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Author: Caleb Nova Story: That Terrifying Momentum Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Warning: Mature themes Reviews: 6 Words: 267,976
The phone was ringing. Sighing, she reached down and turned the knob to the off position, watching the water pooled on the tile swirl down into the drain as it was slightly replenished by what liquid was left to sluice off her body. Immediately the air in the bathroom brought goose bumps to her skin. The shower had only been lukewarm; somebody else must have been using all the hot water. She had really been done anyway, continuing her shower because she didn’t have anything else to do. Actually, she had a lot to do, just nothing that she wanted to do. The boxes piled up by the front door had to be emptied eventually, and, thanks to her no-good brother, it was all up to her to work it out. She did take some enjoyment from interior decorating, but she principally objected to being forced into anything. Her brother knew that, of course, which was why he had done it. The answering machine kicked in after she deliberately missed the call, recording only a dial tone. The shower stall was now nearing room temperature and beaded with water drops. She missed her old shower, and she’d definitely have to improve on her current one. It was small and not very comfortable and didn’t have a seat like she was used to. Reaching towards the top bar of the shower door, she pulled her towel down and wrapped it around herself. Among the first things she had unpacked were several dark blue and highly fluffy bathroom mats to place down on the cold tile floor, so she was spared that much upon stepping over the rim of the bathtub. She’d always had a little more taste for creature comforts than her brother did, at least at home. She could sleep in the mud with the toughest of them and eat a mixture of roots and bugs for breakfast, but when she was in her own house, she wanted some nice cushions for her ass and someplace soft to put her feet. Her brother just didn’t appreciate the aesthetic quality of curtains and throw pillows. She paused in the front of the mirror to wrap her hair in another towel. Her brother had often suggested that she just go butch and hack it all off – his exact words. She disagreed. Her life often required her to do things that simply weren’t in the overall lexicon of actions for most women: wear tactical gear, cover her face in camo grease, operate heavy weaponry, kill people with her bare hands, and otherwise be highly unfeminine. She was also naturally something of a tomboy. She swore like a sailor, thought jokes involving semen were funny, and could spit a loogie like a pro. She was, however, a woman and even an occasionally girly one, though her brother preferred to ignore that aspect of her self. So she kept her hair at shoulder length and held it back in her trademark ponytail. And if that was inefficient, then sometimes you just had to be inefficient. Even her brother could understand that. She exited the bathroom into the living room, which at the moment was more room than living. Aside from a single couch with an end table and a few cardboard boxes, it was empty. She flopped down on the couch and waited for the phone to ring again. If it had been who she thought it was, then he’d call back. There wasn’t much to do while she was waiting. Twiddling her thumbs didn’t really suit her, and it was unsatisfying to tap one’s fingers against a soft surface such as the couch. Idly she looked down and sighed at the familiar sight that was presented. She didn’t consider herself a vain woman. Most of the time, she was probably quite the opposite. But if there was one thing that it could be said that she hated about her physical appearance, it was her breasts. There was no getting around it – they were too large for her satisfaction. She was five foot ten, fairly tall for a woman, so they didn’t look completely out of place on her. She didn’t have a very wide body. She was built like her brother, lean and tall, so her chest seemed slightly too big for her frame, depending on the angle. She’d like to drop down one size to a small C cup or even a B. That would be ideal. Then maybe her breasts wouldn’t get more attention than she did sometimes. Most introductions found men looking elsewhere besides her eyes. Ostentatious, that was the word – her breasts were ostentatious. They weren’t large enough to hurt her back or look ridiculous or obscene, but they could get in the way at the worst times. Scott found great hilarity in purposefully taking the narrowest, most cramped routes during missions so that he could watch her suffer. He could make her so mad sometimes. The phone rang again. She reached over to the end table and picked it up. “Hello?” “It’s me.” It was his customary greeting. “Made any more progress unpacking?” “I just got up, Scott. I was in the shower.” “We finished breakfast about fifteen minutes ago,” Scott said. “They don’t let us sleep in too much. You were in the shower when I called the first time?” “Yes.” “Then what have you been doing since then?” “Waiting for you to call back. Thinking dark thoughts about my boobs,” she dryly informed him. “Your twins?” Scott sounded like he was grinning, a likely bet when it came to him. “Gigantos and Enormia?” Trust him to rub it in. “What do you want, Scott?” “I want you to get in touch with Molly Weasley,” Scott instructed her. “We need to build some close ties with that family.” “All right. I’ll drop by the Burrow today and introduce myself,” she said. Scott might be a maddening sibling, but a mission was a mission and there was no point in arguing over it. It was his show. “Cool. She seems like a good person, so hopefully you’ll get along.” He sounded a little distracted. “I’ll give you a run down of what’s been happening later. I don’t have time right now.” “Do you think we should get an owl?” “Might not be a bad idea; we can send letters to each other to normalise appearances. I’m not really sure what’s involved; we’ll have to mess with that later. Oh, a little more background for the two of us – our parents were killed by a drunk driver. Just say you don’t want to talk about the details because I haven’t told anybody that yet either. That’s the fallback if anyone asks.” “Drunk driver – got it.” That type of thing really should have been solidified beforehand, but the entire affair had been rather haphazard. Scott had not been given adequate warning to prepare fully. “Ummm… Nothing else comes to mind that can’t wait for later. Just remember I’m trapped here for the time being, so you’ll have to be my legs if something comes up.” “I’ll be ready,” she promised. “’Kay. Talk to you later.” “Later.” After she hung up, she reflected on how strange it was to hear her brother as a sixteen year old. He didn’t sound so different as to be unrecognisable, but there was definitely less bass involved. She’d have to make fun of him for it when she saw him – especially if his voice broke. The first step of the day was to get dressed. She walked into her still barely furnished room and opened her dresser, pausing momentarily to retrieve a picture from its frame and set it aside. Today’s ensemble would be one of her favourites and most well-worn, a black halter top complimented by a pair of camouflage jeans. She had once had a matching camouflage spaghetti tank top, but had stopped wearing the combination after Scott had started calling her ‘Sergeant Skank’. There was nothing worse than when he thought of a clever insult and he knew it was clever. The black went better with the jeans anyway. She slipped on a pair of white and red sneakers, put the picture into one of her pockets, and was ready to face the day. Actually, she had to brush her teeth first. So she went back to the bathroom, deciding to discard breakfast and pick up an early lunch. After her oral scrubbing, she applied a little mascara to her eyelashes and a hint of lip gloss to her mouth. She wasn’t all that fond of makeup and had never worn very much of it. Between that and her simple ponytail, she really didn’t spend a lot of time in the bathroom – no matter what Scott said to the contrary. Now she was ready to face the day. Ottery St. Catchpole was bright under the morning sky when she stepped out the front door of the building. The air still carried a slight hint of chill dew, but the sun was quickly burning it away. There was a soft breeze sweeping through the town, and she judged that, though it would be a warm day, it wouldn’t get overly hot. It was excellent weather to go for a morning walk, which was lucky because that was exactly what she had to do. She took the road south at a leisurely stroll, passing shops and houses, some with their shades still drawn against the intruding light. She stopped on the bridge crossing the river and leaned out over the edge to take in the view. To the south, she could see the forested hills that hid the Burrow from sight. It was a nice place for a house, she thought, nestled back in mostly untouched land but still within easy distance of a town with all its modern commodities. She continued to follow the road past the water until she spotted the two-track lane leading off into the trees. It curved in such a way that she still couldn’t see any of the property unless she counted tree trunks. The woods were dark and cool, shading her from the rising sun. The lane was almost completely covered with leaves, and it was obvious that it had hardly ever been driven. Wizards had several alternatives to automotive travel, she remembered. The woods broke away to reveal a verdant lawn and orchard, complete with a pond on the far side of the land. The path she was on wound its way towards the house to end in front of a ramshackle garage, though she wasn’t sure whether it actually contained a car or not. The Burrow itself reared up against the backdrop of green leaves, a multi-storey catastrophe of architecture. It was a hodgepodge assortment of additions over a very old stone base, the surrounding yard area covered in odds and ends and the occasional chicken. It was a decidedly odd-looking dwelling. Despite its haphazard appearance, it still felt like a home. There was no sense of its being rundown or in any way poorly cared for. The paint wasn’t peeling, none of the windows were broken, and, though the lawn was overgrown in some places, it still had a lived-in look. Smoke curled gently from a chimney on one corner of the first floor. There was a welcoming warmth to the place that was tangible even at the distance she stood. She could easily see herself living there or another place like it. In fact, viewed in a larger sense, it was very similar to her original house, albeit infinitely smaller. Scott certainly would appreciate the Burrow. She followed the driveway up to a point and then cut across the yard to the front door. Some of the windows on the first floor were open, and, judging by the smells emanating from within, they represented the kitchen and source of the smoke wafting from the chimney. Looking down at herself to make sure she didn’t have leaves all over her or something equally embarrassing, she raised her hand and knocked. There was a clatter from the windows as something was set down, followed by a muffled “Well who could that be?” Short, quick footsteps grew audible through the doorway, and then it was opened to reveal the short form of Mrs. Weasley. The red-haired woman blinked up at her unexpected visitor, who was at least six inches taller than her. “Oh, hello,” Mrs. Weasley said. She sounded friendly enough but was also somewhat guarded. Her hand slipped down into a pocket on the side of her apron, clutching her wand. “Mrs. Weasley?” There was no doubt that this was, in fact, Molly Weasley, but it was only polite to ask. “Yes, speaking.” She peered closely at the younger woman, trying to identify her. “Lila Kharan,” the blond introduced herself. “I’m Scott Kharan’s sister – I think you met him at your sons' shop in Diagon Alley?” Mrs. Weasley’s eyes brightened in understanding. “Oh yes! The blond boy that Harry knew. I remember. You’ve rented a flat in town?” “I just walked over here to introduce myself,” Lila said. “Our apartment isn’t far.” Mrs. Weasley seemed to relax, but she still hesitated. “I hate bring it up, but do you have any proof that you’re Scott’s sister? Things being what they are these days…” Lila’s training had encompassed a wide variety of subjects, but one thing that had always been first and foremost on the Kharadjai curriculum was preparedness. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the photograph she had stored there earlier. “Will this do?” The picture had been chosen due to its content. A teenaged Scott and an adult Lila were standing in front of what appeared to be a fancy hotel, with twin brass revolving doors under a dark red awning behind them. Lila’s arm was jokingly wrapped around Scott’s throat in an appropriately familial pose, providing just the right mix of affection and sibling rivalry. Mrs. Weasley appeared momentarily confused by the Muggle-style photograph, but she quickly recovered. “Yes, I recognise him. Were the two of you on holiday?” Before Lila could answer Mrs. Weasley continued, “Oh, but where are my manners, keeping you on the doorstep? Come in; come in!” The energetic woman hurried Lila through the house and into the sitting room. “I’ve just put some tea on; it will only be a moment.” Tea had never been Lila’s drink, but she smiled anyway and nodded in gratitude. While Mrs. Weasley bustled off back into the kitchen, Lila took stock of her surroundings. The room was cluttered with comfortably worn furniture and various decorative odds and ends. The breeze from outside filtered in through several open windows, ruffling the curtains and stirring the back of Lila’s hair. It was the sort of room where you could sit and talk for hours or curl up on a couch for an afternoon nap. It made her even more determined to do something about her apartment. Her new house wasn’t a home yet. Mrs. Weasley soon came back bearing two steaming cups and saucers and a small plate of cookies. Check that – biscuits. Not cookies. It was always a little disconcerting to rearrange the language when entering yet another new locale, but when in Rome… “It was nice of you to drop by,” Mrs. Weasley said as she handed the cup and saucer to Lila. “It’s been too long since I’ve had company for tea.” “I haven’t gotten out much lately myself,” Lila said carefully. It was a delicate task to guide conversations from within. She needed Molly Weasley to invite her back for tea again sometime – it was important that Lila become, if not a regular, then at least an occasional fixture around the Burrow. That wasn’t the only reason though. Sometimes a girl just needed someone to talk to. “You’re more than welcome back any time,” Mrs. Weasley told her with a smile. Lila returned it, thinking that either she was really good, or Mrs. Weasley was really nice. “With Arthur at work and my two youngest at Hogwarts, it gets too quiet around here.” “I can understand that. With Scott at school now, it’s just me left.” Open sympathy crossed Mrs. Weasley’s face. “Oh, yes. All my boys are either at school or working now, and Ginny’s in her fifth year,” she said a little despondently. “But of course, the house is always full during the summer months, and Bill and the twins come by to visit sometimes. Do you have any other family in the area?” “No,” Lila said, feeling the same way she knew Scott did whenever the topic of family came up – out of place. “The two of us are all there is.” It was the truth. Mrs. Weasley seemed a little shocked by that. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lila supposed the woman was accustomed to having a large family. “It’s okay; I’m not upset,” Lila reassured her. She didn’t have any bad memories as far as family went. That was Scott’s burden to bear, as much as she wished it didn’t have to be that way. “We have each other at least, and that’s better off than some people.” “Absolutely – I give thanks every day for my children. Sometimes they can be a handful, but it’s all worth it in the end,” Mrs. Weasley said sagaciously. “Family should always be important….” She blinked a few times after that, looking sad about something. Lila thought she knew what but didn’t pry. “I really like your house,” Lila said, changing the subject. “Right now mine is just a bunch of boxes.” “It’s such a mess most days,” Mrs. Weasley said modestly, “but things have calmed down with the twins living over their shop now. They were the worst when it came to making messes.” “My brother seems to share that problem,” Lila said wryly. “Teenaged boys,” Mrs. Weasley sighed in commiseration. Lila took a drink of her tea, thinking that ‘teenaged boys’ was one excuse Scott couldn’t rely on. He had always been a slob. “So are you working in town, Lila?” Mrs. Weasley asked her, placing her now empty cup back on its saucer. “Or do you commute?” “I actually work at home. I do... well, it’s a Muggle thing,” Lila said, carefully giving the exact response that Scott had recommended. “I see,” Mrs. Weasley replied though she obviously didn’t. “When did you graduate from -” she stopped. “I can never remember the name of that American school….” “Maliseet is the one I would have gone to. And I never graduated.” She hastened to explain herself. “I was too busy working to support Scott and me. Except for his schooling, we’ve spent most of our time as Muggles.” Mrs. Weasley was taken aback but tried to cover it up. “Well, be careful not to tell Arthur; he’ll never stop asking you questions! He’s obsessed with Muggle life and all the alternatives to magic…. You… you can…” “Do magic? Yeah, I can.” “I’m sorry to pry, dear. You just caught me by surprise is all,” Mrs. Weasley said hurriedly. “It’s no problem. Neighbours should get to know each other,” Lila said calmly, subtly nudging the dialogue back towards the other woman. Mrs. Weasley was more than happy to comply. They spent the next hour in idle conversation though Lila occasionally dug a little deeper when she caught on to something that might be important to know. She was careful not to seem like she was panning for any particular information. She wasn’t scoping out the Burrow for a future robbery or anything, but sometimes the mission had to come before personal niceties. Lila comforted herself with the thought that she really was growing to like Molly Weasley, so, in that sense, her visit wasn’t entirely impersonal. It was early afternoon when Lila looked outside and figured she’d probably better go home and continue the task of unpacking. She groaned internally at the thought. Her only consolation was that it had been Scott who had packed it all up in the first place. “I should probably go. I’ve still got a lot of unpacking to do,” Lila said after Mrs. Weasley finished relating a childhood tale involving Ron and the twins. “Thanks for having me over. I had a great time.” “Well, thank you for coming!” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. “I haven’t had a decent teatime guest in far too long. You must come over again soon. Actually that reminds me – did you have any plans for supper?” Lila shrugged. “Whatever takeout place I can find near my apartment. I should probably put together the table first. I don’t really want to eat holding over the sink again.” Mrs. Weasley looked appalled at that image. “Oh. You’re more than welcome to eat here tonight. Arthur and I would be glad to have you.” “Thank you,” Lila accepted. “Sounds a lot better than cold food on the couch.” The older woman beamed at her. “Come round at six then, and everything should be ready.” They exchanged some more pleasantries, and Mrs. Weasley pressed a few cookies (biscuits?) on Lila for the road, and then she was back out on the path. It was substantially warmer out now than it had been on her way to the Burrow, but the breeze kept things tolerable. The street was well shaded up until the bridge that spanned the river, sparing her from the sun. She ate a few of the treats that Mrs. Weasley had given her as she walked. Unlike most people, she didn’t worry about getting fat. Her job would never allow it. Her apartment remained in the state in which it had been left – full of boxes and not much else. So much for any hope she had been holding out that the problem might somehow fix itself. After all, it was an unfamiliar universe. They could have unpacking fairies or something, right? Wrong, apparently. She’d have to unpack the old fashioned way by busting her ass. On the upside, she’d be eating well come dinner time. As well as was possible in the UK, anyway. She supposed that English cooking would just have to become an acquired taste. But did they really have to boil so many things? There were many methods of cooking, and boiling ranked somewhere just above pouring gasoline into a bucket and throwing a match in. Not for the first time, she envied Scott his ability to nonchalantly eat anything put in front of him. Her brother had tastes and preferences the same as the next person, but when it came time to consume whatever local oddities were presented to him, Scott could choke it all down without even changing expression. Lila did her best to emulate, but that sort of culinary mindset came with the kinds of experiences she wasn’t sure she wanted to have. Ah well. She really shouldn’t gripe about it. There were far, far worse places she could be spending her time. A flat in Devon was exponentially more preferable than, say, a stick lean-to in the Amazon. In England, they might serve something called ‘spotted dick’, but at least there weren’t termites in it. Lila had eaten enough termites in her lifetime to last her. No more termites, thanks – she couldn’t possibly. Her silent, self-directed monologue was amusing and all, but it wasn’t helping her get any work done. So she sighed and grabbed the nearest box. ********** The call from Scott came in the middle of the night, forcing her to discard a pleasant dream involving a beach. It was all somewhat vague like most dreams. That didn’t mean she wanted to leave it. Lila rolled over in her extremely comfortable bed to grab the phone off of her bedside table. “What?” “How terribly rude. I’d like to speak to your manager.” “’Kay,” Lila mumbled. “Hold on a second.” She rested the phone against her chest for about five seconds then raised it back to her ear. “This is the manager speaking. What the hell do you want?” “I want to talk to my sister. It’s been what, about a month since the last time?” “Yeah. One glorious month.” “Before you let reminiscence sweep you away, how about I bring you up to date?” Lila turned over onto her back, nestling into a more pleasing position. “All right.” Scott proceeded to outline for her the events that had transpired at Hogwarts: Harry’s private lessons with Dumbledore, the near disastrous Quidditch tryouts, and Scott’s ongoing struggle to learn magic and pass his classes. He also touched on more personal matters such as Harry’s mounting frustration with his unwanted celebrity status and the growing attraction between Ron and Hermione. Lila woke up a little at that last part. Growing attraction was her specialty. “So Ron and Hermione are getting closer?” “They want to screw if that’s what you mean.” “You have the soul of a poet, Scott. I thought you were trying to manipulate more than lust here.” “Sure, a lot more. But they’re sixteen – and accordingly, they want to screw.” Obviously aging backwards had served to increase Scott’s obsession with that particular sphere of human activity. “I understand that, thanks.” “Fear not; you’ll get your chance to dip those delicate fingers of yours into their love lives. It shouldn’t take much to get Ron and Hermione moving in the right direction. Harry and Ginny are more of a problem. They’re both in hardcore denial.” “I like a challenge.” “Then the first one to surmount is Dean. Ginny is dating him currently, but fortunately it’s not serious. They’re on the brink – maybe you can knock them over.” “Any chance of me getting close to Ginny soon, then?” “It’s your lucky day. There’s going to be a trip to Hogsmeade on the nineteenth. I need you to meet me there.” “For introductions?” “Partially. If everything works out right, you’ll be bringing something for me too.” “Mexican food?” she asked hopefully. “Yes, if you can manage it. More importantly, there’s a certain necklace I want.” Lila had the sudden mental image of Scott wearing thick gold chains and several pinkie rings. “Feeling that your current level of bling is inadequate?” “Maybe, but what I really want it for is because it’s an important object, and it needs to be taken out of the picture.” That raised her attention level. “Important object as in…” “As in Priority Item. Someone must have decided to cut us a break because it’s the first clear sign we’ve had so far.” A Priority Item was an object tied to the Universal Intent. Sometimes the universe would point you towards one, or you could even figure it out for yourself. Some things were obviously Priority Items, and you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see the way the universe throbbed around them. Even normal people could understand the importance held in objects of power. Whatever part this necklace had to play in things, it was near to the UO. “I don’t feel it,” Lila sighed in disappointment. “Guess I still have a long way to go.” “Not necessarily. I’m right here at the centre of things in Hogwarts, so the little shaping available is much clearer to me. I bet you’ll feel it once you get closer.” “I hope so. Where is it?” “Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. Get inside, steal the necklace, and stash it in our house somewhere. Our real house, I mean.” “You want me to send it to the Archivists?” “Nah – too much paperwork. We’ll mess with that later; for now, just throw it in a drawer or something.” “Should this be an obvious theft?” “That’s probably not a good idea,” Scott mused. “Smash up the shop a little and take anything else that looks valuable.” “What if the guy is there?” “Kill him if he sees you. Otherwise, just get in and out.” “You don’t think a murder might help to make it look more like armed robbery?” “It would, but if he isn’t there, then it won’t matter. Don’t bother looking for him. He’s a bit player.” “Okay. I’m heading out.” “Thanks Lil. Talk to you soon.” Lila pulled herself from her bed and moved swiftly to her closet. Jeans and a dark shirt would do for tonight since she wasn’t expecting any heavy opposition. She grabbed a plastic bag that had been used for packing in order to store the loot. This wouldn’t be a delicate operation. Breaking and entering without leaving a trace was difficult, but smash and grab was the simplest of tasks. She already knew where Diagon Alley was, having made it her business beforehand to plot out some key points on the map. The impossible window in space that she created on the spot took her to the back of the Leaky Cauldron. She pulled out the wand that Scott had somehow procured for her and tapped the bricks as he had instructed. They moved aside, allowing her entry into the darkened street. It was the dead of night, and Diagon Alley was a ghost town with only a few windows, most of them second-story, showing some dim glow behind drawn shades. The shops and houses took on an eerie cast in the filtered moonlight, all sharp angles and looming forms. There wasn’t a single soul out on the street. Lila wondered if things might have been different before the war. Still, it served her purposes well enough. She couldn’t be seen. With that in mind, she slipped into the side streets and shadows, moving on silent feet where eyes could not penetrate the shroud of darkness. Scott had been right – the necklace called to her from its resting place in Knockturn Alley. Invisible lines and arcs curved and illuminated the way, guiding her forward. All of this happened on a sensory level that could not be described in ordinary words. It was not visual or audible but something else entirely. She could point towards the landmarks that the universe devised, but she could not see them. She could hear the Priority Object disturb the space around itself, but there was no sound. Knockturn Alley was even more steeped in gloom than the rest of the surroundings. If anyone was going to be moving around at one in the morning, it would be in this less than pleasant locale. She moved more carefully here, staying flattened beneath eaves and ducking under windows. She reflected that almost anyone else probably would have found the alleyway forbidding, full of deep corners and unknown threats. But Lila was a Kharadjai. She had bigger things to worry about than chimerical monsters. It didn’t take her long to reach Borgin and Burkes. The door to the establishment seethed with a tangled plethora of warding magic. Lila wasn’t familiar enough with the local form of power to distinguish what each individual spell did, so she wiped them all out of existence. It was a blunt approach and lacking any trace of craft or subtlety, but that would suit her purposes well enough for her current task. She moved to pick the standard lock before remembering that this was intended to be interpreted as a smash and grab. She’d have to be quick. Moving over to the display window, she quickly located the green necklace in its case as well some other items that looked pricey and were within easy reach. Returning to the door, she leaned back and kicked it in. The frame splintered with a loud cracking noise, and the door flew inward to collide with the wall. Once inside, she moved in a flurry of activity. The glass case containing the necklace was smashed, the necklace itself thrown into the bag she carried. She knocked over tables, shattered more glass cases, and ripped the mantel off the fireplace in an orgy of destruction, all the while picking up anything that seemed expensive. She grabbed a solid gold candelabrum, a skull with rubies set into its crown, and a set of jewelled obsidian chess pieces. She knew that with magical objects, the truly valuable things would often appear ordinary and old, but she didn’t care. She wanted it to look like the intruder had only struck a target of opportunity and had taken whatever had immediately presented itself as being of high worth. Lights were coming on outside in the street – her cue to exit, stage left. Hoisting her sack of ill gotten gains, she opened another aperture and vanished like the thief in the night she was. She emerged in the complete safety of her home. When Lila thought ‘home’, she meant her real home, the one she and Scott had been living in for eternities. Exactly what it was and what it wasn’t still confused her sometimes. Only Scott fully understood the nature of their house and knew every square foot of it. There were rooms she had never seen and some that confounded her in their purpose. The house wasn’t exactly a house in the true sense of the word since, after all, it contained many houses. And fields, and water slides, and pyramids, and crystal staircases, an ocean or two, at least one amusement park, several industrial complexes, a tunnel built from the body of a submarine, aircraft hangars, an enormous library, a spaceship docking facility, two primeval forests complete with dinosaurs, a bedroom inside of a giant fish tank, armouries, a power plant built around a star, a gym, a vacation house suspended over a waterfall (complete with a glass floor for one hell of a downward view), a shooting range, twenty-six separate dining rooms with as many kitchens, a bathhouse, and somewhere—Lila was sure she had seen it—a laundry room. Lila knew the partial list she had drawn up in her mind represented no more than six percent of what the house encompassed. The house existed in its own dimension within the universe that the Kharadjai called home. It was not structured like any land based architectural equivalent but was rather a sprawling mass of often unbelievably large areas and connecting hallways floating in empty space. If it were possible to view it from a distance, it would look not like a house but rather some sort of 3D puzzle, a maze stretching into enormity. The house contained endless warehouses and display rooms that held all of the interesting and often dangerous things that the brother and sister had recovered from various universes. It was in one of those rooms that the necklace was destined to reside. Her aperture had delivered her right on top of her bed, as intended. She lay there for a moment and enjoyed the familiar feel of it before climbing to her feet and crossing to her doorway. There was a hatch in the floor to the right of the exit; her brother’s room was directly beneath her, and they shared a bathroom. It would have been very easy to get her a bathroom of her own, but neither of them was willing to admit that the bathroom didn’t belong entirely to them. She liked that bathroom, especially its shower, and she wasn’t going to let Scott foist some lesser bathroom off on her. The door from her bedroom led to the adjoining spiral staircase to which Scott’s bedroom also connected. Starting down the rich carpeting, she ignored the large lever at the top of the stairs that was labelled, ‘PULL ME’. She knew it would turn the staircase into a slide but didn’t feel like leaving a skid mark across the marble floor at the bottom with her ass. On reaching the ground, she opened a pair of large double doors and moved into the corridor beyond. There were many parts of the house which were quite comfortable. The ubiquitous stone hallways that made up much of the connecting areas, however, were not, and Lila never did understand why Scott kept them around. This particular one was lined with, of all things, suits of armour. For someone who so often fell outside of life’s little clichés, Scott was committing a big one with the hall. She would have to grit her teeth and bear it, though, since she was forbidden to alter his portions of their domain as specified in the Great House Treaty. There were many days where she regretted signing that document. She entered a nondescript side door off of the hall, flicking the light switch to her left and dispelling the darkness inside. The lights revealed a room made entirely out of stainless steel – walls, ceiling and floor. It was completely bare, with the exception of the far wall opposite the door. There, against the middle of the metallic surface, was held a large sword in a black leather sheath. Steel straps, which glowed a faint blue, pinned the weapon tightly against the wall, each sporting a separate keyhole for unlocking. Lila didn’t know how dangerous any of things she had taken from Borgin and Burkes were, so she had decided that this room would be a good place to leave them for the time being. She crossed the small space and dumped her bag in a corner. The sword on the wall vibrated slightly as she went near it, rattling the straps. The metal room echoed with a few squeaks and booms as it seemed to expand and contract slightly. Lila ignored this. Rockbreaker wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how much it wanted her to wield it. Turning off the lights and closing the door behind her, she called Scott. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s Lil. I got the necklace and some other junk with it. I put it all in Rockbreaker’s room for now.” “Any problems?” She tried not to take that as an assumption on his part that she would have had any problems with such a simple assignment. “Nah. The people at Borgin and Burkes might disagree with that assessment though.” “Wish I could have been there,” he sighed. “It was a quick job. Is there anything else tonight, or can I go back to bed?” “Well, you do need your beauty sleep, I know that much for su-” he broke off. “Scott?” “Hey, Harry.” “What? Oh,” she said, realising that he wasn’t talking to her anymore. “I gotta go. Unless you want to talk to her, Harry?” Lila rolled her eyes, despite the fact that Scott couldn’t see it. “Don’t think he’s going to take me up on that. See you soon.” “'Bye,” she said and closed the connection. ********** Upon arriving in Hogsmeade for the first time, Lila was struck with exactly how much the place looked like its name sounded – a quaint wizarding village. She supposed there was a certain rustic charm to it, or at least there would have been if the weather weren’t so miserable. The sleet was coming down at a rate that wasn’t quite a deluge but was more severe than a drizzle. It pooled like cold gravy on the cobblestones of the street and in gutters, seeping down inclines and the backs of people’s necks alike. Lila watched dispassionately as witches and wizards hurried through the town with quick steps, trying to get through with their business and indoors as soon as possible. She herself was pretty well inured to the elements. She stood on the street corner outside the Three Broomsticks with no concessions towards the weather save a beaten up BDU coat that had long since lost its hood. It made her stand out, which was fine. There were four people in particular that she wanted to see her. She almost missed seeing her brother entering the shop called Honeydukes just down the street. His familiar blond head was shorter than she was used to. She briefly considered following them into the store, but it looked to be fairly busy and a poor choice for conversation. She did have more of a sweet tooth than Scott, though. Maybe she should call him and tell him to buy her something. Observing people and their habits was an old standby when it came to boredom. It was a game taught to her by Scott, used to sharpen instincts. She redirected her attention to her surrounds while she waited for her brother to re-emerge. Two shabby-looking wizards were having a furtive discussion a few yards away. If Lila had been in a major city, she’d have said it was a drug deal in progress, but instead it was probably a fence operation. She didn’t represent the police, so she didn’t think it was any of her concern. A few moments later that proved to be an incorrect assumption. She didn’t understand the altercation that followed. From her spot in front of the Three Broomsticks, she watched as the boy she knew was Harry began talking to the short, shabby wizard before furiously pinning him against the wall with one arm. Hermione and Ron stood back, shocked. While Harry snarled at the wizard he now had by the throat, Scott bent over and retrieved a dented suitcase the fellow had dropped. Lila started moving towards them to assist when some sort of spell pushed Harry away from the wizard, who immediately tried to grab the suitcase from Scott. Scott skipped back out of reach, and the wizard disappeared with a crack, leaving Harry swearing sulphurously. “At least I got the case,” Scott was saying as she approached. “Here, that’s some of it anyway – oh, hey, Lil.” “Harry, please calm down – I’m sorry? Lil?” That was Hermione, looking in confusion at Scott. “Who?” Ron joined in, swivelling his head about. “Me,” Lila said, stopping next to Scott. She noted with some pleasure that he was just barely taller than her now. Harry cancelled his cursing in mid-tirade. Hermione looked at Lila, then at Scott. Lila knew the resemblance was unmistakable. “You must be -” “Hey! You didn’t tell us you were a twin!” Ron blurted. That was a common misconception. Scott and Lila shared a lot of the same features: the same dark blond hair, the same lean frame, and the same grey eyes. According to Scott, they both took after their mother. They were, however, not twins. “I never got around to telling you her name either,” Scott pointed out, “but that’s only one out of two failures on my part because we’re not twins.” “Lila Kharan,” Lila said, holding out her head for each of them to shake in succession. “Are you going to give Harry his stuff back, Scott, or have you grown attached to it?” “Maybe. I could always use another suitcase.” Lila grabbed the suitcase from him and handed it to Harry. “I’m sure you’ve noticed my brother thinks he’s funny.” “Yes,” Harry said dryly, accepting the suitcase, “I did notice that.” “Bunch of goddamn ingrates, that’s what you are,” Scott said, ignoring Hermione’s glare at his language. “Guess this is a chance to find out who my real friends are, right, Ron?” “Don’t try to drag me into this,” Ron laughed, “I’m just standing here.” “Et tu, Ron?” “As much as my little brother is enjoying this,” Lila said, Scott shooting her a dark look for her comment, “how about we go inside where it’s not freezing cold?” “Is everything all right?” The group turned towards the new voice to see Nymphadora Tonks’ bright pink hair come bobbing across the street. She gave Harry a friendly smile. “Wotcher, Harry.” She looked at Scott. “You too, Scott.” “Hey, Tonks,” Scott returned the greeting. Tonks nodded at him in response before giving Harry a concerned frown. “That was Mundungus, wasn’t it?” “He’s been stealing Sirius’ stuff!” Harry said hotly, obviously still angry. “Can’t the Order control him?” Tonks immediately looked towards Scott and Lila in warning, but Harry brushed off her unspoken caution impatiently. “They already know about the Order. Dumbledore told them.” “We might,” Tonks sighed, answering his question, “but everybody’s been everywhere lately. I’m sure you’ve been reading the paper – things aren’t looking too good.” Harry nodded grudgingly. “I still can’t believe that bloody bas -” he caught himself, throwing a quick glance at Lila. It was a slightly startling reminder to Lila that she was supposed to be the adult in this situation since apparently Harry didn’t expect Tonks to care. “Don’t look at me,” Lila said calmly. “I don’t give a shit if you want to swear.” “Fuck!” Scott added helpfully. “They’re your things he’s taking now, aren’t they Harry?” Hermione asked, steadfastly disregarding the amount of profanity that was occurring. Harry seemed startled by that. “Yeah! They’re mine now; no wonder he tried to run!” “Dung might be a bloody bastard,” Tonks said, giving Harry a wink, “but he’s still useful to us right now.” “Well, we got this much off him anyway,” Scott said, tapping the suitcase Harry held with one foot. “I’m still going to tell Dumbledore about this,” Harry declared firmly. “If that’s what you want to do,” Tonks told him. “Now who’s this then?” she asked, referring to Lila. She held out one hand. “Nymphadora Tonks – but just Tonks, please.” “Lila Kharan.” Lila shook Tonks’ hand. “I’m Scott’s sister.” “Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” Tonks said after they were introduced, “but I’m still on duty – miserable day for it, too. You lot should get inside before you ice over.” “Tell me about it,” Scott agreed. “I was sweating inside the castle, and now my ass cheeks are frozen together.” Ron laughed at that while Hermione briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. Lila imagined she was seeing typical responses to Scott’s off-colour comments. The Three Broomsticks wasn’t overly crowded, and they didn’t have much trouble squeezing through the entrance and finding a table. There was room for all five of them in the booth seat, Lila placing herself next to Scott with Ron, Hermione and Harry on the opposite side. Hermione ordered something for them called ‘Butterbeer’. To Lila it tasted like root beer without the sassafras and with butterscotch added. She found that she liked it well enough and quickly drained half her bottle though Scott didn’t seem to care for it. Her attention turned back to the other people at the table when Hermione asked her about living arrangements in Ottery St. Catchpole. “I rented an apartment there,” Lila explained. “Finally got all settled in now. Except for Scott’s room – that’s his job.” “What are you now, my mother?” Scott laughingly scowled at Lila. “Who do you think packed up all your crap in the first place?” “Oh, you are so grounded, young man.” Scott, of course, merely laughed her off. The verbal games she played with him were amusingly familiar, but Lila thought that Hermione’s presence was more immediately interesting. The situation offered an opportunity to see how things stood with the young witch from a romantic perspective. Perhaps some aspect of things might even be shifted for the better. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Hermione,” Lila said to the girl. “I hope Scott hasn’t been giving you any problems?” “Problems?” Hermione said. “No, what sort of problems do you mean?” “You’re an attractive young woman,” Lila told her, keeping on eye on Ron, “and my brother does most of his thinking with his little head.” Hermione looked at Scott, confused. “With his little… Oh!” She blushed bright red. Scott grinned. “If you’re trying to embarrass me Lil, you know it’s not gonna work.” Maybe not for you, Scott, Lila thought to herself. It didn’t matter since he hadn’t been the target in question. Ron had also flushed, but it wasn’t in embarrassment. He glared at Scott for only a second, but it was all the confirmation Lila needed. The table was set – now the game could begin. “No, nothing like that – no!” Hermione stuttered. “He would never…” “I most certainly would!” Scott countered indignantly. Hermione gaped at him. “But – we’re, we’re not -” “Well, no…” Scott shrugged. “But I’d hit it, that’s all I’m saying.” Harry looked like he was an inch from snorting Butterbeer up his nose. The paleness Hermione had gained due to shock was immediately subdued by another blush. “Of all the -” “We know you have better sense than to hook up with my brother,” Lila reassured her. “You’re obviously smart, and even girls of average intelligence know to dodge that bullet.” “I’m often misunderstood,” Scott said sadly. “Hermione – hold me.” “All right, lay off!” Ron growled, giving Scott a nasty look. Scott immediately sank back into his seat, holding up his hands disarmingly. “It’s a joke, son, a joke. Hermione is strictly hands off. I promise.” Ron must have noticed that Hermione was studying him intently because he attempted an obvious reverse. “Not like it’s me you have to say that to or anything…” he mumbled, trying to cover up for himself with a swig of Butterbeer. There it was! The split second shift, a minute gap in the cosmos. This was what Lila did best of all, even better than Scott could. A single invisible stab into the crease presented was all it took to set the future into wild motion. Scott possessed greater power, but he lacked an eye for the finer details when it came to the human component or at least the romantic facet of it. Lila manipulated the momentary opportunity with the skill of a surgeon. Relationships were a subtle creation built of many separate interdependent components, and a slight change was often all it took to cause a cascade and alter the entire course. The people whose love lives were being distorted felt nothing. They never did. It didn’t slip unnoticed past Scott, of course. His eyes widened for a moment and he sent her an amused look, but didn’t comment. Harry had gained control of his choking problem and said, “Scott, you didn’t tell us your sister would be meeting us here.” Scott shook his head dismissively. “It must have slipped my mind. She’s a pretty forgettable person.” “I think I’ll forget not to paint your room,” Lila said thoughtfully. “What colour of pink was it that you prefer?” “Sharkleberry.” Lila had to laugh at that despite herself. “It’s not a big deal,” she told Harry. “I haven’t seen him in awhile, and this was a good time to do it.” The rest of their time at the Three Broomsticks was passed in idle confabulation over a few more Butterbeers (though Scott still hadn’t drunk his first one). Lila closely observed Ron and Hermione. She didn’t know enough about the two of them to judge whether Scott had tampered with their dynamic in any significant way, but she thought she had set them on the right course. Unfortunately, with Lila away in Ottery St. Catchpole, it would be up to Scott to maintain it. Her brother had a tendency to neglect the romantic side of his duties. When it came to encouraging love his attitude generally seemed to be one of ‘good enough’. On their way out the door back into the wet and cold street, Scott fell behind the others. “Harry,” Scott said, getting his attention. “I’m gonna talk to my sis for a minute; I’ll catch up.” Harry nodded his understanding, and the trio began the soggy walk back to the castle. Scott pulled Lila to one side, looking around first to make sure nobody else was near. As the temperature continued to drop with the approach of evening, the sky darkened, and distant objects were obscured in a gathering gloom. The few boarded up establishments and houses that dotted the village took on a sinister aura. The thickening sleet was swallowing the world. “Avalanche – you swept out the trees, crushed the horizons, then enveloped the keep,” Scott recited as he looked out towards the forest. “Now roll over the barrier, move down the roadway, and in one giant sweep…” “Come in through my window, fill up my lungs, and bury me deep,” Lila finished for him impatiently. Scott’s obscure soliloquies were one of the more maddening aspects of his character. At least when Lila knew the subject material, she could hurry him along. Scott snapped out of it. “Here, have some frogs.” He handed her a box labelled ‘Chocolate Frogs’, which she dubiously accepted. “They ain’t real frogs. Ron said they’re good.” “It’s not often I’ve met a chocolate whatever that I didn’t like,” Lila said, looking the box over. “I’ll add this to the short list of nice things you’ve done for me.” “And I’ll be sure to balance it out with some deliberate cruelty.” “Ginny isn’t here, is she?” Lila said, looking towards the trio who were now a ways down the street. “She was around somewhere but with some other people,” Scott answered. “She’s probably back at the school by now. We’ll have to find another opportunity.” “Do you want the necklace?” “No, let’s just leave it at the house for now,” Scott said. “Ron and Hermione – what did you think?” Lila looked up, contemplative. “They really have something strong; it was just misdirected. I changed things, but I don’t know exactly what the result will be. You’ll have to keep an eye out for deviations.” Scott grunted in frustration. “If I had some freaking clue as to the original shape of things, then I could do that. I’m running blind here; they didn’t tell me enough.” “I think we’re doing okay so far. Maybe you’ve changed more than you think.” “Yeah, and maybe I’ve changed nothing,” Scott scowled. She gave him a look and he added, “Okay, nothing that matters.” “I don’t think it’s that bad,” she said. “You’ve still got time to preserve the non-essentials.” “Why does progress always feel like treading water?” Scott groused. “I need to be making some bolder moves, not playing matchmaker while Thomas ‘Delusions of Grandeur’ Riddle is running around.” “All we can do is try, Scott.” “Alright, alright!” Scott threw up his hands in surrender to her tirade, but she was pleased to see that he was highly amused now. Instead of becoming defensive in the face of her rages, Scott usually was jolted out of whatever idiocy he had been sunk into prior to her angry wake up call. She had counted on that fact. “You know what? I guess I’m just tired of sitting around that castle with my thumb up my ass waiting for something to happen.” “You’re frustrated that I went and got the necklace instead of you,” Lila said knowingly. “Yeah,” he sighed. “You know why I still do this stuff – I’m a field agent at heart.” “You want a tissue?” she asked bluntly. “Bitch, please,” Scott grinned. “Whatever, I’m going back to Hogwarts. I’m gonna stake out the Hufflepuff common room entrance – those ‘Puff girls can’t keep their hands off me.” “You’re a better liar when you’re older.” “Yep, gonna score me some sweet ‘Puff pussy,” Scott continued, ignoring her. “Comes from being friends with Harry you know, celebrity and all that. I told him, if that kid put forward a little effort he could get more ass than a toilet seat.” “At this point I think it’s my duty as your legal guardian to beat the bullshit out of you,” Lila said, peering closely at him. “But I just don’t have the kind of stamina that would require.” “Too much chocolate, that’s your problem, fatty,” Scott said cheerfully and leaned in to give her a rare hug. “I’ll talk to you later, Lil. I’d better catch up.” “Later,” Lila said and watched as he ran up the street through the slush. ********** “Is vandalism a problem here?” Lila was looking at what had been a table and vase and was now a pile of rubble. Someone had smashed both the utilitarian raised surface and the decorative container. “Only if Peeves is on your level. Not many students would bother with vandalism – if Peeves is in the same area it’d be redundant,” Scott told her. The two of them were discussing Peeves’ latest work on their way to the Headmaster’s Office. Scott could have told Lila the way, but it was easier if he led her, and when they went together, they could talk. There was always a great deal to talk about though most of it wasn’t suitable for a public hallway. Lila, again wearing her baggy coat, had been worthy of more than a few startled glances as she had passed through the school. Apparently camouflage just wasn’t ‘in’ at Hogwarts. Lila had planned for her visit to be a quick stop but was distracted by the fascinating architecture that Hogwarts presented. Scott had just come from morning Herbology and was giving her an impromptu tour while the students milled about during the break period. The castle was very old, and Lila could feel the magic moving in the stones beneath her feet. It was an ancient magic, sunk deep into the pores of the rock and adhering through the bindings of age. “How often do they renew the spells on the school?” Lila asked as they approached an ugly gargoyle statue. “No idea. They might be anchored to some sort of self-refreshing source, and I know they’re definitely long-term spells since I’ve never felt any of them weakening.” Scott stopped in front of the stone gargoyle. “I guess you could ask Dumbledore. Fizzing Whizbee.” The statue leaped to the side, infused with magical animation. The entryway it revealed held an aborted set of steps that rose a few feet off the floor and then abruptly ended. Scott nodded towards them. “It’s this sort of weird escalator. Dumbledore should be able to hear you coming, but go ahead and knock anyway. I’ll wait here a little while. If you take too long you’ll have to find your own way out.” “I’m sure I can manage.” “Then what the hell am I doing here?” Scott grumbled as the gargoyle moved back into place, shutting him off from her view. With a bit of trepidation, Lila stepped gingerly onto the stairs and waited for something to happen. Past experience had taught her that local forms of power were not to be trusted. Sometimes energy infused objects reacted oddly to the presence of a Kharadjai. She need not have been so cautious; the platform rose smoothly up the stone spiral without a hitch. She exited the conveyance into a small antechamber, a pair of elegant double doors backing it. Crossing the space, Lila raised her hand and rapped on the right half of the doorway, ignoring the griffin-shaped knocker. The wood was warm under her knuckles, and she felt a familiar tingling. The door was warded in some way, a skin of spells crawling over the surface. She let her fingertips linger on them and tried to discern their purpose. The sensation was like brushing the top of a still pool of water with the barest portion of a palm, and though she could feel the magic move, it was written in a language she didn’t understand. The only information she could glean was the most basic of directions: this spell was like a wall; this spell was like a spark. Was she even separating them properly? The boundaries blended together in the stream. Lila sighed and let her hand drop. Learning the local power would require time and effort. “Come in,” a genial voice called out. Lila obligingly opened the door and stepped into the office, giving the door a push with one hand so that it closed behind her. The room into which she had walked was very interesting. It seemed that every square inch of space held an item of possibly remarkable origin. There were globes and books and glass cases and strange silvery instruments on shelves. There were gizmos and gadgets wrought of steel, brass, and gold. It was the kind of room in which there was a story behind every individual article. Presiding over all of it sat Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling at Lila from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. Lila found herself automatically sizing him up as a potential opponent, not out of any hostility, but because it was a procedure inbuilt by training. Dumbledore radiated a palpable power. “It is not my intention to be overly presumptuous,” Dumbledore said as she approached him, “but you very strongly resemble your brother.” “Got it right – and on your first guess,” Lila said sardonically. She seated herself in the available chair facing his desk. “So much for my dramatic entrance.” Dumbledore smiled. “And you sound a great deal like him, too.” “Lila Kharan,” she introduced herself for what felt like the hundredth time. Unfortunately, it would most likely not be the last. “Albus Dumbledore,” the Headmaster returned the courtesy, holding out his left hand for Lila to shake. She didn’t bother asking him why he had offered her the incorrect hand. “I don’t have an appointment,” Lila said perfunctorily when Dumbledore released her hand, “but I do have this hall pass. It has my name on it and everything.” She extracted the neatly folded guest pass for Hogwarts from the pocket of her jeans. “My name happens to be spelled wrong but I think it’s still good.” She held her lined pass, made out for one ‘LILA KAREN’ for his perusal. “I’m genuinely surprised you bothered,” Dumbledore said in amusement. “The first time Scott came to see me here, he let himself in.” He peered at the guest pass, humouring her. “Written and signed by Argus, I see. At the very least, he did record the correct pronunciation of your last name. Your brother wrote it out for me when I was gathering his school documents, otherwise I might well have done the same.” “It is kinda weird.” Dumbledore folded his hands and leaned back in his chair to regard her. “So, with that all in order, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” “Probable necessity. I’m here for the same reason Scott came to find you five decades ago – recognition. Now that you know who I am it won’t be a problem in the future.” “I see you share your brother’s pragmatism,” Dumbledore said. “Understandable in your position.” “Actually, I am significantly more sensible than Scott,” Lila corrected him. “He’s only practical when he has to be. In other words, when he has to work.” “And you are always the realist?” “It’s never that simple.” Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow. “No?” “No, because my life requires me to see the bigger picture and take the occasional leap of faith. It’s the pressures of our existence; you have to abandon the mindset that you were born with. This puts us in the odd positions of Scott being the cynical artist and me being the dreaming realist,” Lila explained. “Scott’s the one who loves theory and philosophy and art, but they don’t have any place in combat. And I can do without all that sort of airy speculation, but if you don’t allow for the reality of wonder then you’re blind to half of the world – and when you’re trying to watch the universe for its next move, the last thing you want is to be blind.” Dumbledore looked intrigued. Lila remembered Scott telling her that the Headmaster had a deep thirst for knowledge. “So you must allow all points of view in order to be effective.” “Right. When you’re a Kharadjai you can be dropped into any situation at any time; therefore, there’s no such thing as worthless knowledge, an idea that conflicts with my basic tendencies to reject conjecture.” Lila didn’t mind talking about herself and Scott so long as Dumbledore didn’t expect her to ramble on for eternity in a detailed synopsis of Kharadjai life. That was Scott’s job; he was the one who didn’t hate it. “Look, I don’t know exactly all of what Scott’s told you so far, but if you want somebody to sit down with you and talk about being a Kharadjai, then you’ve got the wrong girl. You’ll have to stick with Scott if you want a scholar buddy.” Dumbledore blinked, a little taken aback at her forwardness. “I didn’t mean to impose upon you.” “I know. I was just getting that out of the way.” She paused. “I don’t have any problem dishing the dirt on my brother though. God knows he deserves it.” “Perhaps then we should ground our conversation in more immediate topics,” Dumbledore said agreeably. “Most importantly, is there anything you need to tell me about our mutual purpose?” Lila nodded. “A few facts and then a couple things we should probably go over. We recently removed a Priority Item from your universe. It seems to be fairly malevolent so I doubt we’ll be bringing it back. There’ve been some alterations concerning several relationships here at the school, but you don’t need to concern yourself with those. Now on a more personal note,” Lila became serious, “Scott isn’t going to be content to sit around here and wait for things to happen. Events are gradually accelerating. It’s slow, but that’s always the way these things seem to start. I know you can’t feel it, so you’ll have to trust us on that one. He’ll start taking the offensive, probably sooner rather than later. The best thing for you is to look the other way and pretend for the sake of appearances that nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Essentially, let him do his job, and if anyone asks you about it, deny any knowledge or involvement.” Dumbledore frowned slightly. “What actions would he be taking?” “Harry has to fight Voldemort to the death, but before he can get there, there's a lot of people in the way. It’s a tricky thing to second-guess the universe. Scott will be carefully applying some ‘jurisdictional prudence’, as the Council would call it. If he removes various tertiary obstacles now, we won’t have to deal with them later.” “And by obstacles, you mean those who are in league with Voldemort.” “Exactly. Officially, it’s termed ‘UOOL’ – Universal Objective Obstruction Liquidation. Those of us in the FA call it ‘Killateral’.” Dumbledore had gone quite still. “Murders.” If Dumbledore had hoped for Lila to back away from the ugly term and unequivocally state that the Kharadjai would never murder people, then he was headed for a disappointment. “Yes. I’ll need you to let me know if you require an after-kill report for your own purposes. The media can be unreliable in that regard.” “You believe this is the proper course to take.” There was no question from his tone what Dumbledore thought of that. “I can see you’re not much of a realist,” Lila said bluntly. “My brother could probably make this easier for you to swallow, but he’s not here, so instead I’m going to explain some home truths. Voldemort has to die. If he doesn’t, then theoretically it could mean the end of life on this planet as you know it. We, and by proxy I’m including you in that ‘we’, would like to stop that from happening. Anyone who stands in opposition to that goal is expendable.” Dumbledore said nothing, but he looked suddenly tired. Lila continued, “I’m sorry if this is ruining any romanticised notions you’ve been harbouring, but the grand majority of our work involves taking people out of their respective pictures.” She met Dumbledore’s eyes steadily. “We’re soldiers – and maybe monsters – if that makes you feel better about yourself. Don’t try to interfere.” “Hunting Voldemort with his own methods,” Dumbledore said and sighed. “You will fight hatred with hatred.” “Is that a joke? Do you enjoy clinging to that fairytale outlook?” Lila scoffed. “You don’t wake the Princess by kissing her, and you don’t defeat anyone with the power of love. ‘Hatred’ isn’t the right word. Don’t confuse hate with efficiency.” She shook her head in exasperation. She’d never had much patience for Dumbledore’s kind of viewpoint. “You offer them no redemption then. Only an end.” “Redemption is between them and God. I’m here to save the majority of lives in this universe, and that means Harry has to kill Voldemort, and that means Harry has to live long enough to do so, and that means the people who want to kill Harry have to die first. You’re at war, Dumbledore. Load bullets, not bullshit.” Dumbledore looked off into space, unmoving. “I will consider your words,” he said finally, “though I doubt that I shall ever find them comfortable.” “You don’t have to. The only thing you have to do is keep everything running smoothly here at Hogwarts.” Lila looked down at her wrist before remembering that she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Damn. Where’s Scott when you need him?” She spotted a clock on a mantel and checked the time. “I’d like to get back home for a very late breakfast. Thanks for seeing me.” Dumbledore managed to regain some of the twinkle in his eyes, nodding towards her in farewell. “We may not see eye to eye, but we are still allies. If you require anything, please feel free to visit me again.” “I doubt I will,” Lila said, walking out the door, “but you never know.”
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