The Plights of Older Men

"He was there, I could feel it!"

Gaulitier was fuming, angry that he had spent so much time in the open in the hopes that he could trap The Serpent. He had been positive that the man would not be able to ignore such an opportunity to bring him in.

Seemingly, however, he had.

"Either he wasn't there, or he is much brighter than you gave him credit for, Hans," Gellert replied.

"He was there!" Gaulitier reiterated. "I could feel his snakelike eyes on me. We were ready for him Gellert, twenty of our best lying in wait for him to try."

"Yet, he did no such thing."

"Because he's a snivelling coward!"

Hans thumped his fist atop Gellert's desk in frustration. The German despised when things did not go to plan.

"No, he is no coward," Gellert mumbled to himself. "He is cunning, Hans, and will not fall for such an elementary ruse. We must do better."

"What do you suggest?"

Gellert nodded thoughtfully.

"I will need to ponder the matter further, Hans. The Serpent is as slippery as his namesake, but he will not elude us. Leave it with me and join Perseus. I'm sure your expertise will be a welcome addition to his own efforts."

Gaulitier was not pleased to be kept waiting. He was not the most patient of men, but he spoke no further and took his leave of the room.

"What is it now?" Gellert sighed as another knock at the door disturbed him from his own work.

"Well, someone is not in a good mood."

Gellert frowned at the woman that entered his drawing room.

"And where have you been, Cassie?" he asked shortly.

He had been expecting her to return weeks ago to provide him with a report on her findings on who The Serpent might be but had heard nothing.

It wasn't unusual for Cassie to simply vanish for months at a time, but not when the task she was sent on was as pressing as this.

Slowly but surely, The Serpent was having an effect on his endeavours. His followers were wary of the Hit-Wizard, even those that were capable of handling themselves in such situations.

He was proving to be an enigma; the rumours being spread about him across the continent growing more and more absurd by the day.

Not that Gellert believed them, but others did, and that was enough to create small pockets of resistance that he would need to deal with.

The Serpent was becoming a beacon for others to look to, and he needed to be snuffed out.

"I have been home," Cassiopeia answered simply.

"Something I was aware of," Gellert returned irritably, "but you have been gone for the best part of three months. What have you discovered?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Cassiopeia shrugged.

"It's as though not a single person in Britain has even heard of him, Gellert," she huffed irritably. "For weeks I have been in every place imaginable listening for the merest of whispers about him, but not a word has been uttered other than by me."

"Now that is rather curious," Gellert murmured. "Could we perhaps be mistaken? Could he not be an Englishman after all?"

Cassiopeia shook her head.

"No, he's from there, I'm certain of it. I think that everyone here on the continent being aware of him and Britain so ignorant of his existence speaks volumes."

"But you were unable to find him nor anything about him."

"No, but I do not believe my trip was wasted entirely," Cassiopeia replied, a frown marring her features. "I paid a visit to Gaunt."

"And did you learn something from Mr Gaunt that your brother failed to?"

"No, because I didn't get the chance to speak with him," Cassiopeia revealed. "Something happened when I arrived at the property that I can't explain."

When she didn't elaborate, Gellert released a laboured sigh.

"Feel free to share your experience in your own time, Cass."

The woman smiled almost demurely at him.

"Well, when I entered the property, I was set upon by an enormous snake, not a regular one mind. This one was formed from the earth, and when I burned it, it reformed from the ashes."

"A curious piece of magic," Gellert acknowledged. "What else happened?"

"This is the most curious thing," Cassiopeia continued. "It knocked me to the ground and tore my robes. Gaunt then arrived waving a knife around like a madman and I apparated away. I arrived back outside the property line and my robes were fixed. When I looked back towards the property, the grass was back and there was no sign of Gaunt."

"As though nothing had occurred at all?"

Cassiopeia nodded.

"It seems to me that you encountered quite a clever scheme of wards. I imagine that when you crossed into Gaunt property, they were activated, and you were simply propelled backwards. Your mind, however, was subject to a rather complex illusion."

"It felt so real."

Gellert hummed.

"Did your brother not experience this?"

"No, according to Arcturus, he didn't enter the property but spoke to Gaunt from a distance."

"That is very interesting. We cannot tell if these are simply wards that have existed for many generations of Gaunts or if they are a recent addition."

"I doubt that," Cassiopeia snorted. "Gaunt can barely hold his wand, let alone cast such magic."

"As far as we are aware," Gellert pointed out. "I would have a memory of the event. Perhaps then I will be able to understand it better."

Cassiopeia nodded her agreement.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, it is like I said, there are not even whispers of The Serpent in Britain. He has hidden his ability well enough that he is not easily found, but I did make the acquaintance of quite an interesting young man that could be quite useful to us."

"Do go on," Gellert urged.

"He is the nephew of Nicholas Flamel."

Gellert narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"And you did not think to take him?"

Cassiopeia giggled.

"He all but dared me to," she explained. "He was very firm that Flamel would not part with anything for his life. I thought that a future opportunity to work with Evans would prove to be more beneficial."

"How so?" Gellert asked interestedly.

"Well, I looked into him. He attained Outstanding scores on his NEWTs, so he is not without talent, but it is his chosen career that could be useful. He seemingly has quite the acute brain for business."

"For business?"

"He is an investor, Gellert. Over the past year, he has made fourteen of them, all of which, bar one, are turning him a very tidy profit. Either he is lucky, a seer, or simply brilliant."

"What kind of businesses?"

"Dull things mostly. Confectionery, magical commodities, and the like. The point is, he is making considerable sums of gold, and when we are successful in achieving our goals, we will need someone who knows how to make a profit."

Gellert shook his head.

"He would not work with us. He is Flamels nephew!"

"Perhaps," Cassiopeia agreed. "It was just a thought."

"I would rather you just killed him. France will already be difficult enough to take with how much influence Flamel holds there. They will resist until the bitter end, and they have many allies. The English will cross the channel to assist them, and it won't be long after that the Americans will join, if only to paint themselves in glory."

"Do you think so?"

Gellert nodded.

"There is considerable tension between them and the Japanese. The conflict will spill across the globe, Cassie, and most of the fighting will happen around France, so long as nothing else happens to draw it elsewhere."

"Such as?"

"I don't know," Gellert sighed, "but there are too many factors to account for with certainty. The French could take the offensive and attack the Germans, or the Germans could do something I could not have predicted. This Austrian leading them is concerning. There is no telling what he may do. Without Katz keeping me informed, I am blind."

"You still haven't replaced him?"

Gellert shook his head.

"I have yet to find a suitable candidate, but I will make it a priority. For now, I wish for you to assist your brother with the training of his forces. He has done well, Cassie, but it is you I trust implicitly."

Cassiopeia blushed under his praise.

"What of Evans? Would you like me to kill him?"

"No, leave the boy be. Should he get in our way, his time will come. If he is as bright as you believe, he will not involve himself in our affairs when we make a move on France. If he does, he will meet the same fate as the rest that oppose us."

Cassiopeia nodded her understanding.

"And do visit your father," Gellert sighed. "His health is beginning to fail him, and he is asking after you daily."

The woman merely nodded before taking her leave of the room and Gellert turned his focus back to his own work, though his mind still wandered to that of The Serpent, the man that was becoming quite the irksome commodity across the land.

(Break)

Nicholas scowled at the basket his wife had left in the entrance hall of their home, the mere presence of it irking him so. He didn't like gift baskets, and he didn't like assuming neighbours bringing them. Perenelle had been her ever polite self, but he had maintained his demeanour of suspicion.

Nicholas hated having neighbours.

Removing his wand from within his sleeve, he was disturbed by the sound of the front door opening.

"I don't know what that basket did to you, but Perenelle will be furious if you do what I think you're about to," Harry chuckled.

Nicholas hummed his agreement.

"I had hoped that you would reconsider and buy Ames' house."

"Like I said, Nicholas, I know the kind of neighbour you are."

The alchemist shot him a look of disbelief.

"I wouldn't hit golf balls at you. Well, as long as you didn't annoy me."

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at him as he grinned.

"Come on, Nick, why don't you give these ones a chance?"

Nicholas shook his head stubbornly.

"No, I'm very much set in my ways, Harry."

"So, you're just being a stubborn sod?"

Nicholas offered him a sad smile.

"One as young as you would believe that, but when you have lived as many years as I have, you see the world very differently. It is different," he added with a frown. "I have watched the world change and felt little when it did. I saw the revolution, watched as the Bastille was stormed and Louis had his head lopped off. I saw the Eifel Tower grow from little more than an idea to the structure we see now. I remember things that have been misconstrued in the intervening years, and others that should have been remembered, but haven't."

Harry was listening with rapt attention.

"None of it means anything, Harry," Nicholas continued. "The world will always change. I'm certain that when you arrived here it was to something unrecognisable."

"It was," Harry confirmed.

Nicholas released a deep sigh.

"I've always seen change and I've gotten used to it."

The two of them fell silent for a few moments before Harry spoke again.

"I don't see what this has to do with your new neighbours."

"It's not the new neighbours as such, Harry. It's what they represent."

The young man frowned questioningly.

"Usually, new neighbours mean the old ones have died."

"Ah, your unease towards that very thing."

Nicholas snorted.

"Once upon a time, perhaps," he conceded. "I dedicated over a century creating my stone just to avoid it, but when you have lived as long as I have, there's little else to experience. I'm not uneasy about death as much as I wanted to cheat it, to prove that I could."

"Your ego then."

"If you like," Nicholas replied with a grin.

"Sorry, Nick, but I'm still not following."

Nicholas released a laboured breath.

"I used to have friends, for most of my life I have made some very good ones, so good that they are not forgotten. Even now I remember them fondly, much more so than before any of the changes I've seen happen. The problem with living so long and being the only one capable is that the friends you make eventually die. I'm tired of watching people I care about dying, Harry. If I keep my distance from them all, I need not see it anymore."

"In a twisted way, that makes sense," Harry returned with a frown.

"Maybe it will become clearer the longer you live," Nicholas replied. "Death grows tiresome, as does heartache. Not that you are a stranger to either."

"No," Harry acknowledged. "That is partly why I need to speak with you."

"About death?"

Harry nodded.

"The Boxing Day we spent with my family, you mentioned something about the Peverells and their story."

"Ah, the Hallows," Nicholas said conspiratorially. "What have you discovered about them?"

"We will get to that," Harry said dismissively. "I want you to tell me what you know."

Nicholas shrugged and gestured for the younger man to follow.

"You have to understand, Harry, that the Peverells were a mysterious family even when they lived. The last of them died centuries before I was born, and their legend has only grown and become more obscure. What I learned of them when I was a boy is very different to what is said now."

"What did you learn?"

"The usual for the most part," Nicholas answered as he led Harry into his study. "The tale of the three brothers as it is known now, but there were other stories about them that are no longer told."

"Go on," Harry urged.

"It used to be said that they were in league with Death, that they were chosen by him to carry out the work that he could not. If a soul was out of his reach, he would call upon the Peverells to claim it. According to the tales, they worshipped him as a god, and in return, he gifted them the Hallows. Of course, things took a turn for the worse."

"What happened?"

"From what I heard, the Peverells grew weary and fearful of their master. His demands became too much for their consciences to bear. Apparently, Death is a bloodthirsty being, Harry. You must remember that this was when everything in life was dictated by churches, clergymen, and their ilk. Even the wizarding world did not escape it."

"They feared god?"

"No, I believe they feared for their souls," Nicholas replied thoughtfully. "Heaven, hell. A burdened soul will reach the latter whereas one absolved of sin will ascend to paradise. I believe the Peverells tried to unburden theirs by becoming the protectors of Godric's Hollow, by looking after the people there. What they did with the Hallows, one can only guess, but as I said to you before, if my stone exists, and my presence certainly attests to that, there is every chance the Hallows are real."

"They are," Harry whispered, removing a ring he wore around his neck on a chain and a silvery cloak from within his jacket.

He placed them on the desk and nodded for Nicholas to inspect them.

"The cloak has been in my family for generations, and the ring is something I obtained recently from another who is also related to the Peverells," he explained.

"Unbelievable," Nicholas murmured. "Many men have perished in the pursuit of these. It's cold," he added, holding the cloak up to the light.

"Cold?"

"To the touch, and the magic that is imbued into it."

"It doesn't feel cold to me."

"Because you're a Peverell. It is family magic. It belongs to you," Nicholas explained. "It seems that two of them have found their way home, but I must urge caution, Harry. There is a reason why each of the brothers kept only one of the Hallows each. These are powerful objects, and absolute power can easily lead to absolute corruption. Now, a man like you, I do not doubt, but were these to fall into the wrong hands, Merlin only knows how dangerous they can be."

Harry swallowed deeply as he nodded his understanding.

"Do you think I should pursue the wand? If the cloak and stone are real…"

Nicholas held up a hand to silence him.

"Do they work as intended?"

"The cloak does as far as I can tell, but I have not had the stone long enough to work it out. I don't suppose there is anyone I can call upon anyway. Everyone I knew is either here, or not been born yet."

"That's sound reasoning," Nicholas acknowledged, "but let us not pretend that you do not wish to experience the disappointment. Without trying, you still have that hope to cling to."

Harry simply shrugged, but he need not have said anything.

For all growing he had done, there was still a part of the young man that held onto his former life, and there always would be.

Not that Nicholas could blame him.

For one who was only truly starting his journey in the world, he was bound to cling to what little good he'd had. Something that only served to remind him of another he had come to know well.

"Harry, about the Hallows…"

"I shouldn't tell anyone about them?"

"Exactly," Nicholas agreed, "but especially not Albus. I do not believe he harbours the same desire for them he once had, but best not to present him the temptation."

"I won't be telling anyone," Harry said firmly. "From what I can gather, there are people that would do whatever it takes to possess them."

"A wise step," Nicholas replied approvingly. "My only question is, what about the wand?"

"The wand?"

"Will you seek it out?"

Harry chuckled.

"I don't think that would come into my possession as easily as these did."

"No, but if anyone can find it, I believe that would be you."

Harry shook his head.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin. Hasn't it changed hands several times throughout history?"

"That is true, but if I may offer a suggestion. I would begin with someone whose expertise lies in the very thing you are looking for."

"A wandmaker?"

Nicholas nodded.

"It is as good a place to start as any, but I would look to one who has an excellent reputation for their work, but not so much for their business ethic."

"Well, I only know of one wandmaker, and their reputation for both is good."

"Then think further afield."

Harry frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

"The only other one I have heard of is Gregorovitch…"

Nicholas nodded encouragingly.

"If there is any wandmaker out there who may have encountered such an artefact, it would be him. Gregorovitch is perhaps the best wandmaker in the world. If someone wished to verify what they had, he would be the one to see. He understands discretion, for a price."

"Maybe I will pay him a visit," Harry mused aloud. "I don't have much interest in the wand personally. I quite like mine."

"And have you given further thought to what Ollivander told you?"

Harry nodded.

"I will do it, but not yet. I've been looking into it, and from what I can tell, it could make me quite sick for a few days whilst the new bond settles. I don't have a few days to spare at the moment, not with everything that is happening."

"I understand," Nicholas assured him, but there is something else bothering you, Harry."

"Not about the wand," Harry sighed. "About you."

"Me?"

Harry released a deep breath.

"I met a woman recently who explained that you could prove to be a problem for a man she was working for, get in the way of his ambitions."

"Grindelwald?"

"Exactly," Harry huffed.

Nicholas held up his hands.

"I have no intention of standing in his way, Harry, not unless he becomes a threat to me and my wife. It's like I said, I have seen the world change, and such things mean little to me. Gellert is nothing but another one of those changes."

"Not even when he invades?"

Nicholas chuckled.

"I will do my duty as a proud Frenchman to do all I can to prevent it, but I have not survived so long by throwing myself into every conflict that has plagued this nation. Worry not, Harry, he cannot get to us here."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, perhaps he could if he was so determined, but I do not think he would waste so much time doing so, not with his ambitions."

"And what if he discovers who I am? He would certainly target you."

"He would," Nicholas agreed, "but I know that you would not allow him to succeed."

Harry laughed heartily as the man smiled fondly at him.

"That's a lot of faith to put in me."

"It is," Nicholas acknowledged, "but I am doing so, nonetheless. I have met very few men that I would put such trust in Harry, but you have made that very small list. I will not worry about Grindelwald until he is crossing the threshold of this house."

"Then let us hope it doesn't come to that," Harry returned darkly.

"Oh, Harry, I do wish you would lighten up. What about the young lady your brought to see us? Surely she doesn't allow you to be so dour."

"Minerva?"

"I don't believe you have brought any other," Nicholas snorted. "How is she?"

"As busy as ever I imagine. Dumbledore is quite the taskmaster."

"When it comes to his expertise, Albie is very thorough. I have never met any as dedicated to nor as gifted in transfiguration as him. Despite your feelings towards him, Harry, he is an exceptional wizard."

"I'm not denying he is, and I understand he has not had the easiest time, but he could put an end to all this before it begins. He chooses not to. Instead, it is me doing all I can to prevent Grindelwald's rise."

Nicholas offered him a look of sympathy.

"What you're doing only reiterates the type of man I know you to be, Harry. I promise, Albus will do the right thing. First, he must overcome his own demons."

"Tell that to the people suffering," Harry grumbled. "I've seen what is happening, Nick, and the Dumbledore I thought I knew would never let it happen."

"But he is not the man you once knew," Nicholas pointed out. "He is younger, inexperienced, and his wounds still raw from all that has befallen him. I make no excuses for him, I'm just speaking of what I know to be true."

"I know, and appreciate it," Harry sighed.

Nicholas smiled at the young man.

The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and yet, his knees did not buckle under it.

"Tell me, did you know Minerva before you arrived here?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing in particular, I was just curious."

Harry looked at him disbelievingly before nodding.

"She used to be my professor, deputy headmistress, and head of house.

"I suppose meeting her in her younger years was quite the shock," Nicholas snorted amusedly.

Harry nodded.

"It was. She's not really how I would have expected her to be. When I knew her, she was a really strict woman that we were all terrified of getting on the wrong side of."

"And now?"

"Now what?" Harry asked with a frown.

"What do you think of her now?"

"I've not given it much thought," Harry admitted. "She's become my best friend, is the only person my own age that knows who I am and where I'm from."

"She is a confidant."

"She is," Harry acknowledged. "I don't know what I would do without her. Why are you asking this?"

"No reason," Nicholas replied. "Like I said, I was merely curious. More than anything, I'm pleased that you have someone you can rely on. She is very fond of you, you know?"

Harry deflated slightly.

"I do. I'm inexperienced, but I'm not stupid, Nick," he sighed. "I care for her, but my life is complicated enough without adding to it. It's not that I see her as the woman I knew before I came here, she's too different for that. It's just that I don't know what to do about it."

"Then it is up to you to decide, but my advice would be honesty, Harry. Do not lead the girl on. It will only result in you both being miserable."

"I will."

"Good. Now, why don't we fetch some dinner? Perenelle will not be satisfied until she is able to see that you're well for herself."

Harry simply laughed, and Nicholas led them from the study towards the dining room, pleased that he no longer remembered what it was to face such things.

(Break)

Although she was not strictly a teaching member of staff for the most part, Minerva still made a point to attend the meetings that were held over the course of the school year. To her, it showed that she was keen to understand the running of the castle, how the professors interacted with one another, and what things were discussed during them.

Most of it was quite tedious.

The headmaster would ask for reports from each of the professors of any students who were a cause for concern, or in some cases, excelling.

Minerva enjoyed hearing of the latter, though the same name seemed to be on the lips of just about every professor.

"I don't care what you say, Horace, there's something not right with the boy," Rosalina declared.

"Nonsense," Slughorn rumbled, his jowls quivering as he shook his head. "Tom is a good lad, inquisitive, and dedicated. He will go far."

"He will end up in Azkaban," Rosalina said hotly. "I grew up with people of questionable morals and can see them a mile off. I have never felt so uneasy about anyone as I do about Riddle. There is cruelty in his eyes."

Slughorn laughed humourlessly.

"You are merely parroting what Albus said about him from his first meeting," he huffed. "Not a day doesn't go by when Tom doesn't come to my office asking questions about magic, about how the castles work, or for suggestions on things he should read. He will be a success when he has finished here. I have never met any first year as dedicated to learning as him."

"You're blind to him, Horace," Rosalina returned. "I'm not denying he has potential, but I am questioning his character. Mark my words, before he is finished his education here, someone will get hurt. I will not be held responsible when I have warned you all several times now."

With her words ringing in their ears, she took her leave, and the table fell quiet for several moments before Albus broke the silence.

"Rosalina is not wrong," he declared. "As much as it pains me to say this about a child, young Tom harbours some troubling traits. I saw them when I first met him. Admittedly, he is learning to hide them well, but it is merely a front. Beneath his charm and compliments lies something quite ugly."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this," Horace whispered harshly. "It is our job to educate the students within these walls, not pass judgement on what is a poor boy who has grown up in less-than-ideal circumstances. This should be a fresh start for Tom away from the life he has had no choice in."

"Were it not for his continued transgressions, I would agree, Horace," Albus sighed.

"You're referring to Miss Kerr? She fell down the stairs to the dungeons, Albus. Nothing more. Tom promised that he had nothing to do with it."

"Yet she happened to fall shortly after mocking him," Albus pointed out. "He was openly laughing at her whilst she screamed."

Minerva was listening intently. She had not heard of this incident.

"I admit that it was in poor taste, but as you rightly pointed out, Miss Kerr mocked him first."

"For something very trivial, not because he was in severe pain. Her leg was broken in three places, and he stood over her, laughing and taking joy in her suffering."

"You're over-exaggerating," Slughorn said dismissively.

"Enough!" Dippet interjected. "I will continue to watch Mr Riddle and will make a decision on his future when it becomes necessary to do so. Horace, I understand that as his head of house you are looking out for him, but I have it on very good authority and from more than one source that the boy is a concern. I will hear no more on the matter. For now, we will bring this meeting to an end and simply get through the rest of the school year. With a little luck, Mr Riddle will begin to change his ways over the summer. If he does not, his future will not be so bright."

Horace offered his employer a look of betrayal as he left, followed by the rest of the staff who had not voiced an opinion during the debate.

"Do you think he broke her leg, Albus?"

Dumbledore released a deep breath.

"As much as I wish I could say that I believe he didn't, I cannot. Tom is a vengeful and petty boy. Although it can't be proven, I have no doubt that he acted against Miss Kerr."

"They are my thoughts also," Dippet murmured. "He did not show an ounce of empathy for what had happened, and even said that she deserved it. He is cruel, Albus, and I would have him watched. The moment anything can be proven, he will face severe consequences."

"I will be watching him closely," Albus replied with a bow. "If there is nothing else?"

"No, nothing pressing for now," Dippet assured him.

"The I shall take my leave. I have several lessons to prepare for our seventh years."

Minerva followed as Albus exited the headmaster's office, but when he headed towards the transfiguration classroom, she turned towards the owlery.

This was the kind of thing that Harry would want to know.

She too felt deeply uneasy about the Slytherin first year, and it was a relief that she was not the only one.

(Break)

It had been many years that she had even laid eyes on her father. Cassiopeia had known for months that he had been here, and she had avoided seeing him. Perhaps it was that she did not wish to sully the memories she had of the man as she had been growing up by seeing the shell he had become.

Cassie had been fifteen when her mother had died, much older than Arcturus, Dorea, and even Perseus. She hadn't shown it, but it had hit her the hardest of the four children.

She had vivid memories of the woman that had birthed her, had loved her dearly, and her doting ways.

And then she was gone.

Orion had not coped well, nor had her siblings, but Cassiopeia had all but gone to pieces in the wake of her mother's passing.

She'd needed to escape, and when she heard whispers of the changes being made on the continent, she'd left.

There had been no plan in place other than to get away from the dark cloud that had formed over the Black house, and before she knew it, the years had quickly passed her by.

Gellert had welcomed her with open arms, had looked after her, and helped her cope with the pain she carried.

What she hadn't expected was to fall in love with the man.

Cassie was well aware of Gellert's own inclinations. He didn't speak them aloud, but he didn't hide them either. She was not foolish to believe that she could change him in that way and had grown content to merely serve him as she could.

If truth be told, doing so had put thoughts of her father and the rest of the Blacks far from her mind. Even though Perseus had joined her on her venture, she saw little of him.

Now, it seemed the past had caught up to her, and as she entered the quarters her father had been placed in to see him being attended to by a healer, she wished she'd never came.

Orion Black had aged. Not so much so that he was a decrepit, hunched man who was no longer capable of looking after himself. However, his hair was certainly greyer than she remembered, and the wrinkles of his face much deeper.

"He won't be much longer," the healer whispered.

Cassie nodded as she observed her father.

His eyes were closed, and he was in a deep state of concentration.

"Occlumency?" she asked.

"I'm a mind healer," the woman clarified. "Even though his diet is quite poor, he doesn't sleep much, and he drinks too much alcohol, your father's body remains in quite good order. It is his mind that is causing his illness, but we are working on it. In the two months I have been with him, he's shown considerable improvement."

"So, he will get better?"

The healer shook her head.

"No, there is no cure for what he has I'm afraid. The treatment I do with him prevents him from deteriorating further. The improvements have plateaued unfortunately, but I am able to keep him as he is now for the time being."

"For the time being?"

The healer offered her a look of sympathy.

"The measures in place will help maintain his mind only temporarily. It may take only months, or he could have years, but they will stop working eventually, and he will succumb to the sickness."

"And there is nothing else that can be done?"

The healer shook her head.

"I'm sure you are aware that the mind is a very complex thing, and exceedingly difficult to rid of afflictions. There isn't a potion that can be taken, or a spell that can fix them. It is not like a broken bone that can be mended, or a cut that can be sealed. It is a part of us that we cannot see to put back together when it comes apart."

"What happens when it catches up to him?"

The healer deflated.

"It is difficult to say. It affects everyone differently," she explained. "I have seen people simply die, and some forget much of the lives they have lived. Some do not even know their own name let alone remember their spouse. It is an awful thing to witness, but I do what I can for my patients."

"What about my father? In your experience of treating others like him, how long until something like that happens."

"Miss Black, your father is a stubborn man, and one that is diligent with his treatment. I would say it may well take a number of years for his mind to fail him entirely, but I can say for certain it will happen. You should be prepared for that eventuality."

Cassiopeia could only nod.

"I'm sorry that I am the bearer of bad news, but it is best that I am honest. I would not wish to give you false hope that he will recover."

"I appreciate your candidness."

The healer offered her a final look of sympathy before checking her watch.

"It's time to bring him out now. If you just give me a moment, he will be with us shortly."

Cassiopeia watched as the woman placed her wand to her father's temple and whispered in his ear.

Only a moment later, Orion came back to himself, his eyes darting around the room as he took in his surroundings.

"I was on the beach," he declared, a rare smile gracing his lips. "It was our honeymoon, and my wife was there."

"I'm pleased to hear it, Orion," the healer replied warmly, "but your daughter is here now. She's come to visit."

Cassiopeia was greeted by the excited gaze of her father, his eyes wide as he drank in her appearance.

"That is never my Cass. She's a woman now."

"And a fine one too," the healer declared, beckoning Cassiopeia forward. "Do try not to overstimulate him," she whispered before taking her leave.

When she was gone, Cassiopeia looked towards her father, swallowing down all the pain she felt from the loss of her mother in favour of simply being here with him.

She'd missed the man that would bounce her on his knee when she had been young or told her and her siblings' stories about the infamous family members throughout history.

If she looked hard enough, there was still a glimmer of him there.

"Hello father," she said simply, taking the seat opposite him. "It's been a while."

(Break)

The letter he'd received from Minerva had not surprised him. He'd been waiting to hear of Tom's escapades at Hogwarts, but not so soon. What sort of twelve-year-old would find the suffering of a girl the same age so joyful?

Voldemort.

Harry shook his head of thoughts of the boy in favour of focusing on Federov who had summoned him to his office.

"It is only a temporary measure," the man assured him. "If he is trying to trap you, it is best to avoid those we know that are working with him. Gaulitier is a dangerous man who surrounds himself with equally dangerous people. I am concerned by how much effort is being put into capturing you, Evans, that is all."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Besides, there is another job I have for you, one that will be very lucrative."

"What job?"

"One that is being paid for by several banks who are keen to see an end to the robberies that are plaguing them."

"Bank robberies?"

Federov nodded.

"We don't know who is doing them and have only a partial description of what he looks like. They say that he is in and out before anyone is even aware of his presence, a phantom if you will."

"I bet Phantom wouldn't like hearing you say that," Harry chuckled, referring to another Hit-Wizard he had briefly met the acquaintance of during his training.

"No, but this man is the very definition of the word. The auror that happened upon him as he left one of the banks in question gave chase, and the suspect simply vanished."

"Portkey or apparation?"

Federov shook his head.

"The bank's security had been activated by this point and he was very much within the wards. Neither a portkey nor apparation would have been possible, not with the Moscow branch. Goblin magic is quite complicated to navigate."

Harry frowned thoughtfully as he pondered other possibilities.

"An invisibility cloak then."

Federov shrugged.

"That is for you to figure out, but again…"

"This is to be kept between us?"

Federov grinned.

"The goblins are not keen for this to become public knowledge. It would cost them a fortune in business were it to leak."

"Understood," Harry sighed, shrinking the file down and placing it inside his jacket before heading towards the door.

Gaulitier would wait, and perhaps it was best to keep his distance from Grindelwald's operation, for a little while at least.

His conversation with Cassiopeia Black was not something he could easily ignore, and he did not wish to see Nicholas and Perenelle put in harms way, even if the man did have so much faith in Harry.

No, everything was quiet on the Grindelwald front, and though Harry knew such silence would not last, he would gladly take the reprieve.