The Merging

by Shaydrall

To Harry Potter, Fifth Year seemed like the same as any other. Classmates, homework, new dangers, Voldemort risen in the shadows… the usual, even with a Dementor attack kicking things off. But how long can he maintain the illusion that everything is under control? As hope for a normal life slips away through his fingers, will Harry bear the weight of it all... or will it crush him?

11. Dumbledore's Weapon

"On second thought, never mind." -Harry Potter to an arguing, and therefore not paying attention, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Winter, 1995.

~Chapter 11: Dumbledore's Weapon~

Albus Dumbledore was a very patient man. He often prided himself to be able to stare into the face of anything and give his signature sparkling-eyed smile. But with everything that had just happened this night he was getting tired, and he was in need of a nice rest as he gave thought to what he should do next. Perhaps a glass of wine to help? So the fact that Dolores Umbridge was currently outside his office, knocking on his door quite insistently, was making him honestly consider ignoring the woman.

"You might as well get it over with," said Phineas Nigellus in a lazy drawl. "And I'm sure you'd rather not have me present to comment on this one so I'll be heading off. Pathetic Slytherin," he muttered. With that, the old headmaster escaped to his portrait at Grimmauld Place.

Sighing slightly, Dumbledore flicked his wand at the door and unlocked it. Seconds later it opened, the squat woman walking in with a less than pleasant look on her face. She was also rubbing her nose but stopped when she reached his desk. The headmaster could see that her nose and front of her forehead were quite red, which would explain the rather loud thump that came from the door a little bit earlier. Perhaps she'd been expecting it to open on its own?

"Headmaster, is there any reason you were not letting me in?" she said at once, doing her best to keep her irritation hidden. "I was knocking for some time."

"Unfortunately my age does limit the speed at which move," Dumbledore lied pleasantly. "Particularly when I am just about to turn in for the night. Now that you have entered, however, please tell me what is so pressing that you had to run into my door."

Umbridge flushed slightly. "I received word that students had been out of bed to see you," she said. "As they have not come back from your office, I must ask where they have gone?"

"Though I do wonder how you would know this, asleep in your quarters, or how it would be any of my Defense Professor's concern," began Dumbledore, ignoring the look on Umbridge's face, "it makes little difference since you are standing here. Regardless, that information does not concern you in any way, Dolores, and I have no reason to disclose it."

Unbridge blinked in shock at the flat refusal to tell her what had happened.

"Headmaster, I would think my position as the High Inquisitor granted me a greater amount of privilege than a regular teacher," she replied stiffly.

"Then unfortunately in this particular instance it is my duty to correct you. Good night, Dolores."

Unable to do anything about it, Umbridge turned on her heel and marched out of the office, the door closing behind her.

She was getting bolder. He knew that she wanted control of the school, her goal to put a halt to whatever delusions she and Fudge had about his actions, and unfortunately she would probably get it sometime in the spring. It was really just a matter of if he left on his terms or hers. Also, there was the issue of how much she knew about things happening in the school. No doubt she had enlisted the more than willing help of Filch. The man just had a knack for finding things out when it came to the halls of the school. The number of complaints that Dumbledore usually got about him was fairly high, but he let it go as they had been somewhat friends many many years ago and the grouchy man didn't really have anywhere else to go. However, this year had pushed his forgiveness to the limit. Perhaps it was time to look for a new Caretaker. Certainly if there was a way to instantly make every single person at the school happier that would be one of them.

Making his way back to his bedchamber, the headmaster refocused on the current issue: the events of the past half hour. It was a miracle that Arthur had not only managed to avoid death, but was able to get to help on his own steam. Headquarters was, after all, just a small apparition jump away. The wound that he received on his arm apparently would not stop bleeding, suggesting poison, and combined with the size of the wound this put Arthur in a very real risk of bleeding out if left unchecked. Still, he was able to get to the rest of the Order who should have moved him to St. Mungo's by now. They would have to come up with a cover story, but that shouldn't be a problem. No, the problem burst into his office not one minute after he'd finished the floo call with Arthur to get the full account of the event, before he was moved to the hospital.

There was still good news. Nagini, and there was no doubt that she had been the snake in question, was dead. Arthur, even though he'd killed her with a well placed cutting curse, had gone one step further and destroyed the entire body.

"You burned the body?"

Arthur, who looked quite pale as both Molly and Remus fussed over his arm with spells and bandages, grinned in slight embarrassment.

"Overkill, right?" he said with a weak chuckle. "It's just after what we've heard about that snake, I wanted it gone. Her master came back, who's to say she couldn't either. The corridor still needs to be cleaned up though."

"I'll send someone immediately."

A huff brought their attention to Molly. "Honestly, you and your superstitious foolery. You-Know-Who didn't truly come back from the dead and neither will his pet snake."

"Molly, don't be too hard on him, I honestly would have done the very same thing," said Dumbledore with a smile.

"I think we can bring you to St. Mungo's now," said Remus, leaning against the table with a sigh. "That's a pretty bad poison, but you're lucky it doesn't kill straight away, otherwise you'd have been dead already. Still, we don't know if there are other side effects, so you need a Healer as soon as possible."

"Trust me, I'm not arguing," said the injured man with a grimace.

"Indeed. You've done an excellent job, Arthur. I will inform your children of your injury tomorrow. There's no need to wake them just to make them both worried and exhausted."

At least, that had been his plan before Harry Potter came into his office looking absolutely panicked. And so, with the Weasleys already up, he'd just sent them along with an emergency portkey, though not after being told by Harry that the boy had been inside the snake with Voldemort. Harry had also somehow diverted the snake from fatally injuring Arthur, which actually fit. Arthur had said that he'd nodded off accidentally and had no idea how it could have missed killing him like it did.

The boy was connected to Voldemort. There was no doubt about it this time. He had hoped that the lack of news about Harry's hurting scar was indicating the connection was getting weaker, but that was no longer relevant. Especially now that regardless of what was happening before, Voldemort would now be very aware of their connection. All because of those accursed Horcruxes.

At least, he was almost positive that it was Horcruxes. Everything added up, including Harry's connection with the man, though Dumbledore had never come across the like in all his years.

Good news? If he was right in thinking the snake had been a horcrux, and that the diary was a Horcrux as well, then that would make it the second one destroyed. The bad news?

Harry needed Occlumency training, and quickly.

Well, the need wasn't inherently bad. Occlumens were at best uncommon, though not rare. The ability to protect one's mind from outside influences was useful in a great many professions and other walks of life. The real issue was there were only three people who could potentially teach him to the level that he needed to attain, and the first being Voldemort himself didn't really help the situation. He could possibly do it himself, but he still was wary of provoking Voldemort into finding a way of using the Harry to spy on him. There was no doubt that given such a valuable resource the man would use it to its fullest. Additionally, what with running the school, dealing with the Ministry, and leading the Order in preparation of the war against Voldemort, he didn't have the kind of time needed to devote to teaching Harry. That really left only one option, and the worst part was that Harry probably wouldn't consider him much worse than Voldemort.

A mess indeed.

Dumbledore sighed, allowing himself to sink into his bed. There was nothing for it. Severus would have to teach Harry, and they would both have to deal with it. With luck they would not kill each other after the first week or so. Perhaps over the holidays he would try to think of some way not to make his two most valuable allies hate him more in the near future.

Xx~xX

Harry landed in an ungraceful heap besides the others as their portkey trip came to a rather abrupt end. They had been deposited in the small square directly opposite twelve Grimmauld Place. Disoriented as he was though, it wasn't enough to keep him from getting his wand out and ready. They might be close to safety, but it was never good to let their guard down.

"Bloody hell," grumbled Ron as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the grass. "That was the worst portkey I've ever taken."

"Well, I'd imagine so," came a familiar voice from behind them.

All but Harry turned in surprise, moving for their wands at once. He couldn't help but grin at their responses. They were getting faster.

"Emergency Portkeys out of Hogwarts are more of a cannon than anything. You should ask Hermione when she comes here."

"Remus, everything alright?" asked Harry, still looking around.

"Yes, let's get inside, we can talk there," he said with a nod, ferrying them to the hidden home. The street was deserted, which was fortunate, though at such a late hour it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The group marched over to number twelve and headed inside, Remus closing the door behind them all.

"Professor Lupin, is Dad alright?" asked Ginny as soon as the door was latched. The group all looked at him anxiously.

"It's Remus, Ginny, and yes, he's going to be fine," said Remus, leading them down to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was waiting. The moment she saw her children she rushed over and swept them all into a crushing hug.

"What're you all doing here?" she asked in confusion, looking from them to Remus.

"Dumbledore just got word to me moments ago that they would be coming tonight instead of tomorrow," he said with a shrug. "I walked outside to see them drop out of the air."

"Harry knew Dad was attacked," said Fred. "He had a vision or something."

"I—" Harry stalled out a bit as both adults looked at him quickly. "I was inside the snake. It was a bit confusing, but I saw everything it did while Voldemort was possessing it. We ended up fighting somehow, and it threw the snake off. Got him in the arm and not his chest. It's dead, right?" He knew it had been killed, but still…

"Well, that would explain how you ended up coming so soon," came a voice from the door. Sirius walked in. He was clearly just as tired as the rest of them. That didn't stop him from walking over and giving Harry a tight one armed hug. "Good to see you, kid."

"Same, Sirius, where's Mr. Weasley? I know he was injured. There was still a lot of blood."

"He was just taken to St. Mungos a minute ago by a couple of Order members," said the man, now moving over to a chair. "That snake had some pretty potent poison covering its fangs, didn't it?"

"Yes," said Remus, taking a seat opposite him. "Arthur made it back to us quickly, but that was about all he could do before he nearly collapsed. Molly and I did our best to bandage him up for the trip, but nothing we did past blocking the cut helped. We also didn't know if there was anything else to that poison, but the Healers will be able to take care of him. And yes, Harry," he added, looking over at the boy. "Nagini was killed. She won't be coming back."

"Good," he said with a nod.

"Dears, why don't you all head off to bed," said Mrs. Weasley, ushering them to the door. "I know that you are worried about Arthur and I am too, but he's safe now. You can talk tomorrow. Harry," she grabbed his arm, pulling him behind the rest of the group as they filed out of the kitchen only to sweep him up in a tight hug. "Thank you so much for saving my husband."

"Ah, it was nothing, Mrs. Weasley," he muttered reddening from the hug. It wasn't one of her usual manic crushing ones, but simply filled with a tired relief.

"Harry, Arthur nodded off during his watch," she said pulling back and shaking her head. Her eyes were quite bright. "If you hadn't done whatever you did then he'd have been bitten full on, and I doubt he'd be alive right now."

"I'm glad he's alright."

"Me too, now off to bed." Remus and Sirius both gave him a nod and he walked out of the kitchen, automatically heading for the basement. He needed sleep. All the adrenaline that had been pumping through him was gone and made him feel like he had been running a marathon. He made his way down to the room he had been using during the summer, happy to see that no one had done anything to it, and crashed unceremoniously onto the bed, his exhaustion taking him almost immediately.

Xx~xX

It was a doomed hope for quiet to which Harry began the next day. Especially when people wanted to talk about the very thing that you didn't want to think about for a good week or so. His initial cheeriness at being away from Hogwarts for the first time in months had ebbed away and while at present he was still hanging onto his temper, that was really only because no one had said anything directly to him yet. Not like that lasted either… Additionally, Hermione wasn't there to give them all pointed looks until they shut up. It amazed him exactly how much her presence kept this group from getting out of hand.

"Harry," said Ron, finally pulling him into the conversation. "If you can see into His head, then isn't it possible He could see into yours?"

A brilliant deduction, really. If only Harry hadn't figured that out as well literally seconds after the incident occurred the previous night, then maybe he'd be able to share in whatever enthusiasm they had for this talk to begin with.

"I suppose?"

Ron eyed him blankly.

"Uh, don't you think you should be a bit more concerned about this?"

"You mean I should be more concerned about how I was essentially possessing the snake at the same time that Voldemort was? That we're somehow connected? Maybe that he might be able to control me as well? Have me kill you all while you sleep? It would be pretty easy from my position after all." He looked around to see them all staring at him apprehensively. Great, so now he was the dangerous one.

"Well, yeah," said Ron after a second, clearly unnerved.

Harry scowled. "Ron, that's called sarcasm." The ginger flushed slightly as Harry shook his head. "Do you really think I'm just brushing this off like it's unimportant? There are so many ways that a connection to Voldemort's mind can be both a really good and a really, really bad thing I don't even know where to start. You know what, just forget it. You wouldn't understand."

"And me, Harry?" He looked over to see Ginny glaring at him, none too pleased. "I couldn't possibly know what it's like to be possessed by Voldemort could I."

"I never said that, did I?" said Harry back to her. "As far as I know, you're still the only person here ever possessed by him. But no, in this case your experience wouldn't help either."

This made Ginny look even more upset. "And why not?"

"You wrote to a memory of Riddle who occasionally took control of your body and made you do things that you didn't remember at all," he explained. "You just blacked out. Voldemort gave Nagini commands which she followed but she also talked to him as well. She was aware of it all. Did you ever have Voldemort whispering in your ear while you were awake to kill Muggleborns?"

"Come off it, Harry, she's just trying to help you."

"You could help me by not talking about this stuff like I'm not three feet away from you," he shot. "Or just not at all. Either one would work."

"Mate, ignoring this isn't going to make it go away—"

"You think I don't realize that?" he snapped. "Forget it, I'm out of here."

Raising from his seat he walked out of the room, multiple calls to wait trailing after him. Ignoring Sirius, who was saying something to him, he walked purposefully to the the front door, grabbing one of the coats hanging on a rack in the entranceway and pulling it on. His hand was on the doorknob when Sirius caught up to him.

"Harry, stop, where do you think you're going? You can't just go out!"

"Wrong, Sirius. I can do what I bloody well want."

The man blinked at the tone of Harry's voice, clearly taken aback. "Hey, what happened? Stop being ridiculous."

At once Harry rounded on his godfather. "The only ridiculousness that's happening here is in that kitchen," he shot, pointing in anger.

Sirius sighed, his suspicions about the source of Harry's anger confirmed. "I'm getting that, but if you must storm off somewhere at least keep it to the house."

Harry just looked away from the man. "Sorry, Sirius, I just need some space." He pulled the door back open and walked out, closing it shut behind him with a snap.

Sirius just stood there, half wanting to chase after him and half wanting to respect his wishes. He knew locking him up would only hurt the teen more in the end. Either way he still wanted to knock Harry on his ass for being an idiot. Sometimes the boy seemed older than even Sirius was, and other times he acted every bit the fifteen-year-old he was.

Grumbling, the man walked back to the kitchen where the others were waiting in an awkward silence, wondering when they might have gone too far. There was no need to worry about Harry, he was already being well looked after.

"So," he began, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the door. "Anyone feel like explaining that?"

x~x

It took fifteen minutes of solid walking for Harry to realize that he was actually being followed. He had felt like something was off for a number of minutes, but now, turning a corner, he could see the short woman less than half a block away walking in his direction. There was really no point in trying to make out what she looked like though. Instead he focused on trying not to get even more pissed than he already was.

Harry made a right turn onto a smaller street, moderately filled with holiday shoppers. A number of seconds later a small group of people made the turn as well. The short woman was nowhere to be seen. It didn't matter though, as the person who was following him was now a tall man in a long coat with a scarf. This had happened no less than ten times since he realized he was being followed. Clearly the person did not want to be caught and was using some fairly talented magic to do so, but there was really no way to hide from Harry when he could literally sense his stalker's existence amidst a sea of non magical people. Compared to trying to sense, well... anything in Hogwarts, this was child's play.

Three turns later put Harry into a very narrow street deserted of people. Instead of walking on, however, he waited until his pursuer made the quick turn, at which point he grabbed the now skinny teenaged boy in a jacket by the scruff of his shirt and spun him around into the nearby wall, pinning him with no small amount of force.

"Why are you following me?" said Harry, his face less than a foot away from the boy's. "You've been doing it for ages. I just want to be left alone. Doesn't anyone bloody get that?"

"Dunno wot ya talkin' bout, lemme go!" said the boy in a panicked voice, struggling against Harry's grip. Not in the mood for games, Harry just pushed the boy back into the wall again, hard. "Ow, me 'ead!"

"I asked you a question," he continued, his right hand had moved from the boy's collar to his neck. The boy's eyes went wide at this. "Why are you following me, Nymphadora?"

At once the small struggling stopped and the boy regarded Harry warily. "How did you know?" In less than a second the boy's face was gone, replaced by the one Harry knew so well. Her shirt became tight and puffed out a good deal as she reverted the rest of her body back to its usual form. "I'm clumsy, but not when it really matters. No one has ever been able to track me in a crowd. Hunter or hunted. No one."

Harry hesitated before answering her. His focus was split between the question and the fact that he was still pinning her to the wall, face less than a foot from her own, with a hand around her fairly slender neck. Letting his grip lessen, he ran his thumb nail across her smooth skin, causing her to let out an almost imperceptible shaky breath of surprise that clouded in the cold air.

"I can feel you," he said softly. He repeated the motion against her neck, eliciting a similar reaction from her. It was oddly enticing, seeing and feeling her shudder under him like this. Hermione's playful teasing about his crush on the metamorph filled his mind, but instead of retreating in embarrassment he found himself settling in further, considering the young woman in his hands. Her eyes always held something more, no matter what shape or color they took. Wilder. She didn't back down from anything. Even something like this.

"I know the feel of your magic. I could find you anywhere."

"You honestly never cease to amaze me, Harry." Her voice was rather breathy. "I'll admit you've been on my mind quite a lot since our own little date."

"Date? Wait, don't distract me, why are you following me?" Harry demanded.

"Dumbledore ordered me to keep an eye on you whenever you ended up outside Hogwarts or Hogsmeade," she said. Harry's eyes just narrowed.

"What does he want from me?"

"Just to keep you safe at the house. It's too dangerous out here," she added, eyes meeting his own for a second before focusing elsewhere. "Way more than during the summer. Especially now that you've gotten that snake killed. I heard what happened from Remus."

"Dumbledore has no right to hold me anywhere."

"You're being purposely difficult and you know it," Tonks said bluntly, meeting his eyes once more. The look she was giving him was clearly challenging. "He has a point, you aren't safe walking around on your own. Anything could happen! Even I understand that!"

"Fine, maybe I am," he growled. "But you've got another thing coming if you think I'm spending time with a bunch of people who think I might- that I'd…"

Frustrated, Harry let go of her, backing up a step, but Tonks grabbed him through his open coat and immediately pulled him right back against her tightly. He had to pull his head back to keep their foreheads from banging together. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. Harry kept his eyes on her own, hyper aware of every place their bodies were touching.

"You're not going anywhere, Harry," Tonks said softly with a grin. Her hands doubled their grip on his shirt. "Don't even try it."

"Are you going to take me back?" he asked.

"Maybe," she mused, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips as her eyes focused on his own.

"This seems... like the kind of thing you'd be sure about," he said with more than a little nervousness creeping into his voice.

"Details."

She leaned in slowly.

Heart hammering, Harry mimicked her movement, eyes closing slowly...

…and bumped into a warm wall of skin.

Blinking, Harry found himself looking at a mass of pink hair flecked with snow. His lips had made contact with her forehead. Tonks had diverted at the last second.

They both slowly backed up after a second, both avoiding each other's gaze. Tonks grimaced and flushed a bit before flashing him a quick glance.

"Come on, Harry, I want to talk to you."

x~x

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Tonks bit her lip sharply, making herself wince. What was wrong with her?

They'd ended up in a big restaurant. The place was packed and filled with a great amount of sound, holiday cheer moving through the air like a particularly strong fragrance. Harry was currently sitting across from her in a booth by a window, his gaze flickering from her to all around them. It was curiously sporadic.

"Everything alright?" asked Tonks somewhat apprehensively, tucking her wand away now that she was done with the privacy wards.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, just adjusting. Still a bit weird being out of Hogwarts. It felt odd, the way magic was everywhere. I always felt like I was sort of underwater. Now outside of it things just feel sharper and empty, I guess. Even if I'm not looking I know it's you sitting in front of me. Then there's my own magic, but it's different. The privacy ward is like I'm sitting under a really, really thin sheet. I can't feel any other magic around us. Does that make sense?"

"A little," she said, nodding slowly. "What you can do is uncommon enough but not particularly rare. I know someone in the Auror department who's pretty sensitive to magic. She does a lot of stealth stuff because she can keep from being caught so well, but works from home mostly because being at the ministry gives her a bad headache. The DMLE has a bunch of people like that."

"Interesting." Harry let his gaze wander a bit before returning to Tonks, who was watching him with her mouth set in a frown. "What?"

"What do you think? Coming out here on your own was really reckless," said Tonks, still annoyed that he hadn't even stopped to think it through for a moment before bailing on Headquarters. "You think you can take a Death Eater ambush if it ever happened?" She let out a breath of irritation. "It's dangerous out here, Harry, how many times do we have to say it before you stop treating this like it's a joke?"

"There's a difference between not being aware of danger and accepting it. You think I'm defenseless?"

"Never pegged you as the arrogant type."

Harry just gave her a flat look. "You really think that?"

"… No, I suppose I don't. It's just not like you to take such an unnecessary risk, especially considering what you teach those kids in that group of yours."

"First off, I'm a lot more capable of defending myself than any of them," began Harry, crossing his arms. "And I never said that I was being the most rational today."

"Well that's pretty obvious. You've had a pretty turbulent twenty-four hours. Hermione wrote to me last night," she elaborated at Harry's confused look. "Read the letter just before you ran off."

"Lovely, spread the good news, Hermione…" Harry grumbled.

"This girl was the one I met right?" At his nod she continued, "Well, don't expect any sympathies for things not working out between you two. You were mine for that day. That's what a date is, after all."

"I didn't realize you thought of it that way," Harry said honestly, surprised.

"Did you think there was another reason I was happy to see that girl go?" Tonks let out a short breath. "I mean, we planned the day for just the two of us, so why shouldn't I treat it like that? It was a great day."

"Yeah…"

"Anyway, you shouldn't blame her for being afraid, as much of an overreaction as I might think it is."

"Is it really though?" he asked. "I know that Voldemort will want to hurt me, so what better way than to go through the people I care about? Why would any girl want to deal with that?"

"I agree that there are plenty of people who would be afraid of the situation…" Tonks just shook her head. "But there are girls out there who aren't afraid of Voldemort to begin with, at least not enough to let it interfere with their personal lives."

"… Like you?"

Tonks looked away, her shame rising once more. That she'd even let herself act like she had earlier was beyond embarrassing. Okay, so she'd developed a bit of a thing for him, despite his younger age. Seeing him in Hogsmeade, staying in touch through letters, and just thinking about him in general… It wasn't even like she was denying it. The real problem was that letting go like that had just been so easy. She'd been completely ready to kiss him on that street. What ever happened to control?

"Sorry, Nym, it was just a silly thought."

Harry was looking out the window, watching the occasional couple pass by in the falling snow. Well, he didn't seem that upset, she reasoned. Just sad. There was a tightness in her chest that she determinedly ignored.

"Sometimes… more than sometimes, I want to just run to the guy and fight him and other times I want to run away as fast as I can."

"You could run," Tonks said softly, looking into her water. "Get out of the country. I know Dumbledore would try to stop you, but I could help you. Maybe go to the States? Australia? I doubt Voldemort would chase you there."

To her surprise, Harry actually chuckled. "I can't Nym," he said. "My whole life is right here in London, back at that house and sitting across the table from me. I'll fight for you guys until I die."

Not quite knowing how to react to that statement, Tonks opened and closed her mouth several times before settling for biting her lower lip.

"You really aren't making this easy for me, you know that?" she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Xx~xX

"My Lord? Is everything alright?"

Voldemort sat quietly in the dim light of the room as he looked out of the window into the falling snow, his fingers a steeple before him. His eyes flicked to Lucius for a second before returning back to the window.

"What do you have to report?" he said calmly, though his voice sent a shiver down the Malfoy's spine. This was not the Dark Lord who tortured people. This was the one who killed without emotion. Without hesitation.

"Nothing negative," he said at once. "We are progressing with all of our plans on schedule. This time next month you will once again be surrounded by your oldest and most faithful followers in full."

Voldemort said nothing, though his head inclined slightly in acknowledgment.

"My Lord, if I may…"

"What is it?"

Lucius swallowed, the action sounding loud in his own ears. He was walking a dangerous line right now. But that was the line between survival and death, and often one needed to take chances for, as he had come to understand, not knowing things could often be far worse than potentially provoking an unstable Dark Lord.

"I've noticed… Nagini has been conspicuously absent. I was wondering if you'd sent her on an errand."

There was a long, nerve wracking silence before Voldemort spoke.

"Nagini was recently killed on a mission by the Order," he said finally. "Speak not of this to anyone."

"As you command."

He turned to leave, not wanting to be anywhere remotely near the potentially furious Dark Lord.

"Lucius…"

The man stopped, inwardly cursing his luck. He was mere steps from safety.

"Yes, My Lord?" he asked, keeping his back to his master. A glance over his shoulder showed him that Voldemort had not moved at all.

"Many years ago," the Dark Lord began, "I gave you a book for safekeeping. A diary. One that I asked you to value more than the lives of your entire family combined." It took everything Lucius had to keep his breathing even. "Do you recall this?"

"I do, My Lord."

"What is its condition?"

"It is quite safe," he lied, now looking directly at the door out of the room. He knew of his master's ability to know when a person lied to him simply by gazing into their eyes. He knew the only reason that he was even still alive right now was that neither of them were looking at one another and had half a room between them. "Not a soul in this world could reach it, I assure you."

Don't ask for it, don't ask for it, don't ask for it.

Lucius allowed himself a glance over his shoulder at Voldemort to see him draw his wand. His grip tightened on the handle of his own. He was going to die in this room. Voldemort raised his wand, and Lucius waited for him to turn and cast the spell… But the man simply gave the wand a small flick over his shoulder and something large dropped from the ceiling, thudding to the floor and making Lucius jump back in shock, his own wand half out of its holster.

A dead body.

"Excellent. See that it remains so," said Voldemort, putting away his wand. "Also, please instruct the other newer Death Eaters in proper etiquette regarding their master. I would rather not have to kill them all."

"Of course, My Lord."

Lucius levitated the dead body and retreated from the room, wondering how long it would eventually be until it was he who was being levitated to be disposed of. He had certainly just used up a great deal of whatever luck he had built up over his life. There were a number of things that he needed to get done, both for his master and himself, but at this moment something trumped them all.

He needed a drink.

Xx~xX

Christmas Eve day dawned bright and cheerful to the people of Diagon Alley. Or at least Harry assumed so. He'd ended up sleeping until noon in the room he was renting at the Leaky Cauldron that overlooked the magical street. As he dressed he watched the people below, zipping about doing last minute shopping for the next day.

He wasn't trying to stay hidden from anyone back at Grimmauld Place, but just needed time to himself. Additionally, after his initial temper had subsided he'd ended up being a bit embarrassed at how he'd acted and wasn't particularly keen on returning so soon. Thinking of ways where he wouldn't have someone attempting to bring him back to headquarters by force, Tonks took him to the Leaky Cauldron so that he could check into a room for a couple of nights. At least he had some protection at the place, not to mention the Order would actually know exactly where he was. He knew he was expected back for Christmas and everyone was worried about him but he couldn't go back just yet. He had something to do. Something he needed to know before anything else.

"Ministry of Magic!"

The floo trip was typical for Harry—which was to say rather hellish—as he barely managed to keep himself upright as the fireplace deposited him in the atrium of the Ministry. Brushing soot off of his clothes, he made his way over to the line of security counters. A bored guard glanced up at him behind his Prophet before putting the newspaper down.

"Hello," said Harry, nodding slightly.

"Afternoon," replied the man. "Came by the floo, did you?" Harry nodded, and the man pulled out a blank visitors badge, exactly like the one that he had gotten the day of his hearing. "State your name and business for visiting the Ministry today.

"Harry Potter. I'm here to do some research for a school project." The man's eyes flicked in a very familiar fashion to Harry's scar.

"Harry Potter, research project," the man muttered, scratching it out on the badge. "What's this project about?"

"Just a bit on the various departments and their structures. I'm thinking about looking at other European Ministries to see the similarities and differences and if that had anything to do with the—"

"Right, sounds fascinating," interrupted the man in a bored voice. "Wand, please."

Feeling a bit nervous now, Harry complied, handing over his holly wand. This was one of the things he wanted to test out today. Would this wand still work for things like this even though he had gotten a new one? Considering how the Ministry had been treating him, he was in no mood to let any of them touch his rosewood wand. Besides, none of them knew he had even gotten a new one.

"Eleven inches, phoenix feather core, it bonded to you about five and a half years ago, yes?" read the man off off the instruments readings.

"That's right."

As if he would say, oh no that's not my wand at all.

"Very well, step over for a scan and you can enter."

Taking back his wand, Harry walked to the side of the desk to allow another guy with one of those thin golden rods to pass it up and down his front and back.

"You're clear, have a nice day," said the second man, turning his attention to the next visitor without hesitation.

Not about to argue with the guy, Harry walked into the main area, mentally shaking his head at how lax that had just been. Seriously, did he really believe that crap about the project? The scan had clearly only been aimed at dark objects as well, not detecting his second wand or other magical items he had hidden. You didn't need to be dark to be dangerous. Then again, no one here believed that they were in danger from a revived dark lord or anything remotely similar, so…

"Whatever…" he muttered, going over to the elevators and getting in the first one. The Ministry was rather less busy than it had been during his last visit, most likely because of the holiday. He quickly pressed the button for the ninth floor while pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and tossing it over his body, allowing the elevator to once more become empty. A few minutes later and he was slowly making his way down the dark corridor that Nagini had been in mere days ago.

Harry had thought long and hard about what he wanted to do during the past day. Though his scar hurt no longer, he was still clearly connected to Voldemort, and on a level he didn't understand or even know the limits to. Nagini attacking Mr. Weasley in this very dark corridor had confirmed something else. Voldemort was trying to scout the Department of Mysteries, and in all honesty Harry just wanted to know why. What was Voldemort so focused on, and what was it that the Order was so determined to protect from him?

So here he was, determined not to leave until he found out.

The corridor wound along, doors to courtrooms and who knew what else occasionally passing on either side, until it straightened out, ending rather abruptly in the door, just as it had from Nagini's perspective. There was no one there, but he knew better than to trust his eyes.

Interestingly enough, his growing magical awareness had completely cut off the moment the cloak covered his body. It was certainly shocking, but he could still feel the magic within himself so it wasn't like it had stopped working entirely, just for anything beyond the cloak. He would have to experiment with this at a later date. Regardless, he couldn't risk removing it on the chance of there being an invisible guard by the door.

Now what? He couldn't advance, nor could he retreat. All he could do was wait.

Eventually his patience was rewarded. Footsteps behind him that belonged to two approaching men with hooded cloaks heading for the door. Taking his only chance, Harry shadowed the second guy and moved through the door into open space as quickly as he could before the man shut it behind him, plunging them into darkness, the only light coming from the blue torches at various distances from him. While his eyes attempted to readjust to the low light, the men pulled off their hoods.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but this room gives me a headache."

What the man could possibly be talking about Harry found out not three seconds later. The walls, which he now saw were covered in identical doors equally spaced around them, began spinning, the torches turning into blue lines across his vision. A few seconds later it was over, but damn, was his eyesight screwed.

"Well, if you ask me, it's better than having to do another scan checkpoint. I bloody hate those things," said the other man. Still unable to see anything, Harry heard a door open then close then the spinning began again. He closed his eyes this time which saved him from getting an even worse headache. As the low rumbling signaled the stopping of the walls Harry looked around, pulling the cloak down from around his head to give himself a better view. There were so many doors, and who knew where any of them led. He didn't even know where he came in from, which would certainly be an issue when he tried to leave. The dreams had never gone past the first door. He had no idea where to begin looking.

"Well then," he said, wondering how to pick a door. "Where should I start?"

As if the room had been waiting for him to ask, a door to his left opened of its own accord. It was almost like the room had said, "I dunno. How about here?"

"Sure, why not..."

Harry walked into a large rectangular room that looked like some kind of amphitheater, stone benches descending in rows down to the center in which there was raised stone dais with the most ancient looking stone archway in the center. It had a thin black veil hung from it, swaying slightly, though there was clearly no moving air to cause it. Covered by the cloak in case someone was there, Harry moved to the side until he could see the back of the archway, but there was no one there. Curious he moved closer only to pull up sharply when he was about to step onto the dais.

The archway was giving off the most unsettling feeling he had ever felt. A faint whispering permeated the air that surrounded the thing, as if there were people hiding just beyond the veil itself. Be he had seen the other side. There was no "in there." His foot bumped a stone bench, making him look back in surprise. He had backed away from the thing without even realizing it. There was no doubt that the archway was dangerous. Jeez, and just a few seconds ago he had been oddly tempted to walk through the thing.

Harry moved back up to the top of the room, going through a different door than the one he came in through. The room with the archway also had doors all around it at the top. How many rooms did the Department even have? Who knew how large the place could potentially be.

It was five random rooms later that Harry ran into people again. This room was filled with clocks. Filled with them, light dancing off of them at every angle. They were on every surface imaginable, from the walls to the handful of desks and bookshelves scattered around the room to even hanging from the ceiling, far out of reach but still quite visible. Interestingly enough, they all ticked as one, a soft but very present sound. At the opposite end of the room there was a large crystal bell jar that was giving off a great deal of the light that filled the room. He was intrigued, but at the moment something else had grabbed his full attention.

"I really don't understand why this was put here," said a man, circling something that Harry couldn't see. "This is the time room you know?" Wanting to get a closer look he moved around a few of the desks into the open area, keeping to the edge but now able to get a better view.

It looked like a sort of wide circular well or small pond. The edges were made of what looked like smooth stone and it was only about a foot high. The weird part was that inside the thing was what looked like a liquid of darkest black, though it perfectly reflected everything above it, even better than a mirror, if that was even possible. It felt more otherworldly than anything, like he was looking into a window. Harry's eyes widened as the man's companion walked around the opposite side of the pool, looking down at it in idle curiosity.

She had no reflection.

"Where else would you put the thing?" she said in curiosity, sitting on the lip of the wall, apparently not worried she would slip. "We've got nothing else like it. Put stuff in and it never comes out. You know it has no depth. Space and time go together quite well, you know, and not just in science fiction. Besides, it looks pretty good here. If anything the desks make no sense to me."

"Still on about that portal theory? You read that Muggle crap way too much," said the man. "For all you know, it just vanishes or obliterates whatever passes through it. You know, like a toilet or something. And besides, if it is a portal to Merlin knows where, then why not stick it with the other portal we've got stashed away. You know, the archway to hell?"

"That's just a theory too," she said, getting back to her feet. The woman suddenly let out a snort of laughter. "Maybe we should propose them making a room for things you shouldn't walk through if you ever feel like coming back. Merlin knows we've got a lot of that stuff hidden around here that no one understands."

"Maybe you should stop spending so much time thinking about work and let me take you out for once."

"Maybe if you were even the slightest bit romantic at all, I would."

Harry watched the two bicker at each other as they left the room, shaking his head at the scene. Making his way to the other end of the room, Harry found another door and without a thought moved into the next room.

x~x

"What the…"

The place was easily the largest room he had ever been in his entire life, and that included all the ones in Hogwarts. It was completely filled by rows and rows of enormously tall wooden shelves that were holding things that gave off the same blue from the spinning room. Indeed he could see torches against the walls and candles on the shelves, casting that same blue flame. The nearest row had the words "Fifty-three" inscribed on a metal plate.

He pulled the cloak off of his head, the better to see, wondering what he should do. He wasn't really any closer to figuring out what Voldemort could possible want in the department, nor had he really come across anything that might look like the 'weapon' that Sirius had mentioned that one time. Sure there were plenty of dangerous things here, but nothing that might actually harm Voldemort unless he were stupid enough to go walk through that veil or go swimming with those freakish brains he saw earlier.

Shivering at the thought, Harry realized that the room he was currently in was actually quite cold. He cast a Warming Charm on himself before putting away his wand again, walking around in curiosity. The things on the shelves, and now that he was used to the light again he could actually see them better, were little glass orbs.

"Oh, my, a floating head. Can I help you, young man?"

Harry immediately pulled his wand and turned, training it on the person who had suddenly appeared behind him, his hand materializing out of air as it stuck out from the cloak. Dark eyes regarded him calmly behind golden framed glasses. Despite having found a half invisible intruder the man was smiling pleasantly, but Harry knew better than to trust blindly.

The man looked to be in his late sixties, though given how well witches and wizards aged who could really tell. Harry regarded the man warily. How had he gotten behind him without him realizing it? Sure his senses were pretty screwed up from all the magic in these rooms, but that didn't make him blind. There was no one nearby when he entered the room and the man was right there in front of him now, plain as day.

"Who are you?" he demanded, knowing full well that he was really in no position to ask such a thing. He was trespassing after all. In the Department of Mysteries no less.

"It's interesting, isn't it, how nearsighted being invisible can make a person?"

Harry scowled, feeling fairly annoyed. Hearing almost those precise words once in his life was quite enough, especially after both people had completely gotten the drop on him. Well, the first time he was eleven, but he didn't really think he had an excuse this time.

"Now, there's no need to point wands," said the man, holding his empty hands out to show he meant no harm. "After all, I'd assume you're trying to keep a low profile, yes?"

Harry hesitated for a moment before stowing his wand, still eying the man warily.

"Much better. My name is Sven. I am the caretaker of the Hall of Prophecy. I so rarely get guests down here, so I welcome you, Mr. Potter."

"Never heard of it," he said deciding to ignore the fact that the man know his name. Well, then again when you had your calling card on your forehead…

"Well, it's not the most common of knowledge, but no real secret either," said Sven with a shrug. "The Hall is dedicated to keeping records of prophecies that are made around the world." He walked over to the shelves of one row, brushing a sturdy wooden shelf with a finger though careful to avoid touching any of the orbs. "Each orb is a different prophecy, made by someone to someone else, and regarding a third party, all of which is labeled beneath the stones."

"Prophecies…" Harry moved close to one of the shelves, staring at the glass orbs which were reflecting the blue light that burned from the candles. "Every time I think magic can't surprise me it goes and proves me wrong." Impulsively he reached out to touch an orb…

…only to have a hand grab his wrist in a firm grip, stopping his fingers just short of the thing.

"Do not touch them," said Sven sternly. "There is a powerful magic over the prophecies that prevent any but those that the prophecies refer to from removing them. Attempting to do so will kill you before you even manage to move it. Skin contact or no, it matters not. Even just touching one will bring you close. They are even impossible to manipulate magically, though extremely fragile. It makes guarding them rather redundant."

"Well, you couldn't get one down with say, a stick? Knock it onto a pillow or something."

Sven couldn't help but grin. "A nice attempt but there would be no point in the end. You wouldn't be able to touch it without killing yourself. The defenses are active so long as the party it has been made to has not claimed it first. One of the reasons I make sure not to accidentally knock any of them over."

"So, how do they get there if no one can touch them?"

"No idea, they just appear."

Harry looked at the man in confusion. "But I thought you ran this place?"

At this Sven laughed. "Oh, no, my boy, I am a caretaker. You could even go so far to call me a keeper. But it's still only a day job and I am not the master of this hall. No one is." Harry had his mouth open but was cut off by a very amused Sven. "You are quite inquisitive."

"Well, this is pretty impressive," he said, looking around again. "And they are from all over the world? How is that even possible?"

"It is one of the many mysteries that surrounds the prophecies themselves," said Sven. "It is my belief that because prophecies affect those they refer to no matter where they are in the world, it matters not where they are made in the first place."

"Sounds logical."

"An uncommon thing, with our world so based in the impossible."

Harry just smirked. He got those thoughts at least once a day since starting at Hogwarts.

"Now tell me," continued Sven, regarding him shrewdly. "What bring you here? To the Department of Mysteries."

"Well, curiosity mainly," he replied after a second. Sven raised his eyebrows and Harry gave a little cough. "I guess I'm looking for something, but I'm not sure what it is. I'll know it when I see it though… I hope." The last two words were mumbled to himself, but now Sven was looking intrigued.

"Are you? It's curious that you would end up here looking for something, when in fact there is already something here waiting for you to find it." It took Harry a few seconds to realize exactly what Sven must be talking about. His jaw dropped in shock.

"You mean there's one here about me?"

"Indeed," said Sven with a nod. "Row ninety-seven, at the far end."

"How on earth do you know something like that?" said Harry in surprise, still somewhat reeling at the fact that one of these glass orbs had something to do with him.

"Some names are quite a bit more high profile than others," Sven said with a shrug.

"Can I see it? The prophecy about me."

"Follow me."

As they walked Harry was lost in thought. So he'd come searching for something to do with Voldemort but instead found a prophecy about himself. Well, what about Voldemort? Feeling there was really no harm in asking, he gave it a shot.

"You said you remember if there are ones for more notable people, right?"

"Yes that does narrow it down quite a bit."

"I was wondering... have there been any prophecies made about Voldemort?"

At the mention of the name Sven didn't flinch, though he did frown heavily.

"No, there are no prophecies bearing that name."

"How about Tom Marvolo Riddle?" At this Sven regarded him in confusion. "It's Voldemort's actual name."

"How interesting," said the man, scratching his short fuzzy beard. "Though my answer is the same. There are plenty of prophecies made about dark lords though."

They fell back into silence for the remainder of the walk. It was not that long until they reached the proper row, walking through it until nearly the other end. Eventually Sven stopped and pointed at an orb on a lower shelf.

Beneath one of the orbs, on a small yellowish label affixed to the shelf was a date from some sixteen years previously and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter

"Why… why is there a question mark next to my name?" Harry asked finally, eyes locked on the words. Dark Lord. Who else could that be about?

"Well, that really only happens if the person it could be about isn't known about for certain, either at first or after," explained Sven. "Meaning there were multiple people it could have referred to but something happened that caused the prophecy to choose you."

Harry absently rubbed his scar. "Right, so do I just grab it?"

"Yes. You can listen to it by tapping it with your wand while holding it." Sven gave a small cough and Harry turned to him. "Would you like me to leave? I've no idea what this might say so it could be rather personal."

Harry just nodded. "If you don't mind."

He waited until Sven was several meters away and still within his line of sight before looking once more at the prophesy. Reaching out, he hesitated a moment before taking the cool glass orb and removing it from its place. Now that it was off the shelf he could tell that the thing had its own faint inner light. Pulling his wand, Harry tapped the orb once and held it out in front of him. At once, a ghostly white form rose up out of the orb. Harry gave a small start as he realized that is was a much younger looking Professor Trelawney. She stared out into space and began to softly speak in a voice that Harry had only heard once before.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

There was silence for a long time when Trelawney finished speaking, fading from the air. Harry stared at the orb as Sven finally approached once more. His expression was a mix of concern and curiosity, but Harry ignored him.

So this was it.

What else could Voldemort possibly want from this secret-ridden department? But he had to have known. Why else would he have—! Dark Lords didn't hunt down year-old babies for kicks. Harry felt his fist tightening on the glass orb. Did the thing itself hold significance he wasn't aware of?

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

And Dumbledore's secret weapon? The thing that everyone had been so maddeningly and unwittingly alluding to since the summer that was of the utmost importance? The thing that needed to be kept from harm's way? It was him, Harry James Potter.

He didn't know whether to laugh or puke.

"… Mr. Potter? Harry?"

Harry turned to Sven, regarding him with a cold glare. Was this really all just a coincidence?

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I… I am so rarely presented with the opportunity to see a prophecy removed from the shelves," said Sven hesitantly.

Harry just watched him with an unreadable expression. "You're sure you don't know what this said?" he demanded, raising the orb slightly.

"Of course not!" Sven said earnestly. "I've told you it would be impossible for me to know any of this." He seemed to be struggling with something. "I have always believed that it would be better for a person to know rather than not. Wouldn't it only help a person live their life better?" There was a long silence as Harry stared at the orb in his hand. It was so small, but why did it feel so heavy?

"It's—"

"I only wanted to help you," finished the Keeper. Clearly events had not gone as he'd hoped.

"It's alright, Sven," said Harry softly. "I think, somewhere, I already knew what this would say. At least it's answered one of the biggest questions I've had about my life." He stared at the prophecy for a few more seconds before raising it above his head and smashing it on the floor where it shattered into pieces. At once the white smokey version of the younger Trelawney rose from the debris. "I don't want to hear it again, you bat!" he shot, kicking through her and dissipating the figure. Another wave of his wand vanished the pieces of glass all over the floor.

"Harry?" Sven hadn't moved as Harry destroyed the prophesy, but now he was just standing there in silence.

The teen let out a small breath. "I'm sorry, but I really need to be alone right now."

"Very well," said the Keeper said after a moment. "I'll go. You made your way into this place undetected, so I'm sure you can get yourself out. No one other than myself and the occasional researcher comes in here anyway. Take care of yourself, boy."

"Sven."

The man paused.

"You're right. It's always better to know than to not."

"…Thank you, Harry."

He listened in silence as Sven walked out of sight down the row and around the corner, his footsteps almost instantly fading into nothing.

"And now..."

Concentrating as hard as he possibly could, Harry focused on exactly what he needed and gave his wand a slow compact wave, feeling the weight of a small object fall into his open palm. Opening his eyes, Harry saw that he was now holding a glass orb, indistinguishable from the one he had just shattered, down to the very faint glow from within. He turned and placed it on the shelf in the only open space. The only difference now was that it had no dust on it like everything else around it, but that would change after some time.

Not willing to move just yet, Harry re-shifted his Invisibility Cloak and pulled it around himself as he sank to the floor, gently leaning against the shelf.

What should he do?

Sitting there in the silence, blue light flickering and glinting around him, Harry's mind drifted to where it often did when lost.

Magic.

It was literally so out of this world to a boy of eleven who knew nothing but the Dursleys and the miserable life he had with them. The power of miracles. It was precisely because it was so incredible that he had believed that he had a chance to start over. To get what he'd been denied his whole life.

And so he'd entered the magical world filled with excitement and wonder. Open to anything and everything that was around him. It made him smile at how eager he was that day. Even to the point of giving his trust to adults and other children around him without much fear.

But despite all the good, things began to close him off. Learning he was wildly famous was hard to deal with. He had walked into his new life with almost everyone having some sort of pre-established opinion of him. Everyone seemed to know who he was better than he did himself. Still, he'd gotten used to it fairly quickly and dealt with whatever life threw at him as best he could.

At least until the school found out he was a Parselmouth. To have so many turn on him like that was not something so easily forgotten, nor forgiven. And suddenly the number of people that he had been so open with had reduced to a handful. He slowly learned about Voldemort, his followers and their views, patching together bits of the mysterious events that surrounded his parent's murders. Eventually he came face to face with the very man who had ultimately caused him so much grief. But he hadn't been ready for it. Nothing could have prepared him for watching another student get so casually murdered before him, for being tortured by that curse, for having to fight for his very life while being toyed with. And he felt like the grand new life that he was supposed to have begun hadn't really gotten anywhere. Yes, he had a group of close friends, not to mention the handful of adults that meant a lot to him as well, but was that really the kind of progress he had been looking for?

And yet, he was only fifteen. Should he even have been expecting something more than that?

Either must die at the hand of the other.

Harry clenched his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't crack. Dumbledore! He had known! Who else had those initials and was around Trelawney as well? The prophecy was made to him, which in itself was actually probably a good thing. Dumbledore was in a good position to get the Potters to safety at the time. If not for Pettigrew then possibly his parents would still be alive. But that wasn't what the issue was here. The prophecy said that if Voldemort was going to die then Harry was going to be the one to do it. That much was perfectly clear, though technically then it should work the other way around. Is that why he was so lucky when it came to getting out of deathly situations?

Where the HELL was the preparation?! If he had to face Voldemort eventually, shouldn't he have been getting ready for it for most of his life? Why was he sent to the Dursleys in the first place? Dumbledore was secretive and even manipulative at times, yes. Infuriatingly calm and always looking to see the good in even the worst people imaginable, sure. Occasionally bad-ass, definitely, he'd give the man that. Weirdly obsessed with candy, yeah.

But one thing he was not, was stupid.

Dumbledore had a reason for every damn thing he did, whether he shared it or not. Usually not. Harry just didn't know what it could be and it drove him mad.

Sighing, Harry stood up. He couldn't go back to Grimmauld place now. No, there was somewhere else he needed to see.

"It's been a long time coming," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. A long time indeed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Chapter 11 done! A fic will do one of two things. Make the prophecy important, or make it unimportant. From there the story will go in different directions. You can imagine the very different reactions that Harry would have between those two sides. Regardless of what anyone thinks here's the facts:

They will face each other in the end. Nuff said.

That's that. Review if you dare! Even if you don't dare do it anyway. I'm sure you can guess where Harry's last stop before heading back to 12 Grim will be yes?