#fol orphanage

[abybweisse]

Ch207 (p3), You've known me long enough

We get a vague understanding of what life was possibly like for Artie before coming to F. O. L. Orphanage...

...and we learn that Artie and Theo already knew each other before then, too.

But what does Artie mean by telling Theo to not "get scared now" after knowing Artie so long? Afraid of holding a gun... or afraid of Artie? Makes me wonder what Artie did before they both ended up in that orphanage!

Before Artie can elaborate (though he probably wasn't going to right then anyway), he and Theo realize more staff are headed their way.

Of course, that fan translation of the above page was very wrong about what Doll says. She doesn't say she will find a way to keep him/make him hers. No one calls anyone "baby". 😮‍💨 This does not, however, rule out the possibility that Doll tries to have Snake turned into a bizarre doll, if he dies. We do have to worry that bizarre doll Snake might turn against Finny and our earl simply because Finny left him to die. Same problem if Snake somehow lives (which I highly doubt); he could feel abandoned and choose Doll. Snake remaining loyal to our earl might not matter, though; Undertaker could turn him into a basic bizarre doll in order to simply show him off to our earl -- and possibly Finny, too -- later, just to make them feel worse about his death.

The fan translation of the next page isn't nearly as bad. The language here is more formal, but the gist of it was right:

I agree with @fwippysays, who said Finny might be thinking back to his master being arrested, then comparing it to now with Snake dying, because these are moments when Finny feels powerless to help those he cares about.

I hope Snake hears Finny's heartfelt apology for leaving him behind. Thankfully, the snakes are there to witness this: that Finny wanted to destroy Doll and take Snake with him. It's just that he felt he had to focus on their mission, otherwise Snake's death would be in vain.

Now what? Kill the approaching staff?

If Snake dies, I hope the snakes paralyze Doll and find the kids outside. Then they could burn the barn down. No bodies, no bizarre dolls.

[snakies-main-blog]

"Et tu, Doll?" Happy Ides of March, y'all!

[shinigami-mistress]

What He Has Become

With chapter 203, I couldn't help but think how much what's happening in F.O.L. Orphanage is similar to what happened with Baron Kelvin.

First, both started with orphanages, and Doll is present at both. In both cases, the children are used and mistreated. In fact, the emotionless children Kelvin had for his private shows, don't really seem that different than those Finny and the kids found under the stables. Both seem as if they are alive but also not really aware.

What makes this worse is Baron Kelvin was quite literally trying to replicate the cult that held both o!ciel and r!Ciel. So, if Undertaker's actions are starting to mirror those of Kelvin, he is quite literally becoming like those people that killed o!Ciel to begin with.

Thoughts?

[such-a-downer]

i drew theo again from my previous attempt

Yana-sensei please don't let him fledge 😭😭

[tiredsystem-r-us]

So far gathering that the FOL Orphanage arc/Finny and Snake’s backstory arc are giving The Promised Neverland arc vibes but make it basically zombies instead lol 👀

And also the addition of a handful of extras/inserts of more characters with info but instead of following the children we’re following the other random kids shoved into this mess semi out of the blue lol

[abybweisse]

So... which one is Theodore? 😆

The swarm has arrived

(via)

[holly098644]

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[blackbutlercharacterpoll2023]

unnamed FOL Orphanage staff

[if-childrenofcain]

DEMO ✝ ORIGINAL BLOG

Wealth. Power. Death.

The Ballad of the Young Gods is a dark academia interactive fiction story, with dark fantasy and psychological thriller themes. Some of the romances also contain tropes and storylines which may be disturbing to some readers.

It is based on media like “Ninth House” by Leigh Bardugo, “The Secret History” by Donna Tart, “Masters of Death” by Olivie Blake, and SYFY’s “Deadly Class”.

It is rated 18+ for depictions of swearing, sexual themes, violence, and death.

Getting into an Ivy League school is a dream that thousands of American students nurse from a young age. Luckily for you, that dream is your reality. Four years of continuous hard work and pressure have made you a proud freshman at Yale University. And as if that wasn’t enough, you have been handpicked to attend Rathore College, whose selection process is revered across all the nation’s top educational institutions. But you should’ve known this stroke of luck came with a catch.

Yale is a crucible of power, where secret societies wield arcane magic and the dead are far from silent. The illustrious House of Styx wants you and this is a situation that not even your money can get you out of.

They are powerful, elite, and most of all, controlling beyond recognition. They are also the heart of the eight secret societies that attach themselves to Yale. From the White House to Hollywood’s most acclaimed stars, their influence reaches farther than anyone can dare to imagine.

A sinister conspiracy brews under Styx’s watchful gaze, one that threatens to unravel the fragile balance between the living and the dead. But in a graveyard of secrets, you and your accomplices are the ones with the shovels. You’re now in a world where the past is never truly dead, and the lines between life and death blur with each passing day.

But some secrets are better left buried, and some prophecies are destined to drag you to hell.

Cédric Armand Lacroix / Céline Armelle Lacroix (M/F)

Vindictive. Conniving. Ruthless.

As the heir to the Lacroix fortune, C is every bit as arrogant as their bloodline demands them to be. Even after the messy divorce of their parents which further led to their disownment by their father, Alain Lacroix, they refuse to give up on their dignity. They’ve vowed to destroy him one day and take what’s rightful theirs, brick by brick. The world bent to C’s whims, what money couldn't buy them, those pale green eyes probably did.

There is nothing that they can’t have, especially if they set their mind to that. That is until you came along and stayed one step ahead of them every time in everything that mattered. It wasn’t just the fortune or the legacy at stake; it was the bruising of their pride, the constant reminder that someone—anyone—could outmaneuver them. But beneath the layers of resentment and anger, there’s something more—something darker, even more dangerous.

An obsession takes root, one that blurs the line between hatred and fascination. And they vow to spend their whole life despising you for everything.

Romance trope: Enemies / Academic Rivals to Lovers.

Vance Kasper Næsholm / Vanessa Karina Næsholm (M/F)

Pious. Haunted. Disillusioned.

Raised under the oppressive influence of a rigid, fire-and-brimstone faith in a Danish Catholic orphanage, they were taught to see demons in every shadow and sin in every touch. Forever haunted by the visions provided by a wrathful God they can neither fully grasp their mind around nor escape from, their only reprieve came on the day they got adopted at the age of six and diagnosed with schizophrenia. But the truth of their ‘psychosis’ may be far more sinister than any medical diagnosis could account for.

As the tides become even stormier and their medications become ineffective when they arrive at Yale, all V can do is hold on to the last threads of control over their lives. Your first meeting almost makes them teeter over the edge.

Now that they’re your roommate, they’re bound to you by fate or folly, but whether they’ll be a stable ally remains to be seen.

Romance trope: Roommate Romance.

Wilhelm Johann Ostendorf / Wilhelmine Johanna Ostendorf (M/F)

Exhausted. Abandoned. Lost.

What does the world think of you when you’re a product of brilliance and neglect at the same time? With an Oscar-winning filmmaker for a father and a mother ensconced on the American board of directors at the Louvre, their pedigree is undeniable, yet it is a legacy more hollow than it appears. While their parents sculpted their careers into masterpieces and amassed accolades, they left W to be raised by their paternal aunt and uncle. A sizeable trust fund and periodic checks served as their parents’ only gestures of care, a shallow substitute for the love and attention their only child so desperately craved.

The only times they had felt more than someone who was deeply unlovable were the summers you spent on rusty swingsets and fast bicycles with training wheels. But the swingsets have long been dismantled, and the bicycles have been traded for cars.

The only questions remain—are you the same kid who saw them, really saw them, beyond the reality of being unwanted and the suffocating looks filled with pity that came with their name? Or will this reunion only serve to confirm their deepest fear—that they are, and always have been, truly alone?

Romance trope: Forgotten Childhood Friends to Lovers.

Dumitru Constantin Diaconu / Dumitra Constantina Diaconu (M/F)

Charismatic. Reckless. Guarded.

D’s name is the one that comes up in almost every conversation about Yale’s wildest parties. A natural-born rockstar charmer with a magnetic presence, they effortlessly draw people into their orbit, collecting hearts and bodies with the ease of someone who’s always been in the center of the gold rush. Despite the countless admirers and the trail of broken hearts left in their wake, you’ll always find them with a Marlboro between their lips and a new person in their arms to warm their bed at night. Their smile is a promise, and their laughter a siren call. In the haze of flashing lights and the thrum of bass that pulses through the walls, they are a heartbreaker in every sense of the word.

Feelings are a complication they don’t allow, a line they never cross. They’ve perfected the art of detachment, of keeping their connections strictly no-strings, because to let someone in would be to risk the vulnerability they’ve long since sworn off.

Will you be the only person they'd let peel back the barbed wire surrounding their heart? Or will you be left with nothing but the faint scent of cinnamon and a tale that wasn't meant to be?

Romance trope: Friends with Benefits / Sex First, Feelings Later. [You will only be able to unlock their romance route through a hookup.]

Maxwell Edmund Whitlock-Singh / Maxine Edythe Whitlock-Singh (M/F)

Duty-bound. Noble. Untouchable.

Politeness and decorum are second nature to M. They are the embodiment of manners, a living testament to the art of subtlety in a world where spectacle often trumps substance. They are the sort of person who commands attention without seeking it, a product of both royal blood and rigorous self-discipline. Dubbed the “Paragon of Styx,” M is a modern Plato, someone who finds as much solace in philosophical debates as in the classical texts they’ve devoured in multiple languages. As the second-born child of the Crown Princess of Wales, they have always understood that their life would be one of service with every action scrutinized, and every word weighed.

Their intellect is vast, but it is their passion for the esoteric that sets them apart. For all their convictions, there is a restlessness within M that even they cannot fully articulate. It is the paradox of their existence—a life of privilege that feels at times like a gilded cage, a role that demands both reverence and obedience. Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Will you make them realize that life is more than duties and expectations? Or will you become yet another figure in the background, another reminder of the golden cage they were born into?

Romance trope: Forbidden Royal Romance / Secret Relationship.

Step into the shadows as the wealthy heir apparent to a billion-dollar industry who is just starting at Yale University as a freshman.

Be a part of Yale’s most enigmatic secret society, the House of Styx.

Fully customize your character including: pronouns, gender, physical appearance, personality, sexuality, and more.

Romance 1 out of 5 love interests (all of them are gender-selectable). Or not. Platonic relationships are valid too.

Study forbidden knowledge, practice dark magic, and try not to fail at your actual coursework.

Test your mind, body, and soul in rituals that blur the line between reality and nightmare.

Learn about the secrets that your mother took to her grave. Is she really the same woman you remember so fondly from your childhood?

Will you rise to navigate the sinister plans brewing under the nose of the House? Or will your actions drag you and your companions to the fiery depths of Hell.

W̶̗͖̝͆h̷͕̲̑̎̓̍̄̎͠͝a̵̢̛̫̾̓͗t̴̙̫͛̐͆̾̀̓̔̊͝ ̴̪́́̈́͛̂̉̀͒̊́ạ̸̗̯̲̘̬͗̀ͅr̸̢̪̜̭̼̠̟̜͚̂̈́͋͋̅͑̉́̎͝e̸̩̯͉̿̊̔͛̃̎͝ͅ ̵̢̹̜̤͍͙̩̬̰̜̏̃͝͠y̷̢̨͇̘͍̌́͐̍̆̓̑̐ǫ̶̢̧̡̛̥̤͉͎̟̃̏̍̓̒ͅu̷̓̂̾̇̇͜͝,̸͎̖̮̲̳̻̱̬̎̒͑͝ ̸̡̛̰̌͐c̶̛̪̗̰̻̜̲̘̺͗͊h̴̡͔̦̘̤̖͊̿̓̇i̵͉̘͙̥͍̼̜̐̐̄̅͝͝ĺ̶̡̧̧̼̦̦̗̰̝̼̓̊̀d̸̡͎͔͔̰̖̿̐̈́̓͊̌̃̓͜?̷̩̗̲̫̮͕̍̈́́̽͜͝͝

DEMO

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WRITTEN BY: axel (he/him)

CODED BY: @albywritesfiction (they/them)

[abybweisse]

Sounds like a certain orphanage in Norfolk.... 🤔

We ignore this too much. What the fuck is 'farm'

[abybweisse]

Ch211 (p3), Take us to your master

Artie and Theo get Finny to the surface. Finny isn't sure why they bothered to save him, but Artie has a point: they still need him. Even if it's just instructions on what's next. Or where his master should be waiting for a report. Theo just wants Finny to conserve his energy.

Oliver helps Finny out of the water, which is quite different from how Finny pushed Oliver in. Finny thanks him, and Oliver just goes right in for a hug. For a brief moment, Finny smiles a bit.

But Theo gets right down to business. They don't have their evidence anymore, but they have a lot of information.

There's no reason to report to the police or the Yard anymore. So, Theo wants to go straight to our earl and Sebastian to make the report.

Idk if they are looking at the orphanage for a moment or if they are already walking away, but Finny notices the nearby windpump and recalls arriving there, just recently, with Snake... and it makes him cry.

One good thing about the staff waiting down there is they won't see the kids return but will assume they have drowned. They might keep someone down there (like in shifts) to wait for bodies to surface, but none will. Still, they will probably think the bodies are there and just stuck at the grating or something. No one from the orphanage will be looking for them outside... unless one of them finally discovers the busted grate.

I was hoping they would destroy the windpump and flood the underground facility, but it looks like they are focused on making a report and perhaps returning with reinforcements.

The chapter isn't over just yet. One more part to go.

[pain-in-the-butler]

chapter 207+ predictions

I think Snake is gonna live. I know some people were assuming that a fake-out death two arcs in a row would be unlikely, and I think that's very fair, I was kinda leaning that way at first too. But, we still haven't learned why the orphanage's appearance was familiar to Snake and Finny.

If the boys were both experimented on in facilities with the same look as FOL, I think we're going to find out about that now. Yana's tweet the other day about the main story feeling "like it's finally here" seems to signify that we're about to see Snake's past in a lab - and that this past might just help him survive his mortal wound.

But why would Snake have to survive the wound in order for his past to be significant? Because, narratively, if Snake dies now, it would be like saying his "snakeness" wasn't worth bringing up in the first place. The fact that he's a snake person that can talk to snakes and has unique snake powers was just flavor text or a tool for Ciel's disposal, and now that it's no longer useful, he should die.

BUT, if Snake lives because he was experimented on, it will track with what the story has already told us: that human experimentation and sacrifice are very important themes in the story, and that we should pay attention any time they're mentioned, because they are the heart of it all. It would also strengthen Yana's theme that those who play god will be punished, while those who are the victims of cruel gods are innocent.

Of course, you could also say that Snake's death is a punishment unto Doll and O!Ciel...

If we don't at least get to see Snake's past now, I'll be shocked, because this chapter combined with Yana's tweet is convincing me that it's central to understanding the rest of the story. And if Snake does die, it had better not just be for the shock value. The consequences ought to be as significant as the ones that came with Agni's death.

Well, we'll see if I'm on to something or if Yana has bamboozled me once again! 🤪

[deelm1966]

Didn't notice 1st time around but this is very cool.

Maybe I'm odd, but when I first saw the cover of chapter 211 - this:

My first thought was that it reminded me of this:

[salty-protagonist]

Where is Doll Getting Blood From? (FOL Orphanage Blood Collection)

Now that we know Doll is a Bizarre Doll, let’s try to find out how she is sustaining herself with blood. This post will include information from the most recent chapters.

First of all, we know that no one can go in or out of the FOL orphanage except authorized people and innocent victims. So, while it is possible that blood is being imported into the orphanage, we need to ask ourselves “What would Undertaker do?”. For this case, it is unlikely that a place designated to be a blood collection center would receive shipments of blood to sustain one (known as of now) bizarre doll.

We also know that the fledged children are how they obtain blood. So, if the children aren’t leaving the premises, how does the blood go outside.

Because the fledged children are in fact, leaving the orphanage.

The last couple of chapters make it seem like once a kid reaches fledging day, then they get celebrated, they leave and then they are brought back at night. We can’t know yet if this is the general case for kids other than Ginny.

Let me remind you that before Ginny, the older kids had no idea where the fledged ones went. They even went as far as threatening Finny to get this information. It has its own large panel with a bold text to show how important it is.

Then Ginny could be a special case that returned to the orphanage compared to all the other fledged kids that we have no information on.

But why did Ginny return?

This question has a simple answer: for Doll. While it wouldn’t make sense for blood to come into the orphanage, why wouldn’t they use the very alive kids that they know the blood type of for food.

Doll ran out of supply like it happened to RC in ch 149, so the women at the orphanage quickly improvised to get her blood. An evidence for this would be the fact that Ginny’s dress wasn’t properly made.

They didn’t know they would need blood that day, so they acted quickly. Much like how Doll didn’t know she would collapse. Otherwise why would she go out in an open field surrounded by people?

Is Ginny dead?

Probably not. At least not when we saw her like this:

Let’s look at a motif that was present many times in the FOL chapters, the mistletoe. It’s known for being used in Christmas celebrations. But it’s importance in Kuro is much different. Theo does explain it a bit, but Finny outright says what we’ve all been thinks about for bizarre dolls all this time.

If mistletoe is digested, it can effect as a sedative that makes people go to sleep. It’s been used as herbal medicine for some centuries. There are dangerous side effects to eating mistletoe, but a large amount needs to be digested to cause death. So I don’t think that’s the case here. Ginny is just sleeping.

What we should be focusing on is the fact they they brought her to the stable. It was where we last saw Doll. Wouldn’t she be able to move on her condition?

Although the kids couldn’t find a secret door, there could be another mechanism that lets blood to be drawn and for Doll to use it. If even one of the snakes doesn’t return, it would be logical to assume that the snake was caught by Doll just like when she re-appeared.

As for the general blood collection, the fledged kids are most likely put the sleep with the mistletoe. Then they are brought to a bigger facility on a supply and demand basis. The blood isn’t drawn and shipped. But the need for whichever blood type gets fulfilled by a fledged kid that has it.

Just as a side note, I think that the lemon pastries have something to do with the mistletoes, but I don’t have anything further yet.

———————————

Thank you for reading!

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

what are your headcanons of Artie,Mabel, Oliver and Theodore being adopted by Nina, Meg, and Augusta ?

YES!

OCiel took them to Nina's shop for new clothes after everything was done and Nina, being Nina, was just smitten by them and made way more designs and clothes than planned to the point they had to come back more often to try on or change some clothes

During that time Nina, Meg, and Augusta got close with the four and felt sad whenever they left, the kids felt the same

At one point Oliver went out of his way to bake some sweets for the women as a thank you gift for all the new clothes and Nina teared up a small bit when they left that time

Due to a storm Sebastian and OCiel trusted Nina and her wives to watch them for the night as Sebastian can easily drive in the storm with just one passenger and don't want to risk going back and forth, so Meg and Augusta brought out the spare cot and set it up for them to sleep on for the night They gave them each a glass of warm milk and honey for after some yummy dinner and the boys and girl was all fed and tuckered out and able to sleep soundly

Only after that did the three women made decisions to adopt them and did so during a party event OCiel helped set up and during the night mentioned to the quad they hope to raise them as their own children

There was some tearing ups when they got the documents and announcement but all were shocked when Theo just started sobbing and they all ended that moment with a hug

Now there's four others joining the household there was talk of moving house but didn't want to risk losing business in the shop, even though the four tried to convince Nina they can all sleep in the same room but the topic of puberty shut that down and how they should have their own rooms each

That was when Theo refused to have his own room since that's what he got during the FOL Orphanage so there was really no agreeing for a while

So they built a much bigger tailor shop still in London but closer to a yard with a bigger field connected to it with the Phantomhive's help, that way the kids can run around easily and there was plenty rooms. Mabel got her own room same goes for Oliver as he has his own things while Artie and Theo share a room as brothers

They're that type of family who help out whenever they can for each other, such as either models for works or help around the shop

After much begging they got a horse for Theo while also getting two dogs for the rest, one smaller dog (maybe a Pom or corgi) and one bigger dog that'll bite the arm off a creep if needed

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 13:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Dirty jokes?

Somehow this one was done close to the deadline too OTL I just can't catch up man- I'm so tired... but hey, almost 10k words again, that makes up for missing an upload... right? x’)

I keep feeling like the last three months or so have been nothing short of a marathon, it's always one thing or the other to disrupt any attempts at resting. In fact, I'm tired enough that I don't think I can do my usual last minute post-post edits, (somehow mistakes or better ways of phrasing things always appear after I hit upload), so I'm going to hit the hay and do that after I wake up.

Don't worry, it's almost never been anything that affects the plot, just minor rewording for clarity or style consistency xD

“Everyone have their phials?” Natty asked as her six Animagi students filed into the courtyard behind her. Correction, five Animagi students and one who was definitely not also secretly learning the art.

The aforementioned five each held up a small crystal phial and she nodded approvingly. “Now, hold up the phial so that it catches the moonlight.”

The group of teens, excluding the Keeper and Natty herself, did as instructed and Sebastian quietly nudged Ominis’ arm slightly to the right, so that his shadow wouldn't obstruct the moon's soft and cool glow. A palpable air of excitement hung over Poppy, Amit and Garreth, as the crystal phials began resonating a similar silver hued luminescence.

“Wonderful, we're lucky that we have a cloudless night, elsewise we'd have to start all over from scratch.” Natty chuckled lightly.

“And that would've been terrible for you, ey Garreth?” Sebastian smirked at the redhead, who shot him a glare.

“Big talk for someone who also swallowed his leaf.” Garreth retorted.

“Yeah, I did.” Sebastian shrugged casually. “But only once. I didn't eat three Mandrake leaves in under a week.”

“Not all of us are used to holding something in their mouth without biting down.” Garreth huffed, and Ominis placed a hand over his face while the Keeper coughed to cover their laugh. “It just took some getting used to.”

“Next, you'll need to spit your Mandrake leaf into the phial.” Natty interrupted, before Sebastian could speak, clearly trying to ignore the exchange.

“Bet he spits, right Ominis?” Garreth snickered, lightly nudging the blind boy beside him with his elbow.

“Hey!” Sebastian protested.

At that, Ominis appeared to have reached his breaking point, and burst out in an embarrassed fluster. “Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sebastian has not sucked me off!”

“Yet.” Sebastian quipped with a grin, seemingly quite unable to help himself.

“Sebastian!” Ominis exclaimed, his expression almost betrayed.

Garreth rolled his eyes and was about to speak, when the Keeper casually volunteered, with a fairly proud smirk. “I have.”

There was a long moment of silence, following a gasp from Poppy, before Garreth flicked a hand out and declared. “Ew, did not need to know that.”

“Can we please get back to the potion? My ears are just about to start bleeding.” Amit pleaded faintly.

“Yes, please, let’s...” Ominis muttered from under the hand covering his face once more.

“Right.” Natty cleared her throat. “So, spit your leaf into the phial and then drop a strand of your hair in it.”

The group obediently, and perhaps gratefully, followed her instructions while Natty turned to the Keeper. “Next we add the dew with a silver teaspoon.”

With a nod, the Keeper produced a small bottle of clear liquid and a teaspoon that glimmered in the light, offering them to Natty.

She took the items from them and handed them to Poppy, who poured some dew into the teaspoon, before adding its contents to her phial, and then passed them on to Amit. This went on until everyone's crystal phials had gotten a spoon of dew, and the remaining bottle and teaspoon were returned to the Keeper's satchel.

“And lastly, we need to add the chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth.” Natty instructed, giving the Keeper a grateful smile as they withdrew a small bag of unborn moth pupae. “Thanks for helping us to acquire the ingredients.”

“Least I could do, since you're teaching me wandless magic.” The Keeper shrugged, plus it made it easy for them to collect extras for themselves to make the potion too-

The small bag was passed around and as Amit dropped one of the critters into his crystal phial, watching it fizzle when it touched the saliva fattened leaf, he grimaced. “Can't say I'm looking forward to drinking this.”

“Come on, we throw all sorts of disgusting things into our potions on a regular basis.” Garreth pointed out.

“Yes, but they're boiled in a cauldron.” Amit shook his head. “The idea is less unpleasant when it's at least cooked.”

Garreth blinked at him for a moment before scrunching his face up at his phial as well. “You know what? You have a point.”

“If it is any consolation, it doesn't taste as bad as it sounds.” Natty chuckled as she dug five small wooden boxes out of her bag. “Now, put your phial into a box and mark them so you know which is yours. We'll bury them until a lightning storm.”

“We've still got a month of autumn, so we shouldn't have to wait too long.” Poppy's smile was light with excitement as she and the others each placed their phial into a box, before carving their initials into its surface with their wands.

“Hopefully so.” Natty nodded. “Until then, every sunrise and sundown you'll need to chant ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’ with the tip of your wand placed over your heart.”

“You might feel a second heartbeat as time passes, but don't let it interrupt the chant, it could be very dangerous if you don't follow through properly.” Seeing her friends give eager nods, Natty waved a hand and began leading the way out of the courtyard. “Come on, I've already picked out the perfect spot.”

As the group followed after her, the Keeper fell in stride with Poppy and whispered softly to her. “The egg hatched, hang behind afterwards and I'll fill you in.”

The girl's face lit up and she gave them an enthusiastic nod as they followed Natty across the cobblestone.

“So, how'd it go?” Poppy asked excitedly, having promised Natty that she would seek the Gryffindor out later, who had then left with Amit and Garreth.

“It went well, the egg hatched without any complications.” The Keeper was quite pleased to inform her, and she clasped her hands together with a smile.

“Oh, that is a relief to hear! Have you got a name for the little one?” Poppy asked, her gaze flickering between the three Slytherins, the empty expanse of treeless grass allowing the moon's light to illuminate the small clearing in which they stood.

“Indeed, we have.” The Keeper nodded. “Shai, which means gift in Hebrew.”

“That sounds like a lovely and fitting name.” Poppy beamed happily.

“Thanks.” Sebastian flashed a proud grin, getting a fond chuckle from Ominis and a shake of the head with it.

“Thank you again, Poppy.” Ominis placed a hand over his heart. “If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have been able to acquire food, nor a bottle with which to feed Shai.”

“Please, it was my pleasure.” Poppy shook her head with a shy smile, pausing for a moment, before adding. “Though, I've been worrying about something since we last spoke.”

Poppy bit her lip, casting a quick glance at Ominis, before speaking. “Shai will need the milk substitute for at least a year. I know you've got a shop in Hogsmeade, but will you be able to earn enough to pay for that much Re'em blood?”

“Ah, yes...” The Keeper grimaced, they hadn't considered that Poppy, being raised in a poacher pack, would be aware of the high price of Re'em blood. Perhaps this was their decision to hide the truth about the dragon mother coming back to bite them in the arse.

Then again, they could... would she protest like Ominis had? Still, out of all their friends, she had been the most receptive to their forays into dark magic, perhaps she wouldn't be overly bothered? It could potentially be helpful for her to know, Poppy's loyalty to them was the most tested, aside from their partners and she was well versed in those circles.

Well, nothing for it but to see if they’d come to regret trusting her with this half-truth.

“It's alright.” The Keeper gave her a faint smile. “I got a job at the pub that should be lucrative enough to cover expenses.”

“The pu-” Poppy gasped. “You took on a bounty!? How!?”

As expected, she knew what the pub was for. The Keeper gave her a reassuring smile, raising their hands placatingly. “I met someone who vouched for me, and I was initiated into the Phantoms.”

“Oh, I see.” Strangely enough, Poppy said this with a smile. “I thought you might have to-”

She cut herself off, glancing once again at Ominis, relief plain in her eyes and the Keeper understood. She had been worried that they would need to resort to asking Ominis’ family for money, which would no doubt have been an excruciating ordeal for the abused blond.

The Keeper smiled softly, good, it was fortuitous that Ominis had found a friend in Poppy, and that she gave of her kindness and compassion to him too. They had yet more to be grateful to the faithful Hufflepuff for, it seemed.

“Please, Poppy, perhaps you can reason with this dunderhead and convince them that it is madness to pursue such a dangerous career.” Ominis entreated with an exasperated wave of a hand, before brushing his already perfectly combed hair back with a tired sigh.

Poppy shot the Keeper a sympathetic smile, and they felt like she appreciated how difficult it was to do nice things for Ominis without pissing him off. At least someone did.

“Well, if they're a member of the Phantoms, at the very least they're protected by the guildmaster.” Poppy tried tentatively.

“Oh, Salazar save me, not you too!” Ominis groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“My family has worked out of the inn for ages, the owner is a good man.” Poppy insisted. “He allowed me to stay with him behind the counter when my parents were off doing business. Never let anyone lay a hand on me.”

The Keeper grimaced at the unspoken neglect that her parents had committed, leaving a young girl unattended in a pub full of dangerous men, women and creatures of all kinds. It was nice however, to hear that their evaluation of the reliability of Alasdair's strict tavern rules, and honour, had been on point. So far.

“That's three against one on this, Ominis.” Sebastian quipped. “Aren't three heads wiser than one?”

“Again, it's two heads are better than one. And that's two things you got wrong this time, why are you deproving!?” Ominis shook his head with a sigh and folded his arms. “Alright, fine. I suppose it does make me feel a tad better, knowing your boss isn't a monster.”

The Keeper wrinkled their nose in distaste. “Alasdair's by no means my boss. He's a billboard that doubles as an assistant.”

Poppy burst into laughter at the descriptor, while Sebastian snorted and Ominis shook his head again.

“Well, it does suit you. Answering to no one on how you get the job done.” Poppy giggled. “After all the odds and ends you've picked up around Hogwarts. Let me guess, you're using Salamander for a name?”

The Keeper blinked in surprise, before scratching the back of their head lightly, when had they become predictable?

“You've never put much stock in anything besides getting the job done.” Sebastian bumped his shoulder into theirs with a proud grin. “Would be surprised if you spent more than two seconds thinking about it.”

“Don't know how you care so little about what other people think of you. Or the name they label you with.” Ominis gave a wry chuckle, his tone was light, but the Keeper knew how much pain lay beneath it and found themselves reaching out towards him instinctively, before remembering that Poppy was still around.

It took the Keeper a moment longer, to also remember that she was someone they could be affectionate in front of, but that was enough time for her to notice them freeze mid motion and she clasped her hands together with a smile.

“I think I'll go find Natty then, we were making plans to spend tomorrow together in Hogsmeade.” Poppy seemed quite happy about this as she asked. “We were thinking of stopping by Vesters and Venom to look at the clothing you’re selling, will you be there tomorrow evening?”

“Probably not, but I'll tell Penny to offer you a friend discount when you do.” The Keeper gave her a knowing smile.

“Ehe. I learnt early on, that connections are everything.” Poppy grinned mischievously, giving them a wink and a wave, as she turned and headed down the trail back towards Hogwarts. “See you guys tomorrow!”

“Till then.” Sebastian replied for the Keeper as they turned their attention to Ominis, taking his hand gently.

“Come now, darling. It's no contest worth winning.” The Keeper placed a kiss on his cheek. “If anything, it takes far more courage to care about others’ feelings, to let it matter to you, but it opens the door to a happiness one can't experience alone. You taught me that, you both taught me that.”

Ominis sighed. “I just wish I could flick my wand and make it stop when I want it to.”

“I don't think you could do that without losing yourself, but maybe we could turn it off temporarily, for a brief respite. If I master my abilities.” The Keeper murmured thoughtfully, before shaking their head. “But even then, it'd be a short-term painkiller, not a long-term solution.”

Ominis smile was pained at the realistic but perhaps cynical statement and the Keeper struggled to find the words to comfort him, when they themselves still struggled with turning the ‘care’ on when they knew it should be.

“Don't let it bog you down, Omi. If we work together, I'm sure we'll find a way to help you feel better.” Sebastian insisted, hugging Ominis from behind, loosely wrapping his arms around the blond's waist, and smiling against his shoulder. “I can't say for certain that there's a way, but we just won't quit till we find one.”

A small smile formed on Ominis lips, and the affection was plain in his distant eyes as he pressed the side of his face against Sebastian’s hair. “Thank you. It- that helps. A little.”

“Well, that's now one thing we've learnt that helps.” The Keeper smiled.

“Ain't that grand? Already making progress.” Sebastian grinned and began nuzzling Ominis’ shoulder with his cheek, which invariably ended up dragging his messy hair across Ominis’ face and tickling his nose.

“Tschu!” Ominis sneezed, quite adorably, in the Keeper's opinion, and groaned, wiggling free from Sebastian's grasp and giving him an annoyed look. “Sebastian!”

“What?” Sebastian's confused expression and sneeze-tossed hair were equally as adorable, as Ominis sighed and withdrew a handkerchief from... seemingly out of thin air. “Hey, where'd you pull that from?”

“A gentleman is never unprepared.” Ominis shrugged and he patted his nose daintily while the Keeper smothered the urge to laugh. “Come, Sebastian. Let us return to Hogwarts, the cold isn't helping any.”

“You could've brought your scarf.” Sebastian patted his hair back down with a pout.

“I know, but the girls looked so comfortable, I simply couldn't bear to take their bed.” Ominis murmured, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “I suppose we'll see you tomorrow at lunch then.”

The Keeper gave an affirmative hum. “Yes, don't worry, I shan't delay longer than necessary.”

The blond sighed and nodded. “Be careful, alright?”

“Of course. Sleep well.” The Keeper smiled, giving him another kiss on a slightly pink cheek and waved the two boys off.

“Don't do anything I wouldn’t.” Sebastian flashed them a broad grin and a wave as he followed Ominis down the path towards Hogwarts.

“Well, that doesn't narrow it down much, now does it.”

“Oh, come on, Omi...”

The two boys’ voices faded in the distance and the Keeper withdrew a small crystal phial from their satchel, holding it up to the moonlight and allowing its rays to fill the smooth surface with its glow. They then spat their Mandrake leaf into the phial, dropped a hair, a silver spoonful of dew, and a moth chrysalis into the phial, boxed it and quickly buried it a distance away from their friends’.

“Tempus.” The Keeper flicked their wand, eight o'clock, good.

It was quite fortuitous that it was fast beginning to transition into winter, and sunset was coming earlier and earlier in the evenings. That meant they would have more time to conduct their business in the pub tonight.

With a faint sense of anticipation and a dash of excitement, the Keeper began making their way to Knockturn Alley.

“Welcome back, little greenie.” Alasdair grinned mildly as the Keeper took a seat at his bar. “Is that a burn on your-”

“Nope, not talking about that.” The Keeper flashed him a tight smile, unsurprised that his sharp eyes had caught what their friends had missed.

“Of course.” The bartender chuckled, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What can I get you this fine evening?”

“The house special.” The Keeper answered.

“Would you like a drink with that?” Alasdair asked with a wry smile.

“Sure, why not.” The Keeper shrugged. “Surprise me, just no alcohol, at least tonight.”

“Certainly.” The bartender lifted his shaker and began his mixing. Perhaps he mixed by hand, rather than by magic, because the elder man just really enjoyed the process of mixing drinks, the Keeper idly mused to themselves.

As he poured a brown liquid into the shaker, Alasdair nodded towards a nearby table. “The lass seated over there goes by Faun, she's the fourth person to attempt Borgok's bounty and the first to return alive.”

“Innocuous name for an assassin.” The Keeper commented, curiously eyeing the petite lady seated alone, three tables away, quietly drinking from a large mug. “How long did it take her to give up?”

“Two months.” The bartender replied, pouring the contents of his shaker into a fountain glass. “She's one of our finest Hunters, been doing wet work for almost ten years. Our youngest greenie till you showed up, she was in her early twenties, if I remember correctly.”

“Is that so...” The Keeper mused, that'd put her in her thirties. She sure didn't look thirty, she was even smaller and more dainty in appearance than Poppy.

“Glacius.” Alasdair muttered, tapping a finger against the side of the newly filled glass with his left hand, and it frosted over.

The Keeper blinked down at the brown, lumpy, and rather unappealing looking drink, that he placed before them, with a hollow stick of rolled up paper stabbed in it. That's right, he'd done that the last time too. Casually using the same wandless magic that they were still struggling with under Natty's patient guidance. Show off.

“A blend of chocolate milk and ice, with a shot of espresso for kick. A recent concoction of mine, I’m still thinking of a name for it.” The bartender chuckled when the Keeper picked up the hollow paper with some confusion. “You drink through that. It's called a straw.”

Alasdair's expression was bemused as they took a cautious sip through the paper straw, finding the lumpy bits to be... ice? Tiny flakes of crunchy ice that melted on their tongue into a light bittersweet flavour. There was a moment of silence, before the Keeper realised that he was staring rather expectantly at them.

“It's good.” The Keeper gave him a nod, relaxing when he beamed, and taking a more generous drag. Well, that lent credence to the idea that Alasdair just enjoyed mixology.

“Not too fast, your head will hurt.” He added after a moment, about the same time that the Keeper winced.

Well, he could've mentioned that before they started drinking. They shot the amused bartender an annoyed glare as the back of their head throbbed uncomfortably. Still, to freeze a drink into thin sheets of ice, so finely and evenly dispersed... That was a scary amount of precision to even imagine and with barely any movement beyond the light tap of a finger.

“How... long ago was this?” The Keeper bit out, after the sting in the back of their head had dulled to a more bearable level.

“About five months ago.” Alasdair answered with a chuckle. Bastard. He definitely hadn’t given them an earlier warning of the drink's dangers on purpose.

They glared down at the chocolate drink. They'd have to warn Sebastian if ever they brought him here, he'd surely fall prey to the drink's enticing taste and sensation, lured into consuming it too quickly. Could it cause severe injury? It had been surprisingly painful after all.

Truly, an insidious concoction that could only be invented by a sadist.

“Anything else you think I should know?” The Keeper asked, taking another tentative sip of their drink. Drinking slowly is hard...

“Hm, she can come off a bit... abrasive, but she's direct, much like yourself. So, you shouldn't have too much trouble negotiating for information with her.” Alasdair shrugged. “Just don't ask about anything personal, she's a bit of a hair trigger on personal questions.”

He smirked wryly. “Again, like yourself.”

The Keeper snorted, standing and picking up their glass. “Sounds like we'll get along then.”

“Have fun.” Alasdair waved them off as they left the counter.

Approaching the diminutive lady's table, the Keeper wondered momentarily, if that dark blond puff of thick and curly chin-length hair, got in the way of her work. It was unruly enough to rival Sebastian's permanently windswept locks and at twice the length no less.

“What do you want.” The assassin's voice was surprisingly soft and ladylike, though that certainly didn't detract from the steel in it.

“Information, may I sit?” The Keeper lifted their glass in the direction of the seat across from Faun.

She eyed them suspiciously from under her messy bangs for a solid minute, before returning to her task of draining her pint of clear liquid with a simple. “Suit yourself.”

With a grateful nod, the Keeper took the seat, placing their own glass on the table before them. Hang on, where did that empty mug come from-

Faun lowered her mug to the table with a satisfied exhale, before flashing them a wry smirk. “Guess I shouldn't be that surprised that you ended up here.”

The Keeper tilted their head in confusion, and she flashed them a small smirk. “Not many manage to kill the man who put out a bounty on them, much less a kid with no priors.”

“I take it you didn't give that one a shot.” The Keeper chuckled in understanding.

“Course not, do I look like a fuckin’ moron?” The assassin scoffed, and the Keeper couldn't quite rein in their suggestive smile. Narrowing her eyes at them, Faun raised her mug to her lips again. “Mind your cheek, kid. Could get you killed ‘round these parts.”

“What made you turn that down when you took Borgok's?” The Keeper asked instead.

Faun seemed to think for a moment, finishing her mug and setting it down on the table, before finally replying. “Guess it's regarding you, so I'll give you a greenie freebie and some tips.”

“A man like Rookwood shouldn't need to put a bounty on a fifteen-year-old mud- muggleborn.” The lady caught herself relatively quickly, enough that it felt more like something habitual, rather than anything malicious, interesting. “He ran the largest gang in the Scottish Highlands. If you were an easy mark, he wouldn't need to come to us.”

“Instead, he comes here with a high offer of galleons to kill a child.” Faun snorted, shooting a glare at her empty mug as she spoke. “If that didn't tell me there was more than meets the eye with you, the picture he had of you made it easy enough to recognise the eyes of a killer.”

The Keeper blinked, as an odd sound and air accompanied their next drag from their drink's straw, signalling that their glass was empty and wondering when the heck that creepy pedophile had gotten a photo of them. That was an unsettling thought. They really wished they'd had more time to torture the sick bastard.

“I see.” The Keeper nodded. “Thanks for the freebie.”

“No problem.” Faun replied absently, her eyes tracking the veela waitress as she bustled about the pub. “So, what the fuck did you want?”

“I want to know how your attempt to kill Gnarlak went and any information you got on him.” The Keeper answered.

“You took that contract?” Faun laughed, waving a hand to call the waitress over when she paused to survey the pub. “You've got some bollocks taking on that one. This your first go?”

“Yes. And that is what I've gathered.” The Keeper commented dryly. “I'm willing to pay for the information of course, name your price.”

Faun hummed thoughtfully as the veela waitress stopped by the table. “Nother round, Faun? Yer tab's lookin’ a tad weighty there, me dear.”

The Keeper was mildly surprised to hear the veela speaking in a street drawl this time. Perhaps she didn't bother to put on airs with the Mercs?

The petite assassin grimaced for a moment, before her face lit up and she flashed the Keeper a gregarious smile. “Tell you what, kid. I've had a rough day and I really wanna get hammered. You pay for my drinks tonight and I'll give you everything I know about Gnarlak.”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow, that sounded suspiciously easy.

The veela waitress placed her hands on her hips disapprovingly. “Faun.”

“Stay out of this, Svet. You and Al only facilitate deals.” The assassin glared at the veela.

“They're a kid.” The veela, apparently named Svet, sighed.

“I'm willing to pay for any further drinks you order till the pub’s closing.” The Keeper waved a hand agreeably. “Though, I expect you to pace yourself, at least until you've answered all my questions. If you become too inebriated to answer, I will consider our deal void and forfeit payment.”

Faun's eyes gleamed at them from under the shadow of her bangs. “Oh, trust me, you don't need to worry about that. In fact, let's make it a standing arrangement. If you have more questions about Gnarlak, even after tonight, just leave a letter for me with Alasdair, he has ways of getting owls to his Mercs without being tracked.”

The Keeper chuckled, wow, she really wanted to get sloshed. “Deal.”

“Fantastic.” Faun beamed and turned back to the waitress. “Svet, get me a pint of Sazerac.”

The waitress looked incredibly offended. “A pint-”

“Did I stutter?” Faun smiled brightly at the veela.

“Alasdair's gonna cry.” Svet sighed and turned to leave the table, pausing to give the Keeper a sympathetic look. “Hope ye can afford the tab this'll leave ya, kid.”

Despite feeling slightly offended at being treated like a child, the Keeper could appreciate the well-meant concern, and they were reasonably confident that their bank would hold thankyouverymuch.

Satisfied that her drink was on the way, Faun returned her attention to the Keeper. “What's your name kid?”

“You can call me Salamander.” The Keeper answered, still feeling a bit weird using the moniker.

“Sure thing, Sal. So, what do you wanna know?” Faun gave them an uncaring one shouldered shrug.

“I suppose, for starters, I'd like to know how your attempt went and about the efforts you made.” The Keeper steepled their fingers together.

“Well, for the first three weeks, I made enquiries and watched his Loyalists’ movements to identify the location of his main base.” Faun folded her arms. “It was surprisingly difficult to pin down considering how active they are, but I managed.”

“Where was that?” The Keeper asked, withdrawing a map from their satchel that they'd prepared in advance and laying it on the table.

Faun peered at the map for a few minutes before tapping her finger on its location. “Over here. It's an underground base.”

The Keeper annotated the map with a nod. “What's it like?”

“Fucked up.” Faun replied immediately with a grimace, as the Keeper rolled up the parchment and tucked it away, when the waitress returned with a large Irish imperial pint glass. Immediately the assassin's face lit up like a child's.

Snatching the mug with both hands from Svet's, before she could set it down on the table, Faun took a deep and noisy glug for... long enough that the Keeper was wondering if the girl had gills or some other way of intaking oxygen, before finally stopping to breathe. “Haaa! Hell yeah, that's the shit.”

“Let me guess. Another?” The waitress asked dryly.

“Of course, nothin’ hits the spot like Al's Sazerac.” Faun sighed happily as she set down the nearly empty glass. Surprisingly, she didn't seem very affected. “Hope you told him about my deal.”

“Course I did, Alasdair's already working on the next one.” Svet answered with a shake of her head.

“How strong is that?” The Keeper asked curiously.

“Strongest drink in the house.” Svet answered with an exasperated shrug as she headed back towards the bar with a parting wave.

“And the best tasting drink at that. I usually drink vodka straight, tastes like piss water but it's cheaper.” Faun chuckled and the Keeper gave a snort, well, that explained Svet's concern, hopefully the information they got would be worth the hole in their coin pouch.

“So, what makes Gnarlak’s base so fucked up?” The Keeper asked.

“Ugh, where do I even begin.” She grimaced, lifting her pint to drain the remaining liquid before continuing. “Well for starters, it's tiny. Ceiling's built to goblin height. Even I have to crouch to move about in there.”

The Keeper frowned, huh. Then again, Gnarlak was high in Ranrok's ranks, he might have known about them breaking into one of the Loyalist mines with Amit and designed his bases with that in mind.

“It's also booby trapped to hell and back.” Faun added, pausing to accept a new pint from Svet as the woman stopped by to drop the glass off, not even bothering to ask if another was needed. “Almost lost an arm to the walls, steer clear of those. The goblins have no need to hug them, unlike an assassin might.”

An intelligent opponent, the Keeper frowned thoughtfully as Faun drained her new glass, that explained all the failed attempts.

“Vents are fucked too, there's spring weighted spikes lining the sides, and it took me a week to figure out how to disable them without tripping the alarm.” She sighed with a disgusted expression. “Merlin, that one time was a pain in the arse. Thought I'd found a passageway I could use but the damn corridor was filled with oil. Barely got away with my life, ruined my clothes and shoes though.”

The Keeper gave her a bemused smile as she returned to her drink, rather impressed that she still didn't seem to be affected by the amount of alcohol that she'd already put away. How was such a small sized woman drinking that much?

“Took me a month to secure a path in and out of Gnarlak’s office.” Faun continued as she added the newly emptied glass to the growing collection. “Watched the goblins, studied their patterns and chose a time to attack while Gnarlak was occupied in his office.”

“I suppose I don't need to ask how that went.” The Keeper flashed a sardonic smile as Svet dropped by with another glass.

“No shit, thought I'd gotten a clean kill and then I realised that goblin wasn't missing his left middle finger. It was pure luck that I spotted a blade coming for my neck in the reflection of the dead goblin's armour.” Faun grimaced. “The bastard let me kill a double and I barely got out with my life, two months of work wasted. Realised that goblin was way out of my league and dropped the mission.”

The assassin started working on her new glass as the Keeper frowned thoughtfully. So, their foe was intelligent, sly, and willing to sacrifice his own for a kill. Sounded like a right scumbag that shouldn't be underestimated.

There was a moment of subdued silence, before Faun met their gaze with a disturbed frown. “There's something wrong with his goblins. They don't move right, their eyes are empty and they don't talk amongst themselves.”

The Keeper frowned as well. That was certainly unusual, Ranrok's Loyalists had constantly been ranting about their hatred of wizardkind or what they wanted out of attaining victory over the wizarding world. Whatever that meant. They never really seemed to have much plans beyond that vague goal.

“There's something eerie about their behaviour. And they use a strange and powerful magic that I've never seen before. They're not like Ranrok's Loyalists, they don't plunder towns for resources, they're just there to kill.” Faun shook her head as though trying to shake off the memories of whatever she'd seen, and as she did so, the Keeper caught a glimpse of a pointed ear under that messy puff of hair.

Huh, perhaps the diminutive woman was part creature, it would explain her absurd tolerance.

“I don't know what their objective is, but even the ministry can't discount this, I spotted some Aurors scoping out the base's region too. It won't be long before this contract becomes unclearable, so you better get it done quickly.” The assassin finished and continued draining her glass.

Folding their arms, the Keeper nodded. This complicated things. If Aurors were investigating the base, it would make it harder for themselves to assassinate Gnarlak without being detected, and this information was already five months out of date. They were on a timer, even more so than they'd expected.

Borgok must truly have been desperate indeed, when he asked them to take the job. If the Ministry, despite how slow and ineffective they were, were already beginning to take this goblin more seriously than Ranrok, war was likely closer than he’d like.

“Did Gnarlak ever leave the base?” The Keeper asked as Faun finished her glass.

“Not often from what I could tell, though he would occasionally vanish off my radar, so I'd say he probably does.” Faun shrugged, happily accepting yet another glass from the waitress as she passed by. “I couldn't find out where he was going, but if you can, it'd probably be better to get him then, he doesn't seem to bring anyone with him.”

The Keeper nodded. “If you remember anything else that might be of use, leave a letter for me with Alasdair.”

“Sure thing, Sal.” Faun lowered her glass just enough to speak before continuing to drink, cheeks finally beginning to turn a light pink under her messy bangs.

“Enjoy the rest of your night then.” With a shake of their head, the Keeper stood, the petite assassin waving her hand at them absently in lieu of a farewell, as they made their way back to the bar.

“I take it that went well?” Alasdair smiled wryly at the Keeper as they took their seat again.

“Indeed, sorry about that. How are you doing? Keeping up with her.” The Keeper nodded at the pint glass he was filling.

“Oh, don't worry about that, I have enough patrons like her, we're well prepared.” The bartender chuckled, waving a hand towards the row of empty glasses to his right and several bottles on the left. “Guild aside, this is still my main job.”

“I see.” The Keeper snorted in amusement. “Speaking of your job, Faun tells me you had a picture of me on my bounty.”

“I did, but when contracts are voided, all existing copies burn away.” Alasdair flashed them an innocent smile.

“Uhuh.” The Keeper eyed him sceptically. “I'm sure you're not keeping a copy.”

His smile widened. “Don't flatter yourself, kid. You're not that pretty.”

“Prettier than you, old man.” They snorted.

“Pretty enough for my age.” Alasdair adjusted his tiny spectacles, and the Keeper eyed him speculatively.

He flashed them a dark grin. “You don't want to know, kid.”

“Fair enough.” The Keeper shrugged, it wasn't any of their business anyway. As long as he didn't do anything untoward with any photographs of them, they supposed they could leave it be. “Make me another one of that chocolate drink when you're free.”

“Sure thing.” Alasdair's expression immediately brightened.

As he busied himself about the drinks, the Keeper folded their arms on the counter and pondered their conundrum. Honestly, they'd love to track the goblin themselves, they enjoyed a good hunt as much as Sebastian did, but with their Hogwarts classes and NEWTs to keep up with...

Fuck, if only they had more time. They highly doubted they could afford to wait till the Christmas holidays. It couldn't be helped. They would have to outsource for this one.

“Here you go, kid.” Alasdair smiled merrily as he placed a glass of lumpy brown sludge on the counter. “I went a little lighter on the expresso this time, wouldn't want it to keep you up after you leave.”

“Thanks.” The Keeper nodded as they accepted the drink and took a glance at the clock hanging on the wall nearby. It was almost eleven, well, at least they'd kept their Sunday morning free so they could sleep in.

“Say, old man, you wouldn't happen to know someone who's real good at covert subterfuge, would you?” The Keeper asked casually, taking a sip from their glass. It was a little less bitter and aromatic but was still delicious enough to not be worth complaints.

“Looking for a partner to work with on this Hunt?” Alasdair returned the question, looking quite unsurprised at the notion.

The Keeper nodded. “I don't have the time to stalk my prey while I'm in school. Maybe during the Christmas holidays, but not while Hogwarts is in session.”

“Understandable.” The bartender nodded, continuing to mix Faun's drinks with a thoughtful expression. “Normally, I wouldn’t consider it an option, but... he might be a good fit, if you can get him to work with you. One of our older members. He's got the best track record for, well, tracking, information gathering, and spying. Name's Owl Post.”

Alasdair chuckled at the Keeper's incredulous expression. “Yes, I had a similar response when he chose the moniker. He seemed to think it appropriate, since owls are remarkably capable of finding the person you've addressed your letter to, even if you're using an alias or don't want to be found.”

The Keeper snorted in amusement. Fair point, the enchantments on post owls in the wizarding world were quite absurd.

“Though, ironically the man himself is renowned for being uncontactable via owl post and more poignantly, for refusing to aid wet work. Not fond of killing, that one. Even though, with his skill, he'd probably be the deadliest assassin in Britain if he did.” The bartender gave them an appraising smile. “But you might have an advantage with him.”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Got a soft spot for orphan kids, he does. Your age might give you an edge in negotiations.” Alasdair chuckled, and the Keeper rolled their eyes at the pun. They only entertained bad jokes from Sebastian.

“Well, I won't complain.” The Keeper shrugged. “Appreciate if you can get me a meeting with him too.”

“Heard from a friend that he's back in town, after his last job. Stick around tonight and if you're lucky, he might show up.” The bartender shrugged. “That one's like the wind, comes and goes as he pleases.”

The Keeper nodded, well, they couldn't be waiting all night, but they'd give it till their drink was finished at least. As they took another sip from their glass, they felt someone approaching the counter behind them, finding it to be a tall individual of indiscernible gender.

“Alasdair.” The stranger nodded at the bartender without acknowledging the Keeper and they easily took the hint.

“See you later, old man.” The Keeper gave Alasdair a parting nod, collected their glass and left the bar counter to find an empty table at the back corner of the pub, where they took a seat in view of the door and the bar. While the guildmaster conducted business with what was most likely another Merc.

The next hour or so were spent idly observing the other patrons of the establishment, watching the various groups of people and creatures from all walks of life interact. It was so different compared to eateries in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, where patrons were almost exclusively human or demihuman with just enough human characteristics to blend in.

Here, nought mattered save merit and coin. That's not to say that there wasn't racism, still lingering over the tables shared by creatures and wizardkind, but it was noticeably secondary to business.

The Keeper imagined that this was probably as good as it could get. People, regardless of race or species, would never stop judging each other, but at least they could keep it to themselves and work together, putting aside differences and striving to reach their goals.

It was near midnight, the flakes of ice in their glass had melted away and the pub’s business seemed to be slowing, when the Keeper noticed the veela waitress approaching their table.

“Lemme guess. Exclusively Hunter, right?” Svet rested a hand on their table, leaning her hip against it with an air of nonchalance.

The Keeper raised a questioning eyebrow in response.

“Bloody hell, if I hadn't heard ya speak with Alasdair 'n Faun, I'd think ye were mute.” The woman grumbled.

Curious and mildly amused, the Keeper hummed. “What do you mean by ‘exclusively Hunter’?”

“Ya know, killing people, animals, creatures n’ stuff, assassinations, wet work, doin’ that sorta thing's Hunter territory. Mercenary's just kinda general, covers all the jobs, even stuff like fetching things, escort missions, tracking n’ all kinds ‘o work.” She shrugged and they nodded in understanding.

“I see, thank you for explaining.” The Keeper gave her a faint smile. “Then, no, I'm a Mercenary, open to any type of work if the price is right. Except prostitution.”

The veela chuckled, seeming to take their willingness to speak for invitation and dropped into the seat across from them with a snicker. “Right shame, that. Many people'd love ta bed someone with a gob like yers, even with the scars.”

The Keeper couldn't quite keep the grimace from their face and a look of understanding crossed hers. The veela flashed them a more sympathetic and bitter smile.

“So that's what it is... sorry kid. Ya don't gotta worry ‘bout that. Alasdair's the good sort, doesn't let those kinda folk in here, got me off the market 'n gave me good work, away from that.” She shook the distaste from her face and grinned. “In 'ere, I can pull out my charm just fer kicks 'n tips. Yer safe 'ere, ‘n once ya get ye mask, in all ‘o Phantom territory. Alasdair's Mercs are under 'is protection in Knockturn.”

Unaccustomed to being seen through that quickly, the Keeper gave her a curt nod and averted their eyes.

Perhaps it wasn't too surprising for a veela, a creature who exuded sexual allure, to have been sex trafficked, and likely to a worse extent than themselves, no doubt. At least the boys at the orphanage had to avoid being caught by the caretakers. Nor was it a surprise that Alasdair was a defender of more than little poacher girls.

The Keeper paused, hang on. “Mask?”

“Alasdair hadn't toldya ‘bout that?” The veela blinked in surprise, before rolling her eyes. “Senile ol’ fart.”

“Phantom Mercs get a personalised mask fer goin’ about business outside the pub, when ya don't wanna be recognised fer nothin’ but ya Merc identity n’ what guild you belong ta.” She explained. “Makes it easier ta get info sometimes, when ol’ Alasdair's reputation will get ya credibility. Gotta be careful course, some places, that'll put a mark on ye back instead.”

Made sense, the Keeper nodded. That'd be useful, but first they'd have to clear Borgok's bounty.

“What made you think I was exclusively a Hunter?” The Keeper asked curiously.

“Yer eyes, kid. Know a killer when I see one.” The woman chuckled. “Seen ‘nough of ‘em in my line ‘o work. More surprised that a kid rich ‘nough ta pay off Faun's tab ain't from a well-off background like 'er.”

“Speaking of which, don't you have to bring her drinks?” The Keeper asked, glancing over at the petite assassin's table, only to find it empty. Huh, they hadn't even noticed her leaving.

“Ha, Faun went back up ta her room ta drink ‘erself silly, the elves handle delivering to the inn.” Svet shrugged, glancing about absently. “Was gettin’ bored so I figured I'd come over ta chat with ya.”

The Keeper snorted, perhaps Ominis’ polite and unassuming vibe was rubbing off on them. It was surprising how easily they'd gotten accustomed to Hogwarts and its people living in the light.

“Oh, bollocks.” The veela suddenly turned away from the door just off to her right and the Keeper tensed up in caution. “Hey, how's my hair looking?”

The Keeper stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, before realising that her cheeks were flushed bright pink and she was taking surreptitious glances towards the door, where a rather lanky middle-aged man was waltzing into the pub.

“Heeeey, Jouster!” The lanky man loudly greeted as he removed his hat, revealing a messy mop of light brown hair, and clasped the broad shoulder of a large man seated at one of the tables. “How's business going? Oh, that reminds me, I got somethin’ for yer kid!”

The lanky guy grinned widely and dug through the large and heavy looking rucksack hefted over his shoulder.

“Owl? Thought you were dead, mate!” The man, apparently named Jouster laughed, slapping the skinnier man in the back and almost knocking him to the floor.

“What, me? Come on, I can't afford to die, I've got mouths to feed!” The lanky man laughed, pulling out a soft toy from his bag with a flourish and presenting it to the larger man. “Look, I found a vermillion phoenix plush while I was sneaking through France. Your daughter likes phoenixes, right?”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow, so that was the best tracker and information gatherer in the guild... Owl Post. How on earth was such a loud and affable man, with a name that ridiculous, the most covert person in Alasdair's guild?

They watched with avid interest, as Owl spent the next thirty minutes bouncing from table to table, greeting the patrons as though he were friends with everyone in the pub. It was somewhere between impressive and unsettling, how easily he slipped into conversations and then slipped right back out without much disruption or notice.

He stopped by Alasdair's bar for a moment, before continuing to flit about the pub's tables, until finally he seemed to have finished his rounds and arrived at their table in the back.

Sparing the Keeper a curious glance, he wore a brilliant smile as he greeted the veela waitress, who was now sitting in an oddly prim manner. “My dearest Svetlana, a very good evening to you! You look lovely as always, the pub would be ever so frigid without your warm and glowing presence.”

The waitress smiled as he bowed with a flourish, and before she could speak, withdrew from his pack, a large and beautiful red crystal rose. “I came across this along my travels and it immediately brought your fairness to mind!”

“Oh, you.” Svetlana blushed as she accepted the ornament. “And what poor peddler did you steal this from?”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow at her, she was back to speaking without a cockney accent.

“You wound me my dear. I assure you, I merely liberated it from the confines of a dastardly scoundrel's ill-gotten gains.” Owl placed a hand over his heart, somehow coming across impossibly more dramatic than Sebastian and Garreth combined.

“Well, in that case, I shall keep this token with fondness.” Svetlana magically tucked the ornament somewhere under her apron and as she did so, she spotted a patron waving his hand for her attention. “I should probably get back to work. It was good to see you again, Owl. You really must come by more often.”

“Oh, how could I deny the request of a lovely lady like yourself.” Owl gave her another bow. “In fact, if you like, I would be free to keep you company tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps around three?”

“Why not? That sounds wonderful.” Svetlana gave him a smile as she leaned across the table to collect the Keeper’s empty glass. Coincidentally, no doubt, flashing Owl what was likely a lovely view and gave the Keeper a wink. “See you sometime, kid.”

The Keeper gave her a nod and the lanky man waved her off with a bright smile. “Till tomorrow!”

Seemingly done flirting with the waitress, the beaming man dropped into the seat she'd just vacated.

“And it's very nice to meet you, Salamander. Alasdair tells me you wanted to speak with me.” Owl greeted, digging through his pack for a moment, before presenting the Keeper with a large rainbow coloured lollipop. “Do you like sweets?”

They gave him a silent, incredulous glare and he shrugged, unwrapping the candy and popping it into his mouth.

“Sho, ‘ow can I ‘elp ‘ou?” Owl asked, his question barely legible around the lollipop in his grinning mouth.

“...I'm currently in a contract with Borgok to assassinate the goblin rebellion leader, Gnarlak.” The Keeper explained after a moment, deciding to ignore his bizarre behaviour. “I'd like your assistance with tracking his movements, so I can finish the job when he's alone outside his base.”

“I shee I shee.” The man's smile didn't waver as he pulled the lollipop from his mouth. “Could you excuse me for a moment, kid?”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow when Owl stood and, with nary a change in expression, flung his lollipop at Alasdair behind the counter, who easily caught the piece of candy by the stick before it could hit him in the face. Then, in a burst of surprising speed, the skinny tracker sprinted across the pub to grab the bartender by the lapels.

“Alasdair! How could you let a kid do wet work in here!?” Owl shouted, shaking the man aggressively, or at least trying to, for it seemed as though he would have had more luck getting a pillar to budge than the larger bartender.

The Keeper looked to the doorman, surprised that he wasn't doing something about this and that the rest of the pub wasn't even acknowledging the commotion that Owl was causing, beyond an amused glance here and there.

The bartender and the lanky man exchanged several words that the Keeper couldn't quite catch at this distance, so they stood and made their way to the bar counter.

Taking a seat on one of the barstools and folding their arms on the countertop, the Keeper gave Owl an annoyed glare. “Look, if you don't want to work with a teenager, it's fine.”

Owl stared at the Keeper with a slack jaw for a solid minute, before Alasdair shoved the lollipop, that he was still holding, back into the tracker's open mouth, which seemed to bring the man back to himself.

Pulling the candy from his mouth, Owl shook his head emphatically as Alasdair quietly returned to his drink mixing. “It's not that, kid! You shouldn't be doing that kind of thing here! I would have a word with your parents!”

The Keeper shrugged. “Yeah, sure, if you can find them. I would too if I knew who or where they were.”

At that, Owl flinched, and, to their irritation, his expression became sad. They didn't normally care about others knowing their status as an orphan, but it was annoying when it came with disrespect or pity, especially considering that they were looking to hire the man.

“Do you need money, kid? Is that why you're doing this?” The lanky tracker asked. “If it's money, I can-”

“It's not.” The Keeper interrupted flatly. “Not entirely. And I'm not interested in charity, if you're offering payment in exchange for something, that's another story. But at the moment, all I want to know is if you're willing to assist me with my job and the cost of your services.”

“Trust me kid, it's not worth it. Al says six people have already died trying to do this job.” Owl insisted.

“And?” The Keeper raised an eyebrow at the man.

“And there's other ways of making money!” Owl answered. “If you need something specific, I'm sure I can get it for you.”

“No, you can't. And I survived having a bounty on my head for a year, I'll manage thanks.” The Keeper gave him a glare, quickly running out of patience. “Look, it's a simple yes or no. If you refuse, I'll just ask for someone else's help or handle it myself.”

“Wait wait wait-” Owl groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes for several moments, before sighing, lowering his hands in defeat, and dropping heavily into the stool beside them. “Fine. Alright. I'll help you.”

The Keeper was mildly surprised that he'd conceded, but after all that, they weren't about to turn him down if he was willing to work. “Now we're talking. Name your price.”

“I can't believe I'm agreeing to this.” Owl muttered as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “...did you really survive having a bounty on your head for a year?”

With a roll of their eyes, the Keeper jerked their chin towards Alasdair. “Ask him.”

At Owl's look, Alasdair chuckled. “The kid's right, old Rookwood placed a bounty on them two years ago, and they took both him and a good number of our Hunters out within a year.”

“Two years ago!?” Owl's eyes were round, and he gave the Keeper an unsettled glance, before shaking his head in disbelief. “Merlin's beard, Alasdair. What cult did you rescue this one from?”

The bartender flashed him a wry smile as he filled another pint glass of now familiar-looking Sazerac, Jesus, was Faun still drinking? The Keeper felt a pang of grief for their wallet.

“If someone saved them, it wasn't me.” Alasdair shrugged. “Kid's still in Hogwarts.”

“They're that young!? Helga help me. Have the standards dropped more than my grades since I was there?” Owl's expression was quite appalled when the Keeper glanced at him, feeling slightly offended perhaps. Helga, as in Helga Hufflepuff? Somehow, they weren't that surprised that the affable man had been a puff.

“I think this one’s just built different.” The bartender smirked.

“I'm right here, you know.” The Keeper commented dryly, and, noticing that their throat was feeling equally so, after the sweet drinks, added. “And some water would be nice, old man.”

“Certainly.” Alasdair flicked a finger, and a mug began to fill itself with water from a barrel's tap, evidently a task not worth doing manually.

“And you.” The Keeper turned to Owl. “Your price, name it.”

The man wore a thoughtful expression for a few seconds, before meeting their eyes with a firm gaze. “If I help you, this will be your last Hunt. No more wet work.”

The Keeper immediately stood. “Thanks for your time, I'll do it myself.”

“Wait wait wait, alright, okay, I won't ask for that!” Owl waved his hands desperately to block them and they glared at him as they retook their seat.

With a reluctant sigh, the man shook his head. “Galleons will suffice, if you can spare the coin, and I'm willing to accept other means of payment if necessary. The price will vary depending on how much effort and time it takes to get your information and how dangerous the process is, so I'll only be able to tell you afterwards.”

The Keeper eyed Owl suspiciously and he gave them a wry smile. “I promise you that I won't charge an inordinate amount and I'm a man of my word.”

Alasdair placed the mug of water on the counter in front of the Keeper with a sound of agreement. “Owl here's got a reputation for being unreasonably cheap.”

Well, that's reassuring, the Keeper mentally rolled their eyes, that certainly didn't mean they were going to just take either man at their word, but for now, they had little else to go on or any real sense of scale. They'd just have to see.

“Very well then.” The Keeper nodded at Owl, before pausing uncertainly and asking Alasdair. “I’m assuming a deal like this warrants a contract?”

“It does.” The bartender nodded and offered them a small blank scroll. “The process is identical to that of your contract with Borgok. Except that you'll write first since you're the one offering the job.”

The Keeper nodded, taking the scroll and the blood quill from the bartender, and the next few minutes were spent repeating the steps they'd undergone last weekend.

When the contract was settled and their copy put away, the Keeper pulled the map from their satchel and unrolled it for Owl to examine. “Here's the location of Gnarlak's base.”

Raising their mug of water to take a drink and wash down the taste of the painkiller and wiggenweld, the Keeper waited for Owl to copy the marked location of the base onto his own map. Before relaying to him the information that Faun had given them and showing him their copy of the contract with Borgok, so that he now knew Gnarlak’s face.

“Alright, I'll drop by next Saturday evening to give you an update. What time's good for you?” He asked.

“Nine works.” The Keeper answered, that'd give them ample time to get here after Natty's wandless lesson.

“Got it. I don't have any other jobs at the moment, so it shouldn't take very long. I understand that you're pressed for time, so I'll endeavour to work fast.” Owl nodded.

“Much appreciated.” The Keeper gave him a nod in return, glancing at the clock to find it a little after two in the morning. “Then I'll leave you here. Thanks Alasdair, let me know next weekend how much I owe you.”

The bartender also nodded with a faint smile. “Hope you can actually afford Faun's bill, it's looking out just shy of thirty galleons at the moment.”

The Keeper grimaced, bloody hell, that was absurd indeed. That woman’s drink was going to cost them more than Ominis’ scarf had, they'd probably need to have him sell the poacher some of the dragon's bones next weekend to afford it. “I'll manage.”

“Faun!?” Owl exclaimed aghast. “How does a kid have enough money to pay that alcoholic's tab?”

“Maybe God wanted to make up for my shitty childhood.” The Keeper shrugged, missing the shrewd look that Owl gave them for the comment as they finished their water. In the end, the dragon mother had ended up being such a tremendous gift... in more ways than one. They lowered the empty cup with a sigh, feeling oddly tired now that everything was said and done. “Alright, I should get going if I want to wake up before noon tomorrow, so I'll bid you both farewell.”

“Maybe I should walk yo-” Owl began.

“Good day.” The Keeper interrupted and stood, their footsteps followed by Alasdair's deep laughter, as they left a pouting Owl in their wake.

Well, at least delegating their most time-consuming task to another had gone smoothly, now they could leave the information gathering to Owl, and just focus on every other one of the million things they still needed to juggle.

Greaaaaaaat.

Notes:

Many thanks once again, to my Patreon, cheeky_idler, for naming Shai as a Paid member with voting & suggestion power! ;)

Poor Ominis, his partners are completely shameless.

I feel like Poppy ended up being more popular than I expected, which is nice because she's gonna show up a lot xP

Do lemme know what ya'll think of the new characters! Are you interested in seeing more of the OCs or are you more invested in the main characters from HL? Feedback lets me know how much attention to give the OCs ;)

I'm not sure why, but I feel like I don't have much to say in this chapter's notes, I guess it's because the only things that aren't explained in the story are mysteries that I wouldn't want to elaborate on and it was mostly plot xP

Hopefully it's exciting plot though! ;)