Title: Abstain Ye Not
Feedback: furor dot scribiendi gmail dot com
Pairing: HP/LM
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you think I would be worried about my mounting student debt? I don't own them and I'm certainly not making any money from this so, obviously, I mean no copyright infringement.
Summary: It's been a long ten years but the war's over. Harry, much changed, is a bit unsure of what to do next. That is until some new information comes to light and Harry finds himself going far from England to finish something he thought he'd done. The only problem is that things get a little complicated in the process.
Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance
Warnings: Language/Violence/OMC/BDSM
Notes: This is a post HBP fic, with selected canonical information from DH. Now, a bit of an explanation of what a Dark Hunter is as they feature predominantly in this fic.

Dark Hunters are essentially the Wizarding equivalent of bounty hunters. They specifically hunt down Dark witches and wizards. Dark Hunters tends to roam globally rather than locally, due to the ease of travel as allowed by Flooing, illegal Portkeys and such. As such, there is an extraordinary amount of co-operation between magical governments in regards to Dark Hunters and allowing them to apprehend wanted witches and wizards at large. The only stipulation is that the wanted Dark witch or wizard in be handed back over to their home country for prosecution. Since there is no formalised training, almost anyone can become a Dark Hunter. Those that failed Auror/magical law enforcement testing, or for other reasons, opt to become Dark Hunters. However, the profession does tend to have a unusually high mortality rate, due to witches and wizards getting into something they can't handle. Most Dark Hunters tends to be exceptionally skilled in DADA, Charms (offensive, defensive and healing) and Duelling. While Dark Hunters are technically employed by their respective country ministry, they aren't bound by as many rules as Aurors/official magical law enforcement. While there is no formal association, there is a generally agreed upon ranking that determines how successful a Dark Hunter is.

Master (150 captures)
Teacher (90-150 captures)
Journeyman (25-90 captures)
Apprentice (10-25 captures)
Rookie (just started-10 captures)

What generally happens is that if someone survives long enough to reach Apprentice level, is that someone at the Teacher level takes them under their wing briefly. There is a camaraderie amongst Dark Hunters and they tend to look out for their own. Information is passed along to one another, and sometimes, Dark Hunters will work together in packs if a job has enough money for them to split to make a decent profit.


Bright sunlight was the last thing Harry wanted to see now. He rolled over in bed and looked at the clock on the bedside table. Three in the afternoon. Grumbling to himself, he got out of bed and quickly pulled on a pair of pants. The flat was small and it was a short walk to the kitchen where he fixed himself his usual cup of coffee. The only thing that made this day different was the fact that he wasn't in some pressing hurry.

Voldemort was finally dead. It had taken a gruelling decade but the self-styled Dark Lord had breathed his last and was no longer a thorn in Harry's side.

He stared down into his coffee cup before he drained it to the dregs and left it in the sink. He wasn't too sure what he'd do now. But he'd been going non-stop since he'd decided not to go back to Hogwarts. Maybe a vacation was in order. Or something to relax. He felt like he was wound a bit too tightly. It would only be a matter of time before he snapped or the like.

It didn't take long to go back to the bedroom and toss on some clothes. It took even less time to walk outside and head for Diagon Alley. When he got there, it was still peculiar to see the place look so empty. It had still been busy as Voldemort had grown in power, and when he'd taken over at the Ministry for a brief period. But as the war escalated, most people didn't linger. They didn't want to be kidnapped or simply vanish. People were still fearful of being out for too long and the result was the street looking forlorn and empty rather than crammed full of people. He walked down the main street, feeling like he was out of place. He paused in front of Eeylops for a moment before he decided against it and continued on. If he couldn't bring himself to buy another owl now, he probably wouldn't ever. When Magical Menagerie came up, he paused for a moment and went in. A solid wall of sound greeted him as he stepped in, and he could see the harried owner with an armful of Puffskeins. He waited until she was done and walked over.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, how can I help you dear?" she pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Oh my! Mr Potter!"

There were times Harry wished the whole world was blind so he didn't have to go through this every time someone saw him. He dredged up a quick smile. "I was wondering if I could take a look at your ravens, Ms..."

"Oh I'm Miss Park. Er, Kara Park. And of course that's my name, why would it be something different." she gave a tremulous laugh and started for the other side of the store. "Sorry it's just... I never thought you would come in my store. Most people head over to Eeylops. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Not really," Harry said as he stopped in front of the rows of cages. "I need another bird."

"I see. Most people prefer owls, but ravens are the way to go if you ask me," Kara straightened her shirt and adjusted her hair once more. She seemed to be getting her bearings, not to mention her self-control, back."Do you know much about raven care?"

"A bit." It was a bit disconcerting to have so many beady eyes focused on him so intently.

"Well then, I'll let you pick one and you can let me know when you're ready. If you need help with anything, just give a shout."

"Thank you." Harry replied.

Kara was already halfway to the back of the shop and probably didn't hear what he said. Most of the ravens now seemed to not pay attention to him any more and went back to preening themselves, eating or sleeping. He walked along the wall, unsure of what he was looking for. It was when he reached the end that a flash of white that caught his eye. Curious, he crouched down. Here in the corner was a raven that had a splotch of white on its back. The raven seemed to realise someone was watching it, since it looked up at him and cocked its head. Harry reached down and picked up the cage. The other ravens started squawking, and the raven he was holding ruffled its feathers and squawked right back. Harry could have sworn he heard a touch of defiance in that squawk. Kara came around the corner looking harried again.

"What's set you lot off now?" Kara paused when she saw the cage in his hand. "Oh, Marvin."

"Marvin?" Harry repeated.

"I didn't know what else to call him," Kara shook her head. "He's been here so long, poor sweetheart. Everybody likes their ravens to just be black."

Harry looked at the raven and back at the other ones on the wall. "How much for him?"

"I'll give him to you for five Galleons and five Sickles. I've just wanted him to go to a good home for the longest while."

Harry nodded his head as he opened the cage door. The raven hopped to the edge, looked at Harry and then flapped up to his shoulder. Kara smiled.

"Think he likes me." Harry said as he reached for his mokeskin purse and took out the money.

"I'd have to agree," Kara put the money in the till that opened and closed itself. "Now, how about some nice treats for Marvin here?"

When Harry left the shop five minutes later it was with one raven, a bag fill of treats and a strange feeling. He couldn't explain where it came from. It was almost an overwhelming feeling that something wasn't right. He hadn't lived through the past decade by ignoring that feeling, but he couldn't explain what the cause was. After a moment he let it drop. He could puzzle it out later when he got back home.

"So... Marvin. Somehow, you don't particularly look like a Marvin." Harry looked over to find the raven had ruffled his feathers once more. "Definitely need a new name for you. How about... Munin?" he got a squawk, a flapping of wings and then a preening bird on his shoulder. "Munin it is. I've had enough for one day. How about we go home?"


Harry didn't particularly want to be at the Ministry tonight. After two days of peace and quiet going anywhere was the last thing he wanted. But when the invitation arrived and Harry saw who had written to him, he didn't know how to turn it down. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister for Magic, was probably one of the last few people in England whom he could refuse. So he had dressed up nicely and shown up at seven in the evening on the nose. And two hours later, he was wandering the room and trying to avoid small talk as if it was the bubonic plague. That in and of itself was difficult since everyone wanted to talk to the person who had killed Voldemort. And what made matters worse, he'd only seen Kingsley once since this event had started and had agreed to say a few words.

He didn't know what he was thinking, agreeing to something like that especially since he had no clue of what the hell he would even say. He hated talking to large groups of people who were just watching him. It wasn't like the DA when he spoke and then helped others. He continued to wander through the crowd, always making excuses when someone tried to get him into a conversation. It seemed like forever before he noticed Kingsley making his way up to the podium with a retinue behind him. Harry made a direct beeline for them. Someone noticed and tapped Kingsley on the shoulder. Kingsley looked around and waved at Harry to join them. Once they came to a stop, Kingsley pushed his retinue out of the way and threw an arm around Harry's shoulder. Somehow Kingsley almost looked the same. Only now, there were small worry lines around his eyes and harsh creases by his mouth, from frowning with worry. Not to mention the small goatee on his chin that was more grey than black.

"Good to see you Harry," Shacklebolt gave him a warm smile.

Harry managed to smile back. He only hope that it didn't look forced. "Not as if I could refuse the Minister himself. And one who's not a stubborn jackass to boot."

Kingsley laughed, attracting attention from onlookers. "I'm glad you decided to say something. Just do me one favour: don't say what they want to hear. Say what they need to hear."

Kingsley patted him on the shoulder and went up to stand in front of the podium. Suddenly Harry didn't feel quite so stupid for agreeing to this. He'd tell them exactly what they needed to hear alright. The crowd was turning to look at Kingsley and the murmur of conversation was dying down. Once the room was entirely quiet, Kingsley drew his wand, murmured the Sonorus spell and then spoke.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming," Kingsley's voice was grave and it echoed slightly in the large quiet room. "It's been a long decade, but it's finally been done: we've beaten the Dark Lord."

A twinge of displeasure surged through Harry at that. There was still something that didn't feel right about this to Harry. But he stood, vaguely listening to Kingsley talking about the changes that were coming to the wizarding world so things like this never happened again. The feeling did lessen as Kingsley talked and it took him a bit by surprise when someone elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He almost drew his wand, but then remembered where he was. Kingsley wasn't at the podium any more, but was standing in front of and looking at him expectantly. Harry walked up to the podium quickly, clearing his throat and casting Sonorus on himself with his wand. He hadn't ever looked forward to pissing off so many people intent on celebrating.

"I still don't know why Kingsley asked me to say something. Guess he decided to leave much of it to me," he paused as a ripple of laughter passed through the room. "But as he said it's been a long decade, but we've finally done it. We've killed Voldemort," he waited for the twitter of nervousness to pass through the crowd. "It's not been without its sacrifices. Friends, family, loved ones... we've all lost someone to Voldemort and his delusions of grandeur. Some we didn't lose. At least not physically." He paused and swallowed, the memory of Hermione in St Mungo's swimming to the surface of his mind. "And there is nothing that will ever bring them back to us.

"The Minister is right: we can't let this happen again. We must never forget the acts that Voldemort and the Death Eaters perpetrated. And we cannot ever forget that we ourselves were complicit in aiding Voldemort in his bid for power." There was an uneasy ripple that passed through the room now. Harry was pretty sure that he shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did. But he couldn't deny that it was fun to see some of the self-righteous, pious fools squirm. "I'm sure plenty of people in this room remember Alastor Moody. To say the least, he was a bit unorthodox but his constant phrase was true. It was true in the first war with Voldemort, and it fell on a lot of deaf ears the second time around: constant vigilance.

"The Ministry is there to see to large matters yes, but we ourselves must do our part. Moody was damned well right. Constant vigilance is the price we pay so we don't end up with the higher cost. The one that is paid in blood, in loved ones. In orphaned children and broken homes. The price that is paid in broken people and a broken, disillusioned society. We must never forget that cost. We've paid that cost twice now, after Voldemort's first ascent to power and now, after the long and terrible run of his second bid to take over the wizarding world. There are some here who have seen that terrible cost up close and first hand. Never forget that cost. And never let anyone else forget it either."

He looked over the crowd for a long moment, watching his words sink in. After a moment had passed, he stepped down from the podium. There was still silence, and somehow Harry wasn't surprised. They wanted to bury their heads again with something cheerful and inspiring. And he couldn't blame Kingsley for asking him to do it. Kingsley couldn't afford to be the one to say it as the new Minister. It had to come from someone that the wizarding populace would be hard pressed to find fault with. Harry was the perfect person to say that.

Kingsley quickly got back up onto the podium and started talking once more. Harry found that the longer he stood there waiting for Kingsley to finish the more uncomfortable he became. When Kingsley finally finished, Harry made his excuses and left promptly. He didn't want to listen to people make their excuses and try to justify themselves. He started walking home, but as he stepped onto Charing Cross street, everything in him rebelled against going back to his flat at the moment. It only took a moment of thought before he decided on where he was going. There was pressure and darkness before Charing Cross was replaced by Ottery St Catchpole. He could even see the top most turret of the Burrow. But he wasn't going there; it wasn't the same place of chaotic warmth, and just thinking about that left Harry feeling depressed. It was snowing here already and, as he started walking away from the Burrow, it crunched underneath his feet.

The graveyard he arrived in fifteen minutes later was fairly small. But he started walking towards the back, knowing which headstone he was looking for. The tombstones seemed to grow as he made his way further in and when he finally came to a stop, he was surrounded by Weasley family tombstones. But he was standing in front of the one he wanted. The etched words of 'Ronald Bilius Weasely' were still clear, unlike the other tombstones. Harry stared at it for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Been awhile since I last came to see you," he paused for a moment. "Hermione's doing okay. She's still at St Mungo's. It's getting harder and harder to visit her thought. She keeps asking about you, talking about you and I can't keep lying to her. And I can't tell her the truth. It'll devastate her, and the Healer said... well, I don't want to set back her recovery. It's already shaky at best. I don't know what to do and I think I'm reaching the end of my rope." he didn't say anything for a long moment, cursing himself for finding it so hard to speak. "I finally got a new bird. Couldn't get an owl, not after Hedwig. Got a raven instead, he's got a patch of white on his back. Renamed him Munin. It was Marvin, but that seemed like a terrible name for him," he paused once more. "Merlin, I wish you were still here. Maybe then everything wouldn't seem so weird, and you can call me an idiot for feeling like Voldemort isn't dead... yeah, isn't that stupid? I killed him, but it doesn't feel like he's dead for whatever reason."

He stood there for a bit longer before he dug into his pocket. He found some Dungbombs, a packet of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and Snarfle Snaps. He patted down some of the snow in front of Ron's tombstone and placed the stuff on top. Once he built up a little wall of snow around it, he dusted the excess from his fingers and turned, leaving the graveyard. He could Apparate home right now, but decided not to. He could use the walk.


Early dawn wasn't Harry's favourite time of day; too many things always happened then. The sunlight was just starting to creep over the horizon and brighten up the bedroom. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a cold cup of coffee and staring out the window. His mind was still turning over the puzzling dream that had woken him up an hour ago. Dreams weren't something that came often to him now. Since Severus had taught him Occlumency at Minerva's behest, his mind was like a vise. Nothing got in or out. Usually.

But this... he wasn't too sure if this was actually a dream or something else.

All he could recall was looking down at a hideous baby, that had looked more reptilian more than anything else. It was as if someone dropped a snake scale into some Polyjuice and made a baby drink it, but the transformation didn't completely take. But the strangest thing about the whole thing was that it looked like he was looking down at himself from someone else's eyes. And what topped the whole thing off was that odd croaked whisper that repeatedly mumbled something over and over again.

Of course, he felt like a right idiot because there was a part of his brain telling him exactly what it meant. He just didn't really want to listen to it. After a decade, he just wanted to get on with his damn life. Hell, even his gut believed it as well. But his rational brain was fighting it like hell.

He was not going to have a good week.


Lucius was miserable. Correction: he was cold, miserable, the only Malfoy left and currently in the company of the insane with the notable exception of Severus. It was early October and they were somewhere in the forsaken forested hills of Romania, slowly moving eastward. Being in the middle of a forest at the edges of Europe was not Lucius' idea of the victory the Dark Lord had promised them. Of course, that was before most of the other Death Eaters were either killed or captured. He supposed he should count himself lucky that he managed to escape or he would be rotting away in Azkaban again, with no hope of release.

They were huddled around a pitiful fire, trying to keep warm in the bitter cold. Greyback, who was chewing on a bloody piece of meat, seemed to be the only one not bothered and sat a bit away from them. Alecto and Dolohov were muttering to themselves and rocking back and forth, probably still bemoaning the loss of their wands. Bellatrix was the only one that seemed content. Of course that could have something to do with the fact that the Dark Lord was in her arms in the form of an infant. Lucius couldn't help but think that this would be the closest she ever got to motherhood, since it seemed that no matter how many times she slept with the Dark Lord or Rodolphus, she never once got pregnant. He had a suspicion as to why it was only Bellatrix who was allowed to handle the Dark Lord, but he didn't see any proof yet.

Lucius had thought he had seen the last of that ugly, twisted form after that one time in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. Now, when he looked at this... being who was supposed to be his lord and master, all he could think about was Draco and Narcissa, how the Dark Lord had killed them for his mistake. The anger would bubble and burn at the back of his throat, and he knew that he could easily indulge in the physicality of wrapping his fingers around that frail neck, squeezing and possibly giving him a good hard shake to snap that wretched neck in the process. Of course, if anyone made a move towards the Dark Lord, Bellatrix would be beside him in an instant, baring her teeth and growling.

He never thought he'd think this but if he ever got out of this situation intact, he would personally thank Neville Longbottom for giving Bellatrix, the crazy bitch that she was, a sample of her own wandwork.

The fire popped and Lucius moved in closer beside Severus. Severus looked over at him, with the promise of pain in his eyes. Lucius mouthed the word, 'food' and the look dimmed slightly in Severus' eyes.A mild flush of relief surged through Lucius at that. They'd all been on edge since fleeing England, and it was nothing short of divine intervention that they had worked together this long without murdering one another.

"Lucius and I are going to look for food." Severus announced as he rose.

Lucius stood hastily beside him as half-hearted assent greeted them. Greyback gave a dry laugh as he tore off another bloody chunk of meat.

"Should have come hunting with me," the werewolf wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a bloody smear across his face. "Then you might not look like you're dying."

There was a pronounced silence at that as everyone but Bellatrix looked at Greyback for a moment. Lucius knew what everyone else was thinking. What Greyback was eating had probably once been a person and no one here was that into cannibalism. Severus opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He gestured to Lucius and they started walking away from the fire. Once they were safely out of earshot, Severus rounded on him.

"What the hell do you really want from me?"

Lucius just looked at Severus for a moment. "I want you to do something for me."

"What are you blithering about?" Severus began a moment later. "You want me to do something for you? In case you haven't noticed, I'm starving to death along side you and those other idiots back there."

"Don't play dumb with me. I know you worked for the Order."

There was a pronounced silence from Severus before he asked, "And how long have you known this?"

"The past decade. I didn't tell the Dark Lord about it so, whether you like it or not, you owe me one."

Severus scowled but he nodded his head. "What do you want?"

"I want Voldemort dead," Lucius couldn't exactly say why he snarled so viciously, or actually used the Dark Lord's proper name. "And I know the Order can achieve that, if they haven't totally disbanded by now."

Silence fell now as Severus was busy staring at him with a slack-jawed expression of amazement. Lucius inhaled a deep breath and straightened his dirty robes. Severus snapped out of it.

"Have you lost your wits?"

"No," Lucius paused before he said bitterly, "You'll at least be back in England to warn the right people that the Dark Lord isn't dead. I have nothing left to lose now from this gamble except for my life and I can assure you it's probably worth very little at the moment."

"And if I leave now, how do you plan on fending with the others? They look at you as little more than scum. You'll be dead at the first chance they get."

"I rather think they might have a change of heart," Lucius said. "Especially when you leave and I'm the only other one with a wand."

Severus scrutinised Lucius. "Your wand was destroyed if I recall correctly, and you never got a new one."

"I have a wand." Lucius simply stated.

"Let me see it."

Lucius reached beneath his robes and under his grimy shirt. The wood was warm in his hands and he reluctantly drew it out for Severus to see. The length of pale juniper gleamed dully in the starlight, evoking memories. Oh Lucius remembered this wand well. He remembered his wife's pale hands wielding it as she desperately tried to save Draco and then herself...

"Isn't that -" Severus began with a furrow in his brow.

"Yes," Lucius cut him off with a clipped tone and he put the wand back, hidden out of sight. "So, as you can see, I'll have more than enough protection."

Severus finally seemed satisfied. "I'll talk to Potter. He'll hunt down the Dark Lord and tear him into bloody strips for escaping yet again."

Lucius didn't doubt that for a moment. "Let's just find a farm and hopefully get some food."

"I believe there is one a bit of the way back," Severus replied as they started walking once more. "Where else would Greyback find his... preferred meat."

Lucius let Severus take the lead and they came upon a farmhouse after almost an hour of walking. Severus turned to look at Lucius, pulling him back into the trees.

"Once we are done here, I am leaving." Severus was silent for a moment. "After that, you are on your own. Continue onwards to Asia, and I'll do all I can to see that Potter follows you. But do not make it easy for him. I intend to rile him up. And if he finds you too soon, he may be inclined to kill first and ask questions later."

"Not that he did much of that towards the end." Lucius muttered.

Severus made a disgusted sound and gave Lucius a shake. "Do you understand me?"

"Very well," Lucius was silent for a moment before he spoke once more. "Could you tell Potter something for me?"

To Severus' credit, he didn't look startled. He only slid Lucius a look before nodding his head. Lucius could only hope that this would help Potter do in the maniac once and for all.


This didn't feel right. None of this had felt right for the past three weeks. Here he was at a party, celebrating Voldemort's defeat, and he felt like the battle still wasn't over. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was incomplete, unfinished. And it didn't help that the dream with the weird baby hadn't abated. He sighed and absently rubbed at his forehead. This wasn't the place to mope about it, and certainly not in a corner. It would be bound to attract -

"Hello hello, Harry."

'Too late'. Harry looked up as George popped out from the crowd. George's face was almost as red as his hair and Harry wondered how much he had to drink.

"Why sit here and mope?" George waved a hand about. Unfortunately, it had a drink and some of it sloshed over the side. "Whoops. Anyway, Gin's over there and -"

Harry wasn't about to go into this again. "And looking quite attached to Seamus. Look, I just need a minute or two to myself."

"No worries," George clapped him on the back. "We're planning on taking off in an hour or so. You're welcome to join us if you like."

Harry didn't know who 'we' were exactly, but he forced himself to give a grin and waved George off. He'd better move, since it would now only be a matter of time before someone else came and pestered him. And if one more person dropped the broad hint about him and Ginny once more, he would not be responsible for the hex used on that person. He looked down at his glass of Firewhiskey just in time to see an odd reflection appear in it. He looked up again and saw a shock of yellow hair and a very familiar face.

"Wotcher," Tonks' voice was low, sombre and urgent. "Minerva needs to speak to you immediately."

Harry nodded and followed her through the throng of people. This seriously had to be the first time Harry had seen Grimmauld Place packed to capacity. They headed for the top-most floor, the sounds of revelry growing quieter as they ascended. Tonks ushered him into a room and locked the door behind them, before placing a few spells on it. There was a hiss and the odd sensation of the air pressing down for a moment. Minerva was standing beside a lone fireplace, while Kingsley, Tonks and Hestia sat in the crescent of seats. Since Dumbledore's death a little more than a decade ago, she'd taken over. And slowly, over the years, worry and fights had carved deep lines in her face. But now, she looked more grave and weary than Harry had ever seen her. Everyone else in the room wore similar expressions. It would take an idiot to not know what this was about. Minerva turned to look at him and Harry could see it in her eyes. His heart dropped and his gut clenched with anger.

"He's not dead is, he?"

The silence grew more pronounced at Harry's words and it was a long moment before Minerva spoke.

"No, he is not. The last intelligence we received from Severus says that You-Know-Who managed to survive. As far as I know, he managed to escape."

Harry was really starting to hate the wily bastard. "Did we miss a Horcrux?"

"No," Minerva shook her head. "Something happened that made him revert back to his infant form before he got his new body."

Harry wanted to curse, he really did. To have spent the past decade of his life attempting to kill Voldemort and finally succeed, only to be told three weeks later that Voldemort was still alive... This time he'd hunt down the insane bastard and kill him with his bare hands if need be.

"Do we know where he is now?" Kingsley asked.

As if on cue, there was a loud knock at the door. Hestia hurried over and opened it. Severus staggered in, looking like he'd walked through all levels of hell twice. Hestia hurried him over to her seat and went back to lock the door and recast the spells. The incident with Nagini and being forced to work with the man for the past ten years had created a sort of grudging respect. Harry nodded his head in curt greeting to the man, but that was as far as he ever went. Severus did the same before he looked at Minerva.

"He's fleeing from Europe with the few Death Eaters he has left. He doesn't want to risk Potter finding him and killing him before he's had time to regroup his strength. That's the last intelligence I can give."

"Does he know about the Order disbanding?" Minerva asked.

Severus was silent for a moment. "No, he does not. However he's taking no chances of being found again," Severus continued on. "When I was last with him, it was in the wilds of Romania near Transylvania. There was talk of seeking refuge on the other side of the Atlantic, but that's bound to change now."

There was silence for a moment before Harry spoke. "Do you think he might head for Asia?"

"It's entirely possible." Severus admitted.

"So either way, he could be going in one of two directions," Minerva stepped in now. "If we treat this quietly, get the Ministry to keep an eye out for troublemakers here, as well as asking our allies overseas, we'll hear something before sending a team out."

"No team." Harry said now. "Just me."

Everyone turned to stare at him now. Severus was the first one to speak.

"As much as I admire the perseverance of your fool-hardy wish to die, it would be more prudent for you to travel with others. As far as I know he has Alecto, Dolohov, Greyback, Lucius and Bellatrix with him."

Harry could feel everyone looking at him as he snorted. "Alecto and Dolohov don't have half a brain between them and Bellatrix... well, I think we all know that she's no better than a pet now since Neville got to her,"

Everyone was glancing at one another, the hesitation unspoken. Harry pressed on.

"So I'm pretty sure my only problem will be Greyback and Lucius. At best."

The silence in the room was still uneasy, and Minerva sounded tired when she spoke once more.

"Harry, I still don't think that's such a wise idea."

"Oh, okay," Harry really didn't feel like arguing the points of this. "Then why don't we go downstairs and let everyone celebrating know that Voldemort's not dead yet and we need to start assembling teams to catch him once more." The silence now turned awkward. Harry sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm a Dark Hunter. This is what I do. And I have rarely worked well in a team," He didn't say anything about Hermione and Ron. "So I'm going after him. If I leave tonight, I might be able to pick up a fresh trail."

"Pick up a fresh trail where Harry?" Tonks finally spoke. "We don't know where the blazes he's heading to."

"You don't spend a decade hunting someone down without learning something of their habits. Plus with half the contacts I have outside of Europe, it'll be easier for me to find him alone."

"Fine, fine," Minerva finally said. "We could argue until we turn as blue as a Doxy, but it'll get us nowhere. Since you are so determined, then by all means do so. But I strongly urge you to contact any one of us if you need assistance," her expression softened. "We don't want to go through the same thing you did."

Harry's heart clenched as he thought of Hermione in St. Mungo's and Ron's tombstone, but he nodded. "Aren't I always careful?" There came grumbles of dissent, but Harry shook his head. "Some things never change."

"Severus, is there anything you feel Harry needs to know before he leaves?"

"... I would prefer to speak with him privately about it." Severus finally said.

Minerva nodded her head and left the room. Everyone else filed out until it was just the two of them left. Harry stood there wondering when the man would decide to speak. Five minutes must have passed when Severus spoke slowly and quietly.

"Have you been to see Miss Granger lately?"

"Three weeks ago, after I thought I killed the maniac." Harry answered. "What didn't you want to say in front of Minerva?"

Severus didn't speak for a moment. "Are you sure you're doing this for the right reasons?"

"A little late to be asking that question, don't you think?"

Harry sat down in one of the chairs, looking at Severus. The dark haired man was watching the fire intently, as if he was collecting his thoughts for some blistering argument. He wasn't expecting the tone of finality when Severus spoke once more.

"It's been a decade Potter. A decade of bitter fighting and heavy losses. He killed your best friend and that lapdog of his tortured your other one so badly that she's in St Mungo's right alongside Longbottom's parents. And when you thought it was all over, you find out it isn't and now you have to chase him down once more and kill him again. And you want to tell me that the Erumpent horn hasn't exploded yet? I think you're lying through your wretched little teeth."

A scowl came to Harry's face. "What, do you want me to tell you that my motivation for killing the bastard is completely noble and unselfish? You're holding out for a lot you're not going to get."

"I want to make sure you're not running off with a rash idea that you'll kill Voldemort even if it means killing yourself in the process."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to worry about that."

Severus gave a bark of dry laughter. "Don't I? Shall I recount what happened when you found out the Dark Lord kidnapped Ronald Weasley? And then Miss Granger?"

"No, you don't." Harry gritted his teeth.

"I think I need to, since you seem determined to walk the same bloody path again."

"Which, quite frankly, I don't think is any of your damned business and my own damned choice."

Severus seemed to swell a bit with rage at that, and Harry felt more comfortable with the more familiar emotion directed at him from the potions master.

"I think it's my 'damned business' as you put it, since I have spent the past thirty one years making sure you didn't die. And I'll be damned if you decide now to throw away your mother's sacrifice and get yourself killed because you want some vengeance."

"And you're one to talk?" Harry sneered.

Severus moved and what seemed like a split second later, he was standing in front of Harry and scowling at him. Harry hadn't wasted any time either and had drawn his wand, aiming it right for Severus' throat.

"I refuse to let Lily's sacrifice be in vain." Severus ground out.

Harry didn't say anything, just staring back at Severus. Severus looked back at Harry for a long moment before he straightened back up.

"I don't know exactly what happened that night in Poland," Severus said quietly after a moment. "And I'm sure your chosen profession of being an over glorified bounty hunter hasn't helped matters. I never thought I would say this, but you've turned out worse than me to some degree. I used to see Lily in you, but you've done an exemplary job of killing that part of yourself."

Harry scowled up at him, wanting to lash back out and deny it. But anything he said now would only be fuel for the fire. Severus continued to watch him for a moment before he tilted his head slightly.

"I have a message for you."

"From?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

Harry looked up at Severus, brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Lucius Malfoy? That bastard is still alive?"

"Quite. He said, 'The beast is key.' Does that mean anything to you?"

"Nothing at all." Harry frowned. What the hell was Lucius Malfoy doing trying to help him out now?

Severus seemed content now that he had delivered his news and walked to the door. Harry didn't bother to say goodbye. The door opened a few seconds later but Severus' footsteps didn't sound.

"I'd rather not have to bury you beside Lily. I thought I would have to do that once, and I'd rather not go through it again. Insufferable whelp."

The door closed after Severus' last sentence and Harry swore darkly to himself. He didn't know where Severus got off, passing judgment on him. He really wasn't having a good week.