"If you know the enemy and know yourself,
you need not fear the results of a hundred battles."

~ Sun Tzu (The Art of War) ~

Ambition

Orion Arcturus Black did not consider himself an ambitious man. In fact, Orion would go so far as to acknowledge that he didn't particularly like ambition all that much. A fact that would come as quite a shock to his colleagues, he was sure.

After all, hadn't he been a Slytherin? A Prefect? Head Boy?! Hadn't he joined the Ministry despite having no fiscal need, worked his way from the bottom up? Didn't he Head his own department? What was this, if not the results of an ambitious man? If not the results of "a strong desire to succeed"?

But if anyone had bothered to ask Orion, he would have, very calmly, explained that this was but the result of his observing a type of noblesse oblige. It was not that Orion had particularly wanted to be Prefect, or Head Boy. It was not an outcome he'd striven for. Rather, it had been the natural consequence of his demeanor towards those around him.

It was his duty, he believed, to help those lesser than himself.

He had been born into privilege, not only as a Pureblood, not only as the scion to the House of Black, but further as the son of the world-renowned Arcturus Black. He had been born into privilege, and thus it was his duty, his obligation, to give back.

It had started out innocuously enough.

His deskmate had been struggling with a charm that Orion's own father had taught him years ago. It wasn't fair, he'd reasoned, that he should have such an advantage and not use it to aid this poor child. It wasn't even kindness, not really.

If Orion was being completely honest, he'd been more bored than anything. And helping out the poor soul had seemed to be as easy a way to pass the time as any other.

But, apparently, he'd had a 'knack' for explaining things.

And thus it all began.

From pointers to questions, questions to essays, essays to tutoring, Orion had helped to drag the poor Sod through his first three years of schooling.

And then the idiot had begun dating, and had decided that Orion's patience could surely spread to whichever girl happened to be idiotic enough to tag along with him.

He'd been right.

It was a way to pass the time, after all.

And teaching others was the easiest way to cement your own knowledge base.

It was much more enjoyable than revising alone in the library, at any rate, and if word began to spread, and more students began to congregate around him? Well wasn't that just further proof of his nobility?

And, equally, of his obligation?

Cunning

It had come as no surprise to Orion that he'd been selected as a Slytherin Prefect. There hadn't been much competition if he was being honest, only 4 other boys in his year, most of whom (his cousin Alfred had been competent enough) had regularly relied on his help to understand their material.

But whether it'd come as a surprise or not, didn't change the fact that Orion had been handed some semblance of power.

As a person who wasn't ambitious - he'd seen what ambition could cost you. Seen his father slave away over a new formulae, or complex sigil. Seen how little he'd seen his only parent - Orion had no need for power.

That did not mean he had been too quick to cast it away.

Orion may not have been ambitious, be he was cunning. At age fifteen Orion had been but two years away from turning of age, and taking over as Head of the House of Black, as Arcturus had already complained that "45 was far too old to not yet have an Order of Merlin" and had thusly made plans to step down and...well Orion wasn't quite sure.

His father was not a person he could make much sense of.

The point being, if it had been Orion's duty to his classmates to lend a hand, it was most certainly his duty to The House of Black to secure its future. And being a Prefect gave him ample ability to do so.

It is amazing how much one shines, simply by being different.

It did not take much effort at all to acquire a few choice allies. Simply a matter of being a rather neutral party, which was a rare site in a school.

To prevent misunderstandings he'd but made it a point to outline his logic whenever he'd deducted points;

"I apologize, but you see I caught a first year Ravenclaw out of bed, not five minutes ago. Thus it would hardly be just to turn you free, and I cannot have the masses claiming I'm unjust."

Of course, he may have adapted his parlance depending on the situation…

"I take accusations of favoritism very seriously. If you truly feel wronged then I will gladly walk with you to your Head of House, and have her judge the situation. Seeing as I would trust a Hufflepuff to be just, you are the Most Noble House, after all."

Many would judge it as cunning, but Orion had thought it rather a bit of Common Sense. After all, was it not but common sense that one should not alienate their future leaders? Should not start a blood feud (as the Malfoys' had so foolishly done) that would pass to their poor children? Should not, effectively, paint a target on their back?

He wasn't particularly kind, but he was just. And he'd already had an established role as a someone the students could bring questions to. So it flowed, naturally, (as these things are wont to do) that he should be so named 'Head Boy.'

That had hardly been his goal mind you. Orion had simply wanted to graduate with some solid allies, and few-to no-enemies.

Alas, such was the life a Noble. Duty bound from birth to death.

Resourcefulness

His logic in pursuing a career had been similarly motivated. He'd hardly believe he'd rise through the ranks, hardly believed he'd remain long enough to do so.

But it had seemed the most obvious move.

After all, Orion was the exception, not the rule. The majority of those whom would one day take a seat next to him in the Wizengamot would begin their careers as Ministry officials. It was not commonplace for one to be "handed the keys to the kingdom" (so to say) right when they were made of age.

At least, not for the last two centuries.

So if he'd wanted to cultivate any meaningful relationships, the Ministry would be an advantageous avenue. (And if it held the added benefit of allowing him to cross paths with his sister's best friend, Walburga, whom he'd rather had a crush on for a few years, all the better. Nothing was likely to come of it, what with his engagement to Eileen Prince. Still…)

If there was one good thing that came out of working in the Ministry, aside from his eventual marriage to Walburga, it would be the cultivating of his resourcefulness. A skill that Orion had found severely under utilized in Hogwarts.

The Ministry seemed to face nine catastrophes before breakfast, and most of them could trace their cause to some sleep-deprived intern, or another.

It became a game, of sorts, between him and Walburga.

Their reasoning had been rather banal, and warped by the lense of love, the most outlandish way of flirting, perhaps. But they had needed to be discreet, innocuous, as it were, and goading each other over who'd come up with the most "original" solution to that day's catastrophe had fit the bill.

"I managed to stop the incessant snowing with a well placed Shield Charm. By spreading it vertically across the ceiling - the energy difference caused the snow to melt - I simultaneously collected the runoff and sent it to 3rd floor to help them with their ectoplasmic mess."

"...that's rather amusing, Orion. But is there any reason you didn't just cast 'Meteolojinx Recanto'?"

"Aside from the energy I saved in not having to conjure purified water? Well, I rather figured Johnson could use the Shield Charm practice. He still pronounces it pro-teh-go, if you can believe it. How that man ever passed defense, I'll never know."

When Orion thought back on his youth it was those early years of Ministry work that he'd fondly recalled. It had seemed, at the time, a way to casually enjoy his last few years of freedom. If Walburga had seriously considered some of the offers given to her, if Orion's bosses had been the kind to assign unnecessary work, if any number of things…

Well, perhaps Orion would have quit.

As things had stood, however, those years were a delight. And, when Eileen had eventually graduated (not long after he had turned 21 and Walburga, 25) Orion had been convinced that the best years of his life were about to end.

And then a miracle had occurred.

Self-Preservation

To this day Orion had not been made privy as to what had caused the House of Prince to renege on their engagement. However, Orion knew better than to look too deeply into another's business.

It was a lesson best learned early.

That knowledge, while power, was also vulnerability. It was a zero-sum game. The power gained was not indiscriminate, rather it was very targeted at those who wished to keep said knowledge from the world.

Thus, as you rise, they fall.

Which is something the greater populace tends to take offense to, and likewise attempts to prevent. If a person wishes to keep a secret, one should not underestimate the lengths they may go to do so. (A fact that Orion has become intimately aware of, with the raising of his third child.)

It was this reasoning that caused Orion to develop the habit of "not asking questions". Whether it was his Ravenclaw classmate, whom he'd occasionally sit next to, mysteriously dying in the girl's lavatory, or the famed House of Prince mysteriously dropping off the face of the map.

If Orion didn't ask, then he didn't have to deal with it.

Heartless?

Perhaps.

But Orion had rather preferred the term 'practical'. After all, it was not like it was any business of his in the first place.

Still, in later years Orion would curse his conscious stifling of his curiousity. Questioning whether or not he would have been able to do more, prevent more, if he had opened his eyes, and learned to ask. Something that his children never seemed to have trouble doing.

Perhaps, if he had learned to shelf his self-preservation, just for a moment, he would've thought to question Cygnus' eldest, back when she was just a child.

The evidence had been there.

Since day one.

Born not a month after his and Walburga's wedding, Bellatrix Druella Black had always been an...anomaly. And not in the same way as his darling little Moon, who simply shone too bright for their world...no, Bellatrix had been a downright terror.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that meeting the child had rather discouraged Walburga and him from expanding their family for a great many years.

Granted, Orion'd had very little interaction with children prior to their meeting but he'd rather doubted it was natural for any child to have such control over their facial expressions.

And none should have enjoyed inflicting pain on House Elves, as she had.

In retrospect Orion should have seen the signs, the child had always had an upsetting amount of perseverance when a subject interested her. And the most prenatural ability to find a loose thread, and pull until the tapestry came entirely undone.

But asking questions lead to answers, and answers demanded action, action that could threaten the very comfortable life he had built for Walburga and himself.

So he'd asked nothing.

Fraternity

Orion had never questioned his role as Head of House Black. It was a position he had been born and bred for, one he felt uniquely qualified to uphold.

Perhaps, on a particularly gloomy day, he may have entertained the thought of reworking the millennia old system and thrusting the responsibilities onto Lucretia.

After all - female as she was - did she not still qualify as the eldest magical born to the, then, Head of House?

But Lucretia had never wanted to lead, and people had looked to him for guidance his whole life.

So Orion had never truly questioned his role as the Head of House Black...until Bellatrix Lestrange had sauntered into his office and demanded, as was her right, a familial consensus regarding her 'noble cause.'

Now, Orion was never one to debate the morality of a situation. He was not so ignorant of the thoughts, and ponderings, of men so as to label morality purely subjective. He was confident that there were Universal 'rights' and 'wrongs' and just as confident that they held no real bearings over his everyday life.

Was killing Muggles wrong? Perhaps. In that esoteric way that loss of life was tragic whether a bug or a man.

Did he care enough about the morality of the situation to raise an issue with his Highly Unstable niece-in-law?

Not a bit.

Morality, Orion thought, existed solely to prevent the degradation of society. It did not take personal accounts into consideration, or apathy towards structure. It was concerned with the whole, and not the parts. Which was fine, but Orion had no need to worry for the whole...that was what separated a Hufflepuff from a Slytherin, after all, that selectivity.

Hufflepuff's were just and loyal. They counted the world amongst their friends and gave due consideration to all. Slytherin's, however, practiced fraternity.

There was loyalty, oh loyalty of the most extreme kind, but it only extended to the very minute group one counted in their confidence. Orion himself extended this brand of loyalty to his immediate family; Walburga and the kids, and his sister.

That was it.

Not even his father - whom he was certain cared deeply for Lucretia and himself - could earn his unending loyalty. His Mother would have, but that was a subject onto itself.

The point being, Orion could abide by the flimsy laws of morality until the point that it encroached upon that which he held dear.

Would it be any less amoral to kill a child if it secured the future of your own? If it prevented the death of your child?

No.

Of course not.

Morality does not contend itself with such individual cases. And murder, whether justified or not, was murder. But, to be perfectly blunt, who cares?

There may be those whom value morality enough to sacrifice the life of their child. To sacrifice the life of any number of children. To "nobly" lead them to slaughter, all for the inflated sense of 'the greater good.'

But to Hell with them.

Or would it be 'to Heaven'?

Regardless, the point was, Orion would gladly forsake any scruples in the quest to protect his children.

And willingly offering his "stamp of approval" about his niece's antics was hardly the most morally scrupulous thing that could have been asked of him. Financially backing the mastermind behind said antics was slightly more involved. But still but a pittance compared to how far he'd be willing to go.

And truly, that should have been the end of it. A signature on a paper, a promise of payment, and she should have been on her way.

Only.

Only Bellatrix had made an error, a miscalculation if you will, the type of blunder that only those ignorant of their enemies' mentality stumbled into.

She had threatened him.

"I thank you Uncle, for your most generous of donations. It is truly heartening to see the House of Black stand strong in this, our society's dire hour. After all, a House divided…"

Even then, even in plainly laying out her loyalty to his cause, to a man, (over the House of her forefathers) Orion could be persuaded to inaction.

"Worry not, young Bella. The House of Black stands ever united. We are of one purpose and thought."

But, no, the child had to take it a step further.

"And strong as ever! I have never seen a more steadfast wizard than Cousin Sirius, nor more well read one than Cousin Regulus. One can't help but set their eyes on your youngest...out of curiosity, of course."

Perhaps, Orion would later reflect, she had intended to kow him into submission. Had intended for the fear tactic, the implied threat on his children (on little Thea) to keep him honest. Unfortunately, it had only revealed that Bellatrix was not above attacking her own.

And that made her an enemy.

Determination

Orion had never meant to push Thea towards the Weasley's. He had always disagreed with the way his own Father had dictated his friendships to him. Encouraging those that were "beneficial" and reproaching all else.

Perhaps, Orion would ponder, he would have felt differently if any of those so called "friends" had shown him some loyalty.

But true loyalty can only arise out of choice (or so Orion believed). If one does not choose to whom they give their allegiance, well it would be a flimsy sort of loyalty at best.

Thus Orion had decided to allow his children to make their own friends. It was a far more hands-off approach than Walburga was used to, and she often stepped in without meaning to, but for the most part this was a liberty he had afforded his offspring.

A liberty that was beyond rare for their station.

So, Orion had never intended to push Thea towards the Weasleys...but they had seemed to make her happy, and better yet, they were of the ridiculously chivalrous sort.

He'd doubted Thea had realized the defense she'd built for herself by befriending those two boys.

But it was only the tip of the iceberg as to what Orion had in store.

Orion was not a very passionate man. Or, perhaps it was more accurate to make the claim that he was a very selectively passionate man. He greatly admired the ability of his wife, and Sirius, to feel so strongly about so much. It was not that Orion did not care - far from it - but rather that he cared so deeply that he only found the energy to do so occasionally. Something he suspected both Regulus and Thea to have inherited from him.

Sirius would argue a cause, any cause, until the day he died. But Regulus would draw a line in the sand, and do nothing until that very distinct line was crossed.

Orion was the same.

His children were his line.

Orion was rather terrifying when determined - or so his wife claimed - but damn if Grimmauld Place wouldn't be the most defensible location in Britain.

And damn if he wouldn't fill Thea's party with allies (cultivated from his time as Head Boy).

And damn if anything would stand in his way of protecting his youngest.

So, while Orion had never meant to metaphorically 'push' Thea towards the Weasley's...he had completely intended the actual push he had given her, towards Arthur Weasley's outstretched hand.

Cleverness

The alarms went off first.

There were no signs, no lights, and no noises; nothing to alert the average party-goer to the breach.

That had been Orion's idea.

After all, such fanfare would only work to stir panic and alert the culprits.

No. If someone dared to invade his daughter's party, then he'd want to take them by surprise. Want to impress upon them the severity of their...miscalculation.

He had want to fight back.

So wards had been set up, silent wards that alerted their creators to their breach via a small shock.

Sometimes simplicity was best.

...and these wards were very simple.

There were so many creatures surrounding Lucretia's property, and the amount of magical folk that had decided to apparate in (it was his youngest's first 'public' soiree, after all) was frankly ridiculous. Having such vague triggers as "dark creatures" or "unknown entities" would have resulted in the wards tripping every other moment.

And Orion had enough political enemies that he couldn't even bother with the generic "those who wish me harm."

But that was fine. It was never himself he was concerned for. And, truly, anyone who wished harm on a child needed to be dealt with regardless.

Wards also worked better when simultaneously cast.

And it was remarkably easy to convince his allies, and Arthur Weasley, (although, could the man now be counted amongst his allies?) to cast a perimeter ward with the trigger of "those whom wish to harm any child present."

So, the alarms went off first.

Orion's reaction was immediate. He knew what to expect, what to plan for. After all, when trying to dominate your prey you must first box them in. Luckily anti-apparition wards must be raised in person, unluckily they took but a minute to cast.

The wards had been triggered but no attacks made. This was an infiltration, and somewhere out there were some skilled wizards attempting to cage him in.

At least, that was what he'd assumed.

But, Orion quickly realized, he'd overestimated them. It was not that they were waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Waiting until their prey could not flee. But, rather, that they were waiting for the most dramatic of entrances.

And it had been dramatic, he'd give them that.

Stupid, but dramatic.

…werewolves.

Of all the crazy schemes he had expected from Bella he would never have assumed werewolves.

Since when did she align herself with the filthy creatures? Since when did they follow the orders of a witch? But, more importantly, since when had they acquired wands and the ability to apparate?!

Orion was not ashamed to admit that for a second he froze.

But only a second.

Immediately he scanned the party for Thea and saw her standing within arms reach of Arthur. He sprinted, if he could just get to her, if he could just get her out of there...but he could feel the wards rising. Feel the walls closing in. And he wouldn't make it. He wouldn't get to her.

It's not enough to touch someone when you side-along, you must be holding them in some way or risk being separated by thousands of miles - at best. Orion didn't have time to grab hold of Thea, was too far away.

But he could push her.

He could shove her.

Before making it anywhere near her, he could call on his magic and will it to obey, will it to pushpushpush her towards safety.

...he had not intended to strand the little one.

Oh, yes, he had intended for Thea to apparate out with Arthur, had intended for his daughter to be grasped by the fleeing wizard. But it wasn't his intention for Thea to replace the man's own child.

At least, not consciously.

Still, the fact remained, Arthur had taken Thea to safety - intentionally or not - and it was only fair that he extended the same courtesy to the man's own son.

The wards were up.

There would be no apparating out of the field, not unless one managed to run past their perimeter. There would be no reasoning with their foes. And there would be no way to contact any reinforcements.

But that was alright.

That was fine.

Because the alarms went off first...and that had been Orion's idea.

"Expulso!"

I hate the phrase, "you don't get it."

Truly hate it.

To me, that phrase is the ultimate cop-out.

What kind of excuse is that; "you don't get it"? Why? Why don't I? Because I didn't live my life exactly as yours? Because I didn't jump the same hurdles? Your life might be horrible, but why does that exclude me from understanding pain, suffering, sadness?

After all, it is the emotions, and not the events, that you need to deal with. And, even assuming I don't get it...why not explain it? Why not take some time to share? Why not try and help me understand?

To me, "you don't get it" is the phrase people say when they are so wrapped up in their personal angst (real or imagined) that they can't be bothered with social interactions. They can't be bothered, and so they shut it down.

That being said...whenever anyone asked me to explain what thought processes led me to sitting alone on our living room floor for 3 hours - rather than staying in the warm, homey, burrow -m y default response was "you don't get it."

Not because the reasoning was intrinsically difficult to grasp. But because I simply...didn't want to have to explain.

Didn't want to explain the inherent "safety" I'd come to associate with Grimmauld Place. Didn't want to explain my distinct lack of faith, in the Weasley patriarch's magical prowess. Didn't want to explain how the only people I felt comfortable with when I was this scared...were either at Hogwarts or being attacked by a Werewolf.

I just...I'm actually a pretty open person.

I'll explain the why's and how's of most of my thoughts.

But safety? Comfort? It...I'm not sure why...but, explaining those things seemed to illegitimize them somehow. Seemed to belittle them. It was completely nonsensical, childish if you will, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they just weren't something to be explained.

And so I didn't.

That didn't stop me from grabbing Leo from my room, the blanket from daddy's chair (that smelled like him), Mommy's hand (magic) embroidered pillow, and curling up like the 5 year old I was.

This was safety.

This was comfort.

And if I had to explain it to anyone, well, that just meant they "didn't get it."

"Expulso!"

Orion hadn't been expecting werewolfs. Hadn't been expecting to deal with creatures. Still, the concept was the same. Keep your distance, keep up your defenses, and always, always keep on the attack.

"Flipendo! Brachiabindo!"

If anything werewolves were easier. Oh, not one-on-one, heaven's no, they had a natural resistance to curses, and their physical prowess far exceeded that of any mortal man. But two, three, four, on one? Well then the odds were 'slightly' improved.

"Serpensentia. Oppugno."

Orion entered into a rhythm of sorts.

"Locomotor Mortis!"

First an attack. Something to keep the distance. To get them to face you. Then a chain, some type of impediment or locking curse. But nothing so flimsy as ropes or cords. No, Orion was much smarter than that.

Physical restraints existed because they did not have a built-in counter curse, one had to vanish the restraint (which presented its own challenges) to reach freedom. They were useful as the coman wizard could not overpower them.

However, they were largely useless against dark creatures.

But, luckily enough, dark creatures did not posses the ability to cast counter-curses. And so such spells as 'brachiabindo' or 'locomotor mortis' while lengthy, became invaluable.

"Protego Horribilis."

Unfortunately the werewolves weren't the only threat Orion had to face. It seemed that Bella'd had the foresight to bring a few wizards along...granted, they were all but pawns as werewolves did not posses the ability to differentiate between friend and foe once transformed.

Still, a pawn had it's uses.

"Mobilicorpus!"

"Oh dear," Orion calmly muttered while covering the eyes of the small boy - Charlus, he believed - that he'd taken station next to, "that seemed rather cruel, Walburga dear. You do know how they like to play with their food."

"Hmph. A shield's a shield, and he's lucky I let that damn beast have him after they tried to Attack - Engorgio - My - Sonorous - DAUGHTER! DIFFINDO!"

Orion tried to hide a wince (and failed miserably) as Walburga first enlarged, and then, well, it wasn't quite severed...still, that poor bloke. "I understand...but we do have a child present, dear."

"WHAT'S HE STILL DOING HERE?"

"Dear..."

"WHAT?!"

"...your voice."

While Walburga didn't really do 'sheepish' Orion was able to make out the slightest of blushes before she cast the counter spell to her Resonant Charm. "...Qietus. There, that's better. Now, why, pray tell, is a child still present?"

"...I may have been over zealous in the casting of my Repelling Charm." Walburga just raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. "...it is slightly possible that I may have panicked to the presence of these creatures so close to my precious Thea - "

"- our."

"Hm?"

"Amalthea is ours, Orion."

"...yes, dear. I apologize." A sigh. "What I meant was, I may have - but slightly - overreacted to these...well, I may have been too quick to repel our Thea towards Arthur Weasley's outstretched hand...but moments before he apparated." And here Orion had the good grace to look embarrassed. "In my defense, however, I did not anticipate this resulting in the stranding of poor...your name is Charlus, right son?"

"...Ch-Chaa-wee."

Orion stared at the poor, frightened boy, who was grasping his robes like his life depended on it, knuckles white. He stared, and he realized how terrifying a sight this must be for the child. And just like that his bubble of indifference (carefully erected to keep back his panic) shattered...and he took a good look around the battlefield.

The first thing he noticed was the smoke.

Not the colorful smog that often accompanied some poor spell casting. But the thick, billowing, black, sulfuric, smoke that only ever accompanied a raging flame.

Ignattius' barns were on fire.

If Orion had to make a guess he'd probably call it friendly fire. It was an old dueling trick from back in Grindelwald's day, one that had actually been taught during Orion's O.W.L. year (ironically, the same year that Grindelwald fell). When your opponent has a natural advantage, do everything in your power to eliminate it. Either by elevating yourself, or dragging them down.

In this case, the natural advantage was sight. While the full moon provided a good deal of lighting it was not enough for comfort, certainly not enough when one's opponents possessed night vision. Yes, Orion was sure that someone had set the barns on fire to act as both a deterrent to the beasts, and source of light to their allies.

The next thing he noticed was the smell. They were out in the open, the smoke was hardly choking...but there seemed to be a sort of sulfuric smell permeating the air. Stretching across the fields and adding to the already unbearable heat of the flames.

In a way, it was as if Hell itself had decided to visit upon their little patch of land.

Finally Orion turned his attention onto the people themselves. And what he found shocked him.

They were struggling.

Everywhere he looked there were downed witches and wizards trying to cast rudimentary Healing Spells while strangers guarded their backs. The werewolves themselves weren't much of an issue - there must have been but five in total - and they were quickly immobilized. But that had only seemed to open the pathway to a swarm of...masked men?

Yes, masked men, who seemed to be all too eager to engage in dueling bouts with his partygoers. Men and women whom he knew to be competent in the art of spell casting (after all, hadn't he tutored the majority?) were being easily overwhelmed.

He was certain it wasn't due to a lack of skill. Certain. Which could only mean it was due to a lack of morale, to having been taken off guard, to the complete surprise of what may very well be a cult storming them.

Orion knew they could be victorious.

They just needed to be lead.

"Walburga, dear?" Orion called, locking eyes with his wife to convey his absolute sincerity.

"Yes?"

"Would you please take over in guarding young...Charlie? I find that my services are required at the far end of field." Here Orion gestured towards the dismal sight, "it would seem our Cousin has seen fit to send some...uninvited guests."

"But of course," Walburga purred while carefully transferring Charlie's grip to her own robes. "Oh, and Orion?"

"Yes dear?"

"Send Bella my regards."

A/N: There, that's done. For now. I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible during this brief window of time. I have just finished my finals for the semester, but have family coming in town near immediately. So it was either effectively cut this chapter into two parts and give you guys this now. Or wait until January to give you guys anything.

I figured you'd prefer the former.

I also apologize, but due to the nature of me rushing to get this out I won't have any review responses this chapter. Know I read each and every review and loved them all. I hope to respond at some point soon, but we'll see how this month plays out.

Anyway, I just want to say THANK YOU to all who read/alerted/favourited/reviewed. I greatly appreciated it. And since I doubt I'll update again this month I want to wish everyone a 'happy holidays'.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

-YY