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