I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the binder lying before her like it was a venomous snake poised to strike. The idea of looking through it made her want to vomit. She wanted nothing to do with the ruddy thing. However, she really couldn't keep avoiding it and the longer she stalled, the longer it would be before her mother allowed her to go out on the field where she belonged. With a begrudging huff, she pulled the binder into her lap and opened it.

A snow white ball gown with a princess neckline and full skirt greeted her. She wrinkled her nose and turned the page. Another white gown with a slightly less full skirt and long lace sleeves. She flipped the page. This one had an empire waist and a-line skirt with a long train. Connie continued flipping through the pages, not giving much time any one of them. White. Cream. Ivory. Silk and Satin. Lace and pearls. The dresses were lovely, but none of them felt right. Each one was an insulting reminder of her station in life. Despite the fact that her mother had trained her up to be a leader, society believed that such things were beyond women. They were too emotional and flighty to hold such powerful positions. It was better for them to marry and step back to let a man do the job for them. Not right now, obviously, but once she reached an appropriate age it was expected that she would already be matched with someone 'appropriate'. That was the normal way of things. One would think that having a queen regnant at the helm of the country for so long would have stamped out such attitudes, but it unfortunately hadn't. It was possible for a woman to lead, but she would always be questioned. Always watched for any sign of weakness. Always seen as the second best option.

She got a quarter of the way through the binder before she couldn't take it anymore. Growling in frustration, Constance slammed it shut and heaved it across the room in a fury. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor, the pages crumpling under its weight. She grabbed a pillow and forced her face into it to muffle an angry scream.

"Are you alright?"

Constance froze and lowered the pillow to find Luna standing in the doorway studying her with concern. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Ylenia is working on lessons with Professor Lupin right now, and Mihnea is talking to his mum about a letter he got from Professor Snape." The blonde girl replied. "I was going to see what you were doing, but I can go back to my room if you'd rather be left alone."

Connie immediately felt bad. Luna was a guest, and it wasn't right for her to sit in her room alone all day. Besides, some company might make help her take her mind off things. She tossed the pillow to the side and pushed her hair back out of her face. "No… it's alright. You can stay if you like."

Luna nodded and stepped inside the room, glancing around absentmindedly. She sat down on the sofa next to the bed and turned her attention back to her. "You look like you might have an infestation of murgglots."

Constance stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"Murgglots." She repeated. "They're tiny creatures that feed on bad emotions. They get into your stomach and make you feel sick. They can be very difficult to get rid of if you have too many in your system."

Oh. She thought. One of the weird creatures she believed in. She sighed and shook her head. "I'm pretty sure I'm not infested with murgglots, Luna. I'm just… frustrated."

"About what?"

Constance thought for a moment that she probably shouldn't say anything. But she'd been holding on to things for so long that she needed an outlet. Her family was sympathetic to her feelings of course, but it wasn't the same as talking to someone her own age. And Luna, regardless of how most perceived her, was incredibly loyal, trustworthy, and knew how to keep things to herself. She wouldn't have been allowed to visit otherwise. So she took a deep breath to steel her resolve, then let it all come out. Her upcoming Debutante and how she felt about it. Her frustration and anger at what it all meant. Her concerns for the future. Luna sat there on the sofa with her hands in her lap, quietly listening to every word.

"Oh, I see." She said when Constance finally finished pouring everything out. She pursed her lips in thought. "It sounds like you're talking about a Showing."

"A… Showing?" Connie repeated.

"Yes." Luna said, bobbing her head. "It's a very old custom that isn't done much anymore. Only the old pureblood families have them these days. It sounds similar to what you're describing. When a girl in a pureblood family reaches a certain age, her family arranges a formal party to celebrate, and they invite all the other pureblood families they know to attend. It's supposed to be a coming of age event, but the parents usually take the opportunity to set up marriage contracts for their children. It sounds like yours doesn't allow that though, so that's a good thing."

Constance blinked in surprise. It did sound remarkably similar. Perhaps the two traditions originated in the same place, then gradually changed over time after the magical world isolated itself from the muggle one.

"Making marriage deals isn't officially allowed, but it still happens under the table. My family would never do that to me, but that doesn't mean other people won't try." She told her, then shook her head. "I had no idea wizards did things like this."

Luna shrugged. "As I said, it's only the old families who care about keeping their bloodlines pure who do them anymore. I've never thought about muggles doing the same, but I suppose it makes sense. People in powerful positions tend to try to keep that power to themselves." She looked thoughtful for a moment and glanced over at the binder still lying on the floor. "Does that have something to do with this?"

She looked over at the binder herself and sighed deeply. "Unfortunately." She admitted. "I have to find a dress to wear. The dressmaker sent that home with me to look through, but I can't find anything I like."

The blonde girl tapped her lips with a finger. "Do you mind if I look?"

Connie didn't see the harm in that. "Be my guest."

With a nod, Luna pushed herself up from the sofa and went over to retrieve the binder. She brought it back with her and sat down to open it up on her lap. Constance watched as she silently flipped through the pages, humming to herself.

"There are some beautiful dresses in here." Luna commented. "You don't like any of them?"

"They all look like wedding dresses." Constance replied with a sniff. "I refuse to wear anything that makes it look like I'm being married off."

"Hmm. But anything in this book is allowed?"

She nodded. "The tailor did say that they could design a dress from scratch for me if there wasn't a specific one I liked, but I'm limited to the colors and styles in there."

"I see." The girl said absentmindedly. She continued to look through the pages until she reached a section toward the back of the binder. There, she paused and examined each one more closely. She flipped back and forth between a few, then stood up with the binder in her arms and came over to sit next to Connie on the bed. "What about something like this?"

Constance looked at the page, not expecting to see anything useful. The dress Luna presented to her was quite different from the ones in the front. It was white, naturally, but had a wide, off the shoulder neckline that was quite graceful looking, and a bodice fitted down through the hips before ending in a mermaid style skirt. Connie had never considered a mermaid fit before because they usually looked obnoxious in her opinion, but the flare of this one was subtle enough to be elegant and refined. It was a better option than anything she'd seen in her own searches (which, admittedly, hadn't gone so far into the book), but the color still put her off.

"I don't know." She said slowly. "The style isn't bad, but I still don't like the white…"

"It doesn't have to be white." Luna informed her. "The back has fabric swatches in other colors." She flipped to the section she was talking about and pointed a few out. "See here? This taupe color is nice, and this shade here is almost purple. No one would look at a dress in these colors and think it was for a wedding."

The idea gave her pause and for once, she took the time to actually study the fabrics on the page with a more considering eye. She was right. The shades she pointed out were surprisingly dark considering that Connie had been told she could choose from white, ivory, or cream. But if it was represented in the binder, then it fell within protocol and would be allowed. A bit unorthodox, perhaps, but still within her set boundaries. Why had she not bothered to look further into the binder before? She ran her fingers along the fabric swatches thoughtfully, then turned back to page showing the dress. It was made of a heavy satin, which was too shiny and stiff for her tastes, and had very little decoration to speak of.

"Maybe…if this was made of a different type of fabric." Constance said. "And it needs a little something extra. It's much too plain."

Luna nodded in agreement. "I think some lace would be nice." She commented. "If it was a slightly different color from the base layer, it would stand out and show the design more. And I think you would look pretty in something more flowy. Surely they could modify it to have more layers of a lighter fabric?"

Connie's eyes lit up, liking the idea. "Hold on. Let me get some paper. I need to write all of this down." She jumped up from the bed and rushed over to the desk across the room to grab some paper and a pen to take notes. "Damn, I wish I could draw. It would be easier to explain what I want if I could show them a picture…"

"I can draw." Luna offered with a smile. "It won't be as good as a designer's would be, but I'm sure I could get the point across."

Of course she could draw. Luna had a talent for all sorts of creative endeavors. "Do you mind?" Constance asked hopefully. "Anything you can come up with would be better than what I could do."

"Of course I don't mind!" She exclaimed with a laugh, and then they put their heads together and began making out a list.

Syn idly swiveled her desk chair back and forth as she read through the letter Mihnea received from Professor Snape that morning. Her eyes narrowed in consideration. "Thursday?" She looked up. "He doesn't mind springing things on you at the last minute, does he?"

Mihnea propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and shrugged. "He did say he wanted me to work with him a bit during the summer." He offered, then nodded toward the paper in her hand. "That sounds like it's just to pick up supplies and finish whatever registration I need to do. I probably should go ahead and get it over with. Luna said she wouldn't be offended if I had to leave for a day."

His mother tapped her lips with a finger and dropped the letter onto her desk. "That's up to you, sweetheart. If you want to go, I'm sure we can find something to keep her occupied." She leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "If you're going to be out there anyway, could you pick something up for me?"

"Sure." The boy replied, straightening his posture. "What is it?"

"I need some specific tools for a few experiments I'm running." She pushed herself up to her feet and strode over to a nearby bookshelf. She retrieved a small envelope that was sitting underneath a candlestick and came back to hand it to him. "Ed checked around with some people he knows. Apparently Borgin and Burkes found a set. Give the owner that note and he shouldn't give you any trouble. I would give everything a good look over before you pay though. I imagine it will be expensive, but it won't be worth it if it can't be easily repaired."

Curious, Mihnea flipped open the envelope and took a peek at the note inside. His brow furrowed. "I don't understand. Couldn't you make something like this yourself?"

"I could, but it's very labor intensive and I don't have the time." She told him. "Just sourcing the materials would take months." She studied him pensively for a moment. "Ed can go pick it up if you don't want to."

The boy immediately shook his head. "No, it's fine. I don't mind." It certainly wouldn't hurt his reputation to be seen in such a place. He stood and stuck the envelope in his pocket for safekeeping. "I'll take care of it."

With that, he decided to leave her to her work to go find Luna. She had been with him when Snape's letter arrived, but must have wandered off somewhere after he left. She wasn't in her room when he walked by. However, he did pick up a faint trace of her scent and followed it down the hall to Connie's room. He heard girlish voices as he approached.

"Oh, but that's so clever!" Luna gushed. "So it's like the owl post?"

"I've never thought of it that way, but I suppose you could say that." Connie said with a laugh. "It's much faster than an owl though. Once you send it off, the message should arrive within seconds."

Curious, Mihnea stepped up to the open door and peered inside. Connie and Luna were sitting cross-legged on the bed together with pens and papers strewn all around them. Connie had her computer in her lap and was pointing something out to her. He knocked on the door with a knuckle and cleared his throat. Both girls looked up at the sound.

"Do I want to know?" he asked, gesturing to the mess.

"Oh! We were looking at dresses." Connie explained. "Luna drew out some designs for me, and I just sent them to the tailor."

"Oh." So she actually bit the bullet and made a decision? He hadn't a care in the world for the planning that went into such nonsense, so he was thankful he wouldn't have to listen to her complain about it anymore. "Cool."

Luna perked up a bit. "You finished with your mum then?"

He nodded and leaned back against the doorframe. "Professor Snape wants me to meet him on Thursday to finish up some paperwork for my job and pick up some supplies." He cocked his head to the side. "You're sure you don't mind me being out for a day?"

"Of course not, silly!" She replied with a smile. "Your job is important, so you should go."

Next to her, Connie looked thoughtful. "That actually works out perfectly." She commented. "When I called the tailor, they said I could come in on Thursday or Friday to meet with them." She turned to Luna with a wide smile. "If he's going to be out anyway, maybe you could come with me?"

The blonde girl blinked at her. "That's very kind of you, but I wouldn't want to impose…"

"Nonsense!" Connie exclaimed. "You've been a lot of help. It would be nice to have someone else there to help me make decisions. You have a good eye for this sort of thing."

Looking delighted by the idea, Luna readily agreed. Well, that was painless. Mihnea thought to himself. If she was with Connie, she would at least have something to do while he was gone. Hopefully Snape wouldn't keep him out all day.

When Thursday finally arrived, Mihnea got up bright and early and headed out into London. He parked his car in the garage nearest to Charing Cross Road and walked the handful of blocks to the 'muggle side' entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. The pub had very few customers at this time of morning. He figured most of the ones there were people renting rooms upstairs who had come down for breakfast. He scanned the room and didn't see Snape anywhere. It wasn't surprising, considering how early he was. It was probably best to get his business in Knockturn Alley done first anyway.

Borgin and Burkes was the sort of place that always seemed to be bathed in shadow no matter the season or time of day. He had been inside a few times when Uncle Edmund had to go for 'business', but it had been quite a while since their last visit. Various magical artifacts, most of the darker persuasion, were displayed in the murky windows. Mihnea gave them a cursory glance before going inside. A bell hanging over the door rang out when he entered, announcing his presence. The interior of the shop was dimly lit and the abundance of merchandise cast strange and disconcerting shadows on the walls. At the back of the room was a sales counter where the owner, Mr. Borgin, stood making notes in a ledger book. The large black quill he held paused at the sound of the bell and he turned his gaze toward him.

"Good morning, young man." He said, his lips pulling back into a sly, slippery looking smile – probably looking forward to making a sale. The book closed with a snap and he ran a hand back through his thinning hair. "May I help you?"

Mihnea nodded and approached the counter. "Yes sir. I'm here to pick something up."

He pulled the envelope from his mother out of his back pocket and held it out. Mr. Borgin took it with an arched brow and opened it. Mihnea watched his eyes move back and forth as he read the note within.

"Ah, yes." He said, then looked up again. "Stryker sent you? I thought you looked familiar." He handed the missive back to him and tapped the counter with a bony finger. "I have it in the back. Wait here just a moment."

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and disappeared through a door behind the counter. Mihnea's ears picked out a rustling sound, as if he were shifting things around on a shelf, then he reappeared holding a long box wrapped in black fabric.

"It is an extraordinary set of pieces." Borgin said as he carefully set it down on the counter. "There aren't many of these around anymore, and very few are still in good condition. This is one of the best preserved I've ever seen." He gave him a pointed, almost warning look. "It was quite difficult to find, you understand, and the price reflects its rarity."

Mihnea waved him off. "Money is no object."

Borgin nodded approvingly and his smile returned. "Very good." He said, folding back the fabric to reveal a wooden box with a beautifully carved lid. "You may examine it, if you wish."

Inclining his head, Mihnea stepped forward and opened the box. Inside lay a large, sheathed knife surrounded by twelve crystal vials, and an elegantly designed chalice. He reached out and picked up the knife. The handle was some type of bleached bone, intricately carved with runes and magical symbols, and slightly curved at the end to better fit in the hand. The sheath was crafted from a strange, pale colored leather than was thinner than he would have expected.

"Human?" He questioned, turning it over in his hands.

"Aye." Borgin replied. "The handle and chalice were made from bone taken from the same source. I verified it myself."

Mihnea glanced at him briefly before unsheathing the knife to examine the blade. It was roughly six inches long, with a wide base that gradually tapered down to what had once been a wicked point. The metal was tarnished and spotted with age and the edges had lost their sharpness, but those things could be remedied easily enough. He returned the knife to its holder and placed it back in the box before turning his attention to the chalice. The cup portion appeared to be made from the top of a skull, the surface of which had been ground down and polished to a smooth sheen. The rim and base that held it were both made of a dark colored metal, similar to the knife's blade, with a subtle design of inlaid copper. Seeing nothing amiss, he then examined each of the vials to make sure the metal caps still fit well and that none were cracked or otherwise damaged. Once he was fully satisfied that everything was in order, he carefully returned each piece to the box and closed the lid.

"I'll take it." He announced.

Mr. Borgin gave him a sly grin. "Excellent. I'll package it up for you."

The man rewrapped the box in its protective covering and placed it in a nondescript cloth bag. Mihnea paid the obnoxiously high price (though he conceded that it wasn't entirely unwarranted) and reached for his purchase. Borgin, though, kept a firm grip on the bag.

"There aren't many people I'd go to this much trouble to find specific items for. I've made an exception because of your Uncle's talent for sniffing out faked artifacts. It would be very…unwise to let anyone know where this came from. Do you understand?"

Was he trying to intimidate him? How quaint. Mihnea blinked innocently. "Let who know where what came from?"

Borgin studied him intently for a long moment then nodded, satisfied with his response. "Good lad." He finally released his grip on the bag and held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you. Give my regards to your Uncle for me."

Mihnea accepted the handshake with a nod, gathered up his purchase, and left the shop. He made a quick detour back to his car to stash the box underneath one of the seats, then headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. He arrived with 15 minutes to spare before the appointed meeting time. Perfect. Professor Snape was sitting a table in the back corner, sipping a mug of coffee and reading a newspaper when he walked in. Mihnea easily picked out his black clad form from across the room and headed over.

"Good morning, Professor." He greeted upon reaching the table.

The man lowered the newspaper a hair to look at him. "You're early." He folded up his reading material and set it to the side before motioning for him to sit down. "You're welcome to order breakfast if you like. We have plenty of time before our appointments this morning."

Mihnea dutifully sat down in the chair across from him. "I ate before I left home, but I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee."

He had apparently been prepared for such a statement because he wordlessly pushed a half-full carafe of coffee and an empty mug toward him. Or it simply could have been that Snape hated mornings as much as he did and just happened to be willing to share. Whatever the case was, Mihnea was thankful for it. He grabbed the carafe and mug and helped himself to a healthy serving of the drink.

"So what's involved in this 'registration' I have to do?" He asked. "I thought everything with the Ministry was handled already."

"It was." Snape confirmed. "However, your name needs to be added to the list of approved signers for the school accounts, and copies of the paperwork need to be provided to our suppliers for their records." He reached into his robes to retrieve a small notebook and travel-sized quill. "We also need to discuss your work schedule. The stock of potions needed for the upcoming year will be larger than normal due to an event Hogwarts is hosting. I need you to start as soon as possible. We'll need to keep a strict timetable to have everything prepared in time."

Mihnea mug paused halfway to his mouth and he blinked in surprise. "What event?"

"The Headmaster will announce the details at the beginning of term." The Potions Master replied. "Until then, all you need to know is that students from two other schools will be staying at Hogwarts for a significant portion of the year."

Huh. He thought. That was interesting. He wondered what sort of 'event' this was supposed to be. Shaking his head, he took a sip of his coffee and hummed thoughtfully. More students generally meant more troublemaking and potential for accidents. Especially if they came from rival schools. "Resupplying the hospital wing then?"

"Among other things." Snape replied with an idle wave of his hand. He flipped open his notebook. "I've worked out a rough brewing schedule, but it will somewhat depend on when you're available. Can you work three days a week?"

Mihnea nodded immediately. That shouldn't be a problem if he arranged his days right. He ran his usual schedule through his mind to work out how to best move things around. "Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?" He offered.

There was a notable pause. "You're willing to give up part of your weekend?" Snape asked, arching a questioning brow. "Any of the other weekdays would be suitable."

"That's really the only time I have, sir." He told him with a shrug. "I have other obligations during the week I have to take of as well."

The professor pressed his lips together in a line, but finally inclined his head in assent. He scribbled down a note in his notebook. They then negotiated what hours he would work, eventually settling on 9am to 4pm. Snape also informed him that he would occasionally have staff meetings to attend, and during those times Mihnea would have to keep an eye on things in the lab himself. He had done it often enough at school that he had been expecting that. The Ministry wouldn't officially allow him to work unsupervised until he turned 17, but Snape seemed unbothered by the regulation. When it was pointed out to him, his response was a quirked brow and a snarky 'Unless you plan on doing something that would prompt an investigation, it won't be an issue'. Mihnea figured that was his way of saying that what the Ministry didn't know wouldn't hurt them, so long as he kept his nose clean and stayed out of trouble.

Once the matter of his schedule was sorted (and the remaining coffee finished off), Professor Snape dropped a few coins on the table to settle his tab and they headed out to their first appointment of the morning. Gringotts Bank, much like the pub, wasn't terribly busy at that time of morning. They were quickly directed toward one of the many empty counters manned by a goblin weighing out piles of gems and gold coins. The stony faced creature looked rather annoyed at being interrupted. The Potions Master explained what they were there for and handed over a note of confirmation from Professor Dumbledore. The goblin read it over thoroughly, then disappeared under the counter to retrieve a huge file filled with stacks of ancient looking parchment. Snape tapped his fingers impatiently as the creature took its sweet time picking through each and every page.

"It appears that the Headmaster has already taken care of his part of the paperwork." The goblin announced in a low, scratchy voice. He pushed a selection of parchment toward Snape and motioned toward an enchanted quill sitting on the counter. "Sign at the bottom of each page, if you please."

The Professor scribbled his signature on each indicated line, then Mihnea took over to add his name as well. Once the paperwork was out of the way, the goblin hopped down from his stand and took the stack of parchment to an office in the back. A few minutes later he returned with copies of everything, along with a wax seal stamp for Mihnea to use when making orders. Access to the schools accounts was tightly monitored and if anything was ever amiss, the individual design of each seal could be used to track down the person who was the source of the problem.

"We recommend keeping it in a safe location that only you have access to." The goblin warned as he handed it over. "You will be held responsible for any unauthorized use, and we do not replace misplaced or stolen stamps. It must be returned to the bank once your work tenure is over."

Mihnea gave him an understanding nod and put the stamp in his pocket. He made a mental note to get a lockbox to keep it and any other materials he needed for his job safe. The last thing he needed was goblins hunting him down because something they had entrusted him with had gone missing.

Next was a trip to both of Diagon Alley's apothecaries. Slug and Jiggers was the usual supplier of ingredients for the Hogwarts Potions Department, but there were always instances where Mr. Mulpepper's had items at a better price, or some items that Slug and Jiggers didn't typically carry in bulk. While you couldn't exactly call them 'friends', Professor Snape had a working relationship with each of the owners, so when they dropped off the copies of his paperwork for their records, Snape took the opportunity to introduce Mihnea to them. (Any deviation from the norm was likely to raise suspicion at the shops, so it was best for them to know who he was and be able to match a face to a name, he said.) A few cases of ingredients the professor had previously ordered were ready to be picked up as well so when they finished with their socializing, Snape made arrangements for them to be sent to his private lab. Mihnea also took the opportunity to pick up a few extra brewing supplies he figured he would need, but elected to keep them with him.

"You could have let them be transported with the rest." Snape commented when they finally left the shop. "It would have saved you the trouble of carrying them around."

Mihnea shrugged and slipped on his sunglasses to block out the obnoxiously bright sunlight. "I'd rather keep my hands on things I've bought with my own money." He said.

The man looked skyward with a sigh, stopping just short of a full eye-roll. "Suit yourself." He gestured down the street toward the pub. "I believe we've finished everything that needed to be done here. Let's floo to back to the lab and I'll show you where you'll be working."

The boy nodded and idly twirled his bag of purchases as he followed him back to the Leaky Cauldron. Some part of him had wondered if they'd be doing their brewing back at Hogwarts, but his mention of a 'private lab' at the Apothecaries had shot that notion down. Now he was just curious about where it was. When they got back to the pub, Snape led him over to the large fireplace available for public use and tossed in a handful of floo powder.

"We're going to 'Spinner's End'." He informed him. "Mind your head when you come through."

With that he called out his destination and disappeared into the bright green flames. Mihnea arched a brow at the odd instruction, but grabbed a handful of powder for himself and repeated the phrase the professor had used.

He dropped into a small fireplace on the other side and immediately banged his head on a low sitting mantelpiece. He swore loudly and rubbed the sore spot that was sure to become a goose-egg later. What the hell was that? Wizard's fireplaces were usually built larger than muggle ones to at least accommodate an average sized person. Mihnea knew he was tall, but the opening was a hell of a lot smaller than it should have been.

He crouched down low to slip under the damned mantle and found himself faced with an unimpressed looking Potions Master.

"I did warn you." He said in a bland drawl.

Mihnea shot an irritated look at him and rose to his full height to dust himself off. The room they now stood in was modestly sized, but felt much smaller due to bookshelves covering every available inch of wall space. Immediately to his right was a door and window that looked out onto a street, while to his left was an opening that led off to a kitchen that was even smaller in size. Everything else, aside from the fireplace they had come through, was covered in books. An old armchair and worn looking side table sat in the corner, illuminated by a candle-lit lamp hanging from the ceiling. It was tidy and devoid of any dust, but didn't feel particularly cared for. Stacked on the floor in the middle of the room were the boxes of supplies from the apothecaries. The boy stepped past them to glance out the window. The dirty, unkempt street outside was lined with rows of identical terraced buildings of red brick. Off in the distance, he spotted an old, industrial sized chimney rising above the houses surrounding them.

"Is this your house?" He asked, daring to hazard a guess.

"Unfortunately." Snape replied. When he noticed Mihnea's curious look, he went on. "I inherited it when my parents died. I'm never here outside of the summer months, so I haven't bothered to change much." He pointed toward the opening on the left. "The kitchen is in there and there's a loo upstairs. Everything of importance is down in the cellar."

The professor pointed out a couple of bookcases with wider frames than the others. When a particular book on each was pulled forward, they would swing open to reveal hidden doors leading to other parts of the house. One opened onto a narrow staircase going to the upper floor. Behind the other was a small storeroom containing racks of wine bottles. The back wall of this room contained another hidden door. When a knot in the wood paneling was pressed, the wall slid back out of the way to provide access to a staircase going down to the lower level. The bottom of the stairs opened up to a larger, more spacious room set up with brewing stations. Six were currently set up, but there was enough room for two more if they were needed. The walls were filled with jars and vials of potions supplies, and at the far side of the room was a wooden desk and tables for preparing ingredients.

"It's the same sorting system that I use at Hogwarts." Snape informed him. "Everything is labeled, so you shouldn't have trouble finding anything. Glassware and tools are kept in the cabinet on the left, and spare cauldrons are arranged by size and type in the cabinet to the right. Finished potions are to be labeled, boxed up, and placed over there." He pointed to a set of empty wooden shelves near the entrance. He then gestured toward another door at the end of the room. "Potions with resting periods will go in there so they'll be out of the way. There will be a rotation schedule posted on the door."

Mihnea nodded. That all seemed pretty standard. "And the brewing schedule?"

"That will be posted on the wall when you first come in." The man replied. "The master list will be in a book on my desk at the back. Potions are to be checked off as they're completed. If you notice anything running low, I need to be informed as soon as possible so that I can obtain more. Do you have any questions?"

"Not that I can think of…"

"Good." Snape jerked his thumb toward the staircase. "Get those supplies put away, then we'll go over your reading material."

Working in magical law enforcement wasn't as sexy as most people imagined it was. The moments of excitement were spread out between long stretches of grunt work in the office. Paperwork. Reports. Research. Things that no one really enjoyed doing, but endured because they were necessary.

Justin had always taken pride in the fact that his hard work and dedication had helped him rise through the ranks faster than the other aurors his age. While most of his fellows were still in various levels of training, he had his own desk and a semi-private office. There were plenty of people who complained about 'special treatment' behind his back, but he had worked damn hard for it. Some rules may have been bent or pushed to the breaking point here and there over the years, but sometimes such things had to be done to get results. His superiors certainly didn't mind. When they gave him an assignment, they did so knowing that he would give it his all come hell or high water.

So the fact that he had nothing new to report after his last surveillance mission was deeply frustrating. Newsom wasn't usually so difficult to pin down. A bit of clever spellwork in combination with a hair that had fallen from her head during her tirade at the coffee shop months ago had allowed him to track her location whenever she left Hellsing Manor. The enchantments tended to break down and stop functioning within a certain radius of the facility for some reason, but he figured it was some type of protective magic she had placed there. It was impossible to identify from a distance and he wasn't foolish enough to actually go have a look for himself. It was too dangerous and the likelihood of getting caught was too high.

The restriction hadn't caused much of a problem until recently. Newsom visited the different clubs in the city pretty regularly and he had been able to stay out of sight for the most part. Being caught during his last outing was a foolish mistake. It was the first time he had seen her in a vampire-centric nightclub without that big, scary monster accompanying her. He had been so surprised that he got too close and was spotted. And, of course, she had fallen off the radar ever since. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid.

For a while he wondered if she was dead. As disturbing as the thought was, it wasn't a stretch to think that his surveillance may have blown her cover. Though he didn't have a high opinion of some of her actions and hadn't managed to figure out what her game was, Justin got the sense that she wasn't really a bad person. Not a bright, shining bastion of morality to put on a pedestal, obviously, but not pure evil either. He took solace in the fact that if Newsom really had died, then surely Sir Integral would be raising a stink about it being the Ministry's fault. The loss of a valuable asset was bound to provoke some kind of reaction. Yet everything on the Hellsing front remained perfectly and eerily quiet.

It took a few weeks, but Justin finally got confirmation that his target was very much alive. He came back from a much needed day off to find a notification on his tracking maps that Newsom had left the manor. Of all the times it could have happened, she would have done it on his bleeding day off. He was so furious he wanted to punch a hole through the wall. The rest of that afternoon was spent keying a tracking amulet to her signature. The normal methods wouldn't work properly, so he wound up having to put Newsom's hair into the amulet itself to make it function. He intended to wear it on his person at all times so that he wouldn't miss the next time she ventured out. Not that it would be anytime soon. The woman had been laying low for nearly a month. It would probably be another long stretch of time before the next opportunity presented itself.

It thankfully wound up being a short wait. Just a few days later, Justin was sitting at one of the tables in the crowded Ministry cafeteria talking to the pretty witch who worked as a stenographer in the Wizangamot. Matilda had a raging crush on him and he was certain he could get laid if he played his cards right. It probably wouldn't be worth it in the end though. She seemed like the sort to get clingy and he didn't have the time for anything serious at the moment. A bit of flirting here and there was harmless enough though. He had just made a witty comment that made her cheeks turn the loveliest shade of pink when he felt the amulet around his neck grow warm. Justin blinked in surprise and pulled it out. The amulet glowed bright red.

He shoved back his chair and leapt to his feet. "Sorry Matilda. We'll have to catch up later. I have to go."

He barely registered the dismayed sounding "Wait!" that she called out as he ran off. He pushed his way through the crowds of people waiting in line for their food and flew through the door. A couple of random aides might have gotten knocked down in his rush to get back to his office, and he was pretty sure some choice words were shouted at him along the way, but he ignored it all. He threw open the doors of the Magical Law Enforcement office, thankful it was sparsely populated during this time of day, and skidded to a halt next to his desk. One of his many tracking maps was spread out across its surface. His eyes darted across the streets and landmarks marked out on the parchment before landing on a bright, glowing spot that pulsed in time with the amulet around his neck. Bingo. He thought. She was in a rural area to the northeast of the city. A small, private graveyard from the look of it. He double-checked the coordinates to make sure there was a secluded area nearby, then closed his eyes and apparated.

He popped back into existence within a tightly packed cluster of trees overlooking a clearing filled with graves and old monuments. Some appeared quite old while others were more brightly polished, indicating that they had been placed more recently. He took a moment to orient himself to his surroundings. The sun was bright, sending rays of light peeking through openings in the trees, and the air was filled with the songs of birds and insects. It was actually quite pleasant, despite the location. Newsom was nowhere to be seen yet, but his ears picked out the sound of a faraway voice.

"I've never seen these here before! I think they must be for you."

There she was. The voice was warmer and more pleasant than he'd ever heard before, but it was definitely her. He scanned the cemetery and spotted a familiar mane of blood colored hair off in the distance. He cast a quick spell to muffle his footsteps, then slipped silently through the trees. There wasn't much he could see with her back facing him as it was, but she was clearly up to something. As he got closer, he was able to make out more details. The grave she had selected stood out among the rest for how overgrown it was. It didn't appear to be particularly old, but was surrounded on all sides by wild ferns and flowering plants. In the center, over the place where the body was buried, Newsom had laid out a pale blue blanket to sit upon. All around her was a collection of cups, plates, and other items.

Justin immediately pegged the sight as strange. Who came to a cemetery to have a picnic on top of a grave? He could imagine nothing more disrespectful. Was she doing some kind of dark ritual, perhaps? He had heard stories of such things being performed in graveyards in the dead of night, but never in the middle of day. But then, he had no clue how her form of magic functioned, so maybe it didn't matter. He finally reached a point in the treeline that gave him a good vantage point while still providing adequate cover. Once he could see the full scene rather than only what he could make out from behind, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a child with her. A small girl with shining black hair and a white flower tucked behind one ear. A cold sense of dread shot through him. Newsom claimed to have nothing to do with the deaths of the children they had found, didn't she? So what in Merlin's name was she doing with a small child in some nameless graveyard? Something was very, very wrong here.

Justin watched apprehensively as the redhead smiled and passed a cup of some type of liquid to the girl. The child accepted it without a word and brought it up to her lips to drink, only to stop short. Her expression shifted to a more nervous one, and her eyes began darting back and forth as if searching for something. He wondered why until he saw a flash of light reflect off the blade of a knife held in Newsom's hand. He quickly pulled out his wand and crouched down in preparation. Getting personally involved in the situations he observed wasn't usually allowed, but he couldn't sit back and...

Something hard slammed into the back of his head. Pain blossomed behind his eyes and Justin crumpled to the ground in a heap. Before he had time to register what had happened, the attacker grabbed his right arm and gave it a painful twist. His wand slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. Reacting instinctively, Justin lashed out to free himself, only to wind up forced face down in the dirt with a knee planted on his back.

"Get off me!" He shouted, squirming wildly. "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare eef you don't ztop fighting." A man's accented voice proclaimed.

Something metallic and cold pressed against the back of his head and he heard the chilling sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked back. Justin stopped struggling and went very still. Guns were intimidating enough on their own, but without his wand he was screwed. He swallowed down the lump of anxiousness that had crawled up into his throat.

"I don't want any trouble." He said.

The man above him snorted. "Good."

Without another word, he jerked him up to his feet and shoved the gun into his back. The man swung a long, auburn braid of hair back over his shoulder before grabbing the back of Justin's collar to forcefully drag him through the trees and out into the open. At the grave up ahead, Newsom was up on her feet with one arm holding the girl behind her. Her head was peeking out with wide, fearful eyes to see what was going on.

"I found a rat zlinking around." The man announced, jerking him to a halt a few feet away from them. He kicked his legs out from under him and Justin grit his teeth as he hit his knees with a painful thud. "Iz zhis zhe wizard who's been giving you trouble?"

"It is." She confirmed without a hint of emotion.

He watched as his wand was tossed to the woman, who caught it easily. Her expression was blank, but her eyes glinted with cold fury. His captor stepped away from him and pointed his weapon at his head.

"You want me to take care of 'im for you?"

The question hung in the air, making it grow heavy with tension. Finally, Newsom broke the silence. "No. I'll handle this one myself." She glanced down at the girl hiding behind her with a softer expression and patted her on the head. "Would you mind taking her back to the car? She doesn't need to be here for this."

The man inclined his head and gave Justin a good shove before walking over to them. He tucked the gun into his waistband at the back of his trousers, then crouched down and held out his arms. The dark haired girl went to him immediately without complaint, but kept her eyes fixed on the auror left behind. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the path toward the cemetery's entrance.

"Not so cocky without your magic, I see." The redhead commented once they were out of earshot. She twirled his wand between her fingers.

Justin tore his eyes away from the child to look back at her. It was a relief to not have a gun pointed at him anymore, but he didn't feel much better about his situation. Without his wand, he was essentially helpless aside from his wit. Still, he wasn't one to cower no matter what the situation was.

"Your new boyfriend is a jerk." He spat at her.

Newsom's only reaction was a tightening of her jaw as she crossed her arms over her chest. He seemed to have struck a nerve. Perhaps if he distracted her enough, he could throw her off balance and get his wand back. Then he might be able to get this mess he'd found himself in back under control.

"I see you've been lying about more than I thought." He went on. He put a hand on his knee to push himself up to his feet. "Does your boss know you're gallivanting around in graveyards with a kid? Are you using her for some spell of yours, or is she supposed to be a present for that monster you're fucking?"

He scarcely got out the words before something grabbed his ankle and jerked it backward. Justin hit the ground face first. Stunned by the blow, he gingerly touched his nose and pulled his hand back to find it covered in blood. The air around him dropped several degrees and he felt something ice cold twining around his leg. He shifted to look back and saw tendrils of pure blackness wrapping around his limbs. What in Merlin's name was that? She hadn't moved or spoken a word! He tried to kick them off, only for them to tighten and pull him forward. They flew around his body and tightened like a constrictor squeezing the life from its prey. Any movement he made against them only made them squeeze tighter. They wrenched him upright like a ragdoll and forced him into a kneeling position before her.

Newsom crouched down to his level and pressed the tip of his wand under his chin, forcing his head up to look at her. He had pissed her off before, but he had never seen a look of such pure, hate filled rage directed at him before. For the first time, he genuinely feared what she might be capable of.

"If you ever say such vile things about my daughter again, I will rip out your tongue with my bare hands."

Justin stopped struggling and stared at her in shock. Daughter? His eyes flew back toward the grave where they had been sitting. Laid out on the blanket were cups and saucers, a thermos, an open tin of biscuits, an apple with a slice cut out of it… as well as the knife he had seen earlier, which had clearly been used to cut up the fruit. What had seemed so nefarious before now looked… mundane. Had he really misread the situation that badly?

"I…" he sputtered. "But, she looked afraid…"

"She was afraid of you, you ignorant little shit!" She shouted at him.

The shadows holding him climbed up his shoulders to encircle his neck. Justin's eyes widened when he felt them tighten their grip.

"Wait!" He exclaimed, franticly searching for a way to explain. "I…"

"How did you find this place?" Newsom interrupted.

He grit his teeth. "I told you I was assigned to…"

The shadows squeezed down tighter, cutting him off. He gasped for breath and felt his extremities begin to lose feeling. The redhead narrowed her eyes.

"That's not what I asked." She said. "How did you find this place?"

Every nerve ending in his body was screaming in agony from being constricted so tightly. She was going to crush him to death. The edges of his vision started to fade and stars shot before his eyes. When the pressure grew so great that his ribs began to snap one by one, Justin lost all sense of composure and broke down.

"Tracking… spells…" he gasped out between shallow breaths.

The woman frowned. "How?"

"Have… a hair… from you…"

"Just one?"

He summoned up enough strength to nod.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Knew… I was… tracking. Not… how…"

"Where is it now?"

Another rib cracked and he tasted blood in his mouth. "Here." He gasped out weakly. "My… neck."

Her questions ceased, but the shadows remained where they were – slowly crushing him as she looked on. Finally, just as he was about to lose consciousness, they released their punishing grip and vanished. Justin collapsed to the ground, coughing and sputtering as his lungs filled with oxygen. Circulation returned to his limbs and feeling slowly came back, causing pain to flood through his body. He let out a ragged gasp as Newsom nudged him with her foot to flip him onto his back. She crouched down, slipped a hand under the neckline of his shirt to retrieve the amulet, and jerked it free from his neck. She studied it for a moment, then dropped it on the ground and stood to slam her booted foot down onto it. The tracking spells placed upon it broke when it shattered, erupting in a puff of smoke.

"Consider yourself lucky, Mr. DuPre. I'm in a charitable mood today, so I'm going to send you home in one piece." She told him as she crouched back down next to him. She rested her arms on her knees. "If you want to continue pushing your luck by following me around, so be it. But let me make myself perfectly clear: If you ever defile my mother's resting place with your presence or come near my children ever again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

He believed her. He grit his teeth against the pain and nodded.

"Good." She said, rising up to her feet. "Be sure to tell your boss that I'll do the same to any other auror he sends my way. We made a deal, and I intend to hold him to it. Now," She dropped his wand on his chest. "I suggest you leave before I change my mind."

Justin didn't have to be told twice. Summoning up the little strength he had left, he grabbed his wand, clambered up from the ground, and awkwardly limped back toward the treeline. It was impossible to apparate in his present condition without splinching himself, but hopefully he could get far enough away to send out his patronus for help before he passed out.

The damage was worse than he expected. The broken nose and ribs weren't a surprise, but the internal bleeding and torn ligaments in some of his joints was. Whatever Newsom had done to him made his wounds resistant to the usual magical remedies. The staff at St. Mungos managed to get the bleeding under control, but the rest of his injuries would have to heal the old fashioned way. With no potions or spells to help, the only relief he was going to get would come from whatever he could find at the nearest muggle chemist once he was released. In the meantime, he would have to lay in bed and suffer until the doctors felt he was well enough to leave.

His boss came to debrief him the moment he was cleared to have visitors. Scrimgeour didn't seem particularly impressed by his injuries – especially after hearing how they happened. He stood at the foot of Justin's bed, arms folded, with that blank, unreadable expression that he usually got when upset about something.

"You're telling me that you took it upon yourself to go out alone on an unauthorized mission without notifying anyone of what you were doing?" He asked in a low, dangerously calm voice.

Yep. He was pissed. Justin cleared his throat carefully. "I hadn't been able to pin her down for nearly a month, sir. I didn't think…"

"No, you weren't thinking." Scrimgeour interrupted before he could finish. "That much is abundantly clear." His lips pressed together tightly. "Would you care to explain how you managed to get disarmed? By a muggle?"

Justin winced. "He had a gun, sir. He came at me from behind before I realized…"

The older man finally lost his temper and slammed his fist down on the footboard of the bed. "How did you not realize he was there?!" he demanded. "You were supposed to be performing surveillance! Were you not properly concealed, or is that yet another thing you didn't think about?"

"I fucked up, okay! I get it!" Justin shouted back at him. Pain shot through his chest like a bolt of lightning, making him immediately regret the outburst. He settled down and closed his eyes, trying to will his temper back under control. "I can't explain what happened. All I can tell you is that there was no indication anyone else was there until he jumped me." His eyes slid open and he pressed him with a question of his own. "Why didn't you tell me she had a kid?

"That information is confidential." Scrimgeour replied with a sniff. "There was no need to inform you."

No need!? He thought. "That's a crock of troll dung and you know it!" he exclaimed. "If I'd known about that in advance, I wouldn't have assumed she was up to no good!"

"One would think that a reasonable person could tell the different between a mother with her child and a person performing a dark ritual with a random child they snatched." His boss said with more than a hint of snideness.

That might be true, but it didn't discredit Justin's point. He huffed in frustration. "What deal did you make with her?" he asked.

Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed. "That, Mr. DuPre, is none of your concern."

"The hell it's not!" Justin exclaimed, forgetting his injuries again. "That woman damn near killed me for it, so I think I deserve to know!"

The older wizard strode to the side of his bed to shove a finger into his face. "You don't get to decide what information you should or shouldn't know. Only I make that determination. And given your propensity for running headlong into danger without bothering to think about what you're doing, I don't believe you deserve anything at all." He straightened with a derisive sniff. "Any 'deals' I have with Ms. Newsom were made for good reason and the details are classified. The only thing you need to know is that as far as the Ministry is concerned, her daughter doesn't exist. The state you're currently in should be explanation enough as to why it should remain that way."

Justin blinked. The implication of his boss's statement was plain as day. If Newsom was willing to put him in the hospital for ignorantly getting too close to her kid, how much worse would it be if someone were to knowingly and actively pursue them? Would she contain the killing to the offender themselves, or turn her attention toward the Ministry? How far up the chain of command would her retribution lead? Was it even possible for her to do that much damage on her own? After what he had just endured, he really didn't want to find out.

Scrimgeour stepped back, satisfied that his words had the intended impact. "I'm putting you on administrative leave, Justin. You've been making too many mistakes as of late, and they can't be explained away anymore. I suggest you take advantage of the time to think about your behavior and how it needs to change going forward. Once you're fully healed, we'll have a discussion about my expectations and whether you're capable of handling this assignment or not. Do you understand?"

Justin didn't like what he was hearing. However, he was fully aware that if he complained too much, he might push his luck too far and not have a job to come back to. He grit his teeth.

"Yes, sir." He replied with a stiff nod.

"Is everything alright in here?" A woman's voice questioned.

Both men glanced toward the doorway. A middle-aged mediwitch had poked her head into the room and was looking them over with concern. Scrimgeour rolled back his shoulders and straightened his posture.

"There's no problem. We were just finishing up." He told her.

He gave Justin a nod, signaling that the conversation was over, then strode out of the room without another word. The mediwitch stepped back out of the way to let him pass, then came inside herself. She planted her hands on her hips.

"I know you aurors have business to tend to, but you really should avoid getting too overexcited." She said in a chiding tone. "You'll never recover that way."

Justin rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. How, exactly, was he supposed to 'avoid' a confrontation with his boss? Maybe they should have refused to let him in if they were so worried about it.

"I'll try to keep that in mind." He deadpanned.

The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval at his attitude. "I'll have none of that, young man." She said snippily. "Now, can I get you anything?"

"Not unless you know how to get your hands on a bottle of aspirin."

She gave him a confused looking blink. "A bottle of what?"

Justin snorted. "Nevermind."

The woman pressed her lips together in a firm line, then stepped back out of the room to leave him to his own devices. He laid back against the pillows with a deep sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Hospitals were awful. The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

Leave a review and let me know what you think!

.