A Familiar Bond: Chapter 36

A/N: All characters involved in this story are consenting adults. No underage characters are involved.

Almost a month had passed since they'd arrived at their Sicilian mansion, and they had settled into their new life with ease. It was both comfortable and exhilarating.

The place was perfect for them, both in terms of amenities and privacy. They had explored the nearby wizarding settlement, and to their pleasant surprise, there was no fanboyish behavior amongst the townsfolk when they met Harry. They did know who he was, but they treated him more or less like a normal wizard. However, considering how welcoming they all truly had been, his fame certainly seemed to play a role.

They had spent the entirety of the past month working on their spellcasting and battle prowess. They had a big advantage of having shared knowledge on various magical arts, but it was the practical application that they needed to refine, and thus, whatever time they didn’t spend relaxing was dedicated to either practice or research.

The dueling room echoed with the sharp cracks of spellfire as three figures moved in perfect synchronization across the marble floor. Fleur ducked low, her wand slicing through the air, and bolt of crackling silver energy erupted from the tip, striking the leftmost training dummy square in the chest. The enchanted construct staggered backward, its features flickering as it adapted to her assault.

Daphne rolled to the right, coming up in a crouch as her wand traced rapid spirals in the air. Thick vines burst from the floor, their thorned tendrils wrapping around the legs of two advancing dummies. The magical constructs struggled against their bonds, their difficulty level automatically adjusting upward as they broke free with brute force.

"Behind you!" Valerie called out, already moving. Her wand snapped upward, and a shimmering barrier of hardened air materialized just as a dummy's conjured projectile would have struck Fleur's back. The projectile shattered against the shield in a shower of sparks.

Fleur spun gracefully, her wand already moving in an arc. The broken fragments reformed of the projectile transformed into a flock of razor-sharp metal birds that dove toward the dummies. Two of the constructs raised their own shields, but the third took several hits, its chest plate cracking under the assault.

The training dummies were learning, their magical intelligence pushing them to work together more effectively. One raised a dome of golden light while another conjured a barrage of stone spears from thin air. The third dummy began weaving, dark energy gathering around its wand-arm.

Daphne's response was immediate and brutal. Her wand carved through the air in sharp, angular motions, and the very ground beneath the dome-casting dummy liquefied. The construct sank up to its waist before the stone solidified again, trapping it completely. She followed up with a banishing charm so powerful it sent the trapped dummy flying backward into the wall, where it crumpled in a heap.

Valerie was already moving to counter the stone spears, her wand dancing in intricate patterns. The projectiles transformed mid-flight into butterflies of pure light that scattered harmlessly around the room. But her attention was caught by the third dummy's growing curse, and she shouted a warning to her companions.

Fleur needed no further prompting. Her wand became a blur, silver fire streaming from the tip in controlled bursts. Each blast struck the curse-weaving dummy, disrupting its spellwork and forcing it to abandon the dangerous magic it had been building.

Daphne conjured a whirlwind of cutting wind that sliced through one dummy's defenses, Valerie's piercing hex punched clean through another's chest plate, and Fleur's crushing hex pulverized the last construct before it could fully regenerate.

Silence fell over the dueling room, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the settling of dust and debris.

"Brilliant work with those binding vines, Daphne," Fleur said, lowering her wand and pushing a strand of silver-blonde hair from her face. "The timing was perfect."

Daphne smiled. "Your transfiguration with the metal birds was great too."

"And Val," Fleur continued, turning to the dark-haired witch, "that barrier save was exactly what I needed. I was completely focused on the offensive spell and didn't sense the projectile coming."

Valerie grinned, twirling her wand between her fingers. "That's what we're here for. Supporting each other. Still, I think we all need to work on our peripheral awareness. We're getting tunnel vision when we focus on complex spellwork."

"Agreed," Daphne said, conjuring a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow. "And I need to work on my transition speed between different spell types. There was a moment where I was caught between defensive and offensive casting."

"Your shield work is getting stronger though," Valerie told her. "That barrier you threw up earlier would have stopped a blasting curse, easy."

Together, they cleaned up the training room, restoring the broken dummies and clearing away the debris while they chatted away. Fleur told them how her sister was missing them, prompting Valerie to tease her about Gabrielle missing Harry more than her.

“You know, I can’t even deny that confidently,” Fleur shook her head ruefully.

"Speaking of missing things," Daphne said with an amused shake of her head, "our dear husband seems to have abandoned us for the local market again."

Fleur chuckled, vanishing the last of the stone fragments. "At least he agreed to bring back everything on our list. We can't complain too much when he's willing to hunt down those specific herbs I wanted."

"And the books I ordered from that antiquarian shop," Valerie added. "Plus Daphne's potion ingredients and those Sicilian sweets we've all become addicted to."

"He's settling into his household duties quite nicely," Daphne said with a wicked grin. "Bringing home the groceries, running our errands, keeping us well-supplied with everything we need. Acting like a proper husband already."

Their laughter was interrupted by Harry's voice calling from outside, echoing across the villa's grounds.

"Could you three come out here? I've got something to show you!"

They exchanged curious glances, quickly finishing their cleanup before making their way upstairs and out onto the terrace. They found Harry standing by the edge of their infinity pool, and they stared at him in confusion.

He was holding both golden eggs—his and Fleur's—in his arms like precious artifacts.

"What are you doing with those?" Fleur asked, tilting her head curiously.

Harry gave her a triumphant grin. "I figured it out. The eggs, I mean."

Daphne moved closer, her eyes shining with excitement. "You got the clue finally?"

They’d spent a lot of time over the past month wondering what to do with those two golden eggs. They’d tried everything they could think of, every deciphering and translating spells they could find, but nothing helped.

"I was talking to this vendor in the market about places of interest around here," Harry explained excitedly. "Giuseppe—lovely old man, been here his whole life. He mentioned several spots, but one in particular caught my attention. He called it 'u Lagu di Tritoni'—the Merpeople Lake."

Valerie raised an eyebrow. "Merpeople? In Sicily?"

"That's exactly what I thought," Harry said. "But Giuseppe told me they're fascinating creatures, and that most people avoid the lake during the day when some of them come to the surface. When I asked why, he explained something interesting about their voices—how they sound completely different above water versus below. Underwater, it’s a melodious song, but above the surface, it’s the complete opposite."

Understanding dawned immediately on Fleur's face. "The eggs contain merpeople voices?"

"Exactly!" Harry confirmed. "Which means we need to open them underwater to hear what they're really saying."

He looked his three wives up and down, taking in their post-training appearance with obvious appreciation. Their workout clothes clung to their curves in ways that made his mouth go dry, and their skin still shone with that flush of exertion that he found irresistibly attractive.

"Also," he added with a teasing grin, "you all look like you could use a nice bath. Why don't you join me?"

"Can't get enough of us, can you?" Daphne asked teasingly.

Harry didn't even pretend to be embarrassed. "Not even close. I doubt I ever will."

Their laughter was warm and affectionate as they began stripping away their training clothes. There was something beautifully natural about the way they moved together, and they all helped each other to the appreciative sights their spouses presented.

The pool water was perfectly warm as they slipped in together, and it didn’t take long for things to escalate with the foursome. Hands wandered over curves, lips finding sensitive spots that they all knew very well by now.

Harry's fingers traced the elegant line of Fleur's spine while she massaged his shoulders, their naked fronts pressed flush against each other. Daphne's hands were gentle but thorough as she worked shampoo through Valerie's dark hair, while Valerie kept herself pressed against his back, her arms wrapped around both him and Fleur.

The veela was eagerly bucking against her husband as he kept thrusting inside her, their lips joined and their tongues tangling hotly, and it didn’t take long for her orgasm to crash through her. Harry held her close as she shivered, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She began to kiss his wet skin as Harry emptied his balls inside her quivering pussy, making her moan in absolute bliss as he painted her inner walls in white.

All the while, the golden eggs floated nearby on the surface, waiting for their owners to be done.

Almost an hour passed, and the eggs remained forgotten as Harry brought Daphne and finally Val to their respective climaxes, and the foursome leaned against the edge, Harry sandwiched between the two oldest while Daphne leaned against his front.

"Right then," Valerie said eventually, reaching for both eggs and handing them to their respective owners. "Shall we see what they have to say?"

"Fleur should go first," Harry suggested. "Ladies before gentlemen and all that."

Fleur nodded, taking a deep breath. "Together then. Everyone under."

They submerged as one, the warm water closing over their heads as Fleur's fingers found the latch on her egg. The shell opened with a golden glow, and suddenly the water around them filled with the most haunting melody any of them had ever heard.

The merpeople's song was ethereal, their voices echoing underwater. The words were crystal clear:

Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour, the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

They surfaced together, gasping and shaking water from their hair. Fleur closed the egg with a soft click.

"Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground," Fleur repeated. "And while you're searching ponder this, we've taken what you'll sorely miss. An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took, but past an hour, the prospect's black, too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

Harry was already opening his own egg, and they submerged again. The song was identical, confirming what they had all suspected.

When they surfaced the second time, the implications were clear.

"Same song," Harry confirmed. "Which means the clue for the second task is the same for all the champions."

“The task is going to be underwater,” Fleur remarked. “There’s only one water body I saw near Hogwarts.”

“The Black Lake,” Harry nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s where the next task would be.”

"They're going to take something precious to each of you," Daphne said, working through the puzzle. "Something you'll sorely miss."

Valerie nodded thoughtfully. "And you'll have an hour to retrieve it from wherever the merpeople live. Underwater, obviously, since they can't sing above ground."

Harry nodded. "Which means we need to figure out how to breathe underwater for an hour, navigate an unfamiliar lake environment, deal with merpeople and whatever other creatures live down there, and recover whatever they decide to take from us."

They all turned to look at Fleur with slight concern. As a veela, water was not her home domain, and it would be especially challenging for her to remain underwater for an hour, especially given it’d be freezing.

Harry leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, feeling her relax against him.

“We’ll make sure we’re ready,” he said firmly. “We’d research everything that could give us an advantage underwater. Failure isn’t an option.”

“Together,” Fleur agreed, smiling as they leaned back. They exchanged firm nods with each other as Harry pulled all three women closer.

“Always together.”

XXXXX

"The case files are a complete mess," Alecto said, dropping a stack of parchment onto her desk with obvious frustration. She had Fawley's precise mannerisms down perfectly, but Dolohov could hear the underlying irritation that was purely her own. "Whoever processed the crime scene evidence clearly has no idea what they're doing."

"Language, Fawley," Dolohov replied automatically, not looking up from his own paperwork. Playing Blackthorn meant adopting the man's habit of gently correcting his subordinates' more colorful expressions. "What specifically is wrong with the files?"

"Half the witness statements contradict each other, and the magical residue analysis is incomplete," she continued, her voice carrying Fawley's characteristic sharpness. "We'll need to re-interview at least three witnesses and probably revisit the crime scene."

Rudolphus looked up from his desk. In Crane's stocky form, he appeared every inch the Auror, but his eyes still held the cruelty he was known for. "I could handle the crime scene re-examination.”

"Good thinking," Dolohov said. "Take Holloway with you. The boy needs more field experience."

Amycus, sitting at Holloway's desk, looked up with an expression of eager enthusiasm that he'd perfected over the past three weeks. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the opportunity."

The performance was flawless. Dolohov felt a surge of satisfaction. Their preparation had been thorough, and it showed. Three weeks into their infiltration, and not a single person had roused suspicion. They attended briefings, filed reports, and even socialized with other Aurors after particularly long days. Each interaction strengthened their cover identities.

"Digby, what's the status on the Diagon Alley surveillance reports?" Dolohov asked, turning his attention to Rabastan.

"All reports have been filed and cross-referenced," Rabastan replied, his voice steady. "No unusual patterns detected in the past week."

Dolohov nodded approvingly, but he made a mental note of the slight stiffness in Rabastan's delivery. The man was struggling more than the others with the deception. His natural inclination toward violence and his deep-seated prejudices made every interaction with their mudblood colleagues a test of self-control.

"Excellent work," Dolohov said, allowing a hint of pride to creep into his voice. Blackthorn had always been generous with praise when his people performed well. "I know these routine cases aren't the most exciting, but thorough work is the foundation of everything we do."

The words felt strange coming from his lips. Not six weeks ago, he would have laughed at the idea of praising thorough Auror work. But now, maintaining the illusion of being a dedicated law enforcement officer was crucial to their mission's success.

A knock on the office door interrupted his thoughts. Through the glass partition, he could see a familiar figure approaching—tall, confident, and someone who had earned his colleagues' respect through years of dedicated service.

"Come in," Dolohov called, recognizing Kingsley Shacklebolt immediately.

During the war, Shacklebolt had been nothing more than a junior Auror, barely out of training but a formidable fighter. Dolohov remembered him vaguely as one of Dumbledore’s staunchest supporters. The intervening years had clearly been kind to him. He looked like a seasoned investigator.

What caught Dolohov's attention, however, was the young woman walking beside Shacklebolt. She looked a few years out of Hogwarts, but what caught his eyes was her hair, an impossible shade of bright pink.

"Blackthorn?" Shacklebolt said, stepping into the office. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Not at all, Shacklebolt," Dolohov replied, gesturing for them to enter. "What brings you by?"

"I wanted to introduce you to the newest member of our division," Shacklebolt said, stepping aside to reveal the pink-haired woman more clearly. "This is Auror Nymphadora Tonks. She’d been in Patterson’s team so far, working on smaller cases and getting some experience. It’s been decided that she’s ready for the big leagues now. Today is her first official day with the division."

The woman's face flushed with obvious annoyance, and she shot Shacklebolt a look that could have melted steel.

"Shack, I’ve told you not to use that name," she said, her voice a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "How many times do I have to explain that I go by Tonks? Just Tonks."

Shacklebolt chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. "My apologies. I keep forgetting how particular your generation is about names. Back in my day, we simply used whatever our parents gave us."

"Well, your day was apparently much less enlightened than mine," Tonks replied tartly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Auror Tonks," he said, standing and extending his hand in Blackthorn's characteristic gesture of welcome. "I'm sure you'll find the work here both challenging and rewarding."

"Thank you, Auror Blackthorn," Tonks replied, shaking his hand with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary. "I know I'm still learning, and I probably have a lot to prove, but I'm ready to work hard and show that I belong here."

The earnestness in her voice was genuine, and Dolohov found himself momentarily impressed despite himself. This young woman was clearly determined to succeed on her own merits.

"I have no doubt you'll do excellent work," Dolohov assured her. "The Auror corps has always prided itself on developing new talent. If you have any questions or need guidance, please don't hesitate to ask any of us."

"Exactly. I know I have a lot to learn, but you bet I’m gonna prove myself based on my own abilities."

As the woman nodded eagerly, Dolohov noticed something concerning in his peripheral vision. Rabastan had gone completely still at his desk, his attention focused entirely on Tonks. There was something in his expression—a mixture of recognition and barely contained fury—that could easily attract unwanted attention.

He caught Rabastan's eye and gave him the slightest shake of his head. The warning was subtle but clear: maintain control.

Rabastan's jaw remained clenched, and his hands had clenched into fists at his sides. His breathing had become slightly labored, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 Dolohov couldn’t help but wonder what the connection between him and this woman was.

"Well," Shacklebolt said, "I should let you get back to your work, Blackthorn. Tonks, are you ready to meet the rest of your new team?"

"Lead the way," Tonks grinned. "Thank you again for the warm welcome, Auror Blackthorn. Being made to feel at home here means a lot."

"The pleasure was entirely mine," Dolohov said, smiling warmly. "And please, if you need anything at all—guidance, advice, or just someone to answer questions—my door is always open. We're all here to support each other."

As Shacklebolt and Tonks turned toward the door, Dolohov made a quick decision. The situation with Rabastan needed to be addressed immediately, before it could escalate into something that might compromise their entire operation.

"Digby," he called out, his voice filled with authority, making it clear that it was an order rather than a request. "Could you step into my office for a moment? I need to discuss something with you."

Rabastan looked up from his desk, his expression carefully controlled but his eyes still burning with rage.

"Of course," he gritted out.

Dolohov subtly gestured for Rudolphus and Amycus to follow.

"Crane, Holloway, I need you both as well. Quick team meeting about resource allocation."

The pair nodded and stood up. Dolohov turned to Alecto and gave her a meaningful look, gesturing around with his eyes. Alecto nodded, the message clear: Don’t let anyone interrupt us.

The three Death Eaters followed Dolohov into the office, and he flicked his wand, closing the door behind them. He waited and watched through the glass partition until Shacklebolt and Tonks had completely disappeared down the corridor.

Only then did he turn to face his companions, his expression deadly serious.

"Follow me," he said quietly, leading them out of the office back door and down the hallway toward the private men's washroom.

The facility was empty when they entered, as Dolohov had known it would be. He immediately began casting privacy charms, layering multiple spells to ensure absolute secrecy.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Dolohov demanded the moment the last spell was in place, turning to face Rabastan with undisguised fury.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rabastan replied defiantly.

"Don't insult my intelligence," Dolohov snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You looked ready to curse that girl where she stood. Any Auror with even minimal observational skills would have noticed that your reaction was completely inappropriate for someone meeting a new colleague."

Rabastan's carefully maintained composure finally cracked under the pressure. "Do you have any idea who that is? Do you understand what that... that abomination represents?"

"Explain it to me," Dolohov said coldly.

"She's Andromeda Black's daughter!" Rabastan exploded, his voice rising. "The spawn of that blood-traitor bitch and her mudblood husband! She was going to be mine, but she ran off with that mudblood filth! She's a walking insult to everything my family stood for, everything we've fought to preserve!"

Dolohov moved faster than anyone in the room could have anticipated. He grabbed Rabastan and slammed him against the wall of the nearest toilet stall, his wand pressed firmly against the younger man's throat. Rudolphus and Amycus both instinctively pulled out their wands, but Dolohov paid them no heed, his eyes narrowed as he glared at a defiant Rabastan.

"Listen to me very carefully," Dolohov said, his voice deadly calm. "I don't give a rat’s ass about your personal grudges. I don't care about family honor, broken marriage arrangements, or any of the pureblood political nonsense that apparently still consumes your tiny brain. What I care about… the only thing I care about is completing our mission successfully."

Rabastan tried to struggle against the restraint, but Dolohov pressed his wand deeper into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, making him freeze completely.

"We are here for one purpose and one purpose only," Dolohov continued, glaring. "To serve the Dark Lord's eventual return by positioning ourselves perfectly for when that glorious moment arrives. Every single thing we do, every word we speak, every expression that crosses our faces must serve that ultimate goal. Your personal feelings are a luxury we cannot afford."

"She's an insult to everything we believe in!" Rabastan protested, though his voice was somewhat strangled by the pressure of the wand against his throat.

"Our beliefs?" Dolohov laughed bitterly. "Let me tell you what I believe, Rabastan. I believe in victory. I believe in success. I believe in serving our Lord so effectively that his triumph becomes inevitable. I don't believe in letting petty personal vendettas destroy all this careful planning."

He leaned in closer, his eyes boring into Rabastan's with terrifying intensity. "Do you honestly think the Dark Lord cares about your wounded pride? Do you imagine he gives even the slightest consideration to the fact that some pureblood girl chose love over an arranged marriage decades ago? He cares about results, you pathetic fool. He cares about competence, dedication, and absolute loyalty to the cause."

From the corner of his eye, Dolohov noticed Rudolphus take a step forward, his face darkening with anger at seeing his younger brother threatened so directly. But a single sharp look from Dolohov was enough to freeze him in place, making it clear that any intervention would be extremely unwise.

"Your need to understand what's at stake here," Dolohov continued, turning back to glare at Rabastan. "Our success depends on absolute discipline and perfect self-control, regardless of personal feelings or family history."

He increased the pressure of his wand against Rabastan's throat slightly. "And all you can focus on is some family slight that has absolutely no bearing on our current situation."

"It wasn't just some slight," Rabastan managed to gasp out, his voice hoarse from the pressure on his windpipe. "Andromeda was promised to my family. The negotiations were completed. She belonged to me, and she threw it all away for some filthy mudblood nobody!"

"And that matters how, exactly?" Dolohov demanded, his tone growing even more menacing. "Are you planning to demand satisfaction for your family's honor? Challenge her to a duel? Curse her daughter in front of half the Auror department as some kind of statement about pureblood superiority?"

He pressed harder with his wand, making Rabastan's eyes water. "Because if any of those thoughts have crossed your mind, let me make something absolutely clear. If you jeopardize this mission, if you compromise our position because you can't control your emotions about things that happened before that girl was even born, I will personally ensure that you never live to see the Dark Lord's return. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Rabastan's eyes blazed with fury and humiliation, but he remained silent.

"I asked you a question," Dolohov said, his voice promising violence if he didn't receive a satisfactory answer.

"Clear," Rabastan forced out through gritted teeth.

"Excellent." Dolohov stepped back, allowing Rabastan to breathe properly for the first time since the confrontation began. "And this warning applies equally to all of you," he said, turning to address Rudolphus and Amycus as well. "We are walking on the edge of a knife here. One mistake, one moment of lost control, one slip in our carefully constructed personas, and everything we've worked for collapses around us."

He began pacing in the confined space of the washroom, his hands clasped behind his back. It somehow made him appear even more dangerous than when he'd been physically restraining Rabastan.

"Do any of you truly understand what's at stake here?" he asked, his voice growing more intense with each word. "We're not just infiltrating the Auror department for information or access. We're positioning ourselves to be present at one of the most significant magical events in recent history—the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament."

His eyes glittered with anticipation. "Potter will be there, along with hundreds of other potential targets. The Minister for Magic will be there, surrounded by department heads and senior Ministry officials. Half of wizarding Britain's political and social leadership will be gathered in one place, protected by security measures that we'll be helping to implement and oversee."

Dolohov stopped pacing and fixed each of them with a look of absolute seriousness. "When the Dark Lord returns, and we’ll make sure he returns soon, we need to be in position to act immediately and decisively. Not next week, not after we've had time to plan and prepare, but at the exact moment he chooses. That requires patience, discipline, and absolute commitment to maintaining our cover identities, regardless of personal feelings or private grudges."

"What if someone recognizes us?" Amycus asked quietly, voicing the concern that had been lurking in all their minds since the mission began.

"They won't," Dolohov replied with absolute confidence. "As long as we remain disciplined and professional. As long as we remember that we are playing the most important roles of our lives, with stakes higher than anything we've ever faced before."

He turned back to Rabastan, who was still rubbing his throat where the wand had pressed. "As for you specifically, I want you to stay away from that girl. If you must speak with her, you will be polite, professional, and completely forgettable. You will not show any interest in her. You will not ask about her family, her background, or anything else that might reveal your knowledge of her personal history. Is that understood?"

Rabastan nodded sullenly, clearly still resentful but smart enough not to push the confrontation any further.

"I can't hear you," Dolohov said sharply.

"Understood," Rabastan grunted with barely suppressed anger.

Dolohov studied him for a moment longer, then nodded with apparent satisfaction. "Good. Now, we're going to return to our desks, and we're going to have a perfectly normal, productive day. We're going to file our reports, investigate our cases, and be model Aurors who are dedicated to upholding magical law and protecting innocent citizens."

The irony of those words wasn't lost on any of them, but Dolohov's tone made it absolutely clear that this wasn't the time or place for commentary.

"Any other questions or concerns that need to be addressed?" he asked.

When no one responded, he nodded curtly. "Then let's get back to work. We have a reputation to maintain and a mission to complete."

He took down the privacy charms and they filed out of the washroom in silence, returning to the Auror office and resuming their various tasks.

However, Dolohov remained deeply troubled as he sat back in Blackthorn's chair and picked up the next case file from his stack. Rabastan's reaction to that girl had been far more intense and personal than he'd anticipated, and it highlighted a fundamental flaw in their infiltration strategy that both he and Crouch should have foreseen.

Each of his associates carried decades of hatred, prejudice, and personal vendettas. They weren't professional operatives who could compartmentalize their emotions and focus solely on mission objectives. They were true believers in a cause that had consumed their entire adult lives, shaped their identities, and defined their place in the world.

Asking them to suppress all of that completely, to smile and work alongside the very people they'd spent years trying to kill or subjugate, might simply be asking too much of human nature, even with the strongest motivation possible.

He would definitely need to discuss this issue with Crouch at their next scheduled meeting. Perhaps they needed additional Occlumency sessions, more time to perfect their emotional control along with their spellcasting abilities. Or perhaps they needed comprehensive contingency plans for what to do if one of them lost control completely and compromised the entire operation.

As he opened the case file and began reading, Dolohov caught sight of Tonks through the glass partition. She was sitting at a desk near the far wall, her shocking pink hair making her easy to spot. Shacklebolt was with her, patiently explaining something, and she was listening intently, determined to absorb every detail.

He made a firm mental note to keep an extremely close eye on Rabastan in any situation involving the girl. His personal vendetta against her family could prove to be a critical liability that they simply couldn't afford to ignore.

They had come too far and risked too much to let personal grievances destroy everything they'd worked to achieve. The Dark Lord's return was approaching, and they would be ready to serve him perfectly when that moment arrived.

No matter what the cost might be.

To be continued…