Lucius Malfoy returned home wearing a radiant smile.
His good mood was impossible to miss. He even deigned to give the house-elves a rare pleasant look.
Entering his study, he sat behind his desk and closed his eyes, resting.
The corners of his lips curved upward as he began drafting an impeachment letter in his mind—one aimed at Cornelius Fudge. The sooner Fudge was brought down, the sooner Lucius would receive his reward: one hundred million new Galleons.
Then—
His Dark Mark suddenly burned.
Lucius frowned sharply.
This was—
A summons from the Dark Lord.
Lucius clenched his teeth and answered the call.
"—Crack!"
A sun-scorched field near Malfoy Manor shimmered into view. Two towering trees cast patches of shade over the land, offering refuge from the blazing heat.
This farmland, like much of Wiltshire, belonged to the Malfoy family—territory granted to them as far back as the eleventh century.
At this hour, the farmers had all gone home. No one was foolish enough to toil beneath such a merciless sun.
Lucius stood beneath the trees, glancing around—but the man he expected to see was nowhere in sight.
"Lucius, my old friend. You seem to be in high spirits."
The shrill voice sliced through the air.
Lucius Malfoy broke out in goosebumps as a chill surged from his feet straight to his scalp.
He spun around and bowed deeply before even seeing Voldemort.
"Dark Lord, Lucius Malfoy has answered your call and presents himself before you!"
A black-and-white patterned viper slid down from a tree branch, its tongue flickering as it spoke in a cold, human voice.
"Spare me the meaningless formalities. I have a task for you."
Lucius sneered inwardly.
Wasn't it you who once demanded Death Eaters kneel and kiss your robes? Now it was "meaningless formalities"?
That alone told him Voldemort was not in good condition.
But aloud, Lucius said smoothly, "Whatever the task, I, Lucius Malfoy, will devote everything I have to you, my Lord."
Even weakened, Voldemort was not someone Lucius dared to defy.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "I want you to deal with Harry Potter. He ruined my plan of return, and he will pay the price."
"Yes, my Lord."
Silence followed.
After a long moment with no response, Lucius raised his head.
His gaze met the snake's—blank, simple, utterly ignorant.
The Dark Lord had already departed.
Lucius exhaled quietly.
Father and daughter truly acted nothing alike. If he had to choose whom to follow, he would choose Hydrus without hesitation—not Voldemort.
"Harry Potter…" Lucius stroked his chin. "How exactly should I deal with Harry Potter?"
After a pause, he nodded to himself.
"I'll ask Draco about Potter's situation at school."
With a soft crack, Lucius vanished from beneath the trees.
The wind swept across the now-green wheat fields, rippling through them like the sleek, glossy fur along a hunting hound's back.
A small figure crept out from behind the tree.
He clamped his hands over his mouth, wide eyes filled with terror and despair.
"Harry Potter! Master wants to hurt the great Harry Potter!"
The tiny creature began smashing his head against the tree.
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Dobby wanted to disobey his master!"
Tears streamed down his face as he continued muttering.
"No—no! Harry Potter must not be harmed! Dobby must save Harry Potter!"
He froze, then gasped.
"Dobby cannot warn Harry Potter—but Dobby can stop Harry Potter from going to school!"
"Yes! Yes! If Harry Potter doesn't go to school, Master can't hurt him!"
"Audrey! Audrey! Audrey!"
Rick pounded relentlessly on his sister's door.
"Just tell me where you got that tank you gave Mr. Weasley, okay? I want to buy one too!"
The door flew open.
Audrey's face was thunderous.
"Rick! You woke me up! You're cooking your own lunch today!"
"Bang!"
The door slammed shut.
From inside came her muffled threat:
"If you bother me again, I'm running away from home!"
Rick sighed and trudged back to the workshop.
Fine. He'd write a song.
A song about a heartless sister who wouldn't buy her brother a tank.
Halfway there, he burst out laughing.
What on earth was he thinking?
Whatever. He'd eat out for lunch today. Missing one of Momo's meals felt like losing a fortune.
Audrey flopped back onto her bed and fell asleep the moment she closed her eyes.
Maybe she'd been overworking her brain lately.
She'd been sleeping a lot—fifteen or sixteen hours a day, easily.
But that was fine. This was the life she dreamed of.
Eat well. Sleep well. Bliss.
Only minutes later, the door creaked open again.
An immense force lifted her straight off the bed and set her down on the floor.
Audrey's eyes snapped open.
Her morning temper ignited like compressed gas meeting open flame.
"ARE YOU DONE YET?!"
She roared.
Her hair lifted as a shockwave blasted outward, coins skittering across the room with a deafening clatter. Priceless furniture and decorations crashed to the floor.
"Quite the temper for such a little girl."
The familiar, aged voice made Audrey freeze.
She looked up sharply and saw Grindelwald standing in the doorway.
"…Ah. Right. Professor Grindelwald."
She stood up, her pajamas transforming instantly into wizard's robes.
"So. Why are you here?"
Grindelwald smiled.
"If I hadn't come, were you planning to sleep through the entire summer?"
"Of course not," Audrey muttered. "I've got a concert tour in August."
"Come along," he said calmly. "You didn't think my instruction ended after just two months last year, did you?"
Audrey pouted.
So much for rest.
She hated power ceilings like this—couldn't beat them, couldn't escape them. Absolute despair.
At least Grindelwald was lenient. As long as she met his standards, she could rest.
With her talent, what took others a full day took her less than an hour.
She was just starting to relax—
When another voice drifted up the stairs, far older and far more exhausted.
"And I'm here too… honestly, these stairs are murder on an old man…"
Nicolas Flamel.
…Alright.
Let us mourn Audrey's fallen vacation.
Outside London.
Inside an unremarkable two-story house.
More than a dozen wizards lounged about, killing time.
Some played wizard's chess. Others tossed a Quaffle back and forth.
The door burst open.
Dust exploded from the wooden frame like startled sparrows.
A gaunt wizard in Muggle work clothes rushed in.
"Good news! Great news! Lord Edmond is transferring us to the new bank as security!"
"Ten Galleons a week!"
"Really?!"
"Thank Merlin!"
"Why thank Merlin?" someone scoffed. "Shouldn't we thank Miss Astrea?"
"Exactly! If she hadn't taken us in, we'd still be rotting in Knockturn Alley!"
"As if following Bode Gray was any better," someone snorted. "Barely any pay—and we lost so many people."
"At least the name sounded impressive," another said dryly.
"Water Serpent's Fang," someone murmured. "Yeah… that was a good name."
The skinny wizard spoke again.
"Miss Astrea is generous and kind. Don't you think we should do something for her?"
"Like what?"
"Some things she can't do herself," he said quietly. "Maybe we can do them for her."
"Right!" someone exclaimed. "We can deal with her enemies!"
"I heard Lord Edmond say Cornelius Fudge has been blocking her bank project…"
Silence fell.
"…You don't mean—"
"That's exactly what I mean."
"That's too dangerous! He's the Minister of Magic!"
"Don't drag Miss Astrea into trouble!"
The skinny wizard grinned.
"Relax. Lord Edmond said it himself—Fudge won't be Minister for much longer."