A New Year

Late August 1944

The days after the incident at the castle and leading up to Armando's funeral had been hauntingly grim to say the least. The students had been collected by the Hogwarts Express only hours after the event, and the school had closed for the remainder of the term.

Tom Riddle had escaped, and even though Harry and the aurors had given their all to track the boy down, there had been no sign of him.

Harry had managed to trace his route from the castle to the point he had apparated from, but by the time he had done so, the trail was too cold to follow.

Nonetheless, an extensive search of the castle had been conducted, but with only a visit to the chamber, the Room of Requirement, and consulting the map, Harry had quickly deduced that Riddle was indeed gone.

What the boy, no, man now, had done, infuriated the former Hit-Wizard so and he had spent much of the long summer that followed doing all he could to locate him, to no avail.

Tom was keeping his head down, a smart move on his part if he wished to live, because now, Harry wasn't seeking him out to hand him over to the aurors.

No, it was his life he wanted, and he would settle for nothing less.

Myrtle Warren's funeral had taken place the week after she had been killed, an event that Harry had insisted on paying for and attending, gestures that were appreciated by her mourning parents who were inconsolable.

The news of what had happened had spread quickly throughout the magical community, and there was not a single person in Britain who did not know the name Tom Riddle, and who didn't demand the man be punished as harshly as the law would allow.

As soon as Harry caught up to him, justice would undoubtedly be had.

Armando's funeral had been an incredibly touching affair, the adoration the man had cultivated for himself undeniable as thousands of witches and wizards alike had lined the streets of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to pay their respects.

Even those that frequented Knockturn Alley had done so in honour of the man that had overseen their education.

Armando had been laid to rest in Yorkshire, and even now weeks later, not a day passed that his grave wasn't visited and inundated with fresh flowers.

His loss was quite the blow to the magical community of Britain.

It was Albus who had been the most affected by the murders.

Harry had seen for himself how close the two men were, and Albus had not taken the loss well.

Having immediately been promoted to the position of headmaster, he had thrown himself into the role, mostly in an attempt to cope with his own grief, but also to honour his friend who had been so dedicated for many, many years.

He had attended both funerals but had seldom been seen since until a joint meeting had been held between the Wizengamot, and the school governors to discuss the reopening of the school in September.

Understandably, many parents had raised concerns for doing so, and it had taken the announcement of Harry being appointed the new transfiguration professor to put to rest their reluctance.

As such, Hogwarts would be opening, though doing so had not come without its complications.

Three members of staff had decided to leave their positions in the wake of the death of Armando and Myrtle, and Albus had quite the task in filling them.

He had, however, been successful and with little prompting from Harry, appointed Eleanor Summerbee as the new charms professor.

The other vacant positions, teaching herbology and ancient runes, had been filled also.

Still, the death of Armando Dippet would be felt for years to come, and though Harry and Albus had their differences, that didn't stop the younger man being there for the new headmaster.

If there was anyone that understood him, it was Harry, after all.

Throughout the summer, he and Minerva had insisted on the man visiting for dinner at least twice a week, and to spend time with the children he so adored.

If only for a few hours, it was an escape for Albus who Harry did not doubt blamed himself for what had happened.

Harry too felt the burden of guilt, but as a man that had made many mistakes in his short life and had become almost at one with death, he channelled his anger into righting the wrongs that had been perpetrated.

Had he underestimated Riddle?

No, but he had certainly not been prepared for such a sudden, sinister turn of events.

Had he perhaps left it too long to deal with the situation?

Undoubtedly, but there had been no sign that anything of the sort would occur, or that Riddle had already begun traversing the dark path he so boasted about the night of the third task.

Harry did indeed feel guilty for his inaction, but he couldn't have foreseen this, and now, he found himself traipsing along a path he was blind to.

Things had irrevocably changed from the first time around, but he had no doubt that he would find Riddle, and when he did, he would exact every misery he could imagine upon the man, just as it had been done to Harry throughout his life.

"Come in," he called from behind his desk in his classroom.

He had come to Hogwarts today to begin preparing for the arrival of the students in the coming days.

He wished for a few days he could simply spend with his children before term started, and for that, he needed to be ready for the beginning of the school year.

It was Albus that entered, his expression always tinged with an unmistakable sadness instead of the irritating twinkle of his blue eyes.

Harry missed the twinkle.

The man before him was not one he remembered in any capacity.

"I just wished to see how you are doing," Albus explained. "Is there anything else you need?"

Harry shook his head and gestured for him to sit.

"No, I have everything," he confirmed. "What about you, are you ready?"

Albus chuckled humourlessly.

"I had not realised just how much wisdom Armando had imparted to me over the years. I am capable of doing the job because of his teachings, but I do not feel ready, Harry."

Harry shot the man a sympathetic smile.

"He would be relieved that it is you taking over," he said gently. "He wouldn't have chosen anyone else."

Albus nodded.

"I miss him terribly," he explained. "After everything that has happened this past year, it is his death that has hit me hardest."

"I know," Harry comforted. "I've never seen you like this."

Albus looked at him curiously for a moment.

"What would the older me that you knew say to me now?"

That was quite the question, and Harry frowned thoughtfully whilst he pondered it.

In truth, though he had many memories of the Albus Dumbledore he once knew, it was difficult to remember all the eccentricities he was known for.

"He would say something deeply philosophical that I couldn't hope to understand," Harry snorted, "but he would leave me in no doubt that I wasn't alone, that I had people to turn to if I needed them."

Dumbledore smiled, a glimmer of the twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Am I truly so irritating?"

"To someone that doesn't understand your mad ramblings, yes," Harry huffed, "but as I've gotten older I've come to understand and appreciate the pearls of wisdom I was given. There will always be many things we do not agree on, but I appreciate your morals all the same."

"And I yours, Harry," Albus returned. "We have lived very different lives and have been shaped by very different experiences. It is only natural that we should be so different."

"That's something the old you would say," Harry grumbled.

"Then perhaps I am getting old."

Harry could only shake his head, though he was pleased the man was able to show some of his odd humour.

"I'm going to kill him, Albus. When I find the bastard, and I will, he will get no mercy from me."

Albus nodded sombrely as he stood.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Harry," he said hollowly. "Usually, I would attempt to steer you from such a path, but not this time. Your journey is your own, and you have proven that despite all you have endured, you are the best man I know. I cannot stress just how fortunate I feel that you came when you did. The world is a better place with you in it, someone who can do what is necessary for those that will never understand the difficulty in doing so."

With that, Albus took his leave from the classroom, and Harry released a deep breath.

He would be the one to kill Tom Riddle, of that he had no doubt.

Indeed, the words had yet to be spoken here, but their showdown was already written in the stars, Tom just didn't know it yet.

(Break)

Despite being on the run, and perhaps now the most wanted man in Britain, Tom had experienced the best summer of his life. Having managed to escape the country apparating across the English Channel, he had spent his time travelling across the continent, avoiding the magical populace.

As a wizard, it was easy to steal food, and even money from the ineptly guarded banks.

Already, he had accumulated a boastful wealth with only a few excursions.

With the war on, no one paid him much heed, and he lived a very comfortable life, though the sense of trepidation that he would be found always hung over him.

Such a concern only exacerbated his already paranoid mind, something that had only increased since he had created his Horcrux.

The experience had been unpleasant to say the least, and it had taken him a few days to recover from it.

Had he truly recovered?

Tom felt inexplicably different from before.

There was a hollowness about him, a chasm that had been formed through the removal of his soul fragment, a gap that almost separated him from what he had once been.

His moods had been quite unpredictable since, and the more he pondered it, the more he realised that the ritual he had undergone had indeed changed him, though he couldn't quite figure out how.

It was as though the changes had left him with less understanding of himself, that he was a different person, even more prone to outbursts of anger rather than the quieter boy that would allow his fury to simmer below the surface.

His anger was something else, something raw and almost animalistic.

Not that such a thing bothered Tom.

The rest of his faculties remained intact. His mind was as sharp as ever, and his magic just as strong.

Still, there were other steps he could take to improve both, things that he would soon begin to explore.

The ritual had given him a taste for the branch of magic, and throughout his travels, he had learned of the power that blood magic and further rituals could provide him.

With only a few tweaks to them, he would be stronger than ever in both mind and body, and when the time was right, he would return home under his newly chosen moniker: Lord Voldemort.

Although he still referred to himself as Tom in his own mind, he no longer felt like the boy he had been.

Tom Riddle had died the night he had altered his soul, and in his place was someone else entirely.

Tom Riddle had been weak, flawed, nothing but a boy with delusions of grandeur, but as Lord Voldemort, he could truly thrive and become what Tom Riddle could never be.

Lord Voldemort smiled at his reflection, his excitement of his eventual, triumphant return eliciting the spike of euphoria he felt as he imagined just what he would do when he was home.

His green eyes glinted red in the dim light of the room he was currently renting, another side-effect of creating his Horcrux.

For now, he merely needed to bide his time, build his strength, and avoid being captured.

For a man of his brilliance and power, such a thing would not be difficult.

Not even Harry Evans had come close to finding him thus far, and that would not change, not until Lord Voldemort was ready.

(Break)

September 3rd, 1944

Charlus had not missed the early morning starts he had endured during his years at war. He rose no later than six am now, a lay-in in comparison to life in trenches and in cities the ICW forces occupied, but he had managed to break the habit of only sleeping a few hours a night.

He would leave that burden to Harry.

With a yawn, he kissed the sleeping Dorea on the cheek before readying himself for the day, dressing in clothes suitable for putting aurors and recruits through their paces.

These men and women had no idea what they were in for, except for Reg.

He would be prepared for what was to come.

Seeing that five am was drawing closer, he took the floo to the Ministry where a similarly dressed Arcturus was waiting for him.

"It takes you back being up so early, doesn't it?" the Lord Black asked.

Charlus nodded as the two men embraced briefly.

"It does," he agreed. "Shall we?"

The grin that tugged at his friend's lips was a bad omen for the aurors they would be training, and Charlus didn't know who would be worse between the head of the notorious family or Harry, but one look at the serious expression of the latter as he approached left him in no doubt.

Harry would be much worse.

His presence alone would be enough to command compliance.

Ever since the incident at Hogwarts, there was something different about his friend, a simmering anger beneath his surface.

It would be unnoticeable to most, but Charlus knew him better than any, and he often felt he could feel the fury radiating off Harry.

"Evans," Arcturus greeted him warmly, something that was reserved for only those he held dear.

"Black," Harry replied in kind before the duo shook hands and embraced the same way Charlus and Arcturus had only a moment prior. "Are you ready for this?"

Arcturus snorted.

"I've been looking forward to this for weeks," he chuckled. "I can't think of a better trio to whip these sods into shape."

Harry shook his head amusedly as he led them towards the golden-gated elevator, the man seated behind the guard's desk simply gaping at them.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the feminine voice announced as they reached the required floor.

The gates opened, and the three men stepped out, and walked towards a large set of double doors at the end of the empty auror office.

Entering, they were greeted by the sight of close to two hundred men and women, many clutching cups of coffee as they tried to stave off the tiredness they felt at being here so early.

None looked pleased, but as they noted the presence of the trio, they fell silent, and a man in red robes approached.

"Morning Lord Black, Lord Potter, Baron Evans," he greeted them with a bow. "I'm Albert Jackson. I'm in charge of this lot."

"Evans will do," Harry said dismissively, uncomfortable with being addressed by the title bestowed upon him.

Harry was and always would be a man of the people.

He cared not for formality.

"Evans," Jackson corrected. "I'll just have a word and explain what you are doing here then they will be all yours."

Harry nodded and Jackson made his way to the front of the room.

"Listen up," he called loudly. "As you can see, we have some rather special guests joining us, and we are damned lucky to have them. Lord Black, Lord Potter, and Baron Evans will be training you, and you will give them the same respect you do me. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" the gathered men and women chorused excitedly, though Charlus was certain they would not be so eager soon enough.

"Good," Jackson said firmly. "Gentlemen, they are all yours."

It was Harry that stepped forward to take his place, his eyes roaming over the aurors and those wishing to be so.

"I want you in four even lines here," he commanded, gesturing to the centre of the room.

It took almost two minutes for them to manage it, and Harry shook his head disappointedly.

"You will do it quicker from now on."

"Yes sir!"

Harry's nostrils twitched and Charlus struggled to hold back his grin of amusement.

"You will be here at five am from Monday to Friday where you will spend two hours with myself, Lord Black, and Lord Potter. For the first forty-five minutes, we will be drilling you physically. If we are satisfied with your efforts, we will be training you in battle, as individuals and as teams. Any questions?"

None spoke, and Harry nodded satisfactorily.

"Good, now, I want some laps around the room."

"How many?" a man from the rear of the ranks called.

"You will run until I tell you to stop. GO!"

The trainees scrambled to comply, and Harry joined Arcturus and Charlus to watch them go about their task.

"How long are you going to keep them at it?" Charlus asked.

Harry shrugged indifferently.

"Until I'm happy they've run enough. GET THOSE LEGS UP, YAXLEY!"

"PISS OFF, EVANS!" Reg called back, much to the shock of the other recruits.

Both Charlus and Arcturus chuckled.

Some things never changed, and Yaxley's churlishness was one of them.

After they had been running for only five minutes, the pace had slowed considerably with only Reg still going as he had begun.

In the year since the war ended, the man had not been slacking on his fitness.

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH," Harry called.

The trainees stopped immediately, many collapsing to the floor, gasping for air, and Reg shot them a look of disapproval.

He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Take two minutes to recover then fall back in," Harry instructed, raising an eyebrow in Charlus and Arcturus's direction.

Getting the men and women in shape was going to be quite the task in itself, let alone training them in combat.

Whether they were up to it remained to be seen, but they would either succeed or fail spectacularly.

There would be no middle ground with Harry, Charlus, and Arcturus.

The recruits, however, did fall in much quicker than the first time, and Harry nodded approvingly.

"To begin with, I want you all to pair off. We want to see what you can do in a one-to-one duel. There will be no lethal spells, and the three of us will be coming around to offer some pointers, and see what needs to be worked on," Harry explained. "Off you go."

"Do you think it is wise to do that?" Charlus asked. "With so many of them, the spells will go everywhere."

"Then that will give them something else to think about," Harry replied with a shrug.

Charlus nodded thoughtfully.

It was a good place to start with them.

Seeing what they could do would give them an idea of what they needed to focus on during the training sessions, though each of the recruits would be schooled in many aspects of magic that would be required for their job.

Charlus watched as Reg soundly defeated a qualified auror garbed in his red robes.

The man had appeared to be quite smug at first having paired off with Yaxley, but as he laid on his back gasping for breath, he realised he had been mistaken.

Reg was no slouch, and Charlus had no doubt he would wipe the floor with any other in the room outside of himself, Harry, and Arcturus.

"Come on then, Moody, let's see how much you have improved since the last time we met," Harry challenged a young, dark-haired man who was holding his own admirably against another auror.

Instead of being intimidated by the challenge, the man positively beamed as Harry drew his wand, and many of the others paused to watch the duel unfold.

"Moody?" Charlus asked.

"Must be a relative of Gabriel's," Arcturus deduced.

Charlus smiled fondly at the memories he had of the man, and as he looked upon the younger carrying the same name, he couldn't help but notice the resemblance between them.

"Good, Alastor," Harry praised as Moody diverted a nasty blinding hex and returned fire with a bonebreaker.

Although the recruit was enthusiastic and giving his all, it was clear to everyone that he was simply outclassed by Harry who barely had to make an effort to repel what was sent his way.

Still, he allowed the duel to continue to get the measure of Alastor Moody, but when he had seen enough, he ended it abruptly by sending the younger man sprawling across the floor, bereft of his wand.

"Excellent," Harry declared as he walked forward and pulled Moody to his feet. "You have been working on exactly what we discussed. Keep it up."

Alastor was not at all irked by his defeat, and he nodded humbly before returning to his former duelling partner.

"He's one to watch," Arcturus commented.

"He is," Charlus agreed as he drew his own wand and pulled one of the recruits aside.

They had a long road ahead of them, one that would be full of trials and tribulations to overcome, but under their collective tutelage, he had every faith that Britain would have one of, if not, the best trained auror forces on the planet.

(Break)

It was a nervous Albus Dumbledore that stood to address the returning and new students after they had settled down for the welcoming feast. The mood was not what he had become accustomed to as the deputy headmaster. The Great Hall was full of quiet, nervous students, and not the excited ones that usually arrived.

He held up his hands for silence, though there had been little talking to begin with.

"Before we begin, I would like to say a few words," he announced. "To those of you that were here last year, you are aware of the incident in which we lost one of your fellow students and Headmaster Dippet due to the despicable actions of another. I wish to assure you of your safety. Steps have been taken to ensure another incident like the one we experienced at the end of the previous school year."

The students spoke quietly amongst themselves.

"For now, do try to enjoy the feast, and welcome to Hogwarts."

With a wave of his hand, the plates and pitchers that adorned the table were filled with food and drink, and the students began helping themselves, chattering whilst they did so.

Albus followed suit and tried to hide the discomfort he was feeling from sitting in Armando's chair.

He had, of course, envisioned that he would one day occupy it, but not under these circumstances.

Never under these circumstances.

However, he was here now, and he knew the best way he could honour his fallen friend was to do the best job he could.

He caught Harry's eye, and the man offered him an encouraging nod, a gesture that served to ease Albus's anxiety, if only a little.

Once the students had finished eating, he cleared the plates, and stood once more, his nervousness returning as he looked upon the sea of faces.

"As the returning students can see, there are a few changes amongst the members of staff this year," he began, gesturing to the head table. "Please, join me in welcoming them, beginning with Professor Summerbee who will be our new charms instructor."

The students clapped politely for the woman who smiled and waved at them cheerfully.

"Next is Professor Darling who will be teaching Herbology and is the new head of Hufflepuff house."

Darling was an elderly lady, but one who had come highly recommended by Beauxbatons where the woman had taught for many years. She had retired more than three decades ago but had deigned to join Hogwarts when approached to do so."

Again, the students clapped politely for the woman.

"Joining us also is Professor Jones who will be taking over the instruction in Ancient Runes," Albus announced. "Professor Jones joins us from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where he worked as a specialist consultant in warding and protections."

Jones' appointment elicited an impressed reaction from the students, but as Albus held his hands up once more, their attention turned to the final man, their stares full of admiration.

"Finally, we have Professor Harry Evans who will be teaching transfiguration, and acting as head of Gryffindor house whilst his wife is taking a sabbatical to care for their new-born son."

Albus felt Harry's attention snap to him.

He had not shared that he would be the head of his former house, and Albus took a little joy that he could still surprise the man.

"Prefects, please show the first years to their common rooms," he instructed. "Tomorrow, we begin another year of your educational journey."

The students filed out of the Great Hall, and Albus smirked as Harry stalked towards him.

"Head of House?" he questioned.

Albus nodded.

"I can think of no one else who embodies the qualities of Godric himself more than you, Harry."

The man frowned, and Albus chuckled amusedly.

"Since I hear no objection, I shall take it you accept the position. Excellent!"

"Wait…"

"Too late, Harry, my mind has been made up."

With that, Albus made for the exit himself, taking no small amount of joy from the amusement he felt by getting one over on his new head of house.

Albus smirked to himself all the way to his office knowing that Armando would have gotten a kick out of his little bit of mischief.

(Break)

Having completed his morning training with the aurors, Harry had arrived at Hogwarts in time for breakfast and to hand out the timetables to the Gryffindor students, a duty he had acquired having been promoted to head of house.

The silence that prevailed as he did so was almost unnerving, but he quickly realised they simply didn't know what to say, or they were in awe of him.

It would take them some time to adjust to his presence, but they would soon enough.

That changed as he reached the unmissable fifth year that had once been a man he thought so highly of.

"Hagrid, isn't it?" Harry questioned.

The enormous, already bearded boy blushed as he nodded.

"Yes, Professor Evans, sir."

Harry fought back a grin.

"My wife has warned me about you."

"I can see why she would, sir," Hagrid murmured. "She's a good woman, sir."

This time, Harry did smile.

"You don't know the half of it," he chuckled, reaching up to pat the boy on the shoulder. "She has told me of your agreement. It still stands even though she is not here. I'll be watching you."

Hagrid swallowed deeply, nodding his understanding, and Harry continued with his task.

When he was done with the schedules, he headed to his classroom to await his first lesson with the fourth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students.

As the Gryffindors had been during breakfast, they entered in silence and took their seats, waiting for him to begin.

Their gazes were eager, and Harry, though he often detested his reputation, did not wish to sully it with a boring lesson.

"There will be no need for your books today," he announced.

The students whispered amongst themselves excitedly, and one, an almost familiar redhead garbed in black robes trimmed with yellow raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Bones, sir," the girl answered confidently. "Amelia Bones."

Harry realised where he recognised the woman.

She had been present during his trial as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had defended his use of the patronus charm when he and Dudley had been attacked by dementors.

"Miss Bones," Harry acknowledged.

"Why aren't you teaching defence?" she asked bluntly. "You defeated Grindelwald."

Harry sighed as he shook his head.

"Professor Nott is more than capable of teaching you anything you could ever need to know about it," he explained. "She taught me much of what I know and is the best instructor I have ever had."

He had meant what he said, and the students felt the sincerity of his words.

"Now, we are going to be working on transfiguring some feathers into birds."

Harry raised an eyebrow as some of the students let out a groan of disappointment.

"Is that not impressive enough for you?" he questioned.

"We were hoping to learn something we could use if we need it," Bones replied.

A slight grin tugged at Harry's lips as he laid the feathers out on his desk.

"Take out your wand," he instructed the girl.

Bones hesitated for a moment, looking at Harry questioningly, but with a further nod, she did so.

"Attack me."

"Sir?" the redhead questioned confusedly.

"Attack me," Harry prompted as he drew his own wand.

Bones looked towards her classmates before doing so.

Harry had acted before she had even uttered the first syllable of the stunning spell she had opted for, and his transfigured crows intercepted her effort and continued flying around him protectively.

"Again," Harry instructed. "Keep going."

Spell after spell was sent his way with none penetrating his defences.

"If you learn how to transfigure, conjure, and control your creations, you can create an effective shield against many spells," he explained. "It wouldn't be much use against some more destructive types of magic, but it is very useful."

The students were once again staring at him excitedly as Amelia Bones continued with her attempts to breach his defences.

"Using this technique does pose a few problems," Harry spoke once more. "You must be able to react very quickly and direct the birds into the path of the spell. That is where the control factor comes into it. Before any of that, though, you must become an expert at producing the birds themselves. That is why I wish for you to practice the transfiguration. Any questions?"

When there was none, he held up a hand to halt Amelia Bones' attack.

"Then off you go."

He reverted the crows back to feathers, and the students came to collect them to begin their task, much more enthusiastically now than when he had first informed them of their lesson for the day.

As they set to work, Harry took a seat behind his desk and watched, realising that there was indeed much satisfaction to be had in teaching.

The school year would be interesting, and though he would only be here for the one, he wouldn't be opposed to returning in the future.

(Break)

The house was exactly as they had left it the night they had been attacked by Cassiopeia Black and had to leave so suddenly. Camille, the very second Nicholas unlocked the gate, began bounding through the grounds, barking excitedly, and chasing away a group of birds that had been foraging through the overgrown foliage.

"She loves it!" Nicholas said happily as he began chasing the dog with the sound of Perenelle's laughter ringing in his ear.

"Come here girl!" he called after the Labrador, unable to catch up.

Camille did so, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

"We must find somewhere for you to sleep," Nicholas mused aloud as they headed towards the front door where Perenelle was waiting for them.

"Finished?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at the duo.

She had become accustomed to their antics, and though she often complained about the mess they may have made or them disturbing a few of her plants, she had grown fond of Camille too.

"Shall we?" Nicholas questioned.

Perenelle nodded and with a tap of his wand, the front door opened.

As elated as they had both felt at the prospect of coming home, the reality was rather underwhelming.

For the past years, they had lived in another country, had experienced an adventure of sorts of the likes they hadn't in centuries, and now they were simply returning here.

Perenelle would spend her days in the greenhouses and baking for the most part, and Nicholas would continue with his retirement in the library, the thought of which not filling the man with the same excitement it once had.

Perhaps they would need a few days to settle back into their lives before the war?

The first thing Nicholas did was check on his collection of weaponry and breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was untouched.

"It will take me months to re-establish my greenhouses," Perenelle grumbled.

"Well, we do have all the time in the world," Nicholas pointed out.

Perenelle smiled, though it was a sad one, and not full of joy like just about every other time the alchemist made the same joke throughout the centuries.

"I think I'll check on the library," he declared.

The smile his wife gave him this time was warm, and Nicholas felt that warmth within him as he inspected the bookshelves he had filled over the course of several lifetimes.

"This is it, girl," he said to Camille who, as ever, had followed in his wake. "All the books I could ever hope to own. I've read all of them at least once."

Camille was too busy sniffing around the shelves to pay him much heed, and Nicholas couldn't help but think that the dog had a point.

There was a musty smell about the room, so he decided to open the doors to the balcony to let in some fresh air.

When he did so, however, what he saw across the way gave him pause.

The house that had been the bane of his existence, that had been the home to many a rival since he and Perenelle had moved in was no longer there, not fully, at least.

More than half of it had been reduced to a pile of bricks and mortar that were strewn about the land, some even in Nicholas's Garden.

What remained standing was a single corner of the main building, though the windows had been blasted outwards.

With little more than a nod towards it, Nicholas picked up his driver that was leaning against the wall and placed a ball atop the permanent tee.

He struck it with all his might and watched until the ball bounced off a chunk of rubble before he replaced his club and turned to leave the library.

Hitting golf balls wasn't the same without a neighbour to irritate.

Very little seemed to be the same anymore.