AN: I have been fascinated by these two book series since the first time I read them. Needless to say, the urge to write a crossover has been itching to reach my fingertips for a while. I decided to put it aside and work on other stories, but I fear that the urge has found its way to victory. To write this fic, I'm putting one of my two In Progress stories on hold, and I will continue to write the other one. For now, I hope you enjoy this!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything except for my own original characters, which can be obviously noted throughout the story. Harry Potter and the Dresden Files belong to their respective owners.
A strange thing it is, when things do not play out as it should. When a dice remains uncast, a play not acted, an unexpected party; when the course of destiny is routed, and all that was must become anew. Many times misfortune plays its part: Terrible disasters, unpredictable catastrophes, and the end of life as we know it. How many worlds have fallen because of an unplanned twist in destiny? We may never know.
However, sometimes these twists play their part to serve in the side of good.
This story, in fact, serves as an example. When a boy finds himself in a side of the world that his kind was never supposed to mingle with. When the fate of the very world rests on the shoulders of two very different people, yet they bear the same name. Their lives are scarred with the loss of loved ones. They have seen things, done things, which most people would shrink away from. They are heroes, loved and hated at the same time.
Who would have thought they would cross paths?
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
The wind rustled softly, bearing a swirl of orange and green as it swept up the autumn leaves that rested on the concrete path. The dull gray way was enclosed in a sea of autumnal hues: Orange, red, yellow, etc. Dozens of trees stood solitarily amongst themselves, leaves gently detaching from the gnarled branches. In the distance, the sounds of busy tourists and lake boats floated across the breeze.
On a bench beside the path, alone and bent over, sat the Man Who Lived.
Harry Potter frustratingly swept his bangs away from his creased forehead, his fingers warily avoiding the stark lightning-shaped scar that marked it. His olive-green eyes burned with pain, and his bones cracked as he leaned back against the wooden bench. Almost abruptly, as if rebuking himself for his momentary respite, he leaned forward, brushed his sweaty palms on his loose slacks, and closed his eyes.
For some reason, after all those years of quiet peace with his family, his scar was hurting again.
"Bloody hell," he snarled quietly, curling his lip. "What is happening to me?"
It had started the month before. He would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, perspiration coating his half-naked body heavily. He didn't know why he was disturbed, he would tell Ginny repeatedly, he vaguely remembered his dreams. All he could recall was a chilling laugh, a laugh that seemed to issue from the very throat of Death itself. It continued for days on ends, abusing his sleep and haunting his thoughts. Therapists recommended medication, but it only worsened the effect. It was as if his tormenter took the drugs as a chance to scream louder in Harry's ears. His wife and children tried their best to support him, but the dreams were beginning to take a toll.
Then, out of the blue, his scar began to hurt.
He didn't notice it at first. The wizard had gone so long without it that he seemed to forget the aching it caused. He would irritably scratch his forehead during work, thinking that it was only a simple rash. As days went by, however, and the pain worsened, the realization dawned on him.
"Ginny, love," he whispered that night when they were in bed, the children all tucked in. "It's back."
Ron and Hermione had visited, tugging their own children along with them to see if Uncle Harry was okay. They had not taken the news lightly, and immediate action was taken. The best healers in the country came, dousing him with herbs and dream-soothers. Even the old Madame Pomfrey tried her best to lessen the former Hogwarts student's pain. Nothing seemed to exterminate it, however. In the end, Harry himself had said that he needed a little recluse.
He and his family, including Ron and Hermione's, paid a visit to Lake Windermere, a hot tourist location that Ginny had wanted to see in ages. The trip was long, but they made it. Harry had found this spot during their second day at the lake, and the path was a haven from the madness that had occupied his life.
"Oh, Dumbledore," the man, who as a boy saved the world from utter domination, sighed deeply. "Where's your guidance when I need it?"
He wrapped his arms around his body, cold despite his black wool sweater. His teeth chattered as another gust of wind blasted against him. He stamped his boots on the ground, but the cold would not leave.
Harry stood, cursing under his breath. He walked down the path, towards the lake where his friends and family played in the shallows. The scar burned, but the prospect of joining with the people he loved dampened some of the pain.
"Going somewhere, Potter?" a cold, familiar voice asked.
Harry, a hand covering his forehead, turned towards the source of the voice.
Draco Lucius Malfoy had not changed very much since the last time the two rivals met. His face had acquired a bit more wrinkles, his hair slightly graying at the temples. His voice was quite deeper, intoned with a slight rasp. The man had matured since his younger days, but the air of superiority still permeated his aura, and the smirk remained ever constant.
"Morning, Malfoy," Harry responded after a few moments, clearing his throat. "I wasn't expecting your company."
Draco detached himself from the tree trunk he had been leaning against. He walked a couple of paces until he stood in front of Harry. The man looked good, Harry had to admit. He wore a black waistcoat over a turquoise dress shirt. Black slacks covered his thin legs, ending with a pair of dark shoes. The man had a fancy coat draped elegantly over one shoulder like a model. Harry fought back a smirk that threatened to show on his face. Same old Malfoy.
"Neither did I. My dear wife and I had to attend a meeting with the Cumbria County Council this week. When I heard of your arrival, I just had to visit."
"I'm sure…" Potter said, lifting an eyebrow suspiciously. Malfoy had never been one for social niceties, and he had a hard time wondering if he was being sarcastic or not. He cleared his throat once more. "Speaking of your wife, how is the lovely Astoria doing?"
"Well, I suppose," Malfoy answered with a haughty sniff. "She was never a country lass to begin with, and she's practically itching to leave the Lake District."
They were silent for a few moments, unaccustomed to such small talk. In the past, conversations with each other usually ended with words being said, fists thrown, spells cast, etc. Needless to say, it hadn't been good. Harry awkwardly tried to think up of some more polite questions, but botched it.
"Oh for God's sake, Malfoy, quit with the stalling. Tell me what you came here to tell me. This is strange for the both of us." he exclaimed, his outburst fueled by the pain in his forehead.
Malfoy lifted an eyebrow, noting the hand on Harry's brow. He cleared his throat.
"I was wondering when you would say that. Anyways, Potter, I was given a call by the Ministry early this morning. At the crack of dawn, if you can believe it. The Ministry never was one for politeness. They ordered me to pick up an owl bearing a letter addressed to you. I was their only employee close enough to you, I mean by distance, and trusted enough to give it to you. They stated that it was a matter of the utmost importance. Here," he withdrew a letter from the pocket of his trousers. "Take it, it's yours."
Harry cautiously crossed the divide between him and Malfoy, snatching the letter from the other's outstretched hand. He tucked it into his pocket and stepped back.
"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry said, softening. "It means a lot that you would actually take the time to do that for me."
Malfoy's face contorted a mixture of distaste and embarrassment on his fine features. He turned his face away.
"Don't expect it any longer. Like I said, the order came from the lords running the M.o.M... It isn't like I had a choice."
Harry nodded, smiling.
Draco Malfoy curled his lip, but otherwise kept his disgust to himself. He turned around and began to walk away down the empty path.
"Farewell, Potter. Watch that scar of yours." he called from the distance.
The man rounded a bend, and was gone. Harry, despite the constant pain, couldn't suppress a chuckle. Malfoy sure did a little growing up.
Harry Potter resumed his journey to his family, his joy renewed.
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
Harry finished the last flight of stone steps, his boots meeting brown sand as it hit the shore. He squinted, lifting a hand across his forehead to shield it from the glaring sun. He saw his loved ones playing among the tide, bringing a smile to his face.
Ginny, clad in a yellow sundress, was sitting on the edge of a harbored canoe, watching the children play. She looked up expectantly, seeming to sense the presence of her husband even before she laid eyes on him. Ginny smiled as he came to meet them, her green eyes alight.
"Hello, love," she whispered, walking into his outstretched arms. "Where have you been?"
"With myself," he answered, nuzzling his face in her scarlet hair. "I needed a little time off."
Harry heard several splashes of water as his children came rushing up to meet him. He groaned, chuckling as Lily tackled his waist. Albus gripped his arm tightly, while James stood to the side. They were in their swim gear, fingers pruned from the long hours in the water. Harry picked up his daughter, giving her a hearty kiss on her cheeks. He ruffled his sons' hair, not wanting to leave them out of his show of affection.
"How are you, my wonderful children?" he asked, a smile on his lips.
"Uncle Ron found a toad in the shallows, dad!" Albus exclaimed, pointing fervently at Harry's best friend and brother-in-law. "Look, he still has it!"
Ron threw a brown lump in the air and caught it once more. The thing wriggled violently in his curled palm. The ginger-haired man wiggled his eyebrows playfully. Harry couldn't suppress a bout of laughter.
He joined them by the row of canoes, sitting down beside his wife. They watched the kids play. Hugo and Albus splashed water on Rose and the girls, giggling as their victims squealed and ran away. James came up out of the water in the girls' path, water ferns covering his head, resembling a hag.
The girls screamed.
"Hugo!" Hermione called, her brown hair falling freely down her shoulders. She was dressed in a red shirt and jeans shorts. "Stop scaring your sister!"
"Alright, mother!" he called from the distance, his red hair hanging wet. He promptly dived into the water, followed closely by Albus.
Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned slightly and saw Ron standing close behind him. His friend tilted his head, indicating a spot near the surrounding forest. Harry nodded and followed Ron to the shade of the bent willow far from the shallows. When they were there, Ron felt free to speak.
"How's your scar, mate?" he inquired worriedly. "I can tell it was bothering you down there."
"I don't know," Harry sighed, looking down at the ground. "It comes and goes, but when it comes it hurts. I don't think this trip is helping much."
Ron nodded sadly, placing a caring hand on his best friend's shoulder. They were quiet for a moment, lost in their respective thoughts. Harry perked up, remembering something.
"Guess who I met a few minutes ago," said Harry, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Who?"
"Malfoy," Harry replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "Looking smug as ever."
Ron made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Ugh," he snorted. "I had no idea he was here. Didn't think he and his dear wife was the country type."
"Yeah, well, he came," Harry said, shrugging. He reached into his pocket and took out the letter. "He gave me this. Told me it was from the Ministry."
"Aren't you on leave?" Ron asked, eyebrows up. He inspected the letter. "Why would they send you a business letter?"
"No one said it was a business letter, Ron," Harry sighed, taking the letter back from his friend.
"True, but the M.o.M rarely ever sends leisure letters. Go, open it," Ron whispered, leaning forward expectantly, his long red hair over his forehead.
Harry, comfortable enough with Ron to open a private letter, undid the red, wax Ministry seal and withdrew a folded parchment from the interior. He unfolded it, his and Ron's eyes perusing its neatly written contents.
To Auror Harry James Potter,
I regret to inform you that recent events have forced us to once more ask for your assistance, Mr. Potter. We are aware of your present condition, and we hope for your swift recovery from your unexpected "illness". However, as stated before, recent events have forced our hand at this particular point. You are currently passing vacation leave at Lake Windermere, a tourist location in the Lake District National Park, Cumbria. At this very moment, we politely ask for you to meet one of our representatives at the entrance of the park for a more detailed briefing. Numerous reports indicate a sudden spike in Dark Magic nearby your location. As our most able Auror, and the most closest to the rally point, your arrival would be much appreciated. This letter will succumb to a burning charm as you complete your reading.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic
Harry felt a hot sensation itch at his fingertips. His eyes widened as he finished the letter. He quickly threw the paper to the ground, watching as fire erupted from the edges and began to eat its way to the core. Soon, there was nothing left but ash and smoke.
"That's wicked," Ron said appreciatively.
Harry sighed. "If it's from Shacklebolt, I don't think I have much of a choice. Plus, if they took the time to send Malfoy of all people to give me the letter then I guess I better go."
"There's the Dark Magic bit, too," Ron added.
"Yeah, that too."
They sighed simultaneously. The wind picked up, ruffling their sweater sleeves and pants. Harry watched as Hermione and Ginny hurriedly rushed the children out of the water, draping towels over their thin bodies.
"Don't worry, I'll tell them," Ron grunted. "Ministry business and all that."
"Thanks, mate," he said, standing to the side. "I owe you one."
He reached into his pocket, fingering his wand for comfort. It was 11 inches, made of holly, with a phoenix feather at its core. It was one of the most famous wands in the wizarding world, and it was Harry's. He smiled at his friend, who returned it.
Harry closed his eyes, picturing the lobby in his head, and Apparated.
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
It wasn't hard finding the M.o.M official. He stood off to the side, donning a brown trench coat and hat. He was unusually tall, with gray hair and a stern expression on his hard face. He was under an oak tree, avoiding the throng of Muggles that crowded around the entrance to the lake. Harry, who had Apparated in a men's bathroom stall not long before, approached the man, ignoring his scar's pain as to give the man a smile of greeting.
"Good day to you, sir," he greeted, standing next to him. "I trust you're here for me?"
The man nodded slowly, gray eyes fixing him with a long stare.
Harry cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. Hundreds of people were hanging around the grassy lawn, chatting but seemingly unaware of the two wizards in their midst. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.
"Someplace else, then?"
The man nodded once more.
Harry walked away, followed closely by the tall man. He led him to a group of trees, ringed around each other in a tight circle. There were a few couples around, but it was secure enough. Harry slyly cast a sound charm around the two. There, no one could easily hear them now.
"Now," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "What is it that the Ministry interrupted my family time about?"
The man straightened, clearing his throat. He rummaged around in his deep pockets, finally withdrawing a stack of stapled sheets and handing it to Harry. Harry took it, inspecting the papers.
He was stunned at first. The first sheet was a picture of a corpse, a young woman lying on what seemed to be a wooden floor. She was dressed in a loose camisole, torn and dirty. Dried blood stained the body and the floor messily, pooling around her throat. He flipped through the papers, finding similar situations of grim death. A woman, a man, a teenage girl, another man. He stopped at the photograph of a mere child and handed the papers angrily to the representative.
"What is this?" he asked darkly, his mood considerably lower. "A joke?"
"A case, actually," the man finally said. He had a deep baritone voice, a voice that projected waves of authority. The man was used to giving orders. He was also from South Shields, by the sound of it. "There has been a string of murders occurring in the Lake District, something that has caught the eye of the Ministry."
"As bad as this seems, when did Muggle homicides matter to the Minister, much less the Ministry itself." Harry inquired, taking a firm stance.
The man's lips twitched, but otherwise he went on.
"I assumed that you would've guessed that since the Ministry is investigating, the murders aren't completely of Muggle conception."
Harry flushed, berating himself. That's what you get for a few weeks off the job, he thought drily.
"Of course, my apologies. Go on," he said, his face still red.
The man obviously couldn't suppress a small grin from appearing on his wrinkled face, but he went on.
"Thank you. Anyways, the boys at the morgue discovered that their souls were completely sucked dry from their bodies."
Harry lifted an eyebrow.
"Dementors, then?" he stated.
"That was the first guess. However, dementors, even as voracious as they are, do not need to physically harm their victims to steal their souls. These Muggles seemed to have been cut first, and then their souls were extracted."
"Dark Wizard, perhaps?" Harry interjected. He had seen similar work in the past, almost always by the hands of a maniac who had delved too deep in the Dark Arts. "It wouldn't be the first."
"True, but usually a wizard, or witch, would implement the Killing Curse on their victims and not use objects such as knives. The murderer seems to have slain the victims and then magically extract the souls from the dying body at the last minute."
Harry thought about that for a moment, his mental work dampening the effect of his scar slightly. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"That would take a high degree of control," he mused. "No ordinary Dark Wizard has the skill to weave such a potent spell like that," he said. Harry paused, lifting a finger. "Or, maybe more than one persons are taking part in this spree."
"That is entirely possible," the man responded. "This is why we have gathered a team to stop the killer, or killers, at large."
Harry stopped his thoughts, surprised.
"A team?" he exclaimed, trying not to raise his voice too loud. "Of who, may I ask?"
"The best Aurors we could conjure at the moment. This is the rallying point, as the Minister decreed."
"Who are these Aurors?" Harry asked. His suspicion grew and grew, and so did his anger. It was just like the Ministry to call on him for a life-or-death mission.
"Yours truly, for starters," the tall man grunted, parting his coat to reveal a wand hanging at his waist. "Then there's you, and three more will accompany us. Of course, you are free to ask your friend Ron to assist us. He is an exceptional Auror, and his help would be much-"
"No thanks," Harry practically spat. There was no need to drag his best friend into this. "I'd rather not."
The man nodded, ignoring Harry's spite. He buttoned up his jacket, signaling an end to the conversation.
"Meet us here at nightfall. We'll need to act quickly if we are to find and stop the killer/killers. We've predicted the next most-likely hit, so stealth is of the essence. If you still have your Invisibility Cloak, it would come in handy."
The man turned, walking away.
"Remember, here nightfall. Don't be late, Potter."
"I didn't catch your name!" Harry asked loudly.
The man was silent for a few moments as he continued on his way. Just when Harry had thought he was about to leave his question hanging, he answered.
"Daniel," he responded, not turning back. "Daniel Scrimgeour."
With that, he was gone.
Harry stood there, shocked. He had no idea that the former Minister for Magic had a son, much less a wife. He could see the family resemblance, however. The same shrewd look, keen eyes, the rugged determination in his stance and tone. He must've gotten the hairless face, gray eyes, and height from his mother. Harry almost laughed in disbelief.
He walked back into the building, avoiding the crowd of tourists. He entered the men's bathroom stall, closed his eyes, and Apparated.
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
"Are you sure you want to go?" Ginny asked worriedly, tucking a stray red bang behind her ear. "You scar still hurts, I can tell."
"Yeah, it does," Harry sighed. They were seated on their bed in their hotel room. The children were off visiting Ron and Hermoine. He was glad that they weren't around to hear the news. "As much as I want to spend time with you and the little ones, people are dying. As an Auror, I have an obligation to act."
Ginny's resolve broke, and she nodded wearily and sadly. "I guess you're right. When are you leaving again?"
"Sundown, nightfall, somewhere around that time. Rufus Scrimgeour's son is one of the Aurors helping me."
Ginny made a surprised noise in her throat.
"The old fart had a child?" she said incredulously.
Harry grinned at his wife's words.
"Apparently."
They were silent for a moment. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed window curtains, filled with hundreds of floating dust motes. Harry looked out the view window. The sun was beginning to set, almost hidden behind the treetops to the west. Harry stood, gathering his wand and watch from the top of the bedside table. He was notorious for his lateness, and for this he didn't want to show up looking stupid in front of four accomplished Aurors, regardless of his anger.
"I'll see you, love," he whispered, kissing Ginny on her pale cheeks.
"Come back safe," she whispered back, tearing up.
Harry embraced her lovingly. When he was finished, he stood in front of the window. The Auror straightened, closed his eyes, and Apparated for the third time in the day.
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
Daniel was waiting for Harry at the same location he had a few hours earlier. It was twilight now, and the sky had already begun to darken considerably. Fewer people were out this time; almost all of them retreating to the shelter of their homes. A few lampposts flickered brightly along the path, but them and the waning moon were the only source of light. A gentle breeze still floated through the air, stubborn in its persistence. The Auror was still in his large trench coat.
He wasn't alone this time. Harry saw three other men standing alongside Scrimgeour. He approached them, waving to Daniel and giving his fellow Aurors a closer look.
The first man was tall, almost as tall as Daniel. He had jet-black hair, almost indistinguishable in the dark backdrop of the dusk. He had a white short-sleeved business shirt, complete with a matching black tie. Black slacks (it seemed that it was the style nowadays) covered his long legs. He was young, by the looks of it, no more than twenty-five. His features were handsome save for a jagged scar running down his right cheek. The young man's arms were crossed tightly around his chest, revealing well-corded forearms. He smiled amiably as Harry came up to them.
The other man was short and squat, the top of his head barely reaching Harry's collarbone. No hair adorned his crown, and a severe, cross expression was stamped upon his face. Harry had the impression that this was his normal countenance. He wore a beige polo, followed with blue jeans. Despite his height, however, Harry could tell he was really muscular. His stout figure probably emphasized his impressive bulk.
The last man was of average height; thin but lean. He was blonde, with two astonishingly blue eyes gracing his fair features. He had on a gray sweatshirt that read: UCLA Bruins. With that and his black shorts, he looked like any other tourist visiting the area. He gave a crooked grin and winked at Harry.
It looked like they had all been pulled at very short notice.
"Good," Daniel stated, adjusting his coat around his towering frame. "Looks like we're all here. Let's be quick with the introductions. Harry, this is Samuel Cunningham," he pointed to the scarred, black-haired man who looked straight out of grad school. Samuel waved a hand casually.
"The short fellow's Rutger Verhouven, one of our associates from the Netherlands. He was vacationing here just like you were."
The Dutchman appraised Harry with a cold glance. He grunted out a greeting then turned away. Apparently, he wasn't too happy with being pulled out from vacation as well.
"The last guy is Damon Parker, an American wizard. The Minister included him at the last minute for reasons still untold. He said he would be a valuable asset."
"So I've heard," the blonde American cut in playfully. He stuck out his hand to Harry, who reluctantly shook it. "This is my first time in Britain, but I've heard about you. You're some sort of superstar here I reckon."
"Something like that," Harry said carefully. As far as he knew, the Wizarding War with Voldemort hadn't reached the ears of the United States.
Damon's eyes roamed across Harry's face, finally stopping at the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry's hand came up to it self-consciously.
"Alright," Daniel said, clearing his throat. "I believe that is sufficient time for introductions. Let's get a move on, shall we?"
Harry disentangled his hand from the American's, joining in step with the lead Auror. Soon, all five of them found themselves following the tall man from South Shields.
"Would you mind telling us where we're going?" Harry asked haltingly, struggling to catch up with the long-legged Auror.
"Lake Windermere has 18 islands, with only one privately owned. They were the first spots investigated by our agents, since they were often secluded from the public at times, especially during the night. Recent activity shows us that a few unidentified persons go to and fro one particular island, Lady Holme. It was once occupied by a chapel in the past. We believe that the victims are taken there, killed, and dumped at strategic points."
"So what, we barge in there and ask questions?" Harry snorted, breathing hard as they walked up and over a steep incline.
"No, Potter, we do not barge in there and ask questions. We do some reconnaissance, watch what happens, and strike when the time is right."
Harry grew silent at that. He was frustrated. He didn't like the prospect of dropping into a potential cooking pot without the proper intelligence. As an Auror, he liked to be prepared. He fumed silently, but otherwise didn't say a word.
They stopped at the lake bank. In the distance, a big lump of island could be seen, shrouded with numerous trees and foliage that blocked further view of the interior.
"Is that Lady Holme?" Harry asked dully.
"She sure is," Daniel replied. He turned to the young Samuel. "Mr. Cunningham, if you would."
"Very well," he answered. He had a very light, young voice, something that didn't discourage Harry's feelings about Samuel going on the excursion.
Samuel breathed deeply, wringing his wrists nervously. He looked at Daniel for affirmation. The tall man nodded.
Samuel vanished from sight. They waited there for a few seconds. Sending one or two Aurors to scout out a location before the whole party went forth was a common tactic in the Ministry.
A white pinprick of light blinked from the shore of the nearby island, slightly unnoticeable against the darkening sky. It was time to go. One by one they Apparated.
Harry felt his feet leave hard pavement and touch soft sand. He looked around. He was on the shores of Lady Holme, along with the other Aurors. The dense foliage ahead of them didn't do anything to lighten their spirits.
"Well," Damon whispered. "There's nothing like a dark forest to cheer us up, right?"
They ignored him.
They moved into the interior of the island, senses on high alert. Rutgers stumbled on something in the dark, causing him to mutter darkly in Dutch.
The forest closed in around them oppressively. There was a small path that allowed some access, but the low trees and wide bushes scraped against the Aurors' bodies. It was horribly silent, not even the familiar rhythm of a cricket disturbed the quiet. Everything was suspiciously still.
Daniel, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped.
He dropped down to a crouch, gesturing for the others to get down also. Harry complied, kneeling down next to Rutgers and Daniel. He looked at the tall man questioningly. Daniel pointed through the underbrush ahead of them.
Harry leaned forward, peering through the dense foliage.
What he saw chilled him to the bone.
A circle of torches were held aloft by darkly-robed figures in a clearing. The orange light cast disturbing shadows across the ground, making things frighteningly surreal. The figures were chanting in a harsh demonic tongue, something that didn't seem right for human mouths. In the center of the ring was a weeping girl, held tight by ropes at her hands and feet. She was strapped to a stone table, her body straining against the binding.
A man stood in front of the table. He was short, slightly shorter than Harry and a little taller than Rutgers. He had a shade of stubble on his pale face, stretching from either side to around his thin lips. Black, almost graying, hair hung carelessly down his forehead. His face was plain-looking, like any middle-aged man in the world. He had a black-and-white suit on, like he was attending a party. Strangely, a loop of rope that resembled a hangman's noose hung around his neck like a tie.
Even as Harry looked at him, everything about the man seemed wrong. His aura reeked of evil and death, something he had not sensed since the days with Voldemort. He too was chanting in that same guttural language.
"What the hell…?" Damon whispered nervously. He was hushed by Samuel, who was pale with fright. Come to think of it, everyone's face was pale with fright. Some serious dark magic was going on here.
The man in the middle reached into his suit pocket and took out a curved knife.
Harry rose to rescue the struggling girl, but Daniel pulled him down roughly. The son of the dead Minister had his eyes locked onto the scene.
The man opened his eyes, and out of nowhere, a pair of green, feline ones opened up above his regular ones.
Damon fell back, cursing quietly in disbelief.
"With this act of sacrifice," the man in the center called out, his voice amplified and mingled with the voice of a woman's. Sickeningly, a pleasured smile appeared on the man's face. "One more death shall be taken for the Dark Prince's sake!"
He lifted the knife high, and the teenage girl gasped into her gag, tears pouring from her shut eyelids.
Harry rose from the bushes, wand outstretched.
"STUPEFY!" he roared.
A lance of red energy erupted from the tip of his wand, racing across the clearing and hitting the crazed man in the sternum. He let out a pained grunt, lifted off the ground and sent flying into the opposite bushes.
It was silent for a few moments.
Then all hell broke loose.
The Aurors leapt out of the undergrowth, brandishing their wands threateningly at the circle of robed figures. At first, they caught them by surprise. Harry caught another one in the chest, the stun spell dropping the robed one easily. Daniel stepped forward, an ugly expression on his face.
"Aguamenti!" cried the tall Auror. A jet of high-powered water streamed from the tip of his wand, hitting another figure squarely in the chest. The high-velocity water tore through the robe, hurling the victim into the air.
The Aurors seemed to have the upper hand. Rutgers and Samuel used a double-Confringo on a group of the robed men and women, creating a ghastly explosion. Damon was nowhere to be seen.
Then, the first one shifted.
The man tore off his robe, revealing a muscular body literally covered in intricate tattoos. The man smiled darkly at the Aurors. He roared, and his body transformed. His limbs grew stockier, more burlier. Yellow fur erupted from his arms and legs, ending in giant, cat-like claws. His face contorted into a demonic mask, resembling a Chinese lion. A tail snaked its way into the open, tipped with a scorpion-like blade.
The new beast stood on its hind legs, easily dwarfing Daniel by width and height. It chuckled evilly, saliva dripping from its open maw. It leaned forward, gave a roar of challenge, and charged.
Rutgers cursed in Dutch, releasing an orb of energy from his wand towards the frighteningly fast monster. It hit its right shoulder, creating an odd popping noise. Flames erupted from where the orb hit, causing the creature to growl in pain. It didn't halt his progress, however.
"Move!" Daniel warned, pushing Harry out of the way.
The beast landed on the spot where they were just mere seconds before. It stamped its paws on the soil maddeningly, foaming at the mouth. It prepared to charge once more, brushing its foot on the ground like a bull.
Rutgers appeared in front of the fallen Harry and Daniel, tiny compared to the massive creature in front of him. He muttered something in Dutch and waved his wand at the crazed monster.
A jet of blue flame sailed towards the burning beast in an arc, slicing at it from shoulder blade to hip. The beast yelped in pain, falling to the ground with a thud. It struggled to douse the fire with its huge paws, but whatever flame Rutgers had conjured didn't seem to extinguish. It intensified, burning the beast in a fiery blaze. It stopped, unmoving save for a few twitches.
Harry gaped.
"He's one of our foremost fire-spell experts," Daniel explained, rising to his feet and helping Harry to his. "The best in his country, and close to the best in ours."
Harry nodded, mesmerized.
A loud boom distracted him from his reverie.
Samuel was locked in battle with two wolf-like monsters with black bat wings. His white dress shirt was stained with soot and blood, yet he fought on. The pair of monsters closed in for the kill, but he countered them with a quick countering spell that sent them to the ground.
Harry approached one as it struggled to rise.
"Confringo," he said calmly, pointing his wand at the monstrosity.
The explosion flattened the beast where it crouched, creating a decent crater. Amazingly, it was still in one piece, but it wouldn't be fighting for a while. Daniel finished off the other one with a stun charm.
Thankfully, most of the robed group had been dealt with before they could make their transformations. The clearing was silent. Daniel approached the bound girl and set her loose with his wand. She made a choking sound, gripping the tall Auror in a desperate embrace. He hugged her back, whispering encouraging words into her ear.
Harry smiled, despite his cuts and bruises.
"Well, well, well, isn't this a lovely thing?" a chilling voice said from the bushes.
They whirled around, wands ready.
The man from the beginning, the head of the group, sat calmly on a jutting boulder, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He had a disturbed smile on his face, and the green eyes from before were gone. He jumped from his perch, walking towards the group of Aurors.
"Stay back!" Daniel ordered, one hand around the girl and the other bearing the wand. The weapon was pointed at the man with force.
Harry, although surprised at how the man could walk away unscathed from a direct Stupefy, pointed his wand also.
Rutgers and Samuel slowly circled him, cutting off all paths of escape. He noticed this, and he chuckled quietly.
"What's so funny?" Samuel snapped, obviously irritated.
"Do you honestly think that you second-rate mages can defeat me?" he asked jovially, winking at the young Auror playfully.
"Don't do it, Samuel!" Daniel warned, but it was too late.
The Auror sent a stream of liquid fire at the short man, the scorching heat felt even by Harry, who stood yards away. The fire hit, engulfing the mysterious man in a blazing inferno. He was a black form amidst the orange-red flame. Samuel stepped back, pleased with his work.
A dark shadow raced across the ground from under the huge fire. It gripped Samuel's ankle tightly, somehow tangible. The young Auror yelped, falling to the floor. He was dragged towards the fire by the long shadow. He cursed, flicking his wand and hitting the dark hand with severing spells. Rutgers aided him, but to no avail. The boy was getting nearer and nearer the flames.
Harry jumped, grabbing his comrade's waist. He wouldn't let another Auror die on his hands. Too many of his friends died when he wasn't there to help them. He held tightly, muscles straining to keep her there.
"K-Keep…holding…on!" Harry gasped, finding himself being dragged along with the black-haired young man. The shadow was astonishingly strong; it was pulling two grown men without much effort.
Samuel's actions were beginning to get desperate. His breathing was hitched and labored, his eyes wide as the conflagration grew closer and closer.
"Daniel!" Harry cried through gritted teeth. "Douse the fire!"
"B-but-"
"JUST DO IT!"
"FINE!"
The towering Auror took a stance, holding his wand with both hands. A vein popped as he chanted the incantation.
"Aqua Erecto!" he roared.
The water erupted from the tip of his wand, spraying forcefully on the flames. The fire was quickly doused, revealing the man. Shockingly, his clothes were barely even burnt, and he wore a smug grin on his face. He gestured with his hand, releasing the shadow from Samuel's leg and back to him. It melded back into his body with a squelch.
"Finished?" he asked lightly.
"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Harry snarled, helping the pale Samuel to his feet.
"Very much so," he answered, crossing his arms. "Now that you mention it, I haven't had this much fun in this nation since the Dark Ages."
Everyone froze.
"W-Who are you?" Samuel whispered, breathing heavily.
The man smiled and gave an elegant bow.
"I am known by many names, but I prefer to go by Nicodemus Archleone," he replied. Nicodemus straightened. "How do you do?"
His shadow lunged once more, aimed straight for Harry Potter.
AN: Good cliff hanger, eh? Anyways, please read and review, it would be very much appreciated! Ask any questions on the review board! NO FLAMES, ONLY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITIQUE! Second chapter coming soon!