Apparently red knocked a person out and give them a terrible headache, Ian thought ideally to himself as he tested the limits of the- strangely firm- ropes binding him to a tombstone.

Wizard, even when they were trying to kill you they were backwards.

Speaking of backwards, that was one ugly baby. Though despite how hideous it was Ian really considered it overkill to just dump it into a boiling cauldron of what looked to be Toxic Waste.

Gee Ian knew people hated growing up, but a part of him considered it cheating to just skip all those years- and puberty- with just someone else's flesh and another another's blood. Though the man- could you even call it that?- that came out wasn't all that better then the baby that went it.

Then there was the issue of this guys minions. What was the point of having them wear a mask if you were going to call them all by name before yanking their mask off?

The Dark haired man sighed softly as he worked on finishing cutting the ropes to free himself.

Amateurs.

"Ah, Harry Pot-

The snake like man turned before freezing as his eyes moved over the now free Rider.

"You're not Potter."

Finally someone with enough common sense to notice without him having to constantly repeat himself.

"No, I'm not."

"But then, where is he? Barty said Potter was coming?"

It was strange how someone so feared could sound so much like a disappointed child.

"He died when he was two," Ian swore he saw the man(?) bristle as if insulted.

"Died? How?!"

Defiantly insulted.

"One of your men threw him into the Veil of Death according to the papers", Ian couldn't help but give the snake like man a look of disbelief, "Shouldn't you notice this already?"

The man flushed in embarrassment- was this really their so called Dark Lord?

"Soul Fragments expelled from their bodies don't get newspapers."

"...Right."

The man straightened himself, squaring his shoulders, as he cleared his throat.

"Well was planning a marvelous duel against Potter where I would other throw and kill him before restarting my reign of terror but since he's already dead I suppose you shall have to take his place."

"I'd rather not. I might not fit the requirements you're looking for."

Ian admitted, the idea of being killed really didn't suit well with anyone.

"Nonsense. Look at you already freed from the bindings, Potter would have probably had to wait till I freed him," The man nodded to himself with full convection in his voce as he spoke," I'm sure you'll be a Great Adversely, eh...What's your name?"

Mentally Ian couldn't help but sign as the other gave him a sheepish look. What type of 'Dark Lord' was this? He knew toddlers that were scarier then this man.

"Ian Rider."

"Ian Rider," The snake like man repeated as he rolled the name on his tongue as if trying out a meal for the first time, "Yes, Rider. Sounds much better then Potter, more dignified. Well then Rider, do you know how to Duel?"

"Not really," Ian confessed as a hand reached into his jacket pocket, fingers lightly curling around the handle to his gun.

"No matter, just try to dodge a bit and throw a few spells back at me. "

Without waiting for a response the man flicked his stick in Ian's direction causing that dangerous emerald light to sail for the spy's face.

Acting on relaxes, the spy threw himself to the side while drawling his gun in one swift move and fired.

Wizards.

Oh course, they were always behind every little issue that made no sense or left multiple of people without memories of said issue. Honestly, Yassen felt like a fool for not having been able to piece it together without having to witnessed the light show going on in Little Hangleton's graveyard.

As the assassin made his way closer he could make out an unconscious man leading against a broken headstone wearing a black cloak and a skull mask: Death Eater.

Great. They probably had some Muggleborn or Muggle in there.

Pureblooded bastards.

One of them was probably who he was supposed to be putting down but the question was which?

BANG!

The gunshot rang loud and was the only warning he really got before the killing curse sailed at least a mile overhead and someone rushed into him.

For a brief moment all Yassen saw was stars dotting across his vision though he quickly blinked it away as the body on his lifted slightly and a familiar voice spoke.

"Gregorovich?"

Dark hair. Light brown eyes. Pale skin. Clothes a little bit worn yet there was no mistaking that face or the firm voice.

"Rider."

The scowl he was rewarded told him exactly how he other felt about seeing him, even as the other tried to get off him and stand. Noticing the curse aimed for the man's back, the Russian pulled the Spy back down onto his chest.

"What the Hell did you do Rider?!"

"Me?! I didn't do anything!"

For some reason Yassen fount that hard to believe.

Something was wrong Alex knew it from the moment Diggory had returned without his Uncle and that underlined fear had only grown as he listened to the Hufflepuff go on about a graveyard and someone trying to hit him with 'the Killing Curse'.

The Minister of course wasn't buying it and was outright denying such a thing happened claiming that Ian was probably somewhere in the maze, though once it was lowered even he couldn't deny Ian Rider was no were to be fount.

The most disturbing thing in Alex's opinion was the Headmaster's reaction:

He was too calm, almost as if he had expected this to happen and the blond had overheard the elderly man whispering to himself about someone named Tom before encouraging the Hufflepuff's story. It was obvious to Alex that the old coot knew something.

After what seemed like an eternity the Minister had agreed to use some sort of spell that would transfer them to the last place the Goblet turned Trophy turned Portkey had been. What they arrived at was nothing sort of a battle field.

There were bodies of men cloaked in black- some wearing skull like masks- sprawled out across the graveyard, some over tombstone and other on the damp grass.

Chunks of several tombstones were missing, as if they had been blow away by some sort of focused blast, and others stained a startling crimson. A cauldron laid tipped over with what looked to be Toxic Waste spilled onto the earth.

Yet no matter where Alex looked there was no sign of Ian Rider. The only sign his Uncle had even been there was the Spy's gun, which he had fount in the rubble of one of the larger tombstones that had been knocked over and shattered. What worried Alex most though was the blood-on one of the larger pieces of stone- that had small tuffs of his uncle's hair on it.

He could see everything.

Ian crouching behind the larger tombstone for shelter as spells- probably the Killing Curse Cedric mentioned- sailed overhead. Someone must have used another spell or curse to knock over and shatter the tombstone which would have fallen forward, right on top of Ian Rider. Most likely with enough force the knock the Spy unconscious.

The second pair of shoeprints in the damp soil, suggested another person had been here with Ian, they must of dragged Ian away. Yet that left the issues of the footprints turning slightly before vanishing.

A means of transportation probably? Wasn't there one you could do with two people that only involved you needing to give a quarter spin?

Either way, Ian Rider had once again vanished without a trace.

Once again something had stolen his own living family- the man that had raised him as his own- from him.