A/N: Well, here goes nothing. Hopefully this one won't take quite as long to finish as the last one did.

And I typed those words however many months ago… admittedly, in that time I've been forced to switch laptops permanently and I've now (in July) gotten around to getting Office installed so I can write outside of snippets in emails. I will say, I really like Word 2016's synonym ability on right-click.

Also, I'm slightly retroactively changing something there may be some misconception about – I called Jasmine's skin porcelain, and I think I went a bit too far into making her look like a vampire. I'm changing that to she's just pale like someone who never gets any sunlight, not corpse-like.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, ALL PROPERTIES REFERENCED BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS

Chapter 19

Several Weeks Ago

The depths of Gringotts were shrouded in shadow, and the cave systems more rough-hewn than their equivalents closer to the surface. The flickering torches held aloft by the guarding goblins accompanying Jasmine and an elder goblin named Grimstoke were the only exterior light source, and they sent dancing silhouettes through the gloom as they progressed through the unfathomable depths of the earth.

Nothing was said, the conversation had already been held in the high Goblin's office; he had been understandably stunned when she laid claim to accessing the Slytherin vault, deep beneath Gringotts that predated even the rebellion that formed the Bank - from times back when the Gringotts clan was small, and not yet the strongest in Europe. It had taken some explaining, and proof of her lucky heritage on her mother's side, before her claim could even be considered, and even then she'd had to pay a not-insubstantial sum of debts that the Gaunts had racked up, with interest (which was to be partially filled by the theft of several Goblin artefacts from Wizards and their return to Gringotts). Even then, the Goblin had been reluctant to open up the ancient vault, especially since it was thought to be empty.

However, there was more to value than mere gold.

Finally, after what seemed like an age of walking, they stopped by an entrance in the side of the cave wall, blocked by a tall and barred metal door – of far newer construction than the tunnel or anything that should be here, Jasmine noted, therefore likely meaning it was a measure added once the line was declared extinct. As the two guards took up positions on either side of the entryway, Grimstoke stepped up to the fore and laid both hands on one of the riveted bars across the wide entryway.

After a long few moments that dragged on, there came a loud thunking noise, followed by a series of smaller clicks as locks undid themselves. The goblin stepped back as slowly, but without so much as a creak, the door split down the middle and opened outwards to reveal another surface.

The stone cutting across the entryway was slate grey – clearly not quite native to the cave – and perfectly smooth as only magic could create. Directly in the centre was a metal plaque, bearing a stylised 'S' made from a green serpent at the centre of a shield. This was more as Jasmine expected from a vault that dated back to when Gringotts was just a clan, not yet a bank; a wizard made defence. She felt expectant eyes on her as she stepped forwards, laying a hand on the crest to trace the metal scales lightly with her finger, focusing on the snake.

"Open," she hissed as quietly as she could, communicating directly with the snake. A shimmer seemed to run along its surface before the whole panel began to shift upwards with a loud grinding noise. In its wake, the perfectly smooth stone shifted and began to first trickle, then ripple, and finally to gush like liquid as it spilled to the side, forming an emphasised archway that distinctly reminded the ravenette of Hogwarts' own architecture. A fairly simple protection, but one as proof of the bloodline.

With confidence, she stepped through into the fairly large cave beyond, flicking her wand into hand and invoking a ball of light to hover near the encroaching ceiling to reveal a whole lot of…

Nothing. Or at least, near enough.

A few ancient stone bookshelves stood empty, nearby a similar desk and two broken chairs that had clearly seen better days, and an empty painting frame with peeling gold leaf that showed more faded wood than gold. It wasn't like she had expected much – the Gaunts had lived in a shack, if they could have stripped anything of value from here they would have – but it still seemed like so very little to show for some ancient and illustrious history.

Ah well, she wasn't here for that, and her emerald eyes had snapped to the far side of the space. There, another wall stood, similar to the first, but instead of a shield bore a statue-like snarling head of a giant snake, oversized fangs poised to strike. With a slight smile on her face at appreciating her information was correct, she stepped towards the other side.

Slytherin House had not had a member bear its name – aside from in boasts – since Salazar himself. The Gaunt family, for all their posturing, were much like the earliest forms of cadet families in the young days of Britain; they signed their family's entire control over to the Slytherin line – to Salazar's uncle, as it happens – in part of a marriage contract that saw the man's daughter wed off to them. In the Gaunts' eyes, they had entered into a family with a great deal of wealth and knowledge, for the time period, as well as containing one of the founders of the then brand-new, but rapidly expanding Hogwarts. It only got better for them when the Slytherin family had no heirs after Salazar pulled a disappearing act, and thereby they were their own masters.

However, all the agreements made in blood and written vows still held true, and the Gaunts could never control the Slytherin line – and being a family that would forevermore be synonymous with sneakiness and cunning, they put more than just words on paper to stop their greedy in-laws from nabbing that which wasn't theirs.

Hence, a vault within a vault, made by one of the last family patriarchs, and that was still sealed hundreds of years later.

On approach, the snake-head was even more impressive up close, jutting out from the wall a good two feet, and seemingly made from porcelain instead of stone or metal, with incredible detail from the green scales outline on its back to the forked red tongue. In-fact, Jasmine leaned in closer and her eyes sparked in understanding as she noted the tongue was stained red at the tip, while the further back was pink. Given that the sharp fangs were close by and so widely exaggerated, the method of entry was likely blood-bound.

Regardless, it provided exactly what she needed. Removing her glove, she placed her fingers upon the old bloodstain, closed her eyes and concentrated, pushed a little of her magic into her fingertips, before clearing her throat and speaking.

"By the moste ancient rites of conquest, I do hereby lay claim to the Slytherin name," a shudder ran through Jasmine's form as suddenly magic began to thrum in the air, "I hath defeated mine enemy thrice: he who has initiated feud with my family and killed mine kin; he who has sought to end me in the name of Slytherin; he who has called himself vassal to Slytherin's line. By my blood, by my magic, and by my victory, I so proclaim the Slytherin name as my own by ancient decree!"

Power swirled in the air as the magics she had called upon judged her – this was older magic than most anyone knew, from the earliest formations of society. Deep Magic, written in the very fabric of the world. It pressed down on her oppressively, with an electric thrum running across her skin.

And then… it was gone as suddenly as it had come.

The raven-haired woman grinned widely, emerald eyes sparkling as a flick of her un-gloved hand moved up to prick a finger upon the awaiting fang, and smeared the welling crimson on the forked tongue. With a grinding similar to the outer door, the head slid upwards and the archway formed from transmuting stone.

As she stepped beyond, green light flared from sconces formed of rearing stone snakes lining the walls, which reminded her of the similarly ostentatious light sources in the Chamber of Secrets. The space was smaller than the previous cave, more office-sized really, but it contained much more in terms of value. Wooden shelves – that were somehow still pristine – held aloft scrolls, and a rare few simple books bound in leather without titles upon their spines, an intricate stone basin similar to a baptismal font reared up from the floor, and upon the wall was a set of blades crossed beneath the family crest. Although, there were signs that this place too had been emptied; the shelves had much vacant space, there were more brackets on the wall for holding specific items that were missing, and a bust with an indent for what looked like a necklace stood bare by the archway. Most likely, the Hogwarts founder had cleared out the things he had needed before he did a runner to wherever he went.

All of this mattered not to Jasmine, as she focused in on the dark wood desk, and more importantly the stone box atop it inlaid with runes, almost feeling its call to her. Before she knew it, her hands were grasping and opening up the container – oh so similar to one she had found in the Potter vault, bound to the family ring to be where it would return to after the previous owner had died. And there it was, an emerald caught in the jaws of two silver snakes wrapped into a band. Nimble fingers picked it up, turning the cold jewellery over and viewing the fine craftmanship – Goblin, of course. Once in her hand, the gemstone seemed to light up with a slight spark, and with a twist of magic the ring shrunk slightly to fit her thin fingers instead of a man's.

Triumphantly, the ring was slipped on beside its two fellows, perfectly conforming around her finger.

"Tommy boy, you really should have paid attention to the school motto," the ravenette murmured with a grin.

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Current Day

Children. A room full of adults supposedly responsible for Wizarding Britain shouting over each other in an unruly fashion. Jasmine simply stood calmly as accusations were thrown at her, thrown back by her supporters and an all-around mess occurred as she simply withdrew her hand from the air, and folded both demurely in front of herself, projecting the aloofness expected of her position. Down in the public stands, the few journalists present at what should have been a routine session scrabbled fiercely at pads of paper and a camera flash or two was directed at her.

When a cannon blast from Diggory – the man still only at his second meeting as Chief Warlock – failed to quell the crowd, a blanket silencing charm was cast to finally quiet the area. His disapproving glare was levelled at the various assembled members, which the ravenette weathered without care.

"If you are all quite finished. I think an explanation is due, Miss Potter," the man stated upon removing the charm.

"I don't believe there is anything more to say, Chief Warlock," the ravenette said calmly, "the ancient magics accepted my claim through rites of conquest, and the family ring has acknowledged me as the new matriarch. By all measures I now control the House, along with all that comes with it, and in the next generation it shall pass as cadet to my own birth House as per procedure unless I name an heir. There is no legal or historical precedent to deny me the seats it commands on the Wizengamot – for both the Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin itself, and the Ancient House of Gaunt." Of course, there was no precedent for the Slytherin seat being in use at all. The four founders had originally been on the Wizards' Council long before the Wizengamot was formed, and since two lines – Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, held by the McLaggens and the Smiths, respectively – were still active, all four were kept for posterity's sake and to honour the legendary witches and wizards.

"Objection!" the old and overweight figure of Thaddeus Nott stood, "this is outrageous! The very idea of claiming a long dormant line of the noblest pedigree by some lying girl. I demand a free vote on this matter!" A collection of agreeing noises sounded from various sides of the Dark sect.

"Motion seconded," Minister Fudge himself rose from his seat above Diggory, his face purpled and spluttering, "Miss Potter has been purporting many dubious and questionable things of late, as has recently become known." That sparked off a good deal of shouting from her own supporters, met by Fudge's cronies and their own jeers. Said topic was a sore one, as his little Prophet mouthpiece had been carefully bad-mouthing her since the start of the summer, and only really getting away with things by merely suggesting ideas, conveying 'rumours,' or blaming things on Dumbledore's influence. Oh, how she wished the libel laws in the wizarding world weren't so loose.

"There's nothing to vote on," a grinning Sirius Black stood from his position close by Nott, shouting over the growing noise, "any changes to position – such as naming a new heir or seceding a seat to another – is regarded as internal House business and is not subject to Wizengamot approval. Only when someone new is presented to the Wizengamot as ascending to their position is approval needed over whether or not they are a suitable candidate. The only rules on the book state that the Wizengamot must be informed of any changes of status with due notice of declaration, which Madame Potter has done. Are we to now interfere in who our heirs are or other internal family affairs? I stand with the House of Potter." The formal words were followed with a cheeky thumbs-up thrown at her from the old Marauder.

##############################################################################

One Week Ago

"How the hell did you pull that off?" Sirius stated, staring in wonderment at the ring on her finger.

"Ancient rites of conquest," she answered with a smile, "I beat him three times, fair and square."

"Bloody hell. You stole Slytherin," the man still looked bewildered, running a hand through scraggly hair.

"Well, you did tell me you were disappointed at how I didn't pull pranks. How do you think the Slytherins are going to take this?" the ravenette wiggled the ring in front of her face with a grin. That finally pulled the Marauder from melancholy and into bouts of laughter.

"Okay, okay," he said upon calming, "what's the plan? And don't try to deny there is one."

##############################################################################

Sirius' words stirred murmurs from many areas, especially the traditionalist ones who long feared interference in their affairs. Quickly they returned to a back-and-forth between her detractors and those who supported the decision, however this time the cannon-blast from Diggory's wand managed to silence the crowd as he conferred quietly with an aide flicking through a book to his left before standing to his podium.

"I am inclined to agree with the claimant and the Head of House Black in this regard; there exists much precedent for the absorption of a House, and it has never been a matter for debate in the Wizengamot," he announced, "the claim of the House of Potter is hereby acknowledged."

"Thank-you, Chief Warlock," Jasmine stated, bowing ever so slightly towards the man through the shouting that had ensued, even as two crests joined those already decorating her podium.

##############################################################################

Five Days Ago

"I'm somewhat starting to regret saying yes when Amelia approached me with the idea of this position," Amos admitted as he signed something on his desk, "the paperwork alone is a nightmare!"

"I never thought I'd hear of a fine Hufflepuff afraid of a bit of hard work," Jasmine commented from her position opposite with a smile. He dignified that with a look as his only response.

"What was your reason for wishing to see me? Thanks to you, I have a very large amount of work to do. I will never understand how Dumbledore managed so many positions," the latter part was added in a mumble the ravenette probably wasn't supposed to hear. 'By being lax and hands off in all of them, despite the fact each should require full attention,' Jasmine answered in her own head.

"I'm going to make a proposal this weekend," she replied aloud, "and I might need a hand persuading Amelia to take up the position."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Diggory stated, paperwork forgotten as he looked at her over his glasses.

"Most likely the answer is 'sort of,'" she replied nonchalantly, "look at it on the bright side, you get to return the paperwork hell back on her, with interest."

##############################################################################

"Are there any further matters before we finish for the day?" Diggory declared after the main session regarding a piece of legislature in regard to cauldron bottoms had been debated. "If not, the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter has requested the floor."

"Thank-you, Chief Warlock," the ravenette stated upon standing up, "I must bring a matter to the court of some urgency. I wish to petition for the aid of the Ministry in dealing with a rogue member of one of the Houses I am responsible for." She was very careful to keep her face solemn as she prepared to lay each card down. "I am of the opinion that a House should be responsible for its own members and their mistakes, and this is a rabid dog I should put down myself. However, I am admittedly having some degree of trouble in this regard as he is a dangerous individual." She paused, gauging the mood of the crowd, "I have already given Madame Bones a full list of the offences he has committed, and his crimes include, but are not limited to: repeated use of all three unforgivable curses; kidnapping and abduction of the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House; keeping of a Class 5X Beast with intent to set it loose; theft and destruction of priceless heirlooms; and unlicensed use of memory charms. As he is such a dangerous individual, I am requesting that the aurors be given leave to hunt him down and kill him, and anyone who stands with him, on sight. The House of Potter is willing to cover any greater-than-normal expenditures from any actions necessary."

"I can confirm," Amelia stated, standing up as well, "the list of crimes given to me signify this is a most dangerous individual who would at least be sentenced to life in Azkaban or thrown through the Veil, and as such I feel no compunction agreeing with Miss Potter's assessment."

"Could you identify this man for the court, please?" Diggory asked, adding his part of the rehearsed play to the mix.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Jasmine answered after a brief pause, watching the crowd carefully. The bulging of Malfoy's eyes was particularly amusing, though Dumbledore didn't react so much more than stroking his beard thoughtfully – he had likely guessed exactly of whom she spoke from the beginning.

"I second the House of Potter's proposal," Augusta Longbottom stood from her position beside the ravenette, "any such threat should be eliminated from society with all due haste."

"Motion has been seconded," Diggory declared, "all those in favour." The swarm of white lights from the Lighter sects stood as she, Augusta and even Dumbledore, surprisingly, led the crowd. Likewise, Amelia led her own allies, and Sirius what contacts he – or, more reasonably, Andromeda – had scrounged from the traditionalists. "And those against?" Red lights from Malfoy and his patsies and some other darker leaning members of society, as well as Fudge and his hard-core supporters, probably simply to be contrary to her. A surprising number of neutrals abstained, which ultimately pushed the landslide towards… "Motion passed!" Amos stated, "special clearance shall be given for measures to be taken against the individual Tom Riddle."

"Thank-you," the ravenette allowed a slight smile to grace her features, "and now that the Ministry is acknowledging the threat that Tom Riddle, more colloquially known by the pseudonym Lord Voldemort, presents, and thereby a state of war has been declared, I hereby propose that the head of the DMLE be given all due emergency powers as per wartime procedure."

Anything further she might have said was drowned out by the ensuing uproar.

##############################################################################

Three Days Ago

"You know," Amelia said tiredly as she removed and cleaned her monocle, "I've been thinking of retiring for the last few years. Only Susan starting at Hogwarts stopped me, as I wasn't sure what I would do with myself during the day with her gone. I'd wait until she leaves school, I told myself."

"You must have known where this was leading when I told you the truth about his return," Jasmine stated, "wartime measures are on the books and make things clear about chain of command."

"I think I managed to delude myself into just not thinking about it," the woman admitted, "I'm getting old. I'm not sure how much more of this I can deal with."

"Bullshit," Amos stated simply, "I know you, Amelia, and you're built to handle whatever is thrown at you. Besides, who else would you entrust this to? Most of your best are either dead, unsuitable, or need more experience. Moody is probably the only one competent and experienced enough, and his nickname has become a bit too apt these last few years."

"First thing I'm doing is drafting him back out of retirement; I'll need a good second."

"So, you're in, then?" Amos nudged.

"Yes," Bones replied wearily, replacing her eyepiece, "however when I die of stress, I'm going to haunt the pair of you."

##############################################################################

Jasmine yawned while rubbing her aching head while preparing for bed. It had been a long day following her pronouncement the day before at the Wizengamot. Irene Adler had been at the Diagon Gazette the previous night, to ensure it disseminated accurate information on Voldemort's true identity – and more importantly, his heritage – which had led to a few more dissenters needing to be put in stasis where Voldemort couldn't turn them into vegetables via their Dark Marks. Jasmine Potter was required on several fronts to deal with political and legal situations as Amelia was gifted her emergency powers, as well as refuting what the Ministry mouthpiece that was the Daily Prophet was writing about her – which was predictable rubbish – and generally preparing the country for an upcoming state of war. Planning various activities out with Greyback and Scabior, as well as sending out orders to various underlings regarding everything from supplies to safehouses, then using a time turner to run the day again to hint and nudge Amelia, Amos, Sirius, and Augusta on the other political side, all added to a severely exhausting time that meant she hadn't slept in well over 48 hours.

None of this was helped by the incessant headache pressing in on her, even as she rubbed at her scarred forehead with irritation.

Still, the hour was late – or at least, she thought it was, but everything could get a bit muddled with time travel – and her nice soft bed within Grimmauld, which she so rarely visited, beckoned cajolingly as she collapsed onto it, prepared finally to get some blessed rest.

As she was just on the edge of sleep, and so very exhausted, it took several moments for the heat in – or more accurately, on – her chest to be noticed. Even her abnormally powerful mind was slow in realising what it was before she snapped back up, a hand grasping at the pendant that was lightly glowing and warm to the touch.

Her body leapt into motion, exhaustion forgotten as she grabbed the holly wand resting beside her bed, concentrated on the link the pendant provided, and apparated away.

The first thing she noticed on arrival was the cold; goose bumps instantly appearing over her skin that was clad in only a thin, silk nightgown. She spun on the spot, her brain instantly taking in and cataloguing the environment of a cellar, the recognisable Doctors Granger huddled behind their daughter as she pointed her wand towards the exit to the room, an otter patronus flying around even as the wooden portal frosted over with ice.

"Dementors, here?" the ravenette said incredulously.

"Two of them, upstairs," Hermione replied with anger evident in her voice. "Might I suggest getting my parents out of here be more of a priority than lengthy explanations?"

"Point," Jasmine admitted, summoning a length of garden hose from nearby to wrap around the pair. They started with protestations at realising the loop didn't include the two of them, but she didn't give them time to do anything about it. "Portus," both adults disappeared, leaving just the teenagers, "they're safe at Sirius'."

"Then let's deal with the bastards that got into my home!" the bushy-haired girl practically hissed.

Jasmine sent an unlocking charm at the door, and then brought up her own patronus as scabby hands reached around and were batted back by the otter and raven leaping for them, teeth bared and claws outstretched, respectively. The ravenette frowned a little as she had to push a bit harder than she ever remembered doing so to get the magic out. They quickly advanced forwards up the stairs, pressing the advantage. Swiftly, the pair of hell spawn gave up, and fled through open French windows past a dining table set with a half-eaten meal. The pair still swept the room carefully, Hermione flicking her wand to close the large glass doors. Roughly thirty seconds of closing windows and being on edge passed before they managed to relax, confident that the Dementors were not returning.

"Thank-you for coming so quickly, Jasmine," Hermione stated quietly while surveying the dinner that was slowly defrosting from the thin sheen of ice, "with my parents around, I couldn't- oh." A slight blush lit her face as she turned around to face the ravenette.

"What?" Jasmine asked confusedly.

"Your, ah, headlights are on," the Gryffindor said with a slight, wry grin. Glancing down, Jasmine did indeed note that was the case.

"Yes, well, I picked this nightie for the height of summer, not for fighting soul-sucking demons in," she replied with a slightly sardonic smile.

"It looks good on you."

She was about to formulate a reply – which was doubtless going to be witty and of decisive character – when her lips were captured, and a warm body pressed against her. When they pulled back for air, Jasmine couldn't quite help the smirk that graced her lips, and her mind flicked back to something she had read about how high-stress situations often left someone with certain feelings as an after-effect of the fight or flight response. That didn't stop her from taking advantage of her girlfriend's suddenly amorous mood by drawing her close by the small of her back.

"Remind me to buy a few more, then," she said softly.

"God I've missed you." Indeed, Jasmine too had felt the separation in the two, nearly three weeks, regardless of how busy she had been.

"Well," the ravenette began, before stopping as she noticed the bird furiously tapping on a closed window. Grimacing, she extricated from their embrace and moved over to let it in. "I think we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon." As soon as the bird was released it headed straight for Hermione, depositing a letter with a wax seal in her hands. "I need to call Ted."

##############################################################################

"I'll admit, I was surprised to receive your missive; I can't say I have had any contact with this office before. I have a very busy schedule, but I made time regardless," the ravenette chose her words carefully, bringing the tea cup to her lips slowly.

"It's appreciated," her companion said with a simpering smile, "I wished to talk about, well, I couldn't help but hear about this business involving a… Miss Granger, wasn't it? A close friend of yours."

"That is correct," she replied simply, fingers tightening to whiten her skin around the cup.

"I was speaking with the Minister on the subject yesterday. The Ministry must of course be harsh on those offenders who endanger the Statute of Secrecy, especially since as a muggleborn… she poses a significant threat given the time she will spend associating with the muggles," he leaned back, sipping his own tea, "of course, I'm sure it's really just a misunderstanding and perhaps it could be dealt with more simply. Perhaps, were-."

"If I were to publicly retract my opinions on Voldemort and lend political support to your dear friend the Minister, yes, yes, I'm sure it could all be swept under the carpet," Jasmine interrupted in a derisive tone of voice as she set down her cup, the liquid within untouched. "Don't try to play games with me. Just because I look young doesn't mean I am a moron, and the same cannot be said for you."

"Now-I, see here," the man spluttered in a surprised manner as the meeting clearly went awry from how he had planned it.

"No, you shut up and listen because I do not have the patience to deal with pandering little lickspittles all day. I am a very busy woman, and this meeting is taking enough of my time as is - let alone dealing with this circus Fudge is cooking up," she all but growled, emerald eyes flashing as she allowed her anger to show, "and because I know you will be reporting to him after this meeting, I want you to listen to my words very, very carefully and repeat them back to him verbatim – if that is within your meagre brain capacity. I was prepared to let him go, to let him be shuffled off to the side with no hard feelings; his only crime was being incompetent, and I could hardly hold that against him, especially since it was so easily dealt with by putting Amelia into place. Frankly, on the larger scale of things, he's small fry and not worth my time. But no, he couldn't go down quietly, with some shred of dignity, he just had to come after me by trying to get to someone close to me in the most unsubtle and stupid manner possible." She held up a hand as he made to object, "don't talk, I can feel my brain cells committing suicide every time you open your mouth. No, you go back to Fudge with your tail between your legs and you tell him that today he has made an enemy, you tell him that he can take any idea of negotiating with me and shove it up his fat arse, and you tell him that the next time he wants to insult my intelligence like this he can damn well do it to my face so I can inform him in person what an incompetent moron he is!" She was well aware that she was stoking more wood on the fire, but frankly she didn't care; she was tired, frustrated, and angry, and this blatant attempt at blackmailing her - in so amateurish a fashion, to the person who ran a bloody crime syndicate in her spare time - was the final straw. With a few short breaths to calm herself slightly, the ravenette stood, closing up her now-habitually worn coat.

"Will that be all, Miss Potter?" the man inquired with a tiny, fake smile that seemed more like a grimace as his attempt at composure.

"Yes, you go run along back to your master, now," she replied bitingly, "and you tell him that I am coming for him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow - I am a busy woman, and he remains a minor annoyance - but he has successfully gained my attention, and I will be coming."

##############################################################################

"Even with emergency powers, there's nothing you can do to call this farce off?" Jasmine enquired in exasperation as she and Amelia sat in her office, just over two hours before the trial was due to begin.

"You know I can't. The only powers I have would be to suspend Miss Granger's rights and give her a stint in custody until the state of war is declared over; I can't make any executive decisions not related to fighting," the grey-haired woman stated in exasperation. "Fudge holds the cards here, he's tying any attempt to stop this up in legal fictions and jumbled laws that are worded badly enough to let this continue. The only thing I could wrangle is she must have the right to defend herself and her actions before a suitable body; though of course that lead to Fudge pulling the entire bloody Wizengamot out in force in a full courtroom setting." For a moment, Jasmine briefly pondered killing the man off, but reconsidered as she thought of all the potential interim replacements and the trouble they could cause - no new Minister could be elected until after the war was over, anyway. Better the devil you know, and all that.

Jasmine was about to respond when the door was slammed open to omit a red-faced, sweaty man that heaving as he panted - with two wands swiftly pointed at him signifying the witches' reaction times.

"Graves? What's wrong?" Amelia demanded in an authoritative tone.

"Trial...now..." the man gasped between heaving breaths, "they brought it forward, ma'am."

"They've already started?" the ravenette asked incredulously, already halfway out of her chair.

"Going in now," 'Graves' answered.

Neither witch responded as they took off at a run.

##############################################################################

Fudge visibly glared at the pair of them as they entered a decidedly underfilled Wizengamot chamber - barely two thirds of those who should have been present were, and those excluded were mainly from the Light sect that Jasmine could pull allies from.

"Madame Bones, Miss Potter, so nice of you to turn up," the large man said acidly with a fake smile.

"We would have been here on time if any notification as to a change in time had been sent out; clearly we're not the only ones missing," Amelia said loudly, gesturing a hand around the hall.

"The notifications were sent out in good time to all those who should be present," the man waved off. "Anyway, we were just about to declare sentencing for the defendant as she clearly cannot be bothered to turn up, and this is an open-and-shut case."

"We were absolutely not," Amos Diggory stated loudly from his lower position, "sentencing the accused without so much of a chance for a defence to be read or charges even levied? I've never heard of something so outrageous. The change of time for this trial was on short notice, Cornelius, as is clearly evidenced by the lack of other people even present!"

"No Wizengamot member is required to be present at any meeting or event, they are merely invited to attend," the pompous man declared.

"However," shouted a new voice from the chamber floor, "a trial cannot commence without a defendant, or their legal representation if they are not representing themselves." Jasmine allowed her stance to relax a little as Edward Tonks marched in, followed by a fiercely scowling Hermione. "But then again, this is hardly a standard hearing for underaged sorcery. I've never - in all my years in law - so much as heard of an event such as this. Since when was an entire Wizengamot trial - normally suitable for serious criminals where sentences to Azkaban are on the table as a minimum – required for a simple matter of underage sorcery normally handled internally within the DMLE?"

"It was deemed necessary," Fudge brushed off the opening speech.

"Oh, I'm sure it was 'deemed necessary' as soon as the immediate attempt to expel her from Hogwarts and snap her wand without due process failed," Ted continued derisively, "but who am I - a mere expert in law - to question our government's inner workings."

"Enough! I will have you removed from this chamber for contempt!" Fudge all but growled angrily.

"Well, I'll have to skip the opening address then, and declare myself Edward Tonks, representative legal counsel for the defendant, Hermione Granger."

"Your presence is noted," Percival Weasley stated from his position on the floor of the chamber, where he was acting as scribe. "Present also; Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Dolores Umbridge, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, Interrogators, presiding Chief Warlock Amos Diggory, Court Scribe Percival Weasley, and assorted Wizengamot members."

"Yes, yes, thank-you Weatherby, the trial can now begin," Fudge waved off the teen, wringing yet another scowl from Amos as the man did what was not his job, "charges are thus; two counts of underage sorcery, two counts of performing magic in front of muggles and in a muggle area, both in defiance of a previous warning issued five years ago which appropriately notified the defendant of the consequences of her actions." He glared down at the bushy-haired girl, who stared back up quite defiantly. "Do you acknowledge these charges, and the fact they are in violation of Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also Section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy?"

"Acknowledge, Minister?" Ted stepped in before the Gryffindor could answer, "if you mean to ask for her plea, it is entered as Not Guilty. I'd appreciate you not trying to trap my client in confusing questions to wrangle a false confession." Ted really lived up to his reputation in the courtroom; as a muggleborn in a pureblood's world, he had to.

And some people wondered why a Black would ever marry the man.

"The accused's plea is noted," Fudge replied with a scowl. "Miss Granger, on the night of the second of August this year you, knowingly and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions, produced a locking charm and a patronus charm in the presence of two muggles, as shows the evidence from your wand's Trace. Do you deny these actions?"

"Well, no, but-," Hermione was immediately cut off by the odious man once again.

"Are you aware that you are forbidden to use magic outside of school before the age of your majority?"

"Of course, but-."

"Members of the Wizengamot," Fudge leaned back, spreading his arms wide, "there can be no doubt herein as to the guilt-."

"Minister Fudge!" the angry shout from the floor below cut the man off this time instead, as Ted's face began to redden, "you will stop interrupting my client during her statement and allow her to explain her actions! That you intend to proceed directly to sentencing without listening to the case for the defence at all is preposterous."

"I must agree, Cornelius," Amelia spoke up from her position, "the defence must be mounted before any final statements, let alone an actual vote."

"There is no need for any further questioning as her guilt is assured," the man replied in a condescending manner, "she has confessed to her actions, and that is all that is needed. There is no possible reason-."

"I did it because of the Dementors!" proclaimed the previously silently fuming Gryffindor, who was clearly not pleased at being treated in such a fashion. This statement of course prompted a murmuring from the assembled members, mainly of disbelief.

"Yes, I was expecting something like this from the clever Miss Granger," the Minister said over the top of his glasses, sneering down, "muggles can't see Dementors, can they? Highly convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"Don't you dare accuse me of lying," the young lion fumed, "there were two of them, and if I hadn't-."

"I'm sorry to interrupt what is probably a very-well prepared story, if your grades are anything to go by," the man interrupted once again, taking advantage of the sonorous charm over his seat to overpower her voice. "But since the accused can present no evidence or witnesses to the event-."

"Sorry to rain on your parade, Minister," Tonks shouted, just managing to interrupt the man, "but actually we can. The defence calls Jasmine Potter, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Order of Merlin, Second Class." At that, the murmurings started once again, louder than before as Jasmine moved from her place to walk down to the courtroom floor.

"We have no record of Miss Potter being present at the event," Fudge spluttered, paling slightly.

"That is because, while I may be under seventeen, I am a legal adult and my wand no longer carries the Trace," the ravenette answered as she descended, "which, I might add, was the only method of investigation the Ministry saw fit to use, as at no time in the eight days since the event has the Granger household been entered by any Ministry personnel to gather evidence."

As the teen alighted upon the floor, she sent a slight mix of a grimace and a smile to Hermione, even as she took her place on the chained chair – which did not activate the manacles, thankfully – and crossed her legs nonchalantly, the very air of cool grace even as her anger boiled inside. Try to wrap up her girl under false pretences in a clear bid to rattle Jasmine herself? As soon as the opportune time came, she was going roast fudge alive, boil him down and sell him in little brown squares in Knockturn Alley as his name suggested.

"If you would, Miss Potter," Amelia spoke up - a slight tinge of red still colouring her face over the way this 'trial' was going - before Fudge could say anything, "could you please describe your account of the night in question?" Finally, a question actually suited to a proper trial.

"On the night of the second of August, I was preparing for bed when I received communication of danger from the defendant," the ravenette began in a calm and official manner.

"What kind of communication?" Fudge cut in.

"A private and discreet method not relevant to the subject of this hearing," Jasmine bit back and quickly continued before he could press questions, "I apparated into the Granger household to find the defendant and her parents in the cellar, the former of whom was holding a patroni otter near the doorway which had visibly frozen over, and there was the recognisable feeling in the air of Dementor exposure."

"I would like it noted to the court at this stage that my client's parents are the muggles in question, in regard to violations of the Statute of Secrecy," Ted spoke up from his place off to the side, "as such, they are both fully legally entitled to knowledge of magic, and thus any magical effect, item or discussion in front of them is not in violation of the Statute of Secrecy, as per sub-section B, paragraph twelve. Therefore, any charges related to violation of said statute should be struck from the record."

"The court agrees, Mister Weasley, could you please strike those charges," Madame Bones announced down to the furiously scribbling scribe.

"The court does not agree!" Fudge stated, pumping himself up pompously.

"Minister," the woman replied in an icy voice, "the law is quite clear, as Mister Tonks has pointed out; no violation of the Statute of Secrecy occurred."

"Laws can be changed!" he angrily said in response, likely without thinking.

"Clearly, or else we wouldn't be holding a full Wizengamot trial for a matter of underage sorcery!" The stare off between the two lasted for several moments of intense glaring, but eventually Fudge quailed under the glower from a monocled eye. "Miss Potter, if you would please continue."

"Gladly, Madame Bones," the ravenette replied, "after very brief discussion, I summoned a nearby coil of hose and turned it into a portkey to a secure location."

"Hem-hem," for the first time, the second female interrogator spoke up in an oddly childish voice for her overweight, middle-aged frame, "portkey transportation is strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic, and only approved and certified persons are legally allowed to create portkeys."

"Yes," Jasmine stated smoothly, "however I think you'll find I gained the appropriate certification ten months ago, and I am entitled to use them for any matters I deem necessary to my business as Head of an Ancient and Noble House." She gave a small fake smile. "And the portkey itself was retroactively registered within the twenty-four-hour time limit with the Department of Magical Transportation, if you care to check."

"In what possible way is this House business?" the toad-like woman asked in that same simpering tone.

"The Newblood House of Granger is entering into negotiations to become a future cadet to the House of Potter," the ravenette replied, noting out of the corner of her eye how Hermione blinked twice, and then stared at her girlfriend, but managed to not otherwise react. Good. "I feel it would be bad business to allow members of a House I may soon be responsible for to have their souls forcibly removed, so I used a portkey to remove them from the situation."

"Hang on, if you portkeyed away, then you never saw the Dementors!" Fudge interjected triumphantly, "therefore you have no use as a witness to the event."

"On the contrary, Minister, I only sent away the defendant's parents, since they had no way of defending against Dementors, and I did see them moments later. However, if you keep interrupting me then I fear we shall never reach that part," Jasmine's sardonic rebuttal caused the man's victorious expression to be replaced once more with rage.

"Please, continue then, Miss Potter," Amelia got in before he could explode.

"Once her parents were removed from the situation, I sent an unlocking charm at the door and conjured my own patronus. As the defendant previously said, there were two Dementors, and they immediately attempted to get into the room and attack us, but were battered back by our combined patroni We pushed them back through the house and out of the open windows they had come through in the first place," the ravenette leaned back in the solid and unyielding chair. "We then secured the house and apparated to the same safe location I sent her parents to."

"This is-there's no way there were any Dementors in London!" Fudge spluttered.

"Quite!" the toad from his side added, "why, it almost sounds as if you're accusing someone from the Ministry of sending Dementors to attack Miss Granger personally, which is quite impossible." That girlish voice was really starting to grate on Jasmine's nerves.

"Not at all, I would never accuse the Ministry of anything but staunch professionalism," her sarcasm bit through the cold air "perhaps some were outside of Ministry control - and if so, I'm certain a full investigation shall proceed to determine how and why two highly dangerous beings were loose in the nation's capital."

"No Dementors are outside Ministry control," the fat witch immediately answered.

"Strange, I seem to remember those guarding Hogwarts swarming the Quidditch Pitch during a match in my third year there, and later that year being attacked by a swarm myself," the Ravenclaw gave a shark-like grin, "were the Dementors under full Ministry control when that happened?" Umbridge's expression soured, making her look like even more of an amphibian if anything. "And I assure you, there's no lack of witnesses to those events - most of the entire school was present to the first."

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Ted stated, bringing everything back round to relevancy before more personal points were slung, "we have heard a full witness statement from a fine and upstanding member of society - one my client would happily corroborate if so needed - a statement that quite obviously clears my client of all charges."

"The accused committed a clear violation of underage sorcery-," Fudge began.

"My client defended herself, Minister," Ted declared loudly, "which is allowed as per Clause seven of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which states that under extraordinary circumstances, which includes threats to the witch or wizard's life or body, that magic may be used while under the age of majority in a self-protective manner."

"But there was no threat! There were no Dementors!" Fudge angrily replied.

"Are you accusing the defendant and myself of perjury, Minister?" Jasmine stated in a level, but dangerous voice. "If so, I would note that as a most slanderous thing to say; accusing the Head of an Ancient and Noble House of dishonesty?" She stood, staring the suddenly paling man down from his elevated position. He didn't say anything in reply. "I thought not. Surely this is all the debate that is needed? Not that any was required in the first place for a farce of a trial like this," she scoffed, "Sirius Black was accused of multiple murders and was treated better than this." Albeit, that was a Veritaserum testimonial sprung upon an unsuspecting Wizengamot rather than this kind of trial where such expensive potions were not justified. Not to mention he was a pureblood head of an ancient and noble house, which also altered things.

"Miss Potter has a point," Amos declared from his mainly silent position from which he was unable to do much, "I do not believe there is any further value in discourse - we have heard two corroborating witness statements; whether they are enough is up to popular vote. All those in favour of conviction, please light your wands."

A scowling pair of Fudge and Umbridge raised their wands, along with a smattering of their supporters and some of the hardcore dark sect - which in the deliberately underfilled room with few of Jasmine's allies, actually accounted for a fair few.

But thankfully, not enough.

"And those for clearing the accused of all charges," Diggory said with a slight smile, raising her own wand along with the majority of the audience - including the ravenette on the courtroom floor. "The defendant is hereby cleared of all charges."

##############################################################################

"That was totally ridiculous," Hermione said derisively as the pair stood upstairs in Grimmauld place, having left the adults chatting below about the verdict, "is that really the kind of Court System the Magical world has?"

"Twisted and corrupted further than even normal, but yes," the ravenette admitted, "normally, Fudge shouldn't have been able to push things around anywhere near as much as he did - he ignored a hell of a lot of procedure just by making himself interrogator, and overstepping that authority as well, which he is certainly not qualified for, as you saw."

"All he cared about was railroading me into a conviction, regardless of what was actually right or even evidenced true!"

"If it's any comfort, that court transcript will never hold up against any professionals - I've got a secret copy of it made right before the dunce sealed the records," Jasmine said in a soothing tone, "when the time comes for Fudge to be ousted - and he's already on the way there, trust me, more than a few Wizengamot members there today approached me afterwards about their problems with the trial and disillusionment with the current state of affairs."

"Why don't you do it now? He's clearly perverting the course of justice," the bushy-haired girl protested.

"If Fudge were forced out tomorrow, his office of officials will take over command amongst themselves in the interim until an election can occur, and we can't have an election while a state of war is declared, even if it doesn't feel like a war yet and they're constantly trying to overturn it," the other teen explained, "and any of his administrators will have the same views or may be even worse - look at that Umbridge woman, she's one of his senior advisors. We'd either end up with a half-democratic arguing mess from the top floor, or else someone authoritative like her seizing command."

"So better the Devil you know?"

"Until he really screws things up, yes."

"Damn," the brunette leant back against the dark green wall, mulling the facts of their unfair legal systems over in her mind, "also, don't think I've forgotten that you did commit perjury, despite your protestation of innocence."

"Oh, how so?" the teen replied innocently with a raised eyebrow.

"Entering in negotiations?" her girlfriend said flatly, arms crossing over.

"Well, maybe slightly pre-emptive as I hadn't brought my plans up with you yet, but I already have some paperwork written up, it's just waiting for actual negotiation over it."

"And why would I be signing control of my family over to yours?" it was difficult to read Hermione's face; confusion mixed with… hurt, perhaps?

"Nothing so onerous, I assure you," the ravenette replied with a reassuring smile, "the kind of deal can vary depending on situation, and this one leans more along the idea of assuming public responsibility for you, which, yes, does include political ownership if you were suddenly to ascend to the Wizengamot by some miracle event, but mainly just runs along the idea of protection from a variety of things."

"What do you mean?" she inquired with that same inscrutable expression.

"Well, for one thing in situations like earlier today where I got Ted to stand as your defence, but also in other public things. If anyone wanted to take issue with you, they'd have to go through me first, and any attack on you would be considered an attack on the House of Potter, and I could quite legitimately demand compensation or call a blood feud over certain things," Jasmine explained, "for one thing, it'll make a lot of the bigots back in school think twice before lashing out again, and the same goes for muckrakers in the Daily Prophet."

"But they've been calling you out all summer anyway."

"Not exactly; they've been forced to be subtle and allude to things, not outright state them – they've been putting a lot of the blame for things on Dumbledore rather than myself, since he's not rich or the Head of an Ancient and Noble House, and is even more unpopular than me with the Ministry right now."

"What, just like that, political and… financial status means everything?" The Gryffindor's frown grew even more pronounced.

"Welcome to the Wizarding world, love," she drew closer to the subdued young woman, "in all its bare, bigoted truth."

##############################################################################

"Madame Bones, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," the ravenette started as she settled into the other chair in her office for what felt like the thousandth time that summer.

"Oh?" the grey-haired woman in question looked up from the sheaf of reports in hand, "the fact you're even bothering to cushion the blow is not a good indicator."

"Yes. I'm guessing you had planned to spend this Friday with your niece?" The elder witch immediately frowned and sat up straight at the idea of anything involving her kin.

"Yes; I specifically avoided getting any appointments on that day, it's the last chance I'll have before she leaves for Hogwarts the next day," she replied slowly.

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not the only one capable of noticing you refusing to meet during that spot in your calendar and deducing what it means," Jasmine leaned forward, playing up a grim expression, "Voldemort intends to personally finish the job he started when he wiped out half of the Bones family."

"Bloody hell," Bones exclaimed, throwing down the papers and rubbing at the bridge of her nose, "how did you even discover this?"

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies." A withering glare was her only response. "Incidentally, and on an entirely unrelated topic, you'd be surprised how many of Voldemort's followers seem to be growing a little disillusioned with certain outlooks on life."

"You have a mole in their ranks," it wasn't stated as a question, but admittedly with a hint of incredulity with widened eyes. After all, she probably knew exactly how hard - and unsuccessfully - the department tried to place a high-ranked spy the last time around.

"Madame Bones, I think you'll understand that I cannot say anything of use to you on that topic." At that, she nodded knowingly; any competent spy would demand oaths of secrecy or the like to protect themselves. It wasn't like she could guess that Malfoy wouldn't have her under those, due to her position as a criminal, and she was just covering her own arse by not saying any more. "The real question to be asked is how we're going to deal with this."

"Oh, bloody buggering hell," the woman growled out as realisation hit her, prompting some rare vulgarity from the normally composed lady.

"If we make any sudden moves, he knows he has a spy in his ranks, ferrets them out, kills them, and we lose access to all future information," the ravenette stated calmly. "If I may make a suggestion. Behave as normal and as if nothing has changed. On Friday around, say, lunchtime send out some messages to a few of your top aurors, maybe a hit wizard or two, apologising for the short notice, but their previous invitations to that night's event had got lost and were never sent out. Invite them to a dinner and celebration of the official signing and implementation of the James and Lily Potter foundations – as I proposed to you earlier this Summer. That will give us a good excuse for my own presence, and several aurors capable of holding their own, and should be late enough that the information won't have a chance to filter back to him in time."

"What about Susan?"

"You could discreetly send her to the Abbots, if you would prefer - no bodyguards, though, that would kill any idea of secrecy," the ravenette proposed, "however, I would recommend having her attend. It will seem far less suspiciously convenient afterwards in an event that will already be scrutinised, as few would believe that you would put your niece – of whom you are well-known to be protective of –anywhere near danger."

"That's because I wouldn't!" the stern face of Amelia Bones was alight, "and that most definitely includes placing her directly in the path of a Dark Lord intent on killing her!"

"Don't worry about the Dark Lord, I can deal with him," Jasmine replied firmly, "just make sure we have enough men to deal with maybe half-a-dozen Death Eaters. Oh, and a photographer, of course."

"Your confidence is inspiring," the elder woman replied drily, "but you cannot honestly expect-."

"Amelia," the teen interjected with a raised hand, "I have a secret weapon that I know will force him to remain occupied with me one-on-one. Not to mention, I've faced him before and come out on top, that's how I got this, remember?" She waved her hand with its recently acquired jewellery about. "And this time, I won't be exhausted half to death or caught by surprise."

##############################################################################

Jasmine was in the middle of a deep conversation about the merits of explosive curses versus bone breakers with Gawain Robards - a grizzled Welsh auror who cleaned up surprisingly well in his smart dress robes - when all conversation ceased suddenly as each person present felt a shiver of magic.

"Those were anti-transport wards," her conversation partner declared, met with multiple hums of agreement from the others seated at the dining table as polite dinner conversationalists immediately turned into experienced veterans looking to the multiple exits to the room and palming suddenly drawn wands.

"Standard apparition and portkey," a woman Jasmine recalled was named Flint, "Jones, any luck?"

"Nope, Floor's out too," replied the blonde by the fireplace.

"Voldemort," Amelia hissed in a well-acted manner as she stood by the curtains that she had subtly drawn back slightly to witness flashes out in the dark night as the wards were brought down, "Robards, take Susan and head to the cellar. Floppy will show you the way." The house-elf that had been serving them eagerly nodded at the authoritative commands, abandoning his little platter of condiments.

"But ma'am," the Welshman protested.

"Now, Gawain!" she barked in reply, twisting her head from where it had been looking out of the window. In the time she turned away, though, she missed the bolt of light heading their way that the young seeker's keen eyes had not.

"Tortelotum!" Jasmine exclaimed, a shimmering blue shield springing to life just beyond their host. The spell was just in time to prevent the purple explosion that would have caused some significant damage to them, however it did not protect the building as the centuries-old structure was ripped apart by the blast. The ravenette had to wince as her tessellated shield was battered, but still held.

"Well, at least one person here has her eye on the ball," Amelia stated as if she had not just stood mere inches from a huge explosion. "Gawain, go. The rest of you, defensive positions and prepare for assault."

"Yes, ma'am," the man relented, moving to leave before he noticed the other young witch present who was dropping her shield, "Miss Potter?"

"Oh, hell no, I'm not sitting this out," the ravenette replied while kicking off the pale heels that had clad her feet. As soon as she was a bit more manoeuvrable she dashed past the gathered soldiers to leap over what stubby remains there were of the wall, and onto the grass beyond, an orange blasting curse of her own whipped from her wand as she went. From across the well-kept lawn, the spell was easily batted away by a pale, scowling figure with his bare hand. "Good evening Tom," she yelled across the space, making sure to keep a calm mask in place. Her hand gripped her wand so tightly that her skin was bare-knuckled white, mentally daring the appendage to give so much as a twitch at this important moment. "So nice of you to join us; we were just talking about you, as it happens."

"Avada Kedavra," her goading words had the exact effect she had intended, and the ravenette let loose a malevolent smile as she met the green unforgivable with a tombstone-grey bone breaker.

Phoenix song filled the air.

##############################################################################

Jasmine couldn't help but find herself in a good mood, despite the prospect of spending the next few hours until sunset confined to a train cabin as she headed back to a school of bratty children who would doubtless be irritating. The copy of the Gazette clasped in her hands was just such a wonderful sight; 'POTTER DUELS DARK LORD' read the title, and the article went on to praise her for continuing her parents' legacy - who of course gained renown for standing up to the man on three separate occasions - a feat few ever managed. However, it was the photo that really did it for her.

The great golden beam of light clashed between the wands of a bald, pale, and serpentine figure dressed in black, anger suffusing his visage, and a shorter one with long dark hair that fluttered into the wind juxtaposing against her white dress - which she had chosen in hope of a shot like this - her face just visible as it took a determined cast, the photo shot from behind and just enough to the side. Spells were exchanged by masked Death Eaters in the background battling unseen enemies, but the two titans in the foreground were the main focus in their relentless battle for dominance.

It really couldn't have gone better.

Well, the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself all escaped with only some injuries taken by his lackeys - the Dark Lord had decided to cut his losses once he realised he was caught in a personal stalemate with her, while his companions were outgunned by the professionals present - and there had likewise been some injuries on their side, not to mention the property damage to the manor. It was all worth it, though, for that one photo. This paper would be distributed across Britain, and the people would see - not only proof of Voldemort's return, but also that they had a saviour ready to step up to the fore; enter Jasmine Potter, stage left.

"There you are," a dark brunette pulled open the outer door and stepped into the cabin.

"Good morning, Nadia, how have you been of late?" the ravenette replied nonchalantly.

"Not as well as you've been," the other teen replied, gesturing pointedly at the paper in Jasmine's hand, "everybody's talking about you up and down the platform."

"When are they not?"

"Well, for once I'd say it's pretty justified; it's not every day you fight a Dark Lord, after all," the Gryffindor sat down on the opposite bench with a wide grin.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how often it seems to happen to me," Jasmine responded with a smile of her own. Yes, it felt good to be on top of things once again.

She should have known it wouldn't last.

##############################################################################

How could she not have seen this coming?

That was the thought constantly running through her head. She'd pushed him onto the back foot, of course he was going to lash out to prove he was still to be feared, especially after the previous night, and of course he was going to try to swell his ranks, since she had thinned them, and she should have seen all this bloody coming!

"Gods damn it!" she growled, throwing down the paper as she angrily stormed from the hall, her hand darting to move her scarf into position for heading outside. She needed to get to the Ministry.

'ASSAULT ON AZKABAN' the abandoned periodical announced.

A/N: Well, that took a while (though about 75% was written in the last two weeks) but I think it might be the largest chapter so far, so there's that. I might actually be getting back into the swing of things. Also, I'd forgotten quite how ridiculous a 'trial' Harry received in canon (I haven't actually read the books in a long time, so I flipped through the set I got for Christmas for this chapter).

Now, before signing off, I'd like to say something to those reading this (I really can't believe how many of you there are these days). I appreciate reviews a lot, really, I do – they can be massively uplifting, and are basically the only reason this ever went beyond the four or five original chapters – and I read each and every one, and often respond to both those and PM's with any questions.

However, I must reiterate one thing from my profile, and make a plea for another: firstly, if you ask a question in a guest review, I cannot respond to it – the site literally will not let me, that's the entire point of anonymous reviews – and I'd like to break my habit of extra-long A/N's to answer them here (no, the irony of what I'm writing right now is not lost on me), so please log in if you want a response to something; secondly, it's very nice to receive praise and such, but a quote I'm fond of is: 'The cruellest thing you can do to an artist is tell them their work is perfect when it isn't,' and it's something of a double-edged sword since I know it most definitely applies to myself. This story is not perfect, not by an absolutely huge long shot, as I've said to multiple reviewers. I first started writing this more than two years ago (god it's been a long time…), and that means not only have I changed as I write, but things have gotten lost or forgotten along the way, and the plot has changed with that. This story has plot holes – both large and small – unfired Chekhov's guns, pacing issues and probably a whole host of other things. Argh, I've been checking this draft for two hours and it's getting late and I'm waffling. My point is, praise is lovely, but it doesn't help me grow or improve as a writer. Or, well, it can if specifics are brought in, but my main concentration is a wish to correct my flaws. So please, give me some criticism! Point out my flaws and mistakes, bring up errors large and small or else I'll never notice, and never improve and they'll never go away.

Anyway, overlong A/N over. I'll see what I can do about getting another chapter out soon(ish). Now I need to sleep.