprawl of attractions that had been open since the early eighties. He described it had sixty rides and features that they could try out.
Most importantly, there was a towering Aconcagua roller coaster, the twin Scorpion giant wheels, the double-track Vertigo-rama roller coaster and the sky-spanning Aero-gondolas which were chained floating chairs that would spin fast enough for them to take flight.
It all sounded so unbelievable to her but she couldn't deny it sounded exciting in it's own way. Harry's eyes grew brighter with every detail. Sirius leaned back in his chair, smiling as if the thought alone carried him far from the walls of the manor. The constant healing sessions were improving his condition but he would still at times stare at a random spot and looked lost.
Lynne forced herself to think in their trip instead, she could feel the subtle pull of anticipation inside of her, the idea of stepping away from the weight of war if only for a single day.
The folder on Yaxley still waited on her desk upstairs, and the plans for the strike were still taking shape in Thorne's office. But as she watched Harry laughing with Sirius over what rides to try first, she found herself willing to believe that the day ahead could be more than a temporary reprieve.
She was quite content that she was able to make happy memories before they plunged their world into war. Which on its own, was a novelty to her thanks to her new feelings.
Her master had left them to their own devices once they entered the park, Sirius claimed he would be the adult taking care of them but one look at his face and she could see she would have to be the responsible one on this trip.
Still, the day had arrived to finally try and ride the roller coasters. She hoped everything would be safe enough but also that they could enjoy it without issues. As soon as they located where to go, Harry and Sirius were already running to the Aconcagua attraction.
Now a man was strapping her to the small carts that were going to go around the twisted tracks at high speeds, the only reassurance was that she had both of the people she was entrusted with keeping safe by her side.
The trains of the roller coaster rattled overhead as they climbed the first incline, the rhythmic clank of the chain pulling them toward the sky. From her seat, Lynne could see the park spread out in every direction.
There were flashes of color from spinning rides, the slow turn of the twin Scorpion wheels, and the glint of sunlight off the water in the musical fountain. The air smelled of oil from the tracks, mingled with the sweetness of fried dough and caramel drifting up from the food stalls below.
The click of the ascent slowed, a final pause before the drop. Beside her, Harry leaned forward in his seat, gripping the safety bar with one hand and raising the other high, a grin wide enough to rival the sunlight.
On her other side, Sirius was already laughing, his voice carrying above the noise. The drop came suddenly, the world tilting forward as gravity seized them, air rushing past in a roar that stole the sound from her throat. The track twisted into a steep turn, then surged upward again before plunging into the first loop.
Unlike flying, where you feel the freedom and thrill of the rush of air on free fall, this didn't feel in control at all, strapped into the small cart chained one to the other gaining speed while everything shifted from side to side.
This was wild, relentless motion, the track dictating every lurch and spin. Yet the force pressed against her chest in a way that sent a pulse of exhilaration through her, and she found herself holding on not from fear but from the sheer intensity of it.
They flew through another turn, then into a corkscrew that left her vision tilting before the track leveled again. Harry's laughter was unrestrained, the sound cutting through the rush of wind, and Sirius whooped in, throwing a glance at her as if to challenge her to match their energy.
She let the smallest smile slip past her usual control, the moment too bright to resist entirely.
"Brilliant! Woohooo!" Harry shouted.
By the time the train pulled back into the station, her pulse was still high and her magic was on high alert from the echo of the ride. Harry was already speaking over himself about which coaster to try next, while Sirius commented that it was nowhere close to riding the goblin carts on Gringotts and insisted they ride this one again immediately.
They compromised on a second round later in the day. The park was a constant swirl of movement and sound and they wandered past stalls where vendors called out in Spanish, their voices competing with the music drifting from the miniature railway station.
The Aero-gondolas passed slowly overhead, the long chains holding the spinning chairs glinting in the sun as riders drifted high above the walkways. Harry craned his neck to watch them, pointing out that it was actually higher than he initially thought. Sirius nodded in agreement, though Lynne suspected his interest was more in the spinning motion than the height.
They tried ride after ride, each with its own rhythm. The swaying lift of the giant wheels, the sudden drop of the free-fall tower, the tight spirals of the Vertigo-rama that pressed her into the seat with each turn. It was relentless in its own way, yet none of them seemed eager to slow down. The day had the quality of something suspended outside of their usual time, untouched by the weight of the world waiting beyond the park gates.
Between rides, they shared a meal at one of the shaded outdoor tables. Sirius insisted on trying every fried food available, declaring each one the best so far until the next arrived.
Harry joined in with equal enthusiasm, while she ate with quieter interest, noting the unfamiliar flavors and the way the heat of the day seemed to settle differently after the meal. Of course, she didn't need to eat, but the fact that her body still had capabilities to taste and bring her new feelings was reason enough to try them.
As afternoon bled into early evening, they returned to the Aconcagua for one last ride. The sun was low enough now that the light turned the rails to bands of gold, and the wind carried a cooler edge.
This time, she felt something different in the seat beside her, these were the memories her other soul was after, not just the rush of speed but a slow warmth spreading from the presence of those with her.
It was simply a moment where they existed together, a strange and imperfect family bound by choice and circumstance, and she was beginning to understand what that was. She let the thought settle, and as the coaster plunged once more into its first drop, she swore silently to herself that whatever came after this, she would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.
She didn't resent her master for not giving her something similar until now, thanks to him, she had the tools to protect her new family.
The following day, long after the lights of the park had faded into memory, the world returned to its truer shape. The warmth of the day lingered in her mind but could not hold back the pull of duty.
By the time they reached home, the glow of sunset had given way to the cold light of the moon, and every trace of laughter had been locked away behind the focus that the work demanded.
The smell of metal and scorched air clung to her lungs as she stood over the bodies. The ground beneath her boots was uneven, broken by the weight of the fight that had passed through it.
Moonlight spilled over the clearing, silver against the black shapes of the dead, a dozen of them sprawled in the grass where their lives had ended minutes before. They could hear the other mages making sure everyone was alright, looting the corpses as they saw fit and recounting who did what.
It had been a small battle, around 16 snatchers and death eaters of which 15 were already dead and she knew they didn't plan on leaving anyone alive.
Her master had hired a company of 25 mages, and they had only one casualty on their side, which spoke volumes of the team her master had requested. Professionals from abroad indeed.
Her breathing was steady, but her senses remained sharpened to a knife's edge, her magic was scanning the world around her still. Every motion, every spell in the last hour had been part of a rhythm she knew by instinct, built through years of her master's training.
The bodies around them were not by accident, the plan was to leave the bodies behind, to send a message that they no longer had strength in numbers unless they banded together again completely, which was the goal.
Across from her, Thorne was lowering his wand, the last traces of green fading from its tip. His coat was marked with ash and dirt, though his stance was as composed as if he had just stepped out from his study. His eyes were fixed on the figure still breathing in front of her.
Corban Yaxley was on his knees, his robes torn, his face bruised and streaked with blood. His eyes darted between them, defiant yet wary, as though trying to decide whether pleading might buy him more than silence.
He wouldn't be able to apparate as the wards put in place before the attack held firm. Lynne stepped closer, her shadow falling across him, the familiar cold focus settling into her chest.
She had stepped on both his legs, breaking them to immobilize him as she extracted information out of him using legilimency. Now, there was only one more task left to complete her mission.
Her wand was steady in her grip, the wood warmed by her hand. She thought of the Death Eaters' hands in shaping the war, in taking her parents from her, in trying to carve fear into Harry's life before it had barely begun.
She thought of what it would mean if Yaxley lived long enough to gather others, to plot revenge, to rebuild what her master meant to burn to the ground. Her magic responded to the hatred and anger that she built with those thoughts. As he was about to open his mouth to speak, she raised her wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
The curse struck him squarely in the chest, the green light flaring bright against the dark for the briefest instant before it vanished. Yaxley's body fell back, empty, the grass bending beneath the weight.
She then conjured butterflies on each corpse left behind, finally lowering her wand once his job was finished. The tension willed by magic holding her arms up eased without softening her resolve. Around them, the clearing was silent now as the team of mages was already gathered.
Thorne's gaze met hers across the bodies and in silent communication they both nodded. They had both known this was how it would begin, as she turned away from Yaxley's corpse, she felt the thought was already assimilated in her head.
As the team of hired-wands was ready for their departure, she felt the wards lift and the soft cracks of apparition from the mages rang in her ears. Her master grabbed her hand and together they made their exit.
Sunday, 8th of August 1993, Britain would later remember it as the start of the second wizarding war and this attack as the spark that initiated it all.
"Ah yes, compulsions, mental conditioning and obliviation, this method will surely never come back to bite him." - Lynne's other self
