Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!

This is a couple different POVs, so I hope you enjoy them all. It's also shorter than the last chapter. The next chapter I plan on doing more politics and another chat with Death. So that might take longer to write. So don't get too excited since I posted two chapters so close together.

Again, reviews are always appreciated. Please enjoy!

Ambitious

Albus Dumbledore was not happy, this fact was obvious. Severus didn't even need to be a spy to pick up on how frustrated the older man was. Reclining easily in the stiff chair, Severus maintained an outwardly calm, indifferent appearance. Inwardly, he faced a turmoil of his own. Everything he thought he knew was changing. He felt like a fool and he was not a man to be made a fool of.

Since his Master's fall and Lily's death, Severus had felt empty. He had no purpose except to fulfill that accursed Vow to protect Potters' spawn. When he turned to Dumbledore in despair to save Lily, he'd knowingly turned away from his Master. He'd hated doing so but he'd felt he had no choice. He couldn't let Lily die. Severus was a Dark wizard, he wasn't ashamed of it. Swearing a Vow to Dumbledore didn't change that. His magic sang when near the Dark and the Dark Lord was a beacon of Dark magic. Now it sang when near Potter too and wasn't that a hard potion to swallow. However, his love for his childhood friend overpowered that connection to the Dark.

So Severus became stuck. Stuck teaching worthless brats. Stuck feeling empty and hollow. Stuck feeling constantly patronized by Dumbledore sucking those damn lemon drops. Stuck in his life, feeling trapped and unable to progress in any direction.

When Potter finally arrived at the school, the Vow kicked in and he protected the brat. Even though helping Potter meant ruining the Dark Lord's plans; meant ruining the chances the Dark had for growing stronger.

Now though...now Potter and the Dark Lord were allies. Now, Potter lived with the Dark Lord. Now it appeared Potter was currently the safest he had ever been. And wasn't that another shock.

Severus glared at the man with twinkling eyes. The bloody coot had him swear an Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry Potter and then proceeded to send the boy into constant danger. And if that wasn't enough, Dumbledore had the boy tortured. Tortured, maybe even when Severus was at Grimmauld to make a report.

Dumbledore made a mockery of the Vow he'd forced onto him. Potter wasn't even safe before coming to Hogwarts. Severus had drawn vague confessions from Potters friends about how he was treated. The vague picture wasn't pleasant. A flying car breakout, yanking bars off of a window to aid the escape, runaway attempts, pleas for food during the summer months, Severus had heard enough after that.

Dumbledore was an icon to the Light and never had Severus considered the thought that the old man could be held to the same heartless level as the Dark Lord. At least the Dark Lord showed his displeasure if anyone else messed up. The Dark Lord expressed his vexation and dealt with it immediately, was honest in the disappointment and could allow the transgressor a chance to remedy their mistakes. Dumbledore hid behind falsities, guilt trips, and blackmail manipulations. Lately Severus felt dirty just being in the old man's presence.

"Thank you everyone for coming," Dumbledore called the meeting to attention. Severus pulled his mind from his internal thoughts and set about studying the others. It was a small group that day. Dumbledore had taken to separating the Order members into smaller groups. Severus was certain it was partially to keep the other members from thinking about Moody and Shacklebolt and the other reason being that without Grimmauld, there was no meeting place and Dumbledore was forced to have everyone in his office which wasn't big enough. Currently, around the office stood Emmeline Vance, Molly and Arthur Weasley, the metamorphmagus, and a mousy haired woman that Severus wasn't sure the name of, but she was a new recruit. "I know times seem to be turning against us but take heart. I am certain things will be turning in our favor soon."

"How can you be so sure, Albus?" Molly Weasley asked, twisting her hands fretfully.

Severus eyed the plump matriarch. Potter had said he had Order members on his side. If he had to guess, he'd say it was Lupin. But Lupin was still a lapdog to Dumbledore and in the middle of the woods negotiating with the werewolves. He'd never considered the Weasleys stepping from Dumbledore's shadow, but considering the youngest of the brood were firmly with Potter, it had Severus eyeing the parents in a different light.

"The Wizengamot session two days ago—"

"The papers do you no favors, Albus," Emmeline Vance cut in with a tight frown. "You really must speak to them, explain things properly. Potter is doing interviews with that Skeeter woman every week it seems. His interview yesterday paints him as the next wizard Gandhi, a Golden Prince."

"Yes, you are right, of course, Emmeline. I had not realized how reliant Harry would become on the press given his negative reactions to it in the past."

"It's hardly surprising," Severus drawled. "The Granger girl convinced him to speak to Skeeter and the Quibbler just last year. Potter isn't that bright, he is once again following in the shadows of others intelligence and copying the idea."

It took more training then he'd expected to sound so condescending in regards to Potter's intelligence. Potter might not have shined in the classroom as anything remarkable but seeing him in action in the real world was like a completely different person. Potter showed a cunning and slightly manipulative side that Severus never expected. But the strange thing was, in seeing the manipulations, Severus only saw his mother shine through the boy stronger. Lily was kind to a fault sometimes, hoping to see the best in people and compassionate. Her son, strangely, was the same. Except he manipulated through compassion. Done so in a way that Severus doubted people even realized it until later, if they realized it at all. Sometimes he wondered if Potter even realized what he was doing but dismissed it. Of course Potter knew what he was doing. A person couldn't be that brilliant at manipulation and not realize it, even Potter couldn't be that daft. Severus had only seen it done a few times, during the few meetings that Severus was able to attend. Potter listened and he appeared to genuinely care which made all the difference in people's perceptions and loyalties. His compassion inspired others to follow him.

"Nonetheless, I will be speaking to the press myself soon," Dumbledore said. "I am gathering my resources. Potter claimed the Neutral Faction, no doubt so he could have a leadership title of some kind so that he can lead both the Dark and the Neutrals. Cunning really, to lead the Dark from the shadows and the Neutrals in plain view to still seem innocent. However, I have witnesses of him interacting with very prominent Dark families, the children and the Lords and almost no Light families. Highly suspicious if the right conclusions can be made."

"Speculation at best," Severus sighed. Really, was that Dumbledore's big plan? Idiot.

"I'll have it printed just before this upcoming Wizengamot session, doubt will be cast just in time for the debates for the various laws. Scrutiny will be high and no one will want to agree with him just so they don't get cast in a negative light. It is a step in the right direction."

"What about the Longbottom boy?" The mousy haired woman asked, Severus looked at her again. Frail frame, timid, and average, she looked like the female version of Pettigrew.

"Yes, Sarah, thank you. Neville has agreed to visit me two times a week. I confess, I wish I could ask him to attend more sessions since he took so long to agree. But I will be teaching him things that only he can learn in order to properly defeat Voldemort."

"What about Potter? You said that we need to prioritize Potter over You-Know-Who," the metamorphmagus chimed in. Her hair was a dull brown currently and she seemed oddly lifeless. Probably because Lupin was off with the other werewolves and unavailable for her to salivate over.

"Yes, Harry needs to be defeated before Voldemort," Dumbledore agreed. "I am certain they are working together and with Harry's ability to manipulate and control who lives and dies, well it can be safe to assume he will keep Voldemort alive. Killing others gladly to do so. However, Harry is becoming a public figure and is now a Lord of three Houses. His death will be scrutinized. It must be handled delicately."

"It needs to be soon, Albus, before he gains more notoriety," Emmeline said.

"Yes, but we need to ruin his reputation first otherwise he will become a martyr. We can't have one of the Dark remembered so fondly."

"You're right, of course," Molly agreed, looking at her husband. Severus witnessed the two hold an entire conversation in the span of that single look. It was something enviable, he thought distractedly. To be with someone and to know them so well that your entire thoughts could be read in look, it was something that his life as a spy would never allow.

"Severus, do you have any news?" Dumbledore asked, drawing him back to the present.

"No, the Dark Lord has been oddly silent. I believe he is content to see how things progress in regards to Potter. I can't say if they are together, but the Dark Lord will need to react properly no matter what the boy does."

"So we just have to keep watching the boy?" The metamorphmagus asked with a sneer. "Everything hinges on what a teenage boy with too much power decides? His lies have already thrown Kingsley and Mad-Eye in prison! We can't just keep sitting around and waiting for who he wants to turn on next."

"It is disheartening," Dumbledore agreed. "However, for the time being we must work slowly. Any misstep could cost us the war before it even begins."

Remus leaned over the dining room table, his eyes glazed slightly as he stared down at the map spread out below him. His fingers trailed the burnt edges of the aged parchment. Sighing, he collapsed back into the chair.

How had life gotten so twisted?

He was now the last marauder, tasked with fixing the Marauder's Map after it had been burned. He currently lived in Grimmauld Place, Sirius's old childhood home, now owned by Harry and almost fully remodeled. It didn't even look recognizable, now bright and airy. He no longer followed Dumbledore, a man Remus had thought could do no wrong. Dumbledore had given him a chance as a student and later a teacher at Hogwarts. He'd owed the man so much but Harry was the son of his best friends, the friends who had accepted him without question, the friends who had given him a reason to live and be joyful and happy; friends who never cared about his lycanthropy and had even taken steps to help him through it. How could he ever be expected to turn his back on his first ever friends? How could he turn away from their loyalty when their son looked for his support?

No, he couldn't turn away from Harry. Harry was the last of his pack, his cub in all but blood. Remus would stand by his cub, no matter what. Of this, he and his wolf were in complete agreement. Harry was the most important thing in his life right now and he had to step into the role that James, Lily, and Sirius left. He'd done a shabby job at it so far but Harry still seemed to want him around. So Remus wouldn't waste the opportunity.

And currently, Harry was siding with Voldemort. The man who killed Lily and James and Sirius. But Remus understood why, which was the mind blowing thing. He understood and supported the choice Harry made to go to the Dark.

Remus was, at his core, a Dark creature. Whatever he might have been before the bite was of no consequence. Werewolves were Dark creatures and he had fought that label his whole life. Harry was Dark as well, a Necromancer could be nothing else, but he wasn't letting it define him. Remus had always respected Harry's courage, kindness, and even his stubbornness to not bend to others. Traits his parents boasted as well. The respect Remus felt grew as he saw the teenager refusing to be defined by something like Light or Dark. Remus respected that and felt ashamed that he had been unable to do the same at that age. This didn't mean he couldn't start now though.

The first step though was accepting his lycanthropy, something that Remus had fought and struggled against since he was five years old. How did he just flip that switch? Could he? He knew what he could do to start the process. It was as simple as sending an owl. But could he? His pride warred with him and he sighed again.

"I hope you guys are watching up there. Your boy is going to change things. He's going to change everything. And I couldn't be prouder. I know you are too," he whispered into the silence of the house, staring at the map before him.

Tapping his wand to the parchment, he watched the snarky comments of him and his best friends debate, overlaid over the map itself since the charms separating the two dissolved. His heart ached reading the frantic scrawl of Sirius and the slanted curves of James as they argued with his own neat and tidy handwriting.

Harry said he'd be speaking to them soon. His ability as a Necromancer would allow him to speak to the dead. Remus wondered if he'd get the chance to say his goodbyes to his best friends too.

Groaning, he stood and wandered to the kitchen to remake a pot of tea. Harry had dropped by that morning, telling Remus all about his lessons and the Wizengamot, or at least correcting and elaborating on the parts that the Prophet had covered. He'd mentioned meeting Greyback too which had gotten Remus thinking of reaching out and contacting his Sire about how to finally embrace his wolf.

He knew what Harry would say. It would be the same thing that James, Lily, and Sirius had been saying all their lives. His lycanthropy was a part of him, so he should embrace it. They hadn't cared so why should he?

"Stop being all mopey, Moony," he could hear Sirius' barking laugh. "You're turning into Myrtle."

"Honestly, mate, you're your own worst enemy," James sighed. Remus could picture a look of fond exasperation on his best friend's face. "So the guy was a total ass and bit you. Don't let that define you."

"You should just bite him back," Sirius cut in.

Remus felt his eyes water as he listened to his friends bickering in his head. Sometimes he wondered if he was going insane, with how he still heard his dead friends in his head but he didn't care, it eased the ache in his chest as he listened.

"Oh stop it you two." He could picture Lily whacking James and Sirius upside the head. "They're idiots, but they are right, Remus. You deserve this and I'm sure it will help you better support Harry."

Sighing, he pulled some spare parchment towards himself and dipped his quill into a nearby ink cartridge. Maybe he should find something stronger than tea as he attempted this letter...

"No, no see right here. Read that." Hermione shoved a large tome in front of Greengrass.

"Granger, check the publisher," Greengrass scoffed. "A firm so firmly up Dumbledore's ass they could brush his teeth. Always fact check your resources."

"Entertained?" Zabini asked, falling into the space beside Ginny on the couch. Ginny snorted, head still propped on her hand from where she was watching the two witches research and debate in their little corner of the Room of Requirement.

"I figured I had more to gain from watching them than them," she said nodding at Malfoy and Nott facing Ron and Neville. The four were having some Alpha Male showdown. Ginny wasn't even sure what they were talking about anymore, they'd moved too far away. They could be comparing class notes or threats for all she knew now. "Figured I'd at least learn something, maybe."

"We are an odd group, aren't we," Zabini commented, observing the ensemble.

Hermione and Greengrass had multiple books and parchments scattered around them, not even bothering to use the desks that the Room had originally provided. Parkinson, Davis, and Luna were gossiping. At least Parkinson and Davis were gossiping and Luna was interjecting with odd comments. Goyle and Crabbe were playing gobstones, and then there were the four boys trying to one up each other.

"Hmm…" Ginny said. "Harry has an odd way of bringing people together, even when he's gone."

Zabini eyed her and Ginny eyed him right back. He had been the most friendly towards her since they all met last weekend in the Three Broomsticks, nodding to her in the hallways or in the Great Hall when she spotted him. He was an attractive bloke, she would be an idiot to deny that. Aristocratic features against skin warmed by the Italian sun he enjoyed on breaks.

"You care for him, don't you? Potter, I mean."

Ginny shrugged. "Well sure. I mean he's practically my brother by this point, and I mean really, what's one more of those?" She chuckled. "Admittedly I did have an embarrassingly large crush on him the majority of my life. Hopeless romantic that I am, I entertained fantasies of him being my knight in shining armor but in real life…" she sighed.

Ginny wasn't certain when her die hard crush on Harry had faded but she was certain it was some time last year. She had followed Hermione's advice to try dating other people to maybe catch Harry's attention but instead she'd seen that there were more fish in the sea and that maybe Harry wasn't everything she'd hoped after all. She cared for him deeply but she realized it was much the same in how she cared and loved Ron or the twins. However, he had still saved her life in her First Year and she considered him a close friend after last year's DA lessons and that night at the Ministry.

"You, a hopeless romantic?" Zabini scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. Growing up with all those brothers? I've seen your Bat Bogey Hex and you're a monster on the Quidditch pitch too."

Ginny felt her face heating up. "Doesn't mean I don't like girly things, Zabini. I mean sure, I could probably kick your ass in a fight, with or without wands," she said with a confident hair toss over her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I can't dream of being swept off my feet. They do get tired having to carry my illustrious self around all day, especially since I can't fly my broom to class."

Zabini laughed and Ginny couldn't help joining in. "Spoken like a true Queen."

"Lioness, not queen," she corrected with a smirk. Ginny had never cared much for queens, they sat on thrones and ordered people around; elegant and aloof hiding behind their riches. While a lioness hunted and fought, defended her pride with all of the grace and power of a majestic feline. Ginny wasn't one for sitting on the sidelines and she wasn't afraid to get dirty. "I don't merely give orders. I get things done."

"Forgive me," he said with a lavish bow that made her giggle. "It's Blaise, by the way." Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him. "Not Zabini. Call me Blaise." He held out his hand to her and Ginny smirked.

"Ginny." They shook and Ginny found his hands warm and a little dry. "So, Blaise. What do you do? I mean, you aren't helping Greengrass with research, or showboating with your other buddies. I don't take you for the gossiper, so what do you do?"

Blaise shrugged and stretched his arms onto the back of the couch. Ginny noted this brought his arm casually behind her but said nothing. "I observe and offer snarky commentary."

"Oh, is that all?"

"It's a heavy role but I think I wear the crown well."

"I'm sure," Ginny snickered. "So what do you think of all this? Harry joining You Know Who and all."

"Think it was his best choice. He's surprisingly Slytherin in his actions," Blaise mused, shifting to face her better. Ginny subconsciously mirrored him, bringing her leg up onto the couch to face him fully, his arm still draped across her spot on the couch. "Now, what I'm curious about is his actions in the Wizengamot. That will be where he can make the most difference. I mean politically he's primed to make a full take over if he plays his cards right."

Ginny blinked. "You're really into this politics stuff aren't you?"

Blaise blushed and Ginny felt smug at causing it. "I mean it's where the real power's at. Suppose I enjoy the beauty of it too."

"Beauty? In politics?"

"Sure, I mean the intricacy of human interaction, manipulation and even underhand dealings. So much happens behind the scenes in politics, the actual Court is just a front. I think there is a beauty in the complex subtleties."

Ginny stared at Blaise, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah, I suppose I could see that. So is that what you want to do? Politics?"

"Yeah. I mean I'm set to take the Zabini seat when I come of age. It hasn't been held since my father. Mums not much for politics."

"But it's more than just familial obligation. You actually want to hold the seat."

"You're an observant one, aren't you?" Blaise smirked. "Yeah, I actually want to hold the seat. Maybe be Minister one day, the pinnacle of political achievements."

"Ambitious."

"Slytherin."

"So, do you have a Lady Zabini waiting in the wings of your political take over?"

"Why, are you interested?"

Ginny laughed. "Calm down, loverboy. No, I just know that a lot of the traditional Purebloods do arranged marriages. According to the gossip queens over there Nott and Greengrass are betrothed and so are Flint and that Carrow twin. Oh, big news, apparently those two have already set a date. A spring wedding, how quaint," Ginny giggled in a high pitched swoon, clasping her hands together. Blaise laughed at her impersonation.

"It's not as common as Pansy and Tracey would have you think. And no, mum isn't much for marriage as it is. Considering she's gone through it seven times. She was actually in an arranged marriage with my dad. Once he died she took it upon herself to enjoy the wonders of making her own choices in regards to partners." Ginny knew the rumors surrounding Blaise's mother but didn't think now was the time to bring it up. He seemed open to conversation and she wasn't about to close out her one potential ally on the snake side. "I kind of favor that logic myself," Blaise continued.

"You want a new wife every few years?"

"No, I mean, I like the idea of choosing my own partner. Suppose I'm a bit of a romantic in that aspect too." Ginny just hummed in response, not sure what else to say. This open honesty was strange but she enjoyed it immensely. "What about you? Housewife bound like your mum?"

"Merlin no! Ugh," Ginny shuddered. "Love my mum, I really do. But having seven kids? Never leaving the house? Bloody hell no. No, I'm going to make something of myself, probably on the Quidditch pitch. People are going to remember my name and not because of my numerous brothers. People are going to remember me."

"Ambitious."

"It's not just for Slytherins," she winked with a cheeky smile to which he returned. "Why are you talking to me, anyway?" He tilted his head in confusion. "I mean, being so open and all."

Blaise was silent for a bit, his gaze wandering around the room. "Well we are all allies, Potter's ridiculous temporary theory aside, we are all in this together now. I'm not interested in wasting energy on fighting it when I could conserve my energy for where it matters. And of the lot of you Gryffindors, you and I have the least amount of history to overcome. Last Saturday was our first conversation."

"So, I was merely the most convenient for you?" Ginny asked, her tone going cold. "A bridge to reach the others."

"No one could ever consider you a mere convenience, Ginny."

Face heating again, Ginny didn't look away from the intensity of Blaise's gaze. "You'd do well to remember that," she replied.

"Flower, dear, have I mentioned how wonderful you look tonight?" George grinned at Flora as they walked behind the group. It was just past two in the morning and they were going to the same pub that the group had eaten at the previous weekend.

"It's Flora, not flower," the girl corrected. She walked stiffly beside him but George could see the faint blush in the streetlights.

"A name aptly given to match your beauty," he nodded sagely.

"Did you smoke something while we were in that club?" She asked, looking at him oddly. "Potter warned us not to accept anything the muggles handed us."

George laughed loudly which made Pucey, Montague, and Fred glance back at him. Fred had drawn the two Slytherins into a Quidditch debate. But George knew his twin and he had seen Fred eyeing both men all night. He was sure that Fred was merely testing the waters right now to see which snake would be more receptive.

Raising his hands in surrender, George winked at Flora. "Duly noted, no compliments. Got it."

Flora huffed and frowned. "I don't mind compliments. I just don't care for matters of appearance."

George nodded but decided not to press. "So, tonight was wild."

He wasn't used to leading the conversation. Usually Fred would start in the company of strangers and George had no problem picking up the thread once Fred started it but currently his twin was busy and Harry was off talking with Flint and the other Carrow and Warrington. So that left George to walk alongside the other twin left alone.

Flora nodded, seemingly glad that he had changed the subject. "Yeah, two victims. Last week, Potter only took one."

"Was it that incredible to watch then too?"

"Oh yes," she sighed. "His magic really is something, isn't it?"

George knew that Harry was Dark. He and Fred had debated it for hours into the night after the truth had come out. He and his twin were, unshockingly, in complete agreement that they would support Harry. However, it was one thing to know that Harry was Dark and that he was a Necromancer. It was another to feel the comforting weight of his magic and to witness life being drained from another person right in front of him. George had thought maybe he should be repulsed at witnessing the death but he couldn't find it in himself. Many considered him the 'gentler' twin but he was also the more pragmatic and George supported what Harry was doing. The fact that George felt invincible, wrapped in the loving, caring, supportive warmth of Harry's magic also helped.

"So you run a joke shop." George got the impression that Flora wasn't used to leading conversations with people either.

"Yes…" George narrowed his eyes. Despite the snobs, and his mother, looking down on it, he was proud. It was a booming business and only a few months old.

"It's impressive. I walked in this summer. It was so packed I could hardly see the shelves. You should be proud."

"I am. Fred and I worked hard on our shop. If things keep as they are going we might be able to buy out Zonkos and open in Hogsmeade in just five years."

Flora actually looked impressed at that. "An achievement in deed."

"Harry mentioned you liked Herbology?"

Flora hummed in response. "He actually listens, doesn't he? Yes, I like Herbology, Hestia is the potioneer though."

"Well, Fred and I are making potions all the time for our products. If you're interested, do you think you'd be into working as our Herbalist consultant? I mean you probably know a lot more about the properties of the plants than we do." Another separation between him and Fred. While they both liked to create and experiment, Fred was more the mastermind and George excelled in getting their connections.

"Yes! I mean...no...thank you for the offer. However, I recommend talking to Hestia. She knows a lot of Herbology from me and has the potential to be the youngest Potions Mistress ever. She should be your consultant."

"Why not you? You seemed eager enough."

"My parents would never allow it. I'm the eldest and so I am the Carrow Heir. I must uphold my family line."

"Is that why you don't have a marriage like Hestia?"

"Yes, Hestia could be paired with any future Heir, whereas it was preferred to pair me with a second son so as not to split Heirships. It can be tedious to deal with, something Potter will face unless he can sire three children. A rarity among Purebloods now, your family excluded. However, around the time second sons around my age were being born, if they were born at all, the Dark Lord fell and things were in chaos. My marriage contract slipped through the cracks."

"Well, what if your parents didn't know? Nothing wrong with offering advice to friends."

Flora smirked. "That's rather devious of you, Weasley."

"I take that as a compliment. And please, Weasley is my brother." Flora giggled, an odd breathy snorting sound, and George felt immensely proud as he did every time he drew a laugh from someone.

By now the group had reached the pub and George watched in curiosity as Harry draped his leather jacket over the back of his chair and motioned for everyone to take their seats before going into the pub to order drinks, Flint following closely.

George exchanged a look with his twin. "What was with the waiting for Harry?" Fred asked claiming a seat between Hestia and Montague while George sat between Flora and Warrington.

"He is Our Lord's ally. He deserves our respect," Pucey sniffed from the other side of Flora. "He is also the Lord of three Houses, and so outranks all of us."

"Right...you know Harry doesn't care about that right?" George chuckled.

"He might not but he should," Warrington sighed.

"Potter has entered the world of customs and hierarchies," Flora continued. "A world in which he sits at the top. He needs to get used to preferential treatment."

"You'd think being the Boy Who Lived had gotten him accustomed to such treatment," Pucey said.

"So Harry should just accept it, even if he doesn't agree with it?" Fred pressed with a frown.

"Yes," Montague replied.

Hestia continued, "To put it bluntly for your Gryffindor minds: Potter is powerful and so people will watch him. If he acts in a manner unbecoming, people will talk and any influence he hopes to gain will plummet."

"Merlin, no pressure," George mumbled and Fred caught his eye with a wild eyed look of his own.

"Hope you lot are hungry," Harry's voice chimed in. "I got us some appetizers as well as the burgers and fish and chips. Sarah was happy to give us a sampler."

"Sarah?" Fred asked with a smirk, propping up his chin.

"Do tell, Harrikins," George continued mirroring the look of his twin; propping his chin up on his hands, his elbows on the table.

Harry snickered. "The waitress. She was here last weekend too and remembers me. Apparently I made an impression."

"Do we hear wedding bells?" Fred swooned and Montague and Flint chuckled.

"Oh, Harry—" George cut off when the waitress in question appeared with their drinks. "—you old dog!" He finished when she left. "Didn't know you fancied older ladies."

"Thought it was the older men you went for," Fred added innocently.

Harry jerked at that and then looked so genuinely confused before flushing red that George wanted to bundle him up and pinch his cheeks.

George and Fred exchanged another look and smirked at each other as they brought their drinks to their lips to cover the look. So while Harry was still innocent, maybe he wasn't as naive as he originally was, George mused. He knew the topic would warrant conversation with his twin later. More often than not, he and Fred would throw out comments just to get a reaction. The reaction given would dictate what direction they continued their teasing. Harry's reaction was rather curious and definitely warranted a plan of attack for future interrogation.

Taking a large swig of —what did Harry call it? Guinness?— George shuddered at the heavy bitterness but Fred seemed to like it and so George pushed himself to take another drink. There were some downsides to playing up the 'identical twin' concept and one of those downsides was not showing dislikes to different things. Made it far easier for people to tell them apart if one of them avoided things. However a plus side was being so intuned with each other that the other soon realised that they could then work on counteracting the dislikes. Such as tonight, Fred and George caused distractions to continuously swap their drinks. Fred drank for both of them while George took small sips, all the while constantly switching the drinks to make it look like both drinks naturally emptied.

It also led to George having to support and side-along Apparate his twin home to their flat above their shop at four in the morning when they opened the shop at nine. But such was life. George didn't begrudge his twin though. It had been an enjoyable night and the snakes hadn't been so bad. Of course, he and Fred had taken up their role as entertainers a few times that night to keep the awkward silences at bay but even still it was fun. They'd had a new audience for their stories too.

Before he went to bed though he made a note to send a letter to Flora to ask about possible ideas on a new project they were working on. He'd even take Hestia's ideas too.

That bloody brat, Thomas Travers seethed as he left his Masters house. It had not been a positive meeting and his limbs still twitched from the Cruciatus. Once again Potter had been there, reclining in a chair, hissing to his Master. Potter was trying to humiliate him again! Just like he'd done during that dinner. Ever since that dinner, his life had taken a downward turn.

Hatred burning, the man apparated to his own manor to pour himself some fire whiskey. Sinking into his plush armchair in front of the fire, he sank into his thoughts. It was all Potters fault. The bloody brat! Thinks he's so noble and superior, lording over his place above them. What Thomas wouldn't do to knock the arrogant kid down a peg or two. Maybe a few rounds of Crucio or a few cutting curses to really show the bastard who was in charge.

Since his release from Azkaban, where he had dutifully gone after his Masters fall —because of Potter! — Thomas had been steadily working his way to his Master's side. He'd been on par with the Lestrange brothers and that wimpy Avery. He had known his inclusion into the Inner Circle had been near. He could taste it. That dinner should have been the night he got promoted. But no. Instead, that dinner ruined everything. Potter had ruined everything. Now he was relegated to the end of the table. Demoted to the outskirts of the Outer Circle.

All because of that bloody child! That's all Potter was: a child. A child with a superiority complex and too much power just handed to him. A child playing a man's game. Thomas had never had a Wizengamot Lordship, the Travers family wasn't well-known or wealthy enough, but Potter had three just handed to him. And Potter had an Inheritance of a Necromancer too.

Thomas sneered at the flickering flames as he poured himself another drink. Please, Potter a Necromancer, he scoffed. It was ridiculous. The kid was a pathetic runt, he couldn't hold enough power to be a real Necromancer. Thomas had certainly not witnessed any killing on the boys part. No, it was all an act, Thomas was sure.

The boy was just infiltrating the Dark Lords ranks. There was no proof the boy had changed sides and he denied his Dark allegiance to the papers at every turn. No, Potter was still Dumbledore's pawn, of that Thomas was sure.

But how to make his Master see? Because somehow Potter was the Dark Lord's right hand. The Dark Lord listened to Potters useless ideas. There hadn't been a raid on muggles or Muggle-Borns since Potter got involved. It had been one of the things that got him through Azkaban, reliving the good old days where a bit of Muggle Hunting wasn't anything but a slap on the wrist if caught. Where he could release his tension by making worthless worms scream.

Draining his third glass of Firewhiskey and pouring himself another, it hit Thomas. It was down to him. He was the only one who saw Potter for what he really was: a fraud. He had to figure out what hold Potter had on his Master and release the hooks. Perhaps a potion? Potter was too much of a coward to attempt the Imperius, so it would have to be a potion. Since Potter lived in the manor it wouldn't be too hard to slip it in. But who brewed it? Because from all he'd heard, Potter could barely brew the simplest of First Year potions. Maybe it was Snape? Thomas had never liked the greasy bat and the fact that the man had wormed out of his Azkaban sentence by sniffing Dumbledores skirt didn't help any.

Maybe the hatred between Potter and Snape was all fabricated? A ruse to pull one over on the Dark Lord, to finish what Potter started all those years ago. Potter was turning into a better actor then Thomas had originally thought after all.

Yes…Thomas thought with the sudden clarity that only six glasses of Firewhiskey could bring. Yes. Potter and Snape were working to take the Dark Lord down from the inside. He had to warn his Master! Thomas stood only to immediately fall back in his chair, head swimming and cloudy.

No, he needed proof. Potter and Snape had a head start. They'd worked their grubby claws in good, Thomas would give them that, and nothing but proof would convince his Lord.

A sinister smile stretched his face as he stared into the dying flames. Yes, he'd have to be alert and vigilant. Potter would mess up. He was too cocky and too arrogant to not. He'd mess up and Thomas would be there when he did. He'd be there and he'd show his Lord Potter's true colors, Snape too. But Potter was the priority. Because while Thomas hated Snape, he absolutely abhorred and loathed Potter.

And the merciful and benevolent Lord that his Master was, he'd grant Thomas the opportunity to torture Potter before his Master dealt the final blow. Eyes flickering closed, smile on his face, Thomas fell into a drunken sleep filled with marvelous dreams of torturing Potter.

In Azkaban, Bellatrix bragged of torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. How it had taken almost ten minutes. It had taken her and the Lestrange brothers to do it. But Thomas would do it himself. Even if it drained him completely. He'd push through. How long would Potter last before he snapped? Didn't matter, Thomas would savor every scream.