Artificial Protector [Harry Potter OC/AU]

[Lucernello]

Oh, I didn't expect that. I thought he had Lynne acting as his assassin identifiable on purpose. Uncovered face and arms is to brazenly declare: It's fucking on bitches, I'm ready for round two.

Click to shrink...

While that could definitely be the case, he wasn't ready just yet to go after everyone. He was saved by the fact that they thought she was working under the Lestrange family in some weird way.

It was more along the lines reasoning to protect her organs from excessive force. Stuff like enchanted knives and pebbles used as bullets, and not specifically to prepare her for bullets precisely, but to physically harden her without magic being apparent. But I could also take the explanation that he doesn't know how to do that, or that the tech doesn't exist at this point in time to reinforce her internal organs.

Click to shrink...

Although its fiction I like to think it could be possibly done in a way the world is built in the first place. You have to remember that magic doesn't work well with most of the more recent muggle technology. Supposedly it doesn't work because the strong, unpredictable forces of magic interfere with the predictable, logical systems of electronics, causing them to malfunction or stop working entirely similar to an electromagnetic pulse. While some mechanical, non-electrical Muggle technologies can function, most modern technology is rendered useless in highly magical environments like Hogwarts, a place which she needs to be in order to function correctly. So working with both is a challenging endeavour, hardening organs and have them functioning still to an extent would need electronics or something similar. Something as advanced as that in late 1980s or 1990s wouldn't be small enough either to accommodate inside a body

For a brain to function it would need the lungs and the heart. She doesn't eat or gain nutrients from food or drinks so all the others are redundant yes. She can process foods and drinks though, she can taste, I would imagine it could be useful to identify poisons or things like that, but it would serve no other purpose really to have those organs, haha.

Anyway, I love to theorize and you brought an interesting conversation. Thank you. Tomorrow I will be posting the first chapter on year three and you shall know more.

 

[Honoa51]

Oh. It just occurred to me, but is Lynne's hybridization, and other attributes.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Precisely. He also led the charge and successfully eradicated giants off the English isles. A mass genocide of the entire species, they left none alive." He finished solemnly.

Click to shrink...

Is she part giant? Is that what her magic resistance, strength, and healing is derived from?

I would have thought troll, but that would introduce the problems of being weak to fire and acid and are stupid. (Going by conventional troll lore) even if it gets her a much better magic resistance and regeneration than going the giant route. Werewolf introduces way more problems than it solves, as it erodes the mind. Unicorn hunting would get Thorne uber-cursed. Phoenixes are inaccessible. And Dragons are probably way more trouble than they're worth.

Is that spoilers?

For bulletproofing, I was just imagining something like a bulletproof sort of subdermal mesh. No electronics or anything. Skin like armor or reinforced vital organs. Possibly even as a natural part of her body. Minimum mechanical action. Or a living solution if that's too difficult. Passive warding spells on the scale of what hardens horcruxes against damage.

 

[Honoa51]

For a brain to function it would need the lungs and the heart.

Click to shrink...

Oh? So she's not directly oxygenating and clearing the byproducts via magic or some more optimized respiratory systems? The brain has no idea what organs it's connected to. Only that it needs blood, nutrients, oxygen, and to extract the byproducts for cleaning. So replacing them shouldn't be a problem as long as there's no arcane reason not to.

She can process foods and drinks though, she can taste, I would imagine it could be useful to identify poisons or things like that, but it would serve no other purpose really to have those organs, haha

Click to shrink...

So she's has a functioning digestive tract? That would make sense to keep her living organs functioning, even at a far reduced rate, since at most, she is operating on half of the body mass a human is made for. (She is only a torso and head if that), since she's got no arms or legs. So that probably drives down her caloric requirements, and lowers the burden on the spells that are substituting for those functions.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Not every path will feel right beneath your feet, but each one teaches you how to recognize the ground that will, just as Luna was often seen as odd among her peers yet found strength and acceptance in the friends who valued her for exactly who she was. It just might take a little bit of time, hang in there.

AN: I will be posting weekly now, so expect a chapter every monday.
- Luce

---

Chapter 19 - Rogue

The Killing Curse obeyed her now, she finally got the spell down and how to trick magic with murderous intent. Feelings and memories of the spell had invaded her mind and it seems the other voice had seen the spell being used at one point.

Her master stood across from her in the dim-lit training chamber beneath the manor. His eyes, cold but proud, reflected the green residue still flickering on the stone behind her. She lowered her wand slowly, calm as her breathing was not even strained now.

"Sufficient." he said, approaching. "You are ready now, I'm proud of you."

She didn't answer as praise coming from her master was not sitting as well with her as it used to. Her newfound memories were messing with her mind and she couldn't feel prideful from being acknowledged by her master anymore.

He reached up, brushing a hand lightly against her jaw. "Keep the leaf secure. One lapse, and we have to start over. It would mess up our plans."

She gave a small nod. The mandrake leaf pressed flat against the roof of her mouth. She had not removed it since he gave it to her, and would not until the month ended. Her guardian had mapped the process precisely. By July's end, she would be an Animagus.

The moment Thorne turned away, she tapped the inside of her lip with her tongue, just to make sure. She knew she made no mistakes but somehow feelings were making her mind unstable and doubtful of herself at times. With many instructions she found that she would double check almost unconsciously now.

Trying to settle her thoughts, she focused on the other important constant in her life, her friend Harry. He had been looking at her differently as he grew more observant. He asked more questions and voiced his thoughts more often. It seemed he was worried about her and she wasn't able to calm his worries yet.

She entered the manor kitchen, trailing the scent of herbs and oil. Harry was already there, cross-legged on a high stool, flipping through the Prophet with exaggerated interest.

"Good morning." she said.

He looked up sharply. "You're early. Zicky hasn't made anything yet."

"I wanted to try toast."

"Oh? That's new."

He had started asking why she started eating meals with him even though she didn't need to, and overall about her many changes over this couple of months. He voiced his suspicion about another entity that was taking control of her and she was surprised that he got close to what was really going on.

She had not lied, of course, she couldn't. But omission was beginning to taste the same and the consequences of lying would be quite severe for her so she knew she couldn't keep the truth from him for much longer. She gave him a small shrug and pulled the plate toward her. Zicky was already there setting the table swiftly and toast was placed on her plate soon. The butter smelled sharp and creamy and when she bit into the bread, it crackled between her teeth. The sensation, although mundane and unnecessary, pleased her. Somewhere in her memory, someone else used to love the taste of burnt edges.

She finished eating before he finished staring.

"You're not acting like yourself, again." he said finally.

She was not surprised to hear that, as she herself knew that for a fact as well, her breathing did not change as she looked at him, deciding what to answer carefully.

"Yes, I suppose you are right. I'm remembering things." she said softly.

He blinked. "What kind of things?"

"Memories that aren't mine, along with feelings and reactions I don't recognize. They… they belong to someone else. Someone who is part of me."

Harry frowned, putting the newspaper down. "You mean like… a past life?"

"No. Not exactly. I told you I was built. I was to be something better, built into this body, to keep someone else from dying. But things didn't go exactly as my master wanted and although he perfected it better than others, two souls went inside this body by accident."

He didn't speak for a moment. Then, almost too quietly: "How is that possible?"

"It is possible through a ritual, although the risks are too high. You have seen the other person take control of me."

"Yes, we thought you were being possessed or something."

"Not quite. Now the other person's memories and feelings are merging with me and when that happens I will know more of what occurred. Until then, I'm experiencing new things at the moment."

"Will you be okay?" He asked.

"I don't know yet." she said. "When I remember everything, I'll tell you."

He nodded once, solemn. "Alright. I'll wait."

She stood. The heaviness of the conversation lingered in the room like mist. She didn't want it there.

"Come flying with me." she said.

"Now?"

"Yes."

With a short nod they headed to the backyard of the manor with their brooms ready. As they ascended, the wind pulled at her sleeves as she rose above the treetops. Harry was already ahead, spiraling lazily toward the hills, laughing as he dipped just low enough to skim the water's edge.

They had expanded the wards around the manor for them to fly more freely after last summer's encounter with the rogue house-elf. Lynne's broom hummed beneath her fingers, but her thoughts moved faster than the wind.

Flying had always been mechanical to her, something done for practicality, speed, position and traveling. But now, thoughts and feelings were driving her movements. The feel of cold air against her cheeks, the tilt of gravity pulling against the arc of her body were all assaulting her mind as if they were new experiences. She finally smiled, having forgotten about their earlier conversation.

Harry flew beside her again. "You look lighter up here."

"It feels nice." she admitted.

"Of course it does."

She turned her head slightly. His hair was wind-wild, his eyes alight.

"How about a little race?" she asked, smirking.

"You are going to lose." Said Harry with a smug on his face.
​

---

It was past midnight when Harry turned to her with a look that was neither sleepy nor curious.

"I have noticed you are talking funny." he mumbled from his bed. "At first I thought it was related to the other you… but now it just sounds like you've got something in your mouth."

She had been sitting by the window, watching the moon through the faint shimmer of the manor's wards.

"That's because I do have something in my mouth." she answered without turning. "A mandrake leaf."

Harry sat up slightly. "You're chewing something all day and night?"

"I'm not chewing it. I'm holding it under my tongue. It has to stay there for a month, untouched, day and night."

"For what?"

"I'm becoming an Animagus."

She had tried avoiding talking about it with him. Her master didn't say anything regarding keeping it secret but it still felt that it was not something that Harry should know yet. Her friend, though, was becoming a little too observant lately and she knew there was nothing she could do to avoid keeping quiet about it.

Harry blinked. "Wait. Seriously?"

"Yes."

He leaned over the edge of the bed, arms crossed on his knees. "You can just decide that?"

"No. It's one of the most difficult magical rituals known. But my master has… experience. He's monitoring my progress carefully. It will be complete by the end of the month. Also we are not going to register at the ministry so what we are doing is illegal. It's a secret and you mustn't tell anyone, Harry."

His eyes narrowed, not in judgment, but in consideration. After a few moments he broke the silence.

"Why are you not going to register?"

"To have an advantage over our enemies, Harry. You know Voldemort is not dead yet, if our enemies do not know about it, it could catch them by surprise."

"Could I do it?" he asked.

She turned then, just enough to meet his gaze.

"You want to?"

"I don't know… Maybe? It sounds kind of amazing."

She nodded. "I'll ask my master. If he agrees, I'll help you."

Harry grinned and collapsed back onto his pillow with the kind of satisfaction that came only from the possibility of doing something dangerous and forbidden. His eyes closed quickly, breathing slowing, his frame relaxing into sleep.
​

---

Lynne remained still as she waited for the rhythm of his breath to settle completely, then crossed the room in silence. She sat carefully on the edge of his bed, hands folded in her lap.

In sleep, his face looked younger than usual, his usual frown gone, replaced by serenity. There was nothing defensive in him, she liked watching him sleep because of that. She was feeling quite happy with her friend lately. She knew he still trusted her, even as she changed with her newfound memories and feelings.

She reached out but stopped short of touching his hand as a memory surfaced. The sensation of a small, calloused hand held tightly in another's, walking hand in hand. Then another that felt like soft hands caressing hers. Lynne pulled her hand back feeling conflicted.

The next morning, Thorne met her in the lower corridor of the manor. She had been down there before sunrise, tracing her wand silently in practiced motions. She did not know what he would ask of her next, but she was ready. He wasted no time on making his motives known.

"I have a mission for you. You're to discredit Gilderoy Lockhart and possibly make him face justice for his crimes, at least destroy his reputation."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't see how he would even be competent enough to commit a crime."

"You would be surprised. He's been lying for years, stealing stories and modifying memories illegally so that he can sell his books and himself as a brave adventurer and great wizard. He probably wouldn't return to Hogwarts either way, he is not a complete fool after all, he knows his teaching was horrendous. But I won't leave that to fate, on the other hand we want that seat at Hogwarts empty as it could belong to someone else. Someone I've prepared, gaining us another foot on Hogwarts. I want him exposed and removed."

She said nothing as Thorne explained what information she was to find, how to infiltrate his property and which people to visit to recover testimony of what really happened. There were ways to reverse memory charms after all, even if difficult.

"When you have the evidence, I want you to start leaking the truth to the Prophet. Discreetly. This will turn into a scandal quickly and will see him promptly off the position at Hogwarts."

She nodded once. "I will use your contact then, master. What happens if he escapes and flees the country?"

"Let him. Don't engage him directly, we just want him gone one way or another. If he faces justice in the end matters little as long as he is gone."

Lynne reviewed the information once more before nodding. It would take her a few days at most and she could come and go so she was sure Harry wouldn't notice her leaving. Her mouth felt dry, but the leaf was still there, pressed against the roof. She had grown used to it.

"Harry asked if he could become an Animagus." she said.

Thorne didn't look surprised. "And what did you say?"

"That I would ask."

He considered. "If he's serious, we'll begin the leaf phase tomorrow. He'll be a few days behind you, but it's not as if we have a deadline for him."

She nodded again.

"Kid will love it, I think most of his family was one as well." he added.
​

---

Later that day, Lynne and Harry sat together on the edge of the orchard wall, watching the sun bend low across the trees.

"Thorne said yes by the way." she told him.

Harry sat up straighter. "Really?"

"He's already getting you the leaf."

He looked visibly pleased. "This is going to be brilliant. What if I turn into a dragon?"

"I haven't heard of any animagus turning into magical creatures."

He paused. "So probably not a dragon."

"Probably not." she answered amused.

"I hope I'm not a fish or something." he added after a beat. They both laughed.

"I'd keep you in a bowl."

"I'd probably bite your finger."

She smiled slightly. "Then I'd get a cat instead."
​

---

The question had been innocent enough.

"So those roller coasters you mentioned last time, have you ridden one before?"

Lynne asked over breakfast, her tone neutral, eyes fixed on the soft shimmer of butter melting across her toast.

Harry blinked at her from across the table. "I've never ridden one but I did go with the Dursleys to a theme park once. They said I was too short to get on most things. Why?"

"Well… I still remember, and I still have your silly drawing, it looked interesting."

Harry looked thoughtful. "We did say we would go to one someday."

"I am curious about why people would willingly subject themselves to such contraption. It looked unnecessary. But also, I guess… fun?"

Thorne entered just in time to catch the last word. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Surprise, surprise." he said. "What fun are you guys talking about?"

Lynne looked at him, wondering if it was worth asking her master about permission.

"We are talking about Roller Coasters."

Harry grinned. "Can we go to a theme park?"

There was a beat of silence. Thorne stared at him, genuinely taken aback.

"A theme park." he repeated.

"It could be for my birthday." Harry added quickly. "Lynne's curious, and you said we could do something nice if we behaved."

Thorne made a noncommittal sound, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll look into it."

Harry smiled triumphantly, but Lynne remained still, watching her guardian closely. He left the room, muttering something about Muggle noise machines and ward-breaking liability. When the door shut behind him, Harry turned back to Lynne.

"You didn't look as excited as before."

"I am unsure if I would enjoy it, but also it could put you in danger."

"You just said you were curious, besides I think I'd be fine."

"Curious and excited are not the same."

Harry crossed his arms. "By the way…What day is your birthday?"

Lynne hesitated.

"It was yesterday." she said simply. "July seventh."

Harry's expression changed instantly. "What?! You didn't say anything!"

"I didn't think it was important."

"You didn't think it was important?!"

"I am not a normal person, Harry."

"That's hardly an excuse."

He stood up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. "You should've told me."

"Its not really important, we don't celebrate it here."

Harry grimaced but composed his face quickly. "Well, happy late birthday. We should get a cake."

"A cake? I've never had one before. I didn't end up tasting the one we did for you last summer."

He stared at her. "You're joking."

She shook her head. "I am not."

"How did I not notice that?"

Harry almost dragged her toward the kitchen, resolved to make a cake for her. When they entered and explained to the house-elf what they wanted to do, Zicky looked scandalized, and then almost began crying when they insisted on baking it themselves without help. The elf had sputtered, waved their hands, offered seventeen pre-approved recipes, but Harry had already taken over the cupboard.

Lynne watched carefully as he arranged ingredients. She took note of every step, though she already understood most of them. Her body didn't need food. But her mind… was hungry in other ways.

They worked without magic. Flour dusted the counter and the tips of Harry's fringe. Butter smeared across her fingertips which was troublesome to get out without magic, but she could admit it was a fun time. She casted a Scourgify charm on herself when they were done with a smile on her face but Harry was frowning.

"This is a disaster.." Harry said, peering into the bowl.

"It's alright."

"It's ugly."

"That doesn't mean it won't taste good."

Harry glanced at her. "Well, as long as you like it."

Zicky hovered at the doorway the entire time, eyes twitching at every misstep. When the cake came out of the oven, it looked lopsided, slightly scorched at the edge, and misshapen in the middle. Harry cut two slices anyway and handed her one.

"Wait a second, Lynne."

He disappeared out of the kitchen then came back with a small candle, a stubby red thing she wasn't sure where she got it from, and lit it.

"Happy Birthday, Lynne." he said.

She blinked. "Thank you, Harry... Aren't you supposed to sing?"

He paused, flushed slightly, then cleared his throat. He sang quietly clearly embarrassed, clapping his hands to try and hide his voice in the noise, but she didn't mind. The sweetness of the cake sat strange on her tongue, but not unpleasantly.

The leaf made it difficult to enjoy fully but she still finished her slice in silence. She had no frame of reference for this, the taste or the song and even the crooked candle slowly melting into crumbs threw new feelings into her mind.

She looked back at him, grinning with a smile still laced with flour. She committed everything to memory, and bowed to save this moment for as long as she was alive. One of the happiest memories she had so far.
​

---

The sun had barely cleared the trees, and they were already halfway through breakfast. The manor's dining room smelled of toasted bread, black tea, and Zicky's pumpkin tarts. Lynne's attention, however, was on the newspaper.

Harry had unfolded the Daily Prophet beside his plate, scanning headlines while sipping from his chipped blue mug. He was barely pretending to chew.

"Listen to this." he said, nudging the paper toward her. "'Lockhart Under Fire – Ministry Investigating False Claims.'"

She looked down. There it was, front-page and bold: Gilderoy Lockhart's name surrounded by scandal and speculation, with phrases like "forged feats" "illegal memory modification" and "breach of magical ethics."

"I mean it was obvious that the guy was a fraud."

She nodded. "Yes, we basically lost the year and the exam was prepared by Dumbledore in the end, good thing we studied from the books instead."

Harry gave her a look. "You don't look at all surprised even if he was a fraud."

"Well, as you said, it was obvious." she said, sipping her tea.

He leaned in slightly. "I wonder what is going on with this as well." He said

She didn't answer. Rumors about Malfoy's disappearance had been added in one of the smaller headers. The minister decided not to comment on that, but the article hinted that they had left Britain and even removed his heir from Hogwarts.

Harry exhaled slowly, looking back at the article. "It looks like we won't be seeing Draco next year. I thought he would be a friend to have when we first met."

Lynne made no comment. The plan was unfolding as intended and the press were chasing rumors. The Ministry had no time to deal with Hogwarts appointments. The seat would open soon enough for his master to make his move.

Harry returned to his breakfast, tapping his spoon against the table absentmindedly.

"Did he say when I would get the leaf?"

"Yes, today." Lynne said. "You'll need to start holding it before noon."

He grinned. "Great. I've already practiced not choking."

"That's an oddly specific thing to rehearse."

"I'm thorough." he said with a smile.

She couldn't help but chuckle faintly. "You'll have it down by August, if you follow instructions."

Harry nodded. "Just in time for storm season, it's from late August to September. The book you gave me on it mentioned needing one."

"Hopefully not as a fish."

"Please don't jinx it."

They exchanged a glance, lighthearted and comfortable. The prospect of Animagus training had pulled him into a rhythm of something to look forward to, something not tied to practice and training which young Harry was starting to not like.

She could see it clearly, but together with her master, they had made it clear that he still had enemies out there and he needed to be the best he could.

"What if I turn into something ridiculous?" Harry mused aloud. "Like a squirrel."

"Squirrels are fast." Lynne replied, thinking it through. "And a bit chaotic, biting things they shouldn't. It would suit you."

"Very funny."

She reached for a slice of toast. "I hope not to turn into something disappointing at least, going through all this trouble."

Harry looked at her, sincere. "I'm sure you would find a use for it."

Her fingers paused just before the butter dish. She nodded once and continued, not answering. If she wasn't useful for her mission then it would be disappointing all the same.
​

---

The storm had started just before sunset. By the time the sky turned fully dark, her core was humming faintly with magical tension. Rain pelted the windows like thrown gravel, wind curling around the corners of the estate in long, uneven howls.

Lynne sat alone in one of the biggest chambers the manor had, beneath the west wing, cross-legged on top of a few cushions Zicky had gotten her. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbows, her wand pointing at her chest as she repeated the incantation softly.

"Amato… Animo… Animato… Animagus."

Each syllable sat stiff in her throat, stretched by the persistent presence of the mandrake leaf. She hadn't removed it and hadn't spoken freely in weeks. The discomfort was nowhere close to things she bore on her training so she could mostly ignore it.

She closed her eyes and recited it again. Outside, thunder cracked hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling beams. She reached for the small vial on the silver tray beside her.

The Animagus potion was complete, looking reddish and faintly metallic, still warm from the last temperature spell. Her master had supervised every phase of its creation. No ingredient was wrong and the steps went ahead without issues.

She uncorked it with one fluid motion and drank. It felt warm down her throat like liquid iron, she could feel her magic pulsed twice, one for her own core and the other for the animal presence the procedure invited. Her body was locked in place and her spine rigid. She exhaled through her nose as her vision dimmed briefly.

This was not a transformation by will or intent of a spell. This was magic bending through blood and the instinct of whatever animal would stick. Her fingertips prickled, but she was still comfortable, sitting on top of the cushions.

Her balance shifted, and for a moment, her sense of self blurred. Her legs curled a bit and her arms narrowed as her chest compressed. She tasted the air differently and could hear the rain in sharper detail.

When she opened her eyes again, her sight was way too different from the usual and she was no longer seated in her body. The room looked impossibly large and the cushions now felt like a whole bed but rougher beneath tiny claws.

She tried to breathe slowly as she got a feel for her new body. Her wings fluttered without instruction and the sound startled her. She was light and small, a kind of bird that would be fast, her body was compressed into something fragile but precise. She had no prosthetics, it seemed the magic transformed them into real limbs and wings below the feathers.

Her head tilted automatically, catching sound from two directions at once. She could hear her heart-beat for the first time, usually too slow and calm. This one felt faster than any she had ever heard, but it did not feel like fear.

She felt so alive and her body wanted to fly as soon as possible. She turned toward the mirror propped against the wall. A nightingale stared back at her with small dark eyes, she was silver-breasted, feathers slightly ruffled from the strain of the change.

She blinked once, then again, and raised one delicate claw experimentally. The motion mirrored perfectly and her new form felt so liberating to Lynne. She had seen the bird before, but she couldn't remember where exactly, and she briefly wondered if the other soul inside of her had a hand on her animagus transformation.

It wouldn't surprise her of course if that was the case, as they were becoming one. She took unsteady steps toward the center of the room again and shifted back to human form.

The return was sharper, like being pulled through a too-small doorway. She winced, wiping her face with her sleeve as her body returned to full shape and her limbs turned metal once more. The room was quiet again, except for the storm, and she stood steady, breathing shallow.

It had worked and now she was ready for her mission.
​

---

Lynne stood at the windows of the manor's upper study, watching the remnants of the storm fade into a pale grey morning. The curtains shifted gently behind her, brushing across the stone floor like echoes of movement long gone.

Her body was whole again, her core still warm from the transformation the night before. She had barely rested but her magic pulsed faintly beneath her skin, feeding from the ambient magic present in the manor.

Thorne entered without knocking although she had already heard the faint click of his boots before the door even opened. He carried a small black folder in one hand, marked with only a single seal.

She turned, her posture composed, and met his eyes.

"It worked." she said simply.

"Good, what form did you take?" He studied her for a moment.

"A bird, nightingale."

He took his wand out and casted a few diagnose spells.

"Your magic seems to be fine, no issues here. Did you have a problem reverting back?"

"None."

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and set the folder on the table between them.

"Then you're ready for our next mission."

She stepped forward without hesitation and opened it. It was lighter than a few of her assignments, this one had no photos, but it did have maps and building schematics. It looked like a heavily fortified fortress with many levels to cover.

A line at the top highlighted her objective: Subject: Sirius Orion Black.

Lynne blinked once. "We're retrieving a Death Eater?"

"No, we are not. This is a rescue operation. We are breaking into Azkaban."

She read the name again, slower this time. "Sirius Black, I thought he betrayed the Potters."

Thorne nodded. "That's the guy. But you don't know the whole story, not surprising as I never did tell you. Most of the world only remembers the lie."

Her gaze flicked upward. "This will be highly risky."

"Yes."

"If it was a lie, why is he in Azkaban then?"

"Because he was branded a Death Eater and a traitor. Most people believed that lie and he was imprisoned."

Lynne waited, but Thorne didn't elaborate.

"I take it he wasn't then?"

"No. He was framed." Thorne's voice was level, but there was a tautness beneath it. "He was captured and sentenced without a trial or a defense. Sent to rot in a cell surrounded by Dementors for over a decade."

That gave her pause. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore allowed it, believing the lies as well. Even if he thought he was a traitor, he could have used his position to give him a different outcome, like he did with Severus Snape. The Ministry wanted closure and they needed someone to blame for the deaths of James and Lily Potter."

Lynne kept reading. There was little else in the file, just a sketch of the wing layout, the schedule of the guard rotations, and a warning of the amount of dementors per level.

"And why now?" she asked.

"Because he matters, I tried convincing people of having a trial for him and getting him out by legal ways through the years but they all failed or would have exposed me early." Thorne said. "Now it's time."

He stepped closer, folding his arms.

"You've protected Harry. You've been near him, watched him grow. You know that he is not happy with his family. The muggles that are related to him are one of the worst scum there is. Sirius is his godfather. Named as such in James Potter's will. He was meant to raise the boy and he would have, if he hadn't been caged."

Lynne digested the information carefully. "You intend to have Sirius Black move in as his family."

"It would give him a family he wouldn't hate." Thorne said.

She turned her head in thought. "How do you know Black would care for him?"

"I have seen it"

A beat passed in silence.

"Doing this the illegal way will bring issues and he won't be able to leave the manor much without the ministry hunting for him." she said.

"No, he won't. But this is war, he will have to adapt." His tone shifted slightly, cooler and more familiar.

"There will be no appeal, no court ruling. I attempted the diplomatic routes and they stalled me at every turn. This is the only way. Besides, he is part of the Black family, I'm sure he will have a place of his own to hide even if we don't hide him here."

She nodded. "Understood. Will you be going with me? You said our mission and not mine."

"Yes. You're not ready to cast a full Patronus. I will handle the Dementors if they become an issue. You'll assist in navigation, stealth, and extraction."

She turned a page. "Do we know where exactly he is being held?"

"We don't know his cell location yet, we will have to search as we infiltrate the place. The guards are minimal as not many can handle the Dementors exposure… The creatures however are plenty."

That part she already knew as it was quite known that dementors were used to guard the prisoners and slowly drive them mad. A heavy deterrence against committing crimes as being reinserted into society after that exposure was almost impossible.

"What do we tell Harry?" she asked.

Thorne didn't hesitate. "That we're getting his birthday gift. Zicky will keep him occupied."

Lynne nodded although she wondered if it was enough to quiet Harry's curiosity and suspicion. He moved past her, placing a hand briefly on her shoulder.

"You've done well, Lynne. This… matters more than you know."

She gave him a small nod, understanding the gravity of the mission and the risk involved. When he left, she remained in the study a moment longer. She studied the file still open in her hands, memorizing the schematics of the entire prison, every page stored in her mind for future use.

She admired her master resourcefulness, obtaining a blueprint of magical Britain's most heavily guarded prison couldn't have been a simple feat. She closed the folder after she was done and stored it on her satchel.

Tonight, they would fly into a place where no one returned sane. They would pull a man from a cage the world had forgotten. She didn't know what Harry would feel, but she hoped this would turn into something good for her best friend.
​

---

Lynne soared low over the sea, wings beating in measured silence as the thin moonlight that was present tonight reflected on the water surface. The salt air burned cold in her lungs, but her body, small and feathered, moved easily through the night. The wind howled beneath her, but the feeling it sent through her senses made her comfortable and free.

Thorne flew ahead, a sleek black crow gliding just above the waves. His wings cut through the wind with unerring precision, each movement economical and deliberate. She followed, silent and alert.

The island crept into view like a wound on the sea. The prison rose from the black water in jagged stone, more fortress than prison, though no banners flew above it, and no light escaped its walls. The storm had passed, but the cold had not. Here, the chill was unnatural and she assumed the dementor's influence was already being felt.

The feeling of dread began as a whisper. And although she could suppress it in her animal form, it was still uncomfortable. Her thoughts thickened and her heartbeat slowed. Her wings faltered once, only for a second but then she pressed forward, her master's flapping keeping her grounded and steady.

They slipped through a blind spot on the top of the triangle shaped structure, gliding through a seam Thorne had found and then through a barred window, big enough for the two birds. He had been planning this longer than he'd admitted it seemed.

They reached the eastern spire and shifted back to human form behind a wall pillar. They quickly pulled out their wands ready to subdue one of the guards to interrogate and find out where Sirius was held. Thorne straightened beside her, robes fluttering as he drew a thick black charm-breaker from his belt.

"You alright?" he whispered.

She nodded once.

"We should be close to one of the guards on patrol, we strike fast."

She followed without a word. The upper corridors were mostly empty, they didn't even encounter a dementor patrol yet. The human guards had clearly abandoned any real sense of presence in this area. When they did find the pair in charge of this level, one was dozing in a side room with a small fireplace, the warmth keeping them lazy and inattentive.

They moved like smoke through the shadows and subdued them quickly and used legilimency to obtain information. The one who knew where every prisoner was located was the current warden, and Sirius Black was not present on that upper level, although a few Death Eaters of notice were.

They switched back to their animagus form and moved further inside the prison. Every so often, she heard a sound. Voices of prisoners that were too far gone already, or just distant cries and moans.

The cracking laugh of someone long past sanity. When they found the warden's office on the first floor. The sneaked in undetected as he was writing on his desk. His quill fell to the ground as they stunned him.

After locating Black, they descended all the way to the second sublevel. For some reason it was worse there, Dementors were floating close by. You could feel them first in your ribs, like a hollowing pressure. Her vision blurred at the edges, and though her limbs moved fluidly, her thoughts felt slowed, like walking through water, or thick fog.

She quickly followed his master as the crow flew from cell to cell finally reaching the right wing. The cells were narrow, the bars heavy with enchantments. Many of the prisoners inside were no longer recognizable as people. Just shapes huddled in corners, muttering or staring blankly at nothing. They kept moving until Thorne stopped in front of one of the cells.

The cell was quiet all of a sudden, no muttering. Just a low, steady breathing sound in the dark. Lynne approached the bars and peered inside. A large black dog was curled in the corner of the wet stone floor. His fur was matted, his ribs showing. For a moment, she wondered if he was dead. Then his ears twitched and his eyes focused on the pair of birds.

She slipped quickly between the bars, her nightingale form landed silently just beside the dog. He turned sharply, startled, teeth bared, then she transformed without warning and with her wand she quickly casted the spell to revert an animagus form at him. The pale light hitting the dog and transforming him into a human once more.

"Sirius Black." Throne said softly. She felt a flicker of gratitude once his master was able to ward off the dread with a patronus charm. His own patronus took the shape of a crow as well.

A gaunt man with wild hair and hollow eyes now stood where the dog had been, crouched, muscles tense like a trapped animal. He stared at her. Then at Thorne, who had now stepped into view wearing a mask.

"We're not here to harm you." Thorne said calmly.

Sirius's eyes narrowed.

"Food?" Lynne offered, holding out a wrapped loaf and a flask.

He grabbed it and hurled it against the wall. "I don't want your poisoned tricks."

"We wouldn't go through the trouble of being the first people to break into Azkaban just to kill you, Black. Harry is safe with us, we are friends." Thorne said.

Sirius froze and she stepped forward slowly. "Harry's safe. He's my best friend. He's waiting for you."

His face twitched, recognition and disbelief warring on his features.

"Why is Harry with you? Who are you?"

"We know who you are." she continued. "You're his godfather. He doesn't know yet, not everything. But he will if you come with us. We came for you… because he deserves to have a family."

Sirius stared at her. Then at Thorne, then back at her. No doubt with disbelief at a strange small girl with metal arms offering to rescue him out of this horrible place.

"I don't know who the hell you are." he muttered. "But if you're lying-"

"We're not." Thorne interrupted. "There's no time to explain everything. But you have two choices: we stun you and kidnap you forcibly, or come with us and find out the truth willingly."

Sirius said nothing at first, thinking it through. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright, but I want a wand."

"We don't have a spare one right now." Said her master. "We will give you one once we are back. You need to heal first though, you look terrible."

He smirked, "I'm sure the ladies will want me either way after a bath."

"You are going to enter an expanded trunk. It will be shrunk down so you might feel a bit uncomfortable and it might move a lot, but it will be the fastest way."

Black looked doubtful but accepted it with a nod. She took the butterfly pin out of her hair and transformed it back to her usual trunk.

"Any chance you have more food?"

"In you go." She said simply.

Dejected, he slowly entered the trunk, he was a bit shaky still so he took his time. Once he was inside, Lynne closed it and shrunk it back to a pin, then stored it safely on her clothes.

They transformed back and the two birds took to the night sky once they were out of the sublevel. The air was still bitter, but not as bitter as what they left behind.
​

---

"Chirp chirp" - Lynne

 

[Lucernello]

Hey Honoa! o7

For bulletproofing, I was just imagining something like a bulletproof sort of subdermal mesh. No electronics or anything. Skin like armor or reinforced vital organs. Possibly even as a natural part of her body. Minimum mechanical action. Or a living solution if that's too difficult. Passive warding spells on the scale of what hardens horcruxes against damage.

Click to shrink...

To make this kind of thread you would need machinery or 3d printing probably? I think it would be difficult to have something like that in 1980s, but we were already sending stuff to outer space so maybe you are right. She doesn't have though.

Oh? So she's not directly oxygenating and clearing the byproducts via magic or some more optimized respiratory systems? The brain has no idea what organs it's connected to. Only that it needs blood, nutrients, oxygen, and to extract the byproducts for cleaning. So replacing them shouldn't be a problem as long as there's no arcane reason not to.

Click to shrink...

While that is true, it adds more strain to the magical core, even runes need to be powered by magic somewhat, even if ambient, the problem is she needs that to function in general. Since those can work between each other, along with a few others, it would be simpler to have them. There are still ways to have a magical risk mitigations in case those fail so I think having them would be more simple.

I can neither deny nor confirm your other theories, just gonna say I like them.

 

[Honoa51]

Nice power-up there. The Animagus Transformation.

And a night-bird does suit Lynne quite nicely. It's pointed that they're breaking into Azkaban, when Sirius didn't need a rescue OTL. But are they doing anything different?

Actually, aren't they making this way worse for him?

"He was captured and sentenced without a trial or a defense. Sent to rot in a cell surrounded by Dementors for over a decade."

Click to shrink...

"Because Dumbledore allowed it, believing the lies as well. Even if he thought he was a traitor, he could have used his position to give him a different outcome, like he did with Severus Snape. The Ministry wanted closure and they needed someone to blame for the deaths of James and Lily Potter."

Click to shrink...

"Because he matters, I tried convincing people of having a trial for him and getting him out by legal ways through the years but they all failed or would have exposed me early." Thorne said. "Now it's time."

Click to shrink...

"There will be no appeal, no court ruling. I attempted the diplomatic routes and they stalled me at every turn. This is the only way. Besides, he is part of the Black family, I'm sure he will have a place of his own to hide even if we don't hide him here."

Click to shrink...

Thorne has no legal case for the release of Sirius Black, even if he managed to get an appeal to the wizard courts. Because Sirius Black doesn't want to be released. He wants to die, alone, miserable, and reliving his worst mistakes.

He thinks Peter is dead, that he managed to assassinate him in the wake of Lily and James' murders. And he believes that he killed them by convincing them to trust Peter. Nobody else knows the truth, and he carries the burden of believing that he killed all three of them. James, Lily, and Peter.

Sirius believes that he deserves to rot in Azkaban for that and thus has nothing to say in his own defense. And this isn't Dumbledore's fault either, despite how Thorne framed it. And delivering Harry's Guardianship to him is just going to fill him with guilt.

And now that Thorne's already had Peter Pettrigrew assassinated, it's going to be extremely difficult to rehabilitate him. He needed that confrontation with Peter, and Lupin at his side and to hear his confession. It's only regretful that he managed to escape.

 

[Honoa51]

BTW, fun chapter. And they aren't even really lying when they said they were out shopping for Harry's Birthday Present.

Just leaving him to assume where they were going to get him one, and what shopping really means in the context.

Is Thorne going to start teaching Lynne about guns and gun substitutes? I figure that might be more important than the unforgivables (aside from Avada Kadavra), as the Imperius can be resisted, and she has more than enough effective torture tools that Crucio is a bit redundant.

Edit: The 3 Unforgivable Curses, while there are more effective ones for most of their applications, and lots more horrific magic, are the banned ones because a crucial component is to really, really mean them. To kill someone with Avada Kadavra you have to have the mindset of First Degree Murder. To control someone's mind with Imperio you really need to be that guy who's going to mind-break someone. To torture someone with Crucio you need to really mean and have an endless delight drawing pain out from the target. At least that's the implication I got from Bellatrix's explanations to Harry.

 

[Lucernello]

Hey, Honoa

I think Thorne would just use every resource available to be branded as the good side, once the fighting begins, having the boy-who-lived would certainly move people to his side, and he cannot really do that if he is holding him illegally like he is now, which is why he needs Sirius.

And now that Thorne's already had Peter Pettrigrew assassinated, it's going to be extremely difficult to rehabilitate him. He needed that confrontation with Peter, and Lupin at his side and to hear his confession. It's only regretful that he managed to escape.

Click to shrink...

Of course he would need a lot of rehab, but I think with magic most things are possible, or at least have him subdued or have his mind tempered with. Dumbledore in my opinion still shares the blame for the outcome, even if he seemed unhinged in the old fashioned Black madness, he could have intervened and make sure they had their facts right and he didn't. You also have to have in mind that Thorne is quite baised as he regarded Dumbledore quite badly for not supporting his methods.

Is Thorne going to start teaching Lynne about guns and gun substitutes? I figure that might be more important than the unforgivables (aside from Avada Kadavra), as the Imperius can be resisted, and she has more than enough effective torture tools that Crucio is a bit redundant.

Click to shrink...

Definitely, especially since we know the other side already used them. On the other comment, Crucio is fast in the sense that pain is everywhere in the body all at once, which would lower mind defenses more easily, she can easily torture someone without the need of the spell, I figured it would be just faster.

 

[Honoa51]

I think Thorne would just use every resource available to be branded as the good side, once the fighting begins, having the boy-who-lived would certainly move people to his side, and he cannot really do that if he is holding him illegally like he is now, which is why he needs Sirius.

Click to shrink...

I think that ship has long since sailed. Like, by a lot.

Sure, the facts of Sirius's case are on his side, but he's had numerous people assassinated. Extraterritorial assassinations (sending Lynne to New York), Child Soldiers (Lynne), Human Experimentation (both during the war and on Lynne), and lots of both conditioning and torture for Lynne. He's allegedly also done a genocide on the Giants of Great Britain.

He's talked about like a boogeyman by the Order of the Phoenix, and don't forget that the British Ministry of Magic folded in under a week, acting as an arm of the Death Eaters when the Second Wizarding War officially started. So he's not getting any support from that corner. Maybe Barty Crouch Sr supports him, but he gets killed off to pave the way for an incompetent government, and wasn't actually 'hard' enough to properly serve justice to his son.

Has Thorne kept in contact with him? I think not, since Thorne faked his death, but that may have been a mistake. To achieve what he did, Thorne could have just put up a "retired" sign and left public life to raise Lynne for the next war. He could say that he's going international, and just not leave anything but a forwarding address. He's a grown adult with teleport powers. There's nothing to track him down if he doesn't want to be. The Death Eaters think that Voldemort is gone, so they aren't exactly going to go searching for him either. The war's over, and Thorne survived albeit minus a leg.

Just looking at what he's done to Lynne would have most non-dark wizards holding their stomachs in disgust. This isn't the Nasuverse where this kind of heinous stuff is just expected for Magus houses. Lynne's teachers have noticed the constant vigilance, violent tendencies, modified organs, and prosthetics and they do not paint a flattering picture of Thorne even when they don't know that he's ordered her to do assassinations, kidnapping and torture.

For the situation with Harry and staying over at Thorne's house, the problem is predominantly the protection enchantment using Lily's sacrifice that Dumbledore set up. So long as he is living with blood relatives of Lily, is underage, and calls that house home, he cannot be found by Voldemort's followers.

From those conditions, wouldn't it be reasonable to either find a way to clone Lily, Petunia, or get their parents, then consecrate his house or something to maintain the barrier? Dumbledore would never go for it, but this seems exactly up Thorne's alley.

 

[Lucernello]

Pff oh god, no. The ministry is incompetent, he wouldn't seek their help at all no. You will see in following chapters a bit more. He already has all the contacts that he needs from the Ministry and people who would work for him again surely. Besides, the assassinations were carried by Crimson Wing, not Thorne. He wouldn't disclose one of his weapons to everyone, only to the ones dead set in supporting his methods. Would the order call him out? With how little they did overall, I highly doubt that they will.

People are easily manipulated, lies fabricated, we know what he has done, but not everyone, and when you are in a desperate situation, caused by something you don't fully understand, who are you going to support? The one who is supposedly on your side or the one openly telling everyone who listens how little value your life has? He would have to control the media at one point for sure, which for this scenario we will go with the one who has the most money will do so.

The ministry did not disclosed what Thorne did, so only a few who were directly involved know, and those still alive from the first war. Most of the ones who remained alived to this point are mostly death eaters or pureblood wizards of note which wouldn't be trusted by everyone.

If you had knowledge about the future, albeit not fully, then you wouldn't stay in contact with Crouch either as he is at this moment holding his son under the Imperius curse and committed the crime of helping a deranged death eater. The other thing is that you are going off that the war starts when canon starts, and canon has gone out of the window, so I wouldn't have that into consideration.

The enchanment in blood wards is really not that powerful, at this point in time, only Dumbledore holds the information that they are relevant, and although he would try to interfere, finding Thorne's manor wouldn't be easy in the first place, and they could even use the black ancestral home and place it under the Fidelius charm as well, and he still wouldn't be found by Voldemort's followers. The other thing to take into consideration is that Thorne could approach those he wants to convince to fight for him, without revealing to the wizarding world that he actually keeps Harry safe. Only the order knows and again, I doubt they would tell in the first place as it would bring danger to Harry.

I hope that clears a bit more on what Thorne plans to achieve rescuing Sirius Black

 

[Honoa51]

On the topic of Thorne's behavior, why doesn't he just send Lynne along with his Patronus? Just because Lynne herself cannot cast a Patronus due to lacking the emotions, doesn't mean that he can't just have his Patronus stick around inside her as she goes to Azkaban to go free Sirius.

It would make sense for him to in fact not go out. Ever if possible, if he's got a bunch of important stuff on him. Like Lynne's horcrux or a Fidelius charm set around her for some purposes.

It seems from the evidence that Sirius didn't want to be the secret keeper, that you can in theory torture or mind-read or by some other method, gain access to the contents of a Fidelius charm. Despite the anecdotes that say otherwise. Thus why Thorne is so Agoraphobic, and has to have Lynne out to do everything for him aside from his notoriety and pretending to be dead. Although those all might be factors.

Another thought is the possibility for why Lynne didn't go disguised in Polyjuice is because she literally can't use Polyjuice Potion. As in her biology is so divergent that it simply doesn't work. She would have other means of infiltration and disguise obviously, but to foil Homenium Revelio, the cost could very naturally be that normal spells requiring human bodies don't work for her.

Question if it's not a spoiler, but does Thorne have a bunch of Imperius'ed sleeper agents hiding around? He seems like the kind of person to do it and if he's got partial meta-knowledge that a person can gain resistance to it like Harry, for most people it's just unstoppable. And of course if exposure is a problem, he could hide them away in various locations to pop out as needed.

Heck it may be some death-eaters he's reported as "KIA" in the war, and just instead stashed away for a rainy day. But unlike Barry Crouch? He's actually set them up in a Winter Soldier situation.

 

[Lucernello]

Hey Honoa, sorry for the late reply.

On the topic of Thorne's behavior, why doesn't he just send Lynne along with his Patronus? Just because Lynne herself cannot cast a Patronus due to lacking the emotions, doesn't mean that he can't just have his Patronus stick around inside her as she goes to Azkaban to go free Sirius.

Click to shrink...

A patronus' is one of the quickest ways to send messages, from that we can assume that it is too fast for someone to follow it, on the other hand, control of that nature is surely to be quite costly. Thorne knows that escaping azkaban is not that difficult in the end, if someone who had almost no will to live and been in the presence of dementors for 12 years could do it, they could certainly return without issues. Sending the patronus wouldn't be possible in my opinion and going himself being an animagus sounds easy enough to do.

It would make sense for him to in fact not go out. Ever if possible, if he's got a bunch of important stuff on him. Like Lynne's horcrux or a Fidelius charm set around her for some purposes.

Click to shrink...

Using Lynne to keep himself alive would be contradictory, she is using her as a weapon not something that he needs to guard or protect. Otherwise he wouldn't have had her protect Harry in the first place as trouble always surrounds him, or trained her to hunt down Death Eaters.

Thus why Thorne is so Agoraphobic, and has to have Lynne out to do everything for him aside from his notoriety and pretending to be dead. Although those all might be factors.

Click to shrink...

Thorne has his issues with going out, and yes he has Lynne out to do everything for him for a reason, but you will understand later on.

Having spies has been used on every war, for sure Thorne would seek to plant his close, the manner in which he does it, will be seen later.

 

[Lucernello]

Just leaving a bit of art of Lynne. I hope you like it :3

 

[Honoa51]

Aww, she's cute (you really get that everyone thinks she should smile more).

Although... isn't she supposed to have brown eyes? And blonde hair that's light enough to look like frost in the winter sun, but not comparable to Luna? Ooh, and I guess I'm also surprised that she has freckles, since she always struck me as being a creature of the night rather than being sporty, but then again, she's very enthusiastic with a beater's club.

Is this her first-year portrait or her second-year portrait?

I was also imagining her hands as either brown like pottery, or white like porcelain, with metal joints and inside pads to be metallic. Rather than silvery-metallic hands all the way. Very pretty.

 

[Lucernello]

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
​

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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

 

[Honoa51]

Well, well. Seems that Lynne's managed the Avada Kadavra. A sad day in the end, and the start of the second Wizard of war.

Although it probably won't last a month given all the prep Thorne's done and the fact that Voldemort still doesn't have a body.

 

[Lucernello]

Well, well. Seems that Lynne's managed the Avada Kadavra. A sad day in the end, and the start of the second Wizard of war.
Although it probably won't last a month given all the prep Thorne's done and the fact that Voldemort still doesn't have a body.

Click to shrink...

Hehe, a happy day for Solan. It's all about perspectives after all. It is not as easy, otherwise getting rid of Death Eaters would have been simple after the Dark Lord's first defeat. There will be entertainment enough...

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Even on your hardest days, progress is still progress. Sometimes success comes in the most awkward way possible. Baby steps for the win!

AN: Sorry for posting this chapter late, had to work on the weekend which destroyed my free time, and then today was just a heavy day at work as well.
Anyway, enjoy!
- Luce

---

Chapter 21 - Failstate

The room was quiet except for the scratching of a quill and the faint hiss of rain against the windowpanes. Thorne sat behind the heavy oak desk, its surface buried under parchment, sealed reports, and scattered copies of the Prophet. A single lamp glowed over his shoulder, steady and bright, as though defying the gloom outside.

He turned the latest page slowly, eyes narrowing as he read the neat hand. His spy and infiltrator had finally come back with the most important report he could bring to the table, in the brief letter he mentioned succeeding on his mission and attached was a second parchment with the letter that would advance his plans for the war.

It was the one Shepley had risked so much to pass along, a detailed chart of Nott's newly-forged command. He outlined the entire hierarchy of the enemy organization.​

Nott Sr. Head​

Rookwood Role: Strategist / Intel​ Dolohov Role: Duelist?​ Macnair Role: Ministry mole​ Thorfinn Rowle Role: Assault operations​ Crabbe Role: Raiding​ Goyle Role: Raiding​ Septimus Rowle ?​ Jugson Role: Secondary Enforcer​ Carrows (Amycus & Alecto) Role: Torture / Intel / Raiding​ Mulciber Role: Infiltration/espionage​ Selwyn Role: Secondary Enforcer​ Parkinson Role: Financier​

Creature Allies:​ Greyback & Pack? Werewolves​ Vampire Elder? Coven​ Initiates Hort Bole, Norman Pike, Francis Purvis, Selina Hemsley, Beatrice Berrow, Darius Shepley​ Auxiliaries Hire-wands, Snatchers​ International Aid French Hit-Wizards/Ex-Aurors?​

He set the parchment down and leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the wood.

"They came together faster than I expected." he murmured. "Fear does wonders when a man like Nott is left to shepherd the flock. French presence is worrying."

Although Darius didn't specify a number of Hire-wands, Snatchers and total creatures he did have an estimate on how many each group hosted.

Thorne read it again, not because he doubted its truth, but because he enjoyed how cleanly the picture was laid out. Order imposed on chaos, it meant Nott was desperate, but not foolish. Nott also knew him and what he was up against to be able to gather French help.

On another corner of the desk lay the Prophet's latest confusion. One headline was blaming Crimson Wing again even though this time she hadn´t left a butterfly, another insisted terrorists were murdering pure-blood families and elites in an attempt to destroy British wealth.

A third claimed these were part of a vigilante group set on ending the group that sent the wizarding world into the last war and that former supporters of you-know-who should be the only ones to fear. There was even a small passage claiming that Sirius Black was responsible for Yaxley's death as he felt abandoned.

The ministry spokesperson said everything was under control and to not panic, as the DMLE would bring every criminal to justice, regardless of their motives. Thorne allowed himself a quiet smile as he traced the words.

With Malfoy gone, their propaganda lay in tatters, leaving only fear and speculation which suited him well in order to gather more supporters to his cause. He was sure the ministry would fail to keep things under control.

He reached for a quill and sketched two simple columns on a fresh page. On the left, he listed Nott's forces as Shepley had outlined them: named veterans, creature allies, a swelling rabble of recruits.

At the bottom he wrote a rough estimate of the number of wizards already under Nott. He had already mustered around 200 to 300 wizards and creatures alike.

On the right, he wrote his own tally: Greywatch, Iron Dome, Stormguard, Watchers, Wardens, the Red Company, and the shadowy trio of Unspeakables. His total came close to them, for a total a bit over two hundred wands, yet every one was trained and organized.​

Solan Thorne​

Crimson Wing Role: Assassin​

Darius Shepley Role: Infiltrator​

Alastor Moody Role: Spy / Commander​ Sirius Black Role: Assault​ Cassian Rowe Role: Back-up /Reinforcements​ Greywatch squad ~30 Aurors & trainees Nymphadora Tonks (?)​ Stormguards 33 ex-Hit Wizards & mercs​ Iron Dome 42 Ex Auror veterans​

Marla Quinn Role: Counterintelligence​ Isolde Harrow Role: Curse-Breaker & Wards​ Paul Hughes Role: Organizer​ Unspeakable Assets​ The Watchers ~20 trackers, investigators, spies​ The Wardens 20 ward-masters & medics​ Red Company 48 trained wizards​ Corvin Malloran (Ritualist) Ilyas Dorn (Curses Research) Juno Caltrice (Battle-Mage)​

"Not a bad balance." he said softly. "This time it won't be quantity against quality."

The smile returned, sharper now. He was sure that Nott would not be confident in his numbers even if the speed in which he gathered everyone was surprising. They would probably proceed with caution on their operations. Raids were going to occur of course, otherwise he will lose control over the more bloodthirsty ones.

After all...Discipline and cohesion did win war, purpose above all, which they severely lacked. Fear of their dark lord kept them in line on the first war, on this one, it would not help them. Still, he had a lot of work to do. He would have to purge them all this time.

He gathered the papers into a neat pile and tied them with twine, as if to bind the enemy into order one more time. His mind was already moving past the report, past the headlines.

Every name on Shepley's list was already accounted for in his plans. Dolohov would need to be stricken down with a considerable force, the Carrows thrived on cruelty but faltered against resistance as they were not great duelists, so probably one of his first targets if things moved according to plan.

Greyback was a weapon that could cause a lot of damage and chaos, but an untamed one, easy to predict if given a juicy target.

Every weakness was visible, every path forward was clear to him. Thorne blew out the lamp and rose, the room falling into shadow. "I won't let this end like last time." he said to no one. "We will carve through it piece by piece, until there is nothing left but ash."
​

---

The great room of the manor smelled faintly of smoke and damp stone, the rain outside leaking through cracks in the roof and pattering somewhere unseen. Nott Sr. stood at the head of the long table, his thin hands resting on the polished surface, his eyes sweeping over the men and women who had answered his call.

They were fewer than he had wished for, but more than he had feared, enough to put up a fight, or convince the rest of them that the old order could still be given shape if only he reminded them what they were supposed to be.

Their faces stared back at him in expectation, some old with creased skin and weary eyes, others young and reckless, still hungry for power or at least the thrill of belonging to something larger than themselves.

Dolohov leaned lazily against his chair as though the meeting bored him, the Carrows twitched with barely contained malice, Rookwood listened in silence, calculating as ever. Even Parkinson, who always looked as though he had more important matters elsewhere, had come, because he knew the coin he controlled was a golden opportunity to him now that Malfoy decided to run away.

Nott's voice was not the voice of a fiery rabble-rouser, but it carried weight in its gravity. He reminded them of their losses, the humiliation of the last war, the ruin of families and names once respected, the memory of their master whose vision had bound them with purpose.

He told them of Solan Thorne, the butcher who hunted them now, the reason Malfoy had fled into the shadows rather than face what was coming. He measured his words so that they could inspire belief, knowing that showing weakness or indecisiveness would invite more desertions.

He had to convince a lot of people that they could be next and even if they had the means to escape the country, nothing could assure them that death wouldn't follow. Solan Thorne was not a man who cared for boundaries, which was ideal in this case as he found unexpected allies.

"We will not sit and wait for this man to come for you one by one. In their last attack it is clear he is not doing this alone. Mudbloods and blood-traitors call for our heads, trying to destroy our way of life." Nott said, his gaze moving slowly across the table. "We will act, and you will remind this country that the blood of the rightful wizards cannot be spilled without consequence."

He spoke of order through terror, of the old ways that had kept Muggles in their place, of the fear that once made the Ministry tremble at the Dark Lord's name. His orders were simple and impossible to mistake.

They were to bring chaos and terror to the undeserving and strength to the pureblood families. Fenrir Greyback and his pack would be unleashed against undefended villages, where fire and claw would leave memories too terrible for anyone to ignore.

The Carrows would guide the recruits and snatchers in Muggleborn raids, rewarding their eagerness with blood while tightening their leash through cruelty. Macnair would serve as a reminder of their Ministry foothold, his position still useful for their cause, while Parkinson's gold would steady the flow of bribes and supplies. Malfoy had left him with a few assets as well, contacts mostly.

Nott did not hide his distaste as he named Greyback, but his voice never faltered. He needed chaos, he needed fear, and Greyback provided both in abundance. The vampires, despised and shunned by most, were next on his list.

They could be used, their hunger shaped into a tool thanks to them being shunned everywhere they went. Nott was thinking of the negotiations already underway, he was devising promises they could be lured with, the kind of bargains others would never make but that desperation made necessary.

The room was still by the time he finished, the only sound the steady tapping of rain against the high windows. For a moment Nott let silence do his work, forcing them to consider his words, to feel the inevitability of them. Then he leaned back slightly, his body stiff from years that no spell could lighten, and concluded with the words that bound them.

"Fear will scatter them, tradition will bind us, and when all others falter, the true pureblood wizard will be victorious. Let's remember our lord's ideals and carry them forward. They will regret ever messing with us."

Later, when the meeting broke apart and his inner circle carried his orders into the night, Nott lingered alone in the empty chamber. The cold crept into his bones more quickly these days, and he felt it as he lowered himself into a chair by the hearth.

He pressed a hand to his temple and closed his eyes for a moment, his body reminding him of its frailty even as his mind refused to surrender. In the silence he thought of his master, of the shadow that had once commanded their loyalty with a mere glance, and he wished for his return more than he dared say aloud.

But there was no echo of his return yet and he would not allow this cause to wither while he still drew breath.
​

---

The room was quiet except for the steady patter of rain against the glass. Lynne sat on the narrow chair by the window, her hands folded on her lap, the faint hum of her own magic rising and falling in rhythm with her breath.

Her master's latest orders still lingered in her thoughts, carried in his voice that never allowed for hesitation. She was to prepare herself to lead the Red Company, a division unlike the others, filled with wizards who were guided by anger and hope.

It took some time but together with her master, they had carefully made a new persona for her, taking an aging potion to appear and hiding her grown limbs with clothes. She was now ready to command them through different raids and missions whenever they were needed.

She had seen them once already, gathered in one of Thorne's safe houses, their eyes tired, their robes threadbare, their wands clutched like lifelines rather than weapons. They had gone through an extensive training.

They were all Muggleborns and a few Half-bloods who had once dreamed of a future after Hogwarts, had to endure the stress of a terrible war but still had studied with the same hunger as most renowned wizards, who had walked away from the castle with their NEWTs in hand only to find that no door would open to them.

It had not mattered that the Dark Lord had fallen, that the war had ended in the favor of those who supported them, that the speeches in the Ministry had praised equality and justice.

Pureblood families had still filled almost every office, every apprenticeship, every path that promised stability, leaving them with scraps. Some had been forced into menial jobs, others had abandoned magic altogether, a few had vanished into bitterness.

Her master had promised them something different, of course. He had promised change, the opportunity to carve a future by their own hands. Promises of power and recognition that could not be stolen by tradition or name.

It had not taken much to bring them to his side, for resentment was a slow fire that had already burned within them for years. Lynne understood it even if she did not share it, for she had been created for a purpose and never knew what it was to be denied one.

She was to lead them whenever they had a target to hit, though the day to day command would fall to Paul Hughes, a wizard with sharp eyes and a steady voice, one who spoke like a man who had long since given up on being heard until Thorne had drawn him back to his feet.

He was the one who knew their names, their strengths, their fears, and he was the one who carried their trust. Yet it was Lynne they looked to when they trained together, instinctively knowing who to follow into battle.

Her master had reminded her that none of this changed her most important task. She would continue to guard Harry when they returned to Hogwarts. Her nights, however, would not be her own.

She was still expected to carry out missions as before, slipping through the shadows to strike at enemies and return before dawn. He had told her plainly that the war would not wait for anyone this time, and that Harry's safety and their campaign were bound together in ways others could not see.

She had accepted his words without argument, but inside her mind she felt the conflict that never seemed to rest. The other presence within her was being assimilated still and bringing more memories and change with it, and she seemed to recoil from any type of violence.

These feelings whispered hesitation each time she drew her wand to kill. It was not loud to stop her hand, but it was constant, like water wearing away at stone. She had begun to fear it for the doubt it planted in her at the edges of thought. Her master had made it clear to her many times over, hesitation on the battlefield could be very costly, not only for her, but for the wizards who would join her in battle.

Lynne pressed two fingers to her temple, a familiar gesture, and breathed slowly until her thoughts dulled into silence again. She told herself what she always did, that doubt gave room to mistakes, and mistakes led to her failing her mission.

This was a mission that now involved someone she cared for, Harry's safety mattered more than her own conflict. She repeated the words inside her head until they steadied her once more.

She rose at last, the sound of rain louder now as the storm pressed against the windows, and she tightened the clasp of her cloak. She would not fail her master, and she would definitely not fail Harry.

Whatever fire burned in the Red Company, whatever bitterness haunted them, she would carry it forward as ordered, guide them to victory, and she would not falter even if part of her longed for something gentler.

She hoped she could find a way to erase these new memories without getting rid of her newfound emotions and feelings.
​

---

The sky was heavy with gray clouds when they reached King's Cross, the kind of sky that darkened the day, blurring the current time, promising rain and not of the calm type.

The station was crowded as always, the air thick with the scent of smoke and old stone. Lynne moved in step with Harry, a small butterfly battering her wings rapidly to catch up behind her.

Sirius Black was close at their side, although his face was not his own. He wore the features of a nameless clerk today, his hair trimmed short, his jaw set, the Polyjuice distorting every trace of the fugitive wanted by half the wizarding world.

They passed posters on the walls, Sirius's true face glaring out from beneath the words 'Have you seen this wizard?', the Ministry seal stamped beneath with a warning for extreme caution.

Most people hurried past them without a second glance, though Lynne caught the quiet tones of mothers warning their children not to stray, of men muttering about safety and Aurors and how everything seemed more uncertain this year. The mood of the station was subdued and brittle.

Sirius tried to keep his voice steady as he said goodbye, but she could feel the tension beneath his smile. He hugged Harry hard, pulling him close, whispering something only the boy could hear.

Harry nodded quickly, his face set, though Lynne could see how much he wished this moment would last longer. Sirius let go reluctantly, his hand lingering on Harry's shoulder before he turned to her. His eyes, the only feature unchanged by the potion, met hers, and he gave a single sharp nod. Then he was gone, melting into the flow of people.

They crossed the barrier together, the familiar sight of the scarlet train waiting on the other side. Steam drifted through the air, shouts of students and parents rose and fell, trunks banged against stone.

Lynne caught the way parents glanced at the posters pinned even here, and how Aurors moved through the crowd more visibly than before, wands tucked close at their sides, eyes sharp. They were looking for Harry probably so they had to move quickly inside the train. They had asked Alastor Moody to distract the order at the time they were arriving, but that didn't stop other Aurors. Apparently even the minister was worried for Harry but Dumbledore had not budged to disclose anything regarding him.

Most of the student body seemed to be minding their own business. The only loud ones were new first years, no doubt the excitement of finally being there was bigger than any fear towards something unknown to them.

She kept Harry close as they moved along the train, her senses stretched wider than sight and sound. Her magic prickled against her skin, warning her of something foul. It was a safety measure her master had installed.

It was faint at first, a whisper at the edge of her perception, enough to raise her guard and she knew what that meant. She slowed her steps, her wand slid into her hand with practiced ease.

Harry looked up, confused, but she did not explain yet. He shrugged and kept searching for an empty compartment, oblivious to the way her body tensed with each step.

They found one halfway down the train, the narrow space unclaimed, the racks above empty and waiting. Harry heaved his trunk up with her help, and they settled in the seats, the small butterfly that was her trunk turning into a pin for her clothes.

She still had her wand out as the sensation lingered. The presence she was feeling was near but not moving, like something coiled in place. Only when Harry finally noticed her stance did she speak, her voice calm but firm.

"There is a dark creature nearby. It is not moving at the moment, but it is here."

"Aboard the train? How?"

"I don't know."

Harry frowned, uneasy now, but before he could press her for more the door slid open. Padma and Terry entered first, their voices breaking the tension, followed by Anthony and Hermione.

They filled the space with chatter, dragging their trunks inside, jostling for seats. Hermione immediately began fussing about the summer vacations and which books she read. Terry cracked a joke about her definitely being a closeted Ravenclaw, and for a moment the heaviness lifted.

Lynne remained seated with her wand within reach, the warning in her magic still humming beneath the noise. She let herself relax just enough to avoid drawing questions, though she kept her senses sharp.

Luna appeared briefly, her eyes drifting as though she saw things none of them could, and she offered a smile and a soft greeting to Lynne and Harry before bouncing off again, perhaps toward the other second years or maybe she had already adopted another group, one could never with her strange enthusiasm.

The train jolted once, then began to move, steam curling past the windows. Rain struck the glass as the sky finally broke open, drumming steadily as they rolled out of the station.

The compartment grew warm with voices, Hermione recounting something she had read, Padma and Anthony laughing at Terry's teasing, Harry leaning back at last as though letting the normalcy settle around him. Lynne listened but said little, her attention still drawn to the weight pressing faintly at the edges of her awareness.

She didn't like that it wasn't moving at all from its position and her mind drifted to what it could possibly mean. Was a dark creature posing as a student? With what purpose? She briefly wondered.

She kept her wand close and her thoughts steady, her body still though her instincts screamed at her not to let down her guard. She watched the rain slide down the glass in crooked lines, listened to the muted beat of conversation around her, and told herself that whatever hunted them, she would not let it come near Harry.

The train pressed on through the storm, the countryside blurred beyond the windows, and for the first time since she had stepped into the compartment she allowed herself to rest her hand on the table and close her eyes for a moment, steadying her breath.

Whatever it was, as long as it stayed still was not an immediate threat. She hoped it would stay like that the entire way.
​

---

The rain had turned heavy by the time the train had left London behind, sheets of water lashing against the windows with enough force to blur the fields beyond. The chatter in the compartment had dulled to a low murmur, Hermione opening her bag again to pull out a book while the others leaned against the seats, content to watch the storm.

Lynne kept her eyes half closed, listening to the rhythm of drops on glass, though her senses never eased completely. The warning in her magic was still there, quiet but insistent, the presence unmoving yet undeniable.

When the train lurched to a halt, every voice in the compartment fell silent. The wheels screamed against the rails and the carriage rocked, a sudden stillness settling over the corridor beyond.

Hermione raised her head in alarm, Padma glanced at Harry, and Terry muttered something about the train never stopping so soon. As the lights went out on the train, Lynne was already on her feet, her wand in hand before anyone else had thought to move.

She turned to the others, her voice level giving no room for refusal.

"Stay here. Do not open the door no matter what happens."

Harry began to protest, but she pushed him gently back into his seat and closed the door firmly, sealing it with a simple protective ward. His voice came muffled through the wood, calling her name, but she ignored it and stepped into the corridor.

The air outside was getting colder, unnaturally so, a creeping chill that slid into her skin and made her breath plume in the dim light. She felt the presence of more dark creatures now swarming the train.

Then the chilling sensation and feeling were something she recognized at once. The cold thickened as she walked, her wand raised and the lanterns above now lay dead offering no light to guide her steps. She knew then what it was, as she felt the same sensation back in August when her mission took her to Azkaban Prison.

The first shape appeared at the far end of the corridor, black cloth trailing against the floor, its movement slow, gliding rather than walking. Its face was hidden beneath the hood, but the weight of its presence filled the air until the breath caught in her lungs.

Her chest tightened as if unseen hands pressed against it, and a sound rose faintly in her ears, a woman's voice screaming in terror. She knew it was not real, that the memories were not hers, yet the echo still forced its way into her mind.

Her magic flared under the weight of fear, but she forced her voice steady as she lifted her arm.

"Expecto Patronum."

Silver light burst from the tip, a thick shield of mist that spread in a protective wall that slammed with force against the creature. The Dementor recoiled, its advance halted, but it did not retreat completely.

It pressed against the shield, testing its strength, the cold deepening as if it could seep through her spell by persistence alone. Lynne clenched her jaw, pouring more magic into the spell, the strain already burning in her core.

Her senses were filled with whispers and screams, fragments of suffering she had never lived but could not shut out. Each second dragged the strength from her faster, as she felt the strain from the amount of magic required to hold the spell up.

She thought of Harry in the compartment behind her, the others huddled together, and told herself she would not allow the creature to pass. She could not fail here.

The shield flickered once as her magic faltered, and she forced it stronger, but another presence stirred behind her, close enough that instinct tore her spell away. She turned sharply, wand raised, bracing herself for another Dementor.

What she saw instead was a man, tall and worn, his face lined with scars, his expression calm even in the dim corridor. His wand was already lifted, and from its tip poured a brilliant Patronus, silver bright and radiant, sweeping through the air in the shape of a wolf.

The light surged past her and crashed against the Dementor, driving it back in a rush that cleared the screams from her ears and swept the chill from her bones. Her breath shuddered as the warmth returned, the corridor suddenly alive again with the sound of rain.

She stood frozen, still gripping her wand, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She usually never had issues trusting her instincts, and she was sure she had felt a dark creature behind her, yet this scarred man had appeared instead helping her.

Confusion flickered in her thoughts even as the silver wolf prowled the corridor, keeping the Dementors at bay. Still exhaustion was taking its toll on her body and she hoped she had enough strength to at least check on her friends and let them know everything was alright now.
​

---

Her knees felt unsteady as she lowered her wand, the corridor still dim though the silver wolf had driven the worst of the cold away. The scarred man's Patronus lingered for a bit longer, then vanished into thin air. The man turned to her at last, his gaze steady but not unkind, his voice calm as though he had done this a thousand times before.

"Well done." he said simply. "You held it longer than most ever could. Few manage even that on their first true encounter."

The compliment barely reached her through the drain of magic pulling at her body. She leaned against the wall, her breath uneven, every beat of her heart reminding her of the strain she had endured in holding the shield.

He stepped closer and extended a hand, not to touch but to offer a small square of chocolate.

"Eat this." he told her, his tone firm but not commanding. "It will help. The cold should have passed already, and this will keep the gloomy feeling away."

"Are you… a Professor?"

He nodded but still Lynne hesitated, suspicion still whispering at the edges of her instincts, yet she took the chocolate, biting into it and feeling the warmth return almost at once, spreading slowly through her chest and hands. The man nodded as though satisfied, then straightened, his eyes scanning the train ahead.

"I need to check with the conductor and the staff." he said. "The Dementors were looking for someone aboard, but they shouldn't have come in contact with students in the first place. Stay with your classmates and rest, I'm sure you will feel better soon enough."

She wanted to demand more, to know why he was here, who he was, but exhaustion dulled her tongue and she could only manage a faint nod. He did not linger, moving away with long strides. The lamps of the train flickered on removing the dark shadows on the corridor.

Lynne pushed herself forward, each step heavier than the last, until she reached the door of the compartment she had sealed. She whispered the counter-ward and the lock dissolved at her touch, the door sliding open to reveal anxious faces.

Harry was already half-risen, his wand in hand, Hermione's eyes wide with fear, Padma and Terry tense against the seats.

"What was that? Was it the dark creature?" Harry demanded before she had even stepped inside.

Lynne closed the door behind her and slid into the nearest seat, her body slumping with more weight than she intended.

"It was Dementors." she said, her voice low but steady. "They boarded the train."

The others paled at the word. Hermione's mouth opened, ready with questions, but Lynne shook her head and continued.

"A professor was there. He drove them back. They will not come near us again, at least for now."

Harry still looked unconvinced, his worry written plain on his face, but he did not argue further. She pulled the remaining piece of chocolate from her hand and nibbled it slowly, each bite easing the ache in her limbs and pushing back the last remnants of cold.

Her eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment, the drain of magic demanding rest she could no longer deny. Hermione shifted forward, ready to press more, but Harry cut her off with a small gesture, settling beside Lynne as she leaned unconsciously against him.

His presence steadied her, familiar and solid, and she let the weight of her body rest without resistance. Outside the windows the rain fell harder still, drumming a steady rhythm against the glass as the train began to move again.

Lynne let the sound fill her mind as her body drifted toward the darkness of exhaustion, her body shutting down to regain magic enough to function correctly again. The sound of the train's brakes screeched faintly through the fog of her unconsciousness, and Lynne stirred as the weight of exhaustion gave way to the awareness of movement slowing.

Her eyes opened with effort, the dim light of the compartment revealing the familiar faces of her friends around her. Harry was leaning slightly toward her, his expression soft with relief when he saw her stir.

"We are here." he said quietly, as though not to disturb her more than necessary.

She straightened slowly, forcing her body upright despite the heaviness in her limbs. Her magic still thrummed unevenly within her, drained and sluggish, but at least she didn't feel as exhausted.

She followed Harry's gaze to the corridor, where the scarred man was standing once more. His presence was less imposing now, his face calm as he glanced toward her.

"Are you well?" he asked, his tone lighter than before, though the concern was genuine.

"I am fine, thanks." she replied evenly, her voice steadier than she felt.

She met his eyes for a brief moment, then inclined her head in a polite gesture. He smiled faintly at her acknowledgment and said nothing more, turning his attention to the other compartments, making sure students were moving in an orderly fashion as the train slowed to its final halt.

Lynne watched him for a moment longer, and she was surprised to see no judgments in his eyes. She had grown used to the looks of suspicion, curiosity or disgust her presence often drew, especially to her limbs, yet his gaze had lingered without judgment, not on her oddity. It was a different sensation, one that for some reason made her feel more comfortable.

The train jolted once more before coming to a complete stop at Hogsmeade Station. Students gathered their trunks in a flurry, voices raised again now that the sense of danger had passed.

The night outside was thick with rain, heavy drops pelting the platform and bouncing from the hoods of cloaks as the carriages waited in the distance. Lynne rose with the others, her cloak already fastened, her eyes scanning the darkness instinctively. Harry brushed close to her side, his hands in his pocket.

They were looking for Sirius, weren't they? That's why they boarded the train.

His voice rang in her head as her pocket watch hummed. Lynne gave a small nod.

Yes, they were looking for him all right.

Harry's brow furrowed, his worry written plain, but her calm seemed to ease him slightly.

They aren't capable of getting into my head, right? They would see I've met him already!

She placed a hand briefly against his arm.

"It will be all right. Let's go."

They stepped down onto the platform, the rain soaking through the air, the chill returning though not as sharp as the Dementors' touch. Lynne's eyes narrowed as she scanned the periphery of the station.

She could feel them still, far off now, their presence muffled but unmistakable. The knowledge that they would linger near the school made her uneasy, though she kept her expression composed for Harry's sake.

The carriages waited, drawn by horses only she and a few others could see, skeletal forms shifting in the downpour. She guided Harry toward one of them, climbing inside with the rest of their group.

Conversation returned, though subdued, students whispering about what had happened on the train. Some looked pale, others curious, many frightened. Lynne said little, watching the road ahead as the carriage jolted into motion, mud splashing against its wheels.

When they reached the castle gates, the weight of the Dementors pressed faintly against her senses again, a reminder that seemed to be also stationed at Hogwarts. Hooded shapes stood watch, their presence sanctioned now.

Harry shivered beside her, pulling his cloak tighter, and Lynne kept her wand close beneath her sleeve though she knew casting would do no good here. The presence receded only once the carriages rolled past the wards of the castle.
​

---

Inside the Great Hall, the warmth of torches and the hum of countless voices filled the air. The Sorting Ceremony was already underway, the hat singing its verses before the line of nervous first years.

Lynne was sitting beside Harry at their usual spot at the table. Luna had already seated herself with a cluster of wide-eyed younger Ravenclaws. She beamed at the new arrivals and launched into a description of the "Lynnettes" a name she had given to Lynne's small following of younger students. Her voice was airy and certain as though she were selling a prized item.

Lynne allowed the chatter to wash over her without comment, her gaze resting on the sorting for a moment, then lifting toward the staff table. When the last song of the sorting closed and the applause died down, Dumbledore rose.

His presence silenced the hall at once, his eyes scanning the rows of students with a calm but firm gaze. He gave a few words of welcome, a brief introduction of the new professor: Remus Lupin, taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Then he announced Rubeus Hagrid, taking up Care of Magical Creatures, in place of Kettleburn who had retired at the end of the previous year. At the mention of Lupin's name, Lynne's attention lingered. The scarred man inclined his head with quiet grace when the hall applauded, his expression unchanged.

Dumbledore's expression grew more serious as he spoke again, warning the students of the Dementors stationed around the castle by order of the Ministry. He reminded them that the creatures were dangerous, that no one should approach them or provoke them under any circumstances, and that they would be stationed at the entrances of the castle. The hush that followed his words was heavy, the unease palpable even among the older students.

At her side Harry muttered under his breath, his voice low but clear enough for her to catch.

"Every year it's something dangerous with this school."

Lynne allowed the faintest curve of a smile to touch her lips, though her eyes never left the staff table. The rain outside battered against the enchanted ceiling above them, the storm unbroken, and she felt in her core that the year had only just begun to show its teeth.
​

---

"Fleas shouldn't be part of a patronus, right? They are clearly Dark Creatures like mosquitoes."

 

[Honoa51]

Sooo, why's Lynne leading a mercenary company? I get that she's Thorne's assassin, but she's like 13. Even with hormone inhibitors, her experience of war, tactics, and quite frankly paranoia should not be a match to professionals.

I could maybe see junior lieutenant, but straight to the top of the heirarchy doesn't look right. Can she make the right calls, tactical, strategic, and raise morale and discipline as needed? I'm really not sure on Thorne's process, since you don't need the strongest person to also necessarily be the leader. She's a soldier, an assassination, and by the vaguest definition, an infiltrator. She isn't a company commander or a squad leader though. That much is very apparent by her interactions at school among her peers.

If this is supposed to be in character for Thorne then, please continue as you want.

Interesting vision from the dementors there. It's cold and hopeless even behind her patronus somehow? Why did she go into the corridor rather than stay in the cabin behind her wards?

Tactically, from the inside, Lynne has closed off their entryway, and in the event they do breach, there's still only one direction they can come from, and therefor one direction to cover with her Patronus charm.

On the topic of developments, did Harry get his Animagus? What animal does he turn into? Have the four of them (Thorne, Lynne, Sirius, and Harry) gone out in their animal forms together?

And why did Lynne leave Harry in the cabin? He's been training to use the Patronus charm this summer just like her, and his is probably stronger than her's given the way his emotions and "protagonist powers" work. There's also no mistaking it, because she's been exposed to dementors before while breaking into Azkaban, so she should also be aware of their powers and her counters.

Nice chapter, and it seems canon is being followed into year 3.

 

[Lucernello]

Hey Honoa. As usual I really like your comments, I hope you are enjoying the story and you are having a nice week so far.

Sooo, why's Lynne leading a mercenary company? I get that she's Thorne's assassin, but she's like 13. Even with hormone inhibitors, her experience of war, tactics, and quite frankly paranoia should not be a match to professionals.

Click to shrink...

It is not a mercenary company. Not this one. She is not 13, it has been 13 years since she is alive as what she is now. Paul could easily devise the strategy calls and planning, while still having Lynne lead into battle as one of the heavily trained in fighting and dueling assets of Thorne. On the other hand, she could easily remain calm under pressure where others may struggle thus making her valuable.

Interesting vision from the dementors there. It's cold and hopeless even behind her patronus somehow? Why did she go into the corridor rather than stay in the cabin behind her wards?

Click to shrink...

Although it is not explored, I think a dementor's despair can be felt behind wards making for a very bad experience all the same. They could even dispel wards for all we know, thus facing the threat would be in her nature as she would want to protect Harry of any bad experience if she can help it.

Tactically, from the inside, Lynne has closed off their entryway, and in the event they do breach, there's still only one direction they can come from, and therefor one direction to cover with her Patronus charm.

Click to shrink...

While that is true, if her patronus was not enough and Harry couldn't manage the spell under pressure it would have been bad. By going out she could have led it out of the train if she was fast enough, but then she is caught in the middle of her spell being good enough to hold it there but not to repel it completely, giving her a false hope of being able to hold it at bay at first.

And why did Lynne leave Harry in the cabin? He's been training to use the Patronus charm this summer just like her, and his is probably stronger than her's given the way his emotions and "protagonist powers" work. There's also no mistaking it, because she's been exposed to dementors before while breaking into Azkaban, so she should also be aware of their powers and her counters.

Click to shrink...

Harry could have definitely made it work better, which is why he protested. I'm imagine he won't be very pleased with her for a bit, after training so hard.

On the topic of developments, did Harry get his Animagus? What animal does he turn into? Have the four of them (Thorne, Lynne, Sirius, and Harry) gone out in their animal forms together?

Click to shrink...

What would you say would be Harry's animagus? :3 He definitely would manage to become one with experienced people around. With a war starting, I don't think Thorne would join on the animal form adventure with them at that moment.

 

[Lucernello]

Question for anyone who wants to guess... What do you guys think Harry's boggart will be? I've already written it, so there is no going back, but I would love to see some guesses and if someone thought the same thing as me.

 

[Lucernello]

MP: Patience creates victory. When progress feels slow, remember that consistency is magic's truest core. Keep working, keep learning, keep improving. Results may arrive long after the effort begins.

---

Chapter 22 - Breakpoint

Lynne found herself helping her housemates unpack their things. Although she officially shared the room with Sue Li this year, she was helping Lisa and Padma with their things as she didn't have much to begin with, everything packed safely in her trunk and not really needing to unpack it anytime soon.

When they were finished, they decided to organize their timetables so they could have their study sessions. By now most second and third year Ravenclaws were participating so they would have to go to the common room to arrange a nice schedule for everyone.

It had taken its time, but Harry and her had convinced Hermione during the Easter holidays to only choose three electives and not all. Lynne had to offer Hermione tutoring her about those classes she wouldn't be taking in their free time.

They didn't want their friend to stress and overwork herself during the entire year, and some of those classes were happening at the same time so there was no way their friend wouldn't end up like that.

Their study group was important to Harry, and teaching her about things like Divination or Muggle Studies was not something she found difficult to do afterall. She had learned the entire curriculum for all electives just in case Harry chose any of them.

Of course she was going to take the same classes, but she let him have his pick of electives and he had chosen Care of Magical Creatures, Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy although the last one he was pressured by Hermione and Padma to do so.

The group then could stay together in the classes they did not have together. This year, some classes would host bigger groups of students, instead of just two houses per class.

The chances of all of their friends being together now was quite high, meaning that it would be a nice year overall, even if something were to happen. Hopefully it would be something that wouldn't end up hurting her again or Harry.

As they made their way to the common room she was greeted by an ever-cheerful Luna and the rest of the second year students: Meena Farley, Helen Dawlish, Evan Bexley, Ophelia Rushden and Mark Latchingdon.

Now with Harry, Anthony, Michael and Terry, the group had grown to fifteen students, if you added Hermione, you had more than enough to form the club Professor Flitwick had suggested, and if Luna had her way with the first years, Lynne was sure there would be even more joining.

As the rest of her group debated on which time was the best for their meetings her mind was processing the feeling of warmth being part of such a group brought, it was a positive emotion that she was glad could be experienced.

She then found Harry waiting for her in the common room while the rest of the students were heading to their dorms.
​

Harry had not spoken to her since they left the train, his silence thick and heavy. His fists balled at his sides as he stared at her. Finally, he spoke, his voice rising louder than she had ever heard it.

"You should have let me help!" His words echoed off the stone. "You know I could do the charm, Lynne, I practiced it all summer. I wasn't useless. You locked me in like a child!"

She blinked once at the heat in his voice, her calm expression unmoved even as his anger pressed at her.

"Of course you are not useless, Harry. You were great all summer."

"That's not the point!" His face was flushed, his eyes sharp with something between fury and hurt. "You can't keep pushing me aside every time it gets dangerous. I can help as well, specially when you are at risk as well."

Her gaze softened slightly. She let the silence settle for a few heartbeats before she stepped closer.

"You are right." she said finally. "It was not fair. Next time, I will not stop you. If you want to fight at my side, then I will let you. But, you have to understand that sometimes I will prioritize your safety. You are my best friend, Harry."

Harry's breath was still quick, his shoulders still tight, but the edge of his anger faltered. He looked away, jaw clenched, as if he wanted to hold on to it but could not.

"But I feel the same way, please let me help." he muttered.

"Alright, I will. Sorry, Harry." she answered.

That stilled him. After a moment, he gave a short nod and started walking away up the staircase to his own dormitory room, the fury spent but she wasn't sure she was forgiven yet.

After every student went to sleep, she quietly exited the common room and headed for her usual exit. She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and navigated the school's many hallways and corridors.

She would carry out her mission tonight and worry about Harry later. She swiftly moved to her usual escape out of Hogwarts using one of the many tunnels her master had described that led to Hogsmeade. The night was cold, stars veiled by heavy clouds, and each step through the damp earth of the tunnel carried her further from the safety of stone walls and into the silence of duty.

The village above slept undisturbed, unaware of the passage beneath their feet. She emerged into the crisp air beyond Hogsmeade and steadied her breathing before turning on the spot.

The familiar pull of apparition wrenched her forward, the landscape folding away into darkness. She arrived with her wand already in hand, senses sharpened, her thoughts narrowed to the single purpose set before her.

Her mission was clear and her target confirmed for interrogation and elimination. She tightened the hood of her new cloak and took to the sky, flying low through the rough landscape of Scotland.

The wind pressed against her face and cloak, carrying the scent of heather and wet stone, but she barely registered it. The ground blurred beneath her, rivers and hills passing like shadows, her path set and unbroken as she cut through the night toward her mark.
​

---

The Arithmancy classroom was cleaner than most. No chalk dust clung to the desks, no stains marred the blackboards, and even the windows, enchanted to remain clear despite the weather, allowed sharp morning light to stream through.

Each desk had already been marked with a nameplate in tidy script, their placements organized in tidy rows like the charts on the pages of the textbook resting beneath Lynne's hands.

Professor Septima Vector paced in front of the class with crisp purpose, her movements neat and deliberate. Vector's robe hems did not drag, her voice was monotonous and unchanging through her explanations; it never strayed into softness or haste.

Every sentence landed with calculated precision, announcing their syllabus and expectations for the year ahead. Lynne's eyes flicked across the room, cataloguing.

Hermione was seated on her right, quill already moving before the professor had finished the first sentence, a broad grin tugging at her lips. Her excitement was visible, not in the twitchy or jumpy sort of way Lunas was, but as a steady thrum just beneath her every breath.

On Lynne's other side, Harry slouched just slightly. His shoulders were relaxed and his hands folded dutifully over his parchment, but his gaze slid toward the window far too often for interest to be genuine. She noticed that, and made a mental note to carefully plan their study sessions to make it more enjoyable for him.

"Each of you will produce your own name chart by the end of this week. You are expected to use both Pythagorean and Chaldean methods." The professor continued.

"Refer to the conversion tables in chapter two and three, and ensure all calculations are documented. This will be your foundation for every other chart this term. If your work is sloppy, your predictions will be worse."

Lynne was not concerned with the warning really. She had already begun folding the corner of her parchment into a neat square, planning out how best to organize their efforts.

She would need to create a template Harry could follow, one that made the logic visible rather than abstract. He had an instinctive sense for patterns but rarely trusted them when numbers were involved. By the time class ended, she had already drafted three variations in her mind.

As they filtered out into the corridor, Harry groaned, stretching his arms above his head.

"I think my brain just turned into soup." he muttered.

"Oh it was not that bad." answered Padma.

"It's arithmetic." Hermione replied, still glowing. "With actual magic involved. I think it's brilliant."

"Brilliant for you, maybe." Harry said, "I'd rather play a quidditch match blindfolded."

Lynne didn't speak at first. She glanced sideways at Harry and caught the trace of real confusion behind the complaint, not laziness or irritation, but a general unfamiliarity with the subject, which was fine. She could work with that.

"I'll show you a trick later on, Harry." she said softly as they walked. "Once you learn the patterns, it will feel more comfortable to learn, you will see."

He looked at her, skeptical, but smiled. "Thanks, Lyn."

The morning chill of the castle corridors gave way to the dry warmth of the dungeons as they descended to the Potions classroom. As Hermione, Harry, Padma and her walked to the classroom, they were joined by the rest of the Ravenclaw third years, who cheerfully greeted the group. The Gryffindors arrived shortly after, filling in the shared benches without ceremony.

Snape glided into the room with his usual silence, robes billowing like smoke in an updraft. He began the lesson without greeting or glancing at anyone. Today's potion was a variation of the Deflating Draught, designed to treat magical swelling from charm misfires.

The recipe was deceptively simple, but the proportions required constant adjustment based on humidity, and most students began to struggle by the second stage. Neville, who had taken a seat near the front with Seamus, was sweating before he'd even lit his flame.

Lynne kept one eye on her own potion and another on the room. Padma and Terry worked methodically. Hermione was moving slightly too fast, already three steps ahead and frowning as her concoction thickened too quickly.

Having Harry as her partner proved to be quite nice, as he would ask before doing something he wasn't sure of, and once he learned the correct way of doing things, he didn't make mistakes. She tapped her spoon lightly against the side of her cauldron and he mirrored her rhythm without looking up.

Then Neville's cauldron let out a high-pitched hiss which made everyone freeze. A faint bubbling rose from within the pewter rim, pale green liquid swelling at the surface like a balloon stretching under too much pressure.

Snape was there before anyone else could react. With a sharp flick of his wand, a grey shimmer passed over the potion, cooling it instantly. It deflated with a faint sigh, and Neville shrank a little in his seat, mouth forming a panicked apology that never left his throat.

Snape did not scold him. He only looked at the cauldron, then at Neville, and then resumed walking with a quiet, practiced disdain that somehow said more than a tirade. By the time the lesson ended, no one had spoken above a whisper.

They reconvened for lunch in the Great Hall, where the second-year Ravenclaws were already gathered. Luna sat beside Meena Farley and Evan Bexley, her plate a curious mix of things that no longer surprised anyone.

Mark Latchingdon was carving small shapes into a slice of bread with his butter knife while Helen Dawlish tested how long she could balance a fork on one finger. Ophelia Rushden was reading through a pamphlet on how to detect counterfeit amulets with unnecessary intensity.

It seemed the entire second year group was catching up on Luna's antics, she mused. Luna looked up as Lynne sat down, then leaned into her without asking, resting her head on Lynne's shoulder for a moment before speaking.

"Did you know dirigible plums are supposed to help you see things others can't?" Luna said.

"I believe those do not grow anywhere near here, Luna."

"That doesn't mean they won't find their way to us somehow." Luna replied with a dreamy smile.

Harry chuckled softly. "I have no clue what you guys are talking about and at this point, I'm even afraid to ask."

That prompted her other friends to comment about one thing or the other, letting her voice drift to the background. Lynne did not mind the chatter. She watched it unfold, voices weaving together across the table, layered and light.

It was a bit noisy with the amount of students that had joined their friend group, but she could now appreciate these moments as something precious. It was also soothing in a way.
​

---

After lunch, the warmth of the sun clung to the stone walls of the castle as they walked down the grassy slopes toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid stood at the edge of the fenced clearing, waving both arms as though they might miss him in broad daylight.

Behind him, a small paddock stood enclosed by thick posts and heavy rope, though whatever creature lay within remained hidden for now.

"Right." Hagrid called out once most had gathered, "This'll be a gentle one, just to get us started. Please turn to page forty-six of the book when you can."

Harry leaned slightly toward her, eyebrows raised. "How are we supposed to open our books?"

Lynne grabbed his book and squeezed it tightly between her hands, the book let out a pained shriek, and the poor thing then opened, whining like a kicked puppy. She then turned it to page forty-six for him.

"Blimey." He said.

Other students voiced their opinions as well on how to open the book, and Hagrid told them they had to stroke its spine to subdue its violent tendencies which, to be honest, sounded harder than just squeezing it, they looked sturdy enough.

As their classmates settled, she started scanning the enclosure, her eyes already adjusting to the slight shimmer of protective charms layered over the fence. The grass within had been flattened in a wide arc, and there were pale grey feathers caught along the far posts. Something as large as a horse had paced through there, by the footprints it was neither centaur nor unicorn.

The group settled in a semicircle, wands stowed, as Hagrid marched over to a low gate and whistled sharply. The creature emerged with cautious dignity, claws pressing softly into the grass, wings tucked against its sides.

A Hippogriff, feathered in a stormy mix of silver and pale ash, its hindquarters like a lion's but its front half regal and birdlike, its head bobbing with quiet appraisal as it regarded the students.

"This." Hagrid said proudly, "Is Buckbeak. Now listen up, hippogriffs are proud beasts, so show respect, always. Bow first. If he bows back, you can approach. If not, well... we will get to that later."

He smiled and turned, gesturing toward the creature.

"Alright, who wants to go first?"

All around her, the group took a step back, clearly intimidated and hesitant about whose idea it was to bring such a creature to their first class. Harry stepped forward with a half-smile and a spark of foolishness on him, but Lynne caught his sleeve before he could take more than two steps.

"I want to try first." she said, voice quiet and with a smile on her face. She should seriously talk to Harry about his lack of foresight.

He blinked, then stepped back without argument. She approached the creature slowly, her magic ready to act in an instant inspecting Buckbeaks movements as its head tilted in common bird fashion, its amber eyes sharp and unblinking.

Lynne stopped nowhere near the reach of its talons and she gave a low, respectful bow, keeping her gaze lowered while reading her wand arm. Buckbeak shifted, feathers rustling slightly as it stepped forward and stretched its neck.

The scent reached her first, earthy and warm, a mixture of wet fur and feathers. It advanced slowly and approached her while she remained still. The creature's beak drew close, and then, with surprising softness, it sniffed at her hands and shoulders.

"Er, be careful there." Hagrid muttered behind her, one boot crunching forward on instinct.

Buckbeak's wings twitched, but nothing more. He lowered his head, ruffled his feathers once, and dipped into a graceful bow.

"Oh! Well done!" Hagrid boomed. "That's perfect, Lynne, he likes yeh. Go on, give him a pet just by the beak there."

She reached up slowly, hand steady, and pressed her fingers against the smooth curve of Buckbeak's head. The feathers were surprisingly fine, like soft woven silk layered over corded strength. It leaned into the contact just slightly and she finally relaxed enough, her wand forgotten in her current focus.

"Let's see if he'll let you ride." Hagrid said with a grin, stepping closer. "Here, I'll give you a han-"

The moment his hand reached toward her back, Lynne reacted on instinct, her arm snapped outward, striking his wrist before she had time to think. It was not a hard blow, and certainly not meant to harm, but it was fast enough to create a loud smack sound, causing Buckbeak's head to jerk upward in alarm.

There were a few gasps from the entire class and everyone held their breath at the sudden switch from a wholesome moment to something dangerous again. Hagrid looked more startled than anything, his massive frame recoiling slightly as though from a sudden gust. His expression flickered, not quite hurt, but confused.

"I…" Lynne's voice caught for a fraction of a second. "I apologize, I did that without thinking. I didn't mean to react like that, professor."

Hagrid's face softened at once, and he waved his hand as if brushing away a fly.

"Don't worry yerself. Happens to the best of us. Reminds me of this one time I tried to feed the Thestrals, temperamental creatures I tell ya. I'll go slow this time, alright?"

She nodded, unsure how to explain the thread of tension still coiled in her shoulders. With exaggerated gentleness, Hagrid placed both hands under her arms and hoisted her onto Buckbeak's back, positioning her just behind the shoulder blades. She gripped the feathers carefully, trying not to hold too tightly.

"Alright, off yeh go!" Hagrid called, giving Buckbeak a solid pat on the rear.

The creature let out a sudden screech, wings flaring, and bolted forward in a gallop that carried its movement through her whole body and forced her to cling tighter to not fall from the Hippogriff. The run turned into a lift, the half-hooves half-talons pounding once more against the ground before launching upward into the sky.

The wind tore across her cheeks, cold and clean, rushing against her arms and legs and strangely enough it felt pretty much like that rollercoaster ride. There was no metal frame beneath her, no thundering noise of rails and wheels but the thrill and sensation were close.

Then, without warning, a memory pressed against the edge of her thoughts, vivid enough that she couldn't see anymore. She was high above the ground, not flying but lifted, held aloft by someone tall and laughing.

She could feel the broad hands gripping her ankles, the rush of wind as he spun in a slow circle, and the weightless joy bubbling from her throat as her fingers curled through his hair. The sky felt warm, and there was a feeling that made her feel giddy and safe.

The image shattered the moment she reached for his face. She could not see it. His features remained blurred, his voice muffled, as though viewed through a veil. She felt a tightness and a hollow ache in her chest.

She leaned forward slightly and pressed her hand against Buckbeak's neck, signaling the turn. They circled once before descending in a smooth, powerful arc, wings drawing long shadows on the grass as they landed.

She dismounted in silence as the others clapped, voices eager and bright, but she barely registered the sound. Hagrid beamed with pride and gestured for the next student to come forward, already praising her form and balance.

Lynne stepped back, still trying to come to terms with what she felt. She folded her arms, eyes fixed on the spot where Buckbeak had landed, but her mind was elsewhere, chasing the echo of a face she could not recall. A time when that person was laughing and life seemed so very warm. 'What did it all mean?', she wondered.

After a few brave ones had taken their turns with Buckbeak, the class ended and they headed back to the castle, many relating the tales of flying on the Hippogriff and the amazing experience that was Hagrid's first class.
​

---

Back in the Great Hall, dinner had just settled into its usual rhythm. The Ravenclaw table hummed with quiet conversation, the scrape of cutlery against plates and the occasional burst of laughter from younger years.

Lynne had taken her seat with Harry and the rest of their circle, listening more than speaking, as Luna explained to Meena and Evan why moon frogs only croaked in September. She nodded along at intervals, her eyes lowered to her plate though her thoughts remained elsewhere.

Thorne's words still lingered in the notebook tucked away in her trunk. He had informed her of last night's events. Nott's forces had moved against a Muggle-born family in Yorkshire, a household the Death Eaters believed to be passing information to Thorne.

Her master had moved to intercept them with the Stormwatch. The ambush had been swift and merciless, turning the street into a battlefield. More Death Eaters had died than Thorne's own forces, but they had their first casualties in the war. Even in victory there had been a few losses.

She kept her face smooth as Terry Boot arrived, sliding into the seat across from Harry with a folded Daily Prophet in his hand. His voice carried easily enough for those nearby to hear, though not so loud as to draw the attention of the entire Hall.

"There's been another attack." he said, flattening the paper against the table. "Look, right near Leeds."

The others leaned closer, spoons and goblets forgotten as their eyes caught on the bold headline that stretched across the front page.

"Midnight Battle in Yorkshire Suburb — Death Toll Rises as Violence Spreads."

The article on the Daily Prophet was pointing their fingers at the Ministry's incompetence on stopping these violent attacks, not sure on who to put the blame yet for the groups that faced each other.

It was clear Death Eaters were back, as they wore their distinctive masks and many of them now lay dead on the streets, but since her master had cleaned the scene of their own dead they didn't know who had been targeted and how it had ended so badly for them.

"Merlin's beard." Padma whispered, her fork slipping against her plate. "What is going on out there?"

"It's terrible, it's like they've never moved on." Michael said quickly, shaking his head. "They're fighting out in the open yet again. Whole streets are caught in the middle."

Hermione frowned, eyes darting along the article as if memorizing each word. "They have been riled up after this past two years then, this is terrible."

Harry said nothing, only leaned forward to look at the page. His face was calm, but Lynne knew that he was having conflicted feelings about all of this, probably because it involved his followers, who seemed to be active again.

She kept her own silence, watching the discussion ripple across their table. Students argued softly, some frightened, some fascinated by the thought of battles spilling into ordinary towns.

No one knew yet whom the Death Eaters were fighting up against. The Prophet called them dangerous, reckless, and another threat. The DMLE comments going as far as calling them unhinged vigilantes.

Of course Lynne knew that her master had a plan in hand to bring the ministry to their side, but so far, people were divided on their opinions, especially since no one could openly support Death Eaters even if they did preach pure blood elitism.

Around Lynne, the talk grew louder, discussing and theorizing why they were back, and whom they were fighting against. She did not join in as she had no need to. She already knew far more than the paper could ever print and she couldn't really reveal that she was part of the war already.
​

---

Luna liked the way things were unfolding this year. She had more friends now, and she was surprised at how easily it had come together, a proper group with names and voices and shared laughter, each of them orbiting around Lynne like planets quietly pulled by gravity.

It made sense to her that it would be Lynne. She had always seemed like someone you could rely on, someone who wouldn't leave you to your own fate. Her mind was full of knowledge, sometimes too full for other people to follow, but that was never a problem for Luna, who found it quite lovely to get lost in the long, winding sentences Lynne used when she explained something.

Still, even with friends, even with the warm breakfasts and shared notes and secrets passed across parchment in Potions class, Luna was not entirely content because she was not good at holding secrets of her own, especially when they involved herself and her scarecrow. It made her feel down that she had been asked to keep silent about it.

She had not meant to keep anything secret, not from Meena or Evan or Helen or Mark or even Ophelia, who would likely insist on verifying every detail through a second source.

It wasn't in her nature to keep good things hidden, especially not when they had to do with her new guardian, who had, in her opinion, earned all the praise Luna could think of. The thing was, she had promised not to tell. And Lynne's promises always felt far more serious than other people's, not that she would break other people's promises either.

It all started when her belongings began to vanish. Not all at once, just little things. A quill she liked to chew when thinking, a bookmark with dancing puffskeins stitched along the edge, her favourite pair of socks with moons and floating eyes and her school shoes which were lost at one point.

At first she had believed it was a wrackspurt infestation, or perhaps a rebellious colony of nargles, angry that she had described them too plainly in her last issue of The Quibbler. It would not be the first time a magical creature had shown its displeasure with her by moving her things, and usually she forgave them quickly, since holding grudges made your bones brittle according to her mother.

But Lynne had not agreed with her assessment. She had listened patiently, nodding as Luna explained the signs and timings, but instead of offering a magical explanation, she had begun to ask questions like where had she left the missing things, who had been nearby and what time of day it was.

Then, quietly and without telling anyone else, she had followed her after lunch one day, just far enough that Luna could sense her presence but not close enough that others would notice. It was a kind of protective closeness that Luna had only felt once before, with her mother.

That was when they saw an older student, Marietta Edgecombe, pulling Luna's book out of her satchel, the one with sketches of Thestrals and annotated footnotes in silver ink. She had not noticed her or Lynne watching.

She had been humming to herself, something smug and tuneless, while stuffing the book behind a loose floorboard near the edge of the Ravenclaws steps to the dormitories. Lynne had moved so quickly that Luna barely had time to blink.

A flash of her wand, not even a whisper, and Marietta collapsed in place, stunned and crumpled on the stone. Luna had gasped in amazement because it had looked so neat, so clean, so professional, like something out of a story where the heroine was both knight and scholar.

Then Lynne had picked up the stolen belongings, returned them to Luna's arms, and looked at her in that quiet way of hers that was more intimate than a smile. She knelt beside the stunned girl and tapped her wand once against the butterfly-shaped clasp on her hair. It enlarged itself into a trunk and then she opened it, without further explanation, Lynne placed Marietta inside.

Lynne then stood, adjusted her sleeves, and whispered, "Our secret" before walking back toward the classroom as though nothing at all had happened. At the time, Luna had simply nodded, too stunned and delighted to do anything else.

She had not asked questions, she already understood after all. Not even the next day, when Marietta did not appear at breakfast, or the day after, when she was absent from Charms and someone said she was sick.

Luna had not looked too hard for her either. Part of her had felt that if she did not search, she could not ruin the magic of it. That seemed fair.

When she finally did see her again, it was in the corridor between the second-floor lavatory and the statue of Borbog the Bewildered. Marietta and two of her friends had turned the corner, caught sight of Luna standing beside the mural of the bowtruckle court, and her face had gone white.

Without a word, she spun on her heel and ran the other way, nearly dropping her bag in her haste, leaving her friends startled.

Luna smiled, and decided then and there that Lynne must have cast a very powerful spell, something that lingered deep inside the mind, like the enchantment she herself had once tried to develop to keep nargles out of her bedroom.

It had failed, of course, but Lynne's spell had clearly worked. Marietta was now running away from her, Luna's own bully repellent. Lynne had turned her to a scarecrow as well, how exciting!

And that, she thought, was worth telling someone. She had tried, once or twice, to hint at it with Meena or Helen, casually mentioning how clever Lynne had been lately, how she handled things.

But each time she came close to revealing what had happened, the weight of the secret pressed against her ribs again, reminding her of Lynne's quiet tone, the pact between them, the fragile silence that had made the moment special.

Still, she hoped she would be allowed to share it soon. It was not a bad secret, after all, it was a marvelous one. It was a tale worth retelling in at least three different ways. It was the kind of story that made your heart feel proud instead of burdened, and Luna, who rarely kept anything wonderful to herself, was not used to waiting this long to celebrate a miracle.

So for now, she waited, content to hum softly to herself as she braided her hair with small feathers and crushed leaves, imagining the moment Lynne would nod and say it was time.

Then she would finally tell the others that the girl they followed had, with the calm certainty of someone utterly unbothered, made a bully disappear and turned her magic to her like a gift.

And then she would smile and say, 'I told you Lynne was amazing'.
​

---

The week passed in steady rhythm, their hours filled with study, assignments, and the quiet satisfaction of belonging to something larger than themselves. The study group had grown beyond what the library could hold. They had filled out the form to register officially as a club, which Professor Flitwick had gladly supported.

He promised them a proper classroom, one large enough to hold their growing circle without disrupting Madam Pince, who had long since tired of so many voices filling the library's silence. The approval felt like another step forward, another piece of order settling into place.

By Friday, their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson arrived and it was shared with Gryffindor for the first time, so her group of friends was walking together to the classroom.

The corridors leading to the classroom carried a heaviness in the air, like damp stone pressing down from every side. Lynne's senses stirred at once, that prickling feeling on her magic alerting her that a dark creature was nearby.

She reached out with her perception as they drew closer and felt it clearly, it really was the presence of a dark creature. Her hand lingered near the inside of her sleeve where her wand rested. For a moment, she wondered if she had misjudged Professor Lupin on the train. 'Could he himself be the creature she had sensed then?'

But as they stepped into the classroom the answer revealed itself. Against the far wall, a tall wooden wardrobe rattled and shook, its handles clattering as if something inside strained to break free. The warning she had felt bled from the seams and she released a quiet breath, realizing her mistake.

A dark creature was present here, yes, but it was not Lupin. It was a boggart. Lupin addressed the class with his calm, steady voice. He asked if anyone could tell him what was inside. Several hands rose including that of Hermione, but before he could call, Harry spoke without waiting.

"No one knows what a boggart truly looks like." he explained, "Because the moment you see one, it changes into what you fear most."

His tone carried the same eagerness it always did when given the chance to demonstrate he knew the subject, and Lupin nodded at him continuing his explanation further.

"The trick then is never to face it alone, as it won't know whose fear to grab hold of. But the true way of fighting one is to face it with laughter. There is a charm for that. Riddikulus. You need to focus your mind on something that will make you laugh first then voice the spell very clearly."

He turned to Neville, who looked ready to faint where he stood. With patient encouragement, Lupin guided him forward and instructed him on what to think about and to voice the spell as clearly as possible. The wardrobe cracked open, and from within stepped Professor Snape, sneering, eyes cold.

Neville flinched but raised his wand. "R–Riddikulus!" he stammered, and the boggart twisted, Snape now wearing a ridiculous hat and his grandmother's frilly attire. Laughter broke across the class, sharp and nervous but genuine. Neville exhaled, relief spreading across his features.

One by one the students took turns. Each fear emerged, each reshaped by awkward but determined attempts at humor. When the line reached Lynne, she still was unsure what she would face.

The wardrobe creaked, and the boggart swirled forward, its surface folding and shifting like smoke that tried to hold a shape but could not settle. For a heartbeat, it became Thorne, towering, eyes burning, his hand raised as if to strike her down. She tightened her grip on her wand, but the image dissolved before she could act.

The boggart shifted again, now a pale, gaunt figure with its mouth open in silent scream. Then it became something smaller, a young girl with dark eyes pressing her hands against invisible glass, her mouth moving soundlessly.

Lynne's breath hitched, though no one around her could hear. It twisted again, turning back into Thorne, then into someone she did not know, then into another blur. Form after form flickered, each jagged and incomplete, as if the boggart itself could not decide whose fear it had grasped.

The room had gone quiet, uneasy, the laughter that had filled each of the students turns now gone. Lynne raised her wand sharply, forcing her focus back under her control. She refused to let it continue.

"Riddikulus." she said, voice steady. The mass collapsed inward, compressed into itself until it burst outward, reformed into a sludgy pile of green slime with a simple painted smile across its surface. A few students chuckled nervously at the sight.

Lynne stepped aside, her expression unreadable. Inside, her thoughts churned. 'What had she seen? Why had it not settled into one form? Was it not hers? Why her master's form?' She pressed the questions down and returned to her place in line, silent.

Then it was Harry's turn. The boggart turned once more, and in its place stood a tall mirror with an ornate silver frame. At first its surface shimmered, showing Harry surrounded by shadowy shapes, outlines of friends whose heights and gestures were familiar if indistinct.

Slowly, one by one, they turned and walked away. Their faces never appeared clearly, but the shapes were unmistakable. They faded into the glass, leaving Harry's reflection alone. He reached out, as though two stop them, but his reflection did not move. The mirror held only him, solitary and silent.

He raised his wand, lips trembling as he tried to speak the spell, but the word died in his throat. The mirror image of himself stared back, smaller and smaller as the shadows vanished completely. He stood frozen.

"Harry." Hermione whispered, reaching forward. Padma and Terry pulled him back gently, and others closed ranks around him, pushing him aside making sure he was all right and letting the next student step up to face the creature.

Lupin frowned, confused but not unkind, his eyes lingering on Harry, but with so many others watching closely he did not press the matter, letting the other students face their fears and learning the spell.

For Lynne, the moment was not so simple. She stood in the quiet that followed, still thinking of the boggart's shifting forms. She did not know what to make of them, or of herself.
​

---

Momma duck comes to the rescue of her little duckling.

"She is so cool." - Luna

 

[Lucernello]

AN: No MP today, I had no motivation at all, but still... long chapter for you either way, woosh. I have always wondered what my boggart would look like. I fear withering away without a family. I would love to some day form a family and leaving this world without achieving that is my greatest fear. I want to have cute kids to spoil and seeing them grow into great people.

What about you?
- Luce
​

---

Chapter 23 - Null

Lynne sat by the fire in the common room long after the others had gone to bed, the book on her lap still open, though her eyes no longer moved across the page. The flames flickered softly against the stone, throwing light across shelves of parchment stacked neatly beside her.

She turned another page without looking, her mind circling the image of the boggart and the shifting mass of shapes it had shown her.

'Why Thorne? Why would it take his form at all?' she thought.

She pressed her thumb against the edge of the paper until it bent. He had raised her, given her life and purpose. Fear was not what she associated with him. She told herself this again and again, yet the memory of his face appearing in that mix made her pulse tighten.

A soft step made her glance up. Harry was leaning against the back of the nearest chair, hair still messy from sleep, his expression half-curious and half-worried.

"I couldn't sleep." he said, lowering his voice out of habit.

"Something is bothering you then." she answered simply, closing the book but keeping her hand on its cover.

He studied her for a moment, then sat down across from her. The firelight caught his eyes, bright but restless. "You didn't look happy after the lesson today, either." he said. "I mean, none of us enjoyed it, but yours was a bit weird."

She kept her posture still, gaze fixed on the fire. "Yes, I suppose… The boggart did not know what it was meant to become, it shifted too many times."

Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Is this because of the other you, Lyn? I recognized Thorne as well, and I know that didn't make you happy."

Of course he had recognized him, but she didn't know how he wanted her to answer, so she assumed he wanted to talk about his boggart instead.

"What about you, Harry? Do you want to speak about what you saw?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really. But I think you know already." His voice dropped further, quiet enough that it barely carried over the crackle of the fire.

"Yes, I do."

"I don't want to feel alone. I'm beginning to have so many friends and even family, I don't want them to leave me."

Lynne looked at him fully then, his face sharp with worry that did not belong on someone his age. Guilt threaded through her. He was afraid of losing her, meaning he valued their friendship highly, yet she was keeping a lot of secrets from him, she was sure she would lose his trust if he knew. She lowered her gaze again, unwilling to let the thought settle in her mind.

"It will be alright, Harry." she said at last, her voice steady but softer than before. "No matter what, you will have me around."

Harry gave a small smile, but it was quick, almost forced. "Good, leaving me alone to handle Luna and her group on my own would be criminal." he said, trying for lightness.

She chuckled softly. "They are not that bad. But yes, I won't."

When he left to return to the dormitory, she remained by the fire, but the guilt did not ease. She rose and moved toward her trunk, carrying the book with her. Secrets weighed on her like chains, and worse, she could not even speak of them to Harry. The curse burned faintly whenever she tried, a wall she could not cross.

She thought of the memories that had begun surfacing in recent weeks, memories that were slowly becoming hers.

As soon as she did though, a painful headache struck and more feelings and memories came to her. Her mind was trained to sort them out and she softly catalogued them to understand them.

She remembered their voices now. A family that spoke French, voices warm with affection, faces half-recognized as more colours flooded in. Each time they came she felt her balance slip. Thorne had said nothing of this all these years, but some implications were beginning to appear.

If she had a family once, they are gone now. Thorne having made the ritual, meant that the girl who had gone inside Lynne's body was part of that family. Her master had attacked a Lestrange family in France and their allies for good measure.

It was clear then that the possibility of Thorne being the one who killed the girl was high. It made sense then that if the boggart could sense the other soul and her fears, it would be Thorne himself.

Inside the trunk she lit a small lamp and pulled out scrolls and books she had gathered from the Restricted Section, tomes on memory and Arithmancy charts for altering the mind and a few herbology books to investigate ingredients and their properties.

She wanted to develop a variation of the forgetfulness potion. The potion was not as useful as the spell so it was rarely used at all other than to test first years at Hogwarts. She meant to make it work with precision, erasing only what she chose, leaving the rest intact.

She set the book down and unrolled parchment covered in her own careful notes. The runes glimmered faintly in the lamplight, calculations charted across each margin. She first had to identify which memories felt foreign and how to attack the mind.

Lynne had first gone over how Veritaserum worked and its ingredients. As a potion that affects the mind, it was clear that she would be able to find the answers there.

As she worked, she didn't realize that she had begun humming a song. Strangely it kept her focused, kept her from thinking too much of the blurred faces that visited her in sleep. She dipped the quill again and drew another line, marking where the next rune should intersect the chart.

She was determined to find a way to erase those memories, but not her newfound feelings, otherwise her mission would be compromised. She briefly wondered why Thorne hadn't helped her with that in the first place. Surely an obliviation charm was a better alternative than her having to do all this work.

At the same time, obliviating the mind many times was very risky, and she didn't know how many of these memories she would gain. She would have to go to him after every episode which could destroy her mind after repeated use of the spell.

No. The potion was the clear answer to her problems.
​

---

The Wizarding Wireless crackled to life in homes and halls across Britain, a faint hum breaking through the usual static before settling into silence. When the voice came, it was low and measured, each word carried with deliberate precision, neither hurried nor uncertain.

"My name is Solan Thorne." the voice said. "I fought in the last war, when the darkness that cloaked this country sought to silence those who would not bend the knee. I survived, not because I was stronger than others, but because I was ruthless enough to fight them at their own game. I refused to bow to them. Many of my comrades did not make it. Their names are not remembered in your books, but their blood remains in the ground we walk on today."

The pause that followed was not empty but heavy, as if he allowed the weight of memory to linger before pressing on.

"You know the stories you were told of that war. That it ended when the Dark Lord was struck down. That the Ministry rose to protect you in your hour of need. But I was there, and I remember. The Death Eaters roamed free, terrorizing those they called unworthy, and most of the Ministry were too slow to act. Once I gathered the support of those willing to fight them hard enough, the Ministry left us to fend for ourselves. I have carried scars from that war not just on my body but within my soul. I buried friends in shallow graves. I watched children orphaned. And I remember the silence of the world that chose to look away."

In control rooms and offices across London, Ministry technicians and Aurors shouted over one another, wards flaring, desperate to sever the broadcast. But every attempt was met with static and failure.

The signal shifted frequencies before their charms could catch it, weaving like smoke through the magical network. Frustrated voices demanded explanations, but no one could answer how one man had taken hold of the Wizarding Wireless and bent it to his will.

"After I hid away, filled with grief for dear friends and family, what did the administration do? They buried my records, my accomplishments, my fight and those that supported me. I was not awarded anything, and most of the ministry bowed down again to those who had the money to repair what was left of magical Britain. The same ones who stood behind the evil that sparked the conflict in the first place. They were content with letting those who destroyed it in the first place continue living without consequences. They claimed that they were forced, no one believed that yet they still left them alone anyway."

Thorne's voice carried on, unbroken.

"Last week, a Muggle-born family was the target of a raid. Death Eaters wearing their old masks descended upon them, and for what reason? Because a mad vigilante seeking revenge struck against what they considered to be their kind. They answered by butchering innocents. Retaliation, they claimed. Retribution, they claimed. But vengeance upon the helpless is not justice, it is cowardice. The Ministry chose not to comment on this attack. Some lay blame on Sirius Black, as if one man, after spending twelve years in Azkaban, could potentially take control of pureblood families and turn them against the common folk so easily."

He did not raise his voice, yet the words were strong enough to have everyone's attention.

"I wasn't born into one of the famous sacred twenty-eight pureblood families, that alone taught me to know what it is like to be hunted for blood I did not choose. I know the terror of doors broken in the night, of cursed fire in the windows, and voices crying in desperation. I know what it is like to wake to silence and realize your family has been taken from you."

"I fought then, and I fight now, because I will not allow them to get away with it a second time. If the Ministry believes we will endure this again without taking their heads, they are wrong. If the cowards who wear the masks believe they can frighten us back into the shadows, they are wrong. And if the people of this country believe they may sit idly by while Muggle-born, Half-bloods or any families who oppose their vile views are destroyed one by one, they are wrong as well."

The broadcast faltered for a heartbeat, a warble of static as Ministry officials poured power into counter-charms, but the voice returned instantly, stronger than before, as though their struggle only emphasized their impotence.

"I will not stand by. I will not watch these crimes repeat themselves. I declare resistance against every Death Eater, former and current, who dare claim dominion over the lives of others. You are not safe. I won't stand alone either; many already are with me, ready to stand against them with merciless determination."

"I declare that their violence will be met in kind, that their cruelty will be answered, that their stains will be cleansed from this land. And I ask those who have suffered, those who have lost, those who have hidden in fear, to rise with me as well. Stand not as cowards behind locked doors, but as fighters who will no longer be denied justice."

"There will be no hiding for them. Not in their manors, not in their villages, not across the seas. Wherever they run, wherever they think themselves safe, they will be found. In the fields, in the alleys, in the grand halls they claim as their own, justice will reach them. They will know fear in every corner of the world, and they will know it until their cause is erased completely."

The silence that followed was long enough that some might have thought the broadcast had ended. Then his voice cut through once more, quieter now, as though speaking directly into the hearts of those who listened.

"I ask for no oaths of loyalty, only courage. Stand, and fight. For your children. For your homes. For the right to live without fear. War is here, and it will not wait for anyone. To the victims of the last war, know this: you are not forgotten. To the current administration: your silence and cowardice make you complicit. And to those who still hide behind masks and bloodlines, your time is finished. Whether you hide or not. Justice. Will. Find. You."

The hum returned, the signal cut, and the wireless fell silent once more, leaving only the frantic voices of Ministry officials and the echo of Thorne's words in kitchens, shops, and living rooms across the country.
​

---

Amelia Bones sat stiff-backed in her chair, the weight of the Wizengamot chamber pressing like a storm above her. The air was thick with voices raised too high, robed figures standing from their benches to shout over one another.

She dreaded the amount of time she would waste listening to the useless back-and-forth. Amelia believed that there was a time to play politics and a time to be decisive. This was the latter time, but no one could act decisively with the amount of bickering the minister was allowing to happen.

Indeed Minister Fudge was weak, he couldn't lead them into this new conflict, too concerned with his own image and listening to bad advisers. The decision to place dementors at Hogwarts was evidence enough.

On this topic, even his own advisers seemed unsure which position to take. Some called Thorne a terrorist; others insisted he was a necessary blade against a resurging darkness. Too many argued for nothing at all, content to condemn both sides with the same tired speeches and circular rhetoric.

She adjusted her robes, eyes sweeping the hall, and felt her jaw tighten. The broadcast still echoed in her ears, Thorne's voice carrying conviction that the Ministry could never match. They were going to lose people in the upcoming days, swayed by his speech.

He had always been like that. Even though there were not many who remembered the man, even fewer who wanted to, Thorne had always been blunt, resolute, and dangerous. He believed in what he said even when it was only half the truth.

That was what had made him a weapon during the last war. Combining his confidence with his ruthless methods and seemingly a talent in divination, he had made important contributions to the war effort. By the end of the war, the Ministry was not supportive of his decisions anymore, to save face, but he had a team willing to follow his command anyway.

Amelia feared that if he hadn't lost them in one of his worst gambles, they would have continued fighting even after the Dark Lord was defeated. Thorne had tried saving families everyone knew would be targeted, while also attacking the Lestrange allies. He had divided his forces too thin and failed on all sides.

If he was back, it meant that he already had a team together to fight, otherwise he wouldn't have made that speech at all and remained hidden. Amelia suspected that he may even be associated with the assassin that started this whole problem in the first place.

One wizengamot member, his purple robes quivering with outrage, slammed a fist on the rail.

"He should be arrested immediately! Tried for incitement! For treason! He is a killer, seeking retribution against honest wizards! It must not stand."

"Are Death Eaters honest wizards, now?" said an old voice.

Another, a thin witch with a voice as sharp as parchment tearing, shot back, "And what of the masked killers in Yorkshire? Would you have us leave them to hunt more families? Thorne is doing what this Ministry refuses to do! Fight back."

The chamber erupted again, the chorus of bickering bouncing off the stone walls. Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. She really didn't want to be there another minute, but as director of the DMLE she had to be there anyway to guard the session and implement the decisions made.

She remembered him differently. Solan Thorne, the man who had stood in the ruins of battlefields while others recoiled, the man who had dragged the giants into extinction with cursed fire, the man who had nearly obliterated the Lestrange family forces in a single night.

She had fought alongside him, seen the ferocity that left even Death Eaters shaken, and she knew even then that if the Ministry ever turned on him, the bloodshed would be huge. Now, instead of preparing for what was coming, they argued like frightened children.

"Declare him an outlaw!" one side shouted. "Negotiate before it grows worse!" cried another. A third voice cut through, demanding they mobilize Aurors against both sides, as if splitting their forces would do anything but doom them all.

Amelia's patience finally snapped. She rose, her voice cutting through the din like a blade.

"Enough! Every moment wasted here is another step into a war we are unprepared for. Thorne will not stop because you pass resolutions. He will not hesitate because you do. You may debate until your throats are raw, but he has already chosen his course."

The hall quieted just slightly, enough for her words to reach the edges.

She lowered her voice, each word precise. "You may condemn him, or you may try to negotiate with him, but know this: Solan Thorne has already started this war. And if you believe he will stop at Death Eaters who were only part of this last attack, then you are fools."

Silence fell, sharper than any gavel. Some averted their eyes, others straightened defensively, but no one interrupted. Amelia gathered her papers, rose from her seat, and left the chamber with measured steps.

She would not wait for their decision. Aurors would be mustered; recruiting standards would have to be lowered, and contingencies would be prepared. The Wizengamot could argue until the ceiling cracked, but she would be ready to fight both sides if she had to.
​

---

The corridors of Hogwarts had quieted after dinner, with only the muted echoes of footsteps and muffled voices drifting through the stone like faint ghosts of the day. Lynne walked beside Harry; his pace was brisker than usual, his shoulders tense beneath his robe.

His hand kept twitching, and he constantly fidgeted with his tie to steady himself. She could feel the anxious pull of his thoughts without a word from him. As they turned a corner near the arched windows overlooking the dark lawns, he finally spoke, his words spilling out too fast.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was sharp with fear. "About Thorne... About what he was planning. About this whole bloody war he's just declared."

Lynne slowed her steps until they reached a quiet alcove where the torchlight flickered faintly on the stone. She leaned against the wall, watching him with steady eyes.

"You know there are things I cannot simply say." she answered evenly.

Harry stopped, frowning at her. "What do you mean you couldn't? You knew, didn't you?"

"Yes, I knew. We have been through this already, Harry. I cannot talk about things he deems secrets." She kept her tone calm, though the truth scraped at her throat. "There are things I cannot speak of. My master has forbidden it."

Confusion deepened in his eyes turning into frustration, though she caught the edge of hurt beneath it.

"So I'm just supposed to accept that you keep secrets from me? I found out from reading the ruddy Prophet, Lynne."

She did not flinch at the sharpness of his words, though it cut deeper than she expected.

"It is not about trust, Harry. We want you safe, and knowing some things will put that at risk."

"Oh yeah? Did he say that too?"

"Yes."

He raked a hand through his hair, restless. "He basically said he was going to kill all past and present Death Eaters, Lyn. Start a fight with those who already killed so many. People are already talking about it everywhere, and I'm stuck here, not knowing what's going to happen."

"Harry, you hav-"

"And Sirius… Merlin, Sirius is living with him! What if he does something reckless? What if he gets dragged into this whole thing because of Thorne?"

She reached forward, placing her hand on his wrist before his words could spiral further.

"It will be fine; my mentor wouldn't risk him like that. Thorne is not careless with those he keeps close. He wouldn't start this conflict if he wasn't sure he could win."

Harry's eyes searched hers, desperate for reassurance, desperate for a certainty she could not truly give. His voice cracked low, almost a whisper.

"I told you before… I can't lose them. I admit there are things you told me that were worrying, but he has always been kind to me. I don't want him to die either."

She went over his words carefully, thinking of the boggart, and the mirror it had shown him. It seemed that he truly feared being left alone, losing the people he cared about. She tightened her grip on his wrist, then drew him into a hug.

He was awkward for a few seconds before his arms wrapped around her shoulders, clinging tighter than she expected. His head rested against hers, and for a brief moment she let herself sink into the warmth, her chest tight with an ache she did not know how to name.

"I won't leave you, Harry." she said quietly, her voice steady but softer than her usual tone. "Not now, not ever. That much I can promise."

His breath shook against her shoulder. "You better keep that promise."

She allowed herself a faint smile. "I always keep my promises."

"Sometimes, fighting is necessary to keep those we love safe. Those people followed Voldemort, they are a threat to you as well."

Harry didn't reply, but he also didn't let go yet, resting his head on her shoulder. They stood there longer than they should have, the corridor hushed and still around them.

A sudden voice cut through the silence, cool and cutting as a blade. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate behavior in the corridors."

They pulled apart at once, turning to see Professor Snape gliding into view, his robes trailing in dramatic fashion. His expression was one of disdain sharpened to habit, though his eyes lingered on them with something more pointed than usual.

"If you are done with that display, I suggest you move on."

"Yes, Professor." Lynne said evenly, her tone neutral.

Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, and he looked embarrassed. Snape's lip curled faintly, but he said nothing further, sweeping past them toward the staircase. His presence was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving only the faint sting of reprimand and the lingering echo of his footsteps.

Harry glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. "Seriously… inappropriate behavior, for a hug. That must be why he´s so cruel all the time, no one ever hugged him. Maybe we should´ve kissed just to see if he´d try to expel us on the spot."

She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression cool but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. "That would have cost us far more than ten points."

He chuckled quietly, the sound easing some of the tension from his shoulders. "Might have been worth it to see his face, though."

She shook her head but said nothing more, falling back into step beside him as they made their way toward the Ravenclaw tower. His mood had lightened, if only slightly, and that was enough for now.

Inside, though, she carried the weight of his words with her. He was right that it wasn't fair of her to keep secrets, but she couldn't help it. Still, there were a few things she could have told him. Her master hadn't forbidden her from mentioning her new memories and feelings, but she was still keeping it a secret.

It made her feel guilty but at the same time, she knew Harry would be horrified to know what happened to her other soul. She would deal with it on her own, and hopefully never remember it at all.

As they reached the tower door and spoke the riddle aloud, she glanced sideways at Harry, who was already teasing Padma about something trivial. His laughter sounded genuine, even if fleeting.

She forced her expression smooth and her steps steady with determination. She would have to train hard again, for she had a new promise to keep.
​

---

The Ravenclaw study club had become something more than Professor Flitwick had imagined when he first approved the paperwork. What had started as a handful of friends gathering in the library now filled an entire classroom, desks pushed aside so that rows of chairs could be arranged.

The chalkboards were covered with neat notes that rotated every evening, and shelves along the walls had already been filled with borrowed copies of reference texts. It was no longer just a club. It felt like another class, but one where students chose to be present, one where learning was shared by all.

Lynne stood at the front, not because she had asked to, but because the others gravitated toward her without question. Harry was beside her today, wand already in hand, while Hermione organized the day's reading lists with Padma and Terry.

The younger students filled the front row, perched on the edges of their seats as if waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Even a few Slytherins had begun slipping in, cautious at first, then staying once they realized no one turned them away.

The world outside Hogwarts was trembling under the weight of Thorne's broadcast. Students whispered about it in the corridors, some with excitement, others with fear, or open confusion.

Families were being threatened, some already attacked, and for many of the younger ones, the study club became the only place where they could ask questions without being dismissed.

So Lynne had decided it was time to do more than tutor them in homework.

"Today we will start a defense-focused lesson." she said quietly, her voice carrying through the room with its usual calm weight. "I understand that the world out there has become frightening. To feel safe, you need to know how to defend yourselves."

She raised her wand and gestured for Harry to join her at the center. He stepped forward without hesitation, rolling his shoulders in preparation. She had trained him in dueling and fighting countless times, but today was not about them. Today was about showing the others that they could learn too.

The duel began with a simple exchange. Harry flicked his wand and sent a Disarming Charm silently across the space, which she parried with a protego charm. She moved smoothly into a countercurse, forcing him to dodge, his shoes squeaking slightly on the stone floor.

Spells cracked the air in sharp bursts of color, light flashing off the walls, the rhythm quickening until the younger students gasped aloud at the speed of it. Harry grinned between spells, a spark of excitement flaring in his eyes.

She matched his pace, pressing him harder with each exchange until he was forced to stay put and couldn't dodge anymore.

"Protego!"

Spell after spell struck Harry´s barrier until it finally cracked. With a silent disarming charm she finally sent his wand spinning, which clattered across the floor. She lowered her wand at once, offering him the faintest nod of approval.

The room erupted in awe and chatter, the younger ones whispering furiously about how fast it had been, how impossible it seemed. Lynne turned back to them, her expression composed but her tone sharp.

"You just saw the level a young wizard can reach if you practice enough. I can teach you, just as I taught Harry. Obviously it won't be anything lethal. I don't want anyone hurt. Although for the older students that joined us today, I might offer something else."

Harry retrieved his wand and, to her quiet satisfaction, joined her without needing to be asked.

"Whew." he said, a small grin tugging at his mouth. "It looks terrifying, but once you practice, you realize you can do it too. So? Who wants to try?."

That broke whatever hesitation lingered among them. Hands rose, voices clamored to volunteer, and even some of the usually reserved Hufflepuffs leaned forward, eyes sharp with interest.

Lynne organized them into pairs, moving through the rows with patient corrections, her movements precise as she adjusted stances and redirected clumsy spellwork. She caught Flitwick's shadow at the door once, the professor smiling faintly as he watched before slipping away, no doubt pleased to see his idea take root so strongly.

The training stretched long into the evening, but by the end, most of the students that participated had enthusiastic looks on their faces. Of course, some would still be fearful to try, but their words could convince others to join in eventually. They left the classroom with flushed faces, tired arms, and for some, the first hints of confidence they had not known they carried.

Outside those lessons, though, it seemed she had inspired people to approach her. Younger students began trailing after her in the corridors, seeking to talk to her or ask for advice on different spells.

She noticed them waiting outside her classes, clustering around her at meals, even falling into step with her when she tried to walk alone. They were not intrusive, but it annoyed some of her friends at times.

She began asking some of the students why they followed her. From what they told her, it seemed that someone in Hogwarts was spreading the word that pureblood wizards should stay together and teach muggleborns and blood traitors a lesson so that they wouldn't get any ideas after Thorne's broadcast.

It was scary for most students as they didn't want to pick any side and felt that the conflict shouldn't be their concern. They just wanted to feel safe at Hogwarts and finish their education without being hexed, and being her seemed to calm them down. If only they knew…
​

---

She saved her solitude for the nights retreating into her truck when the castle was silent, her wand glowing across scattered scrolls and stained parchment. She returned again to her experiments with memory, measuring lines of runes and testing proportions of herbs in carefully labeled vials.

The Forgetful Potion was crude in its traditional form, little more than a novelty spell made liquid, but she was determined to refine it into what she needed. As she crushed valerian root into a fine powder, her journal stirred with heat against her sleeve. She opened it with careful fingers, the ink already forming in precise strokes.

Update: Had to lock Black inside the manor until further notice, you will be needed for a mission soon.

Her quill moved at once. What happened?

The reply came swiftly, as though he had been waiting.

He went to Surrey and burned the home of the muggle relatives who mistreated Harry.

Her chest tightened. She didn't really care much for the muggles, especially that fat muggle who was quite disgusting. She wanted to punch him several times more than what she did that day but she didn't want to kill him.

Why would he do that?

I risked telling him about what they did to Harry, I wanted him to act with more maturity and think of raising him with care. I hoped it would give him confidence, show that no matter what, he would do a better job already. Miscalculated his state of mind.

I will be ready tomorrow night. She wrote back.

Good.

Lynne let the quill slip from her fingers, the words swimming before her eyes. She closed the journal with more force than intended, the sound echoing sharp against the walls of her trunk. For a moment she sat in silence, the lamp flame bending in the draft, her hands pressed flat against her knees.

A mission now felt reckless, her head had trouble with conflicting emotions and memories. That could mean mistakes and doubts, but she was nowhere close to figuring the potion out yet. She considered risking obliviation just for now.

She sighed heavily, the sound soft but long, and reached again for the parchment. Her work on the potion would continue. It was the only thing she could control tonight.
​

---

The days after the study session grew heavier with whispers. Lynne could feel the shift not only in the corridors but in the way students looked at one another across the Great Hall. Distrust spreading through the castle.

For now, it was the Slytherins who carried the sharpest edge of it. She first noticed it first in the eyes of two fourth-years, then in a few others which instead of ignoring the rest of the students, were openly sneering or giving angry looks at other students, especially muggleborns.

Once while walking to class, she caught their whispers before they noticed her.

"…blood-traitors, all of them. I don't understand why they wouldn't join us."

She let her presence announce itself with the scrape of her metal arms in the wall. The boys fell silent at once, eyes snapping forward, but the words clung in the air. It was not the only time.

By the end of the week, she had confirmed through her younger Ravenclaw students that certain Slytherins were actively trying to recruit others, repeating slogans about blood purity, the importance of tradition, and the danger of allowing Muggleborns to grow too bold.

It was almost absurd. No one at Hogwarts had moved to attack them or threatened to strip them of their names and privileges. Besides, most students didn't even know Thorne at all let alone follow him so it made no sense. Yet fear was fertile soil, and propaganda always grew fastest in frightened minds.

She sat at the edge of her desk after another long club session, the chalk dust still clinging faintly to her sleeves. Harry was across the room correcting a younger boy's wand grip while Luna sat in the corner braiding rushes into a strange crown.

Lynne let her eyes wander across the gathering and thought of how fragile it all felt. One rumor, one spark, and many would face an angry mob. Later, when most of the younger ones had drifted off, she lingered behind, reorganizing parchments and extinguishing the lamps.

Her journal warmed, the familiar prickle spreading across her fingertips as she pulled it open.

Good job on your last mission, I won't need you for a few weeks at the moment. About the pureblood propaganda problem you asked about: Do not interfere yet.

She tapped the quill against the page before answering.

If they spread it further, it will reach Ravenclaw as well. It would put Harry at risk.

The ink unfurled slowly in reply.

Keep order in your house then, nothing more. The others will eat themselves before long. Your task lies elsewhere.

Confirmed.

She closed the journal with a sigh. She wanted to know more, but her mentor wouldn't type beyond what was necessary. Yet it did not ease her mind. She had seen the fear in her younger students' eyes, and heard the tremble in their voices when they asked whether the castle was still safe. They were just kids.
​

---

The unease followed her even into Lupin's class the next morning. She sat near the front with Harry and Anthony while the professor paced with his usual absentminded air; but her senses prickled all the same.

It was not the presence of a boggart or any other creature bound to the school. She was certain now that it was Lupin himself.

Her magic stirred whenever he drew near, the same warning she had felt on the train, then again during the study sessions he had observed. The feeling was never overwhelming, but it was constant.

She leaned back slightly, narrowing her eyes as he explained the difference between jinxes and hexes. His tone was steady, calm, even kind, but the pulse of danger did not relent.

She went over what she knew about him. The professor would get sick regularly, and he had scars all over his face and body that she could observe at odd times when his sleeves were pulled.

There weren't many scars that couldn't be healed magically, so the possibility of them being inflicted by a dark creature was quite high. She wondered if Lupin was a danger she should deal with, or if her warnings were unfounded.

Her mentor didn't mention him at all, so for now, she wouldn't act but she would be ready to take him out if the occasion deemed it necessary. She would keep an eye out for him at the very least. That night, while entering her trunk, she had a memory attack her mind once more.

She could hear voices speaking rapid French, sharp with panic. She saw flashes of a small house, a silver mirror on the wall, a woman screaming as spells tore through plaster and wood. The image was too sharp to dismiss, and when her vision came back to her, the echo of it left her head pounding.

In her trunk, she stared at the runes she had scrawled across her parchments. The potion was still incomplete, the measurements wrong, the effects unpredictable. She could not yet control what to erase and could not guarantee she would not strip away something vital. But she was running out of time before the next mission.

Her quill trembled slightly in her hand as she traced another set of calculations. She had always believed she could overcome any weakness, be it emotions, or anything that might compromise her.

Yet these memories were not fading, pressing harder in her mind threatening to fracture the calm she worked so hard to keep. The next message from Thorne offered no comfort.

We lost two tonight. There will be a change of plans. I will need you in two days.

Acknowledged. She wrote back.

She pressed her palm against the page, hoping to feel her mentor's presence to calm her troubled mind. Her hesitation had not killed anyone yet but she knew it was only a matter of time. She could not afford doubt or distractions. It could potentially cause the death of her allies.

And yet, when she closed her eyes, she saw the blur of faces she did not know. She heard their voices, foreign and familiar all at once. She pressed her forehead against the desk.

"Nox."

As her wand light extinguished, she let out a long breath.
​

---

Harry sat across from Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, his hands balled into fists in his lap. The air was thick with the smell of candy or sweets and the faint hum of the enchanted devices on the shelves, all of it irritatingly calm compared to his anxious mind.

Dumbledore's gaze was steady, but Harry avoided it. Lynne had warned him not to meet those blue eyes directly, not when the Headmaster could slip into someone's thoughts if given the chance. He focused instead on the carved armrests of the chair, tracing the grooves with his thumb until Dumbledore finally spoke.

"Harry, my boy." the Headmaster began, his voice measured and faintly sorrowful, "You must understand that we are worried for you. Solan Thorne's recent words, his declaration… Well let's just say it was an unwelcome surprise."

"I didn't even know about the speech." Harry said quickly. "Not until everyone else did."

Dumbledore nodded, though the crease in his brow deepened.

"Be that as it may, you are close to him, are you not? I fear what this may mean for you in the coming months. He is no ordinary man, Harry. His history is bloody after all, and though he fought Voldemort's forces once, his path is not one I would wish you to walk."

Harry clenched his jaw, forcing down the urge to argue. He knew Dumbledore didn't trust Thorne, but he was not someone who would force Harry to do anything. "Why would I do that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Well… we all make mistakes sometimes in our youth. Even I." Dumbledore said, "You must not contact him anymore, and I hope you don't repeat what you did last summer", he added. "The Weasleys were quite disappointed with you."

Harry's head snapped up despite himself. "What? You can't just-"

"It is necessary." Dumbledore interrupted, though his tone never rose. "And furthermore, I cannot allow you to participate in the Hogsmeade visits this year. It is too dangerous."

"Why would it be?" Harry asked bitterly.

The Headmaster inclined his head. "You must see that this is not punishment, Harry, but precaution."

Harry's stomach twisted. Anger built within him, but worse than that, the helplessness. "Why me? Why am I singled out like this when everyone else gets to live their lives?"

Dumbledore's gaze softened. "Because of Sirius Black."

The name alone sent heat rushing through Harry's chest. He forced his expression blank, even as his heart hammered. "What about him?"

"You know of him?" Dumbledore asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I've heard some things after his escape, yes." Harry lied, his voice flat.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Sirius Black was believed to be your father's closest friend. He was entrusted with the secret of their hiding place during the war. And he betrayed them to Voldemort. He is the reason they are dead. He also killed another friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles."

Harry's nails dug into the wood of the chair. He had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from shouting. The truth burned inside him, the truth Lynne and Thorne had given him, the truth of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, of Sirius' innocence.

"He may already have a reason to try and kill you, after Voldemort´s defeat, but if you are also in contact with Thorne, who no doubt will be fighting against him, it would give him more reasons to do so."

He had come to know him; even if a bit rough around the edges at times, he would never hurt him. But if he said it now, everything would come crashing down. He forced himself to breathe, slowly and evenly, even as his chest felt like it was splitting.

"Do you understand now why you cannot be allowed out of sight?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry swallowed the words he wanted to hurl back. "Yes, Professor."

"I must also warn you to never go looking for him, Harry."

"Now, why would I go looking for a murderer?" he mockingly asked.

The meeting ended soon after, Dumbledore dismissing him with a few more soft-spoken warnings, but Harry barely heard them. His head rang as he left the office, anger boiling too hot to contain.

He stormed through the corridor, the torches along the walls flickering as he passed, until a familiar figure stepped into view. Lynne was waiting, leaning against the stone archway as though she had known exactly where to find him. Her expression was calm, but her eyes read him in an instant.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

Harry exhaled sharply, his fists still tight. "He told me I can't go to Hogsmeade. He told me I can't go back to our home. And he…" Harry's voice caught in his throat. "He told me Sirius betrayed my parents."

Lynne did not speak at once. She let the silence stretch, her gaze steady, her presence solid. Harry felt the tightness in his chest ease just enough to go on.

"I wanted to yell at him." he admitted. "Tell him the truth. But I didn't. I just sat there and agreed like an idiot."

"Well done, Harry. I'm sure that was a tough situation you just handled." Lynne said firmly. "I don't think he would have believed you if you had told him the truth."

He looked at her, the anger still raw but blunted by the calm certainty in her tone. "So what do I do now?"

"Well…" she answered simply. "You learn and train. I also may know of a secret passage to go to Hogsmeade anyway if you really wanted to go."

He smiled at her. "Of course you would know of a way out."

"For now, we should prepare for Quidditch."

He blinked at her in surprise.

"Quidditch?" he repeated, half incredulous.

"Yes. The season will start soon. We cannot let emotions distract us from practice." she said, her mouth twitching just slightly, the faintest echo of a smile.

"You once said you would rather play a match blindfolded than study Arithmancy. Now is your chance to prove it."

Harry laughed despite himself, the sound breaking through the heaviness in his chest. "Alright then. Quidditch it is."

They walked together down the corridor, his anger still lingering but no longer overwhelming. For now, the thought of taking to the sky, of wind against his face and the game ahead, was enough to make him forget.

As they reached the staircase down toward the Entrance Hall, Lynne spoke again.

"Roger Davies was made captain this year, and he has already spoken with me about setting the first practice for this weekend. He wants to test new formations before our first match."

Harry's shoulders straightened, the spark of excitement finally winning out over the frustration.

"Brilliant. That means I'll get to chase the Snitch again before the season even starts."

Together, they stepped out into the night air, the thought of brooms, practice, and open skies carrying them forward.
​

---

"Sometimes you just have to fan the flames a bit to achieve your goals. Stay warm people!"​

 

[Lucernello]

MP: People are always worried about time, about figuring it out, but we have a lot of evidence that sometimes, we are successful later on when it is thought to be impossible to do so. We may not like the current road we are walking, but that doesn't mean life won't take a turn into another one at any other given moment. Just keep going at your own pace, you got this.

AN: I'm paying someone to correct my chapters, not only spelling but also in phrasing and choice of words, he has been giving me new suggestions so you might start noticing differences on my writing here and there, I believe it looks better but do let me know what you think!
- Luce
​

---

Chapter 24 - Crash

The fire in Dumbledore's office burned low, a pale blue beneath the grate, its light pooling softly across the carved desk and the maps spread open upon it. Outside, the storm clawed faintly at the windows, a restless wind carrying the smell of rain through the high towers. Remus Lupin stood near the hearth, his cloak still damp from travel, his face drawn with fatigue.

"I went to Surrey as soon as you asked me to. It is as we feared." Remus said quietly. "The Muggle fire department was already there when I arrived. Of course, they claimed it was an accident but we already know that is not the case."

Dumbledore's gaze moved from the parchment before him to the younger man's face. "No. I imagine it was not."

"The house is completely gone." Remus continued. "There was nothing left but a shell, and the street was scorched black. Arabella Figg was nearby, but she didn't see who cast it. She said she felt the air tremble first, as if the spell itself was pulling in heat before it consumed everything. It wasn't Fiendfyre; it was too slow for that. But no ordinary fire spell could have burned that much."

"Such a terrible thing to do." Dumbledore murmured, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Remus nodded. "Yes, they were just Muggles in the end, even if I never fully agreed with leaving Harry there with them, they didn't deserve that, and they couldn't even defend themselves anyway. I couldn't find evidence of their corpses."

Dumbledore leaned back slightly, the chair creaking faintly beneath him. The portraits along the walls had grown still, their painted eyes glancing toward him but too wary to speak.

"Do you believe it could have been Sirius?"

Remus hesitated, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "It could be. The Black library is full of forgotten curses. He would know of something like that. But…" He looked up, his brow furrowed. "I don't know if he would. The Sirius I knew may have never been his true self. Maybe when we were younger, I would have thought him killing Muggles impossible. I also thought that he would never betray James either."

"Madness can often blur, Remus. The Black family is infamous for it, after all." Dumbledore's voice was soft but grave. "And we must consider that Azkaban changes all who enter it. The man could easily be unhinged now."

Remus frowned and his eyes darkened. "You think he is after Harry."

"Yes." Dumbledore replied. "That he escaped Azkaban and went straight there tells us as much. Sirius was clever even in his madness. He seems to have retained enough of his sanity to assume Harry would go to his last living family. It didn't take him long to connect the names, which concerns me."

Remus turned from the fire, pacing once. "You think he's actually going to come for him here?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "That is what worries me most. He has already killed Peter and murdered twelve Muggles in the process. Now he`s burned down the home of Harry's relatives. He may be seeking his lord's revenge."

"But Albus, it's been twelve years." Remus said, disbelief cracking through his voice. "If revenge was all he wanted, why did he wait so long?"

"Well… this is the first time someone escapes Azkaban. It could be that it took him that long to figure it out." Dumbledore said gravely. "The problem is that dementors would have taken their toll on his mind, making him very dangerous. He may believe that finishing what he started all those years ago is the only way to find meaning again."

Remus shook his head. "Then he's truly gone. I don't know if there's anything left of him to reason with."

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. "Perhaps you are right. A madman may lash out blindly, but Sirius is not completely gone. He knows where to find him, or information about him, there is no telling what he could gather from Harry's relatives. And now he's destroyed the only protection that was left for Harry, I didn't think they would fail but Thorne taking him from his home might have already weakened them."

They stood in silence for a moment. When Remus spoke again, his voice was low, nearly a whisper. "Then he'll come here."

"Yes, I believe so." Dumbledore said. "He will try."

For a long moment, the only sound was the storm outside. Rain lashed harder against the windows, thunder muttering faintly over the hills.

"We will keep a closer watch." Dumbledore said at last. "I will increase the patrols around Hogsmeade and the castle's outer wards. The Dementors stationed nearby might be a deterrent, but considering he already escaped them once, it might not be a challenge for him."

Remus looked uneasy. "I never liked that decision. It makes no sense for them to be this close to the students if Black can avoid them in the first place."

"I know." Dumbledore admitted quietly. "But it's out of my hands sadly. And perhaps this time their fear is not misplaced."

He crossed to his desk and picked up one of the parchments, scanning the smudged ink. "Cornelius believes capturing Black will restore public confidence. He does not care what it will do to the children who must live under the shadow of those creatures."

Remus's jaw tightened. "And Harry?"

"Must remain within Hogwarts until the term ends." Dumbledore said firmly. "After that, I will see to it that he does not return to any place Sirius could reach. I am still deciding where that might be."

Remus hesitated before speaking again. "Do you think Sirius is seeking Voldemort? That this may be some… mad crusade to bring him back?"

"He wouldn't go after Harry if that were the case, but we cannot be sure." Dumbledore said softly. "If Sirius Black has any master now, it is his own madness. That is a far darker force than loyalty."

Remus let out a long breath and sank into one of the armchairs near the fire. He looked tired, not from travel but from the weight of what they were saying aloud. "I thought all these years I could get away from this. It is very painful."

"I know, my friend." Dumbledore said gently. "We must not fail Harry now though. Sentiment cannot blind us. Sirius betrayed James and Lily, delivered them to Voldemort, and now seeks to finish the boy who survived. We must keep him safe, for their memories."

The words hung between them. Remus swallowed, his throat tight. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay close to him." Dumbledore said. "Be near Harry when you can, Hogwarts is safe for the moment, but we should be cautious anyway. I want you to offer Harry more knowledge on his parents to get closer to him. I made the mistake of telling him about what Black had done, and now I wonder if Harry might try to search for him. He is a young boy who grew up wishing his parents were alive, if the mirror taught as anything. He might feel too much hatred toward the man who betrayed them and go looking for him."

Remus nodded slowly. "You think he'd want revenge?"

"Yes, maybe." Dumbledore replied. "Keep an eye out for him, all right? I know it is difficult with your condition on some days, so I will task Severus with his protection as well."

Lightning flashed again outside, the storm still raging. The flicker of the fire deepened the lines of Dumbledore's eyes, making him look older, wearier than usual.

"For now, I believe this is the best outcome to pursue." he said softly, "Watch him closely. Report back to me on his progress, and let us hope that Sirius doesn't find a way to get inside the school and threaten other students as well."

Remus met his eyes, understanding the gravity beneath the words. "All right, it's decided then."

The room fell quiet again; Only the storm outside seemed to answer, and even that began to fade into a steady, mournful rain.
​

---

The late afternoon light poured across the Quidditch pitch in soft gold, warming the grass and the rows of wooden stands that surrounded it. The faint roar of the wind stirred their robes, which flashed blue and bronze against the sky. Harry had always liked this hour best, when the world didn't matter as much and what was important was flying, clearing his mind of trouble.

Roger Davies's whistle broke the calm with a sharp note that echoed across the field.

"That's enough for now!" he called, waving the team down. His voice carried easily, steady and confident.

Harry had come to admire him lately. Roger never raised his tone more than he needed to, but one could tell he led through presence, and he was quite passionate about it as well. They gathered in a semicircle on the grass, their brooms lined beside them.

Davies held his notebook open, each page covered with diagrams and arrows in different colors. Harry leaned closer, recognizing some of the plays they had tested earlier in the week. The captain had a mind for strategy that even Lynne had commented on once, saying she appreciated how he treated Quidditch more like a battlefield than a game.

"Our rotation pattern works, and it might catch them by surprise." Davies said, tapping one of the diagrams. "We need to make the last plays unpredictable though. We need to give Harry the best chance of catching the snitch. Lynne, you'll need to disrupt their seekers the moment they dive. If we can stop them for most of the game, we can get a better score before Harry finally ends the game."

Lynne nodded wordlessly, her silver eyes following the diagram but her expression unreadable. Harry noticed she had been like that all week. A lot quieter, slower to respond and her focus distant as though she were listening to something no one else could hear.

When she did speak, it was brief and polite, nothing more. It was like having a second Luna around without her usual cheer but the same aloofness.

Roger went on, reviewing the formations of each team they would face this season. He knew their captains well it seemed, and their tendencies by heart. Flint from Slytherin favored brute force and illegal Bludger work; Spinnet from Gryffindor built her plays around unpredictability, and Hufflepuff's Cedric Diggory ran his team like a well-drilled unit.

Roger had devised a plan that was careful, methodical, and most of the time fair, against each and every one of them. Amusingly Harry thought it is not fair to pin Lynne onto someone anymore.

He closed the notebook with a decisive snap. "Slytherin has improved since last year so we must take this first match very seriously, especially their Seeker. Higgs has been training for professional tryouts this summer, if the rumors are true, so we expect him to be a thorn in our side. Harry, keep your distance until you're certain. Lynne, you have one task only; try to neutralize him as much as possible."

Lynne inclined her head slightly. "Understood."

The team began collecting their things, laughter breaking out between Burrow and Samuels as they commented on the training. Harry should have joined them, but his eyes stayed on Lynne as she walked toward the edge of the pitch. She had a deep frown on her face, which worried him.

He jogged up to her, the grass crunching softly beneath his boots.

"You alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't hear. "You've been quiet all week."

"Something is on my mind at the moment, but I'll be fine." she said. Her tone was flat, as usual, but different enough to tell him she didn't want to talk about it.

"You don't look fine right now." he pressed gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It will be alright, Harry. You don't have to worry about it." she answered almost absently, fastening the clasp of her cloak. "I am a bit tired. That is all."

"Tired." he repeated, frowning. "You don't even sleep. How can you be tired?"

She paused, glancing at him then, and for a moment her eyes softened. "Sometimes exhaustion is not physical."

He didn't know what to say to that, it was true after all. Before he could ask anything else, she stepped back and shook her head slightly.

"I will be fine. Do not worry." she repeated.

"Lynne…"

"Please, Harry." Her voice stayed calm, but it carried a weight that silenced him. "This is just something that I have to solve on my own. I will see you later; I need to rest my mind."

She turned and left the pitch, her cloak trailing lightly behind her. He watched her until she disappeared through the gate and the shadows swallowed her outline. It unsettled him the way Lynne could feel so detached at times, as if part of her had already gone somewhere else.

Davies approached from behind, his expression thoughtful.

"That didn't look good. Is something going on?" he said quietly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she said she was tired, but that she was going to be fine. I've never heard her say she was tired before, ever."

Roger crossed his arms, gazing at the distant gate.

"The team relies on her a lot, you know. Do let me know how she is feeling, Harry. She is our best beater by far; I don't want her collapsing in midair during the match."

"She will probably be fine." Harry said quickly. "I just worry about her."

Roger looked unconvinced. "Yeah, I worry too. We can't win without her. Do let me know if anything changes."

Harry gave a small nod. "I'll check on her later."

When the captain walked off toward the changing rooms, Harry lingered on the field, broom in hand. The clouds above were turning darker, and the bad weather seemed to be returning.

It had been raining for most of the week, except for today, and the air had grown colder. He stared at the spot where Lynne had vanished and felt a hollow unease settle in his chest.

He had seen her injured before, had seen her fight things far worse, but she had never complained or voiced that she was tired. She looked lost and distracted in a way that frightened him more than ever. The idea that something inside her was unraveling filled him with dread he could not explain.

As the last of the light faded, he finally mounted his broom and rose into the air. He flew a few laps above the pitch, letting the wind cut through the unease. The rhythm of flight always steadied him, the sound of air rushing past his ears drowning out his thoughts.

He tried to convince himself that Lynne would find a way to get better on her own, that she would be fine by morning. But when he looked down at the empty field and the long shadow of the castle stretching over it, the thought rang hollow.

He guided his broom back toward the towers, rain already starting to pour down again. He whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud might make it true.

"She'll be fine."

Deep down though, he feared that this problem was not going to just disappear overnight. He hoped he could help fix it somehow.
​

---

The surface of the potion shimmered faintly under her light, its color caught somewhere between silver and gray. By her calculations, it should have been blue, showing a clear sign of stability, but no matter how many times she adjusted the measurements, the hue never held.

The steam that rose from it carried the wrong scent too, faintly sweet, which sadly meant that this was another failure in the end. She sat back, her metal fingers resting against the table, the quiet hum of their movement the only sound in the small space.

Inside the trunk, time felt still and the air was dense with the smell of crushed herbs and old parchment, with the soft pulse of magic that clung to her tools. The walls were lined with her notes, pages pinned in careful rows, each one a record of trial and error.

She went over the last one, trying to understand what went wrong and where. The dosage was clearly too high, but from which ingredient she didn't know. Combined with the spell she designed to go with the potion, the result was a memory disorientation and mild paralysis for four minutes, but it didn't have enough precision to remove any specific memory.

The quill lay where she had dropped it earlier, a smear of ink across the edge of her latest chart. She picked it up and forced herself to write a single line beneath the rest:

Unstable. Not safe for use.

The pressure was slowly creeping in as success kept eluding her. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, but it did little to steady her. The headache had started again, dull at first, then sharp, pain building behind her eyes until her vision blurred.

The memories came with it, fragments that no longer felt foreign. Sometimes, just closing her eyes, she could feel hands reaching for her; she could hear a woman's voice calling in French, pleading, then the flash of green light through smoke.

Her magic flared in response, filling the air with a faint shimmer that made her desk rattle. She gripped the edge of it until the tremor passed, forcing her breathing to slow.

"Come on, not now."

But the voices didn't stop, and her vision was still blurred in memories. They whispered and screamed at once, overlapping until they became a single note that clawed at the edge of her sanity.

She stood abruptly, moving away from the cauldron, pacing once across the narrow floor. Her hands clenched and shook. She had thought she could control this, but it was becoming harder to do so with the passage of time.

She wasn't so sure anymore that she could succeed in keeping the situation from spiraling down. The memories were growing stronger each day, merging into her own until she no longer knew where the other girl ended and where she began.

The picture was getting clearer, and she couldn't deny it anymore. The girl whose voice echoed in her head… Thorne had killed her in the end. Lynne could see it clearly in the flashes that burned through her sleep. The house aflame, the screams, the visions of her family dead on the floor with curses that tore through flesh and bone.

And if her memories were correct, the body of the other soul had been part of that ritual too to make Lynne in the first place. She pressed her palms against her temples and tried to shut it out. The room pulsed faintly with the echo of her agitation, parchment fluttering in the draft that rose from nowhere.

She did not want to report this, or rather she could not. The thought of facing Thorne again while those memories were still raw made her stomach twist. Her magic was unstable, responding to emotions she couldn't suppress anymore. If she saw him now, even if it helped her, she might lose control, and that thought terrified her more than anything.

The journal on her desk pulsed faintly, the mark on its cover glowing with soft red light. She did her best to ignore it. She needed time, not orders. Time and silence.

Her eyes moved back to the potion, its surface now still. She could drink it and end this confusion for a few minutes, but the last test had erased hours of memories she hadn't meant to lose.

They weren't as important but simple details like what she had done that morning, what she had said to Harry, or which formula she had written down. She couldn't risk losing more.

She lowered herself back into the chair, her hands trembling slightly as she uncorked a small vial and poured a single drop into the cauldron. The potion hissed softly, turning a deeper shade of gray before settling again.

"I need to solve this problem soon." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She thought again of Harry, his worried eyes on her after practice, the way he had said her name as if trying to anchor her. He probably was already noticing that something is very wrong with her, and she didn't know how to reassure him.

The idea of him finding out what she was doing here, what she was trying to erase, filled her with dread. He would ask too many questions, and she would not be able to answer any of them without breaking Thorne's curse.

She had considered it once, teaching him how to obliviate her. It would be dangerous, reckless, but perhaps he could remove the memories for her if she guided him. Yet even as she thought it, she knew it was impossible.

She would have to tell him what to erase, and that meant explaining whose memories they were. Explaining why her mind screamed in two voices. He couldn't know what her mentor had ultimately done.

She stared at her reflection in the liquid surface of the potion. The face that looked back at her was pale, drawn, and tired. For a moment she thought she saw another's features overlaid with hers… a woman's smile, kind and soft.

She was getting her visions more frequently now, in everything she did. Her chair scraped as she stood again, pushing it back too quickly. She clenched her hands until the trembling stopped. Outside, rain began to fall against the walls of the castle; she could still hear it inside the trunk, faint but constant, the sound muffled and rhythmic.

It grounded her enough to calm her mind. She focused on the sound until her breathing steadied again. She told herself she would try one more formula before the night ended, one last adjustment to the base. After that, she would stop for a while, trying to rest and clear her mind.

Tomorrow, she would attend practice; she would play; she would keep Harry safe. That much she could still do. But as she leaned over the cauldron again, the whispers returned, softer this time, almost pleading. A child's voice, her own yet not hers entirely, repeating different words she could not bear to hear.

Papa! J'ai peur!

The quill snapped in her hand, ink splattering across her notes. Her heart clenched hard enough to make her gasp. She pressed her shaking hand against the table and whispered to the empty air, her tone flat, her words meant only for herself.

"Stop. Please, leave me alone."

And, surprisingly, they did. The whispers and voices died down and her vision returned sharp. She let the silence return, broken only by her unsteady breath and the quiet rain above.
​

---

The storm had not let up since dawn. By the time they stepped out onto the pitch, the air was thick with mist and the rain fell in sweeping curtains that blurred the horizon. The wind howled through the stands, tearing at cloaks and banners until the colors ran together into gray.

Lynne stood beside Harry, wand drawn, her hair plastered to her face by the damp. She leaned closer to him, touching the tip of her wand to his glasses.

"Impervius." she whispered, the magic faintly shimmering as droplets slid harmlessly away from the lenses.

"Thanks." he said smiling, tightening his grip on the broom handle. His voice was nearly lost to the wind, but she heard the edge of excitement beneath it. He loved flying no matter the weather.

She looked around at the stands, filled despite the storm. Rows of umbrellas and charmed shields dotted the crowd, students shouting through the downpour, their voices a wild mixture of cheers and chants that blurred into one endless roar.

Even with the rain stinging her skin, she could feel the electricity of it, the same thrill that always came before a match. It seemed that no matter the odds, every student was much too excited about the match to care about the pouring rain at all.

Both teams soared to the skies and took formations around the middle of the pitch. Her team was looking confident; not even Harry looked nervous about it, which spoke volumes about the amount of training the team had gone through.

Madam Hooch's whistle shrilled sharply, signaling the start of the match. The Quaffle was released into the air, and the teams burst into motion, the sound of broomsticks cutting through the wind echoing across the field.

Lynne shot upward, her body steady as the storm buffeted against her. She scanned the sky, eyes narrowing for the glint of the Bludgers as well as taking note of players` positions around her.

Her team was in possession of the Quaffle already and starting a play to attack the opposing side. She heard one of the bludgers before spotting it, the faint whirring rumble it made slicing through the air. She turned her broom sharply and accelerated, holding the bat high.

The Bludger streaked past her left shoulder, and she twisted her wrist, bringing the bat down in one clean, strong arc. The impact rang through her arm, a sharp metallic sound swallowed by the storm and cheers from the crowd.

The ball shot forward, a blur of black against the gray sky, striking Adrian Pucey just as he reached to intercept a pass. The hit was strong enough to send him tumbling from his broom, spinning helplessly toward the ground until a charm from below slowed his fall.

Gasps and shouts erupted from the stands, and the commentator even stopped to see what happened. The whistle blew again, long and piercing, as a time-out had already been called by Slytherin.

Lynne hovered midair, bat resting lightly against her shoulder as she waited. The Slytherins were shouting at the referee, calling for a foul, but she knew there was none. It had been a clean strike. Dangerous perhaps, but fair.

Pucey was hurt as his grimace showed, but he stood up. During the time-out his team surrounded him, and once it was over, he was back on his broom. He was injured but still flying, which was good enough for her. If she could do that for the other six players, the game was won.

She drifted closer to Harry as they circled back into position. The rain was relentless now, pounding against their brooms. Even from here, she could see droplets glancing off his glasses and sliding away in thin streams thanks to her spell. He was squinting toward the far end of the pitch, searching for the flash of gold.

The whistle sounded again, and the game resumed. Ravenclaw took advantage of the injured Chaser immediately, attacking through his position and forcing a play he couldn't keep up with. Their movements were clean and fast, precise enough to begin scoring straight away.

Every pass was sharp and their offense seemed unstoppable. Roger's voice cut through the air as he called signals, his strategies unfolding exactly as planned.

Lynne fell into rhythm, intercepting Bludgers that streaked too close to Harry, sending them whistling toward the Slytherin formation. She could see the growing frustration on their faces as they struggled to close the score gap.

When she caught Montague with one of the bludgers, he just shrugged it off without calling for a pause, but he slowed down, clutching his arm where he was hit at times. With two chasers injured, they were falling apart and the score was 130 - 20 already.

Then she caught sight of Higgs as he was circling high above the middle of the pitch, scanning the sky with the same intensity as Harry. She tracked his movements as her muscles coiled, waiting for the moment he would dive.

When he did, she moved before thinking. Her broom pitched forward, the wind slamming into her chest as she cut across the field. Higgs was already gaining speed, chasing something she couldn't yet see.

Harry was moving too, angling upward, following the same invisible thread. Lynne pushed harder, her bat clenched tight, the rain slicing across her face.

She reached Higgs just as he leaned lower to his broom, his eyes fixed ahead. Her shoulder caught him from the side, the impact jolting through her bones. His momentum broke, his broom swerving violently as he struggled to recover.

Lynne didn't wait to see if he managed. Her gaze shot upward, following Harry as he rose into the clouds, the Snitch glimmering faintly ahead of him. She quickly followed behind, making sure Higgs couldn't catch up to them.

All of a sudden, all of her magic warnings flared worse than ever. She felt the drop in temperature before she saw the creatures; it was the same dread all over again. She turned her head and saw them.

Shapes moved through the mist, cloaked and gliding in unnatural silence. Dozens of dementors were circling the clouds, heading for them.

Her heart tightened, a cold dread seeping into her chest. Without hesitation, she pulled her wand free and lifted it toward the clouds.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Light burst from the tip, dim at first, but enough to push back the growing darkness. The silvery glow spread before her, forming a faint barrier that flickered in and out. It was weaker than usual, unstable, as she couldn't focus on the spell correctly.

Above her, Harry had already felt it too. She could see him falter, his broom wavering. Then, a shape of light erupted near him faint but visible, a bird, its wings spread wide as it fought to drive the Dementors back.

The sight startled her for a moment; not expecting Harry to manage a full corporal patronus yet. The creatures closed in, their presence smothering every sound, every thought. Lynne shot forward, reaching him just as his broom began to tilt.

She caught his arm and pulled him close, wrapping one arm around his shoulders to keep him steady.

"Keep the spell going!" she shouted, her voice rough against the wind.

His eyes were half-closed, his face pale, but the Patronus flared again at his command, its wings slicing through the fog as more Dementors withdrew.

She leaned forward, guiding his broom downward, her muscles straining against the pull of gravity. The ground rushed up through the haze as frozen rain whipped across her face, as if ice had been thrown at her face.

The screams in her head returned as the Patronus was losing potency. She bit down hard, forcing her mind to stay anchored so that she could land them.

More lights joined them as they continued to descend, other Patronuses rising from the stands, silver shapes galloping and soaring through the air, driving the Dementors back toward the clouds. Relief broke through the haze just as her boots touched the ground.

She half-lifted, half-guided Harry off the broom, holding him upright. His breathing was unsteady, his hands shaking.

"Harry…" she said quietly, though her own voice trembled. "You did it."

Then the world tilted for her. The rain seemed to fade, the noise of the crowd dissolving into a distant echo. The smell of smoke filled her nose again, sharp and acrid, and the screams grew louder until she could not separate them from her own heartbeat.

Her vision blurred and for an instant she saw them all together; the family she had never known, the burning walls, the face of a man she both loved and feared standing over them. It was the same cold certainty that had lived in her mentor's eyes since the day she was created.

She tried to speak, to tell Harry to step back, but the words never came. Her knees buckled and the world folded in on itself as she collapsed beside him.
​

---

The first thing she noticed was the light, soft and steady, filtering through the white curtains that framed the hospital wing. The air smelled faintly of potion herbs and polished wood. She blinked once, trying to remember where she was, then heard the sound of someone shifting beside her.

Harry was seated at her bedside, elbows on his knees, looking as though he had been there for a long time. His expression brightened when she stirred.

"You're awake." His relief was immediate, almost boyish. Before she could say anything, he leaned forward and hugged her tightly. "For someone who doesn't need sleep, you spend a hell of a lot of time passed out in here." he said.

She let out a quiet laugh, surprised by the warmth in her chest. "I suppose I am making up for lost time, then."

He pulled back slightly, smiling. "I'm glad you're alright; you scared me back there."

"I'll be fine, maybe I need some chocolate; it seems that they affect me more than other people." she said, her voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you are well, Harry."

Before Harry could reply, the doors at the end of the ward burst open. Roger Davies entered first, followed by the rest of the team, their robes still damp from the storm but their faces bright with excitement. Burrow carried a small basket of chocolate bars.

"Professor Lupin's orders." Roger said, grinning as he approached her bed. "You need sweets, it seems."

Burrow placed the basket on her bedside table and she took one from it and started unwrapping it.

"We are here to let you know we won the game." Davies continued grinning. "You did great."

Lynne blinked, sitting up slightly. "The game was not cancelled?" she asked.

"By decree of Professor McGonagall herself, we are the victors." Roger declared with a mock ceremony.

"The match ended early, but since the score gap was more than two hundred points when the Dementors interrupted, both Flint and I agreed it was better to end it there. Ravenclaw takes the victory." he concluded.

"And now that we know you are fine, we can celebrate!" he said as everyone cheered. Even Madam Pomfrey allowed a small smile before shooing them toward the exit.

Lynne looked at Harry, who was grinning now, the worry gone from his face. The moment felt unreal after everything that had happened, but for now, it was enough.

"You better make sure that they don't trick Luna into drinking alcohol, Harry." she said, smiling faintly.

"Oh god, I can see that happening." he said as he stood. "See you later, Lynne. Recover quickly so that we can celebrate."

As Harry walked away, Lynne wondered, 'Which god is he talking about?'. For a while, she let herself rest in that fragile peace, the voices in her head calmed down for once.
​

---

The castle was quiet by the time Remus made his way back to his office. The rain had not stopped yet, but it had turned into a slow drizzle instead of a full storm. His robes were still damp at the hem, but he hardly noticed.

His thoughts were elsewhere, replaying the image of Harry on his broom, his Patronus cutting through the storm like a blade of light. It was a fully formed Patronus at thirteen. Even now, considering it, seems impossible.

He sat down slowly, rubbing his temples as he tried to piece it together. Most adult wizards struggled to summon even a faint mist. Yet there it was, clear as day, a bird of brilliant silver, soaring through the rain to drive the Dementors away.

"Lily would have been proud." he murmured to himself. "So would James, of course, as it was done on top of a broom."

He smiled faintly, though the thought carried an ache that never truly faded. Perhaps it was Lily's intellect that he inherited; she was very adept at charms. Still the boy had surpassed every expectation.

It might even be a record. He made a mental note to check the archives, though the thought of sending a letter to the Ministry now felt strangely trivial. He leaned back, staring into the fire as the evening stretched on.

Dumbledore had been furious after the match. He had left for the pitch moments after it ended, robes flying, his face set in pure anger. The Dementors had no place in a school, yet there they were, drawn by the presence of the students and the emotions behind the Quidditch match.

Remus knew the headmaster was arguing with them still, though he doubted it would make much difference. The Ministry would insist on keeping them stationed nearby, claiming Sirius Black was dangerous enough to warrant their stay anyway.

Even if they reported the incident it was probably going to be shelved and ignored; with the war going on between Thorne and the late Dark Lord's supporters they had an excuse to not pay attention.

For now, though, he was genuinely surprised by Harry and happy that he could defend himself.

Perhaps tomorrow, once the high of the match had passed, he would speak to the boy as he had agreed with Dumbledore. While offering to tell him more about his parents, he could maybe get closer to him and figure out when he learned the spell.
​

---

AN: There was this self-insert story I remember reading once, where the character reincarnated as a Dementor, it was great and the idea was awesome in my opinion, but sadly abandoned. I hope someone picks it up one day.