Hawke's heart quickened in his chest as he found himself pinned by that eerily youthful blue gaze. He knew immediately that his bluff wouldn't work, could hear the suspicion in the woman's voice before she'd even stood from her creaking chair. The Auror stood motionless, wand still trained on the older woman in spite of her seemingly harmless demeanor, not a single thought spared to the cat now stroking its body along his calves.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I'm sure you'll understand I was not expecting to find this house occupied." </span>He hid his nerves at being caught in his lie beneath the most nonthreatening grin he could muster, green eyes sinking into blue . . . a blue that seemed all too familiar and yet he couldn't place where he'd seen this woman's gaze before.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "I do indeed seek Albi . . . " </span>He chose to use the shortened name in an attempt to imply familiarity. Granted, at this point, Hawke might dare to say he'd become more familiar with Albiorix than either of them had ever intended.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "He isn't the easiest man to keep up with and it's important that I speak with him."</span>Speak with him, get inside his head a second time, kill him, anything to reverse this . . . melding of their's before any real harm could come of it. As useful as it might seem, the wrong thought slipping from his mind could spell disaster in the blink of an eye. Even as an accomplished occlumens, he couldn't risk the Death Eater predicting his every move.<br/><br/>Although . . . Hawke wasn't so sure anymore that he even wanted the man rotting in Azkaban. With hurt and vengeance clawing at him from the other side of this newborn link, Hawke had found himself in a position far too familiar. A position where justice might not align with the law for once. And the Dornsby case was still fresh on his conscience. Not to mention, if this mental link persevered . . . Hawke wasn't sure he could endure witnessing The Kiss, even second hand. Or a lifetime behind bars, for that matter.<br/><br/>Hawke's eyes froze on the elder's smile, his world dissipating for just a moment as words from another time, another mind, echoed through him. He knew this memory. He knew this woman.<br/><br/>Suddenly he felt very much in danger. Though, for the briefest moment, he'd forgotten that he'd not worn the clearly recognizable robes of his profession. Thankfully. And while his body wanted anything other than to lower his wand in this situation, to make himself vulnerable before this Death Eater, Hawke was suddenly aware of the floorboards at his back popping beneath the weight of a second woman, this one quite fierce in her appearance. And another wand trained on him. Taking his confusion in stride, Hawke chuckled and slipped his wand into his pocket.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">The cat. Of course</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">.</span></i>He might be able to hold his own against the two of them, but . . . perhaps they could help him locate Albiorix, though a small voice in the back of Hawke's mind questioned what these two might want with the other man. I could be unwise to deliver the Death Eater into the hands of someone who might intend him harm . . . all things considered. Whatever happened to Albi, could affect Hawke in unpredictable ways.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Indeed. Where are my manners? You can call me Reid. And perhaps we might be of some use to one another. What it is you seek of our mutual friend?" <br/>
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</span>​</div>With the light sensation of Albiorix's wand slipping gently from his pocket, Joramir reeled about with mockery on his tongue, prepared to demand how exactly the younger man intended to to make use of his wand while bound to the slab. However, he was indeed taken aback by the sight of a large raven seated in place of the wizard.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"> "An animagus . . . "</span>Then suddenly his world became a whirlwind of dark feathers and sharp claws, one hand battling to defend the soft flesh of his face while the other sought the wand tucked unfortunately into his pocket.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Fools! Reborn, kill the bird!"</span>Though before the words had even left his lips the raven had done its damage and pumped its wings up the stairs.<br/><br/>Leaving Joramir with a thin line of blood from brow to cheek, just barely missing his eye. [<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Moron!"</span>He should have known, killing Niah had undone the binding spell securing Albiorix in place. Stupid! His fingers came away wet with crimson as he turned to the Reborn, the newly awakened Niah blinking up at him from the body of a dark-haired woman.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Find him!"</span>He roared, fear gnawing at the edges of his heart that Albiorix would escape and be the end of a decade of scheming and sacrifice.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff4d">"You . . . killed me." </span>Genuine hurt laced within Niah's voice, deeper and completely alien to her in this new form as she looked upon Jora as if seeing a monster for the first time. The other Reborn did as they were commanded, immediately moving to follow the raven up the stairs.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"I'll kill you a second time if that damned bird isn't stuffed and mounted in my office before nightfall. FIND HIM!"</span>Not having the time to spare, Joramir tossed a dismissive sneer in Niah's direction before striding up to the main floor himself.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, as Albiorix sat upon his perch, well hidden amid the dark vestiges of the manor, a young dark-haired girl strolled along within earshot of the raven, whistling happily and followed by her faithful house elf. Everyone else in the massive home seemed on high alert, though their numbers were still few. But not for long. Footsteps trampled this way and that, raised voices echoing throughout the halls, but Addlyn paid them little mind, lost in her own world of thought as she plopped down into an overlarge chair and pulled a book from within its plush confines. She read for a few minutes, the pages turning themselves without so much as an indication that the girl was controlling them. He brow knitted, the whistled tune came to an abrupt end.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"Whimsy?" </span>She faced the elf as the book drifted slowly back into its hiding place.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"Why didn't I ever get my Hogwarts letter? Is says there in Hogwarts a history that all witches and wizards get a letter after their eleventh name day. I'm fourteen. Where is my letter?"</span>The house elf fidgeted nervously, clearly caught between a rock and a hard place as she considered her answer. Of course she couldn't disobey her master. But . . .<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Master Joramir has told Whimsy not to answer such questions." </span>With that, the girl leaped from her chair, one hand on her hip.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"I am the real master of this house and I implore you to answer me. Why didn't I get a letter?" </span>The elf wrung her hands rather pathetically.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Master Addlyn . . . yes, all magical children receive an invitation to Hogwarts . . . but . . . but not . . . "</span><br/><br/>Whimsy was rescued by a stampede of footsteps led by Joramir, who seemed out of breathe.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Addlyn, your Majesty . . . have you seen a raven?" </span>Addlyn pretended as if her uncle hadn't just asked her a question.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"Uncle. Where is my Hogwarts letter?" </span>She was  now clearly distraught, almost in tears. Jora froze in place, as if expecting this day to come . . . and dreading it.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Addy, my Sunshine . . . not now. The man from the dungeons has escaped and its very important that we find him." </span>Hands now balled into fists, this little girl was having none of her uncle's excuses.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"I don't care about the man in the dungeons! I don't care about ravens! If I'm you're sunshine, then TELL ME! You're always hiding something as if I'm DIMWITTED!" </span>The furniture shook, began slowly drifting across the marble floors with a loud groan. The Reborn wasted little time in continuing their search elsewhere, leaving on Jora to face the wrath of his niece alone.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"> "Some little girls are too powerful for Hogwarts . . ." </span>He started, but was interrupted.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"You're LYING!"</span>Tears rolled down Addlyn's face now.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"It's because of my parent's isn't it? It's because they were the Dark Lord's servants, isn't it!?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"No, Addy . . . " </span>Jora paused, considered his options for a moment.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Yes . . . yes, it's because your parents were Death Eaters. You weren't allowed to go to Hogwarts with muggle born and half-blood rabble." </span><br/><br/>Addlyn went silent, sniffling . . . and it seemed that might be the end of her tantrum . . . when suddenly the windows shattered from their frames, books flew from their shelves, whirling about the room in a vortex of glass and paper, the furniture crashed against polished walls.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6"> "I HATE THEM! I WANTED TO GO TO HOGWARTS TOO, EVEN WITH THE MUDBLOODS!!! I HATE THEM ALL!!" </span>And then everything stopped moving at once, books and shards crashing to the floor, paper floating slowly behind it.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4da6">"We need more, Uncle. More Reborn, more shades, more dementors. I'll show them I deserved to go to Hogwarts as much as anyone else." </span>With that, resolute, Addlyn walked sullenly back into the hallway, presumably headed to her chambers.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"Indeed, we do need more,"</span>Jora whispered after her as he took in the mess that lay about him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"At least that's one thing we can agree on. Whimsy, fix this."</span>With a sigh, he slowly ascended the stairs, leaving the raven alone on his perch, having witnessed two beady eyes full.