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I while living have discovered a universal truth; a wizard's justice sucks ass.

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Harry had once declared that all he wanted was a normal life.

He now looked back on that declaration with contempt.

It had been a week since he had first met Lara and the Raiths. In the seven days since then, he had had without a doubt-barring his time with the Dursleys-the most boring and abysmally average time in his life. He had expected something that was moderately interesting. Like being a security detail-such as those he had seen in the few movies he had watched.

He was a bodyguard, sure.

For Inari.

Sweet, calm, ignorant Inari.

Not to say that she was lacking in knowledge conventionally. But she had no understanding of things outside of the mundane. The entire time he had spent 'guarding' her had been spent overseeing her while she studied, went to friends' places, and went shopping. There was only so many times he could be used as a test subject for clothing before he wanted to tear his eyes out. Which would have been a bad thing-they didn't have anyway to heal that kind of injury.

There was a bright side to it however: he now knew that his eyes favoured grey. Whatever the hell that meant. Another boon was access to their library while Inari was studying. Lara had insisted that he read Stoker's Dracula. He had assumed that she had him do it to remove the misconceptions he had about vampires, only to find out after he had finished that all that had been written in the book held truth to it. He had a few small nightmares afterwards, he was torn between being relieved that the nightmare hadn't involved the normal elements, and being concerned that being eaten alive in a nightmare was considered better then average.

The library had a rather extensive collection of literature; Harry quickly noticed that the majority of the collective works were fantasy fiction, or horror. He was currently reading a grimoire of myths, the stanza one he was looking atrevolved around an old Norse tale, involving a fairy named Summer, and a troll named Winter.

He was so engrossed in the story that he didn't notice Inari had stopped studying, and was trying to get his attention.

That is, until she got physical.

"What the hell was that for?" Harry demanded to know, his hand flying up to his arm where Inari had pinched him.

Inari gave Harry a withering glare, before she held up the book she had been reading in front of him. "Do you understand this?" She reached over the top of the book with her free hand and pointed to a section on mathematics.

Harry's brow furrowed as he scanned the text.

"Yes," Harry lied, before turning his gaze back to his book, ignoring how Inari's eyes narrowed.

She relented eventually and went silent.

Good things never last, however.

"What about this?"

Harry found the studying book on front of his eyes.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked exasperatedly, before gently pushing the book out of his sight. He was about to go back to reading when a thought struck him.

"Do you know where Lara is?"

Inari's face took on a sour disposition.

"She went away on a business trip," was all Inari said, before she went back to reading.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Harry inquired, looking over to Inari, but her face was hidden by her book.

"Why would she?" Inari's voice was vaguely waspish, scolding.

Harry held his tongue and went back to reading. He had no clue what he had done, but apparently he had upset Inari. He could recall a similar situation between Ron and Hermione, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Curiously enough, none of the wizards in the Grimoire had a wand. Staves were the medium they used for magic. They were usually ornate, or unique in some fashion, from the illustrations on the pages. Harry briefly toyed with the notion of building a staff, before he dismissed the notion. His wand was more than enough for him to deal with.

"Harry," Inari's voice broke through the quiet that had filled the library; she rolled his name off of her tongue in an almost childish way.

"Yes, Inari?" Harry asked , trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"Could you go and get me something to eat?" She looked hopeful, unlike how she had previously; her voice held no scorn.

Harry stared at her blankly, internally debating how to respond to her polite request.

"No."

Inari's lips twitched lightly.

"Please?"

"Didn't you have breakfast a few hours ago?" Harry asked calmly, snapping his book closed. There was no way he would get any more reading done with Inari's semi constant interruptions.

Inari shrugged nonchalantly, "It was only a few pieces of fruit."

Harry rolled his eyes and reached towards his pocket. He managed to stop himself half way. His fingertips brushed up against the thin layer of clothe that constrained his wand. He had almost slipped up. It hadn't been the first time. It was such a small matter, conjuring food. He had become so used to using his wand for the smallest thing that he had developed a nasty, unshakable habit of reaching for it without thinking.

Inari had become suspicious over the repeated movements. The girl was nothing if not perceptive, deceptively so. But for all that, she still retained a measure of childlike curiosity, and innocence. Or so Harry had come to believe. She hadn't really given him any reason to suspect anything else.

"In a few more hours, maybe," Harry finally agreed.

Inari pouted for a moment, before her lips curved upwards into a smile, "If you have to leave before then, can you bring something back?" she innocently asked.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged to himself lightly and opened his book again; he missed the triumphant look in Inari's eyes.

A light tapping sound found its ways to Harry's ears, moments before a calm baritone of a voice hit his ears.

"Mr Potter, there is a conference call for you." Harry turned around to the doorway, where a vaguely Italian-looking man stood.

Harry blinked bemusedly, before frowning in thought. "Who is it?" he asked after coming up with a list of zero as to who it was.

"Lord Raith."

Harry nodded to himself before he slipped out of his chair and stood up. He almost instantly began to miss the comfy cushioning of the chair.

"Harry!" Inari called out, prompting Harry to turn back as he reached the door.

Inari was curled up in her seat, smiling.

"Some raspberries and orange juice would be good," she stated haughtily.

Harry sent a mild glare at the seated girl. All it did was make her smile even wider. He turned away, out of the corner of his eye catching a small wave of Inari's hand.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked the servant.

He received a silent bow in return, then was led out of the Library.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Harry finally decided to break the ice.

"Have you been working here for long?"

The man remained silent and continued to look on ahead.

Harry frowned lightly but held his tongue. It hadn't been the first time that a Raith employee had chosen not to talk to him. It happened quite often. The only person he could get a proper conversation out of was Inari or Lara, and Lara had left according to Inari. There had been a few times when Lara and Inari's brother, Thomas, had tried to talk to him, but every time a situation needed his immediate attention. He didn't have any complaints about it.

The silent servant eventually led Harry into a section of the mansion he had not been in previously. They had passed through a long, large hallway which was bare, except for the occasional portrait. There were only three faces that Harry recognised. Inari's, Lara's, and a fair distance away, Madeline. Between Inari and Lara there were various portraits of women that bore a striking resemblance to the sisters.

The furnishings were all made out of the same auburn coloured wood. The air smelled crisp, if not a bit stale. The walls were covered with books. Unlike the library, most of them looked like they belonged in a person's study. Harry realised that he had been brought to Lord Raith's personal study. Nothing was out of place, there were no spare papers lying on his desk. The room was barren.

Except for the far side of the room.

In a hollowed out part of the wall, a gigantic screen sat snugly. On either side of the screen, wooden slates were jutting out. They looked as though they slotted in perfectly in front of the glass panel. The most interesting feature of the setup was probably Lord Raith's face, magnified to be many times greater than it actually was. The quality wasn't exceptionally high, but Harry had no trouble recognising the Raith monarch.

“Mr. Potter.” Harry was mildly startled when Lord Raith's voice reverberated throughout the room, and the image of him on the screen moved.

“Sir,” Harry greeted, briefly wondering if he could be heard.

Raith eyed Harry critically "I am correct in assuming that you are being treated in a cordial manner?"

Harry nodded absently.

Raith's face remained mostly impassive, his eyes were locked on to Harry's form. “Is my daughter in good health?”

"She's good." Harry answered without thinking. Raith's brow furrowed slightly. “Good?” he repeated, rolling the word off his tongue; his voice was soft, but there was a warning tone in his voice. Harry could not have mistaken it. Snape had had a habit of overusing it; Harry doubted he could recall a time that the traitorous potions master had not when conversing with him.

“I mean to say, that she is in good health,” Harry offered after a moment of consideration. “Just a normal girl basically."

Raith's eyes flashed silver. It happened quick enough that Harry hadn't been sure he had seen it. "I see, and nothing out of the ordinary has occurred?”

“Everything has been normal.” Harry almost grimaced; it had been too normal. There was only so many girl day-to-day activities a single man could stand, before he wanted to see how many curses a living body could hold before it was liquefied.

“Then I have a request for you: I need you to escort my son to a meeting with the White Council.”

Harry blinked, momentarily stunned, at the mention of the White Council. “White Council, as in the guys who attacked Lara?” And who I accidentally killed? went unsaid.

Raith's lips curled up in a slight sneer.

“The same.” His voice had a hint of disdain to it.

Harry was far from sold on the plan “Is that really a good idea?”

Raith's eyes narrowed mildly.

“There will be no altercations as long as you do not do anything foolish.” Raith took on a pensive disposition. “In the case that something does happen, I require that you not be the first to act.”

Harry stared at Raith. “You mean let them attack me?”

An expectant gleam registered in Raith's eyes momentarily as his lips thinned out. “Quite.”

Harry's expression darkened ever so slightly. “What if I choose not to go?”

Raith's expression remained the same, all but for the most minute details, and even then, Harry couldn't be certain if it was a trick of the light.

“It is well within your right to refuse to escort my son.” Raith's voice was calm, frighteningly so. It didn't really sound as though he was angry, or disappointed. Far from it, he looked unperturbed. “I have nothing else to discuss with you. Find Thomas and inform him that I require his presence in this room.”

Raith left no room for further conversation. Even if there had been, Harry had no doubt he would have declined. Harry left the room in silence. The servant had long since left, leaving Harry by himself to navigate his way back into the main part of the mansion. An idea suddenly hit Harry without warning. He almost felt like hitting himself. Throughout the entire time he had been in the Raith household he had been straining to keep himself from using his wand at the drop of the hat, and yet, the moment he actually had a use for it, and could use it, he found himself null to the idea. Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket and held it on the top of his upturned palm.

“Direct me Thomas's room.”

It was a small, unremarkable piece of magic. But it was useful, extremely so. The basis of the spell was the same as the Point Me spell. The main difference was it relied on the person who cast it to triangulate the position of what was chosen. Specifically, it relied on the observations made by the caster; all the minute observations that were inconsequential, and passed on from the conscious mind.

The wand burst into motion. Harry managed to flatten his hand just enough that the tip of the wand wasn't put off of its spin. The length of wood spun violently, so fast that it was barely more than a dark brown blur. And then it stopped. So suddenly that if Harry hadn't been expecting it, it would have been a shock. Harry smirked mildly as he felt the wand strum with the magic it was containing.

He quickly began walking down the hallway; the wand shifted ever slightly, angling just a bit differently each step, all the while pointing towards the same destination. Little more than a minute later, Harry found himself in a known part of the mansion. He quickly pocketed his wand as the sound of footsteps, not his own, sounded in the hallway.

A young woman in a maid's uniform appeared from around the corner. She was a pretty little thing, light brown hair and a soft complexion, aesthetically beautiful just like everyone in the mansion. But her eyes, like all the others', were dull, almost lifeless. Harry offered the girl a strained smile, and received a pleasant one in return.

“Is there anyway I can help you, Sir?” she asked politely as she stood a few feet away from Harry.

Harry shook his head, “No thank you, Miss-“ he trailed off uncertainly.

“Beatricè.” Her voice was soft, almost silent. It sounded as though it was underused. “If you do not need me I shall take my leave.” She lowered her gaze and bowed before Harry, before beginning to walk away. Harry remained silent and watched her as she disappeared into a room. He briefly noted that she was the first out of anyone besides the Raith family members to speak willingly. Harry shook his head and began the small trek towards Thomas's room.

It didn't take long, a fraction of the time it took to walk from the study. Harry rapped his knuckle against the hardwood frame of Thomas's bedroom door. Beyond the door there was an absolute silence.

“Give me a moment,” Thomas's voice called out, muffled by the wall in front of Harry. The door flung open, revealing a shirtless Thomas. “Oh it's you,” he said; his voice had a hint of complaint to it.

Harry resisted the urge to retort.

“Your dad wants you in his private study,” Harry said calmly, ignoring the state of dress, or rather undress, that both Thomas and-if the sounds from inside the room were any indication-his partner were in. Confusion was paramount in Thomas's eyes. “The one with the big television that acts like a video telephone?” Harry tried. Thomas nodded, giving Harry a peculiar glance, before calling over his shoulder.

“I'll be back in a bit!”

Thomas turned back to Harry. “Thanks for that.” Harry couldn't tell if it was sincere or sarcastic. He nudged past Harry and began walking back the way Harry had come, leaving Harry by himself. The green eyed wizard shook his head lightly and turned away, his destination in mind: the kitchens.

“Please wait!” An urgent, pleading voice called out from inside the room, a decidedly feminine voice, one which he couldn't recall hearing before. A girl hopped into view. She was pulling on a pair of jeans; they had barely been pulled up in time. Harry was half certain he saw a flash of the girl's panties, but he quickly put it out of his mind. The girl's eyes were dark, as was her hair, and she was a bit taller than Harry. Despite her hair being in a state of disarray, she looked almost as good as Lara and Madeline.

“Thank you.” She smiled gratefully and extended her hand towards Harry. "My name is Justine." As Harry reached forwards the dark-haired girl continued, "And you must be Harry, I'm sorry that we haven't had a chance to talk yet, I've been meaning to..." she trailed off into silence.

Harry smiled bemusedly. "Were we supposed to talk?" He clasped her hand and shook it, before letting go.

Justine let loose a chime like laugh, "No, but I've been wanting to since I saw you with Lara and Inari." She shot Harry a curious look. "You sent a dirty look my way when you first saw me, have I done something wrong?" Justine's voice was slightly troubled.

Harry shook his head and smiled across at her. "No, Thomas just reminded me of someone I didn't get along too well with." It was true enough, Harry mused. He didn't have a problem with Thomas, other than his name and the small similarities he held with Tom Riddle.

“Do you want to spend some time together while we wait for Thomas to come back?” Justine's eyebrows raised expectantly. Harry felt a bit out of his depth.

“Sorry, I'm supposed to head down to the kitchens and get a snack for Inari,” Harry apologized with a small smile.

Justine frowned.

“I wasn't really asking you if you wanted to spend some time with me.” She scolded him flippantly. “I was allowing you to be a gentleman and accept.”

Harry held himself back from making a sarcastic comment, and gave Justine a strained smile. “I'd love to really, but I need to get back to Inari, it's what they're paying me for after all.”

Justine's mood changed in an instant: as quickly as she had switched from perky-happy to angry annoyed, she moved onto pleasantly curious. Harry felt far out of his depth. Justine's eyes were uncomfortably intense. “So that is what you're doing here?” she asked bemusedly.

Harry could only nod silently; he held himself still, despite however much he wanted to lean back away from the pretty and unstable girl.

“Do you mind if I come with you to get something to eat?” Her eyes were latched onto Harry's.

“Not at all,” the words flew out of his lips before he could properly comprehend them. He had felt as though the wrong answer would have had the girl's mood swing again, and his survival instincts had kicked in.

Justine perked back up and smiled, before slipping an arm around Harry's and beginning to lead him off, to the kitchen, Harry assumed.

“So,” Harry began awkwardly; Justine was holding on a bit too tight to his arm. “Are you related to Madeline?”

A tinkling laugh met his question, along with an bemused smile. “No, why did you think that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “No reason in particular.” he didn't feel the need to explain the similarities he saw between them.

Justine's lips retained her pleasant smile, but her eyes still held a hint of confusion in them; she quickly moved past the question, however.

“So what's a guy your age doing working in a place like this?” Her tone was of light curiosity, and the question itself was worth thinking about.

Why had it he stayed? The subtle threats if he left were a reason-not a good one however, a quick memory charm and he'd be a thing of nonexistence in their minds. There was the fact that he hadn't intended to stay in the Wizarding World (If you capitalise one word, better capitalise the other as well) for too long. It was awfully convenient that the 'job' had just 'happened' to become available the moment he was captu-made a guest of the White Court.

“I just happened to be around at the time, and they offered,” Harry gave a half truth, holding back an amused smile “The salary I was offered... was pretty impressive also,” he admitted.

“Oh,” she blinked. “How much are you getting paid?”

Harry held back a snort; she had no sense of tact, or if she did she wasn't overly fond of exercising it. “Three hundred grand in dollars, I'm not sure how much it is in pounds, though.” Harry trailed off into thought. His thoughts once again turned to his friends.

“You're a Brit?” Justine exclaimed, sounding mildly surprised. “I couldn't place your accent properly,” she admitted. “How long have you been over here for?”

“About a week,” Harry answered, losing his train of thought “I... ran into Lara a week ago, and helped her with something, and here I am.” He gestured at himself with a half smile.

A frown slowly developed on Justine's face; she progressively slowed down, forcing Harry to slow down with her, until they came to a complete stop.

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “You don't look like you've been fed on.” Justine reached up to Harry's face and pressed her fingers against his eyelid. Harry stood still, unmoving as she opened his eye as wide as she could, peering into the iris.

After a few moments it became painful. He moved to swat away her hand, only to miss, as she withdrew it. “You seem perfectly fine,” she murmured, her voice unsure.

“I doubt I'm that tasty,” Harry stated with an equally unsure smile. “I'd probably give her indigestion.”

Justine spared Harry a peculiar look, one not too dissimilar from the one Thomas had bequeathed him previously. It didn't last long though; she shook her head dismissively before pulling Harry along again. The kitchen was just around the corner, he noted as his eyes met a familiar portrait.

“What did Inari want to eat?” Justine asked curiously as she moved ahead of Harry, into the kitchen. Harry noted, with no small amount of amusement, that she immediately went for the food cooking on the numerous stoves, largely ignoring the cooks that were at work. “None of these look ready to eat,” she murmured, her nose twinged with disgust as she lifted the lid of a particularly smelly dish.

“Just some berries and juice,” Harry answered, pausing to look around the room briefly. “Wher- he began to ask, before a bag was shoved up in front of his face.

“Raspberries,” he finished, smiling sheepishly as he took the bag which was held under his nose “Thanks.” His eyes flickered from the proffered bag to the face of the person holding it to him. A pair of familiar dull eyes stared back at him, along with a familiar face.

“Beatrice?” he asked, surprised. “Weren't you on the other side of the mansion?”

A small nod was all he received in return, before a second item was held out to him-a pitcher filled with an orange liquid, orange juice obviously, and a cup, which he accepted. “Miss Raith requested that we prepare substance for her and bring it to her.” She bit down on her bottom lip, internally debating whether to continue or not. “She also made a complaint about you taking too long, Sir.” Her voice was vaguely disproving, at him or Inari, he couldn't tell.

“Oh,” a sound of surprise came from behind Harry, and before he could turn around Justine peaked over his shoulder. “Have you got everything? Well come on then, we need to hurry, I have to get back to Thomas soon.”

“One second, I'm talking to-” He attempted to wave Justine off, attempted being the key word. He found himself jerked around by the wrist and pulled away. “Wait I said!” he snapped, before pulling his hand out of Justine's grip. He ignored the outraged look on the girl's face and turned back towards Beatrice.

Only to find that she had already begun to walk away, out of the kitchen via the exit to the back.

“Need to talk to who?” Justine asked, her face clouded with a troubled expression, before one of comprehension overtook it. “You mean the servant girl?” she asked, surprised, before shaking her head and tugging on his arm again. “Don't worry about her, she isn't worth talking to.”

A bubble of annoyance and anger began to well up inside of Harry at the sheer dismissal she conveyed in her voice. He rounded on Justine, prepared to tell her off, but the words died in his throat. Justine stood, staring at him curiously, and there was confusion in her eyes. Confusion seemed to be common place with Justine. She was confused because he was speaking to one of the 'servants'? Or was she confused because he wasn't following her? He couldn't place it. Her lips held a bemused smile, unlike the ones she had previously displayed. There wasn't a hint of malice in her.

“You'll catch flies like that,” Justine teased, her lips curving upwards into a wider grin.

Harry snapped his jaw closed. He forced a smile upon his face and nodded. “Shall we go then?” He motioned for Justine to lead the way.

She was only too happy to. He followed her in silence until they came to the stairs which connected the first to the second and third floor.

“I guess this is where we go out separate ways,” she stated as she turned around to face Harry. There was a hint of disappointment in her smile, but not too much. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry.” She quickly covered the small amount of space between them and placed a quick kiss upon his cheek. Harry felt a mild burn on his face, indicative of a blush, however minor. He paused for a moment, before smiling again.

“I'd love to talk to you again, it was fun,” she murmured.

Harry laughed lightly, but nodded all the same.

“Maybe you can show me why they made you Inari's minder” Her eyes were alight with amusement as she went on to say “You don't look like you could hurt a fly, much less protect someone.”

Harry felt like he had been slapped; the comment had been in good humour, he understood that by the confusing (once again) lack of malice in her words and expression on her open face.

“I'm fairly capable,” he answered smoothly; his smile became a bit less forced as Justine nodded seriously.

“I know, otherwise they wouldn't have hired you.” She bit her bottom lip, the look in her eyes became worried. “Thomas loves Inari, I don't know what he'd do if she got hurt.” Her eyes met Harry with the same intensity they had outside of Thomas's room. “What makes you special, when you're younger then me?” she demanded to know.

“Magic,” Harry answered simply, taking a small pleasure in the mimicry of a deer in the headlights that Justine's face sported.

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, unfocused, and she smiled hesitantly before nodding. “I'd... better go.” It sounded like she really did want to leave.

“Bye Justine, it was nice meeting you.” Harry lifted his hand to wave, but she had already turned away and disappeared into the east wing's corridor.

“Funny girl,” Harry mumbled to himself as he shook himself out of the minor stupor he had fallen into, and began to walk in the direction he recalled the library being in.

“About time! You took ages.”

Harry snorted lightly as he dropped the bag of raspberries in front of Inari and placed the jug down on the middle of the desk.

“I had to get Thomas for your dad, and then I was accosted by the girl we saw with him when I got the grand tour of the place, her name's Justine.” He dropped down into the chair he had previously been sitting in, only to frown a moment later; the padding had reset to its former shape.

“Accosted?” Inari began sceptically. “Justine's a nice girl, she's sweet if a bit temperamental. I can't see her doing that.” Inari paused and glared playfully at Harry. “I bet you were the one who did the accosting, and she naïvely followed you.”

A cheeky grin formed on her lips as she picked up the bag of raspberries and plucked one out. Her grin faltered for a moment as she brought one to her lips and slipped it inside. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, before swallowing, and turning her gaze back to Harry with a light frown.

“Too warm,” she said simply.

“Bullshit,” Harry stated flatly “You're just being difficult; you got your snack, now eat them.”

“I'm completely serious.” Inari pointed to her face. “This is my serious face.” Her face was completely stoic; it looked forced, however, with the subtle tug of a smile threatening to break her 'serious' face.

Harry fought the urge to pull out his wand and curse her.

“Alright,” he said after a few moments. “Close your eyes and put your head against the table.”

Inari eyed Harry suspiciously. “Why?”

Harry held back a snort.

“I'm going to do a bit of magic to cool the raspberries down.”

Inari's eyebrows rose, before she let out a light laugh. “Pull the other one, why don't you?” She managed to sat through a chuckle as she smiled at Harry.

Harry frowned at her. “I'm serious.”

He pointed up to his face.

“This is my serious face.”

A mild glare came from Inari, despite her smile widening to cover her lower face.

“Alright.” She made a show of closing her eyes and setting her head down on the desk.

The moment Harry heard the faint sound of her head falling upon her folded arms, he stood up and withdrew his wand. Harry pointed it to the raspberries, wordlessly casting a cooling charm on the fruit. The charm worked, a bit too well. A thin film of sleet covered the Raspberries. As he prepared a weak warming charm to disperse it, Inari spoke.

“I'm gonna lift my head up now.”

Harry quickly pocketed his wand, a few seconds before Inari's head turned on its side towards Harry; her eyes immediately moved to him, before her gaze turned upon the bag of now frosted-over raspberries. She stared at the bag silently for a few moment, before she slid one of her arms out from underneath her head and reached into the bag, plucking one of the raspberries from the pack. Her eyes widened the moment her fingertips touched upon the berry.

She raised her head up off of the desk and reached across to the bag with her other arm, pulling it closer to herself for inspection, with surprise evident on her face. “How'd you do-” she began to ask, before her eyes took on a suspicious gleam. “You switched the bags didn't you?” She abruptly stood up and leaned over the table, looking down to the floor where Harry stood. Her eyes flicked up from the ground to meet Harry's amused stare.

“I didn't hear you move, so where are they?” she asked curiously, glancing to the sides.

“Magic,” Harry announced with a jovial smile.

“Really,” the Raith daughter replied, eyeing Harry doubtfully, before nodding to herself and reaching over to the pitcher of orange juice. Her hand rested upon the handle for a moment, before she dragged it over the table, along with the cup attached. She calmly poured the orange juice into the cup, before bringing it to her lips and lightly sipping upon it.

“Too warm,” she declared, placing the cup upon the table next to the pitcher. Inari smiled innocently and quirked her head to the side. “Could you fix it for me?” she asked, gently pushing the cup and pitcher towards Harry. She received a withering look from Harry, but seemed oblivious.

Harry's eyebrows had raised at Inari's request, but he nodded and gestured towards her. “Eyes,” he stated, his voice slightly exasperated.

Inari smiled brightly and closed her eyes. Instead of laying her head down upon the table, she reached up and covered her eyes with her hands.

Harry chuckled lightly, before slowly walking around the table to behind Inari. The moment he stepped out of her line of sight he withdrew his wand again and pointed it towards the pitcher and cup, once again wordlessly casting the cooling charm upon the liquid inside each of them. He managed to hold off the ice forming, but only barely, the sides of the pitcher had fogged up slightly.

He only just managed to slip his wand away into the confides of his clothing before Inari's hands dropped and she spun around to face Harry, her eyes filled with an emotion akin to annoyance.

“You cheated!” she exclaimed indignantly. “I couldn't see what you did!”

Harry blinked, a sly smile coming over his lips.

“Of course you didn't,” he began, amusement evident in his voice. “You had your hands over your eyes.”

“Right.” Inari's voice had a slightly sarcastic tone to it, but she didn't dispute Harry's statement.

Harry gestured at the orange juice as he walked back around the table. “Well go on, drink it up.”

Inari frowned lightly but sat back down and did as Harry suggested; she sipped the orange juice, before glancing over to Harry. “It's a bit c-”

“Shut up and just drink it,” he interrupted, picking up the book he had been reading and dropping down into the chair he had been sitting in prior to being called out of the room.

“Mean,” Inari huffed, but was compliant, bringing the cup back up to her lips.

Hours seemed to trickle by in the relative silence, until the sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness began to spread throughout the afternoon sky. The lights in the hallway and library flickered on in unison. Harry ignored it all, including the dull and weak knocking sound that met his ears.

Instead he focused on the book in his hands.

“Mr. Potter, Thomas is waiting for you in the lobby,” a voice as dull as the knocking sound spoke from beside Harry, prompting him to look up. A servant was standing near the doorway. It took Harry a few moments to realise what the servant was talking about.

“I'll be there in a few minutes,” he said dismissively, before turning his attention back to the book in his hands. Specifically, the section on various mythological beasts. The author P.K Skavis had done a commendable job in describing them, he had even gone as far as to get illustrations done for it. Harry's eyes were currently locked on the page dedicated to trolls. In particular, they were focused on the illustration, which bore a striking resemblance to the creature he had fended off after meeting May.

After a few more moments of staring at the entry, Harry turned the book over and placed it open on the table in front of him. His eyes swept across the table to the only other occupant in the library. Inari had long since fallen asleep; she had rested her head atop of the table, her arms folded on the book she had been reading. He absently took note that sleeping girl was shivering ever slightly. The Library was quite cold, Harry quickly realised. It wasn't a good sign that he had become so engrossed in the book that he had ignored the temperature.

A wave of nostalgia hit him as he remembered having a similar argument with Hermione, over the lack of concern she could at times place on her physical well being when reading. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of just leaving her as she was, but he quickly chose the only other option he could think of besides waking her up. Standing up, Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. He began flicking it in a short, but precise series of curving motions. “Cento Constituo,” Harry murmured softly, jabbing his wand at the chair he had been sitting in.

In the blink of an eye the chair folded in on itself, before expanding out into a large black quilt. A second wave of his wand saw that the blanket stopped before it hit the ground. Harry plucked the floating blanket out of the air and stepped around to the other side of the table, where Inari had fallen asleep. He slowly draped it over her, tucking its edges around her so as to keep it from falling off. Once satisfied, he turned away and began to walk towards the library's exit.

“You weren't lying.”

Harry froze.

“You really did use magic,” a tired voice murmured from behind him.

Ever so slowly, Harry turned back until his eyes met Inari's. She looked to only be partially awake, her eyes were less than half lidded and she seemed to be fighting to keep them open, however little. Harry's heart thudded violently in his chest. The stupidity and carelessness of his action dawned on him rapidly. His mind flashed through the various excuses he could use, before it came to rest on the best possible option.

He raised his wand up and pointed it towards Inari, the first syllables on the edge of his tongue, “Obli-“

“Weren't you naked in the last dream?” Inari asked through a yawn, her eyes barely open.

Harry stared blankly at Inari, the spell on his tongue forgotten.

“Right,” he began to say, his voice strained. “I was just going to change, I'll be back in a moment.”

“Bring some whipped cream back?” she murmured into her arms as her eyes sealed up again.

“And some raspberries,” Harry agreed, glancing to the half empty bag of raspberries in the middle of the table.

Inari nodded into her arms and let out a noise of appreciation. Harry managed to hold in the laughter that was threatening to overtake him as he turned away from the black haired girl and walked out of the library. He silently closed the double doors behind him as he stepped out of the library, careful to leave it unlocked in case Inari woke up during the following night. The doors gave a dull clanking sound as they sealed shut.

Turning away, Harry couldn't help but give a mild bout of laughter, and made a mental note to record the memory in a pensive when he got back home. His laughter died away along with his brief lapse in memory. A frown slowly formed on Harry's face as he wondered exactly when he would make it back, if it would be enough time to forget to save the memory.

He had no idea how long it took to walk from the library to the front of the mansion; he was lost in his thoughts the entire time, only brought out of them when he had to recall which direction he needed to turn.

“Harry!” a relief-filled voice exclaimed from somewhere near the back of the Lobby as Harry finally made it to the front door.

He turned back in time to see Thomas briskly walking towards him, an expression of nervousness seated upon his face.

"I thought you weren't going to show up." He paused, taking a moment to look Harry over. “You're going to wear that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders lightly; there was nothing wrong with his casual clothing as far as he was concerned. He quite liked the clothes that he had been told to buy in place of the ones that Lara had incinerated. "I was just finishing a book."

Thomas chuckled, the expression of nervousness disappearing quick enough that Harry wasn't completely sure he had seen it. "That's alright, it's lucky I decided I should call you a bit earlier than necessary." He gave Harry a winning smile. "As it is we won't be too late, maybe a few minutes." He gestured beyond the front door, where a white limousine was waiting and began to walk.

Harry nodded and walked towards the Limo, stopping only long enough to allow Thomas to take his seat first. Once inside, Harry took a moment or three to look around the interior. He had been in few other cars in his life. Vernon Dursley had been a proud man, and he always took liberties when buying his cars, but even they paled in comparison to the Raith's fleet of cars.

'Hell, even the cars Inari uses to go out are better than them,' Harry mused.

"Is something wrong?"

Harry blinked bemusedly. "Pardon?" he asked as he looked towards Thomas.

He received an equally confused smile in return. "You looked a bit spaced out," he offered, hesitating only for a few moments.

"I'm just admiring the limo," Harry explained.

A laugh came from Thomas.

"I don't like Limousines much myself, but my father wanted us to arrive with style, so..." He gestured to the Limo. "They do have their perks though," Thomas admitted as he reached towards a cabinet. It opened up to reveal a set of crystal glasses, along with a bottle of an amber liquid.

Thomas offered up a glass to Harry.

Harry declined with a shake of his head.

"I'd rather not drink right now."

He received an understanding nod from Thomas. "I prefer a bit of a drink to calm my nerves before something like this," Thomas explained as he resealed the cabinet.

"Like this?" Harry echoed, his brow knit in confusion.

"As a rule of the thumb, whenever I'm being sent for something official it doesn't bode well."

Thomas gave Harry a loose smile before sipping from his cup. A grimace followed soon after.

"A bit too strong." He put the cup down beside him.

"What do you mean by 'it doesn't bode well'?" Harry demanded to know.

Thomas continued to smile.

"In most cases when he requests that I go in his place the circumstances are usually quite dangerous. The last two times I only just managed to survive because of an associate of mine.” He paused, his smile dissipating into a frown. “The chance of him helping again is as unlikely as one of my older sisters finding a bloke and settling down.”

A chuckle escaped Thomas. Harry found himself silent.

“Sorry,” the dark haired man apologised. “Another attempt to calm the nerves,” he explained, as he reclined on his seat. “So...” Thomas began with a smile reappearing on his face. “A Wizard, huh? I didn't think the White Council would stand by and let one of their own work for the enemy.”

“I'm not associated with those guys,” Harry said slowly, ignoring the nagging sensation in the back of his head that told him to be open with the energy vampire across from him. “Justine told you?” he asked, his voice calm despite the irritation that was broiling inside of him.

Outside of the limo, lights flared as they reached the city side. The Raith chateau wasn't terribly far from Chicago itself. It was however, far enough that the lights of the city were only a distance glow on the horizon. Forest surrounded the mansion for what seemed like miles. Harry doubted that the forest was there because the Raiths were fans of natural environments.

Across from him, Thomas's smile dimmed slightly. He nodded. “She did, we tell each other everything.”

“I see,” Harry said, turning his gaze back to the window.

Silence resumed momentarily, before Harry couldn't help but ask, “You have no problems with it?”

Thomas let out a laugh of what seemed to be relief. He shook his head. “If it means you can better protect Inari, then I'm all for it.”

He hadn't had to protect Inari from anything at all, Harry mused. “Is there any actual reason why I'm her bodyguard? As far as I've seen in the past week, she's just a normal girl. I honestly can't see anyone out to get her at all.”

A suspicious look overtook Thomas's face for a split second, before it was gone and replaced with an anxious frown.

“No one is out to get her in specific.” He paused. “She is just the easiest target in our family and one of the closest to our father. Everyone else is...” Thomas trailed off, taking to looking out of the Limousine's windows himself, falling into a contemplative silence.

“A vampire,” Harry supplied helpfully. He was surprised to see Thomas tense for a moment, before he relaxed.

“Right.”

He smiled once again, though it had an uncomfortable tinge.

“Do you know why we're going?” Harry finally asked.

“We're going to find out why Lara was targeted.”

Harry stared at Thomas blankly.

“Am I the only person who thinks that is a bad idea?”

Thomas shrugged.

“Personally I'd rather not go, but I can't turn my father down,” Thomas explained, taking another sip of his drink.

Yet again, silence took precedent.

An hour seemed to tick by in silence, only broken by attempts at small talk from Thomas. Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice that the car had pulled to a stop, nor did he take notice of the door opening until Thomas spoke. “You ready?” he asked in the middle of stepping out of the vehicle.

“I suppose,” Harry mumbled as he sat up and followed Thomas out of the open door.

The cold night air struck Harry the moment he stepped out of the warm confides of the car. The car Limousine had pulled over in front of a modestly sized factory. The property was surrounded by a decrepit razor wire fence; large sections of it were missing, and those that were still standing were rusted over. Broken lamp posts littered the perimeter of the compound. Inside wasn't much better. Large crates were scattered around the front of the factory, more than a few of them had rotted away, only a few seemed to be solid at all. They smelled pretty bad.

“They'll probably already be inside, so we just need to wait for the third guy,” Thomas explained as he slowly began to walk closer to the building. He paused for a moment, and turned back to face Harry.

“While we're in there don't say anything, just stand around and look harmless, alright?”

Harry frowned, but nodded. “Stand around, look harmless, sounds easy enough.”

Thomas gave Harry a thin-lipped smile, “If something goes wrong for whatever reason just-“ Thomas stopped in mid sentence as the crunching sound of rubber on gravel met his and Harry's ears. Both of them turned towards the building; Thomas seemed nonplussed, Harry was slightly surprised.

“Thomas Raith,” the newcomer greeted, his voice a low baritone. His lips were stretched back, revealing a set of ivory white teeth. They stood out in the low light provided by the failing street lights. His eyes flickered to Harry and confusion showed for a moment, before he smiled apologetically. “I'm afraid I do not recognise you.”

“Paul, this is Harry, he's just here to observe.”

The man's smile dimmed slightly. “Alright.” He turned back to Thomas. “Our counterparts for this...” He seemed to struggle to find a word that fit the situation. “... Meeting, include Senior Council member De'fortier, Warden Morgan,” he sneered lightly. “Captain of the Wardens Luccio will also be attending as an observer.”

Thomas let out a low whistle. “The Boss.”

“Shall we?” Paul asked as he gestured towards the factory. Thomas nodded and Harry remained silent as they walked towards the decrepit factory and entered through the open doors.

The interior of the factory was lit up by a set of old fluorescent lights strung up high above from the roof. The outside of the building hadn't given a good estimate of how large it actually was. From the entry way a series of stairs lead down to the floor, there was a good ten meters of stairs leading down to the ground floor. The windows were high up on the walls, just above the surface outside. Large machines laid in a grid formation across the floor of the building, some towering up to three meters high. A thick blanket of dust laid over the machinery. On the floor however, there was a trail where the dust had been disturbed, leading into the centre of the factory, where the large machines obscured the view.

The stairs were surprisingly sturdy considering how, like everything else in and around the factory, they were rusted over. They walked in silence, the only noise coming from their shoes occasionally breaking through the thick dust and clanking against the floor.

Harry's nose twinged as the dust rose up in the air; he reached up and scratched it, quelling an itch that had appeared. His hand froze as they rounded a corner and came to a stop. In front of them three people stood.

The first was a gaunt looking man. He was a bit taller then Harry was, his cheek bones stood out grotesquely from his sunken face, his eyes looked a couple sizes too large. His head was completely bald, he even lacked eyebrows. It gave him a vaguely skeletal look. Besides him a gigantic man stood. He was more then a head taller then Harry, his height was coupled with what looked to be a hundred pounds of muscle. He had a short beard, patchy with brown and grey, his hair was much the same, tied back in a long ponytail. The moment he looked in Harry's direction he looked like he had eaten something particularly sour.

The third was a woman. Her hair was a solid sheet of grey cut into what Harry could only guess to be a practical style. Her features hinted towards a Mediterranean lineage- Italian probably. Her features were schooled into a cool, calm mask. Unlike the second man, her gaze didn't change as it fell on them.

“Senior Council member De'fortier, Wardens Morgan and Luccio,” the lead of their group, Paul, greeted.

”Deldori, they sent you?” Morgan sneered lightly., “And where is Raith, and the so called 'victim'?”

Paul continued to smile. “I'm afraid Lord Raith is currently out of the country on a business date, and his daughter, Miss Lara, is still recuperating from the grievous assault.” He gestured towards Thomas. “In their place Lord Raith has sent his son, Thomas.”

“Very well.” Morgan looked displeased. His eyes made contact with Harry's for a moment before he quickly looked away. “And who is this? There were no other parties involved in the so called alterations.”

“I-“ Harry began to say, before he was interrupted by Thomas.

“He's no one important.” He smiled coolly.

Harry took the hint and remained silent. He also made a point of not meeting any of the White Council members' eyes. Morgan and De'fortier seemed to share the same intention. Captain Luccio however had yet to look away from him, and it made him feel uneasy.

“Just a thrall,” Morgan spat out, his eyes filled with disgust.

“Quite,” De'fortier spoke for the first time. His voice, unlike his appearance, was warm and smooth. “It is an insignificant detail.” He gestured towards the table behind them. “Shall we sit down and begin?”

“I'm afraid being inside this factory for so long is making me feel rather ill,” Luccio interrupted, sounding apologetic. “I will take a moment to step outside for some fresh air, if you are willing to proceed without me.”

Paul stiffened slightly, hate and distrust stirring within his eyes.

“You know very well that it's against agreed policy that a single participate would be allowed to leave the compound without an escort.” He scowled lightly. “Both I and Mr Raith are required to remain here to proceed with the meeting, so you will have to wait until we are finished, Warden Luccio.” His scowl lessened into a frown.

Luccio's face remained impassive.

“You're mostly correct, bambino.” She glanced back towards Harry. “However, there is someone else who is not needed; what is your name, boy?”

“George, Boy George,” Harry answered calmly, ignoring the look Thomas levelled with him.

Lucio turned back to Paul. “Is that acceptable?” she asked.

He nodded grudgingly.

“Go with her,” he waved his hand dismissively at Harry before moving forwards towards the seats surrounding the table. Thomas followed after him, his eyes staring straight ahead. He gave an almost unnoticeable nod of his head.

Luccio walked past Harry, her cloak brushing against him as she passed by. “Come.” Her tone left no place for refusal.

Harry obliged, not giving Thomas a second glance.

A few minutes later he found himself out the front of the factory again, standing near the gate of the factory alongside the grey haired Captain of the Wardens. He had to admit that she was intimidating. On the way up he had noticed the slight bulge at her side that showed through her cloak- a sword. The same as the two that had attacked Lara. In all likelihood the order to attack Lara had come from her.

“What is your real name?”

Harry stared at the back of Luccio's head.

“Harry,” he answered, his voice barely carrying to her.

“Not a thrall then.” Her murmur was almost inaudible. She turned around to face Harry again. Harry's eyes met hers for a moment before he once more broke eye contact.

“Caucasian, green eyes, glasses, black messy hair,” she calmly spoke. “This is the description that one of my Wardens gave to me when I asked them who attacked him and killed his partner.” She paused for a moment, watching Harry's face for a sign of emotion. “What interests me is that the majority of their wounds were caused by a form of magic.” She once again paused, studying Harry's face.

“They were at the time of the attack, one week ago, stationed in California monitoring the situation there due to a sudden increase in activity. He refused to explain why he and his partner had abandoned their posts, however. Imagine my surprise when two days ago I found out about an attack on one Lara Raith, one of the White King's daughters, one that coincidently occurred at the same time, in the same city where two of my Wardens were attacked.

“Imagine my further surprise when a man matching the description of the person who had attacked my Wardens walked in to the factory beside the brother of the woman who was attacked.”

“There are a lot of people with that description,” Harry defended himself calmly, slipping his hand into his pocket. Luccio didn't seem to notice, and remained still.

“Do not patronise me, boy.” Luccio's voice rang cold in the night's air. “There are no such coincidences here, you will tell me what happened one week ago transitivo?”

Harry stiffened again.

“I am just an observer in this dispute, whatever you tell me will remain with me and not be spoken of by these lips,” Luccio added. His ears might have been deceiving him, but Harry only heard truth in her words.

“I still don't know what you're talking about,” Harry said calmly, but his resolve was wavering.

Luccio paused, a miniscule frown overcoming her.

“If you will not tell me what happened, will you at least meet my eyes for more than a single moment?”

Her frown disappeared. In its place a smile, which Harry would have needed a Pensieve to catch, appeared on her lips.

Harry scowled and met Luccio's eyes defiantly. He ignored the discomfort looking into Luccio's world wary gaze brought up, and for a moment all was still, and then his vision blurred.

At first Harry wasn't sure at what he was looking at, or where he was. Darkness surrounded him wherever he looked- and then he saw her. Luccio. She stood tall in the mass of darkness, her sword at her side. She radiated an aura of righteousness that seemed to fight off the darkness, the sword at her side strumming with power and a bright white glow. It beat back the darkness but all it seemed to do was push against it, only to have it push even closer, ever closer. She still remained steadfast, unflinching even as the darkness threatened to swallow her whole.

A stab of pain lanced through Harry's mind, causing him to clutch his head. He shut his eyes closed tightly and grunted. Despite his eyes being closed he could still see Luccio, the scene was completely vivid inside his mind, almost as if he was still looking at the depiction. Harry warily opened his eyes, only, to his surprise, find that he was in front of the factory again.

"I did not realise that Basilisks still existed in this dimension," Luccio murmured calmly, staring across at Harry, interest blatant in her eyes. "Nor did I believe it was possible for someone so young to defeat such a creature, even with the help of a Summer Fay." Her face took on a tinge of disappointment.

Harry found himself able to breathe again properly; he had been unable to move out of sheer shock the moment the vision had ended. He swallowed and stared back into Luccio's eyes.

"Your soul is tainted," she murmured curiously, staring directly at Harry.

Harry found no discomfort in staring back into the older woman's eyes now, he saw her in a new light, and couldn't find the sense to be uncomfortable. "You are stronger than the taint however, you've driven it into the depths of your soul." She trailed off into silence. A look of indecision appeared for a moment, before it was gone.

“What... What was that?” Harry asked quietly as he stared into Luccio's face.

“That was what is known as a soul gaze,” Luccio explained coolly “It occurs when a wizard looks into another human's eyes and all barriers between them fall. What you just saw was the current nature of my soul, as I saw with you.”

“That was your soul?” Harry's voice remained quiet, as though in disbelief.

“A perception of it,” Luccio agreed. “Each soulgaze is unique to the people it is held between, each a perfect representation of a person's soul.” She paused and took a moment. “While they are perfect representations our perceptions and opinions are not always.”

Harry blinked. “You can misinterpret someone's soul?”

A tinge of a smile appeared on Luccio's lips, so small it was almost nonexistent. “The soul is the most complex and important part of being human. To be able to gaze upon the very essence of what makes humans human is a feat in itself. Being able to make sense of what we see is something beyond all but the few who hold the ability to command magic as wizards do.”

Luccio's gaze felt as though it pierced right through into his soul, and with what she had just explained Harry wasn't completely sure it wasn't doing exactly that.

"Will you tell me what happened now?" the grey haired matriarch asked quietly.

Harry remained silent for a few moments. His eyes fell away from Luccio's gaze, and he found himself looking at everything but the older woman's face.

“They attacked Lara a week ago, I defended her.”

“You killed the first Warden and injured the second?” Luccio asked keeping her voice level.

“No!” Harry shook his head indignantly,. “I only defended her and tried to Stun them, the idiots hurt themselves with their own spells.”

Luccio's eyes hardened, but she remained unmoving.

“I see,” she spoke quietly.

Neither Harry nor Luccio said anything for a few minutes.

“Thank you.”

Harry snapped his head towards Luccio, a look of shock was on his face.

A smile sat upon her lips, but it was small, more like a slight twitch than anything else really. It lasted for a few seconds before her face became stony. Harry was confused for a moment, before the temperature began to rise rapidly, and his shadow on the ground grew. Harry spun around, his hand reaching into his pocket and striking out in less than a second. An explosion of flames rushed towards him, billowing forwards like a cloud.

“Saliens Cancer!” Harry shouted, thrusting his wand towards the oncoming inferno. From the tip of his wand a torrent of water surged forth into being. The jet of water wove itself into a gigantic shield in front of the fire. Gushes of steam erupted from the shield as the fire struck it head on. Harry brought his left hand upwards, and a for a moment a spark of red magic crackled around him, before it died out. Harry furrowed his eyebrow as the flames died away. With a flick of his wand the woven barrier of water exploded outwards.

A flash of silver cut through the wall of water, and tore open a hole in the wave.

“You killed then,” a whisper came from the doorway.

Morgan, the warden from inside the room, stood at the steps of the factory, his sword clutched tightly in one of his hands. He literally radiating anger in the form of magic. It paused momentarily as he recognised Luccio, but burst out once again with vigour as his eyes landed back on Harry.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry snarled as he turned back to Luccio, glaring at her accusingly.

Luccio frowned.

“Morgan did not find out from me, nor was he here when you spoke of it before.”

“Then call him -“ Harry began to say, before he had to dodge to the side as a column of wind passed through where he had been standing tearing the ground asunder. “Call him off!” Harry shouted, bringing his wand up and slashing it towards a second torrent of air that was coming dangerously close to him. “Torqueo!” Harry invoked loudly. The unstable vortex of air suddenly changed direction, crashing into the ground and breaking it apart.

“I'm afraid I can't do that.” Luccio's voice was quiet, but it still carried. “Because of your actions one of my Wardens died.” She paused, a pensive look coming over her face. “While I will not stop Donald, I will not help him either.” Harry stared back at her, a heavy emotion settling down upon him as she continued, “From what I saw you should be able to hold him at bay, at least momentarily.”

“That's what it meant?” he asked quietly. "That's what the darkness was," Harry murmured to himself lowly, as he turned back to face the grey haired woman. "It's your emotions, it's your sins..."

Luccio didn't reply, instead she turned upon her heel. She paused for a moment and looked back to Morgan. “And Donald?”

Morgan halted as he prepared to attack Harry again.

“When you return to headquarters we will discuss why you authorised two new recruits to attack the Raith.” With that she vanished. The boundaries of her body faded away in an instant.

Morgan was stupefied for a single second, before anger once again clouded his face. Anger directly solely towards Harry. “Damned warlock, if you hadn't interfered everything would have been fine!” he snarled.

“You sent them to kill an innocent woman!” Harry retorted, trying to keep his grip on his wand as loose as possible. He was having a hard time doing it. “What did you expect me to do, let them kill her?”

“Innocent,” Morgan repeated, his voice quiet, chilling. A laugh broke out from the cloaked man, an almost hysterical laugh. “Do you have any idea of what she has done, child? Of the atrocities her and her people have done over the millennia?”

Harry shrugged.

“No. But she's been nice to me, and that's all that matters.” Harry matched Morgan's crazed glare. He briefly wondered what happened to Thomas, and the other guy, Paul, but quickly dismissed the thought as Morgan's sword flashed white.

Without warning the ground between Harry and Morgan exploded with a ferocity unmatched by any spell Harry was possible of producing. Harry lunged to the side, narrowing avoiding having his legs crushed by the upturned land. “Coherceo,” Harry snapped as he haphazardly waved his wand towards Morgan, sending a smoky grey stream of energy towards the warden. Morgan stomped his foot against the ground and a gigantic slab of earth rose up in front of him. The spell splashed against the stonelike surface and coiled around it, solidifying into a web of bleak ropes.

The wall exploded outwards, sending pieces of shrapnel rocketing towards Harry. Unfortunately for Morgan, Harry hadn't remained in the same spot once his spell had been intercepted, and had immediately taken cover behind one of the few large crates that looked anywhere near solid.

“Stop hiding and fight me like a man!”

“No!” Harry shouted out after a few moments of consideration.

Morgan was silent for a moment before the sound of roaring wind met Harry's ears. His eyes widened and he began to run away from the crate. Behind him the crate shuddered violently, before it was blown apart by a gust of razor-sharp wind. From where he was Harry could feel the edge of the wind torrent batter against him. Harry gritted his teeth together and clutched his wand. “Eximo, eximo, eximo, eximo!” he shouted out repeatedly, flicking his wand from various crates to Morgan. The various decomposing crates all lurched towards the Warden in rapid succession.

From what he was able to see before the earth around Morgan once again rose to defend him, the older wizard had lost the look of anger, and instead a more focused look had over taken his face. Harry grinned. The grin quickly faltered as Morgan's sword glowed a brilliant white and the barricades exploded outwards with a fury and speed that saw the rotting crates torn to shreds as the debris struck them. Harry quickly raised his hand and a translucent red barrier flickered into existence in front of him, just in time to meet a barrage fragments of Morgan's defence turned projectile.

“Don't you have anything besides elemental spells?” Harry shouted at Morgan before he violently slashed his wand towards the Warden. “Stupefy!” A red beam of light shot out from Harry's wand towards Morgan, but as had happened before a sheet of stone intercepted the spell. Harry didn't even have to look to know that within moments Morgan had used the wall offensively. But this time he was far more prepared.

“Integumentum municipalis commuto!” Harry yelled, managing to fit the interminable incantation into a single breath before he arced his wand in front of his body. A wave of azure mist flowed into existence from the tip of his wand before it exploded into a bright shower of sparks which hung in the air between him and the chunks of stone. Harry watched with his breath held as the shrapnel collided with the azure field in front of him. For a moment it looked as though the chunks of rock would pass through without being effected at all. The projectiles shimmered, and in the breadth of a millisecond they shimmered and burst into life, swerving away from Harry.

Harry's victorious grin only lasted a few moments before his eyes made contact with Morgan's figure and his ear heard the howl of the wind. Without waiting for another sign, Harry threw up his arms in front of his body, and a flicker of translucent red energy emerged in front of him before it bloomed out into a small shield. The next thing Harry knew he was flying backwards through the air as the vortex of wind slammed into his shield. Had he tried to remain in the same spot he had no doubt that his shield would have collapsed under the sheer force behind the spell.

He had nothing in his arsenal to match the sheer power of the Warden's spells. Harry didn't let himself ponder the differences between their magic. The moment he felt his back hit the ground and the winds pass over him, he quickly got to his feet again and shot off two blasts of scarlet towards Morgan. Predictably the shattered ground around Morgan trembled and out of the ground a chunk of stone rose upwards to block the spells. The stone exploded violently towards Harry. He absently noted that the accuracy was beginning to increase; more and more of the fragments were headed towards him.

“Permuto, permuto, permuto!” Harry continued to repeat, wildly jabbing his wand towards the incoming wave.

At the other side of the factory ground Morgan looked on in irritation as the rocks turned into birds and flew away from Harry. A sudden cry of rage from Morgan saw Harry grinning widely. Above him birds were circling, and just below them various sized rocks were pelting down towards the grey cloaked wizard. Without a second though Harry brandished his wand towards Morgan and wordlessly send an Expelliarmus charm towards the Warden.

The beam of scarlet light shot through the air, quickly covering the distance between the two wizards. A look of triumph came over Harry's face as the blast slammed into the Warden and he was sent flying backwards. Harry reached forwards, preparing to catch the sword, only to frown in confusion as the sword clutched in Morgan's hand thrummed a brilliant white and managed to ignore the secondary effect of the spell.

“That's cheating!” Harry shouted in disbelief as he watched Morgan quickly rise to his feet and slash his sword towards Harry, sending a violent blast of wind towards him. Harry quickly noted that the strength of the spell was diminished compared to the one's prior.

“Getting tired?” Harry mocked with a grin before he waved his wand at the ground in front of him.

“Surrectus Terra!”

A wave of forest-green magic poured out from the tip of Harry's wand and was quickly absorbed into the ground. A moment later the earth in front of him shuddered, then erupted upwards into a thick wall of rock. Harry admired his handiwork, pointedly ignoring the discoloured bands that were present throughout the construct. Within moments the spellcast winds collided with the front of the barrier and flakes of stone began to peel off. Within moments the winds died down and Harry flicked his wand at the wall. It began to melt away back into the ground until the only evidence of it was a small bump.

Harry watched Morgan warily as the wizard stood in place, staring across the factory grounds at him.

“So, call it a draw?” Harry shouted out after a few moments of silence.

An unreadable look crossed over Morgan's face. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; he subconsciously clutched his wand more tightly as he warily eyed the his opponent. He noted that the Warden was clutching his sword as tightly as Harry held his wand; Harry took an odd comfort in the knowledge that Morgan's nerves were as on end as his were.

“Submit yourself for questioning and trial and I will concede this as a draw,” Morgan said after a few terse moments.

“Trial?” Harry echoed confusedly, “You mean like with a judge and jury?”

Morgan sneered lightly, “That is correct wa... wizard, if you are found innocent, you will be free to go without punishment.”

Harry frowned lightly.

A fair trial would be good; he hadn't done anything wrong, he had defended Lara and the guys who had attacked them had basically hurt themselves. On the other hand, he had never had any luck where 'justice' was concerned in front of self-styled 'upholders of the law'.

“I'm afraid I'll have to decline,” Harry said apologetically. “I haven't had much luck with trials, the last time I was involved in one I had been accused of breaking a law when I was just defending myself.”

A look of rage passed over Morgan's face and his sword was raised in an instant, pulsing violently with a deadly white light. “I've heard that before!” Morgan snarled angrily as he swung his sword in an arch towards Harry. From the blade a gigantic wave of vibrant flames exploded forth. Harry's eyes widened at the sheer intensity of the blast. He was about to cast a flame freezing charm when Morgan swung his sword a second time and the deadly howl of wind filled Harry's ears as the flames suddenly blasted forwards violently.

Harry barely had time to throw his hands up before the deadly wind accelerated flames passed over him. From in front of him a blossom of crimson energy erupted from his palms sprawling out into a thick barrier that surrounded him completely. Harry gritted his teeth together as he focused on expanding the barrier outwards. Seconds quickly turned into minutes and the fires continued to splash against his shield without relent, and even though the barrier protected him from being burned, the heat was still there, and it was quickly getting to the point where he was beginning to sweat.

“How much fucking longer can he keep this up...” Harry mumbled under his breath as sweat poured off of his brow. His magic was quickly beginning to exhaust itself under the unrelenting task of blocking the flames. On the plus side there was only one type of attack so his shield was lasting longer than it had the first time he had been on the receiving end of the Warden's spells. After what seemed like hours, the flames died down, and along with them the barrier surrounding Harry faltered and he fell forwards onto his knees. The burning air rushed towards him, almost overwhelming him. Harry quickly got back onto his feet and cast a cooling charm over himself. A breath of relief escaped him as the crisp air suddenly chilled and he was left to breath easy.

“Impressive.”

Morgan's voice caught him unawares. Harry snapped his head up just in time to see Morgan straighten up. Like him Morgan's brow was covered in sweat. “That ability is on the same level as the Merlin's... To think someone like you would be able to possess such a thing.”

Harry's eyes widened. “Merlin?! He was one of you guys?” His grip on his wand almost faltered.

Morgan snorted in contempt. “I was talking about the current Merlin of the White Council.” The Warden sneered and his grip on his sword tightened. “Merlin was one of us, the greatest wizard known to existence.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said with a grimace, “Lara mentioned that the White Council had a position called The Merlin.” He paused and eyed Morgan critically, a plan beginning to form in his mind even as he spoke. “Isn't it kind of cocky to call someone The Merlin?” Harry asked as innocently as he could.

“Fool!” Morgan snarled, his grip on his sword tightening. “The Merlin is the most powerful wizard alive, compared to him you're no more than a pissant!”

“Then I guess you're a flea,” Harry mocked with a grin.

Morgan roared in anger and his sword flashed white. Morgan swung his sword at the ground and instantly a gigantic portion of the terrain erupted outwards in the form of a jagged wave, tearing apart the terrain. Obscured by the violent pulse of upturned terrain, Morgan couldn't see the victorious grin on Harry's face.

Harry drew his concentration together, and just as the wave became dangerously close he flung his wand hand out towards the wave and shouted, “Nisus!”

He almost stumbled back as the super powered pulverising curse left his wand. The invisible spell collided with the wave of churning rocks and tore through it as if it were tissue paper. The rest of the wave passed by without coming near him, and as it did Harry quickly noticed that Morgan had disappeared. He quickly scanned the grounds in search of the Element wielding wizard but came up short.

He dared to breath a sigh of relief and dropped his wand arm to his side.

“He ran...” Harry murmured, relief filling his voice.

“Who ran?”

Harry's eyes widened, and a moment later his head snapped backwards as a hard object slammed into his face, sending him staggering backwards. A follow up strike saw his glasses get knocked off his face and him landing flat on his back with a blinding flash of pain flashing through his head. Harry's eyes began to water but he was able to make out the large shape of Morgan looming over him, sword in hand raised above his head with one hand.

“Justice prevails, warlock!” Morgan snarled as he drew the sword back, preparing to strike.

Panic surged through Harry, he scrambled backwards, and gripped his wand in his hand. Without thinking he slashed it upwards at Morgan and cast the only spell he could think of. The front of Morgan's arm exploded in bloody shower as his bicep split open as though a sword had slashed through it. Harry quickly rolled over and stumbled to his feet. He quickly moved away from Morgan as the large wizard, despite the wound on his arm, slashed wildly with sword.

“Warlock!” Morgan snarled enraged, quickly moving towards Harry, ignoring the damage to his arm. The sword in his hand burned with the white glow that had previously been absent.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, stabbing his wand at Morgan.

The White Council Wizard slashed his sword at the spell and it instantly dissipated into nothing.

“Holy shi-” Harry began to swear before he dodged to the side, narrowly missing having his arm cut off. “Can't we just talk about this?” Harry asked as he took a few steps backwards.

“We'll talk once you're dead,” Morgan spat out, advancing on Harry.

Harry gritted his teeth together and turned his foot.

“That's how it is, huh?”

Morgan spat on the ground. “That's how it is, warlock.”

“I see...” Harry murmured as he dropped his wand hand to his side. “Bye then!” Harry exclaimed as he spun on his foot. The world blurred and Harry's body compressed as Apparition took place. Harry's mind was solely focused on his destination; the Raith Mansion. The world shifted and Harry's vision blacked out.

The moment Harry's vision returned he felt his legs collapse. Apparition was an unpleasant experience at the best of times. At worse it could bring you to the point of being physically sick. The worse cases were usually caused by very sudden Apparition, one which hadn't been completely thought through. Unfortunately for Harry this had been one of the worse Apparitions he had managed. He wasn't completely sure that he hadn't splinched himself. He dropped his wand and pressed both of his hands against the ground in front of himself in order to stop from falling forwards.

Harry grimaced as he fought to keep down his lunch. His efforts proved to be insufficient, and he lurched forwards and vomited. After a few minutes of remaining perfectly still with his eyes shut tight, and breathing heavily, Harry slowly cracked open his eyes; for a few moments the world seemed to quiver before it became still. A mild frown overcame him as he stared down into a blurry puddle of vomit. His vision was blurred, he absently realised. Harry tentatively reached up and touched his eye. It took him a few more moments to realise that his glasses were missing.

“Fuck...”

He slowly pushed himself backwards onto his back and pressed his hand against his face, inhaling deeply despite the stench. It had been close, too close. The Warden's strength had been overwhelming. The sheer force that the wizard had been able to muster had almost broken his strongest shield. The more Harry thought about it, the more he realised that his head felt like it was about to split open. His jaw throbbed painfully as well, a reminder of the cheap shot the sword wielding wizard had gotten in at the end.

“Just fuck...” he murmured as he pressed his other hand against his head. It throbbed painfully in response. Compared to Morgan the two wizards he had defended Lara from were nothing. It was like comparing a Kneezle to a Nundu. Harry's heart thudded in his chest at twice the speed his head was pounding. He remembered this feeling all too well.

It was the feeling he had gotten almost every year in Hogwarts. He had gotten it when he had confronted Quirrel. He had gotten it when he had confronted Tom Riddle, when he had protected Sirius, when he had fought Voldemort, when he had fought in the Department of Mysteries, when he had watched Dumbledore die. When he had banished Voldemort.

It was the feeling of impending death, it was the feeling of being completely outclassed. It was a sickening feeling that Harry hated most of all, but one he was the most familiar with.

A low laugh began to fill Harry's ears; it took him a few moments to notice it was him laughing. “I'm still alive,” he said as he inched his hands away from his eyes and his laughter died down. The cloudy night's sky met his eyes. Morgan had pushed his magic to its limits and his body was complaining. But as the pain in his head faded away, the rest of his senses returned to him. He could hear the soft trickle of water, he could feel the damp air against his skin, returning moisture where the flames of Morgan's magic had almost burned. He grimaced as the smell of his vomit made itself apparent. Still, he didn't hear the soft fall of footsteps approaching as he stared up at the clouds, waiting for his heart to slow down.

“Sir,” a soft voice said, drawing Harry's attention away from the sky. “Are you alright?”

A brown haired woman was standing a few feet away from him, clad in a white nightgown. At first Harry didn't recognise the person, especially with his blurred vision, but soon enough he could make out her features. “Beatrice?” Harry asked uncertainly, before he slowly sat up and faced the maid.

The figure nodded silently. “Germaine requested that I retrieve you,” Beatrice explained as she eyed him worriedly.

Harry blinked blankly for a few moments before frowning and looking down at himself; he was covered in more than a small bit of blood. He reached up and touched his nose and winced, a glance to it told him that it was bleeding.

“It isn't all mine,” Harry mumbled as he wiped his nose on his sleeve, ignoring the burning pain the action brought up. “How did you know I was out here?”

Beatrice lifted her arm up and pointed towards the roof of the house. “There are security cameras surveying the mansions grounds.”

“Oh.” Harry digested the information. “And who is Germaine?”

Harry couldn't exactly tell, but for a moment he thought he saw Beatrice frown.

“She is the head of the security in the mansion,” Beatrice explained before hesitating for a second. “Do you require assistance in standing up?”

Harry shook his head and smiled slightly, “Nah, I should be ok.” His words were followed with a slow series of movements, ending with Harry pushing himself up onto his feet.

“Ah,” Beatrice began to say quickly, before she recomposed herself. “Please be careful not to step in the... waste.” She seemed to have a small amount of trouble finding the right word for the puddle of vomit.

“No sweat,” Harry mumbled as he stumbled onto his feet. A frown overcame his face and he quickly padded down his pockets. “Where is my wa...” He trailed off after glancing towards Beatrice.

“Your wand,” she offered, then bent down and plucked something off of the ground.

Harry suddenly regretted his lack of glasses, but quickly averted his eyes and smiled in gratitude, accepting the instrument and waving it over his face and his body, nonverbally casting a cleaning charm. His face tingled as the charm swept over it, clearing off the filth; it stung likely as the charm indiscriminately took off the top layer of his skin. On an after thought he cast a simple healing charm on his face. An unpleasant tingling sensation, not unlike being bitten by an ant, passed over his face, but it was quickly gone. He reached up and touched upon his nose tenderly, and to his luck the pain had vanished.

“Amazing,” Beatrice mumbled under her breath in slight awe.

Harry ignored her - a task in itself, and focused on his glasses; he closed his eyes and gripped his wand, before flicking it. “Accio Glasses!” he whispered out, then opened his eyes and waited.

Minutes ticked by in relative silence, only broken by the light sound of water in the background.

“Sir, what are you waiting for?” Beatrice asked from where she had stood from the moment she had made herself known.

“My glasses,” Harry explained, before he shook his head. “Looks like they aren't coming.” He turned back to Beatrice and smiled slightly. “Thanks for coming and waiting for me.”

Beatrice frowned and shook her head. “It is my duty to serve.”

Harry began to feel awkward. “Yeah, but you look like you were getting ready for bed.” He reached up and rubbed his cheek tenderly. “You really didn't have to.”

A look of irritation passed over the brown haired maid's face. “You are incorrect, I am required to, it is my duty.” She recomposed herself. “If... Sir would like I can prepare a bath for him to prepare for bed.”

“I don't look that bad do I?”

Beatrice remained silent for a few moments, before answering quietly, “Sir's personal hygiene is not for me to comment on.”

Harry stared at Beatrice for a few moments, before he broke out into laughter. It didn't last too long, and throughout it Beatrice remained still, patiently waiting for him to stop.

“I suppose with an answer like that not much else needs to be said.” Harry grinned weakly and took a step towards the illuminated mansion. As he walked onwards Beatrice began to walk a little behind him. Despite his blurred vision he was able to manage to walk without stumbling. As Harry's foot touched upon the ground with his next step, the ground beneath the foot fell apart without warning; he fell forwards, but managed to catch himself before his face met the ground.

“Sir! Are you alright?” the concerned voice of Beatrice met his ears.

“I'm fine,” Harry said with a frown as he stared down at the hole his foot was in. A brief hint of déjà vu had Harry shake his head and mumble, “Garden gnomes.”

“There are no garden gnomes in the garden,” Beatrice said without warning. “Only flamingos.”

Harry felt a soft hand touch upon his shoulder. “Does sir require assistance?” the maid asked, before withdrawing her hand from Harry's shoulder.

“Nah, it was just a hole.” Harry yanked his foot out of the hole with a mild grimace, before straightening up. He felt an arm encircle his and hold it tightly, which took him by surprise. He turned his head towards Beatrice, only to find her as expected, right beside him with her arm wrapped firmly around his. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten to it.

“I insist, sir,” Beatrice spoke calmly.

“Thanks,” Harry said after a few moments, and smiled at Beatrice.

The two began to walk towards the mansion slowly.

“We weren't expecting you and Mr. Raith until later on tonight,” Beatrice murmured without warning. “Germaine had started a betting pool that only Mr. Raith would return.”

“They made a bet that I'd be killed?” Harry asked incredulously. “Are you serious?” he demanded to know, stopping walking and turning to Beatrice, slipping his arm out from hers.

The gowned maid nodded, before smiling apologetically. “I waged that you would come back.”

Harry blinked. “You bet on me?”

Beatrice continued to smile and nodded again.

“What'd you win?”

“I have the next weekend off... We put the weekend chores up for the bet,” Beatrice explained with an abashed smile.

“How many people betted against me?” Harry asked with an amused smile.

Beatrice smile melted away and she shrugged her shoulders lightly. “I'm not sure.”

Harry frowned. “You know don't you?”

“All of them,” Beatrice murmured under her breath.

“You're kidding?” Harry stated blatantly, before shaking his head. “No, you're...” He trailed off. “Wait, if they all bet against me, then wouldn't you have had to... you wouldn't have bet against those odds, you'd have had to clean that?” he pointed towards the mansion in disbelief.

“I had faith that you'd come back, sir.”

“How could you have that much faith?”

Beatrice smiled in a bemused manner. “You're a wizard.”

“Good reason,” Harry agreed after a few moments of thinking it over.

“Shall we continue, sir?” Beatrice motioned towards the mansion.

“Yeah alright.” Harry nodded and turned towards the mansion, beginning to walk. He didn't miss a beat when once again Beatrice's arm hooked against his loosely. “But can you call me Harry instead, sir just sounds weird.”

Beatrice shook her head. “It would be disrespectful.”

“Even though I asked you to?”

“It could get me into trouble,” she continued to protest with a sad smile.

Harry nodded acceptingly before a thought struck him. “How about when no one else is around?”

Beatrice stared at Harry's face blankly for a few moments before she smiled and nodded. “Alright... Harry.” Harry returned the smile as they both began to walk.

“Can we go a bit faster?” Harry asked after a small amount of time, in which they had barely gotten any closer to the mansion.

“It would be best not to push yourself,” Beatrice answered calmly, tightening her arm around Harry's ever so slightly.

“It's fine,” Harry reassured her with a bemused smile. “I'm just missing my glasses, it isn't like I can't see at al-“

Harry faltered as his foot slipped on something. The world stumbled as Harry fell backwards. Beatrice's arm tightened around his instinctively, but Harry was too heavy for her to hold up. A grunt escaped Harry as he fell. The world spun violently and Harry felt a second arm wrap around his waist and hold him tight. Harry and Beatrice tumbled for a few seconds before they came to a rest on the damp ground.

Harry caught himself in the middle of a groan. After a few moments of absolute stillness he had to admit that whatever he had landed on was pretty soft, smelt pretty nice as well. He turned his head and nuzzled against the surface.

“What did I...” Harry began to ask before he lifted up his head, “...land on?” he finished as he stared down into Beatrice's red tinged face. He glanced down to where his head had been and felt his cheeks burn as he stared into the silk white covered cleavage. He attempted to lift himself up but found himself unable to as Beatrice's arm tightened around him.

“...Beatrice?” Harry asked after a few awkward seconds.

Beatrice's eyes widened and her cheeks blushed a heavier red and Harry felt her arms relent and slide off of his back. She mumbled an apology and turned her head to the side, breaking eye contact with Harry.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled under his breath as he stood up and held out his hand to the brown haired maid. After a few moments Beatrice shook her head and rolled over onto her knees, and stood up on her own. Harry grimaced at the state of Beatrice's gown; the back was soaked through, the semitranslucent material clung to Beatrice's back, specs of dirt and small blades of grass scattered all over it.

Absently Harry reached up and brushed off the mud and grass. He wasn't prepared for Beatrice to suddenly flinch away from his hand as if he had struck her. Harry for his part didn't react to the sudden aversion to touch. When she turned around he noted that the red on her cheeks was defusing, though her eyes were wide with surprise.

Harry gestured to her back. “It's got dirty from the grass,” he explained before smiling guiltily and withdrawing his wand from his pants pocket. “Would you let me clean it up quickly?”

Beatrice stared down at the wand apprehensively for a moment, before looking back up into Harry's face and nodding, “What do I do?” she asked quietly, her eyes flickering to the wand again, whether in curiosity or worry Harry couldn't tell.

“Just turn around,” Harry said as his mind racked over his knowledge of household charms. Needless to say there weren't many that he had been taught, and out of those he could barely remember more than three.

“Emundatio,” Harry muttered under his breath; he lightly pressed the tip of his wand against the back of Beatrice's gown and dragged it down over the middle of her back. The moment the tip of the wand touched Beatrice's back she had tensed subconsciously, and from the looks of it forcefully tried to relax. From where the wand touched a soft white glow spread outwards. The dirt and blades of grass vanished as the white washed over them and the transparent material gradually became more opaque. After a few moments the glow faded away.

“Is that better?” Harry asked, resisting the urge to touch to check its condition himself.

Beatrice reached around to her back and tenderly brushed her hand over the back of her gown. “It's clean,” she said breathlessly, before she turned back around to face Harry, with a glint of admiration in her eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Harry shrugged, “It was my fault anyway.”

Beatrice shook her head lightly and turned to face Harry.

Harry's eyes flickered down to the hem of gown Beatrice wore and quickly averted his gaze from the translucent patch.

“Do you want me to...” he gestured to the wet patch at the bottom of the white gown.

Beatrice followed his gaze and flushed brightly once again, before nodding.

Harry hesitated a moment before he pressed his wand against the soaked through material and muttered the spell under his breath, lightly brushing the tip of his wand down over the dirt covered fabric. As had occurred prior the dirt and moisture vanished, leaving the fabric in pristine condition. Harry quickly withdrew his wand and stepped back as soon as the glow had faded away.

“Finished,” Harry stated, before looking up to Beatrice and meeting her gaze.

“Thank you,” Beatrice said with a soft smile. She hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to Harry and holding out her hand to him.

Harry gave an exaggerated sigh and grasped Beatrice's hand. “I suppose it'd be stupid to try and walk by myself again, wouldn't it?”

Beatrice shook her head. “It would not be a stupid thing... just foolhardy.”

Harry chuckled lightly. “And that's any better?”

Beatrice didn't answer as she began to tug on Harry's hand and lead him towards the mansion. Once again they walked in a pleasant. As they drew closer and closer, Harry noticed that Beatrice's hand was beginning to sweat. He pointedly ignored the holding hands aspect of the situation.

“What's the matter?” Harry finally asked as they passed from the outer gardens to a terraced one that Harry recognised from his... introduction to the Raith mansion.

“Would you...” Beatrice seemed to struggle with getting the words out. She had her head turned down and wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

“Yes?” Harry pressed on, before on an after thought, giving Beatrice's hand a comforting squeeze.

“Would you please spend this weekend with me?” Beatrice finally managed to say, her gaze still refusing to venture anywhere near him.

Harry blinked. “You mean like, hang out?”

After a few moments Beatrice nodded. “I would... like to spend time with you on my weekend off.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed with a smile. “As long as they don't send me out to be killed I'd love to spend some time with you,” he joked around.

“Please don't say that,” Beatrice whispered softly as she finally made eye contact with Harry again.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled his apology. “But wouldn't you rather spend it with your friends or family?”

“I don't have any friends here,” Beatrice said with a whimsical smile. “And my family disowned me a few years ago.”

Harry didn't know what to say to that.

“I'd love to spend the weekend with you,” he said quietly, giving Beatrice a reassuring smile.

“I'm glad.” Beatrice returned the smile wholeheartedly. Harry couldn't help but notice how beautiful her smile was. The brown haired maid's hand slipped out of Harry's; he looked up in surprise and received an apologetic smile. “You can see on your own now, can't you sir?”

“I guess,” Harry answered with a frown as he rubbed his fingers on his palm.

“We should continue then,” she spoke calming, dropping whatever emotions she had held previously.

“What's the matter?” Harry couldn't help but be worried at the sudden change in attitude.

“Nothing, sir, we are close to the mansion,” she explained in the same tone.

“Oh,” Harry uttered. “Unprofessional attitude and all that?” Beatrice didn't answer.

“Shall we move inside?” Beatrice asked calmly, gesturing towards the mansion.

“I suppose.”

“Harry?”

As Harry and Beatrice entered the lobby a voice called out from the second floor. Harry looked up to see who had called out his name. His eyes landed on a figure descending the staircase.

“Lara?” Harry said in surprise.

Lara was dressed in almost casual attire: tight jeans and a white shirt almost as tight; the way she wore them however made them look anything but casual. She frowned as she finally stepped off the staircase onto the ground floor. “Where have you been? I checked in the library but Inari was asleep there by herself.” Lara smiled pleasantly. “Did you give her that blanket after she fell asleep? That was very sweet of you, by the way where are your glasses?”

“Where have I been?” Harry echoed, ignoring the rest of what Lara had said. “Where have you been? Inari said you had gone on a business trip?”

Lara blinked in surprise, “A business trip?” A chuckle escaped her and she gestured down to her body. “As you can see these are not business clothes.” Her lips quirked up even more. “I was out today shopping.”

A glower overcame Harry, causing Lara to let out a light laugh. “She tricked you then?” However infectious Lara's smile was Harry found himself unable to return it. “And...” Her eyes flickered from Harry to Beatrice, who had been silent ever since they had entered the mansion. “Who are you?” she asked coolly, her smile having melted away.

“Beatrice, Miss Raith.” Beatrice curtsied beside Harry with her eyes fixated on the ground in front of Lara's feet. “A maid,” she added on calmly.

Lara stared at Beatrice before her eyes flickered back to Harry, dismissing Beatrice, and a pleasant smile came across her lips. “And what were you both doing outside at this hour?”

As Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Beatrice beat him to it.

“Germaine sent me out to collect Mr Potter when he appeared on the grounds an hour ago,” Beatrice answered quietly, keeping her eyes locked on the marble slab of floor in front of Lara.

“You went out tonight?” Lara mused out loud with a curious glint in her eye. “What were you doing?” She smiled coyly and stepped closer to Harry and brushed down the collar of his shirt with both her hands.

Harry absently noted that Beatrice took a step back as Lara had moved forward but didn't mention it, instead keeping his gaze focused on Lara who was watching him closely like a hawk.

“I'd ask who you were doing but,” Lara's smile became opaque, “we both know nothing like that happened.”

“I was at the trial thing for you,” Harry answered as if it were obvious.

Lara's smile fell away instantly.

“And why were you there?” she asked calmly, though her hand on his shoulders had suddenly stopped smoothing out his collar.

“Because your Dad told me to protect Thomas?” Harry once again spoke as if it were obvious. “Didn't you know? I thought...”

“I was not aware he had sent you to that meeting,” Lara murmured under her breath, sliding her hands down from Harry's collar to his chest. Despite her calm tone Harry felt a slight shiver race down his spine. “And where is Thomas?”

Harry shrugged and resisted the urge to step away from Lara's hands which were pressed lightly against his chest. “Last I saw them they were in a factory talking to a guy named...” Harry trailed off into thought. “Deforter?” he offered with another shrug of his shoulders.

“De'fortier ?” Lara asked with a pensive look upon her face.

Harry snapped his fingers. “That's it. De'fortier and a Warden named Morgan.” A scowl overcame Harry's face.

“Why did you leave them then?”

“Luccio wanted to go out of the fac-“

“Luccio?” Lara interrupted. “Are you sure that was her name?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, we talked a bit when we went outside, that was the last time I saw Thomas and the Paul guy, when Luccio asked if she could go outside for fresh air.”

“Excuse me, sir, Miss Lara,” Beatrice interrupted quietly.

Lara looked to Beatrice in surprise. “What is it?”

“If I am not needed further may I please take my leave?”

“Yes, of course,” Lara dismissed Beatrice without a second glance as she turned her gaze back to Harry.

Beatrice obediently curtsied before Lara before she walked past Lara and began to climb the staircase.

“You went outside and left before they did?” Lara assessed calmly. “You aren't a very good bodyguard you know, if you just leave whenever it suits you,” she chided with a bemused smile.

Up on the midflight of the staircase Harry noticed Beatrice had stopped. He watched as she mouthed a word to him. 'Saturday,' Harry thought absently as he watched her briefly, before switching his gaze back to Lara who had begun to frown slightly at his divided attention.

“Excuse me for not letting Morgan cut my head off,” Harry retorted with an irritated tone. He reached up, knocking both of Lara's hands off of his chest.

“Pardon?” Lara's eyes narrowed subtly, but her hands fell down without any reluctance.

“Morgan attacked me,” Harry grumbled under his breath. “So excuse me for not dying.”

“Why did he attack you?” Lara asked stoically, her eyes not leaving.

“Because he found out I was the one who saved you,” Harry said hotly, folding his arms across his chest.

Lara eyed Harry critically, her eyes sweeping down Harry's body. “I find it hard to believe you were in a battle with Donald Morgan,” she stated calmly. “You seem to be perfectly fine.”

“I cleaned myself up,” Harry explained sourly, “There was a lot of blood before.” He scrunched his nose up. “But most of it was his.”

“Really?” Lara mused. “Care to explain what occurred in detail?”

Harry opened his mouth, but found Lara's finger pressed against his lips before he could speak. “Not here,” she said.

Lara gripped Harry by the upper arm and led him up the stairs. After a few minutes of walking in relative silence Harry found himself in front of a familiar door.

“Your room?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Yes, we won't be interrupted in here,” she explained as she pushed the door open.

The inside of Lara's room was large, almost three times as the one he had been staying in was. It was furnished much the same as his was, except in a larger size and of higher quality. One of the main differences, however, was that the far side of the room opened up into a large balcony, the opening draped in white silk curtains, as was her bed. Lara's bed, rather then being positioned against where the wall would have been, was in the middle of the room.

“Don't mind mosquitoes, do you?” Harry murmured under his breath as he eyed the open doorway to the balcony.

Lara gave a tinkling laugh. “Mosquitoes aren't a worry.”

Harry blinked in surprise before shaking his head. “Super hearing, right.”

Lara sat down on her bed and patted the spot next to her, smiling up at Harry. “Sit,” she ordered, continuing to smile. Harry obeyed her and sat down beside the dark haired woman. “Explain.”

Harry spent the next half an hour explaining to Lara the events that had transpired. He made it a point to leave out the soulgaze, as Lucio had called it. It didn't seem relevant at all, or more importantly it didn't seem like something that he should just talk about without a thought.

An unreadable look passed over Lara's face. Through the time Harry had described the events at the factory Lara had slowly turned towards Harry until her feet had left the ground and she sat with her legs folded, facing Harry. Harry had mimicked her, so they had sat face to face on Lara's bed.

“You really...” Lara murmured, slowly beginning to lean forwards until her face was only inches away from Harry's. “...were the best thing to bring home.”

She closed the distance between their lips in an instant, claiming Harry's lips and pushing him onto his back. Unlike the first time Lara had surprised him with a kiss, this time Harry had no trouble reciprocating.

A few moments later Harry gripped Lara by the shoulders and pulled her off of him. From the fight she put up she was more than a bit reluctant to part lips.

“You aren't gonna eat my soul are you?” Harry asked sceptically.

Lara's only reply was an amused smile before she wrapped her fingers around Harry's wrist and pinned them to the bed, then descended upon him like a wave.

---