Disclaimer: Property of JK Rowling. Originally written by USNAGator91.

Chapter Fourteen: Morgana's Gambit

Dolores Umbridge sat at the desk and rest her cup of tea on its matching saucer. Her bright pink cardigan shone brightly in stark contrast to her surroundings. As an escaped felon, her choices of abode were limited and this abandoned shanty on the outskirts of London served her purposes nicely. Besides, she thought, after her accommodations at Azkaban, her present circumstances were quite opulent.

Umbridge was happy, her first day of her task to hurt the Aurors could not have gone smoother. How fortunate that the powers that be, had interpreted her objective to revenge herself on those insolent brats from Hogwarts. In doing so, the Ministry had practically spoon fed her easy targets of opportunity. By assigning Aurors individually or in pairs to Dumbledore's idiots, she'd been offered the chance to pick off the Auror ranks, one by one. That fool in Ottery St. Catchpole had no chance alone, when she sent four pseudo-manticores after him. She simply adored kittens so she was more than amused by the fact that she could change their cute exteriors into instruments of destruction on her path to power.

Power. That was her ultimate goal. Whatever ill will she harbored for the children who led the insurrection against her management at Hogwarts was secondary to the accumulation of power. What's more, she could hurt a good many of them by using their own fears for their safety to accomplish her objective. Plus, she reasoned, there was an added bonus. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were both Aurors, thus were fair game. She allowed herself a brief titter at the thought. She could only imagine the horror and the pain she would inflict on those mudblood loving brats when she killed the great Harry Potter and his worthless sidekick. One must always take pride in one's work; that was her motto.

Her mysterious backer had also occupied a good deal of Umbridge's mind. Who was she? Her words, her situation seemed familiar, but Umbridge was never a good student and she really couldn't place the woman in any context. The woman was powerful; the little book in Umbridge's pocket was a testament to that. But her power was limited, her reach could not extend past her island fortress, else why would she need Umbridge's assistance? That was her weakness, Dolores thought, and that is a weakness that can be exploited when the time came.

Her eyes drifted to a scrap of parchment lying on her desk. She'd come upon it during her last scouting sojourn into Diagon Alley. Her mouth crinkled in a smile, or so it could be technically called. She placed a white-glove encased hand on the paper, stroking the letters on the headline, almost caressing it. It's announcement making for another opportunity, one to deal a blow with true meaning for her. Just this once, she may even make it a point to kill everyone involved.

"COME ONE, COME ALL! THE GRAND OPENING OF WEASLEY'S WHEEZES IN HOGSMEADE! CUNNING OBJECTS OF ENTERTAINMENT! JOKES, SPELLS AND GAGS, GALORE! FREE SELF-INKING QUILLS TO THE FIRST TEN CUSTOMERS! THIS SATURDAY, 10 AM.

GEORGE WEASLEY AND LEE JORDAN, PROPRIETORS"

George Weasley, he'd been the instigator of the rebellion at her school. His twin brother and he had humiliated her, made her look foolish and weak. The twin Weasleys were both cowardly and not very impressive wizards, especially having to resort to tricks and chicanery. That fact was made abundantly clear by Fred's death at the hands of real wizardry. Here was a real opportunity. Hogsmeade was remote and isolated. At most, she could count on four or maybe six Aurors protecting the grand opening of this shop. The rest would be spread thin, watching over the other twenty or so cowards across Britain. Umbridge allowed herself a toothy smile, which accentuated her toad-like appearance. She looked across to two kittens lapping saucers of milk near the door, perhaps she could spare a chimaera or two to deal with George Weasley as well. After all, all work and no play makes for a very disorderly day, and how she hated disorder.

She broke the silence in the room, "So much to do, so much to do. We have an appointment, you and I, Mr. George Weasley." She picked up the two kittens, tut-tutting to them and smiling, "Would you like to meet George Weasley?"

"George Weasley!"

Ginny's voice rang up and down the aisles of Weasley's Wheezes, echoing to the farthest reaches of the store and assaulting George's ears. He was sitting at a table in the back stock room. Lee, Harry and Ron were seated with him while his and Lee's Auror guardians, Dawes and Milton, were curiously taking in the inventory stored there. George turned to see the deliberate and fast-paced march Ginny was taking, with Hermione following behind her. Ginny looked decidedly furious and George saw an incriminating flyer clutched tightly in her hand.

"George Weasley, you can be such a donkey's behind!" Her voice was forceful and somewhat shrill, her indignation dripping from her shout.

"Such language, this is a family establishment." George rose to face his younger sister, hands raised in a 'What have I done?' manner, "and as far as being an donkey's behind, could you be a little more specific?"

This drew snickers from the men around the table that were immediately stifled by looks both Hermione and Ginny gave them. Hermione plucked the crumpled flyer from Ginny's hand and raised it in front of George's face.

"What is the meaning of this? You're opening another shop, in Hogsmeade, now?" George took the flyer, pretending to read it.

"Yes, you both know that's been the plan as far back as…" He hesitated, but they knew he meant to say, "As far back as when Fred was alive."

George looked the women in the eye, "Look, we got a great deal on Zonko's shop, so we jumped at it."

Hermione took the lead, Ginny too enraged to talk at the time. "George, it's not just about the shop, do you realize the danger that Umbridge presents? You're just asking to be attacked."

George stole a glance at Lee, and then straightened his shoulders. "Why did we fight? Why did we sacrifice so much?" He looked at Hermione and then stared straight at Ginny. "Why did Fred die? So we could be free to make our choices. Isn't that what you're always harping on Gin? What is it now, you're free to make choices but no one else is?"

Ginny's face burned with shame and anger; shame in his rebuke, and anger that her own argument was being turned against her. The building crescendo was like a volcano waiting to erupt. Hermione spoke up to prevent the eruption, for now.

"George, it isn't just you and Lee. What about your protectors?" She pointed to Dawes and Milton, who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to blend in with the walls. "The Aurors have sacrificed a great deal to protect us from Umbridge, and now you'll expose them to additional risk."

"Ahem," Dawes strode forward, his light blue eyes dancing with not a little amusement, "Frankly miss, we're exposed wherever we go. It's really no trouble, Milton and I are volunteering."

His comment froze Hermione, leaving her no argument, save one and that one was the eruption point for Ginny. Mount Vesuvius had reached critical mass.

"What about Ron and Harry?" She looked down at the table at her husband and her brother, "Do you think that they wouldn't go too? Umbridge has a special hate for the both of them. Aren't you putting them in danger? How dare you, George! Just for some stupid joke shop! You're going to make me a widow to sell more of your trinkets!"

It was out, the real worry behind Ginny's rage. The silence in the room was deafening. The shock of the verbal assault caused George to slowly sink back to his seat and lower his head. Ginny's eyes roved over all of them, daring them to contradict her, daring them to excuse the foolish task they'd planned.

After a moment of her harsh gaze, Harry found his voice. "Ginny, could I speak to you in private? Please?" He stood and held his hand out to her, begging for her indulgence. She hesitated, not sure where he would take the argument, but reached her hand to his nonetheless. He led her out a back door, to a relatively isolated part of Diagon Alley.

He turned to face her, "You were a little unreasonable and harsh, don't you think?"

"Don't, Harry. After what we've been through the past few months, with you at death's door, don't lecture me on worrying about your safety. Don't." She wasn't going to be deterred. Her fears were heightened because she'd reached a pinnacle of happiness she'd never thought she could experience. Before, she was afraid of losing him because of what might be, now she was terrified, because now, she knew what she had to lose.

His voice lowered, becoming gentle, soothing; he reached a hand to caress her hair, "I'm not telling you not to worry. It'd be like telling the sun not to rise. I love that you worry, but George is right, we need to be free, Ginny. Free to choose, free to live, even free to sell Nosebleed Nougats." He gave her a smile. She reluctantly returned it.

"All I'm asking, Ginny, is do you trust me?" Harry's question was earnest.

Her annoyance began to surface, "Harry, what kind of silly question is that? What do you mean…"

He cut her off, this time he was terse, forceful. "Do you trust me?"

She read his eyes, her back straightening, her eyes blazing, "Of course, I trust you." He smiled and hugged her tight. A decision had been made, and the two headed back to the help the others plan the trip to Hogsmeade.

Saturdays in Hogsmeade are especially festive, as the students of Hogswarts find themselves perusing the shops and cafés of the uniquely all-wizarding community. An undercurrent of excitement was especially rampant today, as the flyers announcing the grand opening of the Weasley specialty shop had been delivered throughout the school, due in no small amount to the efforts of one Professor Neville Longbottom. The street was crowded outside the balloon and ribbon festooned shop. Its prior occupants, Zonko's, had been forced to close down during Umbridge's stay at Hogwarts. Even though an attempt at reopening had been made, there was really no way to recover from losses, especially given the success that Weasley's Wheezes had been having.

Frederick Dawes and Henry Milton walked casually with Lee and George. The two Aurors had been near inseparable since their time at Hogwarts. They'd met during their first ride on the Hogwarts' Express, been inducted into Gryffindor together and joined the Office of Aurors together. Those that did not know them, would swear that they were brothers, twins even. They were almost identical, save for Dawes' pale blue eyes and Milton's dark black orbs. They'd been best men at each other's weddings. For almost thirty years, they'd fought, laughed and cried with each other, and were as close to twins as could be. Milton, was the more playful of the two despite his foreboding eyes, was talking earnestly with George, holding a quill that he'd been given.

"So you're saying that all I have to do is think the words, and this will write it down?"

"That's the idea. Are you sure you don't want to try the self-correcting quill?" Milton laughed.

"No mate, my testing and schooling days are far behind."

Trailing the four travelers, Ron and Harry kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Coming up the main street, the group approached the new Weasley's Wheezes without incident. Harry took a studious sweep of the surrounding area. The buildings surrounding the shop seemed drab, in contrast with the festive adornment of the new business. Gladrag's stood silent, even its owners out on their stoop to watch the opening, the wife shooing away strays that were trying to enter the open door. Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was closed up, a sign indicating that the owner was gone until Monday, and its upper story shutters closed tight, no sound coming from them. Only Honeyduke's seemed to be having any type of consistent traffic, students stopping in to sample candies that wouldn't explode or itch, and then coming to see the wonders of George and Lee's shop.

At precisely ten o'clock, George stepped up to the raised porch in front of his new shop. He was outfitted in his ridiculous P.T. Barnum outfit, the bowler perched firmly on his head.

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! It is my pleasure and yours too, to open here in Hogsmeade, your very own Weasley's Wheezes!" The crowd burst into applause. "Now, who'll be the first come up and enter?"

As if on queue, a roar broke from the rooftop of the opposite building. Three chimaeras were staring down at George and Lee, mouths salivating on their lion's heads. The beasts launched themselves at the dais, claws extended.

From the street, inhuman shouts emanated from the six manticores that stood line abreast. Their heads were human like, but perched on a lion's body, scorpion tales held up in an aggressive posture. Their screams echoed off the close confines of the buildings, and they launched their attack, plunging through the crowd.

The people caught in the attack made a mad rush away from the fighting. Harry and Ron drew their wands, ushering the mass of humanity towards safety. Harry heard the loud cracks of stunning spells, as Dawes and Milton mounted their defense, pulling George and Lee down behind the solid railing of the platform. All around, manticores and chimaera appeared from out of thin air, it seemed, loping down towards the beleaguered defenders. Harry and Ron stood back to back, covering the stage from across the street. Harry lunged backwards, pushing Ron to the side, narrowly evading a striking scorpion's tale, the barb passing inches from his face. Ron sent a shield charm to ward off the attacker, driving it into one of its cohorts.

"Harry, we can't hold for much longer!" Ron assessment of the tactical situation was accurate. The more of the beasts they dispose of, the more seem to appear. Harry's mind was working in overdrive, considering the possibilities. Suddenly, he knew.

"Right, Ron I've got it!" Harry beckoned Ron to follow, looking over at Dawes and Milton who were just managing to stave off being overwhelmed.

Dawes saw Harry's movement and yelled, "Now?"

Harry didn't halt his stride, "Now!"

Dawes nodded to George, who pulled a small fireworks canister from his jacket pocket. Setting it off, the combustible flew up into the street, and burst into a fiery display, spelling out the word, "Now."

Seemingly out of nowhere, as Disillusionment Charms and Invisibility Cloaks were discarded, thirty Aurors made their appearance, blasting the attackers from behind, severely blunting the attack. Led by Dawlish and Lachlan, the Aurors formed a protective cordon around the platform, whose railing had been reinforced to provide shelter from the assault. Wands out, the Aurors fought off the continuing attacks with an unassailable wall of spells.

Harry made a beeline for the entrance to Gladrags. He remembered the owner having to chase away stray cats that were hovering near the door. Bounding for the rear of the shop, Harry led Ron up the stairs, to the second floor. Moving room to room, Harry reached the doorway to the room overlooking the street. Framed in the window, a slight, prudish woman, dressed in a pink sweater was furiously pouring through a small book, oblivious to their approach.

"Hem Hem." Harry's mocked Umbridge's affectation for a slight cough when she wanted her attention.

Umbridge turned rapidly, surprised by the intrusion.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron's spell knocked the book from her hand.

"Accio Book!" The little leather-bound journal flew into Harry's hand.

"Incarcerous!" The ethereal bonds flew to surround Umbridge, Ron's wand moving to ensure compliance with his spell.

Umbridge choked in surprise, a note of sheer terror in her voice, "Potter, you have no idea what you've done! You've killed me!"

Snarls began to emanate from the base of the stairway behind them. The loud impact of bodies could be heard against the closed shutters of the windows. Harry and Ron moved into the room and slammed the door behind them. They could hear movement on the roof above, with scratches indicating that something was tearing through the thatched roof. All around, they'd become the focus of rage for the remaining beasts without.

Umbridge began to shiver in fear, her voice quaking, her control completely lost. "Potter, you've got to save me, you've got to keep them away from me please!"

Harry's voice was cold, bitter. "Why should I? What will you do for me?"

Umbridge's face froze momentarily, the decision weighing in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump at the door, the unmistakable sound of its wood frame cracking.

Harry turned back to Umbridge, "You'd better decide soon, time is about up."

The door crashed open, the snarls of its batterers filling the room.

The grand opening of Weasley's Wheezes at its Hogmeades' location would be remembered for quite some time. It's comparison to other inaugural events would be mundane on the details. There were balloons and streamers and a showman in the guise of George Weasley made for a better than average start. It was the relentless assault by the vicious, dark magic-induced beasts that would set this opening apart from countless others. Sarah Peebles took in the scene from her vantage point in the circle of Aurors that was surrounding the stage in front of Weasley's Wheezes. She and her colleagues had been granted a reprieve from their battle with Umbridge's manticores and chimaeras when the savage animals had ceased their attacks and begun to descend on Gladrags. Somewhere in her memory, Sarah seemed to recall that her mentor, Harry Potter had disappeared not too long ago into the depths that that building. While the Aurors collected themselves and policed up the area, she stole away to find entry into the building.

"Protego!" Ron's wand flashed, driving the mass of visceral flesh back from the door's opening. "Reparo!" the assorted pieces of the door and its frame lashed themselves back together, offering a moment's respite. Harry nodded to Ron, cognizant of the thrashing and banging across the entire perimeter of the room. He turned to Umbridge, his eyes blazing.

"What will it be, Dolores? Will you give me the information we need, or do we leave you to your fate?"

Umbridge took in Harry's expression, not sure, really, if he was serious, or if he was bluffing. In her mind, she couldn't take the chance. She'd already escaped from Azkaban once, albeit with assistance, and she could do it again. She couldn't do anything if she was dead.

"I'll tell you what you want to know, just get me away from here. All you have to do, is transport me out of sight of those things." Umbridge's voice grew higher, shriller as the crashing against the doors and windows got louder.

"That's not good enough, Umbridge! We already know that you can't be trusted. This is the price for your life." Harry held up a small blue shaded vial for her to see.

Dolores Umbridge was no fool. Her only real value was the information in her head. She'd thought that she could bargain by holding things out, but by giving Potter her memories, she'd be out of chips to bargain with. A splintering crash at the window revealed a long talon making its way through the wood. It also made her decision much easier.

"I'll do it. When you get me out of here!"

Harry laughed, "Nice try, do it now! Ron!" He tossed the vial over to his friend, who's relieved expression was evident on his face. Umbridge tossed a cruel, heated glance at Harry, and then closed her eyes. Eventually, a blue, viscous liquid emitted from the corners of her eyes. Ron opened the stopper on the vial and allowed the liquid to fill the glass. When he finished, he put the top on the vial and nodded to Harry.

"Make sure those memories get to the Ministry! That's the whole point of this, Ron. Get to the Ministry as fast as you can!" Harry looked back towards Umbridge.

Ron stared at his friend, "What about her? We can make it together!"

"Don't worry about Umbridge, I'll be right behind you, just make sure the memory gets to the Ministry!" Ron gave Harry a hard, knowing look. With a quick glance at Umbridge, Ron disappeared from the room.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, oblivious to the noise of the creatures outside, staring into space. After a moment, he cast a cold, menacing gaze at Umbridge.

"What are you waiting for Potter! Get me out of here!" Umbridge's voice was louder, more desperate. "I gave you what you wanted!"

Harry looked at her, his eyes filled with a steely resolve. "What's the rush? These are your pets after all. Maybe, I should leave you to them." Harry turned his back on her, his mind racing, the rage in his breast making him hesitate.

Her voice steadied a triumphant laugh in her tone. "Well, well, well, the great Harry Potter is a horrid little man, after all. Apparently we aren't so different, after all." She wavered as another talon pierced the ceiling above. "We had an agreement, Potter! You weren't going to let me die!"

"Maybe you don't deserve to live! Maybe I'm doing the world a favor! You've hurt a lot of people, Umbridge! You've murdered for the sake of what? Power? You're a threat to my friends, my family!" Ginny's image came to his mind, the image right after her encounter in Diagon Alley, suddenly a place on his hand began to itch, the same place that Umbridge had forced him to 'write lines' those years ago. "You're a threat to me. Maybe it's best that you can't hurt anyone else, anymore." He stared her down, and for the first time, Dolores Umbridge truly feared for her life.

"You can't Potter! You can't let me die!" Her voice was panicked, faltering; a bout of hysteria was following close behind. Harry took a last look at her and slowly turned his head. His mind began to concentrate on a destination, anywhere, but away from her.

"Harry." The voice was quiet, soft and warm. It was unexpected, and it wasn't Umbridge. Harry turned and found himself looking at Sarah. She'd found a small spiral ladder that had led up to an adjacent room, too small for the creatures to navigate. She'd come through a connecting door and found him about to leave the dreadful Umbridge woman to her fate.

He was startled by her, unsure of his actions. Her words hit him to the core.

"You don't want to do this, Harry. You'll regret it for the rest of your life." Sarah looked at him, ignoring the vigorous nods of agreement from Umbridge or the chaos of the enraged animals crashing through.

"Sarah! What are doing here, get out of here! Can't you see that she deserves it? She's evil! She's murdered people! She's tried to hurt the people that I love. She tried to hurt Ginny! She's hurt me!" Harry was spent, unsure of what he should do next, his mind swirling with thoughts of the greater good and what was right.

Sarah's voice dropped in volume, "You once said that being an Auror was about justice and peace, and that we must never use our position to exercise power over the helpless." Her arm dropped to the bound woman nearby.

Harry stood, his eyes never leaving Sarah, shamed by what he'd almost done. He stared at his pupil and found she was teaching him a lesson. He nodded his head and walked over to Umbridge. Grasping her and Sarah's arm, he apparated them out of the room, away from Hogsmeade.

Outside, Henry Milton was keeping a watch on four would-be chimaeras that had been stunned by multiple spells from the phalanx of Aurors. When Harry moved Umbridge from their proximity, the chimaeras changed their form. In front of Milton, were four kittens, mewling in fear and probably hunger. "Blimey." The Umbridge threat was over.

Harry and Sarah arrived at the Ministry of Magic with Umbridge in tow. They brought her up to the Office of Aurors and placed her in one of the rooms especially charmed to hold wizards of her ilk. Harry walked with Sarah back to his office, emotionally spent from the encounter.

"Sarah," he paused, the shame of his actions hitting him, "Thanks, I almost did something I would have regret." She smiled at him, placed a small hand on his shoulder.

"It's what you'd done for me. 'You will not apologize, because you have nothing to apologize for.'" She was definitely teasing him.

"How long am I to expect you to keep reciting my own words back to me?" He started laughing with her, his mood lightening ever so slightly.

"For as long as you're my tutor. I'm lucky to have you training me, Harry. You looked out for me when no one else would. You're a good teacher, and I'm glad I'm your student." Her face was proud, unembarrassed and unashamed.

He blushed, "Thanks Sarah, I definitely needed that." She looked at him with a little more seriousness.

"Harry, you still have one more thing to do, don't you?" He looked at her, unsure of what she spoke. They still had to figure out who was behind all this and how to stop them. There was probably more than one thing left. She laughed at his confusion, "Don't you think you should go and let Ginny know you're okay? She's liable to tear down the Ministry before long."

He laughed out loud, his mood definitely getting better. "Well, we can't have public property being destroyed. I want to check on Ron first, and then I'll go save the Ministry from total destruction." He got up and walked out of his office. He moved down the corridor. As he passed the granite memorial wall, he noticed that Masterson's name and image had been added already. He made his way to Lachlan's office and knocked. The door opened, and he entered to find Ron waiting.

"You made it back? Good." Harry skimmed the office and saw the vial sitting on Lachlan's desk.

"Where's Lachlan?"

Ron looked at his friend closely, concern covering his face. "He hasn't returned yet. Um, Harry, where's Umbridge?" The unspoken question was had Harry left her to die? Harry looked at his friend, and saw the fear in Ron's eyes.

"She's in a cell, down the hall." A visible sigh of relief overcame Ron. "I almost did it, Ron, I almost became just like her. Maybe, I am just like her deep down."

Ron was more shocked at that statement than he was thinking that his friend had killed Umbridge. "Don't say that Harry. You're nothing like her, nothing at all."

"I felt it, Ron, I felt it in my being to let her die." Harry sat down, his face crestfallen.

Ron stood and paced, his mind furiously at work. "So, why didn't you do it? No one would have stopped you, why didn't you let her die?"

"Sarah showed up, and well, she said Aurors don't use their powers over the helpless." Ron's eyebrow raised a hint.

"Who taught her that, I suppose?" Ron's mouth was moving towards a full smile.

"I did, I guess."

"Well, now, I guess you were a better teacher than you thought." Ron's voice became steady, confident. "And maybe, just maybe, despite all that you've been through and all that you've become, the great Harry Potter is not above learning something new, from time to time."

Harry laughed at his friend's comment. So many times, over the past few months, he'd had to lead and to act, but in the greater scheme of things, he was still relatively new to his new role, both as an Auror and as a husband, and he still had a lot to learn about both.

A commotion burst out in the hall outside, as the Aurors from Hogsmeade began to file into the Office. Harry peered a head out and motioned for Robards and Dawlish to make their way over. Joined by Lachlan, they crowded into the office with Harry and Ron.

"Umbridge is locked up down the hall, sir." Harry addressed Robards, but swept his gaze over the others.

"Well done, Harry, we can start her interrogation straight away." A relieved Robards made a gesture over to Dawlish.

Harry interrupted him, "That won't be necessary, sir." That stopped the conversations about interrogation momentarily. "You see sir, I got her to give us her memory, especially those subsequent to her escape from Azkaban."

"How did you manage that, Harry?" Robards was obviously impressed and curious.

"I made it worth her while, sir." Harry gave a sheepish grin. "It was more important for her to cooperate with us, than not." Robards let the matter drop, to Harry's relief.

"Well, let's see it, we'll use the Pensieve in the meeting room." Harry grabbed the vial from the desk and the group proceeded down to the Auror meeting room. They gathered around the Pensieve located in the corner of the room. It was larger than the one Dumbledore had, the one currently in Harry's office. Harry poured the contents of the vial into the large stone basin, allowing its contents to merge with vapor and mist floating within. As one, the assembled group concentrated on the memories floating in the mist. Selecting one, they found themselves watching the details of Umbridge's assisted escape from Azkaban. The flew along with her on the back of the wyvern, noting the fact that these beasts hadn't been seen in centuries.

The memory skipped through the flight across the ocean, and followed her to the fog covered island. They looked at each other, curious at the citadel in the mountain and leaned forward at the point the mystery woman made her plea to Dolores. No one recognized the beautiful woman who was casually issuing demands for their own deaths. The memory took them from the island and drifted to the a pastoral scene, in a field, outside a house that looked like a big black rock. The image of a man in black robes, standing behind some trees, watching a house. Dawlish drew a deep breath inward, recognizing the figure as that of his man, Masterson, who had been assigned to watch over Luna Lovegood. They watched as Masterson was being stalked by four shadowy, menacing figures. Harry knew what would happen next. The image of Masterson turned around, his expression passing from surprise to shock, to finally terror.

"Enough!" Robards' voice boomed across the room. "I think we've seen quite enough." No one had an argument, no one wanted to live that memory.

"Well, we've seen our enemy, but does anyone know who she is?"

There were blank faces around the room. The woman's face had not registered. Her identity was a mystery. Harry's expression was distracted, deep in thought, his memory drifting back across the years. "One minute sir, I'll be right back." Harry darted out the door, heading back to his office. Within minutes, he returned, a little winded from his dash. He held a deck of peculiar cards in his hand.

"Harry, why on earth do you have Chocolate Frog Cards in your hands?" Ron, like everyone else, had no idea why his friend would have children's playing cards out. Harry ignored his friend and rifled through the deck until he came to a card. This was a card he'd received in his first deck, so many years ago on the Hogwart's Express. He held up the card and tossed it on the table in the center of the room. On the card was a face, the face of the woman who'd they seen in the memory. Looks of incredulity went around the room.

"You can't be serious, Harry." Robards could not believe where this was going.

Dawlish was thoughtful, "I think Harry may be onto something, what other explanation is there? Think about the type of magic it took to free Umbridge, think about the wyverns and look at her. The face is identical."

"Morgana? Morgan Le Fay? She's been dead for centuries! This is preposterous!" Robards sputtered, not ready to believe.

Lachlan spoke up for the first time, "Well sir, I'd be inclined to agree with you sir, but the last time I saw a Fury was on one of those cards and we know where the next time we saw a Fury was."

"Well assume it's possible. What do we do?"

"We have to confirm this." Dawlish was thoughtful. "We need to have some background on Morgana, find out about her, and see if she has a weakness."

There were nods around from the rest. Robards agreed to the situation for the mean time, but his skepticism remained. With nothing else to discuss, they filed out of the room, more afraid than before they went in.

Harry and Ron left the meeting room, idly walking back to his office.

"Harry James Potter!" Harry was intimately familiar with the voice. Oftentimes, it had provided solace for him in the darkest times. Right now, it had a tone with which he wasn't too familiar. It seemed sinister. Ron ducked his head and blend into the wall and did his best disappearing charm, escaping the wrath of the voice. Harry turned around, and offered his wife a smile. She was standing, her weight on one leg, leading toe tapping in a furious beat. Her arms were crossed and brow furrowed in a fierce look. Her eyes blazed and her hair seemed a deep shade of red, almost fire-like, much like her present mood.

"I've been crazy with worry, waiting for you. Would it have killed you to let me know that you were still alive?"

Morgana's citadel stood white, noble in the morning sun, its beauty belying the evil which had gathered in its midst. The black sorceress had amassed her followers, who had taken centuries to collect and lifetimes to put into place. Morgana was an animagus, the original animagus. Her form was of a bird, not some dainty robin, but of a crow, a carrion crow, feeding on the carcasses and eggs of living beings. In her avian form, she landed near the dark pool in the center of her chamber. She transformed back into her regular form, spinning about to take in her denizens in the room.

The chamber was filled with movement, dark bodies standing restless, ill at ease, as if they were racers, impatiently awaiting the sound of the starter's pistol. Sounds of breathing, huffing, snarling permeated their ranks, creating an olio of terror, of hatred which drew its strength from the woman in white before them. The darkness of the room gave hint of shadows, moving to and fro, pacing, luminescent pairs of red eyes dotting the room like fireflies on a warm spring night. One of the shadows moved forward, a robed figure, out of place in the menagerie, human, a man. The figure knelt in supplication before Morgana, face down, eyes to the floor, awaiting his mistress' bidding.

Morgana allowed herself a smile, soon, she thought, soon I will be free of this place and I can take my rightful place as ruler of this world. "The Umbridge woman has been captured." Gnashing of teeth and low growls came in response to the news. "That was part of our design. Now those who could stop us are uneasy. They will be distracted with saving their own lives, while we proceed with our task."

She looked to the figure kneeling to her front, "Merwyn? Are you ready for your quest?"

The man raised his hooded head, his eyes soaking in her beauty. He seemingly basked in her glow, "Merwyn the Malicious is at your service, my lady. As have I always been."

Morgana lent her toady a brief flicker of a smile and turned to the gathered masses. "We will continue to confuse and terrify our enemies. It is time for those that would oppose us the guardians of the false order, to truly fear for their worthless lives. The end draws near for this 'Ministry of Magic' and its so-called Aurors." She turned to the darkest corner of her domain, "Come here, my pet." Her voice was loving, tender and was met by a low-throated animal growl. "You and your minions are free to kill the Aurors. Kill them all, but make sure the rest feel fear. Their fear will be their undoing."

A chorus of howls and grunts met her words, raising in volume, rebounding off the high walls of the chamber. She soaked in its effect, taking a brief moment to enjoy, how near she was to her goal.

"Merwyn, you'd best be on your way. Bring me the Bone of Ullr."

12 Grimmauld Place had a sitting room in the front part of the house, which held a large fireplace. Near the hearth, two rather large, overstuffed high-backed chairs offered its occupants a comfortable proximity to the fire and a good view of the room, which had been redone to mirror the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts. The sun was setting in the afternoon sky, while there were two chairs in the room and two occupants of the home, more times that not, the fire would be witness to both of the home's live-ins sharing but one chair, nestled in comfort in each other's arms. Such was the case this evening.

Harry sat in the chair, his wife, Ginny, lay sideways, arms dangling over the arms, her own arms wrapped around his neck. Harry's eyes were closed, a smile on his face, random thoughts drifting through his head. After a moment, he allowed a quick laugh to escape his lips.

"What?" Ginny could not help but smile at his mirth.

He looked down at her face, the flicker of the fire causing her eyes to dance, "It's nothing really. It's just that Ron always told me that being married was so much better than I could possibly imagine, that it got better and better each day." He kissed her lips. "I was just thinking that if I knew this was how arguments were going to be settled, I almost want to have one every day."

She gave him a mockingly stern look, "I wouldn't want to put that theory to the test too often, although, this 'making up' is very nice." He laughed and stood, lifting her up in his arms.

"I think I still have some things to make up to you for." He kissed her again. She giggled in delight and expectation. He carried her up the stairs. Neither saw the dark shadow that passed the outer window. It was there, and then gone in an instant.

Ron fumbled with the door to his apartment. Hermione had insisted that he stick to non-magical mannerisms as much as possible while he was out and out and about in their muggle neighborhood. He felt mostly at ease, but keys seemed to give him a little bit of trouble. Eventually, he managed to unlock his door and turn the knob, practically falling into his home. He turned and shut the door and grunted from the impact of a mass of hair and Hermione impacting him, pushing his back onto the door.

"You're alive!" Hermione's face came up to his face, showering him with kisses. She stood off and hit him solidly in the chest. "You should have sent word earlier, I've been worried sick!"

Ron had the bedraggled look of complete confusion that is usually endemic to men married for longer than a year. Surrendering to the inevitable, he touched her cheek, "I'm sorry, I'll try harder next time."

They both broke into laughter. The guffaws were a mixture of relief and happiness. They drew together and kissed deeply. Ron drew back and caressed her face, looking at her, immersing himself in her beauty. The sun was setting outside the large picture windows, casting a soft rosy glow on her hair, face and eyes. He absolutely loved looking at her, he knew every expression on her face and cherished every moment in her presence. A cloud passed over his own face, his worry not for what happened, but for his friend, Harry. Although he felt that Harry's core was not a reflection of his actions today, he knew that Harry would have doubts, and those doubts could hurt him. He looked at Hermione, knowing that she was someone, the only person he could confide in.

"Hermione," He searched for a way to interrupt this moment with her, to talk to her about the day's events. She shushed him, and led him towards their bedroom. She smiled back at him, "Later, tell me later."

Ron smiled as he followed her. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed movement across the way, outside his window. The glare of the sunset seemed to be playing tricks on him. The shadow he thought he saw, disappeared almost as soon as it was there.

Henry Milton walked out into the night, waving back at George Weasley and Lee Jordan as he left Weasley's Wheezes in Hogsmeade. Although the Umbridge threat had abated, he and Dawes had made a point to drop in and say hello to the two entrepreneurs. Milton was especially taken with the wit and innovation of the men's wares. There was no moon and the night was especially dark, which made his eyes appear as holes in the paleness of his face. Dawes had left earlier, a pressing engagement at his home cutting short his fun. The night was getting late, and Milton figured that he would have a lot to answer for when he got home.

He made his way down the main street, intending to use the Floo access at the Hog's Head. As he passed an alley, he thought he heard a sound that was out of place with the quiet of the night. An experienced Auror, Milton had an instinct that the sound was out of the ordinary. Pulling his wand, he moved down the alley. It was dark. With no moon, and the nearest gas lamp out on the main street, he couldn't make out shapes in the dead end.

"Lumos!" The end of his wand glowed with a bright blue light, casting the aura of midday in the confined quarters. At the end of the alley, he spotted a shape. It was muddled, dark, like the figure of a mannequin. He moved closer, his eyes narrowing, trying to distinguish whether it were a live person or not. As he approached, he thought he recognized the robes on the figure. They were midnight black, but frayed and torn, shredded from the neck to the stomach. He looked closer still, and saw that it was person and the robe was covered in blood, the body beneath, dead, mutilated. He drew his wand up to the face, hoping to identify the victim and when he did, he recoiled in horror, drawing back against a nearby wall, an audible howl coming from his mouth. It was Dawes. His friend's light blue eyes were open, lifeless, like doll's eyes. His expression was horrific, as if he was seeking help and there hadn't been any. No one had been there. Milton hadn't been there.

A low, continuous growl began to emanate from the street entrance. He turned, and peered past his light at the source. Ten pairs of red, glowing lights looked back at him, getting bigger as the source of the growling drew near, slowly as if stalking him. Three massive, horrible figures came into view. The center figure was massive, the size of a full grown lion, muscular, broad, almost the entire width of the alley. Three massive canine heads were connected at the junction of its shoulders, they were low, feral, sharp teeth bared as all three heads growled in unison. On either side of the massive creature were two large dogs, also black, but slightly smaller. Their heads were identical, mouths open, nipping at the tail of the three-headed leader. All three creatures looked deadly, all three were looking right at him, and all three seemed to be smiling.

Henry Milton was not a coward, years of training, of confronting evil, had honed him into one of his kinds best, an Auror. He would die bravely. He raised his wand, shooting a stunning spell towards the largest of the predators. The red bolt impacted squarely on the beast's chest, with little or no appreciable effect. Milton cursed and tried another spell, again this one rebounded with no effect to the creature. The sound of the animals' throats were especially louder, crisper, as if announcing his own end.

"Protego!" Desperately, he threw up a shield, trying to keep the creatures at bay. The leader paused, its three heads sniffing the lighted specter, and then the center head plunged into the shield, slowly pulling the rest of its body through. Ever so slowly, Milton watched its progress through his last line of defense. He didn't want to die without reason, he wanted his sacrifice to mean something. Furiously, he dipped his hands into the recesses of his robe, as the first tip of a snout began to work its way through his shield. His hand grasped at a piece of parchment and threw it to the ground, slightly annoyed, he reached in again and found what he was looking for. The first head was almost through to the ears. The snouts of the other two heads started exiting the barrier. Frantically, he tossed the object down and reached one last time into his robe. Grabbing a small cylinder, he smiled. He'd done what he could do. Slamming the base of the cylinder on the ground, it erupted into a cascade of fireworks, one of Weasley's specials. The air above the alley was illuminated in shades of blue and green and red. The different whirls of fire and smoke rang through the village exploding in a cacophony of festive figures.

The explosions masked his screams, as the creature made its way through his shield and leapt onto his chest.

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