Serpent's Bloodline: Legacy of the Basilisk

"Albus, I need to talk to you," Moody said sighing after their usual meeting of the Order of the Phoenix ended.

"Of course, my friend," Albus Dumbledore answered, but Moody still waited until the kitchen in Grimmauld Place was empty before even thinking about continuing.

"Well, my friend, what troubles you?" Moody frowned at that inwardly. Did Dumbledore truly think of him as a friend - or was he just a weapon, ready for use? Until now, Moody had never distrusted Dumbledore's friendship, but there were some questionable things in the past now that couldn't be explained with a laugh and a wink. And unlike before, Harryjames Potter had opened Moody's eyes for them…

"There are some… rumours, I want to talk about," Moody finally said and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes creased to exist.

"Rumours?" he asked, sounding a little bit concerned. "New ones?"

"Yes," Moody sighed.

"Well - what did the Ministry come up this time around?" Dumbledore said resigned and Moody felt nearly bad for starting with the words he had - but then, it was the easiest explanation.

"There are rumours about you joining the fight with Grindelwald late," he said anyway, watching Dumbledore's face closely. "Rumours that you refused to do anything before he was at the height of his power."

At that, Dumbledore's cheerful face twisted into a grimace before smoothing out again.

"It seems that the Malfoy family is at its peak again," he said sighing and Moody frowned.

Malfoy?

Why Malfoy?

"Why do you think it's the Malfoys, Albus?" he asked half-confused and half-afraid that Harryjames Potter had gained that information from an unreliable source.

"Because it's always them and the Blacks accusing me of having done nothing in the war with Grindelwald," Dumbledore answered.

Moody raised an eyebrow at that.

"The Malfoy family and the Blacks accuse you of Grindelwald's reign?" He asked disbelieving.

Dumbledore just sighed.

"It's actually more the Malfoire family and not their British branch," Dumbledore corrected. "But in the end - yes, they and the Blacks do. It's not even truly explainable. We've worked well together the day we brought down Grindelwald. Your father would have told you the same if he had survived that day."

Moody frowned at that.

He himself had been a ten year old child back then - a child who had adored Albus Dumbledore because his mother and father seemed to do the same. Of course he had heard about the battle in which his father had died. Moody had wanted to be exactly like his dad back then and because of that had done everything to be not seen as a child but a friend by Albus Dumbledore like his father had been…

And yet, it hadn't been Albus who had told his mother about his father's death.

"I've never found out how my father died that day," Moody said nearly silently, averting his eyes to hide the truth from Albus all-knowing stare, and Albus smiled at him a sad smile at that.

"He died a hero, my friend," Albus Dumbledore said.

" I'm sorry, he died protecting me while I was trying to get my cousin to safety," the tired voice of a dirty and grim man in rags echoed through Moody's mind - a voice he remembered from when he was ten. It had been the worst day in his life back then - and yet, it had shown him exactly what a man his father had been. "We had planed ahead… but there were complications and…"

" It didn't go as planed," another tired and haggard man said when the first one couldn't say anything anymore. " I was too late to shield him. In the end, it's my fault that he died."

"But he knew that we had to stop Grindelwald," Dumbledore continued. "In the end, he died willingly for the Greater Good."

Alastor Moody had known Albus Dumbledore for his whole life. He knew that his mother and father had loved the man as a good friend - one of their best friends. And yet, Alastor Moody remembered the day he heard about his father's death as the day Albus Dumbledore, hero and defeater of Grindelwald, hadn't been there to comfort his mum.

" He's a busy man right now," his mother had said with a shaky voice. " He must be exhausted. " And Alastor had believed her because Albus Dumbledore had always been a good friend of his parents, a good man, and Alastor had hero-worshiped him long before the day he defeated Grindelwald.

And yet, there had been two men on their doorstep the same day his father died - ragged, dead on their feet and yet determinated to tell his mother what had happened to her husband - and now, fifty years later Moody wondered suddenly why Albus Dumbledore hadn't come that day when the heir of House Black had found the time to do so…

"The wizarding world was rejoicing that day," Dumbledore mused, lost in his memory. "It was a great day for wizarding Europe. I'm sure your father would have loved to see that his sacrifice ensured our victory…"

"And yet you don't even know how he died," Moody thought to himself and his respect of Albus Dumbledore fell a little bit more. "You have no idea how the man you called one of your best friends actually died."

Moody would have wanted to know if it had been his…

"I still don't understand how the Blacks and Malfoires think that you could have done more that day," Moody grumbled.

Albus Dumbledore sighed.

"The Head of Malfoire back then… was a very… driven man," he said. "He was allied with the Blacks and some others like the Princes. There were also some other wizard families from all over Europe part of his group like the Delacours from France and the Aichingers from Germany. He and his allies entered the battle with Grindelwald unprepared and never forgave me for saving them." Albus Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "They were just minutes from total annihilation, yet refused to see it even after we saved them. Pride, I guess."

Then Albus smiled at Moody again.

"Don't worry about those rumours," he said. "Like I said, the Malfoires hold a grudge. I'm quite sure it will blow over within a few days. It's old news, after all."

Moody nodded.

"Alright, Albus," he said. "Whatever you say."

With that, he left.

"Delacours, huh?" he thought to himself. He knew the old head of Delacours. The man had also been a good friend of his father and like with Dumbledore, Moody had basically grown up with the man. "Seems that I have to ask the old man what he has to say to the battle of Grindelwald…"

And unlike ever before, Moody was ready to listen to the old man and his ramblings about 'Sal Sanctuary' and 'Mad Marius' - two names Moody had heard in the past from the old man's lips but never truly taken for truth…

"I'll also have to talk to Potter," Moody mused. "I need to know where he got that information…"

The Leaky Cauldron was full of people. They all were discussing in hushed voices the Minister's speech.

"D'you truly think tha' the minister was righ'?" one of the regulars said in that moment. "Twist - a disturber of peace?"

Another man snorted at that.

"Na. We all know that the Minister's always been talking a lot of humbug," he answered the regular.

"Can't believe he's goin' against a lad," an old witch said harshly. "He should be ashamed of himself!"

"He should!" others agreed darkly.

"Can't imagine where he got that liar bit from," Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron added. "I verified a lot of his articles. No lie there."

"Yeah - and didn' th' Ministry jus' now say tha' tha' fellow Twist was talkin' 'bout an' askin' 'bout his missin' trial, ya know, Black, was actually innocen'?" another man said frowning. "They basic'ly proofed tha' boy righ' an' now he's called a liar ?!"

Tom sighed at that.

"An' that article 'bout Riddle, ye know, that interestin' one," another witch said, her eyes lighting up with delight. "I even went an' looked into it - he's righ'! Ye know! Righ'! Can't imagine he's lied with the others if he did his research in that one!"

In that moment, Xeno Lovegood entered.

"I've got a special edition, Tom," he said. "Twist asked me to do it after yesterday's Wizarding Wireless speech of the Minister."

Immediately the whole room turned to Lovegood.

"Well - where is it?" one of them asked when Xeno unpacked his bag not fast enough for the waiting crowed.

Xeno blinked a little bit confused at the man who had asked him before turning to Tom.

"The usual number of Quibblers?" he asked.

Tom looked at the shark-eyes of the men and women behind Xeno which where watching said man like predators their pray.

"Er… how many you've got in your bag there, Xeno?" he asked a little bit nervously when the shark-eyes of the crowd lit up in an unholy light, their gaze fixed on the newspapers in unsuspecting Xeno's hands.

Said man looked at him confused.

"About the treble of what I normally give you," he said.

Tom's gaze trailed to the predators behind Xeno. He gulped.

"Give them all to me," he said, nearly begging. "I'm sure I'll be able to sell them somehow…"

The gaze of the unholy shark-eyes met his.

Tom gulped again.

"I'm sure I will…"

Just a day after the Slytherin incident, Hermione found Harry in the common room, writing on a parchment. To his left sat an oddly old looking book. But that book was closed and Harry was writing.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Harry looked up just to see Hermione standing behind him.

"I am planning," he answered unconcerned.

Hermione frowned.

"Planning?"

"You told me yourself that we need someone else to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry answered. "You even tried to rope me in teaching you."

"Yes, but…"

"Well, I decided that I will do the teaching," Harry interrupted her. Hermione stared at him, and then she squealed and hugged him.

"I knew you would come around!" she cried happily.

"Yes… 'Mione… breath," Harry coughed while he desperately tried to get some air in his lungs.

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione exclaimed and let him go. Instead she turned to his papers.

"So… what are you planning exactly?"

"Lessons," Harry answered. "And a way to communicate."

"Well, the last one I could help you with," Hermione said and then explained to him everything about the coins she had been preparing. Harry was impressed.

"So, what lessons are you planning to teach?" Hermione asked.

Harry just shrugged.

"I thought about some basics first," he answered. "Shields and disarming mostly. Maybe a simple ward or two. After that some light curses like stunning and so on. You know, fourth year and upwards stuff. I have also some deadly ones on my list for later."

"Deadly?!" Hermione stared at him. "Harry - you are teaching defense…"

"And sometime you can only defend someone by killing another one," Harry answered. "I am not willing to teach those children that there will never be a time when they might have to kill - because with Riddle out there, there might be a time when they have to kill to survive. When I teach them I will not stop teaching them stuff just because someone thinks they should not learn it."

"But killing…" Hermione hesitated. "Isn't… isn't that part of the Dark Arts?"

Harry shrugged. He was not willing to tell Hermione that a lot of spells he had chosen for his lessons would have been libeled dark today - if they were remembered, that is. Harry knew from experience that there was no real dark or light magic - there was just magic. And he wasn't willing to let anyone be in danger because he stopped teaching at a barrier the law had built because of stupidly.

"They're no nasty ones," he said. "And I chose them as a last resort for the others. I don't want them to learn killing - I want them to learn surviving. And sometimes you cannot survive without killing your enemy first."

"But still…"

"Hermione!" he stopped her before she could protest. "This is something that has to be. I cannot teach them stunners and let it be. They will die if there is no way for them to absolutely stop Death Eaters. I will not teach them spells to maim or something like that - and I know the ones I am teaching them could kill! The thing that they could but don't have to. I plan on teaching them spells to harm a person so that said person will not stand up again! This is not trying to teach them killing - this is trying to teach them surviving!"

"But Dumbledore…"

"… might have good intentions but definitely is not right about this, Hermione. As cruel as it sounds: the lives of the helpless come first. I will not teach anyone to kill unnecessarily, but I also don't want them to hesitate. Those that cannot protect themselves have to come first - and Death Eaters are last. That's war. I will not tell them otherwise."

"But, Harry - Dumbledore says that Death Eaters could regret…"

"They could," Harry answered irritated with the girl. "But I am not interested in someone that maybe will regret. My first goal is to stop Death Eaters from killing or maiming other students. If they have to die to be stopped - so may it be."

"That… that sounds cruel," Hermione said nervously. "And Dumbledore and my parents, they all say that killing is…"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted the girl. "Do you still have a grandpa?"

"Huh?" uncomprehending, Hermione nodded. "Uh, yes."

"How old is he?"

"Uh… eighty-six."

"So he might have fought in World War Two," Harry said. "Just ask him if he has and ask him if he has killed or if he knows someone that has. And then ask him why. I am sure that he will tell you because 'he had to'. He was a soldier and soldiers die and kill. The students I will teach might not be soldiers - but they also will have the same choice one day. As long as Tom Riddle still exists there will be no peace and as long there is no peace there will be the need to defend yourself. I will not let anyone be killed because I did not teach them that there might be the possibility of killing someone or of dying yourself. I will not be that cruel to them."

Hermione opened her mouth to disagree, but then she just turned and stormed off. Harry knew that she had not taken well what he had said to her, but he also was sure that she would see reason.

She might be a little authority-loving but she still was not someone that did not do their research first - and when Harry was right she would do as suggested and write her grandpa. And maybe the old man would see it like Harry did…

And even if not… Harry shrugged and turned back to his work. He would not stop with his plan. He knew that some things were more important then the feelings of a single person - and he would not let die the others just because one person could not see reason. He was after all not Dumbledore, caught in the net of the greater good and without the ability to look out for anything else except of his own beliefs…

Tom Marvolo Riddle, to the world known as the feared Dark Lord Voldemort, was seething with anger.

The reason for it?

A single vampire who had decided to inhabit his throne room in Malfoy Manor.

Said vampire - one Anastasius Sanguini - was currently taking a lot of pleasure in quoting one well known article of Oliver Twist to the raging Dark Lord. Well, at least the article had been well known for the rest of the wizarding world - Voldemort had tried hard to forget it, after all…

" The only one who ever handed out the killing-curse like sweets in the last decades was You-Know-Who," Anastasius said in that moment, stopping and looking up from his reading - and he truly had to look up, considering he was hanging upside down in the candelabra. "You know," he mused absentmindedly. "This nearly sounded like a comparison with Dumbledore… isn't he famous for handing out sweets to everyone?"

Voldemort hissed with fury at that and aimed his wand at the vampire. Sadly enough, like every other curse he had tried to use on his new ally, the curse didn't hit his target who had ducked out of the way as if it was a play.

The vampire cackled.

"Just asking," he said amused. "No need to get grumpy!"

Then a thoughtful frown showed on the face of the vampire.

"Still," he said. "It's oddly fitting, isn't it? Dumbledore hands out candy and you copy him by handing out curses…"

After that musing the vampire had to vacate his spot for some minutes since there was a firework of spells hitting the candelabra.

He simply changed the candelabra and hung from the other, clearly not concerned with the spells that had nearly hit him.

"Don't worry," he said instead. "Your style of clothing is totally different. There's no way to confuse you two…"

Again, Voldemort aimed at the vampire and fired.

The spells hit the candelabra and just a daring jump saved the vampire when the candelabra he had been on crashed to the floor.

"I guess the Head Malfoy will have to redecorate his manor the moment you leave," the vampire mused. "I don't think that magic will simply fix this mess…" The vampire looked thoughtfully from his perch on the other one at the shattered and smoking candelabra on the floor.

"This looks like nasty dark magic," he commented. "Nope, definitively not fixable…"

Then his eyes returned to the newspaper in his hands and they lightened up in unholy fire.

"Oh! There! I bet you will like this one!" He exclaimed joyfully. "Listen! ' So the first fact I have to tell you is that the man who brought war on us until he was stopped by Harry Potter - was a lying coward. I cannot fathom how any respectable pure-blood can follow someone who cowardly hides behind a false name'."

The vampire cackled again.

"But it gets better here where he calls you actually a ' mudblood', you know?" The vampire crowed. "Well, ' uneducated mudblood' actually…"

Voldemort growled at that and took again aim at the vampire who was transfixed with the article.

"You know," the vampire mused. "I actually think Twist has a point here… ' no pure-blood lord would follow a half-blood who rejects the old name of Gaunt just to spout of a secondary name (even if it's more famous) like Slytherin who's family first carried a lordship years after the Gaunts.' Yeah, that sounds about right, you know? I mean. Slytherin is a well and good name, but compared to Gaunt - ah, well -"

The vampire stopped at that moment to dance through some curses that were flying towards him from the Dark Lord's wand.

"But then, you don't seem to know how to be a guest either, meaning you must have truly grown up uneducated. I mean, destroying the ball room just because you don't like the décor - that's nothing a proper guest should do…"

And with a cackle the vampire rescued himself from another salve of spells aimed at him by the enraged Dark Lord.

Lucius Malfoy meanwhile stood in the shadows and watched.

"I guess, the vampire has a point," Narcissa said in that moment. She was standing and watching next to him. "Riddle is absolutely uneducated in our ways." She sneered at that before turning.

"I want him out by the Wizengamot meeting in January, love," she said coolly. "And don't forget to bill Riddle for my ball room, vases and furniture, will you, dear?"

Lucius sighed at that, not daring to object his enraged wife. She had loved the décor of the ball room and had stopped to call the man anything with 'Lord' the moment the man had destroyed her precious vase from Egypt.

"Lucius!" Riddle hissed in that moment and Lucius sighed again before stepping out of his hiding place.

"Yes, R… My Lord?" He asked.

"I want your son to look out for this Twist! Do you understand?" Voldemort hissed. "I want to know everything about him! And ensure that he will succeed, because you don't want to live if he doesn't, am I clear?"

Lucius gulped nervously at that.

"Y… yes, my Lord!" He stuttered.

That was the moment the vampire crowed happily at something he read.

"Oh! Listen! Listen! Listen!" He howled with gleaming eyes. " And a ban on Riddle will be a hard thing to add - after all, it's such a common word… This will be extremely hard to circumvent if people follow that advice!"

He cackled.

"What will you do if they do? Will you change your name to Dark Lord Riddle?" And with that Voldemort's attention returned to his tries to hit the vampire with a curse.

Lucius turned and left.

Riddle - indeed.

Lucius would quite happily follow Twist in that motion.

But then… 'a ban on Riddle will be a hard thing to add - after all, it's such a common word…' - Twist had truly been right in that regard…

Blaise Zabini didn't know what to think when he and his mother were brought a simple room. There were some leather chairs and a desk out of dark wood. The room had no windows and the walls were covered by the same dark wood the desk was made of.

The floor was made of stone and candles were the only light in the room. Behind the desk was a simple crest displayed.

He heard his mother inhale sharply when she saw the crest.

"Mother?" he asked frowning and she turned to him, her eyes wide with excitement and fear.

"It seems that your Regent already knows who is asking you for an alliance, Lord Zabini," a cool voice stated and Blaise turned around fast - just to see a boy his age entering the room. Cool green eyes met his startled brown.

The boy rounded them and the desk and sat down in the chair behind it.

"Let me tell you the deal," he said.

Blaise listened.

He saw his mother frown at the conditions of the family. Blaise instead heard something different all together. He knew that the most people of Slytherin were bound to go to the Dark Lord. They saw it as their highest quest to follow the Dark Lord. Blaise, like the Greengrasses and Theodore Nott was not truly interested in following a mad man - and the man was mad, whatever Blaise's mother said about it.

So hearing that if he followed the Grand Family he actually was forbidden to enter the Dark Lord's service…

"I am sorry, my Lord, but my son and I -" his mother started to say in that moment and Blaise suddenly knew that she was basically trying to take the choice from him before he could even think about answering different.

"I accept," he said. He didn't care that he had no idea which family he was joining, because unlike his mother he didn't recognize the crest, but he also didn't care. This was his ticket out of the trap he had found himself into since his father died.

"I humbly accept your proposition, my Lord," Blaise repeated and his mother frowned at him.

"Blaise," she started to say but the first time since his father died Blaise dared to look her in the eye.

"No, mother," he said coolly. "I am the Lord. It is my decision. And I have decided."

She opened her mouth; then closed it again when Blaise spoke up again.

"If you don't want to follow my decision I will evict you from my House," he told her coolly. "Don't worry, I don't adore Dumbledore or anything like that - but I will take this chance even if it goes against your wishes."

His mother's frown deepened at that, but in the end, she bowed her head.

"As you wish," she said - not that she had had a choice in that matter. Even killing Blaise wouldn't have changed the fact that House Zabini would now be allied with the upcoming Grand Family, after all. The moment Blaise as the Lord of the House had accepted, the alliance had been established - and his mother as the regent had no say in that since Blaise had turned fifteen already.

The young man on the other side of the desk smiled at Blaise.

"Then I welcome you to my Family, Lord Zabini," he said.

Blaise smiled at the other boy hesitatingly.

"Blaise," he offered.

The other boy's smile broadened at that.

"Blaise," he repeated and then stood. He went to the door, but stopped next to Blaise to whisper one sentence in his ear.

"I'm Salvazsahar," he said. "But you may call me 'Harry' in school."

Blaise eyes widened and the door closed behind the other teen.

A snake in a lion's den - indeed…

Garrick Ollivander sighed tiredly. It was the late evening and he had been finishing the last touches of his work since long before sunrise.

"But needs must," he mumbled to himself. "Needs must…"

That didn't change the fact that it had been far too long that he had had a decent rest. He was tired. Since he had seen the staff of destiny, he had dedicated his time to set up everything so that he was done when it was time.

Oh, he was aware that whole Diagon Alley was sure that he had gone round the bend - but unlike them he knew what followed that staff. He had seen it. Not once, not twice, but thrice at least.

His father had seen it.

His grandfather had seen it.

Ollivander would be a fool to not heed the warning he had gotten.

Morgan.

Grindelwald.

Voldemort.

Every time the staff had been there, drawn in the Ollivander family, calling for them, working with them, leading them.

No, Ollivander was no fool. The look of the man who carried it might have changed. The name the man bore might have changed as well - but it didn't change the fact that the staff of destiny was back to wreak havoc…

"Oh, Sal," Ollivander sighed. "What are you planning this time?"

Not that Ollivander really cared.

His father had followed the man who carried this staff.

His grandfather had.

His great-grandfather had as well.

Ollivander would be damned if he wouldn't do the same again…

In that moment a lonely owl descended down towards him. He held up his arm and removed the letter it carried the moment it sat down on it.

The owl hooted at that before leaping in the air again, leaving.

Ollivander looked at the seal of the letter.

His breathing hitched.

Then he closed his eyes before slowly breaking the seal.

Only one sentence was written on the parchment in black ink.

Wizengamot Meeting in January.

SEL

"And here I thought we would have some more time for the apocalypse," Ollivander sighed tiredly. But then, he was dealing with him - Ollivander should have guessed that chaos would follow his wake as fast as possible.

"I'm not feeling sorry for you Albus Dumbledore," Ollivander murmured to himself. "No, I'm definitely not sorry for you…"

Ah, maybe he was…

At least a little bit…

A tiny, tiny little bit…

Poor soul.

But then - everything had been Albus Dumbledore's fault in the first place, hadn't it been?

"Well, not everything," Ollivander mused. "But definitely enough. Definitely enough."

Poor soul.

"Lady Longbottom, ma'am," Augusta Longbottom looked up from her reading to look at one of her house-elves who stood in front of her, ringing its hands.

"Yes?" she asked regally.

"You've got a guest, Lady Longbottom, ma'am," the house-elf said and she raised her right eyebrow.

"Who is it?" she asked, a little bit surprised considering the late hour.

"Dead person, Lady Longbottom, ma'am," the house-elf replied, sounding a lot more sure this time around.

Augusta's left eyebrow joined her right.

"A dead person is visiting me?" she repeated in disbelieve.

The house-elf nodded eagerly at that.

"Yes, Lady Longbottom, ma'am," it said. "Should Carly bring visitor to Lady Longbottom, ma'am?"

Augusta blinked at that, not truly comprehending what was happening.

Had the house-elf gone around the bend?!

"Bring… bring them in the visitor's room. I will join them there soon," she finally replied, unsure what else to say. She had been raised as a lady - but all her training hadn't prepared her for something like that.

She guessed that she would have to trust her wards and hope that whoever had come to visit wasn't truly… dead or a Death Eater.

Still, she slipped her wand in her hand and a port-key to a safe-house before going down into the visitor's room, joining her mysterious guest.

When she entered, for a moment she thought that ex-convict Sirius Black had entered her home, but then the man turned.

His face was rounder than Sirius Black's, his eyes darker. But still, the resemblance was great.

She frowned at the stranger and gripped her wand harder.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The man looked at her with an assessing gaze.

"Salvatio Malfoire sends me," he said. "He hopes you like his new article in the Quibbler today."

At that, Augusta relaxed her grip on her wand a little bit. No one except of her and Professor Malfoire even knew that she knew who truly wrote those articles.

"Who are you?" she repeated anyway.

The man bowed at that.

"I am Regulus Arcturus Black, heir secundus of House Black," he answered. "I am here to ask for an alliance between our Houses and your aid in a quest of mine."

Augusta frowned at that.

"Sirius Black is the future Lord of the House of Black," she said and the man who should be dead in front of her inclined his head again.

"You shouldn't even be alive to -"

"I was saved by Salvatio Malfoire, Lady Longbottom," Regulus Arcturus Black replied. "He fought for my life for six years until I was finally well enough to survive on my own again. I can't tell you how often I nearly died in these six years."

"Six years?" Augusta repeated surprised and Regulus Black sighed.

"I was after… something Riddle used to bind himself to life," he said. "He had it hidden away behind powerful spells and a potion. I had to drink the potion which trapped me in my nightmares and slowly but surely killed me. If it had been any other wizard rescuing me than Salvatio Malfoire, I would have been dead within days."

"And yet you have been free from that potion for a while now and still preferred to stay dead officially," Augusta remarked and was surprised when the man in front of her grimaced.

"I would have stayed happily dead if Sal wouldn't have decided to send me here," he replied. "I never planned to return."

"And yet here you are, asking for an alliance between our Houses," Augusta said while raising an eyebrow.

Regulus inclined his head again.

"My brother has yet refused to take up his lordship," he said. "As such I can ask for an alliance between our houses. It is the only thing I can give you that shows you that I am who I say I am. It's also the only thing I can offer as an apology for the deeds a family member of my house has done to family members of your House."

Augusta's eyes narrowed at that.

"So you still claim Bellatrix Lestrange as a member of your family?" she asked coolly. The man in front of her snorted at that.

"I have no choice in that matter until either Sirius dies or he claims lordship and kicks her out," the young man replied and Augusta had to suppress a smile.

She guessed that she might come to like the heir secundus of Black.

"Is there anything else you can offer?" she asked him coolly anyway.

Regulus Black sighed at that.

"Sal and I had an idea how to help your son and his wife. We can't guarantee it, but I am willing to try and help them in any way I can. If I can't help them, I am willing to do anything to repay what House Longbottom has lost thanks to a member of House Black," he answered.

Augusta thought that over.

In the end she nodded, giving permission for the alliance.

The young man took it instantly.

"House Black offers alliance to House Longbottom - to follow where they go, to protect if they need protection, to support if they need support, to fight side by side until our Houses crease to exist or this alliance fails. So I, Regulus Arcturus Black, heir secundus of Black, swear."

A blue mist rose from the Black-heir's body to show the flowing crest of Black over the heir's head.

"The House Longbottom accepts the offer of House Black. If House Black holds true to its oath from now until the time of the Wizengamot Meeting in January or until it evicts Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black from its House, if former comes first, then House Longbottom will be willing to return the oath to them. So I, Augusta Elisabeth Longbottom, Regent of House Longbottom, swear."

The moment she said that, the crest of Black was pierced through by the Longbottom crest and in a firework-like shower of magic the magic settled.

"Now tell me, Heir Black, whatever for do you need my help?"

Regulus smiled at that.

"I've been ask to go on a quest quite similar than the one I mentioned before," he said. "I need to know where the Gaunts last lived…"

Some hours later a pair of people was sitting in the first light of the sun in Lyon in France, enjoying their breakfast, when a normal looking barn owl arrived at the table.

"You've got a letter, Nick" Perenelle said while bringing said letter and breakfast to the table. Nicholas Flamel looked up from his newspaper.

"I have?" he asked. "Who is it from?"

"I don't know the signet" Perenelle answered. "But it looks formal."

Nicholas took the letter and also took a glance at the signet. It was a simple snake, winding itself round a simple lily. Nicholas stared at it. He knew that there were just a few signets which had a lily in it. The most prominent ones the House Emrys and Nicholas own house. The snake was also not often used. The houses Malfoire and Slytherin…

"The Slytherin-signet" Nicholas said. "This one belongs to Slytherin."

"So - the letter is from this foul creature who calls himself Salazar Slytherin's heir?" Perenelle asked.

"No, I don't think so. He would never use the original signet." Nicholas answered. "I bet he doesn't even know of the lily in the signet."

"So who…"

"I don't know", Nicholas answered and finally opened the letter.

My dear old friend,

Wizengamot Meeting in January.

I am sorry.

Your old friend.

Me.

"So who has written you?" Perenelle asked.

"It is our boy" Nicholas answered. "It seems he has enough of British politicians and decided to fix things the other way."

"But the signet…?"

"Well, someone seems to have more secrets then I even thought he has…"

"So he is a true heir of the House?"

"Who knows" Nicholas chuckled. "Who knows?"

"What will you do now?"

Nicholas smiled; then he slowly stood up from the breakfast table.

"I will pack" he answered.

"So you will…"

"I think it is time to step down" Nicholas confirmed. Maybe the boy was right and there was no way to forgive this time around…

Amelia Bones sighed and sat down the newspaper she had been reading. It seemed that Minister Fudge had finally gone too far in his ambition to discredit Oliver Twist. She sighed again and then looked at the paper file next to the newspaper.

It was an official notice of a trial.

It had been filed by Xenophilius Lovegood, Harryjames Potter and one Salvatio Malfoire - the share holders of the Quibbler . The accused? One Cornelius Oswald Fudge for slender, harassment, wrong accusations and threatening.

Unfortunately, the Minister winning this trial was nearly impossible, considering the evidence Amelia had verified for the barrister of the Quibbler, one Magnus Adam Selwyn.

Amelia looked back at the article in the newspaper and sighed again.

Even if the Minister would be able to hold onto his title after all this - one further blunder and he would be gone. She wondered if Oliver Twist was just biding his time to destroy the Minister fully or if he had used all his information in the article right in front of her.

But then, even if he had, it wouldn't matter. The chance of the Minister holding onto his position until after the Wizarding Meeting in January - after all, this would be the meeting that would introduce several new Lords into their ranks… and one of them was Harry Potter.

Her gaze refocused onto the newspaper.

There would be no way that Harry Potter wouldn't raise his voice against the Minister after the Minister's deeds in the past concerning him.

Amelia guessed that the Minister was already praying that Harry Potter would not join the Wizengamot in January - something Amelia doubted since in doing so Harry Potter would loose a lot of political clout and would be forced to wait until he turned twenty-one to do it again. No, Harry Potter, Amelia guessed, would join that day - and the Minister could only pray that his eviction would happen without any other mishap.

From the looks of Oliver Twist, Amelia guessed that it wouldn't.

Twist was set on destroying the man - not that Amelia minded… much.

The Minister on the War Path!

" Oliver Twist is a liar and a disturbance for our peaceful ways of life! He's just trying to bring the public to go against their government! If we don't do something soon, Oliver Twist will bring down our society with all the lies he's sprouting!" - Anyone recognizes this rant? Those are the words of the Minister in the Wizengamot meeting yesterday - a public meeting, solely to discredit a teenage boy whose words have always proven true until now. It's odd that the meeting was spread via the Wizarding Wireless while poor Oliver Twist was not even invited to tell his part of the story - please note my sarcasm.

Well, Minister, since you insisted on proclaiming me a liar and a disturbance for our peaceful ways of life, let's see what this disturbance can come up with this time around, and since you decided to pick apart my writing, I think I will have every right to pick apart your own doings - don't you think so, too?

Now, dear Minister, let's have a look at your doings over the last years. If I remember correctly - and I'm quite sure that I do, but you might either question one Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, one Mr. Albus Dumbledore or the Hogwarts' rumor mill or you might go to look at the list of Azkaban prisoners and look at the reason why they were arrested to confirm it - our dear Minister decided to start his quest against our laws at least three years ago when he imprisoned Mr. Rubeus Hagrid for the happenings at Hogwarts in Azkaban solely because 'the Ministry has to be seen doing something about it'. Back then I was still an easily impressed child - but even then I wondered about the reason the Minister proclaimed for the imprisonment of one Mr. Rubeus Hagrid. Of course, I can't say that I heard the Minister proclaim this outrageous sentence - but like with every arrest the reason, as proclaimed by the one who did the arrest, was recorded by the list of Azkaban. I still shudder, days after looking up the reason and seeing exactly this sentence spelled out on parchment. It gets even more distressing if you remember the 'lies' I spoke just at the beginning of the new school year. I'm quite sure that you remember my 'lies' about the trial of one Lord Potter. His trial sounds oddly like the reason the Minister gave for arresting one Mr. Rubeus Hagrid back then, don't you think so too? Lord Potter proclaimed that the Dark Lord Tom Riddle was back, and suddenly he does magic in front of a muggle and is put on trial in front of the whole Wizengamot with the danger of loosing his right to carry a wand. Of course, liar that I am, I couldn't see that the Minister was surely right to condemn Lord Potter like he was right to condemn Mr. Rubeus Hagrid three years ago - and now, months later, I wonder how, back then, I could write those lies and back them up with the ministry's own recording of the trial of Lord Potter´… of course, you could also add all those 'lies' I sprouted about one Lord Sirius Orion Black who was just proven innocent at the Wizengamot meeting before the last to it - and now please look up the recording of the last Wizengamot meeting, the one which proclaimed me a liar: Isn't it odd that I, the presumed liar, was the one who proclaimed Lord Black innocent first?

But well, let's go further into the career of our beloved Minister. There was Harry Potter's third year - the year when Lord Black escaped Azkaban. I remember the Minister's very adamant choice to protect the children of Hogwarts - especially our beloved Saviour - by subjecting them to Dementors all year around. Of course, it was to protect our children, who can fault the minister if said children suffer from nightmares every night and nearly get their souls sucked out more than once - that's after all still better than having a sole mass murderer trying to kill a sole child. After all, bringing more than a hundred Dementors to Hogwarts is far cheaper than to give the endangered child a pair of bodyguards. If you don't believe me about the danger the Dementors proposed to the children of Hogwarts, maybe Madam Pomphrey will be willing to at least give you the approximate number of children that were brought to her because of being nearly kissed or because of nightmares all year long. There's also that one unforgettable Quidditch match that nearly killed Lord Potter and the rest of the Quidditch players when the Dementors decided to come by for a snack. It's odd that our dear Minister was even allowed to bring the Dementors to Hogwarts, since there's a law in our law book that forbids them to even come near the British Coast. As far as I could find out, the Dementors have a treaty with the Pendragon House, our liege lords, that tells exactly what the Dementors are allowed to do on Britain and what they aren't - and them being at Hogwarts broke that treaty more than once. But then, it was our Minister's decision - and who can fault our Minister, especially if the one who reasons against the Minister is a truth-writing liar like me?

I won't return to the triad about the treatment of Lord Potter and Cedric Diggory by the Minister and the Minister's refusal to even look for the truth about that incident at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, but I can't help but add that within the last weeks our dear Minister has decided to prosecute another teenager - exactly like he did with Lord Potter at the end of the summer. Or what would you call it if the Minister goes against a known teenage boy, proclaiming him a liar while there is evidence that he didn't lie once and then sets out to orchestrate him from our community?

I, for once, can only hope that his rant on the Wizarding Wireless won't end in me being chucked into Azkaban without a trial - after all, we've seen enough evidence that that might be exactly what the Minister wants to archive.

I am sorry for answering the Minister's proclamation like this, but I fear that if I don't show the difference between our doings now, I will be the one facing dire consequences for innocent words.

Oliver Twist