AN: And here it is! Chapter 4: The Attack of Diagon Alley- Part 2 =)

Though it resembled a ghost town before, at the very least, it was orderly. Now, any trace of it had vanished and was replaced with sheer catastrophe. Flames lashed out venomously and hungrily devoured the frail wood of the buildings. A shop about 10 metres down was smashed to bits: levelling it would have been kinder. The masses that littered the ground varied from splintered wood to broken merchandise and the few that retained their optimistic sparkle were ruthlessly crushed in the stampede of oncoming Death Eaters, jeering and cackling. Often, one would raise a wand and a barrage of curses and jinxes would ensue, showering down on the unfortunate object or person that had fallen into their path.

No one in the Alley could say that they didn't expect it. With the recent announcement of the Rise of the Dark Lord, the raids were bound to start happening. As a famous venue, it was more of a shock that Diagon Alley wasn't attacked sooner. Shikamaru stealthily emerged from the confines of Ollivander's to blend into his shadows, amplified by the widespread fires. Step after step, he hurried along the shops, stopping often to use his shadows to drag out unconscious bodies jammed amidst the blistering wreckage. He only advanced with the sole goal of saving as many lives as he could, scanning the streets for potential trouble, intently tracking the cries that spread throughout the Alley and tracing the distinct stench of blood and burnt skin.

The remaining civilians in the streets have all disappeared, presumably to Disapparate or to use the nearest fireplace. All that was left were a couple of feeble shopkeepers, hiding in their stores to set up enchantments and the like with the hopes of waiting out this vicious attack. The chuunin avoided walking on debris as much as he could, and sprinted along a dark wide passageway until he heard a bold shout. He peered through the clear gap in a fence and saw a bright tapestry and a fresh white deck. A simple sign read "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour" in curvy green letters. The entire store was miraculously unscathed, clearly due to the efforts of the man in front.

"Don't you dare come near my shop!" Arm raised and wand alit, a short man marched away from Shikamaru and towards the lithe group gathered at the vicinity. His retreating back was donned in ruffled robes, as if he suddenly sprang out of his hiding place to defend his shop.

"I've built it all my life. You might trash all the other stores, but I won't stand for this!" It seemed as though the man, or Mr. Fortescue, was barely keeping his knees from wobbling; he wasn't the type to stand up Shikamaru supposed. If he himself owned a shop, he wouldn't even bother; he'd let the Death Eaters destroy all they want while he waited elsewhere. Standing up alone had a very low chance of success, especially if you don't have the strength to back it up. And it's too troublesome.

"As if!" jeered a woman. She had a wide sneer stretched upon her face and she held up her wand as well. Another man strode forward confidently, and with a deep rumbling voice, he spoke.

"We will not destroy your shop if you accompany us. The Dark Lord has cordially requested your presence. Be honoured."

"Ha! As if!" he repeated back, almost tauntingly. "That's even worse! It's the last thing I would ever do!" A few shifting feet, a few rustling robes, and the rest of the wands were raised. By the looks of it, Mr. Fortescue's impulsive burst of courage was knocked to the floor by reality. He seemed to sense their violent and possibly bloodthirsty intentions and visibly shrunk. As an inexperienced man in terms of battle, he was very vulnerable to his attackers and was not in any shape to fight, much less defend himself by the looks of his trembling knees. Shikamaru had to act; it was either now or deal with the consequences.

"Kagemane no jutsu!" His shadow climbed through the gap and zipped past the shop to shoot directly at the shopkeeper. Mr. Fortescue seized up and whimpered helplessly at the loss of mobile control just as the hooded Death Eater hissed.

"Then it shall be." He slashed his wand through the air and was quickly mimicked by the five behind him. Shikamaru responded by dropping his body to the ground and dodging the streams of light fired at Mr. Fortescue. Perhaps he should thank his dad for forcing him to do all this body manipulation training; it turned out to be useful after all. To the eyes of the Death Eaters, the man was running around efficiently to avoid the bright beams in a way any skilled dualist would be able to do. The lasers slammed into the shop behind him and he cried out.

"No no! My shop! My life!" With all his strength, it was clear that the man was attempting to fight the strange restriction placed upon him. Surprisingly, the resistance was quite strong - as strong as a high-levelled chuunin - and Shikamaru concluded that it was the result of Mr. Fortescue's magic. Rather than to waste his chakra, he turned fast, climbed over an imaginary gap and ran deeper into the back alley, leading Mr. Fortescue in it as well. As soon as he slipped out of the Death Eaters' sight, Shikamaru released the jutsu and sent a henged golden-haired kage bunshin to calm the shopkeeper down and explain his alliances. He swiftly performed another henge to transform into the Death Eaters' victim and ran out the other side of the building to make it seem like a distraction or a change of scene. No one but himself would be any wiser.

When he emerged noisily at the left of the shop, he saw the Death Eaters already halfway to the shop, chasing after the original Mr. Fortescue. With his loud entrance, the leader quickly reacted and shot a beam of light his way. Naturally, he dodged, diving behind the pile of splintered boxes he spotted earlier. With a nifty scroll he kept in his breast pocket, he activated a temporary barrier to give himself at least a minute of time to think.

In this magical environment, Shikamaru had to consider his anonymity in this mission as well as his lack of skill in the magical domain. He highly doubted that the Death Eaters would notice his lack of a wand though, especially if he hid behind the boxes. Putting his fingertips together in his signature thinking pose, his sat down with his eyes closed while the wood and his surroundings took the spell damage.

Judging by their reaction, this particular group of Death Eaters seem to favour the offensive since they had made no attempt to stop their barrage of spells despite his lack of response. Or, they thought that he had placed a trap that will activate if they navigate towards his side. Perhaps they were cautious, seeing as they preferred to stay at a standstill rather than to risk losing the offensive. There was also the fact that they might simply be hoping to blast the boxes to smithereens, taking him along with it. In conclusion, they were either brawny brutes or cautious tacticians. Either way, he had to check before he proceeded to the subsequent step.

The chunnin picked up a reasonably sized rock close to his right foot, tossed it up and down to approximate its weight, then threw it towards the other side. He counted his lucky stars when they all raised their wands towards the potential threat and shot another bombardment of curses at it, in which only one succeeded in hitting it. Afterwards, they simply restarted their onslaught on his little wooden fortress.

None of them even paused to consider the meaning of that projectile, and considering that it could have been an explosive, it would have been wiser to set up a protective charm to defend against the blast instead of initiating it. They didn't even consider it with a second thought and simply maintained their poor aim in an attempt to curse him. Brawny brutes it is.

First of all, he had to take away their wands. Wizards and witches were powerful since they had no limitations beyond their ability to do spells. Without their wands however, they were powerless; they couldn't even Apparate. Second of all, he intended to keep this group for the authorities (however inadequate they may be) for interrogation purposes. For the moment, his place in this world was simply to protect and not to interfere with all the political mumbo jumbo. Moreover, he was supposed to keep a low profile (for which he had multiple disguises throughout his shopping trip gone awry). Intel was an essential aspect to winning in war. Plus, the subjects did not need to be perfect health to be questioned.

Feeling the power of the barrier weakening, he rapidly formed the rat and bird seal then murmured, "Kage Nui no Jutsu!" The thick threads wove on the ground unbeknownst to the wizards and witch, still purposelessly firing spells. In an instant, they shot up, piercing through the hands and arms of all the Death Eaters. Their screams echoed, adding to the colourful chorus already present. And of course, they all dropped their wands. With a hole in your arm, how could you not?

In quick succession, he focused his chakra and swept the shadowy tendrils towards him, bringing all six scattered wands towards him. Shikamaru collected the sticks quickly, gathering them in his vest pocket and looked back at his opponents. It seemed that the Death Eaters were unused to pain; they were clutching desperately at their arms, swearing profusely with sweat adorning their brows. Their eyes were crinkled in contorted expressions of agony, writhing on the ground helplessly. Knowing not to drop his guard in the middle of his combo, he quickly continued to the next stage. He speedily performed the seals: dragon, tiger and rat. Muttering under his breath, he announced, "Kubishibari no Justu!" His trusty shadows slinked across the field in the confusion and wound itself along each of the six Death Eaters, encasing their necks in darkness as it choked their air tunnels.

"What kind of spell is this?!" one managed to yell out.

"My wand, my wand!" cried another helplessly.

Clasping his hands fiercely in the seal, he mustered his remaining chakra and forced with all his strength against the magical resistance he was faced with. Seconds ticked by, sweat rolled down his brow and he was increasingly aware of his depleting chakra levels. Fighting against wizards was more tiring than he initially thought, but he had to admit that their magical defense was impressive. His Kage Bunshin didn't poof away so he needn't worry about Mr. Fortescue's dissent. With the decreasing resistance, he could feel the Death Eaters losing consciousness: their clawing hands slackened, they collapsed to the ground as their legs thrashed uselessly, their pulse waned with every pump, and finally their eyes rolled back to the darkness of their mind.

The chuunin crumpled with a great sigh. How he managed to maintain his henge under the strain, he did not know, even though he hid out of sight in the likelihood that he wouldn't. Taking a few seconds for a breather, he stumbled out towards the group of now unconscious Death Eaters.

Once again, he confirmed their state of consciousness with the whites of their eyes (standard procedure was hammered into him by Iruka-sensei even though he already knew, having felt their pulses weaken with his shadows), tied them up securely with a seal and then went to find Mr. Fortescue, making sure to transform into his clone's appearance.

He found the shop keeper dishevelled and disoriented, barely keeping himself together in a small clump behind his shop. His kage bunshin acknowledged his presence with a slight inclination a the head and disappeared with a poof of white smoke. Immediately, his clone's activities during his absence flooded his head: him explaining the use of an illusion spell to create this "hallucination", calming down the frantic Mr. Fortescue, answering enigmatically to the shopkeeper's questions, and then finally poofing away as the original approached.

"Mr. Fortescue, are you alright?"

"I'll be in good time, my boy. But, if I may ask, who are you, exactly?"

"Just a good samaritan, sir." he answered lightly, repeating his clone's exact words. His new golden curls framed his face messily and his teal irises reflected in the emerging sun. Mr Fortescue's body seemed to have been holding out all this time just to see his rescuer. Once his exhaustion took over, he simply collapsed into a heap. Glad that his clone took care of the troublesome Q&A portion, he lugged up the older man's body, draping one arm over his shoulder. He carefully brought him back to the front of the shop, and laid him at the foot of the entrance.

This sector of the region seemed to be strangely empty, save his previous brawl with the small group. From the events that had already occurred, it seemed that Voldemort was using the attack as a distraction while he wheedled out important sources of information, two of which being Mr. Fortescue and Mr. Ollivander. Since Mr. Fortescue had already passed out, he could not ask him for his specialty, which was definitely not making ice cream. He could only assume that Voldemort was gathering information on advanced magic to strengthen his skills, his army or his life.

Suddenly, his heightened senses picked out a distinct whistling, like the trajectory of a fresh firecracker. Sharply angling his head up, he spotted just in time a great cascade of green sparks. It discharged with a magnificent bang, and promptly succeeding it was a series of strong cracks - the sound that preceded the entire attack: Apparition. The distant cries were all that was left in the stifling atmosphere, and yet with the loss of the cursing and the explosions, it left a weighted silence.

Lord Voldemort sat comfortably in his onyx throne, drenched in the ominous green glow of the magical fires. He was waiting patiently in majestic hall, adorned with glittering stones, underneath a great mansion. It was unlike him to be in this particular state of mind, however he was highly anticipating the return of his troops as well as the assigned captives. Once he gathered all his game pieces, he will be able to continue his journey to everlasting power.

There were several members of the Inner Circle standing stilly beside him, nervously keeping the tense quiescence. In his mind, Voldemort silently congratulated them for not fidgeting in spite of the restlessness they were certainly feeling.

A line smoothly curved upwards on his face and he was met with the delicate clicking of scales on stone. The subtle hissing of Nagini came closer and he raised a finger, enticing her to him. Her head raised off the floor and her tongue flicked out swiftly. Her coloured irises stared back into his and he spoke in Parseltongue.

"Soon Nagini, they shall come. And perhaps, along with dinner." As if on cue, a chorus of cracks sounded followed by the swishing of dark capes. The hall was now filled, its slick grey stone covered in black fabric. At once, the three highest ranking members came forward, supposedly with the captured and the capturers. A dense anger flickered in his eyes; they had only managed to seize two.

"My Lord, we brought Ollivander and Wicern," the first reported hastily, falling to a low bow.

The second one mirrored the first and, quick to accuse, bitterly spat out, "Petrilov failed. I had to go rescue his group and to get Ollivander for him. Don't know why it was a problem, Ollivander was weak. My group captured him without a problem."

The third spoke nervously, already in a bow, "Rosier captured Wicern easily enough though. He gave up without trying."

The three wisely kept their heads bowed as Voldemort mulled over their words. He rose noiselessly and stepped purposefully towards the quivering hostages, his long thin fingers touching his wand of yew. The two figures were slumped on the ground to the left of the group, with all their limbs magically bound with a strong charm. Ollivander was in a state of disbelief, his eyes staring fixedly at the floor, while Wicern was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"Avery," he said, addressing the second, "Do you mean to tell me, that Ollivander had defeated Petrilov and his group single handedly?"Avery halted and his defiance died a little in the face of his master's words. He raised his head and looked quizzically at Petrilov over his shoulder.

"Um, why not?" He regretted uttering the phrase as soon as it left his mouth.

"Though Ollivander is a skilled wandmaker, he is not a formidable opponent in duelling. Surely you would have realized since he was so weak." Voldemort flicked his wand smoothly and his victim was thrown forcefully into a nearby pillar, suffering by his careless mistake. He would surely learn to subdue his insolence in his master's presence.

He took a pause to slowly swivel his red irises to stare directly into Petrilov's wavering eyes. Round beads of moisture were forming on his forehead.

"So, do tell Petrilov," he ennunciated languidly, "How exactly did you fail?"

"My Lord!" he cried, flinging himself to the floor shamefully, "I didn't see a thing! I heard someone whisper a spell and then I couldn't move! I was paralysed and then I saw this grey ball and it made a smokescreen! And then my body started moving by itself! The person was controlling me! I tried to resist but it all happened so fast! I was panicking and couldn't think straight! Anyone would have, right? I walked forward, and then I threw my head in front and it collided with the wall! I was knocked unconscious by slamming my head into the wall! By myself! I was controlled! I couldn't -"

"Enough." The syllables rang clear throughout the hall, stifling his disgraceful rambling. At the very least, he had the sense to quieten his sobs. However, Voldemort didn't tolerate this deplorable sight and with his failure, he was only waiting to be punished.

"Crucio." The man twisted and shrieked, rolling in his own sweat. The pain deformed his features; both the agony and the lesson were clearly felt by the silent watchers, immersed deeply in the shadows.

He dismissed him without a second glance.

"Begone." Petrilov got to his feet despite the stinging pain that remained, and scrambled away clumsily to an adjacent meeting room.

He redirected his gaze at Ollivander, who had came out of his daze from the screams pounding his eardrums.

"You couldn't have thought of that strategy. And a spell that controls a person's movements, but without the dream-like symptoms of the Imperius... Very intriguing indeed." He finished his musings with a sadistic smile, then pointed the wandmaker's own creation against himself.

Immediately, the images of an unshielded mind played swiftly through his mind's eye: a muscular fifth year, with a slight mustache, coming in to buy a wand, his strange hesitation when trying the wand despite his supposed experience with it, his correct prediction of the Death Eaters' ambush, him confidently dealing with the dangerous intruders alone and tying them up with a strange spell as an extra precaution even though they were already unconscious. The young teen clearly wasn't who he said he was. He was capable of forming a clever strategy in the midst of battle with no difficulty and seemed to understand well the mechanisms of war. It was also extremely likely that he had glamour spells cast on him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have a good set of morals to help a man instead of running away or doing nothing. Who, or what, is he?

Voldemort turned back to face the three members of the Inner Circle.

"Avery." By this time, he had crawled back to his place with his head dipped in a bow.

"What was the spell that bound Petrilov and his group?"

"Yes, my Lord. It was a strange spell that I have never met before. Eventually, we managed to take it down in the same way someone would take down a ward."

There were not many wizards who knew the theory behind wards, let alone cast them. This wizard, or whatever he may be, had the ability to cast it quickly and effectively between the times Ollivander went up and down the stairs. Interesting, however this man would have to be killed. Such a brilliant and righteous mind would obstruct his paths in the future.

He slowly paced some more, allowing the heels of his shoes to click articulately on the stone. He paused and narrowed his scarlet slits.

"And where," he whispered clearly, "is Fortescue?" It was obvious that they knew this question was coming, but they flinched regardless.

"Where is the group that was sent to capture them?"

"They never returned, my Lord," stammered the first.

"What! What happened to them?!" Voldemort's sibilant voice pressed down on the questioned, bearing an intense pressure.

"We don't know, my Lord," said the third. "They never reported back after they went to get Fortescue."

"And you, Mulciber," hissed Voldemort, glaring at the third. "Were you not the one responsible for the capture of Fortescue?!"

"Yes, my Lord. However, the Ministry was coming so we couldn't wait any longer. We had to leave." As if abruptly realizing the danger he was in, he threw himself at his feet and cried.

"Please my Lord! Spare me! Have mercy!" His sniveling form was repulsive to say the least.

Without a trace of humanity, Voldemort hissed with contempt, "Crucio."

The jet of red light shot mercilessly to the shaking form.

His screams echoed in the dark hall.

Kage Nui no Jutsu - Shadow Sewing technique

Kubishibari no Justu - Shadow strangulation technique

AN: Hope you guys liked it! ^^ If you did, and especially if you didn't, please review =)

Thank you very very very much for reviewing! I take every one into heart =) They are also the best type of motivation ;)

As you can see, I saved Florean Fortescue from his demise. I wanted Shikamaru to make a difference without altering the storyline too much, but we'll see if that changes in the future. So he tried to help Ollivander, but he was too stubborn...
There's controversy as to whether or not a wizard can Apparate without a wand. For the purposes of this story, I decided that they are not capable of doing so.

From now on, I'll try to post it every month (max). Last week was a horrendous week of tests, and auditions are coming up soon! But I will post it within a month.