I don't own Harry Potter.

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Equal and Opposite

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Do you know they locked up Ettisoppo? For the same reason they hid Erised. The mirrors bring madness. History is wrought with witches and wizards who have fallen to its subtle magics… from Cleopatra to Barnleby the Brave.

Their weapon is escape. This alternative to our reality, the window to another world is too dangerous for any human mind.

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Tides of Turn

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"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

Harry had hardly finished the sentence before the manor sprung into existence, shoehorning itself between two muggle properties. The silent black Auror behind him motioned him inside, following his lead into the shadowy house and closing the door behind them.

Harry looked around the house as he stepped through its dimly lit hallways, avoiding the streams of unfamiliar wizards and witches who filed through the otherwise silent dwelling. He made to enter the unusually dank, grimy kitchen, but Shacklebolt grabbed his arm and instead led him into the study without a word.

The study had been completely changed. Where the library used to stand had been replaced by various tables and desks, each overflowing with maps and folders. Albus Dumbledore sat in the middle of it all, quietly scribbling orders to the numerous operatives in the Order. Despite it all, Harry's arrival didn't go unnoticed. The moment he stepped in the room, Dumbledore looked up and welcomed him in, getting to his feet and shaking his hand warmly.

"Mr. Potter, welcome to the Order of the Phoenix. I trust Kingsley's lead here was uneventful?"

Harry glanced shrewdly at the looming Auror, utterly unsurprised to see his tongueless mouth twist into a grin. "Of course."

"Splendid," Dumbledore intoned, returning to his desk. "I assume you have considered the peril of our work? Make no mistake; there is a very real risk of death or worse. Our enemies have no qualms at all about what they do."

Harry barely perceived the privacy charms going into effect. Very slowly, the haggard looking people around them began to disperse. Only Shacklebolt remained behind him, a noiseless sentinel in the otherwise cordial atmosphere.

"We've discussed this. I only want to fulfill my duty to my sole remaining family. I will do whatever is necessary. I only need your help when I ask for it."

Dumbledore watched him for several moments before giving Shacklebolt an unreadable look. The man grunted and left the room.

"I owe you a life debt, I haven't forgotten. I will assist you as I can without putting this organization at undue risk."

"That's all I ask, Professor."

The slip drew Dumbledore's piercing gaze, but the older wizard didn't comment on it. "What is it that you require, Mr. Potter? If I may be blunt, what can you do that we have not already done to find young Jamie Potter?"

--

Harry stood quietly behind the window of his small Hogsmeade house, studying the distant speck of white approach.

It only took the snow white owl a minute or two to land on his outstretched arm, ruffling itself proudly as Harry ran a hand over its head in appreciation. Untying the parchment tied to its leg, Harry placed Hedwig on the windowsill and began reading the spidery script scrawled by magic.

"Good girl," he murmured after finishing, watching the loyal owl fly off into the dark sky for a well-deserved rest.

The creature had followed him back to his new home, perhaps mistaking Harry for the mistress it had been deprived of for so long. The owl, sensitive to his magic, had taken to him like his own. And while it would not accept Augusta Longbottom's demands for it to locate a daughter that preferred not to be found, it took his requests as if it were issued by its mistress herself.

Owls could not deliver to wizards who cast charms for blocking post. One's own owl, however, relied on different means to locate their owners. The special connection between familiars and their wizards was one that could not be obscured by simple magic. But a few words were all it took to block off even this avenue – an owner's wishes were law. But to Hedwig, Harry was no different than the quiet, dark haired girl that she had been gifted to years ago.

Harry circled a single address that Hedwig had returned to over and over again, revealing at last his other's location. A smile pulled at his lips as he thought of the irony of it all. It seemed fitting that it would be the very things Jamie had left behind would lead to her downfall; her money, Hedwig – Harry himself.

--

Harry stepped out of a small alley in Bradford and crossed the busy street to the other side, inspecting the rather dilapidated apartment his other had secured for herself. The brick building was crumbling at the very foundation, its walls scored with the ravages of time and the surrounding area suffering in the throes of poverty.

The distant sound of sirens covered the noise of the curse that shattered the lock on the front door. Cautiously opening the door, he made his way down a dank, sparsely lit hallway. The lights flickered pitifully as he walked through, throwing various flashes onto the rug-covered walls.

A small, darker skinned child ran out of an open door and passed by his legs, not even bothering to give him a sidelong look. A young mother dressed in a headscarf bolted out of the door after her child, but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Harry dressed in his robes and carrying his wand. She began screaming out in an unfamiliar language, terror etched in her face as she began backing away. One of her hands fumbled with a small, rough looking wand.

Harry sent her crashing into a wall with a wordless curse, crushing her wand under his boot as he walked on towards the stairs. He pushed by several other youth in the stairwell, who began to shout in alarm as they saw the crumpled form on the ground.

He quickly made his way up the stairs. On the third floor landing he found himself blocked by two teenage boys around his age, one of them taller and wielding prayer beads. Their faces seemed oddly fearless and determined, as if they didn't realize what exactly they were doing. The one on Harry's left deftly passed one bead through his hand and held the object in front of him.

Harry had pressed himself against the railings just in time to see a small mote of light barely miss his face. The strange form of magic speared through the nearby wall and left a withering circle of decay around the point of impact. Harry lifted his wand in defense, only to find the second, smaller teen launching himself at him. He caught the full brunt of the tackle in his side, grunting as he was thrown down the stairs onto another landing.

He overpowered the viciously growling boy and threw him into the wall before raising a shield charm to defend himself against yet another attack from the foreign-looking wizard. He grabbed the dazed boy and broke the shield, using him as a screen for further curses. Making his way up the stairs with the limp body in tow, Harry was only vaguely surprised when the teen ruthlessly attacked anyway, passing three beads. He grunted as a curse punched through the midsection of the human shield he was using, clipping his side and drawing blood. A cold, sickly force began burning at the wound.

Back on the same landing as the wizard, Harry muttered a general countercurse at the cut and stepped back when the visibly annoyed teen passed six beads. The force blew the gurgling boy out of his hands and over the railings, where he met the floor with a visceral crunch seconds later.

Harry jabbed his wand and cast the same entrail-expelling curse Longbottom had directed against him. The glittering, dark smoke filled the air and formed a gruesome, bony hand that reached for the teen. The wizard used the prayer beads to trap the fingers, folding it delicately and dispelling the curse. Harry used the time to launch a powerful cutting curse he hoped would cut through the magical instrument.

The teen smiled and separated two beads, baring the flimsy looking string. It glowed as it withstood the spike of magic, seemingly unbreakable. The boy answered by passing eight beads through his fingers. Harry didn't bother waiting to find the result, turning in place and disapparating. He reappeared behind the boy and grabbed the beads from his hands, throwing it around his head and slamming his face into the railing.

Blood erupted from his nose as he cried out for the first time. Harry used the distraction to loop the end of the beads around the post in the railings and shove the boy over them. He fell over and screamed as his neck was nearly snapped, clutching at the invulnerable beads that were killing him.

Harry left the scene and ran up another three flights of stairs, noting the boy's last attack had destroyed the much of the stairs below the third floor. Tenants were leaving their rooms, coming out and rapidly speaking to each other in their language. A few spotted him and shouted, their eyes taking an almost feral quality as they ran behind him.

The topmost floor was somewhat smaller than the ones below, but remained just as derelict as the others. The rug was torn, the walls with holes and the doors peeling paint. Turning back, he leveled his wand at the stairs and unleashed a blasting curse that destroyed the last twelve or thirteen steps. The tenants attempted to jump anyway, all of them falling down onto the stairway below.

Just as he was about to look for the door 631, he found himself confronted by a burly, bearded man he guessed was related to the woman he had encountered downstairs. He grunted something before running at him with a thick book in one hand and a scimitar in the other.

Harry leapt back from a swipe from the gleaming, heavy weapon and answered with a vicious concussion hex that was simply absorbed into the religious tome. The man barreled down the hallway, nearly cutting him in half as Harry desperately tried to keep his footing and fend the man off. The beastly figure shook off a heartstopping curse that would have killed any other and jabbed Harry in the chest with the butt of the scimitar.

Harry rolled away from the attack that would have taken off his head and blasted out the inside of the man's knee. The leg broke outward sharply, eliciting only a heavy breath from the man. He brought the tip of sword down against Harry on the way down, only nearly missing.

Harry stepped backwards, watching warily as the man met his eyes and laughed, pressing the open book to his knee and muttering a few words. To Harry's alarm, the leg snapped easily back in place. Another charge had Harry taking yet another hit. Ducking under another swipe, he unleashed a cutting curse and took off the sword hand at the forearm.

The man gave it only a bare look before bringing up the book once more. Harry didn't wait to see if the man could regrow his own arm, and transfigured the fallen scimitar into a viper.

"Kill him."

The massive snake wasted no time in wrapping itself around the man and biting his neck. He struggled valiantly, beating his bloody stump against the creature's head. Harry knocked the book out of his clutches, hissing as it burnt his hand.

It took only a few more seconds before the man stilled his thrashing, falling to the floor dead.

Stepping over the body, Harry walked to the middlemost door in the hallway, where someone had tore into the wood the numbers which spelled out his and his other's birthdate.

He shot only a brief look to the wild crowd of tenants trying and failing to make their way to him, undoubtedly to attack him and protect their mistress. Smoothing his robes, he opened the unlocked door and entered inside.

A sparse apartment greeted him, the rooms mostly empty except for a single chair and a table set high with various papers. A few robes had been hung from a coat rack set in the corner of the room. The topmost robe was stained with red, and dried red droplets littered the floor beneath it.

Harry pulled the robe off and examined it, seeing the small stains everywhere along the fabric. He felt vague twinges of pain all across his body, echoing what he supposed must have happened to her. Harry moved on to the sole bedroom, standing over the threadbare mattress. The blood was there as well, splotches of dried crimson against the graying yellow cover. Harry bent over to touch it, feeling the recent warmth in the fabric. He made to turn back when he found a wand against his neck, a familiar presence pressed against him from behind. A light whisper filled his ear.

"The coatrack, Harry. You should have checked."

Harry looked straight ahead, feeling the slight trembling in his other's muscles, the pain in her labored breaths, the sense of duplicity that came with her presence giving him a feel for her exhaustion. With hardly any effort he wrenched out of her grasp and pulled his own wand out, quickly deflecting the disarming charm she sent his way.

Harry's myriad of curses had her on the defensive, her wand moving with precision to block or render harmless all his magic. She began to fight back, breaking the chair into several pieces and sending them flying at him with blinding speed.

Harry vanished them with a slight twirl of his wand and counteracted several other jinxes she had sent along with it, meeting her last curse with one of his own.

The two spells collided in midair and immediately began circling each other, their ugly dark grays turning into a golden ball that stretched tendrils of magic to both of their wands. Jamie stepped back in alarm, looking first at her violently bucking wand and then at her counterpart.

Harry remembered that she hadn't ever encountered the priori incantatem, the sacred connection between related wands that had saved his life during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Her duel with Voldemort had never happened.

He steeled himself and began willing the knot of magic toward his other. Their magic was evenly matched, but Harry knew his desire for revenge couldn't be overcome. He thought of her betrayal, her desertion when he needed her most. He thought of the depths he had gone for her, the people he had killed and the lengths he had been driven to come this far. He thought of a grinning Draco Malfoy. Slowly, Jamie's wand began emitting whispers of smoke that grew into shadows of people taken by her magic.

A smallish witch, an elderly warlock, several goblins, a muggle looking couple, a Hogwarts student… Harry watched as Jamie backed away slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on his. The shades began swirling around her, their whispers echoing in the small room, calls of hatred, grief, and despair filling the air.

Her lips were tightly pressed together, her expression hardened against the slowly increasing dead, many of which began gathering around her, tugging at her cloak, screaming in her ears. Despite it all, Harry could feel the mounting worry and confusion warring with the brief stirrings of regret. With each shade his advantage grew, the crackling energy surging closer and closer to her, the vengeful beings of smoke howling in hatred and crashing against her without abandon. She finally looked away as a young, confused and betrayed looking Neville Longbottom appeared, his arms and legs oddly bent, his body a mess of blood. He had been her adopted brother – and the first casualty of her deadly ambition. The ball of magic was only inches away from the holly wand when Harry broke the connection and sent her back into the wall with a blast of magic.

She tried to resist his assault, yelling vainly as she knocked at his chest and pushed away, but Harry was stronger. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, using his body to keep her still. In such close proximity he felt the absence of the corrupting magic that had given her so much strength. Jamie gave one last effort before collapsing back against the wall, closing her eyes.

Harry stared at her face, taking in the newly healed cuts marring her forehead and neck, the slight shadows under her eyes. He found himself oddly unable to speak, lost in the moment, in her presence. Her heavy breaths played against his face, and for a second he was overcome with the echoes of pain and heavy weariness that seemed to hang off her.

"Who did this to you?"

He knew the answer, really, but he couldn't help but ask. Jamie Potter couldn't have been much useful to Voldemort beyond being an asset in Hogwarts and a source of wealth to fund his many fronts. He had ruined both. Harry wondered if she would answer with his name.

She opened her eyes, the emerald green orbs capturing his own, and for a moment they stood there, just watching. Her lips pursed together, and she seemed to want to speak, but held herself back at the last moment. She seemed to struggle with something, looking away before speaking,

"Get off. Get off." She resumed her efforts, desperately trying to shake Harry off, her magic flaring against his as she tried everything she knew to overcome her exhaustion and set herself free. Harry only gripped her arms tighter, overpowering her exertions and keeping her still. He missed the stinging hex she managed to cast wandlessly and let her arms go in the surprise attack.

She ducked under him and ran, sprinting to the window and launching herself through the already broken glass and landing on the fire escape. Harry shook off the pain and followed after her, simply blasting the entire wall away with a jab of his wand.

She was only a level or two below him, just beyond his reach. Harry stopped and leaned over the railing and took careful aim, unleashing a reductor curse against the platform for the second floor. The metal was shredded under the blast, leaving a huge gap that Jamie barely avoided falling into. Looking up at his approaching figure, she climbed through the window and disappearing inside.

Harry quickly followed; finding himself inside another rundown apartment, chasing the sounds of his other's footsteps. He ran through the rooms, finding the open door to the hallway and cautiously peering out. He saw her running through the hallway, passing between the numerous tenants loitering around. They hissed at his presence and began scuttling toward him.

He cursed and bared his wand, fury filling his veins. A shredding curse cut down four at once, several killing curses knocking down the advancing horde. The rest were simply slammed into the ground with an angry slash, their bones shattering under the merciless assault. Harry advanced through the mounting bodies, severing limbs and utterly annihilating the possessed victims of Jamie's bewitchment.

He was almost through when he saw her come to a stop before the stairs, realizing the staircase was almost completely gone beneath them. She disappeared into yet another apartment, locking it behind her. Harry didn't bother slowing down, throwing his weight against it and breaking the flimsy lock.

She barely made it into another room before Harry took a hold of her from behind, wrapping his arms around hers and ripping her wand away. She howled and screamed, kicking against the bed in the room and throwing them both backwards, his back shattering a mirror set on top of a dresser. His grip only tightened, however, and soon he had lifted her and thrown her down onto the bed, one hand keeping her arms behind her and the other on the back of her head and pushing it down against the mattress.

Harry brought his lips down to her ear, enjoying her helplessness, the way she kept her eyes shut and struggled under him. "You've never been in this situation, have you? Never lost your dignity. Oh you've suffered, but never like this – " and with a smile he began tearing her off the cloak she had on.

He felt the fear in her, an emotion he had never truly felt her experience. The cloak fell to the floor, leaving only the thin, almost transparent robe she had been sleeping in before he had attacked.

"You made me into this. You did this by abandoning me, running off and… Oh, I bet this is something Draco could never do…" Her muffled voice made him laugh, and he reveled in the feeling of vulnerability emanating from their link. He had reached for her robes when he heard someone stumble in, rambling angrily as he ran through the apartment looking for them.

Harry turned around and brought his wand out just as the same teenage boy he had hanged before entered the bedroom. The wizard's neck was heavily bruised, the skin broken in several places. His eyes went wide as he saw Harry holding his counterpart down, and he threw his prayer beads in front of him to attack.

Harry was faster, and soon the wizard was overcome with a black streak of magic that hit him in the chest, knocking him back into the living room and perforating his chest. He let out a bubbling wheeze as he gasped for air, reaching for them powerlessly as he slowly died.

Harry looked back down at Jamie, who used the absence of his hands to jab him in the side and turn herself over under him, facing him. She went for his wand, but Harry hit her with a brutal backhand, almost wincing at the ghost of pain in his own cheek. She finally gave up with a shuddering breath, looking up into the ceiling with hard eyes.

He looked down at her for a few moments, wiping off small sliver of blood on her red lips. He pushed her shoulders down with his forearms and just watched her expression. He chuckled somewhat at the slowly diminishing noise from the dying boy.

"You fuck him too?"

Her eyes met his again, her chest heaving under his. With a shuddering breath she answered: "No, never. There was no one."

His hands framed her face, one thumb on her cheekbone with the other tracing her scar, reveling in the soft haze of pleasure flowing from their bond. She began squirming under his touch, and before he knew it his lips were crushing hers, fingers combing through hair. He pushed her further on to the bed, deepening the kiss, tasting the coppery tang of blood. She shrunk back from him for a few seconds before relaxing, her arms ceasing their pushing and gradually rising to circle his neck.

Harry's mind was in a whirl of feeling, swimming in the sensations that ran through their bodies. A hand disappeared under her robe, running up her thigh as she sighed in his mouth. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she tried to get up, turn him over, but Harry threw her back down. Her breaths turned ragged as his lips found her neck, his hand reached ever so higher…

She helped him shrug out his own clothes, and soon she was writhing beneath him as Harry took from her, legs wrapped tightly around him as their troubled thoughts melted away. She moaned in his ear, and they held each other as if they never wanted to let go, eyes shut as their minds were lost in the duplicity. In that moment, they could only think of one, their thoughts, their wants, their needs so intensely intertwined that they feel nothing else.

When the world drifted back into being, Harry found Jamie contently clinging to him, her endless locks of black hair fanning over his chest as she resting her head against his neck. Minutes passed before she slowly rolled off, lazily, almost regrettably, but Harry grabbed her back before she could leave, pressing her body back against his in an iron grip. He hadn't forgotten why had come.

"Tell your master I'm here if you haven't already. I'd like to meet him."

With that, he pushed her off and left the bed, throwing her wand at her and dressing himself quickly. He didn't bother saying anything else, favoring only a single glance before disappearing with a crack.

--

Harry unlocked the front door of his Hogsmeade house several hours later and entered the single, dimly lit room, feeling, rather than seeing the trespasser within.

Lord Voldemort stood patiently near his desk, examining the messy stack of papers Harry had accumulated from his dealings with Gringotts. He didn't look up for several moments, tapping the receipts with his long, bone white wand, shuffling them into a perfect, orderly pile.

He finally straightened, fixing Harry with a contemplative gaze. "Harry Potter. Such a curiosity… You are the new beneficiary of Jamie Potter's inheritance. I hadn't believed the goblins."

Harry forced himself not to draw his wand, years of conditioned hatred rising like bile in his being. Yet, he found himself unable to resist staring back into the Dark Lord's red eyes.

"Ah, and well prepared. So similar to your… cousin. She looked me straight in the eyes for years and never mentioned another surviving Potter."

Voldemort pressed his lips together, moving closer to Harry. His chalk-white skin gleamed in the moonlight shining from the window, his wand hanging loosely from his grip.

"Imagine my surprise when suddenly, she crawls back to me, this failure of a servant telling me of the young man that ruined her chance at killing Albus Dumbledore. A young man that defeats death. Another who can survive the famed Killing Curse. That this boy, really, who has done the impossible, is of her blood."

He looked down at the silent Harry, his inhuman face utterly remorseless. "Had you not displayed this remarkable ability seemingly common among Potters, I would have killed you that very night. Tell me, young Potter, what made you seek your cousin so? Do you wish to save her? To redeem her dark soul? What is it that you wish?"

Harry finally spoke, unsurprised to find the sibilant hisses escaping his lips. The conversation had taken place in Parseltongue. "A trade. I'll take your mark. You'll be returned the source of wealth you enjoyed before as well."

Voldemort's nose flared, and he smiled coldly. "You crave her, Harry Potter, you crave her underneath all the hatred and frustration. Her mind didn't betray you willingly, not even when I stripped away all the ritual magic she held so dear, but even with all her concealment, I could feel the want."

He raised his wand, and Harry briefly became aware of the world changing around him, the shadows thickening, the light fading away into a distant oblivion. The ceiling seemed to disappear above him.

The Dark Lord reached into the dark and pulled out a battered looking Jamie, her face fresh with new cuts and bruises, her body trembling worse than ever before.

"I have to say, Harry, I don't understand. What do you seek in her? She has no more money, no honor, no special qualities that make her worth your lust. She has only a promise of power and a mind more vicious and traitorous than any I've met.

Voldemort gripped her chin with a clawlike hand, tipping her head up and using his wand to brush the black hair from her defeated face. He clucked to himself, rubbing off some of the dirt on her cheek, enjoying the way she shut her eyes in fear at his presence. "…Though, I suppose she's a pretty thing…"

Harry's hands gripped his wand tightly, his muscles tensing in the surge of hatred flowing through him. He knew Voldemort couldn't kill him, the prophecy binding Harry's life to another dark wizard, but there was little chance he could stop the Dark Lord from hurting his other. He didn't understand – it wasn't hatred, not really, nor was it just lust…

The elder wizard grabbed Jamie's hand and placed his wand tip at her forearm, where the dark mark sat burned into her skin. Without so much as an incantation, he tore it off, the black magic pooling out of her skin returning to his wand. Jamie gasped and convulsed weakly at the pain, causing him to step forward in concern.

Voldemort chuckled at Harry's anger, shoving her toward him. She stumbled into his arms, and he caught her before her legs buckled. Echoes of the cruciatus passed through his body at the contact.

"Don't worry, Harry. She's all yours, no worse for wear."

Harry ignored him, looking over his fragile looking other, struck by the pain resonating through their bond. He checked her pulse, running his hands over her face, reaching for the countless little bruises marring her porcelain skin.

"And you'll have plenty of time for that, I think, much later." Voldemort stepped over Jamie's body and grabbed his arm tightly, sneering down at him as his nails pierced skin. "Now bow."

--

Harry's arm burned and burned, the sickly magic seeping into his skin, violating his being. A stumbling Jamie Potter barely managed to stand as he half-dragged her out of the Hogsmeade house, out into the thick rain of the summer evening.

Her fingers clung to his soaked cloak, her head pressed tiredly against his side, drenched hair hanging limply around her face. She looked up at him, dim emerald eyes watching his face with a mixture of pity and anger.

"Traded one master for another, Harry?"

He tore off her hands and dropped her to the wet gravel walkway, ignoring her in favor of a glance to the forest. Jamie watched him silently from the ground, too hurt to move.

Beyond the trees, the Order of the Phoenix began walking out of the darkness. Several red robed figures approached from every direction.

Jamie looked around them, sending a confused look to her other. She pulled herself to her side and made to reach for her wand before realizing it was gone.

From the path to Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore appeared, his face grim, robes an uncustomary grey. Harry stepped forward to meet the Headmaster, handing him a polished holly wand much like his own.

The old wizard broke the wand in two without a second thought, eyes hardening at the grief-stricken sound of his former student. He looked Harry over, pocketing the remains of the magical instrument. "That was a heavy sacrifice, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked back at his miserable looking other. She tried vainly to tear her arms away from the Order members pulling her to her feet, realizing the horror of her situation. He didn't bother replying.

Dumbledore put his hand on his shoulder, blue eyes watching him gravely. "I hope, my boy, that this is not the last time we work on the same side." Harry shrugged him off.

"Don't try to stop me." He left him standing alone, moving back to Jamie. Harry signaled the Order members to pause for a moment, leaving her hanging between two heavyset Aurors with official Ministry badges. She reached for him, uttering his name pleadingly. Harry ruthlessly crushed the swell of emotion inside him.

He bent over, whispering into her ear. "You're right, I did trade masters. But at least I had a choice." He brought his thumb to trace her scar, mesmerized for a few moments. "I'll be back for what's mine."

She screamed at him, voiceless anger and rage that intermingled with pleas for him to stop. Harry turned around, leaving them to take her away. He kept his eyes on a grim looking Dumbledore, ignoring the voice that tore at his mind, even after the cracks that indicated her departure.

"Remember your oath." And with that, Harry Potter disappeared.