Hellfire in New York

by Argonaut57

Even with the war over, and Voldemort dead, Harry's adventures are not over. When a call for help comes from their friends the X-Men, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione respond at once. They will face not only rogue mutants and dark wizards, but Hell itself!

Hellfire in New York

Chapter One: The Sorting of Ororo Monroe

Harry Potter walked into the Gryffindor common room and looked around him. The summer sun was shining in through the open windows, gilding the panels and the old furniture, and spotlighting the dust-motes that danced in the air. I'll miss the old place, Harry thought. Some of the best and worst times of his life had taken place in this room.

In three days' time, he would leave Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the last time. His NEWTs were behind him and the future beckoned – a future without shadow because, five months ago, he, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had stood, battered, bloody and indomitable, at the top of the Astronomy Tower. They had stood and watched as the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, stripped of his powers and aging rapidly, had shrieked his mad hatred at the heavens. They had stood and watched, too weak to intervene, as a bitter, disappointed old man named Tom Riddle had flung himself from the Tower to land in a broken heap on the lawn below.

A few moments later, a crowd of students and staff had burst through the door into the tower. They had found the four young people locked together in a tight embrace – not speaking, not laughing, not crying – just being there for each other as they always had been.

Professor McGonagall had turned to the stocky figure at her side. "Poor Albus was right, Logan. Look at those four! It was love, their unconditional love for each other, that made this possible."

Wolverine had replied in a voice very different from his usual gruffness, "Albus was right about a lot of things, Minerva. Even about going down into that dungeon when he knew he'd never come out."

Harry came back out of his memories as a small, flame-haired figure darted across the room into his arms. "Harry!" Ginny Weasley cried delightedly. "I thought you'd be ages in the Library!" She pulled his head down and kissed him soundly. When he came up for air, Harry shook his head and smiled down at her. "I was lucky. There was almost nobody inside. I was able to hand my books in straightaway and come right back."

The common room wasn't terribly full, even though classes had ended for the term. Most people were outside, but as Ginny and Harry walked further into the room, Parvati Patil waved indolently from the sofa where she lay reading a Muggle paperback. Ron Weasley was sitting at the big table, hunched in concentration over the electronic chess game he'd been given the year before by the Mutant students of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

"Are you winning, Ron?" asked Harry. Ron grunted without looking up. Harry and Ginny shared a droll look, then, without turning his head, Harry said, "Hi, Hermione."

From behind him, Hermione Granger said in a puzzled voice, "How did you do that, Harry? Have you suddenly grown eyes on the back of your head?"

"Not really," he replied. "You came up behind me across a wooden floor, and between me and an open window. I recognised you by your walk and your smell."

For a moment, there was dead silence. Then Ron, who had looked up when Hermione spoke, put his head in his arms on the table, shaking with suppressed laughter. Parvati flopped over onto her stomach on the couch, burying her giggles in a cushion. Ginny stretched up, nipped Harry's earlobe with her strong white teeth and whispered, "You are so dead, lover!"

Hermione was indignant. "You recognised my smell? Oh, thank you so very much, Mr Potter! Have you turned into Wolverine all of a sudden, or—" her voice became dangerous, "are you implying that I should bathe more often?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For cryin' out loud!" he replied, in a fair imitation of Logan's irritable growl, "Didn't you ever pay attention in Danger Room, Hermione?"

This ignited a fresh paroxysm in Ron. Danger Room at Xavier's was the only class in which both he and Harry had ever consistently out-performed Hermione. Harry turned to face his friend, whose look of indignation was beginning to fade as she realised she was being teased.

Harry grinned at her. "You don't have to have enhanced senses," he told her. "You just need to use the ones you have." He began ticking off points on his fingers. "Your mum sends you a big box of Muggle products every month because she worries you'll be allergic to other stuff. You use Timotei shampoo and conditioner, Camay soap, Dove moisturiser and Mum anti-perspirant, the pink kind. You alternate between two perfumes on ordinary days. One is Starlight Nymph, which Ron bought you for Christmas in our fifth year. You've been using it ever since, though whether it's because you like it or for scent-imental" (everyone groaned at the pun) "reasons, I don't know. The other is Charlie, which you've been wearing since you were thirteen. On special occasions you wear the Chanel No.9 Ron got you for your last birthday, or the Calvin Klein the Xavier's lot gave you for Christmas last."

Harry went over to Hermione, who was now gazing at him in astonishment, and put his arms round her shoulders. "It's a unique combination, luv; to me, it just screams 'Hermione'! When I first knew you, you used to smell of ink, parchment, library dust and chocolate. Now, there's always a whiff of Ron's after-shave around when I get close to you."

Hermione hugged Harry and shook her head at him. "It's a good job I love you so much, Harry, or I'd have killed you before you got a chance to explain!" Then she glanced past him at Ginny, "Do I have your permission to kiss this man?"

"Always," said Ginny, "but no tongues, mind, except at Christmas and birthdays."

Hermione giggled, then kissed Harry warmly on the lips before releasing him and going to drape herself over Ron, who promptly pulled her into his lap and began to nuzzle and kiss her neck. "You shouldn't do that in front of people," she objected.

As Harry perched on the edge of the table, and Ginny leaned back against him, wriggling herself between his knees, he put his arms round her and listened to Hermione murmuring to Ron, "I said you shouldn't do it in front of people, darling. I didn't tell you to stop."

Parvati sat up and asked, "Have you lot decided what you're doing this summer?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron, Ginny and I will be going to the Burrow for a week or two, and Hermione will be at her parents' house. Then, after that, I'll be based at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, Ororo and Remus. Ron and Hermione will be there, too, for a while at least…."

"Until we can find a flat," Hermione clarified.

Ginny shook her head. "Forget it, Hermione. Sirius has a ton of room in that old house, and he'll be miffed if you decide not to stay there – not to mention the fact that Ororo won't hear of you moving out!"

"She's right, you know," Harry added, noting, "I still have all the legal stuff about Godric's Hollow to sort out. Then I'll have to look over the place and start getting it into shape. Auror training starts in September – we've all three of us been accepted provisionally – just as Ginny starts back here."

Ginny sighed when Harry mentioned Auror training. She had so wanted him to become a professional Quidditch player. His performance during the last season had been utterly brilliant, his natural talents enhanced by his X-Man training. Scouts from the top League teams had offered him dream contracts, but he'd refused them all. Ginny had argued furiously with him, and withdrawn in a mighty sulk that had lasted almost twenty-four hours – a personal record – before accepting that he'd never change his mind. Harry was a man who needed a mission and, as much as he loved Quidditch, to him it was only a pastime, not a career. The gods damn you, Tom Riddle, she thought fiercely, damn you to the blackest pits of Tartarus for twisting my Harry's life out of shape!

"On top of all that," Ron was saying, "Wolverine wants all four of us over at Xavier's at some point for a week's refresher training."

"All four of us?" asked Ginny. Harry gave her a little squeeze. "'Fraid so, chuck. You're an X-Man now, Firebird!" Ginny swallowed hard; she'd heard all about Wolverine's training sessions except how to survive them.

Just then, Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown came into the room, chuckling quietly between themselves at something. Neville glanced up, saw Harry, and came straight over.

"Harry! I've been on the lookout for you, mate. McGonagall gave me a message a few minutes ago. Asks you to go to her study 'at your earliest convenience'!"

Harry grimaced. "That means ten minutes ago!" He kissed Ginny's hair. "Got to go, pet. Back as quick as I can."

"Oh, bum!" said Ginny, turning and putting her arms round his neck. "I was hoping we could go for a little wander outside…" and find a secluded spot to make love, her eyes added.

Harry grinned ruefully and kissed her again. "Later," he promised. "Catch you all in a bit!" he called over his shoulder as he set off briskly.

The summons was an imperative one, but even so, Harry paused as he passed through the Great Hall. It had not been so long since the fall of Voldemort that he could walk past the two plaques set into the wall without stopping for a moment.

The larger one was of black marble covered with gold lettering:

To the Honoured Dead

In Proud Memory of those

Staff, Students and Former Students of

Hogwarts School

Who Fell in the Defence of the Wizarding World

March 1997

Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster

Severus Snape – Head of Slytherin House

Dean Thomas – Gryffindor House

Luna Lovegood – Ravenclaw House

Justin Finch-Fletchley – Hufflepuff House

Pansy Parkinson – Slytherin House

Percy Weasley

Alastor Moody

Arranged around the plaque were a series of small, oval portraits. Dumbledore gave Harry a proud smile, Snape sniffed, and Moody produced a nod of grudging respect. Percy Weasley shrugged at Harry with a "What am I doing here?" look on his face. Dean grinned and winked; Justin gave a cheery thumbs up and Luna smiled and waved.

Harry came to Pansy last. She had died in his arms, struggling to find him and warn him of Voldemort's presence even as Millicent Bulstrode's Stoneheart Curse slowly petrified her from within. At the very last, she had begged him for one kiss, telling him, "I've always loved you, Harry." He had kissed her, and she had slipped away smiling. He forced himself to look at her portrait, to acknowledge her tender smile and the kiss she blew him.

Eyes blurring, Harry looked down at the flowers, magically preserved from the Memorial Service, which lay at the foot of the plaque. A posy of magnolias caught his eye, and he bent to read the card: To Severus Snape, a great teacher and a kind and brave man. The best dancing partner a girl could wish for. Love always, Marie. Rogue had been heartbroken to hear of Snape's death, Harry knew. He sighed, and moved on to the next plaque.

This one was smaller, and of white marble, but with the same golden letters:

This Tribute to the Living

is

Set Here in Gratitude to

Honour Those Not of Our World

Who Nonetheless Fought in its Defence

For the Sake of Friendship

March 1997

Scott Summers

Logan

Alison Blair

Danielle Moonstar

Roberto DaCosta

We were lucky, Harry thought. Logan – Wolverine – was a frequent visitor to Hogwarts, either to drink with his friend Severus Snape, or to talk over old times with a rediscovered one, Albus Dumbledore. The feral Canadian Mutant had been there on that fateful day, and had accompanied his friends into the deepest dungeon of the Castle, where a force of Death Eaters and Trolls was preparing to come on the rear of their defences. The only living thing to come out of that dungeon had been Logan.

Alison – Dazzler – had been at Hogwarts spending time with her wizard boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan. Roberto – Sunspot – had been there to show Harry some new skateboarding tricks, to tease Hermione and flirt with Ginny, Parvati and Lavender. His girlfriend Dani – Psyche – had come with him for a good old gossip with her Hogwarts friends and, being Dani, to flirt madly with Ron, Harry, Neville and any other boy who caught her mischievously roving eye! All three had been urged to leave when the alarm sounded, but had refused, lending their considerable courage and formidable Mutant powers to the defence.

Scott Summers – Cyclops – had been in London. The previous summer, a mixed force of wizards and X-Men had confronted Voldemort, his Death Eaters and the green-skinned behemoth called The Incredible Hulk at what had become known as the Battle of Salazar's Keep. One member of the wizard force had been the French witch, Fleur Delacour. Fleur had been intrigued by the handsome leader of the X-Men and Scott, in turn, had become fascinated by the beautiful, young witch. The two had fallen passionately in love, Scott finally shedding his brooding grief for his dead love, Jean Grey. So it was that he was in London with Fleur, visiting Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, and his witch-Mutant lover, Ororo Monroe – Storm – when Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange attacked the Ministry of Magic. All four had contributed valiantly to the defence, but had been unable to save the lives of Percy Weasley and 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

Harry went on his way, a little heartened. If nothing else, in his short, eventful life, he had made some good friends!

Arriving at the Headmistress' study, Harry found three other students waiting outside. Padma Patil greeted him with a quick, unexpected, hug. "Harry! How are you?" she asked.

"Fair to middling," Harry said, grinning down at her. He had always thought Padma less pretty than her Gryffindor twin, but now he realised that he'd been wrong. Padma had just seemed that way because she was more serious and shy than Parvati. Now, however, her eyes were sparkling and her face animated. "Looking good, Padma!" he told her. "George must be looking after you."

"Oh, he is!" Padma said enthusiastically.

Harry looked over at the other two students. Susan Bones greeted him with a nod and a smile. She had been talking with Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin Harry hardly knew. Daphne had taken over the leadership of the 'Loyal Slytherins' when Pansy was killed; she'd Obliviated Millicent Bulstrode, who was likely to stay in St Mungo's for the rest of her life. Daphne didn't speak, but nodded gravely and respectfully to Harry.

"Anybody know why we're here?" Susan asked. Daphne shook her head, and Padma shrugged. "Not a clue," Padma said, "and there's nobody here to give us the password."

"Actually, I can do that," put in Harry. "Professor McGonagall told it me in case I ever needed to talk with her about…what happened." He turned to the gargoyle and said, "Lapsang Souchong!" The gargoyle leapt aside and the door opened.

"Finally, Mr Potter!" Headmistress McGonagall called from inside. "Well, come in, all of you."

The study was already quite crowded. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were there, as were two newer members of staff. One was tall, craggy Professor Hugo Murgatroyd, who had taken over Defence Against the Dark Arts the previous year, and had now succeeded Severus Snape as head of Slytherin House. Harry rather liked the laconic former Auror. The other was the newest and youngest member of staff, slender, copper-haired Professor Jessica Crowe, Potions mistress and new Head of Gryffindor House.

Professor Crowe's appointment was the first warning to the world at large that Headmistress McGonagall was continuing her illustrious predecessor's tradition for controversy. In her early 30s and very attractive, Jessica Crowe was a gifted teacher, but her penchant for wearing Muggle-style mini skirts and tight sweaters under her teaching robes raised more than a few conservative eyebrows. This was also true of her dealings with students, which were relaxed and informal to a degree previously unknown at Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick had been dumbstruck to learn that Professor Crowe not only addressed senior students by their given names, but expected them to call her Jessica in return!

For now, however, Harry spared only a glance for the teachers. His attention was drawn to a group by the fireside – three people, all of whom he loved in one way or another. He went over eagerly, to be engulfed in a lung-emptying hug from Molly Weasley, the woman who had been like a mother to him for years.

She planted a smacking kiss on his cheek, then held him away from her and inspected him, head tilted to one side. "You're looking well, Harry, but you're so thin still! Are you eating properly?"

"I'm trying," he told her, "but sitting next to Ron at meals is like being beside a black hole! Everything edible just gets sucked in and vanishes."

"What's a black hole?" Molly wanted to know. Another woman stepped forward, saying, "I'll explain later, Molly. Right now, let me say hello to my godson!"

Ororo Monroe was still the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen, but that was not why he readily returned her warm embrace, kissing her on both cheeks. Storm was family now. She reached up and attempted to smooth his unruly black hair, then turned to the man close beside her. "Look, hon, the scar's almost gone!"

Sirius Black nodded gravely as he and Harry clasped hands. "One less trace of Voldemort in the world! Everything going well, Harry?"

Harry allowed that it was, while studying Sirius. His godfather was still lean and wiry, even as Harry himself was, but he had gained a little weight. His face was relaxed, less deeply lined now, and his eyes had lost the hunted look that had been in them since his escape from Azkaban Prison so many years ago. Part of the reason was that Sirius had been finally cleared of the false charges of treason and murder that had led to his imprisonment. He was once again a respected member of the wizarding community and head of the ancient House of Black. The rest of his new happiness was embodied in the beautiful elemental Mutant-witch beside him.

Sirius and Ororo had met in the Tower of Salazar's Keep, and had been instantly attracted to each other. That relationship had grown and blossomed for almost a year now, and showed no signs of weakening. Storm had taken advantage of this to firmly install herself as Harry's 'godmother', starting a friendly rivalry with Molly as to who could shower more affection on the boy. Harry was long past being embarrassed by this – he just wallowed in it!

Professor McGonagall clapped her hands sharply. "Could I have everyone's attention, please? I suppose I had better explain matters.

"As you will be aware, last year Hogwarts School took part in an exchange scheme with Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in the United States. Among many positive outcomes of this scheme was the opportunity I had to meet Miss Ororo Monroe, here. As a result of this meeting, I was able to determine that, as well as being a Mutant, Ororo is also a born witch. She decided to come to England to undertake magical training, and has made remarkable progress.

"Which brings us to the purpose of this gathering. For the last thousand years, most of the witches and wizards of Britain have passed through this school, in the process being sorted into one of our four Houses. That initial affiliation has come to last beyond the student's departure from the school. It provides adult wizards with a built-in social circle and support network, and influences such things as career choice and even selection of marriage partner.

"However, there have always been a minority of wizards who remain unaware of their abilities until adulthood. These people do not come to Hogwarts, but are trained individually under the supervision of two wizard mentors, who act where necessary in loco parentis. This system works well enough, except in one respect. A witch or wizard who has not been to Hogwarts, and is not therefore a member of any House can, quite without any malice or intention, find themselves socially isolated and at something of a disadvantage. Therefore, some seven hundred years ago, it was decided that a special, private Sorting Ceremony would be instituted for these people.

"Over the years, the full ceremony has fallen into disuse. Adult candidates nowadays come here during the school holidays with their mentors, and are Sorted. However, in the case of Ororo, I have decided to invoke the full ceremony. I have done so in order to mark and honour her contribution to the safety and well being of our world, even before she became a part of it. Ororo has demonstrated her valour and loyalty twice: at the Battle of Salazar's Keep, and in the defence of the Ministry last spring.

"The full ceremony calls for the candidate, Miss Monroe, to attend with her mentors, in this case Mrs Weasley and Mr Black. It also requires the Sorting to be witnessed by the Heads of the four Houses, and by an active senior student, of the same gender as the candidate, from each House."

Daphne raised a hand. "Excuse me, Professor, but I believe Potter here is male!"

"No shit, Sherlock," muttered Padma out of the corner of her mouth, making Susan giggle.

McGonagall huffed, "I was coming to that, Miss Greengrass. Mr Potter is clearly male, as Miss Patil indicates, though I must deprecate the inelegance with which she expressed herself!"

Harry winced at the look the Headmistress shot him. The expression was a favourite one of Kitty Pryde's, and Harry had picked it up during their brief romance. It had rather caught on at Hogwarts, Sherlock Holmes being one of the few Muggles well known and respected in the wizarding world. Holmes had resolved the famous Baskerville Case, in which an unlicensed Animagus had hired himself out to scare Muggles.

McGonagall was speaking again. "The gender requirement can be waived where a family relationship exists. Ororo is adamant that Mr Potter is her godson, and though this stretches the definition of 'family' somewhat, on this occasion I have decided to allow the waiver. Otherwise, of course, Miss Granger would be here."

Ouch! thought Harry. I'm going to catch it from Hermione for this!

"Now then, shall we begin?" said McGonagall. "Ororo, if you could sit here? Thank you. Let's have Mr Black on your right and Mrs Weasley on your left."

Harry suddenly realised that the three adults were all in dress robes. Molly's was deep green, Sirius was in grey with a Celtic motif picked out in silver, and Ororo wore a simple white robe with what Harry took to be African tribal patterns embroidered in gold thread. He was suddenly acutely conscious of his own appearance – a rather worn school robe he had nearly grown out of over t-shirt and jeans. Oh, well, if she wanted me in dress robes, she should have said!

"Staff members form a semi-circle here, in front of the chair," McGonagall directed. "Students in front and slightly to the right of your Head of House. Splendid. Now we can proceed."

Ororo, for the first time in years, was nervous! She was afraid that somehow she would let Sirius, Molly, Harry and Minerva down – all the people who had been so kind to her and meant so much to her. She watched as Minerva took the large, battered, ancient Sorting Hat down from its shelf. What if the thing rejected her? She was a Mutant, after all, and the Hat was a vestige of ancient wizardry that might despise her! Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded in her head: Calmly, Ororo. There is nothing to be afraid of!

Charles? You're here?

In spirit, or mind at least. I watch over all my 'children', Ororo, you should know that. You will be fine, dear girl.

He's right, Ororo! Came another mental 'voice'. Ororo looked across in surprise, to see Harry wink and grin at her. Xavier's mental presence was warm, fatherly, powerful beyond belief, but Harry shone like a star in her mind. Ororo felt a surge of fierce love for both of them, her 'father' and her adopted godson. Buoyed by this, she faced Minerva squarely as the Headmistress lowered the Hat onto her head.

Rather to Ororo's surprise, the Hat completely covered her face, leaving her in an oddly comfortable darkness. After a second, a dry, aged but kindly voice spoke in her ear.

"What have we here? An adult for Sorting! Excellent, let me see where we can put you, my dear!

"Not Slytherin, I think, though your blood is almost pure. Not Hufflepuff, either – you are too much of air and fire for that earthy House. A mind of no common order, perhaps a Ravenclaw? But fire is stronger than air in you."

Ororo couldn't help herself. "You sound like Professor Dumbledore," she murmured.

There was a pause, then the Hat replied, "Child, you have divined our secret! I, we, are all the Headmasters this school has ever had. Our spirits, our memories, our accumulated wisdom, live on in this battered old Hat. How else could we make the most important decision in any young wizard's life?

"But as for you, daughter of chieftains and priestesses, sister to the proud lion of your homeland, Queen in exile, we choose for you….GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a burst of applause. As the Hat was lifted from her head, Ororo saw Harry gesture triumphantly and hiss "Yes!" Professor Crowe cuffed him playfully on the back of the head, smiling at Ororo. There was something hauntingly familiar about the Head of Gryffindor House, but Ororo couldn't put her finger on just what it was.

Then Sirius was kissing her passionately – in front of everyone! Ororo didn't give a damn. After that, Molly hugged her, and Harry followed suit. There was even a slightly stiff but sincere embrace from McGonagall. Finally, Harry took Ororo over to greet her new Head of House,

"Professor Crowe, Ororo Monroe."

"Sometimes known as Storm, I understand? Harry here talks about you and his other X-Men friends all the time. Welcome to Gryffindor house, Ororo, I'm Jessica, and if you need anything, just ask!"

Storm returned the warm handclasp. Professor Crowe was looking at her, head slightly to one side. Ororo noticed that her right eye was a sparkling blue, but the left had a strange golden hue. The professor frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, but have we met before? There's something awfully familiar about you, Ororo."

Ororo nodded. "I know. I almost recognise you, too. How strange!"

Jessica shrugged. "Y'know, I bet we passed each other, or saw each other in a shop or something in Diagon Alley. You're far too striking for anyone who's seen you to forget. Guess we'll never know. Harry, you'd better take our newest member to the common room to meet her Housemates."

"OK, Jessica. Sirius, are you coming, too?"

Sirius shook his head, explaining, "No, Harry. I'll let you kids have Ororo to yourselves for a bit. I've got to speak to Minerva anyway. But, later on, I want a chat with you, son. I've found out some things that you ought to know."

Harry frowned slightly. He'd thought with Voldemort gone that all the troubles in his world would be over for a while, but Sirius's expression and tone said otherwise. Now, however, he had a more pleasant task, and happily guided Ororo through the Castle to Gryffindor Tower. He would have liked her first view of the common room to be an ideal one: happy, chattering, hard-working students sitting around with scrubbed faces and neat robes. Instead, the scene that met them on entry was all too typical.

Seamus was sitting at one end of the table, building an elaborate structure with some playing cards, and trying to ignore the 'helpful' hints being shouted at him by the Kings, Queens and Jacks. Lavender was perched on the other end, head thrown far back, and giggling while Neville (for reasons Harry couldn't fathom) tried to balance a square of Honeyduke's chocolate on her nose.

Hermione and Ron were at least fairly decorous. Hermione, in t-shirt and shorts, was sitting sideways on the settee, her slim bare legs thrown casually over Ron's muscular thighs where he sat next to her. She was reading a Muggle novel with rather a lurid cover, while he was poring over the new edition of What Broom? Parvati still lolled on the other sofa.

On one arm of a nearby armchair, a copy of the Prophet lay open at the crossword, while across the other arm a slim, denim-clad rear pointed skyward. By moving slightly, Harry could see a Gryffindor Second Year named Kylie Barrett, hanging over the edge of the chair, trying to retrieve a dropped quill. What Kylie couldn't see was Ginny, across the room, gently flicking her wand and causing the quill to inch away from Kylie's fingers every time she got close.

"Visitor!" Harry announced loudly, causing complete chaos. Hermione and Ron both looked up, faces lighting with delighted grins at the sight of Ororo. Lavender's head whipped round, and the chocolate flew off her nose, hitting Seamus' structure, which collapsed amid a storm of protest from the pasteboard royalty. Ginny jumped, wand in mid flick. The quill shot up into the air; Kylie went "Woop!", grabbed for it, lost her balance, did a clumsy somersault and landed with a thump on the carpet. Ginny promptly dashed over to help the younger girl and dust her off, saying, "Kylie! I'm sorry! Are you OK?" The image was faintly ridiculous, since the willowy Kylie was already within a whisker of Ginny's petite 5' 2".

A chagrined Harry turned to Ororo. "Welcome to the ancient and noble House of Gryffindor!"

"Thank you, Harry," Storm managed, before collapsing into the nearest chair, howling with laughter.

The afternoon was a pleasant one, followed by a convivial dinner, made more so by Sirius and Ororo's decision to sit at the Gryffindor table, rather than the staff one, so Harry was in a mellow mood when he joined Sirius under a beech tree on the grounds.

Sirius sighed, wistfully recalling, "We used to sit under here, the four of us, back in the day."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You did? Y'know, Ron and Hermione and I have spent a lot of time under this tree, too. Funny thing, life. But you said you had something to tell me, Sirius?"

Sirius began by asking, "You know I work for the Ministry, now?"

"Yeah, sort of an unofficial troubleshooter style of thing, right?"

"Yes, I do things the Aurors won't or can't. Anyway, you heard Narcissa was murdered?"

Harry nodded. "The Malfoys have hit a bad streak, not that they don't deserve it. I heard Lucius killed himself in Azkaban, and I know Draco's disappeared completely."

Sirius grunted. "I'm not sure how Lucius died, but Narcissa was definitely murdered, shot at close range with a Muggle weapon, I'm told – a .38 calibre revolver, whatever that might be. We had to get a Muggle what-d'you-call-it, forensic something, in to tell us that much. The back of her head was all blown out, very nasty!" Sirius shuddered, then looked at Harry, who'd gone pale. "I'm sorry, son. I forgot for a moment you knew her, didn't you?"

Harry said softly, "Better than I ever wanted to. She was…very lovely, but her heart was as black as sin!"

"She tried to seduce you last summer, didn't she? Harry, I've never asked you this, but…how far did you two get? You don't have to say if you don't want to."

Harry exhaled heavily. "She flashed her boobs at me; we kissed. Then I knocked her out – there's a trick Wolverine taught us where you press on someone's neck. Mind you, if it hadn't been for Professor X—"

Sirius knew about Xavier's telepathic intervention. He also knew that Xavier had triggered Harry's own limited telepathic abilities to allow him to 'see' Narcissa's plans for him. At Ron and Hermione's urging, Harry had confided in his godfather regarding this ability, which Harry was sure had been a result of his childhood encounter with Voldemort.

After a moment, Sirius went on with his story. "Well, anyway, we first thought that a Muggle had broken into Malfoy Manor to rob the place, killing Narcissa in the process. There was an empty chest near the body, you see. So the Aurors called in some Muggle police – a special squad who deal with crimes that cross between our worlds. But then they realised that there was no way a Muggle could have done this. Whoever killed Narcissa must have Flooed or Apparated in, straight past the magical defences. Nobody but a wizard could have done that."

"Not true," Harry disagreed. "I know four people at least, none of them wizards, who could get in almost anywhere."

Sirius admitted, "I thought of that, too. But Kitty, Hank or Kurt wouldn't kill anyone, and Logan would have used his claws. So unless it was some Mutant we don't know about, we're left with a wizard.

"I was brought into it because Narcissa was family. I thought there was something fishy, because she was killed almost exactly a week after Lucius apparently hanged himself. Also, it was months between Voldemort's fall and Lucius' suicide, which made it hard for me to believe Malfoy had killed himself just because the Dark Lord was gone."

"And it was about then," Harry interrupted, "that Draco vanished from school. He hadn't taken part in the fight, which after what he told me last summer was no surprise. He's got his own agenda; I just wish I knew what! You don't think he…?"

Sirius looked at the young man beside him. "And they call Hermione the clever one!

"Look, Harry, Narcissa wrote to me after Lucius died, begging me to come and see her. She had something important to tell me, she said. She was killed the day before I planned to visit her. When I saw the place, that chest was the only thing that had been touched in the place, and all that was left in it was one bit of torn parchment with the word 'Knights' on it.

"So I went digging on my own, because Remus was following up some other business. He's obsessed with finding Bellatrix, Rookwood and, especially, Pettigrew, you know. I was daft enough to go into Knockturn Alley alone. There's still a lot of Death Eaters around, lying low and making trouble when they can, and eight of them jumped me. I was doing what I could – holding my own – but I was expecting to get hit in the back any second. But it didn't happen! I put down the ones in front of me, just in time to turn and see the last of the others hitting the ground."

"Tonks?" Harry guessed, but Sirius shook his head. "No, it was your friend, the Wolverine. He'd been in the Leaky Cauldron, raising a glass or two to absent friends, he told me, and saw me come in. He also spotted two blokes following me, so he followed them. I never thought I'd see one Muggle take down four wizards without a scratch!"

Harry gave a bark of laughter. "Logan's not exactly a Muggle, Sirius! I don't think there's anybody quite like him – he scares the Hell out of me, you know. But Hermione thinks he's a sweetheart, and I don't think Ron's ever had a teacher he liked better. Did you know Wolverine's over a hundred years old? Apparently, he and Dumbledore did some stuff together in 1943! That's what he told Hermione at the Memorial Service, anyway."

"Well," said Sirius, "he's certainly a good man to have around in a tight spot! He stuck with me after that, and we did our digging together. We've become quite good friends, actually, so you'll be seeing quite a bit of him at Grimmauld Place.

"But as to what we found out: It seems that there's been a secret society of Purebloods operating in the wizard world for hundreds of years. They call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis, and they've been manipulating events from behind the scenes since forever. There are thirteen Knights, and they all have people loyal to them, like a kind of web spreading all throughout our world.

"Voldemort was just a puppet to these people! They were using that madman to further their own aims. When he fell, they should have just carried on.

"But something's gone wrong. As far as I can tell, the Malfoys were always the leaders of the Knights. When Lucius went to Azkaban, Narcissa took over, but now she's dead. Not only that, but other people are…well, things are happening to them. Some wizards, all from old Pureblood families, are dropping out of sight. A couple have left the country; others have died suddenly or been revealed as Death Eaters and carted off to Azkaban. Also, money is moving around in strange ways. Bill and Fleur have been following that up for me – they're talking again, by the way, when Fleur and Tonks aren't playing 'my man's better than yours'. That makes Scott and Bill bust a gut laughing!

"But anyway, Draco Malfoy did turn up again. Walked into Gringotts bold as brass two days after Narcissa died, and claimed his parents' estate. The Aurors took him in, but he's got a cast-iron alibi."

"Crabbe or Goyle?" asked Harry

"The Notts. He says that when he fell out with his mother, he went to stay with them. They swear he was with them all that evening. Nothing was ever proved against the Notts, you know, so the Aurors had to take it at face value. Besides, the killing was done with a Muggle weapon, and nobody wants to believe a Pureblood wizard would use one, not to mention the idea that Draco would murder his own mother is hard for a lot of people to swallow."

Harry snorted. "Not do it himself, would he? Still, I wouldn't put it past him to bribe a Muggle to do the job, then Floo him in and out remotely, or something."

"You've a twisted mind, boy!" Sirius reproved.

"Comes of hanging around with Ron, I think. So what's Draco up to?"

"Merlin knows! But he's sold Malfoy Manor, and bought himself some old pile way to Hell and gone in the middle of Dartmoor. He's not been seen around Diagon Alley, either.

"Look, Harry, this is just fair warning, all right? You'll be an Auror soon enough, and if Malfoy is up to anything underhand, you'll be on his hit-list!"

"Or his wish list," said Harry wryly. "Last summer, he asked me to join up with him, you know? Reckoned we could rule the world between us, with Voldemort gone."

"Did he now? We'll talk about this another time, Harry. Right now, though, Ginny's hovering just out of earshot, and if looks could maim, you'd be putting my bits in a basket about now! Go and make it up to her, son, and give her a kiss for me. I'll see you tomorrow, before Ororo and I leave."

Harry waved over to Ginny, then got up. "One more question, Sirius. What does Remus think about all this?"

Sirius held out his hands. "I've not spoken to him about it yet. Remus is in New York."

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 2: "The Fiendish Plot of the Black Queen"

The man sitting at the window table of the quiet restaurant in New York stood to shake hands heartily with his guests. The three sat down, ordered drinks from the hovering waiter, and began chatting while they perused the menus.

"You're looking well, Remus," remarked Hank McCoy. Remus Lupin nodded and smiled. "I'm feeling better than I have in ages."

Remus' hair was a little too grey for a man in his mid-thirties, but he had put on a few pounds lately, and his face was not so haggard. His eyes had lost the hint of exhaustion and fear that they had held for so long.

McCoy shook his head and grinned. "I can't get used to you like that, you know!" A stocky, powerful-looking man about the same age as Remus, Hank had a chubby, amiable face, thick, brown hair, and a pair of round glasses perched on his snub nose – glasses he seemed to look over most of the time, rather than through.

The third man, who had been studying the form of a pretty waitress, joined the conversation. He looked to be in his early twenties, with the wiry build of a dancer or an acrobat, and dark, curly hair. His face was keen, sharp, and in a certain light (as he often reminded people) looked a little like a young Errol Flynn. When he spoke, it was with a light but definite German accent. "So, mein freund," he said, "what is the cause of your new lease on life?"

Remus explained, "It seems that You-Know-Who had managed to recruit a number of werewolves to his cause – no surprise there. One of them was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who bit me when I was a child. It seems that, like vampires, werewolves can exert subtle pressures on others they've 'sired' in that way. Greyback was calling all his 'children' to him. It was fighting that call subconsciously that was wearing me out."

"Ah!" said Kurt Wagner. "Then once Harry dealt with Voldemort…?"

"Fenrir had other things on his mind," finished Remus. "Both the Aurors and the other Death Eaters were after him. He started concentrating on saving his own mangy hide! So now, all I have to worry about is being somewhere safe, with the proper potion, every full moon."

"Not quite all," ventured Hank, "or we wouldn't be here. It's always a pleasure to see you, Remus, but we could have met up, as we've done so often before, at Xavier's or Grimmauld Place. Also, you usually give us more notice than this. So, what's up?"

"You're as astute as ever, Hank," Remus acknowledged. "The fact is, I'm here on business, sort of."

"Sort of?" enquired Kurt. "I thought the Order of the Phoenix had been dissolved?"

"It has. I work for the Ministry now. Technically, I'm supposed to be locating other werewolves so that they can be helped or, if need be, eliminated. But that's not exactly what brought me here." Remus paused while they ordered dinner, then continued. "Look, I've spoken to you before about Bellatrix Lestrange, yes?"

Hank nodded. "She's one of Voldemort's most trusted lieutenants, you told us, and rumored to be his mistress?"

"Correct," Remus replied. "Bellatrix is a very clever, dangerous woman in her own right, though she was so besotted with her Dark Lord that her judgement got clouded towards the end. Anyway, she led the force that made a diversionary attack on the Ministry last spring. We tried to capture her, but she gave us the slip, along with two others.

"One, Augustus Rookwood, was a spy for years in the Ministry. Since he escaped from Azkaban, though, he's been little more than a psychopathic killer. Bella will be using him as an enforcer and bodyguard, I'm sure.

"The other is Peter Pettigrew," Remus' voice was suddenly harsh, his face twisted and bitter, "also called Wormtail." He seemed reluctant to say more, but Hank was having none of it.

"If we're to help you, and you know we will, you have to trust us. Tell us all of it, my friend. It helps, I know."

Remus sighed, and then looked up from his plate, his eyes far away. "There were four of us, back then. We called ourselves 'Marauders', and we were up for any kind of mischief you can name. The group included Sirius Black, James Potter, me, and Peter Pettigrew."

"Sirius we know," said Kurt, nodding. "He's good people. James Potter…Was he Harry's dad? If he was anything like his son, he must have been quite a specimen!"

Remus smiled sadly. "Yes and no. There's a lot of James in Harry – James' dash, his flair, especially on the Quidditch pitch, and his gift for leadership. But James could be cocky, and a bully at times, and he was reckless in a way Harry's never quite been. Harry seems to know the difference between a calculated risk and a silly one, and he doesn't court danger for its own sake.

"James was the ringleader of course, and we always wondered why he chose to hang around with three odd-men-out like us. I mean Sirius is a Black; he comes from one of the oldest Pureblood families in the wizarding world. All his family except for one cousin were Slytherins. When the Hat put Sirius in Gryffindor, it put him at odds with the rest of his family."

"Ach!" muttered Kurt. "All this Slytherin and Gryffindor stuff! What does it all mean? Marie and Bobby talk about Gryffindor this and Gryffindor that, and it's, "Ask Padma, she's a Ravenclaw" whenever you mention magic. It makes my head spin!"

Remus chuckled. "Now you know how I feel when Hank here talks about elemental or feral or psionic Mutants! But, Kurt, a House means more than just where you live at school. When the Hat sorts a person, it does it according to what's inside the person's mind, his inner self, if you like. Take Hermione Granger – Charm, isn't it? She's quite the cleverest young woman I've ever known. Anyone would have thought she'd be put into Ravenclaw – no question. But she has something, a fire, a passion perhaps, that made her a Gryffindor. That's how it works. Marie became a Gryffindor because of the exchange, but I'd say the Hat would put her into that House anyway.

"But to go back to my story. Sirius was the only one in our year who could come close to matching James in everything. So they either had to be friends or deadly rivals. They chose to be friends, and when they dug out my nasty little secret – where I went to every full moon – they did no more than make me their third member! They treated me as a person, not a monster – like you two do – and I'll always be grateful for that.

"Peter… Peter was the little, fat, pathetic kid who hangs around with the big lads so as not to get bullied. He wasn't – isn't – brave or clever, but he tried so hard, and we admired him for it. So we let him pal around with us, and made him part of the gang, and looked after him. He repaid us with betrayal." Remus took a deep breath, and forced a calm into his voice.

"The wizarding world was under siege in those days. Voldemort was at the height of his power, and his Death Eaters did about as they pleased. James and Lily refused to bow to him, so he hated them. James was well known and admired; if anyone could have led us against the Dark Lord, he could!

"But there was Lily to consider, and then Harry. James decided that the family should hide away at Godric's Hollow until Voldemort fell or until Harry was ready to go to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore would guard him, freeing James to act. James needed a Secret Keeper to hide the house. I thought – everyone assumed – that it was Sirius. But Sirius was as big a target as James, so he persuaded James to make Peter the Secret Keeper instead. Sirius told him it would be safer; nobody would think such a big secret would be entrusted to little Peter!

"What we didn't know was Pettigrew was already a Death Eater. When Voldemort heard of the prophecy about Harry, Pettigrew told him where to find the Potters. James and Lily were killed, and Harry – well, he survived, but I don't think anyone except perhaps Dumbledore knew how or why. Voldemort's body was destroyed, but somehow his spirit survived, too weak to do anything for a long time.

"Of course, everyone in our world knew at once what had happened. Sirius went tearing off to Godric's Hollow and found little Harry among the ruins. Then Hagrid turned up – Dumbledore had sent him to fetch Harry – and Sirius handed him over. The next we heard of Sirius, he'd been arrested for murdering Peter Pettigrew!

"Little Peter was more clever than we thought. He managed to frame Sirius for his murder and the murders of Muggles caught in the conflict. But I didn't know that, then. I spent the next twelve years or so skulking through life, thinking one of my best friends had murdered the other two. Then the same year as Sirius escaped from Azkaban, Dumbledore sought me out and offered me a teaching post at Hogwarts. I jumped at it, because I knew that Sirius would go there, either to protect Harry or to kill him. I wanted to confront Sirius, you see; I needed to hear the truth for myself!"

Kurt nodded. "The rest we know, the kids told us. Pettigrew had spent all that time living as Ron's pet rat. It was recognizing him that drove Sirius to make his escape. When it all came out, Sirius had to go into hiding, and Pettigrew ran off to join Voldemort."

"And now," said Hank, "Pettigrew is here in New York, along with the Lestrange woman and this Rookwood. Am I right?"

Remus sighed. "Yes. Finding all three of them is my official reason for being here. After Voldemort fell, Fenrir Greyback joined up with the other three. Something drew them here – something centred in that building across the road."

Both Americans glanced across. Hank drew in a hissing breath. "Remus, do you know what that building is?"

Remus shrugged. "Some kind of club for rich people, by the look of it."

Hank gave a short laugh. "Hardly. It's the New York branch of the Hellfire Club!"

Remus looked puzzled. "Hellfire Club, now where have I…? Of course! The Hellfire Club is that group of Mutants who tried to kidnap Kitty Pryde and the rest while Harry was over here, right? They attacked Xavier's mansion a few weeks later, didn't they?"

Kurt smiled reminiscently. "Ja, we had some fun that day, didn't we, Hank? But the Hellfire Club itself is just what it appears to be, a club for the wealthy and influential; however, there is an organization within the organization – an Inner Circle – that is an altogether different animal.

"It's led by a man named Sebastian Shaw, who calls himself the Black King. He's a millionaire, a businessman, a politician, and a Mutant."

Hank McCoy added, "Shaw is the third point of what Jean used to call the 'Mutant Triangle', the other two points being Charles and Erik Lensherr – Magneto. Charles and Magneto developed Cerebro together and founded the School for Gifted Youngsters. But they fell out over…ideology, I suppose. Charles believes Mutants and Muggles – thanks for that word, by the way – can learn to live together in peace. Magneto thinks that the only way Mutants can escape persecution is by either dominating Muggles, or making them so scared of us that they keep away.

"Shaw has a different idea, though. He's trying to work from within the system, manipulating Mutants secretly into positions of power in the Muggle world. He started by recruiting wealthy, powerful people who also happened to be Mutants. Then, when he recruited Emma Frost, he decided to work on kids: Take young Mutants, train them in his methods, and insert them into places where they can head to the top.

"Shaw himself can absorb kinetic energy. Almost any kind of attack will only make him stronger. Dr Emma Frost – the White Queen – is a telepath, not as powerful as Charles, but much more aggressive. The Black Bishop is Henry Leland, who manipulates mass; he can make you heavier just by willing it. Then there's Donald Pierce, the White Rook. He's not a Mutant, but a brilliant inventor, and a cyborg."

"Cyborg?" Remus had never heard the word.

Hank explained, "Cyborg – cybernetic organism – a person who is part-human, part-machine. Pierce lost his limbs in an accident, and had them replaced by artificial ones of his own design that make him almost as strong as Colossus."

Remus shuddered. "When you hear things like that, you can almost understand why some wizards feel the way they do about Muggles!"

Hank was forced to agree, then he carried on. "The Inner Circle recently acquired two new members. One is the White Knight, Jason Wyngarde. We X-Men used to know him as Mastermind when he was one of Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants. He's an illusionist powerful enough to create entire scenarios that can make a person kill their best friend or fall in love with their greatest enemy.

"Then there's Selene, the Black Queen, about whom we know two things: One, that she's the Black Queen; two, that she registers on Cerebro not as a Mutant but as a very powerful witch!

"So, now you know that, when do we go in?"

Remus grinned. "Not until after we've had our pudding!"

"Dessert," said Hank.

"Whatever," said Kurt. "Let's order it!"

Some little time later, the three men stood in the alley that ran by the side of the Hellfire Club's imposing building. Remus looked down at himself. "Time to get into my working clothes, I think!"

He produced a wand from nowhere in particular and flicked it at the smart suit he was wearing; the suit promptly shimmered and became a rather worn wizard robe. Kurt and Hank made adjustments to their wristwatches and, without transition, became something slightly more than human.

Hank grew even broader, his body bulging with powerful muscles covered with thick, coarse, blue fur. He wore only a pair of black, close-fitting shorts. His face acquired harsher planes, though his eyes remained unchanged, and when his irrepressible grin broke out, it revealed a row of formidable-looking fangs. Hank McCoy was once again the X-Man known as Beast.

Meanwhile, Kurt's face turned indigo blue, his ears became pointed, and his eyes turned yellow as a cat's. His wiry frame was clad in a black leather X-Man uniform, except for his three-toed, birdlike feet and the unusual hands equipped with two thick, powerful fingers and a thumb. To complete the gargoyle-like image, he also had a long, thin, whiplike tail. Nightcrawler was in town!

Remus smiled. "Finally! It just doesn't seem normal to see you two looking… looking…."

"Normal?" suggested Kurt.

"I was trying not to say that."

"Come on, guys!" put in Beast. "We're burning moonlight!"

"Right!" Remus grinned. "Setting wand to 'stun'!"

"There may be life, Remus, but not as we know it," intoned Beast.

Nightcrawler, who'd been checking a side door, huffed in mock exasperation, "Don't start, you two! Door's locked."

"So?" asked Remus, stepping over and pointing his wand at the lock. "Alohomora!"

"Useful, that," remarked Beast. "Now listen, Remus, Muggles in Regency costume will be legitimate club employees – not to be turned into toads or whatever. Ones in blue bodysuits will be Inner Circle mercenaries; they're fair game. We'll try to avoid as many of the alarm systems as we can, but we're bound to trip something eventually. Stay together and stay loose."

Remus' Disillusionment spell was quite effective at first, and the three of them managed to find their way to the wine cellar quickly enough. It was in the corridor heading towards it that trouble started. An alarm began to shrill urgently. "Oh, bugger!" groaned Remus. "What happened?"

"Probably an infra-red or laser trip," supplied Beast. "A little more alacrity is called for, gentlemen!"

But even as they began to run, a half-dozen men in Regency garb appeared from a side corridor. They made for the three, but then suddenly began to behave oddly, bumping into each other, falling over their own feet, running into walls and dashing off in completely the wrong direction. The three friends made it through the door into the cellar itself. Kurt closed it behind them and said, "Would somebody tell me what just happened?"

"Confunded the lot of 'em!" explained Remus. "No permanent harm, but they won't know their arses from their elbows for the next few hours."

"Ah! Now, then, the entrance to the underground complex should be here somewhere…"

A Reveal Charm proved an admirable shortcut, but the complex electronic security lock defied Remus' magic. "It's an old spell," he pointed out, "not designed for things like this."

X-Men uniforms, even those as skimpy as Beast's, did actually boast a utility belt – a fact that had always amused Muggle-born Hermione, to her wizard friends puzzlement. Hank had produced a miniature toolkit from his. After a few moments' work, he gave a grunt of satisfaction, and the door hissed open. Meanwhile, Nightcrawler had pulled out a spare communicator and handed it to Remus, asking, "Remember how to use this?"

"I think so. Set to Tac One?"

"Ja. In case we get separated. Ready, Hank?"

The room beyond the door proved to be an automatic elevator, which whisked them swiftly down to a pre-set level and opened on a long, brightly lit corridor. The three moved down it, on the lookout for doors. Unfortunately, the first one they saw opened ahead of them to disgorge two armed mercenaries who levelled their weapons and peremptorily ordered, "Freeze!"

Beast winced. Not from the danger, but from the 'boom' in one ear and the 'bamf' in the other. Remus and Nightcrawler vanished simultaneously, to reappear instantly behind the unfortunate mercs. Remus Stunned one while Kurt rabbit-punched the other.

The allies grinned at each other. "We're getting better at that," remarked Kurt, "even if you've never been in the Danger Room."

"Natural talent, I suppose," replied Remus.

"Gangway!" yelled Beast. Remus and Nightcrawler leapt to the side as their comrade bounded between them, somersaulted and landed a powerful kick to the face of a tall, robed figure who had appeared behind them. The man dropped like a stone, and the three friends stooped to examine him.

"Well, he's a wizard, obviously," said Beast. "Wand, robe, the works. I don't suppose you know him, Remus?"

"The wizarding world isn't that small, Hank," Remus observed, frowning as he looked closer. "Now, here's a thing! I've never seen robes cut quite like that before, or in that kind of pattern. Is there a label, I wonder?

"Ah! Here we are! 'Hand-made by free House Elves for Godolphin's Bespoke Robes, Tangenti Alley, Boston, Mass.'. A local, by the looks of things! Rather complicates matters."

Nightcrawler scratched his head. "Professor Xavier told us that American wizards aren't organized like European ones."

Remus said, "They aren't. There's no American equivalent to our Ministry of Magic. But you see, Kurt, this is such a big country. There are so many places for wizards to get away from Muggles, that a lot of them do just that. American wizards, I'm told, are a fiercely independent and individualistic bunch. Most of the ones that came over here way back when did so because the wizarding world in Europe was already very crowded and confined. They broke away from us long before you lot had your revolution!"

"And now, we must assume," Beast pointed out gravely, "that some of them are working for Selene."

"As I said," replied Remus, "it complicates matters. Let's keep moving, chaps."

The bright, modern corridor ended in a large, old-fashioned door of oak, with iron fastenings. "So," asked Kurt, "if we knock, who's gonna answer? Bela Lugosi, or Lurch?"

"Who said anything about knocking?" quipped Beast, pushing lightly on the door. It swung obligingly open, without even an ominous creak. Through it, they could see a stone corridor, lit with flaming sconces on the walls.

"Roll three or less on a D6 to Move Silently," murmured Beast.

"What?" asked Remus, flummoxed.

"Don't ask," Nightcrawler advised.

The three men stepped cautiously forward, then Remus looked down and swore. Beast glanced down, saw an odd-looking sign etched on the floor, then everything spun away and vanished.

When the world came back again, Beast was somewhere else entirely. He seemed to be in a large, harshly lit space with the distinctive aroma of a gymnasium. All around him, tough-looking men were training for unarmed combat.

There was a moment's silence before a giant of a man with a shaved head and a broken nose stepped forward. He spoke in the unmistakable tones of a drill instructor – the kind who will one day be shot in cold blood by one of his own trainees.

"Well, lookee here, ladies. Seems we got ourselves a new recruit! Let's give him a big Hellfire Club welcome!"

Beast grinned, showing the men his fangs. "Gentlemen," he invited, "shall we dance?"

It was fun, but it was over far too quickly – for Beast anyway. For the men who faced him, it was a nightmare. Despite their training, they were no match for a being with the strength of a gorilla, the agility of a cat, the ferocity of a mongoose, and the intelligence of a human.

Beast vaulted and leaped, spun and swung. He kicked and punched, and wherever he struck, men fell. Hank took particular delight in flooring the arrogant instructor with a single devastating punch. But then it was over. Beast swiped his hands and took stock. Remus and Nightcrawler were nowhere to be seen – the spell must have separated them. A similar thing had happened to the kids in the Labyrinth of Amagor, he recalled.

He triggered his communicator. "Nightcrawler? Remus? Anybody hear me?"

"Hank? Remus here. I'm sort of under siege, and I've got an injured person with me!"

"Is it Kurt?"

"No, but she might be important. I could do with a hand, mate!"

She? wondered Beast. No time for questions now. "OK, I'll try to get a fix. Leave your communicator switched on, pal. I'll be there as quick as I can!"

Hank adjusted his communicator to locator mode – a refinement he had recently added to the little devices – and it immediately began to ping. The tone of the pings told him the direction, while their frequency changed with distance. He made for the door of the gym, hoping that it was Remus' signal he was locked onto, rather than Kurt's.

"Well, this sucks!" muttered Nightcrawler to himself. He had appeared near the wall of a large, torch-lit cave, and had instinctively darted back against the rough wall. He was in shadow there, where the combination of his indigo hide and the matte-black uniform made him all but invisible to anyone not looking for him.

Fortunately, no one in the cave was paying attention to its peripheries. The cave was full of robed wizards. Some were sitting by a crude hearth talking or reading. Others lounged at a wooden table, drinking. Still others were dotted around the space in pairs, apparently refining their duelling techniques. Kurt knew that these people were far more dangerous than ordinary Hellfire Club mercenaries; they might be as lethal as an equal number of Mutants. He recalled one of Wolverine's famous admonitions: There's a time for fightin', and a time for bein' sneaky. Sneaky sounded good to Nightcrawler just now.

The entrance to the cave was some way over to Nightcrawler's left. He began to slip silently along the wall, sticking to the shadows. He almost made it, but for a bit of bad luck. He was close to a pair of duelling wizards when one of them broke through the other's guard. The stricken wizard was thrown backwards by the spell and landed at Kurt's feet. The other ran forward, calling, "Theo, you OK?" Then he spotted the intruder and demanded, "Who the blazes are you?"

Nightcrawler leaped forward and downed the man, but it was too late. The alarm had spread. By a combination of rapid teleporting and powerful karate moves, Nightcrawler managed to knock out four more wizards, but by then, most of them were either between him and the door or coming up behind him.

Fast, agile and formidable, Nightcrawler nonetheless lacked Beast's strength and Wolverine's ferocity. He couldn't fight his way through so many. He glanced around – the cave rose up above him into impenetrable shadows. Any port in a storm. he thought, while he teleported as far up the wall as he could. The rock was rough, providing ample grip for his remarkable fingers and toes. He scuttled up the wall like a spider, while the surprised wizards searched for their quarry. A few hexes struck the wall around him, but before anyone could get a decent aim, Kurt had blended into the shadows.

Nightcrawler knew it was only a matter of time before someone came up with a spell that would locate him, so he kept moving, hoping to find a hidey-hole or an exit, a defensible position at least. Near the top of the wall, he found a narrow fissure, into which he wriggled gratefully. It proved to be the entrance to a tunnel of sorts. He crept along until he saw light ahead and heard voices.

Nightcrawler squeezed out through a narrow gap and looked around him. He was in another cave, even bigger than the last. Some distance below him, the walls were covered with dark-green vines with broad leaves. Somewhere to hide? He made to move, then froze as a voice came to him.

"Your Majesty?"

Kurt looked down. At one end of the cave stood a dais with an elaborate throne on it. Lounging in the throne was a woman. Even at this distance, he could see that she was extraordinarily beautiful, with a lush, sensual figure that the wisps of black silk she wore did little to hide. She shook aside a mane of raven hair and spoke in a vibrant contralto. By some acoustic trick of the cave, Nightcrawler was able to hear everything she said.

"Yes?"

A man in the uniform of a Hellfire Club mercenary was on one knee before the throne. "The messengers have returned, Majesty. They await your pleasure outside." The man clearly felt uncomfortable with this antique style of speech, but persevered. The woman rose from the throne and strolled toward him.

"Rise," she commanded, and he stood, towering over her. She put a hand on his chest and smiled up into his face. "You're a fine-looking man. What's your name?"

"Mancuso, Majesty."

Nightcrawler had already deduced that this was Selene, the Black Queen. He watched in cold fascination as she ran her hands over the merc's biceps and up onto his shoulders. "Hmmm, so strong…" she purred. "I like that in a man. I think you could earn a special place in my favour. Would you like that?"

The man nodded. Selene slipped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him, a long, deep kiss. As Kurt watched in horror, the man's body seemed to shrink and fall in on itself. At the end, Selene was holding the inert form upright. She drew back, inspecting what was now a shrunken, withered corpse. The Black Queen seemed to throb with energy – energy Nightcrawler realised had been sucked from the mercenary. She took the body to the wall, and thrust it into the vines.

The plants reached out to grasp the husk, pulling it into themselves. Kurt heard crunching, cracking and sucking sounds, then the vines fell still. Memo to self : Do NOT feed the plants! Nightcrawler was in deep shadow up here, so decided that a little more eavesdropping would be safe.

Selene had resumed her throne, and now called out, "Enter!" Two people came into the hall. In the lead was a woman in her thirties, dark, with a strong, sensual face, dressed in an elaborate witch's robe. Behind her walked a big man in a plain black robe like an Auror's, his heavily handsome face set in a permanent sneer. Selene rose again and came forward to greet them, holding out both hands.

"Bella! Augustus! Back so soon? How wonderful!"

She took the woman, whom Kurt realised must be Bellatrix Lestrange, into her arms and kissed her, fully and deeply, like a lover, then greeted the man in the same way before asking, "Did you get it?"

"The Howling Heart-Stone?" asked Bellatrix. "Yes, we did. We dropped it off in the Aumbry on the way down. But it doesn't howl, you know."

"Not yet, but it will!" Selene reassured her as she led them over to the throne. She relaxed into it again. Bellatrix settled on the floor at her feet, leaning against her legs, while Rookwood perched on one arm of the throne and began to stroke Selene's hair.

"The Stone will howl," Selene explained, "when the Nether-Wind blows through it. Now, darlings, we have the Weeping Chalice, which holds the Water of Styx, and the Groaning Ark to contain Cursed Earth. All we require is a Screaming Brazier for the Fires of Hell. I know there are two of these left, but I have the location of only one."

"You've told us," growled Rookwood, "and it's hopeless. The stupid Muggles think it's some kind of 'alien' artefact, and even wizards can't get past the security at this Area 51!"

"That's because they have wizards working with them. Damned blood traitors!" snarled Bellatrix.

"Hush, my love!" soothed Selene. "I have looked in the Stone of Isengard, and found the other. It is far away, but I have sent my faithful White Rook to fetch it. It will be here within the week.

"Soon, my dears, when the Moon reaches her dark quarter, we will open the gates, and I will claim my rightful heritage!"

"And," Bellatrix's eyes glowed fanatically, "you will bring forth our Dark Lord again?"

"Of course, my Bella!" Selene stroked the other woman's cheek. "Lord Voldemort alone is worthy to be my consort. Oh, don't be jealous! I don't demand fidelity from my loves, only loyalty to my cause.

"But now, it has been too long since I saw you both. Come to my chamber, and we shall feast and then pleasure one another!"

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 3: Remus Lupin Saves a Soul

Remus found himself in something that looked like, and indeed was, a dungeon. Two mercenaries, who had clearly been interrupted in the middle of a card game, were staring at him. He petrified both of them before either could utter a sound; Remus was not in the best of moods. He had dragged two of his newest and best friends along on what, he had to admit, was a personal mission of revenge, and now they were probably in danger. Part of him acknowledged that the two highly-trained X-Men were better equipped than he was to deal with most trouble, but there were wizards in here, and that made a difference.

He cast around him, and almost at once heard a voice crying, "Crucio!" The sound that followed was a moan – the noise of an animal in pain but too exhausted to cry out any more. It came from an open cell nearby. Remus crept to the door and looked in.

There were eight figures in the room, but only two were human. The other six were sinewy creatures covered in a black, oily skin. They seemed to go on all fours or upright as the mood took them, and their heads were an abominable blend of cat and ape, with slavering, fanged mouths. They tittered among themselves and moved restlessly as they watched the two humans. Remus recognised them from an old text; Msira they were called, a type of minor demon.

One of the humans, a dumpy figure in over-elaborate witches' robes, was speaking in a twanging accent. "Why Emma, sweetie, don' you got a scream left in ya? I jest love it when you scream for me. C'mon, gimme one of those nice, spunky cheerleader yells, huh?

"'Cuz you was a cheerleader, wasn't you? And I'll jest bet they made ya Homecoming Queen, too. Mebbe it was Prom Queen. But yamusta had a date for the Prom, didn't ya, honey? Prob'ly the star quarterback…"

The woman she was taunting moaned softly again. Chained by her wrists, hanging from the wall so her feet barely touched the floor, the hapless victim looked barely alive. She was naked; her slender white body was filthy and marked with raw scratches and bites. Her chin was sunk onto her chest and long, dirty, blonde hair veiled her face.

The dumpy woman moved closer so Remus could finally see her clearly . Her face was round, marked with pimples and spots, and had a snub nose, protuberant brown eyes, and prominent teeth in a wide but thin-lipped mouth. Surprisingly, she was young, no older than twenty.

Shoving uselessly at her frizzy, black hair, she reached out to pull the blonde's head up. The face revealed was fine-boned and regular, with a pleasantly full mouth and a pair of sapphire-blue eyes that were currently glazed with pain and exhaustion. The whole face had the pinched look of dehydration.

The dumpy witch leaned toward her and spoke again, almost pleading, "Emma girl, I don' care what Selene says. She says 'Kneel to me or die!' I say ta hell with her! I'll let ya down, git ya cleaned up some, mebbe feed ya. Alls I wan' is fer ya ta teach me! Teach me howta be like you, all pretty and popular like!

"Or," the voice tried to become threatening, but sounded petulant instead, "I could let ma friends here play with ya some more. They like that. They say ya taste real good!"

Remus could stand no more. He stepped into the cell. "Enough, girl! Leave her be!"

The young woman turned, glared, and hissed, "O'course. Ev'ry damsel in distress hasta have a knight in shinin' armor. Well, screw you, dork!"

Clapping her hands, she sent the Msira at him. But Remus, former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, knew his demonology. Demons are not invulnerable, and relatively few of them commanded powerful magic. These Msira were like dangerous animals, and he dealt with them as such, brutally and efficiently. Even so, they drove him out of the cell before he finished them. Afterward, he made his way back in, wincing at the sound of more moaning.

The young witch stood in front of her victim, about to apply the red-hot tip of her wand to a cheek. "NO!" Remus bellowed, and the girl spun to face him with a snarl.

It was a short but fierce duel. The girl was savage yet had little skill, and was quickly pushed back against the damp stone wall. With a scream of frustration, she Disapparated. Remus swore, then went over to the chained woman.

He freed her with a flick of his wand, catching her as she collapsed. Remus grimaced; the poor woman stank, but he lifted and carried her to a flimsy bed that stood nearby. Gently as he set her down, she still cried out softly. Remus swore again. How could anyone so misuse another person? He applied a Soothing Charm to ease her pain, then a Cleansing Charm. Something told him that this was a fastidious woman whose filthy state would cause her distress. Finally, he Transfigured the thin blanket on the bed into a soft, warm one, which he carefully wrapped around her.

As he leaned over her, her eyes opened. They were the most radiant blue colour Remus had ever seen, and as they locked on his, he fell into them. Remus never really found the words afterwards to describe what he felt then. He knew that his entire life replayed itself at lightning speed. Images swam up from the past: James, Sirius, Lily, Pettigrew, Fenrir, Voldemort, Harry – accompanied by the feelings that went with them. Then he was standing in a white space, face-to-face with a tall, blonde woman dressed in white and silver. He knew at once that this was the woman he had just rescued. He couldn't speak – she was so breathtakingly lovely – and she didn't. She simply smiled and reached out to touch his cheek.

Abruptly, he was back in the damp, dank dungeon, and the woman on the bed was still gazing up at him. She spoke, moving her dry, cracked lips to shape his name, "Remus."

"Emma," he replied, knowing that that was her name. Then the compelling eyes closed with sleep.

"Merlin!" gasped Remus. Something profound had just happened, he knew, but what?

Later, he told himself. Right now, he could hear voices and running feet, reinforcements fetched by that young witch, no doubt. Remus went to the door of the cell and looked around. At one end of the space was a wide archway; at the other, a stone wall with a single door. The sounds were coming from both directions. Remus didn't want to get caught in the middle, so he pointed his wand at the keystone of the arch and invoked "Reductio!" The keystone shattered and the tunnel collapsed with a satisfying rumble. He considered sealing the door, but that would trap him in here; he'd just have to hope he could deal with whatever came through before making his escape.

The door didn't open; it crashed off its hinges. First through were four or five Msira demons led by two of the larger Homromsira and one grey-skinned, flame-wreathed Grumsira. Remus imprisoned the fiery demon in a globe of water where the thing hung helpless. The other demons hesitated long enough for Remus to do some serious damage with a fireball. The survivors fled.

From beyond the door, Remus heard the sounds of debate. It seemed that there were two groups outside, wizards and mercenaries, and they didn't much like each other. Well, it gave him a breather! Still, he was never so pleased to hear anything as he was to hear Beast's voice in his ear!

Interesting! thought Kurt as the three villains left the throne room. Professor Xavier would need to know about this. But first, Kurt would need to get out of here! He looked around again. Some way from him was an incongruous-looking metal grille. A ventilation shaft? If there was one thing Nightcrawler hated, it was a cliché, but needs must! He had a screwdriver in his utility belt, and soon enough he was crawling through the shaft. He stopped when he heard voices.

"There's two of them, down in the dungeon. Yeah, one X-Man – the furry dude – and some frickin' wizard. The girl says he's British. We're heading to Junction Six to cut 'em off. You stay put in case they double back. They won't be going fast; they're carrying the prisoner."

Remus and Hank were causing trouble, then, and Kurt wasn't getting in on the action, which was unfair! He glanced through the vent and saw what looked to be an empty room. Taking a chance, he teleported in. The room was empty, except for chairs and a table – some kind of ready room, perhaps. Kurt darted out into the corridor, and heard a group of people moving away from him. He jumped up to the ceiling, and scuttled along it after them.

The debate outside the dungeon degenerated rather quickly into a full-blown fight. Remus watched, sardonically amused, as hexes and high-energy stun-bolts crisscrossed the corridor. The wizards, huddled behind shields, were having the best of it until one mercenary lobbed in a tear-gas grenade. The wizards were not equipped with the filtered facemasks the mercenaries wore, and those who couldn't summon Bubble-Head Charms quick enough were soon staggering around choking.

The mercs took the chance to move into close combat, something few wizards excelled at. Seeing the tables turn this way reminded Remus to have a word with Logan about some lessons. If the man could turn frail Hermione Granger into a lethal fighting machine, he could certainly give Remus a few pointers!

In the end, there were three wizards and two mercs left standing. All five were panting with exertion and eyeing each other coldly. They should have been paying more attention, because it was then that Beast shot out of the shadows and crashed into them like a battering ram! Remus promptly jumped into the melee, wand flicking, and within moments the two friends were the only ones on their feet.

"We have to stop meeting like this!" Beast greeted him.

"I know. People will start to talk," Remus replied. "C'mon, we'd better get Emma and get moving smartish!"

"Emma?" Beast inquired while following Remus back to the cell, where the prisoner still lay sleeping. Beast gave a start of surprise. "Remus, do you know who this is?"

Remus shook his head. "She was chained to the wall, being tortured. I didn't stop to ask for an introduction."

"Of course not," Beast agreed but added, "Remus, this is Emma Frost, the White Queen."

"Jupiter! Then why was she here?"

"Beats me. Dissension in the ranks, perhaps? Word is that she's been off her game ever since that run-in with Hawk a while back. Maybe this is the result. Here," Beast offered, "I'll carry her. You try to raise Nightcrawler."

"No, you'll need your hands free. Mobilicorpus!"

Emma's body, still wrapped in the blanket, rose lightly off the bed and began to float before the two men. They hurried on, quickly finding their way to a set of newer, more modern corridors. The layout of the place was puzzling Remus; some of it looked modern Muggle; other parts reminded him of Hogwarts. There seemed little rhyme or reason to it.

Suddenly, Beast held up a hand. "There's a junction ahead," he whispered, "and I'll just bet there's an ambush waiting."

Remus positioned Emma to the side. The men crept forward slowly, only to hear a yell of surprise followed by the meaty thuds and grunts of combat interspersed with a familiar bamf or two!

"Well, Groucho," remarked Beast, "seems like Harpo finally caught up with us."

"That's good," Remus said equally glibly. "Now we can share a taxi. Or, if we can't get a taxi, we can leave in a huff. If that's too soon, we can leave in a minute and a huff. Hi, Kurt, what took you so long?"

Nightcrawler grinned as he emerged from the junction. "I had to catch the latest episode of 'The Fiendish Plot of the Black Queen'. I'll clue you in later. Where's the exit?"

It turned out that the nearest exit was up a ladder to a trapdoor that opened into a basement parking lot about three blocks from the Hellfire Club building. Remus and Hank held onto the White Queen while Kurt reactivated his Holographic Image Inducer and went to fetch the car he and Hank had come in.

"We'll have to get Ms Frost here back to the mansion," Beast told Remus. "You called us up on such short notice that we flew in – Charles let us use the Osprey. Fortunately, between graduating from Xavier's and going back there to teach, I worked for Stark International. Tony Stark is a friend, and I still contract for them sometimes, so he gives me executive privileges. That includes use of the heliport at their Long Island facility.

"Tony is also a trustee of the School for Gifted Youngsters, so he knows about the X-Men. If the Club guys follow us, they won't try to hit us out in the city, but they might at the airfield. Stark's security people will come in handy."

Soon enough, Nightcrawler returned, at the wheel of an unremarkable but commodious Nissan – a Stark International courtesy car. Beast got into the front, while Remus gently lifted Emma into the back before climbing in himself. For a while, the drive was peaceful, then Kurt said, "We've got company!"

Remus looked out of the back window. Even he could spot the ominous, black SUVs trailing them. Then Hank said, "Air cover too. That's not a police or TV chopper above." He took out his cell-phone. "Tony? Hank. Yeah, bit of excitement. Look, we're being tailed by some unpleasant people. They might try to stop us getting to the plane. Two SUVs and a chopper. Thanks, you're a pal!"

He put the phone away. "Kurt, just drive easy. Tony's people will have our backs."

Beast was proved right. The enemy vehicles hung back until the car turned into the gates of Stark Long Island. Then the two SUVs accelerated, and the helicopter swooped down at them. But even as they did so, an amplified voice boomed out: "YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON STARK INTERNATIONAL PROPERTY. LEAVE AT ONCE OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES!"

A mercenary leaned out of the window of one vehicle and began to fire a sub-machine gun at the Nissan, but a red-and-gold figure dropped out of the sky in front of him, the bullets bouncing uselessly off the newcomer's chest. As he strode purposefully toward the vehicle, the mercs inside promptly jumped out and began to run. It seemed to Remus that they recognised the colourful figure, and feared him.

Only one of the Hellfire Club cars had come through the gate. The other was still outside, and was emptying as rapidly as the first. Remus watched, dumbstruck, as the stranger picked up one heavy SUV as if it were a toy, then casually tossed it at the other. Both crumpled into scrap metal and glass. The helicopter turned tail and made off toward the city.

Kurt had driven over to where a large tilt-turboprop aircraft was parked on the apron. As they got out of the car, a man in overalls came up. "She's all ready to go, Professor McCoy. I'll take the car. Mr. Stark said you were in a hurry."

Hank nodded his thanks, then turned to greet their rescuer, a man of medium height. Not much else could be seen, because he was clad from head to foot in his suit of bright armour. He shook hands with Beast, who said, "Thanks, Iron Man. I didn't think Tony would send you personally."

The armoured figure shrugged, and replied in a deep voice, "I was in the area, so it seemed logical. You X-Men don't get into the usual kind of trouble, Hank, any more than we Avengers do! Hi, 'Crawler!"

"Hi, Shellhead!" Kurt returned. "Remus, this is Iron Man, Mr. Stark's head of security. Iron Man, meet Professor Remus Lupin."

The two shook hands briefly, then Iron Man turned to Beast, warning, "You'd better get going. You've been cleared for immediate takeoff and your flightplan's been logged."

"We'll do that. Say hi to Tony for me."

"I will—when I see him."

There seemed to be a private joke going on here, but Remus wasn't really interested. He spent the flight to Xavier's monitoring his 'patient', who drifted in and out of consciousness. "I'm worried about her," Remus confided to Kurt.

Kurt explained, "Since we lost Jean, and Sirius swiped Ororo off us, we've been short a medic. Charles has managed to persuade Moira McTaggart to join the staff, which pleased Sean no end! I've called ahead, but Moira and Sean are out. We'll be back before they are. Thankfully, Dani and Marie have stepped into the breach for emergency and nursing care, so Emma Frost will be well looked after."

Remus couldn't see happy-go-lucky, flirtatious Dani Moonstar as a nurse, but he said nothing, a choice he was glad of when he saw the two young women waiting with a gurney in the underground hangar. Both of them displayed cool competence as they ferried Emma to the Sickbay and examined her thoroughly.

"Mr. Lupin, have you given her anything?" asked Rogue.

Remus nodded. "A Soothing Charm for the pain – it should wear off soon – a Cleansing one to make her more comfortable, and a little water on the plane. Just a mouthful or two. Oh, and I Transfigured that blanket to keep her warm."

Marie appraised him appreciatively. "Seems you did everything right, then. Are you getting anything, Dani?"

The Native American girl shook her head. "I'm only an empath, and not too good a one at that. She's exhausted, scared, and starting to hurt again.

"She's also dehydrated and underfed. I've started an IV with saline and glucose. These wounds are slight, and they don't look infected, but I've given her some antibiotics just in case. We just have to keep her stable until Dr. McTaggart gets here.

"Mr. Lupin, thanks. Now, scat! There's nothing you can do here, and you need to debrief with the other guys. We'll keep you informed."

There was no arguing with her or Marie, so Remus left after a long look at Emma Frost, the woman with those astonishingeyes, now shut in peaceful sleep. He made his way up into the mansion proper, coming into the main entrance hall, where he encountered two people on their way down.

Dr Moira MacTaggart greeted him with a nod. "Mr Lupin, is it not?" she asked in a precise Edinburgh accent. "So it's you Sean and I have to thank for cutting our evening short?" A shapely woman of medium height, in her early forties, she regarded him with quizzical blue-green eyes set in a pale-skinned, pointed Celtic face.

"Now Moira, me girl," put in the burly, ginger-haired man at her side, "you'll not be blamin' Remus here for yer own choices, will ye? 'Twas yerself decided to become a doctor, knowin' full well that this sort of thing would be happenin'."

Moira laughed and shook her head, causing the thick bob of chestnut hair to swing in a way that clearly entranced her companion. "You're no' wrong Sean Cassidy, but I'll thank you not to remind me of it when I've missed out on dessert!

"I'd best go and see to my patient. Make sure those wee lassies have done her no lasting harm. I'll be up later, Sean." She kissed him lightly. "Good evenin' to you, Mr Lupin."

"Evening," replied Remus. Now where do I go? he wondered, but before he could ask, Banshee put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Come along wi' me, Remus," he said. "Charles and the others are waitin' on ye for the debriefin'. Now, how are young Harry and Ron and darlin' Hermione?"

Chatting amiably, Sean guided Remus to the wood-panelled door of Xavier's study, where he said, "I've things to be doin', so I'll leave ye here. They're expectin' ye. Join me later for a drop of the good stuff?"

"I'll look forward to it," Remus promised. He raised a hand to tap at the door, but before he could, a quietly authoritative voice called, "Come."

Remus entered the room with some trepidation. He had met Charles Xavier, of course, but only in passing. Now he was venturing into the sanctum sanctorum of a man rumoured to be an even more powerful Legilimens than the late and unlamented Lord Voldemort.

The room was larger than he had imagined it, and lacked the heterogeneous clutter of most wizard studies. There were bookshelves, of course, but these were interspersed with plain walls on which hung carefully selected prints. In front of the large picture window covered with red velvet curtains was a polished oak desk. Facing this were a number of comfortable chairs. One chair was currently occupied by Beast, while another held the rangy form of Scott Summers. Kurt was, as always, perched on the antique sideboard that stood by one wall.

"Come in, Professor Lupin," invited Xavier from behind the desk. "Have a seat. There's coffee, or I can have some tea brought in if you'd prefer."

"Coffee will be fine," said Remus. "I know what you Americans can do to tea!"

As Remus sat down, Xavier chuckled, his strong, kindly features and penetrating, dark eyes radiated a confidence that Remus had seen in no-one except Albus Dumbledore; however, it was Scott Summers who spoke first.

"I suppose I ought to be mad at you, Remus, for leading Hank and Kurt into danger," Cyclops began, "but I know these guys too well. They can get into the damnedest fixes all by themselves. So, I'm not blaming you, but I am interested in knowing why you called them. You've visited here often enough since last summer, so why the meeting today in New York?"

Remus shrugged. "To tell you the truth, Scott, it was what they call a 'hunch'.

"Look, I'd tracked Lestrange and her crew to New York, to that club. I knew it couldn't be a wizard place because it was in plain sight, and there were Muggles going in and out. Bella hates Muggles! She hates them even more than You-Know-Who ever did, so why was she in there?

"Now, as you may know, even the Ministry of Magic has very little contact with American wizards, so there was no-one from my world I could turn to for help or information. That left me with you X-Men as my only local contacts.

"And, to tell you the truth, I didn't really want to be in the US without at least meeting up with Hank and Kurt. After the fun and games we had last summer, I'd have felt wrong just passing through without saying hello.

"I'd meant to locate my quarry, then Apparate back to London for reinforcements. But with them being holed up in that club, I felt I needed to know more. I thought maybe Hank and Kurt could help with that, so I called them. All I intended was dinner and a chat, but then I found out about the Hellfire Club."

"Of course," Beast put in, "as soon as Kurt and I knew what was up, we knew we had to lend a hand. If something was – is – going down at the Hellfire Club, it's going to have repercussions for the X-Men. We meant it to be a quick scouting mission, but things got out of control."

"Complicated, indeed!" agreed Xavier. "So complicated that a member of the Inner Circle is now a patient in our Sickbay. Emma Frost, prisoner or guest, is a matter I must look into later. For now, however, you have something to tell us, Kurt?"

Nightcrawler recounted what he had overheard in the throne-room. When he had finished, Scott shook his head. "This isn't good. We all know how effective wizards and Mutants can be when we work together. If Selene can bring together the Mutants of the Inner Circle and enough American wizards, there's going to be trouble.

"We just don't know enough about the Black Queen. Who is she? What is she up to with these…artifacts?"

"Maybe Remus can help out there," suggested Kurt. "Selene's accent was definitely English. You think there might be records or something, Remus?"

"Probably, in the Ministry Archives," Remus allowed. "There might even be something about whatever ritual or spell she's working on. I can certainly try to find out."

"But not now," Xavier advised. "Now, you three should take a breather. I gather that Sean has a bottle or two of something rather special he would like to share. Remus, I've had a room made ready for you. You should at least stay the night and return home fresh."

After the three left the room, Cyclops turned to his mentor, asking, "Charles, what are we getting into here?"

"The same as ever, Scott – trouble!" Xavier smiled benignly, but Scott was less sanguine.

"If we have to face both Mutants and magic…!"

"We will. Remember, the X-Men include wizards among our ranks."

"You can't mean you'd call up those kids?"

"Young men and women, no longer kids. Harry is the same age as you were when you first led the X-Men, son."

Cyclops sighed. "You're right. And they did defeat Voldemort. But let's hope it doesn't come to war."

The following morning, Remus was preparing to leave for London when he heard his name being called. He turned to see the tall, striking figure of Marie D'Ancanto crossing the room toward him.

Remus didn't know the younger X-Men as well as he might have; his dealings had been mostly with the adults. He did know, however, that Sirius thought highly of this young woman, whom he described as "warm-hearted and courageous". Remus also knew that Rogue was, in some ways, as close to Harry as Hermione and Ron. With this in mind, he greeted her with genuine warmth, which she reciprocated before coming to her point.

"It's the White Queen, Mr Lupin. She's a lot better, but she needs to sleep. Thing is, she won't until she's seen you. So, do us all a favor and go talk to her, will you?"

"Of course, Marie. But for Merlin's sake, call me Remus! You're a grown woman now, and even Hermione doesn't call me Mr Lupin anymore!"

Marie laughed at that, then led Remus not to the sickbay, but to one of the guest rooms. She gestured him to wait outside, tapped softly on the door and slipped inside. Remus heard quiet voices for a moment, then Marie came out again.

"You can go in now, Remus, but not for too long. Don't go overexciting her or tiring her out, OK?"

"I promise, Marie." Remus wondered how he could possibly over-excite a woman like Emma Frost?

"Good. Now when you get back, say hi to Harry and the others for me. Tell them to get their butts over here soon, or Logan and I are gonna come fetch them!"

"I'll do that!" With a parting smile, Remus ventured into the light, airy bedroom. Emma Frost was sitting up in bed, wearing a simple, white gown. Her hair had been washed, and was tied back away from her face, emphasising its classic bone structure. Her face was still too thin, Remus thought, but it had lost that pinched look, and the remarkable eyes were bright, clear and fixed on his face.

"Remus," she said softly. Her voice was a pleasant alto, the accent definitely American, but very cultured.

"Good morning, Dr Frost," Remus replied formally.

A shadow passed across Emma's face, her eyes softened, looking a little hurt. She beckoned to him. "Call me Emma, please. After last night, it's just silly to use titles. Come sit by me."

Remus took the chair beside the bed. Emma reached out a hand to him. He tried to take it in a brief handshake, but she caught his hand in both of hers and held on. Her grip was weak, yet Remus couldn't shake it off without appearing brutal. Besides, he found he didn't really want to.

Emma smiled at him, then looked down. "I do owe you an apology, though, Remus. Last night, I was…I wasn't really myself. I'd just spent a couple of hours with Ardelia."

Remus interrupted with a short, humourless laugh, adding, "If that was the young lady with the face only a mother could love, I don't blame you! She seemed to have a complex about various things: cheerleaders, Prom Queens and quarterbacks, whatever those are."

Emma looked up with a wan smile. "Cheerleaders are usually popular girls in high school. A prom is a formal dance for students ending their junior and senior years. A girl who's well liked may be elected prom queen and a boy, prom king. I suppose the nearest thing to a quarterback you'd understand is a Seeker in your Quidditch games."

It was on the tip of Remus' tongue to ask how she knew about Quidditch, but he could see Emma had more to say.

"The funny thing is," she went on in a low voice, "I wasn't popular in high school. I was never a cheerleader, and I didn't go to proms because nobody asked me. I was a hopeless nerd until I got my doctorate—a real late bloomer, Sebastian used to say."

Emma shook her head. "The bad old days. But anyway, what I meant to say is, I'm what you'd call a Legilimens, which means—"

"A telepath," Remus supplied. "The X-Men told me that."

Emma nodded. "I see. Well, I was scared, in pain, exhausted. I thought I was going to die. Then you were there, and I didn't know who you were. I thought Selene had sent you to finish me off. I don't know where I got the energy from, but I just scanned you, really deeply. I think I was hoping to find some way to save myself.

"You can imagine how I felt when, instead of an executioner, I found a decent, kind, honourable man, hell-bent on rescuing me and prepared to die doing it! But even so, I shouldn't have violated your mind that way. I'm so sorry."

Remus waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "It doesn't matter, Emma. I'm just glad I found you in time." He smiled apologetically. "But now, you have to rest or Rogue will have my hide!"

Remus both wanted and didn't want to go. He wanted to stay close to this fascinating woman, to come to know her, he realised. Sadly, for Remus that spelt danger – he had long ago decided that his particular affliction condemned him to a solitary life, at least in that respect. Friends could be kept at a distance, could accept that at times he was not himself, but a more intimate relationship would only place the precious other in needless peril.

Emma seemed to be aware of his conflict, and released his hand after a final gentle squeeze, admitting, "You're right, Remus. I need to sleep."

He nodded and rose, not trusting himself to speak. But as he did so, Emma showed that she was not really letting go of him by asking, "I'll see you again, soon?"

"If you want to," he managed. "But Emma, you don't really know me. Maybe I'm not what you think I am. You just concentrate on getting well for now. When you're stronger, and you've had time to think and sort things out, it'll be different, I'm sure."

He turned to leave. Just as he laid hold of the door handle, Emma said quietly, "I already know everything about you, Remus Lupin. Everything. You're exactly what I said you are; no more, no less. Always remember that!"

Remus found no reply, and almost fled from the room. He was so preoccupied that he almost ran over the petite, auburn-haired young woman who had been apparently lying in wait for him. He was brought back to himself by the bizarre sensation of the girl actually passing through him, like a ghost. He spun around to see her standing, grinning, at his shocked expression.

"Jupiter!" he gasped. "Please don't do that again without warning me, Kitty!"

"OK," agreed Kitty Pryde, "as long as you agree to look where you're going, Mr. Lupin."

"I was woolgathering. Sorry. Call me Remus, by the way. Did you want me for anything, Kitty?"

Kitty nodded. "You're heading back to England? I just wanted you to give my love to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Oh, and tell that Ginny Weasley that if she's not taking care of Harry, I'll take care of her! Can you do that for me?"

Remus grinned. "That I can, Kitty!"

But as Remus prepared to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, his thoughts were not on Kitty's message. Emma Frost's face, the sound of her voice, and her wonderful eyes filled his mind.

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 4: The Diplomacy of Draco Malfoy

"Holy Mother of Kazan!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione's eyebrows shot up, while Harry and Ron exchanged an amused glance. For the last two weeks, The Burrow had been the setting for a Molly Weasley crusade. Ginny, raised among six brothers, had acquired the perfectly natural habit of cussing like a trooper when the mood took her. Molly had suddenly realised that her youngest child and only daughter was shortly to come of age, and had absolutely no concept of ladylike behaviour. Harry and Ron had privately agreed that the situation had been further aggravated by the interjection of Bill's new girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks, into Weasley family life. The forthright young Auror also had a penchant for turning the air blue when she felt the occasion merited it.

Whatever the reason, Molly had suddenly and absolutely forbidden both her daughter and putative daughter-in-law to swear in the house. Tonks had responded by employing expressions like 'poot', 'sugar' and 'fudge', with a heavy sarcasm that Molly chose to ignore. Ginny, rather more subtly, had fallen back on a few Russian phrases she must have picked up during her relationship with Peter Rasputin – Colossus – the year before. Harry suspected that some of these were a good deal ruder than any of the English equivalents Molly had banned.

Harry hid his grin by taking a pull of his pint, then asked, "What was that in aid of, Gin?"

Ginny was leafing through that day's Prophet (disguised for the occasion as the Muggle Daily Mail). Now she rattled the paper exasperatedly and asked, "Who the blazes writes this cr…rubbish? I mean, why does a paper need a society page anyway?"

Hermione laid aside her copy of Cosmopolitan and asked, "Why? What does it say?"

"Oh, you'll love this!" declared Ginny. "It seems that our Mr Potter here has been named Most Eligible Bachelor in the seventeen to twenty-five age group!"

"No surprise there," stated Ron. "Harry was the Boy Who Lived. Now, he's the Man Who Won!"

"Oh, yeah, like that's news!" replied Ginny. "But, apparently, number two on the list is – are you sitting down, Hermione? Number two is Mr Ronald Weasley!"

Harry nearly spilt his beer and Ron went crimson. Hermione stared for a moment, then threw her head back and howled. When she could speak again, she grabbed Ron's hand tightly and said, "Oh, love, I'm sorry! It was just the look on Ginny's face – and yours and Harry's! Of course you deserve it, darling, you're as much a hero as Harry, and since your dad's promotion…."

"I know, I know," Ron said, having more or less recovered, "but it's not as if I'm actually a bachelor! I mean, we're engaged and everything, pet. We even announced it in that paper!"

"You're still a bachelor till you actually do the deed, mate," Harry pointed out. "There's still time to plot your escape, you know."

That caused more laughter. The four were sitting on the terrace of a nearly fashionable pub overlooking the Thames. Harry was aware, at the back of his mind, that both he and Ginny were under age in Muggle terms, but the manageress had not seen fit to challenge them. Apparently, she had been more interested in Harry's potential in other areas than his age, flirting relentlessly with him as he waited at the bar.

It had all been Hermione's idea – a day in Muggle London to celebrate their reunion after a couple of weeks apart. They had sent their luggage ahead to Grimmauld Place that morning, and met up in the Leaky Cauldron. There, Hermione had supervised their kitting out in suitable Muggle clothing. Hermione wore jeans and what she called a 'strappy top' that made the most of her slender, small-breasted figure. Ginny had a mini-skirt and a v-neck top that displayed her ample cleavage to advantage. Harry was wearing jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. Ron also wore jeans, and a white 'wrestler's vest' that showed off his brawny shoulders and powerful arms. Rather than conceal or Transfigure their wands, Hermione had cast an illusion that made them look like the mobile phones almost every young Muggle carried.

They had window-shopped until Ron complained that his feet were falling off and his stomach falling through, so Hermione had brought them here. Now, Harry relaxed at the table supporting a plate containing a few crumbs of a substantial ham salad baguette and a glass with the last few mouthfuls of a pint of bitter. Ron had also had a pint, while Hermione and Ginny were drinking bottles of imported lager.

"So," Hermione enquired, "is there any actual news in there, Ginny?"

"Not a lot," Ginny told her. "With Voldemort gone, it's all just stuff about reuniting wizard society and repairing the damage. There's this leading article, though." Ginny cleared her throat and read, "It would be both naïve and foolish to think that the demise of You-Know-Who has removed every danger from our world. Wizards would do well to remember that we are a relatively small community within a much larger world, one that is also changing and developing.

"It is distressing to note how few wizards have heeded rumours filtering out of Hogwarts and the Ministry concerning these so-called 'Mutants'. Mutants, for the uninformed, are humans, neither Muggle nor wizard, who possess purportedly strange and powerful abilities akin to, but different from, magic.

"While it is not the policy of this journal to give credence to every tall tale coming out of the recent conflict, it is also not our policy to ignore them entirely. There is a certain consistency in stories of Mutants aiding wizards in the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We have heard that Harry Potter, the Man Who Won, is himself a close friend of a number of these Mutants. There are even whispers that Miss Ororo Monroe, the American witch and constant companion of Mr Sirius Black, is not only a witch, but also a Mutant.

"But just as there have been dark wizards in our world, so surely there must be Mutants less virtuous than those the stories tell of. If this is the case, our community has a right to know the truth. The Ministry is being, at best, non-committal. Mr Arthur Weasley, Head of the Department of Muggle Affairs, had this to say: 'The Ministry is investigating the question of the Third Community as we speak. A full report will be submitted to the Wizengamot in the autumn. It would be improper to give more details before their deliberations.'

"So, it appears we must wait. We can only hope that the current leadership of the wizarding world will learn from the example of those who went before. It was their failure to act quickly and decisively that led to the avoidable rise to power of You-Know-Who, and its tragic consequences."

"Politics!" snorted Ron, and Ginny nodded. But Harry wasn't so sure. "Y'know, they have a point," he said pensively. "We know the X-Men, of course. At best, they're loyal friends; at worst, they'll leave us alone. But we also know there are other Mutants.

"What about the Hellfire Club? What about Magneto? Professor X told me at the Memorial Service that while we were all celebrating Ginny's birthday last summer, Magneto had paid a visit to Voldemort. Imagine that! Magneto just waltzed into Riddle's stronghold, threatened him – apparently he tossed him around like a toy – and then strolled out! Do we want to face that kind of power without any warning? If it comes to that, do we want to wake up one day and find twenty or so Sentinels making their way along Diagon Alley?"

"You may be right, Harry," Hermione agreed. "On the other hand, though, neither Magneto nor the Hellfire bunch has any real interest in wizards. Voldemort did a lot of damage, and perhaps the Ministry is right in thinking we ought to set all that straight before we start looking for new threats. Enough of the right people know about Mutants for now; we don't want to go scaring people just when they finally feel safe."

"You're right as usual, 'Mione," Ron put in. "And my dad agrees with you, too. Now, who's for another drink?"

Ron's motion was carried nem con, and he ambled off in the direction of the bar, to return shortly with more drinks and a huge bag of dry-roasted peanuts, which he set about munching with enthusiasm. Hermione went back to her magazine, and Ginny to her paper. Looking out over the river, Ron and Harry chatted quietly.

After a while, Harry said, "I fancy a bag of crisps. How about you, Ginny?"

"Ooh, yes, please. Prawn Cocktail if they have them!"

"Hermione?"

"No, thanks."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine."

"Leave her be, Harry," Ginny told him. "If she gets peckish, she can always have a nibble at Ron's nuts!"

Hermione sighed, put down her magazine, and thumped Ron deftly between the shoulder blades. Ginny took her hands away from her mouth and said, between concern and laughter, "Ron! Are you OK? I'm sorry, it just came out wrong!"

Red-faced, Ron wheezed, "How much have you lot got me insured for?"

Hermione said to Harry, "Honestly, Harry! Between her verbal yoga and his dirty mind, what are we going to do with them?"

"Lock the pair of 'em up in cupboard," suggested Harry, "and only let 'em out when we fancy a bit of nookie!"

"Ah," said Ron, "that's me out every hour on the hour, then."

"Me, too," said Ginny slyly, "but only for a couple of minutes at a time."

"Oof!" said Harry. "Wounded, or what?"

"Anyway," Ginny asked curiously, "what's verbal yoga?"

"The ability to stick your foot in your mouth effortlessly," Harry replied. "It's one of your special talents, my love!"

Dartmoor is one of the few remaining truly wild areas in England. Though criss-crossed with cycle and bridle paths, it remains remote and unfrequented. Perhaps this is due to the grim reputation of its high-security prison, or the ominous atmosphere of the great Grimpen Mire. In any event, the sight of a silver Land Rover Discovery drawing up outside a ruined mansion was an unusual one, had there been anyone nearby to observe it.

A tall, slim, dark-haired woman stepped out of the car and surveyed the house. Baskerville Hall had once been the centre of a thriving rural community, but that had been over a century ago. Now it was remembered only as the scene of a famous detective's greatest triumph. Like so many aristocratic families, the Baskervilles had sent their sons to fight in the First World War, only to have all of them perish in the trenches. Their graves lay in Flanders; their names were carved on war memorials in the nearby village – almost uninhabited now – and another noble family had come to an end.

The Australian cousins who had, after a long search, inherited the house had never even come over to inspect it. Too far off the beaten track to be of interest to the National Trust, or profitable as either hotel or conference centre, the house had been allowed to decay. But recently, a British aristocrat named Baron Malfoy had made the antipodean owners a very generous offer, which they had accepted at once. From the outside, though, nothing seemed to have changed. The Hall still loomed, ivy-clad and clearly empty.

The woman walking between the Hall's crumbling gateposts was carrying a slim attaché case. She stopped just beyond the gate, and a small pendant at her neck glittered briefly. The scene in front of her changed. The house was still ivy-clad, but the shattered windows were now intact, and the crumbling walls and roof were whole and sturdy. "Remarkable," she murmured as she strode down the sweeping drive to knock imperatively at the front door.

A hulking brute of a man in a dark business suit opened the door. His face was set in an expression of petulant gloom, and his eyes showed not a flicker of intelligence. "Yeah?" he greeted her.

"Raven Darkholme to see Baron Malfoy. I have an appointment." She handed him a card. He stood aside and motioned her into the hall with a jerk of his head. "Wait here. I'll tell him you've come," the lackey grunted. As he moved off, his suit flickered and became a dark robe. So much for suave English butlers, thought Raven as she watched him go.

Draco Malfoy was sorting through his post when there was a tap at his study door. "Enter," he called. Vincent Crabbe shouldered his way into the room and tossed a card on Draco's desk. "Some bird called Darkholme to see you, Draco."

Draco despaired of ever instilling manners or culture into either Crabbe or his other bodyguard, Gregory Goyle. Not for the first time, he envied Harry Potter, who had a counterpart to those two in Ron Weasley – every bit as formidable, but with the advantage of being presentable!

He should have gone to his meeting with Raven Darkholme straight away, but Draco lingered at his desk. The envelope he was holding in his hand, sealed with a complex coat of arms, was of vital importance. "Show her into the morning room, Vincent," he told Crabbe. "Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes, and get her some coffee. And Vincent," Draco added as Crabbe turned to go, "our guest is an American, so give her the good coffee, will you?"

Alone, he broke the seal on the envelope that had arrived by owl that morning, sent on by Theodore Nott from Draco's Muggle post office box in London. The letter inside was written not on paper but on hand-made vellum, in a firm, Gothic script:

Malfoy,

It is fortunate that I keep informed of events in your world. Had I thought that your letter came from your father, it would have been cause for his instant and painful demise; however, I am not disposed to treat the callow impertinence of youth with the same severity as the studied insolence of adulthood.

You speak of "alliance" or "agreed neutrality". You are naïve.

Alliances imply a partnership between strong equals, or a seeking of mutual protection by the weak. You are not, and never will be, my equal. I have no equals. As to protection, I protect my own people. Should you offer me your oath of allegiance, you would become entitled to that protection.

Neutrality implies that each party is a threat to the other. You are no threat to me, for I could crush you with my little finger.

For now, my plans are confined to the Muggle world. When I turn my attention to the wizard world, I will summon you and accept your service, should I deem it worthy. Until then, have a care. Do not irritate me, or you will die.

Farewell,

Viktor von Doom

Draco shook his head. The arrogance of the man! It even surpassed Voldemort's. What right did von Doom – a man so horribly scarred that he had a metal mask permanently fused to his face, and so paranoid that he was never seen in public without his hi-tech armour – have to be arrogant?

And, Draco reminded himself, Dr Doom was not as infallible as he supposed. The monarch of Latveria little suspected how much Draco knew about him. Doom ruled his tiny country with an iron fist, though he exercised that fist with restraint most of the time. Still, Doom's several attempts to rule to the whole Muggle world had been foiled by a handful of so-called 'superheroes'.

At least Doom would let Draco alone for now, which just left one more question mark – one that this meeting might resolve. Draco made his way to the morning room.

His guest was seated gracefully on the couch, sipping at a cup of coffee – the rich aroma told Draco that, for once at least, Crabbe had carried out his instructions to the letter. "Miss Darkholme – no, don't get up – I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm glad you could come. I apologise for the delay in receiving you."

Draco could be smoothly polite, even charming, when he chose to be, but Raven was not so easily taken in. Her host was a tall, slender, young man wearing a grey suit with a Mandarin jacket. He was blond, very pale, and handsome in a cold way. The grey eyes studied her, not as a man studies a woman, but as a scientist studies a specimen. Nevertheless, she would play his game; deception was Raven Darkholme's stock-in-trade, after all.

"No problem, Baron Malfoy. You didn't keep me waiting too long. But you might as well call me Raven if we're going to work together."

Draco poured himself a cup of coffee. "As you wish, and you must call me Draco, unless, of course," he looked directly at her, "you prefer me to call you Mystique?"

The woman smiled, and changed. Her exquisite features did not change shape, but the fair skin was suddenly indigo blue, the eyes were yellow, and the dark hair became mahogany red. She took another sip of coffee and said, "Either name is fine. Would you prefer Number One?"

Draco smiled coldly. "So, we have established our bona fides, have we not? To business, then: Do you have a reply for me from Mr Lensherr?"

Mystique nodded. "It's the same reply Magneto gave to Riddle last year. The Brotherhood of Mutants has no interest in an alliance with the Knights of Walpurgis. Your wizard world has nothing to do with us yet."

"Apparently, Charles Xavier thinks differently," Draco contradicted.

Raven made a dismissive gesture. "Neither Xavier nor Magneto speaks for all Mutants. What happened last summer was necessary because Voldemort was stupid enough to try to enslave the Hulk. If the X-Men hadn't stepped in, it would've been the Avengers or SHIELD or the Fantastic Four who intervened. As to this spring, those were acts of friendship – individual choices by individual Mutants. Cyclops and Dazzler both have wizard lovers; no one would expect them to stay out of the battle. Sunspot and Psyche are close friends of Hawk – Harry Potter – so they came to his rescue. Wolverine went his own way, as he always has. And Storm, well, she's joined your world.

"Your Wizengamot has yet to acknowledge the existence of Mutants. Erik believes that when they do, it'll be on a live-and-let-live basis – no official alliance – unless, of course," she looked meaningfully at Draco, "someone makes it necessary!"

Raven studied Draco, appraising him. "Was that what you wanted, Draco? We know you've contacted Doom – a brave, but rather foolish, act. I hope you survive it. Are you trying to forge a Grand Alliance of wizards, flatscans and Mutants? Bring us all together under your benign rule?" she sneered.

"Why not?" he countered coolly. "The Mutants are fragmented between your group, Xavier's and the Hellfire Club. Muggles suffer under the ill-conceived concept of democracy, and my world hangs on in the midst of near anarchy. All of us need a single, clear voice of command. Humans are sheep – they must be told what to do, and what not to do!"

"By Pureblood wizards, of course," Mystique added.

Draco snorted contemptuously. "That was my father's dream. He wasted his life manipulating a lunatic, and ended up being murdered in Azkaban because of it!"

"I understood he hanged himself."

"Under Lestrange's Imperius Curse!" Draco growled. "As for pure blood, that's meaningless. Pureblood, Half-blood, Mudblood – what matters is power and vision!"

Draco leaned forward, asking, "Do you know why the Knights have no Number Two?" Raven shook her head. "It's because that place is reserved – by me – for the one wizard who could help me unite our world: Harry Potter! Together, he and I could bring order, prosperity and peace. All it would cost is for people to give up their overrated, dangerous, and misused freedom!"

Draco sat back. "But that's for the future. For now, I think you have some other news for me?"

Mystique nodded, and reached into her case. "These are the files, but I'll sum it up for you: Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Peter Pettigrew and Fenrir Greyback have taken refuge in the Hellfire Club, under the protection of the Black Queen. Selene has some sort of plan. She's summoning dark American wizards and minor demons, as well as trying to recruit more Mutants. She has complete control of the Inner Circle now.

"Our source in the Inner Circle tells us that the Black Queen went to your mother's house to recruit her. Your mother attacked Selene, and was shot by a flatscan bodyguard. So Selene is responsible, indirectly, for your mother's murder. So, Draco, quid pro quo , what can you tell us about Selene?"

Draco steepled his fingers. "The full account will be on the hall table for you to pick up as you leave. The history – especially of her early life – is vague and semi-mythical. Selene is almost a thousand years old. According to legend, she's the daughter of the vampire demoness Nevan and a wizard. Some sources say the wizard was Salazar Slytherin. Selene lives by draining energy from Muggles. It seems she's unable to feed off wizards or Mutants.

"She was driven from Britain by King James I, and then vanished for a while. Next we hear of her is in the 19th Century, under the name Ayesha, when she encountered a Muggle explorer named Allan Quartermain in Africa. Later still, there are rumours that she surfaced in the South American jungle but was driven out by an individual who called himself 'The Phantom' – the locals called him 'The Ghost Who Walks'. Last record we have of Selene is in New York, where she encountered, and was apparently killed by, someone called The Shadow, who may or may not have been a wizard.

"As I say, the full report has more detail, but that's the bare bones. Is there anything else, Raven? Much as I enjoy your charming company, I have other commitments."

"Just one thing…." Mystique leaned forward and said confidentially, "We know you're planning to meet with Selene. She's looking for an alliance with your Knights. You're smart enough to have figured out that she intends to take them over as she took over the Hellfire Club, so you don't need a warning about that. But I'm to tell you that Erik will take it very badly if you compromise our agent infiltrator for some imagined tactical advantage. He suggested that I remind you a visit from Sabretooth or Toad wouldn't be as pleasant as our little chat has been!"

Draco shrugged. "I can see no advantage in betraying your spy. I'm not looking for an argument with Magneto. Sooner or later, I'm going to cross swords with Harry Potter again, and that's likely to put me at odds with the X-Men. I've no wish to have two lots of Mutants after me! My caution, I think, will count for more than my word, but tell your spy to stay out of my way when the time comes.

"By the way, you can keep the pendant. The spell on it is only good for one use. I'll send another if we need to meet again. Good morning, Raven. Have a safe journey home."

They rose, shook hands, and she left. Draco returned to his study, where he took up another letter. This one was on expensive cream parchment, delicately perfumed, and written in a slanting, feminine hand.

My Dear Draco,

I was so thrilled to receive your kind letter! Of course we must meet, as soon as you can come over to New York. I'm really looking forward to showing you this wonderful city.

True, we shall have to talk business. The Knights of Walpurgis are wonderfully placed to achieve the same great things in Britain that the Hellfire Club plans to undertake in the United States. We shall share our visions and our plans to make them reality.

But I hope, dear Draco, that we shall have time to get to know each other. I feel that we have so much more in common than simply our vision for the future. I'd like us to become warm, close, personal friends, as well, so I hope you don't mind that I've enclosed a little photo of myself with this letter. I'm a terribly vain creature, and it makes me happy to think you might look at it often until we meet in person.

Write back soon, and we'll arrange a visit. Will you use a Portkey or Apparate in? My security people are very protective of me, and an unexpected entry would upset them terribly, so you must let me know.

I'm looking forward so much to your next letter, and to actually meeting you!

With warmest regards,

Selene Slytherin

Draco shook his head as he read the letter for the tenth time. Hades! he thought. The woman's a worse minx than the Weasley slut! He picked up the wizard photograph. It showed dark, sensual Selene curled sinuously on a couch. The gown she wore was not, in itself, provocative, but Selene had a way of wearing it that made it seem so. As Draco considered the picture, the woman gave a slow smile and stretched out on the couch, pulling the thin material of her garment against every curve of her figure, making it quite clear that she wore nothing underneath.

Ye gods! Draco tossed the photo onto his desk, then picked it up and shoved it into one of the drawers. It wouldn't do for Crabbe or Goyle to see the thing. Perhaps he'd send it to Millicent at St Mungo's – Selene was definitely her type! Theodore's Secrecy Sensor had immediately picked up the Allure Charm placed on the photo, just as Draco had recognised the mild aphrodisiac in the perfume the letter was covered with. For some reason, such things had no effect on Draco; he was aware that his total lack of interest in sex had worried his mother somewhat as he grew up, but he saw it as an advantage. It kept his head clear to concentrate on more important matters.

For instance, the woman had signed herself 'Selene Slytherin', which meant one of two things: Either she was aware of the myths about her and wanted to encourage them, or she actually was Salazar Slytherin's love-child. Whichever was true, she obviously thought that she was being clever in emphasising the point to Draco, knowing that he was a pureblood wizard and member of Slytherin House. This was a mistake, since Draco had long ago come to despise Salazar as a narrow-minded fool who had abandoned the pursuit of power for its own sake in favour of an idiotic crusade.

Nonetheless, Draco would have to deal with Selene for a number of reasons. She was responsible for his mother's death, for one thing. Draco had not loved his mother – the emotion was foreign to him – but a Malfoy did not leave such insults unavenged. Selene was also sheltering Bellatrix, who had murdered Lucius Malfoy and must pay for that. Finally, with Selene out of the way, Sebastian Shaw – the Black King – would resume his dominance of the Inner Circle. Doom and Magneto might have rejected Draco's overtures, but Shaw was a practical man, not a blinkered idealist. Draco could do business with the Black King, and he needed Mutant allies to offset Potter's links with the X-Men. As for Muggles, perhaps the crime-lords of HYDRA, or the technocrats of AIM, would be less arrogant than Doom.

Draco Malfoy was a young man with large plans, but he was aware that he had a lifetime in which to achieve them. First things first: Disposing of the Black Queen was his current priority!

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 5: The Wolfsbane Gambit

It was early in the morning in Westchester County, and Rahne Sinclaire took a deep breath of clean air as she jogged across the grounds of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She enjoyed these moments of solitude; they gave her time to think. Right now, she was thinking about Sam Guthrie, the young man she loved. Sam and Rahne had been drawn together from the first. Not only had they arrived at Xavier's at the same time – some four years ago now – but they also shared a deep Christian faith. In this respect, they both had felt alone at the school until they had begun to pray and to read the Bible together in the evenings.

It had only been eighteen months or so before the two of them realised that their feelings had grown beyond mere Christian fellowship into something more intense and personal. They had been blissfully happy, but now their feelings and their faith were coming into conflict. Both believed that physical love outside marriage was wrong, but at the same time, their healthy young bodies were urging them to express their desire for each other. Worse, all around them their friends were enjoying full and happy physical relationships, which the all-knowing Professor Xavier chose to discreetly ignore.

There was no-one Rahne could turn to who would understand her dilemma. Professor Xavier respected all religions, but professed none. Cyclops, Havok and Polaris followed his lead. Beast and Wolverine were out-and-out atheists, as was Alison. Kitty was a Jew by birth, but her family didn't practise their faith. Bobby's and Marie's parents had been churchgoers, but for social rather than religious reasons, and neither of the young people bothered with that pretence now. Peter was Russian Orthodox, while Kurt, Sean and Roberto were Papists – one step down from Satanists, in Rahne's view! Shiro was a Zen Buddhist, a practice Rahne didn't understand, and her closest friend Dani was an unabashed pagan. Rahne had tried to talk to Dani about her problem, but halfway through the conversation, the Native American girl had simply hugged her hard and said, "For cryin' out loud, sweetie! Just take him to bed! Sam's a wonderful, gentle guy. You'll be great together. It's what your body is for, Rahne, honey!"

Another young woman might have been able to ask her mother, but Rahne couldn't. Her pious, narrow-minded parents, who crofted on Muir Island off the Scottish coast, had feared and hated their shape-shifting daughter. Rather than be shunned by the insular community, her father had tried to smother his daughter one night, but Rahne had escaped in her wolf form, roaming the island until found by its Lady.

Luckily for Wolfsbane, that was Lady Moira McTaggart, or Dr McTaggart, as she preferred to be called. A colleague of Xavier's in Mutant research, Moira had lost no time in sending Rahne to the Professor. Xavier's telepathic abilities, and those of Jean Grey, had quickly healed her traumatised mind, while the loving friendship of the other young Mutants had helped Rahne accept herself. But she had held onto her faith – a simpler, gentler version of her parents' fierce Calvinism, but just as stern in its moral requirements.

Rahne suddenly realised that there was one person both she and Sam could talk to. The four English wizards would be coming to Xavier's soon for refresher training. Both she and Sam had become very close to one of them, Ron Weasley. Ron was perceptive, gentle and as straight as a die. He'd listen and not judge, and perhaps just talking about it to someone else would help them resolve the issue.

That decided, Rahne reached a small, wooden structure in a quiet corner of the grounds. Everyone called it 'Rahne's Hut' – the door was designed in such a way that she could open and close it in her wolf form. Time to stop thinking for a while! Rahne went into the hut and stripped naked, then shifted to wolf, left the hut and began to run. She needed this time of freedom to play and to exercise her animal self. True, her X-Man uniform was made of adaptive polymer that allowed her freedom of movement in any form, but she also needed to feel the wind on her fur sometimes, and to roll in the grass. Banshee and Wolverine had built the hut to protect her fiercely guarded modesty when she changed. She couldn't run through the school as a wolf – she'd frighten too many of the younger children.

Wolfsbane revelled in the scents of the morning, a sensation she was denied in her human form, so she was as angry as she was surprised at the jarring new notes that appeared when she reached a stand of trees: machine oil, metal, man-scent, the whiff of masked fear, and something else, something unfamiliar. It was a heavy, powerful reek, thick with malice and dark lust. Wolfsbane stopped and stood at gaze, then a figure stepped out of the trees, raised a weapon, and fired at her. But she was already moving, jinking gracefully as she charged down on the intruder, and so the plastic net missed her. Wolfsbane sprang. Her powerful jaws closed on the man's arm, and he howled in pain as the young she-wolf bore him to the ground.

Then a weight came on her back, and the horrible, alien stench nearly choked her. A guttural voice spoke in her ear, "Got you! Ah, but you're a beauty, and brave too! Such whelps you'll bear me!"

Fighting revulsion, Wolfsbane shifted to her semi-human form, and twisted in the grip that held her, using a jiu-jitsu move to throw her captor off. He was a tall, rangy man who moved like an animal himself. His yellow eyes were fixed on her hungrily as he started towards her again. Rahne was smaller than he, but possibly as strong – not that it mattered, as she used three or four very dirty tricks learned from Logan to put him down fast.

But, by this time, other enemies surrounded her. Some of them, she saw, wore the blue uniforms of Hellfire Club mercenaries, but others seemed to be dressed in a variety of robes. The mercenaries carried their usual assortment of stun projectors, small arms and net-throwers; the robed ones carried wands. Wizards? Rahne was astonished. Then a heavy blow landed on the back of her head and she fell. Rolling over, she stared muzzily up at her attacker, seeing a tall, dark-haired man in blue. On his chest was a badge of a white castle – the White Rook! Donald Pierce grinned down at her, advising, "If I were you, Wolfsbane, I'd stay put. You're no match for me, and if I damage you, your husband-to-be over there will be disappointed."

At that moment, there was a sudden roar, and a the figure of a young man trailing a column of smoke and flame shot over Rahne to crash into Pierce and carry him back into the trees. Simultaneously, the form of Sunfire streaked overhead, pausing to drop the black silhouette that was Sunspot among the mercenaries, before hurling a red-orange firebolt into the wizards.

Wolfsbane struggled to her feet. In this form, she healed as rapidly as Wolverine. Her concussion was already gone by the time she noticed Rogue at her side. The tall Southern girl said tersely, "It's you they're after, sugah. Get back to the mansion. We'll cover you!"

Wolfsbane wanted to fight, but she wouldn't question Rogue's authority. As she started back to the house, she saw Colossus and Ariel coming up. Then there was a whoosh, and Cannonball dropped to the ground at her side. "Let's go!" he said.

Behind them, the cyborg White Rook came storming out of the woods, only to find himself face to face with the armoured form of Colossus. Pierce swung a mighty blow to the younger man's midsection. Colossus grunted, but didn't move, then threw a punch of his own. Pierce blocked with his bionic arm, before launching a counter-punch. It quickly became clear that this was a battle of attrition. Cyborg and Mutant were evenly matched as to strength; it would take a great many blows from Pierce to put Colossus down, and though a single successful strike from Peter would knock the Rook out, he first had to get past the man's superb defence.

Then Peter heard a 'voice' in his head. Not the familiar one of Xavier, but the mental tones of the White Queen!

Colossus, he's most vulnerable where his bionic limbs join his human torso! Peter had a mental image of the White Rook, certain areas of his form outlined in red. There was no time for Colossus to debate whether or not to trust Emma Frost. Instead, he slipped Pierce's next blow, and drove rigid fingers into the point just by the right shoulder that the image had shown him. The cyborg yowled in agony and staggered back. Peter followed up, kicking him just above the hip on the left to disable the other side. The White Rook collapsed.

Colossus looked around to see where else he could help, then abruptly sank into the ground up to his waist. A tall wizard strode up to him, stopping just beyond his reach to drawl, "Well, lookee, here! Looks like yer all hog-tied nice and purty, Tin Man. Lessee if you really got a heart!"

Then he went down to his knees. Ariel emerged from behind him, and swung the heavy branch once again. The blow landed with a resounding crack and remarkable venom, considering the attacker's size, and the wizard slumped unconscious. Ariel dropped the branch and darted over to her boyfriend, grabbing his outstretched hand before using her phasing ability to allow him to step up out of the solid earth.

Rahne and Sam were making tracks toward the mansion when Sam suddenly pitched forward and didn't move. Wolfsbane spun to see a thin witch aiming a wand at her. Then Rogue was there, grabbing the witch's wand hand in her ungloved one. The woman keeled over without a sound. Rogue picked up the wand and dashed towards Wolfsbane, yelling, "Go!" Wolfsbane ran. Rogue muttered, "This is gettin' to be a habit! I'll be goin' to Hogwarts for real before long." She bent over Cannonball and said clearly, "Ennervate!"

Sam's eyes opened, he rolled over, glanced around, then grabbed Rogue and pulled her down hard. She fell on top of him as a voice yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" A bolt of green light shot over her head and struck a tree, the leaves of which immediately turned black and shrivelled. Rogue rolled off Cannonball and pointed her wand, barking, "Crucio!" A wizard screamed and doubled over to fall in a trembling heap.

"Geez!" muttered Cannonball. "That was harsh!"

"Sonuvabitch threw a Killing Curse at me!" growled Rogue. "What was I gonna do – blow him a kiss? Wrong time of the month to piss me off, bub!" she yelled at her erstwhile opponent.

Not for the first time, Cannonball reflected that Rogue's absorption of Wolverine's powers on one occasion had left its mark!

Wolfsbane had not got far before she was tackled to the ground once again. The vile scent was all around her while a heavy hand pinned her by the back of the neck, pushing her face into the grass. The guttural voice spoke again, "Oh no, you'll not wriggle out of this, pretty one! You're mine, now and forever!" Then there was a thud and a grunt, and the weight came off her.

She sprang to her feet, ready to fight, but found her attacker distracted by a short, stocky figure in a checked shirt and jeans – Wolverine! The Canadian spoke without looking at her. "Got it covered, darlin'. Amscray!"

The intruder snarled at Wolverine, "Do you know who I am?"

Logan shrugged, "Just another werewolf, far as I can tell by your stink."

"Not a werewolf, the werewolf!" The man drew himself up. "I am Fenrir Greyback! Now, stand aside!"

"Blow it out yer ass, pal!" growled Logan. "That little girl is one o' my kids. You want her, you gotta go through me!"

"So be it." Fenrir launched himself at his smaller foe, only to be thrown back by a pair of devastating blows. He roared, and charged again, and the fight was on in earnest.

At the edge of the trees, two tall men were watching the battle unfold. One was a muscular figure in a red Hellfire Club uniform. His name was Cole, and he was a former Recon Marine who commanded the mercenary unit here today. The other was a slender, balding, scholarly-looking wizard in sombre robes. His name was Caradoc Grimslade, and he led the wizard contingent. The two men watched as Colossus, Ariel, Rogue, Sunfire, Cannonball and Sunspot wreaked havoc on their mixed force. They saw their objective escaping as Fenrir was trapped in a bitter, brutal fight with Wolverine, whose particular sense of honour prevented him from using his deadly claws on an enemy in human form.

For a while, the battle could have gone either way, but then two airborne figures swooped into the action. Banshee's ultrasonic scream and the magnetic powers of Polaris rapidly shifted the balance toward the defenders.

Cole turned to Grimslade. "I warned you about this. We better get out of here before the rest of the X-Men turn up!"

Grimslade raised an eyebrow and spoke in a cultured, Bostonian accent, "You mean these are not all of them?"

Cole shook his head. "Nah. Fewer than half of them, just the ones that were nearest. The others are on their way – look!" He pointed out across the grounds to a crowd of small figures who were pelting toward the battle. "We either go now, or we get our asses wiped." He raised a pair of binoculars and scanned the mansion, then stiffened and swore before calling out, "Mr. Pierce!"

The White Rook was staggering off the battlefield, evidently in a good deal of pain, but managing to carry the witch who'd been overcome by Rogue's powers. "What is it, Cole?"

"Sir, has the White Queen contacted you?"

"Emma? No, why?"

"Because she's in the mansion, watching the fight. If she's not talking to you, then I have to assume she's directing the enemy. Sir, she knows all our tactics. If she's working with the X-Men, we are seriously compromised!"

"Shit," said Pierce wearily, "Let's go home, Cole. We're beaten."

Grimslade stepped forward, put his wand to his throat, and invoked an amplification spell. "Sonorous!" Then he bellowed, "DISENGAGE! EVERYONE BACK TO THE TRUCK. NOW!" As both mercenaries and wizards obeyed, he turned to Cole and spoke in his normal voice, "Mr. Cole, you and I need to talk. I owe you an apology, sir."

Fenrir leaped back from Wolverine. "It seems we must finish our discussion another time! I have marked your scent, Mutant! Tell me your name – I like to know whose heart I will be eating!"

"They call me Wolverine, bub," the Canadian replied coolly. "And I've marked your scent, too. Don't cross me again, Greyback, or you might not live to regret it!"

The X-Men pursued the attackers back to a large truck, parked just within the grounds. Before they could wonder how it had gotten past the perimeter detectors, the last mercenary climbed in, and the tall wizard in the driver's seat said loudly, "The Hellfire Club!" The truck shimmered and vanished.

"Clever!" remarked Rogue. "They must've made the whole darn truck into a Portkey! That's how they got in past the detectors."

"Well, don't that beat all!" said Sam. "Let's get back to the house. I wanna make sure Rahne's OK."

Wolfsbane had reached the mansion. As she approached a side door, it swung open to reveal the slender figure of Emma Frost, who held out Rahne's bathrobe and said, "Here, slip this on so you can change back. You can go get your sweats later."

Rahne pulled on the robe, thanking the woman shyly, and feeling ashamed of her distrust of the former White Queen. Emma's eyes went distant for a moment, and then she said, "It's pretty much over out there. You better run along and get in the shower, Rahne – I know you'll want one after that…thing…pawed you that way."

Rahne took off, but Emma remained where she was, watching as the X-men made their way back to the house. Cyclops and Rogue approached her immediately, and Scott Summers put out a hand. "Dr. Frost, I owe you an apology; we all do, I think. We haven't treated you as well as we should have, and we haven't trusted you. I'm sure you can understand why. But today, if you hadn't warned us about the intruders, we might have lost Wolfsbane. You've gone a long way toward convincing me that you're sincere."

Emma smiled, but her eyes were sad. "But not all the way, Cyclops? What about you, Rogue?"

Marie looked her in the eye. "I'll be the first to admit I find it hard to trust you. I'll also be the first to admit that you were a big help today. Let's just say you're on parole as far as I'm concerned, OK?"

"That's fair." Emma conceded. "Normally, I wouldn't have intervened. I've no right to expect you to trust me, but the Professor is in the Cerebro chamber, so I had to act. I'm just grateful that you all believed me.

"And for the record," she went on, "I didn't just do it to spite the Hellfire Club. I do want to earn your trust, and I want to do it honestly, if I can."

"Then I have another step for you." Said the voice of Charles Xavier. The Professor had come up behind Emma, and now she turned to face him. Xavier's eyes held the slightly weary look they always had after a session with the Mutant-detecting super-computer, but he spoke firmly, "You have recovered enough from your ordeal. It's time you and I had a talk, Dr. Frost. This attack has only made matters more imperative. I need to know as soon as possible exactly what has happened within the Hellfire Club and who is involved."

Just then, a figure standing slightly behind Xavier stepped forward. She was a tall, stately woman, full-figured and regal, with long, black hair. Her face was certainly beautiful, but not entirely human, and her eyes were those of an eagle, steady and golden-brown. She placed a long, elegant hand on Xavier's shoulder and bent to speak to him in a husky voice with an odd, lilting accent, "Not just now, Charles. First, you must rest and eat a little, my beloved. I think Dr Frost would also like time to collect her thoughts."

Xavier placed a hand over the woman's. "You're right, as always, Lilandra." he replied. "Dr Frost, come to my study in an hour's time, if you please."

Emma nodded and turned to leave, but someone caught her arm, and she found herself looking up into the eyes of Peter Rasputin. He came straight to the point, speaking slowly in his bass rumble, "Dr. Frost, I can't answer for anyone else here, but back there you helped me put the White Rook out of action a lot quicker than I could've done otherwise. I'm not about to make any judgments, that's Marie's department, but for myself, I owe you one. So, if there's anything I can do for you, just name it."

She smiled hesitantly. "There's just one thing, Peter, and I think you'll find it easy. Just…just be kind to me, please?"

He smiled back. "That I can do!"

Emma nodded her thanks, then went on her way, thinking, Yes, he'll be kind – they all will. But they won't trust me until Xavier says so. And Rogue never will until Harry Potter says so. Emma Frost knew in her heart that she was no longer the White Queen. That cold, domineering, ambitious woman had been a lie she had devised to protect herself from the pain of her past. But Harry Potter had exposed her for the sham she was. Because of him, she had lost Sebastian and the Hellfire Club to Selene, and she had been humiliated and tortured. Yet all she felt towards Harry was a great debt of gratitude because, for the first time in years, Emma Frost could feel her heart beating, warm and alive, and because now when she needed to, she could finally cry.

Selene lounged on her throne and looked down with smouldering eyes at the four figures standing by the foot of the dais. The White Rook's face still bore the marks of the pain Colossus had caused him. Caradoc Grimslade and Ralph Cole stood, to Selene's surprise, shoulder to shoulder. Fenrir Greyback stood a little apart from the other three, and returned Selene's look with something very like contempt.

Selene herself was not alone. Bellatrix sat at her feet as always, glowering down at Fenrir, while Rookwood leaned indolently against the high back of the throne. Three steps down the dais stood the tall figure of Sebastian Shaw – the Black King. At the back of the hall, Peter Pettigrew lurked in the shadows, watching and listening. For this interview, Selene had decided to make a show of power, so there were two other figures, standing behind and to either side of her throne, like bodyguards.

One stood about eight feet tall. Its lower limbs and head were those of a gigantic goat, while its chest and arms were human. Great, bat-like wings were folded on its back, wings it occasionally opened and flapped, sending a gust of foul stench across the hall. It was an Abyss Goat, one of the more powerful types of demons Selene was now able to summon.

The other figure was taller – ten feet at least – and entirely humanoid. Its outer shell of super-hard alloy gleamed softly in the torchlight as it stood still as a statue. Whoever had built it had supplied it with a stern, impassive and unmoving face out of which red eye-cells scanned the hall. This was a Sentinel anti-Mutant robot, created by the White Rook specifically to battle the X-Men or the Brotherhood of Mutants.

"Donald," Selene said in a soft, sad tone the acoustics of the hall carried clearly to her audience, "my loyal White Rook, I'm so disappointed in you. I thought that whatever else happened, you I could rely on. But now, look! You go racing off on some hare-brained adventure without asking me, and you get hurt!" Selene threw up her hands. "I don't know whether to nurse you or to punish you. What were you thinking, Donald?"

The millionaire inventor and cybernetic juggernaut looked down at his feet, shuffling them like a schoolboy. "I'm sorry, Selene. I should have told you, but Greyback here was set to go regardless, and taking Grimslade with him, so Cole and I thought we'd better lend a hand. We didn't – I didn't – think they had a clue as to what they'd be up against at that mansion, so we took some of our people along for back up. There wasn't time to reach you – you were in the Temple. I'm sorry."

"How noble!" replied Selene sarcastically, her tone making Pierce flinch. "It had nothing to do, of course, with paying back the X-Men for all the times they've humiliated you?"

Pierce looked up at her with real hurt in his eyes. The White Rook had been one of Selene's more successful seductions, she thought; he was completely in love with her. Selene sighed. The fight with Colossus, and her apparent anger with him, had caused her Rook quite enough pain. It was a delicate balance, and if she overdid things, his passion could turn to hatred.

She smiled down at Donald Pierce. "Very well, I forgive you, this time." She turned to the wizard and the mercenary. "You two, I'll let Sebastian deal with!"

Shaw nodded, and looked soberly at the two men. "Grimslade, I've nothing much to say to you. You had no idea of what you were getting yourself and your people into. Still," he added heavily, "if you hadn't stubbornly ignored our warnings, you might have been prepared. I know it rubs you wrong to listen to us Muggles, but now several of your people are in the hospital here because of it. Dammit, man, we told you the X-Men were dangerous! We told you as well that they know about wizards so you were never going to surprise them."

Bellatrix leaned forward, interrupting Shaw to snarl at Grimslade, "Those Mutants helped our enemies defeat the best our Dark Lord could muster! I told you that, too, Caradoc. You might have listened to me, if not to Sebastian here!"

Grimslade held up a hand. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said to Bellatrix, "but those were British wizards the X-Men fought. I was brought up to believe that your wizards were a decadent bunch who spent all their time playing Quidditch and either hiding from Muggles or breeding with them!

"Obviously, I was wrong, and I'll be the first to admit it. And Lt. Cole," he turned to the mercenary commander, "I owe you an apology, too. My people tend to look down on yours – 'mere Muggles', they say. It seems we've underestimated you. We won't do that again."

"About the rest, Mr. Shaw, I was told that orders from the Inner Circle, or from Mrs. Lestrange, Mr. Rookwood, Mr. Pettigrew or Mr. Greyback were to be treated as orders from Her Majesty, there. So, when we were ordered by Mr. Greyback to seize the girl, we obeyed."

Cole broke in at this point. "When I found out about it, I informed the White Rook, who told me the mission must have been authorized, so we went along as back up. I take full responsibility for my men."

"Of course you do," replied the Black King, "which is why you are confined to quarters for forty-eight hours, as is Mr. Grimslade. In future, authorization comes from the Black Queen or myself!"

"Which brings me to you, Fenrir." Selene glared at the werewolf, who returned her gaze unflinchingly. Her control over this one was tenuous at best; he had resisted her seductive wiles, and was only held here through fear for his life and her promise that soon he would be free to hunt and ravage as he chose.

He spoke before she could, "I don't answer to you, woman! I want the girl, and I'll have her! She's young, healthy, a virgin, and she can control her change. When I breed from her, our offspring will have that talent, and werewolves will be free – free of the Moon, free to hunt when and where we please! Out of Wolfsbane by Fenrir – a pedigree to make the world tremble!"

"You can't go back to the mansion," the White Rook pointed out deflatingly, "or you won't come back alive." He turned to Shaw, remarking, "This idiot got into it with Wolverine!"

Shaw shook his head. "Then he's lucky to be here now!"

"I don't understand," said Rookwood, "I've read your files. I'd have thought that Sunfire or Iceman would have been more dangerous. This Wolverine seems to have little in the way of real power."

The Black King turned and looked up at the tall wizard. "You're judging by the wrong yardstick, Augustus. True, judged on raw power, Wolverine is one of the weakest of the X-Men, but in ferocity, he's absolutely the most dangerous. I'd recommend you ask some of his former opponents, but you'd have to dig most of them up, first!"

"Enough!" snarled Fenrir. "I'll do as I please! You can help me and live, or hinder me and die!"

Selene said nothing, did nothing, but Fenrir suddenly collapsed to the floor, howling in agony. Bellatrix recognised the effects of a Cruciatus Curse. Selene had cast it both non-verbally and wandless! I must get her to teach me that, Bellatrix thought, before I kill her.

Fenrir stopped howling, glared fiercely at Selene, and tensed to spring. Then Pettigrew's silver hand came down on his neck, and he couldn't move as the deadly metal sent more pain shrilling along his nerves.

Selene smiled. "Thank you, Peter darling. Now you and Augustus take him down to the dungeons. A week there will teach him manners, I think!

"Caradoc, Cole, I expect you to obey Sebastian's orders. Donald…" her tone became tender, "….Come with me, my sweet. I have a wonderful remedy for your pain, and you must apologise to me properly."

Selene rose from her throne, dismissing her two non-human guards with a gesture. The demon folded its wings about itself and vanished; the robot turned and left through a hidden door. The Black Queen gently took the White Rook's arm and led him toward her private quarters.

Shaw watched them go and sighed, then turned as Bellatrix came up beside him, asking, "What is it, Sebastian?"

He shrugged. "I told Selene what Cole said about Emma being with the X-Men, but she didn't seem bothered. Sometimes I can't figure her out!"

Bellatrix laughed. "Of course not, dear! She's a woman, and you're only a man! But as for Frost, so what if she tells Xavier everything? All he will do is summon Harry Potter to his side, which is just what we want!

"The Hell-Gate opens wider every day. Soon, the Named Demons can be summoned. By then, it will be too late; Potter and the X-Men will fall! But for now," she slipped her arms around his neck, "if Selene is occupied with Donald, why should we not indulge ourselves?"

They kissed greedily, then Bellatrix moved away from Shaw, climbing back up the dais. On the top step, she turned and shed her robe with a graceful movement. "I feel like usurping the Queen's throne for a while." She posed herself provocatively on the large seat. "Come, Sebastian, there's plenty of room for two!" Dark eyes glittering, he climbed the stairs toward her.

The Sentinel stepped through the doorway, and vanished. In its place stood a slim man of medium height, with a thin, sharp face and lank, black hair. He turned and looked back at the curtain, overhearing Shaw and Bellatrix talking. He grinned to himself, his eyes – one blue, one gold – glinting with amusement. Then he turned away; the White Knight, alias Jason Wyngarde, alias Mastermind, had a message to send.

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 6: Sirius Black Plays Host

It was towards the end of the afternoon that Harry and his friends approached the door of No.12 Grimmauld Place. He and Ron were by now loaded down with carrier bags, as the ladies had decided that mere window-shopping did not fill the need: Neither of them, apparently, had a decent stitch to wear, and both the young men needed outfitting as well! So it was rather wearily that Harry mounted the steps toward the front door, Ginny beside him. As they reached the top, there was a flash and a thunderclap from inside, and the door flew open, letting out a cloud of acrid, black smoke that set them both choking and gasping.

Behind them, Hermione and Ron dropped their bags. Hermione dissipated the smoke with a flick of her wand. Ron was suddenly past Harry and Ginny and into the hallway, going in fast and low with the fluid grace that surprised people who looked no further than his imposing bulk. He faced a singular tableau.

In the middle of the hall, Ororo was standing, hands on hips, in an attitude of furious defiance. Sirius was sitting on the bottom step, holding his sides and wheezing with laughter. Remus was hanging onto the newel post, similarly incapacitated. On the wall in front of Ororo hung the scorched remnants of a picture frame; a few scraps of blackened canvas were drifting forlornly to the floor.

For a moment, Ron was at a loss, then he heard Harry behind him hiss, "Sweet Medea! The portrait!"

Of course, the burned frame and bits of canvas were all that remained of the portrait of Sirius' mother that had hung for so long in the hallway. The old lady had been a razor-tongued harridan, constantly berating her son for letting the family down, and hurling insults at his guests. The previous summer, she had called Hermione a stinking Mudblood once too often for Ron's temper, and he had tried to rip the picture down physically, but the spells that protected it had been too much even for his muscles to overcome. Now he just stared as Ororo turned to Sirius.

"Sirius, I'm sorry!" she cried. "I just lost it. It was one time too many!"

Sirius got to his feet, went over and took her in his arms. "Oh, my darling, don't apologise! I've been trying to get rid of that gods-damned thing for ages! I might have known it'd be you who finally sank Mother!"

Harry, who had recovered from the smoke and quickly moved to cover Ron's advance, lowered his wand and wondered, "What in Merlin's name happened?"

Remus shook his head. "Jupiter, Harry, you should have seen it! The old lady called Ororo a monster for the umpteenth time and then – kapow! One lightning bolt, no more portrait, hall full of smoke! The door blows open and to cap everything, you two do a Starsky and Hutch through it!"

"Starsky and who?" Ron wanted to know. Remus waved a dismissive hand. "Old telly programme I used to watch at Nanna's. You wouldn't know it, but Harry might, or Hermione."

"I think," came Hermione's stern voice from the doorway, "that it's what Daddy would call a 'Bodie and Doyle'; however, might I ask just how long you intend to leave me out here among the shopping, Mr Weasley? Or has familiarity bred enough contempt for you to expect me to carry these bags in by myself?"

"Coming, pet!" said Ron, with a hangdog grimace that set Remus laughing again. Harry went with him, before he caught the rough edge of Ginny's tongue.

Just as they had got everything in and closed the door, there was another boom and the Black's house-elf, Kreacher, appeared in the hall, staring horrified at the remains of the portrait.

"Mistress!" he squealed. "What has happened to Mistress? What has the monster done to her?" He spun round, glaring venomously, only to come up short. The tip of Ororo's wand was within a quarter of an inch of his bulging right eye.

She spoke quietly, but with a deadly conviction. "Kreacher, what I did to your precious mistress, I can do to you. If I hear the word 'monster' again, I will! Or worse."

"Worse?" he sneered. "What? You would give Kreacher clothes? Set him free to have a long talk with Mistress Bellatrix?"

"No," Storm said sweetly, "I'd ask Sirius to order you to go to Xavier's and work there. You could be Mr Logan's personal servant."

None of the four young people knew what Wolverine might have said or done to arouse such a reaction in the house-Elf, but at the mention of his name, Kreacher's expression changed to one of stark fear and he cringed back against the wall. He stared at Sirius, who stood at Ororo's shoulder. "Master would not!"

"Oh, Master would!" said Sirius coldly. "Master has had more than enough of your disrespect for the new mistress of this house, Kreacher. I've also had enough of the way you treat our guests. The world has changed, and if you can't or won't change with it, then I may well do as your mistress suggests!"

"Kreacher," Ororo said in a tone of steely command, "get this mess cleared up, then start preparing dinner."

For a moment, the house-elf looked defiant, then suddenly, he bowed and spoke in a strangled tone of respectful hatred. "Perhaps Kreacher was wrong. Perhaps his new Mistress is more worthy than he thought."

"Bloody Hell!" said Ron. "There's a compliment for you, Storm!"

Ororo laughed. "You think so, Hunter? At least yours are smoother."

"Oh, really?" remarked Hermione. "He's been paying you compliments, has he?"

"Ah… come on, you four," Sirius intervened. "Let's get you up to your rooms and unpacked before things get nasty!"

Actually, things got rather nice, as it turned out. Harry's 'room' was more of a small flat, with its own bedroom, sitting room and bathroom. Sirius was a good deal more liberal than Molly Weasley, so the bedroom was kitted out with a capacious double bed and two wardrobes, as well as a dressing table for Ginny's use. Both of them felt a little sticky after their tramp around town, so Ginny made a dive for the shower straight away, then invited Harry in "to wash her back", and one thing led to another! As a result, Harry found himself in the mellow mood that was becoming increasingly familiar. Ron and Hermione had similar accommodation just across the corridor. When the four met up to go down for dinner, Harry gathered from Ron's quiet smile and the soft look of contentment on Hermione's face that they had also had some 'personal' time.

The drawing room was unexpectedly full when they arrived. As well as Sirius, Ororo and Remus, Bill and Tonks had arrived. Fleur was there, also, and, more surprisingly, Neville and Lavender, who greeted their friends enthusiastically.

"Sirius found us wandering around Diagon Alley yesterday and invited us for tonight," Lavender explained.

"I thought you'd be knee-deep in preparations," Hermione remarked. "The handfasting's only a couple of weeks off, isn't it?"

"Don't we know it!" Neville groaned. "Between my grandmother and Lavender's mum, we're both being talked at about it constantly. It was driving us barmy!"

"We had a row, in the finish," Lavender admitted. "Nearly called it all off, but we realised what was happening, packed our bags, and did a runner!"

"We're staying at the Cauldron," Neville added, "and we're letting the families get on with it for a bit. Then we'll go back and tell 'em exactly how we want the thing done!"

"Speaking of things like that, you two…." Lavender turned accusingly to Hermione and Ron. "You might have let us know ahead of the announcement. C'mon Hermione, let's see the rock!"

Blushing prettily, Hermione extended her left hand. On the third finger was a simple white-gold ring set with a modestly sized but particularly clear and lustrous solitaire diamond. Lavender shook her head in wonder. "It's lovely!" she said. "Not as nice as mine, of course, but very beautiful. I didn't know you'd such good taste, Ron!"

"What? After this one spent six years educating me?" Ron protested. But when no one was looking, he sent a quick, grateful wink to Ororo, who smiled in acknowledgement.

Ororo had been surprised when Pigwidgeon had arrived one morning, carrying a note from Ron asking her to meet him at King's Cross and not to tell anyone. When he'd told her what he needed her for, she'd been even more surprised, and very flattered to be asked. But in the end, he'd known what he wanted; he'd just needed her to confirm his choice. Ron was an odd mixture – brave as a lion, tough as old boots, but thin-skinned and in some ways lacking self-confidence even now. He and Hermione were made for each other; she was his light and lodestar, as he was her rock and harbour, thought Storm.

Harry left his friends chatting about the forthcoming nuptials and made his way across to Remus, who was presiding over the small bar.

"What d'you fancy, Harry? Amontillado or Manzanilla?" Remus asked.

"Blowed if I know!" answered Harry honestly.

"Amontillado, then. It's not quite so dry. The other stuff is a bit of an acquired taste, I think. How's things?"

"Not so bad at all. How about yourself?"

"Fair, very fair. Here you go, mate!"

Harry accepted the glass of sherry and took a sip. As he did so, he realised that somehow, without noticing it, he had crossed the barrier between child and adult. Remus Lupin, his former teacher and friend of his parents, was treating Harry as an equal. While he was still digesting this, Ginny joined them, and as Remus was pouring her a sherry, she said, "You're looking very smart, Remus! New dress robes?"

In fact, Remus and Sirius were the only ones wearing traditional dress robes. Sirius had on the grey ones he'd worn to Ororo's Sorting, while Remus wore black with gold patterning. Harry, Bill and Neville were wearing a style that was becoming popular among young wizards – velvet suits with knee-length jackets worn over elaborately frilled shirts. Harry's was midnight blue, Bill's hunting green, and Neville's a golden brown. Ginny, Tonks, Fleur and Lavender also wore the new-style robes for witches: full-skirted, but with a more fitted bodice than the older type. Tonks wore hers with a high neck, but the other three – all quite well endowed – favoured low necklines that displayed their assets.

Hermione was wearing a Muggle evening gown in ivory silk, high at the front, but plunging daringly at the back. She and Tonks had often commiserated with each other about the fact that both of them must have been "hiding in the cellar when the Boob Fairy arrived", as Nymphadora put it. Ororo had on a saffron silk caftan that lent her a queenly dignity. She truly looked the mistress of the house.

Ron, to everyone's surprise, also wore Muggle clothing: dark trousers, white shirt, maroon tie with gold lions, and maroon blazer with an elaborate badge – the Hogwarts coat of arms – on the breast pocket. A simple charm allowed the wording on the badge to change between Ottery St Catchpole RUFC and Team Gryffindor – Hogwarts Champions 1997.

Hermione explained, "Ron needed something to wear because he's taking me to Daddy's Rugby Club's annual dinner next month. I thought that since Ron's built like a prop forward, I'd invent a club for him to play for, and Daddy can coach him about the game. It'll get him in with Daddy's friends, and all their wives and daughters can be jealous of me!"

As Harry and Ginny chatted with Remus, Fleur came over to greet them. "Bonsoir, 'Arry!" she said, gripping his shoulders and kissing him firmly on both cheeks. Extending an elegant hand to Ginny, Fleur enquired, "Comment allez-vous, Ginny?"

"I'll be fine," said Ginny wryly, "just as soon as every woman in the place gives over trying to snog my fella!" Lavender's greeting to Harry had also been distinctly affectionate.

Fleur giggled. "Ah, but zat is ze penalty for 'aving a man so attractive, n'est-ce pas? With Scott, I 'ave ze same problem. When we go dancing, all ze women try to get 'is attention!"

"C'mon, Ginny, the only one you really have to worry about is Dani! She's bound and determined to get her tongue round my tonsils sooner or later," Harry said with a laugh.

"Hmph!" said Ginny, in full mock-grouch mode. "Dani I don't worry about; she's a good mate. She's a gobby cow like me, mind. That's why we get on, but there's no harm in her. No, I worry about Marie more. And that Kitty Pryde," she added darkly.

"Speaking of which," Remus cut in as Ron and Hermione came up, "Kitty sends her love to you three, and says to tell you, Ginny, that you'd better be taking good care of Harry, or else! Marie sends love to all four of you and says you're to get your butts over to Xavier's soon, or she and Logan will come and fetch you."

Shortly after that, Ororo called them all in to dinner. The meal was a sharp contrast to the hearty but plain fare Harry had been enjoying at The Burrow. It started with a salad of fresh grapefruit and mandarin segments. The main course was beef Stroganoff, with rice and a green salad, accompanied by a pleasant Chardonnay. Dessert proved to be a rich tiramisu, complemented by a honeyed Muscatel. Finally, Ororo betrayed her American upbringing by serving large cups of aromatic coffee alongside wafer-thin chocolate mints.

Conversation throughout dinner had been light, but as the coffee was served, Sirius decided it was time to come to the purpose of the evening. He had a feeling in his bones that the six young people he had invited, especially Harry, were to have important roles in the future of the wizarding world. It was time, Sirius thought, to talk frankly about that situation.

"So, Bill," he asked, "how are things in the world of high finance?"

Bill, who had been briefed, shrugged. "Well, things are moving again, at last! Ever since people started to believe Harry here about You-Kn…Voldemort…returning, they'd got cautious. But since the spring, they've been investing again.

"On the other hand, though, a lot of my work nowadays involves finding hidden accounts and things – ones opened under false identities and so forth. You might not know this, all of you, but the Wizengamot ordered that all the assets of known Death Eaters be frozen and confiscated. The money is to be used as compensation for families who lost loved ones during the war. A lot of Death Eaters had accounts in false names, and my job is to search them out and seize the funds. But too often when I get there, the money is already gone – not stolen, legitimately withdrawn – and no trace of where it's gone to! Somebody else is interested in that money, and we don't yet know whom.

"Then, of course, there's the matter of Draco Malfoy. Lucius was caught in the Ministry fracas a couple of years back, but there was nothing against Narcissa, and since the accounts were in joint names, she hung onto it all. After she was killed, Draco claimed the money, and there was nothing to stop him doing it. He never was a Death Eater so he just emptied the accounts. He opened another one, but there's never more in there than would account for a comfortable but not extravagant lifestyle. We know he sold Malfoy Manor and bought a place on Dartmoor – Baskerville Hall, it's called, but where the rest of the money went…."

"Business accounts," Fleur told him. "M Malfoy and a M Nott 'ave opened several accounts for what zey call an 'import-export business'. What it is zey are importing and exporting, zey do not say, and we do not ask." She turned to the table at large. "My work ees in the business section of Gringotts, and I see zese accounts often. M Malfoy does leetle, but M Nott is often in ze bank. 'E weel take sums of money from one account and pay eet into zat of anozzer business, as one might pay a debt. But zen ze money some'ow comes back into different ones of 'is and Malfoy's. Eet ees complex, but I 'ave tracked ze figures – eet intrigued me."

"Now why," mused Harry, "is Malfoy laundering money?"

"Doing what with it?" asked Tonks. Harry blinked. He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud, and now everyone was looking at him expectantly. He looked to Hermione for help, but she was as puzzled as anyone else.

"Go on, Harry," urged Sirius.

Harry collected his thoughts. "My uncle reads these books about what Muggles call 'conspiracy theories'. They say that aliens are running the world, or the Freemasons are, or that there's a hidden society of wizards and witches living alongside the Muggle world." That earned a few chuckles, making Harry feel less embarrassed, so he went on. "When he's finished them, he chucks them out and my aunt puts them in a pile to go to the Oxfam shop. I used to nick one once in a while, so I'd have something to read in the summer holidays, and some of them talk about this 'money laundering'.

"You see, Muggle criminals make a lot of money out of things like selling drugs. Well, they can't keep all that cash in vaults and safes, and they can't use it, because Muggle notes have serial numbers that can be traced. So they put it into banks, and then transfer it between lots of different accounts in other banks and countries until the police lose track of it. It sounded from what Fleur said like Malfoy and Nott are doing the same sort of thing. Is there anything else, Fleur?"

Fleur nodded. "We also deal with ze exchange of Galleons into ozzer currencies. Not like when 'Ermione's parents changed a few pounds into Galleons to buy 'er schoolbooks, but large sums for many purposes. Malfoy and Nott 'ave been changing many sousands of Galleons into pounds, and also French and Swiss francs, Deutschemarks and American dollars – what zey call 'ard currencies."

"Hmm." Harry frowned. "I wonder if Malfoy's behind the disappearance of the money Bill's supposed to be collecting? Shifting it through several business accounts would be a good way to hide it. Wizards aren't used to that kind of behaviour; our criminals aren't so sophisticated, are they, Tonks?"

"Don't you believe it!" Tonks rolled her eyes. "D'you know, we've got five unsolved murders on the scrolls right now? The funny thing is," she went on in a musing tone, "that they're all very similar. All the bodies were found in the early hours of the morning, all in public places. What's more, every last one of them was a wanted Death Eater! We'd been after a couple of them since Y…since Voldemort fell the first time. Somebody got to them first, and we've no idea who, how or why!

"Well," Tonks corrected herself, "we know how, or at least we assume it was the Killing Curse. But there's no way to tell for sure, of course."

"There ought to be," Hermione put in. "It can't be that difficult, surely? The Muggle police have people who can look at a body and the place where it was found, and tell you how the killing was done, what with, when and by whom! 'Forensics', they call it. Aren't there any forensic Aurors?"

Tonks shook her head. "I never heard the word until the Ministry called in that Muggle specialist when Narcissa Malfoy was killed."

"Hmph!" snorted Hermione. "I'll have to look into that. I can already see at least three ways it could be done. Give me a year or so, and I'll write the book on Forensic Wizardry!"

She will, thought Ron, feeling a glow of pride in his fiancée, and I'll back her every inch of the way!

"Anyway," Tonks went on, "the real puzzle is who would want to murder these people. I mean, there are lots of wizards out there who lost family and friends, but most of them are decent souls who wouldn't stoop to murder. Still, that's the line the investigation is taking; it's the only one we have."

"It's the wrong one," Ron said crisply, making everyone except Hermione and Harry look at him in surprise. For once, Ron didn't shy away from the attention. His eyes were focused inward and his face was uncannily serene. Harry recognised the signs; Ron's unusual mind had detected a pattern.

Ron took a swallow of coffee before explaining, "Last summer, during the Labyrinth thing, Harry got whisked off to Malfoy Manor by Draco's mother. Harry told us she was trying to recruit him for some organisation she was part of. Earlier this year, after Mrs Malfoy was killed, Sirius and Wolverine found out about these Knights of Walpurgis – Harry told us what you'd told him, Sirius – and that it was the same organisation.

"But Harry also told us that while he was at Malfoy Manor, Draco tried to persuade him to join forces. We know Draco wasn't a Death Eater – he stayed out of the battle with Voldemort – and he never joined the Order of the Phoenix, either. Harry reckoned, and I agree, that Draco has his own little plans, or maybe big ones.

"After what Fleur and Bill have said, and these killings, I'd say that Draco's up to something. With his parents both dead, he'd naturally succeed them, and if they were in charge of these Knights – which is likely – he will be now. He's cleaning house, I think, probably as anxious to get rid of all traces of Voldemort as the rest of us, but for different reasons. We need to watch our backs! Pass us another of those mints, love."

Hermione passed the dish, beaming at him as she did so, and thinking, I never get your limits, Ron Weasley! And that's one of a million reasons why I love you so much!

Bill was shaking his head in wonder. Ye Gods! He's as bright as Hermione or Harry! My little brother! How could I have missed it?

It does my head in when he goes like that, thought Ginny.

"I suppose it's worth following up," Tonks allowed with a thoughtful frown. "Mind you, we keep expecting Rookwood or Lestrange to turn up dead one fine morning. Not that anybody would cry over that!"

"Well," said Remus, "unless Malfoy's developed a very long arm, you won't see that, Tonks. Bella and Rookwood, along with Pettigrew and Fenrir Greyback, are in New York."

Harry looked over. "Sirius told me you were in New York a couple of weeks ago, Remus. Were you tracking Death Eaters there?"

"Sort of. The Ministry employs me to find werewolves these days, and I was following Greyback. I got really interested when I found out he'd joined up with Bella, Rookwood and Peter. I have a special interest in Pettigrew," Remus admitted, "a kind of burning urge to cut his heart out with a wooden spoon – just so it would take longer and hurt more.

"Anyway, I was a bit surprised when I found out those four had decamped to New York. But I followed them there and called in a couple of friends to help out…."

"Don't tell me, let me guess," interrupted Ginny. "Beast and Nightcrawler, right?"

"The very same two reprobates!" Remus announced, grinning. "Well, by the time we all got there, my quarry had gone to ground in a place called the Hellfire Club."

"WHAT?" Harry exploded. "They've hooked up with Sebastian Shaw? Remus, that's–"

"Bloody dangerous? I know. Hank and Kurt told me as much. But there's more to it than that, Harry." Remus went on to give a full account of his adventures in New York, finally bringing his tale up to the three friends' arrival at Xavier's with the rescued prisoner. He also told them what Kurt Wagner had overheard in Selene's throne room. "I've done some homework since, as Charles asked me. The only reason Selene might have for collecting those specific artefacts is to open a Gateway to Hell itself!

"In fact, she's probably done it already. A Gate starts off small, and it takes a long time to get big enough to summon really powerful demons. Even if she opened it the same day I was there, it still wouldn't be big enough now to summon anything we couldn't handle if we worked together."

Harry shook his head. "I hope you're right, Remus. But there's one thing I don't understand. Why did Beast let you rescue the White Queen, of all people? I'd have left her there!"

"No, you wouldn't!" Ginny told him sharply, as Remus shook his head.

"You didn't see her, Harry," Remus said softly. "She'd been abused so much, was in such pain. I couldn't leave her there, and neither would Hank or Kurt. She's not the person you knew as the White Queen. She's changed, and she's so ashamed of what she was before. I understand that; I know how it is to hate what you've become." Remus fell silent.

Sirius said quietly, "Remus has grown quite close to the lady, and unless I'm very much mistaken, the lovely Emma is rather taken with him."

"It's not like that. Emma just needs a friend," Remus refuted.

Ginny grinned. "Is she pretty, Remus?" When he didn't reply, she turned to Harry, asking, "Well, is she?"

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention to her looks. You saw her, too, Ron. What did you think?"

"Well," Ron replied reflectively, "I wouldn't climb over her to get to you, mate!"

Shortly after that, they went back into the drawing room for drinks. Remus took charge of the bar again, while the others seated themselves on couches around a long, low table. Remus came back with a laden tray.

"Now, then, let's see. We've got mead for Fleur, Tonks and Neville, and Firewhiskey for Sirius, Bill and Ron. There's Cointreau for Ororo, and Glen Morangie for Harry and me. Finally, there's Bailey's Irish Cream for Hermione, Ginny and Lavender. Where in the name of Hades did you three acquire a taste for this stuff?"

"My fault," admitted Hermione. "My parents got too much booze in last Christmas, so I half-inched a bottle of Bailey's and one of Bacardi and brought them back to school. We three took them up to the Astronomy Tower one evening for a bit of girly time." She gave a shamefaced grin. "We got a little bit sloshed, I'm afraid."

"A little bit!" said Ron incredulously. "The three of you rolled into the Common Room two minutes before curfew, hanging onto each other, as pissed as newts!"

"We weren't hanging onto each other," protested Lavender. "It was mutual affection."

"You were holding each other up," Neville insisted. "As soon as you let go, Ginny fell one way, Hermione fell the other, and you went straight over on your back! Parvati and Demelza had to carry all three of you up, one by one."

"They never did!" Ginny objected.

"Oh, they did. You were sick all over the carpet. Lavender was sound asleep before she hit the floor, and Hermione was singing!" asserted Harry.

Hermione went pink. "Singing what exactly?" she asked nervously.

Harry grinned evilly at her. "Put it this way, luv: I never knew there were that many verses to 'The Good Ship Venus'!"

Hermione went from pink to scarlet and buried her face in Ron's shoulder. "Oh, no!"

"What's this 'Good Ship Venus'?" Ororo wanted to know.

"Rugby song," Harry told her, and quoted:

'Twas on the good ship 'Venus',

By God, you should have seen us!

The figurehead

Was an unmade bed,

And the mast was a rampant—

"OK, OK!" Storm held up a hand. "I get the idea!"

Tears of laughter were running down Sirius' cheeks, and Remus was howling. Sirius shook his head. "Well, with all the changes in the world, it's good to know that final year at Hogwarts is still the same! How were they the morning after, Ron?"

Ron grinned at him. "Ginny and 'Mione were proper poorly, but Lavender was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!"

"I never get hangovers," reported Lavender smugly.

"Bitch," said Ginny without rancour.

But Sirius had the bit between his teeth now, and he and Remus began regaling the company with stories of their adolescent exploits. Soon, Bill, Tonks and Fleur chimed in with their own tall tales, and the evening became one of anecdotes, some rather gross, and others distinctly raunchy!

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 7: Confessions of the White Queen

Emma Frost entered Charles Xavier's study and seated herself at the Professor's invitation. For this interview, Xavier had chosen to move to the less formal part of the room, so Emma and Lilandra were seated in deep armchairs near the large window that looked out onto the grounds of the mansion.

Under the guise of giving her time to settle, Xavier studied the former White Queen. He had forced himself long ago to use other methods than his telepathy to get a sense of people. His deep respect for the privacy of other minds was the result of more than one unpleasant experience in his youth, and was now so firmly embedded as to be part of his nature. So his first impressions of his 'guest' were the ones a normal man of his intelligence and experience would have.

Emma Frost had deliberately not dressed formally for this meeting, which was significant. Xavier had given her time to change, had she wished, but she still wore the casual clothing she had taken to wearing lately. At the moment, it being a warm summer day, she had on a light, pale blue shirt, knotted under her breasts to expose her midriff, khaki shorts and sandals. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore only a little makeup. She had arrived at the mansion with nothing but the blanket Remus Lupin had wrapped her in, and as soon as she had been well enough, Xavier had offered her the opportunity to go, suitably escorted, to her New York home to collect some clothes. Emma had gracefully declined, preferring to continue borrowing clothes from Lorna Dane – Polaris – who was about the same size.

Instead, she had given her house keys to Cyclops, and asked him to go there and fetch her credit cards, driver's license, passport and various other documents. A few days later, escorted by Havok and Polaris, she had gone to a local shopping mall and purchased a selection of clothing very different from the collection of power-suits and designer outfits she had so casually abandoned. It seemed to Xavier that the change was important to her, as if in leaving those clothes behind she was also somehow ceasing to be the person who had worn them.

In much the same way, her manner of entering the room and seating herself had been noteworthy. She had moved with the simple, natural grace of a healthy, fit woman. Her body language as she sat waiting for Xavier to speak was expressive of calm, almost resignation. It was not the arrogant poise of the White Queen. Her eyes were alert, expectant, but unguarded. She wore her vulnerability like a badge, not of defeat, but of hard-earned victory. If she was deceiving them, she was doing so masterfully. It was time for Xavier to find out.

"Dr Frost…" he began, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

"Emma, please, Professor," she pleaded, "I'm so weary of everyone being so cold and formal with me."

Xavier inclined his head. "Then you must call me Charles." She smiled and nodded gratefully, and he went on. "If you wish, Emma, I can ask Lilandra to leave us alone."

Emma considered the alien Empress who sat so close to her human lover. The Shi'ar race was descended from avian stock, birds of prey, and Lilandra retained the poise and ferocity of a falcon. Emma did not need her powers to know that if she offered even the slightest threat to Xavier, her life would not be worth a moment's purchase. The Shi'ar were a warrior race, and Lilandra could easily tear Emma limb from limb if she chose. But their similarities were more important than their differences, so Emma shook her head.

"I'd like her to stay, please. You're a powerful telepath, Charles, but some of what I have to say, you won't understand because you're a man. Lilandra will understand those parts, and I know you trust her."

Xavier spread his hands. "As you wish." Then he projected to her, Would you prefer to speak this way?

Emma shook her head again. Thanks, but no. Aloud, she continued, "The things I want to say need to be said out loud. I need to hear myself say them."

"Very well. Where do you want to start?"

"At the beginning, I think. You need to know who the White Queen was, and where she came from, before you decide whether or not I'm still her." Emma's eyes lost their focus, as she made herself remember.

"I was the only child of wealthy parents; materially at least, I had everything I could want or need. But there was one great problem: It's one we share, Charles. Most Mutants don't manifest their abilities until puberty at least, but we Psionics are different. Our powers start to show very early. When I was four, I started to 'hear' what people around me weren't saying, as well as what they were saying. By the time I was six, I understood that I could read minds. At first, my folks didn't believe it; they took me to therapists to try and stop me 'hearing things'. Then they got scared. In the end, it got so they wouldn't come near me. I suppose you had the same thing?"

"In a way," Xavier replied, "though my mother at least never turned away from me." He did not elaborate, but he must have known that the Hellfire Club had complete files on him. Emma knew that the elder Xavier had died young, and that Charles' mother had married again – a dashing adventurer named Marko who had a son a little older than Charles. Marko had been after the Xavier fortune, and had tried to systematically poison his new wife. In the end, he had been driven from the home by the nascent telepathic powers of his stepson. Young Cain Marko had both hated and feared his uncanny stepbrother, and those feelings had set him on the path that had, years later, ended in his transformation into the near-indestructible villain known as Juggernaut.

Emma continued, "I tried to block my powers out, but there was no one to teach me how. So I threw myself into my schoolwork. I stayed away from people because I didn't want to hear what was going on in their heads. I was a nerd, a geek, a -what's that old-fashioned word – a bluestocking!

"But, just after I got my doctorate, my parents died. I know some people say that I killed them, or had them killed, but believe me, in those days I didn't have the nerve for that kind of thing! No, Mom had cancer, and it killed her. The stress of looking after her – he did it all himself, she was all he had – and the grief brought on Dad's heart attack a year later.

"So there I was. Twenty-four, rich enough that I didn't need to work, qualified to the hilt, plain, overweight, lonely and telepathic. By then I knew what I was, a Mutant. So I decided to do what you did, Charles, set up a school for Mutants. But nobody would give me the time of day, and in the end, I used my powers to find out why.

"It was then I realised the importance of image, and made my mind up to change mine." She gave a wry little laugh. "It didn't take that much work. Mom was a beauty in her day, and Dad was a handsome man. They passed their good looks on to me, but I'd never made anything of them. It's not like I needed surgery or anything. I dieted, exercised, bought some contact lenses and clothes, and learned how to use makeup. That fact that, after that, people were suddenly falling over themselves to help me set up the Academy, made me a little cynical.

"It was about seven years ago that I met Sebastian Shaw. He'd offered some funding to the Academy, you see, and wanted to meet. I was twenty-seven by then, and still a virgin. I'd learned how to flirt with men, to lead them on so I got my way, but I'd never let things go that far. Sebastian was older than me, but so charming, so vital, so charismatic! We had meetings, then lunches, then a few dinners. He was kind and gentle and entirely determined, and he seduced me. I would have lain down and died for him."

Emma paused, tears spilling down her cheeks. Xavier said nothing, but Lilandra's face was taut with sympathy as she passed a box of tissues across. Emma dried her eyes, then looked pleadingly at Xavier. "Charles, I know I shouldn't, but…."

He waved a hand. "If I can live with Wolverine's cigars and Sean's pipe, a Virginia Slim won't kill me. Go ahead."

Emma lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply and gratefully. "I've been trying to quit. It's a bad example to set the kids, and Remus gets mad at me about it – wizards have never smoked, it seems." She shook her head. "But back to what I was saying: Sebastian and I became lovers. What I didn't know then, of course, was that Henry Leland had been working with Sebastian for a year already, and that he'd found out what my Massachusetts Academy was really about. By the time Sebastian told me, I was completely his, and I just accepted it. He took my dream, my only dream, and twisted it to serve his own drive for power.

"Sebastian was already a member of the Hellfire Club – the legitimate one – and so was Henry. They got me into the Club, and the three of us founded the Inner Circle. While we were doing that, Sebastian and I, between us, created the White Queen. Sebastian stripped away every scrap of kindness and unselfishness in my nature and replaced it with his own naked greed and cold ambition – and I let him!" Emma was crying again, but this time she didn't pause. "I should have known better, but I wouldn't look into his mind. I was so scared I'd find that he didn't really love me after all. Which, of course, he didn't! Sebastian Shaw can no more be faithful to one woman than he can stop being a Mutant.

"Instead, I threw myself heart and soul into every scheme, every plot, every scam and underhand deal. It was me who recruited Donald Pierce.

"A lot of the rest you know. We crossed swords with your X-Men more than once, and most of the time you won. We learned to respect you as enemies. Only Donald really hates you, but that's because, even though you're Mutants, you're all still completely human, while he's half machine.

"Then, of course, there was that day, over a year ago now, at the mall in town. We thought that with Rogue, Iceman and Colossus gone, Ariel and the others would be easy prey. We figured the three English kids were just neo-Mutants who'd do nothing but hinder the others. We had no way of knowing about wizards, no way of knowing just how dangerous they were. We got knocked silly. Worse, I was completely humiliated by Harry Potter.

"Sebastian never said a word, but I was so scared he was ashamed of me. All I could think was that I'd let him down, and it was Harry's fault. When we came back and attacked the mansion a few weeks later, all I wanted was to get back at Harry, to make him pay!

"But again, I couldn't know that he's a telepath as well. Even if I had, I'd never have suspected that his will would be so much stronger than mine. Harry pulled my mind wide open, showed me the lie my life had become – then he just held me while I cried, and sent me to sleep.

"After that, I couldn't keep up the pretense. Oh, I tried. I even recruited a new member, Jason Wyngarde, the White Knight. I found him trying to pull a scam on one of my banks, using his illusionist powers. He told me he'd left Magneto's Brotherhood when he found out they were purely political – Wyngarde's in it for the money!

"But Sebastian also had a new recruit, Selene, the Black Queen. As soon as I saw them together, I knew they were lovers. I didn't know what to do. I watched her seduce Donald, and Henry, and Jason as well. I told Sebastian about it, and he just laughed and said that was how Selene was. He wanted to make love to me, but I told him we were finished! He just shrugged, and said that Selene would soon change my mind, then he left. An hour later, Selene came to my room at the Club, and tried to seduce me! It might have worked, too, but I was too upset. I ordered her out, left a message for Sebastian to say I needed some time to think, and went home.

"I got home, did a lot of thinking, and decided I'd had enough. I couldn't be the White Queen anymore. All I wanted was just to run my school without any of Sebastian's hidden agendas. I almost called you, Charles, for help, but I didn't have the nerve!"

"You should have," Xavier told her, "I'd have listened, at least."

"I know. I've been a fool," Emma admitted, "but it was already too late. When I came to look at my accounts and reports, I found out that I didn't own the school anymore. Sebastian had been secretly buying out the shareholders ever since we first got together. He has to control everything he touches, you know.

"I went storming back to the Club, to find everything changed. Selene was on top, now, and she was even twisting the fabric of our base. It was bigger, somehow. She'd been extending it by magic, and the 'new' parts all looked like something out of the Middle Ages. She even had a goddamn big throne room in place of our old conference room, and we all had to stand there while she lounged on that throne and ordered us around. Those four powerful men – treated like puppies! Selene had gathered together a bunch of American wizards, too. Most of them were pretty nasty types. They all hate Muggles – is that the word? Also, they hate some other type even worse. They call them 'Mudbloods', whatever that means."

"A Mudblood, as I understand it," Xavier explained, "is a wizard or witch, such as our Charm, whose ancestry is purely Muggle on both sides, no history of wizardry in the family. The term is considered an insult, much as some Mutants use the word 'flatscan' for normal humans."

"Oh. Well, they hate them like poison, anyway. So there I was, all this going on around me, looking up at that bitch on her fancy throne and wondering what I'd ever seen in that jerk, Shaw. I told her that I'd had enough, that I wanted to leave the Club, and that I'd take any promise she wanted not to reveal anything about what had gone or was going on.

"She just smiled at me, and said I shouldn't be too hasty, and I needed to hear what she had in mind. Then she told me that she was planning to open a Gateway to Hell and to summon demons through it to serve her. With those demons, she said, we could take over the world, run it as we saw fit. All our ambitions realised at a stroke, she said.

"But I was reading her mind – I think she underestimated my abilities, but I'd never told anyone how good a telepath I actually am. It makes it impossible for people to trust you, doesn't it?"

"I've never found that to be so," said Xavier sternly. "You can either trust someone, or you can't. Telepathy is not the issue; character is."

Emma looked abashed, but recovered herself and carried on. "I discovered what she really wanted. Selene feeds off life energy, you see. But for some reason, she can only do it to normal humans – Muggles. To sustain herself or to get energy for her magic, she needs to drain a person completely, and that kills her victim. She can siphon off a little energy from a wizard or Mutant during sex, but the special bio-energy that characterizes both Mutants and wizards is poisonous to her in large doses.

"What she wants most is to open this Gateway wide enough to summon her parents. Her mother is a demoness called Nevan, a vampiric type. Her father is an ancient wizard called Slytherin. Apparently, if she can bring them both up, they can do some magic that will 'complete' her, make her able to drain anyone. If she can drain Mutants or wizards, she'll gain their powers permanently. Selene intends to make herself a goddess!

"When I found that out, I decided I was out of there, and no promise on earth was going to keep me from telling someone! Whether it was you, Charles, or Dr Strange, or the Avengers, it didn't matter. I had to warn someone!

"Selene must have figured out that I'd discovered the truth, because she just looked at me, and I couldn't move or speak. They took me down to that dungeon, and there I stayed, a plaything for those filthy demons and that psychotic little bitch she set to guard me until Remus Lupin appeared out of nowhere to save me.

"There! That's it, all of it. You can believe me or not as you want, but I promise you it's all true. Now you can keep me here as a guest or a prisoner if you want, but please don't send me away. I've got nowhere else to go, and so much I've done needs to be made up for.

"The only other thing I'll ask for is this: Let Remus come visit with me sometimes. I don't have any history with him; he accepts me as he finds me, and I need that. Would that be OK, Cyclops?"

There was a moment's silence, then a hidden panel slid open, and Scott Summers stepped into the room. He went straight up to Emma and looked down into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he told her, "but we thought you wouldn't talk so freely if I was in the room. You might have been intimidated or something." He grinned ruefully. "I'm not an easy person, am I?"

"You take your responsibilities seriously," Emma replied, "but what about my request?"

"You are a guest in this house, and so may have any visitors you please, with some obvious exceptions," Xavier told her. "If you should wish to make your home here, for a time or for good, you are welcome to do so. However, as with any of the X-Men or our allies, you will need to prove yourself, not so much to us, as to yourself."

"Charles," Lilandra put in, "Emma is exhausted and upset. She should rest now. We can talk more, later, all of us. Come, Emma, I will take you back to your room."

Emma rose from her chair, accepting the friendly arm the statuesque Empress laid over her shoulders. Lilandra seemed to be supporting the smaller woman as the two of them left. Scott shook his head; this frail, tear-stained woman was unrecognisable as the proud, icy White Queen he had learned to respect in battle.

Scott turned to his mentor. "Well, Charles?"

Xavier held out his hands. "She was telling the truth, which is only to say that she believes what she told me. Whether she's really acting under her own will, or whether Selene is manipulating her, I can't be sure. That would involve magic, and that means only one person can tell us for sure."

Cyclops nodded. "Harry."

Xavier said, "Harry Potter's unique combination of mild telepathy and wizarding ability should enable him to detect any magical manipulation of Emma Frost's mind, I think.

"We need to call on Hawk, Firebird, Hunter and Charm anyway. The ease with which the attackers breached our technological defenses by magical means this morning has revealed a gaping hole in our security. Logan, in particular, will not rest until that gap is plugged! We need magical defenses, and our four wizard X-Men will be the ones to provide them!"

Xavier looked at the clock on the wall. "It's the middle of the night in the UK now. I'll wait until their morning before I contact Harry." He paused, then smiled slightly. "I've just reached out to locate him. He's at Grimmauld Place, in bed with Ginny. They're both a little drunk, and at a stage of activity where my interruption would be most unwelcome!"

Scott chuckled. "More power to them both! At least somebody's getting some fun! I'm on Comms watch later, so I can't see Fleur this weekend." He sighed melodramatically.

Xavier laughed softly. "Well, you should take the chance to recover your strength, son! I understand Fleur to be a demanding creature."

"Speaking of which -" Scott turned serious again. "- is it me, or is our White Queen a little in love with Remus?"

"More than a little," Xavier replied, "though she herself hasn't fully realised it yet. It won't be easy for her, Scott. If Remus does have feelings for her, and he well might, he'll fight them every inch of the way. He believes himself far too cursed ever to deserve or accept love, you know."

Scott snorted. "He's no more cursed than I am!" He indicated the heavy, ruby quartz visor he had to wear at all times. A brain injury in childhood had left him unable to control the powerful beams that blasted from his eyes, and without the visor, he would destroy anything he looked at. "I've found love twice, despite my problems. Remus worries too much. Either that, or he's making excuses!"

"Perhaps," said Xavier, "perhaps."

Alicia Coverton was late, and a little nervous. The streets of New York were a good deal more safe than urban mythology made them, but it was late at night, and this was not one of the nicer neighborhoods. It was her own fault, she knew. The diner had been unusually busy tonight, and the clean up had taken longer than usual, so Marco had asked her to stay an extra hour. He was a good boss, and generous with overtime pay, but Alicia was beginning to wonder whether a few dollars extra was worth the worry. Marco had offered to walk her home, but it was three blocks out of his way, and he was no longer a young man, so Alicia had thanked him and said she'd be OK. She should have stuck to the lit streets, but that almost doubled her journey time.

In the end, though, it was not knife-wielding muggers, but something else that slithered out of the shadows and came for her. She couldn't tell how many there were, but they weren't any kind of human or animal she'd ever seen. They had oily, black hides, and moved with a slippery agility that disgusted her. Their faces were like a cross between a cat and a monkey, with glowing yellow eyes and slavering, fanged mouths. They tittered among themselves as they came towards her. Alicia ran, as best she could with legs tired and aching from a shift in the diner.

She soon realised it would do her no good. Even though she knew these alleys like the back of her hand, she found herself being herded. They were toying with her, forcing her to go where they wanted. As she ran, she thought of her Dad. He was fond of looking over his morning paper and protesting that, these days, you couldn't walk down the street in New York without tripping over one superhero or another. Where were all the costumed vigilantes now? Alicia wondered, just as she tripped and went down for what she was sure was the last time.

She shook her hair out of her eyes and found herself staring at a pair of highly polished, knee-high boots. She looked further up at the tall figure standing over her, but couldn't see much. He appeared to be clad in some kind of dark-red duster coat. His head was silhouetted against the night sky, and she couldn't make out his features. When he spoke, his voice was that of a young man, perhaps just out of his teens.

"Geez!" he commented, "The babes don't usually fall for me until the second date! Stay put, lady. Got a little business to take care of."

He pushed back the coat and drew out a pair of automatics. Alicia noticed that one was pure white, the other jet black. Then the alley was filled with the flash and roar of gunfire. Alicia twisted round to see one of her pursuers hanging in mid-air, twitching and jerking as bullets slammed into it, blue fluid spurting from its wounds. As it fell dead, her rescuer turned his fire on its companions.

After a while, Alicia noticed the oddity of what was happening. For one thing, the newcomer kept up a constant stream of fire without seeming to need to reload; for another, he should by now have been buried in a heap of ejected cartridge cases, but there were none. The bullets seemed to leave a faint trail of golden light in the air as they flew, and every shot seemed to find its mark unerringly; there were no ricochet whines to be heard over the thunder of the pistols. Finally, there was no stink of cordite; the fine, grey smoke that hung around them now smelled of churches, of incense. Then the firing stopped.

One creature was still standing. It was larger than the others, and its eyes held a gleam of feral intelligence. Instead of tittering, it uttered a deep-toned howl. The gunman chuckled grimly and asked, "So, you wanna get up close and personal, huh?"

He twirled the guns around like a Wild West gunfighter, and holstered them in a smooth motion. Then he leaped to one side, ran up and along the alley wall, and kicked off from it close to his opponent. As he leaped, he spun in mid-air, drawing a long sword that had been slung across his back, and came down in front of the creature, slashing down and across with a grunt. The thing was sliced in two, and fell in a mess of blue blood and stinking entrails.

"Too easy!" the young man said, then turned and walked over to Alicia, extending a gauntleted hand to help her up. "You better get home," he told her, "I hear this neighborhood can get rough sometimes."

His hair was white-blond, his features regular and handsome, but his eyes were pale, almost colorless. He nodded to her, and turned to leave.

Alicia at last found her voice. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Dante." he replied without turning, and was gone.

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 8: Charles Xavier Calls Up the Reserves

A convivial night at Grimmauld Place had turned into a lazy day. Sirius and Ororo had insisted that all their guests stay the night; indeed, some had been in no condition to go home! Everyone had got up late and, it being a pleasant day, they had congregated on the roof.

The roof was the one major change that Ororo had insisted on making to the house. Her Mutant abilities meant that her senses were keenly attuned to nature, and her childhood had been spent in wide-open spaces. To add to this, the incident that had sparked her power had left the twelve-year-old Ororo buried for hours under the ruins of a house. Storm abhorred enclosed spaces; she was a creature of the sky. So she and Sirius had created a roof garden for what he maintained was now their house. Magically shielded from observation and weather, it was planted with cuttings from the Weasley garden and the arboretum at Xavier's mansion.

Remus sat in a shady corner, reading a letter from Emma. It had been sent by email, but he still didn't feel comfortable reading from the PC Sirius had bought for Ororo's use, so although he had his own account, he printed out his messages and read them elsewhere.

Dear Remus,

Thank you for coming over the other day, and for the lovely flowers. Not that I'm an invalid any more, but the thought was sweet!

I'm afraid I'm still very much on probation here, and I can't blame anyone but myself for that. Everyone is very kind, in a distant way, and I have everything I need. But there's no real warmth, apart from Roberto, Dani and Bobby. Those three don't know what coldness is, I think. Rahne, Peter and Sam are just shy, perhaps. But Marie, Shiro and Alison are watchful. Kitty is almost hostile. I don't think she's forgiven me for trying to hurt Harry.

As for the older X-Men, they're even more cautious. It's true that Sean, Lorna and Alex have been most helpful. Hank and Kurt are polite enough, but that's their nature. Scott and Wolverine watch me like a pair of hawks! I don't see the professor much, but I can feel him in my mind all the time, and I know he's reserving judgment. I'll have to face him one day, and it scares me.

There's another person that scares me, too, and I'll have to face him as well. Somehow, I feel that Harry Potter is the key to my future. If I can make it right with him, convince him that I've changed, I'll be able to believe it myself!

Then there's you, Remus. I've never met anyone quite as special as you. You've been such a good friend. When I'm with you, I feel free of my past—I feel that I can do anything! There's so much I want to share with you. I count the days until I see you again!

Love,

Emma

Remus sighed. He was honest enough with himself to admit that his feelings for Emma were growing stronger all the time, and that put him in a quandary: He couldn't abandon her, not at least until she'd been fully accepted in her new situation. On the other hand, he had to keep his feelings under tight control. Emma was a telepath, she must know how he felt, but thinking something and saying or doing it were very different things.

There was no help for it, he must keep their relationship on a careful, almost formal, footing until the X-Men accepted Emma. Once she was settled in her new life, Remus could bow out gracefully, and she wouldn't even notice him go. Remus Lupin was a man accustomed to heartbreak; it was his lot in life, and one more bout wouldn't kill him. He folded the message and tucked it into a pocket.

Remus didn't know Ororo had been watching him. Both she and Sirius were worried about their friend. Sirius had told her that Remus was quite the expert in avoiding close relationships with women. He felt that his curse made him unfit to be loved. Ororo thought that was nonsense, and Sirius agreed, but Remus was stubborn. It was obvious he had feelings for Emma, and she for him, but he was doing his very best to hide and ignore them. You are such an idiot! Ororo thought, Why not just give it a chance?

She turned back to the table she was sitting at next to Sirius, who was staring in intense concentration at the game board in front of him. Ororo looked across the table, sharing an amused glance with Hermione, who was sitting next to Ron. Storm had begun to teach Sirius how to play her favourite game, Go, and he had mentioned it to Ron a little while ago. Ron had replied amiably, "Go? I play that a little bit." Sirius had promptly challenged him to a game, wanting to show off his new expertise to Ororo. Now, of course, he realised he'd challenged the wrong person, but it was too late and Sirius was clearly on a hiding to nothing!

Ororo glanced around again. Fleur, wearing a microscopic bikini, was stretched out on a lounger. Lavender and Neville at another table, asking Bill's advice about the business they were planning to set up. Tonks dozed in the sunshine.

Harry and Ginny were on the swing seat, Harry reading a magazine and Ginny laid out with her head in his lap. As Storm watched, Harry's head suddenly lifted, and his eyes went unfocussed. She tensed. Something was up!

Ginny wasn't quite asleep but wonderfully relaxed and drowsy. Lulled by the warm sun, birdsong and the nearness of Harry, she had simply let go and drifted. But she was instantly aware that something had changed. She felt the quiver run through Harry's body, and sat up at once. For a moment, he seemed totally unaware of her, then his eyes came back into focus and he stood up, barking in a clipped tone of command, "Firebird, Charm, Hunter! We're needed at Xavier's!"

Ginny's mind split in two. On the one hand, she felt herself tensing pleasurably; such a summons could only mean that adventure, and hopefully battle, were in the offing. Like her brother, Ginevra Weasley was a born fighter. Combat thrilled her almost as much as sex. On the other hand, part of her felt a touch of despair; she'd hoped never to hear that tone in Harry's voice again. With the passing of Voldemort, Ginny had wanted to believe that the intense, icy, driven Boy Who Lived was gone forever, leaving only the warm, shy, gentle Harry she loved so much. For a moment, she almost hated Xavier for bringing back Harry's dark side, but she knew her man well enough to understand that nothing would keep him from friends who needed him. Her place was at his side; it was the price she paid to have her Harry – the real Harry.

Hermione was on her feet. "How urgent is it?" she asked. "I mean, is it 'have a wee, grab your uniform and clean knickers' urgent, or do I have time to pack and put my face on?"

"It's not a red alert as such." Harry looked at his watch. "They're five hours behind us and it's eleven here. That's six in their morning. Professor X got up early to call me. If we leave here at one, we'll be there at eight. Is that enough time?"

"It's all I need!" said Hermione.

"And we'll be there in time for breakfast," added Ron. "I could go some pancakes and syrup!"

"Why do you need to put your face on to go to Xavier's, Hermione?" asked Tonks.

Ron grinned at her. "Don't forget Roberto will be there, and he has standards!"

"Which reminds me—" Hermione ran a gentle hand over Ron's jaw. "You'd better shave, darling. Dani does complain so when you rasp her face."

"Well, come on then, you old tart!" said Ron. "Let's get packed!"

"Lead the way, you sex maniac, you!" Hermione replied with a grin. They went, and so did Ginny. Harry hesitated, thinking he'd best explain to Sirius, but his godfather was already on his feet, saying to Ororo, "We'd better get packed as well, darling."

She stared up at him and began to speak, but he put his fingers to her lips and said, "Ororo Monroe, you're a talented witch, the mistress of this house, and, I truly believe, the love of my life. But you wouldn't be that woman unless you were also Storm, of the X-Men. Your heart is calling you to be with your teammates, so I'm coming with you! Besides," he gave an evil grin, "I promised Logan he and I would hunt together again one day, and I'm a man of my word!"

Blinking back tears, Ororo rose and embraced Sirius tightly, kissing him passionately. Harry turned away, to find himself looking into the fierce eyes of Fleur Delacour. She said without preamble, "'Arry, I weel be back wizhin ze 'our. I 'ave clothes at ze mansion, so I do not need to pack much."

Harry looked at her. "Fleur, you don't have to…"

She cut him off. "Eef zere is trouble for ze X-Men, zere ees trouble for Scott. My place is at 'is side, non? 'E was beside me when we fought at ze Ministry in March, now I go to 'im!"

There was no arguing with her, Harry realised, so he turned to go just as Tonks stepped forward. "Harry," she asked, "does this have anything to do with what we were talking about last night?"

He nodded. "Yes, it's part of the same thing."

"Right! That means that Bellatrix and the others are involved, and they're wanted fugitives. You're not an Auror yet, Harry, but I am. It's my job to go along with you, make this official, you see?"

It wasn't really a question, Harry knew, so he just shrugged. Besides, the look Tonks shot Fleur told him everything he needed to know. He glanced over at Bill, and the two men shared an understanding – Ginny and Nymphadora had a lot in common.

"Bill," said Harry, "you're a qualified curse-breaker, right? Well, the Professor wants magical defences put up around the mansion. Between your skills, and Remus' Defence Against the Dark Arts knowledge, we could get some pretty solid stuff up, couldn't we?"

Bill grinned, and the frown that Remus had been wearing vanished at once. "Get going!" Harry told them all, before turning to Lavender and Neville.

"No," he said before they could speak, "not this time. I need you two to hold the fort here. Odd things are happening, and I want to know what they are. Get hold of Fred and George and the Patils, and if you can stop them snogging for long enough, do some discreet digging.

"I'm relying on you, Neville. You've a better head for that sort of thing than I do. Lavender, try and keep him out of trouble?"

They nodded, then Neville shook Harry's hand. "Good luck, mate." Lavender kissed him and said, "Be careful." Harry watched them go. At least they would be safe, and if Harry didn't come back, Draco Malfoy would still have formidable opposition in that pair.

Professor?

Harry! Are you ready to come over?

Yes, but we won't be Apparating into your office. Is the main hall clear?

Yes. Xavier was puzzled. Why do you need to go there?

Harry's thought was wry. We seem to have picked up some volunteer reinforcements! We'll be coming in by Portkey since not all of us know exactly where you are. Five minutes?

I'll see you then, Hawk.

Xavier looked across his desk at the two men who sat waiting. "They're coming into the main hall by Portkey, and there are rather more than the four we were expecting."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know whether to be pleased or pissed! Pleased because Harry has so many friends willing to help? Or pissed because it just means more people might be putting themselves in harm's way."

Logan chuckled. "You worry too much, Cyke! Hawk picks his friends well. They can all take care of themselves."

"Well, gentlemen, let's go down and greet our guests. Will you be coming too, my dear?"

Lilandra rose from her seat beside Xavier. "Of course, beloved. I have been waiting to meet the four young people who have made such an impression on you all."

A few minutes later, the four watched as a group of people shimmered into existence in the main hall of the school. Xavier recognised them all, of course. There stood Hawk, Firebird, Charm and Hunter. The petite, white-haired figure who flew across the room into Scott's arms was, of course, Fleur, and there was Remus Lupin as well. Rather more to Xavier's surprise, he saw the young Auror, Tonks, standing close to Ron's older brother, Bill. What were they doing here? But the biggest surprise of all was coming quickly towards him, hands held out, her tall, darkly handsome lover a few paces behind.

"Ororo?" Xavier asked in wonder, putting out his own hands. Storm caught them in hers, squeezing them warmly as she bent to kiss him.

"Of course, Charles! I'm still an X-Man after all, even if Sirius did have to remind me of it!"

Charles Xavier was not a demonstrative man – his upbringing militated against it – but there was no doubting his sincerity as he held her hands firmly and said, "Whatever the circumstances, it is wonderful to see you again, dear girl!"

Scott was saying to Fleur, "You shouldn't have come, hon. Things aren't exactly safe right now."

"Tais-toi!" she replied firmly. "Scott, you are my man. If zere is danger, where else should I be but at your side?"

Scott stared at her helplessly. He was a strong man, a strict disciplinarian, and yet this imperious, fascinating creature could wind him round her little finger like copper wire!

"Women, eh? Can't live with 'em, and they don't half nag if you try to kill 'em!"

Cyclops turned to shake hands firmly with the speaker. Harry was almost as tall as he was now, with a similar rangy build. The kid has grown up, thought Scott, noting the firm set to the jaw and the measuring look in the piercing, green eyes.

"Good to have you back, Hawk," Scott said, and meant it.

Sirius was clasping hands with Wolverine. "I hear there's a chance of some fun, Logan?"

"Well, we got some yesterday," Logan allowed. "I'm hopin' for more. Things've been kinda quiet lately. I've been gettin'…oof!"

Hermione had darted over to hug the stocky Canadian tightly and plant a firm kiss on one whiskered cheek. "Logan, it's lovely to see you!"

"Nice to see you, too, darlin'," Wolverine wheezed, "but I got this habit – it's called breathin'."

"Oh, you!" she replied. "As if I could crush adamantium ribs!"

But she released him and stepped back, whereupon Logan reached out and took her left hand in his, lifting it to examine her ring.

"What's this? The big guy finally pop the question?"

"Oh, that he did!" Hermione giggled. "He came over for a visit, and managed to get me alone – me helping him all I could because I thought he was after a bonk! Instead, he goes down on one knee and very formally asks me if I'd honour him by becoming his wife!

"Medea, Logan! If you'd have seen, you'd have laughed your duck off! I was crying so hard I couldn't answer him at first; all I could do was hold him. Then when I managed to say yes, I couldn't stop saying it!"

Hermione's eyes were glowing as she remembered. Logan shook his head, then squeezed her hand gently, leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm happy for ya both, darlin'. You take good care of him, eh?"

Harry and Ron had greeted the Professor, then watched amusedly as Ginny and Hermione demolished his composure with their enthusiastic hugs and kisses. It was then that a tall, unfamiliar woman stepped forward to stand beside the Professor, asking with an amused tone in her husky voice, "So, Charles, you've become quite the ladies' man since I was last here. Should I worry about these two?"

"Only if I discover the Fountain of Youth," replied Xavier with a smile. "Lilandra, this is Harry Potter, Ginevra Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. All of you, allow me to present my wife, Empress Lilandra of the Shi'ar!"

Wife? Harry and the others tried not to stare at the tall, exotic-looking woman who smiled warmly at them all. They had encountered magical creatures of many kinds over the years, but never an extra-terrestrial. She looked human enough, though there was something definitely birdlike about her. Harry stepped forward, and bowed over the hand she extended to him. "Your Majesty," he greeted her.

Lilandra laughed. "Oh, please! No formalities. I come here to escape such things, Harry. Charles and I both have our duties, and so little time to spend together. When I am with him, I am simply Lilandra."

Poor Mum, thought Ginny. She had hopes about Professor X and McGonagall!

Initial greetings over, Xavier said, "Everyone else will be at breakfast now. Shall we join them? I'm sure Ron, at least, will be hungry."

"Of course he is," muttered Hermione. "He's awake, isn't he?"

They made their way down to the cafeteria. The younger students had been served first, and the senior ones were just lining up when they entered. Roberto DaCosta, who was at the end of the queue, turned round, spotted them, and yelled, "Look who's here!"

Breakfast was forgotten for the moment as the two groups of young people ran to meet each other. Roberto, in his impulsive Latin fashion, embraced Harry. "Good to see you, amigo!" he said, before going on to Ginny, kissing her hands, both cheeks and finally her lips.

Dani Moonstar flung her arms round Harry, pressing her curvaceous body hard against him and giving him a sensual, open-mouthed kiss he just managed not to respond to fully. Then she leaned back and teased, "So Harry, is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't change, do you, Dani?"

"God, I hope not!" she replied. "Neither do you, Harry. One of these days, I'm going to get a real kiss off of you, I swear!" She stuck her tongue out at him, then went on to greet Ginny with a hearty hug.

Then Marie was hugging Harry and kissing his cheek before saying, "Well, finally, sugah! I was startin' to think I was gonna have to go fetch y'all!"

Bob Drake – Iceman – gripped Harry's hand. "Welcome back, Hawk!"

Then there was the moment that was always a little awkward. Harry and Ginny found themselves facing Kitty and Peter. There was a short hesitation before Ginny squealed and jumped into Peter's arms, and then Kitty scampered into Harry's. The greetings were perhaps a little more affectionate than mere friendship justified, but everyone understood why.

Rahne had run up to Ron and flung her arms round him, holding him tightly for a moment. She had said in a low voice, "Ron, we need to talk. Sam and I need your advice."

Ron kept his face very straight as he grasped Sam's hand. He thought he knew what they wanted to talk about, but he no idea how he was going to respond.

Hermione had greeted almost everyone before she found herself in Roberto's arms. He kissed her lightly, then made to speak, but she interrupted him, keeping her arms firmly around his neck. "Now just one cotton-pickin' minute, Mr DaCosta. I know you can do better than that! Now you come and give me a proper kiss before I get cross!"

Roberto glanced to the side, to see Dani entwined with Ron, their mouths clamped firmly together. He grinned and leaned down, kissing Hermione fully and warmly.

Sirius murmured to Ororo, "What is it with those four? At the Christmas party, I saw Dani sitting on Ron's knee, snogging the daylights out of him, and thought, 'Hermione's going to kill them both.' Then I turn round and see Hermione under the mistletoe with her tongue halfway down Roberto's throat!"

Ororo giggled. "It's a game, hon. Look, Roberto stole a kiss from Hermione in the Labyrinth. Ron found out about it, so he took Dani into a quiet corner and kissed her – sauce for the goose. Ever since, they've had this little game going. It's a nice, safe way for Hermione and Ron to add a little spice, and Dani and 'Berto enjoy the kissing and hugging for its own sake. Nobody takes it seriously, so no harm, no foul. I don't think it'll get as far as four-in-a-bed, but you never know!"

"Bloody big bed they'd need!" Sirius remarked.

Harry had intended to say hello to Alison Blair – Dazzler – only to find himself, to his surprise, shaking hands with a tall young wizard.

"Seamus? What are you doing here?"

Seamus Finnigan grinned at his former classmate. "Well, to be sure, things have come to a pass when a fellow can't even visit his lady-friend without an interrogation!"

Harry laughed, then sobered. "I'm surprised they let you stay. You know there's trouble?"

"That I do! The Professor told me as soon as I arrived last night. And I told him that trouble was the natural state for an Irishman, so I did! He laughed and said I was Banshee all over again, but in the end he let me stay. If there's goin' to be shenanigans, I'm after bein' in among them!"

"Well, we could use you in a scrap, I'll admit," Harry told him, "but you must do as you're told, all right? Don't let that Irish temper of yours get away with you!" Seamus nodded solemnly, but the glint in his eye gave the lie to his compliance.

Harry turned to greet the final young X-Man, bowing formally, "Konnichi wa, Shiro-san."

"Good morning, Mr Potter," replied Shiro, English-style, before clasping Harry's hand and breaking into a rare grin.

The young Americans were hungry and it was lunchtime in England, so it didn't take very long to get back to the food line – Ron, Peter and Sam leading the charge, of course. But as they settled to their meal, two more things happened.

The first was the entry into the room of a lithe blonde woman. At first, Harry didn't recognise her, then he saw her face clearly. It was Emma Frost, the White Queen! She didn't notice him. Her eyes were fixed on the table where the adults were sitting. Her face lit as she crossed the room quickly to where Remus was rising to greet her.

"Remus!" she said, "I didn't know you were coming!" She held out her hands to him.

"It was sort of a spur of the moment thing," he replied. He was reaching out to her when Beast, with a knowing wink at Sirius, gave him a gentle 'accidental' shove. Remus stumbled forward slightly and Emma had her arms round him before he had a chance to recover. It was obvious she had no intention of letting go until he responded, so he had to return her eager hug. Taking her chance, Emma kissed him lightly on the cheek, forcing him to reciprocate so as not to seem unkind. Making the best of a bad job, Remus seated her next to him, where she chatted animatedly.

The second surprise was when Wolverine approached the senior students' table with a companion the four young English people had not seen before. She was a tiny, exquisite Oriental woman who bore a strong family resemblance to Shiro. One delicate hand rested possessively on Logan's brawny forearm, and her dark eyes studied each of them in turn as they were introduced.

"Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, this is the Lady Mariko Yoshida. Mariko's visitin' here with me for a while."

The four rose and greeted Mariko formally in the manner Shiro had taught them, and she responded graciously in perfect English. "I am so pleased to meet you all. Logan-san has told me a great deal about you. I hope we shall have a chance to talk soon, but for now, I will leave you to your meal."

As they sat down again, Rogue grinned at Harry. "It's incredible, isn't it? You'd think Wolverine's lady would be some kinda Amazonian war-goddess, like a Xena clone. But she's just like a china doll!"

After breakfast was finally over, there was a meeting in the large conference room. The visitors were briefed on what exactly had happened the previous morning, and on what Emma Frost had revealed about Selene's plans.

Then Xavier said, "I must admit, Harry, I was somewhat surprised, though not displeased, to see your reinforcements arrive. Storm is, of course, always an asset to the team, and her new skills will doubtless make her even more formidable. You other wizards are also known to us from last summer, but apart from Fleur and Sirius, who have personal reasons, I am unsure as to why you have come."

It was clear the others expected Harry to be spokesman, so he accepted the role. "You told me, Professor, that one of the main reasons you needed us was to set up a magical defence grid around the mansion. Well, Bill here used to work for Gringotts, the wizarding bank, as a curse-breaker. If you're going to penetrate magical defences, you have to know how to set them up. Remus, as you know, used to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, so he has expertise in that field as well.

"Tonks is a trained Auror, but apart from that, she's here because some of the people involved are wanted Death Eaters. Her presence makes this whole thing official as far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, which might help smooth any ruffled local feathers."

Xavier nodded. "Good enough, even if some of the reasons seem a little…slender. If I didn't know better, I'd think that some of you were just bored and looking for trouble to get into!"

There were a few guilty grins around the table, and Xavier smiled wryly before saying, "Scott?"

Cyclops nodded. "If Bill, Remus, and Miss Tonks can come to the Situation Room with me, we can get the ball rolling." He turned to the others. "You'll need to know the layout of the house and grounds to plan things properly."

"And you four," growled Wolverine at Harry and his friends, "can get your butts into uniform and down to the Danger Room. If you been slackin' on yer trainin', I'm gonna find out now!"

In the silence that followed, Logan's keen ears caught the sound of four teenagers swallowing hard!

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 9: Albus Dumbledore's Last Stand

Ginny neatly Apparated behind her opponent and raised her wand. An unbreakable grip clamped round her wrist, the wand dropped from nerveless fingers, and for what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning, her world turned upside down! The floor rushed up to meet her, and this time she managed to execute the breakfall! She rolled over and stared up at the strip-lighted ceiling, gasping for breath.

"WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION!" bellowed Wolverine. Ginny climbed to her feet and glared at him. He responded by snarling, "Don't you eyeball me, kid. You ain't got the right to eyeball me yet. Now drop and give me twenty!" He spun to confront the other three. "While she's doin' that, you can tell her what she did wrong. Charm, how do you use teleport in combat?"

Hermione snapped to attention. "Sir, teleportation is used either to escape or to gain advantage of terrain. In a combat situation, it should only be used to move out of close quarters, not into them, sir!"

"Good, but you shoulda told Firebird that. Did you tell her that?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Well, you didn't tell her often enough or hard enough. Teachers are responsible for students' mistakes. Drop and give me thirty!"

Wolverine rounded on Harry. "Hawk, when is the only time you teleport behind an opponent?"

"Sir, only when you are absolutely sure the opponent does not know you can teleport, sir!"

"Somethin' else you shoulda made sure Firebird knew. Fifty push-ups!"

"Hunter, if you do teleport in close combat, where should you go?"

"Sir, you should go to the opponent's weak side. If he's right-handed, go left, if he's left-handed, go right, sir!"

"And if you don't know?"

"Sir, if you don't know whether your enemy is left or right-handed, you haven't been paying attention, sir!"

"Right! Hunter, I put you in charge of trainin' these three. You done good, but not good enough. Thirty…on each arm!"

And so it went on. Logan didn't let up, driving them to their limits and beyond. Ginny had been warned. She had heard the stories, but they couldn't come close to the reality. She was a strong, determined young woman, but as the morning drew to a close, she was drenched in sweat, spots were swimming before her eyes, and her limbs were twitching and trembling. Just as she was sure she would disgrace herself by being sick, Logan clapped his hands and said, "Wind down!"

As Ron led the four through the gentle movements of a series of t'ai ch'i forms, Ginny found herself feeling much better. Wolverine ordered them to sit on the floor, and, to Ginny's surprise, passed out bottles of Malvern water. The stuff was room temperature and tasted rather flat, but Ginny sipped it gratefully, heeding Harry's warning to drink it slowly.

"I wish it was cold!" she complained, but Harry shook his head. "No, love. That'd cramp your stomach something rotten."

Ginny accepted this but whispered to Hermione, "This must be Hell at the wrong time of the month!"

Hermione shook her head. "Wolverine always goes a little easier when you're on, and of course, you can't hide it from him." She tapped her nose by way of explanation, and Ginny suddenly realised that Logan's abilities cut much deeper than just fighting skills. His enhanced senses made him almost as perceptive as Professor X!

Wolverine came and sat opposite them, looking from one to the other. "Well," he conceded, "you've kept up your trainin' better than I expected, considerin' you've had your NEWTs an' all. But I'd like to see you in tip-top shape.

"Charm, you know your physical limitations. You're small boned, and you're always gonna be frailer than these guys. Nothin' I can do about that, short of steroids! You score with the magic stuff; you know it backwards. But you still think too much, and it's gonna cost you! Thinkin' takes longer, even when you're as fast at it as you, darlin'. You gotta learn to trust your gut sometimes. Your body knows how to look after itself, but you gotta let it, OK?

"Hunter, you were born to fight, and you just lap it up, doncha? You know how to use your size, and you don't let your bulk slow you down. But you're gettin' to rely too much on what I taught you. Don't forget the magic, pal! You're a better wizard than you think. Where you fall down is that you try to think about the spells, and then you blow it! I saw the video of you fightin' that Sentinel last year: You cast the right spell at the right time, and why? 'Cause you didn't think! You just did it.

"Firebird, you're new at this, but you done real good! You're as much a natural as Hunter, here, and you like to fight, I can tell. You're also pretty hot on the witchy stuff. Your problem is that temper! A bit of adrenalin is good, but too much, and you make mistakes. Think about that; try to stay cooler.

"Hawk, you got the balance about right. You're not as strong as Hunter, but you're quick and you're as good a martial artist as I've seen in a while. You know when to use that and when to go for the magic instead. But, you got yerself a hero complex, bub! You try to take all the risk, all the danger, on yourself. You do dumb things to try to protect everyone else. News flash, Hawk – these guys can take care of themselves! You can't help anyone if you get yerself killed, and whatever you do, you're gonna lose someone at some point!"

"I've already lost too many people!" Harry said through gritted teeth. "Luna, Dean, Justin, Pansy: Too many, Logan! Too damned many!"

"You got off light, kid!" snapped Logan. "And it wasn't your fault, either. Nobody made those guys fight. They coulda surrendered, gone along with Voldemort. They chose to fight, accepted the risk, made their own decisions, just like you! Just like Albus and Severus!"

Harry glowered at the floor. With a quick glance at his friend, Ron asked, "What did happen down there, Logan? You've never actually told us."

Logan looked at Ron, then at them all. "I guess you should know. You deserve to, if anyone does." He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, then began to speak in a soft, sad tone.

Logan and Snape were steadily working their way down a case of beer that Saturday afternoon, swapping tales that were only a little above average height, when a strident wailing sound broke out.

Snape jumped to his feet. "The Castle is under attack! In broad daylight!" He turned to the Canadian. "I suppose that if I were to advise you to leave, Logan, I should receive a dusty answer?"

"Damn straight!" growled Wolverine. "Nobody orders me out of a scrap!"

"I thought as much. We had best–"

There was a polite but imperative knock at the door, which opened to reveal the tall figure of Professor Dumbledore. "Severus, I need– Logan? I didn't know you were here, old fellow!"

Logan stepped forward to grasp Dumbledore's hand. "I came over with the kids. I was gonna look you up, but Minerva said you were busy. I was plannin' to catch you at tea, or dinner. Looks like meals are gonna be on hold, though!"

"So it would seem," replied Dumbledore. "I suppose you have made your mind up to stay with us? I know Mr DaCosta, Miss Moonstar and Miss Blair are in the thick of things."

Wolverine grinned. "The bad guys are gonna regret makin' a daylight attack with Sunspot in town!"

"Several of them already do, I believe. But there is something else: My scrying glass tells me that there is another prong to this attack, using an almost forgotten tunnel that leads into the deepest dungeon. I planned to go there with Severus and try to forestall it to prevent us from being surrounded. You would be a valuable addition to the expedition, Logan, if you are willing?"

"Just try and stop me!"

"In that case, come along."

The three men made their way into the bowels of the castle, threading a maze of ancient stone passages. For Logan, there was a moment of intense nostalgia. Walking through scenes like this, with Albus Dumbledore at his side, took him back to his recently recovered memories of wartime London and a battle of wits with a mad, German wizard. He caught Albus giving him a reminiscent glance.

"Quite like old times, eh, Logan?"

The stocky Mutant grinned. "Yeah. I gotta admit, though, we could do with Anthea and the Commander along!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Andrew Carver was a stalwart companion. I sorely miss him. As for Anthea, the spirit remains more than willing, as I have had occasion to experience recently, but the flesh, alas, grows ever more frail."

"You two still sleepin' together?" Logan asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "When we have the inclination and the energy, yes. 'Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety', as the Bard has it."

"You dog!" Logan chuckled.

"By the way, she was delighted to see you again, Logan, though rather envious of your longevity. You must visit her soon. She cannot, as she insists, live forever."

The three came to a halt in front of a plain, wooden door. Dumbledore was about to speak, when Logan held up a hand, nostrils flaring. "They're already in there – humans and trolls, quite a few. From what I can hear, they seem to be waiting for more."

"We are a little late, it seems," Snape remarked.

"Late is better than never," Dumbledore replied. "This door opens onto a small landing at the head of a stairway. The stair hugs the wall on one side, but is open on the other. You two have youth on your side, so I want you to get to the other end of the chamber and seal the tunnel mouth. Then, if I can hold the head of the stairs, you should have no difficulty clearing the room. Shall we?"

"Ready Logan?" asked Snape.

"I got your back, pal," Wolverine told him.

Dumbledore opened the door and darted through, flinging two wizards from the landing and taking the head of the stairs. His companions followed quickly. Snape closed the door, then Apparated to the floor of the large chamber, which contained fully a dozen trolls and a number of wizards. Logan leapt after him, relying on his martial arts skills and his adamantium skeleton to absorb the impact of the drop.

The two men stormed forward side by side, Snape's wand flicking back and forth, Wolverine fighting as he had fought a thousand times before. As soon as they came within range of the tunnel mouth, Snape yelled "Reductio!". The tunnel collapsed with a satisfying rumble.

It was then that Logan was hit. A troll, more cunning than most of its kind, had played dead, and now rose up behind him and brought its stone hammer down on his head. The blow would have killed anyone else; as it was, Wolverine was out cold for a few seconds. By the time Wolverine recovered, a ring of bodies and living foes surrounded Snape. Logan could see that his friend's shield was wavering, and that the blood staining the side of his robe was Snape's own.

Without a word, Wolverine extended his claws and fell on the enemy like the Grim Reaper. Snape drew on his last reserves and attacked also. It seemed forever, but was only minutes, before the last troll went down under Logan's claws.

The two allies grinned at each other, then Snape slumped to the floor. Logan knelt beside his friend. "Severus, is there anything I can do?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Logan, I'm done. Perhaps this will redress the balance for me – make up for the folly and treachery of my youth." He clutched Wolverine's brawny arm. "Have a drink or two for me, my friend. Keep an eye on young Potter – unchecked, I fear he could become another Dark Lord. And Logan, give my…give my love to Marie. Tell her not to cry. I'm not worth her tears." His eyes glazed over, and he was gone.

Wolverine rose to his feet. He could hear the sounds of combat from the stairs. He would mourn later. Right now, he had a job to do!

The Death Eaters could only come at Dumbledore one by one, but in their eagerness, they had crowded onto the stairs. It was their undoing as Wolverine, in a berserker rage, ripped into them, taking them down in bloody shreds. They had nowhere to go and could not bring their wands to bear.

At the top of the stairs, Dumbledore redoubled his attacks. Not one Death Eater escaped. Together, Dumbledore and Wolverine killed them all.

Finally, they stood face to face on the landing. "Like old times indeed!" panted Dumbledore, who then clutched at his chest and fell forward into Logan's arms. As Wolverine lowered him gently, the old wizard gasped, "I believe I have overtaxed my heart. The penalties of age, I fear. Madame Pomfrey warned me.

"Logan, you must get up there. Minerva will need you, and so will Harry. Voldemort himself is here. I can feel him!"

"After I get you to the Infirmary, pal."

"No time, no need. A glorious end to a fine life, Logan! Ah, but we have heard the chimes at midnight, you and I! Tell Charles to look after Harry, and say goodbye to Anthea for me!"

Dumbledore smiled, and for the second time that day, Logan watched a friend die. It keeps on happening, he thought. I guess I'm always gonna be the last man standing!

Then a voice behind him said, "Crucio!" Through a red mist of agony, Logan saw a teenager in Hogwarts robes standing over them. One of the Slytherins – he knew the scent – Blaise Zabini!

The young man hissed at him, "I've failed my Dark Lord, because of you! But the turncoat is dead, and Dumbledore is gone at last. You, Muggle, you are going to pay for this humiliation!"

The boy couldn't know he'd cast the wrong curse at the wrong man. Logan bided his time, letting the black rage overcome the red pain. Then he growled, "Bub, you just made the worst mistake of your life. And the last."

Wolverine's claws snicked out as he lunged forward. Zabini lived long enough to scream once.

Logan finished. Harry had looked up from the floor and was staring intently at him. As their eyes locked, Ron thought, No wonder Wolverine scares Harry! Doing that must be like looking in a mirror for both of them! Try as he might to model himself on Dumbledore or Cyclops, Harry, in his refusal to compromise and his fierce intensity, resembled the hard-bitten Canadian far more than he did the other two.

Logan spoke softly, "Marie did cry. She cried her heart out. So did Anthea, but neither of them is bitter.

"I coulda done a lot of things different, Harry. I coulda taken a Portkey back to here, fetched the other X-Men. I coulda joined the fight in the rest of the school. I coulda picked up 'Berto, Dani and Ali and gotten the Hell outta there! But I didn't. I went with two of the best friends I ever had because they needed me, then and there. Oh, they'd never have admitted it, or stopped me doin' what I wanted to do, but I made my choice. It's no use regrettin' it.

"They made their choices, too. Albus knew his heart was weak. Poppy told me that she'd told him he wasn't good for any more fights. That's why he stayed outta the Keep thing. But his gut told him that this was the last battle, and he had to be in it!

"As for Severus, he had debts to pay. He'd been a Death Eater once – he was just a kid, didn't know any better. He'd done things that haunted him. Albus set him straight, but he still had a need to make up for his past. At the end, he believed he'd done that.

"I'm no better than either of them were, Harry. I came outta there partly through luck, and partly 'cause I'm damn near impossible to kill. But that part is just fate, or genes, or whatever made me a Mutant, along with what Stryker and Weapon X did to me. It wasn't my time to die. Maybe the next time will be, but I don't go lookin' for it."

Harry let out a long breath, and nodded. "You're right, Logan. Luna and the rest made their own choices. For that matter, so did Cedric all those years ago. He could have insisted on fighting me for the trophy, or letting me take it myself. He didn't run when he could have. I think Voldemort would have let him go – it was me he was after – but I always felt that if it hadn't been for me, none of them would have been in danger at all!"

"Wrong again, Harry," said Ron, in an unusually intense tone. "You can be really thick sometimes, you know? It was the Prophecy, the idea that he had to come after you first, that kept Voldemort from just overrunning our world. If all of us hadn't been convinced that we had to protect you, none of us would've been ready to fight him when he came for you. If Dumbledore hadn't sent you here to keep you safe for a while, we'd never have met the X-Men, and if Roberto and the others hadn't been there that day, we might not have won!"

Harry had never thought of it that way. Ron had always had a gift for seeing the bigger picture. Of all of them, Harry realised, his big, amiable, best friend was the least self-absorbed.

Logan sighed, then looked at the clock on the wall. "OK, you just got time to shower and change before lunch. Get plenty of protein, fluids, and carbs into you. You been usin' up energy and sweatin', too. Take some salt as well, but not too much. Report here tomorrow mornin'. You got some catchin' up to do!"

As they rose to go, Hermione murmured, "I'm glad Snape found somebody to care about him in the end. I feel guilty that I never could."

"Don't," Logan told her. "Marie could understand him. She knows how it feels to be an outcast. You don't. She couldn't be everythin' to him, but she was somethin' at least. If she'd been older maybe…." He shrugged, and left it at that.

The cafeteria, presided over by the motherly Mrs. Arbogast, was as crowded as ever. Harry and Ginny stood behind Hermione and Ron, half-listening as Mrs. Arbogast told Hermione the latest gossip about her sister-in-law, who worked for Mr Stark as his PA. As they began to make their selections, Kitty and Peter came up behind them. Harry looked back and said, "Shall I get the drinks?" The others nodded, then Kitty, eyeing Ginny's heaped plate, commented, "Ginny, honey, they do have salad here. I know you need to watch your figure!"

Ginny gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know, I know." Then she gave Kitty's slender form a sweeping glance and said, "Still, it's nice to have a figure to watch."

Harry and Peter rolled their eyes at each other. Harry turned to Mrs. Arbogast. "One tea with lemon, one black coffee, and two saucers of milk, please!"

Peter roared with laughter as both girls glared at Harry. He shook his head wonderingly. For reasons Harry could never fathom, Ginny and Kitty seemed perennially on the point of scratching each other's eyes out, yet whenever he or Peter made a comment, the two young women instantly closed ranks. Harry and Peter got on well, so why couldn't the girls?

He'd asked Hermione about it a few months ago, back at Hogwarts, and she'd shaken her head and rolled her eyes, saying, "Honestly, Harry! They say men come from Mars and women come from Venus, but I think you must come from Pluto!

"Look, Ginny's had a thing for you since she was ten, and you took not a blind bit of notice, did you? So she throws her hands up and goes out with other boys. Then you go off to America and fall into the arms of the first girl you see! No, don't interrupt! Imagine how Ginny must have felt when Marie told her you and Kitty were seeing each other.

"Then there's Kitty, who still has feelings for you, you know. But even while you were going out, she realised that you were meant for Ginny, even if you hadn't seen it yet. So Kitty gave you up. Venus only knows what it must have cost her.

"Ginny's afraid that Kitty will come along one day and take you back. Kitty, on the other hand, watches Ginny like a hawk in case she makes you unhappy. But they're both still women, and we women have to stick together when you lot start acting up!

"Gods, Harry, you can be so dense! I mean, you only have to see the way Marie looks at you sometimes to realise…but you know about that, don't you? And you've both decided not to. Oh, Harry!

"Even so, you've never even given a thought to how I might feel about you, have you?"

Harry had stared at Hermione in shock. Hermione had laughed and put her arms round his neck, saying, "Harry, if it hadn't been Ron, it would've been you, you great plonker!" Then she had kissed him in a way she had never kissed him before or since, grinned happily at him, and flounced off.

Neville had come up behind him and asked, "What was that in aid of?"

"Not a clue, mate!" Harry had admitted. "Maybe she lost a bet or something. I'll never understand women!"

"Me neither," Neville had agreed, "Mind, having seen the state of Lavender's handbag, I don't even want to think about what's in her head!"

New York, New York, the town so nice they named it twice! thought Draco Malfoy sourly. He'd done some research into what many considered the greatest of Muggle cities, and found opinion sharply divided. To some, it was the only place to be, to others, it was Hell on Earth. Curious, he had decided not to Apparate or Portkey directly to the Hellfire Club but to travel the Muggle way. For someone of his resources, a passport in the name of Lord Draco Malfoy had been simple to obtain. He had flown into John F. Kennedy airport on a British Airways Concord, a quick but cramped flight, and was now seated in the back of a Yellow Cab, driven by a garrulous cabbie who introduced himself as Jake Lockley. Lockley was very impressed to have a 'fer-real Brit Lord' in his cab, and kept up a running commentary as he drove, pointing out the sights. Draco made polite noises, and tuned the man out.

What struck Draco most about this city was that everything was so new. By comparison with Malfoy Manor, founded in the 10th Century CE, or thousand-year-old Hogwarts, or eon-weighted London, New York seemed built yesterday! A place of contrasts, he mused. Brash, confident and staunch in their independence, the Americans he had met so far had nonetheless responded promptly and eagerly to his clipped British accent and assumed title. He was jerked out of his reverie as Lockley suddenly slowed to a crawl, prompting an angry blare from the horn of the cab behind.

"Bite me!," Lockley shouted back, changing his tone to say, "We're comin' up to the Baxter Building. Ya gotta go slow here, 'cause weird things happen. Guy behind must be new, or he'd know that."

At that moment, the driver behind spotted a rare gap in the traffic and overtook their cab with another blast of his horn. Seconds later, there was a mighty crash and Lockley laughed nastily. "Knew it! Schmuck!"

Draco peered ahead. The overtaking cab had stopped short, and a cloud of steam was billowing from the front. As he watched, a massive figure loomed through the cloud. The newcomer was maybe six feet tall, but broader than any ordinary man, and he appeared to be made from orange stone! Some kind of golem? Draco wondered, then the figure spoke, yelling at the driver of the wrecked cab, "Hey! I'm walkin' here!"

Lockley stuck his head out of his window. "Go easy on the kid, Mr. Grimm. He's new!"

The rock-man nodded at Lockley. "Figures. Hi, Jake. 'S up?"

"Same old, same old. This here's Lord Malfoy, from England. Lord, this is Ben Grimm. They call him the Thing."

Grimm nodded at Draco, appraising him out of a pair of shrewd blue eyes, then turned back to Lockley. "Lemme get this wreck outta the road. Catch ya later for a brew?"

"Sure thing!"

The Thing creature turned and casually lifted the smashed taxi over his head, carrying it off towards the nearby skyscraper. Lockley drove on, and they reached the Hellfire Club without further incident.

Once inside, Draco was escorted through the public section of the club into a private elevator that whisked him, as far as he could judge, some distance below ground. He was shown into a room that looked more like a boudoir than a meeting-room. It was softly lit, furnished with couches and throw-cushions, and a musky scent hung in the air.

He didn't have to wait long before Selene slipped into the room and came toward him, both hands held out.

"Draco, at last! I've been looking forward to this meeting so much. Welcome to New York."

Selene was wearing a black business suit, the skirt of which was rather shorter than the norm, and the silk blouse she wore underneath had one or two more buttons undone than was strictly necessary. She was about 5' 6" tall, with a full, sensuous figure, long, raven hair and a vivid face, dark-eyed and full-mouthed. She squeezed Draco's proffered hand in both of hers, and leaned slightly forward, as if expecting a kiss on the cheek. When Draco didn't respond, she gave a little moue and said, "I've been away from England so long, I've forgotten how stiff people are there. We'll have to get you unstarched, Draco!"

She sat on one of the couches and patted the place beside her. Draco carefully seated himself on the couch opposite. Selene frowned slightly. Was it possible that the rumours she'd heard about his one were true? Bellatrix had mentioned that some at Hogwarts had suspected Draco of being gay. Well, if he was, there were ways to deal with that as well! Aloud, she said, "Oh well, if you're going to be all business, I'll indulge you. But we mustn't be all work and no play, Draco. Promise me we can relax together later?"

Draco shrugged. "As you wish, Selene, but we do have a lot to discuss."

Behind his bland expression, Draco's mind was working furiously. Her obvious sexiness had as little effect on him as he had expected, but there was something else. Selene was not a large woman, but her presence seemed to fill the room, and he'd found it harder than he expected to resist her whims. She seemed to glow or glitter somehow, but there was a falseness about it all.

Then he had it: She must be using a Glamorus Potion! He had seen the recipe once, in a book on Snape's private shelf. It was one of those potions regarded as slightly suspicious; it skirted the Dark Arts in a way. It made users intensely charismatic, drawing everyone's attention to them, and making them hard to refuse. Wizard performers occasionally took small doses, though the practice was regarded as something of a cheat. In large doses, it made the user almost impossible to disobey. Draco had occasionally suspected Harry Potter of using it. How else could such an unimpressive individual inspire such loyalty, or capture and hold the hearts of both a wayward little tart like Ginny Weasley and the ice-queen Pansy?

The realisation had taken only a few seconds, during which Selene had abandoned her seductive pose, and now sat upright facing him. "All right, then, business for now," she allowed. "I'll admit something a little urgent has come up. Draco, I want you to tell me everything you can about Harry Potter and his friends."

"Potter? Why?"

"Because I've just found out that he's here, in America, not far away. Now I have some British wizards here who used to work for Lord Voldemort. They work for me now, and if Potter is coming after them, I need to be able to protect them."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter's at Xavier's mansion, I take it? With the X-Men? No doubt the Granger woman and the two Weasleys are with him?"

Selene nodded. "There's also a Sirius Black, another Weasley – William, I think – a werewolf called Lupin, a British Auror named Nymphadora Tonks, and that French witch who's seeing Cyclops."

Impressive, thought Draco. It looks as if Harry and I will finally be on the same side! He smiled coldly at Selene. "Well, I'll certainly tell you as much as I can, but Potter and I were never close, so it won't be very much."

Liar, Selene said to herself, but it doesn't matter, dear Draco. You'll be mine soon enough, then I'll know all I need to know to dispose of Harry Potter – and of you!

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 10: Hermione Granger Does Some Damage

"How do I get myself into these things?" asked Hermione plaintively. Ron chuckled and put a long arm around her.

"Comes of hanging about with us, love!"

"So true!" Hermione sighed, nestling into him. "The good outweighs the bad by about seventeen stone of prime British manhood!"

The couple kissed lovingly. Ginny murmured to Harry, "Eeeww! That's my brother she's snogging!"

Harry grinned at her. "Shut up, you! Ron never moans when I kiss you!"

"I know, he used to complain like Hell when it was other boyfriends! Wonder why he stopped?"

"Maybe he thought the others weren't good enough for you?" Leaving her to ponder on that, Harry turned to Hermione, who had come up for air. "I should give over bellyaching, Hermione, this was your idea after all!"

"I know," she sighed. "I just didn't realise that we'd be the ones to end up doing it!"

The four were seated comfortably in the back of Xavier's Rolls Royce, which was threading the evening traffic of New York. Now Sirius, who was riding in front with their 'chauffeur', turned around and said, "It does make perfect sense, though. We're the only ones that stand a chance of getting into the Hellfire Club unrecognised.

"Emma was very clear on that, remember. She's the only member of the Inner Circle to have seen Harry up close. Shaw might recognise Hermione, but no one else, just as Leland would be the only one to have really seen Ron. From what she said, Pierce wouldn't know any of you, and of course, none of them would know Ginny or me from Adam, or Eve for that matter!"

"It sounds good, I know," said Hermione, "but can we really trust Emma Frost?"

"Yes," said Harry without hesitation. "She's not the same woman we fought last year."

His mind went back to his confrontation with the former White Queen, the evening before last. The four young wizards had just finished lunch that day when Remus had appeared and promptly dragged them off to assist in setting up the magical defences around the school. Bill had Apparated back to Diagon Alley and returned laden with paraphernalia. Harry and his friends had spent the afternoon flying round the perimeter of the grounds on their brooms, fitting Sneakoscopes in tandem with the high-tech security cameras already in position at strategic points.

"At least," Hermione had said, "it's getting me used to this broom! I've never had one of my own before."

The broom had been an engagement present from the Weasley family, and had been the subject of much careful thought. Hermione was a competent but nervous flier; she didn't have the dash that characterised the other three. Arthur Weasley, a former Quidditch player himself, had decided that a sports broom such as the Nimbus 2001 models Ginny and Ron used would only make his future daughter-in-law more nervous. The same argument applied in spades to a Firebolt like Harry's. So, in the end, they went for the latest model in the Nimbus range, the SkyMaster. It was a sturdy, comfortable broom, fast and responsive, but without the fierce acceleration and tiny turning circle of the sports models. Hermione loved it.

After dinner that day, Harry had been summoned to Professor Xavier's study, finding the Professor and Lilandra there. He had been given a chair, and Lilandra had brought him tea, then the Professor had said, "Harry, I have something to ask of you, and I must emphasise that this is a request, in no way an order. What I am asking will not be easy on any level, and you are absolutely entitled to refuse.

"I want you to use your telepathic abilities to examine Dr. Frost. I have scanned her, and can find nothing amiss. As far as I can tell, she is sincere in her rejection of her previous affiliation. But there may be other factors, magical factors, which through lack of knowledge or talent, I am unable to detect.

"You, however, are both a skilled wizard and something of a telepath. If there is anything magical in her mind that prevents me from detecting subterfuge, I believe you are better equipped than anyone to find it for us."

Harry frowned. "I'm willing to have a go, Professor, but is Dr Frost willing to let me?"

"Completely." It was Lilandra who spoke. "We have talked, Emma and I. She feels bad about her attempts to hurt you before, Harry. She is most anxious to make things right with you, if she can."

Harry squared his shoulders. "Well, in that case, you'd better wheel her in!"

"Don't you want time to prepare yourself?" Xavier asked anxiously.

"Gods, no!" Harry shook his head. "All I'd do is work myself into what Hermione calls a 'tizz', then I'd be no good to you or to her!"

"Very well," the Professor said. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, "She's on her way."

Shortly after that, Emma Frost came into the room. To Harry's surprise, Remus Lupin followed her in. Emma explained, "I asked Remus to come, Harry, because he's someone we both trust. He can watch over both of us while we're doing this." She swallowed hard and said, "So, how do we do it?"

Harry looked at her. The last time he'd been face-to-face with Emma Frost, she had been clad in the swirling white cloak and rather revealing costume of the White Queen. Yet for all that, she had seemed aloof and cold – untouchable. Now he saw a slender, pretty woman in T-shirt and jeans. Instead of seeming tall and steely, she looked small and vulnerable. He went over to her and held out his hands; she put hers into them. Their eyes locked, emerald on sapphire, and Harry said, "Show me."

As she had done once before, Emma opened a channel between her mind and Harry's. As before, she felt him take control of that channel and move into her mind. At once, she sensed the change in him; if the teenage Harry had been a formidable personality, the power of the young man he'd become was terrifying!

For both of them, it was a scary, exhilarating moment, far more intimate than mere sex, and yet lacking that essential physical warmth and comfort. It was over in a second, a second in which they knew each other completely, for if Harry had taken everything of her, he had also held back nothing of himself. It was not a bargain, but a gift that Emma would always treasure.

Then they were back in Xavier's study. Harry squeezed Emma's hands gently and then, to her surprise, leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead, the way her father never had. Then he released her and turned to Xavier to say simply, "It's all right, Professor. She's one of us, now."

Emma Frost turned and flung herself into Remus Lupin's arms, burying her face in his shoulder and weeping tears of relief and joy that would not stop.

Harry was brought back to the present by the voice of their driver, Alex Summers – Havok – who was saying, "The comlink is set up, people. Hank, Sean, Remus and Emma are in the van about four blocks from the Club. They can't get any closer without being detected."

The five were using modified mobile phones, rather than the hands-free communicators. It was all part of the plan Hermione had come up with the previous afternoon. She had suggested that they infiltrate the Hellfire Club itself, undercover, and attempt to find out anything they could. Xavier had contacted a former student, Warren Worthington, who had told him that the Club was holding its annual "Young People's" dance the following evening. As a member of the legitimate Club, Warren had been able to obtain invitations for the four younger wizards, as well as a 'chaperone' ticket for Sirius. Worthington himself was to be a chaperone, and had promised to keep an eye out, just in case.

Ginny was examining herself critically in a hand-mirror. "I never thought I'd end up going to one of these! How do I look, sweetie?"

"Stunning," Harry replied without hesitation, then as Ginny preened, smoothing her elegant green evening gown, he asked, "One of what? A dance?"

Ginny shook her head. "A cattle market, more like! This is one of those things where young rich people go to meet the right kind of partner, so their parents can start negotiations. A lot of Pureblood families hold dances like these during the summer, don't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Mum and Dad don't want any part of it, for all we're a Pureblood family. It's about keeping the bloodlines 'undiluted', and we think it's all nonsense! Mind, this Muggle evening gear suits me a lot better than dress robes ever did, don't you think, 'Mione pet?"

"You look gorgeous, darling. Very James Bond!" Hermione told him proudly. Ron's husky frame filled the white evening jacket and pristine shirt he wore to perfection. Hermione herself was in shimmering blue, while Harry wore a black evening suit. What was oddest about it all, of course, was that these clothes were their X-Men uniforms, temporarily transfigured under the direction of Emma Frost, who knew what was required for these events.

"Here we are!" Alex announced. "Be careful in there, OK? I'll be near, ready to blow the wall out if you need an emergency exit."

He pulled up in front of the Club's imposing exterior, got out of the car to open the doors, and watched as Sirius shepherded his four 'charges' up the steps. A few moments later, they disappeared inside. Havok sighed with relief; the invitations had worked. He got back in the car and drove away.

Inside the Club, there was music and a swirl of conversation and dance. The four young wizards joined in for a while, taking the measure of the place, then went into a quiet huddle in a corner.

"Right!" said Harry. "Time to go to work! According to Emma, there's stuff upstairs and downstairs that has to do with the Hellfire Club's real agenda, so let's split up and see what we can find. Ron, stay away from the buffet. Ginny, stay away from the bar, and Hermione, don't go into the library unless you absolutely have to!"

They all grinned at his half-serious warnings, and Ginny responded with, "And you, Harry Potter, can keep your eyes and hands off the girls!"

"Yes, dear," he replied. "Now be careful, all of you, and remember, nobody gets left behind! I don't want to have to take this place apart brick by brick to find any of you."

They faded off to the periphery of the ballroom. Sirius, catching Harry's signal, made to move off, when a hand caught his arm. He turned to find himself facing a tall, wide-shouldered blond man about the same age as Scott Summers.

"Mr Black? Sirius Black?" the young man asked.

Sirius looked him up and down, and replied, "Depends who's asking."

The young man grinned infectiously, released Sirius' arm, and put out a hand. "I'm Warren…Warren Worthington III, to be precise. When I was an X-Man, they called me Angel. I recognised you from the photo Professor X emailed me."

Sirius accepted the handclasp and smiled back. "I know. I saw your photo, too, but I wanted to be sure. Looks like the kids have started, so what do we do?"

"Well, the boys seem to be heading in one direction and the girls in the other, so if you follow the fellows, I'll keep an eye on the ladies!"

"Fair enough. See you later."

Hermione and Ginny had managed to make their way unnoticed to the level below the penthouse.

"According to Emma," Hermione whispered, "all the action takes place up on the next floor, but you need a special key card to get in there. Emma's will have been cancelled, so we need to either magic the lock or–"

"Shh!" hissed Ginny. "The lift's coming!"

The two women retransfigured their clothing and melted into the shadows of the dimly lit corridor. The lift door opened, and a massive figure emerged. In the light from the lift, they saw a round face with protuberant blue eyes and gingery hair and beard. Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm and whispered in her ear, "That's the Black Bishop!"

It quickly became apparent that Henry Leland was more than a little drunk. He was swaying and singing softly to himself. He turned and fumbled at the security panel, clumsily swiping a key card through the slot to close the lift. He turned, belched genteelly and muttered "Oh, excushe me!" Then he shoved the card roughly into his trouser pocket, and made off along the corridor. What he hadn't noticed was that he had failed to put the card away securely, and it now lay on the corridor carpet.

"Yes!" Hermione was about to dart forward and pick it up when Ginny caught her arm.

"Someone's coming!" Ginny cautioned. "Accio card!"

The card slithered across the floor to Ginny's feet, and the girls shrank back into the shadows. A moment later, a security guard in Regency costume went past them. It was clearly a routine patrol, and the man was obviously bored out of his skull. Hermione hardly needed the Disillusionment Charm she had quickly cast to hide them.

When the guard was gone, Hermione picked up the card and examined it. "Hmm. Henry Leland, maximum access. It seems the gods are smiling, Gin! Let's go."

They slipped across the corridor and into the lift. "Up or down?" asked Ginny.

"Up, I think," Hermione replied. "The stuff downstairs should be straightforward enough for the lads, but it'll need our brains to sort out what's going on upstairs!"

Ginny had never seen anything like this penthouse level. The rooms were dimly lit, but wherever the girls went, the lighting automatically brightened as sensors responded to their movements. At first, they were cautious, afraid of tripping alarms, but it soon became clear that Leland's card had deactivated the systems. They looked around for a while, then Hermione said, "This is just the area where ordinary club members do their deals. We need the Restricted Area; it should be just down here."

Leland's key card once again opened the door. Inside was a relatively small area, surrounded by computer monitors and keyboards. The computers were password protected, but Hermione had discovered some time ago that by tapping Legis Arcanum in with her wand she could effectively circumvent any password.

"How'd you find that out?" Ginny wanted to know.

Hermione gave a shamefaced chuckle. "When we were on the exchange, I went and forgot my password to the classroom computers. I daren't tell Hank, so I just mucked around until I found a way to magic myself in!"

Ginny laughed. "Hermione, that is so Ron! He's corrupting you, I swear!"

"I know, and it's wonderful," replied Hermione reflectively. "You have no idea how lonely it is to be the brainy one who never has any fun, Ginny! When I first met Ron–"

"You hated his guts," Ginny pointed out.

"No! Well, yes. But how else does an eleven-year-old react when she realises she's fallen hopelessly in love with somebody who's the exact opposite of everything she admires and wants to be? That day the troll attacked, he'd called me a 'nightmare'. I'd been called worse things, but it went through me like a knife, Ginny! I couldn't stop crying, so I ran and hid in the girl's loo, as you do. Then suddenly there's a troll in there; then next thing, there's Ron!"

"And Harry."

"I know, but I only really saw Ron at the time. He was so scared, and so brave, and he'd come for me! We were friends after that, even if we had our rows, but I didn't dare dream– Bingo! Got something!"

"Oh!" Ginny squinted at her screen. "Me, too!"

"Hmm…." Hermione pursed her lips. "It seems as if the Inner Circle is preparing for a siege. They've been buying and stockpiling all kinds of stuff: gold coins and bullion, tinned and dried food, fuel oil, drinking water, weapons and ammunition. All the things you'd need if, say, the world were attacked by demons and everything broke down. What have you got, Ginny?"

"The Mutant Social Register, they call it. It's a list of wealthy, powerful people who are either Mutants themselves, or have children who are. Not all of them have been contacted yet, looks like. Maybe Shaw's plans are on hold while the Black Queen's in charge. I'm making a copy. Professor Xavier needs to see this!"

"Good. While you do that, I'm going to scout our escape route."

Just as Ginny finished, Hermione returned, looking anxious. "I think we've been less lucky than we thought. I've just checked the lift, and it's sealed – even Leland's card won't open it!"

"So how do we get out?"

Hermione frowned. "We should try to get to the roof, then we can call for help and Banshee can come and get us."

"Right, let's get going then. I hope there's some guards; I fancy a punch-up!"

Hermione gave a sigh of mock exasperation. "Now who's doing a Ron?"

"Runs in the fam–" Ginny had been coming across the room as she spoke. By chance, neither of the girls had actually crossed the middle of the circular Restricted Area. Now Ginny had stepped onto the pattern set into the floor – and vanished!

As Hermione stared, a brawny arm circled her neck, and a hand plucked her wand away, tossing it across the room. "Nice 'n easy, honey," a rough voice said. "You're too pretty for me to want to hurt you!"

Hermione stamped down hard on the man's instep, jabbed him in the gut with her elbow, and finished him with a back-fist to the face. Then she spun. There were six men facing her, all in the blue garb of Inner Circle mercenaries. One of the mercs chuckled nastily. "Sorry, toots. You got past the alarms, but we been watchin' you on CCTV the whole time. Now you took Joey down, but he's too soft on the ladies. Somehow, I don't think you got what it takes to clobber all of us!"

"Don't bet on it!" snarled Hermione, as she darted abruptly off to one side.

"You won't find a way out over there!" the merc shouted, running after her.

But Hermione wasn't looking for a way out. She had spotted a cleaner's cart in one corner, and now she reached it, caught up a sweeping brush, spun, and jabbed the handle hard into the pursuing merc's solar plexus. The man folded over with a wheeze and stayed down. Hermione leaped over his inert form and charged the others.

The men were not expecting to be attacked by such a small, fragile-looking woman, and Hermione took ruthless advantage of their surprise. The brush was not as well balanced as the bo staff Wolverine had trained her with, but it was stout and did the job well enough. Three more mercs went down before it snapped.

One of the remaining two grabbed for Hermione, and she caught his hand, twisting his wrist hard enough to immobilise him, then kicking him in the gut and face. The last man swung at her and, without thinking, Hermione gracefully backflipped away from him to end up with her back to the wall. The merc gave a grim laugh. "Not so clever as you think, lady! You've trapped yourself!"

As he bore down on her, Hermione caught a glimpse of red from the corner of her eye. Again, without stopping to think, she half-turned, wrenched the fire extinguisher from the wall and, with an unladylike grunt, swung the heavy cylinder round. Its arc stopped halfway when it crashed into the side of the merc's head. He went down as if he'd been pole-axed. Hermione dropped the extinguisher, stepped over the fallen merc, and went to pick up her wand. Then she scanned the room. All the mercs were down, but there was no sign of Ginny.

She was about to go back to the Restricted Area when she saw the man who had attacked her first was on his knees, staring at her. Hermione went towards him, wand extended, and he promptly scrambled away from her, his face full of fear. "Stay away from me, you crazy bitch!" he babbled hoarsely. "Just go! I don't want no part of you!"

Feeling just a little malicious, Hermione cast a Jellylegs jinx on the man to prevent him chasing her before she looked for a way out. There was a door marked "Roof – Helipad Access" which was standing ajar. It must have been the route the mercs had taken to get in here – she would have heard the lift. There might be more guards up there, but now that Hermione had her wand, she wasn't worried about them. She should get up there, call for help, and get Emma to do a telepathic search for Ginny.

As Hermione made for the door, she heard the merc saying, "Rodriguez, you hear me? Seems like Wolverine's got hisself a girlfriend, and she's headin' your way! Watch your ass, man. She's one mean X-witch!"

Wolverine's girlfriend? Is that an insult or a compliment? wondered Hermione as she darted up the stairs. Well, boyfriend or not, she owed the craggy Canadian some serious hugs after this evening! As she approached the top of the stairs, she slowed, listening. The door above was also ajar, and she could hear the sounds of a fight from outside. She tiptoed up and peered round the door.

There were more mercs, half a dozen or so, but they had their hands full. A tall, powerful-looking blond man in evening dress was wreaking havoc among them, dealing out hefty punches and kicks. Hermione didn't know the man, but she recognised the fighting style; this fellow had done X-Man training! She dashed out at once and pitched in, wand flicking, until she and the mystery man were the only ones standing.

The man turned to her and extended his hand with a wide smile. "Hi! You're Charm, aren't you? I'm Angel, but you can call me Warren."

Angel? Well, he's handsome enough for one! Hermione was, in fact, a little dazzled as she shook his hand. "Hermione," she managed, then got a grip on herself. "D'you know where the others are?"

Angel shook his head. "I followed you and Firebird as far as the elevator, then came up here via the fire escape. When I saw half the guards go sneaking off down those stairs, I figured there was trouble, but the professor told me you guys could handle yourselves. Then, when the rest of 'em scrambled out to watch the door, I guessed you two were coming up, so I thought I'd get a head start. What happened to Firebird?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione in a worried tone. "I think she must have stood on some kind of magical trap, a Disapparation Rune or a hidden Portkey, because she just vanished. I was going to see if Emma Frost could locate her telepathically, so–"

Hermione could never quite get used to telepathic contact, even from Xavier, so Emma's mental touch made her jump a little.

It's OK, Charm. Firebird is safe, and in good hands. She'll meet you in the alley beside the building in a short while.

Hermione thanked Emma mentally, then passed the message to Warren. "I suppose," she said, "we'd better make a start on that fire-escape. Which way?"

"Never mind," Warren told her. "We can do it quicker than that!" He took off his jacket and tie, and then began to unbutton his shirt.

"Whoa!" Hermione protested. "Don't think I'm not grateful for your help, Warren, but chocolates and flowers first would be nice!"

He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Don't worry!" he said between chuckles. "I'm not after your virtue, Charm! Anyway, I've seen photos of your boyfriend – I don't wanna get twisted into a pretzel by Hunter! No, it's just that these clothes don't have slits in them."

He dropped his shirt, then stretched as a man might after removing some tight and uncomfortable clothing. As Hermione stared, a pair of magnificent white wings unfolded from his shoulders.

So that was why they called him Angel! "Wow!" she gasped. "Doesn't it hurt to keep them cramped up under your clothes?"

"You get used to it," he told her. "The wings fold naturally anyway. It's just like wearing a corset or something. I only have to hide them in public; the clothes I wear at home are specially adapted – advantages of being filthy rich!"

He held out his arms to her. "Trust me?" he asked with a grin.

"Do I have a choice?" Hermione asked. "Just mind the hands, mate, or Hunter will probably rip them off!"

She stepped up to him, and he lifted her easily. Hermione looped her arms round his neck, then gripped tightly. With two powerful downbeats of his wings, Angel lifted them both off the roof.

"I won't get too far if you strangle me," Warren remarked.

"Sorry!" Hermione apologised, loosening her hold. "Nervous flier."

Angel flew off the edge of the roof to descend gently into the alley. Hermione made the mistake of looking down once, then kept her eyelids firmly shut until she felt Angel touch down. As Warren set her on her feet, he glanced upwards, then said "Heads up!"

Hermione followed his pointing finger and saw an odd-looking shape scurrying down the opposite wall. It appeared to be a hunchbacked creature with two heads! A demon? she thought, gripping her wand. But the figure leapt lightly from the wall to land just in front of them, and resolved itself into something quite different.

It was a young man, shorter than Harry but just as wiry, clad in a skin-tight outfit of blue and red, which included a mask that completely covered his face. What Hermione had taken for a hump on his back was actually a smaller person riding pick-a-back. The face that now grinned at her over the man's shoulder, bright-eyed and flushed with exhilaration, was Ginny's.

Chapter 11: Ginny Weasley Swings in the City

"…ily. Oh, crap!" exclaimed Ginny. There had been a split-second of darkness, and now she found herself hanging several hundred feet above the street, and beginning an uncomfortably rapid descent!

Whipping out her wand, she cast a Hover Charm that held her level with the highest rooftops. Now what do I do? Despite centuries of research, wizards had been unable to perfect a spell that allowed flight without some kind of device, a broom or carpet or whatever. Ginny was currently hovering pretty much at the mercy of the wind, which was fortunately light at the moment. The charm wouldn't last forever, so she had to get onto something solid soon.

Apparation was the logical choice, but where to? New York was a big, confusing city, and she was by no means sure where the Hellfire Club was exactly. She could Apparate back to Xavier's, but that would mean leaving Harry and the others in the lurch. The street was too far below even for her keen eyes to make out enough detail for a safe arrival. Her best bet was to Apparate to the nearest rooftop, then call Banshee on the mobile phone to get her back to the Club.

Just as Ginny was about to execute her plan, she felt a presence approaching from behind. Before she could turn, something slammed into her, knocking the wind from her. A sinewy arm wrapped round Ginny. She heard a yell of delight, and a dizzying moment later, she was being set down on a nearby rooftop.

Ginny reacted without thinking, whirling round and loosing a Stun spell at the figure behind her. But whoever it was bounded lightly out of the way, ending up clinging to the side of a small hut-like structure. He hung there like an insect, shouting, "Hey!" Frustrated, Ginny flung another hex, but almost before she pointed her wand, her target moved again, springing halfway across the roof. Her temper boiling over, the young witch prepared herself to cast yet another spell, but this time her opponent made a peculiar gesture with one hand, calling, "Enough already!"

A line of silver-grey, sticky material burst from his wrist and wrapped itself around her wand, which was wrenched from her hand to land several feet away. The stranger leapt across to her, and Ginny responded by launching a powerful mule-kick. This was a mistake, as a steely grip closed on her ankle, and she was suddenly hanging upside down, effortlessly held by her opponent.

"Take it easy," he said evenly. "I'm one of the good guys. Are you gonna calm down, or do I hafta find a water barrel to dunk that hot head in?"

Ginny suddenly realised that this was just what Logan had warned her against. Feeling foolish about stepping into a magical trap, worried about her friends and anxious to get back into action, she had reacted to what might well have been a rescue as if it were an attack, and followed up by losing her rag!

She took a deep breath and examined her captor. He seemed to be a man of medium height, lithe, wiry and well muscled. The timbre of his voice suggested that he was not so very much older than Ginny herself. He was wearing a red and blue outfit that fit him like a second skin; in fact, it was rather embarrassing for Ginny, as her current position kept her staring at his…

Concentrate on the face, Ginny! Unfortunately, that was difficult, as the man was wearing a mask that completely concealed his features. Even the eyeholes were covered with some silvery material. How can he see? Ginny wondered. There was an emblem on his chest, a stylised spider. Oh, well, she supposed she'd better apologise.

"Erm," she said, "we seem to have got off on the wrong foot here. Can we start again, maybe with you putting me down? I must be getting heavy for you."

The man shrugged. "I could hold you like this all night if I had to. But if you promise no more high jinx, I'll set you down."

Strong as well as agile, Ginny noted. "I promise," she replied. The man lowered her until she could place her hands on the rooftop, then let go of her ankle. Ginny flipped gracefully upright and turned to face him, only to find he had gone over to retrieve her wand.

As he handed it over, he considered her, head on one side. "OK, you're an X-Man. That much the uniform tells me, though the lion badges are something new. I don't recognize you, even though I know most of the X-Men. You're a Brit – that accent is weird, but definitely English – and you used this thing like some kinda magic wand. I thought the X-Men were all Mutants?"

"Not all of us," she told him. "I'm an X-Man and a witch. They call me Firebird. Who are you?"

"Firebird? That fits! As for me, you musta heard of me!"

"'Fraid not."

"That settles it," the young man groused. "I'm getting a press agent. Firebird, you have just been saved from certain, um, floating by your one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!" He executed an elaborate bow and Ginny laughed.

"Spider-Man? My brother would love to meet you!"

"She has a brother." Spider-Man shook his head. "Of course she has a brother! All the hot ones have brothers. He's not your little brother by any chance?" he asked hopefully.

Ginny shook her head. "My big brother – one of five big brothers – all wizards, like my boyfriend."

"A boyfriend, too?" Spider-Man threw up his hands. "Sheesh! Just my luck. " He suddenly somersaulted over to the hut structure again, clinging to the wall like one of his namesakes. The lad seemed to vibrate with restless energy, a little like Harry when he was fired up about something. "So, why's a nice, young X-Person with brothers and a boyfriend floating over the city all alone like the prettiest angel that never found a Christmas tree?"

Ginny giggled. This Spider-Man was as outrageous as Roberto! Then she sobered and said, "I'm not sure. I was in the middle of a job, and I must have stood on some kind of magical trap – a Disapparation Rune or something that sent me right up over the city."

"A dis-a-what ruin?" he asked, then held up a hand. "No, don't explain! Some kinda magical Transporter thing, right? Not so much 'Beam me up, Scotty' as 'Beam me up, Gandalf'?"

"I don't," said Ginny, "have the slightest idea what you're talking about! Is this some Muggle thing?"

"Might be, if I knew what a Muggle was."

"Someone who isn't a wizard or a Mutant. Are you a Mutant?"

"Nope." Spider-Man shook his head. "I'm sort of an accident, you might say."

"Oh, like the Hulk, you mean?"

"Kinda. You know about the Hulk?"

"I've seen him – big bloke, green, doesn't say a lot, and he breaks things. You're much nicer."

"Thanks! Look, is there anything I can do to help you out? I must've given you a scare back there, so it was really my fault you attacked me. Can I make it up to you?"

Ginny nodded. "You can tell me the quickest and safest way to get to the Hellfire Club. My friends are still in there. I'm worried about them, and they'll be fretting about me. My boyfriend gets awfully vexed when I do things like this! He had to go into a girl's toilet to rescue me once."

Spider-Man laughed. "Now that's true love. Look, the Club's way uptown from here. Do you get airsick?"

It was Ginny's turn to laugh. "I'm a Quidditch player! Of course I don't get airsick."

"Kwid what? Never mind. Thing is, I can get you to the Club quicker and safer than any other way, but you'll have to hang on, 'cause it'll be a wild ride."

"Wild I like! Just let me tell my people what's happening." Ginny took out her phone, and quickly explained the situation to Beast, who said he'd pass the message on and asked her to say 'hi' to Spider-Man.

That done, Spider-Man jumped off the wall and said, "I'll have to carry you on my back, and you'll hafta hold on because I need both my hands free."

"Fair enough," Ginny replied. "I promise not to throttle you."

Spider-Man chuckled. "Oh, well, I wouldn't want to be 'throttled'. Love the way you talk, by the way." Then he bent his knees so Ginny could climb onto his back.

To her surprise, he applied some strands of the sticky fibre he produced to strategic spots. They must work like a Sticking charm, she realised. "That should hold you," he said. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh."

"OK!"

Spider-Man loped to the edge of the building and leaped off into space. Ginny bit her lip to stop from screaming as they plummeted downwards. Then, suddenly, a line shot from Spider-Man's wrist to stick to a nearby building, and their fall turned to a graceful swing. With a yell of joy, he reached the apex, hung in the air for a second, then shot another line, and so it went on. It was a wild, exhilarating ride, and by the end of it, Ginny was whooping as loudly as her companion!

Finally, they stopped on the roof of a building next door to the Hellfire Club. On Ginny's instructions, Spider-Man scuttled down the wall and dropped into the alley. There was Hermione! But who was the bare-chested, devastatingly handsome chap with the wings?

The two girls rushed to each other, hugging tightly, inspecting each other for harm, and talking simultaneously. Angel raised an eyebrow at Spider-Man. "Hi, Web-slinger! How's it hangin'?"

"Hey, Wings! This a convention or something?"

"No, a job. Something fishy going on in this Club."

"Uh huh. Need a hand?"

"Not right now, but it's good to know you're around, Spidey."

"Sure thing, homey."

Ginny came over to Spider-Man and introduced Hermione, before clasping his hand warmly and saying, "It was awfully nice to meet you, Spider-Man. Thanks for all your help, and I'm sorry I was such a cow at first!"

"No problem, Firebird. You take care, now, and if you're ever in New York again, look me up!"

"How will I find you?"

"Just whistle. You know how to whistle? You just pucker your lips and blow?" With that, he was gone, up the wall and away.

Angel grinned at the girls. "I'd better go get my clothes back on!"

"What's the rush?" murmured Ginny, and Hermione dug her in the ribs.

Warren explained, "They'll soon notice in there if they're a chaperone short. You two better sit tight here; you've been identified now, so you can't go back in. Emma Frost will have let the guys know to meet you here. Just stay low and quiet."

With a final wave, Angel soared up towards the roof. As he vanished, the side door of the Club opened and a shaft of light shone into the alley. Hermione and Ginny shrank into the shadows. Two figures appeared in the doorway. One was a tall young woman with waist-length blonde hair and a low-cut, white evening dress – the other was Harry!

As the two witches watched, the blonde looked up at Harry with a mischievous grin. "Are you OK from here, Simon? I could get my uncle's driver to take you back if you want."

Harry shook his head. "It's OK, Mandy, it's only a couple of blocks to the hotel. Thanks for your help."

The girl laughed. "Hey, buddy, I've been there! Stay away from matchmaking moms."

"You too!"

"You bet! One for the good guys tonight, Simon Templar!"

"A definite result!" said Harry with a grin.

They high-fived each other, and the blonde winked at Harry, then went back in.

Harry looked around, then saw the girls. He sagged theatrically against the wall, and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow as they dashed over.

Harry and Ron had made it as far as the wine cellar by means of a Disillusionment Charm and a Reveal Spell that showed up the infrared and laser traps. Now they stood in front of the door Remus and his friends had used.

"So, how do we get through this one?" asked Ron. "Remus said alohomora doesn't work on these fancy locks."

Harry nodded. "I know, but I had a word with Bill. He told me a spell that will open almost any door. It's an ancient one, much more powerful."

He pointed his wand at the lock and said, "Ahamkara!" The lock buzzed a little, then the door opened. Ron stepped forward and Harry grabbed him. "Look before you leap, you pillock!"

Ron looked down the lift shaft and gulped. "Oof! Could've done myself a mischief, there! The lift's at the bottom."

Harry exhaled resignedly. "Well, let's get down there, then!"

Ron cast an illusion of closed doors to prevent pursuit. Then the two young men Apparated to the top of the lift carriage, retransfigured their evening suits into uniform, and used magic to remove the inspection hatch on the top of the lift. Harry's spell opened the door at the bottom, and they went on.

"I don't like it," muttered Ron as they reached the wooden door Remus had told them about. "It's too quiet."

"I know," Harry replied. "Just stay loose, mate, OK? Watch the sign on the floor!"

Once past that trap, they proceeded along the ancient-looking passage until they came to a Y-junction. On the left, a bright, modern corridor led away. On the right, a dark stone passage seemed to lead downwards.

"Which way?" asked Ron.

Harry considered for a moment. "We'd best split up. You go left; I'll go right. Meet back here in thirty minutes?"

"OK," Ron agreed. "That way, one of us should find something. Watch yourself, Hawk!"

"You, too."

Sirius had been a little held up by an unexpected encounter with a Club security man. By the time he'd rearranged the fellow's memory, he'd lost sight of Harry and Ron. Moving swiftly, he reached the wine cellar, but was further delayed while he unravelled Ron's illusion. He reached the bottom of the shaft the same way they had, and met a puzzle.

There were doors on either side of the corridor, and the lads could have entered any of them. Sirius had no way of knowing which one, if any, they had gone through. Oh, well, more than one way to skin a cat, he thought, and changed into Snuffles.

Picking up the familiar scents of his two young friends, Sirius was able to follow them as far as the junction. There, he was in a quandary. Harry's scent led into a passage that reeked of old, dark magic. Ron's led to a modern corridor that smelt of Muggle weapons. Of the two, Harry was the better wizard, Ron the better fighter, so that made a kind of sense. But whom should Snuffles follow? Family came first, he decided, and was about to turn right when he caught the sounds of a fight from the left!

If there's any trouble to be found, trust a Weasley to find it! Sirius smirked, as he turned left and began to run.

Harry considered the archway ahead of him. The passage he was in opened into a moderate-sized chamber with the archway at its end. Guarding it were two Hellfire mercenaries holding weapons that looked much more serious than the usual stun projectors. Harry lurked in the shadows and considered. He could take them both down, he was sure, but that would put him at risk of discovery and pursuit.

Time to be sneaky, he thought. He had recently had his Invisibility Cloak lengthened in Diagon Alley. Apparently, he was now taller than his father had been, and the cloak had stopped covering him completely. Time to see if his Galleons had been well spent! He pulled out the cloak and wrapped himself in it before moving silently out of the passage and heading for the arch. He passed the guards without incident, and carried on down another, wider passage.

There were no more guards, but at regular intervals along the passage, there were doors, and beside each door stood a statue. The statues were of tall, emaciated things with skull-faces, wearing ragged cloaks and holding scythes. They had rubies for eyes, and Harry felt that they were watching for something. If they were, his cloak was deceiving them, at any rate!

He knew he should turn aside and search some of the rooms, but something seemed to be drawing him toward the end of the passage. Finally, he saw yet another door flanked this time by statues of goat-headed, goat-footed, bat-winged demons. Harry considered the door. It had no lock or handle. It must open to a magical password like some of the doors at Hogwarts, but what word?

He examined the portal more thoroughly. The intricately carved designs had a common theme – they were all snakes! Harry remembered that the Black Queen boasted of being Salazar Slytherin's daughter. His eyes widened. Could it be that simple? Of course it could! If Selene was Slytherin's daughter, she might be a Parselmouth, as Voldemort had been. What she could not know was that Harry himself was, thanks to the late and unlamented Dark Lord, also able to speak the language of snakes.

It took him a little time to remember, but finally Harry hissed "Open!" in Parseltongue. The door swung aside, and Harry sighed with relief. Clearly, with so few speakers of the serpent language around, Selene had felt no need for a more abstruse password.

The room beyond the door was octagonal, just as Salazar's study in his ancient Keep had been. Like father, like daughter, Harry thought. One facet of the room was taken up by the door, of course. Harry slipped off his cloak, to examine the others better. The objects around the room were certainly unusual. There was a staff of ebony, around which a carved snake twined, raising its cobra-head at the tip – Harry could guess who had owned that!

Set into the floor against another wall there was a metal rod with a crystal set in its clawed end. It was a green stone of remarkable clarity, but as Harry looked closer, he felt the prickling of static electricity against his skin. Odd. There was also a silver sarcophagus with an inscription Kha-Khan, Dei Potestis in Terra. There was a huge, black-iron broadsword, the blade carved with unfamiliar runes, which Harry was somehow reluctant to approach. Then there was the elaborately carved stand supporting a Pensieve, which had to be Selene's own. There's no way, thought Harry, that I'm sticking my head in there! One thousand years of unwanted memories were too awful to contemplate.

The next wall had a desk against it, on which a book lay open. Harry leaned over to read the graceful Italic script.

The Seeing Stone continues to be of great use, but employing it is draining. It resists me, and I must feed after each use. I cannot continue to prey on Sebastian's soldiers; they are too valuable. I send the Msira out to find sustenance, but even they must exercise care. I need victims who are healthy yet who are unlikely to be missed, and such are rare even in this great, cold, uncaring city.

I need a Scryer to use the Stone. The lore says that only those of certain ancient bloodlines may use the thing freely. What bloodline is more ancient than mine, I wonder?

Harry shrugged, then went to the final wall. There was a wooden table and, resting in a depression in the middle of it, an object that exerted an uncanny attraction on him. It seemed to be a globe of black glass or crystal, smooth and unfaceted, but as he approached, a red fire ignited in its core. He looked closer, and saw…

…two trees on a low hill, silver and gold, radiant with their own light. A darkness out of the North came and extinguished them. He saw a mighty fortress, with three grim towers, a desperate battle being fought before it. He saw a woman, tall and slender, with raven hair – the most beautiful creature he had ever seen – and a man beside her, a man with one hand. The woman wore a necklace containing a brilliant jewel. A ship with a glowing light at the prow passed into a darkened horizon. Then there was an island, green and fair under the sun, until the seas opened to swallow it, and a ship with ragged sails loomed out of a black-and-crimson wrack. There was a city of seven rings, and a great crowd before the gates, where a wizard in a white robe placed a jewelled crown on the head of a tall, dark-haired man. The man stood and looked up at Harry, and except that the eyes were grey, the face was Harry's – older, but unmistakably his own.

Harry blinked, and the scene changed. He saw Hermione in a desperate fight with some mercs, a fight she was clearly winning, even though she seemed to have lost her wand. He saw Ginny, upside down, being held from one ankle by a figure in red and blue who seemed to be remonstrating with her. He saw Ron and Sirius, surrounded by computer consoles, and apparently eating pizza?

The stone went blank. Harry stepped back, astonished. This must be the Seeing Stone Selene had written about, the one that so exhausted her to use. Harry didn't feel exhausted; on the contrary, he felt refreshed, his thinking somehow sharpened.

His memory went back to the Labyrinth, where the djinn Amagor had dropped cryptic hints about Harry's bloodline. He remembered Dumbledore (he still couldn't think of his old Headmaster without a keen pang) speculating about his descent from a line of ancient tribal chieftains. If they had been correct, then this Seeing Stone might well be Harry's birthright, in which case he had a claim to it. Taking it would also remove an important weapon from the Black Queen's arsenal!

His mind made up, Harry shrank the Stone to the size of a pebble and put it in his pocket. Then he wrapped himself in his cloak and slipped back the way he had come.

As Harry reached the Y-junction, he felt a presence in his mind.

Harry?

What is it, Emma?

I've just had a message from Ginny. She's safe, and with a friend. Meet her and Hermione in the alley beside the building. Ron and Sirius will make their own way out. Be careful, Harry!

I will. Thanks, Emma luv!

He felt a pang of joy from her as she withdrew. What a life she must have had, to get so much happiness from a scrap of affection! he thought. Remus was being an idiot! Emma obviously adored him, and he clearly cared deeply for her, so why was Lupin so hesitant? Huh! I should talk! he chided himself. All those years mucking about, and poor Ginny eating her heart out!

As Harry got into the lift, preparing to Apparate back up into the cellar, a figure melted out of the wall in the corridor. Jason Wyngarde watched the boy vanish, and relaxed with a sigh. He'd done all he could. His illusion-spinning powers had convinced the young X-Man that the demon guardians were statues, while also persuading the demons that Hawk had never been there. Mastermind nodded to himself. Erik would be pleased. Selene had lost her most powerful method of magical spying. An ordinary scrying glass had limitations, and Magneto's late wife, a witch, had taught him all about them!

Jason shook his head. There was something hauntingly familiar about the Potter boy. He felt he almost knew him, had been on friendly terms with him at one time. Perhaps it was in his dreams, those odd dreams he'd been having ever since his stepmother had left his father, taking his baby half-sister with her. Jason had searched, but he'd never found a trace of little Jess. One day, I'll find you, he promised for the thousandth time. I love you, little sister, and I'm gonna make sure you're OK!

Luckily, Harry remembered to change his uniform back to the evening suit before he reached the public levels of the Club. Even so, as he re-entered the ballroom, he felt eyes on him. Quickly, he darted into the crowd of young people and made his way to the bar, ordering a ginger ale. In the mirrors at the back of the bar, he scanned the area behind him and saw a tall, rather familiar figure moving through the crowd as if looking for someone.

Augustus Rookwood looked distinctly uncomfortable in Muggle evening garb. Harry only recognised the Ministry wizard turned Death Eater from numerous photos that had blighted the pages of the Prophet over past months. Harry was pretty sure that Rookwood had never got a really good look at him, but it was possible that he'd seen Harry's photos in the same paper.

Rockwood abandoned his fruitless search and took up a position near the main entrance. Unless Harry could find another exit, he'd have to walk right past Rookwood, and he didn't think he'd get away with that. To give himself time to think, Harry finished his drink, then moved away from the bar, almost immediately colliding with someone. "Sorry!" he apologised, reaching out a hand to steady the young woman.

She shook her head. "My bad," she replied, smiling. "Should have been watching where I was going."

"No harm done," Harry said, and made to move off, but she caught his hand.

"Hey, there—got a train to catch?" she teased.

Harry looked at her properly. She was about the same age as he, and stood only a few inches short of his own six feet. The girl had an appealing figure, which the white dress she wore did little to conceal, very long blonde hair she wore in a mass of loose curls, and a fine-boned face out of which sparkling blue eyes regarded him quizzically.

Thinking fast, he grinned down at her. "Actually, I'm trying to avoid somebody," he confided. "There's this mother who's got an eye on me for her daughter…"

"And you have a problem with that?" she asked curiously.

"Just a bit!" Harry said. "Violet's a nice girl, but she's got a face like a horse and a laugh to match. Then, of course, there are those crossed eyes."

"Ouch!" The young woman laughed. "No wonder you're in a rush. Need somewhere to hide?"

"The crowd will do for a bit," Harry allowed, then grinned again. "Care to dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask!" She led him into the centre of the dance floor and determinedly snuggled herself into him, before asking, "You're English, right? What's your name?"

Harry plucked one out of the air. "Simon," he told her. "Simon Templar." It had been the name of a tall, distinguished Muggle with iron-grey hair who had, surprisingly, been McGonagall's escort at the Victory Ball early in the summer. "And with whom am I having the pleasure?"

"Amanda Perkington," she replied. "My friends call me Mandy, and before you ask, that includes you, Simon!"

Harry and Mandy danced and chatted for a while. Mandy was funny and a good dancer, but Harry was still tense, keeping an eye out for Rookwood.

After a while, Mandy's eyes sharpened. "You're still looking hunted, Simon. Want to get out of here?"

Harry managed a rueful smile. "Despite present charming company, I think I'll have to! The old girl's a bloodhound, I'm afraid; she'll find me sooner or later. On top of that, she's probably got one of her minions watching the door in case I do a runner!"

Mandy giggled, then said, "I know how you feel! There's this friend of Mom's, got a real dork of a son, about my age. She's always trying to get us together. Look, my Uncle Sebastian's a big shot at this club. I come here a lot. I know the building like the back of my hand, so I can get you out if you really have to go."

Harry stared at her. "Uncle Sebastian? You're Sebastian Shaw's niece?"

Mandy nodded. "Yeah. You know him?"

"My Dad does business with him from time to time, so I've seen him. Wouldn't say I knew him, though."

"You'd like him. He's kinda cool, for an old guy. C'mon Simon, I'll show you a way out."

Mandy led Harry off into some less-frequented parts of the club, chattering about Uncle Sebastian and his girlfriends. "Emma was polite, but one chilly lady. That Lena tried to be nice, but she looked at me the same way a guy would – gave me the creeps. Think she might be bi? The new one, Bella, she's pretty cool, and nearer his age, but she looks real good. She's English, too."

By now, they'd reached a door marked "Employees Only". "It opens into an alley beside the Club," Mandy explained. "I've used it to sneak out of boring formals sometimes."

She opened the door and led him through, before turning to him with a grin "Are you OK from here, Simon? I could get my uncle's driver to take you back if you want."

Harry shook his head. "It's OK, Mandy, it's only a couple of blocks to the hotel. Thanks for your help."

The girl laughed. "Hey, buddy, I've been there! Stay away from matchmaking moms."

"You too!"

"You bet! One for the good guys tonight, Simon Templar!"

"A definite result!" said Harry with a grin.

They high-fived each other, and Mandy winked at Harry, then went back in.

Harry looked around, spotting the girls. He sagged theatrically against the wall, and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow as they dashed over.

"What was all that about?" Ginny wanted to know, "Match-making Mums? You've been spinning yarns, Harry Potter!"

Harry pulled her to him and kissed her, then, keeping his arms round her, began to tell them both what had happened. "So," he concluded, "we just have to wait here for Ron and Sirius."

At that point a high-pitched humming filled the alley. Two globes of shimmering light appeared a few yards away. As the three friends watched, the globes grew and reshaped themselves into human forms before gradually solidifying into two men.

Sirius, in the form of Snuffles, padded down the corridor towards the sound of the fight. However, he reached Ron long before he reached the fracas. The brawny young wizard was leaning on the corridor wall, watching something through a glass panel and chuckling to himself.

Sirius changed back into himself and crept up to Ron. Quiet as he tried to be, Hunter heard him and spun round, wand raised, then relaxed, held a finger to his lips and pointed to the panel. It was clearly designed to give the people on the other side a view of the corridor. Beyond it was a kind of guardroom, currently occupied by four wizards and five mercs, all busily knocking lumps out of each other!

The mercs were having the best of it until one of the wizards finally pulled out his wand. He made short work of the opposition after that, but by then he was the only one standing. As he stood there panting, Ron winked at Sirius, then transfigured his X-Man uniform into a Hellfire Club one, before stepping through a door beside the observation panel.

The American wizard was muttering, "Gods-damned Muggles!" when Ron tapped him on the shoulder. He turned round, straight into a pile-driving right from the powerful youth that stretched him out cold on the floor.

Ron turned to Sirius. "Quick, transfigure your clothes into gear like this!"

As Sirius did so, Ron picked up some packages from a nearby table, explaining, "I followed a merc along here. Seems he was delivering some food to a lab at the end of this passage. This is a checkpoint, and he had to stop here. I was listening in, trying to work out a way to follow him in, when a bunch of Yank wizards turned up.

"Looks like Remus was right when he said the wizards and mercs don't get on. The bloke in charge here ordered the wizards back into 'their' section; they didn't like his tone, and that's when the fur started to fly!"

"Lucky for us," Sirius commented, "but now what do we do?"

"We deliver supper!" replied Ron, handing him a paper sack and a large flat box from which a tempting aroma rose.

The boy's as mad as a coot, thought Sirius, but occasionally there's method to it! He followed Ron down the passage to a set of double doors. Beside the door was an intercom device. Ron jabbed the button with his elbow and yelled in a reasonable facsimile of an American accent, "Pizza's here!"

After a moment, there was a buzz and one door opened a crack. Ron shouldered his way in, grumbling, "Thought you'd never move your fat asses! Where d'ya want this slop?"

There were three men in the room. Two were standing by some kind of workbench, one was about five feet two and grossly fat, the other closer to six foot seven and skeletally thin. The third man was sitting at a computer workstation, and spun his chair to glare at Ron through steel-rimmed glasses. He was a medium-sized fellow, with blond hair and cold blue eyes in an unremarkable face.

"Leave it on the table!" he snapped. "Then clear out. I'm sure you have some important loafing to do while we work!"

"Geez!" said Ron, "A 'thanks' woulda been nice, dude!"

He set the packages he'd been carrying down, then whipped out his wand and used a Binding Charm to tie the blond scientist into his chair, before remarking in his normal voice, "It pisses me off when people act like that!"

Sirius, following Ron's lead, had Petrified the other two. Now the wizards shed their disguises, Ron for his uniform, Sirius for the 'urban camouflage' gear Wolverine had issued him. Ron addressed Sirius in a tone of crisp command that surprised the older man.

"Padfoot, you check the computer those two were using. I'm going to have a natter with laughing-boy here!"

"All right R-Hunter." Sirius caught himself just in time.

Ron picked up some packages from the table, went over, shoved his prisoner to one side and pulled up another of the castor-mounted chairs.

"This yours?" The man nodded. Ron opened one bag and pulled out a burger. "Mind if I…?" The unfortunate scientist shook his head mutely and stared as Ron took a mighty bite, chewed reflectively and swallowed before saying, "Now that's a tasty burger! Homemade, if I'm any judge. Where's it come from?"

"K…Kowalski's, two blocks down," the prisoner stammered. "All natural, no artificial ingredients."

"Mm, you can tell." Ron finished the burger in three more bites, then sampled the cup of drink he'd also found. "Blech! What's this?"

"Iced herbal tea."

"Tastes like one of Madame Pomfrey's concoctions! Padfoot, is there some Coke over there?"

Sirius examined the other cups. "Pepsi," he reported.

Ron grunted. "Have to make do. Not diet, is it?"

"No." Sirius examined the flat box with the tantalising scent. It contained a dish he'd not encountered before, a flat circle of some kind of dough, topped with a red sauce and melted cheese, scattered with slices of some kind of sausage. The thing was pre-cut into wedge-shaped slices, and Sirius sampled one; it was delicious.

"Hunter, what is this?"

Ron looked over. "Pepperoni pizza, looks like. Pass us a slice or two!"

"Jupiter, you've already inhaled a bloody great burger!"

"Can't help it if I'm a growing lad!"

"If you grow much more, Charm's going to need a step-ladder to box your ears!"

Sirius passed one of the drinks and a few slices of pizza to Ron, then took the rest and the other drink over to 'his' workstation.

Ron turned to the helpless scientist, "What's your name, mate?"

"Cedric." He pronounced it 'Seedric', which didn't surprise Ron, as most of their American friends insisted on calling Neville 'Kneeville'.

"Right, Cedric. Now I'm an easy-going sort of bloke, you see, but I've got this girlfriend. She's a real clever-clogs, and she hates unanswered questions. So if I go back to her, and tell her you didn't answer any questions I have, she's going to be giving me GBH of the earhole for days. On top of that, I won't get my nookie. That means I'll get irritated, and when I get irritated…"

There was a desk toy nearby. Hermione's Dad had one like it – 'Newton's Cradle' it was called – and it was quite a sturdy object. Now Ron closed his big hand over this one, there was a brief screech of tortured metal, and when Ron moved his hand, the thing was an unrecognisable lump of scrap.

"…that could be your head, Cedric. So if I ask you something, you should probably answer me, shouldn't you?"

Cedric gulped and nodded, Ron flashed him a big, amiable grin, and turned to the computer. Humming snatches of songs to himself, the young wizard searched through the files on the PC in front of him. He was a little clumsy in his use of mouse and keyboard, and he had to concentrate intensely to do it, but his perseverance was rewarded.

"Hum! 'The Hell-Gate and it's application for SIDIP'. What's SIDIP, Cedric?"

"Stable Inter-Dimensional Interface Project," mumbled Cedric. To Ron's enquiring look, he explained, "We're researching a way to move between the different dimensions that constitute the multiverse. It would allow us to travel between various realities and cherry-pick technology or people useful to us.

"Look," he continued, warming to his subject, "there are occasional 'rips' in the dimensional barriers at special places or times. The Air Force has a Star-Gate project that can open wormholes between distant planets, and UNIT records talk about the 'Time Lords', who can travel in time, so we know the technology exists.

"This Hell-Gate spell is a similar thing, but like all your magic," he practically spat the word, "it's too intuitive and unstable – imprecise and fuzzy. I'm analyzing the thing to try and find a scientific way to replicate the phenomenon without all the fancy artefacts and mumbo-jumbo."

"Oh, right," replied Ron. "Didn't understand a word of that, but it doesn't matter. What this file does do is tell me exactly how Selene is opening this Hell-Gate, so I'd better make a copy. Now then, disc, disc….Aha!"

Ron began downloading the file onto a CD, then turned to Sirius, "Got anything, Padfoot?"

Sirius had been searching as Ron had, using a surprisingly quick hunt-and-peck style on the keyboard. Now he looked up and said, "It's mostly techno-what-have-you on this one. There're plans for weapons, vehicles and those big metal Golems, what do you call them – Sentinels? I'm copying as much as I can."

Just then, both men received a mental message from Emma Frost, who told them where to meet up with their friends.

"Y'know," said Sirius, "there should be another way out of here, so we don't have to risk going back how we came, just in case."

They began to look around, then Ron spotted an odd-looking piece of equipment. It seemed to be a platform of some kind, linked by several thick cables to a control panel that had a video screen mounted in it. There was a joystick under the screen, and Ron, curious, played with it a little. The joystick seemed to switch the view on the screen to various locations in and around the club, and by chance Ron found himself looking at a view of the alley just as Harry and Mandy came out of the side door. He called Sirius over and they watched for a moment.

"Well, they all look safe," Sirius remarked.

"Thank the gods!" replied Ron gratefully. "Cedric, what is this thing?"

"Experimental TransMat platform."

"What's that when it's at home?"

"A matter transporter – a way of getting instantly from one place to another. It's only short range right now."

"Oh, like a Portkey! So, how do you use it?"

Clearly terrified of Ron, Cedric eagerly told him how to set the targeting grid to the desired location, how to use the device, and how to set a delay on activation so both wizards could leave at once. The two men took their places on the platform. "See you, Cedric!" said Ron.

Cedric's obscene reply was lost in the odd shimmering effect that suddenly covered the room. Seconds later, it cleared, but this time Ron and Sirius were in the alley, with their friends staring open-mouthed at them.

"Well, that was…different," said Ron.

Chapter 12: The Heart of Bellatrix Lestrange

Hermione dashed towards Ron. "Ron, where have you been? I was so worried, I – "

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but burped instead. Hermione reeled back a moment, then her eyes flashed. "Pepperoni pizza! You've been wolfing pizza!"

"Oh, you are in for it now, Mr Weasley! I've been in a six-to-one brawl, Ginny got Apparated halfway across the city and had to dash back, and Harry's had to lie through his teeth! Meanwhile, you've been sitting on your great lazy bum, stuffing your face, you, you…."

Hermione's voice trailed off as she registered the grin on Ron's face. "Oh, no, Mr Weasley! Don't you dare! Not while I'm telling you off…Ron!"

He stepped forward, placed his hands round her dainty waist, and lifted her off the ground, holding her up so she was at eye level with him. Hermione rained blows on his upper arms and shoulders, but they weren't serious ones, and she might as well have pounded on a brick for all the effect she had. "Put me down at once!" she commanded.

"Not until you've kissed me!" he told her.

"Oh, if that's all it takes…"

She reached out her arms, Ron drew her close, and they kissed for a long time. Harry and Ginny took the opportunity to indulge in a little osculatory activity of their own.

"Kids!" muttered Sirius. Then the phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and fumbled with it for a second. "Hello? Yes. They're sort of…occupied…right now. OK. Right. See you later."

He put the phone away and waited patiently until the young people had finished, then called them to order. "Right! That was Emma on the phone. The five of us are to Apparate directly back to the mansion. The others are going to Stark Long Island to fly back. Apparently, young Warren will be arranging for the cars to be flown back tomorrow."

"Will we be debriefing as soon as we get back?" Hermione wanted to know.

"No, it'll be tomorrow morning, when everyone's back."

"Good! Because when I get back, I intend to have a hot shower, a cup of tea, a big bar of chocolate and Ron. Not necessarily in that order!"

On that happy note, the five of them vanished.

It was some hours later when Sebastian Shaw, Bellatrix Lestrange and Mandy Perkington arrived at Shaw's town house. Shaw was a little surprised at his niece; usually, after these affairs, she was bubbly and talkative, but tonight she seemed subdued. For a moment, he had been worried – there were very few people in the world Sebastian Shaw truly cared for, and Mandy was one of them – but then he realised that though she was quiet, she was contented.

"Had a good time, Mandy?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" she replied happily. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

"Dance with any nice boys?" asked Bellatrix, who despite her prejudices, was growing to like this young Muggle woman.

"A couple, and one was kinda special."

Mandy paused, but Sebastian could see she wanted to talk about it, so he asked, "What was he like, Pumpkin?"

"He was so fine, Uncle! He's about as tall as you, and sorta slim – athletic, though. He dances nicely, and he talked to me like a real person. He's got black hair that's really wild, and the most amazing green eyes!" Mandy gushed.

A quick glance shot between the two adults, then Sebastian asked casually, "What was he called?"

"Simon Templar. He said you knew his Dad?"

Shaw nodded. "I've had dealings with him. Good man. Will you be seeing him again, honey?"

Mandy shook her head. "No. He's gone back to England, and he'll probably forget me right away. We didn't kiss or anything, but we had a few laughs, and it was fun."

Bellatrix laughed. "Wise child. Brief encounters are always the most romantic!"

The young girl agreed, and kissed her uncle goodnight. Then, to Bella's surprise, she bade the older woman goodnight with a brief hug and a light kiss on the cheek.

Sebastian grinned at Bella after Mandy had gone. "I think she likes you better than any of my other lady friends, Bella."

Bella turned away to hide the confusion she felt. How does he do that? It had been so long since a man had been able to touch her that way. Had she been a fool to liberate him from Selene? She changed the subject.

"Sebastian, that was Harry Potter she was dancing with!"

"I know," he replied soberly. "Now we're sure who it was infiltrated the club tonight. Selene is furious at the loss of her Seeing Stone; it may make her do something stupid!"

"I told you," Bella said through gritted teeth, "that Potter is dangerous!"

"You did, and you'll remember I agreed with you," Shaw replied evenly. "Still, the boy is brave and clever, and I respect him entirely, as I do all Xavier's students. If he ever wanted to date Mandy, I'd welcome it – he'd treat her as she deserves, I'm sure."

He caught the look she was giving him, went over and put his hands on her shoulders. "I know Bella, I know. But think about this: Potter's death would sate your need for revenge, perhaps, but it wouldn't bring your Dark Lord back, any more than Selene ever will. But Potter alive, and on our side…what an asset that young man would be! An asset, mind you, that Voldemort was prepared to waste out of what…superstition? Paranoia? Simple, stark fear?"

Bella's mind was in a whirl, an almost constant state these days. Ever since the day she had overheard Selene assuring Grimslade that she had no intention of reviving that 'revolting maniac Voldemort', Bellatrix had felt adrift, rootless. With some vague idea of revenge, she had slipped into the Black Queen's study, and there she had found the Seeing Stone. In it, she had observed Selene taking the Glamorus Potion, and realised how she had been duped.

After that, Selene must die, Bellatrix had decided, but she had needed allies. Selene was using magic and aphrodisiacs to keep everyone around her on the fine edge of arousal, so it had not been hard for Bella to tempt the Black King into her bed, and to slip him some antidote. Shaw had been subconsciously fighting Selene's domination anyway, so it had not taken much. From then on, they had plotted together. Bella had at last found a mind with a depth of cunning and ruthlessness to match Voldemort's.

But the real surprise had been that Bellatrix also found herself wanting to maintain the physical relationship between them. From the age of twelve onwards, Bellatrix Black had been experimenting, first with heir own body, then with those of like-minded female classmates, finally with the eager, young men of Slytherin House. Unlike Godric Gryffindor, Salazar had placed no impediment in the way of young men wishing to access the Slytherin Girls' Dormitories: he had wanted his students to begin producing Pureblood babies as soon as possible!

Bella's sister Narcissa might have found all she wanted in the fierce tenderness of simple sex, and the power over men her slender, white body gave her, but Bellatrix had dreamed higher. At the age of sixteen, she had achieved her ambition, receiving both the Dark Mark and admission to her Dark Lord's bed. Then a vigorous man in his early forties, Voldemort had introduced the teenage Bella to a world of sophisticated sensuality beyond her dreams. True, that world had a darker edge, one that repelled her as much as it attracted her, but that was a small price to pay for being the closest disciple of a man whose cause she believed in passionately.

But then had come the Fall, the black day when the infant Harry Potter had somehow reduced the towering Dark Wizard to a mere shade of malice. Captured by the Aurors and locked in Azkaban Prison, Bellatrix had clung to one hope, one thought: her Lord would one day come for her. Come he had, but it had not been the reunion she had hoped for. Physically, the renewed Voldemort was as potent as the old, but mentally…. As time went on, as Harry Potter continued to live and to defy him, Voldemort had come to need more and stronger stimulation to become aroused, and even greater depravity to achieve the release he craved. Bella had borne it all, even taking a kind of perverse delight in his excesses, because she still believed in him.

Ironically, it had been a Mutant who had placed the first crack in her idol. Last summer, just after the Battle of Salazar's Keep, the Mutant Erik Lensherr – Magneto – a man Bella later learned was one of the most powerful and feared humans in the world, invaded Voldemort's sanctum. Bellatrix had been given an injection by Magneto's companion, the shape-shifter Mystique. While paralysed by some drug, Bellatrix was still able to see and hear everything as the Master of Magnetism had warned Voldemort to stay away from the Mutant world. She had seen her Dark Lord humiliated and dismissed. She had waited eagerly for Voldemort's command to descend on these half-Muggle scum and obliterate them.

But, instead, Voldemort had firmly ordered his cohorts to abandon all Mutant-related research and to avoid Mutants at all and any cost. His given reason had been that their primary goal was domination of the wizarding world. Bella, however, had found herself entertaining other thoughts, ones that would have been unthinkable only shortly before. Was it possible her invincible Dark Lord was afraid?

Bellatrix had scarcely become accustomed to such thoughts when the Final Fall came. Face-to-face with the Potter boy, Voldemort had shown his true colours in the end. Unable to overcome this mere youth, Tom Riddle had taken the coward's way out, flinging himself from the old Astronomy Tower in a gesture of empty defiance, rather than go down fighting as a man ought.

Bellatrix herself had narrowly escaped capture at the Ministry of Magic that day. The experience had filled her with new respect for the skills of the wizard defenders, and the awesome powers of their Mutant allies, especially the witch-elemental they called Storm. But her escape was a bitter thing. Without her Lord, where could she go?

Lucius Malfoy had seemed to her the one man who could pull the Death Eaters back together, make them a force again. Bella had gone to Azkaban to free him, only to find him instructing his son in what she still thought of as treason. The idea that these Knights of Walpurgis had been using Voldemort, and had abandoned him to the mercies of the Order of the Phoenix, had driven her mad with rage. The rage had given her the strength to force her brother-in-law, under an Imperius Curse, to do away with himself. But that act also cut her off from her one refuge; she could not face Narcissa after that, and she was afraid her sister had taken part in Lucius' treason. Even Bella could not contemplate murdering her own sibling.

So Bella had fled here, to America, where Selene waited like a spider in her webs of lust and conspiracy. Bella had been trapped, but then she had escaped, to what?

"Earth to Bella? You in there, hon?"

She blinked and came back to the present. Sebastian was smiling teasingly at her.

"Sorry, darling," she replied. "I was woolgathering for a minute there."

"Oh, really?" his eyes glittered. "Well, back to Earth you come, my dear!"

Without further ado, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Bellatrix Lestrange, at the age of forty-six, found herself responding with an ardour she had not felt since she was sixteen. When Shaw led her towards the bedroom, she followed eagerly.

Afterwards, she lay happily against him. This also was something new; once sated, Voldemort had always ordered her peremptorily away. But the first time she had pillowed with Sebastian, when she tried to get up to leave, he had gently but firmly pulled her back into his arms, where she had slept like a child. Now he shifted, sat up, and lit two cigarettes, passing one to her.

Bellatrix inhaled deeply, relishing the smoke, before saying, "Filthy Muggle habit! You're corrupting me, Sebastian Shaw!"

"Everyone should have a vice," he told her. "They remind us we're only human. That way, we keep some perspective."

They fell into a comfortable silence, which Shaw broke by asking, "What will you do, Bella, when this is all over and Selene is gone?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Other people have always made the big plans; I just make them happen. I will go to England, perhaps, or Europe. There must be other Pureblood groups out there I could join."

"Does it have to be that?" he asked. "The old battle to keep your world pure? You've already lost, you know. That war was lost before Voldemort was born."

From him, she could hear that without anger. Sebastian had no axes to grind; he spoke as he saw, and he was a clever man. But she had no answer for him, and eventually he said, "You know, you could stay here. With Selene gone, the Inner Circle will need a new Black Queen."

Her heart leapt at the thought, not of being Black Queen – though that was indeed tempting – but of staying with Sebastian.

Gods help me! she thought. Am I in love with this man? In love after all these years?

"Is that a proposition," she asked him, "or a proposal?"

"It could be both," he replied quietly, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then he said, "I doubt if I'd be faithful to you."

She grinned at him. "I wouldn't mind, Sebastian. As long as you give me detailed descriptions afterwards."

He returned her grin. "I'll make videotapes if you like!"

"Well, in that case…." She put out her cigarette, then took his and stubbed that out too, before rolling on top of him. "You'd better start rehearsing your performance!"

The young man called Dante perched on a roof ledge and looked down. The neighboring building was less tall than this one, and in the center of its roof was a glass dome. From the room below he could see flashing lights, and his preternaturally keen hearing caught the heavy bass throb of dance music – a disco, then.

Dante loved discos, even if his personal taste ran to thrash metal, but he wasn't here to dance. His infallible instincts had led him here for another reason. Someone in this city was summoning demons and, as always, thought they could control them. But the creature's hunger for fear and slaughter could never be contained.

He felt the change before he saw it. There was a sudden sensation like a chill in the air, then through the dome, he spotted flashes of unnatural violet light. As the screams began, he rose to his full height, drawing Ebony and Ivory from their holsters. Then he leapt from the ledge onto the dome, breaking through the thick Plexiglas into the large room below.

They were Hell Guards, skeletal creatures in tattered black robes, armed with scythes. They looked up as Dante crashed through the dome, and immediately forgot about their human targets. They knew him, of course, and the son of the legendary Sparda was too juicy a prey for them to ignore.

Dante whirled in the air as he fell, blazing away with the enchanted pistols. The recoil seemed to serve to keep him airborne far longer than was natural, and several demons fell before he even reached the floor. The terrified dancers were fleeing, hiding behind furniture or fighting each other to reach the exit.

The young demon-hunter landed in the middle of the dance floor with a boom that echoed through the room. He holstered his pistols and grinned at the Hell Guards who slowly closed in on him. Dante jerked his head at the speakers, which were still blaring out music, and remarked, "Geez, guys, you'd think they'd play you some decent music to die to!"

Then, in an economical motion, he drew the broadsword Rebellion from where it was slung across his back, and attacked. It was a furious and bloody melee. Dante leaped, spun, cut and stabbed. The Hell-forged blade, with his superhuman strength and speed behind it, sliced through demon-flesh easily and lethally. Everywhere he struck, demons fell. But Dante himself was not unscathed; several scythes had found their mark, and he was bleeding profusely from slashes that would have killed a normal man.

Then the last of the demons was down. Dante leaned on Rebellion, panting. He tensed as another violet glow heralded the arrival of one last foe. This creature was still skeletal, but taller than the others, perhaps seven feet. It too had a black robe, but not of tattered cloth; this robe seemed made of darkness itself. The thing carried a scythe that glowed with a blue light, sparks running along the blade. A Hell Vanguard!

The creature considered Dante, then spoke. "Come to me, Sson of Sssparda! I will relisshh the taste of your traitor'sss blood!"

"You and about a zillion others!" replied Dante. "You're gonna havta wait your turn, dude!"

The demon gave a gurgling laugh. "Ssuch bravado! You will sserve uss well, as your brother does!"

At this, Dante bounded forward in a rage. The duel was savage, but he was clearly outmatched. The wounds inflicted by the other demons slowed and weakened him, and the Vanguard pressed its advantage.

"Alass," it hissed. "I had hoped for a more worthy opponent!"

"You ain't seen nothin' yet!" snarled Dante as he leaped back. For a moment, he stood, head thrown back, face stretched in a rictus that could have been either agony or ecstasy. Then a globe of scarlet light surrounded his form for a second, and when it vanished, he had changed.

He was taller, more powerfully built, and a pair of bat-like wings sprouted from his shoulders. The white hair, instead of falling to his collar, now stood around his head like a flickering argent crown. The skin of his face was black, his eyes glowed red, and when he smiled, his mouth was filled with gleaming fangs. The Vanguard hesitated. "Sssparda!" it hissed.

Dante said nothing. Instead, he extended his hands, palm outwards, toward the demon. Gouts of orange-red flame leaped from them, enveloping the creature in agony. As the thing staggered, Dante pressed forward, drawing his sword again. This time, Rebellion's blade glowed as if red-hot, and flames ran along it. With a single sweep, he decapitated the Vanguard, and it crumbled to ash as it fell.

Dante stood for a moment, then spread his wings and flew out through the dome and away. Settling on a rooftop, the demonic figure sagged for a second, then the red glow enveloped it again before disappearing to reveal Dante in his normal form.

He looked down at himself. His father's legacy at least brought with it a measure of healing. The worst of his wounds were gone, and as for the rest…. He pulled an object out of his pocket, a five-pointed star made from crystal with a benign face carved into it. The star was hollow and filled with a glowing green liquid. Dante pressed the star to his chest, and his entire form glowed green for a second. The rest of his wounds vanished. He shook himself.

OK, he thought, now I'd better go find out who's behind the fun and games – before things get dangerous!

Funny how things turn out, thought Caradoc Grimslade, eyeing the man who sat opposite him. He had never thought, in his long life, that he would become the boon companion of a Muggle!

The two men were certainly a stark contrast to each other. Grimslade was the essence of New England 'old money'. He was tall, spare and stoop-shouldered, with aristocratic features and piercing blue eyes. He wore an impeccably tailored wizard robe in dark worsted cloth, the latest fashion half a century ago.

Ralph Cole, in T-shirt and BDU pants, was just as tall, but powerful muscles rolled and slid under his ebony skin. His features were blunt, as if roughly molded from stiff clay, but when he grinned, as he did now, he looked like what he had once been, a Detroit street kid. He had already told Grimslade how he had grown up in an area where you either joined a gang or got out. The day his cousin was killed in a drive-by shooting, Cole had decided to take the second option. With no talents for sports or entertaining, Cole had taken the only available choice and signed up for the Marines, finally being selected for the elite Reconnaissance battalion. But an incident involving a suspected terrorist who turned out to be a CIA double agent led to a dishonourable discharge. Cole had drifted into the shadowy world of the professional mercenary, earning a reputation for discipline and efficiency that had brought him to the attention of the Black King.

"The rest, as they say, is history! But how'd you get into this, Caradoc? I mean, I hate to say it, buddy, but you look more like a school teacher than a scrapper!"

Grimslade sighed. "It's a matter of conviction, Ralph. Look, you Muggles assume that Europeans first came here what, three or four hundred years ago?"

"Pretty much. 'Less you believe them guys in Minnesota that talk about Leif Ericsson and the Vikings."

"Well, they're right about the Vikings, though they never actually got to Minnesota. But wizards from Europe came here maybe six, seven hundred years back. We came for a reason.

"Look, my family was English. We lived in a place called East Anglia, and we sent our kids to Hogwarts, always Slytherin House, because we were, and are, Purebloods and proud of it! But other wizards weren't so proud, and they married Muggles, ordinary people like you, with not a drop of magic in 'em. They bred Half-blood kids who had wizard powers. On top of that, Muggle families tend to throw up kids with magic talent – we call them Mudbloods – occasionally. That started happening more and more often.

"Now the wizard school, Hogwarts, was founded a thousand years ago by four wizards, who each got a House named after them. But they couldn't agree on one thing. You see, Salazar Slytherin had the right idea. Wizards are a special breed, and there are so few of us we can't afford to dilute that. So he said only Pureblood wizards should come to Hogwarts, and when Slytherin was there, Slytherin House never took anyone who wasn't pureblooded. But the other three!

"All Godric Gryffindor cared about was courage and fire. He was a warrior as well as a wizard so his House takes anyone with guts and a temper. Rowena Ravenclaw looked for brains; she didn't care about your blood, as long as you were smart enough for her. As for Helga Hufflepuff, as long as you were breathing, she'd take you!

"So, before you know it, Hogwarts, and the wizarding world, was overrun with Half-bloods and Mudbloods. Add to that the Muggles were breeding like flies! England's a small country – we were getting crowded out.

"My family, and others like us, went to the Wizengamot, asked them to do something. We wanted them to warn the Muggles off, to stop Mudbloods being brought into our world, and to forbid wizards to have kids with Muggles. They wouldn't listen. It caused a war, a rebellion."

"And you guys lost?" Cole guessed.

"We lost," Grimslade admitted. "We were already outnumbered, and some of our own Pureblood families, like the Weasleys and the Potters, fought against us – blood traitors!

"But wizards had known about America since the days of Merlin. We knew it was a big, empty country. So, some of the Pureblood families decided to leave, to make a fresh start over here. And so we did, for nearly three hundred years. We avoided the natives, even their wizards. We set up our own towns, our own villages, even our own school.

"Then the European Muggles started to arrive. Some of us wanted to drive them out, back into the sea. But others said, 'We've got plenty of space, let 'em come'. So, we did."

"Don't tell me," Cole interrupted, "next thing you know, it's all starting again. Wizards start marrying Muggles, Muggles start havin' wizard kids, the works!"

Grimslade nodded. Cole was a brighter man than he appeared. "There're only a few families left who care any more about keeping the bloodlines pure. We heard about that Voldemort character over in England. He came over here looking to drum up support. But he was crazy – he wanted to rule the Muggle world as well as the wizarding one. We don't want that. We just want to be left alone!

"So, when Selene approached me, I had to listen. She's Slytherin's daughter after all, so she should understand. She's promised that when the Hellfire Club takes over, we wizards will have a place of our own, somewhere Muggles can't come, ever!"

There was a snort of contempt from the nearby cell. Fenrir Greyback gripped the bars with his sinewy hands and glared at his guards.

"You are pathetic, both of you! Dancing to the Black Whore's pipe because you don't have the spine or the blood to get what you want yourselves. If you want something, just take it! If you can, then the owner is weak and has no right to anything, even life! If you can't take it, then you are the one with no rights!"

Grimslade barely spared the werewolf a glance. He reached forward and tapped the heavy SIG-Sauer handgun that lay on the table in front of Cole.

"Is that thing loaded with silver, my friend?"

Cole shook his head. "Don't need it, man. That's just superstition. Yeah, werewolves are allergic to silver; it burns their skin, and even a little in their bloodstream kills 'em. But they only seem invulnerable 'cause they heal so fast. You can kill 'em with regular weapons, as long as you get a killshot in quick. And man, I never miss!"

Fenrir subsided with a growl, slinking to the back of his cell. Cole and Grimslade continued to chat, until Selene, accompanied by the White Knight and Draco Malfoy, swept into the room.

"You may leave," she told the two men. "We require speech with the prisoner alone."

Fenrir tensed, snarling, then was suddenly pinned back against the cell wall. Selene advanced, the door swinging open before her, and approached the struggling werewolf.

"You can squirm all you want, Fenrir, but you'd do better to listen," she told him. "I have a proposition for you."

Fenrir quieted, but didn't otherwise acknowledge Selene. He looked across at Draco.

"It's young Malfoy, isn't it? Knew your father, boy. He at least kept decent company!"

"Did he indeed?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then how is it that you knew him, Greyback?"

Fenrir barked laughter. "Oh, you're a Malfoy, all right! All cold arrogance on top, spitting venom underneath!" He looked at Selene. "Watch yourself with that one. The Malfoys are scorpions, always were!

"You said you had a proposition. I'm listening."

Selene smiled. "Do you still want the Mutant girl, Wolfsbane?"

"Want her?" Greyback laughed again. "That green-sick little virgin? It's not about wanting her; it's about her whelps. Oh, she's pretty enough, and there's fire in there, I'd swear, but that's not the point. I mean to breed a race of werewolves who needn't wait on the whims of the Moon, and for that, I need her!"

It was Jason Wyngarde who replied. "You don't know much about Mutants, do you, Greyback? There's little or no chance that any children you might sire on Rahne Sinclaire would be Mutants, unless you yourself carry Mutant genes. Even if you do, there's no predicting what powers they might or might not have."

"Much you know about it, Sir White Knight!" Fenrir growled. "I'm a werewolf, and I can sire other werewolves by fang or by seed. I don't know and don't care about your 'Mutant genes'. That girl is a werewolf who can change at will. She must pass that ability to at least some of her children!"

"It doesn't matter to me, one way or the other," Selene stated. "What matters is you, Fenrir! You're too powerful an ally to waste. I don't want to have to keep you locked down here.

"So," she took a breath, "I've decided to give you your chance. I want you to lead a raiding force to Xavier's mansion the day after tomorrow. Do as much damage as you can; kill some of his precious X-Men for me. If you can bring Wolfsbane back, I'll ensure she comes to your bed as eagerly as any loving bride!

"I'll send some of Donald's Sentinels, and some Hell Guards, as well as wizards and mercenaries. Even better, I'm going to send the first Named Demon I've been able to summon. He calls himself Phantom, and he'll be more than a match for the X-Men."

Selene came closer to Fenrir, and spoke confidentially. "What's more, Fenrir, I have a gift for you."

From within her robe, she produced a pendant on a heavy chain. The pendant was a seven-pointed star, and just below the point of each star was set a pearl. Three of the pearls were black, the other four glowed with a milky radiance.

Fenrir stared. "The Star of the Wolf-Kin!" he breathed. "I thought it was lost!"

"It was," Selene told him, "but I found it. Seven black pearls, each charged with the radiance of the full Moon. All the werewolf who wears it need do is recite a simple rune, and whatever the phase of the Moon, or even in broad daylight, one of the pearls will release its power. You can transform at will, Fenrir!

"But have a care, the power is of limited duration, an hour, no more, for each pearl. The Star cannot be re-imbued with moonlight until all seven pearls are black again. Here, Fenrir, the Star is yours by right. Now will you lead the raid for me?"

Fenrir nodded. "You have my word, Selene."

Selene smiled, releasing Fenrir and handing him the Star. "Jason, take Fenrir and get him some food. Draco, come with me?"

As they walked towards the living quarters, Selene took Draco's arm in a familiar fashion, walking very closely beside him. She was both puzzled and piqued by his continued resistance to her charms. She had even gone to the lengths of transfiguring herself into a beautiful young man, only to have 'him' dismissed from Draco's room with cool courtesy. In her long life, Selene had taken a perverse pleasure in making even the most ascetic of holy men break their vows of celibacy for her, but had she finally met her match? Was it possible that here was a man who was genuinely uninterested in sex? She didn't – wouldn't – believe it! Still, Draco was here, so even if she could not seduce him, she might make use of him.

"So, Draco, what do you think?"

"I think Fenrir's going to get himself killed," replied Draco bluntly. "He has no idea what he's up against. Your White Rook told me that Greyback has got himself noticed by the one they call Wolverine – a Mutant who has, single-handedly, killed six trolls in as many minutes!

"So, I have to assume, Selene, that there is something else behind this offer to Fenrir. Some scheme of your own, yes?"

"Ahh, you're so perceptive," she purred. "Women like a man who understands things! The X-Men broke into the Club tonight, and they stole something that belongs to me. That, alone, calls for punishment.

"But there's more to it than that. By sending a credible force, I can test the mettle of these X-Men, and your Harry Potter and his friends. Phantom is a low-level demon, powerful in his way, but rather stupid and quarrelsome. He's expendable. I think and hope he will do some damage, but I fully expect him to be killed or banished back to Hell. How quickly and easily he is defeated will tell us much about the X-Men's capabilities.

"While they are distracted, I intend to Apparate directly into the mansion, recover my property, and teach this arrogant Muggle Xavier a lesson in manners!"

"I see." Draco smiled. "And what is my role in this?"

"I want you to watch for me, dear Draco. You and Sebastian can watch the battle and analyse the enemy tactics, see how their wizards and Mutants work together. That way, we can make our own force more effective and counter theirs."

By this time, they had reached the door of Selene's private chambers. They stopped, and she smiled invitingly up into his face. "Join me for a nightcap?"

Draco shook his head and assumed an expression of regret. "I'm sorry, Selene, but I still have some instructions to send to my people in England. Then I really must get some sleep. I'm still a little…jet-lagged? Is that the phrase?"

She pouted. "You know, I'm beginning to think you don't really like me, Draco."

"I respect you a great deal," he told her. "Your abilities and ambitions are considerable, and they complement my own. If I'm reluctant to compromise a potentially valuable business partnership by entering into a personal relationship, you must put it down to my training and upbringing."

Selene sighed heavily and looked a little hurt. "That's the difference between men and women, isn't it? You see personal things as unimportant distractions. We put them at the centre of everything we do!

"Please, Draco, try to meet me on a personal level? It's so important to me. I find it so much easier to work with people I'm close to!"

"We'll see," Draco replied. "But now I really must go."

He gave her a courteous half-bow, and went on his way. Selene glared after him. He's not human, she thought. Father was a fanatic, but even he had his lovers! Draco Malfoy was becoming a vexing problem. Selene had to find some way to control him. Sex didn't work; fear almost certainly wouldn't. Perhaps she should simply rely on his obvious lust for power? It would be a shame, though. He was so handsome! Selene was not about to give up on Draco Malfoy just yet!

Chapter 13: The Genes of Nymphadora Tonks

The debriefing began soon after breakfast. Because of the large numbers of people – all the X-Men plus their wizard allies – Xavier decided to hold it in the large lecture room. Harry and his friends gave accounts of their adventures, and then Emma Frost took the floor.

"While I was monitoring, I took the opportunity to do some scanning around the Club," she said. "I left Selene alone because I don't know how good a Legilimens she might be. The same applies to Jason – he's not a telepath, but he is a Psionic Mutant, and he'd know he was being scanned. I did find some others, though, and it seems there's dissension in the ranks.

"Apparently, Selene's been using something called a Glamorus Potion?" Emma glanced at the wizards in her audience, looking for confirmation.

It was, of course, Hermione who whistled softly and said, "That explains a lot! Glamorus Potion is on the borderline of wizard legality. It makes you really charismatic – hard to resist. Damn! If I had my books here, I could whip up an antidote."

"No problem," put in Rogue. "I've got books an' a cauldron an' lots of ingredients. We could do it together, Hermione!"

Hermione stared at Marie in surprise. The Southern girl gave a sad little smile, and her eyes glistened as she said softly, "I've kept the Potions work up. I wouldn't want Professor Snape to be disappointed in me, wherever he is."

There was a moment's silence. Bobby put an arm round Marie, and then Emma went on.

"Well, it's not all going Selene's way! The Lestrange woman found out that Selene doesn't mean to bring some wizard back from Hell – guy named Voldemort? Anyway, because of that, Lestrange managed to get an antidote into Sebastian, and they've been working to undermine Selene. I don't know if it matters, but I think those two are what they call an 'item'."

It was Sirius' turn to whistle. "Jupiter! I'd never have thought Bella would be interested in anyone except Voldemort! This Shaw must be quite a specimen, but I don't know if I should feel sorry for him."

"Don't bother," Emma told him. "Those two are as near a pair as I've ever seen! Anyway, as for the rest of the Inner Circle, Donald is besotted with Selene, and Henry Leland is torn. Henry's been a friend of Sebastian's for years, but at the same time, he can't resist Selene face-to-face. He's taken to drinking heavily, and it's making him careless and ineffective, as Charm and Firebird found out.

"The Muggle mercenaries are loyal to Shaw, but the American wizards are all behind Selene. So are the other two English wizards, Rookwood and Pettigrew. If it comes to an internal fight it'll be Muggle against wizard. Selene has her demons, but Shaw controls the Sentinels, so I'd say the odds were pretty even.

"Also, there's another English wizard at the Club. Does the name Draco Malfoy mean anything to anyone?"

There were a few gasps, and a ripple of sardonic laughter. Peter rumbled, "Our old pal Jerko Malfoy's in town? It'd be nice to meet up with him and reminisce about old times."

"You mean like you scaring the shit out of him in the Library?" asked Ginny. "Or Bob sending him sliding the length of a corridor on his skinny arse? I'm sure he'd love to chat about that!"

"So Draco's working with Selene?" remarked Harry. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Emma shook her head. "Don't be too sure, Hawk. I got a good look at young Mr Malfoy. He's got a mind like an iceberg – big, cold and most of it under the surface – but he doesn't seem able to shield it. He's no friend of Selene's, though he's pretending to be. He found out that she's to blame for his mother's death, and he means to kill her for that. He also means to get Lestrange – something about her being responsible for his father's suicide?"

"Funny, I'd suspected that Draco himself was responsible for Lucius' and Narcissa's deaths," mused Harry. "Last time I spoke to him, I got the impression he didn't give a stuff for his parents, dead or alive!"

"He didn't," Emma confirmed, "but apparently it's a matter of honor." She turned to Xavier. "That's all I have, Charles."

Xavier nodded and thanked her, and Emma sat down, settling herself close to Remus, who for once didn't look uncomfortable about it.

"So," Xavier began to sum up, "from the information Charm and Firebird retrieved, we can draw two tentative conclusions. One is that whatever Selene's plans are, they will cause widespread disruption and possibly destruction. It may be that she plans to let her demons wreak havoc for a while, then emerge, along with the Hellfire Club, as some kind of savior, gaining political domination in the process.

"The second conclusion is that the Black King's long-range plan to infiltrate Mutants into positions of power has been temporarily suspended. The file Firebird found and copied not only confirms what Cerebro has told me, but also gives me a number of ways to approach the families of the young Mutants concerned. We may be able to get the jump on Shaw to ensure a better future for these children.

"As regards the technical data Sirius obtained, Hank has a better idea than I of its value."

Beast nodded from his seat. "It fills in the gaps in our knowledge of these new Sentinels. We salvaged what we could of the six that attacked the mansion a while back, but it wasn't that much. Storm melted one into slag, and the rest of you pretty much made scrap metal out of another three. Hawk and Ariel managed to blow the fifth to smithereens, and Hunter destroyed the sixth one's brain! Still, with the bits we have, and these schematics, I should be able to find if they have any weaknesses."

"Excellent!" Xavier smiled. "The most valuable information the exercise obtained, however, was the file Hunter copied."

"Thank you, fans," murmured Ron. "I'll be signing autographs later!" Hermione and Harry elbowed him sharply in the ribs from either side, and Ron subsided with a grunt.

With a twinkle in his eye, the professor continued, "I'll leave it to you wizards to study the Hell-Gate and find means to close it. As to the Seeing Stone, or the Stone of Isengard, as Selene calls it, that is also a wizard matter, though if what Selene wrote in her journal is true, and given Hawk's account of his experience with it, I am inclined to believe that the object is Harry's by right. I therefore propose that you give some study to the matter yourself, Harry.

"And there's the matter of Warren and his help. Since he is no longer an active X-Man, I'm afraid he can't be here today, but he does assure me that it was a pleasure. He says his encounter with Charm was particularly enjoyable."

Hermione went rather pink, but gave a pleased smile as she said, "I was delighted to meet him."

"I'll just bet you were," muttered Ginny, then blushed herself as the professor went on.

"I'm also sure that Spider-Man was very pleased to render personalassistance to Firebird. He has in the past been an ally of the X-Men, and it's always good to know we have friends in the world."

"He was sweet," Ginny remarked, "but he said my accent was weird!"

"Now whoi wud 'ee be sayin' thaat, Oi wunder?" replied Alison in a mildly exaggerated imitation of Ginny's soft West Country burr. Everyone laughed, including Ron, whose accent was similar.

Hermione shook her head. "Y'know, I've known both of you so long, I'd stopped noticing your accent. Do we really sound that different to you, Ali?"

Dazzler grinned. "Ouew yah, H'mione! Rilly diff'rent, y'kneau?"

"I don't sound like that! Do I, Ron?" asked Hermione. Before he could reply, Alison interrupted, "She does, doesn't she, Ron?"

He looked at Dazzler, grinned, and replied in a rapid, high-pitched approximation of her New York idiom, "You talkin' ta me? Are you talkin' ta me? I don't see nobody else here, so you gotta be talkin' ta me!" Alison howled.

"What is it with Brits and accents?" Rogue wanted to know.

Harry turned to her and drawled, "Ah purely got no ideah, sugah!"

"Oi vey!" said Kitty. "Accents, they're talking about! You vant an accent, you should hear my grandmother!"

"White man speak damn funny, you ask me!" Dani threw out.

"Och, ye've none of ye a trrue apprreciation of the tongue," Rahne informed them gravely.

"To be sure," added Seamus. "And doesn't it take a Celt to find the music in the language? All we're needin' is a Welshman to complete the set!"

"!" said Hermione without batting an eyelid.

There was a short silence, then she added, "That always was a conversation-stopper! My nanna's Welsh, by the way!"

"And on that note," broke in Xavier, "I think we'll call this session closed. We all have our jobs to do, but I suggest we take today off. We're all due a little R and R, I think. Is that all right with you, Logan?"

Wolverine shrugged. "All work and no play, Charlie, you know what they say! I'm with you on this one, boss."

"Good!" The professor beamed. "Now, it's a beautiful day, so I suggest you all take advantage of it while you can. Lilandra and I certainly intend to! After, that is, I've conducted some more business, hopefully fairly quickly. Miss Tonks, would you join me in the Genetics Lab? By all means bring Mr Weasley as well!"

Tonks had never been in a Muggle laboratory before, and was surprised at how different it was from a wizard one. The labs in the Department of Mysteries were long, low rooms, lit by lanterns and lined with wooden benches and tables. They would have all kinds of paraphernalia scattered around: scrolls, books, stuffed animals, flasks, cauldrons and other bits and pieces.

The Genetics Lab at Xavier's mansion, however, was a high, white space, brilliantly lit by ceiling-mounted tubes that emitted an intense glare. There were benches, but they were much tidier than wizard ones, and the equipment and machinery they supported was in the main utterly mysterious to Tonks, despite the fact that she was a Half-blood with a Muggle-born father. The only thing she recognised as the three of them entered was the desktop computer that Dr McTaggart was using.

Xavier formally introduced Tonks and Bill to the capable-looking Scots scientist. Moira looked Tonks up and down and remarked, "So, this is the wee lass who's been givin' Cerebro all the trouble, Charles?"

"Trouble?" Tonks asked nervously. She was vaguely aware that Cerebro was the machine Xavier used to detect and monitor Mutants, and that it could also be used to detect wizards. Why should she be giving the thing trouble?

"Miss Tonks," Xavier began, but she held up her hand.

"Just 'Tonks' please, Professor. It's what everybody calls me."

"As you wish." Xavier shrugged, then went on, "Tonks, I am told that you are a shape-shifter, and that this is a rare talent even among wizards. Is this accurate?"

"As far as it goes, yes," Tonks confirmed. "But my talent is different from, say, being an Animagus like Sirius. That's a learned skill, not an inborn one, and it takes some doing. Harry's Dad was an Animagus, for instance, but Harry's never bothered to become one.

"You do get the occasional shape-shifter, someone who can change into almost any form they like. They happen in the same way that Seers or Sensitives do, or those witches or wizards who have a special affinity for fire, earth, air or water. It's what my Dad used to call a 'wild talent', whatever that means."

"I see." Xavier pondered for a moment, then said, "Are there any limits to the kind of things you can change into?"

Tonks explained, "It has to be a living thing, of course, and preferably an animal or human. There's a size limit, because my weight always stays the same. I mean, I could change into a full-sized dragon, but I'd still only weigh nine stone or so. It'd look good, but it wouldn't be much use except to scare people. By the same token, I could turn into an owl, but I'd be too heavy to fly unless I made the owl Tonks-sized!

"Big dogs, small horses and that kind of thing are easy. People are even easier. But it's tiring to hold a strange form for too long. I mean, I can change my hair colour pretty much at will, and keep it whatever shade I want as long as I'm awake. If I make myself taller or shorter, or alter my figure, I can keep it up most of the day. But if I have to concentrate on something else, like reading or flying or fighting, it gets harder.

"I've practised a lot, so I can do more than I used to be able to at first, but I find it's less tiring to stay myself most of the time.

"Professor, what's this about?"

"It's like this, Tonks," Xavier began. "When you all arrived here the other day, Cerebro flashed an 'Unknown Mutant' alert to the security board. Polaris, who was on duty, narrowed down the alert to yourself." He held up a hand. "Please, let me finish!"

"You know, of course, that Ororo is both a witch and a Mutant? Her Mutant powers manifested at puberty, as is normal for a Mutant of her type. Her wizard abilities remained largely dormant until Professor McGonagall recognized them and Ororo began to train as a witch.

"It would seem, Tonks, that you have had the opposite experience. Accepted as a witch from the beginning, you appear to be unaware that you are also potentially a Mutant! Tell me, when did you become aware of your 'wild talent'?"

Tonks was staring at the Professor, in mild shock, but managed to reply, "Oh! Er, I don't know. I must have been twelve or thirteen or so, I suppose."

Xavier nodded, "Exactly so. Towards the latter stages of puberty – for a woman at least.

"There is one way to be sure, and that is for Dr McTaggart here to perform a genetic assay on you. You won't be the first witch to undergo this procedure. Harry, Ron and Hermione all agreed to the testing when they were first here, because I was curious to see if there was a specific gene sequence that indicated wizard status. Since then, Ginny, Remus and Sirius, as well as Mrs Weasley and the late Professor Dumbledore have also taken part. Would you agree to this test, Tonks?"

Tonks had somewhat recovered herself; now she grinned at Xavier. "What have I got to lose? You've got me interested now, Professor!" She turned to Moira, asking, "Do I have to undress or anything?"

"Bless us, no!" Moira approached Tonks, showing her the swab she was holding. "All I need is a wee tissue sample from the inside of your cheek, lassie. Open wide, now!"

"Urgh!" moaned Tonks. "Every time Mum said that to me, she promptly shoved some bloody foul-tasting concoction down my throat!"

"Ah, well I'll not do that, never fear!" Moira smiled, then swiped the swab gently round inside Tonks' mouth.

She took the swab to a bench where, as Tonks and Bill watched, fascinated, she snipped off the end of it and dropped it into a small glass phial. Moira poured a little clear fluid onto the sample, shook it gently, then drained off the fluid into another vial. This vial was placed into one of the devices that lay around the lab, then Moira turned back to her audience.

"The advantage of workin' wi' a man like Henry McCoy is that I've always access to state-of-the-art gear. In another lab, ye ken, we'd be waitin' hours for the result, but we'll have it here in just a wee while."

As they waited, Professor Xavier explained to Tonks and Bill, "This isn't just a matter of curiosity. Clearly, it's important to Tonks here that she find out about herself. She has already learned all Hogwarts can teach her about witchcraft…"

Tonks interrupted wryly, "Not all, Professor! I'm no Hermione. I just barely got through my NEWTs!"

"Quite," Xavier smiled. "But it may be the case that my staff here can teach you, in various ways, how to make the most of your Mutant ability. That does not, I hasten to add, mean that you will have to attend Logan's Danger Room sessions, so you don't need to look so panic-stricken!

"What is perhaps more important, is that we now know that Storm's case is not so unique. Wizards, like other humans, are subject to the forces of evolution. It was inevitable that, sooner or later, wizard families would begin to produce Mutant children.

"Since it seems to be the case that the wizard pattern is genetically dominant, we must assume that any and all such children will possess wizard as well as Mutant abilities. Your community needs to be aware of this, and to prepare to deal with these 'special children'."

Bill scratched his head. "It strikes me that, what with the numbers of Muggle-born wizards going up every year, and more Mutants being born as well, there'll soon be no such thing as a Muggle!"

"You may well be right, Bill," Xavier agreed. "Albus was kind enough to provide me with the admission records to Hogwarts for the last hundred years. From them, I was able to produce statistical breakdowns of Pureblood, Half-blood and Muggle-born intakes, indexed against time. The percentage of Muggle-born children has been steadily increasing, year on year.

"I also compared the numbers of Muggle-born wizards with the British government's birth registers for the appropriate years. I already have as accurate an approximation as I can for the numbers of Mutant births occurring.

"If my projections from these aggregated figures are correct, then by the middle of the Twenty-Second Century, Muggles will actually be in a minority throughout Western Europe, North America, Australasia and Japan. Fully sixty per cent of the population will be either wizard or Mutant or both! We must assume this also applies for other parts of the world, but sadly, I cannot access their statistics so easily."

At that point, there was an insistent beeping sound. Moira went over to her computer and tapped some keys. A large screen on the wall displayed a coloured pattern that conveyed nothing to either Tonks or Bill, but Xavier's face lit with a pleased smile. Moira made some more adjustments, and two areas of the pattern were highlighted, one in blue, one in green.

Xavier pointed to the screen. "This is a schematic representation of Tonks' DNA pattern. The blue area shows the standard wizard markers, which we knew would be there. The green area shows, as we suspected, the Mutant genes."

Tonks stared at the screen, then asked quietly, "Does this mean my children will be Mutants, too?"

Xavier shook his head. "It isn't inevitable, Tonks. If you have children with a man who is either an operant Mutant, or who carries pre-Mutant genes, then yes, they would probably be Mutants, at least some of them. But unless those exact conditions are fulfilled, any children you have will just be wizards.

"If it's of concern to you, Bill here probably does not carry pre-Mutant markers. Ron doesn't, but Ginny does, as does Molly. We often find that pre-Mutant genes are passed either in the male or female line of a family, but seldom in both."

Tonks nodded, then smiled. "Well, that's been an eye-opener, and no mistake, Professor! I suppose I've got some thinking to do, haven't I?"

"Indeed," Xavier replied, "though, of course, you could choose simply to ignore the matter and continue as you have been. I merely felt that you should at least be in possession of all the facts, since they concern you so intimately."

"Well, thanks for that! But I'll bet Lilandra's waiting for you, and I'm sure Sean's wondering where Moira's got to, so we'd best leave it at that for now, eh?" Tonks took Bill's hand, and the two of them nodded and left the lab.

As they went along the corridor to their room, Bill said, "So, what d'you want to do, 'Dora?"

"Well," she said, "I'll have to have a good natter with Ororo. She's the only other one who knows what it's like to be both, as it were; even if she did come into it from the other end.

"But right now, young William, we need to work up an appetite for lunch! So we're gong back to our room, where you can roger me rigid for an hour or two, OK?"

"Now that's a good thought!" he grinned, and they quickened their pace.

The day passed lazily enough. The afternoon was gloriously hot and sunny, so Ginny and Dani changed into their skimpiest swimwear and secured loungers on the veranda. For a while, they luxuriated in the sunshine and the admiring glances of the young boys who dashed back and forth across the lawn, enjoying their games. However, they soon found themselves decisively outclassed when Fleur and Ororo, similarly dressed, took up two adjacent loungers.

"Oh, brilliant!" groused Ginny. "Now we're competing with a pair of half-Veelas!"

"Ah, well," Dani replied, "it was fun while it lasted! Let's just catch a few rays, Gin!"

They tried, but they were interrupted, then interrupted twice. The four young women decided that a third time would be totally out of order, so Fleur slipped quickly back in to fetch the three witches' wands. Then they waited.

Sure enough, they soon heard the shouts and yells, Roberto calling out, "Comin' through!" and Harry bellowing "Gangway!" The two lads came whizzing along the veranda on skateboards. As they got close to the loungers, Harry pointed his wand and shouted "Inclinatio!" The boards of the veranda obligingly formed a ramp, and the boys shot off it, aiming to jump over the four women as they had done twice before.

This time, however, Ginny and Ororo caught Harry and Roberto mid-jump with Levicorpus, while Fleur deftly fielded the skateboards. The two lads dangled upside down in mid-air, looking wryly at each other.

"That'll teach us to try jumping witches!" remarked Harry.

"Well, you're always jumping a witch; nothing new about that," Roberto quipped.

"Crude, as well as rude!" Ginny said sternly. "How long should we leave them up there, Ororo?"

"We'd better let 'em down," Storm replied regretfully. "They're blocking our sun."

"True," said Ginny. "On three? One, two –"

They dropped Harry and Roberto – none too gently – into a heap of tangled limbs on the veranda. There was a moment's silence, then Roberto asked, "Harry? You dead amigo?"

"Yeah, mate, I'm dead," Harry confirmed.

They untangled themselves and glared at the giggling ladies. Harry pointed at Storm. "You, I'll deal with later! Sirius tells me your duelling technique needs brushing up, so meet me in the Danger Room tomorrow nine sharp! Come to think of it, you can be there too, Fleur."

Both women stopped laughing and considered Harry.

"Ooops!" said Ororo, smiling.

Fleur assumed an expression of mock dismay, "Mon Dieu! I am to duel with ze man who defeated Voldemort? Is zere no ozzer way to apologise, 'Arry? Per'aps by sleeping wiz you?" she suggested teasingly.

"Don't you dare!" Ginny mock-growled. "Mine!"

"As for these two," Roberto put in, advancing on Dani. "I think vengeance is called for!"

"Oh, definitely!" Harry agreed.

Dani and Ginny exchanged an apprehensive glance.

"They wouldn't, would they?" asked Dani.

"Yes, they bloody would!" Without further ado, Ginny took off across the lawn, heading for the edge of the woods with Dani a breath behind her. Roberto went in pursuit, but Harry waited. Both girls were far too fleet-footed to be caught that way!

Ginny was maybe two metres short of the tree line when she heard the boom. Oh, Merlin! Then Harry was there, capturing the girls, a sinewy arm round each shapely waist.

"Gerroff!" howled Ginny.

"Let me go!" squealed Dani.

Harry laughed and squeezed them tighter, kissing both girls lightly before handing Dani off to Roberto, who had come pounding up. Then a terrible revenge began! Both girls were very ticklish, and both lads had long, strong fingers ideal for exploiting that weakness. Within moments, Ginny and Dani were rolling on the grass, alternately giggling helplessly and breathlessly begging for mercy – a commodity in rather short supply just then!

Ororo and Fleur watched as the tussling across the lawn became by degrees less playful and more amorous. They exchanged a smile as the two young couples finally made their way into the woods in slightly different directions.

"Nice to see the kids having fun," Ororo murmured. Then a deep voice behind her said, "Not as nice as having some yourself!"

Sirius slipped his arms around Ororo and began to kiss and nuzzle her just behind the ear. Ororo quivered. "Ohhh, Sirius, don't! You know what that does to me!"

"I know," he replied, and did it some more, until she turned in his arms and locked her mouth onto his. The two of them drifted into the mansion.

Fleur sighed, and lay back down on the lounger on her tummy, flipping through a magazine. She felt a presence beside her.

"Do your back?" asked Scott.

"Oui, s'il te plait,"" she answered.

Slowly, sensuously, he began to massage the lotion into her soft skin. Fleur began to sigh, then to writhe under his strong, gentle hands. After a while, she got up from the lounger and led Scott inside.

In the arboretum, Ron sat on a carved bench. In front of him, Rahne and Sam sat on the grass, holding hands. Ron scratched his head.

"So, what you're telling me is that you want to make love, but you don't know whether your god will approve or not?"

Rahne nodded. "Accordin' to our beliefs, ye shouldna' have sex until ye're wed properly."

"Ah!" Ron held up a finger. "Now, that's a different thing! Look, if I wasn't with 'Mione, and if Dani wasn't with 'Berto, we'd probably go to bed together, Dani and I. But that would be to have sex. It'd be just a bit of fun – two people who are fond of each other and fancy each other being…I don't know. Being extra-affectionate, I suppose, like a super-cuddle.

"Now when Hermione and I do that, it's different. We don't have sex, we make love, and it's a lot deeper and more complicated than just sex.

"What you two need to decide is which you'd be doing. If it's just sex, then you'll both feel awful about it, and it'll spoil things between you, I'll bet, but if you want to make love….

"Look, what is marriage? As far as I can tell, it's just standing up in front of people and making the same promises in public you've already made in private. Hermione and I have made those promises to each other already, and in a year or so's time, we'll do it again, with all our family and friends watching – you two'll be there to see it, I hope! But in the meantime, we can be together and make love when we want to because in our hearts, we're already married! That's how we see it, anyway.

"So, it's up to you. Sam told me once that your god is supposed to know what's in your hearts. If you two truly love each other, if you've promised yourselves to each other, then your god already knows that. So as far as he's concerned, you're probably already married!

"Gods! Listen to me! I sound like…I don't know what I sound like! Am I making a shred of sense here?"

Rahne smiled up at him. "Yes, yes you are!"

She and Sam got up, and so did Ron. Rahne came into Ron's arms, hugged him tight, then pulled his head down to kiss him soundly on the cheek. "Ye're sich a guid friend, Ron Weasley!"

She released him, and then Sam, to Ron's embarrassment, also stepped forward and hugged him hard, slapping him on the back. Sam and Rahne went off, hand in hand. Ron watched them for a moment before he flopped back down on the bench with a gusty sigh.

"Did I do that right, pet?" he asked. Hermione slipped out of the bushes she'd been hiding in, came up behind him and put her slim arms round his bull's neck, nuzzling close.

"Ron Weasley, you're such a sweet, sweet man," she whispered. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you!"

He got up from the bench and led her back into the bushes. Once there, they began to kiss passionately, and then to undress each other.

Rahne led Sam to the room she shared with Dani, and locked the door behind them. "Draw the drapes," she told Sam. Wolfsbane's senses had told her just what Greyback had wanted with her, and Rahne was determined that whatever else happened, that monster should not have her virginity. So when Sam turned back, it was to see Rahne lying on her bed in only her bra and panties. She was blushing furiously, but her face was quietly determined. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

"Come here, Sam," she told him. "We've all afternoon, so let's take our time!"

It was more than an hour later when Wolverine, passing on one of his regular, restless patrols, heard Rahne cry out in ecstasy. Of all the people who knew Logan, perhaps only Mariko would not have been surprised at the warmth and gentleness of the smile that crossed his face.

Chapter 14: The Fate of Fenrir Greyback

This being summer, the routine at Xavier's was not as strict as during the school year. There were fewer of the younger students around, for instance, only those whose families had outright abandoned or rejected them. Because of this, Harry had been able to commandeer the Danger Room for a couple of hours after breakfast.

Harry's challenge to Ororo had not been entirely frivolous. In many ways, Storm was still an apprentice witch, and while Sirius and Molly could teach her a lot of things, duelling was not among them. Molly claimed to be no duellist, though Harry had heard stories indicating far otherwise. Sirius and Ororo could not duel for long without starting to magic each other's clothes off, with the inevitable result. Harry could understand that – he and Ginny often 'duelled' in that way! Anyway, a bout with Ororo, and the more expert Fleur, was as good a way as any of keeping his own skills sharp.

The results had not been entirely as expected. Harry had been surprised and pleased at Ororo's skills, especially the way in which she mixed and matched her spell casting with her Mutant ability to control weather. She had caught him out once, suddenly summoning a heavy fog that blinded and disoriented him. But Harry was used to Danger Room practice with Mutant opponents, and knew to expect the unexpected. Both had learned a lot, as well as even greater respect for each other.

Fleur had been a different matter. It struck Harry that the fiery French witch had not quite forgiven him for out-performing her at the Tri-Wizard Tournament all those years ago. In any event, Fleur had pulled out all the stops and for a few moments, Harry had been frantically defending. But she made one critical mistake; having disarmed Harry with Expelliarmus, Fleur lowered her wand with a triumphant smile, only to be sent crashing to the floor by a judo throw!

Clambering to her feet, she found herself facing Harry's wand again. In a tone so like Wolverine's that Ororo gave him a sharp, rather worried, glance, Harry said, "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings, luv!" After that, Harry got into the spirit of things, and Fleur had been soundly trounced – though she gave him a severe run for his money.

Then Logan had arrived with a rather apprehensive-looking Remus and Sirius in tow, and ordered the others out, explaining, "This pair of slackers figure they need some trainin', so I got work to do!"

Mid-morning, then, found Xavier's a place of moderate activity. Scott and Fleur were walking in the woods, where he was verbally massaging her bruised ego back into shape. On the veranda, Peter and Ron were engaged in a game of Wizard chess, using the set Peter's Gryffindor friends had given him. Kitty and Hermione were watching, of course, and the news of the match had drawn even more of an audience. Shiro was there, and Emma and Beast and even Professor Xavier, who, with Lilandra beside him as always, had come out specially to view this clash of the titans!

Further out, over the lawns, Bill, Ginny, Tonks and Storm were flying. There had been some aerobatics at first, but the other three had finally refused to compete with Storm, who, unlike them, didn't have a broom to fall off! Now they were happily tossing around a quaffle that had somehow found its way into Ginny's luggage. "Not," Hermione had said wryly to Kitty, "that Ginny's in any way obsessive about Quidditch!"

It was Seamus' considered opinion – expressed to a rather nonplussed Ali – that Ororo had the makings of an excellent Chaser. The Xavier's students had been over to Hogwarts on several occasions to watch their Gryffindor friends play Quidditch, but only Bob and Sam had any real grasp on the game.

Harry was sitting alone at a table with the Stone of Isengard in front of him. He was discovering that, while the stone seemed eager to show him things, he had to ask it mentally to show him anything important or useful. Left to its own devices, it showed him images that seemed to form part of a story or history. Harry had seen a pretty woman in T-shirt and shorts, leaping and swinging through some kind of maze, a dark-haired man apparently lecturing to some students about a painting, another dark-haired man engaged in a fierce sword-fight, and a blue box with the word 'Police' on it, flying through space.

Concentrating on current problems had brought him a glimpse of Neville, Lavender and the Weasley and Patil twins sitting round a table. Neville was speaking urgently, while Fred and George both wore grins that boded no good for someone. Then the scene had shifted, to show Draco Malfoy and the Black King sitting side-by-side, Draco watching a scrying-glass while Shaw studied a monitor screen. Finally, and more obscurely, Harry had seen a young man with platinum blond hair, wearing a red coat and carrying a broadsword, rather roughly questioning an obviously terrified wizard.

He sat back with a sigh, took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes – he'd been squinting into the Stone in his efforts to make sense of what he'd seen. Rogue plopped down opposite him and picked up the rather stylish, metal-rimmed specs Ginny had recently chosen for him.

"These are a heck of an improvement on your old ones, sugah! Do I see a woman's touch here?"

"You do!" he replied. "Ginny bullied me into them."

"Well, good for her!" Marie gestured at the Stone. "How's reception?"

"As good as cable, but the programmes don't make much sense," said Harry ruefully. "I got a glimpse of Neville and the others. They're up to something, but I asked them to do a job for me, so maybe that's it. I also saw Shaw and Malfoy, both watching something, but I don't know what.

"Marie, do you know of a Mutant or one of those superhero types who wears a long red coat and carries a sword? He was tall, and had blond hair."

Rogue frowned. "Remy LeBeau – Gambit – wears a duster, but it's not red and he's got dark hair. Anyhow, he doesn't use a sword and he's down in Louisiana right now. He's a reserve X-Man, but he ain't around much – he's got a lot of issues back home.

"Thor's blond, of course, but he uses a hammer and wears a cloak, not a coat. There might be somethin' in Cerebro, sugah. You should ask the Professor."

"I might, at that." Harry stood up to stretch. Marie looked closely at the Stone, then gave a little gasp, "Harry!"

Harry darted over and looked into the crystal. He saw a section of the mansion's grounds, where instead of the usual wire fencing there was an ivy-covered stone wall. Just inside the wall was a large truck, out of which a force of wizards and Hellfire mercenaries were pouring – more than the truck could reasonably hold, which meant it had been enchanted somehow. That was confirmed when other shapes began to emerge from the vehicle: six tall, skeletal creatures, black-cloaked and carrying scythes, then another four metal figures both Harry and Marie recognised, Sentinels! Finally, a hideous form squeezed itself out of the truck. It looked like a huge spider, at least ten feet long, and the same across its eight legs; its hide seemed to be made of grey, pitted rock, with gaps and cracks in it through which a red-orange light glowed. Over its back arched a scorpion-like tail.

This creature lined up with the rest, facing a figure Harry recognised from pictures in the Daily Prophet, and Rogue knew from a few days ago. Fenrir Greyback was commanding the force!

Marie seized Harry's arm. "Hawk, that's on the grounds here! We're under attack!"

Harry went ice cold, as he always did when faced with battle, and his thoughts became crystal clear. "Wait!" he said. "The alarms haven't gone off, the electronic ones or the magic ones! I don't think this has happened yet; I think we're being warned. Look at the shadows!"

He was right, Marie realised. She knew that section of the grounds, which way it faced, and the shadows cast by the attacking force were in the wrong direction for late morning. She turned to Harry saying, "You're right! That looks like early to mid afternoon!"

Harry nodded briskly, "That gives us what, an hour? Two if we're lucky? We'd better get moving!" He grabbed Marie's hand, and the two of them dashed off towards Xavier.

Fenrir led his motley force out of the woods towards the mansion. Left to himself, he would have simply charged forward at the head of a rabble, but he had yielded with ill grace to the advice of the mercenary commander, Henri Legrasse. The former Foreign Legionnaire had insisted on advancing in good order, and had been supported by the leader of the wizard force, a tall, severe-looking witch named Grisabelle Dent. Legrasse and Dent cordially disliked each other, but each respected the other's intelligence and skills.

So it was that the force advanced steadily, with Fenrir in front, flanked by Legrasse and Dent. Behind them, the mercs and wizards came in line abreast, each Muggle fighter paired with a wizard. Behind them came the spider-demon Phantom, surrounded by the skeletal Hell Guards. The Sentinels ranged out, two on each flank.

"Where are these X-Men, then?" growled Fenrir. "They should be coming out to meet us!"

Legrasse shrugged. "Zey will 'ave 'ad warning of us from zeir security systems. Per'aps zey are waiting inside. Ze mansion may 'ave defenses we do not know of."

"In that case," Grisabelle Dent put in, "we oughta stop in a little while and wait. Draw 'em out."

Just a little further! Harry was thinking. He was standing with Cyclops and Rogue, perhaps ten metres from Fenrir. The X-Men and their wizard friends were spread in a horseshoe formation that had almost surrounded the advancing force; in fact, Sunspot and Dazzler were already moving to close the circle.

Harry took a deep breath, then winced slightly. The new aroma of his uniform was less than pleasing. While Cyclops, Harry and Xavier had been hatching this plan, Marie and Hermione had disappeared. When they had come back, they had proceeded to spray everyone except Remus with a pungent-smelling potion.

"Essence of Wolfsbane," Hermione had explained, and Rogue had added, "Just in case Fenrir gets the munchies!"

The attacking force came to a halt in an ideal position to be ensnared by the defenders. Harry heard the tall witch who stood beside Fenrir say, "Now we wait!"

It was obvious that the wizards and mercs were fairly content with this. Most of the mercs would be familiar with the X-Men and their capabilities, and had doubtless shared that information with the wizards. The Sentinels waited with robotic patience, but the demons were another matter. They shifted and sighed or muttered, clearly anxious to be about something.

The massive spider creature seemed to be quivering, and finally spoke out in a deep voice that crackled like flames. "How long must we wait? I wish to kill! I have waited too long to roam this world again! Where are my victims?"

"Right here," muttered Cyclops. He then barked, "NOW!"

The wizards dropped the Disillusionment Charm, and Fenrir's force found themselves surrounded. The result was to break the formation of wizards and mercs, throwing the attackers into confusion. The effect was immediate. Grisabelle gasped, "Merlin!" Legrasse spat "Nom d'un chien!". The spider-demon roared and charged forward with the Hell Guards following. The Sentinels were announcing in their electronic voices, "Mutants detected! Mutants detected! Request orders."

At that moment, Wolfsbane, who in her semi-human form was positioned on one side between Psyche and Firebird, lifted her head and sniffed the air. "We're being flanked," she said into her communicator before taking off toward the woods.

"Psyche, go with Wolfsbane," ordered Rogue.

"On it!"

"Firebird, back 'em up," snapped Harry.

"Right!"

"OK, let's take 'em!" commanded Cyclops, and the battle began in earnest. Cyclops fired his eyebeams into Fenrir's chest, knocking the gaunt werewolf off his feet and several yards away. Fenrir pulled himself up with a snarl, ignoring the fight and pursuing Wolfsbane. What the self-styled Lord of the Werewolves did not know was that Wolverine was loping steadily behind him. Cyclops was about to call Logan back, but decided against it. There was too much else happening.

On a balcony at the side of the mansion, Charm and Sunfire heard the fight commence. "That's our cue!" said Charm. She mounted her broom and kicked off, skimming low over the trees while Sunfire flew beside her.

Their destination was the glade where the Portkey truck had arrived, and they reached it in minutes. Sunfire and Charm had been ordered to secure this area, partly to prevent the enemy from escaping, but also to ensure that reinforcements did not arrive.

The two young X-Men expected the truck to be guarded, and they were right. A wizard, a merc and one of the Hell Guard demons were standing in the glade some distance from the vehicle. Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief that there were no Sentinels in evidence, Charm dissolved the demon by deftly performing a difficult Exorcism Spell. Then the world went orange for a moment.

Sunfire had launched a fire bolt at the truck, which promptly exploded with a whoomph! into a white-orange ball of flame. The concussion knocked the wind out of Charm and sent her spinning to the ground. She rolled away from the broom, shaking her head to clear it. Fortunately, the two human guards had also been knocked down. Charm saw the merc come onto her knees and struggle to bring her stunner to bear. No challenge for the most skilful witch to come out of Hogwarts in generations! Charm raised her wand and bound the unfortunate woman in fine, black cords.

Then a shadow fell over Hermione. She rolled again in time to see the wizard guard pointing his wand at her. "Cru- " began the wizard, then Sunfire was on him. Though he wasn't nearly as strong as Sunspot or Colossus, the young samurai was far stronger than a normal human of his size and build. Without apparent effort, Sunfire lifted his adversary off his feet and flung him hard into a tree. The man slid down the trunk and lay at the bottom, out cold. Sunfire extended a hand to Charm and helped her to her feet.

"Arigato, Shiro-san," said Hermione, then turned and surveyed the glade, taking in the burning wreckage of the truck. She faced Shiro, arms folded, and said in her best Cockney accent, "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"

Shiro raised an eyebrow, then said, "Michael Caine in The Italian Job."

"Well done!" replied Hermione, slightly surprised.

Shiro gave a rare grin. "You must realise, Hermione-san, that we Japanese do watch other films besides Kurosawa epics and anime."

"I know just what you mean! The number of people who assume the only film I've ever seen is Mary Poppins!" replied Hermione wryly.

"It is not surprising," said Shiro with a shrug. "She was clearly a great role model for you."

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione groaned. "Things must be getting bad if even you're starting to extract the Michael! Those perishing Weasleys corrupt everything they touch!"

"Are you complaining, Hermione-san? Or merely boasting?"

The bound merc shook her head despairingly as Shiro, with every evidence of polite incomprehension, watched Hermione giggle helplessly at his po-faced delivery. These people are insane, she thought.

The fight on the lawn was going pretty much as planned, all of the defenders having been allotted specific targets. One Sentinel had already been beaten to its knees by the combined powers of Cyclops and Havok. Another hung in mid-air, being slowly pulled to pieces by Polaris' magnetic powers. A third was reeling from Banshee's ultrasonic scream and repeated ramming by Cannonball. Storm had sunk the fourth into the ground to its waist, used Reducto to blow a hole in its outer shell, and was now summoning a small rainstorm to short out the robot's electronics with a deluge of water.

Bill, Tonks, Sirius, Sunspot, Seamus and Dazzler had been set on the Hell Guards. Originally, Wolfsbane and Firebird had been part of this detail, but they had had other concerns. The defenders soon discovered that though the skeletal demons were strong, fast, and skilled with their scythe-like weapons, they were not terribly intelligent.

Under a bright summer sun, Sunspot was at peak power, constantly recharged, and in this state was stronger than the demons. His only problem was the scythes, but with Seamus at his shoulder to cast Expelliarmus or Impedimenta, or any of a dozen other curses or jinxes, that difficulty vanished. Bill, the former curse-breaker, and Tonks the Auror were both skilled exorcists, effectively banishing the demons Sunspot floored.

Sirius was less skilled at exorcism, but was able to work in tandem with Dazzler. The Hell Guards were, they quickly discovered, less than comfortable in the light. Sirius was well able to fend off or wound the creatures so that Dazzler could summon bursts of intense light energy. By a process of trial and error, they discovered that ultra-violet, or 'black light' did most harm to the demons, rendering them helpless for long enough to be exorcised.

Not that the fight was an easy one. Sunspot's power made him strong and resilient, but not invulnerable. He suffered several heavy blows in hand-to-hand fighting, and though he took down three of the six demons, the fourth finally got to him, knocking him out. Seamus sprang to defend his friend, but the demon grabbed its scythe again and caught the young Irishman a glancing blow on the side of the head that sent him to the ground. As the thing raised its scythe to deliver a deathblow to Roberto, another of its kind stepped up beside it. The Hell Guard paused to acknowledge its fellow demon, and promptly received a scythe in the chest! As the stricken creature crumbled to dust, the other Hell Guard shimmered and became Tonks, who grinned at Bill and remarked, "You always did say I had a devil in me!"

Bill chuckled, then the couple went on to dispose of the two remaining Hell Guards, both paralysed by Dazzler's black light attacks.

Harry, Remus, Rogue, Ariel, Beast and Nightcrawler were dealing with the mercs and wizards. They were one short as well, Wolverine having gone about business of his own. Beast and Nightcrawler were everywhere at once, too quick and agile for either stunner or spell to touch them. Ariel had sunk into the ground, only to pop up where least expected and push her hand into an adversary. By slightly adjusting her molecular state, she was able to apply a stunning shock to anyone she touched this way – it was an ability she had only recently discovered.

Rogue, always reluctant to use her Mutant power, was working with Remus, using her martial arts skills to deal with mercs while he handled their wizard 'buddies'. During a lull, she turned to her companion and asked, "How you doin' Remus?"

"Fine, er, Rogue." Remus frowned, "Y'know, I could do with a code-name – something more dramatic than 'Moony'."

"Aha!" said Beast, landing nearby. "You feel the need for a dashing appellation?"

"What's that, honey?" enquired Rogue. "A hillbilly in a tuxedo?"

"Oh, Gods!" moaned Remus. "She's nearly as bad as Harry!"

Harry himself was duelling intensely with Grisabelle, neither able to disadvantage the other. After a while, by unspoken agreement, they stepped back a moment to catch their breath.

Grisabelle squinted at Harry. "Damn, kid, but you're good!" she allowed. "And I can't shake the feeling I've seen you before, somewhere. Who the heck are you?"

"They call me Hawk," replied Harry.

"Oh, Hades, boy, don't give me that Muggle code-name crap!" Grisabelle snapped. "I'm a witch, not some gods damned Mutant! What's the name your folks gave you?"

"Those 'gods damned Mutants' are my friends," Harry snarled back, "and the name they gave me is good enough for me, so it should be good enough for you!"

Grisabelle shook her head. "Don't matter, sonny, I know you now! You're Harry Potter, the kid who took out that psycho Voldemort. I oughta be thankin' you, but…."

With that, she launched another curse at Harry, but he'd never dropped his guard, and this time his shield was so powerful it knocked Grisabelle off her feet. Before she could recover, Harry had petrified her.

Colossus, Iceman and Hunter were facing the spider creature. The thing charged down on Colossus, roaring, "Cower, mortal! I am Phantom! I am your death!"

Phantom then spat a gout of liquid flame which engulfed Colossus. When they could see him again, the upper part of his tough X-Man uniform was shredded, but his gleaming organic steel torso was untouched. He looked down at himself, then glared at Phantom and growled, "Crap! Wolverine's gonna take that out of my allowance. Now you've really pissed me off."

Phantom roared, and made to spit more fire, but found his head encased in ice. Instead, he launched a fireball from his tail at Iceman, a fireball that Hunter transfigured into a gush of warm water.

"Hey!" Iceman complained. "I already took a shower."

"I know, but it's a hot day," Hunter pointed out.

By this time, Phantom had freed his head from the ice. He bellowed, "Jest if you will, mortals. You but delay the inevitable!"

This time, he spat fire simultaneously from head and tail, both fireballs directed at Hunter and Iceman. Hunter managed to shield, but the demon-fire was so potent that both he and Iceman were thrown dazed to the ground. Phantom made for them, only to find Colossus in his path. The spider-demon staggered from two mighty blows to the head, then darted forward again, bringing his sting over his back to plunge it into this insolent mortal. Colossus caught the sting in his metal hands, beginning an awesome struggle.

Powerful as Phantom was, there was not enough strength in his tail to lift this steel titan, nor to force him to the ground. The liquid fire that dribbled from his sting down Colossus' arms seemed to have no effect on the young X-Man. In desperation, Phantom closed his huge jaws around Colossus' waist and began to squeeze. Peter responded by tightening his grip on the tail, feeling the rocky hide begin to crumble under his fingers, but at the same time, he became aware that Phantom's grip on his midsection was tightening, becoming painful, something that rarely happened to him in his organic steel form. Colossus planted his feet, gritted his teeth and hung on.

Hunter sat up, shaking his head, then took in the situation. Colossus and Phantom were locked in a struggle that could have only one outcome. For all his strength, Peter was still human, and even in his Colossus form, must eventually tire; the demon probably would not. Hunter had to break the stalemate. He raised his wand and shouted "Diffindo!", neatly severing Phantom's scorpion tail halfway along its length. The demon howled in pain, releasing Colossus, who immediately landed a terrific, two-handed blow that sent Phantom flying some yards and flipped him onto his back. Colossus dropped to one knee as Hunter and Iceman raced over to him. Together, they watched as the demon struggled upright, shaking his head like a wounded bull.

"Geez, Petey, you cracked him!" exclaimed Bobby.

It was true. Where Colossus had hit, the rocklike skin was cracked, and liquid fire dripped out like blood from a wound.

Hunter frowned. "Iceman, back in the Labyrinth, you helped poor Luna out of a jam, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bobby's tone was sad; he had liked Luna. "Metal golem, filled with liquid fire."

"Thought so." Hunter grimaced. "'Mione said afterwards that it was the fire that kept the thing going. Maybe this Phantom works the same way?"

"There's a big crack in his back, just behind his head," Colossus pointed out.

"Damn! If I had my broom," Hunter growled, "I could get over him and open that up a bit so Iceman could freeze what's inside!"

Colossus grinned. "Don't always need a broom to fly, Hunter!"

Iceman raised an eyebrow at his teammate. "Fastball special?" he asked. "Hunter's kinda heavy."

"Not to me!" Colossus reminded Iceman. "You up for this, Hunter?"

"I'll try anything once, except your cooking!" Ron replied.

"Ah, Ariel's been talking out of school again." Colossus grinned, then reached out for Hunter. "Come, tovarisch, let's do this!"

With that, Colossus lifted the young wizard off the ground and turned to face Phantom, who was already charging down on them. Peter hurled Ron towards and over the demon. As he passed over Phantom's back, Ron pointed his wand and cast Reducto. The crack became a gaping wound, and as Hunter hit the ground and rolled, Colossus tossed Iceman over the howling demon.

The results were truly spectacular! Superheated steam burst from every crack and joint, engulfing the flying form of Iceman. Then Phantom exploded!

It was the final blow of the battle, and when the steam cleared, only three people were standing: Ron, who had managed to Shield, Peter, who was nigh invulnerable, and Kitty, who had been phased. At Ron's feet lay a figure encased in ice; Bobby had had to take desperate measures to protect himself from the steam. Ron immediately cast a Melting spell, followed by a Warming charm. Kitty looked around, and spotted two flying figures speeding from the wood towards them – Sunfire and Charm! All around Peter, people were struggling to their feet.

Legrasse was yelling in a cracked voice, "Retreat! Retreat!" Wizards were Disapparating – some taking mercs with them. A fat, jolly-faced wizard grabbed onto the petrified Grisabelle and the two vanished with a boom! The other mercs, led by Legrasse, were heading toward the main gate of the grounds.

"Let 'em go!" Cyclops ordered. "See to our own people and anyone too injured to run. Hawk, people need help. Move!"

Harry had been staring towards the woods where Ginny had disappeared. Now he shook himself and moved to help Cannonball, who was half-buried under Sentinel wreckage. As he levitated tangled chunks of metal off his friend, he forced himself to remember that Ginny could take care of herself, and that she wasn't alone.

Firebird and Psyche caught up with Wolfsbane, who was laid out on top of a small rise. The two girls crept up to their friend and spotted what she had seen. About ten invaders, half mercs, half wizards, were making their way quietly through the woods. The three young women moved back a little to discuss their plan of action.

"There's too many for a frontal attack," Psyche pointed out, "so we need to ambush them. There's a clearing up ahead, so let's get there before them. That'll give me time to get a read on them, and I can show them some stuff that'll distract them."

"Good," Ginny agreed, "then Wolfsbane gets physical and I get magical."

It worked perfectly. The attacking force filed into the clearing to be faced with their worst nightmares! By the time any of them had stopped panicking, most of them were down, and the remainder were no match for Firebird and Wolfsbane.

"Nice one!" said Ginny, swiping her hands. Then she was struck from behind and sent flying.

Fenrir grinned at Wolfsbane, who snarled at him and tensed for battle.

"Such insolence!" he remarked. "That is no way to greet the sire of your whelps, my pretty bitch!"

"I'll die before you touch me!" hissed Rahne.

Fenrir shook his head. "That you won't! I need only render you insensible for a while, and bring you to the Black Queen for…instruction."

"Ye'll no' manage that so easy!" Wolfsbane snarled. "Ye're nae match for me in this form!"

"True, so I must make shift to redress the balance." Fenrir grinned, then placed his hand on a star-shaped pendant he was wearing, and chanted something in a harsh-sounding tongue. For a moment, he was surrounded by a silvery glow, then he changed.

Fenrir Greyback had been a werewolf for so many years his human and wolf forms had almost blended. The creature that now stood before Wolfsbane was like a distorted reflection of her own semi-human form. Taller and broader, Fenrir was covered with thick, silver-grey fur. His hands were crooked and clawed, and his face had pushed forward into a fanged snout. When he spoke, his voice was thick, gurgling and painfully forced through jaws not shaped for human speech.

"Now, you arrre mine!"

Then Fenrir himself was struck from behind, and sent rolling across the grass. He leaped up, to find himself confronting Wolverine.

"I warned you not to come back, bub! Wolfsbane, git outta here, this is between me and hairy! And this time," Wolverine's claws snicked out, "I ain't pullin' any punches!"

What followed was a bloody, savage brawl. Evenly matched in strength and speed, the combatants also possessed rapid-healing abilities. Wolverine's only advantages were his unbreakable adamantium skeleton and his formidable claws. But for a while, it seemed that even these might not be enough, for Fenrir was fast and agile. After a while, the fighters paused. Both were bleeding from dozens of rapidly healing cuts.

"Aaahh," gurgled Fenrir. "Aaahh, Wolllverrine, they call you. You will make a mighty addition to my pack!"

With that, he leaped forward, jaws gaping. Wolverine had only time to thrust his forearm up into those fangs, but it was enough. Fenrir leaped back, gagging and choking as the potion Charm had sprayed onto the uniform burned his jaws and throat. The feral Mutant did not hesitate, bounding forward and slashing with his claws. Fenrir leaped upwards, and the cut meant for his throat went across his belly, almost disembowelling him. He collapsed to his knees, howling, then glared at Wolverine.

"You…have doomed…yourself," he gasped. "You…honourrrable herrro…will not strrrike a helpless foe. Yet even from this…I can heal. I willl rreturrn – for you…and the bitch!"

Wolverine smiled grimly. "You got it all wrong, bub. I ain't no hero, and I ain't as nice as the other guys. You ain't comin' back, not ever!"

Wolverine stepped forward, and cut again, once. Fenrir's head fell from his shoulders to land silently on the grass. For a moment, the trunk remained upright, fountaining dark blood, then it too slumped sideways.

For a moment, there was silence, broken by the sound of Dani vomiting into the grass. Ginny rushed to her friend's side, murmuring comfortingly and holding her shoulders. Wolverine watched them for a moment, then turned to Rahne, who had shifted back to her human form. The young Scots girl was shocked to see the look of deep sadness in Logan's eyes.

"Sooner or later, it always happens," he told her softly. "I'm the best there is at what I do; but what I do isn't very nice."

Since the afternoon she had spent making joyous love with Sam, something had changed in Rahne. The shyness, the diffidence that had characterised her, was somehow gone; it was as if at last she was complete. So, instead of looking away, confused, as she would have done only days ago, Rahne went directly up to this man she had once so feared and still respected. To his surprise, she wrapped her strong, young arms round his neck.

"Dinna think ill o' yersel', Logan," she told him. "Ye do what ye do for it's the way ye're made, man. It's fortunate for all o' us that ye can do the things we cannae, when they're necessary!"

"She's right, Logan," added Ginny. "I've seen the man I love prepared to kill, and it's a hard thing to see. It never came to it with Harry, but he was ready to do it, because he had to, and I understood that."

Dani straightened and spat, then ran to Wolverine, reaching her hands out to him. "Logan, it wasn't you! It was…him…Fenrir!"

She grasped Logan's hands and explained, "I was trying to help, trying to get inside his mind, to pull something out of it to distract him, give you an edge. But the images I found were so…so vile! I couldn't…I…I…."

Dani burst into tears, and without thinking, Logan gathered her to him, letting her sob on his shoulder.

The four stood there in silence. Sometime during the duel, the other invaders had recovered enough to flee. Then there was the sound of an explosion from across the grounds.

Wolverine swore, adding, "C'mon, kids. We may be needed." He took Dani's hand, and flanked by Ginny and Rahne, began to run.

In the mansion's Secure Room, Emma Frost was guarding the younger children with Moira McTaggart. Fleur, Mariko and Lilandra had already left on her instructions. Emma had been following the battle telepathically, and now she reached a decision: She was sure the body of Fenrir Greyback held secrets – secrets that either science or magic could reveal, secrets that Emma hoped would hold the key to her future.

Chapter 15: Tom Riddle's Final Defiance

Fleur had wanted to be at her lover's side in the battle, but she had been overruled.

"The kids have to be guarded," Scott had said firmly, "and at least one of the guards needs to be a witch or a wizard. The youngsters know you, Fleur, honey; you're here so often. You've even taught them a little. They like you and trust you, so you're the witch for the job!"

Fleur couldn't fault Cyclop's logic, and truth be told, she cared a great deal for these youngsters. She had, at Xavier's request, given the children occasional lessons in simple anti-magic techniques, and had become something of a favourite with them. Her exotic beauty and pretty French accent didn't hurt, as Cyclops pointed out to her often enough!

Whether by accident or design, the people guarding the children were all women. Fleur knew the tough, reliable Dr McTaggart quite well, but was less sure of the others. Tiny, delicate Mariko Yoshida was an intensely private woman, and some years older than Fleur, so while they were friendly, they were not close. The formidable Empress Lilandra was an unknown quantity simply because Fleur had only met her recently.

The fourth woman, nominally in charge, was another newcomer, Emma Frost. Fleur had heard stories about the White Queen, but had trouble squaring them with the woman she was coming to know. Emma seemed to her a gentle, slightly lost soul and achingly lonely. Fleur, who had once been, she freely admitted, an arrogant brat, knew from her own experience how one could change, and how hard it was to do. She was willing to befriend Emma and to support her in any way she could, and Emma had responded eagerly and gratefully.

Now, however, Emma was standing alone, her eyes unfocused as she used her telepathic abilities to monitor the battle and other events while her companions moved among the children, alert for signs of upset or fear. There were few of these; the kids on the whole were calm, absorbed by their Muggle electronic games, listening to music, talking, or playing cards.

Suddenly, Emma called the other women to her side, and it was then that Fleur caught a glimpse of the kind of woman the White Queen must have been. Emma spoke in a crisp tone that brooked no argument.

"Selene's trying to outmaneuver us!" Emma exclaimed. "She's in the mansion now, looking for Charles, and she's not alone. This is what we need to do…."

Selene barely listened to the racket from outside as, guarded by Grimslade, Cole and a homromsira demon, she made her way towards Xavier's study. Let the lesser fry kill each other off, while she got on with her larger plans. Chief among these at the moment, was the punishment of this arrogant Muggle Xavier!

Grimslade was eyeing the mansion's elegant interior with approval. As he caught Cole's eye, the merc gave a rueful grin. "These muties do OK for themselves, don't they?" he remarked. "Sure ain't like the Projects."

Caradoc chuckled. "I was just thinking how it reminded me of home."

"Quiet!" hissed Selene. "Xavier's study is on the other side of this hall. I can feel him nearby. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut!"

The four entered the ballroom, and stopped short. In the centre of the space stood a tiny, Oriental woman in a blue kimono, smiling at them. She bowed formally and said in a clear voice, "Konnichi wa. Welcome to the home of Professor Charles Xavier. The professor asks me to convey his greetings and to say that those who are prepared to conduct themselves as guests will be treated as such." Mariko straightened and, with an elegant gesture, opened a delicate fan with which she appeared to cool herself as she awaited their response.

Selene gave a contemptuous laugh. "So! The great Xavier hides behind his women, does he? Well, then, we must rid him of his protection!"

She clapped her hands, and the demon loped forward, rearing up on two legs to tower over Mariko. Then its head flopped back and it fell to the floor, gouting blue ichor from a severed throat. Selene stared in astonishment. The tiny woman had simply reached out and flicked her fan across the homromsira's neck.

Cole swore; his Marine training had included a good deal of information about unusual weapons. He had heard of, but never before seen, the gunsen – the lethal Japanese steel war-fan. Something told this seasoned fighter that, fragile as she might look, the woman before them was a force to be reckoned with.

Her skills were something he would not to have the chance to test. He felt a presence at his side. Before he could draw his sidearm, it was plucked from its holster and tossed aside. He spun to face another woman, very different from the first. This one was as tall as his own six-three and well built. Golden eyes stared unblinkingly into his, and a husky voice said, "You won't be needing that. Now, are you going to be sensible, or a fool?"

Moments later, Cole realised two things: Firstly, that he had decided to be a fool. Secondly, that he was in the fight of his life!

Caradoc Grimslade had meant to go to his friend's aid, but found his way barred. A slim, dazzlingly beautiful young woman faced him. She gave him an enchanting smile, and raised her wand in a traditional wizard duelling salute. "En garde, monsieur!"

Selene ignored the distractions, moving past the fallen demon, holding her robe up to avoid the pool of ichor. The Japanese woman had vanished, and now the Black Queen saw her prey. Charles Xavier sat calmly in his wheelchair at the end of the ballroom.

As Selene approached, he looked up from his book and smiled politely. "Good afternoon, Selene," he greeted her. "It's an honor to meet you at last."

Selene ignored his bravado. She would begin with Imperius to make him return her Seeing Stone, then proceed to Cruciatus as a fitting punishment before she finished him with Sectumsempra. Soon, she would watch the foolish Muggle bleed to death.

The Black Queen was far beyond the use of wand and word, needing only a thought to cast the spells. A thought that, she realised, would not come! She could shape the intention, but somehow, impossibly, her will was blocked. She could only stand and stare at Xavier, who continued to smile blandly at her.

Did you really think it would be that easy, Selene? came a whisper in her mind. Didn't Shaw tell you? You might at least have realized that a man who was friends, even for all too brief a time, with Albus Dumbledore, would know at least a little about how magic is performed!

Selene, with all the guile of a thousand years, tried to slip the hold on her mind. Xavier shrugged, and then….

It was as if a great, black wave rose up around her and thrust her down, crushing her against the memories of a million casual killings, a million betrayals, centuries of broken plots, a lifetime's frustrated power-lust. Though she continued to stand in the ballroom, inside she lay naked on the floor of her mind and screamed like a child in a tantrum. Not even her father had wielded such power!

Then the black wave withdrew, but Selene could still feel Xavier's mind around hers. She was a captured fly in the hands of a small boy, frantic to escape and only too aware that she could be crushed or released with equal ease. Shaw had warned her that Xavier was a powerful telepath, but Selene had thought that 'telepath' was just a Muggle term for Legilimens. Now she realised that Xavier was more, much more, than a mindreader. Whatever this 'telepathy' might be, Xavier's power completely dwarfed hers, and that of any other wizard she had ever known!

"Gods!" she gasped. "What are you, Xavier?"

Just a man, Selene – a man with a gift, just as you are a woman with your own gift.

"A gift? You call this a gift?" Selene was almost babbling. "This is power, Xavier! Power greater than Voldemort's, greater than my father's! Not even Godric wielded such might! Hades, man, with this power, why do you not rule?"

Selene's breath caught in her throat. Her body trembled as if a blast of Arctic air had blown across her bare skin. Until now, Xavier's grip on her had been firm but oddly benign. Now she had kindled his anger, and it was a terrible thing!

Rule? What gives me the right to rule? Power alone? That was Voldemort's error. A boy – one of my students, and Dumbledore's – brought him down. It is the same delusion shared by Shaw, by Magneto, and you yourself!

If I have been given power, Selene, then I have the right to use it only to serve others, not to dominate them.

You're beaten, Selene, so leave my home now!

The Black Queen stared. "You're letting me go? Oh, you are a fool, Charles Xavier! If our roles were reversed, I'd keep you prisoner or kill you on the spot."

Xavier shook his head and spoke aloud, "Then I am fortunate our roles are as they are, am I not? But you should take your henchmen and go, Selene. As we speak, your other forces are fleeing. Phantom is destroyed, as are the Sentinels and Hell Guard demons. Fenrir is dead, killed by Wolverine, and the rest of your people are retreating.

"Fleur, Lilandra, I think those two gentlemen's egos have been battered enough for one day. Let them go."

Selene found she could turn, and she watched as Lilandra released a battered Cole from an excruciating arm lock. Fleur unbound Grimslade.

The Black Queen beckoned her men to her side, and then faced Xavier again. "This is not the end of it, Xavier!" she threatened. "You and your children will suffer for this! Caradoc, back to the Club, and bring Cole with you."

There was a boom, and they were gone.

Harry couldn't sleep. He'd had a hectic day, followed by a subdued but emotional evening. He was tired, but he could not rest.

Part of it was worry, he knew. Roberto, Seamus and Sam were all in the Sickbay downstairs. Seamus just had a concussion, and would be all right by the morning – if he recovered from Ali's fussing! Sam had been buried under a fallen Sentinel when Phantom met his spectacular end. He had some cracked ribs and bruising, and would be out of action for a while.

Poor Roberto, however, was in a worse state. In his energised form, he had been able to keep going for quite a while, but he had taken a severe beating from the Hell Guards, culminating in the massive blow that had knocked him out. He had several broken bones, a dislocated arm and a worse concussion than Seamus. Dr McTaggart had done everything Muggle medicine could, but Harry was personally pinning his hopes on Hermione and Marie, who had spent a couple of hours brewing assorted Healing potions. These went not only to Roberto, but for use on the assortment of cuts and bruises everyone had gathered from the fight and from Phantom's explosive exit.

Harry had slipped in to see Roberto, finding his friend still unconscious, bandaged and hooked up to various IVs. In a plain T-shirt and shorts, without makeup, and looking distinctly red around the eyes, Dani had been sitting by his bed. She had looked up and whispered to Harry, "He's sleeping. Moira says he'll wake up in a couple hours." Then her eyes filled again, and she swallowed hard. "Oh, Harry, I should have been with him!"

"To do what?" Harry had asked practically. "You're as feisty as they come, Dani, but you're not as strong as 'Berto, and you've no magic. On top of that, we don't know if your power will even work on a demon. It worked on Amagor, but he's a djinn, and that's a different thing.

"No, Roberto was better working with Seamus. But you know what he's like – being careful is something other people do! Seamus is just the same."

"And so are you, Harry Potter!" Dani snapped back. "So you can quit making excuses for him. Once he wakes up I'm going to tear him a new asshole, I swear! I'll…I'll…."

Then she was crying again, and Harry couldn't think of anything to do but put his arms round her. Dani clung to him until she'd cried herself out. Harry felt ill at ease – Ron was better at this sort of thing – but also oddly right. When Dani looked up at him, even red-eyed and puffy from crying, she was still lovely. She spoke huskily, "Thanks, Harry. I know this isn't your thing. That makes it even better, you know?"

Unable to think of a reply, Harry bent and kissed her once, softly, on the lips. She gave a little smile and murmured, "I do love you, Harry! We all do. You're part of this whole extended family thing we've got going. It's great to see you finally realizing that!"

He managed a grin. "Yeah, Hermione's finally got fed up of telling me off for being dense! But right now, I think you'd better go and sort yourself out, young Danielle. Wash your face, put on a bit of makeup, and wear something sexy. That's how Roberto's going to want to see you when he wakes up."

"You know him too darn well!" Dani grinned back. "You'll stay with him till I get back?"

"Sure, but don't take too long. He's not going to want to wake up to my face. At least, it'd be a bit queer if he did!"

Dani giggled and squeezed Harry again, then dashed off. Harry settled down and watched Roberto. He was half-asleep himself when Dani came back accompanied by Marie, looking stunning. Harry vacated the chair by the bed, gave Dani a thumbs-up, and left. Marie followed, dragging Harry into an empty room.

"Harry, we need to talk!" she said. "I need to ask how come I could see something in that Stone without even trying? The Professor couldn't make it work; neither could Hermione or Ron, but Tonks and Sirius could! So what's going on?"

Harry scratched his head. "Blowed if I know, Marie! According to Selene's journal, the stone responds to people descended from some ancient bloodline. You know how families spread. So," he paused, "I suppose it's possible that you and I, and Sirius and Tonks, are all related from a long time ago."

Marie shook her head. "Nah. That can't be right. You told me that your dad was a Pureblood wizard. Sirius is a Pureblood as well, and Tonks' mom was one. Harry, my family is Muggle all the way, until me – and I'm no witch!"

Harry shrugged. "That doesn't follow. Every wizard family, even the Blacks, even Slytherin's ancestors, were Muggles once, y'know? Wizards have been around longer than Mutants, but not as long as Muggles.

"All it means is that your branch of the family must have separated from mine before the Potters became wizards. If we are related, and it's possible, it'll be well distant!"

Marie considered this, then grinned. "Hey, works for me swee'pea! Ah'll take all the family Ah kin git!"

"Me too," Harry agreed. "Mind, bang goes any chance of us having a torrid affair!"

"Don't bet on it, sugah!" replied Marie impishly. "We could always be kissin' cousins."

Harry smirked. "Have to think about that one."

Harry picked at his supper. Even Ron's appetite was subdued as he worried about Sam. Ron and Hermione sought some solitude in Ginny and Hermione's room, while Ginny bore Harry off to the arboretum. There, in a quiet spot beneath a spreading tree and behind a Shrouding Spell, they made slow, gentle love, putting the day's fear and strain behind them.

But now it was late at night, and Harry was restless. He pulled on a T-shirt and slipped out, past the gently snoring Ron, and began to pad along the corridors. He had no particular destination in mind but something drew him towards Xavier's study. He paused outside the door.

Come in, Harry. I've been expecting you.

Harry realised that he wasn't very surprised at this. Near omniscience was one of the characteristics Xavier shared with Dumbledore. He entered the study, which was dim and cosy at this hour. Xavier was waiting near the armchairs.

"Sit. Make yourself at home, son."

Xavier considered the young man who seated himself nearby. He was like, and yet unlike, the boy who had first appeared by portkey in this very study nearly two years ago. That Harry had been lonely, trying desperately to protect those who loved him by placing a wall around himself. He'd been skinny, awkward in his growing body and tortured by its maturing urges. The young Harry had been intense, strong-willed and charismatic, but he had also been wryly humorous and possessed of a warm, loving nature beneath his shyness.

This older Harry was still intense, still iron-willed and a born leader, but now the warmth showed through more, as did the humor. Logan's training had turned a thin, awkward youth into a wiry, graceful, powerful young man. As to the loneliness, Kitty Pryde had breached the wall, but Ginny Weasley had demolished it!

He's almost there, Xavier thought. Just one more step. Aloud, he said, "Harry, I think this occasion calls for a little judicious law-breaking."

He wheeled himself over to a cabinet that stood by one wall and opened it, saying over his shoulder, "This country of mine is a strange one in some ways. If it were widely known that I am training young Mutants in the use of their powers, it would give rise to an intense debate as to whether I should be stopped, or regulated, or simply shot out of hand. If it were known that I keep guns in the building, no one would raise an eyebrow, as long as they were locked up. But if it got out that I not only keep liquor on the premises but am also offering it to a 17-year-old, I would be instantly arrested and my school closed down! The situation in England is rather different, I understand."

Harry shrugged. "In the wizarding world, I'm already a full adult. We come of age at seventeen and can drink what we like. In Muggle England, you have to be eighteen to buy alcoholic drink in a pub, restaurant or supermarket. On the other hand, at home, or at least on private property, you can give kids a drink at almost any age, and unless it harms them, there's no law against it. But the authorities go raving mad if they think someone's got a gun!"

Xavier snorted. "Too many people, on both sides of the Atlantic, assume that because we speak roughly the same language, our cultures are more or less the same. Now I understand you have a taste for oak-matured mead, or single malt Scotch whisky. I'm afraid I can't offer you either of those, but I do have a bottle of Jack Daniels. Would you like ice or water with it?"

"Erm, ice, I think. It's a warm night." Harry was relaxed but puzzled. What did the professor want with him? He trusted Xavier implicitly, but knew him well enough to know that there was more than simple hospitality here. Xavier came over, balancing the drinks on a small tray that was clipped to his wheelchair.

"Here you go, Harry. Hank prefers Jim Beam, and Logan likes Yukon Jack, but I am rather fond of this brand."

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks for a few minutes, then Xavier asked, "Wolverine told you what happened in the dungeon the day Albus passed away?" Harry nodded, and Xavier continued, "And do you remember, Harry, that Albus told Logan to have me look after you?"

Harry nodded again, and said with a wry grin, "He also said Snape told him to keep an eye on me in case I turned into another Voldemort!"

Xavier nodded gravely. "Severus Snape was not a man to modify his opinions. He was the Head of Slytherin House for many years, and had been a Death Eater once. He had all the opportunities he needed to research Voldemort's career, and if he saw similarities between you and the late Tom Riddle, it's because they exist. Toward the end, Severus respected you a good deal, but he was afraid, both for you and of you, because of the similarities he saw."

Harry sighed. "I wish I could have respected him more, but he made a career out of abusing students. Nobody was more surprised than me when Marie took to him the way she did, or that she actually seemed to get through to him!

"But there is one thing: When I first went to Hogwarts, there was the Sorting Ceremony. It's like the one we had for Ororo a bit back, but all the First Years go at once, in front of the rest of the school. Well, the Hat put Ron straight into Gryffindor, of course; all the Weasleys have been Gryffindors. It took ages over Hermione. It wanted to put her in Ravenclaw because she's so clever, but it put her in Gryffindor, too. Ron reckons she nagged the Hat into doing it!

"But then, when I was wearing it, it kept telling me how great I could be if I went into Slytherin – how Slytherin could help me become great. But Ron had already told me that all the worst Dark wizards had come out of Slytherin, and I wanted no part of that, even though I knew practically nothing about the wizarding world then. So, in the end, I was put into Gryffindor. I've never regretted it, and Dumbledore told me once that choosing not to go into Slytherin was an important decision for me.

"So now I'm starting to think that if I'd become a Slytherin, then what Snape was worried about might actually have happened!"

"Why do you think that, Harry?" Xavier probed gently.

"Well…I don't really…it's just a feeling." Harry was hedging, and he knew the professor would know that. He wasn't surprised when Xavier came straight to the point.

"Harry, I think it's time you told me about what happened at the top of the Astronomy Tower that day. I think you would have told Albus, but he was gone. You couldn't tell Minerva, or even Sirius, because there was something they wouldn't understand, but Albus would have done, and I will. I think it's what Albus meant about me looking after you. You need to get it out in the open and look at it Harry, or you'll never be all that you can be!"

Harry took a large sip of his bourbon, then looked Xavier in the eye and began.

"The alarm sounded halfway through the afternoon. We all knew what was up. We sent the younger kids to their dormitories and sealed them in with Protection Charms. I tried to talk Ali and Dani and 'Berto into coming back here, but they wouldn't. Roberto just said 'Remember the mall, Harry?', and that was that.

"It was complete chaos out in the corridors. I don't think the Death Eaters had any kind of plan; they were just running around causing damage and attacking people. They had Inferi – animated corpses - and Dementors with them. We decided to make for the Great Hall where we'd have space to fight better, and we were picking people up as we went along.

"We found poor Luna, stone dead with ten Death Eaters petrified round her, not to mention the burned and Stunned ones. She must have put up a Hell of a fight! Then we heard a yell, and Justin came falling down from somewhere up near the roof. He had a death-grip on one of the Dark wizards, and took him all the way down – neither of them had a chance. I think it might have been the swine who murdered Luna – I hope it was.

"Then the Dementors came, and none of us could summon enough good thoughts to conjure a Patronus! Dazzler saved us then; she sucked up all the sound, everything we could give her, then blasted them with the brightest light I've ever seen – it was like looking into the sun from ten feet away. The Dementors just dissolved.

"I saw something move, and Dean jumped in front of me just as a Death Eater cast Avada Kedavra. Dean had hardly hit the floor when Ron was on the bloke – he didn't use his wand, just snapped the bastard's neck like a twig! That sent us mad, we were raging through the castle, throwing curses and hexes everywhere. Sunspot was tossing Inferi round like toys, just ripping them apart! Psyche was sending Death Eaters running, screaming, from the images she was projecting. Ginny had gone almost wandless, she was just looking at Death Eaters and they were being thrown through walls and off stairways!

"We came to an empty room, and stopped for a minute to get our breath. That was when Pansy found us, found me…."

The tears were flowing freely down Harry's cheeks now, but neither his voice nor his eyes wavered.

"She was dying. She knew she was dying. Bulstrode's curse was one of those that kills you slowly, and it hurts. But Pansy had something to tell me, and she wouldn't die until she found me. She told me that Voldemort himself was at the school, that he'd used the distraction to fly up to the Astronomy Tower on a dragon. Draco Malfoy was supposed to find me and issue Voldemort's formal challenge, but he'd sealed himself away somewhere, and the rest of the Slytherins were split, half for Voldemort, half against. Zabini had gone to the dungeon and Bulstrode was leading the Slytherin traitors.

"Then Pansy asked me…asked me to kiss her goodbye. She said she loved me, that she always had, but she'd never been able to tell me. I hadn't known – Ginny had, but she never told me. I looked at Ginny, and she just said, 'Go on, Harry, please!' So I did. I kissed Pansy while her mouth was still warm, and she smiled at me and she died!

"I knew then, if I didn't before, that Voldemort wasn't going to walk away from this one. I told Neville and Lavender to take over and the X-Men to stick with them. Then I went for the Tower, with Ron and Ginny and Hermione.

"But Voldemort must have known I wouldn't come alone because there was a Mazing Charm on the Tower. I could get through, but the others couldn't. I told them to stay and watch my back, but Ron said, 'Either we all go up there, or none of us do!' When I tried to get past him, he hit me. Merlin, he hits hard! I went down like I'd been pole axed, and by the time I could see straight, Hermione was halfway to breaking the Charm. She did it, but it wore her out; even so, she came dragging herself after us.

"Then, at the top of the stairs, Voldemort's Hamadryad snake, Nagini, was waiting for us. Ginny didn't stop; she just blasted the thing's fangs out of its mouth. Then it wrapped itself round her and started to squeeze, and all the while its mouth was still dripping venom onto Ginny. It burned her skin, but it couldn't get into her blood, so it didn't kill her. Ginny just shoved her wand into the snake's mouth and blew the back of its head out!

"Ron had pushed past and he was fighting the dragon. It was a Norwegian Ridgeback – nasty brute. It flamed him twice, and caught him with its tail. He was bleeding and scorched, but he was casting spells I didn't know he knew! Ginny was hurt, and Hermione was exhausted. I went to help Ron, but he froze the thing in a block of ice the size of a house and threw it – I still don't know how – into the middle of the lake. I heard later the merfolk dragged it under and drowned it. But by that time, I was duelling with Voldemort."

Voldemort had saluted Harry formally, saying, "So it comes to this, young Potter! You and I, face to face, at last. This time, Dumbledore cannot come for you; he is gone. I felt him die just moments ago. Your friends are hurt and exhausted, so this is between the two of us, as Destiny wills it!"

Harry returned the salute, but didn't reply. He didn't know whether Voldemort was lying about Dumbledore, but right then it didn't matter. The duel began, and it was a long and vicious one. Both men were powerful wizards, and both knew that their feud must end here. Voldemort used every foul trick he had learned in a long life without conscience. But if he expected Harry to be shocked or overcome by this, he was wrong. True, Dumbledore had taught Harry, but Harry had also learned from Wolverine, and the feral Mutant had drilled home one lesson: "In a scrap, you do whatever it takes to win. There ain't no Queensberry Rules, bub!"

Yet, in the end, it was Harry's humanity that almost betrayed him. With a snarl of rage, Voldemort suddenly aimed his wand at Ginny, who was sagging against the parapet. Harry moved to protect her, and Voldemort turned on him, shouting, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew from his hand.

Voldemort gave his high, cold laugh. "Now it ends, Potter, as it always had to!" He raised his wand.

Moving in a blur, Harry followed the sequence Logan had taught him. He caught Voldemort's wand-wrist, twisting the arm so that it dislocated, and the wand dropped. Harry swung round again, elbowing the Dark Lord in the face before clamping him in a headlock.

Harry spoke for the first time in the fight. "No, Riddle, now it ends, with you going to Azkaban for the rest of your life!"

Voldemort managed to laugh again. "Really? And how long will Azkaban hold me, Potter? While I live, you and those you love will always be under my shadow. You should kill me while you can, boy!"

Harry hesitated. He could do it. He could snap Riddle's neck as easily as Ron had done with the wizard who'd killed Dean. But should he? Was it really the only way to make his world safe? He looked at his friends. Hermione couldn't meet his eyes; her face was grey with fear and exhaustion. Ginny was pale and wide-eyed as she stared at him; her hands and arms were burned with venom and bloody foam dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Ron was gasping for breath, covered in burns, and one arm hung useless at his side. "Do it, Harry!" he hissed.

Then Harry decided Voldemort must die. He tensed to apply the final, killing twist, and blackness seized his mind!

You are mine now! Voldemort's voice sounded in his head. The moment you made that choice, we became one! When you finish it, no one will know that Harry Potter's mind died in the aging body of Lord Voldemort, while Voldemort's mind lives on in the young, handsome body of Harry Potter!

It was the Dark Lord's final miscalculation. He could not know that Harry himself was a telepath, and possessed a will as strong as his own. Harry reached out with his own mind, grasping Voldemort's as surely as Riddle held his. It was a stalemate. Neither could overcome the other, but Harry had one advantage: Unlike Voldemort, he was not alone!

Harry's mind spiralled out, seeking his friends. Despite their weakness, their pain, they felt him and responded. Ginny, her love for him passionate and sexual, bordering on idolatry – he was her whole world. Hermione, once so unsure and shy of her feelings, lay her beating heart open to him; more than a sister, less than a lover, she would always adore him. Finally, there was Ron, the true brother of his heart, prepared to give all and ask nothing in return. As they loved him, Harry loved them back, with all the ardour born of a loveless childhood, all the fierce passion of his inner self. At the touch of those feelings, through the mental link between them, Voldemort screamed, a high, thin wail of pure agony!

Harry felt the power drain from his foe. The Dark Lord slumped in his grasp, and Harry let him fall, moving over to join his friends, still linked to them all. Voldemort struggled to his feet, opened his mouth and shrieked at the heavens! All of his ancient frustration poured out of him, and as it did, so his body withered. The years he had defied for so long were surging back on him, and he aged as they watched.

Then Voldemort turned to Harry and his eyes were no longer red, but grey, and full of bitter pain. "Thank you, Harry," he whispered in a cracked, ancient voice. "In killing Lord Voldemort, you have avenged his first victim. He murdered poor Tom Riddle years ago!" Riddle gave a sigh, then, "Time to die, I think."

Despite his age and weakness, he moved quickly to the parapet, too quickly for the exhausted youngsters to intervene. Without another word, without even a scream, Tom Riddle hauled himself over the parapet, and plunged to the ground below.

Their minds still joined, the four young people moved into a close embrace, and that was how Logan and McGonagall found them.

Harry fell silent. Xavier fixed the young man another drink, which he accepted and downed half of at a swallow. Then he went on. "The thing is, I was prepared to do it, Professor. I was prepared to kill a man with my bare hands, in cold blood. If I could do that, what else am I capable of? Snape may have been right."

Xavier spoke sharply, "Really, Harry? Is Wolverine an evil man? Is Sirius?"

Harry looked shocked. "No, of course not!"

"Why?" Xavier countered. "Both of them are capable of killing, and both have done it. Wolverine killed Fenrir only today. Does that make them evil?"

"No!"

"Of course it doesn't!" Xavier's tone softened. "Like them, you have the potential, the courage, to do what is necessary when it is necessary. It isn't what you do or when or even how that counts – it's why!

"You, Harry, have the strongest moral sense of anyone I know. If you are capable of killing, I trust and believe that it will always and only be to save lives and when there is no other choice. But you need to accept that this capability is part of your nature, son. It's not bad, or good; it's simply there. It's what you do with it that counts!"

Harry sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I'll try, Professor, but it's hard, y'know?"

Xavier exhaled heavily. "Harry, if growing up were easy, it wouldn't take so long. As the years go by, you'll come to understand all this. Now, you'd best take yourself off to bed, son. Sleep first; think tomorrow. But remember, you're never alone. You have friends and a family now. Make the most of us. We make the most of you!"

Harry finished his drink and got up. "Thanks, Professor," he said fervently.

Xavier inclined his head. "You're always welcome, Harry. But you're a grown man now, you know, so it's all right to call me Charles, if you wish."

Harry considered that for a moment, then grinned ruefully. "Thanks, Professor, but it wouldn't feel right yet."

Remus was alone in the arboretum. The moon was still a day or two off the full, so for now he was safe. Even so, he had cut his evening short, leaving soon after a quiet supper with Emma – a supper that should, he felt, never have happened.

Remus had felt the death of Fenrir Greyback as one feels the passing of a cloud. His werewolf sire had always been a presence in his mind, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but ever-present. Remus would always be grateful to Wolverine for ending the arch werewolf's career, though he privately felt that the strange, savage Mutant was as dangerous as Greyback had ever been. But in the euphoria of his liberation, he had accepted Emma's invitation without thinking. Throughout their light talk, he had been only too aware of the real yearning in her eyes, a feeling that found an echo in his own heart.

Poor Emma! He must have raised her hopes, and now he must dash them. He had never meant things to get this far. Remus had hoped that, once settled in her new home, Emma's feelings for him would become less intense. He had hoped they were merely gratitude for her rescue, nothing more. It seemed, though, that this was not the case.

As for himself, Remus was quite sure that he loved this woman. For that reason, if for no other, he must not see her again. True, they were of an age, and his relative poverty meant nothing to the wealthy Emma, but there were other factors. Even with Fenrir gone, Remus was still a werewolf, still a danger to everyone around him. For that reason alone, he must not involve himself any further with Emma. The closer they became, the more at risk she would be.

Today, he had been torn. He had wanted to stay here and help his friends in the continuing battle against Selene, but felt he must return to England to wait out the full moon with the help of his potion; however, Marie had assured him that, with Hermione's help, she was more than capable of brewing the potion for him, so he had decided to stay. But it did make it hard to avoid Emma, who constantly sought him out.

In the middle of his brooding, Remus heard a voice.

"A beautiful night, mein freund."

"Merlin!" Remus wheezed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, Kurt!"

Nightcrawler, who had melted out of the shadows, smiled wryly at his friend. "So, you do have a heart, then? Fraulein Frost is, I think, beginning to wonder about that."

Remus sighed. "There's no point talking about it, Kurt. The whole thing's impossible!"

"Why?" Kurt asked simply.

Remus blinked. "Well, because I'm…I'm…."

"A werewolf." Kurt nodded. "I know, Remus. So does Hank, so do all of us. And so does Emma. So I ask again, why?"

"I'd have thought," said Remus heavily, "that it was bloody obvious, mate! I'm dangerous, liable to kill people if I lose control, or I don't have my potion. I can't let anyone close to me that way, can't risk losing them to the brute inside!"

"I see," Kurt replied thoughtfully. "And in what way, Remus my dear friend, are you so particularly dangerous? Are you more dangerous than poor Scott? Those eyebeams of his can level buildings, and he has no control over them without his visor. Yet he loved Jean, and was loved by her, and now he is with Fleur, and they are very much in love.

"What of Professor Xavier? A man who becomes a wolf occasionally is nothing beside one who can read your every thought, or reach into your mind and take it over at a whim! Yet there Lilandra is, at his side and in his bed, perfectly content.

"Even you, Remus, cannot believe yourself more deadly than Wolverine. We have all seen him in his anger, his berserker rages. He was more than a match for Fenrir. Yet Mariko, tiny Mariko, trusts herself to him and to his love.

"Or is it the monster itself that you fear? Are you scared Emma will turn from you in disgust?"

Remus looked away, but Kurt grasped him by the shoulder and swung him back, speaking intensely.

"If she does, then it is not love, Remus. Look at me! This is how I am, whatever the phase of the moon. Yet, ever since my teens, there have been girls, women, who were prepared to look beyond this face, to the boy, the man, inside! Hank is the same. After the accident that changed his appearance, he thought he would always be alone, but it was not so.

"You told us that Emma deep-scanned you when you first met. There is nothing about you she doesn't know. It was that, Remus, not your act of rescuing her, which made her care for you so deeply. I can understand that. I've come to know you, and a finer man I've seldom met! I'm proud to call you friend.

"You have a chance with Emma – a chance for the kind of love that comes once, perhaps twice, in a lifetime, Remus. I ask you, as a friend, to think hard before you waste that chance!"

Remus stared at Kurt. The young man was such a paradox. Most of the time he was light-hearted, irreverent, always ready with a wisecrack or a joke, even in the middle of a fight. Yet at times like this, he became quiet, intense, and wise beyond his years. It was sometimes hard to remember that Kurt was maybe ten years younger than Remus himself. Remus sighed.

"I'll try, Kurt. But y'know, nearly thirty years of self-imposed exile is a hard habit to break. Had I been a Muggle, I might well have become one of their – what d'you call'ems? Monks? Or a hermit or something."

Kurt laughed. "I think not, Remus. You have far too cultivated a palate for such a life! Which reminds me, I still have half a bottle of your Christmas gift left. Come on. I'm tired but I'm having a problem sleeping. We'll drink a glass of mead, and you can explain the rules of Quidditch to me again. I'm sure that will help me sleep!"

Remus grinned. "Don't know why, mate. The thing about Quidditch is that there aren't that many rules."

"Yeah, right! So, what does a Chaser do again?" Kurt nodded solemnly, pretending to listen to Remus' words as they walked along in companionable fellowship through the leafy calm of the arboretum.

Chapter 16: Ron Weasley Plays Check to the King

It was early in the morning, the second day after the attack on Xavier's mansion, when an MPV rolled into an underground parking lot three blocks from the Hellfire Club in New York. The vehicle parked carefully, and a group of people clambered out of it to make their way over to a dim corner. They were an odd-looking bunch. One was covered in blue fur and one wore urban camouflage, while the others had on black leather uniforms.

"OK," Beast said to the group, "this is where we got out last time. I'd be very surprised if it hasn't been sealed or guarded."

Cyclops nodded, his face grim. "Well, we're equipped to find out. Hawk, Ariel, go!"

Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss, then pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, throwing it over himself and Kitty. Ariel then took his hand and the two of them sank through the trapdoor, gliding past the ladder as if on a lift.

"It's locked from this side," Kitty whispered.

"No problem," Harry replied. "But let's see what's at the bottom first."

They settled into the alcove that held the ladder. Two bored-looking mercs were sitting on stools in the corridor.

Kitty, whose back was against the wall, pulled Harry close and whispered urgently, "I'm going through the wall. Wait for me to make my move, then you take out the other one."

She turned, still covered by the Cloak, and slipped through the wall. Harry moved cautiously to the edge of the alcove. A moment later, Ariel stepped out of the wall behind one merc and slid her hand into his back. The man stiffened and collapsed. Harry whipped off his Cloak and petrified the other. Quickly, Harry climbed the ladder, leaving Kitty on guard, and opened the trapdoor with Alohomora.

Soon, the entire group was in the corridor. They turned to Cyclops, waiting for the word. Scott hesitated for a moment. The X-Men had been created to defend, not attack; the decision to make this aggressive invasion of the Hellfire Club had not been taken lightly. But Remus had assured them that, left unchecked, the gateway Selene was opening would allow creatures through whose power and evil dwarfed that of Phantom. This assault was necessary, and the assembled X-Men were committed. The others would be beginning even now.

"All right," said Cyclops. "Remember, our objective is the Hell-Gate. There are four objects that are the keys to it. Destroy two, and the Gate closes. We go in, find the Gate, close it, and get out. Try to avoid combat if you can, and use minimum force if you have to fight, especially the mercs and wizards. Stay together as much as you can. Let's go!"

They moved off down the corridor, following it until the architecture changed, becoming suddenly medieval.

"Hold on!" said Remus. "This is the route to the dungeon. Unless they've cleared it, the only passage through is blocked. We need to go back and check some of the side doors."

"Let's go ahead," Hermione advised. "Selene or another wizard could easily have cleared the passage by now."

The passage was indeed cleared, but there was a guard in the dungeon – an eight-foot tall, winged, goat-headed demon.

"Abyss Goat!" yelled Remus. "Watch out for its magic!"

The demon hovered in the air and made a gesture. A disc of blue energy materialised in front of it to spin in the air. Bolts of golden fire spun from the edge of the disc, flying out at the invaders. One flew straight through Ariel; another expended itself harmlessly on Colossus. Remus threw up a shield, but the impact forced him back, and a pit opened up behind him. As he teetered and fell, Beast and Nightcrawler leapt after him into the darkness.

Hawk, Charm, Firebird and Hunter scattered. Hunter dived into a cell, the door of which promptly closed and locked itself behind him. Charm and Firebird flattened their bodies against opposite walls, only to find themselves flipped backwards by hidden panels. Hawk had taken cover in the large, cold hearth meant for the guards' use. He was preparing to cast a hex at the demon, when green flames sprang up around him. Remote Floo, he thought, as the world spun away from him.

Cyclops had dived forward, rolled and come up on one knee. From this position, he unleashed his eyebeams at the demon. The Goat was slammed back against the stone wall before crashing to the floor. It was on its feet fast, but not before Colossus reached it. A powerful kick to the midsection, followed by two awesome punches, sent the thing to the floor, moaning in pain.

Colossus stood over the fallen demon and looked at Cyclops. "What do I do now?" he asked.

Scott's face was grim. On the matter of demons, he agreed with Wolverine. "Kill it," he told Peter. The big man faltered for a moment, and Ariel said, "Remember what Hermione told us, Petey. You're only destroying a shell – the demon itself just goes back to Hell."

The Goat was recovering quickly, so Colossus couldn't hesitate any more. He seized the demon by the horns, and twisted with all his terrific strength. The Abyss Goat's neck snapped. It twitched once, then dissolved into a cloud of oily, black smoke that sank into the stone floor.

A cell door banged open, and Hunter dashed into the room, looking around. "Where's 'Mione?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Cyclops told him. "We seem to have lost most of our group. We just have to hope we can find them, or they can find us. Eyes on the prize, Hunter!"

"You don't have to tell me, Cyclops," Ron reminded him. "Charm can look after herself better than almost anyone. Anyway, if she's in trouble, I'll know!"

"OK, then we stay on task."

They went, but it was clear the alarm had been raised because a force of Hell Guards and msira soon met them. The fight was short and brutal. Cyclops' eyebeams smashed the enemy formation, allowing Colossus and Hunter to deal with those demons who had survived individually. Cyclops noted that Ron was using his wizard skills, rather than tackling the creatures physically, and was showing a mastery of battle magic almost equal to Harry's. Strong as the demons were, they were no match for the armoured might of Colossus. Ariel flitted through the fray, her ability to disrupt electrical fields extended to neural networks as well as electronic ones, and it seemed that in earthbound form, the demons possessed humanlike nervous systems.

Then, just as the last demon fell, Hunter put his hand to his neck. "Shit!" he spat, adding, "Back in a bit!" and vanished.

Hermione had found herself sliding down a chute to arrive in a bright, modern corridor. A short, fat, young witch with a pimply, wide-mouthed face and frizzy, black hair pointed a wand at her. "Gotcha, Mudblood!" she crowed. "If'n I wuz you, I'd drop ma wand right now."

"Well, I'm not you, dearie!" replied Hermione, casting a hex that sent her opponent reeling against the wall unable to speak, hear or see properly. Spinning round, Charm transfigured a merc's stunner into a snake, which the man promptly dropped with a yelp before being petrified.

Then a steely grip closed round Hermione's throat, and a familiar deep voice spoke in her ear, "You must understand, I have the greatest respect for you." As the blackness took her, Hermione felt the chain around her neck snap, and her pendant fall away.

She awoke seated in a comfortable chair. She looked around. The space she was in appeared to be a conference room of some kind. Her high-backed chair was at one end of a long table. In front of her was a carafe of water and a glass. As she tried to move, she found that her ankles were securely shackled to the chair, and that metal bands encircled her wrists. The bands were attached to chains, which were in turn fastened to the arms of her chair. In the centre of the table, well out of reach, were her wand, communicator, emergency transponder and utility belt.

"I apologize for the restraints, Miss Granger. I hope they won't be necessary for long," said a man's voice from behind her. "Help yourself to a drink. The water is Evian, and quite safe."

Sebastian Shaw came round her chair, moved along the table and seated himself halfway down its length. Hermione's throat was dry, so she poured herself a drink – the chains were long enough for that – and she took several sips before asking, "How do you know my real name?"

Shaw waved his hand. "Please, Miss Granger, you should have some idea by now of my resources, though I admit, you and your friends have presented some unique puzzles." He opened a manila folder that lay before him. "Hermione Jean Granger, born 1980, daughter and only child of John Granger and Barbara Reeder Granger, oral surgeons based in Surrey, England. Your ancestry includes, it seems, Mr. John G. Reeder, Chief Investigator for the Public Prosecutor's Office, and a Pandora Holmes, sister to the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"So much for your ancestry, Miss Granger, but you, yourself, are quite an enigma. Your records show all the normal childhood illnesses and immunizations. You went to a playgroup, whatever that might be, and then a local primary school. You scored high on standardized tests and got good grades. Several of your teachers noted that you did not mingle well with your peers, either insisting they do things your way or withdrawing from the group. There were also reports of odd incidents.

"Your name was put down for a nearby grammar school by your parents. But then, part way through the summer vacation, it was withdrawn. After that, Miss Granger, you pretty much vanish, at least from your educational system! We finally found your file at the Local Education Authority. It's been archived, and has a stamp across it with the letters HGWTS (MoM)."

Shaw looked up at her quizzically. Hermione managed a bland smile and Shaw's grin widened.

"Nothing to say?" he remarked. "From what I've heard, that's not like you, Hermione. May I call you Hermione?"

"You may not," she told him sweetly.

He gave a short laugh before going on. "Anyway, we had a heckuva job tracking you after that. We found a course of orthodontic treatment, stopped halfway through when you were about fourteen, and a National Insurance Number – some kind of Social Security number? – issued on your sixteenth birthday. You applied for and obtained a provisional driver's license when you were seventeen. Then you took a seven-day intensive driver's course the first week of this last summer vacation, and got your license. You're also the registered owner and insured driver of a second-hand Renault Clio, which your parents bought.

"And that's it!" Shaw announced. "Not much, is it? Still, we have more on you than on any of your friends." He opened another file. "Listen to this: Harry James Potter, birth date and parents unknown, no birth certificate. Listed as 'around one year old' when a court order was issued naming Petunia Evans Dursley and Vernon Dursley as Persons With Care. They never adopted him, which is kind of odd. He went to a local school, like you, but his reports were different. The teachers said he was bright enough but lazy. He was also accident-prone and a magnet for trouble. Like you, odd things happened around him.

"Also like you, he was put down for a local school, then just vanished. His file was there, stamped like yours. His National Insurance Number was issued at sixteen. After that, zip!

"And he's not the worst! Ronald Weasley, aka Hunter. Height six-four, weight around 210 pounds, red and blue. No birth registered, no parents known, no educational records. The man doesn't exist! For a non-existent guy, Miss Granger, your boyfriend is pretty goddamn substantial!"

"He's my fiancé," Hermione corrected. "And you realise, he'll be coming for me. I wouldn't want to be you when he gets here."

"Congratulations to you both," Shaw replied with apparent sincerity. "I have no doubt that Hunter will find his way here soon, and I know enough of his capabilities to expect him to get past my guards easily. He won't find me such a pushover. I've learned a little about wizards since we last met, Miss Granger!"

"However," he went on, fixing Hermione with an intense look, "I hope that there'll be no need to fight. I have a proposal for you and your friends. I chose to put it to you, Miss Granger, as you are not only a very bright young woman, but also Muggle-born, and therefore more likely to understand the issues."

"I'm listening." Hermione was playing for time, knowing that Ron would appear sooner or later.

Shaw inclined his head, and began, "When Emma, Henry and I first founded the Inner Circle, we had a very specific structure in mind. The White Suite was to provide education, technical support, public relations when necessary, and contact with neo-Mutants. The Black Suite was to be the operational arm, gathering intelligence, collecting resources, and taking direct action.

"With that in mind, Emma became the White Queen because of her Academy. I invited Charles Xavier to become the White King, but he refused. Donald, as White Rook, provides advanced technology, while Jason Wyngarde, the White Knight, was to be our PR man. We also intended to recruit Warren Worthington as the White Bishop, his social connections and charitable work making him an ideal first-contact man.

"My original choice for Black Queen was Raven Darkholme, whom you may know as Mystique. I was also intent on obtaining the services of Wolverine as Black Knight, and the Mutant Forge as our armorer and Black Rook.

"Now, at that time, we knew nothing about your wizarding world, of course. It was during our investigations into it – after our meeting with you and your friends – that I made contact with Selene. It's clear to me that we can't ignore your world, so the Inner Circle requires a third suite, the Red Suite, formed entirely of wizards.

"My proposal is, Miss Granger, that you become our Red Queen! With you on board, it would be easy to persuade Harry Potter to take the position of Red King. With your old schoolmate, Draco Malfoy, as Red Bishop, Miss Weasley as Red Knight, and your fiancé as Red Rook, the suite would be complete!

"Think carefully, Hermione. I know that Harry has had his disagreements with your Ministry of Magic – Mrs. Lestrange told me about that. As Red King, with the Club's resources behind him, he could begin to put things right. Together, all of you would have a chance to make a real difference for good in your world without having to wait until many years had gone and you'd achieved what is called 'maturity', which means nothing more than being absorbed by the system!"

Hermione gave an unladylike snort, then said, "And, of course, the opportunity to get filthy rich and incredibly powerful in the process is just a side-issue? We know what your agenda is, Mr Shaw, and altruism isn't on there."

"Altruism is for idiots!" Shaw snapped. "Anyone as smart as you are should appreciate the value of enlightened self-interest. I'd have figured–"

The door behind Hermione blew in, and the body of a merc flew past her shoulder to land on the table. A tall figure appeared at her side, and the voice she loved most in the world said, "There you are, love! Been looking all over for you!"

Hunter appeared in a brightly lit corridor. The place was empty, with no sign of Hermione. That was odd, as the Portkey pendants were attuned to each other. He looked around more carefully, and saw a glint of gold at his feet. He picked up the pendant, realising the chain must have snapped. This was worrying, as the Portkey charm was only activated if one of the wearers became unconscious.

Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat! Recently, among the heterogeneous junk that cluttered The Burrow, Ron had discovered a book on an almost-forgotten wizarding skill – Dowsing. Ron was forever losing things, and the idea of being able to find them quickly appealed to him, so for once he had studied quite hard. Dowsing didn't work on people, but that wasn't a problem. Ron knew perfectly well that, short of losing her finger, nothing could persuade Hermione to take off her engagement ring: "It tells the world that you're mine, and I'm yours, Mr Weasley!" she had said, "So it stays right there until you replace it with a wedding ring!"

Concentrating on the ring, Ron extended his wand in front of him and turned in a slow circle. He felt the wand quiver, and set off in the direction it pointed. He had to traverse several corridors, and it wasn't quick, because he was moving stealthily. Anyone who had known the gangly, clumsy first-year Ron Weasley would have been shocked to see the hefty, young man padding noiselessly along like a stalking tiger.

Eventually, he reached a large, impressive-looking door, outside which a dumpy figure in elaborate robes lounged. She had her back to him, and Hunter moved up silently behind her before saying, "Excuse me?"

The witch spun around, revealing one of the ugliest faces Ron had ever seen. She gaped for a moment, then her expression changed to what he could only assume was meant to be a coquettish grin.

"Well, hi, hunk!" she said. "You lookin' fer that li'l Mudblood? Why bother? I bet I got lots more ta offer a guy like you!"

"You might at that," Ron replied, "but I'd have to keep you on a lead in the park, and that'd really cramp my style."

Her eyes flashed, and she grabbed for her wand, but Ron wasn't here to waste time. He'd recognised Ardelia from Remus and Emma's descriptions, and knew her to be a vicious and wantonly cruel bitch. Chivalry be damned! he thought, landing an open-handed slap that sent her crashing against the wall, where he bound her with his wand.

Then, without further ado, Hunter kicked the big door open. Inside was a small anteroom, where four mercs were waiting on guard. One of them, carrying a telescopic baton, immediately came up to Hunter on the threshold.

Ron looked down at him and grinned amiably. "Morning. I'm looking for a slim brunette in black leather."

"Ain't we all, pal!" replied the merc, before swinging the club at Ron.

Ron blocked hard against the man's wrist, then drove rigid fingers into his solar plexus. The merc dropped like a stone.

One of the others had picked up a pistol. With a flick of his wand, Hunter sent him crashing upwards into the ceiling, then down again to the floor, out cold. The third raised a sub-machine gun and yelled, "Freeze!" Ron Transfigured the weapon into a pair of heavy steel shackles that locked round the merc's wrists and pulled him to the floor with their weight.

The final guard stood with his back to the inner door and a pistol trained on Ron. He attempted nonchalance, but there was a quaver in his voice as he said, "Bien. You would be a credit to ze Legion. But now eet ends, no?"

"No," said Ron, and blew the unfortunate Legrasse through the door and across a large table in the other room. Hunter followed him through to where a small figure sat chained to a chair. He grinned down at Hermione and said, "There you are, love! Been looking all over for you!"

"You took your time, didn't you?" she replied, mock-peevishly.

"Big place, this," he pointed out, then turned to the tall, dark man who had been watching them. "I take it you're Mr Shaw? We'll be going now, OK? Unless," Ron put his head on one side and gave a dangerous grin, "you want to play silly buggers?"

Shaw said nothing; he simply leapt across the table at Ron, aiming to land a powerful kick. But Ron wasn't there, and Shaw almost went sprawling. He smiled at Hunter, "You're quick, for a big guy!" Then he attacked again, lunging square into a wall six feet away from his target. Shaw shook his head, moved forward, and tripped over his own feet.

Hermione was hard put not to howl with laughter. Ron had Confunded his opponent as deftly as she could have done it. Shaw was casting around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. He snarled at Ron, "Bella told me you weren't much of a wizard!"

"Looks like she cocked that up, as well as all the other stuff," Ron remarked, then he tossed something at Shaw's feet and gestured with his wand. Dark green vines suddenly sprang from the floor to wrap themselves tightly round the struggling Black King.

"That's Devil's Snare," Ron told him. "I reckon you'd better not struggle too much, or it'll grip tighter. If it gets round your neck, it will strangle you. Personally, I couldn't care less, but Professor X would be miffed if we killed anyone."

Shaw fell still. "Good work, Hunter!" he said with a grim smile. "Miss Granger, think about my offer. It still stands."

"What offer?" asked Ron, as he freed Hermione from the chair.

"Doesn't matter. I'll tell you later," Hermione said. Then she flung herself into Ron's arms, and for the thousandth time, he lost himself in the feel and smell and taste of her. After a while, Hermione gathered up her equipment, and Ron levitated Shaw, still bound in vines, into the chair she had occupied.

"The communicators aren't working," Hermione said.

"My people are jamming them," Shaw said from the chair.

"Oh well, we'd better go looking," said Ron cheerfully. "We're sure to find our friends – or trouble!"

"Or both!" said Hermione, taking his hand.

Ginny felt the wall tilt behind her, and swore. Why is it always me? She careered down a chute, hit a mat at the bottom, rolled and came up on her feet, wand ready. She was in a large, wood-panelled room lit with a mellow golden light. Across the room, a figure advanced toward her.

"Well, well!" said a woman's voice. "Ginevra Weasley, isn't it? Pity, I'd hoped to get Potter."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," said Ginny. "Just be thankful you didn't get Harry! He'd take you apart in a breath. Mind, so will I; you almost broke poor Harry's heart when he thought you'd killed Sirius, and I take that very personally!"

Bellatrix put her head on one side, "Spirited little minx, aren't you? Sebastian says I'm not to kill you, but I hope you resist, so I can teach you some manners."

Ginny stared. "What are you wearing?"

Bellatrix looked down at herself. She was wearing black satin – a basque and high-cut bikini briefs – over net stockings, stiletto-heeled thigh-boots, elbow-length gloves and a swirling cloak. "Do you like it?" she asked. "It's the official regalia of the Black Queen!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Does Selene know she's been replaced? Never mind. That gear's a bit kinky, but you've a decent figure for an old lady."

"Why thank you, Ginevra!" Bella smiled mirthlessly. "You've not so bad yourself, but do watch what you eat. Those extra pounds really show when you wear tight, black leather!"

"Right!" declared Ginny. "That's the bitchy dialogue over with. Now, are you going to start monologuing, or shall we do this?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I was rather enjoying the girl talk, but if we must, we must. Let's get on with it!" Bellatrix raised her wand, and the duel began.

Both women realised right away that this was going to be no easy battle. Bella had experience and guile on her side, but Ginny was skilled and had more endurance. After a while, the air around them was sparkling with stray magic. The air smelled metallic. Bella was impressed by the mettle of her young opponent, but felt it was only a matter of time. She had a few tricks up her sleeve!

Then Ginny said conversationally, "I see you're using Ravenclaw's Defence against me."

Bella raised an eyebrow. Very cool! she thought. She replied, "It seemed appropriate in the circumstances."

Ginny nodded. "So, naturally, you expect me to use Silverwand against you?"

Bella shook her head. "I find Paracelsus cancels out Silverwand, don't you?"

"Not," said Ginny, "if your opponent has studied her Logan!"

"Logan?" The unfamiliar name caused Bella to hesitate for a second, and Ginny's snap-kick took her neatly between wind and water, sending her gasping to the floor. Ginny kicked Bella's wand away, and bound her. Bella got her breath back and fumed.

"Cursed Weasleys! Blood traitors, the lot of you! You can't even defeat me as a witch."

"Oh, I could have done," Ginny answered, "but it would have taken too long. I'm not the most patient of people, you know. Anyway, in a fight, you do what you have to do to win, don't you? Logan and Harry taught me that.

"Now then," Ginny mused, "do I leave you here and go looking around? Or do I give you an Itching Hex in just the right place to make you tell me where I need to go?"

Before Bella could reply, a new voice came from above, "Firebird!"

Ginny looked up. "Ariel? What's up?"

Ariel was floating rapidly down from the ceiling, speaking urgently. "No time! Kneel down and grab hold of her!"

Ginny did as she was told, and Ariel settled to the floor, kneeling on the other side of Bellatrix to seize her arm. Ginny felt the odd pins-and-needles sensation as Kitty phased all three of them.

"Just close your eyes and don't let go," Ariel advised. Then the roof fell in.

Dante stood in an alley opposite the Hellfire Club and stared unseeing at the impressive façade. He was in a seething fury. They're doing it again! Why won't they learn? he fumed to himself.

Millennia ago, the world had been almost overrun by demons. The creatures had wrought havoc, obliterating humans casually as they followed their private feuds or set up their own little kingdoms. It might have stayed that way forever if a demon had not taken a stand for justice.

Sparda, one of the mightiest of all demons, had sided with those few desperate humans who still fought for freedom. He had become their leader, and with his power and their courage, had begun a long war that eventually drove the other demons back into Hell. The price Sparda paid was exile on Earth; his reward was to become a legend – the Legendary Dark Knight. For perhaps three thousand years, Sparda had roamed the Earth alone, hunting and slaying those demons that still occasionally broke through. Finally, some twenty-five years ago, the loneliness had become too much for him, and Sparda had taken a human wife, settling in the hidden land of Vie de Marlie. There his wife had borne him twin sons, Dante and Vergil.

But, yet again, some foolish mortal had opened a portal to Hell. This time, in order to close it, Sparda had been forced to re-enter Hell, and had never returned. His sons had been raised by their mother, but she had died – of grief, people said – while they were still in their teens. Dante had trained himself to follow his father, but Vergil had taken a darker path, seeking only power.

Just over a year ago, the insane sorcerer Arkham had persuaded Vergil to re-open the portal Sparda had closed. Dante had intervened, and there had been a long and fierce fight. In the end, the brothers had joined forces to kill Arkham and seal the breach, but in the process, Vergil had been lost, trapped in Hell. Now the only keepsakes Dante had of his family were the sword Rebellion, a gift from his father, and the amulet around his neck, one of a pair the twins' mother had given them.

Now Dante stood in a foreign city far from Vie de Marlie. His eldritch senses told him that yet another stupid mortal was inviting demon hordes onto Earth! Not again, never again! he raged. His father and brother's sacrifices were not to be so mocked!

Yet, this time, Dante might not be alone in the fight. He had seen the crowd of people entering the alley at the side of the Club. Some of them had been in black leather, others in camouflage, but all had been oddly vague, indistinct. Dante himself knew little of magic, but his half-demon senses were not so easily fooled as those of a normal human. The intruders had been using some kind of spell to hide themselves. It hinted that they might have the same goal he did. If so, well and good. If not, then they better not get in his way!

With that thought Dante ran out of the alley and across the street. He ignored the chaos of screeching brakes and blaring horns his abrupt eruption into the busy street caused. Bounding over and from the hoods and roofs of halted cars, he reached the opposite sidewalk, mounted the stairs in three long strides and hit the massive double doors running. They crashed open, one of them torn clean off its hinges, and Dante started down the hallway without breaking stride.

Suddenly, guards in old-fashioned outfits, wielding batons and TASERs surrounded him. They were humans, no threat to Dante, and he brushed them aside like insects. Clusters of TASER darts found their mark, but human weapons had no effect other than to sting and infuriate the young demon-hunter. His instincts led him to the cellar, where he came across the first signs that others had been there before him.

There were unconscious bodies scattered around the wine cellar. Dante stopped to examine them. There were men and women, all wearing blue bodysuits, all unusually fit , and most of them had weapons lying near them. Far more serious weapons, he noted, than the clubs and TASERs in evidence upstairs, though little more dangerous to him.

At the end of the cellar were the remains of what had once been a concealed door. It looked as if it had been slashed away from the wall by some kind of blade or claw. It opened onto an elevator shaft. Dante looked down, the car was at the bottom. He shrugged, and stepped into the shaft. Gripping the cables with his gauntleted hands, he slid rapidly down to the top of the car. There, he ripped the inspection hatch open, dropped through and pushed the elevator doors aside. More insensate bodies littered the corridor, mostly human, but not all in the blue uniforms. Some wore robes of one kind or another, but two were not human at all.

Those two were demonic, venomous jomothomsira, and they were not unconscious but dead. They'd suffered terrible wounds from what seemed to Dante to have been long, strong claws in sets of three. As he watched, the bodies began to dissolve. He held out his hand and muttered something, and a cluster of small, red globes rose out of the bodies and settled in his palm. Dante closed his hand on them and tucked them inside his long coat, then went on his way.

At the end of the corridor, a heavy, wooden door had been blown off its hinges and into splinters. Here there were no bodies, but an odd sign was etched into the stone floor. Something about the sign tugged at Dante's intuition, and with his usual impulsiveness, he stepped onto it. There was a moment's impression of a whirling vortex, and then he was in a large chamber like a cave.

At the far end of the room was a broad hearth, in front of which two men were standing. Both were tall, but one was blond and dressed in gray. The other was dark and wore black leather. But Dante was more interested in what seethed between him and them. A mass of demons – msira, grumsira and jomothomsira – was crowding to attack the humans. The two men were defending themselves well, using what appeared to be magic wands to blast, burn, hurl or outright kill demons. But there were too many of the hell spawn; it was only a matter of time.

Beneath Dante's devil-may-care attitude was a fierce respect for courage, so he didn't really stop to think. Drawing Rebellion from across his back, the son of Sparda leapt into the fray!

Chapter 17: Peter Pettigrew's Last Supper

In the alley at the side of the Hellfire Club, Fleur and Sirius kept the Disillusionment Charm active while Seamus opened the door. Havok led the group in with a final admonition. "Remember, the ones in Regency costume are legit Club security – go easy on them!"

Fortunately, they met no opposition on the way to the wine cellar, though they quickly discovered that their communicators were useless.

"I was worried about that," admitted Emma, "There's a Comms Suite in the penthouse that has a full jamming array." She concentrated for a moment, then grimaced. "They're also using the Psychic Jammer Donald and I developed. My telepathy is only line-of-sight right now, I'm afraid."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Emma," Rogue told her. "We're countin' on you more for your knowledge of the layout here than anythin' else."

It was at that point that they met their first opposition, a troop of blue-clad mercenaries armed with the usual array of stunners and small arms. The scrap was short and very one-sided. The mercs found their weapons either frozen in ice, wrenched from their hands, or transfigured into a variety of interesting but harmless objects. Thus disarmed, they were easy prey for Wolfsbane and Wolverine, who set about merrily knocking a few heads together! Rahne, in particular, was in the mood for a fight; Sam was still confined to Sickbay, and she was feeling more than a little frustrated.

Wolverine's enhanced senses led him directly to the concealed door, where two careful slices with his claws allowed him to lift it away from the wall. Sirius magically overrode the elevator controls, and the group made its way to the bottom. By this time, they were sure their presence was known, and this was confirmed by the sudden emergence of opposition forces into the corridor.

This time, Dazzler and Psyche took the initiative with a bewildering light show followed by a series of terrifying illusions. As the mixed force of mercs and wizards churned in confusion, Wolverine yelled, "Switch one!"

In an agreed strategy, Seamus, Sirius and Fleur concentrated their efforts on the mercs, while their Mutant allies tackled the wizards. Already confused and shaken, the Hellfire forces were taken completely by surprise, and the fight was over almost before it began.

Wolverine himself, however, pushed through the fray. He had caught an alien scent, and he didn't like what his senses told him. At the back of the enemy group were two demons. Physically, they resembled the msira Remus had described to him, but around each demon was a purplish haze that stank of death. As Wolverine approached them, one spat virulent purple fluid in his face. The stuff clung, burning his skin and filling him with nausea. Logan felt his heart beat like a trip-hammer as a fever coursed through his veins. This was venom – a venom he had never encountered before!

For a moment, the feral Canadian swayed on his feet, then his healing factor kicked in, flushing the poison out of his system in seconds. But, in one sense, the damage was done. Snarling, Wolverine lunged forward, the berserkergang fully on him. Within seconds, the demons lay slashed, bloody and dead at his feet. For a moment, he stood over them, panting, glaring around him for more prey, then he took a deep breath, and came back to himself, suddenly aware that the others had been waiting for him.

"Sorry, folks," he muttered. "Guess I get a little cranky when somebody tries to kill me."

"Don't we all!" remarked Sirius. "Where next, Emma?"

She pointed ahead. "Through that door. We should come to Selene's throne room at the other end of a corridor, but she keeps on changing the layout so we need to watch ourselves!"

The solid wooden door was locked, but before any of the wizards could try to open it, Havok raised his hands and simply blasted it away with his cosmic energy bolts.

"Obviously, they know we're here," he said, "so no point being discreet!"

They went through, avoiding the rune set into the floor, and went down the corridor, which suddenly opened out into a vast open space.

"I haven't seen this before!" exclaimed Emma. "Be careful!"

The group fanned out, a standard training manoeuvre that proved their undoing. Without warning, the floor began to erupt, and thick, thorny hedges sprouted with unnatural speed, forming a maze that separated them from each other.

Wolverine and Sirius found themselves in a blind alley. The magical vegetation proved too resilient even for Logan's claws to cut; where he did sever a stalk, it grew again with astonishing rapidity.

"Crap!" grunted the Canadian. "Looks like the only way out is through."

"Hmm." Sirius frowned. "Normally, in a maze, I'd change into my Animagus form, but I doubt if Snuffles' nose is any keener than yours."

"You're right," Logan agreed. "Besides, I'll bet there's more things here than just hedges. Keep your wand handy!"

The two men advanced cautiously; neither was loquacious by nature, so they communicated where necessary with gestures. Suddenly, Wolverine raised a hand, beckoning Sirius closer and speaking in a low tone that, unlike a whisper, didn't carry.

"Someone up ahead. I got the scent – human, male, scared."

The two rounded a corner to face a long, straight stretch of the maze that ended in a stone archway. In the archway, a man was waiting for them, a small, skinny wizard in shabby robes. In one trembling hand he held a wand; the other was gleaming silver, and he had a face that reminded Logan of a rodent.

"WORMTAIL!" Sirius roared, and charged towards the wizard, with Wolverine a breath behind. Pettigrew gave a half-hysterical laugh and gestured with his wand. In a blaze of unnatural violet light, a dozen Hell Guards appeared between him and the two friends.

Sirius' fury was so intense that he simply blasted the first of the skeletal demons aside. That gave Wolverine a chance to come level with him, and the pair crashed into the hellspawn like a pair of thunderbolts. The Hell Guards were vicious, powerful creatures, but they were hemmed in by the confining maze and utterly unprepared for the savagery they met.

Wolverine had encountered other creatures whose rage in battle matched his own: the Hulk, the Wendigo, Sabretooth. But right now, Sirius was possessed of a fury that matched anything Logan had ever seen. Wolverine smiled grimly as he advanced, shoulder-to-shoulder with his wizard friend – it had been too long since he'd been in a good scrap with a worthy ally at his side! Wand and claw, they demolished their unhuman opposition in ferocious style!

Finally, Wolverine slashed a Hell Guard in two while Sirius disposed of the last one, causing its skull-head to explode in a shower of grey dust. The archway before them was empty.

"Gone!" Sirius snarled. "Run off again, the snivelling little shit! Where'd he go?"

"Cool it!" snapped Logan, grabbing his friend's arm. "He didn't teleport. He ran. I've got the scent; he won't get far. But first, Sirius, who is he?"

"Peter Pettigrew." Sirius spat the name bitterly. "He's the –"

"I know," Wolverine cut in. "He's the guy who betrayed Hawk's folks and framed you."

"Then you know I'm going to kill him, Logan. Don't try to stop me!"

"Stop you? I'm gonna be there to enjoy the show. Hawk's a buddy of mine, remember, and so are you. But," Logan continued in a tone that brooked no contradiction, "I'm not about to let you go chargin' in half-assed. I got the sonuva bitch's scent, and we're goin' after him quick but careful. No sense gettin' killed before we reach him. Get me?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "You're right, Logan. No sense rushing. Just don't lose him!"

"I won't. C'mon!" Logan led off, Pettigrew's scent in his nostrils. As they went, he told Sirius, "There's an old proverb that goes 'Revenge is a dish best served cold'. So let's be cool, buddy!"

The stone passage they now found themselves in ran straight ahead and slightly downward. After a while, other passages began to open off it, but Logan never lost the trail, even when it turned off onto a long spiral staircase that led further down than should have been possible. The two men ran silent, like hounds on the scent. Wolverine was tireless and Sirius determined so, before long, Wolverine's keen ears, then Sirius', caught the sound of hurrying footsteps ahead.

"I can smell water," muttered Logan, "and something else."

They came out of the stairway into a vast cave. Some yards ahead was a sheer drop-off, from the bottom of which came the sound of water. Pettigrew was standing on the edge, looking down, but some sixth sense warned him, and he spun, raising his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Wolverine dived at Sirius, knocking him down, and the curse expended itself on the stone wall. Still prone, Sirius pointed his own wand. "Expelliarmus!" Pettigrew's wand flew from his hand and over the cliff. Desperate, Wormtail leaped forward, slashing down with his silver hand, but Wolverine neatly severed it at the wrist. Pettigrew howled, then screamed again as Sirius sealed the stump with a flash from his wand.

"Peter, Peter," said Sirius, climbing to his feet. "I've waited far too long for this just to let you gently bleed to death. You owe me for Lily, for James, and for all those years in Azkaban, as well as the ones on the run! Crucio!"

For a while, Pettigrew screeched and writhed on the ground, while the two other men watched dispassionately. Then Sirius released the curse, and Pettigrew looked up at him with sick triumph on his face.

"You've lost, Sirius! When you take me to the Aurors, and I tell them you used an Unforgivable Curse, you'll be back in Azkaban! Maybe we'll be cellmates! Of course," Wormtail's voice took on a wheedling tone, "if you let me go, none of that need happen."

Sirius chuckled, wildly amused. "Who says you're going to the Aurors, Peter?"

"He does!" Pettigrew crowed, pointing at Logan. "He's an X-Man, committed to all that truth, justice and the American way rubbish! He won't let you kill me, will you, X-Man?"

Wolverine gave a nasty grin. "Which X-Man d'you think I am, bub?"

"I don't know," Pettigrew whined. "Iceman? Cyclops? Any one of them! I never read those Muggle files."

"You should've," Logan told him. "I'm the one they call Wolverine, scumbag. I'm more committed to what they call 'natural' justice." In a blurred movement, Wolverine darted forward and caught Pettigrew by the front of his robes, holding him effortlessly off the ground with one hand. "I don't know no curses, but I do know every pressure point on the human body, every nerve center. If Sirius gets tired of cursin' you, I can teach you brand new kinds of pain!"

By way of demonstration, Wolverine pressed his thumb into a precise spot on Pettigrew's neck. Pettigrew screamed and squirmed in his grip. Then Logan dropped him, and the rat-like wizard fell to his hands and knees, vomiting.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You've some interesting skills, my friend!"

"You don't know the half of it, pal," said Logan grimly.

Then a slimy, green tentacle reached up over the cliff and grabbed the Mutant round the waist. Sirius flash-burned it to ash, before being seized by another tentacle and hearing a hiss rising from below. Wolverine bounded forward and severed the limb that had captured his friend. Both men moved to the edge and looked down.

Below them was a wide, round pool, ringed with fang-like rocks. In the centre of the pool, a huge, squid-like monster glared at them from yellow eyes, waving its maimed tentacles and bubbling in misery and anger.

"Think it can still reach us?" asked Sirius.

"Nah," said Wolverine. "We got its two long tentacles. The other eight will be shorter."

"Hmm," Sirius said reflectively. "Unless someone falls in there, it's going to go hungry. It'll have to scrape them off those rocks even then."

Wolverine shook his head. "Those other tentacles are plenty long enough to catch anyone that fell before they hit."

"But are they fast enough?" asked Sirius. "I've a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhisky that says they're not."

"An' I got a bottle of Yukon Jack says you're wrong," Wolverine countered.

"You're on!" Sirius turned to Pettigrew, who lay curled and whimpering in a foetal position. "Peter, old chum, care to settle a bet for us?"

There was a brief scuffle, a scream suddenly cut off, then some more screams that became gurgles before stopping altogether.

"Damn!" said Sirius. "I was sure he'd make it to the bottom. I owe you a bottle of Firewhisky, mate."

"We'll share," Logan offered generously. He wrinkled his nose. "That thing's sure a messy eater!"

"Mother always told me not to play with my food," Sirius quipped.

"Your mom probably didn't serve you food that was still wriggling," Logan pointed out.

"You never met my mother," Sirius returned. He pointed his wand to cast a Boiling Spell on the water below them. There was some hissing and thrashing around, then after a while, nothing.

As the two men turned to go, Logan said, "That reminds me – there's a place in town serves the best calamari you ever tasted. If you can stick around a day or two, I'll buy dinner. You, me, Mariko and 'Roro, huh?"

"Sounds good. But where do we go from here?"

Just then, the communicators both men had been wearing crackled.

"Attention all X-Men. This is Cyclops on command frequency. Report in!"

Marie found herself alone, cut off from the rest of the party. The hedges seemed to deaden sound, so shouting was useless. Sighing, Rogue began to thread the maze, coming in the end to a wooden door. As she approached, it opened slowly to reveal a grey-skinned demon with golden fire flickering around its body. Too fast for her to react, it bounded forward and grabbed her with its burning hands.

It grabbed her face.

Rogue felt the familiar disorientation as her Mutant power took hold, and heard the demon scream. She reached up and grasped its wrists, keeping its hands on her face. Part of her craved this, this sucking up of another's skills, memories and life. It was a dangerous hunger, one only kept in check by Marie's memories of her hard-fought battle to retain her own integrity when all the world seemed against her. Having almost lost her selfhood, she would not steal another's on a whim.

But now, stern necessity and survival drove her, and she drained the demon. It had no name of its own; it was simply grumsira, one of many. It existed to burn, to inflict pain like its own on the souls of the guilty, and all were guilty of something. For a moment, the two stood face-to-face, the demon grey and shrunken, Marie wreathed in golden flame. Then the demon dissolved into smoke and sank into the ground.

Rogue whimpered; the fire burned. It wasn't harming her, but it hurt, as the demon tried to drive her onwards, to force her to share the pain. Almost without volition, she went through the door to face a ring of wizards. She heard shouts of alarm, saw wands being raised, and leaped forward. The grumsira's unnatural strength coursed through her, and she had its agility as well. The enveloping fire protected her from the wizards' spells, and before anyone could come up with a more effective one, Rogue had downed them all. Then she collapsed as the grumsira's power left her.

She must not have been out very long, because the wizards around her were still unconscious when she woke, shivering with cold. But this wasn't a physical cold, it was a chill of the spirit, and a familiar one. As all of Marie's worst memories rose up in her mind, she dragged herself upright to face the figures gliding silently across the room toward her, tall figures draped in black robes, with shrouded faces, figures she knew – Dementors!

Marie remembered that only one thing would turn aside a Dementor, and only a wizard or witch could do it. She looked around her. There were plenty of witches and wizards here, but all were out cold. Rogue could not use her power unless the person was conscious. If she touched one of these people, she herself would pass out – easy prey for the terrible Dementor's Kiss.

But it wasn't in Rogue's nature to give up so easily. She had absorbed the powers of three magical people on different occasions: Harry Potter, Bellatrix Lestrange and the unknown witch who had tried to capture Wolfsbane. Rogue knew that in sharing Wolverine's abilities, she had somehow permanently heightened her own senses, so perhaps some of the magic of these people had also stayed with her.

It was a slender thread, but it was hope, and Marie seized it, stooping to pick up a dropped wand. From a pouch on her belt, she plucked out another object that was never far from her. It was a little crystal globe, given her as a parting gift by her Hogwarts friends. Imprinted on it magically were impressions of the personalities of those friends; Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Seamus, Dean and Ginny had all put their thoughts, their affection for her into the crystal. Now she touched it with her bare hand and felt warmth flood through her. Hope flared higher in her, and she reached deep, pulling out her most precious memories.

The Dementors hesitated, and now Rogue concentrated hard, bringing up all she could recall of the times she had used magic. Most strongly in her mind was a sense of Harry, when she had taken on his powers to free his godfather. It had been this charm they had cast, and anyone who knew them both would have heard a hint of Harry's tone in her voice as she pointed the wand and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

The tip of the wand glowed silver, and as Marie's heart blazed with hope, so the light grew. Sometimes, she thought, you just have to want something bad enough! With that thought, the glow became a glare, and a shape erupted out of it! It was a shape she had seen before, once, and only vaguely. Now it was fully formed, a three-foot silver dragonfly that darted at the Dementors, driving them back.

Triumphant, Marie advanced into a shaft of golden light coming down from somewhere above. Rogue took no notice, concentrating on the Dementors. She almost had them on the run, and then….

This one was taller than the others, perhaps older, certainly colder, hungrier and more powerful. It bore down on her, reaching for her most hurtful memories, swatting at her Patronus with a grey-fleshed hand. The dragonfly tried valiantly, but it was overmatched, hovering angrily overhead but unable to stop the Dementor King's advance.

Then a figure touched down lightly beside Marie, and a well-known and loved voice said, "Well done, Rogue! Now let's see if I can do as well!"

As the Dementor King hesitated, Ororo raised her wand and called, "Expecto Patronum!" The light from the witch-Mutant's wand was almost as bright as the blaze Rogue had seen from Harry's, but the shape that emerged from it was no stag. It was the magnificent lion of the African plains. The great cat padded forward, shook its silver mane and emitted the superb guttural roar of its kind. The Dementor King stepped back a pace, and the lion charged, swiping at its enemy with a massive silver paw. Emboldened, Marie's dragonfly charged the lesser Dementors. With shrill wails of terror, the dark creatures fled, led by their King. The two Patronus spirits turned and made their way back to their casters. The lion faded before Storm could place a hand on its mane, the dragonfly just before it settled on Rogue's outstretched arm.

Trembling, exhausted and exhilarated, Marie turned to Storm and stepped gratefully into the older woman's warm embrace. For a moment, they clung together, then Storm stepped back, still holding Marie's shoulders and saying, "How are you? Is it gone yet?"

"Gone?" asked Rogue.

"The magic you absorbed. Whoever it was from, they're not waking up yet." Storm was glancing around at the prone bodies. Rogue shook her head.

"Didn't happen that way, Ororo. They were out cold. Ah jest had ta do it by m'self." Rogue's drawl was back; she couldn't help it.

Storm gazed at her in wonder. "But how?" she asked.

"Darned if Ah know." Rogue sighed. "Ah jest thought of all the other times Ah've used magic. Tried to 'member how it was, an' it jest worked! But that big one! Ah'd have been a goner for sure if not for you, sugah!"

Storm grinned. "Sweet Medea, Marie! You're halfway to being a witch yourself. As for me, thank Harry – he taught me how to do that spell, and nobody does it better than him!" Ororo lightly tapped the lion badge Rogue insisted on wearing on her uniform. "Anyway, it was the least I could do. I'm a Gryffindor too, you know!"

At that moment, Cyclop's voice sounded in their ears.

Emma Frost was on her own again, parted from her new friends by the magical vegetation. For a moment, she felt an unexpectedly keen pang of loss, but she steeled herself. There was enough of the White Queen left in her to drive her forward, looking for a way out, a way to rejoin the X-Men.

She turned a corner, and came face-to-face with herself! Herself in the white basque, briefs, boots and cloak of the White Queen! The other Emma's face bore a sneer of contempt.

"You abandoned me!" she hissed. "Sebastian kisses another woman, and you wail and run away from all we were, all we could have been! Did you really think I'd let you get away from me?"

The real Emma shook her head. "You're not that much of a fool, Jason," she said with a smile. "You may have limited my power, but you didn't shut it off. You should have been subtler!" She stepped forward, and her other self faded, to be replaced by the slender figure of the White Knight, who returned her smile.

"If I'd been subtler, Emma, you wouldn't have taken that extra step!" He lifted his wrist and pressed a button on the control unit there. The floor opened up under Emma, and as she fell, she heard him say, "Erik sends his regards."

The trapdoor led to a chute, which deposited Emma, shaken but unhurt, into a large, hangar-like room. Around the edges were the vague shapes of shrouded machinery, but in the centre stood a single, inert figure, ten feet tall and made of dully gleaming metal. The Sentinel had its back to her, and stood so rigidly Emma assumed it must be inactive. Cautiously, she moved toward it, catching sight of a door in the wall beyond it.

Emma had ventured beyond any cover when the Sentinel suddenly twitched, then spun with blinding speed.

"Mutant detected!" it intoned. "Surrender at once, or lethal force will be applied. Resistance is futile."

Emma froze in place; her powers, even when free of the Psychic Jammer, were useless against a positronic brain. Then strong arms seized her from behind, and for an instant, she felt as if she were being squeezed though a rubber tube. Suddenly, she was at the other end of the hangar, behind a stack of machinery, and a familiar voice breathed in her ear, "That was too close!"

"Remus," she whispered, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder. She could have stayed there forever, but he was asking her urgently, "Are you alright? Apparation isn't nice when you aren't used to it."

"I'm fine," she assured him. Remus suddenly seemed to realise that he was still holding her closely, protectively. Gently, he let go, turning her to face him. Beside him stood Nightcrawler and Beast, both looking anxious. "I'm fine, really!" Emma told them all again.

"Mutants! You will surrender immediately!" came the electronic voice of the Sentinel.

Beast shook his head. "We're trapped," he said grimly. "We can't get to the door without giving our metallic friend there a clear shot at us."

"No problem!" Nightcrawler told him. "That hunk of junk out there doesn't stand a chance of hitting either of us, Beast. You and I can distract it while Remus does his Alley-oop thing on the door."

"Alohomora," Remus corrected. "But that only gets Emma and me out. What about you two?"

Nightcrawler shrugged. "I can keep it dancing while Hank vacates, then I 'port out. Simple, huh? So, let's do it!"

He vanished with a bamf to reappear in front of the Sentinel, yelling "Hey, Laser-lips! Your mama was a lawnmower!" before dodging nimbly away from a laser bolt.

"The youth is, I fear, somewhat demented," remarked Beast. "I'd better go help. Remus, don't try anything silly."

"D'you think I'm demented as well?" asked Remus.

"I know you are!" Beast replied. "In fact, I suspect you were born with bats in the belfry!" With that, he vaulted over their cover to add his own measure of confusion to the Sentinel's frantic efforts to hit a target.

Remus turned to Emma. "I suppose we'd better go," he muttered, " but…."

"But you don't want to leave our friends in danger," she finished for him.

"Reading my mind again?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"Not this time," she replied, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Just your face, your eyes."

"We'd better go," Remus repeated, moving away from her towards the door.

Emma followed him, saying, "You're right. But you and I need to talk, Remus. Soon!"

Nightcrawler's plan almost worked. Remus had, in fact, opened the door, and was about to usher Emma through, when he heard an explosion behind him and spun round. One of the robot's laser bolts had struck some equipment close to Beast, causing it to blow up, and the force of the blast had sent the furred Mutant to the floor. The Sentinel bore down on him, ignoring Kurt's frantic efforts to distract it, and raised its hand again.

Remus didn't hesitate. He whipped out his wand and darted forward, yelling "Reducto!" The Sentinel's left knee-joint exploded and the thing fell onto its other knee, giving Hank time to recover and leap clear, but the robot had sighted Remus now, and lobbed a net at him. Emma grabbed Remus and pulled him away to cover just in time.

"Damn, damn, oh damn!" he growled. "Now we're stuck! It'll be watching for us!"

"Can't you blow it up with that spell?" asked Emma.

Remus shook his head. "It's too big. It'd take too long," he explained.

Emma squeezed his arm. "There must be something else!" she insisted. "Hunter destroyed a Sentinel with magic, surely you can?"

An idea sprang into Remus' mind. He remembered an afternoon spent looking at various devices and plans in Hank's workshop. Among them had been schematics of the wrecked Sentinels Beast had dismantled. There was one part he could clearly visualise. He patted Emma's hand, then broke cover to stand directly in front of the crippled robot. He pointed his wand and called, "Accio power-core!"

For a moment, the Sentinel twitched like a man in a fit. Then, with a terrible grinding noise, its chest ripped outwards, and a cylindrical piece of machinery floated out to land at Remus' feet. The Sentinel pitched forward to crash onto the floor, dead.

There was a moment's silence. Emma seized Remus and, before he could demur, kissed him fiercely, full on the mouth. "Told you!" she crowed when she had finished. Remus turned away, trying to control his jumbled feelings. He faced Hank and Kurt.

Kurt was staring in wonder. "Unglaublich!" was all he could say. Hank gave a wry grin and asked, "Ever consider a career in auto-wrecking?"

Before Remus could reply, they all heard Cyclop's call to report.

Chapter 18: Peter Rasputin Has His Hands Full

Wolfsbane and Psyche had been staying together, partly because both of their boyfriends were still in Sickbay, but mostly because they were best friends. As a result, they were stuck in the maze together. Having a practical turn of mind, they didn't waste time grousing, but set about finding a way out. As they went, they chatted about this and that, until Dani sighed and said, "This would be a lot nicer if we had a couple guys with us!"

"Ye think so?" asked Rahne. "I'm thinkin' they'd only do what men do, and get under our feet."

"Probably," Dani agreed, "but they'd improve the scenery a bit. Wouldn't be bad to have a couple of hot guys like 'Berto or Harry."

"Hmph!" remarked Rahne. "Dinna get me wrong, Roberto has lovely eyes, and Harry's a nice wee bum on him, I'll grant you, but neither of 'em's as hunky or beddable as Sam or Ron."

Dani stared at Rahne, then asked mock-sternly, "OK, who are you and what have you done with the real Rahne Sinclaire? You know, the one who was so modest she wore a blindfold in the shower?"

Rahne giggled and shook her head. "Well, ye ken, lassie, havin' gone all the way wi' Sam, it seems a wee bit daft to be all prissy and prim!"

Dani laughed. "It's amazing what one little thing can do!"

"Och," Rahne replied. "It's no' a little thing, Dani!"

It took a moment for Dani to catch on to her friend's outrageous double entendre, then she stared in amazement at Rahne, who finally had the grace to blush. Both girls succumbed to a long fit of the giggles, which lasted until they reached an open circular area that was clearly the centre of the maze.

The place was a butcher's shop – a slaughterhouse. Dismembered, bloody corpses in the shredded remains of black leather uniforms or grey camouflage, lay scattered around. Among them, tittering msira demons fed voraciously. Around the perimeter, Hell Guards were setting heads on stakes – the heads of the X-Men and their wizard friends – and every face bore an expression of agony. The stench of death hung in the air.

For a moment, both young women stood aghast. Then Rahne shifted to wolf and uttered a long howl of anger and despair. It was that howl that jolted Psyche from her shock. The unique empathic and psychic qualities of her Mutant brain acted as sixth senses, and they were screaming at her now. This wasn't right. Psyche was an illusion-caster herself, and she knew in the bone that, however much this scene overwhelmed her ordinary senses, it was not real!

Grimly, she began to struggle to see past the simulacra to the reality. She was striving against another mind, she realised, a mind that was older and more experienced than her own. But Danielle Moonstar was full of grit and determination, and so she fought.

Wolfsbane suddenly became aware that, while the demons and bodies seemed to fade from her perceptions, there was one scent that was real, and did not belong to a friend. With a snarl, she sprang forward, and the gruesome scene faded as she bore a living human body to the ground.

The White Knight had been over-confident. His earlier success in aiding Harry's infiltration of the Club and the way in which he had trapped Emma Frost today must have made him sloppy. Magneto had ordered him to capture any of the younger X-Men that he could for 're-education' into the Brotherhood's ideology. Jason had thought that these two girls would be easy prey, but now he stared up into Wolfsbane's gleaming fangs and wondered if he were going to survive.

"Rahne! Let him up!" snapped Psyche. "I've got business with him."

Wolfsbane backed away, growling, and Wyngarde got to his feet, brushing off his clothes and trying to look and sound nonchalant.

"Well, well! Psyche, isn't it? And your toothy friend here must be Wolfsbane. A pleasure to meet you both." He smiled with all the charm he could muster. "I have a proposal for you and your young friends from Mr Lensherr."

"Stow it!" Psyche hissed. "I'm not interested, Mastermind, or White Knight or whatever you're calling yourself right now. You just made us see people we love butchered, dead. You were trying to break us with our worst fears, weren't you?"

Mastermind shrugged. "Just showing you the kind of thing that's gonna happen if you kids keep listening to Xavier. The old guy's soft on flatscans, but they won't be soft on you!"

Dani shook her head. "That's bullshit. I'm an illusionist myself, and I know a bit about people's worst fears. Like yours, for instance!"

Wyngarde went white. His mouth opened, but he seemed unable to scream. He fell to his knees, reaching out to something in front of him. In his eyes was a mixture of stark fear and a terrible yearning.

Wolfsbane shifted back to her human form. Much as she loved Dani, she never liked seeing her friend use her power, and in her wolf-form, the fear that poured off Psyche's targets was a palpable, hateful thing.

As she transformed, Rahne felt a sudden blast of bitter cold. Looking around, she saw the hedges that formed the maze had suddenly become silver with frost. Leaves began to fall from them with musical tinkling sounds. From some distance off came other sounds, like glass cracking.

Then, closer to hand, came a sudden double boom. Two women appeared close to the kneeling form of Jason Wyngarde. Both were tall, and wearing witch's robes; one was youngish, with long, copper-coloured hair. Neither Rahne nor Dani recognised her, but the other one was quite familiar.

"Professor McGonagall?" said Rahne, amazed, but the Headmistress ignored her for the moment, concentrating on her companion. The younger woman was staring at the White Knight.

"Jason?" she breathed, with an incredulous look on her face. Then she spun to confront Psyche, raising her wand. "What are you doing to him?"

Dani released Wyngarde from her power, facing the newcomer. Rahne tensed, but McGonagall was already there, placing a restraining hand on her companion's arm.

"One moment, Jessica," she said firmly. "I would not advise you to confront Miss Moonstar without a very good reason. She is quite a formidable young lady, and one whose character, aside from a tendency to levity, is beyond reproach.

"Miss Moonstar, I would be obliged if you and Miss Sinclaire would provide an explanation for this extraordinary scene."

Rather than being resentful, Dani was grateful for McGonagall's assumption of authority. She did not want to be forced to fight this unknown witch who was clearly English and might well be one of the good guys. Briefly, Dani explained who Jason Wyngarde was, his role in the Hellfire Club, his recent attack on Rahne and herself, and what she had gleaned of his apparent role as an agent of Magneto. She concluded by pointing out, "But none of that explains who this lady is, or why you two are here, Professor."

The younger woman answered, "I'm Jessica Crowe, a teacher at Hogwarts, and this man…." She paused, then knelt beside Wyngarde and put her arms round him. "This is Jason, my half-brother."

Wyngarde, who had been hiding his face in his hands, suddenly looked up at her. "Jess?" he asked. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, dearest," she murmured soothingly. "It's me. I'm here."

He next looked at Dani, and she saw the resemblance now. The White Knight's skin was sallow, and his hair lank and dark, while Professor Crowe's hair was thick and red, her skin pale, but the bone structure of their faces was similar, and both had those odd-colored eyes, one blue, one gold.

"Are you doing this?" he asked Psyche. She shook her head.

"No, she's real enough."

Mastermind buried his face in Jessica's shoulder and began to cry quietly. For a moment, the tableau held, then Rahne brought their attention back to the situation.

"Those noises are gettin' closer!" she said, "And if I'm any judge, it was Iceman froze the hedges. What do we –"

At that moment, they all became aware of a high-pitched sound just on the edge of hearing. For a second, it set their teeth on edge, then the frozen vegetation around them shattered. They were momentarily enveloped in a fine, stinging spray of ice crystals, and then they were once again in a vast, open area.

With shouts of joy, they saw their friends heading towards them, Iceman and Fleur from one direction, Seamus, Dazzler and Havok from another, while Banshee, Sunfire, Bill and Tonks dropped from above to settle nearby.

"Sorry if I hurt anybody's ears," said Banshee, "but since the maze was frozen, I was after thinkin' my scream was the quickest way to clear it."

Iceman turned to Havok. "I'd have frozen the hedge sooner, but Ms. Delacour and I had a little demon trouble."

"And I," said Fleur, "'ave learned a new English word – 'demonsicles'. C'est tres amusant, n'est-ce-pas?"

Havok stared at Bobby. "You froze the whole thing in one shot?" Iceman nodded, and Havok whistled. "I can never get a handle on just how much juice you have, Bobby!"

"Neither can I," Iceman admitted. "Every time I think I've hit the limit of what I can do, I find I can do more!"

Banshee was looking around. "We're some people short, and we've gained a couple we didn't have. What's been goin' on?"

"We lost each other in the maze," Havok said, indicating the doors and archways that dotted the outer wall. "Some of our people might have gone through those, but we can't tell until comms are back up. Where are Storm and Polaris?"

"Storm went off on an errand of her own – witchin' stuff," reported Banshee. "But that was after we had the devil of a scrap to get onto the roof – some kind of flyin' demons. Polaris is still up there usin' her magnetic powers to get into the Secure Room and hopefully bollix their jammers. The rest of us saw you on the CCTV and came straight down to help out."

"Excuse me," Jessica Crowe interrupted. "I need to get my brother somewhere safe. He's in shock, and he can't stay here."

Seamus stepped forward, fishing inside his T-shirt, before pulling out a St Christopher medallion.

"Here, Professor, take this," he offered. "It's my personal Portkey to Professor Xavier's mansion. Dr MacTaggart and Professor Xavier will be after takin' good care of your brother there, and ye'll find no safer spot, to be sure!"

"Thanks, Seamus, but are you sure this Professor Xavier won't mind my suddenly appearing there?" Jessica asked.

"Sure and he's used to wizards poppin' in and out all the time, Jessica!" Seamus reassured her. "What with me and Fleur here, not to mention Mr Lupin, he's got used to our habits. He's a way of knowin' things as well, so like as not, he'll be expectin' ye, so he will!" Jessica gratefully accepted the Portkey, and she and her brother vanished.

Cyclops was worried; less than an hour into the mission, and his team had already been split several ways! Worse, the team assigned to the rooftop and penthouse had clearly not yet managed to gain control of the communications suite. He had suspected that the Hellfire Club would attempt to jam their comms, so he had assigned all the flight-capable X-Men, along with Bill and Tonks, to attack from above.

Still, he had to rely on the abilities of his people to take care of themselves, and he knew those abilities to be considerable. He led Colossus and Ariel along a corridor, stopping and holding up a hand for silence when he heard voices. Signalling for a stealthy approach, he went forward carefully.

He peered into the room ahead. Two men were there. The White Rook was kneeling on the floor, making adjustments to some kind of device. Another man was standing watching a video screen. Cyclops recognised him from Tonks' description; he was the former Death Eater, Rookwood.

As Cyclops watched, Rookwood asked, "Is that thing ready yet?"

"Almost," replied Pierce, "What's going on down there?"

"They're still duelling. The Weasley girl's giving Bella a run for her money!"

"You realize, Augustus, they they'll both be killed when this goes off?"

"Gods, I hope so," stated Rookwood fervently. "The Weasleys are blood traitors, every last one of them! Killing that little whore will break Potter's heart. Just a tiny touch of vengeance for my Dark Lord! I'd rather it was her brother, though. He's polluting himself with a Mudblood."

"You make it sound like he's mating with an animal," Pierce snorted.

"He might as well be!" growled Rookwood.

"What about Mrs Lestrange?" asked the White Rook. "You came here with her, after all. I thought you two went way back?"

"She's a traitor!" Rookwood snapped. "She's betrayed Selene. Look at her, parading around in the Black Queen's regalia. What's more, she's bedding Shaw – not just a Muggle, but a Mutant!"

"You're right about the betrayal," Pierce agreed. "Sebastian's betrayed Selene, too. Both of them are plotting against her. There, the bomb's set. It'll bring the roof down on both of them. We'd better go, Augustus."

The two men began to move toward the door where the three X-Men were concealed, watching them. There was no time or place to hide, so Cyclops stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, you better disarm that device, 'cause neither of you is leaving this room until you do!"

Rookwood raised his wand, but not fast enough, as Cyclops' eyebeams took him in the chest and threw him across the room. The White Rook leapt forward, only to meet the immovable mass that was Colossus. The two powerful men closed in combat, each trying to gain that essential leverage.

Staggering to his feet, Rookwood made for another door at the far end of the room. Cyclops went after him, yelling, "Ariel, get the bomb!"

Kitty was one of the most intelligent of the X-Men; her IQ checked at genius level. She'd eagerly absorbed everything Beast could teach her about electronics and all that Wolverine, with his military training, could tell her about bomb disposal. One look told her all she needed to know. The White Rook had made this device specifically to foil any and all of the X-Men's abilities. A wizard might be able to disarm it, but there wasn't one here.

"Colossus!" she called. "I can't disarm it. We need a wizard."

"Then get Firebird," he yelled back. "She's just below us, remember?"

Kitty phased through the floor, shouting for Firebird.

A few moments later, Bellatrix said in a strained voice, "Ginevra, can you and your friend get me out of here? I'm afraid I'm not very good with enclosed spaces. Too much time in Azkaban, you understand?"

"Can we lift her between us?" Ginny asked Kitty.

"No sweat! On three. One, two…"

Carrying Bellatrix between them, the two girls climbed through and out of the rubble, then set the older witch, who was gratefully gasping open air, down on top of it. Ginny and Kitty looked around at the wreckage.

"Bozhe moi!" muttered Ginny, just as Kitty murmured, "Merlin's beard!" Both girls stared at each other, then began to laugh.

"Talk about your cultural exchanges," said Ginny.

"I fail to see a shred of humour in this situation," Bellatrix said sourly. "Whoever did this, Ginevra, clearly intended to dispose of both of us, you realise?"

"It was the White Rook," Ariel supplied, "and that Rookwood character. They're both still loyal to Selene, and –"

Just then the rubble nearby suddenly shifted and slid aside, and the towering form of Colossus emerged, shaking his head.

"Petey!" Ariel called happily, dashing over to him. "You OK, hon?"

"I'm fine, Katyushka," he rumbled, then waved at Ginny, who was still guarding her captive. "Hey, babe!"

"Hiya, Peter!"

"What happened to Pierce?" Kitty wanted to know.

"He's down here." Colossus pointed. "I protected him as best I could, but he took a heckuva bump on the head. He's down for the count! I also had to damage his arms and one of his legs a little. When he wakes up, he won't be going anywhere in a rush."

"Which leaves us," said Ginny, "wondering what to do about darling Bella here."

"You could let me go," Bellatrix suggested. "I can give you directions to get to the throne room, but I need you to let me go my own way. Sebastian needs me."

"How d'you know that?" asked Ginny.

"The same way, and for the same reason, that you'd know if Harry needed you!" Bella looked up at Ginny. "I'm in love with him, you see. Isn't that odd? The arch champion of wizarding purity, former mistress of the Dark Lord himself, head over heels in love with a Mutant!"

"It can happen," said Ginny, thinking of Scott and Fleur, as well as Ororo and Sirius.

"Anyway," Bella went on, "Sebastian wanted to speak with the Granger girl, and that means your brother will be after him. After what I've been through with you, Ginevra, I'm not so sanguine about Sebastian's chances of dealing with young Ronald."

"If Shaw's gotten Hunter ticked off," Peter asserted, "he's in a world of hurt!"

Ginny released Bellatrix from the Binding Charm. "Your wand's under all this rubble somewhere," Ginny told her. "You'll have to make do without."

"I've others," Bellatrix said. Then she gave them directions to get to the throne room.

"If you've lied to us," Ginny warned, "I'll be coming for you!"

"Of course," Bellatrix said. "One last thing: What happened to Rookwood?"

"Last seen heading for the high country with Cyclops on his tail," Kitty informed her. "Unless he did that Apparation thing, he's probably down and out. Cyke was pretty mad by then, and he doesn't kid around."

"Splendid!" Bellatrix nodded. "Well, good luck, the three of you. Ginevra, until next time…I'll watch out for your feet in future!"

"You do that," Ginny replied. "They'll be landing on your scrawny arse!"

"Sweet child," murmured Bella as she left.

The three youngsters set off in the direction Bellatrix had indicated. Peter, in his invulnerable metal form, took point. The two girls walked behind.

Something had been nagging at Ginny. Now she turned to her companion and said, "Kitty, would you say I was fat?"

"Fat?" replied Kitty. "No, not fat. Curvaceous, certainly, or buxom, but I wouldn't say you were fat – unless I was really mad at you!"

"Ah," Ginny answered, nodding. "Well, I'd have to be really cross with you to comment on your figure. If you had one!"

"Anyway," Kitty went on, "it's in your genes. Your Mom's awful…what's Hermione's word? Cuddly? Just genetics, nothing to do with the huge plate of ham and eggs you eat at breakfast every day."

Ginny shrugged, "Well, at least with you around, Hermione can't complain about being flat-chested. She's a 34A – that's two inches and a cup size up on you, yes? As for that boyish bum – from the back, I could almost fancy you myself!"

Peter didn't have Harry's gift for dry put-downs, but the girls' habit of sniping at each other got his goat as well. He spun on his heel and confronted them, glaring.

"If you two don't cut it out," he growled, "I'll put one of you across each knee and spank the daylights out of both of you!"

The reaction was not what he hoped for. Kitty fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly and squealed "Ooooh! Promise?" Ginny grinned impishly and said, "Now there's an offer you don't get every day! D'you want us to strip or just pull our knickers down?"

Peter threw up his hands, turned, and came face to face with a tall, skeletal demon cloaked in darkness. Colossus unleashed all his frustration in one awesome blow, and the demon hurtled back into the room it had come from, crashing into a massive, iron door. Part of the rock ceiling fell in to crush the demon and half-bury the door.

"Job tvo madje!" Peter swore. "Kitty, can you phase us through?"

"Don't!" interrupted Ginny. "That door has a Sealing Rune on it. We don't know how it would react to Ariel's power. I should be able to open it, but I need to see the whole rune."

"Fine, OK," said Colossus. "I'll dig it out. It's gonna take a while, though, so you two better keep watch – and behave yourselves!"

Both girls faced his glare for a moment, then chorused meekly, "Yes, Peter." They went over to the other door while he began to work.

Shortly after that, Cyclops called for a report. Ariel told him what was happening, and they settled down to wait.

After a while, Ginny asked, "Kitty, why did you take up with Peter? I know it wasn't just to spite me for taking Harry off you, because you really care for him."

Kitty shrugged. "You're right. It was nothing to do with Harry. It was actually Ron!"

"Ron?" Ginny repeated, perplexed.

"While they were over here," Kitty explained, "I got myself hugged a couple times by your brother. I'd never felt so safe, so protected. I mean, I love – loved – Harry, but he's not a safe guy, you know? He's on the edge there. In his way, he's as dangerous as Wolverine.

"But Petey, he's a lot like Ron in some ways. They're both big, gentle, warm guys. I feel settled, at home, safe with him. If Petey's around, I can tackle anything!"

Ginny nodded. "That's Ron. He does make you feel safe."

Kitty cocked an eyebrow, and Ginny looked her in the eye. "Yes," Ginny admitted, "I tease and torment him. I'm a right pain in the bum to him. But he's my big brother, he'll always be there for me, and I love him. And by the way, Kitty, it's OK to love Harry – just stay out of his trousers, OK?"

Kitty smiled and nodded, and the two carried on waiting in silence.

For a while, the reunited X-Men and wizards stood in the vast, open space, considering their next move. Then a door was blasted off its hinges by scarlet beams, announcing the arrival of Cyclops, who was carrying over his shoulder the inert form of a wizard. He strode across to the group and dumped the wizard on the floor at Tonks' feet.

"I think," he announced, "this one's yours, Tonks. It's that Rookwood guy. I'm afraid he's a little the worse for wear."

"No more than he deserves, I'll bet!" declared Tonks, binding the senseless man.

Just then, all the communicators crackled, and Cyclops heard a voice. "Polaris to Cyclops, I've managed to unjam the communications. I'm on my way down to you, but I think trouble's on the way, too!"

"Acknowledged," Cyclops told Polaris. He switched frequency, requesting a check in. After listening to the responses, Cyclops declared, "Rogue, Storm, Wolverine and Padfoot are on their way here. So are Charm and Hunter. Emma's joined up with Beast, Nightcrawler and Remus, and they'll be here soon. Colossus, Ariel and Firebird have run into a problem. Hawk's on his way to Selene's temple with some of the others, apparently. We'll stay here for now!"

Just as Cyclops finished speaking, the big double doors at one end of the chamber flew open, and a horde of demons charged through. As well as the msira types and Hell Guards, there were several of the taller, more powerful Hell Vanguards. Violet flashes above announced the arrival of a half-dozen Abyss Goats and a swarm of bird-like demons who hurled drops of liquid fire from under their wings.

Cyclops turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, I don't know how you got here, but you'd better go. We seem to have a situation here."

"No shit, Sherlock!" replied McGonagall, deftly exorcising the lead Hell Vanguard. She turned to Scott with a grin that seemed to belong to a much younger Minerva McGonagall. "I think I'll stay just where I am, Scott!"

Cyclops found himself grinning back. Then he raised his voice to shout, "Let's take 'em!"

Sunfire leapt into the air, incinerating an Abyss Goat with a single plasma bolt. Seconds later, Bill, Tonks and Banshee were aloft, creating havoc among the winged demons. Polaris flew down from an overhead shaft and pitched in with her magnetic powers.

On the ground, a battle-royal was being waged. The demons were still reeling from the ferocity of the defence when Wolverine and Sirius emerged from an archway.

"Crap!" growled the Canadian. "Looks like they started without us, Padfoot!"

"Well, let's not waste any more time, mate," replied Sirius, and the two friends strode forward, carving a bloody path toward their allies.

Another door opened, allowing Beast, Nightcrawler, Emma, Remus, Storm and Rogue into the room. With a fearsome Rebel yell, Rogue led the earthbound newcomers forward, while Storm took flight, summoning a freezing gale that shredded the feathers of the smaller winged demons and sent the Abyss Goats tumbling. Seconds later, Hunter and Charm arrived, creating their own unique brand of mayhem.

But the demons were numerous, and more were flooding into the room by the second. Even the sudden arrival of the mighty Colossus, accompanied by the formidable Firebird and surprisingly effective Ariel was not enough to turn the tide.

Things were looking grim, and Cyclops was searching for a way to retreat, when he heard a voice in his ear. "Hawk to Cyclops. Hang on, Scott. There's more help on the way!"

Chapter 19: The Strange Allies of Harry Potter

Harry found himself in yet another big, cold, hearth. This one, however, was in a large, rough-hewn, cave-like chamber. There were chairs and a long table, but only one other person. A tall, slim, blond figure in grey, who was pointing a wand at him and saying, "Steady, Harry! Don't do anything stupid just yet!"

"Draco Malfoy," growled Harry, raising his own wand. "If you've got something to say, talk fast! If I hear something I don't like, you're going to get hurt!"

Malfoy gave an affected sigh. "You can take the boy out of Gryffindor…" He shook his head. "Godric was a lout, with neither manners nor style, and his House is the same!

"Listen Harry, we're on the same side here, for once. Selene is a worse menace than Voldemort ever was – to the whole world! Now, do we waste time sniping at each other or fighting, or do we unite for the greater good?"

"Since when," asked Harry coldly, "do you give a good goddamn about the greater good, Malfoy? You're after Selene because she had your mother killed. Don't try to turn your personal vendetta into a crusade. You won't fool me."

Draco shrugged and lowered his wand. "As you please, Harry. My motives aren't really the issue here, anyway. The fact is, we both want Selene gone, and we can help each other. Now, are you going to refuse me on some idiotic moral grounds, or will you see sense and work with me?"

Since his last encounter with Draco, Harry had modified his opinion of his schoolboy nemesis. He had once assumed that the Malfoy clan had been unthinking supporters of Voldemort, but he had since learned that both Narcissa and Lucius had been part of the Knights of Walpurgis. When Narcissa had brought Harry to her bedroom and attempted to seduce him, Draco had been watching, unbeknownst to his mother. Afterward, he had confronted Harry, explaining that he had a personal agenda and was prepared to offer Harry a role second only to his own. Harry decided there was no harm in listening to Draco now; he might learn something useful.

"Why me?" Harry asked. "Why not your usual sidekicks?"

Draco shrugged again. "Theodore's not a man of action. Crabbe and Goyle lack imagination and brains. It's a shame that fool Zabini had to get himself killed – I could have used him! That's beside the point, though. I need your unique skills, Harry. I know the way to Selene's Temple, but to get past the doors, I need a Parselmouth."

Harry nodded, smiling grimly. "So, I get you past the doors, and either Selene's waiting for me, or you kill me once I'm no more use, is that it?"

Draco shook his head. "What, and remove my best opponent from the board before the game has really started? Oh, no, Harry! You and I have a long campaign ahead of us, either on the same or on opposite sides, and in either case, I prefer the Devil I know."

Harry was about to reply when there was a blaze of violet light, and suddenly the room was filled with demons. The hellspawn attacked both wizards immediately, and Harry, to his lasting astonishment, found himself fighting side-by-side with Draco Malfoy!

It wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Draco was more skilled than Harry remembered, and didn't appear to be as much of a coward as he had once been. Still, Harry felt he was doing most of the work. He'd have given a lot to have Ron or Ginny at his side right now. There were just too many demons; it was only a matter of time.

Then a third element entered the battle. Out of nowhere came a tall, white-haired figure in red, wielding a massive broadsword. The newcomer sliced his way through the demons as efficiently as Wolverine could have done it, reaching the two young wizards in a matter of moments. There was a clear area around them, caused by the fact that spells are ranged rather than close-combat weapons, and the swordsman darted into it, placing himself between Harry and Draco. He slung the sword across his back, and drew a pair of automatic pistols from under his long coat, unleashing a hail of gunfire into the demonic mob. The wizards redoubled their own efforts, and the three of them finally managed to clear the room of demons.

For a moment, they stood in silence, then the white-haired stranger stretched out a hand and muttered to himself. A swarm of little red globes rose out of the demon corpses and flew into his hand. He tucked them inside his coat before turning to his companions.

"Well, that was fun! Now, who are you guys? For that matter, what are you?"

Harry examined the man who looked to be about nineteen or twenty, as tall as Ron but less bulky. His hair was white-blond, worn slightly long, and his face was strong-boned and handsome. He had piercing pale blue eyes and wore a long red coat over some kind of tunic and trousers tucked into high black boots. On his hands were leather gauntlets with short steel spikes across the knuckles. He was clearly a formidable individual, so Harry decided the best strategy was honesty.

"My name's Harry Potter. This is Draco Malfoy. We're wizards. Now, who and what are you?"

The man grinned. "Name's Dante. I hunt demons. Are we on the same side, or do I have to kick your butts as well?"

"You're welcome to try," replied Draco dryly, "but you might not find it easy, Muggle!"

"Shut up, Draco!" snapped Harry, then he turned to Dante. "He's a high opinion of himself – he's the only one that does, mind – so you'll have to let him off when he's rude. That'll be most of the time, actually, but never mind.

"If you're a demon-hunter, you'll be after Selene as well, right?"

Dante shrugged. "If she's the one trying to open a Hell-Gate, then yeah, I'm after her."

"Good enough," Harry decided. "You'd best come with us. Draco here knows the way, and I can get us into the Temple she's using, but we could do with some extra muscle."

Dante considered this course of action. "How do I know I can trust you?" he demanded.

"You don't," Harry told him. "Any more than we know we can trust you. But," he indicated Draco, "I don't trust him either, and he doesn't trust me, so we're all in the same boat. We'll just have to rely on the old adage, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', won't we?"

"Whatever," Dante replied. "So, where now?"

"Nowhere, for a second," said Harry in an odd, distant tone. As the other two watched, his eyes went unfocused, and they heard him mutter, "C'mon, Marie, you can do it, luv!"

It might have been telepathy, or magic, or the memory of the time he had shared his powers with Marie. It might even have been the odd bonding that had formed between them that day in the Labyrinth when they had almost kissed. Whatever it was, Harry suddenly felt an overpowering sense of Marie – her fear, her defiance of that fear, her determination to go down fighting. Instinctively, he reached for her, stretched out with his mind to the young woman he now acknowledged as his soul-sister. She was alone, and confronted by the thing Harry feared most – Dementors! There were unconscious wizards around her, but she had none of their powers. Rogue was trying, with only the residual magic three encounters had left her, to summon a Patronus. Harry did what he could; he sent his support, his love for her, his presence to try to help her. Whether she was aware of him, he couldn't know – she was concentrating too intently – but he felt a mighty surge of pride in his friend when the silver dragonfly emerged from her borrowed wand.

Meanwhile, another part of his mind was looking for someone to help Rogue. He touched Ginny, and Kitty, and Hermione and Ron, but none of them could get there. Then he found another mind – Ororo! She was close, and her instincts had already led her in the right direction, but now she faltered. Harry could not send a message, as such, but he managed to plant a suggestion in her mind, one that led her straight to Marie. He had tutored Storm in the charm himself, and knew her Patronus was almost as powerful as his. Marie would be safe now.

Harry blinked, then said, "Right, let's go!"

"What was that all about?" asked Draco. "You were…talking…to D'Ancanto somehow, weren't you?"

"None of your business," said Harry briskly. "Anyway, it's complicated. Come on, Draco. Let's get to this Temple. I've a feeling we're running short on time."

"This way." Draco led off, asking over his shoulder, "I suppose you have some plan or other?"

"Yeah," replied Harry. "We get to the Temple, slip past magical traps, battle overwhelming odds and confront Selene. Then she gets the drop on us, and we're at her mercy. She starts telling us how pathetic we are, and how she's going to rule the world, and how she's going to be merciful and kill us now. Then we nobble her while she's monologuing!"

"Sounds like a plan!" said Dante with a grin.

"It's the one that usually works," Harry acknowledged.

Draco shook his head. "I'm usually surrounded by idiots. Being surrounded by lunatics makes a refreshing change."

"Is he as gay as he sounds?" Dante asked Harry.

"No idea," Harry answered. "And I could really do without going there!"

"Yeah, he's not my type, either," allowed Dante.

Draco led them swiftly and surely, using back corridors Trust Draco to know every sneaky way around the place, Harry noted. Sometime during the journey, Harry's communicator went active, and he was able to brief Cyclops on the situation. Cyclops was relieved to find that his friends were, so far, all well.

Then they came to a corridor Harry recognised. It was the one Harry had traversed the night he had infiltrated the Club. But now what he had thought to be statues were living Hell Guard demons! There was no way around, they'd have to fight their way through. Draco swore foully, and began blasting away with his wand, but these demons were tougher than the msira, and took longer to go down. Harry was also casting spells, while Dante poured more gunfire into the enemy.

Finally, the young demon-hunter lost patience. "This is taking too long!" he hissed. He holstered his pistols, drew his sword, and charged the demons. Just before he reached them, he jumped to one side, ran up and along the wall as Harry had seen Nightcrawler do, and dropped into the middle of the mob, laying about him to right and left.

It was long, it was messy, and it was tiring, but eventually the last demon went down. Dante sheathed his sword and called, "Are you guys coming?"

"I need a minute," panted Draco. The blond Slytherin was bending down, hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.

"Knackered already Draco?" Harry asked. "You Malfoys too aristocratic for an honest day's massacre?"

"Oh, very witty, Potter!" snapped Draco. "Just remember, I haven't spent a year or two doing those Muggle exercises Weasley's so expert in!"

Harry laughed grimly. "And you think you're going to be a match for me? You need some training, Draco! I'm sure Ron would enjoy putting you through the mill a bit, and Iceman would love to kick your skinny arse round the Danger Room for a week or so."

"I'm sure he would. Mr Drake and I have matters to settle one of these days." Draco straightened and said, "Right, let's go!"

Harry refrained from pointing out that Draco would probably never be a match for the powerful young elemental Mutant. Instead, he led the three toward the end of the corridor, saying, "Last time I was here, there were statues of those Abyss Goat things by the door. I've a feeling they won't be statues now."

He was right; the two winged demons stood alert, on guard. Waiting in the shadows, Harry saw Dante draw his guns again.

"Shouldn't you be out of ammunition?" he asked quietly. "I've not seen you reload."

Dante grinned. "Ebony and Ivory don't run out of ammo. My father had them made by one of your kind. He had a pair like them, called Lucia and Ombre. He had these made, one for me, one for my brother, but Vergil thought guns were dishonourable, and he wouldn't use his, so I got them both."

Just then, both demons sprang into the air, facing in opposite directions. One immediately began to flap its wings desperately, yet sank to the ground despite its efforts. At last, the demon crashed to the floor and fell prone, apparently unable to move. It lay helpless, as a hail of machine-gun fire literally tore it to shreds. Its companion, meanwhile, had gone down under a storm of curses and hexes, finally vanishing in a violet blaze as someone invoked an exorcism.

"Stay put!" hissed Harry. Two groups of human figures were advancing into the middle of the space. One group was composed of Hellfire Club mercenaries led by a powerfully built black man and a gross figure Harry recognised as Henry Leland, the Black Bishop. Leading the other group was a tall, balding wizard, and Grisabelle Dent, the woman Harry had duelled with only a few days before.

The black merc spoke first. "Caradoc, we're here on the Black King's orders. I don't want to fight you, man."

"Nor I you, Ralph," the tall wizard replied. "Thankfully, it's not going to happen. We're here on the orders of the Black Queen – the new Black Queen – Mrs Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Then Sebastian and Bella succeeded?" said the Black Bishop eagerly. "But we still can't get through that door! Fortunately, there's someone here who can. Hawk, you'd better come out, you and your friends."

Harry led Draco and Dante forward. "How did you know I was here, Leland?" he asked.

The Black Bishop shrugged. Close up, Harry noticed lines of strain on the man's face, but a look of relief in his eyes. Leland had clearly had a rough time of it lately.

He told Harry, "Your team-mate Polaris may have disabled our jammers, but the CCTV still works." He pulled a device from one of the capacious pockets of his Regency-style jacket. "I've been monitoring your progress. Now, Selene is somewhere beyond that door, so let's get going! We're on the same side now, Hawk."

Harry did the only thing he could think of: He reached out with his mind again.

Emma?

I'm here, Harry.

Can we trust Leland?

For now, yes, but not if he sees Selene! Harry, we've got trouble here. She showed him a fleeting image of the battle. I can't stay with you long!

It's OK. Thanks, Emma!

Thanks for asking, Harry – for trusting me enough to ask!

The exchange had taken perhaps a second. Harry faced the Black Bishop. "I'm sorry, Mr Leland, but I can't take you anywhere near Selene. You know why. If you and your people want to help, though, the X-Men and some of my wizard friends have their hands full in what used to be the throne room. Can you lend a hand down there?"

Leland nodded gratefully. "That we can do. Mr Grimslade, Lt Cole, let's move our people out!"

As the others filed off, the tall American wizard stopped in front of Harry and put out a hand. "Harry Potter? My name's Caradoc Grimslade. An honor to meet you, sir!"

Harry took the hand cautiously. "You know who I am?"

Caradoc nodded. "Ms Dent told me she'd had the privilege of duelling with The Man Who Won. We may not agree politically, Mr Potter, but Lord Voldemort was a madman who needed to be stopped. My goal is separation, not slaughter, and I'd be obliged if you'd remember that."

Harry nodded. "I understand. I think you're wrong, or taking things too far, rather, but if you leave my people alone, I'll have no quarrel with you."

"Understood," replied Grimslade. "Once more, it was an honor, Mr Potter!"

As the American wizard left, Draco said "Grimslade? There aren't any Grimslades left in Britain now. I may be related to him, though."

"Well," said Harry, "let's hope the prat gene stayed in your branch of the family!"

Harry contacted Cyclops, telling him to expect reinforcements. Then he turned to the door of Selene's study and hissed, "Open!" in Parseltongue. The door gave way, and the three stepped in.

Selene was waiting for them in the centre of the room. She had abandoned the Black Queen's costume in favour of a simple but revealing black robe. In her hands, she held the snake-staff Harry had seen in here before.

"Draco, Draco," Selene admonished. "I'm so disappointed in you, my darling. No use as a lover, and a clumsy conspirator! But at least you've brought the handsome – and potent – Harry Potter to me. Harry, have you come to fight me, or to make me yours, as you deserve? Or both? I'd like that, to have you take me by force!"

Harry grimaced, disgusted beyond words. Then he stared at her in frank disbelief.

"Ah, virtue!" Selene gave a silvery laugh. "You're still just a boy, aren't you? But how about this stalwart young warrior?" She turned to Dante, who simply grinned at her. Selene's eyes narrowed for a moment, then widened as she gasped, "You! The Son of Sparda! The one who sent my mother Nevan back to Hell!"

"That'd be me. My friends call me Dante. You call me death!" Dante replied smoothly.

Selene's response was to fling a barrage of curses from the snake-wand. A Stun spell took Dante in the chest. He grunted and staggered, but stayed on his feet. Draco flung up a shield to block a Petrificus curse. Harry ducked, dived and rolled under the black cords she flung at him, coming up on his feet and silently casting Diffindo at the staff.

The carved wand snapped in two to fall at Selene's feet. The witch gaped at Harry. "Who are you, to destroy Slytherin's Rod so easily?"

"The one who killed what he left in his Chamber of Secrets!" Harry told her.

For a moment, Selene simply gazed at Harry, then she, too, threw up a shield, as Dante opened fire. With a screech of rage, Slytherin's daughter Disapparated.

"Crap!" growled Dante. "Nearly had her!"

Harry stepped over, looking down at the broken remnants of Slytherin's Rod. Then he knelt to examine them more closely. Underneath the ebony wood there seemed to be a set of interlocking crystals around a core of some dully-gleaming metal. To Harry, the thing looked more like technology than magic – alien technology to be sure – the kind Beast had occasionally lectured them on, but technology nonetheless. Oh well, he thought. It's broken now, whatever it was. Harry stood up to face his companions.

"You just can't get decent staff these days!" he commented.

Draco groaned. "I should have killed you at school, Potter!"

"Guess you made a rod for your own back, then!" supplied Dante.

"He's inclined to let his mind wand –er," Harry said.

"He should stick to things more," Dante countered.

"I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole!" was Harry's comeback.

"Thank you so very much for that scintillating display, gentlemen," drawled Draco. "Now the exit we need is here."

He went to the wall behind Selene's Pensieve, fumbled with some kind of hidden catch for a moment, then the wall swung aside to reveal another corridor, one that spiralled downwards. Draco gestured them to follow him. "Let us now proceed with the rest of the day's entertainment!" he said dryly.

As they began to descend, Harry remarked, "You know, Draco, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"But the highest form of intelligence, Harry. Not that you'd be aware of that."

"He's getting better," Dante told Harry.

"Well, he couldn't possibly get worse," Harry answered.

After a while, Harry said, "Selene seemed to recognise you, Dante."

"Yeah," the blond man admitted. "I ran into her mom, Nevan, about a year back. Tough cookie."

"Like mother, like daughter, huh?" Harry asked.

"Nah, this one's not half so bad as her mom. You guys are wizards from England, right? You were at Hogwarts together?"

Harry was surprised. "You know about Hogwarts?"

Dante nodded. "My mother thought about sending me and Vergil – my brother – there, but we aren't wizards, not really, so she decided not to." In answer to Harry's still puzzled look, Dante elaborated. "Where I come from, Vie de Marlie, wizards and Muggles live side-by-side. It was where the first Hell-Gate was, where my father and an army of wizards and Muggle warriors drove the last Demon-Lords back into Hell and sealed the Gate. We don't forget what we owe each other, so there's never been a separation."

"Your parents are wizards, then?" asked Harry, wondering if Dante and his brother might be some kind of Squibs, half magical, half not. Dante certainly had some non-Muggle abilities, but he was also no wizard, and Harry was sure he wasn't a Mutant, or Cerebro would have detected him long before.

Dante shook his head. "My mother was a Muggle. Her name was Beatrice. My father, Sparda, was a Demon Lord, one of the most powerful ones. A long time ago, demons ruled Earth, coming through in Vie de Marlie. They treated humans like dirt, but Father never agreed with that. In the end, he turned against them, spent the rest of his life fighting them. He did that for three or four thousand years before he married Mom. He's gone now. All he left were these guns and this sword – it's called Rebellion. Vergil wouldn't touch it – he prefers a katana – but I like it. I found it locked away when Mom died. I've been using it since."

"So there were wizards back then?" Harry asked.

"Guess so," Dante agreed. "They were there before the demons. The story goes that back in what they call the Third Age, five wizards came to Middle Earth; white, grey, brown and two blue. The white one turned traitor and got himself murdered. The grey one went back where he came from. But the other three stayed, raised families, and that's where wizards came from. I don't know if that's exactly how it went, history lessons kinda made me sleepy!"

"Me, too!" grinned Harry. "Then again, Professor Binns, our teacher, is a ghost, so I suppose it's not really his fault he's boring!"

Dante laughed. "My history tutor was a guy called Methos – he's an Immortal. Been around so long he's forgotten his age, I think. Oldest Immortal left since the Highlander killed the Kurgan."

Harry had heard of the Immortals, of course, several of them featured in History of Magic lessons because some of them had been wizards. Still, he was surprised at Dante's familiarity with them. Clearly, his new ally was more than a simple fighter!

The spiral corridor they were following opened out into a huge space that ended in a pair of vast, cathedral-like doors. Once again, the doors were carved with elaborate images of intertwined snakes. But this time, there was another creature represented. Many of the snakes appeared to be having what Harry could only describe as unnatural relations with giant bats, who in turn were giving birth to horrible, scaled, winged hybrids. It made him feel faintly queasy, and by the way Dante swore, Harry guessed he felt the same way.

"Yes, well, when you've finished admiring the pornography, perhaps we could proceed?" said Draco acidly. "Or must you have another hissy fit, Potter?"

Harry ignored Draco. He studied the door. Selene would hardly use the same password twice, he supposed. No, if this was her Temple, then the word to open its doors would be one that had special significance to her. Harry racked his brains, trying to call up everything he could remember from the briefings they had had. He wished Hermione were here – she conscientiously memorised every detail of every briefing file, of course.

Why had Selene built this Temple? She wanted something to summon her father and mother from Hell to work some magic on her. To make her… he had it!

"Completion!" he hissed at the door. It didn't move, so he tried another tack, "Perfection!"

This time, the great bolts slid aside, and the doors opened slowly inwards. Inside was a vast hall, so huge that Harry realised at once that they must be in a magical place like the Labyrinth of Amagor outside normal space and time.

Harry hadn't time to think about it, though, because of what faced him, Draco and Dante as they stepped through. The doors closed silently behind them, but they didn't notice. Between them and the next door, crouched a creature out of nightmare!

Hagrid had once trained and raised a three-headed dog, which he had called Fluffy. Fluffy had seemed huge to an eleven-year-old Harry, but he was no bigger than one of the heads of the three-headed hound that faced them now! The central head faced Dante, and spoke in a thunderous growl.

"Greetings, Son of Sparda! You slew my kennel-mate Cerberus, a year ago. My name is Orthrus, and you will not so easily best me!"

"Oh, yeah?" sneered Dante. "OK, mutt, time to get you housebroken!"

Chapter 20: Cyclops Holds Down the Pillow

Encouraged by Harry's message, Cyclops held his team together for a few more minutes, but he could see the demon horde was still growing. He was on the point of ordering a retreat anyway, when a different voice sounded in his ear.

"Black Bishop to Cyclops. We're coming in on your left flank. Warn your people we're on their side!"

This must be the help Hawk talked about! Scott knew from overhearing Rookwood and Pierce that there was dissension in the Hellfire ranks. It seemed Leland was loyal to Shaw, and prepared to fight off Selene's demons.

Scott switched to command frequency. "Attention! The forces coming from the left are on our side!"

Then, with a roar of gunfire and a hail of spells, a mixed force of wizards and mercs stormed into the room, once again throwing the demons into confusion. The massive form of the Black Bishop approached Cyclops, shouting, "Get your people back behind mine, they need a breather!"

Scott complied, relaying the order through his communicator before turning to Professor McGonagall, who had been fighting with a skill and cunning he wouldn't have expected of her. "Come on!" he shouted, grabbing her hand and pulling her back into an area of relative quiet.

Minerva stood panting, one hand on her chest. "Are you OK?" asked Scott. She flashed him a quick smile. "I'm fine. Just not as young as I once was, Jean-Paul!"

"Jean-Paul?" Cyclops asked, puzzled.

McGonagall, to his surprise, went slightly pink. "I do apologise, Scott. Jean-Paul was an old…friend…with whom I shared some exciting times, once. He was much like you, and the situation rather took me back!"

Surprising Scott even more, she gave the hand she still held a gentle squeeze before releasing it and saying, "To my mind, Mlle Delacour is a very fortunate young woman, as I once was."

Rather flattered, Scott turned to find himself facing Fleur. The two embraced fiercely, then Fleur looked over his shoulder and remarked with a smile, "I suspect zat if Professeur McGonagall were younger, I would 'ave – 'ow you say? – a fight on my 'ands."

Leland made his way over to them. "Cyclops, here's the situation. Sebastian had a run-in with Hunter and came off worse, but Mrs Lestrange managed to untie him. They've gone to the control centre. Sebastian is trying to override the programming on the Sentinels, so they'll attack demons rather than Mutants. Once they've done that, we should have an edge."

Cyclops nodded. The Sentinel robots, with their high-tech weaponry and sophisticated combat programming, would be more than a match for most demons. Still, there was a problem. He turned to the group of X-Men and wizards who now surrounded him.

"That's fine, but we need an overall plan. What are we doing here?"

"Holding Down the Pillow," said Ron quietly.

"What?" Cyclops stared at the young wizard.

Wolverine spoke up. "It's a term from Musashi, the Japanese strategist. It means to lead the enemy around, impose your will on him and encourage his useless actions, while discouraging his useful ones. You want to explain that better, Hunter?"

Ron said, "We know Hawk's heading for Selene's Temple. The best thing she could do is put everything she has into stopping him, but instead, she's wasting time and effort flinging all these demons at us. So, we keep attacking, keep her fixed on us, and give Harry his chance!"

Sunfire looked at Ron. "I was not aware you had read A Book of Five Rings, Hunter-san."

Ron grinned. "Logan gave me a copy for Christmas."

"It's the only book he's ever read cover-to-cover more than once," put in Hermione. "I can't make head nor tail of it!"

"Surprised as I am to hear that young Ronald here has actually read a book," supplied McGonagall, "I must admit that his analysis seems an accurate one."

Ron blushed. "Thanks, Professor!"

"Minerva, please, Ronald!" McGonagall told him. "You are no longer my student, and at the moment, we seem to be comrades in arms."

Ron went even redder. Cyclops allowed himself a grin at the way this huge, tough young man suddenly turned into a shy, embarrassed kid. Then Scott made up his mind.

"Hunter's right, people. Let's just keep doing what we're doing. If the demons retreat, we follow them. Whatever happens, we keep attacking, because the longer we keep Selene occupied, the more chance Hawk's gonna have. Let's go!"

"Back to doin' what we do best, Padfoot?" Logan said with a grin.

Sirius kissed Ororo and took his arm from round her waist. "Coming, Wolverine! Are you with us, darling?"

Storm's smile was both serene and dangerous. "I'll be right on top of you, dearest."

"Nothing new there!" Sirius replied with a leer, as she sprang into the air, and the three advanced as a unit.

Banshee rose into the air. Nearby, Bill and Tonks kissed hastily, then mounted up and kicked off. "We've got your six, Sean!" called Tonks.

Ariel stepped away from under Colossus' arm. "OK, Petey, you knock 'em down, and Firebird and I will make sure they stay down."

Then she turned to Ginny, realising that they could die here today. Kitty suddenly wanted no more of what she now understood to be a silly, pointless feud. Impulsively, she darted forward and hugged the young English witch.

"Stay safe, Ginny," she whispered. "I don't want to have to give Harry bad news."

Ginny, who'd been thinking similar thoughts, stopped her with a squeeze. "Same goes for you, Kitty. We've both been silly cows, haven't we?"

"We can talk later," Kitty told her. "Right now, you watch my back, and I'll watch yours."

"And we can both watch Peter's bum!" added Ginny with a cheeky grin.

"That could get a little distracting," Ariel noted with a chuckle.

The X-Men plunged back into the fight. Scott advanced, Havok on his right, Fleur and the redoubtable Minerva McGonagall on his left, while Polaris guarded them from the air. Remus, Emma, Beast and Nightcrawler wreaked havoc among the minor demons. Rogue had absorbed the power of a Hell Guard, and now used its scythe with deadly efficiency, while Iceman backed her up with his own formidable powers. Seamus, Dazzler, Psyche and Wolfsbane teamed with Charm and Hunter to form a fast, powerful assault team. Sunfire darted here and there above the melee, raining down fire on the enemy. Even the Black Bishop, no man of action, bore his part; positioned between the lethal Cole and the viciously effective Grimslade, he used his power over mass to bring down demon after demon to where his comrades could deal with them.

Casualties among the American wizards and Hellfire mercenaries were lighter than Leland had feared. Much persuasion and haranguing from Cole and Grimslade had borne fruit, and the disparate groups had learned to work together. The wizards provided shields as well as a variety of curses and hexes that confused, slowed or paralysed the demons. This rendered them vulnerable to the heavier firepower of the merc units, armed with Uzis, M16s, grenade launchers and flamethrowers.

The battle was at its furious height when a sudden, unnatural chill filled the air. Then there was another burst of the familiar violet light, but a much larger one. The figure that appeared from it was shaped like a gigantic gorilla, at least fifteen feet tall. Its fur was a dead, greenish-black and its glowing, red eyes gazed around, full of a malign intelligence.

"Oranguerra!" gasped Remus. "Jupiter! Selene must be getting desperate."

Oranguerra focused on one of the wizard-merc teams, and howled at them. His cry took the form of a blast of compressed air that scattered the team, killing some and leaving the others easy prey for the charging msira. But the larger demon did not repeat the attack. Instead, he began to growl and chatter. The other demons seemed to understand him, and fell back towards him. It was clear they were massing for a charge.

Hermione made a decision. She knew she was the only one who could do anything now. "Cyclops!" she barked into her communicator. "Get everyone back behind me!"

Cyclops obeyed, but came running up to her. She said quickly, "I don't know how long I'm going to be able to hold my spell so you must keep everyone well clear until I stop. You'll know when that is."

With that, she set off toward the centre of the clear space the mutual retreat had created. Hermione regretted she'd not spent more time perfecting the spell she was about to cast. She had crafted it herself from an idea given her by Ron's interest in Muggle science, but she hadn't yet discovered how to make it self-sustaining. It took energy to maintain it, and Hermione knew her physical reserves were not great.

Hermione thought she was probably going to die. Unless she could eliminate all the demons, which she doubted, she was sure none of her friends could reach her before any survivors tore her to pieces. But this was for Ron, for Harry, for everyone she loved and cared about, and it was the only way.

When she realised Ron was beside her, she turned on him fiercely. "You go right back right now!" she told him.

He shook his head. "No," he said, and his tone told her there was nothing she could do. "I know what you're planning, 'Mione. You'll need me to keep them off you afterwards till the others get here."

He won't be able to do it, she thought. Ron was brave and strong, but he wasn't a powerful enough wizard to hold off a horde of demons single-handedly. He was planning to die for her, she realised, fighting back tears. Well, if her man died, she resolved, then she, Hermione Jean Granger, would die with him! They'd go down fighting together!

They reached the centre of the hall. In front of them, the demons were massed, the giant Oranguerra in the middle of them. Hermione didn't waste time on words; she simply raised her wand and invoked, "Singularius!"

A tiny speck of absolute darkness flew from the tip of her wand to hover just in front of Oranguerra. For a moment, nothing happened, then the air around the speck seemed to distort. Oranguerra began to reach out, and was suddenly pulled forward! As Hermione watched, his arm seemed to stretch out, becoming at once thinner and smaller, as if he were vanishing into the distance. The demon howled. The rest of him began to move, undergoing the same change as his arms. Then, like water draining from a bath, Oranguerra began to twist, swirl and disappear into the black speck. Around him, other demons were suffering the same fate. By ones and twos, then dozens, they were sucked in.

Ron had spent hours with Hermione, trying to grasp the concept of Black Holes, which fascinated him. From those talks, she had conceived the idea of magically creating a tiny spot of matter so massive, so dense, that it became in effect a miniature Black Hole, with a gravity field intense enough to capture anything within range. Hermione called it the Singularity Charm, though Harry had suggested 'Black Hole Hex', and Ron had christened it the 'Rift-Ripper Curse' because it effectively created a rift in normal space and time.

Hermione was in a quandary, now. She could feel her strength waning, and knew she couldn't sustain the spell much longer. Should she keep going, trying to suck in as many demons as she could, or save some of her strength for what she was sure would be her and Ron's final battle? Beside her, she could hear Ron. He obviously knew she was nearing the end of her endurance and yet he seemed to be…singing!

"The minstrel boy to the wars has gone,

In the ranks of death you will find him!

His father's sword he hath girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him."

I will never understand men! Hermione thought. Then her vision blurred, and she had to release the spell. She fell to her knees beside Ron, hearing the howls of the remaining demons as they charged, and Cyclops' barked commands ordering his people forward. There was a puff of smoke, and Kurt was there – in her fatalistic mood, Hermione had forgotten about Nightcrawler. He tried to grab her, but she summoned what strength she had to fight him off: She would not leave Ron!

Then there was heat, and a roaring of flames, and demons screaming in agony! Hermione looked up to see a wall of flame stretching from one side of the hall to the other. Demons were charging into it to be burned to ashes. Nightcrawler gasped, "Mein Gott!" Hermione looked toward Ron towering above her. His wand was levelled at the fire, and a wolfish grin lit his face.

"Welcome to Big Ron's Barbecue, arseholes!" he bellowed. "No rare, no medium. Everybody gets well done!"

Now tears were streaming down Hermione's face, even as she beamed up at Ron. I should have trusted you! she thought. She knew Ron! For seven years, she had lived alongside him, helped him with homework, played games with him, quarrelled with him, fought beside him, and loved him. She knew his moods, his whimsies, his virtues and his faults. She had made love with him; her hands and mouth knew every inch of that superb body. But after all this, he could still surprise her! Hermione would never have believed Ron capable of casting so powerful a spell, and yet, there it was.

As she struggled to her feet, three powerful homromsira demons that had somehow avoided the flames leapt at Ron. Nightcrawler moved in a blur, taking one down. Before Hermione could gather herself, there was a shimmering in the air, and two figures appeared. It was not Apparation, or a Portkey, she realised, but the TransMat device Ron had told her about. The newcomers were the Black King and Bellatrix.

Shaw tackled one demon, grasping it with superhuman strength and breaking its neck with a savage twist. Bellatrix exorcised the other, then turned to Hermione, saying, "Get up, you stupid Mudblood! We've no time for shilly-shallying."

Then the other X-Men were round them. Shaw told Cyclops, "Hold position here! Bella and I have cooked up a little surprise for this scum. Hunter, well done, boy, but you better drop your spell now." Ron did so, sagging a little, and he and Hermione found themselves being pushed back to the rear, out of harm's way.

Hermione flung herself at Ron, crying and laughing at the same time. "Oh my darling! I'm sorry…I never…I should have..." Hermione fell back on the only coherent sentence she could form. "Oh, Ron, I love you so much!"

She kissed him deeply, urgently, passionately, trying to show with that gesture everything he meant to her. Then she leaned back to gaze up at him.

He smiled down gently at her. "Steady on, pet," he admonished. "People will talk, you know!"

"Oh, you!" Hermione laughed in spite of herself. It was another of Ron's gifts to make the extraordinary suddenly commonplace. "Let 'em talk! If they haven't sussed how I feel about you by now, we'd better start handing out guide dogs and white sticks."

"'Sussed'? Did you say 'sussed'?" he asked. "That's not a Hermione Granger word! Hermione would say, 'In the event that our acquaintances lack the inherent perspicacity to elucidate the intensity of our mutual emotional involvement, we should consider supplying them with suitable paraphernalia for the visually impaired', now wouldn't she?"

Hermione howled. Then she burst into tears and clung tightly to Ron as he murmured, "That's it, my lover, get it all out."

Meanwhile, the battle had taken a bad turn for Selene's forces. Hermione's spell had eliminated fully half of the demons, and Ron's firewall had decimated the survivors. Now, as Shaw pressed a button on his wrist unit, the unique shimmer of the TransMat heralded the arrival of a phalanx of Sentinels. The robots advanced relentlessly on the demons, destroying them with laser bolts, HE grenades and poison gas, or simply tearing them apart. Demonic flesh is still only flesh, and these armoured titans were more than the Hellspawn could handle. Within moments, the last of the demons fell.

There was no cheering, no celebration. Cyclops shook hands with Shaw and Leland. Cole slapped Grimslade on the back and sent him staggering. Friends embraced, assuring themselves that those they loved were unharmed. Lovers held each other with fierce tenderness. For a moment, old animosities were forgotten as a mutual threat was vanquished.

Cyclops led Shaw and Bellatrix over to Ron and Hermione. Emma joined them, flushed and bright-eyed because in the moment of victory, Remus had responded to her eager embrace and deep kiss. Tonks was also making her way over, eyes on Bellatrix.

"Charm, that was spectacular!" Cyclops told her. "But if I'd known the risk you were taking, I'd never have let you."

"Of course not!" Hermione responded. "That's why I didn't tell you." She moved away from Ron a little, putting out a hand to Cyclops. "I'm sorry, Scott, but it was the only way to make a big enough dent in them – and to get rid of the big one."

Scott sighed. "I know, Hermione, just don't ever scare me like that again, girl!" He took her hand, then pulled her close and hugged her hard.

Tonks confronted Bellatrix. "Bellatrix Lestrange, you are under arrest for crimes against your fellow wizards. You will surrender your wand and accompany me to a place of detention, where you will await trial."

"Hold it!" barked Shaw. "Mrs Lestrange is now the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. If you want to take her, Miss, you'll have to take on all of us!"

"I have no choice, Mr Shaw," Tonks said formally. "Mrs Lestrange is a known associate of the late Tom Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort, and stands accused of practising the Dark Arts, torture, murder and other criminal acts including the use of Unforgivable Curses."

"Just a moment Miss…?" Grimslade interrupted, coming up with a group of others.

"Nymphadora Tonks, Auror," Tonks introduced herself.

Grimslade inclined his head. "Caradoc Grimslade, Member of the Council of Fifty," he replied.

"Council of Fifty?" Tonks asked.

"The closest thing to a governing body we American wizards will tolerate," Grimslade told her, producing a small parchment and handing it to Tonks. "One wizard from each state. We meet when necessary to discuss matters that affect all wizards in America. As a member of that Council, representing the State of Massachusetts, I have authority to resolve certain matters at my own discretion.

"You, however, as a British Auror, have no legal status here. Now, I understand we had four individuals here who were fugitives from your Ministry of Magic. Greyback is dead, so we needn't concern ourselves with him. I am aware that you have Augustus Rookwood in custody, and as far as anyone here is concerned, you're welcome to keep him! That leaves the question of Mrs Lestrange here, and Mr Pettigrew–"

"Pettigrew's gone," Sirius said.

"What happened?" demanded Remus.

"Somethin' he disagreed with et him," said Wolverine with a grim smile.

"Good enough," Grimslade said. "Now, as to Mrs Lestrange, I must ask this: Bellatrix Lestrange, do you request asylum in this country?"

"I do," Bellatrix replied.

"Then, as a Member of the Council, I grant that request. You are now under our jurisdiction." Grimslade turned once again to Tonks. "I'll prepare a document for you to take back to the Ministry. I expect they'll find it expedient to commute any sentence to lifelong exile from Britain, don't you?"

Tonks nodded reluctantly, handing back the parchment. "This seems to be genuine. And you're right about the Ministry. Exiling Lestrange will save them a lot of time and money, as well as a controversial trial. They won't want to bring up the whole Pureblood versus Half-blood and Muggle-born debate again. Rookwood can be tried on espionage charges – in camera – but Lestrange would have to be tried publicly."

"It will also save them the trouble of having me and my Sentinels tear down every stone of your Azkaban Prison to get my Bella back!" Shaw said hotly.

Bella put a hand on his arm. "Hush, my love," she told him. Then she turned to Tonks. "Miss Tonks, I will also have a document for you to take back – a petition to the Wizengamot to annul my marriage."

"Annul?" queried Tonks dubiously.

Bella nodded. "I was already Voldemort's mistress when I married. The marriage was a political one, and Rudolphus never touched me – I think he was afraid! Now, I would like a real marriage." She smiled at Shaw, who smiled back.

"Well, don't that beat all!" murmured Havok.

"If anyone had any doubts," put in Emma, "everyone here is telling the truth."

"Whatever status Tonks here may or may not have," Cyclops told Grimslade and Shaw, "we X-Men have no authority to arrest or detain anyone. Mr Shaw, we have Jason Wyngarde at the mansion. He was injured. As soon as he's well enough, he'll be free to leave."

Rahne started forward, but Dani caught her arm. If Magneto wanted to spy on the Hellfire Club, it was none of their business.

Hermione stepped close to Emma and asked quietly, "That – outfit – Bellatrix is nearly wearing… You had one like it in white, didn't you?"

Emma nodded. "It's what Hellfire Club queens wear on duty, Charm. Why?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Shaw offered to make me Red Queen earlier. If I'd accepted, would I…?"

"Yes," Emma chuckled. "You'd have been expected to wear the same, only in red." She looked critically at Hermione. "I think it would have suited you."

Hermione elbowed a snickering Ron in the ribs, and called, "Mr Shaw?"

The Black King looked over. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"About that offer you made me before," Hermione began, "I'm afraid I have to decline. Apart from anything else, you're seriously in need of a better costume designer."

Shaw smiled. "Indeed? We thought that to accommodate you, Hermione, some cosmetic enhancement might not be out of the question."

Hermione stared. "You'd expect me to have a boob job?" she said incredulously.

He shrugged and spread his hands. "Our profilers thought it might make you feel more comfortable with your femininity. Feminine wiles are a large part of a Hellfire Queen's role, you know."

Hermione stared for a moment longer, then burst into peals of laughter. For a moment she was helpless, then she shook her head and told Shaw, "You should get yourself some better profilers, mate! I'm engaged to, and madly in love with, the bravest, strongest, sexiest man in the world! Believe you me, I have no doubts about my femininity."

This time, everyone laughed, then again when Ginny called, "Oi! Hermione! Since when did you get engaged to Harry?"

"Or 'Berto?" asked Dani.

"Or Sam?" put in Rahne.

"Or Sirius?" Ororo couldn't resist adding.

Emma was tempted, but caught the tense look on Remus' face and held her tongue. He wasn't ready, yet. Soon, Mr Remus Lupin, she thought, I know it, and you know it – you can run from me, but you can't hide from yourself!

"Speaking of Hawk," said Cyclops, "we'd better check in on him."

"Already done!" said Ginny. "Kitty and I reached him." She held up her locket, and Kitty her bracelet, which she kept in her utility belt when Harry was on the team, just in case.

"He's had a nasty scrap with some dog-type demon, but he's heading into the Temple now. He's got Draco Malfoy with him, of all people!"

Bellatrix nodded. "My nephew has personal reasons for wishing to dispose of Selene. I think he planned to do the same to me, but Sebastian had words with him."

Shaw grinned. "He's not as gutsy or as skilled as Hunter. He didn't want to take me on!"

"Whatever," said Kitty. "There's also another guy with them – demon hunter called Dante. Anyone heard of him?"

Nobody had. Just then, there was the sound of a martial fanfare, and yet another violet flash.

The figure that appeared in the middle of the hall was perhaps seven feet tall and slender. He was clad in blue-black, elaborate armour, including a helmet decorated with curling ram's horns. He carried a massive blue sword, with a blade nearly six feet long.

The newcomer saluted them and spoke in a deep, musical voice. "Greetings. I am Angelo Nelo, herald and general to the Empress Selene."

"She's promoted herself? Arrogant bitch!" Bella muttered to Shaw.

Angelo Nelo continued, "I commend your valour and your skills. I come to tell you that your Champion, the Man Who Won, in company with the valiant Son of Sparda and the cunning First of the Knights of Walpurgis, even now does battle with my Empress.

"On the outcome of their battle, all of our fates rest, so I am commanded to call truce between us for this time. Do you accept?"

"Hawk can handle himself," Wolverine pointed out, and everyone had to agree.

Rogue looked around their forces, and said, "Cyke, we're all tired right now, and some of the mercs an' other wizards are pretty banged up. If somethin' goes wrong, an' Hawk loses, or if this guy's pullin' some kinda scam, we're gonna be no help if we're all tuckered out. Ah reckon we should take the chance for a breather while we can! Anyways, Ah'm bettin' on Harry."

Cyclops looked at Shaw. "Any thoughts?"

The Black King shook his head. "I can't fault Rogue's assessment, Cyclops. I'll go with whatever you say."

"Other opinions?" Cyclops looked around.

Remus raised a finger. "I've never heard of this Angelo Nelo," he said, "but that armour and sword of his mark him as a Demon Knight. They're unique among demons in that their word is their bond. If they commit any breach of honour, they revert to msira – the lowest rank of demon. I think it's some kind of geas that was laid on them at their creation. Is that any help?"

"Might be more help if I knew what a geas was," said Cyclops ruefully. "No, Hermione, don't explain, my head's hurting enough as it is. I'm going to take Remus' word that we can trust this guy's word."

He turned back to the Demon Knight, saying formally, "We accept your truce. We will await the outcome."

Angelo Nelo bowed, then rested his great sword point down on the floor, and seemed to go into some kind of trance.

The oddly assorted group began to go about the business of 'taking a breather'. The mercs had medics among them. Some of the wizards were Healers, and these started to tend the injured. Fleur, Dani and Marie went to help. Hermione was still exhausted, so Ron settled himself on the floor, and she dozed beside him, her head in his lap. The others sat or stood around, talking quietly.

"It was my own silly fault," Ginny was telling Kitty. "I'd spent so long wanting Harry, ever since I was a little girl. Then I decided he didn't really want anything to do with girls – especially after that thing with Cho Chang – so I sort of gave up on him.

"Then, of course, he comes over here, and the next thing is, Marie's asking us about him because she wants to be sure he's suitable for you! I hated you without even knowing you! I thought, 'What's that Yank cow got that I haven't?' But then there was Peter, and he's so lovely and gentle and sweet, so I let him wrap himself round me, and it was like having a big teddy bear, only better!

"And then Harry came back, and he was so different. He was shy and funny and sweet natured, and I thought, 'This is the real Harry!' So I was smitten all over again, but this time, he was interested in me! So now we're together, and I love him, and he loves me, and it's so wonderful! But I know he still cares for you a lot, and I was scared that you'd just waltz back one day and take him away from me. So I kept on being nasty to you; I couldn't help it. What made it worse was that I actually like you – you're a nice person, and we would've been friends but for my jealousy. That's silly! We love the same man, so what? Hermione loves Harry, too, and so does Marie, and Ororo, and my Mum, and even Dani a little bit – and we all love him in different ways. And I still love Peter, but not the way you do, so why do we have to fight?

"So I'm really sorry, Kitty. Can we be friends now?"

Kitty reached out and grasped Ginny's arm. "It takes two to tango, Ginny! I was being a bitch, too, and for no good reason. Look, when I first knew Harry, he'd been through a bad time. You know that better than I do 'cause you were there. At Xavier's, he had his first chance in years to just be Harry, to forget all that Boy Who Lived crap! He told me once that ever since that boy Cedric was killed in front of him, he'd felt kinda shut off from himself and everyone else. Being away from England, and Hogwarts, and Voldemort and all, he got a chance to remember who he was.

"It was that guy I fell for, the guy who'd been through bad times, like I had, and was coming out the other end. But like I told you before, Harry's dangerous, even edgy, and being with him was too risky for me. It was intense while it lasted, and he'll always be special to me, just like Petey is to you. But it was like riding a roller coaster: It's fun at the time, but you don't wanna do it every day!

"But I worried for him. When he went back to England, he wasn't but half-healed, and then he took up with you. I was scared you'd hurt him, not deliberately, but 'cause you didn't know any better. So I was always edgy around you, and that's what made me bitch at you so much. The fact that you're such a sweetie and you love him so much made it even worse, 'cause then I felt guilty. I'm Jewish, you know – we do guilt a lot!

"So I'm sorry too, Ginny, and yes, I'd like to be friends!"

The two young women embraced, both a little teary, but Ginny still had one question to ask. "Kitty, why did you never sleep with him?"

Kitty sighed and shrugged. "He never asked me to! I kept dropping hints, but…."

"Oh, that's Harry!" Ginny laughed. "You can hint all you want, and just get blank looks! Mind, once he gets the idea, there's no holding the man."

McGonagall was saying to Cyclops and Fleur, "It's something of a mystery, I must admit. I'm afraid with advancing years, I find myself sleeping less and less at night, though I can quite easily doze off in my chair in the afternoon! I had gone down to see if Dobby, one of our House Elves, could furnish me with some cocoa, when I met Jessica wandering the corridor. She told me she'd been troubled with odd dreams of a kind she had experienced many times before, except that these seemed more urgent.

"Then she suddenly said, 'He needs me!' An instant later, she Disapparated. I have a touch of clairvoyance – it is what enables me to distinguish between children with real magical talent and the merely lucky – so I was able to follow her here. She claims Mr Wyngarde is her half-brother, but of that I know nothing."

Perhaps half an hour had passed when Angelo Nelo suddenly stirred. "The Empress requires my presence," he said, and vanished.

At almost the same moment, Ginny started up, shouting "Harry!" She grabbed Kitty by the arm and Disapparated with a boom, taking the young Mutant with her.

Chapter 21: Selene's Homecoming

Harry was hurting, near to exhaustion, and he still had a long fight ahead of him. Orthrus, the three-headed demon dog, was the most formidable opponent he had ever faced. At first, he had been heartened to discover that massive chains secured to huge ringbolts in the chamber floor restrained the beast. He could advance no more than halfway across the room, so his three opponents could stay outside the reach of his slavering jaws and great, clawed paws.

But they quickly found out that Orthrus had other abilities that seemed to reside in his three heads. One spat fireballs; another could cause a rain of fire by howling at the ceiling. The third could breathe on the floor, causing it to erupt in sheets of short-lived but fierce flame. Worse, the creature was incredibly tough, shrugging off Dante's hail of bullets, Harry's most powerful hexes and even Draco's Unforgivable Curses. Driven to extremes, Draco had even cast Avada Kedavra with little more effect than to stun Orthrus momentarily.

Dante had been rash enough to advance more than once into the demon's reach, to slash at it with his great sword. That weapon had caused more damage, opening deep cuts. But even the inhuman toughness of the demon-hunter did not allow him to stay close to Orthrus for long.

Harry glanced at his companions. Draco was close to collapse. His smart, grey attire was blackened and ripped, and his skin showed numerous burns. Dante had fared better, protected by his leather duster, but he had been bitten and clawed and was bleeding freely. Harry himself had been burned, though the tough polymer of his uniform was flame retarding, or he would have been in far worse shape.

"This is no good!" Harry panted. "We have to work together! Come on, all at once, target the head in the middle!"

Dante grinned. "Let's do it!" Draco merely nodded.

The three sprang forward as one, directing a barrage of bullets and magic at the central head. For a moment, Harry feared they wouldn't succeed, but then the head fell limp, while the other two bellowed howls of agony!

But they had got too close, and Orthrus leaped forward. One great paw smashed into Draco, sending him flying backward to lie in a broken heap against the wall. One of the remaining heads snapped at Dante. He twisted to avoid the blackened fangs, but was also knocked aside. Harry was both lucky and agile, flipping back out of the reach of the other remaining head. But he was tired, and the floor was slippery with demon blood. He lost his balance, fell badly, and felt a rib crack and his left shoulder dislocate.

Harry heaved himself upright, swearing fluently, then stopping as he imagined Molly's scowl. Mum would not like that! he thought wryly, surprised and a little guilty about how naturally he thought of Ron and Ginny's mother as his own. He shook his head – no time for wool gathering!

Then Dante was at his side, grasping his left arm in an iron grip and, with a wrench that sent a blaze of pain through Harry, setting the shoulder back in its socket.

"Thanks," Harry groaned, rubbing his arm. "We have to do that again, if we can. But we're one short. If Draco could get up, he would've done. Bastard better not be dead – I want to kill him myself one day!"

They watched Orthrus, who had retreated back as far as he could. One of his heads was nuzzling and licking the dead one, whining pathetically. But the other glared at them, snarling, "Kill you! Burn you! Make you suffer as I do!"

Dante hesitated, then said, "Look Harry, I may be able to get at least one more of those heads, but I have to get in close to do it. There's a way, but it's not pretty. Even if it works, it may leave you facing the last one on your own. Don't suppose you got a lightsaber somewhere in that uniform, do you?"

"What the bloody Hell's a lightsabre?" growled Harry impatiently before remembering that he had, in fact, seen Star Wars, but he'd been sitting next to Kitty at the time and his head had been so full of her perfume and presence that he'd barely noticed the film.

Dante made a dismissive gesture, then tensed, listening. An instant later, Harry heard it too, a sound from beyond the door through which they had come. It was an odd, near-human howling that was at once familiar and strange to Harry, filling him with fear, elation, loathing and relief all at once.

Both men turned, forgetting Orthrus for a moment. Something struck the door with a mighty blow, then again and again. On the third stroke, the bolts gave way and the door swung open. Through it floated a black shape, one Harry had seen before.

It was the huge black broadsword that had hung in Selene's study – the sword that Harry had been vaguely afraid of. But now it was no longer simply a piece of forged metal. The runes carved along the blade glowed with black light, and the weapon floated lightly in the air, emitting its eerie song. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, then moved toward Harry.

Instinctively, Harry dropped his wand and stretched his right hand out. The sword turned in the air and the hilt settled into his hand like a pet returning to its master. The blade purred as Harry's hand closed round the grip, and suddenly his mind was full of images, of words, of names.

He was Dorian Hawkmoon von Koln, battling the Beast Lords of the Dark Empire.

He was Druss the Legend, Captain of the Axe, hurling Nadir warriors from the walls of Dros Delnoch.

He was ur-Lord Thomas Covenant, Unbeliever and white gold wielder, numb and starving, confronting Lord Foul the Despiser.

He was Captain John Sheridan, commander of Babylon 5, determined to defeat the ancient, alien Shadows.

He was Elric of Melnibone, last of the Bright Emperors, albino warrior-mage, wielding his black runesword to slay the gods themselves.

He was Harry Potter, and the sword was his sword, it had always been, would always be, his sword, whatever guise he or it took. It was the Black Sword, the blade of the Eternal Champion, and its name was Stormbringer.

Harry turned to face Orthrus, who was gathering himself for another attack. The massive broadsword should have been too heavy for him to lift, but it floated in his hand as lightly as Godric's sword had all those years ago. He was filled with energy, with strength. He glanced at Dante.

"One head each, this time. You go right, I go left!"

Dante nodded. "Just remember, whatever you see, it's still me!"

With that, a red glow surrounded Dante for a second, and he was transformed into a winged, demon-like figure wielding a fiery blade. He took to the air and swooped on Orthrus.

Harry, all his pain and tiredness gone, charged the demon dog, swinging at its neck and dodging to one side as it snapped at him. Stormbringer snarled as it sliced into the flesh, drawing a wail of agony from the creature. Harry was no swordsman, but that didn't seem to matter – the howling runeblade was fighting for him. A strange, fierce ecstasy possessed him as he fought, hacking at the weakening demon, yelling in a language he did not know.

On the other side, Dante was flying around the last head like a flaming hawk, stooping in to slash with his red-hot blade. His demon form seemed immune to the fireballs hurled at him.

Orthrus was weakening rapidly, and the end came quickly as Harry severed one head and Dante thrust his blade through the eye of the other. The great dog collapsed, twitching. As Dante hovered above it, a swarm of red globes flew up into his hands. Then Orthrus faded and vanished.

At once, the sword in Harry's hand began to scream and twist in his grip. He released it, and it rose into the air, hovered for a moment, then made a slashing motion. For a moment, there was a cut in the air, a gap through which an unearthly blue light shone. Stormbringer darted forward into the light, the cut closed, and the sword was gone.

Harry sagged, suddenly all his pain and exhaustion rushed back on him. His cracked rib was throbbing, his burns stinging. He had also acquired several new wounds, slashes from Orthrus' last desperate struggle. The strange battle-fury that had come on him while wielding Stormbringer had faded. The disappearance of the blade left him feeling at once bereft and relieved.

The flying demon alighted beside him and, with a red flash, became Dante again. The young demon-hunter seemed to have taken some kind of Healing Potion – all his wounds had vanished and he looked as fresh as if he'd had a good night's sleep. He looked Harry up and down, then said, "Go take care of Draco. I got an errand to do."

Harry recovered his wand, and stumbled over to where Draco lay. His old enemy had managed to drag himself into a sitting position against the wall. Draco's jacket and shirt had been almost ripped away from his chest, and four long, deep gashes parted the white skin of his torso. He had already lost a lot of blood, but was still conscious. He smiled faintly.

"Well, Harry, it looks as if you're going to see me die after all!"

"Not today, Draco," Harry told him, beginning to close the slashes with the tip of his wand.

"Don't be an idiot, Potter!" Draco coughed, bringing up bright blood. He spat, and continued hoarsely, "You can close the cuts, but you're no Healer. The internal damage is too much. Damn! I'd been looking forward to a long match with you, Harry. Looks like we're both going to be disappointed!"

Harry had no reply. Much as he had once hated Draco, he had no wish to see the man die. He turned away to see what Dante was doing. The tall, blond figure stood before an alcove that had previously been hidden by Orthrus' bulk.

In the alcove was a statue, larger than life-size, of a full-figured woman with a lion's head. She held a large hourglass across her shoulders. Dante appeared to be involved in a silent colloquy with the image. After a moment, he extended his cupped hands towards it; something in them was glowing redly. Then the red light vanished, to be replaced by a green one. Dante bowed to the statue, turned and came quickly over to the others.

"How's he doing?" Dante asked Harry.

"I'm dying, you great oaf!" snapped Draco, before he coughed up more blood.

Dante shook his head. "Don't think so, man. I got something here that'll have you back on your feet before you know it."

He dropped to one knee beside Draco, explaining, "Anywhere demons start popping up, you find those statues. They're shrines to some very old gods – maybe the ones who first created the demons. Anyway, those little globes I collect are like crystallized demon blood – you have to recite an old prayer to make it harden like that – but if you offer them at the shrines, you can get magic stuff in return."

He held up a crystal orb about the size of a goose egg. Carved on it was a smiling face; inside, green fluid glowed. "I call these Vital Orbs. They can heal the worst injuries. Here!"

He pressed the orb to Draco's chest. For a moment, the young wizard was surrounded by a green aura. When it cleared, all his wounds were healed, and he looked healthy. Well, Harry thought, as healthy as Malfoy ever looks! Dante turned to Harry and held out a crystal star filled with the same green potion.

"Here, you're not so badly hurt. A Vital Star is enough to put you right. Just hold it to your chest and relax."

Harry did so. For a moment, a refreshing coolness seemed to flood through him, and then his strength and energy returned. It was not the unnatural power of the Black Sword, but his own youthful vigour that he felt.

He got up and stretched, as did Draco. "That's better!" said Harry. "But how did you heal yourself, Dante?"

Dante shrugged. "It's kind of a side-effect, I think. The longer I spend in my demon form, the more my human body heals. Not that I can stay in demon form for very long – it takes energy that I have to build up from fighting as a human."

Harry digested this in silence. It seemed his newest ally had more in common with their enemy than with him. Still, there was something about Dante that made Harry trust him instinctively. We're two of a kind, he caught himself thinking.

Then other thoughts intruded. Harry? Harry!

There were two 'voices': Ginny's and Kitty's. Harry closed his eyes and at once saw an image of the girls. They were standing close together, both looking into the locket Ginny was holding, the one he had given her for her sixteenth birthday, and both touching the silver bracelet on Kitty's wrist, his parting gift to her over a year ago. Kitty and Ginny working together? I'm doomed! Harry thought to himself before he replied to the girls.

I'm here. I'm fine. What's going on?

Thank Merlin! came Ginny's thought. We just had an almighty scrap! All OK, though!

What about you? asked Kitty.

The usual – nasty fight with a demon dog. Now I'm going into the Temple. I've got Draco with me, and a demon-hunter called Dante. We're going to settle things with Selene once and for all! You lot sit tight and get ready for trouble if I fail.

You won't fail, Hawk! Kitty told him. Just play it cool, and don't take any fool risks!

Bloody right! Ginny added. Now, have you got clean underpants on? she teased.

After what I've been through? Harry retorted. I'll never be constipated again!

He felt Ginny laugh, then grow serious. Whatever happens in there, Harry, never forget I love you – we love you.

I love you, too. All of you! Harry sent a mental kiss, then the contact faded.

Draco was watching him. "You were doing that mind-talking thing again, weren't you?" he asked.

"Telepathy?" queried Dante. "You're a telepath?"

"Only part-time," Harry told him.

Draco frowned. "Mind-talking. I'll have to learn that trick!"

"No chance. For one thing, you'd need a mind," Harry replied. "OK, the Temple proper must be through that door Orthrus was guarding. Let's get in there. We don't have much time."

"You may be right, Harry," Draco put in, "but I for one have no intention of going in there half-naked." He flicked his wand at his shredded clothing, repairing the damage instantly, then did the same for Harry's uniform. "We should at least look respectable," he told the other two. "First impressions are so important."

"Told you he was gay," Dante muttered to Harry as the three approached the door. It swung open before them and they went through.

The temple was vast and circular, lit with red flames that flickered in huge bowls supported by statues representing every foul, twisted type of Hellspawn. There was no altar, but a dais in the centre held four objects.

One was a black, heart-shaped stone, which emitted a wild howling. Then there was a silver chalice, down the side of which black water dripped constantly accompanied by the sound of a woman weeping hopelessly. Next was a large, iron-bound chest made of dark wood. Its lid lay open. It seemed to be filled with grey dust, and from it came a deep groaning. Finally, there was a brazier forged of blackened metal – the flames in it were red as blood, yellow as sulphur, and it screamed as it burned.

These objects were ranged around a phenomenon that could only be the Hell-Gate. It was a crystal vortex, spinning rapidly and flashing all the colours of the spectrum, as well as some which had no Earthly name. From it came the sound of hundreds of deep voices chanting in unison in an unknown tongue.

Harry's senses should have been overwhelmed by this onslaught of sound, yet he heard Draco's dry voice very clearly beside him.

"I appear to have misjudged the formality of the occasion. I feel rather overdressed!"

Between them and the dais stood Selene, stark naked and incredibly beautiful. She smiled at them and held out her arms.

"Come to me," she crooned. "Come, my victorious warriors. You shall be mine and I shall be yours, forever!"

Draco rolled his eyes, and Dante gave a snort of laughter. Harry called, "Leave it out, Selene! Your Glamorus Potion doesn't work on these two, and I'm full of antidote – we sussed out what you were doing ages ago. Now, can you take all three of us on, or are you going to surrender and get dressed?"

Selene's response was to make a complex gesture, unleashing a blaze of white light from her hands. The three men slumped to the floor.

Harry recovered consciousness to find himself chained to a pillar, his arms above his head, his wand laid mockingly at his feet. On his left, Draco was chained, and on his right was Dante, with Rebellion and his pistols in front of him on the floor. Then Harry heard Selene's voice again.

"Such a waste!" she was saying. "Two powerful wizards and a half-demon. Such power I could take from you!"

She came within their range of sight then, still naked, and apparently in some form of ecstatic semi-trance.

"The power builds," she told them. "The Gate reaches deeper. Soon, my parents will be here to make me perfect. Then I shall rule as Regent of Hell, and my demons shall come and go as they please, feeding as they will. But the best, the most powerful, they will bring to me, so that I may gorge on them. Their powers will be mine – I will become the goddess I was born to be, a worthy daughter to my father!

"But you three," she gazed at them almost regretfully, "you are too dangerous, too strong, too cunning, to leave alive till then. You must die now, before you can interfere again!"

Harry saw something out of the corner of his eye, so he called out to Selene, "There's something you don't know!"

"What?" she asked. "You have a secret, Harry Potter?"

"Yes!" he replied. "But it's not for these two to hear. Come close, and I'll whisper."

She came to him then, pressing close, teasing him with her body. He inhaled her exotic perfume, her wild womanly musk, and bent to her delicate ear. "You're already beaten!" he whispered.

Selene leapt back, and the chain holding Dante's left arm snapped with a screech of tortured metal. Harry had spotted Dante working with his superhuman strength on the fetters, and had deliberately brought Selene within range. Dante swung the heavy chain like a whip. The end of it crashed onto Selene's head, sending her to the floor in a spray of blood. With one hand free, Dante was able to snap the other chain quickly. He snatched up Rebellion and cut Harry free, then went to release Draco.

But Selene was already on her feet. Half-demon, like Dante, she was too tough to die easily. Harry snatched up his wand. Selene was weaving arcane gestures in the air, summoning some power, something that, Harry knew, would likely kill them all.

There was only one thing to do; one spell that might work. It was almost a relief, in a way, to have it out in the open. With a sense of finally bringing the two disparate parts of himself into a single, harmonious whole, Harry raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The bolt of green light took Selene full in the chest, and she howled, a horrible, inhuman sound. Then her skin seemed to melt, sloughing away to reveal another Selene beneath. She was still beautiful, in a terrible way. Her skin was ebony black, her hair as white as Dante's, but her eyes glowed red, and the sensual mouth was filled with cruel black fangs.

For a moment she stood there, then she began to howl again. Whisps of smoke rose from her skin, as if it were smouldering. Slowly, she sank to her knees in obvious agony.

Dante and Draco came to Harry's side. Draco used his wand to unlock the chains that still hung from Harry's wrists. "What did you do to her?" he asked, awestruck.

"He killed her," Dante said grimly. "He killed all that was human in her. What's left is pure demon. But demon flesh can't exist in this plane. When you summon a demon, you coat it in Earthly flesh so it can survive here until its shell is destroyed. Since Selene hasn't been summoned, there's nothing of Earth left in her now. If she stays here, the demon part of her will die, too."

"Father!" Selene screamed, and the chanting from the Hell-Gate grew louder. Two figures emerged from the vortex, both of which Harry recognised.

One was a small, old man, with a monkey-like face and a long beard. He carried a staff identical to the one Harry had destroyed earlier. The other was young, black and handsome, and wore Hogwarts robes. Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"Salazar Slytherin and Blaise Zabini!" he gasped.

Slytherin spoke, his voice was a hiss, more snake than human, but in archaic English, not Parseltongue.

"So, these be they who durst wound my daughter! Whither be her champion?"

In a violet flash, a seven-foot tall figure in dark armour, wielding a massive sword, appeared beside Slytherin. The ancient wizard spoke again.

"Champion, deal thou with yonder half-demon. Esquire, slay the minion of Gryffindor. I myself shall deal with this traitorous one of my own House!"

The armoured figure bounded forward and began a fierce but honourable duel with Dante. Zabini advanced on Harry, wand raised.

"You're dead!" Harry raged, bewildered. "Wolverine killed you the day Voldemort died! They brought you out of that dungeon in pieces!" His shock had made Harry drop his guard, and suddenly he was Petrified, unable to move or speak.

Zabini came closer, speaking in an angry, bitter voice. "Yes, Potter, I am dead. Cut into sections by that half-Muggle, half-animal monster you call a friend! Sent to Hell to suffer the pains of the damned for my loyalty to my Dark Lord! For that, Potter, you will die first. Then I shall seek out this Wolverine, and he will not die until he begs to!"

A strange calm came over Harry. He heard Ginny's voice - Whatever happens in there, Harry, never forget I love you! He clung to that thought, summoning her dear face into his mind, wanting his last thoughts to be of her.

Zabini raised his wand, then there was a loud boom, and Ginny's voice yelling "Expelliarmus!" Zabini's wand flew from his hand. He turned, snarling, "Little whore!" He sprang at Ginny, grabbing for her throat. She met Zabini's charge with one of the powerful mule-kicks she so favoured. He crashed to the floor, Harry staggered as the Petrificus spell faded, and Ginny levitated the fallen wizard back into the Hell-Gate.

Then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her, and for a moment, the world was irrelevant. The clash of swords brought them back. Dante and the armoured demon seemed evenly matched until a lucky blow with the flat of the demon's massive sword sent his opponent to the floor. The demon raised his sword to kill, but Ariel darted forward, phasing into him. For a moment, he stood rigid, then he dissolved into a cloud of black vapour that was sucked back into the Hell-Gate. Kitty was left standing alone for a moment, then her knees gave way.

But Ginny was there, her strong arms around her friend, lowering her gently. "Kitty, are you OK?" she asked anxiously.

"That was seriously weird!" muttered Kitty.

Ginny slipped deeper into her natural soft burr as she said, "Don't do things by 'alves, do 'ee, moi lovurr?"

Harry was watching Draco's duel with Slytherin. For one of the greatest wizards in history, Salazar wasn't doing very well. Of course, Harry mused, he's about a thousand years out of practice! There was also the fact that magic, like Muggle technology, had advanced over the centuries. Draco was clearly getting the best of things, driving Slytherin slowly back.

Then long sparks spat from the cobra head of Salazar's wand. Draco blocked them with a shield and Slytherin swore foully.

"Damn you, boy!" he raged at Draco. "Neither my magic nor this otherworldly periapt is a match for thee! But thou durst not slay the very founder of thine own House!"

"You think so?" Draco asked. "Y'know Salazar, I always thought you were overrated. Avada Kedavra!" Slytherin fell dead, a look of pure shock frozen to his face before he dissolved into smoke.

Selene howled again. They all turned to look at her. She was on all fours now, her black skin bubbling as if acid clung there. She lifted her head and screamed, "MOTHER!"

The chanting from the vortex was replaced by a soaring female chorus, and a new figure emerged, a woman. She was beautiful, bearing a strong resemblance to Selene, except that her hair was as red as Ginny's. The figure glided forward, naked from the waist up, but wearing a black skirt that reached to her ankles. The garment seemed to be made of fur and leather, and it appeared to move of its own accord. Harry was puzzled for a moment, then as he heard Ginny hiss in disgust, he realised the skirt was actually a mass of live bats!

"Nevan!" growled Dante, who had recovered from the demon warrior's blow. Nevan raised a hand, and suddenly none of them could move. Something very like electricity crackled up from the floor, holding them all rigid and in pain. "Now," she purred, "whom shall I kiss first? The handsome young hunter? The cold-hearted, cunning wizard, or the passionate, fierce one? Or should I start with the clever little Mutant or the powerful young witch?"

"You should try one whose experience matches your own!" came a new voice, a rich, commanding bass.

Nevan spun, gasping in fear, as the chanting from the portal rose in a scream of protest. The figure that stepped from it was cloaked in shadow, but was easily twelve feet tall, its great, batlike wings seeming to stretch the width of the Temple. Mighty horns curled from its head, and red eyes glowed out of the depths of its face.

"It can't be!" Nevan gasped. "Not possible! Sparda, is that truly you, beloved?"

"Don't pretend, Nevan," replied the dark figure. "I loved you once, but you've never loved anyone but yourself! Even your pet wizard couldn't hold your heart for more than a century.

"So, now, you have a choice." A massively muscled arm emerged from the shadow-form, holding a curved, many-bladed sword. Sparda continued, "You can either fight me, here and now, or you can take your daughter and return to Hell. Think fast, Nevan; she has little time left!"

With a careless gesture, Nevan released her human captives. Draco dropped to one knee. Dante drew his pistols and levelled them at Nevan. Ginny and Kitty both fled into Harry's arms, and the three of them clung together, watching. Nevan shook her head.

"I never was a match for you, Sparda – no-one was! And despite what you think of me, I am a mother!"

She went over to Selene, who now lay motionless on the floor, and picked her up as lightly as a child. "Come, little one," she murmured. "Let us go home." With a final glance at the humans, one that spoke eloquently of vengeance, Nevan carried Selene back into the Hell-Gate, where they vanished.

Dante stepped toward the shadowy demon, his face a play of emotions. "Father…?"

Sparda was suddenly surrounded by a red glow, one Harry recognised. When it cleared, a human figure stood there, a tall, broad-shouldered, white-haired man very like Dante, except that the face was lined with experience and the body more solid – that of a man in his prime, whereas Dante was just out of his teens. His clothes were like Dante's except for a long, black coat.

The legendary Dark Knight slung his bizarre sword across his back and stepped forward, smiling. "Got a hug for your old man, Dante?"

The embrace was a fierce one, then Dante pulled back. "Father, I…Mom…Vergil…I couldn't –"

Sparda held up a hand. "They chose their paths, son, as I did, and you have. Your mother is where I can't go – yet. As to Vergil, you and he will meet again, I think, when it's time.

"But for now, I can't stay long, there are souls back there who need me, who look to me for hope and leadership."

Sparda turned to regard the others. "When I'm gone, you must destroy the Gate. Push all four Keys into it. But hurry! With Selene gone, all she's created will begin to fade, this place will vanish, and everything will go back to what it was before. You fought well and bravely, all of you. At least I know I'm leaving this world in good hands!"

He turned again to Dante, and once again hugged him hard. "I'm proud of you, son. Always remember that! Vergil was wrong: you don't have to be me to continue with my work. Carry on doing what you're doing, and we'll see each other again, someday."

With that, Sparda turned away, transformed back into his true self, and flew into the Gate. Without a word, Dante and the three wizards approached the dais. Draco stood by the chalice, Ginny by the stone, Harry by the brazier, and Dante by the chest. At Harry's nod, the three wizards levitated their Keys into the vortex, while Dante picked up the chest and hurled it in. The Hell-gate darkened, groaned, then shrank and vanished.

For a moment, the four looked at each other, then Kitty said, "I've contacted Cyclops. He's getting everyone back to the original Club sections. We better do the same!"

"Where do we go?" asked Ginny.

Harry pondered for a moment, then said, "The place where we first came in, Ginny. It's the only one we're both sure of. If you take Kitty, Draco and I can manage Dante, I think. All right if I guide, Draco?"

"Going to have to be! Look around you, Harry, this place is fading fast!" Draco replied.

It was true. The Temple's outlines were beginning to blur and waver. Ginny grabbed Kitty again, while Harry and Draco took up positions to either side of Dante. Moments later, they were standing at the foot of the ladder that led up to the trapdoor where they had infiltrated the Club only three or four hours ago, Harry realised.

"Time flies when you're having fun," he remarked to Ginny and Kitty, who both laughed, as did Dante.

Draco rolled his eyes. "This is what you call fun, Potter? I always suspected you were at least mildly psychotic!"

"I still think he's gay," Dante told Harry. "Does that trapdoor lead out of here?" Harry nodded, so Dante went on. "Well, I better get going. Selene had hunting packs of demons out, and there'll be some clearing up to do."

He shook hands with Ariel and Firebird, kissing both of them lightly on the cheek – neither of them had any objection to that, Harry noted. Then he shook hands with Draco, remarking, "You're a pretty mean wizard, dude, but you need to get into shape if you're ever gonna match Harry here."

Draco smiled coolly. "Go well, Dante."

Finally, Dante came to Harry, grasping his hand firmly, then pulling him into a brief hug. "Harry, it's been a blast, man!" he said. "Look, if ever you need me, give me a call."

He handed Harry a business card that bore a line drawing of a female figure, dramatically posed, and the legend Devil May Cry above a phone number and email address. "Give me a codeword, so I'll know it's you," Dante said. Harry grinned and told him "Gryffindor." Dante nodded, gave a mock salute, climbed up the ladder and was gone.

"I'd best be gone, too," remarked Draco. "The Hellfire Club will be in some disarray for a time, so my plans will have to be put back at least. I just hope Shaw's attachment to Aunt Bella doesn't completely cloud his judgement. Women do strange things to a man, don't they?"

"Watch it, Draco!" said Ginny, while Kitty laughed and said, "Like you'd know?"

Draco allowed himself a pale smile, then put out a hand to Harry. "Well, if nothing else, today's events have proved that we can work together, Harry. My offer from before still stands, you know. Do give it some consideration."

Harry took the hand – there was no reason not to – but replied, "You consider this, Draco. If you gave up your little plots and went straight, you'd make a fair Auror. Then we could work together. Just think about it, Draco."

Draco gave a short bow which might or might not have been of assent, then said, "Well, good day, Ginevra. Miss Pryde, a pleasure to meet you. Harry, we'll meet again, I'm sure!" He Disapparated with a boom.

"Well," said Harry, "what now?"

As if in answer, Cyclops' voice sounded in his ear. "Hawk? Can you and Firebird Apparate back to the mansion with Ariel? Minerva's making a Portkey for the rest of us. We'll see you there."

Minerva? Harry wondered, then replied, "Can do, Cyclops! Everyone OK?"

"Pretty much," Cyclops answered. "A little tired, a few bruises, a lot of stories to tell. Showers and hot meals all round, if I'm any judge."

"OK, see you soon. Hawk out."

Harry grabbed Ginny, pulled her close and kissed her for a long time. Kitty stood by and tried not to watch, then Ginny reached out and pulled her into a three-way embrace.

"Right!" said Harry. "We need to Apparate back to Xavier's."

"So let's do it!" said Ginny, tightening her grip on Harry and Kitty. "On three. One…two…three!"

There was a boom, and they were gone.

Chapter 22: The Family of Jessica Crowe

Harry, Ginny and Kitty arrived in the main hall of Xavier's mansion to find themselves in the middle of a milling crowd. No sooner had Harry oriented himself, than he heard Hermione shriek "Harry!" A moment later, she was in his arms, Ron was hugging Ginny, then they were both hugging Kitty. Harry barely had time to recover his breath before Marie was there, then Dani, Rahne, Ali, Ororo, Fleur, Emma and Lorna.

The greeting and congratulations went on and on. Sirius embraced Harry firmly; Ron did, too. Peter thumped his back, almost knocking him over. Then Cyclops was wringing his hand, and Remus, and Havok and Banshee. Beast and Nightcrawler offered high fives, as did Seamus and Bob. Shiro bowed gravely, but Logan cuffed Harry lightly on the back of the head, saying, "Ya done good, Hawk!"

Then, to Harry's lasting wonder, Professor McGonagall approached him with a wide smile and both hands held out. He took them instinctively, realising for the first time that this woman, who had always seemed to tower over him, was actually an inch or so shorter than he!

"A most remarkable day, Harry," she observed. "You seem once again to have distinguished yourself beyond any of my expectations!"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry managed, still slightly intimidated by her.

McGonagall's smile took on an impish quality. "Please, Harry," she said, "You're long past titles with me. Minerva will do from now on."

To finally and completely dumbfound him, she leaned forward and presented her cheek. Harry swallowed hard, then leaned forward himself and saluted her as gallantly as he could manage.

There was a sudden boom. Bill and Tonks appeared.

"Wotcher, Harry!" called the young Auror, trotting up to him while Bill greeted his brother and putative sister-in-law. "Bill and I just popped over to London to drop Rookwood off at the Ministry. Don't think he was as pleased to see Shacklebolt as Kingsley was to see him! Hear you've been duffing up Dark wizards again – ever consider a career change?"

"Not on your nelly!" Harry told her. "Why should you Aurors have all the fun?"

She laughed and hugged him lightly. "I'm looking forward to working with you, mate!"

By this time, all the greetings were over, and people were starting to wonder what to do next. Then the double doors opened, and Professor Xavier entered the room, Lilandra at his side.

"Welcome back, all of you," he said, beaming at them all. "I'm pleased to see you in such obvious good spirits; however, could I take a moment to debrief you all? Most of you are familiar with the process, but if the others could simply relax for a moment?"

Harry did as asked and felt the familiar sensation of the Professor's powerful mind delicately probing his own. As before, he felt relaxed and cleansed afterwards. He opened his eyes. Xavier was smiling at them still.

"Thank you all," he said. "Now, I expect you could use a shower and a change of clothes, so you'd better go off and do that now. Mrs. Arbogast tells me that there will be fried chicken, BLTs and other delicacies in the cafeteria in twenty minutes."

The Professor had to move rapidly to one side in order to avoid the stampede.

Harry and Ron showered and changed in record time, but were still not the first back to the cafeteria. They waited impatiently in the queue, loaded their trays with masses of food, then looked around for somewhere to sit.

"I don't believe it!" Ron gasped. "The girls got here before us! Normally, you can't get 'Mione out of the shower for at least a quarter of an hour! We'd better get over there." He looked ruefully at the huge stack of food he was carrying. "She's going to give me some gyp about this. She worries about my weight."

The lads wandered over, and Ron got a surprise. Hermione glanced up at him and imperiously patted the seat beside her. Ranged in front of her were four plates: one stacked high with chicken, another with sandwiches, a third with nachos, and a fourth with salad. Hermione turned back to the table, deposited the cleanly picked remains of a chicken leg on an empty plate by her elbow, took a deep draught of Mountain Dew, emitted a burp several sizes larger than she was, and took an enormous bite out of a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. As a shocked Ron sat down beside her, she turned to him and explained, "Shtahrvin'!"

Ron brushed a few crumbs from the front of his T-shirt, said "Yes, pet," and set about his own meal.

After everyone had taken the edge off his or her appetite – half an hour's concentrated effort, without unnecessary chatter – Harry was despatched to fetch four coffees and some brownies, cookies and ice cream. In the meantime, Marie and Bob had wandered over to join them, and they began to talk of the day's doings. Ginny couldn't get her head round the idea that it was still early afternoon!

"Feels like we were in there forever!" she complained.

"I know," Harry agreed, "but we went in there at eight this morning, and it was all over by what, twelve? It's only just two now."

"Have you checked on Sam and 'Berto, Marie?" asked Hermione.

"Uh-huh," Marie nodded. "Sam's up and about. He's over there in the corner with Rahne. Roberto's still in sickbay, but he'll be out tomorrow. They're both a bit pissed they missed out on the festivities."

"Probably better they did," Ron opined. "Sam wouldn't have had much room to manoeuvre in there, and we were too far underground for Sunspot to last long."

Just then, Jessica Crowe appeared at Harry's shoulder. "Ah," she said, "I seem to have found the Gryffindor table. Mind if I join you?"

Bob seated her with the old-fashioned courtesy that distinguished him, and Marie asked, "How's your brother?"

"Jason's sleeping," Jessica told them. "He's been through a lot, lately. It seems he's been spying on this Hellfire Club for someone called Erik, so he's had a lot of stress. When Psyche attacked him, it was the last straw. Poor Danielle keeps apologising to me, but she couldn't know about me, and Jason did attack her and Rahne first."

"Just a minute!" Harry protested. "We're all arse about face here! I get that Jason is Jason Wyngarde, the White Knight, or Mastermind, if you like. From what you said, Jessica, I gather he's been Magneto's undercover bod in the Hellfire set up, but that doesn't explain about him being your brother, or why you're here."

Jessica rubbed her face. "You know, I haven't really explained things to anyone. When I found Jason, I didn't have time to say much. Then Seamus gave me his Portkey, and I was here, and Professor Xavier was so kind. I didn't seem to need to explain anything to him. It was as if he already knew!"

"He probably does," Hermione told her, "but never mind. You'd better get it off your chest, anyway."

"You're right," Jessica nodded. "Well, my mum's an English witch. After she left Hogwarts, she decided to travel for a while. She ended up over here, and met a man, a Muggle, called Alex Wyngarde. Alex was a widower with a two-year-old son. His wife had been killed in a road accident. Mum and he fell in love and married, and then I came along. Jason and I inherited our father's odd eye colour."

"There's often problems between half-brothers and -sisters, but Jason and I adored each other. He's three years older than me, and he used to sneak into my room when I was little and tell me stories, the old ones like Goldilocks and Little Red Riding Hood, but he had a way…" She shook her head. "He could make me see the stories! I'd be in the bear's house, or the grandmother's cottage!"

Hermione nodded. "It was his Mutant power to create illusions. I read that psionic Mutants always manifest their powers in early life, unlike the metamorphs or elementals and the rest."

"If you say so," Jessica allowed. "Anyway, Jason and I loved each other very much, but the same couldn't be said for our parents! To be fair, Alex had enough on his plate with a Mutant son, I suppose, and when it became clear that I was going to be a witch like Mum, it got too much for him. I was about eight when they split up. Jason had to stay with his dad, but Mum took me back to England.

"Jason and I promised we'd always be in touch, but when we got back, Mum wouldn't let me write him. Of course, we'd come straight back to wizarding England, so there was no way for Jason to find me. Then, a couple of years later, Mum married again, to Ajax Crowe, and he adopted me. He's always been a good father, and we're very happy as a family, but I still missed Jason.

"I started having these dreams, really strange ones. They began just after I started Hogwarts. Sometimes, they were just ordinary, everyday things, but nowhere I knew, and about nobody I recognised. As the years went on, they got stranger, more frightening. I used to dream about fights – awful, confused battles. There were people as well, strange people."

Jessica looked around her. "Some of them are here, you know, the people from my dreams: Cyclops, the woman with green hair, the blue chap with the fur, and Ororo. That's where I knew her from. You remember, Harry, the day she was Sorted?"

Harry nodded, feeling an empathy with his former Head of House. "Been there, done that, Jessica!" he said. "At one time, I was mind-linked with Voldemort. I could see in my dreams what he was up to. Not a good experience, but Professor Xavier taught me to shield my mind."

"Lucky you," said Jessica. "Anyway, last night, I woke up from a terrible nightmare full of demons and fear. I got up, got dressed and decided to go and do some work for next term. I met Minerva in the corridor and we were chatting when I suddenly felt Jason! He was terrified, exhausted, desperate for help, and thinking of me! Somehow I knew where he was. I didn't think; I just Apparated straight to him! How Minerva followed me I'll never know, but I think she's glad she did!

"So, that's it. Now I've got to get used to the idea that my beloved brother is mixed up with a bunch of Mutant terrorists!"

Marie leaned forward. "You don't wanna think bad of him, sugah," she said. "Ah almost joined up with Magneto. If'n Ah hadn't met these guys, and seen there was anotha way, Ah'd have been a terrorist, too!"

"Mutants get persecuted, fact of life," Bobby noted. "You either try to do something positive, or you get mad. Mastermind got mad, that's all."

Jessica sighed. "Yes, I suppose we can all make bad choices. But now, Jason's coming back to England with me, for a while at least. He'll be safe in our world, and maybe we can find a nice witch for him!"

"I'm taken," said Ginny.

"I said a nice witch!" Jessica replied without batting an eyelid.

"Touché." Hermione grinned. "You're well outclassed, Ginny, luv!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You sound more like Ron every day," she told Hermione.

"Really?" asked Ron. "And to what precise set of environmental or other factors do you attribute this peculiar metamorphosis, sister mine?"

Ginny hit him. Harry and Marie managed to stop Bobby from sliding under the table as he howled. Then, suddenly, the mood changed.

Attention, everyone! It was Xavier, broadcasting mentally. An aircraft is approaching the mansion. It is Magneto. He's signalled for truce, but be on your guard. All junior students to the Secure Room. Guests may join them if they wish. All active X-Men to the front terrace.

Not one of the guests chose to go to the Secure Room. Harry found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Sirius, who said out of the corner of his mouth, "This Magneto – he's dangerous?"

"I told you," Harry replied, "he treated Voldemort like a First Year! If he's come for a fight, we're in deep fertiliser."

"I don't see an aircraft…bloody Hell!" Sirius gasped.

The empty air above the lawn shimmered, and a large plane appeared. To Harry, it resembled the modified SR-75 Blackbird the X-Men used, and which Cyclops had promised to teach him to fly. This version, however, clearly had what Beast called a 'Cloaking Device', and mounted on it were two cannon and several missile racks!

The black plane settled onto the front lawn. A ramp lowered, and several people made their way out of it. Harry recognised them from Cerebro's database. In the lead was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing red, with a heavy purple cloak and a bizarre metal helmet. This was Erik Lensherr – Magneto. Just beside him was a slender woman in white, with long, dark-red hair, indigo skin and yellow eyes – the shapeshifter, Mystique. Mystique was supporting a frail-looking elderly woman, who was clearly blind and could only be the precog called Destiny. On the other side of Magneto was a small, wiry, dark-haired man who moved with an odd, hunched, hopping gait. He had a greenish cast to his skin, and Harry knew that his clumsy appearance belied his agility and strength because this was the assassin, Toad.

Behind them ranged the rest of the Brotherhood: A stocky man wearing an armoured breastplate and steel mask – Avalanche. A barefooted man so grossly fat that beside him the Black Bishop would look starved – the indestructible Blob. There was a slim but well-muscled fellow with dark hair whom Harry recognised as Unus the Untouchable. Then, a hulking, top-heavy figure with shaggy hair and beard debarked, glaring unblinkingly at them with dull, animal eyes – Sabretooth. Finally, there was a youth, no older than Harry, fair-haired, carrying a tank on his back from which pipes led to nozzles mounted on his wrists. With a pang, Harry realised that this could only be Marie's former classmate and friend, John Allerdyce – Pyro.

Xavier wheeled himself to the edge of the terrace. Magneto came up to the bottom step, so that he was eye-to-eye with the Professor, and removed his helmet, revealing a thick head of silver hair and an age-lined but still handsome face. He nodded gravely. "Charles, it's good to see you, old friend."

"Erik, you're looking well," Xavier replied easily. "To what do we owe this…pleasure?"

Magneto smiled slightly. "We've not come to fight you, Charles, as you well know. You have one of my people here, Jason Wyngarde. Destiny assures me that you are not holding him against his will, which is why we are here to parley, rather than to attempt a rescue. For my own conscience's sake, I need to speak with Jason myself, you understand?"

"Conscience? You?" snarled Cyclops, who had come up behind the Professor.

Magneto looked up at him. "You're judgemental, Scott," he said quietly. "It's a failing of the young, but take care not to overindulge yourself."

"Take it easy, Scott," Xavier told his protégé. "It may come as a surprise to you, but Erik cares for his own people just as much as I care for all of my X-Men. Professor Crowe, would you be kind enough to fetch Mr. Wyngarde? He is awake now."

Jessica went off, leaving the two groups eyeing each other. After a while, Pyro spoke. "So, Marie, Bobby, still trying to save the world?" he sneered.

Marie shook her head. "Just keepin' our little bit of it safe, John. You know that."

Pyro snorted. "Fat lot of help that'll be when the flatscans come and put you in a concentration camp! Once they've put an inhibitor collar on you and sterilized you, how will you feel? When the guards come to help themselves to a piece of mutie tail, you're gonna wish you'd come with us!"

"If that happens," Bobby said flatly, "it'll be because of what you do, not us!"

Pyro sneered again. "You never had any balls, Bobby. Hidin' does no good. You gotta fight, make the flatscans scared of you, so they leave you alone. You think these other weirdos," he indicated Harry and his friends, "are gonna help you when the chips are down?"

"We'll do whatever we need to," Ron growled. "I'll remember your face, pillock, so you'd best remember mine, and be ready to do a runner the next time you see it!"

"Enough, Ron." Hermione grabbed his arm. "He's not worth it!"

Magneto sighed heavily. "Don't you find it tiresome when the children squabble, Charles? I don't know how you stand it.

"Pyro, be silent! A challenge to Mr. Weasley, not to mention his lady friend, is inappropriate – even beyond your usual foolhardiness. My late wife told me about the Weasley clan, a most formidable family of Pureblood wizards, every one a fighter." He inclined his head in Ron's direction.

There was another silence, then Sabretooth spoke in a thick, guttural voice. "What're we standin' here for, Boss? Let's take 'em down now! I can see the runt over there…" he pointed at Logan, "an' he an' I got things ta settle!"

"Down, boy!" snapped Wolverine. "I know I still gotta clear up Weapon X's garbage, but now ain't the time. Magneto, you better keep your attack dog on a shorter chain, or leave him in his doghouse next time. I'm tellin' ya, that psycho's gonna turn on you one day! Either that, or his dumbness'll get you all killed."

"Psycho?" growled Sabretooth. "Look who's talkin'! How many'd you kill cuttin' your way outta Alkali Lake, Logan?"

"Clearly, one too few, since you're still with us!" remarked Sirius, who had moved to stand beside Logan. Now he tossed his wand into the air, where it flipped, showering sparks, before he caught it again. "But I'm sure I can help him correct that omission, should you make it necessary."

There was a commanding presence about the tall wizard that seemed to cow Sabretooth. He snarled, but didn't meet Sirius' steady gaze.

Xavier said, "That's enough, all of you! My apologies for the poor hospitality, Erik."

Magneto shrugged. "They're young, Charles. We should expect nothing more. I also apologize for my colleague's lack of manners."

He looked over the front of the mansion, and sighed. "You know, Charles, despite all that has happened since, my memories of the time we spent here are still among my happiest."

Xavier nodded. "I know, Erik. I miss your inventiveness and energy sometimes."

At that point, Jessica returned, supporting Mastermind, who looked pale and tired, but otherwise well.

"Jason, are you all right?" asked Magneto anxiously.

"I'm fine, Erik," Jason told him. "This is my half-sister, Professor Jessica Crowe. Jess, this is Erik Lensherr."

The two exchanged formal nods, then Wyngarde said, "Erik, I'm not coming back with you. I told you once that I was trying to find my sister; well, now I have! So, I'm going back to England with her when I'm rested. We've a lot of catching up to do, you understand?"

Magneto nodded and smiled. "Of course, Jason. Family must always come first. You will have a warm welcome, should you decide to return to us. Professor Crowe, take care of him!"

Mystique came forward and embraced Mastermind, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Take care, Jason, we'll miss you." Then others of the Brotherhood bade Mastermind farewell, but Harry noticed that not all of them did. The bonds between them didn't seem as close and firm as those between the X-Men.

Magneto put out a hand to Xavier. "Well, it has been good to talk with you again, Charles. Perhaps one day, our differences will be settled, or become irrelevant. Then we may be able to work together again."

Xavier took the hand firmly. "I hope so, Erik. I truly do!"

With that, the Brotherhood returned to their aircraft, which took off and vanished once again.

The afternoon passed peacefully. Harry and Ginny, like their friends, found time and privacy for some intense, passionate lovemaking. But after that, they felt the urge to gather again. They visited Roberto in small groups, regaling the young Brazilian with slightly exaggerated accounts of the morning's adventures. Then they took over the Quiet Lounge, sitting in ever-shifting groups, making what seemed like inconsequential small talk, but actually checking for signs of hurt or upset, reassuring themselves that their friends were all right.

Dinner was a quietly happy affair, after which Harry dragged Ginny off to the room he shared with Ron, and took her to bed again. But then Ginny wanted to talk, pushing him hard about what had happened in the Temple. Harry didn't want to speak of it, not to her, so he told her he had to get it straight in his own head, first. Ginny seemed to accept this, and told him she wanted to visit with Dani, who was lonely without Roberto. "It'll be all girl talk," she said, "so you won't be interested." Harry had to agree, so they'd parted with a kiss.

Harry knew he had to talk to someone, and something told him that this time, Xavier was not the right person. There was, in fact, only one person whom he had a right to burden with this. Harry made his way to Sirius' room.

He tapped on the door. Sirius opened it, looked at him for a second, then said, "You're late, Harry. Your Ginny must be a demanding little thing! Come in."

"You've been expecting me?" Harry asked as he followed Sirius into the room. There was a table set up with four chairs around it. Remus occupied one, while opposite him sat Wolverine, a cigar clamped in his strong, white teeth. Sirius pointed to a chair and said, "Sort of. Logan said you'd be along. Sit down, son."

Harry sat, and Logan reached across to plonk a bottle of beer in front of him before adding a shot glass, which he filled to the brim with Firewhisky.

"You had a look in your eyes, Hawk, when you got back here. An' I figure you didn't tell everythin' about what happened down there. So I had to believe you'd be along tonight."

Harry grinned ruefully. "Am I that transparent?" He sipped his Firewhisky.

Logan thumped the table. "Fer cryin' out loud, kid! Charlie's been corruptin' you! That's not how you take a shot. Down in one, like this!"

Wolverine demonstrated, and Harry – having been challenged – followed suit. He managed not to splutter, but the liquor burned his throat and made his eyes water. Wolverine grinned at him.

"Not bad, for a beginner! Take some beer, Hawk. It'll cool the sting." He filled Harry's glass again. "C'mon, bub, you're about three drinks behind!"

Harry wasn't unused to drink. Since he came of age, he'd been experimenting, as young men will. He and Ron had managed to get drunk a few times, and after one memorable bout with Seamus, they'd both been completely hammered. ("Serves us right!" Ron had groaned the following morning. "What made us go drink for drink with a bloody Irishman?") So, Harry knew he had a pretty strong head, but he was in company with three experts here! Remus had misspent a good deal of his youth, and both Sirius and Logan were hardened pub-crawlers. By the time the Firewhisky was gone and Wolverine had broached a bottle of his favourite Yukon Jack, Harry was ready to talk about anything!

But it was Remus who opened the serious subjects, asking, "Right. So, what happened with Peter damn-his-eyes, rot-in-Hell Pettigrew?"

"He got eaten," Sirius replied. "Gobbled up. Scoffed. Masticated with extreme prejudice by a sod of a big squid!"

"Is that all?" Remus pressed.

Sirius shook his head. "No. I threw him to it. I picked the treacherous, slimy, lying, little shit up, and threw him off a bloody great cliff. The squid grabbed him and ripped him apart and ate him!"

"An' that," added Logan, "was after I sliced his silver hand off, an' Padfoot here hit him with one o' those crooshy curses, an' I roughed him up a bit more."

"So, he got off light, then?" quipped Harry, and the other three stared at him, then laughed.

"Keep forgetting," Remus said, "that it was your parents he betrayed, Harry. You had as much right to hate the git as either of us, right Sirius?"

"Bloody right!" Sirius agreed. "Still, got to admit, what with one thing and another, I'd all but forgotten little Peter. All the while I was in Azkaban, the two things that kept me alive were wanting to protect Harry and wanting to kill Peter. Then I got out, and everything was complicated. I couldn't go after him, except that first time. Anyway, Harry was more important!

"Then I went through the Veil and I saw things…." He paused a moment. "Well, anyway, a lot happened, and I sort of got a new lease of life. Peter wasn't so important anymore. Then I get pulled back, used as bait for Harry, and watch him and Marie slip Voldemort's trap like it's a joke! So, Harry doesn't need my protection anymore, but he still needs me, my advice, my skills. He needs family, so that's good. Then there was Ororo – most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Love at first sight. What would James think of that, Remus?"

"He'd wet himself," Remus replied solemnly. "Sirius 'love 'em and leave 'em' Black gone all hearts an' flowers? He'd have fallen off his chair!"

"He would!"Sirius grinned. "And he'd have been right. Lily wouldn't half have given him a bollocking for it, though. But now I'm in love, I'm needed, I'm not a fugitive anymore, so I think, 'Sod bloody Pettigrew! I've got better things to do, now.'

"Then I see him, see the little rat, and it all comes back– all the hate, all the anger – like it was yesterday. So I killed him. I tortured him and killed him, and if you want me to say, 'Sorry', you can bugger off!"

There was a deal of table thumping and cheering, then more drinking. Finally, Harry began to talk. He wasn't exactly precise in his delivery, but his tongue and his head were still clear enough for him to tell them how he'd managed to defeat Selene – how he'd used the Killing Curse.

"Thing is," he said, "I was totally cool when I did it. I mean, I was scared, you always are, but I wasn't panicking. I knew what I had to do, and I just did it. But now, I can't make myself feel guilty about it. I mean I'm going to be an Auror, for Merlin's sake, yet here I am, calmly casting the most Unforgivable curse of them all! Surely, I should feel a little bit bad about it?"

"Why?" asked Sirius. "You only did what you had to do, Harry – no more, no less. Look, son, you're not as much like James as I might have wanted you to be when all I wanted was my best friend back. You're more like Lily. James couldn't have cast that curse; he didn't have the nerve, or he'd have used it that night when Voldemort came calling. But faced with Selene, Lily'd have done what you did, and never regretted it because it was the right thing to do."

"Look, Hawk," said Logan, "Hunter killed that guy the day Voldemort attacked Hogwarts, didn't he? He snapped the guy's neck with his bare hands because the scumbag killed Dean, and Dean died protectin' you! Has Hunter lost any sleep over it?"

Harry shook his head, and Wolverine went on. "O' course he hasn't! Because he was just followin' his nature. Hunter's a lot more elemental than you and Charm– Firebird's the same – and he can't do anythin' that ain't in his nature. He'll kill, in the heat of a scrap, when he has to, or when the other guy deserves it, and so will Firebird. Charm won't, not in hot or cold blood; it isn't in her. She'll always stop and think.

"You, Hawk, you can kill in cold blood, but it don't make you the Dark Lord Severus was scared you'd become because you got morals! Not rules, 'cause they change from place to place, but morals, a gut sense about what's right and what's wrong. You won't kill when you don't need to, like I don't anymore, but when you need to, when there's no other way, when it's the right thing to do, you'll do it. The world needs the likes of us, Harry. It always will!"

Ginny hadn't been visiting Dani, who was sitting with Roberto; instead, she'd followed Harry, and seen him go into Sirius' room. Damn! She thought. He's gone to Sirius! He's supposed to talk to me!

Hermione had been definite about it. "Make him talk to you, Ginny! Men have this stupid macho thing about hiding their feelings. I've knocked it out of Ron; you've got to get it out of Harry!"

Disconsolate, Ginny wandered along the corridor, so lost in her thoughts that she almost bumped into the woman walking toward her.

"Konbanwa, Ginevra-san," said the Lady Mariko. Ginny returned her bow.

"Good evening, Lady Mariko. I'm sorry. I was miles away!"

"Ah so desu ka? You were concerned, no doubt, about Harry-san?" Mariko smiled quietly, "I have been wishing for an opportunity to speak with you, Ginevra-san. Perhaps you would join me for tea?"

To Ginny's surprise, the older woman took her arm and began to guide her along the corridor. Mariko brought her to one of the rooms in the faculty quarters. "This is, of course, Logan-san's apartment, but I have the honor of sharing it with him when I can visit here," she said.

The ordinary-looking door led to a tiny vestibule, partitioned by paper screens painted with delicate images of pastoral landscapes in wooden frames. Mariko removed her sandals, and at her quick, meaningful glance, Ginny slipped off her flip-flops, placing them neatly on a wooden rack.

Mariko slid the screen aside and led Ginny into a spacious room. The polished, wooden floor was warm under her bare feet. There were four mats on the floor, symmetrically placed, and a low table in the middle. Three of the walls were more screens. The fourth held a picture window overlooking the grounds but covered by a blind. In one corner was a wooden rack supporting a long, curved sword and a dagger; in another, a bamboo table held a shallow bowl in which grew a tiny, perfect tree. By the window stood an easel with an unfinished canvas on it, next to a table with brushes and paints.

Following Mariko's lead, Ginny knelt at the low, central table. Mariko disappeared through a screen, coming back with a laden tray. She knelt opposite Ginny. The young witch watched, fascinated, as Mariko prepared tea with graceful, ritualistic movements. Ginny finally accepted the delicate cup, turned it, following her hostess's example, and sipped the fragrant green brew. Mariko pushed a plate of small cakes toward her, and though Ginny was not hungry, she took one and nibbled at it for courtesy's sake.

"Now," Mariko said, "while our men talk as men do, we shall talk as women do, yes?"

Ginny sighed. "Aren't they supposed to talk to us about important things?"

Mariko smiled. "But of course! And so they do. Much is said after the pillow, in the shallows of night, between men and women. But there is also much that is between men and men, and between women and women." She looked shrewdly at Ginny. "Hermione-san has told you much of her modern, Western thinking, which is all of what is, and what will come, but takes little account of what has always been."

Ginny nodded. "I'm supposed to make Harry be open with me about everything he's feeling and thinking. I mean, I know him so well, I can always tell if he's troubled, but there's a part of him that's locked away somewhere."

"Which is as it should be," Mariko told her. "Hermione-san is a young soul. So is Ronald-san, and so are you, child. But Harry-san is an old soul; perhaps in a former life, he was samurai. He understands the Way of the Warrior in his bones and blood, as does Logan-san. There are things about which such a man may not speak to any woman, even the one he loves best.

"We share this honor, this burden, Ginevra-san. We both are fated to love men who have two sides to their nature. Please to examine the painting over there."

Ginny rose and went over. It was a landscape in watercolours, clearly representing the view from the window. She was no art expert, but realised at once that the artist was more than usually talented. The view was not rendered in vast detail but had a vitality about it: these were living gardens and woods. There was something…an extra dimension that Ginny's witch eyes almost showed her.

She went back to the table."It's beautiful," she said. "How do you do that – give things so much meaning?"

Mariko held up a hand. "Not I. My art is bonsai." She indicated the tiny tree. "The painting is Logan's work. Does this surprise you, Ginevra-san?"

Ginny nodded, and Mariko went on. "Logan-san has a sensitivity in his nature. It is what makes him angry sometimes, but it also lets him care for his students as he does, and helps him create works such as that painting. The other Logan – the ruthless fighter, the killer, the hunting animal – is also the man I love."

Ginny stared at Mariko. "How can you do that?" she asked. "Harry is sweet and funny and gentle. He's the best Quidditch player in the world and a great wizard. And, yes, there is another Harry – a cold, clever, maybe even dark man. He's the one who defeated Voldemort.

"I want that Harry to go away, to not be part of my Harry anymore! I didn't want him to be an Auror because I think that'll keep that other part of him alive. You can't tell me that I just have to ignore it!"

"Not ignore. Embrace. Love. He must be all that he is."

Mariko made more tea. Just watching her calm motions soothed Ginny. After they had drunk it, the older woman smiled at the teenager. "Ginny-chan, little one, I say this to you because of the affection Logan bears both you and Harry. You cannot separate the pieces of a man's heart."

"I don't believe that," Ginny said firmly. "He can change! Once we get far enough away from the past, from Voldemort, from the Boy Who Lived—even the Man Who Won—he'll be like everybody else. He'll just be a good man, kind and warm."

Mariko bowed her head. Ginny followed suit. There was little more to say, and after a while, Ginny took her leave, making her way to the boys' corridor. She wanted to check in on Harry, to see if he was back yet.

Instead, she ran into Hermione and Dani a little way down from the room Ron and Harry shared. The girls were both on their knees on the carpet, feeling around, and as Ginny approached them, they looked up.

"Give us a hand, Gin," Hermione urged. "I've lost the butterfly off this stud again! It's really nice of your dad to go to all the trouble of buying Muggle presents for me, but this pair is always losing the butterflies, and they're so pretty I don't want to stop wearing them."

The three girls hunted around with no success, then decided to retrace Hermione's steps back to Ron's door. They had about reached it when Dani suddenly said, "There!" and bent down to pick something up. The other two were looking at her, so it was just at the last moment that Ginny saw Harry gliding noiselessly up behind Dani.

The open-handed slap he landed on Psyche's upturned rear end cracked resoundingly along the corridor! She shot upright with a squawk that rattled the windows and brought heads popping out of rooms. Shiro merely shook his head and went back in, but Bobby, Peter and Ron watched, grinning as Dani turned on her tormentor, who leaned chuckling against the wall.

"You rat!" she howled. "Harry Potter, I thought you were the perfect English gentleman! I expect that kinda thing from Ron, here, but you?"

Harry grinned widely. "Your own fault," he told her. "You shouldn't have such a smackable bum!"

Dani huffed, still miffed but not really put out. "Well," she asserted, "at least I got you to touch me of your own accord. Next time, Harry, make it a different kind of smacker, huh?"

Hermione looked at Harry shrewdly. "Mr Potter, I do believe you're drunk!" she said.

"No shirt, Shylock!" Harry replied. "Yep, I'm plastered, spannered, bladdered, kaylied, pissed as the well-known amphibibibian-thingy!"

"Mum always said that Sirius was a bad influence," Ginny recalled, "but me, I blame my brother, here!"

"Oi!" Ron protested.

"Oh, shut up, you!" Ginny told him. "I'll forgive you, but only because Harry's so cute when he's had a few!"

She stepped up to Harry and hugged him tight. For a moment, Harry joined in the exercise, then suddenly straightened and pushed her away a little.

"Uh-oh," he muttered. "Squeezing round the middle – not good tactic!" His eyes had gone a little owlish now, and his face was a delicate shade of green.

"Oh, Merlin!" said Ron, coming out of his room to take Harry by the shoulders. "OK, people, show's over. I'd better get this hero's head down the bog before he ruins the carpet."

Bobby and Peter waved goodnight and went back in. Ron guided Harry into their room and kicked the door shut as the girls heard Harry say, "M'all right. Be OK once the bloody room stops spinning!"

"'Course you will!" Ron replied. "Now, let's go and call Hughie on the big white telephone, mate!"

Giggling, Hermione, Ginny and Dani went off down the corridor.

Chapter 23: The Black King's Bargain

Harry was rather the worse for wear the next morning, and was less than pleased to be dragged down to breakfast by a cheerfully determined Ron. Fortunately, Marie was waiting by the cafeteria door with a tray on which were two empty glasses and a third holding a clear, sparkling liquid.

"Here you go, sugah!" she told Harry. "Pick-Me-Up Potion, freshly made to Professor Snape's secret recipe. Wolverine tol' me you'd be needin' some; Sirius an' Remus already had theirs."

"Does it have to fizz so loudly?" Harry asked crossly, taking the proffered glass. He drained it in one, and immediately felt a great deal better, which was a good job, as Wolverine passed by their table shortly afterwards and paused to announce, "Danger Room, thirty minutes!"

"Oh, Jupiter!" groaned Ginny. "After yesterday?"

"Damn right!" growled the Canadian. "How long'd it take you ta put Bellatrix down? I'd a done it in thirty seconds!"

Ginny used a naughty word, earning a light cuff across the head as Logan stalked off. The gruff Canadian knew perfectly well that Molly Weasley disapproved of her daughter using such language!

"Honestly," she hissed. "I don't believe that bloke!"

"He can get a bit much, sometimes," Ron admitted, "but it's because he wants us all to be as good as we can be. It's his way of keeping us safe.

"Anyway, kid, you needn't worry. He thinks the world of you."

"He does?" Ginny asked, bemused.

"Definitely," Hermione told her. "You, Ginny, are one of only two students Logan's ever had who got through their first Danger Room session without being sick!"

"The other was Shiro," Ron put in. "And he's been doing martial arts since he could walk."

"Is that true?" Ginny asked Harry, who nodded.

"Ron and I both puked the first few times," he said. "And as for Hermione…!"

"I threw up every day for a week-and-a-half," Hermione recalled, wincing at the memory. "I was expecting to bring up my toenails, never mind my knickers! At one point, I think poor Kitty was wondering if I was preggers."

They all laughed at that, then finished their breakfasts and went off to change.

Midway through the morning, a large, sleek, black car drew up outside the mansion. As Scott appeared in the portico, the driver, Ralph Cole, opened the rear door and two people alighted. Both were clad in dark business suits. One was Sebastian Shaw; the other was Bellatrix Lestrange, who looked oddly comfortable in her Muggle clothing. Scott escorted them both to Xavier's study, where the Professors Xavier and McGonagall were waiting, along with Lilandra, Tonks and Sirius.

Greetings were brief and formal, then Tonks said to Bellatrix, "Mrs Lestrange, I've spoken with the Minister, and he has agreed to acknowledge Mr Grimslade's right to grant you asylum; however, he has passed a Summary Decree of Perpetual Exile on you. If you return to Great Britain at any time, you will be arrested and conveyed to Azkaban for life, without trial or parole.

"In consideration of that fact, and of the fact that your husband is currently serving a life sentence, as well as your help in defeating Selene, the Wizengamot is prepared to consider and possibly grant a Decree of Annulment of your marriage."

Sirius stepped forward. "Bella, as your nearest and only free relative, I can be authorised to present your petition. Will you authorise me to do that?"

Bellatrix nodded. "I know you to be a man of honour, Sirius, even if your principles deviate from the ones our family held dear. I appoint you as my representative."

She opened a briefcase and handed Sirius several rolls of parchment. "The documents for the Wizengamot, and an authorisation for Gringotts to transfer my funds to their New York branch in Radik Alley – if, that is, young Weasley hasn't already seized them!"

Sirius accepted the documents and turned to leave, but Shaw raised a hand. "Mr Black, I'd prefer you to remain and witness what I have to say, along with Professor McGonagall. If Miss Tonks wishes to stay, I have no objections."

Sirius and McGonagall both nodded, and Sirius sat down again. Filled with curiosity, Tonks also stayed where she was. Shaw settled himself back in his chair and began.

"First of all, Charles, Scott, I would like to express my thanks for your intervention in this business. I'm afraid I was taken for a ride by Selene. You know my agenda and methods, and how atypical of them the Club's recent activities have been. I'm afraid I'm in the rather ironic position of owing the X-Men a considerable debt, but we'll talk about this later.

"Right now, I'm disappointed not to see Harry Potter and his friends here. I'd wanted to tell them that the offer I tried to make though Hermione Granger still stands. Mr Black, have you any idea how they might feel about that?"

Sirius shrugged. "Hermione told Harry and the others about it. They fell about laughing! I think you'll have to look elsewhere for your Red Suite, Mr Shaw."

Shaw gave a rueful grin. "Figured as much. Pity. They're as clever and feisty a bunch of young people as I've seen in a long time. But while we're on the subject, Charles, I'd like to ask you to reconsider your refusal to become White King. If you were to join forces with me, and Emma resumed her position as White Queen, the possibilities are limitless."

"They are, indeed," Xavier replied, "but not the right ones, Sebastian. I'm afraid your shortcuts will lead to resentment and hatred of Mutants, rather than acceptance. I'll continue the slow way, I think.

"However, I do have a proposal which we can work together on. One of the reasons for making contact with the wizarding world was my discovery that, for centuries, wizards have lived parallel to the ordinary world. They have done so in almost complete secrecy, and with only occasional conflict.

"Now, while such a total solution is not possible for Mutants – our existence is too well known – there is perhaps a glimmer of hope here. If we could somehow create a community or communities of Mutants, remote and separate from Muggles, it would provide a refuge for those of our kind who don't relish either conflict or activism. If we promised to remain in these communities, it would perhaps relieve the government of the pressure they feel to act on the so-called 'Mutant issue' in ways that many of them feel are unconstitutional.

"But in order to achieve this, we need contacts, influence. I carry a good deal of weight in the scientific community, as you know – so does Professor McCoy. But this project requires more. It needs both political and, sad to say, corporate backing – the kind of backing you can find for us, Sebastian."

Shaw was grinning, now. "It seems we're not so far apart in our thinking at that, Charles! When the Club tries to contact neo-Mutants and their families, we often find that all many of them want is somewhere safe and quiet to live their lives. I'm not so inhumane or ambitious that I can't sympathize with them. I'll admit, though, your idea is a bold one.

"Well now, here it is. I came here to say that, out of gratitude for your help, if there was anything I could do for you, I would. It seems that here's a way we can help each other without having to abandon our respective agendas. Any thoughts, Bella?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I'm still not completely informed about the whole Muggle-Mutant issue, Sebastian. I'm also still not convinced that Muggles deserve equal treatment with wizards – or Mutants for that matter. But keeping our worlds separate has allowed wizards to thrive, so Professor Xavier's plan could achieve the same for Mutants. It's worth a try, at the very least." She smiled at Xavier. "You understand, Professor, I've nothing against Mutants, despite their role in my Dark Lord's fall. Sebastian has shown me that Voldemort's time had come and gone, something I should have realised when Magneto dealt with him so easily. As Black Queen, I am now in a position to further the cause of both our communities – in my own way, of course!"

"Of course." Xavier's smile was ironic, but not discourteously so. "Well, Sebastian, if we are agreed, at least on the general principle of my proposal, I think we should begin to work separately on the details, then perhaps meet again in a few days to discuss them."

"Sounds good," Shaw agreed. "I'll be in touch."

He rose, and the two men shook hands. As he and Bellatrix prepared to leave, she turned to her cousin. "Sirius, next time you're over here, do get in touch. We can, er, do lunch?"

Sirius made a non-committal grunt, but his expression told Scott he was mildly intrigued by the idea. Well, thought Cyclops, they are family!

The day passed pleasantly enough after that. Freed from the rigours of the Danger Room, the young people enjoyed a convivial lunch before setting out to make the most of the long, summer afternoon.

Harry, with Ginny's cheerful blessing, went for a walk on the grounds with Kitty. They talked for quite a while. Harry learned that Kitty and Peter planned to leave Xavier's the next year. "We'll always be X-Men if we're needed," she told him, "but Petey and I both have powers that are easy to hide; we look normal. We want to give normal life a try again, maybe settle down, get married, have a couple kids. What about you and Ginny?"

Harry shrugged. "It's going to take a while to make my house at Godric's Hollow liveable again. I've got Auror training, and Ginny has her NEWTs to take. But we're planning to live together when Ginny leaves Hogwarts.

"About marriage and the rest, I don't know. Ron and Hermione plan to get handfasted after training, but Ginny and I…. She's still cross with me for not becoming a professional Quidditch player and for stopping Ron being one, though it was his decision. He's wanted to be an Auror as long as I have. Hermione was the one who couldn't decide. Ginny reckons I'm wasting the best talent that anyone's seen for decades, and it's criminal!

"Anyway, she's joining a Quidditch team after school. She'll get an offer; she's a Hell of a Chaser. But she says she wants to make her mark as Ginny Weasley before she becomes Mrs Harry Potter, Mrs Man Who Won style of thing. I don't blame her, and it might just give people time to forget about me, as well. I won't mind being married to a celebrity, but I never wanted to be one!"

They walked and talked some more, then indulged themselves in an affectionate but chaste cuddle, because they would always be special to each other. Somewhere else on the grounds, Harry knew, Ginny and Peter would be doing the same.

After a while, they came to the veranda, where a group of their friends were sitting chatting. As Harry and Kitty approached, so did a large black and white cat. This stray had made its way onto the grounds some months ago, and had promptly been adopted by the students, who called it 'Fizzwidget' for no readily apparent reason. Now, Fizzwidget settled in a sunny spot on the lawn and began, with typical feline insouciance, to wash himself in those hard-to-reach places, a rear leg extended inelegantly above one ear.

After a while, Sam said thoughtfully, "I wish I could do that."

"Well," Ron told him, "if you give him a sardine, he might let you. Works for me with 'Mione and chocolates."

"Ron!" squeaked Hermione, scarlet to the ears.

"Oh, that's just wrong!" said Marie, dissolving into giggles.

Ron assumed an expression of injured innocence. "What I meant," he protested, "was that if I want Hermione to let me do something – go to a Quidditch match or pop out for a swift half with the lads – I bribe her with chockies. Sweet Medea, you're a dirty-minded shower!"

"Ron Weasley!" cried Dani. "If 'Berto busts his stitches laughing and ends up back in sickbay, I'm gonna kill you!"

It was that sort of day.

The sun had set, and Remus Lupin had retreated to his room. Tonight would be the first night of the full Moon, and it would rise in an hour or so. Marie had brought his potion to him that afternoon. It had tasted slightly different from usual, less bitter and harsh. Remus suspected that Severus Snape had never given consideration to the issue of palatability, whereas the kind-hearted Marie would probably add something to ameliorate, if not improve, the flavour. Now all Remus had to do was wait.

He sat quietly reading a Muggle novel that concerned the adventures of a dim-witted wizard and a clueless 'tourist' on a disc-shaped world. It was a comical piece, full of a mix of broad humour and clever irony, and Remus was grinning as he read. Oddly, he did not have the restless feeling that usually came on him at such times. Nevertheless, he tensed at the gentle knock on his door.

His nervous state did not improve when, in answer to his call, Emma Frost stepped into the room and, without invitation, sat down opposite him. She was wearing a light summer dress in white, and her hair hung loose to her shoulders. She dazzled him and scared him at the same time.

"You can't stay long," he told her. "You'll have to be gone before the Moon rises. Apart from anything else, I'll have to undress!"

"I wouldn't mind staying for that," she replied with a grin, then turned serious. "I came here because I thought you might be interested to know what Moira and I found out from our studies of Fenrir's body."

Remus leaned forward, even as he realised he was probably grasping at straws. Emma went on.

"The first mistake was a natural one. Folklore traditions make the werewolf a close associate of the vampire, so we assumed the two syndromes would have a lot in common. We were wrong.

"A Muggle scientist, Dr Michael Morbius, did some extensive research on vampirism. Unfortunately, his experiments went wrong, with tragic consequences, but his findings remain valid. Vampirism is caused by a microorganism that infects the bloodstream and nervous system of the victim, including the brain. Once introduced into the victim, it brings about a cataleptic state that lasts for thirty-six hours. During that time, it spreads throughout the body, causing certain physical changes, including increased strength, lethal photosensitivity, hydrophobia – a fear of water – and severe allergies to garlic and silver. It also causes metabolic changes that require the sufferer to ingest large quantities of fresh blood to survive. Finally, it induces a deep-seated psychosis that manifests as a predatory mindset coupled with a deep fear of religious symbols.

"The condition is manageable, as evidenced in at least three cases. A vampire calling himself Lestat, for instance, insists on preying only on those he regards as evil. Another, Hannibal King, carries on a career as a private investigator. Then there's the unique case of Blade, the so-called Day-Walker.

"Moira and I assumed at first that lycanthropy was a similar affliction, but when we examined Fenrir, we found something else. Lycanthropy seems to be a virus. It locks onto your DNA – I'm sorry, Remus, do you know what DNA is?"

Remus nodded. "Sort of. Hank told me it's the stuff in our bodies that decides what we look like and whether we're wizards or Muggles or Mutants, and so forth. Go on, Emma."

"OK. Well, humans share a lot of our DNA with other creatures, you know. All mammals spring from the same stock, for instance, and the genetic difference between a wolf and a human is large, but not vast. What the lycanthrope virus does is lock onto human DNA and, at certain times, cause it to revert to a more primitive form by simply shutting down the more advanced parts."

"But why is this triggered by the Moon?" Remus asked.

"Ah." Emma smiled. "That was where Morbius made his mistake, and where Moira and I didn't. Morbius didn't know about wizards and magic, you see. We called Hermione in, and she saw it right away. The vampire bacterium and lycanthrope virus may be microscopic, but they're as much magical creatures as dragons or hippogriffs!"

"Jupiter!" Remus gasped. "Don't tell Hagrid, he'll be making pets of them!"

"Who's Hagrid?" asked Emma, then, "Never mind. The point is, once she realized what was going on, Hermione was sure she could add something to the potion you take that will suppress the physical change as it does the mental one."

"How soon?" Remus gasped.

"Oh, she's already done it." Emma pointed behind Remus. "Look out the window, hon."

Remus jumped from his chair and spun round. The full Moon shone through his window, bathing him in silver. He looked down at himself – he was still human, still himself! He turned again.

"Emma, you took an awful risk coming here," he stammered. "It might not have worked!"

She stood too, smiling. "How often, Remus, does Hermione Granger get things wrong?" she asked. "Besides, I'm a telepath. I could control you as man, as wolf, even as werewolf if I had to. So, Remus, what will you do now?"

Remus faltered, elated and shocked. It was a lot to take in. "I think I'll take a walk in the moonlight," he said finally. "Will that be safe?"

Emma nodded, and they went out of the room. Just as she was about to turn towards her own quarters, Remus said, "Emma, come with me. I've never walked in the moonlight with a woman." He laughed. "Or anyone!"

He offered her his arm, but didn't object when she took his hand instead. He was too busy thinking about the world outside, a world with no limits for him any longer.

Harry was sitting on a grassy bank in the moonlight, Ginny snuggled firmly under one arm. Not far away, Ron and Hermione were in a similar position, as were Bill and Tonks, Scott and Fleur, and Sirius and Ororo.

Scott was telling Fleur, "I know, hon, but it's the way I'm made, I guess. I do things by the book, like Hermione there."

"It gives you a structure," Hermione put in, "helps you make sense of things. I need that, unlike this anarchist here." She gave Ron a squeeze. "He just glances at the book, then chucks the thing through the nearest window and does what he likes!"

"Good for Ron!" remarked Tonks. "Mind, Harry and Sirius are the same."

"No, they aren't," Ororo pointed out, "and neither is Logan, though it seems that way to you, Scott. You follow rules, Ron and Tonks here follow their guts, but Sirius and Harry have a code. It's not a code anyone gave them; it's something they accept for themselves, and they don't expect it to apply to everyone."

"Glad you told me that, darling." Sirius kissed her lightly. "'Cos I never knew! Do you have a code, Harry?"

For a moment, Harry was at a loss, then something sprang into his mind. It was as if a sparkling shard of someone else's memory had tumbled into his own. He saw a campfire and a grizzled veteran sitting across from him, talking. He had a feeling that something had been taken from him, something precious, and he wanted it back, would get it back if it took him all his life.

Without thinking, Harry spoke aloud, "Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Never surrender to an enemy, either fight or run away. Protect the weak against the evil strong. Never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil. It is not enough to say, 'I will not be evil.' Evil must be fought wherever it is found."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno," Harry answered, frowning. "Seems like I've always known it. Feels right though."

There was a silence. Nestled against Harry, Ginny tried not to sigh. Evil must be fought wherever it is found, she thought. He'll do that, my Harry, he'll seek out evil and fight it all his life. It wasn't that she disagreed with the sentiment – she herself had fought evil fiercely, and would again if she had to. But Harry had sacrificed his childhood and his teenage years to that fight. Surely, it must be someone else's turn? Surely, he'd earned a respite, a chance to be himself, not the cold, driven warrior she respected and – be honest, Ginny – feared so much?

She thought about the letter from Oliver Wood that was hidden among her clothes – the one where the former Gryffindor captain begged her to use any influence she might have with Harry to get him to sign up for his team. 'He can have anything he wants, all the Galleons he can carry, a flat, a mansion, my girlfriend and the manager's wife and daughter!' Oliver had written. Ginny had hoped that the previous day's battle would have convinced Harry that it was time to stop going out looking for trouble. She'd hoped to catch him in such a mood and show him the letter, persuade him to follow what she truly believed was his proper career. No chance, she thought now, but he's mine. I love him, and I'll stay right by him until he does realise who he really is!

That settled in her mind, she reached up, pulled Harry's head down, and kissed him for a long time. When they surfaced, Sirius murmured, "Look!"

Two figures were strolling across the lawn, hand-in-hand, heads close together. One was Emma Frost – the other was Remus Lupin! Remus? Outside and human under a full Moon?

Harry gaped until Hermione said with satisfaction, "It worked, then!"

"Of course, it did," Ron told her. "With you and Rogue on the case, it wouldn't dare not work!"

Hermione promptly pounced on him, and they rolled around on the grass, tussling playfully and giggling.

As Harry watched, Remus and Emma paused, speaking softly. Remus reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Fatal mistake, thought Harry, warmth flooding through him. The old 'hair in the face' trick –that's how Ginny nobbled me! And sure enough, Emma captured Remus' hand, holding it to her cheek. He stepped closer, and two forms merged into one as her arms came round his neck and their lips finally met.

Harry felt mellower than ever before, here among his friends, his loved ones. Ginny was warm, soft and strong against him. He found himself humming a tune, to which Sirius reacted with a surprised look.

"Where did you learn that, Harry?"

"Something else I think I've always known," Harry replied. "My aunt used to hum it, sometimes, when she was in a good mood."

"Hmm…." Sirius suddenly looked sad. "Lily used to sing it all the time. She'd sing you to sleep with it when you were tiny. I always thought it was odd for her, because it's a Muggle soldier's song, but she told me it had been in her family for generations. Apparently one of her ancestors was a famous soldier in the – what did she call it? – Napoleonic Wars. A rifleman, she said he was. I had her write the words down for me once. I may still have them at home."

"Do you remember any of it?" Harry asked eagerly. Any link with his parents was a precious thing to him.

"Only one verse," Sirius admitted, "but an appropriate one, given what's gone on the last few days."

He began to sing softly, and as his mellow tenor drifted across the grounds, Harry felt fully contented and at one with himself and his world.

When Evil stalks upon the land

I'll neither stop nor stay my hand

But fight to win a better day

Over the hills and far away

O'er the hills and o'er the main

Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain

King George commands and we obey

Over the hills and far away

END

Afterword

Harry, Hermione and Ron qualified as Aurors in the Autumn of 1998. Hermione and Ron were handfasted the following Spring. They have two children, Harry Arthur (b. 2004) and Danielle Molly (b. 2007). Hermione is now Magical Enforcement's Chief CSI (Curse Scene Investigator), while Ron is Head of Intelligence. They live in a converted barn across a field from Harry's house at Godric's Hollow. Charm and Hunter are still reserve X-Men and also reserve members of UK-based Mutant team X-Calibur.

Ginny left Hogwarts in Summer 1998, and joined the Chudley Cannons as a Chaser. She moved into Godric's Hollow with Harry. The two parted in 2005. Ginny moved to London, subsequently dating several Quidditch players. In 2007, during an unexpected trip to the US, Ginny rekindled her relationship with Peter Rasputin - Colossus. They were married in 2008 and have a son, Charles Arthur (b. 2009). Ginny now teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, as well as training and managing the only all-Mutant Quidditch team in the world. As Firebird, she leads the X-Men's Red Team.

Harry remained at Godric's Hollow. After a brief fling with Danielle Moonstar, he dated Cho Chang. In 2007, he brought Kitty Pryde home with him from San Cristoval, Nevada, and the two were handfasted a month later. They have three children, Sirius Logan (b. 2008), Ororo Hermione (b. 2010), and Ronald Albus (b. 2012). Harry is currently a Supervising Field Auror, head of the Walpurgis Task Force, and has dinner occasionally with Draco Malfoy to compare notes. Kitty is a teacher at Emma Frost's Academy for Special Children. Under the codenames Hawk and Shadowcat, they are on the reserve rosters of both the X-Men and X-Calibur.

Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown were handfasted within a month of leaving school. They have two daughters and a son, and run their own herbalist business, called "Longbottom's Leaves".

Arthur and Molly Weasley still live at The Burrow with Fred, Parvati, George and Padma Weasley and their ten children. The place is complete chaos, and the happiest, most loving home in the world!

Bill Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks were handfasted in 2001. They have four children.

Ororo Monroe and Sirius Black were handfasted in the Spring of 1998. They have a son, James Remus (b. 2000). Ororo is now an Auror. Sirius works for the Ministry. Storm and Padfoot are reserve X-Men.

Dr Emma Frost left Xavier's for London in 2005, where she founded the Academy for Special Children (Mutants) and the UK's own Mutant force, X-Calibur. Emma and Remus Lupin have continued their relationship. Remus now heads the Ministry of Magic's Werewolf Squad.

Bob and Marie Drake also came to England with Dr Frost. Their daughter, Crystal Lavender, was born there in 2007, on the same day as Danielle Weasley. Rogue and Iceman are the team leaders of X-Calibur.

Sam and Rahne Guthrie run a motel in San Cristoval. They have two children.

Danielle Moonstar and Roberto DaCosta remain attached to each other in an open relationship. Both are still active X-Men and both teach at Xavier's.

Alison Blair left Xavier's to pursue a career in music. She and Seamus Finnigan parted amicably in 2004. Seamus is now engaged to Daphne Greengrass.

Beast, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Banshee, Havok and Polaris continue as faculty at Xavier's. Sunfire remains a reserve X-Man, but works for the Japanese military. His main responsibilities are the containment and occasional capture of escapees from Monster Island.

Charles Xavier is semi-retired. Scott Summers runs the School for Gifted Youngsters. Scott and Fleur Delacour are still together.

Erik Lensherr became President of the Mutant Republic of Genosha. Raven Darkholme leads the Brotherhood of Mutants and continues her terrorist activities.

Bellatrix Lestrange remained in New York as Black Queen. In 1997, she petitioned the Wizengamot for annulment of her unconsummated marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange. This was granted, and Bella married Sebastian Shaw in a private ceremony later that year. Oddly enough, he never cheats on her, or she on him!

Harry was to encounter Dante again when, in 2005, the maverick Auror and the dashing demon-hunter joined forces with Dani Moonstar (Mirage of the X-Men), archaeologist Lady Lara Croft, art expert Robert Langdon, the Immortal mercenary Duncan MacLeod, and the enigmatic alien known as 'the Doctor' to form the 21st Century's first League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. The current whereabouts of Dante are unknown. He is believed to have returned to Vie de Marlie.

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the following, without whose help the task of chronicling these adventures would not have been possible.

Scott Summers, Acting Principal of the School for Gifted Youngsters, for permission to examine the files of Cerebro.

Minister of Magic Ernest MacMillan for permission to research in the Ministry Archives, and Chief Archivist Penelope Clearwater for her invaluable assistance.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall for permission to examine school records at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

The following works have also been invaluable sources:

The Boy Who Lived: The Authorised Biography of Harry Potter by Penelope Clearwater.

The Maverick Who Won: The Unofficial Biography of Harry Potter by Rita Skeeter.

Our Harry – An Intimate Portrait of Harry Potter by Katherine Pryde Potter with Hermione Weasley and Ginevra Rasputin

There's a Thestral Licking Your T-shirt: The Unofficial Autobiography of Ron Weasley by Ron Weasley

A Handbook of Forensic Wizardry by Hermione Weasley

Huntress of Two Worlds; The Memoirs of an X-Man and Auror by Ororo Monroe Black

Potions for the Muggle-Fingered by Marie D'Ancanto Drake