Chapter 1: Beginning of Another Circle

A black—a dark, abyss-like black—cloak, was swept over the tall figure. Her black eyes glowing with rage, she turned her wand on the bowed figures that constituted the ring around her. They were useless… every single one of them had failed her. Their magic? She had found it horribly lacking; they called themselves wizards? And, to think, Voldemort had called them an army and counted her father, the mudblood-loving fool, Severus, as a follower.

"Avery,"

"Yeh-yes mi'lord," he quaked. His fear sent a wave of cruel amusement through her.

"Crucio!" she roared. The man fell instantly to the ground in an irregular stance: his wrists were twisted, his arms arranged haphazardly, his knees were up to his chest, and his back was arched. His scream, high and shrill, filled the misty twilight air.

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"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked. He was bent over, his palm squashing his forehead. Most disturbing was a smile that curled his lips in a malicious un-Harry-like way.

"Gah," he cried and then looking up, said, "I'm fine." Her eyes scrutinized him carefully.

"She's happy isn't she?"

"I don't understand… She has no connection to me. Why should I have any part of her mind?" Harry growled in frustration. Ron came up behind him piling handfuls of chips into his mouth

"Wah ahh oo geeh bah to twehnin," was his garbled speech, through his mouthful. He swallowed and repeated himself, "We ought to get back to training."

"Harry needs a break," Hermione said protectively. "I'm sure you can just chill in my office, in the Department of Magical Enforcements. It's rather small, but-"

"Hermione, I'm fine," he said impatiently, flattening his bangs over his scar. He strode out of the room and Ron, after eyeing the half-empty bag of chips sadly, deposited it in the trash, and followed Harry out of the cafeteria. The two-some tread their way down the hall, into the lift, and, with a look at their watches, ran into the room where they were training.

"Very nearly late, boys," Kingsley, their trainer, chastised them. After a short time as minister, he had returned to the Auror Department, choosing trainer over department head. Harry and Ron had been excited to hear that their friend from the Order would be their boss, but he had quite surprised them by being extremely difficult, and, in Harry's case, expecting a lot more progress.

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized, before taking his place on the matted floor, opposite Javier, one of the other two trainees. Ron stood opposite Kelsey. As, they both took out wands to duel, Harry had to smile as he remembered their first duel. Or lack-there-of.

Ron had refused to fight her, not bothering to take his wand out, even. Kingsley had told him that his claims that "he could not fight a girl" were silly, but he had still clung to him. Ridiculous and pigheaded to Harry; he had after all been best friends with Hermione. Two seconds later, he had ended up flat on his back with an irritated remark from Kelsey, "I guess now we know who the real girl is." Javier and Harry had teased Ron constantly about that one.

"You all right? Headache?" Javier asked, as Harry ran his fingers over his scar.

"Something like that," Harry answered noncommittally.

………………………………………

Aro slunk around the dark halls of the Volturi's main rooms. Thinking, pondering, considering. It should have been absurdly easy. Destroy them, spare those with powers, induct them into the Volturi ranks, and grow more powerful, more influential. That had been the pattern for years and it had never failed.

Now Aro, along with Marcus and Caius were forced into a situation that never should have existed. They appeared shallow and uninformed and, frankly, spiteful. The vampire child, barely with a precedent, and her mother, completely unprecedented in occurrence were completely set against them and this with both their awesome powers. The Forks clan influence had also grown. A great number of vampires stood by the Cullens, an unparalleled resistance, when most gave in or were crushed. This was dangerous, dangerous indeed.

His red-brown eyes narrowed as he saw Marcus and Caius conferring with one another. Immediately, his withered finger struck out, lay upon Caius' hand, and delved into his mind. Caius winced horribly, but did not move.

"An alliance?" Aro inquired curiously.

"The time had passed when we alone can ensure order," Marcus responded swiftly.

"The Cullens' followers could be a danger to our centuries of power," Caius added.

"And what force are you proposing to enlist?" Aro demanded. Marcus lip curled upwards into the trace of a smile:

"A magic, one beyond our own,"

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"The Volturis will not simply let us win," Carlisle said, his voice sounding weary, but Bella knew he was not tired; he was worried.

"No, anything that challenges their power is too much of a danger to it. Still…" Esme trailed off.

"What? Do you think they will not return?"

"We do not want to take their power. They have no reason to believe-"

"They do no trust."

"I won't let them have Bella, nor Renesmee," Edward said speaking for the first time. His voice seemed laced with pain. He had come so close to losing them both, Bella several times. Bella spoke from a nearby room:

"And what about you! I won't let them have you either!" Bella cried, a horrible grimace pulling at her flawless face. She moved into the dining room where Carlisle, Edward, and Esme were having their conversation. She threw herself into Edward's pale, strong arms, which he wrapped around her.

"I should have known you were listening," he said gruffly, pulling his fingers through her dark brown hair and staring into her amber eyes.

"I love you," she said simply.

…………………………………….

Laiet Snape was tossing in her sleep. She very rarely dreamed, choosing instead to clear her mind before sleeping, but her frustration had caused her to forget.

"Remember, my daughter, you must never promise them anything. I don't want you caught up in this as I am," her father, tall with black, greasy hair, had repeated for the eleventh time.

"Yes, Severus,"

"Yes, father," he corrected, his hand on her shoulder. She pulled away, tossing her long, soft black hair over her shoulder. She fixed him with a menacing glare; she was very much her father's daughter. "Please Laiet," he pleaded. She merely shrugged. She was seventeen; she could decide for herself. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but there was a knock at the door. With one backward glance, he went to open it.

Her father was a stolid man, betraying not a single intimation of his true feelings or beliefs, but that moment had been different. He had looked at her with a veracity that was not easily forgotten, and she had tried to shove aside in her escalation of power.

He had truly wanted his daughter not to become a Death Eater, and she had not failed him. She had become the lord over them. They quivered at her voice and bowed down in her presence. She was becoming more powerful than Voldemort himself… and the wizarding world had no idea.

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"We've already agreed it is irregular," Hermione whispered impatiently.

"He's a dark wizard mind reader!" Ron said, rather loudly into the quiet room.

"Ron! Shush. He is not and you know he'd think he was," Hermione said worriedly, glancing over at the sleeping form of Harry, silhouetted in the darkness.

"What if he is?"

"I- I don't know," Hermione said her voice faltering. She collapsed onto the sofa, forgetting that Harry was there. "Oh, Harry, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Funny, you thought I was asleep. It makes eavesdropping a lot easier," Harry answered wryly. His pushed himself into one corner of the couch to make room for Ron and Hermione. He stretched his arms, grabbed his wand from the side table, and dropped it into the pocket of his cloak. When they remained silent, Harry took the opportunity to tease Ron:

"You better be careful Ron; you'll fail the stealth portion of the Auror tests."

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"Care to explain where we are flying," Caius asked tentatively. They were flying in a private jet from Italy. Their travels rarely necessitated a plane; usually their speed could take them where they needed to go.

"England,"

"Any reason we're risking exposure," Caius muttered.

"Morte Mangiamorte, the Death Eaters," Aro replied, a smile crinkling his papery skin.

"Like ourselves they'll do anything to keep the power, except that they are wizards," Marcus added, "Wizards who can do awesome magic."

"What if they turn on us," Caius asked warily, rubbing at the emaciated skin on his hands.

"They're only mortal," Aro said disdainfully.

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Renesmee, nick-named Nessie, knew that her parents and grandparents had been discussing the Volturi again today. It had been eight years since the Volturi had left, and a year since Nessie had stopped growing. For a near-immortal vampire, the time was trivial, especially for the century-old Volturi.

As usual, Jacob was by her side, but unlike the past eight years they were not talking. Jacob had just had a birthday; he was twenty-five, technically, though as a shape-shifter he did not age until he stopped phasing. Before, they had seemed like siblings, like Jacob was her older brother or something. Now, it was as if they both expected something more, but, at the same time, both didn't want their friendship to change. Nessie looked down at the braided bracelet on her wrist.

"Do you think Edward and Bella would mind if we went around to my place?" Jacob asked.

"Probably not, Jake, but Charlie was wanting to see me; we could go there," Nessie answered, standing up.

"All right," Jacob said, also standing, "Race you there?" He phased from human to wolf, shaggy, and with his tongue hanging out.

"You're on!" Nessie shouted.

……………………………………..

Laiet knew that without more followers an attack on the Ministry would prove unsuccessful, but how to recruit without drawing attention to them was certainly a problem. Voldemort had managed to evade the Ministry's notice, but that was because the Minister was incompetent; she was not so lucky now. Even if she was, the Order of the Phoenix and others who fought in the second war would know, they would figure it out in time.

Perhaps wizard and witches could not be sought out, but other creatures could. The giants were virtually extinct after the second war, so it was unlikely she would find allies there. The centaurs were also an impossibility; they were against the Death Eaters now. Voldemort seemed to have severely limited her resources.

"Mi'lord," Jugson interrupted her, kneeling at her feet.

"Rise, what is it?" Laiet asked impatiently.

"Three men who walked into our headquarters," he said quietly.

"You killed them?" she asked irritably. What problem was there? A quick Avada Kedavra solves the problem.

"No, the Avada Kedavra, didn't… didn't work," he said nervously.

"What!" she said angrily, "You missed!"

"No, mi'lord… well yes mi'lord," he said and then quickly added, "But only for a time. They were lightening quick, but we hit them eventually, only they didn't die."

"Didn't die?" she asked furiously. She drew herself up to her full height and stared down at him.

"We stunned them!" he shouted, drawing away from her, "Please, have mercy."

"Where are they," she asked, eyebrows furrowing and a set frown pulling at the chiseled features of her face.

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"As you near the end of your training, you will be shadowing other Aurors to learn how to react in certain situations. By doing so, you are agreeing to turn back if it gets dangerous. There will be no question of my trainees being disobedient. Understood?" Kingsley asked. Harry could tell Kingsley was speaking mostly to him, as he had a habit of ignoring rules in order to "play the hero". Not that he liked being the hero. He just saw what the right thing to do was and he did it. To him there was no question of rules when lives were at stake. He tried to avoid Kingsley's eyes.

"Who will we be shadowing?" Kelsey asked.

"Harry will be shadowing me. Ron will shadow Proudfoot. Kelsey will shadow Dawlish and Javier will shadow Williamson," Kingsley answered and at his words, the three other Aurors in the department entered the room. Dawlish looked harried and he walked straight up to Kingsley and whispered something in his ear.

"Very well," Kingsley said, "Kelsey, you will also shadow me today, but you will usually be with Dawlish." At this, Dawlish hurried from the room without a backward glance.

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"Now that you've had manners enough to talk like civilized people-" Aro began.

"You will state your purpose now; I have no time for formalities," Laiet demanded. Her black hair was thrown into a messy bun, and her eyes were hard and sharp.

"Very well," Aro said, "We, the Volturis, look to ally with the Death Eaters."

"Why?" Laiet asked coldly.

"To defeat the Cullen's clan and friends; they are a danger to our people's order," Marcus answered.

"And," Aro added, "I sense there is something that the Death Eaters could use help with." He had obviously made contact with one of the Death Eaters, and had delved into their memory.

"I'm interested, I must say: who are you?" Laiet asked.

"I have said already: we are the Volturi. A century-old clan of vampires who keep order among our kind and keep our kind secret," Aro answered. He stood and paced around the room. Laiet's eyes followed him warily.

………………………………….

"What is it, Kingsley?" Harry asked.

"You'll be told what you need to. What you are not told is not your business," Kingsley told him firmly, "but, it just so happens that you will be enlightened because we are going to go interview the Cullens."

"The Cullens?" Harry wondered.

"They are a clan of American vampires."

"How many are there? What should we be prepared for?" Kelsey asked nervously.

"I do not suspect trouble,"

"But they're vampires," Kelsey said, emphasizing the last word. She put her hands on her hips and fixed Kingsley with a doubtful expression.

"They call themselves vegetarians," Kingsley said, frowning, "They drink animal's blood, rather than humans. Though that doesn't change the fact that they're uncommonly strong and wicked fast, not to mention one can see the future and the other can read minds. Oh yeah, and one manipulates emotions."

"That seems more dangerous to me, than if they did drink blood," Harry commented, but his eyes had narrowed.

"Each of you an arm," Kingsley ordered. Kelsey hurried to take his left and Harry grabbed his right. They turned and were gone.

Harry looked around him. They were in a dark forest with large oaks. Mist spun around them and the sky was obscured by a thick layer of clouds.

"You still have not answered my question," Harry muttered.

"You are as stubborn as Ron says," Kingsley said evasively.

"Kingsley," Harry prompted.

"The Volturis are in England and we do not know why. As they are a clan of extremely powerful vampires, I intend to ask the Cullens what they know," Kingsley answered.

"I did not realize that there was so much to the vampires," Kelsey admitted.

"Very few do; we tend to ignore each other," Kingsley answered.

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Alice ran into the room where Esme, Carlisle, Jasper, Edward, and Bella were still gathered. She was running with perfect grace, despite a pair of stiletto heels. Bella would have killed herself in those before she was changed. Now, though, she was a vampire and could comport herself with nearly as much dignity.

"What did you see," Edward questioned, recognizing the expression on Alice's face. He knew of course immediately what she had seen, but asked for the sake of the others. She had seen their door open to reveal the man Kingsley, whom had come to talk to them about twenty years ago as well as a young man and woman beside him.

"Wizards, the tall one and two others are coming," she said breathlessly, mostly for emphasis, as running could never render her winded.

"There are wizards? Like wands, magic, and stuff!" Bella exclaimed.

"Yeah," Emmett teased, walking in with Jasper, "Only you forgot the broomsticks and appearing out of nowhere." Bella just stared at him. Alice stood up to open the door before the wizard's had a chance to knock.

Outside the door was a dark-skinned man, tall and robed, flanked by a shorter young women and a young man with hair as black as coal and lime-green eyes. On the forehead of the young man was a lightening-bolt scar. When he caught them staring at his scar, he pulled his bangs over his forehead.

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